On the eve of the 150th anniversary of Lincoln’s visit to Fredericksburg, we refer you to a post we did nearly two years ago that documents pretty strongly that Lincoln visited the Sunken Road and Marye’s Heights in May 1862. You can find that post–one of our most popular ever–here.

Union General Rufus King (center) on the front steps at Chatham in the spring of 1862. That’s future Union general Judson Kilpatrick at right, already looking the daredevil. Lincoln marched up these steps and into the front door on May 23, 1862 to meet with King, McDowell, Gibbon, and others.

Lincoln’s May 23 visit came at a critical time for the Union army, as McDowell’s troops at Fredericksburg made final preparations for their advance south on Richmond, set for May 25. But while Lincoln was here, bad things were afoot in the Shenandoah that would completely disrupt the grand scheme, for on May 23, Jackson’s men struck at Banks’s forces at Strasburg and Front Royal. The climactic phase fo the Valley campaign had begun.

Lincoln’s visit to Chatham and Fredericksburg was akin to President Obama’s recent journey to Afghanistan–very few in the army or the press knew he was coming. Consequently, the visit received little notice in the press, and indeed is scantily recorded by men in the army either. Still, there are some worthwhile nuggets and impressions that have come down to us.

Union General John Gibbon left the best description of Lincoln’s morning visit to Chatham in a letter to his wife (Gibbon had written an artillery manual before the war that the government had refused to adopt, something the general pointed out to the president):

The dining room at Chatham, where Lincoln had dinner on May 23, 1862. A photo from the 1920s.

“We have had a day of excitement today.  It was understood that the Secty. of War was to arrive at 12 last night, and about nine this morning I received a circular directing commanders of Divisions and Brigades to call at Genl. McDowell’s Hd. Qrs. to pay their respect to the PRESIDENT and Secty. of War.  We all called up and were duly presented.  When my name was mentioned old Abe said ‘is this the gentleman who wrote the Decline & Fall!’  ‘No,’ ‘[W]ell sir if you will write the Decline & Fall of the rebellion I will let you off[.]‘  ‘Why I said ‘Mr. Lincoln the only book I ever did write your Department refuse[d] to subscribe to’!  The officers all laughed very heartily & he asked what book it was, and when I told him he said he should have to ask ‘Stanton’ to give me another hearing.  …. I believe him to be a most excellent and HONEST man….I think he is the UGLIEST white man I ever saw, and ugliest when he is laughing, but he has a good face and always tells the ladies…that he is the handsomest man in the state of Illinois.” (From Gibbon’s papers, Historical Society of Pennsylvania.)

Lincoln’s visit elicited almost no enthusiasm from local white residents.  Betty Herndon Maury, who lived on Princess Anne Street, noted simply:  ”Abraham Lincoln was in town on Friday. Our Mayor did not call on him, and I did not hear a cheer as he passed along the streets.”

The Unionist newspaper, the Christian Banner, likewise noted that there was little enthusiasm.  ”There were no demonstrations of joy from any of the citizens.  If they were met by the Hon. Mayor and Common Council, we have not learned the fact.  Last winter Jefferson Davis…visited Fredericksburg, and but few demonstrations of joy were manifested on the occasion.  The citizens of Fredericksburg seem to have little partialities for Presidents.”  (For more on Davis’s visit to Fredericksburg, click here.)

Lincoln would visit the front near Fredericksburg many times.  A very nice little book has been written about his visits, by local historian Jane Conner.  You can learn more about the book here.

One hundred and fifty years ago, Fredericksburg was in the midst of a painful, annoying (at least to white residents) tumult, as the Union army took firm possession of the town.  The army spent the three weeks between the Battle of Arby’s and May 9 restoring the railroad line between Aquia Landing and Fredericksburg and preparing for McDowell’s advance south on Richmond.  The biggest task was the reconstruction of the massive Potomac Creek Bridge, which like everything else had been destroyed by the retreating Confederates.

The ruins of the bridge over Potomac Creek. The bridge would be reconstructed by May 15. Lincoln would christen it the “beanpole and cornstalks” bridge. For photos of the site today, click here.

Elsewhere, the army was busy building bridges into town, establishing camps on Stafford Heights (and farther back from the river), and cautiously feeling for hovering Confederates west and south of Fredericksburg. The first of the bridges to be completed was the canal boat bridge spanning Ferry Farm to the town docks in Fredericksburg.  On May 5, Union engineers completed a more traditional pontoon bridge from the Stafford shore to the base of Hawke Street–just above Chatham.  The army would reuse this site in December 1862, labeling it the Upper Crossing.

The pontoon bridge into Fredericksburg, May 1862.

By mid-May, as many as 400 soldiers had been assigned to help re-build the burned bridge of the Richmond, Fredericksburg, and Potomac Railroad into Fredericksburg–75 feet high and 600 feet long. It would take the completion of the Potomac Creek Bridge for the Fredericksburg bridge to become operational. The first train crossed into town on May 19.

Rebuilding the ruined RF&P bridge at Fredericksburg, May 1862.

After early May, the Union army had the ability to move troops into Fredericksburg freely, but in fact most remained in Stafford–in part because of Union General McDowell’s fear that putting too many in town would lead to difficulties of discipline, and difficulties with the locals.  Only two regiments of cavalry and four New York regiments commanded by Marsena Patrick moved into and beyond the town. A man of Patrick’s 20th NY State Militia left one of the best descriptions of early interactions with the locals.

Fredericksburg is a fine old town…. It exhibits less evidence of thrift, enterprise, and progress than most of our Northern towns, but one can readily regard it as the abode of wealth, taste, and refinement and its society as being intelligent and agreeable.  Most of the wealthier families have left the place, being as a matter of course secessionists…. The men that you meet in the streets, though civil when accosted, do not look upon Union soldiers very lovingly.  A haughty curl of the lip, and an ominous scowl, not seldom reveal the owrking of the inner man.  As for the well dressed ladies, they seem scarce, or at least show themselves rarely. And when they do, are sure to avert their pretty faces when a Unionist passes them, disdaining even the poor privilege of having their scornful faces scanned.  Some of the ladies too will swear.” [Letter of "C" to the Schenectady Evening Star and Times, published May 2, 1862]

A young soldier from Corning, New York, wrote his hometown newspaper that he “received nothing but cold looks and scowls” from local women.  Other than two Unionists, “not a single one took any notice of us, despite our rows of bright brass buttons, and our boots blackened brilliantly, and our forage caps jauntily stuck on our loyal American heads.” Relations between the army and local woman would get no warmer than that. [Unsigned letter to the Corning Journal, published May 8, 1862.]

The mighty annoyance of Fredericksburg’s ladies was matched only by the provocations of Union soldiers, who took every opportunity to ruffle skirts. Indeed, as we shall see over the next month or two, the bantering took on a sense of sport by both combatants, though more like a Flyers-Penguins game than a golf match.

A Fredericksburg woman refuses to pass under a U.S. flag. The more adamant the locals became, the more flags the Yankees hung–from buildings, over streets, even from the horns of oxen.

Of course the Yankees’ purpose in Fredericksburg involved more than just annoying the locals. McDowell’s command was preparing for a climactic march south toward Richmond, to join McClellan’s army there. But the date for that was still two weeks away, and in the meantime the Yankees occupied and Fredericksburg suffered. But more on that in our next….

Park staff has recently been engaged in looking at Fredericksburg area’s Unionist families and the role they played in the Civil War hereabouts. Staff Historian Don Pfanz recently authored an article on this subject in the locally published Fredericksburg History & Biography (Volume 10). A two-part post on this blog last year, which can be found here, looked at the activity of perhaps the most active Unionist in Spotsylvania County, Isaac Silver. Today’s post seeks to introduce our readers to another of the local Unionist community who made hard choices about his involvement in the war, resisted Confederate authority and ultimately survived within a hostile environment.

Abraham Primmer moved his family to Stafford County, Virginia in 1853, purchasing a 360-acre estate, known as “Bell-Air.” The property sat along the Richmond, Fredericksburg & Potomac Railroad about 1.5 miles northeast of Falmouth. Abraham hailed from New York and spent his early adult life in Chemung County, serving as a Supervisor and Justice of the Peace for the town of Catlin, as well as an assemblyman for Chemung. The family included Abraham and his wife Elizabeth, along with their four daughters and three sons.

An 1867 map showing Abraham Primmer's "Bell-Air" in relation to other landmark residences in southern Stafford County.

On the subject of secession, the Primmers stood solidly behind the Union. Abraham later claimed that he “never drew a disloyal breath from beginning to end.” On May 23, 1861, Virginians gathered at polling places throughout the state to cast their vote on whether or not to adopt the Ordinance of Secession. Abraham remembered that at his polling location, militiamen were on hand, intent on making sure the ordinance received overwhelming support.

“Every influence was employed to intimidate—–any who were suspected of the crime of being a union man. Up to this time I had determined to vote against secession and had spoken against it on several occasions, and was a marked man; where the vote was taken I was warned of my danger. I had two sons that I wanted to save if the state seceded and to save myself and family from the fury of these outlaws and the persecutions of the inflamed secesh.” – Testimony of Abraham Primmer, Southern Claims Commission

Fearing for his safety and that of his family, Abraham cast his vote with the majority, thus voting for secession. To have not, he felt, would have brought immediate harm and violence upon him. Abraham always regretted this move, feeling shame for compromising his beliefs.

“I never did anything in my life that I so regretted the necessity of doing, and do regret to this day. It was voting a lie; I did not desire secession nor believe in the right or necessity for it and every impulse of my heart was in favor of the preservation of the union, and opposed to the war, or rather of the rebellion. I regarded the union as the best government on earth, and do to this day. All my sympathies were for the cause of the union and its supporters, and all my affiliations were and are for loyal men.” – Testimony of Abraham Primmer, Southern Claims Commission

Abraham kept a low profile during the first year of the war. At 50-years old, he was well beyond military age, but his three sons were eligible for service. The boys yearned to escape Virginia and join the Union army. The eldest son, Abraham, Jr., attempted to slip through the lines early in 1861 and made it as far as Centerville before being turned back. Abraham’s other two sons were able to reach safety when the Union army pushed farther into Virginia’s interior. DeWitt joined the 141st New York Infantry in August 1862, but died three months later of typhoid fever, before ever seeing a battlefield. Twenty-year old Judson joined the 177th New York Infantry and survived his nine-month enlistment, which included fighting in the Siege of Port Hudson, Louisiana.

The grave of Abraham Primmer, Jr. near the site of "Bell-Air." Unsuccessful in reaching the Union lines in 1861, he died at home of pneumonia on January 2, 1862.

In addition to sending his sons north, Abraham also helped some of his fellow Unionists in the area to escape. For several weeks, John Bowman, a 41-year old native of Delaware and resident of Fredericksburg hid out at Bell-Air. Accompanying him was William L. Armstrong, also from Delaware, whose family farmed land in Spotsylvania and two years later hosted Ulysses S. Grant and his headquarters staff during the Battle of Spotsylvania Court House. Both men evaded conscription into the Confederate army and eventually made it safely to Union lines, thanks to the assistance provided by Abraham.

The Union army arrived in Stafford in the summer of 1862. For many Unionists like Abraham, the sense of security provided by the army permitted a more open show of support. General George A. McCall’s division of Pennsylvania Reserves commandeered the fields and pasture of Bell-Air for use by its cattle. Abraham offered support to the occupying army by serving as a guide and providing information about the area. When the army fell back toward Washington in the late summer, he feared that his open support would most certainly make him a target with his neighbors and returning Confederate forces. Abraham left his family behind and sought refuge in Washington when the army left the Fredericksburg area that summer.

Abraham returned to his family and farm when General Ambrose Burnside’s Army of the Potomac reoccupied Stafford County in November 1862. Bell-Air became a headquarters for the 3rd Army Corps under General George Stoneman. Following the December 1862 Battle of Fredericksburg, General David B. Birney occupied Bell-Air and his camps consumed the surrounding fields and woodlots. In honor of Major William L. Pitcher of the 4th Maine Infantry, who fell in the December battle, the encampment was named Camp Pitcher. When the Union army vacated Stafford in June 1863, Abraham once again vacated Bell-Air, taking his family with him this time, and relocated to their native state of New York. They did not return until the war was over.

Bell-Air in use as a Union headquarters with the 3rd Army Corps - April 1863.

A decade after the war, Abraham submitted a claim to the United States, requesting compensation for damage to his property during the war. The government acknowledged his loyalty during the war and agreed on $2752, a little under half of what Abraham sought. Until his death in 1896, Abraham continued to farm Bell-Air and support his family. Although his sons chose to stay in the north after the war, Abraham’s daughters married into Stafford County families and remained in the community. Throughout the war, Abraham felt he was constantly under the eyes of his watchful and vengeful neighbors. By the time of his death, however, his wartime activities supporting the Union appear to have either been forgotten or accepted. Abraham’s obituary announced:

“Since his residence in this community he has gained the confidence and esteem of all who enjoyed his acquaintance. His home has been noted for hospitality and many will be pained to learn of the demise of this good citizen, upright gentleman, kind friend and obliging neighbor.” Fredericksburg Daily Star, January 24, 1896

Graves of Abraham and Elizabeth Primmer - Fredericksburg City Cemetery.

Abraham Primmer, Unionist and good citizen, rests in the Fredericksburg City Cemetery.

A post to follow this one will look at the site of Bell-Air today and how it and Abraham Primmer are remembered in his neighborhood.

Eric J. Mink

[First, a prelude:  In light of the topic of this post, a couple of reminders about this weekend's To Freedomevent.  Join us on Saturday night at 6:30 for "Bearing the Stones," a community procession down

Bearing of Stones, 6:30 Saturday.

Sophia Street from Shiloh Baptist Church (Old Site) to the middle crossing site below city dock, where hundreds, perhaps thousands of slaves crossed in 1862. Then, at 7:30, we will present “10,000 Lights to Freedom,” an interpretive program of music, the words of those who were there, readings, and of course, the illumination of 10,000 lights on the Stafford shore.  For more information on the weekend, click here.

Also, on Sunday at 1:30, I will be tracing a tour along the Trail to Freedom, from the Rappahannock to Aquia Landing–including the site of John Washington’s crossing, described below. This program is being sponsored by Eastern National. There is a fee ($20, to help with the bus), and the tour will last three hours.  You can reserve a seat by calling 540 654-5543.

On Saturday on the hour from 11 till 3, we will be doing walking tours, “A Slave’s World and Beyond,” which includes many sites associated with John Washington.  Meet at Market Square.  These are free, presented by myself, Steward Henderson, and Donald Pfanz of the park staff.]

* * * * * * * *

Chances are, if you have spent much time here or on Fredericksburg Remembered, you have heard a bit about John Washington (see here). Washington was a slave who spent most of his life in bondage in Fredericksburg, and seven years after the war wrote a truly compelling memoir of his experience.  His is an important voice–one of two complete memoirs from a Fredericksburg slave, and by far the best.

Of all the moments narrated in Washington’s remembrance, by far the most vivid–for him and for us his readers–is his passage across the Rappahannock to freedom in April 1862. Washington crossed just hours after the arrival of the Union army at Falmouth; indeed, he may have been the first to do so, the first of more than 10,000 to follow. Because his is one of just two accounts from a slave’s hand that narrates this passage (see the other here), his assumes immense historical significance. He conveys to us what must have been the sentiments of thousands of others.

Washington began his day that Good Friday tending bar at the Shakespeare House hotel on Caroline Street, where today’s Soup and Taco stands (with the best tortilla soup in town).  With the arrival of the Union army (we wrote of Washington’s perception of that here), and while white residents rushed to flee or hide, Washington took to the streets.

He stopped first at his owner’s residence in the Farmer’s Bank building on Princess Anne Street.  Washington is the classic example of a slave who humored those in authority, always taking care that they thought him willing and compliant. In his final act as a slave, he did so again. When he walked in the front door of the bank, his owner, Catherine Taliaffero, was busy packing to head to the country.   ”Child,” she said to this 24-year-old man, “you better come and go out in the country With me So as to keep away from the yankees.” Washington replied, “Yes madam,” but asserted that he needed to return the keys to the hotel to the hotelier’s wife. “I will come right back directly,” he said, and then walked out the door never to return as a slave.

From the National Bank building Washington proceeded to the river, likely up to what we know today as the upper crossing site, at the base of Hawke Street.  There he stood by and witnessed the negotiations between the mayor, council, and Union authorities that led to the peaceful surrender of Fredericksburg.

The upper crossing, likely where John Washington witnessed the negotiations that led tot he surrender of Fredericksburg.

After that little piece of history, the town constables “ordered the negroes home” said Washington.  Washington, his cousin James, and an unidentified free black man left and headed in the direction of home, but had no intention of going there.  Instead, by a “circuitous route,” the three left town heading north, up Caroline Street, past the Woolen Mill, toward Falmouth, intent on listening to “the great number of “Bands” then playing those Tuching tunes, ‘the Star Spangled Banner,’ ‘Red White and Blue,’ &c.”

John Washington’s crossing site, from the Falmouth side. Bridgewater (Ficklen’s) Mill is at right.

The three continued north to “just before we got to ‘Ficklin’s Mill,’” and then walked down to the river.  Ficklen’s Mill was the Bridgewater Mill, whose ruins still are still visible in Fredericksburg’s Old Mill Park, just below the Falmouth Bridge.  From there, Washington recorded, he could see “The long line of Sentnels on the other Side doing duty colose to the Waters Edge.”

The site of John Washington’s crossing, from the ruins of Bridgewater Mill in Old Mill Park.

Washington does not tell us if when he left Fredericksburg that day he planned to cross to Union lines–his description of what follows sounds serendipitous. But he did record one thing that suggests forethought: he stuffed his pockets with southern newspapers. With his pockets bulging, he and his friends headed to the riverbank.

Washington was taken across near this spot, landing on the beach at Falmouth. That’s Moncure Conway’s house in the left background.

Very Soon one of a party of Soilders, in a boat call out to the crowd Standing arround me do any of you want to come over.  Every body “Said no.” I hallowed out, “Yes, I Want to come over,” “All right – Bully for you” was the response. and, they was soon over to Our Side. I greeted them gladly and Stepped into their Boat. as Soon as James, saw my determernation to go, he joined me and the other young man who had come along with us. After we had landed on the other Side, a large crowd of the Soilders off duty, gathered around Us and asked all kinds of questions in reference to the Whereabouts of the “Rebels” I had Stuffed My pockets full of rebel newspapers and, I distributed them around as far as they would go greatly to the delight of the men, and by this act Won their good opinions right away.  I told them I was most happy to see them all that I had been looking for them for a long time. 

Washington was so light-skinned that the Union soldiers did not recognize him as a black man, a slave. When questioned, Washington told them he’d been a slave all his life.  ”Do you want to be free?” one asked.

“By all means,” said Washington.  He later remembered, “I did not know What to Say for I Was dumb With Joy and could only thank God and Laugh.”

Here is a short film we have made of Washington’s crossing, to be used in our new exhibit at the Fredericksburg Battlefield Visitor Center, premiering next year.

His cousin James and the other man recrossed the river back to Fredericksburg that afternoon, but Washington remained, determined to stay until that evening. He went up the hill to the Union camp above Falmouth and spent time with men of the 21st New York.  He apparently did not intend to stay permanently, for that night he returned to the river intent on recrossing to Fredericksburg. But by then Union pickets had closed the river. Washington spent that night in Falmouth in the home of a free black woman he knew named Eliza Butler.  Butler lived in a small house (worth just $100) on the west side of what is today Route 1 just north of the vaunted and choked Falmouth intersection.

Fredericksburg from Falmouth just below the site of Washington’s crossing.

Washington’s first night of freedom, unplanned though it was, changed his life.

A Most MEMORABLE night that was to me the Soilders assured me that I was now a free man and had nothing to do but to Stay…. They told me I could Soon get a Situation Waiting on Some of the officers. I had already been offered one or two, and had determined to take one or the other as Soon as I could go over and get my cloths and Some $30.00 of My own.

 Before Morning I had began to feel like I had truly escaped from the hands of the Slaves Master and with the help of God, I never would be a Slave no more. I felt for the first time in my life that I could now claim every cent that I Should work for as My own. I began now to feel that life had a new Joy awaiting me.  

After their rebuke at the Battle of Arby’s, the Union army recoiled long enough along the Warrenton Road for the Confederates in Falmouth to both prepare to leave and to burn the bridges in their wake. Soon after dawn, as the Union columns swept down the hill into Falmouth, the Confederates put their plan into action. The Falmouth Bridge went up in flames, as did the Chatham Bridge and the R,F&P bridge farther down. Fredericksburg had never seen such a day.  Some white residents scattered, fearful of the looming Yankees. Some slaves rejoiced at the Yankees’ coming. And a few people ventured out to watch, including diarist Betty Herndon Maury, who left a vivid description of the destruction that day.

I went down to the river, and shall never forget the scene there.  Above were our three bridges, all in a bright blaze from one end to the other, and every few minutes the beams and timbers would splash into the water with a great noise.  Below were two large steamboats, the Virginia and the St. Nicholas, and ten or twelve vessels, all wrapt in flames.  There were two or three rafts dodging in between the burning vessels, containing families coming over to this side with their negroes and horses.

Here are a couple of images that show some of the damage described by Mrs. Maury. The first shows the destroyed ships opposite city dock–drawn in May 1862.

The burned hulks of ships burned by the Confederates on April 1862. The distinctive barn in the background appears in sketches of Washington’s Ferry Farm, which in turn locates this scene as just a few yards downstream from Fredericksburg’s city dock.

This is the only known image that shows the destroyed Falmouth Bridge, burned by the Confederates on April 18. Lumber from the bridge was taken by Union engineer Washington Roebling, who in June built a wire suspension bridge on the abutments of the Chatham Bridge (we wrote about Roebling’s bridge here).

The Falmouth Bridge was a private toll bridge, owned by Joseph B. Ficklen, who lived in the house on the high ground above, at Belmont. Ficklen was an aggressive, boisterous man when it came to business, and his methods offended many in the community.  The disfavor of his neighbors took on more intensity on April 18, when Ficklen decided that the breakfast his slaves had prepared that morning for the Confederate occupiers should instead be happily offered to the Union invaders as they entered town. From this point forward, many in Falmouth looked upon Ficklen with a mix of suspicion and disdain. But it would get worse.  When the Confederates burned Ficklen’s bridge, they robbed him of a major source of income. Many in the community paid tolls in advance for an entire year, and when the bridge vanished in flame, they sought a pro-rated refund for the pre-paid toll. Ficklen refused. Duff Green, who ran some of the most important shops in Falmouth, found Ficklen’s rebuff intolerable, and for years harbored a grudge that culminated when after the war Green emerged to oppose Ficklen’s claims of loyalty to the Union (and hence is claim for reimbursement for wartime losses at Union hands). In addition to all its other effects, war laid bare the fissures within a community.  (A side-note:  Falmouth is a vivid example of how the stresses of war fractured a community, a topic we’ll take on when we do our History at Sunset program in Falmouth on June 15 this year–you heard it here first.)

Here is a photograph, taken in 1864, that shows the ruins of the R,F&P bridge.  That’s Ferry Farm in the background, and indeed you can see a Union wagon train descending the slope to the pontoon bridge.

Note the Confederate earthworks in the foreground, built after the Battle of Fredericksburg.

This later-war image shows the ruins of the Chatham Bridge.

The view from the slopes in front of Chatham, 1863–devoid of trees.

The Yankees did not cross that day, and indeed would not go into Fredericksburg in any numbers for more than a week. But their presence was unmistakable.  By Good Friday’s end, smoke hung heavily over town and the valley, casting a pall of gloom that in many ways would persist for three years.  Hard as April 18 was for white residents, harder days were to come.

In our next we’ll look at a few other sites associated with the onset of the Union occupation 150 years ago.

We try not to tend toward the minute in this space. Rather, we try to focus on revelation with meaning, especially things that have never quite been understood well.  But today we’ll combine minute and revelation a bit and look at an event most of you have likely never heard of, but which in April 1862 reverberated loudly across the American landscape.

One hundred and fifty years ago this week, as we have noted previously (here and here), the Union army arrived on the shores of the Rappahannock in Stafford County, opposite Fredericksburg.  Their arrival was tumultuous, heralded by a chaotic, deadly skirmish in the middle of the night that I have taken to calling the Battle of Arby’s, in honor of the culinary presence very near the site of the clash.  As we wrote in a post the other day, the Union army clashed with the Confederate rearguard near Berea Church on the afternoon of April 17. That was not enough for Christopher Augur, commander of the Union troops in the area.  He wanted to get to the crossings of the Rappahannock at Fredericksburg before the Confederates still lingering on the Stafford side of the river could destroy the bridges. To do that, he decided to do something a more experienced commander might not have dared–a nighttime raid into Falmouth.

As the soon as the Union army reached Stafford County, citizens inclined toward the Union stepped forth to help. On this evening of April 17, a Connecticut-born local named Horace B. Hewitt–a farmer who owned 152 acres near Hartwood Church–came into the Union camp near Berea Church.

Berea Church today.

Hewitt had just come from Fredericksburg and had seen that the Confederates had placed a barricade across the Warrenton Road about a mile northwest of Falmouth.  Hewitt promised Augur that he could lead the Union cavalry around the barricade, clearing the way for a dash to capture the Falmouth Bridge before the Confederates could burn it.  Augur accepted Hewitt’s word and his services, and just before midnight ordered parts of the 2d New York Cavalry (Lt. Col. Judson Kilpatrick at the reins) and 1st Pennsylvania Cavalry (Col. George Bayard) to horse. The happily bedizened 14th Brooklyn infantry–with their red pants and kepis–joined in as support, and illuminated by a half moon, the column of 1,500 men and horses started out from Berea.

The Union route from Berea to the Confederate barricade near Arby's.

Mr. Hewitt led them not directly down the Warrenton Road, but rather to the north–along what is today Berea Church Road to Truslow Road. Eastward along Truslow the Yankees rode. Just beyond where today Truslow crosses Interstate 95, Hewitt led the column onto a farm road to the right–a now-vanished path that led back to the Warrenton Road (Route 17). Just short of 2 a.m. on April 18, the column struck the Warrenton Road.  Hewitt–and hence Union officers–believed they had passed beyond the Confederate barricade, and so turned left and took up a more urgent pace toward Falmouth.  But Hewitt miscalculated (some Yankees thought he purposely deceived them, but they were surely wrong about that). Just 300 yards east on the Warrenton Road, not far from today’s Arby’s, Uncle’s B’s Soul Food Restaurant, and the “Mad Crab” restaurant, Rooney Lee’s cavalrymen and men of the 55th Virginia had built a barricade of rails and brush across the road, and lay in anxious wait.

The Union cavalry stumbles into the barricade, from Willard Glazier.

The Confederates could hear but not see the Yankees coming.  The two companies of the 55th Virginia stood in the field north of the road. Men of the 9th Virginia Cavalry apparently held the barricade itself. As the Union horsemen neared, the Confederates lowered their weapons and fired.  The Yankees recoiled, and then future general George D. Bayard (who would die at Fredericksburg eight months hence) led New York cavalrymen in a charge–one that a Confederate said “was enough to make one’s hair stand on end.”  That charge met the same bloody fate, and the milling crowd of frightened Union horsemen withdrew up the Warrenton Road.  Five Union troopers died; more than a dozen fell wounded. Only one man fell on the Confederate side.

An aerial view of the site of the Confederate barricade today.

The location of this skirmish, the opening clash in the military life of the immediate Fredericksburg area, has always been a bit uncertain. But a plow through the sources leave little doubt of its location. Most important in determining that is a 1910 letter from one who was apparently a boy at the time, and who perhaps accompanied Hewitt on his mission. This correspondent described the route outlined above, stating that the barricade stood about 300 yards east of where the Union cavalry returned to the Warrenton Road.  Overlaying historic maps, it seems apparent that the Union cavalry struck the road where what appears on the maps as “Miss Payne’s”–likely the home of Eliza Payne.  A 300-yard trip to the east puts the barricade between Arby’s and the Mad Crab (we concede the location lacks the cache of, say, Little Round Top or Hazel Grove).

The approximate site of the Confederate barricade on the Warrenton Road. That's Uncle B's in the foreground, the Crab Shack is beyond. To fill out the culinary landscape, Arby's is about 200 yards behind the camera.

The Union army was none too happy with Mr. Hewitt’s guiding efforts that night, and Augur immediately put him under arrest, presuming he had purposely led him into the ambush. Hewitt, a staunch Unionist who later filed a successful claim with the Federal government for items taken from his Hartwood farm, insisted that the Confederates had moved the barricade after he’d passed it on his trek to Berea. But nothing in the Confederate source material suggests this to have happened, and it appears Hewitt simply miscalculated his route in the darkness. The Federals soon recognized Hewitt’s as an honest (though deadly) mistake and released him.

In September, when the Union army abandoned the area, Hewitt left too, heading to Maryland.  He returned to Stafford once again once the Union army moved back in, and here he would remain, dodging conscriptionists, for the remainder of the war.

We like things that mark the beginning and end of something, and the echoing nighttime volleys from the barricade above Falmouth emphatically marked the beginning of the Union occupation. Newspapers from the New York Herald to the Philadelphia Inquirer gave the clash extensive coverage.  Both Kilpatrick and Bayard received their first public notice, though not all positive.

After dawn, the Confederates did indeed manage to burn the bridge at Falmouth (and the Chatham and RF&P railroad bridges too), but we’ll have more to say about that in our next.

[A note on sources: I have collected nearly two dozen accounts of the fight at the barricade and the Union advance on Falmouth--Confederate and Union, many from newspapers at the time. Those sources include many details not shared here, for this is not intended to be a full accounting, but rather merely enough to locate the incident and highlight its significant.  At some point down the road, I'll write (probably for a different medium) a full account using all the source material at hand. In the meantime, if you have questions, or if you know of something we do not, we'd be glad to know.]

One Hundred and Fifty years ago today, the Union army arrived opposite Fredericksburg for the first time.  It was Good Friday.

Of the many narratives of that day, two stand out for both their quality and their contrast.  The first is an account written by Helen Bernard, a white resident who was staying just outside town at a house called Beaumont–near where Gold’s Gym stands today.  (The following is from Rebecca Campbell Light’s excellent War at Our Doors. For a great history of Helen’s primary home at Gay Mont in Port Royal, click here.)

Helen Struan Bernard, from Rebecca Campbell Light’s War at Our Doors.

Beaumont, Spotsylvania County.  Good Friday, 1862. I write while the smoke of the burning bridges, depot, & boats, is resting like a heavy cloud all around the horizons towards Fredcksbg. The enemy are in possession of Falmouth, our force on this side too weak to resist them…. We are not at all frightened but stunned & bewildered waiting for the end. Will they shell Fbg., will our homes on the river be all destroyed? …. It is heartsickening to think of having our beautiful valley that we have so loved and admired all overrun & desolated by our bitter enemies, whose sole object is to subjugate & plunder the South…..

This is a powerful description of what the arrival of the Union army meant to most white residents in Fredericksburg.  It also reflects what has over the decades been our traditional understanding of the event hereabouts.

But here’s another description of precisely the same moment in time, written by another Fredericksburger, the slave John Washington.

April 18th 1862. Was “Good-Friday,” the Day was a mild pleasant one with the Sun Shining brightly, and every thing unusally quiet…until every body Was Startled by Several reports of [Yankee] cannon…. In less time than it takes me to write these lines, every White man was out the house. [But] every Man Servant was out on the house top looking over the River at the yankees, for their glistening bayonats could eaziely be Seen.   I could not begin to express my new born hopes for I felt…like I Was certain of My freedom now.

Same event, powerfully described, but with a totally different meaning to each writer.

One hundred and fifty years ago tomorrow, April 17, the first wave of Union troops began its move toward Fredericksburg.  From camps around Warrenton Junction (modern-day Calverton) and Catlett Station on the Orange and Alexandria Railroad, the division commanded by General Rufus King started south.  His lead brigade, commanded by General Christopher Columbus Augur, consisted of four New York regiments and the 2d US Sharpshooters.  They followed what is today Elk Run Road (Route 806) to the crossroads at Bristersburg, and then south on Bristersburg Road (Route 616) into Stafford County.  While these roads would become familiar routes for the Union army as it moved into and out of the Fredericksburg region over the next two years, no Union troops had passed that way prior to April 1862.

By 1862 standards, the landscape these troops passed through was nondescript.  It would seem so today as well, except that the area is little changed since the war–the roads still narrow and winding, often closed in by roadside forests.  In April 1862, the route’s most notable characteristic was the people the soldiers encountered along the way:  slaves.  As one New Yorker noted, it was the first and only time during the war the soldiers saw slavery undisturbed.  And that status would remain intact for only moments after the arrival of the Union army.

Click to enlarge.

Other troops followed much the same route in the coming days and weeks.  One of them remembered,

The road was constantly thronged with contrabands who…were making their way on “double quick,” for the land of peace and freedom.  I saw the tears stream down the dark faces of those too old to leave, as those in the prime of life bid them a long adieu, and with hurried step started from the house of bondage.  The attachment that exists between the slave and the master, is like the attachment between oil and water…  The very institution itself hardens the heart and callouses all feelings of humanity. 

At midday on April 17th, the Union columns approached the junction of Bristersburg Road, Hartwood Road (Route 612) and Poplar Road (Route 616).  There it likely split, taking both roads south to the Warrenton Road, today’s Route 17.  Once on Route 17 (today four lanes rather than 2 and considerably straightened by our friends at VDOT), the column turned left toward Berea Church and Fredericksburg.

Unaware at Berea was a squadron of the 9th Virginia Cavalry, under W.H.F. Rooney Lee.  Lee’s men were drilling in an open field east of the church when they received warning of the Union advance.  Lee ordered them to break camp and retreat, but the Yankees were too fast, and the result was a minor embarrassment for the 9th, which scattered toward Fredericksburg.  Local boy Eustace Conway recorded the mayhem:

Berea Church in the 1930s. The building still stands.

We were ordered at once to camp, to strike tents, gather up our belongings, mount and fall into line and retreat towards Fredericksburg. In the shortest kind of time the enemy were in sight and rapidly advancing, and before the men could all get out of camp they were firing into camp. l was ordered back by my captain to drive the men out of camp This threw me to the rear, the last man. The enemy then charged, and our squadron completely routed and squandered, in no order whatever, every man trying to take care of himself, and in their flight men threw away their blankets, clothing, haversacks, and many of them their arms, and the wagons scattered the cooking utensils, rations and tents along the road. 

(You can find a modern photo of Berea Baptist Church here.)

For more than two miles cavalrymen from New York and Pennsylvania would pursue the Confederate horsemen, until Rooney Lee was finally able to bring them to a halt near what is today an Arby’s on Route 17, about a half-mile east of I-95. Immediately, the Confederates started building a barricade across the road. It would become the scene of a chaotic nighttime clash in the early hours of April 18, 1862.

Though the Confederates fled Berea swiftly, they did indeed inflict some damage on the Union horsemen.  Among the handful of dead and wounded–the first in the immediate Fredericksburg area–was Lieutenant James Nelson Decker of the 2d New York Cavalry.  He, along with several others, would be buried with ceremony at Falmouth’s Union Church several days hence, but that’s a story for our next post….

Over at Spotsylvania Memory: The Row Family of Virginia, our friend Pat Sullivan has started a nice series of posts on the Chancellors of battlefield fame. We also encourage you to browse his blog’s earlier posts, always related in a friendly and accessible style, for little-known, detailed accounts of various families whose homes were in the Fredericksburg-area combat zones and whose lives intersected those of his well-archived ancestors.