Memoirs of Colonel Mosby - Chapters IX-XI



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CHAPTER IX 
THE CAMPAIGN AGAINST POPE

Richmond, July 4, 1862. 

My dearest Pauline: 
   I reached our wagon camp near Richmond about twelve o'clock Tuesday and 
as the battle [Malvern Hill] was raging below did not go to Richmond. I 
came up to get my horse shod. McClellan has retreated about thirty-five 
miles and is now under cover of his gun-boats on James River. . . . 
McClellan is badly whipped.

Richmond, July 7, 1862. 

My dearest Pauline: 
   I came up to Richmond yesterday from our camp below. Our army has now 
fallen back near Richmond, as we could not attack McClellan under his gun 
boats, it was no use keeping our army so far off from supplies. . . . I 
have just returned from an expedition down James River where I succeeded, 
with half a dozen men, in breaking up an assemblage of negroes and 
Yankees. They were armed.

   It is an open secret that in August, 1862, the disobedience of two 
Confederate generals saved 

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Pope's army in Virginia from ruin and nearly resulted in the capture of 
the Confederate Chief of Cavalry. But historians have been strangely 
silent about it. I had a part in the play, and I take more pleasure in 
telling about it now than I did when I was an actor in the great drama. In 
war there are lights mingled with shadows. In the retrospect we see a 
great deal of the comedy where once all seemed to be tragedy.

   After the Seven Days' Battles around Richmond, that closed on July 1, 
several weeks of calm succeeded. McClellan had shifted his base from the 
Pamunkey to the James, and both armies rested for another collision. If 
McClellan had possessed the intuition of Grant, he would not have halted 
on the bank of the river, but would have crossed and seized the 
communications of the Confederate Capital. General John Pope had been 
called from the West to take command of an army in front of Washington. 
This army was organized mostly from fragments which Jackson had overlooked 
in the Shenandoah Valley. Pope came East with some reputation, but he soon 
lost it.

   Pope opened his campaign in northern Virginia with a bombastic 
manifesto that, by an invidious comparison, gave offense to his own side 
and amusement to ours. He was, however, unjustly 

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criticised for declaring that his army should subsist on the country it 
occupied. That is a right as old as war - to live on the enemy. I did the 
same thing whenever I could. Pope declared that in the West he had seen 
only the backs of his enemies, and that he would look only to his front 
and let his rear take care of itself. But he must be acquitted of the 
charge, so often repeated, of having said that his headquarters would be 
in the saddle. I know that it is no use to deny it now - it is a part of 
our mythology, and the people of Virginia believe it as religiously as 
they do the legend of Pocahontas. It is said that even so grave a person 
as General Lee made humorous remarks about this proclamation.

   But what interested me most in this proclamation was the following:

   I hear constantly of taking strong positions and holding them, of lines 
of retreat and bases of supplies. Let us dismiss such ideas, . . . let us 
study the probable lines of retreat of our opponents and leave our own to 
take care of themselves. Let us look before us and not behind.

   At this time I was at cavalry headquarters, in Hanover County, about 
ten miles from Richmond. When I read what Pope said about looking only to 
his front and letting his rear take care of itself, 

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I saw that the opportunity for which I had longed had come. He had opened 
a promising field for partisan warfare and had invited, or rather dared, 
anybody to take advantage of it. The cavalry at Richmond was doing nothing 
but picket duty, and "quiet to quick bosoms is a hell." So I asked Stuart 
for a dozen men to make the harvest where the laborers were few, and do 
for Pope what he would not do for himself, take care of his rear and 
communications for him. Stuart was, of course, well-disposed to me. He had 
spoken well of me in his report of his ride around McClellan on the 
Chickahominy, and General Lee had also mentioned me in his general order 
announcing it to the army.

   I really thought that there was a chance to render effective service. I 
had served the first year of the war in a regiment of cavalry in the 
region which was now in Pope's department and had a general knowledge of 
the country. I was sure then - I am surer now - that I could make Pope pay 
as much attention to his rear as his front, and that I could compel him to 
detail most of his cavalry to guard his long line of communications, or 
turn his commissary department and rear over to me - which would have been 
perfectly satisfactory to me. There never was afterwards such 

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a field for partisan war in Virginia. Breaking communications is the chief 
work for a partisan - it defeats plans and starts confusion by destroying 
supplies, thus diminishing the offensive strength of an army.

   Judged in the light that is before us now, it looks strange that I was 
refused. Stuart told me that he was getting his cavalry ready for the 
active campaign soon to begin, but that he would give me a letter to 
Jackson, who, no doubt, would give me the men I wanted. I had to beg for 
the privilege of striking the enemy at a vulnerable point. If the detail 
had been given me, I would have started directly to cross the Rapidan to 
flank Pope, and my partisan war would have begun then.

   I accepted the letter to Jackson - the best I could get - and with a 
club-footed companion, an exempt from military service, I started off. I 
was so anxious to be at work that I concluded to go by rail and arrange 
with Jackson for the cavalry to go with me. We spent the night with a 
farmer near Beaver Dam station on what is now the Chesapeake and Ohio 
Railroad. I sent my companion on to lead my horse to Jackson's 
headquarters and went to the depot. I laid down my pistols and haversack 
that had the letter to Jackson - the man leading my horse had scarcely 

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gotten out of sight - when somebody exclaimed, "Here they are!" A regiment 
of Northern cavalry was not a hundred yards away, coming up at a trot. I 
ran, but they caught me and got my pistols and haversack. This capture 
apparently blasted my hopes, especially when I was sent to the Old Capitol 
Prison in Washington, but an exchange of prisoners was agreed upon the 
next day.

   I was captured by a New York regiment - the Harris Cavalry. It had 
ridden all night to break the communications between Lee and Jackson. The 
men did not wait for my train, although I told them it could be taken with 
impunity. It was not true, but I suppose I was justified by the code of 
war. I was taken to General King's headquarters at Fredericksburg and very 
kindly treated. He let me write a letter to my family, which he sent 
through the lines. Some letters were captured at the depot. General King 
read one aloud - everybody laughed. It was from a Richmond girl to her 
country cousin. I remember four lines. I hope they won't shock people who 
read them now:

"Jeff Davis is our President, 
 Lincoln is a fool. 
 Jeff Davis rides a white horse, 
 Lincoln rides a mule." 

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   A history of the Harris Cavalry says:

   At six o'clock on the evening of July 19th the Harris Light was set in 
rapid motion almost directly south. By means of a forced march through the 
night, at gray dawn of morning we descended upon Beaver Dam depot on the 
Virginia Central, like so many ravenous wolves. During an affray we 
captured a young Confederate, who gave his name as Captain John S. Mosby. 
By his sprightly appearance and conversation he attracted considerable 
attention. He is slight but well formed; has a keen blue eye and a blond 
complexion, and displays no small amount of Southern bravado in his dress 
and manners. His gray plush hat is surmounted by a waving plume, which he 
tosses, as he speaks, in real Prussian style. He had a letter in his 
possession from General Stuart commending him to the kind regards of 
General Jackson.

Old Capitol Prison, 
Washington, July 23, '62. 

My dearest Pauline: 
   I wrote you from Falmouth [opposite Fredericksburg], announcing my 
capture by the enemy's cavalry at Beaver Dam. I was going up to see 
General Jackson for Stuart. I had a young man with me. I concluded to let 
him lead my horse and I would take the train and pay you a flying visit. I 
had just arrived at the depot, - had pulled off my arms and placed them in 
a storehouse and was sitting down outdoors waiting for a train, which was 
due in the course of an 

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hour, - when the cavalry suddenly appeared and I had no time to escape. 
The Colonel and Captain treated me with the greatest courtesy. General 
King, before whom I was carried, ordered my arms to be restored to me. In 
my haversack was a letter from General Stuart introducing me to General 
Jackson. You need feel no uneasiness about me. . . . Colonel Davis, who 
captured me, offered to lend me Federal money. I thanked him, but declined.

   I had been a prisoner about ten days when I was taken, with a good many 
prisoners, down the Potomac to Fortress Monroe. Here we waited four days 
for others to arrive, that we might go up the James River to the place of 
exchange. When we arrived at Hampton Roads, I saw a large number of 
transports with troops lying near. As a prisoner I kept up my habits as a 
scout and soon learned that they were Burnside's troops who had just come 
from North Carolina. If they were reinforcements for McClellan, it would 
indicate that he would advance again on Richmond from his new base on the 
James. On the other hand, if they sailed up the Chesapeake, it would show 
that they were going to join Pope, and that McClellan would be withdrawn 
from the peninsula.

   This was the problem that I had to solve. It was 

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a pivotal point in the campaign. There were several officers of high rank 
among the prisoners, but I did not communicate my purpose to any one, for 
fear my secret work might leak out, with the result that we should be 
detained. I was, however, much surprised that none of them seemed to 
regard what was before their eyes as of any significance.

   On the fourth day, several steamers with prisoners from their places of 
confinement in the North anchored near us, and I was told that we were to 
start that evening up the James River, to the point where the 
commissioners would meet for the exchange. During the day, I saw the 
transports with Burnside's troops weighing anchor and passing out by the 
fort. I had become pretty well acquainted with the captain of the steamer 
that brought us down from Washington, and found out that he was a 
Confederate in sympathy; so when he was going ashore for his orders, I 
asked him to find out where the transports were going.

   When he returned, he whispered to me that Aquia Creek, on the Potomac, 
was the point. That settled it - McClellan's army would not advance, but 
would follow the transports northward.

   I was feverish with excitement and anxiety to 

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carry the news to General Lee, but nobody suspected what I had discovered, 
nor did I hear any comment on the movement of Burnside's troops. I was so 
restless that I sat nearly all night on the deck of the steamer, watching 
for the day star.

   Early in the morning we arrived at the landing, and I was the first to 
jump ashore. As I was in a hurry, and afraid of being detained by some 
formality in exchanging, I whispered to the Confederate Commissioner that 
I had important information for General Lee, and asked him to let me go. 
He made no objection.

   It was a hot day in August, and I set out alone to walk twelve miles to 
headquarters. Some one in Washington had given me a patent-leather 
haversack and a five-dollar greenback. The latter I had invested in lemons 
at Fortress Monroe, for the blockade kept them out of Virginia. After 
trudging several miles I was so exhausted and footsore that I had to lie 
down by the roadside; but I held on to my lemons. A horseman - one of 
Hampton's legion - came along, and I told him how anxious I was to get to 
General Lee. He proved a benefactor indeed, for he put me on his horse, 
walked to his camp with me, got another horse, and rode to General Lee's 
headquarters with me. I wish I knew his name, for 

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I have always thought his conduct was one of the most generous deeds of 
the war.

   When we reached headquarters, I dismounted and told a staff officer, 
who was standing on the porch, that I had important information for 
General Lee and wished to see him. As I was roughly dressed and unkempt, 
no doubt the officer thought I was presumptuous to ask the privilege. In 
the imperious tone customary with staff officers, he said that I could not 
see the General. I protested that I must, but he would accept no 
explanation. So I turned to leave, but another officer, who had overheard 
what I had said, told me to wait. He went inside the house, but soon came 
out and told me to go inside. I did so and found myself in, what was then 
to me, the awful presence of the Commander-in-Chief.

   We had never met before, but I was soon relieved of embarrassment; 
General Lee's kind, benevolent manner put me at ease. I found him looking 
over a map on the table. As quickly as I could, I told him that Burnside's 
troops had been sent to Pope. I then said that he did not know what 
confidence he could put in my report and told him my name and that I was 
on Stuart's ride around McClellan. "Oh," he said, "I remember."

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   After I had finished my story, he asked me a few questions. I remember 
very well that he inquired on what line I thought the next movement 
against Richmond would be made, and that I considered it a high compliment 
that he should ask my opinion on such an important matter. He then called 
one of his staff into the room and told him to have a courier ready to go 
to General Jackson. At that time Jackson was about eighty miles west of 
Richmond, on the railroad near Gordonsville, but ever since the affair at 
Beaver Dam, Lee had been afraid to trust the telegraph, and kept a relay 
line of couriers. As soon as Jackson got the news about Burnside, he 
hastened to strike Pope at Cedar Mountain before reinforcements could 
reach him.

Richmond, August 6, '62. 

My dearest Pauline: 
   I arrived here yesterday evening. I came by flag of truce steamer, - 
landed twelve miles below Richmond and had to walk all the way up. My feet 
were so sore I could scarcely stand. As soon as I got here I went out to 
see General Lee, as I had a good deal of very important information to 
give him. . . . I brought information of vital importance.

   The Comte de Paris said in his "History of the Civil War in America":

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   So long as Burnside and the fleet of transports which lay in readiness 
to ship his troops remained at the mouth of the James, whence they could 
proceed either to Harrison's Landing or to Aquia Creek, it was evident to 
Lee that the movement of the Federals had not yet been determined upon. 
Accordingly he sought with particular care for every item of intelligence 
calculated to enlighten him as to the design of his adversaries.

   Finally, one evening, on the 4th or 5th of August, a small steamer 
bearing a flag of truce was seen coming up the James, passing the 
Confederate outposts and approaching Aiken's Landing, a place designated 
for the exchange of prisoners. In the midst of of the soldiers, whose gray 
coats were worn out by lone confinement, and the sick and wounded, to whom 
the thought of freedom restored both strength and health, an officer was 
making himself conspicuous by his extreme anxiety to land. His face was 
well known to every Virginian, and his name to all his companions in arms; 
it was the celebrated partisan, Colonel John Mosby.

   His eagerness, which everybody attributed to his ardent temperament, 
was very natural, for he had news of the greatest importance to 
communicate to Lee. A few hours later he was at the headquarters of his 
chief, to whom he made known the fact that at the very moment when he was 
leaving Hampton Roads, that same morning, the whole of Burnside's corps 
was being embarked, and that its destination, as he knew positively, was 
Aquia Creek.

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   Lee lost no time in availing himself of this information, which chance 
had opportunely thrown into his hands.

   When I rose to leave General Lee at this my first meeting with him, I 
opened my haversack and put a dozen lemons on the table. He said I had 
better give them to some of the sick and wounded in the hospitals; but I 
left them and bade him good-by. I had little expectation of ever seeing 
him again.

   I went to see Stuart, who was still in Hanover, and then went home to 
get my horse. I reached the army again on August 17, just in time to meet 
Stuart who had come by rail from Richmond, leaving Fitz Lee to bring up 
the cavalry. By this time it was plain that McClellan was about to leave 
the peninsula, so that General Lee was concentrating on the Rapidan. 
Stuart had just had a conference with General Lee and had received his 
final instructions. He did not say what they were, but the coming event 
cast its shadow before. Stuart was to meet Fitz Lee at Verdiersville, and 
I went with him. I had no arms - I had lost my pistols when I was captured 
at Beaver Dam - but trusted to luck to get another pair.

   On the way to meet Fitz Lee, we passed 

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Longstreet's camp. The soldiers knew instinctively that a movement was on 
foot; they were cooking their rations for a march and singing "Annie 
Laurie." We reached the appointed rendezvous that night but found a 
deserted village. There were no signs of the cavalry, and Stuart was 
greatly disappointed and worried, for the operation, which had been 
planned for the next morning, depended on the cavalry. I did not then 
suspect how much depended on meeting the cavalry and how much was lost by 
its absence. It was the crucial point of the campaign.

   A staff officer, Major Fitzhugh, went in search of Fitz Lee, and Stuart 
and I tied our horses and lay down to sleep on the porch of a house by the 
road. Before sunrise I was awakened by a young man, Gibson, who had just 
come with me, unarmed, from prison. He said that he heard the tramp of 
cavalry down the plank road; that it was probably Fitz Lee, but it might 
be Yankee cavalry. Although we were near the Rapidan, we thought we were 
inside of Longstreet's picket line, but I did not want to be caught 
napping again. So I awoke Stuart and told him what we had heard and that 
Gibson and I would ride down the road to see what was there. We soon saw a 
body of cavalry that had stopped at a 

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house a few hundred yards away. A heavy fog made it impossible to 
distinguish friends from foes. But we were soon relieved of doubt - two 
cavalrymen saw us and rode forward. When they got in pistol range, they 
opened fire - that settled it. We knew they were not our friends. As 
Gibson and I had no arms, there was nothing for us to do but wheel and 
run - which we did - and used our spurs freely. The firing gave the alarm 
and saved Stuart. He mounted his horse, bareheaded, leaped a fence in the 
back yard, and got away. But he left his hat!

   Before Gibson and I got to the house where we had slept, a Prussian on 
Stuart's staff dashed through the front gate and went down the road ahead 
of us as fast as his horse could carry him. We never overtook him. After 
the war he published a lot of fables in which he described an encounter he 
had with the Yankees that morning as more wonderful than the feat of St. 
George and the Dragon. Our ambition was to escape. We ran as fast as we 
could, but the Prussian ran faster. That was all the distinction he won.

   Pope had advanced to the line of the Rapidan, with his army stretched 
across the Orange and Alexandria Railway, which was his line of supply. 
His forces were massed near the river. Lee, with 

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Jackson and Longstreet, was in Orange County a few miles in his front. Our 
cavalry picketed the south bank of the river. As late as the seventeenth 
Pope did not know - and this was the evening before he retreated in such a 
hurry - that Lee had arrived with Longstreet. He thought Jackson was at 
Gordonsville, twenty miles south. Pope spoke of crossing the river and 
making a demonstration towards Richmond; he told Halleck "our position is 
strong and it will be very difficult to drive us from it." A worse 
position for an army could not have been selected for Pope by an enemy. He 
urged Halleck to let him cross the river and take the offensive, but the 
latter would not consent.

   General Lee never again had such an opportunity to destroy an army. It 
would have been easy, on that day, to pass around under cover of Clarke's 
Mountain - that is on the south bank of the Rapidan - cross at the fords 
below, and strike Pope both in flank and rear at the same time. It was 
particularly so, as Pope had said he would look only to his front. The 
fact is, the railroad turns east at such an angle in Culpeper that, after 
crossing the river below Pope, Lee's army would have been nearer the 
Rappahannock bridge than Pope's army was. His 

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railroad communications with Washington would have been seized, and 
reinforcements from McClellan cut off. According to Pope's dispatches of 
that day to Halleck, there was no sign of a movement to cross the Rapidan. 
He was anxious to attack Jackson. By an accident Pope was rudely awakened 
from his dream of security.

   John C. Ropes, the historian, wrote:

   Hence, when he saw him (Pope) quickly occupying the line of the 
Rapidan, Lee at once saw his opportunity. He ordered Longstreet and 
Jackson to cross the river at Raccoon and Somerville fords and to move on 
Culpeper Court House, while the cavalry of Stuart, crossing further to the 
east at Morton's Ford, was to make Rappahannock Station, destroying the 
bridge there and then turning to the left, form the right of Longstreet's 
corps. Pope would have been attacked in the rear and flank and his 
communications severed in the bargain. Doubtless, he would have made a 
strenuous fight, but he could hardly have escaped defeat, and defeat under 
such circumstances might well have been ruin. From this disaster fortune 
saved Pope through the capture of Stuart's staff officer.

   Stuart had sent Major Fitzhugh to look for Fitz Lee, whose orders 
required him to be at Verdiersville the night of the seventeenth. The 
place is a few miles south of the Rapidan. 

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Daybreak on the eighteenth was the time fixed for crossing the river. But 
Fitz Lee, as appears from Stuart's report, after leaving Hanover, instead 
of marching directly to the vicinity of Raccoon Ford, as he was ordered, 
changed his course and turned back to follow his wagons that had been sent 
by Louisa Court House for provisions. By this detour he was a day late in 
reaching his destination. The delay was fatal to General Lee's plan and 
saved Pope. General Lee would not make the movement without his cavalry, 
but Jackson wanted to go on without it. Major Fitzhugh, while looking for 
Fitz Lee, was captured on the night of the seventeenth by a body of 
cavalry that had been sent over the river on a scout. It was the same body 
that came so near getting us the next morning. They got Lee's letter to 
Stuart that disclosed his plan to cross on the morning of the eighteenth 
and flank Pope. The dispatch was sent in hot haste to headquarters and 
created a panic.

   General Pope, in his report, spoke of the capture of this letter as the 
cause of his hasty and unpremeditated retreat. He said the cavalry 
expedition he sent out captured the Adjutant General of Stuart and was 
near capturing that officer himself. Among the papers taken from 

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him was an autograph letter of General Lee to General Stuart "which made 
manifest the disposition and force of the enemy, and their destination to 
overwhelm the army and my command before it could be reinforced by any 
portion of the Army of the Potomac."

   But Fitz Lee was not alone responsible for General Lee's failure to 
envelop Pope. General Longstreet said that, as the cavalry had not come up 
on the seventeenth, he ordered two regiments of Toombs's brigade to be 
sent to guard the Rapidan fords. Toombs had ridden from his headquarters 
to have dinner with a farmer. When the order came, his next in rank 
ordered the detail to be sent. When Toombs learned what had been done 
without asking him, he ordered the regiment back to their camp. So the 
fords were unguarded, and Pope's cavalry crossed without giving any alarm, 
captured Stuart's staff officer with General Lee's order, and saved Pope's 
army. Longstreet put Toombs under arrest, but Fitz Lee was not relieved of 
his command. In the midst of the battle of Manassas, a few days later, 
Toombs rode up to Longstreet and begged to lead his brigade. Longstreet 
relented, and Toombs led his men into battle. So it seemed that General 
Pope was saved by a comedy of errors. 

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General Lee had to wait for his cavalry to come up, but when they came the 
opportunity was gone.

   If Toombs had not withdrawn the picket from the Rapidan, the Union 
cavalry could not have crossed; if Fitz Lee had obeyed orders, even if the 
cavalry had crossed, they would have been caught. By this combination of 
errors, Pope got warning and lost no time in getting away.

   I rode with Stuart to the signal station on Clarke's Mountain where we 
could see Pope's army retreating and his trains scudding back to the 
Rappahannock.

   General George Gordon, who was with Pope, said: "Without delay the 
retreat began. By rail and along the roadways, in cars and in baggage 
wagons, from Mitchell's Station and Culpeper (Court House) vast stores of 
subsistence, forage, and ammunition streamed out for the left bank of the 
Rappahannock. . . . The Confederates were disappointed; many of them 
scolded bitterly. Rarely had a better opportunity offered for the 
destruction of an army."

   Dabney, Jackson's staff officer and biographer, in an account of the 
campaign written when it was fresh in memory, said that the plan of the 
commander-in-chief was for the movement to begin at dawn on the 
eighteenth, but was defeated 

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by dilatory subordinates, and that he overruled the eagerness of Jackson 
and postponed it until the twentieth. "It was then," he wrote, "most 
fortunate that Jackson was not in command."

   A few days afterwards Stuart went on a raid around Pope. As he galloped 
by me, he said, "I am going after my hat." Sure enough, he captured Pope's 
headquarters wagons, with the hat and plume and full-dress uniform, 
besides his money chest. Stuart was now at least even with Pope.

Dranesville, September 5, '62. 

My dearest Pauline: 
   Our arms have been crowned with a glorious victory [Second Battle of 
Manassas and Chantilly]. Our army is now marching on toward Leesburg, and 
we all suppose it will cross into Maryland. I have escaped unhurt, though 
I got my horse slightly shot in the shoulder and had a bullet through the 
top of my hat, which slightly grazed my head. . . . I have a very good 
Yankee horse, also two fine saddles and two pistols I captured. With one 
man I captured seven cavalry and two infantry.

   [Colonel Mosby accompanied Stuart on the fall campaign which culminated 
in the battle of Antietam. Of this campaign Mosby noted two incidents as 
follows:

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   I rode just behind Jackson when he marched at the head of his columns 
through Frederick City, Md., in September, 1862, with his band playing "My 
Maryland." But I never heard the story of Barbara Frietchie shaking the 
Stars and Stripes in his face until I read Whittier's poem. I am sorry the 
story is a myth, for, as the poet tells it, the respect which the 
Confederates showed her was a great contrast with the treatment an order 
of a certain general required to be shown to a woman who by word, sign, or 
gesture should be disrespectful to the U. S. soldier or flag.

   I only once saw Stonewall Jackson in battle. At Antietam I rode with 
Stuart by some batteries where Jackson was directing their fire on the 
flank of a column that was advancing against him, and I stopped a minute 
to look at the great soldier who was then transfigured with the joy of 
battle. In a quiet way he was giving orders. McClellan had sent three 
corps in succession against him - Hooker's, Mansfield's, and Sumner's - 
and each in turn was repulsed. While I was near him, the last onset was 
made, but Jackson held the same ground at sunset that he held in the 
morning.

   I rode on and overtook Stuart, but the killed and wounded were strewn 
on the ground "like leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown", and I 
had to be careful not to ride over them. Whole ranks seemed to have been 
struck down by a volley. Although hundreds were lying all around me, my 
attention was in some way attracted to a wounded officer who was 

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lying in an uncomfortable position and seemed to be suffering great agony. 
I dismounted, fixed him more comfortably, and rolled up a blanket on which 
he rested his head, and then got a canteen of water for him from the body 
of a dead soldier lying near him. As I passed a wounded soldier, I held 
the canteen toward him so that he could drink. He said, "No, take it to my 
Colonel, he is the best man in the world." [This was a speech worthy of 
Sidney, the model of chivalry.]



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CHAPTER X 
FIRST EXPLOITS AS A PARTISAN

Near Culpeper, November 14, '62. 

My dearest Pauline: 
   I have been on another big scout since I wrote. General Stuart sent me 
with nine men down to reconnoitre in the vicinity of Manassas. There was a 
Yankee regiment there. We came upon ten. We charged them with a yell. The 
Yankees ran and stampeded their whole regiment, thinking all of Stuart's 
cavalry were on them. . . . Jackson is in the Valley. I will join Stuart 
in a day or so. I stayed behind on a scout and have just returned.

Tuesday, December 2nd, '62. 

My dearest Pauline: 
   I am now with the 1st regiment near Spottsylvania Court House, but it 
is uncertain how long we will be here. Jackson has arrived. I reckon you 
saw the account in the Richmond papers of my scout and stampede of the 
Yankees near Manassas. . . . Several of my old company have been shot 
lately.

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December 9. 

My dearest Pauline: 
   Enclosed I send a copy of my report to General Stuart of my scout down 
to Manassas when with nine men I stampeded two or three thousand Yankees. 
I see the Richmond papers give Col. Rosser [Fifth Va. Cavalry] the credit 
of it. He had nothing to do with it, and was not in twenty-five miles of 
there. . . . General Lee sent me a message expressing his gratification at 
my success. I believe I have already written of my trip around McClellan 
at Catlett's Station, when I saw him leave his army at the time he was 
superseded by Burnside. The courier by whom I sent the dispatch to General 
Stuart announcing it passed five Yankee cavalry in the road. Not dreaming 
there was a rebel army in their rear, they passed on by him, merely saying 
"Good morning." We did not go in disguise, as spies, but in Confederate 
uniform and with our arms. Had a slip from a Northern paper, which I lost, 
giving an account of a squad of rebel cavalry having been seen that day in 
their rear. Aaron thinks himself quite a hero, though he does not want to 
come again in such disagreeable proximity to a bombshell.

   I want you to send me some books to read. Send Plutarch, Macaulay's 
"History" and "Essays," "Encyclopedia of Anecdotes," Scott's Works, 
Shakespeare, Byron, Scott's Poems, Hazlitt's "Life of Napoleon," - if you 
can get me a copy of "My Novel," send it, also "Memoirs of an Irish 
Gentleman" (for Fount Beattie), "Corinne," and "Sketch Book."

Page 148

   The situation is now changed. McClellan and Pope have been driven from 
Virginia, and Burnside has met a bloody repulse at Fredericksburg. The two 
hostile armies are in winter quarters on the Rappahannock, and the pickets 
on opposite banks have declared a truce and are swapping coffee and 
tobacco. Occasionally a band on the Northern bank plays a favorite 
Southern air and soon, in response, the strain of the Star Spangled Banner 
comes from our side. The cavalry is not used for picketing and has been 
sent to the rear to be more convenient to forage.

   To relieve the monotony Stuart resolved to take his cavalry on a 
Christmas raid to Dumfries on Burnside's line of communication with 
Washington. A good many wagons with supplies were captured, and we chased 
a cavalry regiment through their own camp and got all their good things. 
There is a dispatch in the history of the telegraph in the war from an 
operator in Fairfax, which says, "The 17th Pennsylvania Cavalry just 
passed here, furiously charging to the rear."

   When he returned, Stuart let me stay behind a few days with six men to 
operate on the enemy’s outposts. He was so satisfied with our success that 
he let me have fifteen men to return and begin my partisan life in 
northern Virginia - 

Page 149

which closed with the war. That was the origin of my battalion. On January 
24, 1863, we crossed the Rappahannock and immediately began operations in 
a country which Joe Johnston had abandoned a year before. It(1) looked as 
though I was leading a forlorn hope, but I was never discouraged. In 
general my purpose was to threaten and harass the enemy on the border and 
in this way compel him to withdraw troops 

(1. [A Confederate newspaper described the Mosby of this time as follows. 
"His figure is slight, muscular, supple, and vigorous; his eye is keen, 
penetrating, and ever on the alert." Another description of his appearance 
during the war: - "He was thin, wiry, and I should say about five feet 
nine or ten inches in height. A slight stoop in the back was not 
ungraceful. His chin was carried well forward; his lips were thin, and 
wore a somewhat satirical smile; the eyes, under the brown felt hat, were 
keen, sparkling, and roved curiously from side to side. He wore a gray 
uniform, with no arms but two revolvers, - the sabre was no favorite with 
him. His voice was low, and a smile was often on his lips. He rarely sat 
still ten minutes. Such was his appearance at that time. No one would have 
been struck with anything noticeable in him except his eyes. These flashed 
at times, in a way which might have induced the opinion that there was 
something in the man, if it only had an opportunity to come out. . . . The 
face of this person is tanned, beardless, youthful looking, and pleasant. 
He has white regular teeth, which his habitual smile reveals. His piercing 
eyes flash out from beneath his brown hat, with its golden cord; and he 
reins his horse with the ease of a practised rider. A plain soldier, low 
and slight of stature, ready to talk, to laugh, to ride, to oblige you in 
any way, - such was Mosby in outward appearance. Nature had given no sign 
but the restless, roving, flashing eyes, that there was much worth 
considering beneath. The commonplace exterior of the partisan concealed 
one of the most active, daring, restless minds of an epoch fruitful in 
such. . . . His activity of mind and body, - call it, if you choose, 
restless, eternal love of movement, was something wonderful."])

Page 150

from his front to guard the line of the Potomac and Washington. This would 
greatly diminish his offensive power. General "Joe" Hooker said before a 
committee of Congress that we created so much anxiety that the planks on 
the bridge across the Potomac were taken up every night to prevent us from 
carrying off the Government.

   Recruits came to us from inside the enemy's lines, and they brought 
valuable information. Then, I had picketed for some time in Fairfax the 
year before and had acquired considerable local knowledge. The troops 
attached to the defence of Washington, south of the Potomac, were 
distributed in winter quarters through Fairfax County and extended in an 
arc of a circle from the upper to the lower Potomac. The headquarters of 
General Stoughton, who commanded them, were at the Court House. In a day 
or so after I arrived in Loudoun, we began operations on the outposts of 
Fairfax. The weak points were generally selected for attack. Up to that 
time the pickets had passed a quiet life in their camps or dozing on the 
picket posts, but now they were kept under arms and awake all night by a 
foe who generally assailed them where he was least expected. At first they 
accounted for our attacks on the theory that the farmers and cripples they 
saw in the 

Page 151

daytime ploughing their fields and taking care of their flocks collected 
in bands at night, raided their camps, and dispersed at daybreak. But when 
they went around at night searching the homes for these invisible foes, 
they generally found the old farmers in bed, and when they returned to 
camp, they often found that we had paid them a visit in their absence. The 
farmers could prove an alibi.

   An English officer, Colonel Percy Wyndham, a soldier of fortune who had 
been with Garibaldi in Italy, commanded the cavalry brigade and had charge 
of the outposts. He was familiar with the old rules of the schools, but he 
soon learned that they were out of date, and his experience in war had not 
taught him how to counteract the forays and surprises that kept his men in 
the saddle all the time. The loss of sleep is irritating to anybody and, 
in his vexation at being struck by and striking at an invisible foe, he 
sent me a message calling me a horse thief. I did not deny it, but 
retorted that all the horses I had stolen had riders, and that the riders 
had sabres, carbines, and pistols. There was a new regiment in his brigade 
that was armed only with sabres and obsolete carbines. When we attacked 
them with revolvers, they were really defenseless. So I sent him word 
through 

Page 152

a citizen that the men of that regiment were not worth capturing, and he 
must give them six-shooters. We used neither carbines nor sabres, but all 
the men carried a pair of Colt pistols. We did not pay for them but the U. 
S. Government did.

Fauquier Co., Va.,(1)
Feb. 4, '63. 

   I have been in this neighborhood over a week. Have had a gay time with 
the Yankees. Have captured twenty-eight Yankee cavalry, twenty-nine 
horses. . . . I have 15 men with me . . . Fount Beattie was captured by 
the Yankees, - his horse fell with him. There were over two hundred 
Yankees. The Yankees set what they thought was a sure trap to catch me a 
few nights ago. I went into it and brought the whole of them off, - killed 
and captured twelve.

   During the first days as a partisan, there were more comic than tragic 
elements in the drama of war. About that time occurred an episode that 
would have furnished Goldsmith with all the elements of a comedy. It was a 
dark night with a deep snow on the ground, but the weather was warm and 
the snow soft. I received information that there was a pretty strong 
outpost on a certain 

(1. A letter to Mrs. Mosby.)

Page 153

road in Fairfax, and I was determined to capture it. Of course, the fine 
horses were a great attraction. Several citizens had joined my command and 
acted as guides. Near the post lived a man named Ben Hatton, who traded in 
the camps and was pretty familiar with them. So, around midnight, we 
stopped at his house about a mile from the picket post, and he told us 
that he had been there that evening - I suppose to get coffee and sugar. 
Ben was impressed as a guide to conduct us to the rear of the enemy. When 
we reached that point, I determined to dismount, leave our horses, and 
attack on foot. Ben had fully discharged his duty and, as he was a non-
combatant, I did not want to expose him to unnecessary danger. The blazing 
fire by which the Yankees were sleeping and dreaming was sufficient for 
us. So the horses were tied to the trees, and two of my men - Jimmie, an 
Irishman, and another we called "Coonskin", from the cap he wore - stayed 
with Ben as a guard over the horses.

   Walking on the soft snow, we made no noise and were soon upon the 
picket post. The surprise was complete, and they had no time to prepare 
for resistance. We were soon ready to start back with our prisoners and 
their horses, when a fire opened in our rear, where we had left the guard 

Page 154

and horses. The best scheme seemed to be to mount the Yankee horses, dash 
back, and recapture our own. Some of the men were left to bring the 
prisoners on foot. A considerable fusillade had been going on where the 
guard had been left, but it ceased suddenly when we got near the place. To 
our surprise we found the horses all standing hitched to the trees, and 
Ben Hatton lying in a snowbank, shot through the thigh. But neither 
"Coonskin" nor Jimmie was there. Ben told us that the Yankees had come up 
and attacked them; that was all he knew, except that they had shot him. He 
did not know whether the Yankees had carried off Jimmie and "Coonskin", or 
whether they had carried off the Yankees, nor could he explain why the 
horses were there. That was a mystery nobody could solve. We mounted; Ben 
was lifted on a horse behind one of the men, and we started off with all 
the horses and prisoners. By that time the Yankees from the camp had been 
attracted by the firing. They came up and opened fire at us at long range, 
but let us leave without venturing to come near. Ben was bleeding 
profusely, but it was only a flesh wound. We left him at home, curled up 
in bed, with his wife to nurse him. He was too near the enemy's lines for 
me to give him surgical 

Page 155

assistance, and he was afraid to ask any from the camps. The wound would 
have betrayed him to the Yankees had they known about it, and Ben would 
have been hung as a spy! He was certainly innocent, for he had no desire 
to serve any one but himself. His wound healed, but the only reward he got 
was the glory of shedding his blood for his country.

   As soon as it was daylight, a strong body of cavalry was sent up the 
turnpike to catch us - they might as well have been chasing a herd of 
antelope. We had several hours' start of them, and they returned to camp 
in the evening, leading a lot of broken-down horses. The pursuit had done 
them more harm than our attack.

   We brought off "Coonskin's" and Jimmie's horses, but we couldn't invent 
a theory to solve the mystery. Two days afterwards, "Coonskin" and Jimmie 
reappeared. They had trudged twenty-five miles through the snow, arriving 
within a few hours of each other, but from opposite directions, and each 
thought he was the only survivor. Neither knew that Ben Hatton had been 
shot, and each said that he had fought until they saw a body of Yankees 
riding down upon them. Then they ran off and left the horses in the belief 
that we were all prisoners.

Page 156

   By a comparison of their statements, I found out that the facts were 
about as follows. To keep themselves warm, the three had walked around 
among the trees and got separated. "Coonskin" saw Ben and Jimmie moving in 
the shadows and took them for Yankees. He opened on them and drew blood at 
the first fire. Ben yelled and fell. Jimmie took it for granted that 
"Coonskin" was a Yankee and returned his fire. So they were firing at each 
other and dodging among the trees when they saw us coming up at a gallop. 
As we had left them on foot, they could not understand how we could come 
back on horseback. So after wounding Ben Hatton and shooting at each 
other, they had run away from us.

   A few days after this adventure, Fate compelled me to act a part in a 
comedy which appeared to be heroic, but for which I was really entitled to 
as little credit as Ben Hatton was for getting shot. From our rendezvous 
along the base of the Blue Ridge we continued to make night attacks on the 
outposts near Washington. So it was determined in Washington to put a stop 
to what were called our depredations, and an expedition was sent against 
us into Loudoun. Middleburg, a village, was supposed to be our 
headquarters, and it was thought that by surrounding it at night the 

Page 157

marauders could be caught. The complaints against us did not recognize the 
fact that there are two parties of equal rights in a war. The error men 
make is in judging conduct in war by the standards of peace. I confess my 
theory of war was severely practical - one not acquired by reading the 
Waverley novels - but we observed the ethics of the code of war. Strategy 
is only another name for deception and can be practised by any commander. 
The enemy complained that we did not fight fair; the same complaint was 
made by the Austrians against Napoleon.

   A Major Gilmer was sent with 200 men in expectation of extirpating my 
gang - as they called us. He might have done more if he had taken less 
whiskey along. But the weather was cold! Be- fore daybreak he had invested 
the town and made his headquarters in the hotel where he had learned that 
I slept. I had never been in the village except to pass through. The 
orders were to arrest every man that could be found, and when his 
searching parties reported to him, they had a lot of old men whom they had 
pulled out of bed. Gilmer pretended to think these were the parties that 
had captured his pickets and patrols and stampeded his camps. If so, when 
he saw the old cripples on crutches, he ought to have been 

Page 158

ashamed. He made free use of his bottle and ordered a soldier to drill the 
old men and make them mark time just to keep warm. As he had made a night 
march of twenty-five miles, he concluded to carry the prisoners to his 
camp as prizes of war. So each graybeard had to ride double with a 
trooper. There were also a number of colored women whom he invited, or who 
asked, to go with him. They had children, but the major was a good-natured 
man. So each woman was mounted behind a trooper - and the trooper took her 
baby in his arms. With such encumbrances, sabres and pistols would be of 
little use, if an attack was made. When they started, the column looked 
more like a procession of Canterbury Pilgrims than cavalry.

   News came to me that the enemy were at Middleburg, so, with seventeen 
men, I started that way, hoping to catch some stragglers. But when we got 
to the village, we heard that they had gone, and we entered at a gallop. 
Women and children came out to greet us - the men had all been carried off 
as prisoners. The tears and lamentations of the scene aroused all our 
sentiments of chivalry, and we went in pursuit. With five or six men I 
rode in advance at a gallop and directed the others to follow more slowly. 
I had expected that 

Page 159

Major Gilmer might halt at Aldie, a village about five miles ahead, but 
when we got there a citizen told us that he passed on through. Just as we 
were ascending to the top of a hill on the outskirts of the village, two 
cavalrymen suddenly met us. We captured them and sent them to the rear, 
supposing they were videttes of Gilmer's command. Orders were sent to the 
men behind to hurry up. Just then I saw two cavalrymen in blue on the 
pike. No others were visible, so with my squad I started at a gallop to 
capture them. But when we got halfway down the hill we discovered a 
considerable body - it turned out to be a squadron - of cavalry that had 
dismounted. Their horses were hitched to a fence, and they were feeding at 
a mill. I tried to stop, but my horse was high-mettled and ran at full 
speed, entirely beyond my control. But the cavalry at the mill were taken 
absolutely by surprise by the irruption; their videttes had not fired, and 
they were as much shocked as if we had dropped from the sky. They never 
waited to see how many of us there were. A panic seized them. Without 
stopping to bridle their horses or to fight on foot, they scattered in all 
directions. Some hid in the mill; others ran to Bull Run Mountain near by.

   Just as we got to the mill, I saw another body 

Page 160

of cavalry ahead of me on the pike, gazing in bewildered astonishment at 
the sight. To save myself, I jumped off my horse and my men stopped, but 
fortunately the mounted party in front of me saw those I had left behind 
coming to my relief, so they wheeled and started full speed down the pike. 
We then went back to the mill and went to work. Many had hidden like rats, 
and as the mill was running, they came near being ground up. The first man 
that was pulled out was covered with flour; we thought he was the miller. 
I still believed that the force was Major Gilmer's rearguard. All the 
prisoners were sent back, and with one man I rode down the pike to look 
for my horse. But I never got him - he chased the Yankees twenty-five 
miles to their camp.

   I have said that in this affair I got the reputation of a hero; really 
I never claimed it, but gave my horse all the credit for the stampede. Now 
comes the funniest part of the story. Major Gilmer had left camp about 
midnight. The next morning a squadron of the First Vermont Cavalry, which 
was in camp a few miles away from him, was sent up the pike on Gilmer's 
track. Major Gilmer did not know they were coming. When he got a mile 
below Aldie, he saw in front a body of cavalry 

Page 161

coming to meet him. He thought they were my men who had cut him off from 
his camp. He happened to be at the point where the historic Haddock road, 
along which young George Washington marched to the Monongahela, crossed 
the turnpike. As Major Gilmer was in search of us, it is hard to see why 
he was seized with a panic when he thought he saw us. He made no effort to 
find out whether the force in front was friend or foe, but wheeled and 
turned off at full speed from the pike. He seemed to think the chances 
were all against him. There had been a snow and a thaw, and his horses 
sank to their knees in mud at every jump. But the panic grew, the farther 
he went, and he soon saw that he had to leave some of his horses sticking 
in the road. He concluded now that he would do like the mariner in a 
storm - jettison his cargo. So the old men were dropped first; next the 
negro women, and the troopers were told to leave the babies in the arms of 
their mothers. The Braddock road had seen one such wreck and retreat a 
hundred years before.

   I had not gone far before I met the old men coming back, and they told 
me of their ludicrous adventure and thanked me for their rescue. They did 
not know that the Vermont cavalry was entitled to all the glory for 
getting up the stampede, 

Page 162

and that they owed me nothing. In the hurry to find my horse, I had asked 
the prisoners no questions and thought that we had caught a rear-guard. 
Among the prisoners were two captains. One was exchanged in time to be at 
Gettysburg, where he was killed. Major Gilmer was tried for cowardice and 
drunkenness and was dismissed from the army. Colonel Johnstone, who put 
him under arrest when he got back, said in his report, "The horses 
returned exhausted from being run at full speed for miles." They were 
running from the Vermont cavalry.

   Among the accessions to my command was a young man named John 
Underwood, whom I found in the Fairfax forests. I was largely indebted to 
his skill and intelligence for whatever success I had in the beginning of 
my partisan life. He was killed a few months afterward, and I never found 
his like again, for he was equally at home threading his way through the 
pines or leading a charge. Why he had stayed at home and let me discover 
him is a mystery to me. Soon after the affair in which Ben Hatton became 
an involuntary hero, Underwood reported another outpost in Fairfax which 
was in an exposed position. I could hardly believe it; the Yankees seemed 
to have learned nothing by experience. It looked much as 

Page 163

though they had been put there just to be caught, or as a snare to catch 
me, so I resolved to give them another lesson in the art of war.

   We had a suspicion that it was a trap set for us and that there was 
danger, but war is not an exact science, and it is necessary to take some 
chances. I determined to try my luck in the daytime - they would not be 
expecting us, as all our attacks had been at night. Underwood led us by 
paths through the woods to their rear until we arrived at a road leading 
from their camp to the picket. A vidette was there, but he was caught 
before he could fire and give the alarm. It was then plain that the 
surprise we had planned would be complete. A few hundred yards away the 
boys in blue were lounging around an old sawmill, with their horses tied 
to a fence. It was past twelve o'clock, there was bright sunlight, and 
there was snow on the ground. They were Vermont cavalry, and they had no 
suspicion that an enemy was near. It was just the hour for their relief to 
come, and as we came from the direction of their camp, they thought, when 
they saw us, that we were friends.

   When we got within a hundred yards of them, an order to charge was 
given. They were panicstricken - they had no time to untie their horses 

Page 164

and mount - and took refuge in the loft of the mill. I was afraid that if 
they had time to recover from their shock, they would try to hold the mill 
against us with their carbines until reinforcements came. There was a pile 
of dry timber and shavings on the floor, and the men were ordered, in a 
loud voice, to set the mill on fire. When we reached the head of the 
stairs, the Yankees surrendered. They were defenceless against the fire, 
and it was not their ambition to be cremated alive. Not a shot was fired. 
After all were mounted, we saw four finely-equipped horses tied in front 
of a near-by house. My men at once rushed to find the riders. They found a 
table spread with lunch. One of the men ran up-stairs where it was pitch 
dark; he called but got no answer. As a pistol shot could do no harm, he 
fired into the darkness. The flash of the pistol in his face caused one of 
the Yankees to move, and he descended through the ceiling. He had stepped 
on the lathing and caved it in. After he was brushed off, we saw that he 
was a major. The three other officers who were with him came out of their 
holes and surrendered. My men appropriated the lunch by right of war.

   Just as the Yankee relief appeared, John Underwood was sent off with 
the prisoners. We kept 

Page 165

a rear guard behind, but no attack was made on it, although one was 
threatened. Major Taggart, in his report of the affair, censured the 
officer in command, as he had a larger force than ours and made no attempt 
either to capture us or to recapture the prisoners. Major Wells, the major 
we captured, was exchanged in time to be at Gettysburg where he was 
promoted to be a brigadier-general.

   There was more than one ludicrous affair that day. A man named Janney 
lived at the place and was permitted to conduct a store since he was 
inside the picket lines. He had just brought a barrel of molasses from 
Washington to retail to his neighbors, and he was in the act of filling a 
jug for a customer when he heard the yell of my men as they rushed at the 
picket post. As the place was occupied by the Unionists, he could not have 
been more surprised if a comet had struck it. Janney did not aspire to be 
a hero, so he ran away as fast as his heels could carry him, and, if 
possible, the molasses ran even faster. When he ventured to return to the 
store, he found the molasses spread all over the floor, and not a drop in 
the barrel.

   After we were a safe distance away, the privates were paroled and 
allowed to go home, and the 

Page 166

officers gave their paroles to report to Fitz Lee in Culpeper. Jake, a 
Hungarian, was sent with them as an escort. Now Jake had served under 
Kossuth and did not put much trust in paroles. They spent the night with a 
farmer and, when the officers went to bed, Jake volunteered to take their 
boots to the kitchen to be shined. As long as he had their boots, Jake had 
no fear of their going off in the snow. When he got back, Jake told me, 
with a chuckle, of the trick he had played on the Yankees.

   War is not always grim-visaged, and incidents occur which provoke 
laughter in the midst of danger. In the Shenandoah Valley, a Yankee 
cavalry regiment went into camp one evening. One of the men rode off to a 
house to get something to eat and called a colored woman to the door. He 
wanted to feel safe, so he asked if anybody was there. "Nobody but Mosby," 
she replied.

   "Is Mosby here?" he asked.

   "Yes," she said.

   He dashed off to the camp and reported that Mosby was in a house near 
by. Orders were given to saddle and mount quickly, and they marched to the 
house and surrounded it. The Colonel entered and asked the woman if Mosby 
was there.

Page 167

   "Yes," she answered.

   "Where is he?" demanded the Colonel.

   "There he is," she said, pointing to a negro baby in the cradle.

   One night I was with one man near the enemy's camps in Fairfax. We were 
passing a house, when I heard a dog bark and somebody call, "Come here, 
Mosby." So I turned, rode up to the house, and asked the man if he had 
called me.

   "No," he said, "I was calling Mosby. I wanted him to stop barking."

   So I have had the distinction of having had negro babies and dogs named 
after me.



Page 168

CHAPTER XI 
THE RAID ON FAIRFAX
   WHEN we captured prisoners, it was my custom to examine them apart, and 
in this way, together with information gained from citizens, I obtained a 
pretty accurate knowledge of conditions in the enemy's camps. After a few 
weeks of partisan life, I meditated a more daring enterprise than any I 
had attempted and fortunately received aid from an unexpected quarter. A 
deserter from the Fifth New York Cavalry, named Ames, came to me. He was a 
sergeant in his regiment and came in his full uniform. I never cared to 
inquire what his grievance was. The account he gave me of the distribution 
of troops and the gaps in the picket lines coincided with what I knew and 
tended to prepossess me in his favor. But my men were suspicious of his 
good faith and rather thought that he had been sent to decoy me with a 
plausible story. At first I did not give him my full confidence but 
accepted him on probation. 

Page 169

Ames stood all tests, and until he was killed I never had a more faithful 
follower.

   Ames had come out from his camp on foot and proposed to me that he 
would go back into his camp and return on horseback, if I would accept 
him. A recruit, Walter Frankland, had just come to me, but he was not 
mounted. With my approval he agreed to go with Ames to get a horse. They 
trudged on foot through the snow - twenty-five miles - entered the camp of 
the Fifth New York Cavalry at night, unchallenged, and rode out on fine 
horses.

   At the same time, with a number of men, I started on a raid in another 
direction and had rather a ludicrous adventure. We met an old country 
doctor, Doctor Drake, in a desolate condition, walking home through mud 
and snow. He told us he had been going the rounds, visiting his patients, 
when he had met a body of cavalry that was not far ahead of us. They had 
robbed him of his horse, saddlebags, and medicine. As the blockade had 
made medicine scarce, this was a severe loss to the community. We spurred 
on to overtake the raiders and intercepted a party that had stopped at a 
house. They exceeded us in numbers, but they were more intent on saving 
themselves and their plunder than on fighting. 

Page 170

They scampered away, with us close behind them. Soon they got to Horsepen 
Run, which was booming from the melting snows, and the foremost man 
plunged into the stream. He got a good ducking and was glad to get back a 
prisoner. His companions did not try to swim after him but preferred to 
surrender. They were loaded with silver spoons and valuables they had 
taken, but the chief prize was old Doctor Drake's saddlebags, which they 
had not opened. The silver was returned to the owners, and the prisoners 
were sent to Richmond.

   When we got back to Middleburg, we found Ames and Frankland with their 
fine horses. I now determined to give Ames one more trial and so took him 
with me on a raid to Fairfax. But he went as a combatant without arms. I 
had found out that there was a picket post at a certain crossroads and 
went to attack it in a rain on a dark night, when there was snow on the 
ground. As only a raccoon could be supposed to travel on such a night, I 
knew the pickets would feel safe and would be sound asleep, so that a 
single shot would create a panic. We stopped to inquire of a farmer the 
location of the post. He had been there during the day and said that there 
were 100 men who slept in a schoolhouse. He 

Page 171

asked me how many men I had, and I replied, "Seventeen, but they will 
think there are a hundred." They could not count in the dark. We made no 
attempt to flank the picket to prevent his giving the alarm, but we went 
straight down the road. One of the men, Joe Nelson, was sent ahead to 
catch the vidette. When the vidette saw Joe, he fired at him and started 
at full speed to the reserve; but we were on his heels and got there 
almost as soon as he did. The yells of my men resounded through the pines, 
and the Yankees all fled and left their horses hitched to the trees. As it 
was very dark, we could not catch many of the men, but we got all their 
horses. My attention was attracted to Ames, who struck a man with a 
carbine he got from him - I don't remember why. We were soon back on the 
pike and trotting towards the Blue Ridge with the prisoners and horses. 
When it was daylight, Wyndham mounted his squadrons and started full speed 
after us. After going twenty miles, he returned to camp with half of his 
men leading broken-down horses. Wyndham was soon afterwards relieved, but 
not before we had raided his headquarters and carried off his staff, his 
horses, and his uniform.

   I now determined to execute my scheme to capture both General Stoughton 
and Wyndham 

Page 172

at their headquarters. Ames, about whose fidelity there was no longer any 
question, knew where their headquarters were, and the place was familiar 
to me as I had been in camp there. I also knew, both from Ames and the 
prisoners, where the gaps in the lines were at night. The safety of the 
enterprise lay in its novelty; nothing of the kind had been done before.

   On the evening of March 8, 1863, in obedience to orders, twenty-nine 
men met me at Dover, in Loudoun County. None knew my objective point, but 
I told Ames after we started. I remember that I got dinner that day with 
Colonel Chancellor, who lived near Dover. Just as I was about to mount my 
horse, as I was leaving, I said to him, "I shall mount the stars to-night 
or sink lower than plummet ever sounded." I did not rise as high as the 
stars, but I did not sink. I then had no reputation to lose, even if I 
failed, and I remembered the motto, "Adventures to the adventurous."

   The weather conditions favored my success. There was a melting snow on 
the ground, a mist, and, about dark, a drizzling rain. Our starting point 
was about twenty-five miles from Fairfax Court House. It was pitch dark 
when we got near the cavalry pickets at Chantilly - five or 

Page 173

six miles from the Court House. At Centreville, three miles away on the 
Warrenton pike and seven miles from the Court House, were several thousand 
troops. Our problem was to pass between them and Wyndham's cavalry without 
giving the alarm. Ames knew where there was a break in the picket lines 
between Chantilly and Centreville, and he led us through this without a 
vidette seeing us. After passing the outpost the chief point in the game 
was won. I think no man with me, except Ames, realized that we were inside 
the enemy's lines. But the enemy felt secure and was as ignorant as my 
men. The plan had been to reach the Court House by midnight so as to get 
out of the lines before daybreak, but the column got broken in the dark 
and the two parts travelled around in a circle for an hour looking for 
each other. After we closed up, we started off and struck the pike between 
Centreville and the Court House. But we turned off into the woods when we 
got within two or three miles of the village, as Wyndham's cavalry camps 
were on the pike. We entered the village from the direction of the 
railroad station. There were a few sentinels about the town, but it was so 
dark that they could not distinguish us from their own people. Squads were 
detailed to go 

Page 174

around to the officers' quarters and to the stables for the horses. The 
court-house yard was the rendezvous where all were to report. As our great 
desire was to capture Wyndham, Ames was sent with a party to the house in 
which he knew Wyndham had his quarters. But fortune was in Wyndham's favor 
that time, for that evening he had gone to Washington by train. But Ames 
got his two staff officers, his horses, and his uniform. One of the 
officers, Captain Barker, had been Ames's captain. Ames brought him to me 
and seemed to take great pride in introducing him to me as his former 
captain.

   When the squads were starting around to gather prisoners and horses, 
Joe Nelson brought me a soldier who said he was a guard at General 
Stoughton's headquarters. Joe had also pulled the telegraph operator out 
of his tent; the wires had been cut. With five or six men I rode to the 
house, now the Episcopal rectory, where the commanding general was. We 
dismounted and knocked loudly at the door. Soon a window above was opened, 
and some one asked who was there. I answered, "Fifth New York Cavalry with 
a dispatch for General Stoughton." The door was opened and a staff 
officer, Lieutenant Prentiss, was before me. I took hold of his 
nightshirt, 

Page 175

whispered my name in his ear, and told him to take me to General 
Stoughton's room. Resistance was useless, and he obeyed. A light was 
quickly struck, and on the bed we saw the general sleeping as soundly as 
the Turk when Marco Bozzaris waked him up. There was no time for ceremony, 
so I drew up the bedclothes, pulled up the general's shirt, and gave him a 
spank on his bare back, and told him to get up. As his staff officer was 
standing by me, Stoughton did not realize the situation and thought that 
somebody was taking a rude familiarity with him. He asked in an indignant 
tone what all this meant. I told him that he was a prisoner, and that he 
must get up quickly and dress.

   I then asked him if he had ever heard of "Mosby", and he said he had.

   "I am Mosby," I said. "Stuart's cavalry has possession of the Court 
House; be quick and dress."

   He then asked whether Fitz Lee was there. I said he was, and he asked 
me to take him to Fitz Lee - they had been together at West Point. Two 
days afterwards I did deliver him to Fitz Lee at Culpeper Court House. My 
motive in trying to deceive Stoughton was to deprive him of all hope of 
escape and to induce him to dress 

Page 176

quickly. We were in a critical situation, surrounded by the camps of 
several thousand troops with several hundred in the town. If there had 
been any concert between them, they could easily have driven us out; but 
not a shot was fired although we stayed there over an hour. As soon as it 
was known that we were there, each man hid and took care of himself. 
Stoughton had the reputation of being a brave soldier, but a fop. He 
dressed before a looking-glass as carefully as Sardanapalus did when he 
went into battle. He forgot his watch and left it on the bureau, but one 
of my men, Frank Williams, took it and gave it to him. Two men had been 
left to guard our horses when we went into the house. There were several 
tents for couriers in the yard, and Stoughton's horses and couriers were 
ready to go with us, when we came out with the general and his staff.

   When we reached the rendezvous at the courtyard, I found all the squads 
waiting for us with their prisoners and horses. There were three times as 
many prisoners as my men, and each was mounted and leading a horse. To 
deceive the enemy and baffle pursuit, the cavalcade started off in one 
direction and, soon after it got out of town, turned in another. We 
flanked the 

Page 177

cavalry camps, and were soon on the pike between them and Centreville. As 
there were several thousand troops in that town, it was not thought 
possible that we would go that way to get out of the lines, so the 
cavalry, when it started in pursuit, went in an opposite direction. 
Lieutenant Prentiss and a good many prisoners who started with us escaped 
in the dark, and we lost a great many of the horses.

   A ludicrous incident occurred when we were leaving Fairfax. A window 
was raised, and a voice inquired, in an authoritative tone, what that 
cavalry was doing in the street. He was answered by a loud laugh from my 
men, which was notice to him that we were not his friends. I ordered 
several men to dismount and capture him. They burst through the front 
door, but the man's wife met them in the hall and held her ground like a 
lioness to give her husband time to escape. He was Colonel Johnstone, who 
was in command of the cavalry brigade during Wyndham's absence. He got out 
through the back door in his night clothes and barefooted, and hid in the 
garden. He spent some time there, as he did not know when we left, and his 
wife could not find him.

   Our safety depended on our getting out of the 

Page 178

Union lines before daybreak. We struck the pike about four miles from 
Centreville; the danger I then apprehended was pursuit by the cavalry, 
which was in camp behind us. When we got near the pike, I halted the 
column to close up. Some of my men were riding in the rear, and some on 
the flanks to prevent the prisoners from escaping. I left a sergeant, 
Hunter, in command and rode forward to reconnoitre. As no enemy was in 
front, I called to Hunter to come on and directed him to go forward at a 
trot and to hold Stoughton's bridle reins under all circumstances. 
Stoughton no doubt appreciated my interest in him.

   With Joe Nelson I remained some distance behind. We stopped frequently 
to listen for the hoofbeats of cavalry in pursuit, but no sounds could be 
heard save the hooting of owls. My heart beat higher with hope every 
minute; it was the crisis of my fortunes.

   Soon the camp fires on the heights around Centreville were in sight; my 
plan was to flank the position and pass between that place and the camps 
at Chantilly. But we soon saw that Hunter had halted, and I galloped 
forward to find out the cause. I saw a fire on the side of the road about 
a hundred yards ahead of us - 

Page 179

evidently a picket post. So I rode forward to reconnoitre, but nobody was 
by the fire, and the picket was gone. We were now half a mile from 
Centreville, and the dawn was just breaking. It had been the practice to 
place a picket on our road every evening and withdraw it early in the 
morning. The officer in charge concluded that, as it was near daylight, 
there was no danger in the air, and he had returned to camp and left the 
fire burning. That was the very thing I wanted him to do. I called Hunter 
to come on, and we passed the picket fire and then turned off to go around 
the forts at Centreville. I rode some distance ahead of the column. The 
camps were quiet; there was no sign of alarm; the telegraph wires had been 
cut, and no news had come about our exploit at the Court House. We could 
see the cannon bristling through the redoubts and hear the sentinel on the 
parapet call to us to halt. But no attention was paid to him, and he did 
not fire to give the alarm. No doubt he thought that we were a body of 
their own cavalry going out on a scout.

   But soon there was a shot behind me and, turning around, I saw Captain 
Barker dashing towards a redoubt and Jake, the Hungarian, close behind him 
and about to give him another shot, when Barker's horse tumbled and fell 
on him in 

Page 180

a ditch. We soon got them out and moved on. All this happened in sight of 
the sentinels and in gunshot of their camps.

   After we had passed the forts and reached Cub Run, a new danger was 
before us. The stream was swift and booming from the melting snow, and our 
choice was to swim, or to turn back. In full view behind us were the white 
tents of the enemy and the forts, and we were within cannon range. Without 
halting a moment, I plunged into the stream, and my horse swam to the 
other bank. Stoughton followed and was next to me. As he came up the bank, 
shivering from his cold morning bath, he said, "Captain, this is the first 
rough treatment I have to complain of."

   Fortunately not a man or a horse was lost. When all were over, I knew 
there was no danger behind us, and that we were as safe as Tam O'Shanter 
thought he would be if he crossed the bridge of Doon ahead of the witches. 
I now left Hunter in charge of the column, and with one of my men, George 
Slater, galloped on to see what was ahead of us. I thought a force might 
have been sent to intercept us on the pike we had left that runs through 
Centreville. I did not know that Colonel Johnstone, with his cavalry, had 
gone in the opposite direction.

Page 181

   We crossed Bull Run at Sudley Ford and were soon on the historic 
battlefield. From the heights of Groveton we could see that the road was 
clear to Centreville, and that there was no pursuit. Hunter soon appeared 
in sight. The sun had just risen, and in the rapture of the moment I said 
to Slater, "George, that is the sun of Austerlitz!" I knew that I had 
drawn a prize in the lottery of life, and my emotion was natural and 
should be pardoned.

   I could not but feel deep pity for Stoughton when he looked back at 
Centreville and saw that there was no chance of his rescue. Without any 
fault of his own, Stoughton's career as a soldier was blasted.

   There is an anecdote told of Mr. Lincoln that, when it was reported to 
him that Stoughton had been captured, he remarked, with characteristic 
humor, that he did not mind so much the loss of a general - for he could 
make another in five minutes - but he hated to lose the horses.

   Slater and I remained for some time behind as a rear guard and overtook 
Hunter, who had gone on in command, at Warrenton. We found that the whole 
population had turned out and were giving my men an ovation. Stoughton and 
the officers had breakfast with a citizen named 

Page 182

Beckham. The general had been a classmate at West Point with Beckham's 
son, now a Confederate artillery officer, and had spent a vacation with 
him at his home. Stoughton now renewed his acquaintance with his family.

   We soon remounted and moved on south. After crossing the Rappahannock, 
the men and prisoners were put in charge of Dick Moran with orders to meet 
me near Culpeper Court House the next morning, while, with Hunter and the 
officers on parole, I went on in advance and spent the night near Brandy. 
As I had been in the saddle for thirty-six hours, I retired to rest as 
soon as we had eaten supper. The next morning there was a cold rain, but 
after breakfast we started for General Fitz Lee's headquarters.

   When we arrived at our destination, we hitched our horses in the front 
yard and went into the house, where we found Fitz Lee writing at a table 
before a log fire. We were cold and wet. In the First Virginia Cavalry, 
Fitz Lee and I had been well acquainted. He was very polite to his old 
classmate and to the officers, when I introduced them, but he treated me 
with indifference, did not ask me to take a seat by the fire, nor seem 
impressed by what I had done.

   As a matter of historical fact, it is well known 

Page 183

that this episode created a sensation in both armies, but the reception I 
received convinced me that I was not a welcome person at those 
headquarters. So, bidding the prisoners good-by and bowing to Fitz Lee, 
Hunter and I rode off in the rain to the telegraph office to send a report 
to Stuart, who had his headquarters at Fredericksburg. The operator told 
me that Stuart was on his way to Culpeper and would arrive on the train 
that evening, but he sent the dispatch and it was delivered to Stuart. I 
met him at the depot and can never forget the joy his generous heart 
showed when he met me. That was a sufficient reward. Major John Pelham was 
with Stuart. This was the last time I ever saw Pelham, for he was killed a 
week afterwards. As we walked off, Stuart handed me a commission as 
captain from Governor John Letcher. It gave me rank with the Virginia 
troops, but, as there were no such troops, it was a blank form, and I 
regarded it as a mockery. Stuart remarked that he thought the Confederate 
War Department would recognize it. I said, in rather an abrupt and 
indignant tone, "I want no recognition." I meant official recognition. I 
did not affect to be indifferent to public praise. Such a man is either 
too good or too bad to live in this world. Stuart published 

Page 184

a general order announcing the capture of Stoughton and had it printed, 
giving me fifty copies. That satisfied me, and I soon returned to my field 
of operations and again began war on the Potomac.

Headquarters Cavalry Division, 
March 12, 1863. 

General Orders. 
   Captain John S. Mosby has for a long time attracted the attention of 
his generals by his boldness, skill, and success, so signally displayed in 
his numerous forays upon the invaders of his native soil.

   None know his daring enterprise and dashing heroism better than those 
foul invaders, those strangers themselves to such noble traits.

   His last brilliant exploit - the capture of Brigadier-General 
Stoughton, U. S. A., two captains, and thirty other prisoners, together 
with their arms, equipments, and fifty-eight horses - justifies this 
recognition in General Orders. This feat, unparalleled in the war, was 
performed in the midst of the enemy's troops, at Fairfax Court House, 
without loss or injury.

   The gallant band of Captain Mosby shares his glory, as they did the 
danger of this enterprise, and are worthy of such a leader.

J. E. B. Stuart, 
Major-General Commanding. 

   In a few days Fitz Lee wrote me that the detail of men I had from his 
brigade must return to their 

Page 185

regiment. This attempt to deprive me of a command met with no favor from 
Stuart. I sent him Fitz Lee's letter, and he issued an order for them to 
stay until he recalled them. When the armies began to move in April, the 
men went back, but a considerable number of recruits had joined me, and 
what the enemy called my "depredations" continued. In the published 
records of the war is the following letter from General Robert E. Lee to 
President Davis, informing him of another success I had soon after the 
capture of Stoughton:

Headquarters, Army of Northern Virginia, 
March 21, 1863. 

   You will, I know, be gratified to learn by the enclosed despatch that 
the appointment conferred a few days since on Captain John S. Mosby was 
not unworthily bestowed. The point where he struck the enemy is north of 
Fairfax Court-House, near the Potomac, and far within the lines of the 
enemy. I wish I could receive his appointment (as major) or some official 
notification of it, that I might announce it to him.

R. E. Lee, General. 

   A dispatch from Lieutenant O'Connor, Provost-Marshal at Fairfax Court 
House, sent to Washington an hour after we left the village, confirms the 
account I have given of our visit. He said:

Page 186

   Captain Mosby, with his command, entered this town this morning at 2 
A.M. They captured my patrols, horses, etc. They took Brigadier-General 
Stoughton and horses, and all his men detached from his brigade. They took 
every horse that could be found, public or private; and the commanding 
officer of the post, Colonel Johnstone, of the Fifth New York Cavalry, 
made his escape from them in a nude state by accident. They searched for 
me in every direction, but being on the Vienna road visiting outposts, I 
made my escape.

   And in a report the next day to Colonel Wyndham, O'Connor said:

   On the night of the 8th instant, say about two or half past two A.M., 
Captain Mosby with his command entered the village by an easterly 
direction. They proceeded to Colonel Wyndham's headquarters and took all 
his horses and movable property with them. In the meantime another party 
of them entered the residence of Colonel Johnstone and searched the house 
for him. He had on their entering the town heard of their movements and 
believing them to be the patrol, went out to halt them, but soon found out 
his mistake. He then entered the house again - he being in a nude state - 
and got out backwards - they in hot pursuit of him. In the meantime others 
were dispatched to all quarters where officers were lodged, taking them 
out of their beds, together with the telegraph operator and assistant.

Page 187

   Stoughton was soon exchanged but did not return to the army. The 
circumstances of his capture wrecked him as a soldier. He was accused of 
negligence in allowing the gap in the picket line through which we 
entered. The commander of the cavalry pickets, Colonel Wyndham, was 
responsible for that, and there is a letter in the War Records from 
Stoughton to Wyndham, calling his attention to it. I allowed Stoughton to 
write a letter, which I sent through a citizen, to Wyndham, in which he 
reproached him for the management of his outposts. But Wyndham ought not 
to be blamed, because he did not anticipate an event that had no 
precedent. He did exercise reasonable vigilance. In this life we can only 
prepare for what is probable, not for every contingency.

   Colonel Johnstone lost his clothes and lay hidden for some time before 
he heard we were gone. O'Connor said he appeared in the state of Adam 
before the fall. But he could not survive the ridicule he incurred by it 
and disappeared.

Near Piedmont, Va., March 18, 1863. 

General: 
   Yesterday I attacked a body of the enemy's cavalry at Herndon Station, 
in Fairfax County, completely 

Page 188

routing them. I brought off twenty-five prisoners - a major, one captain, 
two lieutenants, and twenty-one men, all their arms, twenty-six horses, 
and equipments. One, severely wounded, was left on the ground. The enemy 
pursued me in force, but were checked by my rear-guard and gave up the 
pursuit. My loss was nothing.

   The enemy have moved their cavalry from Germantown back of Fairfax 
Court House on the Alexandria pike.

   In this affair my officers and men behaved splendidly.

(Signed) Jno. S. Mosby. 

(Indorsement) 
Maj.-Gen. J. E. B. Stuart. 

Headquarters of the Army of Northern Virginia, 
March 21, 1863. 

   Respectfully forwarded for the information of the department and as 
evidence of the merit and continued success of Captain Mosby.

R. E. Lee, 
General. 

   [This Dranesville affair led to the following interesting 
correspondence after the war. It is of special value in illustrating the 
feelings of his enemies - the men who actually fought with him - towards 
Mosby.

Page 189

Washington, Vt., December 19, 1910. 

Col. John S. Mosby, 
Washington, D. C. 

Dear Colonel and Friend: 
   You will be surprised to receive a letter from me, one you know so 
little, but will remember. In noticing to-day the item of the enclosed 
clipping [Mosby's comment on President Taft's appointment of a Confederate 
soldier (White) to be Chief Justice of the Supreme Court] I could not 
resist the privilege of writing to you, as I believe now I am the only 
surviving one of the four officers - Major Wells, Capt. Schofield, Lieut. 
Watson, and myself - you captured at Herndon Station, near Dranesville, 
Va., St. Patrick's day, March 17, 1863, and with us the picket post of 
twenty-one men. Your treatment and [that of] your men to us on that 
occasion has always been gladly remembered by us all - in every respect 
courteous. And you kindly gave us our horses to ride from Upperville to 
Culpeper Court House, which was an act of the highest type of a man, and 
should bury deep forever the name of a "guerrilla" and substitute "to 
picket line a bad disturber." . . .

Most sincerely and cordially yours, 
Lieut. P. C. J. Cheney. 

Burlington, Vt., December 28, 1910. 

Dear Col. Mosby: 
   The enclosed letter from Lieut. P. C. J. Cheney, of Washington, Vt., 
explains itself.

Page 190

   During the war for the Union he was a first lieutenant in the First 
Vermont Cavalry, and was captured by you at Herndon Station on the 17th of 
March, 1863. Lieut. Cheney was one of the bravest and best officers in the 
regiment, and was dangerously wounded in the charge made by the Company in 
front of Round Top (Gettysburg) on the afternoon of July 3, 1863.

   I had the pleasure of meeting you at the inauguration of President 
McKinley, at which time I was adjutant of Vermont, and presented you to 
Hon. Josiah Grout, then Governor of this state, who at the Miskel Farm 
fight between the First Vermont Cavalry and yourself was most dangerously 
wounded. . . . You were kind enough to say that the First Vermont Cavalry 
was one of the very best regiments you had met in action. . . .

Yours very truly, 
T. S. Peck. 

   General Stahel described the Miskel Farm affair in his report of April 
2, 1863, as follows:

   It appears that on the evening of the 31st ultimo, Major Taggart, at 
Union Church two miles above Peach Grove, received information that Mosby, 
with about sixty-five men, was near Dranesville. He immediately dispatched 
Capt. Flint, with 150 men of the First Vermont, to rout or capture Mosby 
and his force. . . . Turning to the right they followed up the Broad Run 
to a place marked J. Meskel [sic]. Here 

Page 191

at a house, they came upon Mosby, who was completely surprised and wholly 
unprepared for an attack from our forces. Had a proper disposition been 
made of our troops, Mosby could not, by any possible means, have escaped. 
It seems that around this house was a high board fence and stone wall, 
between which and the road was also another fence and ordinary farm gate. 
Capt. Flint took his men through the gate, and, at a distance from the 
house, fired a volley at Mosby and his men, who were assembled about the 
house, - doing but slight damage to them. He then ordered a sabre charge, 
which was also ineffective, on account of the fence which intervened. 
Mosby waited until the men were checked by the fence, and then opened the 
gate of the barnyard, where his men were collected, saddling and bridling 
their horses, and opened fire upon them, killing and wounding several. The 
men became panic-stricken, and fled precipitately through this gate, 
through which to make their escape. The opening was small; they got wedged 
together, and a fearful confusion followed; while Mosby's men followed 
them up, and poured into the crowd a severe fire. Here, while endeavoring 
to rally his men, Capt. Flint was killed, and Lieut. Grout, of the same 
Company, mortally wounded (will probably die to-day).

   Mosby, who had not had time to mount his horse, personally threw open 
the barnyard gate and ordered his men to charge through it, which they did 
with a terrific yell.]

Page 192

Headquarters Army of Northern Virginia, 
March 23, 1863, 

Capt. J. S. Mosby, 

Captain: 
   You will perceive from the copy of the order herewith enclosed that the 
President has appointed you captain of partisan rangers. The general 
commanding directs me to say that it is desired that you proceed at once 
to organize your company, with the understanding that it is to be placed 
on a footing with all the troops of the line, and to be mustered 
unconditionally in the Confederate service for and during the war. Though 
you are to be its captain, the men will have the privilege of electing the 
lieutenants so soon as its members reach the legal standard. You will 
report your progress from time to time, and when the requisite number of 
men are enrolled, an officer will be designated to muster the company into 
the service.

(Signed) W. W. Taylor, A. A. G. 

[Mosby's report to General Stuart]
Fauquier County, Va., April 7, 1863. 

General: 
   I have the honor to submit the following report of the operations of 
the cavalry since rendering my last report. On Monday, March 16, I 
proceeded down the Little River pike to capture two outposts of the enemy, 
each numbering 60 or 70 men. I did not 

Page 193

succeed in gaining their rear as I had expected, and only captured 4 or 5 
videttes. It being late in the evening, and our horses very much jaded, I 
concluded to return. I had gone not over a mile back when we saw a large 
body of enemy's cavalry, which, according to their own reports, numbered 
200 men, rapidly pursuing. I feigned a retreat, desiring to draw them off 
from their camps. At a point where the enemy had blockaded the road with 
fallen trees, I formed to receive them, for with my knowledge of the 
Yankee character I knew they would imagine themselves fallen into an 
ambuscade. When they had come within 100 yards of me I ordered a charge, 
to which my men responded with a vim that swept everything before them. 
The Yankees broke when we got in 75 yards of them; and it was more of a 
chase than a fight for 4 or 5 miles. We killed 5, wounded a considerable 
number, and brought off 1 lieutenant and 35 men prisoners. I did not have 
over 50 men with me, some having gone back with the prisoners and others 
having gone on ahead, when we started back, not anticipating any pursuit. 
On Monday, March 31, I went down in the direction of Dranesville to 
capture several strong outposts in the vicinity of that place. On reaching 
there I discovered that they had fallen back about 10 miles down the 
Alexandria pike. I then returned 6 or 8 miles back and stopped about 10 
o'clock at night at a point about 2 miles from the pike. Early the next 
morning one of my men, whom I had left over on the Leesburg pike, came 
dashing in, and announced the rapid approach of the enemy. But he had 
scarcely given us 

Page 194

the information when the enemy appeared a few hundred yards off, coming up 
at a gallop. At this time our horses were eating; all had their bridles 
off, and some even their saddles - they were all tied in a barnyard.

   Throwing open the gate I ordered a counter-charge, to which my men 
promptly responded. The Yankees never dreaming of our assuming the 
offensive, terrified at the yells of the men as they dashed on, broke and 
fled in every direction. We drove them in confusion seven or eight miles 
down the pike. We left on the field nine of them killed - among them a 
captain and lieutenant - and about fifteen too badly wounded for removal; 
in this lot two lieutenants. We brought off 82 prisoners, many of these 
also wounded. I have since visited the scene of the fight. The enemy sent 
up a flag of truce for their dead and wounded, but many of them being 
severely wounded, they established a hospital on the ground. The surgeon 
who attended them informs me that a great number of those who escaped were 
wounded. The force of the enemy was six companies of the First Vermont 
Cavalry, one of their oldest and best regiments, and the prisoners inform 
me that they had every available man with them. There were certainly not 
less than 200; the prisoners say it was more than that. I had about 65 men 
in this affair. In addition to the prisoners, we took all their arms and 
about 100 horses and equipments. Privates Hart, Hurst, Keyes, and Davis 
were wounded. The latter has since died. Both on this and several other 
occasions they have 

Page 195

borne themselves with conspicuous gallantry. In addition to those 
mentioned above I desire to place on record the names of several others, 
whose promptitude and boldness in closing in with the enemy contributed 
much to the success of the fight. They are Lieutenant Chapman (late of 
Dixie Artillery), Sergt. Hunter and Privates Wellington and Harry Hatcher, 
Turner, Wild, Sowers, Ames, and Sibert. There are many others, I have no 
doubt, deserving of honorable mention, but the above are only those who 
came under my personal observation. I confess that on this occasion I had 
not taken sufficient precautions to guard against surprise. It was 10 at 
night when I reached the place where the fight came off on the succeeding 
day. We had ridden through snow and mud upwards of 40 miles, and both men 
and horses were nearly broken down; besides, the enemy had fallen back a 
distance of about 18 miles.

(Signed) John S. Mosby, 
Captain Commanding. 

Maj.-Gen. J. E. B. Stuart. 

[Indorsements] 

Headquarters Cavalry Division, 
April 11, 1863. 

   Respectfully forwarded, as in perfect keeping with his other brilliant 
achievements. Recommended for promotion.

J. E. B. Stuart, 
Major-General. 

Page 196

Headquarters Army Northern Virginia, 
April 13, 1863. 

   Respectfully forwarded for the information of the Department. 
Telegraphic reports already sent in.

R. E. Lee, 
General. 

April 22, 1863. 

Adjutant-General: 
   Nominate as major if it has not already been done.

J. A. S. (Seddon). 

[Report of General Stahel]
Fairfax C. H., May 5, 1863. 

   . . . On the third of May, between 8 and 9 A.M., Mosby with his band of 
guerrillas, together with a portion of the Black Horse Cavalry and a 
portion of a North Carolina regiment, came suddenly through the woods upon 
50 of our men of the First Virginia Cavalry, who were in camp feeding 
their horses, just having returned from a scout, the remainder of that 
regiment being out in a different direction to scout the country on the 
right of the Warrenton and Alexandria Railroad and toward the Rappahannock.

   Our men being surprised and completely surrounded, rallied in a house 
close at hand and where a sharp fight ensued. Our men defended themselves 
as long as their ammunition lasted, notwithstanding the rebels built a 
large fire about the house, of hay and straw 

Page 197

and brushwood. The flames reached the house and their ammunition being 
entirely expended they were obliged to surrender. At this juncture a 
portion of the Fifth Regiment New York Cavalry which was posted in the 
rear some distance from the First Virginia Cavalry came to their rescue, 
making a brilliant charge, which resulted in the complete annihilation of 
Mosby's command and recaptured our men and property. Our men pursued the 
rebels in every direction, killing and wounding a large number, and had 
our horses been in better condition and not tired out by the service of 
the last few days, Mosby nor a single one of his men would have escaped.

   The rebel loss was very heavy, their killed being strewn along the 
road. . . . [One man was killed and about twenty wounded.]


[Telegram, Stahel to Heintzelman]
May 30, 1863. 

   We had a hard fight with Mosby this morning, who had artillery, - the 
same which was used to destroy the train of cars. We whipped him like the 
devil, and took his artillery. My forces are still pursuing him.
     

[Mosby's report to General Stuart]
June 6, 1863. 

   Last Saturday morning I captured a train of twelve cars on the Virginia 
and Alexandria Railroad loaded with supplies for the troops above. The 
cars were 

Page 198

fired and entirely consumed. . . . Having destroyed the train, I proceeded 
some distance back, when I recognized the enemy in a strong force 
immediately in my front. One shell which exploded in their ranks sufficed 
to put them to flight. After going about a mile further, the enemy were 
reported pursuing. Their advance was again checked by a shot from the 
howitzer. In this way we skirmished for several miles, until seeing the 
approach of their overwhelming numbers and the impossibility of getting 
off the gun, I resolved to make them pay for it as dearly as possible. 
Taking a good position on a hill commanding the road we awaited their 
onset. They came up quite gallantly, not in dispersed order, but in 
columns of fours, crowded in a narrow lane. At eighty yards we opened on 
them with grape and following this up with a charge of cavalry, we drove 
them half a mile back in confusion. Twice again did they rally and as 
often were sent reeling back. At last our ammunition became exhausted, and 
we were forced to abandon the gun. We did not then abandon it without a 
struggle, and a fierce hand to hand combat ensued in which, though 
overpowered by numbers, many of the enemy were made to bite the dust. In 
this affair I had only 48 men - the forces of the enemy were five 
regiments of cavalry. My loss, one killed - Captain Hoskins, a British 
officer who fell when gallantly fighting, - four wounded. It is with 
pleasure I recommend to your attention the heroic conduct of Lieutenant 
Chapman and Privates Mountjoy and Beattie, who stood by their gun until 
surrounded by the enemy.


Page 199

Middleburg, Va., June 10, 1863. 

General: 
   I left our point of rendezvous yesterday for the purpose of making a 
night attack on two cavalry companies of the enemy on the Maryland shore. 
Had I succeeded in crossing the river at night, as I expected, I would 
have had no difficulty in capturing them; but unfortunately my guide 
mistook the road and, instead of crossing by 11 o'clock at night, I did 
not get over until after daylight. The enemy (between 80 and 100 strong), 
being apprised of my movement, were formed to receive me. A charge was 
ordered, the shock of which the enemy could not resist; and they were 
driven several miles in confusion, with the loss of seven killed, and 17 
prisoners; also 20 odd horses or more. We burned their tents, stores, camp 
equipage, etc. I regret the loss of two brave officers killed - Capt. 
Brawner and Lieut. Whitescarver. I also had one man wounded.

(Signed) John S. Mosby, 
Major of Partisan Rangers. 

Maj.-Gen. J. E. B. Stuart. 

[Indorsement] 

June 15, 1863.


   Respectfully forwarded. In consideration of his brilliant services, I 
hope the President will promote Maj. Mosby.

J. E. B. Stuart, 
Major General. 

Page 200
       
[Extracts from Stuart's Report of the Gettysburg Campaign]
   Maj. Mosby, with his usual daring, penetrated the enemy's lines and 
caught a staff-officer of Gen. Hooker - bearer of despatches to Gen. 
Pleasanton, commanding United States cavalry near Aldie. These despatches 
disclosed the fact that Hooker was looking to Aldie with solicitude, and 
that Pleasanton, with infantry and cavalry, occupied the place; and that a 
reconnaissance in force of cavalry was meditated toward Warrenton and 
Culpeper. I immediately despatched to Gen. Hampton, who was coming by way 
of Warrenton from the direction of Beverly Ford, this intelligence, and 
directed him to meet this advance at Warrenton. The captured despatches 
also gave the entire number of divisions, from which we could estimate the 
approximate strength of the enemy's army. I therefore concluded in no 
event to attack with cavalry alone the enemy at Aldie. . . . Hampton met 
the enemy's advance toward Culpeper and Warrenton, and drove him back 
without difficulty - a heavy storm and night intervening to aid the 
enemy's retreat.
   I resumed my own position now, at Rector's cross roads, and being in 
constant communication with the commanding general, had scouts busily 
employed watching and reporting the enemy's movements, and reporting the 
same to the commanding general. In this difficult search the fearless and 
indefatigable Maj. Mosby was particularly efficient. His information was 
always accurate and reliable.