Battle of Cold Harbour--Siege of Petersburg--The General intrusts a
mission to his son Robert--Battle of the Crater--Grant crosses the
James River--General Long’s pen-picture of Lee--Knitting socks for the
soldiers--A Christmas dinner--Incidents of camp life
From the North Anna River the Federal Army moved by its left flank,
seeking to find its adversary unprepared, but the Army of Northern
Virginia steadily confronted it, ever ready to receive any attack. At
Cold Harbour they paused, facing each other, and General Grant, having
received sixteen thousand men from Butler by way of Yorktown on June
1st, made an attack, but found our lines immovable. In his “Memoirs” he
writes:
“June 2d was spent in getting troops into position for attack on the 3d.
On June 3d, we again assaulted the enemy’s works in the hope of driving
him from his position. In this attempt our loss was heavy, while that of
the enemy, I have reason to believe, was comparatively light.”
This assault was repelled along the whole line, with the most terrible
slaughter yet recorded in our war. Yet in a few hours these beaten men
were ordered to move up to our lines again. Swinton, the historian of
the Army of the Potomac, thus describes what happened when this order
was sent to the men:
“The order was issued through these officers” (the corps commanders) “To
their subordinate commanders, and from them descended through the
wonted channels; but no man stirred, and the immobile lines pronounced
a verdict, silent, yet emphatic, against further slaughter. The loss
on the Union side in this sanguinary action was more than thirteen
thousand, while on the part of the Confederates it is doubtful whether
it reached that many hundreds.”
Colonel Walter H. Taylor, in his “Four Years with General Lee,” says:
“Soon after this, he (Grant) abandoned his chosen line of operations,
and moved his army to the south side of the James River. The struggle
from Wilderness to this point covers a period of about one month, during
which time there had been an almost daily encounter of hostile arms,
and the Army of Northern Virginia had placed hors de combat of the army
under General Grant a number equal to its entire numerical strength at
the commencement of the campaign, and, notwithstanding its own heavy
losses and the reinforcements received by the enemy, still presented
an impregnable front to its opponent, and constituted and insuperable
barrier to General Grant’s ‘On to Richmond.’”
Thus after thirty days of marching, starving, fighting, and with a loss
of more than sixty thousand men, General Grant reached the James River,
near Petersburg, which he could have done at any time he so desired
without the loss of a single man. The baffling of our determined foe
so successfully raised the spirits of our rank and file, and their
confidence in their commander knew no bounds.
The two armies now commenced a contest which could end only one way. If
General Lee had been permitted to evacuate Petersburg and Richmond, to
fall back upon some interior point, nearer supplies for man and
beast and within supporting distance of the remaining forces of the
Confederacy, the surrender would certainly have been put off--possibly
never have taken place--and the result of the war changed. The Army of
the Potomac placed itself on the James, through whose channel it had
easy access to the wide world whence to secure for itself an unlimited
supply of men and munitions of war. General Lee, with a line thirty
miles long to defend and with only 35,000 men to hold it, with no chance
of reinforcements, no reserves with which to fill up the ranks lessened
daily by death in battle and by disease, had to sit still and see his
army, on half rations or less, melt away because it was deemed advisable
by his government, for political and other purposes, to hold Richmond,
the Confederacy’s capital.
In an article by Lord Wolseley, in “Macmillan’s Magazine,” he says:
“Lee was opposed to the final defense of Richmond that was urged upon
him for political, not military reasons. It was a great strategic error.
General Grant’s large army of men was easily fed, and its daily losses
easily recruited from a near base; whereas, if it had been drawn into
the interior after the little army with which Lee endeavoured to protect
Richmond, its fighting strength would have been largely reduced by the
detachments required to guard a long line of communications through a
hostile country.”
During the nine months the siege of Petersburg lasted, I saw my father
but seldom. His headquarters were near the town, my command was on
the extreme right of the army, and during the winter, in order to get
forage, we were moved still further away, close to the border of North
Carolina. During this summer, I had occasion, once or twice, to report
to him at his headquarters, once about July 1st by his special order. I
remember how we all racked our brains to account for this order, which
was for me to report “at once to the commanding general,” and many wild
guesses were made by my young companions as to what was to become of me.
Their surmises extended from my being shot for unlawful foraging to
my being sent on a mission abroad to solicit the recognition of our
independence. I reported at once, and found my father expecting me, with
a bed prepared. It was characteristic of him that he never said a word
about what I was wanted for until he was ready with full instructions. I
was fed at once, for I was still hungry, my bed was shown me, and I was
told to rest and sleep well, as he wanted me in the morning, and that I
would need all my strength.
The next morning he gave me a letter to General Early, who, with his
command, was at that time in Maryland, threatening Washington. My
mission was to carry this letter to him. As Early had cut loose from his
communications with Virginia, and as there was a chance of any messenger
being caught by raiding parties, my father gave me verbally the contents
of his letter, and told me that if I saw any chance of my capture to
destroy it, then, if I did reach the General, I should be able to tell
him what he had written. He cautioned me to keep my own counsel, and
to say nothing to any one as to my destination. Orders for a relay of
horses from Staunton, where the railroad terminated, to the Potomac
had been telegraphed, and I was to start at once. This I did, seeing my
sisters and mother in Richmond while waiting for the train to Staunton,
and having very great difficulty in keeping from them my destination.
But I did, and, riding night and day, came up with General Early at a
point in Maryland some miles beyond the old battlefield of Sharpsburg. I
delivered the letter to him, returned to Petersburg, and reported to
my father. Much gratified by the evident pleasure of the General at my
diligence and at the news I had brought from Early and his men, after a
night’s rest and two good meals I returned to my command, never telling
my comrades until long afterward what had been done to me by the
commanding general.
My father’s relations with the citizens of Petersburg were of the
kindest description. The ladies were ever trying to make him more
comfortable, sending him of their scanty fare more than they could well
spare. He always tried to prevent them, and when he could do so without
hurting their feelings he would turn over to the hospitals the dainties
sent him--much to the disgust of his mess-steward, Bryan. Bryan was an
Irishman, perfectly devoted to my father, and, in his opinion, there was
nothing in the eatable line which was too good for the General. He was
an excellent caterer, a good forager, and, but for my father’s frowning
down anything approaching lavishness, the headquarter’s table would have
made a much better show. During this period of the war, Bryan was so
handicapped by the universal scarcity of all sorts of provisions that
his talents were almost entirely hidden. The ladies not only were
anxious to feed the General, but also to clothe him. From Camp
Petersburg he writes to my mother, June 24th:
“...The ladies of Petersburg have sent me a nice set of shirts. They
were given to me by Mrs. James R. Branch and her mother, Mrs. Thomas
Branch. In fact, they have given me everything, which I fear they cannot
spare--vegetables, bread, milk, ice-cream. To-day one of them sent me a
nice peach--the first one I think I have seen for two years. I sent it
to Mrs. Shippen [an invalid lady, in the yard of whose country place
(“Violet Bank”) Lee’s tents were pitched]. Mr. Platt had services again
to-day under the trees near my camp. We had quite a large congregation
of citizens, ladies and gentlemen, and our usual number of soldiers.
During the services, I constantly heard the shells crashing among the
houses of Petersburg. Tell ‘Life’ [his pet name for my sister Mildred]
I send her a song composed by a French soldier. As she is so learned in
the language, I want he to send my a reply in verse.”
June 30, 1864, the anniversary of his wedding day, he thus writes to my
mother:
“...I was very glad to receive your letter yesterday, and to hear that
you were better. I trust that you will continue to improve and soon be
as well as usual. God grant that you may be entirely restored in His own
good time. Do you recollect what a happy day thirty-three years ago this
was? How many hopes and pleasures it gave birth to! God has been very
merciful and kind to us, and how thankless and sinful I have been. I
pray that He may continue His mercies and blessings to us, and give us a
little peace and rest together in this world, and finally gather us
and all He has given us around His throne in the world to come. The
President has just arrived, and I must bring my letter to a close.”
My mother had been quite ill that summer, and my father’s anxiety for
her comfort and welfare, his desire to be with her to help her, was very
great. The sick in the Confederacy at this period of universal scarcity
suffered for want of the simplest medicines. All that could be had were
given to hospitals. To his youngest daughter the General writes, and
sends to Mrs. Lee what little he could find in the way of fruit:
“...I received this morning by your brother your note of the 3d, and am
glad to hear that your mother is better. I sent out immediately to try
to find some lemons, but could only procure two, sent to me by a kind
lady, Mrs. Kirkland, in Petersburg. These were gathered from her own
trees. There are none to be purchased. I found one in my valise, dried
up, which I also send, as it may prove of some value. I also put up some
early apples which you can roast for your mother, and one pear. This is
all the fruit I can get. You must go to the market every morning and see
if you cannot find some fruit for her. There are no lemons to be had.
Tell her lemonade is not as palatable or digestible as buttermilk. Try
to get some good buttermilk for her. With ice, it is delicious and very
nutritious.”
My sister Mildred had a pet squirrel which ran about the house in
Richmond. She had named it “Custis Morgan,” after her brother Custis,
and General John Morgan, the great cavalry leader of the western army.
He ventured out one day to see the city, and never returned. In a letter
to Mildred, July 10th, my father alludes to his escape, and apparently
considers it a blessing:
“...I was pleased on the arrival of my little courier to learn that you
were better, and that ‘Custis Morgan’ was still among the missing. I
think the farther he gets from you the better you will be. The shells
scattered the poor inhabitants of Petersburg so that many of the
churches are closed. Indeed, they have been visited by the enemy’s
shells. Mr. Platt, pastor of the principal Episcopal church, had
services at my headquarters to-day. The services were under the trees,
and the discourse on the subject of salvation....”
About this time, the enemy, having been at work on a mine for nearly
a month, exploded it, and attacked our lines with a large force. The
ensuing contest was called the Battle of the Crater. General Lee, having
suspected that a mine was being run under his works, was partly prepared
for it, and the attack was repulsed very quickly with great loss to the
enemy. In the address of Capt. W. Gordon McCabe before the Association
of the Army of Northern Virginia--November 2, 1876--speaking of this
event, he says:
“From the mysterious paragraphs in the Northern papers, and from reports
of deserters, though those last were vague and contradictory, Lee and
Beauregard suspected that the enemy was mining in front of some one of
the three salients on Beauregard’s front, and the latter officer had in
consequence directed counter-mines to be sunk from all three, meanwhile
constructing gorge-lines in the rear upon which the troops might retire
in case of surprise or disaster.... But the counter-mining on the part
of the Confederates was after a time discontinued, owing to the lack
of proper tools, the inexperience of the troops in such work, and the
arduous nature of their service in the trenches.”
The mine was sprung July 30th. On the 31st, the General writes:
“...Yesterday morning the enemy sprung a mine under one of our batteries
on the line and got possession of a portion of our intrenchments. It was
the part defended by General Beauregard’s troops, I sent General
Mahone with two brigades of Hill’s corps, who charged them handsomely,
recapturing the intrenchments and guns, twelve stands of colours,
seventy-three officers, including General Bartlett, his staff, three
colonels, and eight hundred and fifty enlisted men. There were upward of
five hundred of his dead and unburied in the trenches, among them many
officers and blacks. He suffered severely. He has withdrawn his troops
from the north side of the James. I do not know what he will attempt
next. He is mining on other points along our line. I trust he will not
succeed in bettering his last attempt....”
Grant, by means of a pontoon bridge, permanently established across the
James, was able to move his troops very quickly from one side to the
other, and could attack either flank, while making a feint on the
opposite one. This occurred several times during the summer, but General
Lee seemed always to have anticipated the movement and to be able to
distinguish the feint from the real attack. On August 14th, he speaks of
one of these movements in a letter to my mother:
“...I have been kept from church to-day by the enemy’s crossing to the
north side of the James River and the necessity of moving troops to meet
him. I do not know what his intentions are. He is said to be cutting a
canal across the Dutch Gap, a point in the river--but I cannot, as yet,
discover it. I was up there yesterday, and saw nothing to indicate it.
We shall ascertain in a day or two. I received to-day a kind letter from
Reverend Mr. Cole, of Culpeper Court House. He is a most excellent man
in all the relations of life. He says there is not a church standing in
all that country, within the lines formerly occupied by the enemy. All
are razed to the ground, and the materials used often for the vilest
purposes. Two of the churches at the Court House barely escaped
destruction. The pews were all taken out to make seats for the theatre.
The fact was reported to the commanding officer by their own men of the
Christian Commission, but he took no steps to rebuke or arrest it.
We must suffer patiently to the end, when all things will be made
right....”
To oppose this movement (of August 14th), which was in heavy force,
our cavalry division was moved over to the north side, together with
infantry and artillery, and we had a very lively time for several
days. In the engagement on the 15th of August I was shot in the arm and
disabled for about three weeks. The wound was a very simple one--just
severe enough to give me a furlough, which I enjoyed intensely. Time
heals all wounds, it is said. I remember it cured mine all too soon,
for, being on a wounded leave, provided it did not keep one in bed, was
the best luck a soldier could have. I got back the last of September,
and in passing stopped to see my father. I take from General Long a
pen-picture of him at this time, which accords with my own recollection
of his appearance:
“...General Lee continued in excellent health and bore his many cares
with his usual equanimity. He had aged somewhat in appearance since
the beginning of the war, but had rather gained than lost in physical
vigour, from the severe life he had led. His hair had grown gray, but
his face had the ruddy hue of health, and his eyes were as clear and
bright as ever. His dress was always a plain, gray uniform, with cavalry
boots reaching to his knees, and a broad-brimmed gray felt hat. He
seldom wore a weapon, and his only mark of rank was the stars on his
collar. Though always abstemious in diet, he seemed able to bear any
amount of fatigue, being capable of remaining in his saddle all day and
at his desk half the night.”
I cannot refrain from further quoting from the same author this
beautiful description of the mutual love, respect, and esteem existing
between my father and his soldiers:
“No commander was ever more careful, and never had care for the comfort
of an army given rise to greater devotion. He was constantly calling the
attention of the authorities to the wants of his soldiers, making every
effort to provide them with food and clothing. The feeling for him was
one of love, not of awe and dread. They could approach him with the
assurance that they would be received with kindness and consideration,
and that any just complaint would receive proper attention. There was
no condescension in his manner, but he was ever simple, kind, and
sympathetic, and his men, while having unbounded faith in him as a
leader, almost worshipped him as a man. These relations of affection and
mutual confidence between the army and its commander had much to do with
the undaunted bravery displayed by the men, and bore a due share in the
many victories they gained.”
Colonel Charles Marshall, in his address before the “Association of the
Army of Northern Virginia,” also alludes to this “wonderful influence
over the troops under his command. I can best describe that influence
by saying that such was the love and veneration of the men for him that
they came to look upon the cause as General Lee’s cause, and they fought
for it because they loved him. To them he represented cause, country,
and all.”
All persons who were ever thrown into close relations with him had
somewhat these same feelings. How could they help it? Here is a letter
to his youngest daughter which shows his beautiful love and tenderness
for us all. Throughout the war, he constantly took the time from his
arduous labours to send to his wife and daughters such evidences of his
affection for them:
“Camp Petersburg, November 6, 1864.
“My Precious Life: This is the first day I have had leisure to answer
your letter. I enjoyed it very much at the time of its reception, and
have enjoyed it since, but I have often thought of you in the meantime,
and have seen you besides. Indeed, I may say, you are never out of
my thoughts. I hope you think of me often, and if you could know how
earnestly I desire your true happiness, how ardently I pray you may be
directed to every good and saved from every evil, you would as sincerely
strive for its accomplishment. Now in your youth you must be careful
to discipline your thoughts, words, and actions. Habituate yourself to
useful employment, regular improvement, and to the benefit of all those
around your. You have had some opportunity of learning the rudiments
of your education--not as good as I should have desired, but I am much
cheered by the belief that you availed yourself of it--and I think you
are now prepared by diligence and study to learn whatever you desire. Do
not allow yourself to forget what you have spent so much time and labour
acquiring, but increase it every day by extended application. I hope you
will embrace in your studies all useful acquisitions. I was much pleased
to hear that while at ‘Bremo’ you passed much of your time in reading
and music. All accomplishments will enable you to give pleasure, and
thus exert a wholesome influence. Never neglect the means of making
yourself useful in the world. I think you will not have to complain of
Rob again for neglecting your schoolmates. He has equipped himself with
a new uniform from top to toe, and, with a new and handsome horse, is
cultivating a marvellous beard and preparing for conquest. I went down
on the lines to the right, Friday, beyond Rowanty Creek, and pitched my
camp within six miles of Fitzhugh’s last night. Rob came up and spent
the night with me, and Fitzhugh appeared early in the morning. They rode
with me till late that day. I visited the battlefield in that quarter,
and General Hampton in describing it said there had not been during the
war a more spirited charge than Fitzhugh’s division made that day up the
Boydton plank road, driving cavalry and infantry before him, in which he
was stopped by night. I did not know before that his horse had been shot
under him. Give a great deal of love to your dear mother, and kiss your
sisters for me. Tell them they must keep well, not talk too much, and go
to bed early.
“Ever your devoted father,
“R. E. Lee.”
He refers in this letter to his coming down near our command, and my
brother’s visit and mine to him. Everything was quiet, and we greatly
enjoyed seeing him and being with him. The weather, too, was fine, and
he seemed to delight in our ride with him along the lines. I didn’t
think I saw him but once more until everything was over and we met in
Richmond. Some time before this, my mother, fearing for his health under
the great amount of exposure and work he had to do, wrote to him and
begged him to take better care of himself. In his reply, he says:
“...But what care can a man give to himself in the time of war? It is
from no desire for exposure or hazard that I live in a tent, but from
necessity. I must be where I can, speedily, at all times attend to the
duties of my position, and be near or accessible to the officers with
whom I have to act. I have been offered rooms in the houses of our
citizens, but I could not turn the dwellings of my kind hosts into
a barrack where officers, couriers, distressed women, etc., would be
entering day and night....”
General Fitz Lee, in his life of my father, says of him at this time:
“Self-possessed and calm, Lee struggled to solve the huge military
problem, and make the sum of smaller numbers equal to that of greater
numbers.... His thoughts ever turned upon the soldiers of his army, the
ragged gallant fellows around him--whose pinched cheeks told hunger was
their portion, and whose shivering forms denoted the absence of proper
clothing.”
His letters to my mother during the winter tell how much his men were
in need. My mother was an invalid from rheumatism, confined to a
rolling-chair. To help the cause with her own hands as far as she could,
she was constantly occupied in knitting socks for the soldiers, and
induced all around her to do the same. She sent them directly to my
father, and he always acknowledged them. November 30th, he says:
“...I received yesterday your letter on the 27th and am glad to learn
your supply of socks is so large. If two or three hundred would send
an equal number, we should have a sufficiency. I will endeavour to have
them distributed to the most needy....”
And on December 17th:
“...I received day before yesterday the box with hats, gloves, and
socks; also the barrel of apples. You had better have kept the latter,
as it would have been more useful to you than to me, and I should have
enjoyed its consumption by you and the girls more than by me....”
His friends and admirers were constantly sending him presents; some,
simple mementos of their love and affection; others, substantial and
material comforts for the outer and inner man. The following letter,
from its date, is evidently an acknowledgement of Christmas gifts sent
him:
“December 30th.... The Lyons furs and fur robe have also arrived safely,
but I can learn nothing of the saddle of mutton. Bryan, of whom I
inquired as to its arrival, is greatly alarmed lest it has been sent to
the soldiers’ dinner. If the soldiers get it, I shall be content. I can
do very well without it. In fact, I should rather they should have it
than I....”
The soldiers’ “dinner” here referred to was a Christmas dinner, sent by
the entire country, as far as they could, to the poor starving men in
the trenches and camps along the lines. It would not be considered much
now, but when the conditions were such as my father describes when he
wrote the Secretary of War,
“The struggle now is to keep the army fed and clothed. Only fifty men in
some regiments have shoes, and bacon is only issued once in a few
days,” anything besides the one-quarter of a pound of bacon and musty
corn-bread was a treat of great service, and might be construed as “a
Christmas dinner.”
I have mentioned before my father’s devotion to children. This sentiment
pervaded his whole nature. At any time the presence of a little child
would bring a brightness to his smile, a tender softness to his glance,
and drive away gloom or care. Here is his account of a visit paid him,
early in January, 1865, by three little women:
“...Yesterday afternoon three little girls walked into my room, each
with a small basket. The eldest carried some fresh eggs, laid by her
own hens; the second, some pickles made by her mother; the third, some
popcorn grown in her garden. They were accompanied by a young maid with
a block of soap made by her mother. They were the daughters of a
Mrs. Nottingham, a refugee from Northhampton County, who lived near
Eastville, not far from ‘old Arlington.’ The eldest of the girls, whose
age did not exceed eight years, had a small wheel on which she spun for
her mother, who wove all the cloth for her two brothers--boys of twelve
and fourteen years. I have not had so pleasant a visit for a long
time. I fortunately was able to fill their baskets with apples, which
distressed poor Bryan [his mess-steward], and I begged them to bring me
nothing but kisses and to keep the eggs, corn, etc., for themselves.
I pray daily and almost hourly to our Heavenly Father to come to the
relief of you and our afflicted country. I know He will order all things
for our good, and we must be content.”