Robert E. Lee’s Railroad Gun

   The War brought some emerging technology to the forefront, innovations like repeating rifles and ironclad ships. The railroad was used to funnel troops and supplies, and then the wounded from battlefields to hospitals in cities. One of the new technologies was the use of armored railroad cars bearing large cannons.

(Library of Congress)

   Rumors filtered into Army of Northern Virginia command in early June 1862 that the Federal army was building a mobile battery to operate on the railroad. Due to their close proximity to Richmond, Lee believed that the only way that the enemy could get large cannons close to the Confederate capital was to use the York River Railroad.[1] On June 5, Robert E. Lee, who just three days prior had been assigned command of the principal Confederate army in Virginia, wrote Maj. W.H. Stevens, his chief engineer, concerning the vulnerability of the railroad. If the Federals constructed “a railroad battery, probably plated with iron,” they could “sweep the country.” While a fixed battery could be constructed, Lee wanted Stevens to explore the idea of their own “railroad battery…plated and protected with a heavy gun.”[2]

   That same day Lee wrote to Col. J. Gorgas, chief of the Ordnance Department: “Is there a possibility of constructing an iron-plated battery mounting a heavy gun, on trucks, the whole covered with iron, to move along the York River Railroad?” Lee asked. He told Gorgas to inquire with the Navy Department. Lee also mentioned using mortars on the railroad as well.[3]

   A third note went out from Lee that day to Capt. George Minor, Chief of Ordnance and Hydrography. “I am very anxious to have a railroad battery,” Lee wrote, mentioning he had written Gorgas and Confederate naval Lt. John M. Brooke on the subject. “Till something better could be accomplished I proposed a Dahlgren or Columbiad, on a ship’s carriage, on a railroad flat, with one of your navy iron aprons adjusted to it to protect gun and men. “If I could get it in position by daylight to-morrow I could astonish our neighbors.”[4]

   Lee did not get his cannon until June 24. The design was one by Brooke, who also designed both cannons and armament for the CSS Virginia. Minor reported that a rifled and banded 32-pounder had been mounted on a railcar, and supplied with 200 rounds of ammunition, including 15-inch solid bolts, all under the command of Lt. R.D. Minor, C.S. Navy.[5]

   The cannon was used at least once during the Seven Days campaign, during the battle of Savage Station. Private Robert K. Sneden, 40^th New York, wrote that during a lull in the battle, “a shrill locomotive whistle was heard… soon appeared coming down the tracks toward us a nondescript car, which was roofed over at sides with railroad iron set at an angle, and from which in front projected a heavy gun… While all eyes were directed toward it, [its] big gun opened fire suddenly, and everyone looked for some place of shelter.” The “heavy gun,” according to Shenen, fired several shots before being withdrawn half a mile back up the tracks where it continued firing till dark. Also noted was that the Confederates had placed cotton bales on the cars, with infantrymen behind them, to protect the gun. As the gun withdrew, the Federals commenced to tear up the York River Railroad, preventing the gun from advancing any closer.[6]

   Following the action at Savage Station, the armored battery disappears for a couple of years, probably stored at the rail yard in Richmond. There is a rumor that the gun saw action at Drewry’s Bluff in June 1864. The cannon was obviously captured at the end of the war, maybe in Petersburg. An armored railroad battery was photographed at the end of the war. Some historians believe that the imaged  cannon is Lee’s Railroad Gun.[7]

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[1] OR 11, pt. 3, 573.

[2] OR 11, pt. 3, 574.

[3] OR 11, pt. 3, 574.

[4] OR 11, pt. 3, 576.

[5] OR 11, pt. 3, 615.

[6] Bryan and Lankford, Eye of the Storm,76-77.

[7] see also David H. Schneider, “Lee’s Armored Car.” Civil War Times, February 2011.

Petersburg Confederate Mines

 

Confederate countermine at Fort Mahone (LOC)

   The battle of the Crater is a fairly well-known event during the war. Federal general Ambrose Burnside came up with the idea to dig a mine shaft from the Federal works at Petersburg, under a Confederate position at Pegram’s salient. The distance was 511 feet. Coal miners from the 48^th Pennsylvania Infantry were in charge of the mining operation. They packed the chamber under the Confederate salient with 8,000 pounds of black powder. At 4:40 am on July 30, an explosion blasted a hole 170 feet long and 30 feet deep within the Confederate line. The ensuing battle as Federal soldiers rushed in was a nightmare; many of them were caught in the crater left by the explosion.

   But this was not the only mine dug during the war. Confederate forces attempted to dig their own mines along the Petersburg front. One mine shaft stretched from Gracie’s Salient toward Federal lines at Hare House. Powder – 450 pounds – arrived on the evening of July 31 and all was ready to light the fuse the next day. However, with a truce in place to bury the dead from the failed Federal attempt, the attack was delayed. When the fuse was lit later that day, it was discovered to be defective. Over the next few days, the mineshaft was lengthened and double the amount of powder added. When the powder exploded on August 5, it was discovered that the Confederates were 40 yards short of the main Federal lines. There was no grand Confederate charge into the non-existent breach.[1]

   There were at least eight Confederate counter mines dug along the Petersburg front. These were underground listening posts, attempting to find Federal mining efforts. The counter mines were located at Elliott’s Salient, north of the James River, and City Point Road, Jerusalem Plank Road, Squirrel Level Road, Cooke’s Salient, Colquitt’s Salient, Pegram’s Salient, and somewhere between Pegram’s Salient and Jerusalem Plank Road.[2]

   Much of the early work on counter mines fell to Company F, 1^st Regiment Engineering Troops, under Capt. Hugh T. Douglas. They went into camp near Blandford Church. Tools were sent and in some places fabricated for the tedious jobs.[3] Details from brigades in the area assisted the engineers. Much of the work of transporting planking and ventilation machinery had to be done at night, as the lines were exposed to enemy fire. After the failure of the mine explosion on August 5, Douglas was arrested and allowed to resign from the army, finishing the war as a contract engineer.[4]

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[1] Hess, In the Trenches, 118-19.

[2] Hess, In the Trenches, 48, 111.

[3] Jackson, First Regiment Engineer Troops, 61-62.

[4] Hess, In the Trenches, 118-19.

Robert E. Lee and John S. Mosby

Col. John S. Mosby

            “The Marble Man” and the “Gray Ghost.” If we mention those two names, Robert E. Lee and John S. Mosby come to mind. Lee commanded the Army of Northern Virginia. Mosby was a colonel, charged with disrupting Federal operations behind the lines in Northern Virginia. While Mosby might not have been a “trusted” lieutenant like Jackson or Longstreet, he still communicated frequently with the commanding general. (Note: “The Marble Man” and the “Gray Ghost” were names applied much later.)

            Mosby was much younger than Lee. He was born in Powhatan County, Virginia, in 1833. Small in stature and frequently bullied, Mosby shot one of those bullies. Convicted of the crime and expelled from the University of Virginia, Mosby wound up studying law under the prosecting attorney while incarcerated. Mosby was later pardoned by the Virginia governor and was admitted to the bar. He and his family were living in Bristol when the war began.

            Lee was born in 1807 at Stratford Hall, the son of a Revolutionary War hero and former governor of Virginia. Lee grew up in Alexandria, graduated from West Point, and served as an engineer in the United States army. He was three times brevetted for his role in the Mexican-American War. In the early days of the secession crisis, Lee was serving with a cavalry regiment in Texas.

            At the beginning of the war, Mosby enlisted as a private in the Washington Mounted Rifles, under Grumble Jones. While members of the 1^st Virginia Cavalry, the men of the Washington Mounted Rifles were not seriously engaged at First Manassas. In early 1862, Private Mosby was promoted to adjutant of the regiment, with the rank of first lieutenant. Mosby slipped off on his first scout in March 1862, reporting back to Stuart that there was no serious pursuit of the Confederate army as it pulled back from the Manassas area to the Rappahannock River. When Fitzhugh Lee replaced Jones, Mosby resigned. Stuart kept Mosby as a scout. It was Mosby who scouted the Federal position that led to Stuart’s famed ride around McClellan in June 1862. Lee made mention of Mosby in a general report of the operation. Mosby continued under Stuart’s command during the Seven Days battles. After this campaign Mosby came up with the idea of a partisan ranger command that could harass Federal supply columns. While on his way to consult with Jackson at Gordonsville, Mosby was captured. Upon being paroled and released, Mosby made his way to Lee’s headquarters, explaining to Lee what he had seen at Hampton Roads. This was probably the first meeting between Lee and Mosby. The date: August 5, 1862.

            Mosby served on Stuart’s staff the next few months, serving as a scout. It was at the end of December 1862, while Stuart was scouting in Loudoun County, that Mosby received permission to remain behind with nine men. On January 10, they made their first raid, capturing a picket post near Herndon, Virginia. By January 22, when they reported back to Stuart, they had captured twenty horses and men. Mosby asked for a few more men, and Stuart granted his request. It was the beginning of Mosby’s Rangers and the 43^rd Battalion, Virginia Cavalry.

            Lee and Mosby communicated often over the next couple of years. It was Lee who wrote General Samuel Cooper of Mosby’s capture of Brig. Gen. Edwin Stoughton in March 1863.[1] Lee recommended that same month that Mosby needed to be promoted, and the rank of captain came a couple of days later, along with orders to recruit his command.[2] With Mosby operating so close to the Washington, D.C. defenses, Lee frequent wrote to his superiors with details of his raids and the information gathered.

            Mosby continued to raid Federal wagons trains north of the Rappahannock as Lee began moving the army north, the start of the Gettysburg campaign. It was Mosby who suggested Stuart ride once again around the Federal army, and Mosby who scouted that army with two men, trying to decern its intentions.

            In August 1863, Lee wrote Stuart about Mosby: “I fear he exercises but little control over his men…his attention has been more directed toward the capture of wagons than military damages to the enemy.”  Lee wanted Mosby to attack railroads, trying to force Meade to pull troops away from the army to guard the vital supply lines.[3]  

            Lee again mentioned Mosby in December 1863, writing that he had destroyed a wagon train at Brandy Station, capturing 112 mules.[4] In April 1864, Lee wrote Cooper that he was attempting to “have Col. Mosby’s battalion mustered into regular service. If this cannot be done I recommended that this battalion be retained as partisans for the present.”[5] For much of April, Mosby continued to funnel information to Lee regarding troop movements.

            When Jubal Early commenced his campaign through the Shenandoah Valley in June, July, and August 1864, Mosby joined in, attacking Federal positions at Point of Rocks, Mount Zion Church, the Snicker’s Gap War, Berryville Wagon Train Raid, Gold’s Farm, and others.

            Mosby paid Lee a visit at the latter’s headquarters near Petersburg on December 6, 1864. At Edge Hill, they had a meal together – a leg of mutton, which Lee joked about as being stolen since it was a rarity.[6] Mosby visited Lee’s headquarters again on February 2, 1865.[7] This appears to be the last time the two met during the war.

            Lee of course surrendered at Appomattox Court House on April 9, 1865. In Loudoun County, Mosby received word of the surrender on April 15, asking for a ceasefire so he could verify the validity of the news. This was granted. Word was sent to Lee, now back in Richmond. What should the rangers do? Lee’s response? He thought they should go home. Mosby disbanded the 43^rd Battalion on April 21, 1865, in Salem. Mosby and a few others rode south, trying to link up with the Army of Tennessee. When they learned that Johnston had also surrendered, they returned, and Mosby, confirming that he would not be arrested, likewise surrendered on June 17.

 

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[1] Knight, Arlington, 247.

[2] Knight, Arlington, 250.

[3] OR 29, pt. 2, 652-3.

[4] Dowdey and Manarin, Wartime Papers, 630.

[5] Dowdey and Manarin, Wartime Papers, 689.

[6] Mitchel, Mosby Letters, 125.

[7] Knight, Arlington, 470.

A 9th Virginia Cavalry Trooper Saved by Robert E. Lee

    Recently, while reading through Charlie Knight’s From Arlington to Appomattox, Robert E. Lee’s Civil War Day by Day, I came across a line about John William Irvine (sometimes Irwin). Born in Stafford County, Virginia, in 1846, Irvine enlisted in what became Company A, 9^th Virginia Cavalry, on June 4, 1861. His occupation was listed as a student. He re-enlisted for two additional years, collecting a $50 bounty. On November 15, 1862, Irvine was captured.

   Seldom does the capture of an individual soldier call for a response from Army of Northern Virginia commander Robert E. Lee. Irvine’s capture did. Captured behind Federal lines, he was suspected of being a spy. He was quickly transported to the Old Capitol Prison in Washington, D.C. Lee wrote to Federal commander Maj. Gen. Ambrose Burnside on December 19, 1862.

   Irvine was tried on December 21, 1862. His charge: “Being found and arrested within the lines of the Army of the Potomac.” Irvine was found in civilian clothes and was behind Federal lines “during a time when important movements of that army [Army of the Potomac] were being made.” The military court found him guilty. The punishment: “hung by the neck until he be dead.”[1]

   Word got to Lee, and after he spoke to Col. Beale, 9^th Virginia Cavalry, and Brig. Gen. William H.F. Lee, a letter was sent through the lines. Irvine was not a spy. Instead, he was given permission to go back to Stafford County to procure a fresh horse. “This is a permission commonly given in similar cases and at the time it was not known that the place Private Irwin wished to proceed was within the lines of your army.”[2] Burnside stepped in, and Irvine was ordered to be held as a common prisoner.[3]

   Irvine was sent to Old Capitol Prison in Washington, D.C., where he was released on May 13, 1863. He was captured again just a few short weeks later, on June 30, 1863, in Hanover, Pennsylvania. This time, he was sent to Point Lookout until exchanged on April 30, 1864. Irvine appears on the last company roll dated October 6, 1864.[4] Irvine survived the war, passing away in April 1875 in Monroe County, Missouri.

  

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[1] John W. Irvine (Irwin), CMSR, Roll 0093, M324, RG109.

[2] OR, Series 2, Vol. 5, 98.

[3] OR, Series 2, Vol. 5, 104.

[4] Krick, 9^th Virginia Cavalry, 81.

The 7th Florida Takes Prisoners to Richmond

   Several times in the past, I have written about prisons, concentrating on prison guards (here) and moving prisoners across the South (here). Captain Robert B. Smith, Company K, 7^th Florida Infantry, was in charge of a group of guards and prisoners following the battle of Murfreesboro. He recorded his story in 1914.

   “In the winter of 1863, after the battle of… [Murfreesboro]… all of the non-commissioned officers and privates who were captured at that time were sent to Richmond, Va. There were 3,300 of them.

Bristol, TN/VA in 1857

   At Knoxville, Tenn., our regiment, the 7^th Fla., was detailed to guard them as far as Bristol, on the line of the Virginia and Tennessee [Railroad]. Nothing of any particular interest happened until we reached the Watauga River. There was a very high bridge over that river, and a raiding party of Federals from Cumberland Gap had burned the bridge, and the cars could proceed no father.

   We had to march from there to Bristol, a distance of 12 or 14 miles . . . When we reached Bristol I went to the commander, Maj. Keys, and roused him out of bed and told him who I was and what I had for him. He was taken completely by surprise and did not know what to do with the prisoners. Some one, however, must have notified the railroad authorities, for there were two trains of box cars to take us on to Richmond.

   Major Keys had no one to send along as a guard, for his men were off on a scout and would not be back for two days, or more. He wanted me to go on with my regiment, but I could not, for my orders were to carry the prisoners to Bristol and return.

   I told Maj. Keys I did not think a guard was necessary—that he could take them himself. He asked me if I would be willing to go with them without a guard. I told him I would be glad to.

   Arrangements were soon made. The 7^th Fla. Was sent back under command of a subordinate officer, and the 3,300 Federal prisoners and I boarded the cars and were soon ‘on to Richmond.’”

   At Wytheville, Va., the trains stopped a long time, and the men, being hungry, swarmed off the cars to beg or buy something to eat. I could not blame them. The Mayor or Marshall wanted to know why I didn’t keep them on the cars.

   I could not help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation—one man guarding 3,300! However, I told him, “All right,” and went the entire length of the two trains and gave the orders that ‘no one was to leave the cars.’ Strange as it may seem, that order was obeyed just as if they had been my own men.

   One man died on the way and was put off at a station and the trains moved on. I never knew what [was] the cause of his death. When we got to Lynchburg it was early morning of the second day from Bristol. There I reported to Col. Lyons, the commandant. He wanted me to go on to Richmond, but I said: ‘No; I cannot, for some of those men have been without food for three days and are suffering.’

   He said: They have no formation and you cannot give them rations. It will be a ‘grab game’ just as it was at Knoxville, Tenn., where you last rationed them.’

   That seemed very reasonable, but a happy inspiration came to me at that moment, and I told him I could issue the rations to every man, and would assume the whole responsibility. All I asked was two hours’ time. He agreed to my proposition and issued orders for 3,000 rations. The railyard where the cars with the prisoners were was an ideal place for my experiment. Very many citizens were attracted there, curious to see and to hear.

   I mounted a box car and announced that I was going to give them rations and I wanted their help. They assured me mostly heartily that I should have it. Joy beamed in their faces and added speed to their feet and sharpness to their wits. I told them in a few words what I wanted done and began calling them by states.

   “Maine troops, fall in on the extreme right; New Hampshire troops, fall in next, Western and Northern states. After naming every state from Maine to California, there were several hundred men left. I called out to them, “Where do you belong?”

   Some one yelled out, “Call the Southern states.”

   I had not thought of that, so I called, “North Carolina troops, fall in!” Quite a good many moved to the right, and then, “South Carolina troops, fall in!” and sure enough there were some from South Carolina. The citizens began to guy them unmercifully, and when I gave the command, “Tennessee troops, fall in! it seemed that there were a hundred or more. The citizens did not guy them so much. But when I called Virginia I thought the citizens would come over the fence after them.

   Soon all were in two ranks, and I had the orderlies to step two paces to the front. Out of these orderly-sergeants, I selected 65 captains for 50 men each, and instructed them to write down the names of their men and then go with a detail of our men to draw rations.

   They were warned that if any man of their company was cheated out of his rations the captain and his four men would have to supply him with a ration, even if they went without.

   There was no complaint. That evening we loaded cars quickly, using our same formations, and proceeded on to Richmond, where we arrived at 7 o’clock the next morning. The railroad authorities were afraid to take us over the James River on their bridge neither would they permit us all to cross at the same time. We still had our company formation and could easily manage that order by sending a few companies at a time.

   Soon we were over in the city. Many people were in evidence as spectators, but they were civil and good-natured. Just to have a little amusement, as we were marching in the middle of the street towards Libbey prison, I gave the order, “By companies, right wheel into line, march!” This order was promptly obeyed, and we marched by company front until we reached Libbey Prison, where I took my leave of these jolly prisoners.”[1]

   This is quite a remarkable tale: one officer, escorting 3,000 prisoners through Tennessee and Virginia. Is there any chance of proving this post-war account? First, there is not a published history of the 7^th Florida Infantry (that I can find). The 7^th Florida was organized in April 1862 in Gainesville, Florida. They were assigned to the Army of Tennessee.[2] They are not listed in the order of battle for Murfreesboro. They were a part of Bragg’s army when it invaded Kentucky, and, in February 1863, were doing garrison duty at Cumberland Gap. They were reported in Knoxville from February 1863, through Saunder’s Raid in June 1863. So they are in the right place at the right time. (Many of the Florida Compiled Military Service Records are very difficult to read.)[3] Maybe the 7^th Florida was serving as provost marshal in Knoxville. An article detailing the movements of the 19^th Georgia Battalion notes on January 5, 1863, that when author’s battalion arrived in Knoxville, “we reported to Capt. A.S. Moseley, 7^th Regiment Florida Volunteers, who is an able and efficient officer.”[4]

   There is an interesting piece in the file of Capt. Robert B. Smith dated March 25, 1864, to the Quarter Master regarding other matters. And then there is this: “Also awaiting receipts from the Qu. Master for tents & cooking utensils turned over at Knoxville Tenn when we were ordered to Virginia.”[5]

   Were prisoners from Murfreesboro sent to Richmond? On January 13, 1863, the Daily Richmond Whig reported that 168 Federal captured at Murfreesboro were in Lynchburg, with another 800 more expected to arrive that night.[6] An Abington newspaper reported a few days later that “For several days past, the trains going eastward have been loaded down with prisoners from Murfreesboro, en route for Richmond.”[7] At least some of the Federal prisoners captured at Murfreesboro were sent to Richmond. Is there any record of Smith’s prisoners’ marching in company front formation through the streets toward Libby Prison? Not that I have found so far.

   Maybe some a good book on the 7^th Florida would prove what seems like a tall tale. Or, maybe one of those Federal prisoners captured at Murfreesboro wrote about the event after the fact. It seems that most of the Murfreesboro prisoners were paroled rather quickly.

  

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[1] Robert B. Smith, “3,300 Federal Prisoners and I.” Civil War Times Illustrated, December 1975, 41-43.

[2] Crute, Units of the Confederate States Army, 77.

[3] CMSR, Record of events, 7^th Florida Infantry, Roll 0076, M251, RG109.

[4] The Macon Telegraph, January 9, 1863.

[5] Robert Smith, CMSR, Roll 0079, M251, RG109.

[6] Daily Richmond Whig, January 13, 1863.

[7] The Abington Virginia, January 16, 1863.

Saving Pamplin Historical Park: Its Story, My Story, How You Can Help

 

   On July 16, 2025, my friend Chris Mackowski hit the airwaves for Emerging Civil War News with a fantastic announcement: the American Battlefield Trust is purchasing Pamplin Historical Park. When Pamplin Park opened in 1994, it was hailed as a “major player in that conflict.” (Richmond Times-Dispatch, June 22, 1994.)  The park, separate from the Petersburg National Battlefield, would “refocus attention on the dramatic events that led to the fall of the Confederacy.” (Richmond Times-Dispatch, April 27, 1994) 

   So what was the battle of Pamplin? Well, there was not a battle by that name. The Pamplin part is the name of the family that preserved the property. Located just below Petersburg, the property was purchased in 1810 by William E. Boisseau. Boisseau built Tudor Hall, and the family lived in the structure until 1864. That fall, McGowan’s South Carolina brigade arrived. The Boisseau family went elsewhere (probably Petersburg) and Brig. Gen. Samuel McGowan used the home as his headquarters. McGowan’s brigade left the entrenchments that ran through the farm on March 29, 1865, replaced by Brig. Gen. James H. Lane’s North Carolina brigade. Lane was minus one regiment, but the other four spread themselves throughout the works. One Tar Heel wrote that they were about ten paces apart. In the early morning hours, the massed VI Corps struck the position, breaking through the thinly held lines. Robert E. Lee was forced to evacuate the Petersburg and Richmond lines, moving west. The Boisseaus were forced to sell the property after the war. It was purchased by Asahel Gerow of New York. In the mid-20^th century, the property was purchased by Robert Pamplin and his son, direct descendants of the Boisseaus. They are the ones who created Pamplin Historical Park, which not only includes the best preserved earthworks in the nation, but also the restored Tudor Hall, the Breakthrough Museum, and the National Museum of the Civil War Soldier.

   My connection? In the late 1990s, I was working on my first book, a history of the 37^th North Carolina Troops. That regiment was stationed in those very works on the morning of April 2, 1865. Pamplin Park had just received the battleflag of the 37^th North Carolina on loan from the Museum of the Confederacy. I stood gazing at the flag for some time, counting the bullet holes that had been repaired during the war. Just a few dozen steps away were the breastworks where the 37th North Carolina was located, and where that very flag was captured.

   That history of the 37^th North Carolina was published in 2003. In 2005, I wrote an article about the breakthrough for America’s Civil War.  And in 2018, Savas Beatie published General Lee’s Immortals, my history of the Branch-Lane brigade. (You can order the books here)

   I’ve visited Pamplin Park many times over the years. Sometimes, I am a tourist, just walking among the trenches where the breakthrough took place so many years ago. Several times, I have been invited to speak about the events and the Branch-Lane Brigade (twice in 2024). In 2016, a monument to Lane’s Brigade was dedicated at the park. I was not the speaker – Edd Bearss was. But I had a chance to join with a great group of re-enactors, and spend a couple of days doing interpretive programs at the park.

   The American Battlefield Trust needs to raise $600,000 by November to finish the purchase of the Confederate defenses at Pamplin Historical Park (total cost is over $21,000,000). Like most other historic sites, not just those dedicated to the Civil War, Pamplin has struggled since 2020. This is a win-win situation for everyone. The American battlefield Trust already owns 200 acres of land adjacent to this 400+-acre tract. It is the location from which the VI Crops launched its attack. The American Battlefield Trust will continue the excellent stewardship of the Pamplin family and will allow this site to be preserved to teach the future about this important story of the past.

If you would like to help support this important effort to help preserve this unique site, you can find more information here

Jefferson Davis v. Stonewall Jackson

   Confederate historiography is rife with accounts of Jefferson Davis’s legendary support of certain commanders, like Braxton Bragg, Leonidas Polk, and Lucius B. Northrop, along with politician Judah P. Benjamin, and his equally legendary feuds with others, like Joseph E. Johnston. Even with Johnston, the fault was more his than that of Davis, as in his correspondence, the President, often exhibits a great deal of grace and aplomb.

   But Davis was not, at least early on, an enthusiast of Thomas J. “Stonewall” Jackson. That might come as a shock, considering that many still celebrate Lee-Jackson Day across the South. Often, Lee is number one, with Jackson a close second in admiration of military skill.

   It appears that Davis and Jackson had never met prior to the spring of 1862. Davis was an 1828 United States Military Academy graduate. During his West Point years, he is described as frequently challenging the academy’s discipline, which includes being involved in the famous Eggnog Riot of Christmas 1826.[1] While serving in the regular army, Davis was court-martialed for insubordination in 1835.[2] Davis resigned from the U.S. Army shortly thereafter. He then became a cotton planter and politician, serving in the U.S. House from 1845-1846. During the Mexican-American War, Davis raised a regiment, for which he served as colonel, and fought at Monterrey and Buena Vista. He then served in the U.S. Senate from 1847 to 1851, as Secretary of War under President Franklin Pierce, and then again in the U.S. Senate from 1857 to 1861.

   Jackson was not a politician, nor a planter. He did gain entrance to the United States Military Academy, graduating in 1846, 17^th out of 59^th students. Jackson was also in the Mexican-American War, serving as a second lieutenant in Company K, 1^st United States Artillery. His unit saw action at the Siege of Veracruz, and the battles of Contreras, Chapultepec, and Mexico City. After Mexico, Jackson saw action in Florida battling the Seminoles. Jackson also resigned from the U.S. Army, taking a position of professor of Natural and Experimental Philosophy and Instructor of Artillery at the Virginia Military institute.

   Davis, being so intimate with the going-ons of the War Department, would have seen Jackson’s name in the reports and telegraphs that arrived in Richmond after the start of the war. Colonel Thomas J. Jackson took command of the garrison at Harpers Ferry in late April 1861. Robert E. Lee was critical of Jackson for occupying Maryland Heights, undoubtedly relaying the fears of others. Jackson wanted Confederate forces to take the offensive at once. Jackson would next clash with Joseph E. Johnston. While Jackson commanded over 7,000 men at Harper’s Ferry, he had a commission only in Virginia. Johnston, after Virginia joined the Confederacy, was a brigadier general in the Confederate army. When Johnson arrived to assume command of the post at Harper’s Ferry, no one had notified Jackson, who refused to relinquish command. Eventually, Johnston found an endorsement with Lee’s signature on it, and Jackson acquiesced. Jackson then assumed command of all Virginia regiments at Harpers Ferry.[3] Promotion to brigadier general came on June 17, 1861. Jackson went on to become the first icon of the South, earning the sobriquet of Stonewall Jackson at the battle of First Manassas in July 1861. A promotion to major general came in November 1861.

   It was Jackson who came up with the plan for the Romney Campaign. Jackson asked for reinforcements for the campaign and received W.W. Loring’s division. Finding few Federals in Romney, Jackson withdrew his brigade back to Winchester, leaving Loring at Romney. Loring has been described as incompetent and not having the ability to control his already demoralized soldiers. Loring’s officers believed that Jackson’s men were living high (and warm) in Winchester while they suffered through one of the coldest winters on record at Romney. Loring signed and forwarded a petition from eleven of his officers to Richmond asking that Jackson’s orders be overridden and they be allowed to withdraw from Romney. Others wrote to their Congressmen, and with Loring’s approval, Brig. Gen. William B. Taliaferro went to Richmond to plead their case. All of this happened without using the proper chain of command, as Loring believed Jackson would not endorse and forward the letters. Davis sided with Loring and ordered the Secretary of War to telegraph Jackson, ordering him to move Loring’s men. Jackson complied with the orders, then telegraphed, “With such interference in my command I cannot expect to be of much service in the field.” He requested to be assigned back to his old teaching job or allowed to resign.[4]

   Davis considered the Romney Campaign, and Jackson, “utterly incompetent.” It was only through the work of Joseph E. Johnston that the ruffled feathers of Jackson were smoothed and his resignation returned to him.[5] Jackson preferred charges against Loring, charges that Johnston endorsed and forwarded, but the matter was dropped in Richmond. A few days later, Loring was promoted to major general at Davis’s request and sent to the Western Theater.

   A couple of months later, Jackson commanded all the troops in the Shenandoah Valley, with orders from Johnston to prevent Banks from reinforcing McClellan on the Peninsula. The next squabble came with Richard Ewell. Ewell was angry over Jackson’s secrecy, so angry, that Ewell sent one of his brigadier generals, Richard Taylor, to meet with Davis. Taylor just happened to be Davis’s brother-in-law (Davis’s first wife). It was Ewell and Taylor’s request that an officer be sent to the Valley, an officer who outranked Jackson and who could take command. Davis agreed and wanted to send either James Longstreet or Gustavus W. Smith. Davis agreed to send Longstreet as soon as possible and Taylor returned to Ewell with the news. Lee stepped in, and as one historian put it, prevented Davis from “making a truly colossal blunder.” Over the next few weeks, Jackson, with Lee’s encouragement “carried out one of the more brilliant campaigns of military history.”[6]

   The first meeting of Davis and Jackson is thought to have occurred on July 2, 1862, at Lee’s Headquarters near Malvern Hill. Lee was meeting with several of his generals when Davis arrived unannounced. Introductions were made. Dr. Hunter McGuire was an observer at the event, and it was McGuire who informed Jackson who Davis was, although he probably already knew. Woodward writes that Jackson’s “feelings toward Davis, however, were none too cordial, for he had not forgotten the Romney campaign and Davis’s intervention in Loring’s favor during the affair.” Hunter McGuire wrote that Jackson “stood as if a corporal on guard, his head erect, his little fingers touching the seams on his pants, and looked at Davis.” It was Lee who broke the awkward silence. “Why President, don’t you know General Jackson? This is our “Stonewall Jackson.” Davis bowed stiffly, and Jackson saluted. Lee and Davis soon adjourned into another room to talk. Davis and Jackson spoke later that day. Jackson was alone among Lee’s generals to continue to pursue McClellan.[7]

   Davis, Lee, Jackson, and others met in Richmond on July 13, devising the strategy of pursuing John Pope and his army in Northern Virginia. Jackson’s brilliant Second Manassas campaign still did not seem to inspire trust with Davis. When the army was reorganized after the Maryland Campaign, the rank of lieutenant general was created. Davis told Lee that “You have two officers now commanding several divisions and may require more. Please send to me as soon as possible the names of such as you prefer for Lt. General.” Lee could request promotions for Longstreet and Jackson, or Lee could recommend someone else, bypassing Jackson. Woodward believed that Davis was giving Lee “a convenient opportunity for reducing Jackson’s responsibilities.”[8] Lee responded with: “My opinion of the merits of General Jackson have been greatly enhanced during this expedition. He is true, honest, and brave; has a single eye to the good of the service, and spares no exertion to accomplish his object.”[9]

Did Davis, during the war, ever come around to being a supporter of Jackson? Perhaps. Davis was ill during the Chancellorsville campaign. However, like many others, he was concerned over Jackson’s wounding. Varinia Davis wrote that one of the Davis servants (slaves) was sent to the railroad depot where the latest news about Jackson’s health was reported on the arriving trains.[10] It was Davis who sent the first (new) national flag to rest on the casket of Jackson as it arrived in Richmond. In a letter to Lee on May 11, Davis described the event as “a great national calamity.”[11] In the funeral procession, Davis followed near the hearse in a carriage. Later that day, when someone came to the White House to discuss business with Davis, Davis “remained silent for a while and then said, ‘You must excuse me. I am still staggering from a dreadful blow. I cannot think.”[12]

   Is it possible to read more into the attitude of Jackson in meeting with Davis at Malvern Hill in July 1862? Maybe. Jackon was “stiff” around many people. Did Jackson know of Ewell and Taylor’s mission to get him replaced? Maybe. Did Jackson smart from the interference of Loring and his officers after the Romey campaign? Yes. Jackson did resign over the event. A larger question: why did David dislike Jackson so much? Was it disdain because Jackson was not of the social class of Davis and Lee? That is just something to consider.

[1] Cooper, Jefferson Daivs, 33.

[2] Davis, Jefferson Davis, 68-69.

[3] Robertson, Stonewall Jackson, 234-44.

[4] Woodworth, Davis & Lee, 87-88.

[5] Tanner, Stonewall in the Valley, 83, from the diary of Thomas Bragg.

[6] Woodworth, Davis & Lee, 121-22; Parrish, Richard Taylor, 153.

[7] Woodworth, Davis & Lee, 171.

[8] Woodworth, Davis & Lee, 202.

[9] OR, 19, pt.2:643-4.

[10] Davis, Jefferson Davis, 2:382-83.

[11] OR 25, pt. 1:791.

[12] Davis, Jefferson Davis, 2:382-83.