Treasures of the Texas Collection
William P. Rogers
Hi, I’m Robert Darden, an associate professor of Journalism at Baylor
University and welcome to the Treasures of the Texas Collection.
The Battle of Corinth does not rank in the Civil War’s pantheon of most
celebrated engagements, yet historians consider it both unusually
deadly and unusually distinguished by remarkable valor and bravery.
Corinth left some 7,500 soldiers, about five thousand of them
Confederates, dead, wounded, missing or captured. And the bravest
man there that Saturday was a 44-year old Houston lawyer and former
Baylor University law professor, William Peleg Rogers. Rogers’ valiant
death actually caught the attention of a nation growing inured to
battlefield heroism. His exploits even drew rare tributes from his
enemies. A towering stone monument at Corinth commemorates his
death in that small Mississippi town.
Today we pause to recount his story, pulled from the files of the Texas
Collection by novelist and screenwriter Mark Andrew Olsen. Welcome,
Mark.
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Actually, Bill Rogers probably was Texas’ greatest military hero of the Civil
War, next to Albert Sidney Johnston. The two were actually killed six
months and twenty miles apart. Johnson had bled to death from a leg wound
in April 1862, at “Bloody Shiloh,” the greatest battle on the American
continent to that date.
Perhaps one reason why Rogers’ stature as one of Texas’ all-time military
heroes is not better known since, unlike Johnston’s, his body was never
returned to the Lone Star State. Rogers is buried where he fell, at the edge of
a strong point in Corinth’s defenses known as Battery Robinette. But Rogers
stands out not only for what he did from a pure military point of view, but
the absolutely fearless and gallant way in which he did it.
Let’s start the story with Rogers’ background and early life.
Rogers was an unusual man, a man of contradictions, any way you looked at
him. Three states claimed him as a native. Sources in Mississippi insist he
was born in Monroe County, a few miles south of Aberdeen, the son of a
prosperous landowner and slaveholder. A Texas descendant who edited his
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diary and letters declares, in the April 1929 Southwestern Historical
Quarterly, that Rogers was born in Georgia on December 27, 1819, while
his family was visiting there. His monument at Corinth says he was born in
Alabama. (One of his daughters always listed Georgia as his birthplace, and
that is generally accepted.) William Rogers married Martha Halbert, of
Tuscaloosa, Alabama, in 1840.
Rogers’ older brother had become a lawyer, so his father decided Bill should
be the physician in the family. This was “against his inclination,” but Bill
dutifully obtained a medical degree and practiced medicine briefly in
Pontotoc, Mississippi. But he too had wanted to be a lawyer. He sold his
medical practice and studied law, to the displeasure, for a while, of his
father. He became a lawyer at about 22 years of age.
Rogers obviously also had a patriotic zeal for fighting.
Right – whenever war was declared, he was there. When the war with
Mexico erupted, William P. Rogers was a young lawyer of two years’
standing, rapidly gaining prominence at the bar in Aberdeen. As soon as the
call for volunteers was issued, he raised a company from among his friends
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and acquaintances in the neighborhood and offered to go to the front. This
group, later known as Company K (the Tombigbee Guards), was a member
of the famous First Mississippi Regiment.
The regiment, known as the Mississippi Rifles, was commanded by Colonel
Jefferson Davis and Lieutenant Colonel A.K. McClung, the noted duelist.
Rogers was made captain and the unit was soon sent to the Rio Grande to
become part of General Taylor’s army. Rogers quickly acquired a reputation
for bravery and leadership in Mexico. He was first cited for bravery in the
capture of Monterrey. With General Zachary Taylor observing, McClung
and Rogers, in that order, were the first and second Americans to enter the
Mexican Fort Teneria while under heavy enemy fire. In the battle of Buena
Vista, the Mississippi Rifles formed one wing of the famous “V” which
helped to break up the Mexican cavalry charge of General Minon and saved
an out-numbered American army.
Rogers promptly caught the attention of both Davis and Taylor. Shortly after
Taylor became President of the United States, in 1848, he named Rogers as
consul to Vera Cruz, where he served from 1849 to 1851. Rogers resigned in
September of 1851 after an investigation of an alleged embezzlement by one
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of his agents. At the time he was appointed, consul Rogers would have taken
his family to Mexico if his wife had not positively refused to move to a
foreign land. She consented, however, to go as far as Texas; the autumn of
1851 found the small Rogers family on its way to that state.
Transportation being what it was back then, when did Rogers actually
move to Texas?
There are conflicting accounts, but it appears that somewhere around 1853,
Rogers opened a law office in Washington-on-the-Brazos, of course the
birthplace of Texas, and in those days a busy and influential town.
And it was somewhere during this period that Rogers’ began his long
relationship with Baylor University.
While at Washington, Rogers became active in the affairs of growing young
Baylor University which was still located in nearby Independence. A
staunch believer in female education, he sent his three daughters to Baylor’s
Female Department. His three sons also attended Baylor. Baylor’s minutes
record that on June 10, 1852, Captain Rogers delivered a, quote, “able and
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eloquent address on the important and interesting theme of Female
Education.” The trustees were so impressed that they allocated forty dollars
of their scarce resources to have the talk printed for distribution.
When Baylor’s trustees started a Law Department in 1857, they named as
professors R.T. Wheeler, a member and later Chief Justice of the Texas
Supreme Court; Judge Baylor himself; and one William P. Rogers.
Tell us a little more about Rogers’ relationship with Sam Houston.
In 1856, or 59, Rogers moved to the booming town of Houston, where he
became one of the leading criminal lawyers in the state, as well as a popular
speaker. In the process, Rogers also turned into a confidant of Sam
Houston’s. Rogers is listed, in conflicting versions, as being a cousin of
either Houston or his wife. Rogers named one of his daughters Margaret
Houston Rogers. Likewise, Houston later named his seventh child and third
son William Rogers Houston in his honor. Sadly, William also died in the
line of duty. But Houston was more than a relative; as I said, he quickly
became a confidant as well as a law client. In fact, Houston named him as
one of two executors of his final will.
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Did the two think alike about the major issues of their time?
Actually, they eventually became badly split. Like Houston, Rogers was
dismayed at the idea of Texas’ seceding when the prospect of a war between
the states became inevitable. But unlike Houston, and like Robert E. Lee, he
decided that if his state went to war he would do his part. Of course,
Houston famously resigned as governor rather than join the Confederacy,
later redeeming his place in history by also turning down an offer of a Union
generalship. Rogers, however, had no such misgivings. He was a Harris
County delegate to the Texas Secession Convention in January, 1861, and
cast a reluctant vote for the Confederacy.
He didn’t have to march back to Mississippi to prove his bravery and die.
When the war began, his former commander Jeff Davis offered him the
command of a Texas regiment in Virginia. Instead, supposedly at the urging
of his wife, he became the lieutenant colonel of the 2nd Texas Regiment.
Delayed by a spell of illness, Rogers joined his outfit on the eve of Shiloh.
There he distinguished himself again, and was elevated to colonel. He had
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command of the 2nd Texas “Sharp Shooters” when fate made Corinth a
crucial pawn in the war.
This dusty village set back in the forest, just below the MississippiTennessee border, suddenly became important because it was a junction of
two of the railroads which were so strategic in that pre-highway, horse-andwagon era.
Why don’t you set the stage for that pivotal moment in the Civil War?
Well, even as Robert E. Lee was giving the Yankees painful lessons in
military strategy in the east, U.S. Grant was wreaking havoc with the
Confederacy in the west. He was aiming at gaining control of the Mississippi
River and severing the Confederacy in half.
Albert Sidney Johnston had used Corinth, which one war-weary rebel had
called “the worst place I have ever seen,” as his base for the ill-fated assaults
at Shiloh. After that bloody setback where Johnston himself died, the
battered Confederates fell back to Corinth.
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In May 1862, a Yankee Army numbering about ten-thousand headed for
Corinth, and the feisty but outnumbered Southern General Pierre Gustave
Toutant Beauregard withdrew southward to Tupelo. Jeff Davis and his
government were appalled. Now Memphis and other Southern strongholds
were doomed, and the Mississippi was open to the Union all the way to
Vicksburg.
The Confederacy badly needed little Corinth back, and General Earl Van
Dorn went out to regain it. He was opposed there by a West Point classmate,
General William S. Rosecrans, the man who would later bear witness and
pay tribute to the valiant heroics of the 2nd Texas and their incredible
colonel.
And this is where things get sticky.
Exactly. Van Dorn had attempted a feinting flank maneuver, heading
northward a few miles west of Corinth, ostensibly to fool Rosecrans into
believing their real destination was Jackson, Tennessee, Grant’s
headquarters. The idea was to make a quick turn toward Corinth and surprise
the Union forces with an assault from the North.
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The plot failed. Yankee scouts and advance pickets discovered and harassed
the approaching Rebels. On Friday, October 3, Van Dorn’s troops did
manage to shove the Corinth defenders back onto a line of last-ditch fighting
along the inner defenses at the town’s edge, stout positions which, ironically,
the Southerners had painstakingly fashioned months earlier.
When does Rogers’ part in the battle come into play?
I’d like to start that with a story that emerged much later, in May of 1912.
That is when a Corsicana man who survived the Corinth bloodbath added a
poignant note to the Rogers story. He wrote to one of the colonel’s relatives,
“… a gentleman rode up to me shortly before the Saturday assault. As fine a
looking man I thought as I ever saw, dressed in a colonel’s uniform… He
got down off his horse and sat down and talked to us. He told me he was
Colonel Rogers, commanding the Second Texas. That he dreaded going into
the fight that day for he had a presentiment the night before that he would be
killed that day in battle and he was.”
What do we know about Colonel Rogers’ actual death?
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As usual, the details of Rogers’ death are hard to pin down, but a composite
of the accounts of witnesses on both sides provides this story:
The Federals had a seven-mile, half-moon defense perimeter, with several
artillery units behind earthen parapets protected by plenty of infantry. The
strongest point in the line was Fort Battery Robinette. Its earthworks were
six feet thick and five feet high, with three openings for its heavy cannons.
In a wide area in front, dozens of big trees had been cut, their tops pointing
toward the attackers and their branches trimmed into sharp obstacles. A deep
ditch lay at the base of the parapets.
This was the deadly setting for the charge of the 2nd Texas, Dabney H.
Maury’s Division, J.C. Moore’s Brigade. The brigade was badly undermanned: decimated by disease, Shiloh, and Friday’s fight. Its ragged
remnant of soldiers were hungry and thirsty, and short on ammunition. They
lined up grimly at about ten a.m. that unusually hot October morning,
knowing they would suffer in another type of heat, the heat of battle, before
the day was over.
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One of Robinette’s defenders wrote, “Suddenly, we saw a magnificent
brigade emerge in our front; they came in perfect order, a grand but terrible
sight. At their head rode their commander, a man of fine physique, in the
prime of life, quiet and cool as though on a drill. The artillery opened and
the infantry followed; notwithstanding the slaughter, they were closer and
closer.
It was Rogers.
It was a holocaust. Rogers’ men clawed and scrambled over the fallen trees,
artillery and rifle lead flying so thickly it could almost be seen. One of his
men, taking cover under a tree trunk, recalled, “I could have raised my fist
and grabbed a dozen bullets.”
Waving the regimental colors from horseback, Colonel Rogers led the
column on horseback, gauged his pace to match the steps of his men and
carried the colors aloft. The columns reached the ditch of the battery and
Rogers jumped his horse over the ditch, dismounted, dashed up to the side of
the battery where he p1anted the colors squarely upon the fort. Bitter handto-hand fighting ensued. Thirteen of the 36 men serving the guns of Battery
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Robinette were either killed or wounded in this desperate struggle. The
Confederates took possession of Battery Robinette.
But just that quickly, the tide turned against them.
That’s right: it turned – with a vengeance. Rogers’ men then caught the first
sight of a massive sea of blue uniforms moving toward them in a counterattack.
Rea1izing the hopelessness of the situation, Rogers and Foster waved
handkerchiefs to surrender their troops. Other Confederates about the fort,
however, did not see the surrender sign and continued to fire into the mass of
Union soldiers. Massive fire was returned on the Confederates at very close
range, and Colonel Rogers fell dead with eleven wounds. The remainder of
the attacking Confederates fell back, bringing with them their most prized
possession, the regimental flag.
Rogers, trying to save his men’s lives, waved a handkerchief in surrender,
but it was ignored by the enemy. Whereupon he either said, “We fought our
way in here, men, let’s fight our way out,” or “They won’t let us surrender––
let’s sell our lives dearly!”
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Historian Bruce Catton, in his landmark work Grant Moves South, records,
“A Union officer watched, fascinated, as a Texas colonel led his men
straight up to the battery. He looked neither right nor left, neither at his men
or at mine, but with his eyes partly closed, like one in a hailstorm, was
marching slowly and steadily upon us. This Texas colonel got clear into the
battery, and died amidst the guns.”
Powerful writing for a powerful image.
Most accounts say Rogers was riddled by rifle bullets, although General
Rosencrans reported that he was shot “by one of our drummer-boys, who
with pistol in hand, was helping defend Robinette.” Half of the battery’s 26
gunners were killed by Rogers and his attackers.
When the flag fell, Rogers somehow stood up, grabbed the fallen regimental
flag from the fourth flag-bearer to be killed that day, and, pistol in hand,
scrambled atop the parapet to plant the colors. An Iowa soldier at Battery
Robinette later wrote, “General Rogers, with a flag in one hand and a
revolver in the other, led them straight into one of the awful death-traps of
the war.” He and a few followers actually had brief control of the battery,
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but enemy reinforcements quickly closed in. A misty photograph shows
Rogers’ horse lying dead near the earthworks.
I’m curious to hear about the reactions from Colonel Rogers’ foes.
One version says an admiring Yankee officer supposedly exclaimed,
pointing at Rogers just before his death, “That man is too brave to die. Don’t
kill him.” If so, nobody heeded him.
The veteran warrior Rosencrans wrote, “It was about as good fighting on the
part of the Confederates as I ever saw.” He ordered that Rogers be given full
military burial at the spot. By the way, Waco’s Sul Ross lived through the
battle, as did one of Rogers’ sons, Halbert, an eventual Baylor graduate.
What happened to Rogers’ family and descendants?
The Rogers family shared in the suffering of the war and the reconstruction
days. They moved to Houston. One night, some drunken Yankee soldiers
broke into their home and robbed them. It was a very traumatic experience.
While one soldier held a pistol at Mrs. Rogers’ heart the other one searched
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the house, taking everything of value that they wanted. As they became
more violent Amy, one of the former slaves, called out that she would lead
them to where they would find a “chest full of gold”. They quickly followed
her to a neighbor’s house where there were several men. A shooting
followed and the two Yankee were killed. Some of the jewelry they had
stolen from the Rogers’ home was found on the body of one of the dead
men, and this jewelry is still in possession of members of the family.
Still, Rogers’ deeds gained fame and recognition in the years to come.
Oh, yes. At ten a.m. on August 15, 1912, the Texas Division, United
Daughters of the Confederacy, joined the Corinth UDC Chapter in unveiling
a tall battlefield monument to Rogers. Three of his grandchildren took part
in the ceremonies.
There is also a considerable Baylor heritage to celebrate as well. Bill Rogers
never made it back to Houston or to Baylor, but six generations of his
descendants have perpetuated his Baylor connection. The Texas Collection’s
records show that one of his three daughters, Mrs. George Harris, was
valedictorian of her 1858 class. As Baylor’s oldest living graduate on
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October 11, 1928, she turned the first spade of soil at the groundbreaking for
Women’s Memorial Dormitory. She was awarded an honorary degree at
Baylor’s Diamond Jubilee in 1920. Her sister, Margaret Houston Rogers
Damon, was valedictorian of the Class of 1873 and lived to be 100 years
old—Baylor’s oldest graduate to date.
Great-great-grandson John Moncrief Sanders of Houston graduated from
Baylor in 1957, 100 years after his Rogers taught law at Baylor, and earned
in J.D. in 1960. His daughter, Julie, attended Baylor. Another great-greatgreat-grandson of Rogers, Douglas Johnson of Houston, transferred to
Baylor. In 1981, the Rogers/Sanders family was the very first family named
to the list of Baylor First Families.
Rogers’ Baylor descendants and all Texans can take pride in the words of
General Van Dorn in his report of that weekend at Corinth. “As long as
courage, manliness, fortitude, patriotism and honor exist, the name of
Rogers will be revered and honored among men … He sleeps and Glory is
his sentinel.”
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Thank you, Mark – a great story on a remarkable hero who deserves to
be better known today.
I’m Robert Darden and thank you for joining us for another edition of
Treasures of the Texas Collection. The Texas Collection on the Baylor
University campus has an extraordinary collection of Texas-related
documents, books, letters, photographs, memoirs, maps and more. For
more information, go to http://www.baylor.edu/lib/texas/
Treasures of the Texas Collection has been made possible by
generous grants from The Wardlaw Fellowship Fund for Texas
Studies and by the Ferguson-Clark Endowment Fund. This has
been a production of KWBU 103.3 FM – public radio for
Central Texas.
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