CHAPTER I
Battle of Manassas, July 21, 1861
Forbears and Home at Savannah—Fort Sumter attacked—Hostilities begin—Leave for Virginia—Visit to my father—Beauregard's camp at Manassas—Colonel Jordan—Introduced to General Longstreet—Sketch—General Stuart—General Johnston—The battle—Enemy defeated—Pursuit stopped—March to Centerville—Stonewall Jackson—Prince Napoleon—the review—Colonel Skinner—His Exploits.
My forbears were French on my father's side. His father, Antoine Sorrel des Riviere, Colonel du Genie (Engineer Corps) in the French Army, was on his estates in the island of San Domingo when the bloody insurrection of the blacks broke out at the opening of the century. He had the tragic horror of witnessing the massacre of many relatives and friends. His property was destroyed, and his life barely saved by concealment and flight to Cuba, thence to Louisiana, where a refuge was found among friendly kindred. There he died at a great age.
His son Francis, my father, was saved from the rage of bloodthirsty blacks by the faithful devotion of the household slaves, and some years later succeeded in reaching Maryland, where he was educated. He married in Virginia, engaging in business in the early part of the century at Savannah, Georgia.
My maternal great-grandfather, Alvin Moxley, was from Westmoreland County, Virginia. He was one of the signers of what is known as the Richard Henry Lee Bill of Rights, 1765, the first recorded protest in America against taxation without representation, and which twelve years later led directly to the Revolutionary War. The original document is now preserved and framed in the Virginia Historical Society at Richmond.
Death bereft my father of his wife in time's flight. An eminent merchant, successful and prominent, we find him in the Civil War in health and ease, happy in the love of many children and the esteem of hosts of friends. As a child he had seen some horrors of the insurrection, but never could he be persuaded to speak of them, so deep and painful were even their distant memories. At the culmination of the political troubles in 1861 I was a young chap just twenty-two, at home in my native city, Savannah, peacefully employed with the juniors of the banking force of the Central Railroad.
When Sumter was bombarded at Charleston in April, I slipped away for a day or two and witnessed the scenes of wild excitement that attended its fall. It spread everywhere, and like all the youth of the country I was quickly drawn in. For a year or two before, like many of my associates in Savannah, I was a member, a private, of the Georgia Hussars, a fine volunteer cavalry company, with a creditable history of almost a century.
On the secession of Georgia, now soon following, Fort Pulaski was seized and the various military commands did their tour of duty there, the Hussars among them.