THE SIEGE OF RICHMOND (1862 AND 1865)
Fair Oaks a drawn battle--Robert Lee succeeds Johnston--Reforms in
the army--Humours of the sentinels--Chaffing the niggers--Their
idea of liberty--The pickets chum together--Stuart’s raid--A duel
between a Texan and a German--Effect of music on soldiers--A
terrible retreat to James River--Malvern Hill battle-scenes--Three
years after--General Grant before Richmond--Coloured troops enter
the Southern capital in triumph--Lee surrenders--Friends once more.
The battle of Fair Oaks had been fought, and General McClellan began to
entrench himself in view of the siege of Richmond. It had been a drawn
battle: the South had taken some guns, but the Federal forces were too
strong for them, and swamps, rough ground, and woods all helped to
throw the South into confusion. Upon a field hardly a mile square were
lying some 7,000 or 8,000 dead and wounded, many of them having been
there for twenty-four hours. Some had gone deep into the muddy swamps
and stuck fast there, dying or laying the foundation of some terrible
disease. Acres of forest had been slashed, or cut about 5 feet from the
ground, to prevent the passage of troops and artillery.
The Southern Commander-in-Chief, General Johnston, had been killed
by a shell in this battle, but the substitution of General Robert E.
Lee as Commander led to great reforms in the Confederate Army. Lee at
once removed the camps from malarious swamps; he provided supplies of
wholesome provisions, and reclothed the hungry, starving and mutinous
men, so that in a few weeks they looked stronger, fought better, and
behaved as men under discipline.
Every evening the countersign was given out, and sentinels were posted
to prevent spies crossing the Chickahominy. In the Federal Army were
men of many nations--Scotch, Irish, German, Norsemen, and others. It
was told of an Irish sentinel that he stopped a stranger.
“Halt! Who comes there?”
“Me--a friend of the chaplain.”
“Have ye the countersign?”
“No.”
“Faith! an’ if ye were a friend of the divil and had no counthersign ye
couldn’t pass this way--not on no account, sor.”
“But I tell you I am a friend of your chaplain, and I forgot to ask him
for the countersign. Don’t you see?”
“Is that it, sor? Then, be jabers! what’s to prevint me giving to ye
the counthersign, eh?”
“Nothing, I suppose, if you will be so kind.”
“Come closer, and, be jabers! I’ll just whisper it in your ear. There!
Now stand and answer. Who comes here?”
“A friend.”
“A friend! Right! and maybe ye have the counthersign?”
“I have; it is ‘Good-night, mother.’”
“Quite correct, sor. Pass on, and good luck to ye!”
A long siege is such dull work that the Northerners used to amuse
themselves by chaffing the young negroes when they caught them in the
lines. Perhaps they would give the nigger-boy a bit of food, then
suddenly say:
“Sambo, what relation are you to Jeff Davis’s coachman?”
The black eyes would roll and the whites enlarge as the grinning nigger
replied:
“I ain’t no sort o’ connexion with that ere, sah.”
“You’re a Secesh, I reckon.”
“No, sah; I’m Union boy.”
“Oh, then we shall have to flog you, Sambo. Don’t you know that in this
part of McClellan’s army we are all at heart good rebels?”
“Lord ha’ mercy! I never thought o’ that; and now I do think on it, I
do agree dat I am a bit of a rebel, anyhow.”
Then all the listeners would burst out laughing at poor Sambo, and he
left the camp befogged and bewildered.
Once an old grey-headed negro came into camp, and some young officers
began to tackle him.
“Think we can take Richmond, boy?”
“Dar be right smart o’ men round here, but I dunno ’bout dar being able
for to take Richmond, sah.”
“‘Right smart o’ men!’” said a Captain. “Why, this is only a flea-bite
to what’s coming to eat up the rebel army. You’ll see them coming
up like locusts. Here’s McClellan with half a million around here,
and there’s Burnside down there, coming from Carolina with a hundred
thousand more, and General Banks with two hundred thousand more, and
General Fremont--why, he can’t count his men he has so many!”
The old fellow opened his eyes wider and wider as the list of imaginary
armies was run over. Then, gazing up intently in the officer’s face:
“Got all dem men?” he asked in a subdued voice.
“Yes, and more.”
The negro threw out his arms and ejaculated:
“Oh! dear Mesopotamia! Whatever will become of massa, I wonder?”
The negroes wanted to be free, but they did not want to work. Many of
them who had run away from their masters were employed by the Federals
in unloading stores. They worked from daylight until dark, singing over
it, talking, shouting, arguing, making such a shindy. A Virginian negro
never did a quarter of a day’s work on his master’s plantations, and
they soon found out the difference when they became free niggers and
earned wages. They did not much relish their rise. A party of niggers
would come up to the Colonel’s tent.
“Well, boys, what made you leave your master? Wasn’t he kind to you?”
“Oh yes, massa berry kind--berry kind indeed.”
“Well, didn’t he give you enough to eat?”
“Oh yes, plenty of dat, plenty of dat--’nuff to eat.”
“Well, boys, what made you leave him?”
“Why, de trufe am dat he made us work ’mong sugar-canes,” said one.
“And we heerd ’bout de Norf am such a nice place, so we tort dat we
would go to um,” said another.
“Nice place? Why, how do you mean a nice place?”
“Well, sah, we was told dat nobody did no work up dar.”
Even the white peasants in Virginia seemed to be lazy and indolent.
They lived in little cabins, and only the very young or old were left,
as every able-bodied man was in the army. They were dressed in homespun
and spoke with a drawl. They did not wish to be richer, content with
one acre and a single cow--Tories of a most old-fashioned kind; and the
women, like the Boers, were far more dangerous rebels than the men, and
tried to entrap unwary Federals when they got them drinking in their
houses.
All round by the river four miles from Richmond was a succession of
dark swamp, yellow field, and brown hill-side. Batteries were placed
on all the ridges, guarded on either side by woods and in front by
earthworks. The Confederates on the other side of the river had
fewer trees but stronger earthworks. On the 1st of June there was an
artillery duel, begun by the Richmond batteries, but they had to beat
a retreat into the woods before the precision of some German gunners.
Sometimes the pickets of both armies were so close to each other that
they made an agreement not to fire at one another. Then they got to
exchanging newspapers and tobacco, telling the news, and altogether
behaving as if they were rational human beings, and not machines
sent to kill one another for political ideals far beyond their ken.
Once when a New Jersey regiment was upon picket Federal scouts were
being served with their allowance of coffee, and one of these latter
observing a Southerner gazing wistfully at his smoking cup, beckoned to
him to come over and have a drink. He came, drank, smacked his lips,
and walked slowly back. Then he looked round and said:
“I say, friend, how many times a month do you fellows get this good
coffee?”
“Oh, just three times a day,” said the Jersey man.
“Three times a day! Why, if that’s true I’ll not stay a day longer in
the Confederate Army. Here, lad, I give myself up.” And the fellow
actually let his friend take him prisoner.
On the 20th of June General McClellan reported that he had 156,839 men,
but he could get no reinforcements, and the armies of the South were
increasing. The rains were making quagmires all around, and disease
was rife among the troops. About this time the Confederate General
Stuart led a successful raid with 1,200 horse and two pieces of
artillery round the rear of the Federals, driving in their cavalry
pickets till he came to Garlick’s Landing, where he destroyed two
schooners and many waggons and captured many prisoners. One Federal--a
German Dragoon--scorned to fly with his comrades, and fought a duel
with a Texan trooper. The German was a veteran in the wars of Europe,
and attacked the Texan, who was a little in advance of his troop. Both
were skilled swordsmen, and while they fought the rest pulled rein
and looked on. The German sat his horse as if he were a part of the
animal and wielded his sword with parry, cut, and thrust like lightning
flash. The Texan, on his fleet barb, wheeled swiftly round and round,
seeking in vain for an opening. At last the Texan slashed the German’s
shoulder, and as blood spirted from the wound the Texans, looking on,
raised a cheer. But as quick as thought, with a back-stroke the German
cut through the sleeve and flesh of the Texan’s left arm, and his blood
began to flow. Then the Texan backed his horse and spurred again upon
his opponent, making a lunge at his breast. This the Dragoon parried
with great dexterity, and brought down his sharp blade upon the other’s
shoulder. Thereat the Texan wheeled his horse once more, drew a pistol
and shot the Dragoon through the heart.
[Illustration: A DUEL BETWEEN A TEXAN AND A GERMAN
After a successful raid by the Southerners, the Federals had almost all
fled, but one--a German dragoon--scorned to do so, and instead attacked
a Texan. The other Southerners let them fight a duel, and the German
was having the best of it, when the Texan drew a pistol and shot him
dead.]
Colonel Estran, a Prussian officer in the service of the South, who
witnessed this scene, but disapproved of the Texan having recourse to
his pistol, writes thus: “Much moved by his fate, I ordered a grave to
receive the remains of the brave German trooper. We buried him in his
regimentals, with his trusty sword on his breast and his pistols by his
side. I then sent for the Texan, and, after reprimanding him severely
for his cowardly conduct, I ordered him to seek service in some other
corps, telling him that I could not think of allowing a fellow of
his stamp to remain in my regiment. The Texan scowled at me with his
cat-like eyes, and, muttering a curse, mounted his horse and rode away.”
I think some of us may deem that the Texan was hardly treated by this
Prussian officer who felt so indignant at the shooting of the German
trooper. The Texan had received two severe wounds. He was not bound to
fight only with the sword. He carried pistols; so did the German. Why?
if they were not to be used, why carry them? It was the Texan’s duty to
kill the German, and he did so. No wonder the poor fellow muttered a
curse.
Days of disaster were coming for the Northern Army. They were spread
along the river and through the swamps for more than twenty miles.
The South could sally out of Richmond and strike any one point before
support could be sent up. Part of the army was north of the river, part
south. They dared not march on Richmond, now so strongly fortified,
and to retreat was fatal. General Jackson had joined General Lee, and
every day there was fierce fighting. In the battle of Gaine’s Mill,
where the North lost twenty-two guns, the Federal General Butterfield
at a critical moment came coolly down the knoll in the thick of a hot
fire, and sword in hand, seized the colours, waved them aloft, and so
encouraged the valour of his regiment, shouting:
“Your ammunition is never exhausted while you have your bayonets; and
use them to the socket, my boys!”
Seventy thousand men were hurling grape, canister, and bullet against
30,000. It was one loud and continuous roar. It was only gradually that
it was forced upon the Federal troops that they were beaten and were in
full retreat to the James River.
Battles are like games of chess. The great thing is to bring as many
pieces into play as you can and mass them on one or two points. The
Federals had over 100,000 fighting men, but only 30,000 were engaged in
the battle of Gaine’s Mill.
On the 28th McClellan wrote to the Secretary for War: “I have lost
the battle because my force was too small. If I save this army now I
tell you plainly that I owe no thanks to you or to any other person in
Washington. You have done your best to sacrifice this army.”
The Federal rearguard did their best to cover the retreat. They blew up
the ammunition which had to be deserted, emptied the barrels of whisky
and molasses, bent the muskets, and dismantled the forsaken waggons.
But the roads were thronged with the sick and wounded, and hundreds lay
down to die in the awful sun.
Ever the victorious South were riding in upon them and making havoc.
On one of these charges General Butterfield, seeing the utter misery
and downheartedness of the men, gathered together all the regimental
bands and placed them at the head of a brigade. In one great burst of
sound, which rose above the clamour of the battle, they started “The
Star-spangled Banner.” With the first few notes the men’s spirits rose
and a new energy came to them. They stepped out and sang lustily, and
other regiments caught the brave infection and cheered in chorus.
Such are the uses of music in war. In our own regiments in the Boer
War, when the men got weary with the long march, a Colonel would shout
to his sergeants: “Have you any men who can sing? Put them in front.”
Then the regiment would step out and forget their weariness.
The _Richmond Dispatch_ describes the battle-field thus: “Money was
found abundantly among the slain. One man found not less than 150
dollars in gold. One lucky finder had no less than six chronometers
ticking in his pocket at the same time. Our men seemed to take great
delight in assuming Federal officers’ uniforms, and strutted about
serio-comically, much to the amusement of powder-begrimed youths who
sat lolling and smoking in the shade. The cannon and arms captured
in this battle were numerous and of very superior workmanship. The
twenty-six pieces were the most beautiful we have ever seen, while
immense piles of guns could be seen on every hand, many even hardly
tarnished.”
The road to James River was strewn with stragglers, tired to death.
Hospitals were filled to overflowing. When they came to White Oak Swamp
Bridge there was a block of waggons, cannon, ambulances, etc. Twenty
rows of waggons stood side by side; teamsters swore, and horses gibbed,
and officers shouted.
A Confederate officer, writing of the battle of Malvern Hill, describes
how the gunboats on the James River helped the Federal retreat, how
shot from rifled guns came hurtling through the woods, tearing down
the largest trees. “We passed over four lines of our own men who lay
close to the ground and dare not rise to face the grape and canister.
Our men trampled them into the mud like logs. One man in his haste to
get out of danger shoved me on one side, and just at that instant a
canister-shot tore his head off. As you may suppose, I was not much
vexed at his want of politeness. Early next morning I rode over the
battle-ground. I came upon numbers of dead and dying horses--and the
wounded! One, a fair-haired Yankee boy of sixteen, was lying with both
legs broken, half of his body submerged in water, his teeth clenched,
his finger-nails buried in the flesh, his whole body quivering with
agony and benumbed with cold. In this case my pity got the better of my
resentment, and I dismounted, pulled him out of the water and wrapped
him in my blanket, for which he seemed very grateful. One of the most
touching things I saw was a couple of brothers, both wounded, who had
crawled together, and one of them, in the act of arranging a pillow for
the other with a blanket, had fallen. They had died with their arms
around one another, and their cheeks together. But your heart will
sicken at these details, as mine did at seeing them, and I will cease.”
The word “resentment” in this letter reveals the bitter feeling
that springs up when men of the same nation are at war. The battle
of Malvern Hill was the fiercest of the seven days’ battles, and
the loss on both sides was terrible. When the troops came in sight
of James River, muddy current and low banks, they rushed down with
mad impetuosity. Many plunged into the stream in a very frenzy of
delight. Those who for hours had suffered agonies from thirst now
stood knee-deep in the water and drank like fish. The horses were as
delighted as the men, and neighed to their friends. Here the troops
rested and enjoyed the supplies sent up from White House. But a storm
came on the 2nd of July and changed all to mud and sticky surfaces; but
the sound gave up their tents to the wounded, and soon many steamers
took the poor victims of the fight to a more comfortable abode.
McClellan had lost 15,000 men in the awful struggle of the last seven
days, but the South had suffered more heavily, and Richmond was crowded
with the wounded and dying. The President thanked the General in a
letter, saying: “I am satisfied that yourself, officers, and men have
done the best you could.”
It was not until three years after this--in April, 1865--that Richmond
was evacuated by General Lee before Generals Grant and Sheridan.
President Davis was in church when an orderly, splashed with mud,
walked up the aisle and handed him a paper. In the first glance he
saw that all was over, and a few hours after he was in full flight.
On Monday morning Weitzel with his army, composed partly of coloured
troops, marched into Richmond with bands playing. The city had been
fired and the stores plundered. Main Street was in ruins, and the
bridges over the river were broken. A thousand prisoners were taken and
500 pieces of artillery.
It is said that the coloured troops entered Richmond with proud gait
and shouts of ecstasy, welcomed enthusiastically by their dusky
brethren who thronged the streets. They laughed and shouted, prayed and
wept, and kissed one another in a delirium of happiness. They thought
that now at last the white races would acknowledge their equality;
but the world has not yet got rid of its old prejudices, and their
sun of happiness was doomed to suffer an eclipse. In a few days Lee
surrendered. The Federals first heard the news from the cheers of the
poor famished army of the South. Twenty-two thousand--all that was
left of them--stacked their arms and filed past in a great and solemn
silence. The cruel, devastating war was over. Now was seen the strange
spectacle of the enemy sharing their rations with a conquered foe. They
were no longer North and South now: they were all Americans--citizens
once more of the United States, destined, perhaps, in a not distant
future to teach Europe that peace is better than war, love is stronger
than hate, God’s kingdom supreme over the transient empires of this
little world.