Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 9, No. 52, February, 1862 by Various

V >> Various >> Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 9, No. 52, February, 1862

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This morning we received news of the brilliant affair at Fredericktown.

Just before the General left camp to-day, I received orders to report
myself to General Asboth, for duty as Judge-Advocate of a Court-Martial
to be held in his division. General Asboth was several miles behind us,
and I set out to ride back and join him. After a gallop of half an hour
across the prairie, I discovered that I had lost my way. I vainly tried
to find some landmark of yesterday's march, but was at last compelled to
trust to the sagacity of my horse,--the redoubtable Spitfire, so named
by reason of his utter contempt for gunpowder, whether sputtered out of
muskets or belched forth by cannon. I gave him his head. He snuffed the
air for a moment, deliberately swept the horizon with his eyes, and then
turned short around and carried me back to the farm-house from which I
had started. I arrived just in time for dinner. Two officers of Lane's
brigade, which had marched from Kansas, came in while we were at the
table. They seasoned our food with spicy incidents of Kansas life.

After dinner I started with Captain R., of Springfield, to find Asboth.
As we left the house, we were joined by the most extraordinary character
I have seen. He was a man of medium height. His chest was enormous in
length and breadth; his arms long, muscular, and very large; his legs
short. He had the body of a giant upon the legs of a dwarf. This curious
figure was surmounted by a huge head, covered with coarse brown hair,
which grew very nearly down to his eyes, while his beard grew almost up
to his eyes. It seemed as if the hair and beard had had a struggle for
the possession of his face, and were kept apart by the deep chasm
in which his small gray eyes were set. He was armed with a huge
bowie-knife, which he carried slung like a sword. It was at least two
feet long, heavy as a butcher's cleaver, and was thrust into a sheath
of undressed hide. He called this pleasant instrument an Arkansas
toothpick. He bestrode, as well as his diminutive legs would let him, an
Indian pony as shaggy as himself. This person proved to be a bearer of
despatches, and offered to guide us to the main road, along which Asboth
was marching.

The pony started off at a brisk trot, and in an hour we were upon the
road, which we found crowded with troops and wagons. Pressing through
the underbrush along-side the road, we kept on at a rapid pace. We soon
heard shouts and cheers ahead of us, and in a few moments came in sight
of a farm-house, in front of which was an excited crowd. Men were
swarming in at every door and window. The yard was filled with furniture
which the troops were angrily breaking, and a considerable party was
busy tearing up the roof. I could not learn the cause of the uproar,
except that a Secessionist lived there who had killed some one. I passed
on, and in a little while arrived at Asboth's quarters.

He had established himself in an unpretending, but comfortable
farm-house, formerly owned by a German, named Brown. This house has
lately been the scene of one of those bloody outrages, instigated by
neighborhood hatred, which have been so frequent in Missouri. Old Brown
had lived here more than thirty years. He was industrious, thrifty,
and withal a skilful workman. Under his intelligent husbandry his farm
became the marvel of all that region. He had long outlived his strength,
and when the war broke out he could give to the Union nothing but
his voice and influence: these he gave freely and at all times. The
plain-spoken patriot excited the enmity of the Secessionists, and the
special hatred of one man, his nearest neighbor. All through the summer,
his barns were plundered, his cattle driven away, his fences torn down;
but no one offered violence to the white-headed old man, or to the three
women who composed his family. The approach of our army compelled the
Rebels of the neighborhood to fly, and among the fugitives was the foe I
have mentioned. He was not willing to depart and leave the old German
to welcome the Union troops. Just one week ago, at a late hour in the
evening, he rode up to Brown's door and knocked loudly. The old man
cautiously asked who it was. The wretch replied, "A friend who wants
lodging." As a matter of course,--for in this region every house is a
tavern,--the farmer opened the door, and at the instant was pierced
through the heart by a bullet from the pistol of his cowardly foe. The
blood-stains are upon the threshold still. It was the murderer's house
the soldiers sacked to-day. A German artillery company heard the
story, and began to plunder the premises under the influence of a not
unjustifiable desire for revenge. General Asboth, however, compelled the
men to desist, and to replace the furniture they had taken out.

I found General Sturgis, and Captain Parrot, his Adjutant, at General
Asboth's, on their way to report to General Fremont. Sturgis has brought
his command one hundred and fifty miles in ten days. He says that large
numbers of deserters have come into his lines. Price's followers are
becoming discouraged by his continued retreat.

The business which detained me in the rear was finished at an early
hour, but I waited in order to accompany General Asboth, who, with some
of his staff, was intending to go to head-quarters, five miles farther
south. We set out at nine o'clock. General Asboth likes to ride at the
top of his horse's speed, and at once put his gray into a trot so rapid
that we were compelled to gallop in order to keep up. We dashed over
a rough road, down a steep decline, and suddenly found ourselves
floundering through a stream nearly up to our saddle-girths. My horse
had had a hard day's work. He began to be unsteady on his pins. So I
drew up, preferring the hazards of a night-ride across the prairie to
a fall upon the stony road. The impetuous old soldier, followed by his
companions, rushed into the darkness, and the clatter of their hoofs and
the rattling of their sabres faded from my hearing.

I was once more alone on the prairie. The sky was cloudless, but the
starlight struggling through a thin haze suggested rather than revealed
surrounding objects. I bent over my horse's shoulder to trace the course
of the road; but I could see nothing. There were no trees, no fences.
I listened for the rustling of the wind over the prairie-grass; but as
soon as Spitfire stopped, I found that not a breath of air was stirring:
his motion had created the breeze. I turned a little to the left, and at
once felt the Mexican stirrup strike against the long, rank grass. Quite
exultant with the thought that I had found a certain test that I was in
the road, I turned back and regained the beaten track. But now a new
difficulty arose. At once the thought suggested itself,--"Perhaps I
turned the wrong way when I came back into the road, and am now going
away from my destination." I drew up and looked around me. There was
nothing to be seen except the veiled stars above, and upon either hand
a vast dark expanse, which might be a lake, the sea, or a desert, for
anything I could discern. I listened: there was no sound except the
deep breathing of my faithful horse, who stood with ears erect, eagerly
snuffing the night-air. I had heard that horses can see better than men.
"Let me try the experiment." I gave Spitfire his head. He moved across
the road, went out upon the prairie a little distance, waded into a
brook which I had not seen, and began to drink. When he had finished, he
returned to the road without the least hesitation.

"The horse can certainly see better than I. Perhaps I am the only one
of this company who is in trouble, and the good beast is all this while
perfectly composed and at ease, and knows quite well where to go."

I loosened the reins. Spitfire went forward slowly, apparently quite
confident, and yet cautious about the stones in his path.

I now began to speculate upon the distance I had come. I thought,--"It
is some time since we started. Head-quarters were only five miles off. I
rode fast at first. It is strange there are no campfires in sight."

Time is measured by sensation, and with me minutes were drawn out into
hours. "Surely, it is midnight. I have been here three hours at the
least. The road must have forked, and I have gone the wrong way. The
most sagacious of horses could not be expected to know which of two
roads to take. There is nothing to be done. I am in for the night, and
had better stay here than go farther in the wrong direction."

I dismount, fill my pipe, and strike a light. I laugh at my
thoughtlessness, and another match is lighted to look at my watch, which
tells me I have been on the road precisely twenty minutes. I mount.
Spitfire seems quite composed, perhaps a little astonished at the
unusual conduct of his rider, but he walks on composedly, carefully
avoiding the rolling stones.

It is not a pleasant situation,--on a prairie alone and at night, not
knowing where you are going or where you ought to go. Zimmermann himself
never imagined a solitude more complete, albeit such a situation is not
so favorable to philosophic meditation as the rapt Zimmermann might
suppose. I employ my thoughts as well as I am able, and pin my faith to
the sagacity of Spitfire. Presently a light gleams in front of me. It
is only a flickering, uncertain ray; perhaps some belated teamster
is urging his reluctant mules to camp and has lighted his lantern.
No,--there are sparks; it is a camp-fire. I hearken for the challenge,
not without solicitude; for it is about as dangerous to approach a
nervous sentinel as to charge a battery. I do not hear the stern
inquiry, "Who comes there?" At last I am abreast of the fire, and myself
call out,--

"Who is there?"

"We are travellers," is the reply.

What this meant I did not know. What travellers are there through this
distracted, war-worn region? Are they fugitives from Price, or traitors
flying before us? I am not in sufficient force to capture half a dozen
men, and if they are foes, it is not worth while to be too inquisitive;
so I continue on my way, and they and their fire are soon enveloped by
the night. Presently I see another light in the far distance. This must
be a picket, for there are soldiers. I look around for the sentry,
not quite sure whether I am to be challenged or shot; but again I am
permitted to approach unquestioned. I call out,--

"Who is there?"

"Men of Colonel Carr's regiment."

"What are you doing here?"

"We are guarding some of our wagons which were left here. Our regiment
has gone forward at a half-hour's notice to reinforce Zagonyi," said a
sergeant, rising and saluting me.

"But is there no sentry here?" I asked.

"There was one, but he has been withdrawn," replied the sergeant.

"Where are head-quarters?"

"At the first house on your right, about a hundred yards farther up the
road," he said, pointing in the direction I was going.

It was strange that I could ride up to within pistol-shot of
head-quarters without being challenged, I soon reached the house. A
sentry stood at the gate. I tied my horse to the fence, and walked into
the Adjutant's tent. I had passed by night from one division of the army
to another, along the public road, and entered head-quarters without
being questioned. Twenty-five bold men might have carried off the
General. I at once reported these facts to Colonel E.; inquiry was made,
and it was found that some one had blundered.

There is no report from Springfield. Zagonyi sent back for
reinforcements before he reached the town, and Carr's cavalry, with two
light field-pieces, have been sent forward. Captain R., my companion
this afternoon, has also gone to learn what he may. While I am writing
up my journal, a group of officers is around the fire in front of the
tent. They are talking about Zagonyi and the Guard. We are all feverish
with anxiety.

_October 26th_. This morning I was awakened by loud cheers from the camp
of the Benton Cadets. My servant came at my call.

"What are those cheers for, Dan?"

"The Body-Guard has won a great victory, Sir! They have beaten the
Rebels, driven them out of Springfield, and killed over a hundred of
them. The news came late last night, and the General has issued an order
which has just been read to the Cadets."

The joyful words had hardly reached my eager ears when shouts were heard
from the sharp-shooters. They have got the news. In an instant the camp
is astir. Half-dressed, the officers rush from their tents,--servants
leave their work, cooks forget breakfast,--they gather together, and
breathless drink in the delicious story. We hear how the brave Guard,
finding the foe three times as strong as had been reported, resolved
to go on, in spite of odds, for their own honor and the honor of our
General,--how Zagonyi led the onset,--how with cheers and shouts of
"Union and Fremont," the noble fellows rushed upon the foe as gayly as
boys at play,--what deeds of daring were done,--that Zagonyi, Foley,
Maythenyi, Newhall, Treikel, Goff, and Kennedy shone heroes in the
fray,--how gallantly the Guards had fought, and how gloriously they had
died. These things we heard, feasting upon every word, and interrupting
the fervid recital with involuntary exclamations of sympathy and joy.

It did not fall to the fortune of the writer to take part with the
Body-Guard in their memorable attack, but, as the Judge-Advocate of
a Court of Inquiry into that affair, which was held at Springfield
immediately after our arrival there, I became familiar with the field
and the incidents of the battle. I trust it will not be regarded as
an inexcusable digression, if I recite the facts connected with the
engagement, which, as respects the odds encountered, the heroism
displayed, and the importance of its results, is still the most
remarkable encounter of the war.

THE BODY-GUARD AT SPRINGFIELD.

It may not be out of place to say a few words as to the character and
organization of the Guard.

Among the foreign officers whom the fame of General Fremont drew around
him was Charles Zagonyi,--an Hungarian refugee, but long a resident of
this country. In his boyhood, Zagonyi had plunged into the passionate,
but unavailing, struggle which Hungary made for her liberty. He at once
attracted the attention of General Bem, and was by him placed in command
of a picked company of cavalry. In one of the desperate engagements of
the war, Zagonyi led a charge upon a large artillery force. More than
half of his men were slain. He was wounded and taken prisoner. Two years
passed before he could exchange an Austrian dungeon for American exile.

General Fremont welcomed Zagonyi cordially, and authorized him to
recruit a company of horse, to act as his bodyguard. Zagonyi was most
scrupulous in his selection; but so ardent was the desire to serve under
the eye and near the person of the General, that in five days after the
lists were opened two full companies were enlisted. Soon after a whole
company, composed of the very flower of the youth of Kentucky, tendered
its services, and requested to be added to the Guard. Zagonyi was still
overwhelmed with applications, and he obtained permission to recruit a
fourth company. The fourth company, however, did not go with us into the
field. The men were clad in blue jackets, trousers, and caps. They were
armed with light German sabres, the best that at that time could be
procured, and revolvers; besides which, the first company carried
carbines. They were mounted upon bay horses, carefully chosen from
the Government stables. Zagonyi had but little time to instruct his
recruits, but in less than a month from the commencement of the
enlistments the Body-Guard was a well-disciplined and most efficient
corps of cavalry. The officers were all Americans except three,--one
Hollander, and two Hungarians, Zagonyi and Lieutenant Maythenyi, who
came to the United States during his boyhood.

Zagonyi left our camp at eight o'clock on the evening of the
twenty-fourth, with about a hundred and sixty men, the remainder of the
Guard being left at headquarters under the command of a non-commissioned
officer.

Major White was already on his way to Springfield with his squadron.
This young officer, hardly twenty-one years old, had won great
reputation for energy and zeal while a captain of infantry in a
New-York regiment stationed at Fort Monroe. He there saw much hazardous
scouting-service, and had been in a number of small engagements. In the
West he held a position upon General Fremont's staff, with the rank of
Major. While at Jefferson City, by permission of the General, he had
organized a battalion to act as scouts and rangers, composed of two
companies of the Third Illinois Cavalry, under Captains Fairbanks and
Kehoe, and a company of Irish dragoons, Captain Naughton, which had been
recruited for Mulligan's brigade, but had not joined Mulligan in time to
be at Lexington.

Major White went to Georgetown in advance of the whole army, from there
marched sixty-five miles in one night to Lexington, surprised the
garrison, liberated a number of Federal officers who were there wounded
and prisoners, and captured the steamers which Price had taken from
Mulligan. From Lexington White came by way of Warrensburg to Warsaw.
During this long and hazardous expedition, the Prairie Scouts had been
without tents, and dependent for food upon the supplies they could take
from the enemy.

Major White did not remain at Warsaw to recruit his health, seriously
impaired by hardship and exposure. He asked for further service, and was
directed to report himself to General Sigel, by whom he was ordered to
make a reconnoissance in the direction of Springfield.

After a rapid night-march, Zagonyi overtook White, and assumed command
of the whole force. White was quite ill, and, unable to stay in the
saddle, was obliged to follow in a carriage. In the morning, yielding to
the request of Zagonyi, he remained at a farm-house where the troop had
halted for refreshment,--it being arranged that he should rest an
hour or two, come on in his carriage with a small escort, and overtake
Zagonyi before he reached Springfield. The Prairie Scouts numbered one
hundred and thirty, so that the troop was nearly three hundred strong.

The day was fine, the road good, and the little column pushed on
merrily, hoping to surprise the enemy. When within two hours' march of
the town, they met a Union farmer of the neighborhood, who told Zagonyi
that a large body of Rebels had arrived at Springfield the day before,
on their way to reinforce Price, and that the enemy were now two
thousand strong. Zagonyi would have been justified, if he had turned
back. But the Guard had been made the subject of much malicious remark,
and had brought ridicule upon the General. Should they retire now, a
storm of abuse would burst upon them. Zagonyi therefore took no counsel
of prudence. He could not hope to defeat and capture the foe, but he
might surprise them, dash into their camp, destroy their train, and, as
he expressed it, "disturb their sleep,"--obtaining a victory which, for
its moral effects, would be worth the sacrifices it cost. His daring
resolve found unanimous and ardent assent with his zealous followers.

The Union farmer offered to guide Zagonyi by a circuitous route to the
rear of the Rebel position, and under his guidance he left the main road
about five miles from Springfield.

After an hour of repose, White set out in pursuit of his men, driving
his horses at a gallop. He knew nothing of the change in Zagonyi's
plans, and supposed the attack was to be made upon the front of the
town. He therefore continued upon the main road, expecting every minute
to overtake the column. As he drew near the village, and heard and saw
nothing of Zagonyi, he supposed the enemy had left the place and the
Federals had taken it without opposition. The approach to Springfield
from the north is through a forest, and the village cannot be seen until
its outskirts are reached. A sudden turn in the road brought White into
the very midst of a strong Rebel guard. They surrounded him, seized his
horses, and in an instant he and his companions were prisoners. When
they learned his rank, they danced around him like a pack of savages,
shouting and holding their cocked pieces at his heart. The leader of the
party had a few days before lost a brother in a skirmish with Wyman's
force, and with loud oaths he swore that the Federal Major should die
in expiation of his brother's death. He was about to carry his inhuman
threat into execution, Major White boldly facing him and saying, "If my
men were here, I'd give you all the revenge you want." At this
moment a young officer, Captain Wroton by name,--of whom more
hereafter,--pressed through the throng, and, placing himself in front of
White, declared that he would protect the prisoner with his own life.
The firm bearing of Wroton saved the Major's life, but his captors
robbed him and hurried him to their camp, where he remained during the
fight, exposed to the hottest of the fire, an excited, but helpless
spectator of the stirring events which followed. He promised his
generous protector that he would not attempt to escape, unless his men
should try to rescue him; but Captain Wroton remained by his side,
guarding him.

Making a _detour_ of twelve miles, Zagonyi approached the position of
the enemy. They were encamped half a mile west of Springfield, upon a
hill which sloped to the east. Along the northern side of their camp was
a broad and well-travelled road; along the southern side a narrow lane
ran down to a brook at the foot of the hill: the space between, about
three hundred yards broad, was the field of battle. Along the west side
of the field, separating it from the county fair-ground, was another
lane, connecting the main road and the first-mentioned lane. The side
of the hill was clear, but its summit, which was broad and flat, was
covered with a rank growth of small timber, so dense as to be impervious
to horse.

The following diagram, drawn from memory, will illustrate sufficiently
well the shape of the ground, and the position of the respective forces.

[Illustration: A, Road leading into the village. B, Lane down which
Zagonyi came. C, Lane where Fairbanks led his men. D, Dense woods
covering the summit of the hill. E, Crest of the hill and clear land. F,
Hill-side up which the Guard charged. G, Brook at the foot of the hill.
H, Place where the Guard entered. I, Small patch of woods in front of
which the enemy's horse were stationed. J, Gate through which the Rebels
fled, Zagonyi pursuing. K, Fair-ground into which some of the enemy
fled. L, Place where Foley took down the fence.]

The foe were advised of the intended attack. When Major White was
brought into their camp, they were preparing to defend their position.
As appears from the confessions of prisoners, they had twenty-two
hundred men, of whom four hundred were cavalry, the rest being infantry,
armed with shot-guns, American rifles, and revolvers. Twelve hundred of
their foot were posted along the edge of the wood upon the crest of the
hill. The cavalry was stationed upon the extreme left, on top of a spur
of the hill and in front of a patch of timber. Sharp-shooters were
concealed behind the trees close to the fence along-side the lane, and
a small number in some underbrush near the foot of the hill. Another
detachment guarded their train, holding possession of the county
fair-ground, which was surrounded by a high board-fence.

This position was unassailable by cavalry from the road, the only point
of attack being down the lane on the right; and the enemy were so
disposed as to command this approach perfectly. The lane was a blind
one, being closed, after passing the brook, by fences and ploughed land:
it was in fact a _cul-de-sac_. If the infantry should stand, nothing
could save the rash assailants. There are horsemen sufficient to sweep
the little band before them, as helplessly as the withered forest-leaves
in the grasp of the autumn winds; there are deadly marksmen lying behind
the trees upon the heights and lurking in the long grass upon the
lowlands; while a long line of foot stand upon the summit of the slope,
who, only stepping a few paces back into the forest, may defy the
boldest riders. Yet, down this narrow lane, leading into the very jaws
of death, came the three hundred.

On the prairie, at the edge of the woodland in which he knew his wily
foe lay hidden, Zagonyi halted his command. He spurred along the line.
With eager glance he scanned each horse and rider. To his officers he
gave the simple order, "Follow me! do as I do!" and then, drawing up in
front of his men, with a voice tremulous and shrill with emotion, he
spoke:--

"Fellow-soldiers, comrades, brothers! This is your first battle. For our
three hundred, the enemy are two thousand. If any of you are sick, or
tired by the long march, or if any think the number is too great, now is
the time to turn back." He paused; no one was sick or tired. "We must
not retreat. Our honor, the honor of our General and our country, tell
us to go on. I will lead you. We have been called holiday soldiers for
the pavements of St. Louis; to-day we will show that we are soldiers for
the battle. Your watchword shall be, '_The Union and Fremont_!' Draw
sabre! By the right flank,--quick trot,--march!"

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