That Time Confederate Cavalry Raided Vermont

Frank Leslie's Illustrated published a series of engravings detailing every step of the Confederate raid on St. Albans based on photo graphs of the town and sketches of actual townsmen.  The teller at the St. Albans bank was told,  “Not a word. We are Confederate Soldiers detailed from General Early’s Army to come North and to rob and plunder as your soldiers were doing in the Shenandoah Valley.”

Compared to the industrial scale horror of many of the battle fields of the Civil War, it was a trifle.  Hardly even a skirmish—one dead on each side, a handful of injuries, one shed burned, and a few locals thrown into a panic.  Indeed outside of the Green Mountain state where it is something of a big deal, it has been relegated to a mere footnote in the central epic of American history.

But I guess the actual invasion of Vermont by Confederate cavalry on October 18, 1864 merits a few spilled electrons here.

By October of 1864 things looked grim for the Rebels.  Robert E. Lee’s increasingly bedraggled Army of Northern Virginia was losing a war of attrition but was putting up a desperate resistance behind the earthen work defenses of Petersburg, gateway to Richmond itself.  William Tecumseh Sherman was cutting loose from recently fallen Atlanta and making his March to the Sea.  The West had been cut off for more than a year since the fall of Vicksburg and total Union control of the Mississippi.  Most important Confederate ports had either already fallen were effectively blockaded.  The Southern economy was in shambles, its limited industrial capacity largely smashed, and her people exhausted.  Yet they fought on, desperate for a miracle.

In such a situation President Jefferson Davis was eager to try anything, no matter how outlandish and desperate.  His attention turned to Canada where Confederate agents swarmed concocting fantastic plots the main aim of which was to exploit Northern war weariness and somehow defeat Abraham Lincoln in the November election and replace him with a peace Democrat who would negotiate an end to the war. 

To that end they had been advising and arming a small number of radical Copperheads, nominally led by Ohio Congressman Clement Vallandigham and his political organization The Sons of Liberty.  Most of the Sons were simply anti-war, but I minority did hatch some plots with the aid those Canadian agents—attempts to stir an uprising in Chicago coincidental to the Democratic Party Convention there.  The plot had been exposed, and Republican propagandists made a field day of exaggerating the threat and denouncing Copperhead treason.  Vallandigham himself was deported to Canada.  

Meanwhile other plots included a plan to seize the only Navy Gunboat on Lake Eerie, the U.S.S Michigan which was guarding a sizable prisoner of war camp on Johnson’s Island.  Armed agents seized a steamboat and planned to intercept the Michigan whose officers were supposed to be drugged by saboteurs.  That plot also was exposed and the rebels had to high tail it to Canadian shores on their commandeered boat.

Lt. Bennett Young planned and led the raid.

So it was not surprising that Davis eagerly accepted a plan laid out to him by a young cavalryman.  Bennett H. Young was the teen age son of a Kentucky aristocrat when he had enlisted in the 8th Kentucky Cavalry.  He was only 20 when he was captured in Ohio during General John Hunt Morgan’s raid deep into Yankee territory.  After a short time as a prisoner of war, he escaped and made his way to Canada.  From there he went all the way to Halifax, Nova Scotia where he booked passage to Bermuda and from there back south on a blockade runner.  After the daring do of these adventures, he eventually laid out his plans to President Davis.

He proposed to return to Canada and once there recruit a force from the large numbers of escaped POW’s there, then stage a raid on a fat and under-protected U.S. border town.  The immediate objective would be to rob banks and secure desperately needed specie—hard currency in the form of gold.  The raid would also perhaps force the Union government to divert troops from the southern fronts to protect the exposed northern frontier.  It might be enough of a blow to Northern moral to help tip the November election to George McClelland and the Democrats.  

Perhaps the wildest hope was that the raid would provoke an over-reaction and a hot pursuit of the raiders across the border causing an international incident.  With luck it might even blow up into something that would finally bring British intervention into the Civil War either on the side of the South or as a neutral peace keeper which would separate the forces and recognize the South—a long cherished Confederate dream.

Davis was sold.  He commissioned Young a lieutenant, provided a small purse to help finance his plan and sent him back to Canada with order to meet up with Confederate agents there.  Returning north by the same perilous route, Young was soon enough busy recruiting his force.

Eventually he gathered 21 other young adventurers, most of them, like himself, cavalrymen, the others expert horsemen.  After a brief period of training, they began to slip across the porous and undefended border by ones and twos, most by train.

The S.t Alban's Bank, right, was one of three that were robbed during the raid.

Their objective was the prosperous rail junction town of St. Albans fifteen miles from the border.  It major attraction was three fat banks clustered near the center of town.  

On October 10, Young and one companion checked into a local hotel explaining their long guns by claiming to be on a hunting trip from St. John’s.  Over the next few days the others arrived with similar stories.  Although it is a mystery to me how so many armed young men, many of whom had to have obviously Southern accents could come into a small town without arising at least some suspicion.  But then St. Albans was far from the war, and perhaps only its sons and husbands in the Union service had ever heard a Southerner speak.

As his troops assembled, Young spent time scouting the surrounding area and all possible roads in and out of town in all directions under the cover of hunting trips.  The handsome and charming young man also found time to dally with the affections of a local belle and was even welcomed into the home of Governor J. Gregory Smith and given a tour by his wife, Anna

Finally, all was in place.  About 3 pm October 19, Young strode the steps of the American Hotel, drew his pistol and announced the astonished men gathered there “I take possession of this town in the name of the Confederate States of America.  Anyone resisting will be shot.”  By coincidence he had the good fortune of picking a day when the local Sherriff and as many as 50 other leading local citizens were attending court at the county seat and Gov. Smith was attending state business in Montpelier.  The men most likely to organize an effective resistance were gone.

Young and a handful of cohorts began to round up citizens on the streets and herd them onto the village green.  When the local church bells sounded 3 pm teams of two or three burst simultaneously into the town’s three banks—the St. Albans Bank, Franklin County Bank, and First National Bank of St. Albans—clustered together conveniently enough on Bank Street.  In each case employees were pistol whipped or threatened and chaotic searches were conducted for cash.  In each case substantial amounts were  not found, left behind or, and lost in the excitement.

The robbers found little hard currency and in one case decided that a bag of silver Dollars was too heavy to carry.  Very little gold was taken, but they loaded up on bank notes, green backs, and government bonds.  

Meanwhile as Young held the terrified locals at gun point, other men rounded up and saddled horses from the local livery stable and from the streets.  

Several shots were fired in the bank robberies and as Young and his men menaced the town.  There were several tussles and a few locals managed to get a hold of weapons and fire, mostly ineffectively, at the raiders.  One local man was killed, and another wounded by gunfire.  Two raiders were shot, one of whom later died of his wounds.

Meanwhile, despite the best efforts isolate the center of town, word was getting out that a raid was taking place and men started to arm themselves and prepare to attack the raiders.  

Young planned to set fire to the town, reportedly as revenge for General Philip Sheridan’s devastating raid in the Shenandoah Valley and as a diversion to keep townspeople too busy putting out the flames to pursue them.  To this end the raiders had equipped themselves with four inch glass vials of Greek Fire that were supposed to burst into flames when broken and exposed to the air.  Vials were thrown at the American House and several other businesses, but only a shed ignited and it was quickly extinguished. 

Young was overheard to order one of his men to go to Governor Smith’s home and burn it.  A boy slipped away from the crowd and ran to inform Mrs. Smith that the raiders were coming.  She quickly rummaged through the house and found an old horse pistol.  Unfortunately it was unloaded and she did not find any ammunition.  Gamely she hauled the heavy weapon out and took a position in her doorway awaiting the arrival of the Rebels.  Her heart was beating when she heard hoof beats.

With the Sherriff, Governor Smith, and many of the leading citizens away from town, working men like these formed the local resistance and joined two hastily assembled posses.

Fortunately the horse was ridden by Captain George Conger, a recently discharged  Union cavalryman who was organizing a posse.  He left some men behind to guard the governor’s home and then headed to town.  Eventually he gathered a posse of 50 men and F. Stewart Stranahan and John W. Newton gathered another 50.  Both groups began to close in on the village center.

Realizing that he was pressed and outnumbered, Young had to abandon plans to proceed to two other nearby towns to rob their banks.  He and his men hightailed it out of town not too much in advance of the posses.  In the confusion more bank loot spilled from the raiders’ bags.  

Here his planning and knowledge of the roads paid off the men split up and then split again.  All gained the Canadian border safely, including the two wounded men, one of who would soon die.

Once in Canada it did not take long for local authorities, warned by telegraph to find and round up raiders.  All who actually went on the raid were in custody within 24 hours, although co-conspirators and Confederate agents in Canada were not nabbed.

Canadian authorities were in a quandary about what to do with the men.  At the State Department William S. Seward issued blustery demands for their return, calling the men common criminals.  Young and his men demanded to be treated as combatants of war and thus beyond extradition and criminal punishment.  As predicted the incident did blow up into an incident that threatened US-British relations.  Canadian authorities finally decided that their neutrality prevented them from turning the men over.  They did however return all of the money they recovered—about $88,000 of the estimated $200,000 stolen.  Some of the rest of the money was recovered in St. Albans and along the trail of the fleeing raiders.

Five of the raiders, including Lt. Young in cavalry boots, were photographed in Canada while awaiting their fate.  They had pieced together some semblance of uniforms to emphasize that they were soldiers on a mission approved by the President to the Confederacy and not common criminals.  But in the raid they had been in mufti and if the Americans could get them extradited they would be tried and spies and most likely hung.

While in custody the raiders were treated as celebrities.  They posed for photographs in and out of their jail cells.  Papers both North and South were filled with breathless accounts of their escapades.  Illustrated stories splashed across the pages of weeklies like Harper’s and Frank Leslie’s.  

But the publicity failed to dishearten the public, who were beginning to get used to Union victories in the field.  A few troops were indeed dispatched to protect the border, but the Union had plenty to spare.  Another Canadian based plot to stage an election day uprising in New York City was revealed and squelched when General Benjamin Butler arrived in the city with several thousand troops.  The election went off without a hitch.  Lincoln, of course, was re-elected.

The South, however, was cheered by the heroics.  President Davis promoted Young to Brigadier General as he sat in his jail cell.

Promoted to Brigadier General while in custody in Canada, Young eventually became a leading citizen and wealthy man.  Seen here in his uniform as National Commander of the United Confederate Veterans--the Southern equivalent of the Union's Grand Army of the Republic.

Eventually all the men were released.  After the war Young was specifically excluded from the General Amnesty offered Confederate troops.  He could not go safely home again until 1868.  He studied law while in exile and back home opened up a prosperous law practice.  He was widely celebrated as a hero and gained both wealth and prestige.  He became noted for his philanthropy including founding the first orphanage for Black children in Louisville, a school for the blind, and much pro bono work for the poor. He became President of the Louisville Southern Railroad, a memoirist, and National Commander of the United Confederate Veterans.  He died in 1919 at the age of 66.

Only one of the three robbed banks still stands.  And it is still a bank building.  But after many mergers and changes of hands it is, somewhat ironically, a branch of a major Canadian bank.

Tailored made as an adventure yarn, the St. Alban’s raid has been the subject of novels and of the 1954 film The Raid starring Van Heflin, Richard Boone, Anne Bancroft, and Lee Marvin.  As you might suspect, the film was only loosely tethered to the facts.

St. Albans has become a magnate for New England Civil War buffs and a boon to Vermont tourism.  This marker stands near the site of the three banks targeted by the raiders.

The state of Vermont has heavily promoted the story of the St. Albans Raid.  The state has found that Civil War buffs nicely supplement the annual pilgrimages of leaf peepers to the state.

Lonely Yankee in Savannah Pens Sleighing Classic

Jingle Bells was first performed at Thanksgiving Sunday School program in Medford, Massachusetts.  The town claims, however, it was penned at the Simpson Tavern pictured above.  In fact it was written in Savannah, Georgia.

Note—Thought we were done with Christmas?  Not quite.  The season goes on until the Feast of the Epiphany on January 6.  Besides, the spritely tune discussed here was never intended to be a Christmas song, only a winter one.

You hear it everywhere, in shopping malls, TV commercials, on the radio, and in school pageants. It has been performed and recorded in every possible musical style including big band swing, bluegrass, jazz, polka, rock and roll, symphony, and rap by just about every popular entertainer imaginable. It has been called the most popular Christmas song of all time, transcending even the most beloved carol, Silent Night and the popular standard White Christmas. Yet it never mentions the holiday and was never meant to be a Christmas song at all.

The song’s origins stretch back nearly 150 years. James Lord Pierpont was the prodigal younger son of the Rev. John Pierpont, a close associate of William Ellery Channing and an influential figure in the founding of American Unitarianism who latter rose to prominence as an ardent abolitionist . Among James’s siblings were John Jr., another future Unitarian cleric and a sister, Juliet, who became the mother of arch capitalist J.P. Morgan. The artistically inclined young James was the preverbal preacher’s son—restless with restrictions at home, rebellious, and often in trouble. Born in 1822, he ran away to sea at the age of 14 aboard the clipper ship Shark. Another rebellious Unitarian lad of the same period was Richard Henry Dana, whose account of misery at sea in his book Two Years Before the Mast shocked the sensibilities of mercantile New England.

James Lord Pierpont.

Returning to New England he married and fathered three children while casting about in a series of failed business ventures. Lured to California by the Gold Rush of 1849 he thought to strike it rich not by mining himself, but by taking pictures of the newly rich prospectors. But like his other ventures, his San Francisco photography shop ended in failure.

After his first wife died in 1853 he took his young family to join his brother, the Rev. John Pierpont, Jr., minister of the Unitarian Church in Savannah, Georgia, which was the largest Unitarian congregation in the South. He took up residence and earned a modest living as organist in his brother's church. Eventually he also set himself up in business selling house paint, varnish, wallpaper, window glass, and art supplies. In 1857 he married the daughter of a prominent Savannah civic leader who would go on to serve as the city’s Civil War mayor.

Sometime during those years, restless as ever and lonesome for his lost New England childhood, he penned a song he called The One Horse Open Sleigh. He may have drawn as inspiration a sleighing party that he had rapturously reported to his mother in an 1832 letter.

The historic Savannah Unitarian Church, the largest in the South, where Jame Pierpont's brother was the minister and where he was employed as the organist.  The church posts it claim on Jingle Bells on the historical marker out front.

In snow bound New England the sleigh was both a necessary form of transportation and a winter diversion. There was a whole genre of sleighing songs. The best known today, Over the River and Through the Woods is associated with that quiescently New England holiday, Thanksgiving.  But it accounted a family expedition  in  a large, multi-passenger  sled of the sort often pulled by a team. Pierpont's song was about a cutter, a fast two seat light sleigh often pulled by a thoroughbred trotter. It is a courtship song, with a young man out to impress Miss Fanny Bright with his speed and daring until he miscalculates the depth of a drift  and the sleigh  becomes  “up sot.”

The song may have mystified his brother’s Southern parishioners, but James mailed copies home and it was sung in Medford, Massachusetts at Thanksgiving parties sometime in the mid 1850’s. This would lead to a later spurious claim that the song had been written there.

James copyrighted and published the song in 1857. Two years later it was issued in a new edition as Jingle Bells or the One Horse Open Sleigh. Within a decade it was a popular American parlor sing-a-long favorite, linked in the public’s mind with the colorful Currier and Ives prints of sleighing scenes that adorned many homes.  It was considered a winter song, but not a Christmas one.

Unfortunately, James never profited much from royalties from the song. 

Dark clouds were gathering that would change his life forever.  As  the  passions  stirred  by  the  1860 presidential election grew heated brother John,  an  abolitionist  like his  father,  was  forced to give up his pulpit and return to the North costing James his job  at  church.  James remained in  Savannah, now  an ardent  supporter of the  Southern  cause.  After war broke  out the  combination of a war economy and the increasingly effective blockade of  Southern  ports  destroyed  James’s shaky  business venture.

At the age of 40 he enlisted as a clerk in the First Georgia Battalion, which became a part of the 5th Georgia Cavalry. Although he was a gentleman with connections to a leading aristocratic family, James never rose above the rank of private. He remained in the Confederate Army for the duration of the war, although his rear echelon unit saw little action, mostly patrolling in defense of railroad lines and later scouting Yankee positions during the  Atlanta campaign.  His greatest contribution to the Confederate war effort came as the composer of  patriotic songs including We Conquer or Die, Our Battle Flag, and Strike for the South. Meanwhile  his father and  brother  served  as chaplains  in the Union Army.

After the war there were hard times in the South and  James  and  his  family  shared  in  them. Eventually he found a niche as professor of music at Quitman Academy. He spent his last years in Florida at his son’s home  in Winter Haven before  dying  in  1893.

Jingle Bells may not have been his only contribution to seasonal music. According to the 1994 book American Christmas by Jim Harrison, “For many years Martin Luther was credited with writing one of the best loved Christmas songs, Away in a Manger .. .but history now has evidence to dispute his authorship. An American, James Pierpont, is currently believed to be the author.” UUA historian Peter Hughes doubts the claim, however. Although the song is undoubtedly American dating from some time in the 1880’s, its origins are murky, probably Lutheran although the lyrics were first published as a poem in a Universalist periodical.

Away in a Manger aside, James Pierpont’s claim on our seasonal culture is indisputable.  By the early Twentieth Century, as the automobile was replacing the horse, Jingle Bells was being melded into the general sentimentality of the Christmas season. In the days before the explosion of popular secular holiday songs like White Christmas, I’ll Be Home for Christmas, Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, and The Christmas Song, it provided a much needed non­ religious song suitable for performance in public schools and in mixed gatherings. The simple, lively tune was easy to sing and easy to adapt to a host of musical styles. It has become an indisputable Christmas classic.