INVASION OF MARYLAND.
"We are going to liberate Maryland," said a Rebel officer to a friend
of mine who was taken prisoner at Catlett's Station. Throughout the
South it was believed that the people of Maryland were down-trodden and
oppressed, that the soldiers of President Lincoln prevented them from
expressing their sympathy with the rebellion. In every Southern home
and in the Rebel army, there was one song more popular than all others,
entitled "Maryland."
"The despot's heel is on thy shore,
Maryland!
His touch is at the temple door,
Maryland!
Avenge the patriotic gore
That flecked the streets of Baltimore,
And be the battle queen of yore,
Maryland! My Maryland!
Dear mother! burst the tyrant's chain,
Maryland!
Virginia should not call in vain,
Maryland!
She meets her sisters on the plain;
"_Sic semper!_" 'tis the fond refrain
That baffles millions back amain,
Maryland! My Maryland!
I hear the distant thunder hum,
Maryland!
The Old Line's bugle, fife, and drum.
Maryland!
She is not dead, nor deaf, nor dumb.
Huzza! she spurns the Northern scum.
She breathes,--she burns,--she'll come! she'll come!
Maryland! My Maryland!"
General Lee had no intention of attacking Washington. It was his plan
to raise the standard of revolt in Maryland, bring about a second
uprising of the people of Baltimore, and transfer the war to the North.
He issued strict orders that all private property in Maryland should be
respected, that everything should be paid for.
On the 5th of September, he crossed the Potomac at Noland's Ford, near
Point of Rocks. Jackson led the column. When he reached the middle
of the stream he halted his men, pulled off his cap, while the bands
struck up "My Maryland," which was sung by the whole army with great
enthusiasm.[57]
[Footnote 57: Life of Stonewall Jackson, p. 197.]
Lee moved towards Frederick, a quiet old town, between the mountains
and the Monocacy. It was the harvest season. The orchards were loaded
with fruit; the barns were filled with hay; the granaries with wheat;
and there were thousands of acres of corn rustling in the autumn winds.
At ten o'clock on the morning of the 6th, General Stuart's cavalry
entered the city. There were some Marylanders in the Rebel army,
who were warmly welcomed by their friends. A few ladies waved their
handkerchiefs, but the majority of the people of the city had made up
their minds to stand by the old flag, and manifested no demonstrations
of joy. Many of them, however, took down the stars and stripes, when
they saw the Rebels advancing; but over one house it waved proudly in
the morning breeze, as General Jackson rode into town. His soldiers
dashed forward to tear it down.
What followed has been beautifully told by Whittier.
BARBARA FRIETCHIE.
"Up from the meadows rich with corn,
Clear in the cool September morn,
The clustered spires of Frederick stand,
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.
Round about them orchards sweep,
Apple and peach-tree fruited deep,
Fair as the garden of the Lord
To the eyes of the famished Rebel horde,
On that pleasant morn of the early fall,
When Lee marched over the mountain-wall.
Over the mountain winding down,
Horse and foot, into Frederick town.
Forty flags with their silver stars,
Forty flags with their crimson bars,
Flapped in the morning wind: the sun
Of noon looked down and saw not one.
Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
Bowed with her four score years and ten;
Bravest of all in Frederick town,
She took up the flag the men hauled down;
In her attic window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet.
Up the street came the Rebel tread,
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.
Under his slouched hat left and right
He glanced, the Old Flag met his sight.
'Halt!' the dust brown ranks stood fast.
'Fire!' out blazed the rifle blast.
It shivered the window, pane, and sash.
It rent the banner with seam and gash.
Quick as it fell from the broken staff,
Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf.
She leaned far out on the window-sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will.
'Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,
But spare your country's flag,' she said.
A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
Over the face of the leader came.
The nobler nature within him stirred
To life, at that woman's deed and word.
'Who touches a hair of yon gray head
Dies like a dog! March on!' he said.
All day long through Frederick street
Sounded the tread of marching feet.
All day long that free flag tost
Over the heads of the Rebel host.
Ever its torn folds rose and fell
On the loyal winds that loved it well,
And through the hill-gap sunset light
Shone over it with a warm good night.
Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er;
And the Rebel rides on his raids no more.
Honor to her! And let a tear
Fall for her sake on Stonewall's bier,
Over Barbara Frietchie's grave,
Flag of freedom and union wave!
Peace, and order, and beauty draw
Round thy symbol of light and law.
And ever the stars above look down
On the stars below in Frederick town."
General Lee had a plan to execute other than the liberation of
Maryland,--the invasion of Pennsylvania.
"We treat the people of Maryland well, for they are our brothers, but
we intend to make the North howl," one of the officers said.
"Lee will cut his way to Philadelphia, and dictate terms of peace
in Independence Square. He will stand with torch in hand and demand
Maryland, Virginia, Kentucky, and Missouri, and peace, or he will lay
that city in ashes," said another.
But before he could venture on an invasion of Pennsylvania he must have
an open communication with Richmond. There were eleven thousand men
under Colonel Mills at Harper's Ferry, who were strongly fortified. It
would not do to leave them in his rear. If that place were captured he
could move north.
The geographical features of the country were favorable to the
execution of his plans.
Ten miles west of Frederick the South Mountain rises above the
surrounding country, dark, steep, rocky, and clothed with forests. Its
most northern spur is near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. There are two
gaps in the range west of Frederick. If Lee could hold these with a
portion of his force, he could surround Harper's Ferry, situated on the
Potomac, where that winding and impetuous river leaps through the rocky
gorge.
If successful in capturing it, he could still hold the mountain gates,
and pour the great bulk of his army north through the rich Cumberland
valley. If McClellan was held at bay in his efforts to take the passes,
and should move north, and come down the valley, then, pointing his
guns in the passes westward upon McClellan, Lee could spring like a
tiger on Baltimore and Washington.
The first thing to be done after resting his army was to seize Harper's
Ferry.
The people of Frederick and the farmers round the city had a chance to
sell all their goods,--their boots, shoes, clothes, flour, bacon, pigs,
cattle, and horses, but they were paid in Confederate money, which was
worth so many rags.
Lee's army was very dirty and filthy. It had made hard marches. The
men had no tents. They had slept on the ground, had lived some of the
time on green corn and apples, had fought battles, had been for weeks
exposed to storms, sunshine, rain, mud, and dust, with no change of
clothing. They had thrown all their strength into this one grand
invasion of the North, and had shown a wonderful vigor. The rest and
repose, the good living which they found, were very acceptable. They
obeyed General Lee's orders, and behaved well.
General Lee issued an address to the people of Maryland.
"The people of the South have seen with profound indignation their
sister State deprived of every right and reduced to the condition of a
conquered province.
"Believing that the people of Maryland possessed a spirit too lofty to
submit to such a government, the people of the South have long wished
to aid you in throwing off this foreign yoke, to enable you again to
enjoy the inalienable rights of freemen," read the address.
But the people were not conscious of living under a foreign yoke,
neither that they were a conquered province, and therefore did not
respond to the call to rise in rebellion against the old flag.
It was time for Lee to proceed to the execution of his plans. The Army
of the Potomac was approaching Frederick. Lee directed Jackson to
move on the 10th of September directly west, cross South Mountain at
Boonsboro' Gap, move through the town of Sharpsburg, cross the Potomac,
and fall upon Martinsburg, where Colonel White, with a brigade of Union
troops, was guarding a large amount of stores. General McLaw's and
Anderson's divisions were to occupy Maryland Heights--the termination
of the South Mountain range in Maryland--while General Walker was
sent across the river into Virginia to occupy Loudon Heights. Thus
approaching from the north, east, south, and west, Colonel Miles would
have no chance to escape. Longstreet was to move to Hagerstown to be
ready for a sudden spring into Pennsylvania. Howell Cobb was to hold
Crampton's Pass, and D. H. Hill the Boonsboro' Gap.
"The commands of General Jackson, McLaw, and Walker, after having
accomplished the objects for which they have been detached, will join
the main body of the army at Boonsboro' or Hagerstown," read the order.
On the 11th, the last regiment of Rebels departed from Frederick, and
soon after the advance of the Army of the Potomac entered the place.
The inhabitants shouted, waved their flags once more, and hailed
McClellan as their deliverer.
BATTLE OF SOUTH MOUNTAIN.
Early in the forenoon of Sunday, the 14th of September, General
Burnside, leading the Union army, ascended a high hill, a few miles
west of Frederick, and looked down upon one of the loveliest valleys
in the world. At his feet was the village of Middletown; beyond it,
in the bottom of the valley, the Catoctin Creek winds through ever
verdant meadows, past old mansions, surrounded with well-filled barns.
North and south, far as the eye can reach, are wheat and clover fields,
and acres of corn putting on its russet hues. Beyond the creek, the
road winds along the mountain side, past the little hamlet called
Bolivar. There are ledges, loose stones, groves of oak, and thickets
of mountain shrubs. There is a house on the summit,--once a tavern,
where the teamsters and stagemen of former days watered their tired
horses, and drank their ale, and ate a lunch. It is old and dilapidated
now. But standing there and looking east, it seems as if a strong
armed man might cast a stone upon Middletown, hundreds of feet below.
Twelve miles away to the east are the spires of Frederick, gleaming in
the sun. Westward from this mountain gate we many behold at our feet
Boonsboro' and Keedysville, and the crooked Antietam; and still farther
westward, the Potomac, making its great northern sweep to Williamsport.
In the northwest, twelve miles distant, is Hagerstown, at the head of
the Cumberland valley. Longstreet is there on this Sunday morning,
sending his cavalry up to the Pennsylvania lines, gathering cattle,
horses, and pigs.
General D. H. Hill beholds the Union army spread out upon the plains
before him, reaching all the way to Frederick city,--dark-blue masses
moving towards him along the road, through the fields, with banners
waving, their bright arms reflecting the morning sunshine.
He is confident that he can hold the place,--so narrow,--the mountain
sides so steep, and one Southerner equal to five Yankees. He hates the
men of the north. He is a native of South Carolina, and was educated
by the government at West Point. He was teacher of the North Carolina
Military School. Before the war, he did what he could to stir up the
people of the South to rebel. He told them that the South won nearly
all the battles of the Revolution, but that the Northern historians
had given the credit to the North, which was a "Yankee trick." He
published an Algebra in 1857, which Stonewall Jackson pronounced
superior to all others, in which his inveterate hatred appears. His
problems are expressive of hatred and contempt.
"A Yankee," he states, "mixes a certain number of wooden nutmegs, which
cost him one fourth of a cent apiece, with real nutmegs worth four
cents apiece, and sells the whole assortment for $44, and gains $3.75
by the fraud. How many wooden nutmegs are there?"
"At the Woman's Rights Convention, held at Syracuse, New York, composed
of one hundred and fifty delegates, the old maids, childless wives, and
bedlamites were to each other as the numbers 5, 7, and 3. How many were
there of each class?"
"The field of Buena Vista is six and a half miles from Saltillo. Two
Indiana volunteers ran away from the field of battle at the same
time; one ran half a mile per hour faster than the other, and reached
Saltillo five minutes and fifty four and six elevenths seconds sooner
than the other. Required their respective rates of travel."[58]
[Footnote 58: The Church and the Rebellion, p. 196.]
On this bright morning, the men of the Nineteenth Indiana, troops
from Ohio, Wisconsin, Michigan, Maine,--from nearly all the loyal
States,--are preparing to climb the mountain to meet the man who has
violated his oath, and who hates the government that gave him an
education.
The line of battle is formed by General Burnside along the Catoctin
Creek. The Ninth corps, with General Cox's division in advance, is
thrown south of the turnpike, and directed to move along a narrow road
which unites with the turnpike in the gap.
It is seven o'clock in the morning when Scammon's brigade of Ohio
troops moves into position. Robertson's battery is south of the
turnpike in a field, throwing shells up the mountain into the woods
where Hill's men are lying sheltered from sight by the foliage.
There is a reply from the gap. Solid shot and shells fly from the
mountain to the valley. Hayne's battery joins with Robertson's, Simmons
opens with his twenty-pounders, and McMullin with four heavy guns, and
while church-bells far away are tolling the hour of worship, these
cannon in the valley and on the mountain side wake the slumbering
echoes, and play the prelude to the approaching strife.
Scammon's brigade leads the way by the old Sharpsburg road, the men
toiling slowly up the hill,--through the fields and pastures, over
fences and walls, sometimes losing foothold, and falling headlong, or
sliding downward.
The brigade was preceded by a line of skirmishers, and was followed by
Crook's brigade.
The woods were full of Rebels, but the men moved on, driving back
Hill's skirmishers, working up step by step, pushing them and the line
supporting them toward the gap. A battery opened with canister, but
the shot flew wild and high over their heads, and they pressed on.
McMullin sent up two guns, but the gunners were picked off by the Rebel
sharpshooters. The Twelfth Ohio charged up the hill, through a pasture,
with a hurrah. Louder, deeper, longer was the cheer which rose from the
valley far below, where Sturgis, and Wilcox, and Rodman were forming
into line. On,--into the fire,--close up to the stonewall, where the
Rebels were lying,--they charged, routing them from their shelter, and
holding the ground. There were places on the hillside, where the green
grass became crimson,--where brave men had stood a moment before full
of life and vigor and devotion to their country, but motionless and
silent now,--their part in the great struggle faithfully performed,
their work done.
Hill rallied his men. They dashed down the mountain to regain the
ground. But having obtained it through costly sacrifice, the men from
Ohio were not willing to yield it.
There was a lull in the battle at noon. Hill, finding that the chances
were against him, sent to Hagerstown for Longstreet.
Burnside, on the other hand, waited for Hooker to arrive, who was next
in the column. He commanded the First corps, composed of Ricketts's and
King's divisions, and the Pennsylvania Reserves. He filed north of the
turnpike, threw Ricketts's upon the extreme right, with the Reserves in
the center, and King on the left. King was on the turnpike. There is
a deep gorge between the turnpike and the old road south of it, which
made a gap between Reno and Hooker.
The afternoon wore away before the troops were ready. Longstreet's men
were panting up the mountain on the western side, Hood's division in
advance. They were thrown upon the hillside south of the old tavern in
the gap. It was past four o'clock when the order to advance was given.
Wilcox's division led upon the extreme left.
It is a movement which will be decisive, for victory or defeat. The
artillery--all the batteries which can be brought into position--send
their shells up the mountain. Steadily onward moves the long line
across the fields at the foot, up the pasture lands of the slope into
the woods.
There is a rattling of musketry,--then heavy rolls, peal on peal, wave
on wave, and a steady, constant roar; giving not an inch, but advancing
slowly, or holding their ground, the veterans of the Peninsula continue
their fire. The mountain is white with the rising battle-cloud. The
line of fire goes up the mountain. The Rebels are falling back,
fighting bravely, but yielding. There are shouts, yells, outcries,
mingling with the thunder of the artillery, echoing and reverberating
along the valleys.
Right and left and center are pushing on. Thousands on the plains below
behold it, and wish that they were there to aid their brothers in arms.
The day wanes, the shadows begin to deepen, revealing the flashes from
cannon and musket. There is no giving back of Burnside's men, neither
of Hooker's, but nearer to the crest, nearer the clouds, moves the
starry banner.
"Please open upon that house with your battery," was the order of
Colonel Meredith, of the Nineteenth Indiana, commanding a brigade in
King's division, to Lieutenant Stewart of the Fourth United States
Artillery. The house was filled with sharpshooters. Lieutenant Stewart
sights his guns. The second shell crashes through the side as if it
were paper, tears through the rooms. The Rebels swarm out from doors
and windows in hasty flight. The men from Indiana give a lusty cheer,
and move nearer the enemy.
In vain the efforts of Hill and Longstreet and Hood to stop the
fiery tide, rising higher, rolling nearer, overflowing the mountain,
threatening to sweep them into the western valley. The lines surge
on. It is like the sweep of a great tidal wave. There is a rush, a
short, desperate, decisive struggle. The Rebel line gives way. The
men from Indiana, Ohio, Wisconsin, New York, Pennsylvania, Maine, and
Massachusetts, pour into the gap, shouting their victorious hurrahs.
General Hill has lost the battle. He has despised those men. He tried
to injure their fair fame before the world in time of peace; he
intimated that Northern men were arrant cowards; but after this battle
at South Mountain he can issue an Algebra with a new statement of the
wooden nutmeg and Buena Vista problems.
SURRENDER OF HARPER'S FERRY.
Lee was successful in what he had undertaken at Harper's Ferry. While
Burnside was winning this victory, Colonel Miles was yielding that
important post. He abandoned the strong position on Maryland Heights,
tumbled the cannon down the mountain, when he might have kept McLaw
and Anderson from gaining possession of the place. Jackson kept up a
furious bombardment. Miles hung out the white flag, and was killed
immediately after by a shell.
His troops were indignant at the surrender. Some shed tears.
"We have no country now," said one officer, wiping the tears from
his face. If Miles had held out a little longer, he would have been
relieved, for Franklin was driving General Cobb from Crampton's Pass,
and would have been upon the rear of McLaw and Anderson.
The cavalry made their escape under cover of the night. They followed
winding forest-paths through the woods, at dead of night, avoiding
the roads till they were north of Sharpsburg. While crossing the
Williamsport and Hagerstown road they came upon Longstreet's ammunition
train.
"Hold!" said the officer commanding the cavalry to the forward driver,
"you are on the wrong road. That is the way."
The driver turned towards the north as directed, not knowing that the
officer was a Yankee.
"Hold on there! you are on the wrong road. Who told you to turn off
here, I should like to know?" shouted the Rebel officer in charge of
the train, dashing up on his horse.
"I gave the order, sir."
"Who are you, and what right have you to interfere with my train, sir,"
said the officer, coming up in the darkness.
"I am colonel of the Eighth New York cavalry, and you are my prisoner,"
said the Union officer, presenting his pistol.
The Rebel officer was astounded. He swore bad words, and said it was a
mean Yankee trick.
One hundred wagons and seventy-four men were thus quietly cut out from
the Rebel trains.
I saw the prisoners as they entered Chambersburg, Pennsylvania. There
were several negroes among them.
"As soon as I heard dat we was in de hands of de Yankees, I was mighty
glad, sir, 'cause we darkees want to get to de Norf," he said.
"Why do you want to get to the North?"
"'Cause we be free up here. We don't get much to eat in the Souf," he
said.
At the head of this company of prisoners marched a man with downcast
eyes, sunburned, dusty, dressed in gray, with a black feather in his
hat. His name was Fitz Hugh Miller. He was a Pennsylvanian. It was he
who arrested Cook, one of John Brown's accomplices, and delivered him
over to Governor Wise. Cook was tried, found guilty, and hung. When the
war broke out, Miller went South, and was a captain in Lee's army. The
people of Chambersburg knew him. He was a traitor.
"Hang him!" they shouted. "A rope!" "Get a rope!" There was a rush of
men and women towards him. They were greatly excited. Some picked up
stones to hurl at him, some shook their fists in his face, but the
guards closed round him, and hurried the pale and trembling wretch off
to prison as quickly as possible, and saved him from a violent death.
General Lee had been successful in taking Harper's Ferry, but he was
not in position to spring upon the North. The eastern gates were wide
open. Burnside had pushed D. H. Hill and Longstreet down the Mountain,
and the whole Yankee army which he intended to keep out of the Antietam
and Cumberland valleys was pouring upon him. He had been successful
in most of his battles. He had driven McClellan from Richmond to the
gunboats, had defeated Pope at Groveton, had taken eleven thousand
prisoners and immense supplies at Harper's Ferry. All that he had to
do now was to defeat the new Army of the Potomac in a great pitched
battle; then he could move on to Philadelphia and dictate terms of
peace.
He resolved to concentrate his army, choose his ground, and give battle
to McClellan. He must do that before he could move on. The advance
of the Rebel army towards Pennsylvania roused the citizens of that
Commonwealth to take active measures for its defense.
There were glorious exhibitions of pure patriotism. Governor Curtin
called upon the people to organize at once; and fifty thousand men
hastened to the various places of rendezvous. The old Revolutionary
flame was rekindled. Disaster had not dispirited the people. The
ministers from their pulpits urged their congregations to go, and
themselves set the example. Judges, members of Congress, presidents of
colleges, and professors took place in the ranks, and became soldiers.
In every town the pulses of the people beat to the exigencies of the
hour. Telegrams and letters poured in upon the Governor. "We are
ready," "We shall march to-morrow," "Give us guns," they said.
Mothers, wives, and daughters said, "Go!"
There were tearful eyes and swelling bosoms, but brave hearts. Old men,
gray-haired, weak, weary with the weight of years, encouraged the young
and strong, and bestowed their blessings on those departing for the
battle-field.