James Power Smith

I found this jewel at http://www.fredericksburgpc.org/documents/CaptainJamesPowerSmith.pdf

STONEWALL JACKSON’S AIDE DE CAMP

Captain James Power Smith
In the spring of 1861, James Power Smith was a theological student at Virginia’s Hampden-Sydney College. He enlisted in the Rockbridge Artillery, a Confederate battery comprised of college and seminary students. The battery fought at the First Battle of Manassas (Bull Run) where Smith received his baptism of fire. It was there that General Barney Bee saw Jackson’s men holding steady while other Confederates were giving ground, and made the historic comment, “There stands Jackson like a stone wall!” From then on the name “Stonewall” Jackson became a legend in the South.

On September 7, 1862, Smith rode into Frederick,Maryland, to visit the Presbyterian Church where his father had preached when James was a boy. When he left the church, he discovered that his horse had been stolen. Then he received another surprise. He was told to report to General Thomas J. Jackson, the war’s most famous commander. He thought someone was playing a trick on him, but he went. The general had met Smith three years earlier at a wedding, and surprised the young corporal by inviting him to be the aide-de-camp on his staff.

Smith hustled to get a new uniform and a horse, and on September 20 he returned to the Army of Northern Virginia. The next day he met General Lee, who gave him a fresh peach. Later Smith traveled with Jackson from Winchester to Lee’s headquarters in Fredericksburg. On the way they passed the refugees fleeing from Fredericksburg before the battle, including many huddled in Salem Church.

On Sunday morning, November 30, 1862, Jackson and Smith rode into deserted Fredericksburg. They sat in their saddles at the eastern corner of the Presbyterian Church, and surveyed the scene of the coming battle. Smith asked if he could ride down to the river to water his horse, and “Old Jack” warned him that he would probably be shot by the Yankees on the other side of the river. But he did ride down to water his horse, and when he returned, Jackson was still in the same place. After the war, Smith identified the spot where Jackson planned strategy for the Battle of Fredericksburg, and in 1924 a marker was imbedded in the brick wall by the Presbyterian Church, commemorating it.

That night they stayed in the home of the French family—the family that gave the French Memorial Chapel and for whom the education building is named. Jackson led evening prayers, using the big family bible,and kneeling to pray with the family. Then Smith and Jackson established their headquarters south of town near Guiney’s Station.

On the morning of December 11, 1862, General Burnside’s Union guns began the bombardment of Fredericksburg. Smith spent most of the day carrying messages between the Southern commanders. Early next morning he rode with Jackson to the present Lee’s Hill, where Lee and Jackson conferred and observed the battle. They watched the Yankees “coming handsomely” across the river. However, by the end of the day the whole landscape was covered with the bodies of many men in union blue.

During the battle, a part of the Confederate line was the spot south of town commanded with one cannon by the “The Gallant Pelham.” Finally, General Lee had to send word to Pelham to pull back. Who took the message from Lee to Pelham? It was James Power Smith.

Smith also reported that a “fine handsome blooded mare” was shot out from under him that day, and many of his former comrades in the Rockbridge Artillery were killed. That night, Jackson and Smith were at Moss Neck Manor, south of town. Jackson said, “If the men sleep on the ground, I will too.” (This was in December.) They had two overcoats and two blankets. They each put on an overcoat. They put one blanket under them, one over them, and they huddled together to keep from freezing that night.

The next day they moved into Moss Neck manor, the home of the Corbins. On Christmas Day Jackson entertained General Lee, General J. E. B. Stuart and Sandie Pendleton at the manor with turkeys, oysters, a ham, cake, a bottle of wine, biscuits, and pickles. And who obtained all those fixings for the dinner? James Power Smith.

Jackson was appalled by the suffering in Fredericksburg, and led the officers and men in his command in raising $30,000 for their relief—a lot of money for that time.

On April 23, 1863, Smith was present at the baptism of Jackson’s daughter, Julia. Tucker Lacy conducted the service.

On April 29, 1863, hundreds of Federal soldiers crossed the Rappahannock River under the cover of heavy fog in the attack which led to the crucial battle of Chancellorsville. When he received the news, General Jackson sent Smith to inform General Lee of the attack. The next night Smith was sent on an errand by Lee. When he returned, Lee was sleeping at the foot of a tree and covered with his army cloak. He pulled Smith under his cloak and asked him to give his report. Smith then made his own bed, and “with my head in my saddle, near my horse’s feet, I was soon wrapped in the heavy slumber of a weary soldier.”

Smith then became the only eye-witness to a great moment in American history: “Sometime after midnight I was awakened by the chill of the early morning hours, and turning over, caught a glimpse of a little flame on the slope above me, and sitting up to see what it meant, I saw, bending over a scant fire of twigs, two men seated on old cracker boxes and warming their hands over a little fire. I had to rub my eyes and collect my wits to recognize the figures of Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson. Who can tell the story of that quiet council of war between two
sleeping armies.”

As a result of Smith’s report of this scene, the event was immortalized. The famous “Cracker Barrel Conference” not only depicted the South’s two best known generals planning Jackson’s famous flank march that led to their greatest victory at the Battle of Chancellorsville, it was also the last time that the two great men ever saw each other alive. The image of the two men sitting on the cracker boxes by the fire isnow the logo which symbolizes the famous battle at the Chancellorsville Military Park, and elsewhere.

At 8 P.M. that night Smith gathered his couriers to find Jackson, and about a mile west of Chancellorsville was told that Jackson was just ahead. He rode a hundred yards further on, and heard shouting. He was told that Jackson had been wounded, and others around him killed by the fire of their own men. Smith spurred his horse forward.

On arriving at the scene he was told that “He (Jackson) was struck by three balls at the same time. One went through the palm of his right hand; a second passed through the wrist of the left arm and out of the hand; the third one was more severe. It passed through the left arm halfway from the shoulder to the elbow. The large bone of the upper arm was splintered to the elbow joint, and the wound bled freely.”

Jackson’s horse bolted, and he reeled from his saddle, but he was caught and placed gently on the ground. General A. P. Hill had come to his aid as Smith rode up. Smith cut Jackson’s sleeve open from the wrist to the shoulder, and used his handkerchief to stem the flow of blood. Couriers were sent to find a doctor and an ambulance.

Smith was one of the four litter-bearers who started to move Jackson to a safer place on a stretcher. But one of the bearers was shot, and he fell. The fire became heavier, so the litter was placed in the middle of the road, and Smith shielded Jackson’s body with his own. When the firing slackened, Smith helped Jackson up, put his arms around him, and started to drag him to safety. More litter bearers arrived. Again they started to carry him to safety. Another bearer fell, dropping his corner of the litter. This time Jackson fell and hit the ground, causing him great pain. Finally they reached comparative safety and Jackson was placed in an ambulance.

In a tent near the Wilderness Store, Jackson’s left arm was amputated near the shoulder, and a ball was taken from his right hand. Smith held the light for the operation, and “all night long it was mine to watch the sufferer and keep him warmly wrapped and undisturbed in his sleep.” All the other staff officers had to return to their duties, so only Smith remained and continued to talk with Jackson. Though he had been hit three times, fallen from a litter once, was dragged for a distance by Smith, endured a miserable ride in an army ambulance, went through shock, and then had his arm amputated, he still was very alert.

In the afternoon a courier arrived from Lee’s headquarters, and Smith gave his message to Jackson. Lee said, “Could I have directed events, I should have chosen for the good of the country to be disabled in your stead…”

Early on May 4, Jackson was placed in an army ambulance for the twenty-five mile trip to Guiney’s Station, where he would be safer. In the ambulance with Jackson were Chaplain Tucker Lacy, Smith and Doctor Hunter McGuire. McGuire, whose statue stands in front of the state Capitol and who had a Richmond hospital named after him, was a Presbyterian, too. Saddened Virginians watched the ambulance pass by. Smith remained at Guiney’s Station with Tucker Lacy and Doctor McGuire. Smith kept watch with Jackson during the night of May 5th. At dawn he called for the doctor, who recognized the early symptoms of pneumonia. While the doctor was dressing Jackson’s wounds, Anna Jackson and their daughter Julia arrived. Anna sang spiritual songs for him. He told her that he wanted to be buried in Lexington, and that he always wanted to die on Sunday.

On Sunday, May 10, 1862, Lieutenant General Thomas J. Jackson “crossed over the river to rest under the shade of the trees.” Just two weeks after the Jacksons had gone to church together and had their daughter baptized, Anna was a widow. The Confederacy was filled with grief. Smith rode in the railway car to Richmond with the Jackson family and the general’s body. General Longstreet headed the pallbearers who carried the casket up the steps of the Capitol, where over 2,000 people came to show their respects. After the burial in Lexington, Smith accompanied Anna Jackson and little Julia to their home in North Carolina.

On June 13, Smith returned to report to Lee before the battle of Gettysburg. At Lee’s request, Smith remained with him that night, and he was with the general when the battle began on July 1. Lee sent him with a message to General Ewell, and he was with Ewell when the request arrived from General Jubal Early to advance up the slope to capture Cemetery Ridge. Ewell told Smith to take the request to General Lee. He found Lee and Longstreet and conveyed the request.

After the war, Smith returned to Union Seminary, was ordained as a Presbyterian minister, and on May 24, 1869, he was called to be the minister of the Presbyterian Church of Fredericksburg,
where he served for 23 years. He shared in dedicating the Jackson Monument in Richmond and the Memorial Hall in Lexington. He dedicated the place on the Lacy farm at “Ellwood” where Tucker Lacy had buried Jackson’s arm, and also indicated the place by the brick wall in front of the Presbyterian Church where Jackson had stood to “plan the Battle of Fredericksburg.”

In 1871 he married Agnes, the daughter of Tucker Lacy’s younger brother, Major Horace J. Lacy, who lived at “Chatham” (called the “Lacy House” during the war – when it was the Federal headquarters, and then a hospital.) He wrote extensively about his war experiences including “The Religious Character of Stonewall Jackson,” “Jackson at Chancellorsville,” and “Lee at Gettysburg.”

James Power Smith returned to Gettysburg in 1917 to pronounce the invocation at the dedication of the Virginia State Monument at Seminary Ridge. He died in 1923 at 86, and was the last surviving member of Stonewall Jackson’s staff.

An Account of Jackson’s Death and Funeral – Part Two

The following narrative of Jackson’s death and funeral comes from the book Stonewall’s Man: Sandie Pendleton, written by W.G. Bean.

The final tribute paid to Jackson in Richmond occurred in the early morning of May 13. His body was again taken to the Governor’s Mansion for a brief service and then to a train which carried it by way of Gordonsville to Lynchburg. From here it was transported on the James River and Kanawha Canal to Lexington. The editor of the Daily Dispatch regretted that the remains of Jackson could not be interred in Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, “so near the theatre of his glory, where every breeze wafts his renown, and the murmuring waters, as they role solemnly by, seem to attune themselves to sweet, yet mournful melodies of the grave.” But Jackson had expressed a wish to be buried in Lexington where, as “an unknown, subordinate professor,” had been called “by Providence” to enact an important role in the affairs of mankind. The editor was prophetic in the statement that the fame of Jackson would be as enduring as the eternal mountains “at whose feet he was cradled.” Their long shadows, like those of “some majestic cathedral,” would consecrate his grave, and their loftiest pinnacles would be derive new sublimity from their association with the name of “JACKSON.”

The funeral train wended its way on May 13 from Richmond to Lynchburg amidst the homage of tearful people. In addition to the immediate family of General Jackson, the funeral party consisted of the servant Jim Lewis, Sandie Pendleton, James Power Smith, Hunter McGuire, Governor Letcher, and Confederate Senator G.A. Henry of Tennessee. Upon its arrival in Lynchburg at half past six in the afternoon, it was met by a delegation headed by Mayor W.B. Branch, R.H. Glass, Charles Dimmock, John S. Langhorne, John H. Flood, and W.M. Blackford. Minute guns were fired, and the church bells tolled their anguish. A procession was formed and marched through several streets to the wharf where the casket was placed on the packet boat, The Marshall, commanded by Captain J.B. Keffer. As the Lexington boat was very crowded, it was ten o’clock before the berths were hung.

The packet boat reached Lexington in the afternoon of May 14 (Thursday). General F.H. Smith came on board three miles from Lexington with his program for the ceremonies in Lexington. He had previously announced that the funeral would take place on Saturday, May 16, but yielded to Mrs. Jackson’s insistence that it be on May 15. A corps of cadets received the remains at the canal terminus, escorted it to the Institute, and placed it in the lecture room formerly used by Jackson. The next day, the body of Jackson was borne to its final resting place amidst the solemn pageantry of a military funeral – a novelty for the college community of Lexington.

On Friday morning at 10 o’clock, the funeral procession moved from the Institute to the Presbyterian Church. The escort was headed by Major Scott Schipp, commandant of the corps of cadets, former student of Jackson at the Institute, and an officer who had served in the Valley campaign of 1862. The military escort was composed of the cadets, a battery of First Manassas, a company of veterans of the Stonewall Brigade who happened to be in the county at that time and who bore the flag of the Liberty Hall Volunteers, a company of convalescent soldiers, a squadron of cavalry, and the clergy.

The casket which followed the escort was wrapped in the first Confederate flag ever made, which had been presented by President Davis to Mrs. Jackson. It was borne on a caisson of the cadet battery draped in black. Behind the caisson were the honorary pallbearers representing the Presbyterian Church of Lexington, the county magistrates, the Confederate district court, Washington College, the Virginia Military Institute, the Franklin Society, the town council, the Confederate Navy, and the Bible Society of Rockbridge County.

Then came in the following order: the family in a carriage followed on foot by Sandie Pendleton, Hunter McGuire, and J.P. Smith; Governor John Letcher, Senator Henry, and other representatives of the Confederate government; the faculty and officers of the Virginia Military Institute; the elders and deacons of the Presbyterian Church of Lexington; the professors and students of Washington College; members of the Franklin Society; and citizens of the community.

A simple service was conducted at the church by the pastor, the Reverend Dr. W.S. White, and other visiting ministers. The Reverend Dr. Ramsay of Lynchburg offered a prayer “of wonderful pathos.” The hymn “How Blest the Righteous, When He Dies” was sung and the Reverend Dr. White read the fifteenth chapter of First Corinthians after which another prayer was said by the Reverend Mr. W.F. Junkin, brother of Jackson’s first wife. The remains were then carried to the cemetery and with military honors committed to the grave.

An Account of Jackson’s Death and Funeral – Part One

The following narrative of Jackson’s death and funeral comes from the book Stonewall’s Man: Sandie Pendleton, written by W.G. Bean

The additional work which devolved upon Sandie during the week following the wounding of Jackson prevented him from visiting the wounded chieftain until Sunday, May 10, the day Jackson died. As Sandie entered the sick chamber, Jackson recognized him and asked, “Who is preaching today at headquarters?” Sandie replied the Dr. Lacy was, and Jackson expressed his pleasure at the news. When told by Sandie that the entire army was praying for his recovery, Jackson murmured, “Thank God, they are very kind.” Presently he added, “It’s the Lord’s Day; my wish is fulfilled. I have always wanted to die on a Sunday.” So affected was Sandie by the scene that he went to the porch and wept. His intense feeling was revealed in a remark, the day after Jackson’s death, to Mrs. Jackson, “God knows I would have died for him.”

As his condition rapidly deteriorated, Jackson’s mind wandered back to the bloody night of May 2 on the Old Turnpike. In one of his early deliriums, he exclaimed, “I must find out if there is high ground between Chancellorsville and the river. Push up the columns! Hasten the columns! Pendleton, you take charge of that. Where’s Pendleton? Tell him to push up the column.”

The events of Sunday, May 10, were vividly recalled later by William Allan. “It was a beautiful day. We were terribly anxious. [Sandie] Pendleton rode down to see the General; the rest of us staid at Headquarters, where Dr. Lacy preached… The whole army was sad and anxious. The news brought to us during the forenoon was bad and I went to my tent after the preaching, feeling very gloomy. The afternoon was wearing on when Pendleton rode rapidly to my quarters and told me that the General had died an hour before.” Sandie dashing to the telegraph office at Hamilton’s Crossing and wired Governor John Letcher: “General Jackson died at fifteen minutes past 3 o’clock this afternoon. His remains will go to Richmond tomorrow.”

Sandie then return to Guiney Station to carry out the instructions of General Lee – who was doubtless aware of the close relationship existing between Jackson and Sandie – to take charge of the remains, to make all arrangements for the funeral, and to accompany the body to Lexington, where Jackson had expressed a desire during his last days to be buried.

The body, dressed by Sandie and J.P. Smith, was temporarily placed in a crude coffin constructed by the soldiers and moved to the front room of the Chandler office. It remained there until its departure for Richmond, where it was later embalmed in the reception room of the Governor’s Mansion and transferred to a metallic casket presented by the citizens of Fredericksburg.

The funeral cortege left Guiney Station on a special train on May 11 (Monday) and arrived in Richmond at 4 o’clock in the afternoon. It addition to Mrs. Jackson and her infant, Mrs. Moses Hoge, and Mrs. Chandler, the remains were accompanied by Sandie Pendleton, Hunter McGuire, J.P. Smith, J.G. Morrison, and the Reverend Dr. B.T. Lacy – all members of Jackson’s staff. Captain Henry Kyd Douglas, formerly of the staff but now of the Second Virginia Regiment, Dr. W.H. Mayo of the governor’s staff and Dr. David Tucker of Richmond, who had been summoned to Guiney Station during the last days of Jackson’s illness, were also in the party. Throngs of people awaited the train as it passed the stations, and at Ashland the ladies placed wreathes and flowers on the casket.

All activities were suspended in Richmond at 12 o’clock, the announced hour of the arrival of the train. A tremendous concourse of citizens had assembled at the depot, but when it was announced that the train would not arrive until 4 o’clock, the crowd slowly dispersed and reassembled at that hour.

Upon reaching Richmond, the train stopped at the corner of Fourth and Broad Street in order to spare Mrs. Jackson the ordeal of facing the multitude of mourners. She was met by Mrs. Letcher and other ladies to Richmond and was taken in a carriage to the Governor’s Mansion. The casket was enveloped in a Confederate flag and covered with wreathes of evergreen and rare flowers. The hearse, flanked by Sandie Pendleton, Hunter McGuire, J.P. Smith, and Henry Kyd Douglas moved amidst the tolling bells down Broad Street to the corner of Ninth; turned toward Main Street, and was taken past the classic porch of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church to the Governor’s Mansion in the Capitol Square. After its arrival there, Sandie and Douglas stood guard until darkness and the body remained in the Mansion during the night. The bells continued to toll until sundown, and thousands of people stayed in the Square until dark. Never before, the Richmond Daily Dispatch declared, had there been such an exhibition, “of heartfelt and general sorrow” in Richmond.

Tuesday, May 12, was a beautiful and warm day in Richmond. The military pageant was one never to be forgotten by those who witnessed it. Promptly at 10 o’clock in the morning, under the direction of George W. Randolph, master of ceremonies, the procession formed on the Capitol Grounds, stretching from the Governor’s Mansion to Grace Street. The band of the Thirtieth Virginia Infantry, hurriedly transported from Hamilton’s Crossing for the occasion, headed the procession. Then came the military escort followed by the hearse which was draped and drawn by four white horses appropriately caparisoned. Grouped around the hearse were the pallbearers: Sandie Pendleton, J.P. Smith, Hunter McGuire, Henry Kyd Douglas, and Generals James Longstreet, R.S. Ewell, J.H. Winder, Arnold Elzey, George E. Pickett, Richard Brooke Garnett, W.M. Kemper, M.D. Corse, and Commodore Bassett French. The carriages, conveying President Davis, who looked “think and frail in health,” and Jackson’s family, were next in line. Behind the carriage came on foot the various chiefs of department, state and Confederate, and distinguished citizens of the city. Little Sorrel, Jackson’s horse, was led by his servant, Jim Lewis.

An immense throng had gathered to move along with the procession. The flags were draped with crepe, and the swords of the military officials were draped at the hilt. The cannons of the artillery wore the sad insignia of mourning, the drums were muffled, and at a given hour a gun stationed beneath the Washington monument boomed the signal for the procession to move.

The bells pealed out their sorrow, and the melancholy dirge of the musicians of the band of the Thirtieth Virginia Infantry swelled forth in moving tones. The director of the band, A.J. Bowering, subsequently said that he had no instructions “as to what I should play but I had in mind that it must be something historical.” As he had only one copy of the “Dead March” from Saul with him upon leaving Hamilton’s Crossing, he transcribed and arranged, on the journey to Richmond, the music of this dirge for twenty different instruments. The band broke into the “Psalm of David” when George W. Randolph raised his sword for the procession to start. “I have played, [Bowering wrote] to men standing against the wall awaiting the command that would send them into eternity and in hospitals I have done my best to soothe the dying hours of the men of Virginias, but never was I so impressed. The tears rolled down the faces of my men and I knew that I was weeping.

“We played as we never played before and in that march around the city there was in line a musician, the brother of Adelina Patti. My soul, how he could play the E flat on a cornet! He played beside me in the parade.”

Emerging from the Capitol Square, the procession moved down Governor’s Street to Main, turned up Main to Second Street, through which it passed to Grace Street, and return to Capitol Square. The casket was borne by the generals of the army to the Senate chamber where, wrapped in the flag made immortal by Jackson, it lay in state until midnight.

The scene on Main Street, during the funeral procession beggared description, said the Richmond Daily Enquirer – “so impressive, so beautiful, so full of stirring associations, blending with the martial dirges of the bands, the gleam of muskets, rifles, and sabers drawn, the sheen of the cannon, the thousands of throbbing hearts, and the sorrow that mantled over all” J.B. Jones, the rebel diarist, recorded that the funeral was “very solemn and imposing because the mourning was sincere and heartfelt. There was no vain ostentation.”

The mixed scene of woe and honor in the Senate chamber was equally moving. As “shattered and emaciated veterans, noble-bowed matrons, and pale, delicate maidens gathered around that sacred bier, in the awed hush of a common sorrow, too deep for words.” T.C. DeLeon lamented, “tears rose from the hearts that had lost their dearest and nearest without a murmur, save – Thy will be done. And little children were lifted up to look upon what was left of him.” On another occasion, as the concourse of mourners passed by the bier, “an elderly and respectable-looking gentleman” addressed them in tones of confidence: Weep not; all is for the best. Though Jackson has been taken from the head of his corps, his spirit is now pleading our cause at the bar of God.”

Captain James Power Smith's Account of Jackson's Wounding

Reprinted from an earlier post.

Stonewall’s Last Battle

By Captain James Power Smith

Published in The Century Magazine. Vol. XXXII. October 1886, No. 6.

At daybreak on the morning of the 29th of April, 1863, sleeping in our tents at corps headquarters, near Hamilton's Crossing, we were aroused by Major Samuel Hale, of Early's staff, with the stirring news that Federal troops were crossing the Rappahannock on pontoons under cover of a heavy fog. General Jackson had spent the night at Mr. Yerby's hospitable mansion near by, where Mrs. Jackson [his second wife] had brought her infant child for the father to see. He was at once informed, and promptly issued to his division commanders orders of preparation for action. At his direction I rode a mile across the fields to army headquarters, and finding General Robert E. Lee still slumbering quietly, at the suggestion of Colonel Venable, whom I found stirring, I entered his tent and awoke the general. Turning his feet out of his cot he sat upon its side as I gave him the tidings from the front. Expressing no surprise, he playfully said: "Well, I thought I heard firing, and was beginning to think it was time some of you young fellows were coming to tell me what it was all about. Tell your good general that I am sure he knows what to do. I will meet him at the front very soon."

It was Sedgwick who had crossed, and, marching along the river front to impress us with his numbers, was now intrenching his line on the river road, under cover of Federal batteries on the north bank.

All day long we lay in the old lines of the action of December preceding, watching the operation of the enemy. Nor did we move through the next day, the 30th of April. General Lee had been informed promptly by General J. E. B. Stuart, of the Confederate cavalry, of the movement in force by General Hooker across the Rappahannock upon Chancellorsville; and during the night of Thursday, April 30th, General Jackson withdrew his corps, leaving Early and his division with Barksdale's brigade to hold the old lines from Hamilton's Crossing along the rear of Fredericksburg.

By the light of a brilliant moon, at midnight, that passed into an early dawn of dense mist, the troops were moved, by the Old Mine road, out of sight of the enemy, until, about eleven A.M. of Friday, May 1st, they reached Anderson's position, confronting Hooker's advance from Chancellorsville, near the Tabernacle Church on the plank road. To meet the whole Army of the Potomac, under Hooker, General Lee had of all arms about sixty thousand men. General Longstreet, with part of his corps, was absent below Petersburg. General Lee had two divisions of Longstreet's corps, Anderson's and McLaws's, and Jackson's corps, consisting of four divisions, A. P. Hill's, D. H. Hill's commanded by Rodes, Trimble's commanded by Colston, and Early's; and about a hundred and seventy pieces of field artillery. The divisions of Anderson and McLaws had been sent from Fredericksburg to meet Hooker's advance from Chancellorsville; Anderson on Wednesday, and McLaws (except Barksdale's brigade left with Early) on Thursday. At the Tabernacle Church, about four miles east of Chancellorsville, the opposing forces met and brisk skirmishing began. On Friday Jackson, reaching Anderson's position, took command of the Confederate advance, and urged on his skirmish line under Brigadier-General Ramseur with great vigor. How the muskets rattled across a front of a mile or two, across the unfenced fields, and through the woodlands! What spirit was imparted to the line, and cheers rolled along its length, when Jackson, and then Lee himself, appeared riding abreast of the line along the plank road! Slowly but steadily the line advanced, until at nightfall all Federal pickets and skirmishes were driven back upon the body of Hooker's force at Chancellorsville.

Here we reached a point, a mile and a half from Hooker's lines, where a road turns down to the left toward the old Catherine Furnace; and here at the fork of the roads General Lee and General Jackson spent the night, resting on the pine straw, curtained only by the close shadow of the pine forest. A little after night-fall I was sent by General Lee upon an errand to General A. P. Hill, on the old stone turnpike a mile or two north; and returning some time later with information of matters on our right, I found General Jackson retired to rest, and General Lee sleeping at the foot of a tree, covered with his army cloak. As I aroused the sleeper, he slowly sat up on the ground and said, "Ah, Captain, you have returned, have you? Come here and tell me what you have learned on the right." Laying his hand on me he drew me down by his side, and, passing his arm around my shoulder, drew me near to him in a fatherly way that told of his warm and kindly heart. When I had related such information as I had secured for him, he thanked me for accomplishing his commission, and then said that he regretted that the young men about General Jackson had not relieved him of annoyance, by finding a battery of the enemy which had harassed our advance, adding that the young men of that day were not equal to what they were when he was a young man. Seeing immediately that he was jesting and disposed to rally me, as he often did younger officers, I broke away from the hold on me which he tried to retain, and, as he laughed heartily through the stillness of the night, I went off to make a bed of my saddle-blanket, and, with my head in my saddle, near my horse's feet, was soon wrapped in the heavy slumber of a wearied soldier.

Some time after midnight I was awakened by the chill of the early morning hours, and, turning over, caught a glimpse of a little flame on the slope above me, and looking up to see what it meant I saw, bending over a scant fire of twigs, two men seated on old cracker boxes and warming their hands over the little fire. I had but to rub my eyes and collect my wits to recognize the figures of Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson. Who can tell the story of that quiet council of war between two sleeping armies? Nothing remains on record to tell of plans discussed, and dangers weighed, and a great purpose formed, but the story of the great day so soon to follow.

It was broad daylight, and the thick beams of yellow sunlight came through the pine branches, when some one touched me rudely with his foot, saying, "Get up, Smith, the general wants you!" As I leaped to my feet, the rhythmic click of canteens of marching infantry caught my ear. Already in motion! What could it mean? In a moment I was mounted and at the side of the general, who sat on his horse by the roadside, as the long line of our troops cheerily, but in silence as directed, poured down the Furnace road. His cap was pulled low over his eyes, and, looking up from under the visor, with lips compressed, indicating the firm purpose within, he nodded to me, and in brief and rapid utterance, without a superfluous word, as though all were distinctly formed in his mind and beyond question, he gave me orders for our wagon and ambulance trains. From the open fields in our rear, at the head of the Carthapin road, all trains were to be moved upon that road to Todd's tavern, and thence west by interior roads, so that our troops would be between them and the enemy at Chancellorsville.

My orders delivered and the trains set in motion, I returned to the site of our night's bivouac, to find that General Jackson and staff had followed the marching column.

Who was the young ordnance officer who so kindly fed my horse at the tail of his wagon and then added the few camp biscuits, which were breakfast, dinner, and supper to me that day? Many thanks to my unknown friend.

Slow and tedious is the advance of a mounted officer who has to pass in narrow wood roads through dense thickets, the packed column of marching infantry, to be recognized all along the line and good-naturedly chaffed by many a gay-spirited fellow: "Say, here's one of old Jack's little boys, let him by, boys!" in a most patronizing tone. "Have a good breakfast this morning, sonny?" "Better hurry up, or you'll catch it for getting behind." "Tell Old Jack we're all a-comin'." "Don't let him begin the fuss till we get thar!" And so on, until about three P. M., after a ride of ten miles of tortuous road, I found the general seated on a stump by the Brock road, writing this dispatch.

Near 2 P. M., May 2nd, 1863.
GENERAL: The enemy has made a stand at Chancellor's, which is about two miles from Chancellorsville. I hope as soon as practicable to attack.
I trust that an ever kind Providence will bless us with success.
Respectfully,
T. J. JACKSON,
Lieutenant-General.
GENERAL ROBERT E. LEE.
P. S. The leading division is up, and the next two appear to be well closed.
T. J. J.

The place here mentioned as Chancellor's was also known as Dowdall's Tavern. It was the farm of the Rev. Melzi Chancellor, two miles west of Chancellorsville, and the Federal forces found here and at Talley's, a mile farther to the west, was the Eleventh Corps, under General Howard. General Fitz Lee, with cavalry scouts, had advanced until he had view of the position of Howard's corps, and found them unprotected by pickets, and unsuspicious of a possible attack.

Reaching the Orange plank road, General Jackson himself rode with Fitz Lee to reconnoiter the position of Howard, and then sent the Stonewall brigade of Virginia troops, under Brigadier-General Paxton, to hold the point where the Germanna plank road obliquely enters the Orange road. Leading the main column of his force farther on the Brock road to the old turnpike, the head of the column turned sharply eastward, toward Chancellorsville. About a mile had been passed, when he halted and began the disposition of his forces to attack Howard.

Rodes's division, at the head of the column, was thrown into line of battle, with Colston forming the second line and A. P. Hill's the third, while the artillery under Colonel Stapleton Crutchfield moved in column on the road, or was parked in a field on the right. The well-trained skirmishers of Rodes's division, under Major Eugene Blackford, were thrown to the front. It must have been between five and six o'clock in the evening, Saturday, May 2nd, when these dispositions were completed. Upon his stout-built, long-paced little sorrel, General Jackson sat, with visor low over his eyes, and lips compressed, and with his watch in his hand. Upon his right sat General Robert E. Rodes, the very picture of a soldier, and every inch all that he appeared. Upon his right sat Major Blackford.

"Are you ready, General Rodes?" said Jackson.

"Yes, sir!" said Rodes, impatient for the advance.

"You can go forward then," said Jackson.

A nod from Rodes was order enough for Blackford, and then suddenly the woods rang with the bugle call, and back came the responses from bugles on the right and left, and the long line of skirmishers, through the wild thicket of undergrowth, sprang eagerly to their work, followed promptly by the quick steps of the line of battle. For a moment all the troops seemed buried in the depths of the gloomy forest, and then suddenly the echoes wakes and swept the country, for miles, never failing, until heard at the headquarters of Hooker at Chancellorsville—the wild "rebel yell" of the long Confederate lines.

Never was assault delivered with grander enthusiasm. Fresh from the long winter's waiting, and confident from the preparation of the spring, the troops were in fine condition and in high spirits. The boys were all back from home or sick leave. "Old Jack" was there upon the road in their midst; there could be no mistake and no failure. And there were Rodes and A. P. Hill. Had they not seen and cheered as long and loud as they were permitted the gay-hearted Stuart and the splendid Fitz Lee, with long beard and fiery charger? Was not Crutchfield's array of brass and iron "dogs of war" at hand, with Poague and Palmer, and all the rest, ready to bark loud and deep with half a chance?

Alas! for Howard and his uniformed lines, and his brigades with guns stacked, and officers at dinner or asleep under the trees, and butchers deep in the blood of beeves! Scattered through field and forest, his men were preparing their evening meal. A little show of earthwork facing the south was quickly taken by us in reverse from the west. Flying battalions are not flying buttresses for an army's stability. Across Talley's field the rout begins. Over at Hawkins's hill, on the north of the road, Carl Schurz makes a stand, soon to be driven into the same hopeless panic. By the quiet Wilderness Church in the vale, leaving wounded and dead everywhere, by Melzi Chancellor's, on into the deep thicket, again the Confederate lines press forward,—now broken and all disaligned by the density of bush that tears the clothes away; now halting to deliver a volley upon some regiment or fragment of the enemy that will not move as fast as others. Thus the attack upon Hooker's flank was a grand success, beyond the most sanguine expectation.

The writer of this narrative, an aide-de-camp of Jackson's, was ordered to remain at the point where the advance began, to be a center of communication between the general and the cavalry on the flanks, and to deliver orders to detachments of artillery still moving up from the rear.

Whose fine black charger, with such elegant trappings, was that, deserted by his owner and found tied to a tree, which became mine only for that short and eventful nightfall?

It was about eight P. M., in the twilight, that, so comfortably mounted, I gathered my couriers about me and went forward to find General Jackson. The storm of battle had swept far on to the east, and become more and more faint to the ear, until silence came with night over the fields and woods. As I rode along that old turnpike, passing scattered fragments of Confederates looking for their regiments, parties of prisoners concentrating under guards, wounded men by the roadside and under the trees at Talley's and Chancellor's, I had reached an open field on the right, a mile west of Chancellorsville, when, in the dusky twilight, I saw horsemen near an old cabin in the field. Turning toward them, I found Rodes and his staff engaged in gathering the broken and scattered troops that had swept the two miles of battle-field. "General Jackson is just ahead on the road, Captain," said Rodes; "tell him I will be here at this cabin if I am wanted." I had not gone a hundred yards before I heard firing, a shot or two, and then a company volley upon the right of the road, and another upon the left.

A few moments farther on I met Captain Murray Taylor, an aide of A. P. Hill's, with tidings that Jackson and Hill were wounded, and some around them killed, by the fire of their own men. Spurring my horse into a sweeping gallop, I soon passed the Confederate line of battle, and, some three or four rods on its front, found the general's horse beside a pine sapling on the left, and a rod beyond a little party of men caring for a wounded officer. The story of the sad event is briefly told, and very much in essentials as it came to me from the lips of the wounded general himself, and in everything confirmed and completed by those who were eye-witnesses and near companions.

When Jackson had reached the point where his line now crossed the turnpike, scarcely a mile west of Chancellorsville, and not half a mile from a line of Federal troops, he had found his front line unfit for the farther and vigorous advance he desired, by reason of the irregular character of the fighting, now right, now left, and because of the dense thickets, through which it was impossible to preserve alignment. Division commanders found it more and more difficult as the twilight deepened to hold their broken brigades in hand. Regretting the necessity of relieving the troops in front, General Jackson had ordered A. P. Hill's division, his third and reserve line, to be placed in front. While this change was being effected, impatient and anxious, the general rode toward us on the turnpike, followed by two or three of his staff and a number of couriers and signal-sergeants.

He passed the swampy depression and began the ascent of the hill toward Chancellorsville, when he came upon a line of the Federal infantry lying on their arms. Fired at by one or two muskets (two musket balls from the enemy whistled over my head as I came to the front), he turned and came back toward his line, upon the side of the road to his left. As he rode near to the Confederate troops just placed in position, and ignorant that that he was in the front, the left company began firing to the front, and two of his party fell from their saddles—Capt. Boswell of the Engineers, and Sergeant Cunliffe of the Signal Corps. Spurring his horse across the road to his right, he was met by a second volley from the right company of Pender's North Carolina Brigade. Under this volley, when not two rods from the troops, the general received three balls at the same instant. One penetrated the palm of his right hand and was cut out that night from the back of his hand. A second passed around the wrist of the left arm and out through the left hand. But a third ball passed through the left arm halfway from shoulder to elbow. The large bone of the upper arm was splintered to the elbow-joint, and the wound bled freely. His horse turned quickly from the fire, through the thick bushes, which swept the cap from the general's head, and scratched his forehead, leaving drops of blood to stain his face. As he lost hold upon the bridle-rein, he reeled from the saddle, and was caught by the arms of Captain Milbourne of the Signal Corps. Laid upon the ground, there came at once to his succor, General A. P. Hill and members of his staff.

The writer reached his side a minute after, to find General Hill holding the head and shoulders of the wounded chief. Cutting open the coat sleeve from wrist to shoulder, I found the wound in the upper arm, and with my handkerchief I bound the arm above the wound to stem the flow of blood. Couriers were sent for Dr. Hunter McGuire, the surgeon of the corps and the general's trusted friend, and for an ambulance. Being outside of our lines, it was urgent that he should be moved at once. With difficulty litter-bearers were brought from the line near by, the general placed upon the litter, and carefully raised to the shoulder, I myself bearing one corner.

A moment after, artillery from the Federal side was opened upon us; great broadsides thundered over the woods; hissing shells searched the dark thickets through, and shrapnels swept the road along which we moved. Two or three steps farther, and the litter-bearer at my side was struck and fell, but, as the litter turned, Major Watkins Leigh, of Hill's staff, happily caught it. But the fright of the men was so great that we were obliged to lay the litter and its burden down upon the road. As the litter-bearers ran to the cover of the trees, I threw myself by the general's side, and held him firmly to the ground as he attempted to rise. Over us swept the rapid fire of shot and shell—grape-shot striking fire among the flinty rock of the road all around us, and sweeping from their feet horses and men of the artillery just moved to the front.

Soon the firing veered to the other side of the road, and I sprang to my feet, assisted the general to rise, passed my arm around him, and with the wounded man's weight thrown heavily upon me, we forsook the road. Entering the woods, he sank to the ground from exhaustion, but the litter was soon brought, and again rallying a few men, we essayed to carry him farther, when a second bearer fell at my side. This time, with none to assist, the litter careened, and the general fell to the ground, with a groan of deep pain. Greatly alarmed, I sprang to his head, and, lifting his head as a stray beam of moonlight came through clouds and leaves, he opened his eyes and wearily said, "Never mind me, Captain, never mind me." Raising him again to his feet, he was accosted by Brigadier-general Pender: "Oh, General, I hope you are not seriously wounded. I will have to retire my troops to re-form them, they are so much broken by this fire." But Jackson, rallying his strength, with firm voice said, "You must hold your ground, General Pender; you must hold your ground, sir!" and so uttered his last command on the field.

Again we resorted to the litter, and with difficulty bore it through the bush, and then under hot and angry fire along the road. Soon an ambulance was reached, and stopping to seek some stimulant at Chancellor's (Dowdall's Tavern), we were found by Dr. McGuire, who at once took charge of the wounded man. Through the night, back over the battle-field of the afternoon, we reached the Wilderness store, and in a field on the north the field-hospital of our corps under Dr. Harvey Black. Here we found a tent prepared, and after midnight the left arm was amputated near the shoulder, and a ball taken from the right hand.

All night long it was mine to watch by the sufferer, and keep him warmly wrapped and undisturbed in his sleep. At nine A. M., on the next day, when he aroused, cannon firing again filled the air, and all the Sunday through the fierce battle raged, General J. E. B. Stuart commanding the Confederates in Jackson's place. A dispatch was sent to the commanding general to announce formally his disability,—tidings General Lee had received during the night with profound grief. There came back the following note:

"GENERAL: I have just received your note, informing me that you were wounded. I cannot express my regret at the occurrence. Could I have directed events, I should have chosen, for the good of the country, to have been disabled in your stead.
"I congratulate you upon the victory which is due to your skill and energy.
'"Most truly your,
"R. E. LEE, GENERAL."

When this dispatch was handed to me at the tent, and I read it aloud, General Jackson turned his face away and said, "General Lee is very kind, but he should give the praise to God." The long day was passed with bright hopes for the wounded general, with tidings of success on the battle-field, with sad news of losses, and messages to and from other wounded officers brought to the same infirmary.

On Monday, the general was carried in an ambulance, by way of Spotsylvania Court House to most comfortable lodging at Chandler's, near Guinea's Station, on the Richmond, Fredericksburg, and Potomac railroad. And here, against our hopes, notwithstanding the skill and care of wise and watchful surgeons, watched day and night by wife and friends, amid the prayers and tears of all the Southern land, thinking not of himself, but of the cause he loved, and for the troops who had followed him so well and given him so great a name, our chief sank, day by day, with symptoms of pneumonia and some pains of pleurisy, until at 3:15 P. M., on the quiet of the Sabbath afternoon, May 10th, 1863, he raised himself from his bed, saying, "No, no, let us pass over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees"; and, falling again to his pillow, he passed away, "over the river," where, in a land where warfare is not known or feared, he rests forever, "under the trees."

His shattered arm was buried in the family burying-ground of the Ellwood place—Major J. H. Lacy's—near his last battlefield.

His body rests, as he himself asked, "in Lexington, in the Valley of Virginia." The spot where he was so fatally wounded in the shades of the Wilderness is marked by a large quartz rock, placed there by the care of his chaplain and friend, the Rev. Dr. B. T. Lacy, and the latter's brother, Major J. H. Lacy, of Ellwood.

Others must tell the story of Confederate victory at Chancellorsville. It has been mine only, as in the movement of that time, so with my pen now, to follow my general himself. Great, the world believes him to be in many elements of generalship; he was greatest and noblest in that he was good, and, without a selfish thought, gave his talent and his life to a cause that, as before the God he so devoutly served, he deemed right and just.

Just as an aside: Smith writes that Jackson's last words were "Let us pass over the river..." According to James Robertson's definitive biography on Jackson, Smith, Anna Jackson, and Dr. McGuire were the only three present in the room when Jackson died. McGuire says that Jackson said, "Let us cross over the river..." It is McGuire's account that has gained the supremacy in history.

General Orders Number Nine

I found this article on the Internet, while doing research for my novel. I thought everyone would enjoy it.

For those who do not know, James Power Smith served as an Aide-de-Camp to Jackson. He joined Jackson’s staff before the Battle of Antietam. Smith was originally from Ohio, but was attending school in Virginia at the outbreak of the war. A firm states-right advocate, he joined the Confederate army. After the war, he received his doctorate in Divinity. He became a pastor.

It’s a long article, but well worth the read. Smith reveals much about Jackson, Lee, and the Army of Northern Virginia.

Stonewall’s Last Battle

By Captain James Power Smith

Published in The Century Magazine. Vol. XXXII. October 1886, No. 6.

At daybreak on the morning of the 29th of April, 1863, sleeping in our tents at corps headquarters, near Hamilton's Crossing, we were aroused by Major Samuel Hale, of Early's staff, with the stirring news that Federal troops were crossing the Rappahannock on pontoons under cover of a heavy fog. General Jackson had spent the night at Mr. Yerby's hospitable mansion near by, where Mrs. Jackson [his second wife] had brought her infant child for the father to see. He was at once informed, and promptly issued to his division commanders orders of preparation for action. At his direction I rode a mile across the fields to army headquarters, and finding General Robert E. Lee still slumbering quietly, at the suggestion of Colonel Venable, whom I found stirring, I entered his tent and awoke the general. Turning his feet out of his cot he sat upon its side as I gave him the tidings from the front. Expressing no surprise, he playfully said: "Well, I thought I heard firing, and was beginning to think it was time some of you young fellows were coming to tell me what it was all about. Tell your good general that I am sure he knows what to do. I will meet him at the front very soon."

It was Sedgwick who had crossed, and, marching along the river front to impress us with his numbers, was now intrenching his line on the river road, under cover of Federal batteries on the north bank.

All day long we lay in the old lines of the action of December preceding, watching the operation of the enemy. Nor did we move through the next day, the 30th of April. General Lee had been informed promptly by General J. E. B. Stuart, of the Confederate cavalry, of the movement in force by General Hooker across the Rappahannock upon Chancellorsville; and during the night of Thursday, April 30th, General Jackson withdrew his corps, leaving Early and his division with Barksdale's brigade to hold the old lines from Hamilton's Crossing along the rear of Fredericksburg.

By the light of a brilliant moon, at midnight, that passed into an early dawn of dense mist, the troops were moved, by the Old Mine road, out of sight of the enemy, until, about eleven A.M. of Friday, May 1st, they reached Anderson's position, confronting Hooker's advance from Chancellorsville, near the Tabernacle Church on the plank road. To meet the whole Army of the Potomac, under Hooker, General Lee had of all arms about sixty thousand men. General Longstreet, with part of his corps, was absent below Petersburg. General Lee had two divisions of Longstreet's corps, Anderson's and McLaws's, and Jackson's corps, consisting of four divisions, A. P. Hill's, D. H. Hill's commanded by Rodes, Trimble's commanded by Colston, and Early's; and about a hundred and seventy pieces of field artillery. The divisions of Anderson and McLaws had been sent from Fredericksburg to meet Hooker's advance from Chancellorsville; Anderson on Wednesday, and McLaws (except Barksdale's brigade left with Early) on Thursday. At the Tabernacle Church, about four miles east of Chancellorsville, the opposing forces met and brisk skirmishing began. On Friday Jackson, reaching Anderson's position, took command of the Confederate advance, and urged on his skirmish line under Brigadier-General Ramseur with great vigor. How the muskets rattled across a front of a mile or two, across the unfenced fields, and through the woodlands! What spirit was imparted to the line, and cheers rolled along its length, when Jackson, and then Lee himself, appeared riding abreast of the line along the plank road! Slowly but steadily the line advanced, until at nightfall all Federal pickets and skirmishes were driven back upon the body of Hooker's force at Chancellorsville.

Here we reached a point, a mile and a half from Hooker's lines, where a road turns down to the left toward the old Catherine Furnace; and here at the fork of the roads General Lee and General Jackson spent the night, resting on the pine straw, curtained only by the close shadow of the pine forest. A little after night-fall I was sent by General Lee upon an errand to General A. P. Hill, on the old stone turnpike a mile or two north; and returning some time later with information of matters on our right, I found General Jackson retired to rest, and General Lee sleeping at the foot of a tree, covered with his army cloak. As I aroused the sleeper, he slowly sat up on the ground and said, "Ah, Captain, you have returned, have you? Come here and tell me what you have learned on the right." Laying his hand on me he drew me down by his side, and, passing his arm around my shoulder, drew me near to him in a fatherly way that told of his warm and kindly heart. When I had related such information as I had secured for him, he thanked me for accomplishing his commission, and then said that he regretted that the young men about General Jackson had not relieved him of annoyance, by finding a battery of the enemy which had harassed our advance, adding that the young men of that day were not equal to what they were when he was a young man. Seeing immediately that he was jesting and disposed to rally me, as he often did younger officers, I broke away from the hold on me which he tried to retain, and, as he laughed heartily through the stillness of the night, I went off to make a bed of my saddle-blanket, and, with my head in my saddle, near my horse's feet, was soon wrapped in the heavy slumber of a wearied soldier.

Some time after midnight I was awakened by the chill of the early morning hours, and, turning over, caught a glimpse of a little flame on the slope above me, and looking up to see what it meant I saw, bending over a scant fire of twigs, two men seated on old cracker boxes and warming their hands over the little fire. I had but to rub my eyes and collect my wits to recognize the figures of Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson. Who can tell the story of that quiet council of war between two sleeping armies? Nothing remains on record to tell of plans discussed, and dangers weighed, and a great purpose formed, but the story of the great day so soon to follow.

It was broad daylight, and the thick beams of yellow sunlight came through the pine branches, when some one touched me rudely with his foot, saying, "Get up, Smith, the general wants you!" As I leaped to my feet, the rhythmic click of canteens of marching infantry caught my ear. Already in motion! What could it mean? In a moment I was mounted and at the side of the general, who sat on his horse by the roadside, as the long line of our troops cheerily, but in silence as directed, poured down the Furnace road. His cap was pulled low over his eyes, and, looking up from under the visor, with lips compressed, indicating the firm purpose within, he nodded to me, and in brief and rapid utterance, without a superfluous word, as though all were distinctly formed in his mind and beyond question, he gave me orders for our wagon and ambulance trains. From the open fields in our rear, at the head of the Carthapin road, all trains were to be moved upon that road to Todd's tavern, and thence west by interior roads, so that our troops would be between them and the enemy at Chancellorsville.

My orders delivered and the trains set in motion, I returned to the site of our night's bivouac, to find that General Jackson and staff had followed the marching column.

Who was the young ordnance officer who so kindly fed my horse at the tail of his wagon and then added the few camp biscuits, which were breakfast, dinner, and supper to me that day? Many thanks to my unknown friend.

Slow and tedious is the advance of a mounted officer who has to pass in narrow wood roads through dense thickets, the packed column of marching infantry, to be recognized all along the line and good-naturedly chaffed by many a gay-spirited fellow: "Say, here's one of old Jack's little boys, let him by, boys!" in a most patronizing tone. "Have a good breakfast this morning, sonny?" "Better hurry up, or you'll catch it for getting behind." "Tell Old Jack we're all a-comin'." "Don't let him begin the fuss till we get thar!" And so on, until about three P. M., after a ride of ten miles of tortuous road, I found the general seated on a stump by the Brock road, writing this dispatch.

Near 2 P. M., May 2nd, 1863.
GENERAL: The enemy has made a stand at Chancellor's, which is about two miles from Chancellorsville. I hope as soon as practicable to attack.
I trust that an ever kind Providence will bless us with success.
Respectfully,
T. J. JACKSON,
Lieutenant-General.
GENERAL ROBERT E. LEE.
P. S. The leading division is up, and the next two appear to be well closed.
T. J. J.

The place here mentioned as Chancellor's was also known as Dowdall's Tavern. It was the farm of the Rev. Melzi Chancellor, two miles west of Chancellorsville, and the Federal forces found here and at Talley's, a mile farther to the west, was the Eleventh Corps, under General Howard. General Fitz Lee, with cavalry scouts, had advanced until he had view of the position of Howard's corps, and found them unprotected by pickets, and unsuspicious of a possible attack.

Reaching the Orange plank road, General Jackson himself rode with Fitz Lee to reconnoiter the position of Howard, and then sent the Stonewall brigade of Virginia troops, under Brigadier-General Paxton, to hold the point where the Germanna plank road obliquely enters the Orange road. Leading the main column of his force farther on the Brock road to the old turnpike, the head of the column turned sharply eastward, toward Chancellorsville. About a mile had been passed, when he halted and began the disposition of his forces to attack Howard.

Rodes's division, at the head of the column, was thrown into line of battle, with Colston forming the second line and A. P. Hill's the third, while the artillery under Colonel Stapleton Crutchfield moved in column on the road, or was parked in a field on the right. The well-trained skirmishers of Rodes's division, under Major Eugene Blackford, were thrown to the front. It must have been between five and six o'clock in the evening, Saturday, May 2nd, when these dispositions were completed. Upon his stout-built, long-paced little sorrel, General Jackson sat, with visor low over his eyes, and lips compressed, and with his watch in his hand. Upon his right sat General Robert E. Rodes, the very picture of a soldier, and every inch all that he appeared. Upon his right sat Major Blackford.

"Are you ready, General Rodes?" said Jackson.

"Yes, sir!" said Rodes, impatient for the advance.

"You can go forward then," said Jackson.

A nod from Rodes was order enough for Blackford, and then suddenly the woods rang with the bugle call, and back came the responses from bugles on the right and left, and the long line of skirmishers, through the wild thicket of undergrowth, sprang eagerly to their work, followed promptly by the quick steps of the line of battle. For a moment all the troops seemed buried in the depths of the gloomy forest, and then suddenly the echoes wakes and swept the country, for miles, never failing, until heard at the headquarters of Hooker at Chancellorsville—the wild "rebel yell" of the long Confederate lines.

Never was assault delivered with grander enthusiasm. Fresh from the long winter's waiting, and confident from the preparation of the spring, the troops were in fine condition and in high spirits. The boys were all back from home or sick leave. "Old Jack" was there upon the road in their midst; there could be no mistake and no failure. And there were Rodes and A. P. Hill. Had they not seen and cheered as long and loud as they were permitted the gay-hearted Stuart and the splendid Fitz Lee, with long beard and fiery charger? Was not Crutchfield's array of brass and iron "dogs of war" at hand, with Poague and Palmer, and all the rest, ready to bark loud and deep with half a chance?

Alas! for Howard and his uniformed lines, and his brigades with guns stacked, and officers at dinner or asleep under the trees, and butchers deep in the blood of beeves! Scattered through field and forest, his men were preparing their evening meal. A little show of earthwork facing the south was quickly taken by us in reverse from the west. Flying battalions are not flying buttresses for an army's stability. Across Talley's field the rout begins. Over at Hawkins's hill, on the north of the road, Carl Schurz makes a stand, soon to be driven into the same hopeless panic. By the quiet Wilderness Church in the vale, leaving wounded and dead everywhere, by Melzi Chancellor's, on into the deep thicket, again the Confederate lines press forward,—now broken and all disaligned by the density of bush that tears the clothes away; now halting to deliver a volley upon some regiment or fragment of the enemy that will not move as fast as others. Thus the attack upon Hooker's flank was a grand success, beyond the most sanguine expectation.

The writer of this narrative, an aide-de-camp of Jackson's, was ordered to remain at the point where the advance began, to be a center of communication between the general and the cavalry on the flanks, and to deliver orders to detachments of artillery still moving up from the rear.

Whose fine black charger, with such elegant trappings, was that, deserted by his owner and found tied to a tree, which became mine only for that short and eventful nightfall?

It was about eight P. M., in the twilight, that, so comfortably mounted, I gathered my couriers about me and went forward to find General Jackson. The storm of battle had swept far on to the east, and become more and more faint to the ear, until silence came with night over the fields and woods. As I rode along that old turnpike, passing scattered fragments of Confederates looking for their regiments, parties of prisoners concentrating under guards, wounded men by the roadside and under the trees at Talley's and Chancellor's, I had reached an open field on the right, a mile west of Chancellorsville, when, in the dusky twilight, I saw horsemen near an old cabin in the field. Turning toward them, I found Rodes and his staff engaged in gathering the broken and scattered troops that had swept the two miles of battle-field. "General Jackson is just ahead on the road, Captain," said Rodes; "tell him I will be here at this cabin if I am wanted." I had not gone a hundred yards before I heard firing, a shot or two, and then a company volley upon the right of the road, and another upon the left.

A few moments farther on I met Captain Murray Taylor, an aide of A. P. Hill's, with tidings that Jackson and Hill were wounded, and some around them killed, by the fire of their own men. Spurring my horse into a sweeping gallop, I soon passed the Confederate line of battle, and, some three or four rods on its front, found the general's horse beside a pine sapling on the left, and a rod beyond a little party of men caring for a wounded officer. The story of the sad event is briefly told, and very much in essentials as it came to me from the lips of the wounded general himself, and in everything confirmed and completed by those who were eye-witnesses and near companions.

When Jackson had reached the point where his line now crossed the turnpike, scarcely a mile west of Chancellorsville, and not half a mile from a line of Federal troops, he had found his front line unfit for the farther and vigorous advance he desired, by reason of the irregular character of the fighting, now right, now left, and because of the dense thickets, through which it was impossible to preserve alignment. Division commanders found it more and more difficult as the twilight deepened to hold their broken brigades in hand. Regretting the necessity of relieving the troops in front, General Jackson had ordered A. P. Hill's division, his third and reserve line, to be placed in front. While this change was being effected, impatient and anxious, the general rode toward us on the turnpike, followed by two or three of his staff and a number of couriers and signal-sergeants.

He passed the swampy depression and began the ascent of the hill toward Chancellorsville, when he came upon a line of the Federal infantry lying on their arms. Fired at by one or two muskets (two musket balls from the enemy whistled over my head as I came to the front), he turned and came back toward his line, upon the side of the road to his left. As he rode near to the Confederate troops just placed in position, and ignorant that that he was in the front, the left company began firing to the front, and two of his party fell from their saddles—Capt. Boswell of the Engineers, and Sergeant Cunliffe of the Signal Corps. Spurring his horse across the road to his right, he was met by a second volley from the right company of Pender's North Carolina Brigade. Under this volley, when not two rods from the troops, the general received three balls at the same instant. One penetrated the palm of his right hand and was cut out that night from the back of his hand. A second passed around the wrist of the left arm and out through the left hand. But a third ball passed through the left arm halfway from shoulder to elbow. The large bone of the upper arm was splintered to the elbow-joint, and the wound bled freely. His horse turned quickly from the fire, through the thick bushes, which swept the cap from the general's head, and scratched his forehead, leaving drops of blood to stain his face. As he lost hold upon the bridle-rein, he reeled from the saddle, and was caught by the arms of Captain Milbourne of the Signal Corps. Laid upon the ground, there came at once to his succor, General A. P. Hill and members of his staff.

The writer reached his side a minute after, to find General Hill holding the head and shoulders of the wounded chief. Cutting open the coat sleeve from wrist to shoulder, I found the wound in the upper arm, and with my handkerchief I bound the arm above the wound to stem the flow of blood. Couriers were sent for Dr. Hunter McGuire, the surgeon of the corps and the general's trusted friend, and for an ambulance. Being outside of our lines, it was urgent that he should be moved at once. With difficulty litter-bearers were brought from the line near by, the general placed upon the litter, and carefully raised to the shoulder, I myself bearing one corner.

A moment after, artillery from the Federal side was opened upon us; great broadsides thundered over the woods; hissing shells searched the dark thickets through, and shrapnels swept the road along which we moved. Two or three steps farther, and the litter-bearer at my side was struck and fell, but, as the litter turned, Major Watkins Leigh, of Hill's staff, happily caught it. But the fright of the men was so great that we were obliged to lay the litter and its burden down upon the road. As the litter-bearers ran to the cover of the trees, I threw myself by the general's side, and held him firmly to the ground as he attempted to rise. Over us swept the rapid fire of shot and shell—grape-shot striking fire among the flinty rock of the road all around us, and sweeping from their feet horses and men of the artillery just moved to the front.

Soon the firing veered to the other side of the road, and I sprang to my feet, assisted the general to rise, passed my arm around him, and with the wounded man's weight thrown heavily upon me, we forsook the road. Entering the woods, he sank to the ground from exhaustion, but the litter was soon brought, and again rallying a few men, we essayed to carry him farther, when a second bearer fell at my side. This time, with none to assist, the litter careened, and the general fell to the ground, with a groan of deep pain. Greatly alarmed, I sprang to his head, and, lifting his head as a stray beam of moonlight came through clouds and leaves, he opened his eyes and wearily said, "Never mind me, Captain, never mind me." Raising him again to his feet, he was accosted by Brigadier-general Pender: "Oh, General, I hope you are not seriously wounded. I will have to retire my troops to re-form them, they are so much broken by this fire." But Jackson, rallying his strength, with firm voice said, "You must hold your ground, General Pender; you must hold your ground, sir!" and so uttered his last command on the field.

Again we resorted to the litter, and with difficulty bore it through the bush, and then under hot and angry fire along the road. Soon an ambulance was reached, and stopping to seek some stimulant at Chancellor's (Dowdall's Tavern), we were found by Dr. McGuire, who at once took charge of the wounded man. Through the night, back over the battle-field of the afternoon, we reached the Wilderness store, and in a field on the north the field-hospital of our corps under Dr. Harvey Black. Here we found a tent prepared, and after midnight the left arm was amputated near the shoulder, and a ball taken from the right hand.

All night long it was mine to watch by the sufferer, and keep him warmly wrapped and undisturbed in his sleep. At nine A. M., on the next day, when he aroused, cannon firing again filled the air, and all the Sunday through the fierce battle raged, General J. E. B. Stuart commanding the Confederates in Jackson's place. A dispatch was sent to the commanding general to announce formally his disability,—tidings General Lee had received during the night with profound grief. There came back the following note:

"GENERAL: I have just received your note, informing me that you were wounded. I cannot express my regret at the occurrence. Could I have directed events, I should have chosen, for the good of the country, to have been disabled in your stead.
"I congratulate you upon the victory which is due to your skill and energy.
'"Most truly your,
"R. E. LEE, GENERAL."

When this dispatch was handed to me at the tent, and I read it aloud, General Jackson turned his face away and said, "General Lee is very kind, but he should give the praise to God." The long day was passed with bright hopes for the wounded general, with tidings of success on the battle-field, with sad news of losses, and messages to and from other wounded officers brought to the same infirmary.

On Monday, the general was carried in an ambulance, by way of Spotsylvania Court House to most comfortable lodging at Chandler's, near Guinea's Station, on the Richmond, Fredericksburg, and Potomac railroad. And here, against our hopes, notwithstanding the skill and care of wise and watchful surgeons, watched day and night by wife and friends, amid the prayers and tears of all the Southern land, thinking not of himself, but of the cause he loved, and for the troops who had followed him so well and given him so great a name, our chief sank, day by day, with symptoms of pneumonia and some pains of pleurisy, until at 3:15 P. M., on the quiet of the Sabbath afternoon, May 10th, 1863, he raised himself from his bed, saying, "No, no, let us pass over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees"; and, falling again to his pillow, he passed away, "over the river," where, in a land where warfare is not known or feared, he rests forever, "under the trees."

His shattered arm was buried in the family burying-ground of the Ellwood place—Major J. H. Lacy's—near his last battlefield.

His body rests, as he himself asked, "in Lexington, in the Valley of Virginia." The spot where he was so fatally wounded in the shades of the Wilderness is marked by a large quartz rock, placed there by the care of his chaplain and friend, the Rev. Dr. B. T. Lacy, and the latter's brother, Major J. H. Lacy, of Ellwood.

Others must tell the story of Confederate victory at Chancellorsville. It has been mine only, as in the movement of that time, so with my pen now, to follow my general himself. Great, the world believes him to be in many elements of generalship; he was greatest and noblest in that he was good, and, without a selfish thought, gave his talent and his life to a cause that, as before the God he so devoutly served, he deemed right and just.

Just as an aside: Smith writes that Jackson's last words were "Let us pass over the river..." According to James Robertson's definitive biography on Jackson, Smith, Anna Jackson, and Dr. McGuire were the only three present in the room when Jackson died. McGuire says that Jackson said, "Let us cross over the river..." It is McGuire's account that has gained the supremacy in history.