THE SEVEN DAYS. FRAYSER’S FARM AND MALVERN HILL
June 28, 1862 The battle of Gaines’ Mill, although the assailants
suffered heavier losses than they inflicted, was a long step towards
accomplishing the deliverance of Richmond. One of McClellan’s five army
corps had been disposed of, a heavy blow had been struck at the _moral_
of his whole army, and his communications with the White House and the
Pamunkey were at the mercy of his enemies. Still the Confederate
outlook was not altogether clear. It is one thing to win a victory, but
another to make such use of it as to annihilate the enemy. Porter’s
defeat was but a beginning of operations; and although Lee was
convinced that McClellan would retreat, he was by no means so certain
that his escape could be prevented. Yet this was essential. If the
Federal army were suffered to fall back without incurring further loss,
it would be rapidly reinforced from Washington, and resuming the
advance, this time with still larger numbers, might render Gaines’ Mill
a barren victory. How to compass the destruction of McClellan’s host
was the problem that now confronted the Confederate leader; and before
a plan could be devised it was necessary to ascertain the direction of
the retreat.
On the morning of June 28 it was found that no formed body of Federal
troops remained north of the Chickahominy. French, Meagher, and Sykes,
the regulars forming the rear-guard, had fallen back during the night
and destroyed the bridges. Hundreds of stragglers were picked up, and
one of the most gallant of the Northern
brigadiers[1] was found asleep in the woods, unaware that his troops
had crossed the stream. No further fighting was to be expected on the
plateau. But it was possible that the enemy might still endeavour to
preserve his communications, marching by the south bank of the river
and recrossing by the railway and Bottom’s Bridges. Stuart, supported
by Ewell, was at once ordered to seize the former; but when the cavalry
reached Dispatch Station, a small Federal detachment retreated to the
south bank of the Chickahominy and fired the timbers.
Meanwhile, from the field of Gaines’ Mill, long columns of dust, rising
above the forests to the south, had been descried, showing that the
enemy was in motion; and when the news came in that the railway bridge
had been destroyed, and that the line itself was unprotected, it was at
once evident that McClellan had abandoned his communications with White
House.
This was valuable information, but still the line of retreat had not
yet been ascertained. The Federals might retreat to some point on the
James River, due south, there meeting their transports, or they might
march down the Peninsula to Yorktown and Fortress Monroe. “In the
latter event,” says Lee, “it was necessary that our troops should
continue on the north bank of the river, and until the intention of
General McClellan was discovered it was deemed injudicious to change
their disposition. Ewell was therefore ordered to proceed to Bottom’s
Bridge, and the cavalry to watch the bridges below. No certain
indications of a retreat to the James River were discovered by our
forces (Magruder) on the south side of the Chickahominy, and late in
the afternoon the enemy’s works were reported to be fully manned. Below
(south of) the enemy’s works the country was densely wooded and
intersected by impassable swamps, at once concealing his movements and
precluding reconnaissances except by the regular roads, all of which
were strongly guarded. The bridges over the Chickahominy in rear of the
enemy were destroyed, and their reconstruction impracticable in the
presence of
his whole army and powerful batteries. We were therefore compelled to
wait until his purpose should be developed.”[2]
During the day, therefore, the Confederate army remained on the
battle-field, waiting for the game to bolt. In the evening, however,
signs of a general movement were reported in rear of the intrenchments
at Seven Pines; and as nothing had been observed by the cavalry on the
Chickahominy, Lee, rightly concluding that McClellan was retreating to
the James, issued orders for the pursuit to be taken up the next
morning.
But to intercept the enemy before he could fortify a position, covered
by the fire of his gunboats, on the banks of the James, was a difficult
operation. The situation demanded rapid marching, close concert, and
delicate manœuvres. The Confederate army was in rear of the Federals,
and separated from them by the Chickahominy, and, to reach the James,
McClellan had only fourteen miles to cover. But the country over which
he had to pass was still more intricate, and traversed by even fewer
roads, than the district which had hitherto been the theatre of
operations. Across his line of march ran the White Oak Swamp, bordered
by thick woods and a wide morass, and crossed by only one bridge. If he
could transfer his whole army south of this stream, without
molestation, he would find himself within six miles of his gunboats;
and as his left flank was already resting on the Swamp, it was not easy
for Lee’s army to prevent his passage.
But 28,000 Confederates were already south of the Chickahominy, on the
flank of McClellan’s line of march, and it was certainly possible that
this force might detain the Federals until A. P. Hill, Longstreet, and
Jackson should come up. Magruder and Huger were therefore ordered to
advance early on the 29th, and moving, the one by the Williamsburg, the
other by the Charles City road, to strike the enemy in flank.
A. P. Hill and Longstreet, recrossing the Chickahominy at New Bridge,
were to march by the Darbytown road in the
direction of Charles City cross roads, thus turning the head waters of
the White Oak Swamp, and threatening the Federal rear.
Jackson, crossing Grapevine Bridge, was to move down the south bank of
the Chickahominy, cross the Swamp by the bridge, and force his way to
the Long Bridge road.
The Confederate army was thus divided into four columns, moving by four
different roads; each column at starting was several miles distant from
the others, and a junction was to be made upon the field of battle. The
cavalry, moreover, with the exception of a few squadrons, was far away
upon the left, pursuing a large detachment which had been observed on
the road to the White House.[3]
McClellan had undoubtedly resolved on a most hazardous manœuvre. His
supply and ammunition train consisted of over five thousand waggons. He
was encumbered with the heavy guns of the siege artillery. He had with
him more than fifty field batteries; his army was still 95,000 strong;
and this unwieldy multitude of men, horses, and vehicles, had to be
passed over White Oak Swamp, and then to continue its march across the
front of a powerful and determined enemy.
But Lee also was embarrassed by the nature of the country.[4] If
McClellan’s movements were retarded by the woods, swamps, and
indifferent roads, the same obstacles would interfere with the
combination of the Confederate columns; and the pursuit depended for
success on their close co-operation.
June 29 The first day’s work was hardly promising. The risks of
unconnected manœuvres received abundant illustration. Magruder, late in
the afternoon, struck the enemy’s rearguard near Savage’s Station, but
was heavily repulsed by two Federal army corps. Huger, called by
Magruder to his assistance, turned aside from the road which had been
assigned to him, and when he was recalled by an urgent message from
Lee, advanced with the timidity which almost invariably besets the
commander of an isolated force in the neighbourhood of a large army.
Jackson, whose line of march led him directly on Savage’s Station, was
delayed until after nightfall by the necessity of rebuilding the
Grapevine Bridge.[5] Stuart had gone off to the White House, bent on
the destruction of the enemy’s supply depot. Longstreet and Hill
encamped south-west of Charles City cross roads, but saw nothing of the
enemy. Holmes, with 6,500 men, crossed the James during the afternoon
and encamped on the north bank, near Laurel Hill Church. During the
night the Federal rearguard fell back, destroying the bridge over White
Oak Swamp; and although a large quantity of stores were either
destroyed or abandoned, together with a hospital containing 2,500
wounded, the whole of McClellan’s army, men, guns, and trains, effected
the passage of this dangerous obstacle.
June 30 The next morning Longstreet, with Hill in support, moved
forward, and found a Federal division in position near Glendale.
Bringing his artillery into action, he held his infantry in hand until
Huger should come up on his left, and Jackson’s guns be heard at White
Oak Bridge. Holmes, followed by Magruder, was marching up the Newmarket
road to Malvern House; and when the sound of Jackson’s artillery became
audible to the northwards, Lee sent Longstreet forward to the attack. A
sanguinary conflict, on ground covered with heavy timber, and cut up by
deep ravines, resulted in the Federals holding
their ground till nightfall; and although many prisoners and several
batteries were captured by the Confederates, McClellan, under cover of
the darkness, made good his escape.
[Illustration: Map of troop positions for the Seven Days - June 26th to
July 2nd, 1862.]
The battle of Glendale or Frayser’s Farm was the crisis of the “Seven
Days.” Had Lee been able to concentrate his whole strength against the
Federals it is probable that McClellan would never have reached the
James. But Longstreet and Hill fought unsupported. As the former very
justly complained, 50,000 men were within hearing of the guns but none
came to co-operate, and against the two Confederate divisions fought
the Third Federal Army Corps, reinforced by three divisions from the
Second, Fifth, and Sixth. Huger’s march on the Charles City road was
obstructed by felled trees. When he at last arrived in front of the
enemy, he was held in check by two batteries, and he does not appear to
have opened communication with either Lee or Longstreet. Magruder had
been ordered to march down from Savage Station to the Darbytown road,
and there to await orders. At 4.30 p.m. he was ordered to move to
Newmarket in support of Holmes. This order was soon countermanded, but
he was unable to join Longstreet until the fight was over. Holmes was
held in check by Porter’s Army Corps, minus McCall’s division, on
Malvern Hill; and the cavalry, which might have been employed
effectively against the enemy’s left flank and rear, was still north of
the Chickahominy, returning from a destructive but useless raid on the
depôt at the White House. Nor had the conduct of the battle been
unaffected by the complicated nature of the general plan. Longstreet
attacked alone, Hill being held back, in order to be fresh for the
pursuit when Jackson and Huger should strike in. The attack was
successful, and McCall’s division, which had shared the defeat at
Gaines’ Mill, was driven from its position. But McCall was reinforced
by other divisions; Longstreet was thrown on to the defensive by
superior numbers, and when Hill was at length put in, it was with
difficulty that the fierce counterblows of the Federals were beaten
off.
Jackson had been unable to participate in the conflict. When night fell
he was still north of the White Oak Swamp, seven miles distant from his
morning bivouac, and hardly a single infantry man in his command had
pulled a trigger. According to his own report his troops reached White
Oak Bridge about noon. “Here the enemy made a determined effort to
retard our advance and thereby to prevent an immediate junction between
General Longstreet and myself. We found the bridge destroyed, the
ordinary place of crossing commanded by their batteries on the other
side, and all approach to it barred by detachments of sharp-shooters
concealed in a dense wood close by. . . . A heavy cannonading in front
announced the engagement of General Longstreet at Frayser’s Farm
(Glendale) and made me eager to press forward; but the marshy character
of the soil, the destruction of the bridge over the marsh and creek,
and the strong position of the enemy for defending the passage,
prevented my advancing until the following morning.”[6]
Such are Jackson’s reasons for his failure to co-operate with
Longstreet. It is clear that he was perfectly aware of the importance
of the part he was expected to play; and he used every means which
suggested itself as practicable to force a crossing. The 2nd Virginia
Cavalry, under Colonel Munford, had now joined him from the Valley, and
their commanding officer bears witness that Jackson showed no lack of
energy.
“When I left the general on the preceding evening, he ordered me to be
at the cross-roads (five miles from White Oak Bridge) at sunrise the
next morning, ready to move in advance of his troops. The worst
thunderstorm came up about night I ever was in, and in that thickly
wooded country one could not see his horse’s ears. My command scattered
in the storm, and I do not suppose that any officer had a rougher time
in any one night than I had to endure. When the first grey dawn
appeared I started off my adjutant and officers to bring up the
scattered regiment; but at sunrise I had not more than fifty men,
and I was half a mile from the cross-roads. When I arrived, to my
horror there sat Jackson waiting for me. He was in a bad humour, and
said, ‘Colonel, my orders to you were to be here at sunrise.’ I
explained my situation, telling him that we had no provisions, and that
the storm and the dark night had conspired against me. When I got
through he replied, ‘Yes, sir. But, Colonel, I ordered you to be here
at sunrise. Move on with your regiment. If you meet the enemy drive in
his pickets, and if you want artillery, Colonel Crutchfield will
furnish you.’
“I started on with my little handful of men. As others came straggling
on to join me, Jackson noticed it, and sent two couriers to inform me
that ‘my men were straggling badly.’ I rode back and went over the same
story, hoping that he would be impressed with my difficulties. He
listened to me, but replied as before, ‘Yes, sir. But I ordered you to
be here at sunrise, and I have been waiting for you for a quarter of an
hour.’
“Seeing that he was in a peculiar mood, I determined to make the best
of my trouble, sent my adjutant back, and made him halt the stragglers
and form my men as they came up; and with what I had, determined to
give him no cause for complaint. When we came upon the enemy’s picket
we charged, and pushed the picket every step of the way into their
camp, where there were a large number of wounded and many stores. It
was done so rapidly that the enemy’s battery on the other side of White
Oak Swamp could not fire on us without endangering their own friends.
“When Jackson came up he was smiling, and he at once (shortly after
noon) ordered Colonel Crutchfield to bring up the artillery, and very
soon the batteries were at work. After the lapse of about an hour my
regiment had assembled, and while our batteries were shelling those of
the enemy, Jackson sent for me and said, ‘Colonel, move your regiment
over the creek, and secure those guns. I will ride with you to the
Swamp.’ When we reached the crossing we found that the enemy had torn
up the bridge, and had thrown the timbers into the stream, forming a
tangled mass which seemed to prohibit a crossing. I said to General
Jackson that I did not think that we could cross. He looked at me,
waved his hand, and replied, ‘Yes, Colonel, try it.’ In we went and
floundered over, and before I formed the men, Jackson cried out to me
to move on at the guns. Colonel Breckenridge started out with what we
had over, and I soon got over the second squadron, and moved up the
hill. We reached the guns, but they had an infantry support which gave
us a volley; at the same time a battery on our right, which we had not
seen, opened on us, and back we had to come. I moved down the Swamp
about a quarter of a mile, and re-crossed with great difficulty by a
cow-path.”[7]
The artillery did little better than the cavalry. The ground on the
north bank of the Swamp by no means favoured the action of the guns. To
the right of the road the slopes were clear and unobstructed, hut the
crest was within the forest; while to the left a thick pine wood
covered both ridge and valley. On the bank held by the Federals the
ground was open, ascending gently to the ridge; but the edge of the
stream, immediately opposite the cleared ground on the Confederate
right, was covered by a belt of tall trees, in full leaf, which made
observation, by either side, a matter of much difficulty. This belt was
full of infantry, while to the right rear, commanding the ruined
bridge, stood the batteries which had driven back the cavalry.
After some time spent in reconnaissance, it was determined to cut a
track through the wood to the right of the road. This was done, and
thirty-one guns, moving forward simultaneously ready-shotted, opened
fire on the position. The surprise was complete. One of the Federal
batteries dispersed in confusion; the other disappeared, and the
infantry supports fell back. Jackson immediately ordered two guns to
advance down the road, and shell the belt of trees which harboured the
enemy’s skirmishers. These were driven back; the divisions of D. H.
Hill and Whiting were formed up in the pine wood on the left, and a
working party was sent forward to repair the bridge. Suddenly, from the
high ground behind the belt of trees, by which they were completely
screened, two fresh Federal batteries—afterwards increased to
three—opened on the line of Confederate guns. Under cover of this fire
their skirmishers returned to the Swamp, and their main line came
forward to a position whence it commanded the crossing at effective
range. The two guns on the road were sent to the right-about. The
shells of the Federal batteries fell into the stream, and the men who
had been labouring at the bridge ran back and refused to work. The
artillery duel, in which neither side could see the other, but in which
both suffered some loss, continued throughout the afternoon.
Meantime a Confederate regiment, fording the stream, drove in the
hostile skirmishers, and seized the belt of trees; Wright’s brigade, of
Huger’s division, which had joined Jackson as the guns came into
action, was sent back to force a passage at Brackett’s Ford, a mile up
stream; and reconnaissances were pushed out to find some way of turning
the enemy’s position. Every road and track, however, was obstructed by
felled trees and abattis, and it was found that a passage was
impracticable at Brackett’s Ford. Two companies were pushed over the
creek, and drove back the enemy’s pickets. “I discovered,” says Wright,
“that the enemy had destroyed the bridge, and had completely blockaded
the road through the Swamp by felling trees in and across it. . . . I
ascertained that the road debouched from the Swamp into an open field
(meadow), commanded by a line of high hills, all in cultivation and
free from timber. Upon this ridge of hills the enemy had posted heavy
batteries of field-artillery, strongly supported by infantry, which
swept the meadow by a direct and cross fire, and which could be used
with terrible effect upon my column while struggling through the fallen
timber in the wood through the Swamp.”[8]
Having ascertained that the enemy was present in great strength on the
further bank, that every road was obstructed, and that there was no
means of carrying his artillery over the creek, or favourable ground on
which his infantry could act, Jackson gave up all hope of aiding
Longstreet.
That the obstacles which confronted him were serious there can be no
question. His smooth-bore guns, although superior in number, were
unable to beat down the fire of the rifled batteries. The enemy’s
masses were well hidden. The roads were blocked, the stream was
swollen, the banks marshy, and although infantry could cross them, the
fords which had proved difficult for the cavalry would have stopped the
artillery, the ammunition waggons, and the ambulances; while the
Federal position, on the crest of a long open slope, was exceedingly
strong. Jackson, as his report shows, maturely weighed these
difficulties, and came to the conclusion that he could do no good by
sending over his infantry alone. It was essential, it is true, to
detain as many as possible of the enemy on the banks of the Swamp,
while Longstreet, Hill, Huger, and Magruder dealt with the remainder;
and this he fully realised, but it is by no means improbable that he
considered the heavy fire of his guns and the threatening position of
his infantry would have this effect.
It is interesting to note how far this hope, supposing that he
entertained it, was fulfilled. Two divisions of Federal infantry and
three batteries—a total of 22,000 men—defended the passage at White Oak
Bridge against 27,000 Confederates, including Wright; and a detached
force of infantry and guns was posted at Brackett’s Ford.[9] On the
Confederate artillery opening fire, two
brigades were sent up from near Glendale, but when it was found that
this fire was not followed up by an infantry attack, these brigades,
with two others in addition, were sent over to reinforce the troops
which were engaged with Longstreet. When these facts became known; when
it was clear that had Jackson attacked vigorously, the Federals would
hardly have dared to weaken their line along White Oak Swamp, and that,
in these circumstances, Longstreet and A. P. Hill would probably have
seized the Quaker road, his failure to cross the creek exposed him to
criticism. Not only did his brother-generals complain of his inaction,
but Franklin, the Federal commander immediately opposed to him, writing
long afterwards, made the following comments:—
“Jackson seems to have been ignorant of what General Lee expected of
him, and badly informed about Brackett’s Ford. When he found how
strenuous was our defence at the bridge, he should have turned his
attention to Brackett’s Ford also. A force could have been as quietly
gathered there as at the bridge; a strong infantry movement at the ford
would have easily overrun our small force there, placing our right at
Glendale, held by Slocum’s division, in great jeopardy, and turning our
force at the bridge by getting between it and Glendale. In fact, it is
likely that we should have been defeated that day had General Jackson
done what his great reputation seems to make it imperative he should
have done.”[10] But General Franklin’s opinion as to the ease with
which Brackett’s Ford might have been passed is not justified by the
facts. In the first place, General Slocum, who was facing Huger, and
had little to do throughout the day, had two brigades within easy
distance of the crossing; in the second place, General Wright reported
the ford impassable; and in the third place, General Franklin himself
admits that directly Wright’s scouts were seen near the ford two
brigades of Sedgwick’s division were sent to oppose their passage.
General Long, in his life of Lee, finds excuse for Jackson in a story
that he was utterly exhausted, and that
his staff let him sleep until the sun was high. Apart from the
unlikelihood that a man who seems to have done without sleep whenever
the enemy was in front should have permitted himself to be overpowered
at such a crisis, we have Colonel Munford’s evidence that the general
was well in advance of his columns at sunrise, and the regimental
reports show that the troops were roused at 2.30 a.m.
Jackson may well have been exhausted. He had certainly not spared
himself during the operations. On the night of the 27th, after the
battle of Gaines’ Mill, he went over to Stuart’s camp at midnight, and
a long conference took place. At 8.30 on the morning of the 29th he
visited Magruder, riding across Grapevine Bridge from McGehee’s House,
and his start must have been an early one. In a letter to his wife,
dated near the White Oak Bridge, he says that in consequence of the
heavy rain he rose “about midnight” on the 30th. Yet his medical
director, although he noticed that the general fell asleep while he was
eating his supper the same evening, says that he never saw him more
active and energetic than during the engagement;[11] and Jackson
himself, neither in his report nor elsewhere, ever admitted that he was
in any way to blame.
It is difficult to conceive that his scrupulous regard for truth,
displayed in every action of his life, should have yielded in this one
instance to his pride. He was perfectly aware of the necessity of
aiding Longstreet; and if, owing to the obstacles enumerated in his
report, he thought the task impossible, his opinion, as that of a man
who as difficulties accumulated became the more determined to overcome
them, must be regarded with respect. The critics, it is possible, have
forgotten for the moment that the condition of the troops is a factor
of supreme importance in military operations. General D. H. Hill has
told us that “Jackson’s own corps was worn out by long and exhausting
marches, and reduced in numbers by numerous sanguinary battles;”[12]
and he records his conviction that pity for his
troops had much to do with the general’s inaction. Hill would have
probably come nearer the truth if he had said that the tired regiments
were hardly to be trusted in a desperate assault, unsupported by
artillery, on a position which was even stronger than that which they
had stormed with such loss at Gaines’ Mill.
Had Jackson thrown two columns across the fords—which the cavalry,
according to Munford, had not found easy,—and attempted to deploy on
the further bank, it was exceedingly probable that they would have been
driven back with tremendous slaughter. The refusal of the troops to
work at the bridge under fire was in itself a sign that they had little
stomach for hard fighting.
It may be argued that it was Jackson’s duty to sacrifice his command in
order to draw off troops from Glendale. But on such unfavourable ground
the sacrifice would have been worse than useless. The attack
repulsed—and it could hardly have gone otherwise—Franklin, leaving a
small rear-guard to watch the fords, would have been free to turn
nearly his whole strength against Longstreet. It is quite true, as a
tactical principle, that demonstrations, such as Jackson made with his
artillery, are seldom to be relied upon to hold an enemy in position.
When the first alarm has passed off, and the defending general becomes
aware that nothing more than a feint is intended, he will act as did
the Federals, and employ his reserves elsewhere. A vigorous attack is,
almost invariably, the only means of keeping him to his ground. But an
attack which is certain to be repulsed, and to be repulsed in quick
time, is even less effective than a demonstration. It may be the
precursor of a decisive defeat.
But it is not so much for his failure to force the passage at White Oak
Swamp that Jackson has been criticised, as for his failure to march to
Frayser’s Farm on finding that the Federal position was impregnable.
“When, on the forenoon of the 30th,” writes Longstreet, “Jackson found
his way blocked by Franklin, he had time to march to the head of it
(White Oak Swamp), and across to the Charles City road, in season for
the engagement at
Frayser’s Farm [Glendale], the distance being about four miles.”[13]
Without doubt this would have been a judicious course to pursue, but it
was not for Jackson to initiate such a movement. He had been ordered by
General Lee to move along the road to White Oak Swamp, to endeavour to
force his way to the Long Bridge road, to guard Lee’s left flank from
any attack across the fords or bridges of the lower Chickahominy, and
to keep on that road until he received further orders. These further
orders he never received; and it was certainly not his place to march
to the Charles City road until Lee, who was with Longstreet, sent him
instructions to do so. “General Jackson,” says Dr. McGuire, “demanded
of his subordinates implicit, blind obedience. He gave orders in his
own peculiar, terse, rapid way, and he did not permit them to be
questioned. He obeyed his own superiors in the same fashion. At White
Oak Swamp he was looking for some message from General Lee, but he
received none, and therefore, as a soldier, he had no right to leave
the road which had been assigned to him. About July 18, 1862, the night
before we started to Gordonsville, Crutchfield, Pendleton (assistant
adjutant-general), and myself were discussing the campaign just
finished. We were talking about the affair at Frayser’s Farm, and
wondering if it would have been better for Jackson with part of his
force to have moved to Longstreet’s aid. The general came in while the
discussion was going on, and curtly said: ‘If General Lee had wanted me
he could have sent for me.’ It looked the day after the battle, and it
looks to me now, that if General Lee had sent a staff officer, who
could have ridden the distance in forty minutes, to order Jackson with
three divisions to the cross roads, while D. H. Hill and the artillery
watched Franklin, we should certainly have crushed McClellan’s army. If
Lee had wanted Jackson to give direct support to Longstreet, he could
have had him there in under three hours. The staff officer was not
sent, and the evidence is that General Lee believed Longstreet strong
enough to defeat the Federals without
direct aid from Jackson.”[14] Such reasoning appears incontrovertible.
Jackson, be it remembered, had been directed to guard the left flank of
the army “until further orders.” Had these words been omitted, and he
had been left free to follow his own judgment, it is possible that he
would have joined Huger on the Charles City road with three divisions.
But in all probability he felt himself tied down by the phrase which
Moltke so strongly reprobates. Despite Dr. McGuire’s statement Jackson
knew well that disobedience to orders may sometimes be condoned. It may
be questioned whether he invariably demanded “blind” obedience.
“General,” said an officer, “you blame me for disobedience of orders,
but in Mexico you did the same yourself.” “But I was successful,” was
Jackson’s reply; as much as to say that an officer, when he takes upon
himself the responsibility of ignoring the explicit instructions of his
superior, must be morally certain that he is doing what that superior,
were he present, would approve. Apply this rule to the situation at
White Oak Swamp. For anything Jackson knew it was possible that
Longstreet and Hill might defeat the Federals opposed to them without
his aid. In such case, Lee, believing Jackson to be still on the left
flank, would have ordered him to prevent the enemy’s escape by the Long
Bridge. What would Lee have said had his “further orders” found Jackson
marching to the Charles City road, with the Long Bridge some miles in
rear? The truth is that the principle of marching to the sound of the
cannon, though always to be borne in mind, cannot be invariably
followed. The only fair criticism on Jackson’s conduct is that he
should have informed Lee of his inability to force the passage across
the Swamp, and have held three divisions in readiness to march to
Glendale. This, so far as can be ascertained, was left undone, but the
evidence is merely negative.
Except for this apparent omission, it cannot be fairly said that
Jackson was in the slightest degree responsible for the failure of the
Confederate operations. If the truth be told, Lee’s design was by no
means
perfect. It had two serious defects. In the first place, it depended
for success on the co-operation of several converging columns, moving
over an intricate country, of which the Confederates had neither
accurate maps nor reliable information. The march of the columns was
through thick woods, which not only impeded intercommunication, but
provided the enemy with ample material for obstructing the roads, and
Jackson’s line of march was barred by a formidable obstacle in White
Oak Swamp, an admirable position for a rear-guard. In the second place,
concentration at the decisive point was not provided for. The staff
proved incapable of keeping the divisions in hand. Magruder was
permitted to wander to and fro after the fashion of D’Erlon between
Quatre Bras and Ligny. Holmes was as useless as Grouchy at Waterloo.
Huger did nothing, although some of his brigades, when the roads to the
front were found to be obstructed, might easily have been drawn off to
reinforce Longstreet. The cavalry had gone off on a raid to the White
House, instead of crossing the Chickahominy and harassing the enemy’s
eastward flank; and at the decisive point only two divisions were
assembled, 20,000 men all told, and these two divisions attacked in
succession instead of simultaneously. Had Magruder and Holmes, neither
of whom would have been called upon to march more than thirteen miles,
moved on Frayser’s Farm, and had part of Huger’s division been brought
over to the same point, the Federals would in all probability have been
irretrievably defeated. It is easy to be wise after the event. The
circumstances were extraordinary. An army of 75,000 men was pursuing an
army of 95,000, of which 65,000, when the pursuit began, were perfectly
fresh troops. The problem was, indeed, one of exceeding difficulty;
but, in justice to the reputation of his lieutenants, it is only fair
to say that Lee’s solution was not a masterpiece.
During the night which followed the battle of Frayser’s Farm the whole
Federal army fell back on Malvern Hill—a strong position, commanding
the country for many miles, and very difficult of access, on which the
reserve artillery,
supported by the Fourth and Fifth Corps, was already posted.
July 1 The Confederates, marching at daybreak, passed over roads which
were strewn with arms, blankets, and equipments. Stragglers from the
retreating army were picked up at every step. Scores of wounded men lay
untended by the roadside. Waggons and ambulances had been abandoned;
and with such evidence before their eyes it was difficult to resist the
conviction that the enemy was utterly demoralised. That McClellan had
seized Malvern Hill, and that it was strongly occupied by heavy guns,
Lee was well aware. But, still holding to his purpose of annihilating
his enemy before McDowell could intervene from Fredericksburg, he
pushed forward, determined to attack; and with his whole force now well
in hand the result seemed assured. Three or four miles south of White
Oak Swamp Jackson’s column, which was leading the Confederate advance,
came under the fire of the Federal batteries. The advanced guard
deployed in the woods on either side of the road, and Lee, accompanied
by Jackson, rode forward to reconnoitre.
Malvern Hill, a plateau rising to the height of 150 feet above the
surrounding forests, possessed nearly every requirement of a strong
defensive position. The open ground on the top, undulating and
unobstructed, was a mile and a half in length by half a mile in
breadth. To the north, north-west, and north-east it fell gradually,
the slopes covered with wheat, standing or in shock, to the edge of the
woods, which are from eight to sixteen hundred yards distant from the
commanding crest. The base of the hill, except to the east and
south-east, was covered with dense forest; and within the forest, at
the foot of the declivity, ran a tortuous and marshy stream. The right
flank was partially protected by a long mill-dam. The left, more open,
afforded an excellent artillery position overlooking a broad stretch of
meadows, drained by a narrow stream and deep ditches, and flanked by
the fire of several gunboats. Only three approaches, the Quaker and the
river roads, and a track from the north-west, gave access to the
heights.
The reconnaissance showed that General Porter, commanding the defence,
had utilised the ground to the best advantage. A powerful artillery,
posted just in rear of the crest, swept the entire length of the
slopes, and under cover in rear were dense masses of infantry, with a
strong line of skirmishers pushed down the hill in front.
Nevertheless, despite the formidable nature of the Federal
preparations, orders were immediately issued for attack. General Lee,
who was indisposed, had instructed Longstreet to reconnoitre the
enemy’s left, and to report whether attack was feasible. Jackson was
opposed to a frontal attack, preferring to turn the enemy’s right.
Longstreet, however, was of a different opinion. “The spacious open,”
he says, “along Jackson’s front appeared to offer a field for play of a
hundred or more guns. . . . I thought it probable that Porter’s
batteries, under the cross-fire of the Confederates’ guns posted on his
left and front, could be thrown into disorder, and thus make way for
the combined assaults of the infantry. I so reported, and General Lee
ordered disposition accordingly, sending the pioneer corps to cut a
road for the right batteries.”[15]
4 p.m. It was not till four o’clock that the line of battle was formed.
Jackson was on the left, with Whiting to the left of the Quaker road,
and D. H. Hill to the right; Ewell’s and Jackson’s own divisions were
in reserve. Nearly half a mile beyond Jackson’s right came two of
Huger’s brigades, Armistead and Wright, and to Huger’s left rear was
Magruder. Holmes, still on the river road, was to assail the enemy’s
left. Longstreet and A. P. Hill were in reserve behind Magruder, on the
Long Bridge road.
The deployment of the leading divisions was not effected without loss,
for the Federal artillery swept all the roads and poured a heavy fire
into the woods; but at length D. H. Hill’s infantry came into line
along the edge of the timber.
The intervening time had been employed in bringing the artillery to the
front; and now were seen the tremendous difficulties which confronted
the attack. The swamps
and thickets through which the batteries had to force their way were
grievous impediments to rapid or orderly movement, and when they at
last emerged from the cover, and unlimbered for action, the
concentrated fire of the Federal guns overpowered them from the outset.
In front of Huger four batteries were disabled in quick succession, the
enemy concentrating fifty or sixty guns on each of them in turn; four
or five others which Jackson had ordered to take post on the left of
his line, although, with two exceptions, they managed to hold their
ground, were powerless to subdue the hostile fire. “The obstacles,”
says Lee in his report, “presented by the woods and swamp made it
impracticable to bring up a sufficient amount of artillery to oppose
successfully the extraordinary force of that arm employed by the enemy,
while the field itself afforded us few positions favourable for its use
and none for its proper concentration.”
According to Longstreet, when the inability of the batteries to prepare
the way for the infantry was demonstrated by their defeat, Lee
abandoned the original plan of attack. “He proposed to me to move
“round to the left with my own and A. P. Hill’s division, and turn the
Federal right.” I issued my orders accordingly for the two divisions to
go around and turn the Federal right, when in some way unknown to me
the battle was drawn on.”[16]
Unfortunately, through some mistake on the part of Lee’s staff, the
order of attack which had been already issued was not rescinded. It was
certainly an extraordinary production. “Batteries,” it ran, “have been
established to rake the enemy’s line. If it is broken, as is probable,
Armistead, who can witness the effect of the fire, has been ordered to
charge with a yell. Do the same.”[17] This was to D. H. Hill and to
Magruder, who had under his command Huger’s and McLaws’ divisions as
well as his own.
5.30 p.m. So, between five and six o’clock, General D. H. Hill,
believing that he heard the appointed signal, broke forward from the
timber, and five brigades, in one irregular line, charged full against
the enemy’s front. The
Federals, disposed in several lines, were in overwhelming strength.
Their batteries were free to concentrate on the advancing infantry.
Their riflemen, posted in the interval between the artillery masses,
swept the long slopes with a grazing fire, while fence, bank, and
ravine, gave shelter from the Confederate bullets. Nor were the
enormous difficulties which confronted the attack in any way mitigated
by careful arrangement on the part of the Confederate staff. The only
hope of success, if success were possible, lay in one strong
concentrated effort; in employing the whole army; in supporting the
infantry with artillery, regardless of loss, at close range; and in
hurling a mass of men, in several successive lines, against one point
of the enemy’s position. It is possible that the Federal army, already
demoralised by retreat, might have yielded to such vigorous pressure.
But in the Confederate attack there was not the slightest attempt at
concentration. The order which dictated it gave an opening to
misunderstanding; and, as is almost invariably the case when orders are
defective, misunderstanding occurred. The movement was premature.
Magruder had only two brigades of his three divisions, Armistead’s and
Wright’s, in position. Armistead, who was well in advance of the
Confederate right, was attacked by a strong body of skirmishers. D. H.
Hill took the noise of this conflict for the appointed signal, and
moved forward. The divisions which should have supported him had not
yet crossed the swamp in rear; and thus 10,500 men, absolutely unaided,
advanced against the whole Federal army. The blunder met with terrible
retribution. On that midsummer evening death reaped a fearful harvest.
The gallant Confederate infantry, nerved by their success at Gaines’
Mill, swept up the field with splendid determination. “It was the onset
of battle,” said a Federal officer present, “with the good order of a
review.” But the iron hail of grape and canister, laying the ripe wheat
low as if it had been cut with a sickle, and tossing the shocks in air,
rent the advancing lines from end to end. Hundreds fell, hundreds
swarmed back to the woods, but still the brigades pressed on, and
through the smoke of battle
the waving colours led the charge. But the Federal infantry had yet to
be encountered. Lying behind their shelter they had not yet fired a
shot; but as the Confederates reached close range, regiment after
regiment, springing to their feet, poured a devastating fire into the
charging ranks. The rush was checked. Here and there small bodies of
desperate men, following the colours, still pressed onward, but the
majority lay down, and the whole front of battle rang with the roar of
musketry. But so thin was the Confederate line that it was impossible
to overcome the sustained fire of the enemy. The brigade reserves had
already been thrown in; there was no further support at hand; the
Federal gunners, staunch and resolute, held fast to their position, and
on every part of the line Porter’s reserves were coming up. As one
regiment emptied its cartridge-boxes it was relieved by another. The
volume of fire never for a moment slackened; and fresh batteries,
amongst which were the 32-pounders of the siege train, unlimbering on
the flanks, gave further strength to a front which was already
impregnable.
[Illustration: Map of the Battle of Malvern Hill.]
Jackson, meanwhile, on receiving a request for reinforcements, had sent
forward three brigades of his own division and a brigade of Hill’s. But
a mistake had been committed in the disposition of these troops. The
order for attack had undoubtedly named only D. H. Hill’s division. But
there was no good reason that it should have been so literally
construed as to leave the division unsupported. Whiting was guarding
the left flank, and was not available; but Ewell and Winder were doing
nothing, and there can be no question but that they should have
advanced to the edge of the woods directly D. H. Hill moved forward,
and have followed his brigades across the open, ready to lend aid
directly his line was checked. As it was, they had been halted within
the woods and beyond the swamp, and the greater part, in order to avoid
the random shells, had moved even further to the rear. It thus happened
that before the reinforcements arrived Hill’s division had been beaten
back, and under the tremendous fire of the Federal artillery it was
with difficulty that the border of the forest was maintained.
While Hill was retiring, Huger, and then Magruder, came into action on
the right. It had been reported to Lee that the enemy was beginning to
fall back. This report originated, there can be little doubt, in the
withdrawal of the Federal regiments and batteries which had exhausted
their ammunition and were relieved by others; but, in any case, it was
imperative that D. H. Hill should be supported, and the other divisions
were ordered forward with all speed. Huger’s and Magruder’s men
attacked with the same determination as had been displayed by Hill’s,
but no better success attended their endeavours. The brigades were not
properly formed when the order arrived, but scattered over a wide
front, and they went in piecemeal. Magruder’s losses were even greater
than Hill’s; and with his defeat the battle ceased.
Had the Federals followed up the repulse with a strong counter-attack
the victory of Malvern Hill might have been more decisive than that of
Gaines’ Mill. It is true that neither Longstreet nor A. P. Hill had
been engaged, and that three of Jackson’s divisions, his own, Whiting’s
and Ewell’s, had suffered little. But Magruder and D. H. Hill, whose
commands included at least 30,000 muskets, one half of Lee’s infantry,
had been completely crushed, and Holmes on the river road was too far
off to lend assistance. The fatal influence of a continued retreat had
paralysed, however, the initiative of the Federal generals. Intent only
on getting away unscathed, they neglected, like McClellan at Gaines’
Mill, to look for opportunities, forgetting that when an enemy is
pursuing in hot haste he is very apt to expose himself. Jackson had
acted otherwise at Port Republic.
The loss of over 5,000 men was not the worst which had befallen the
Confederates. “The next morning by dawn,” says one of Ewell’s
brigadiers, “I went off to ask for orders, when I found the whole army
in the utmost disorder—thousands of straggling men were asking every
passer-by for their regiments; ambulances, waggons, and artillery
obstructing every road, and altogether, in a drenching rain, presenting
a scene of the most woeful and disheartening
confusion.”[18] The reports of other officers corroborate General
Trimble’s statement, and there can be no question that demoralisation
had set in. Whether, if the Federals had used their large reserves with
resolution, and, as the Confederates fell back down the slopes, had
followed with the bayonet, the demoralisation would not have increased
and spread, must remain in doubt. Not one of the Southern generals
engaged has made public his opinion. There is but one thing certain,
that with an opponent so blind to opportunity as McClellan a strong
counterstroke was the last thing to be feared. After witnessing the
opening of the attack, the Federal commander, leaving the control of
the field to Porter, had ridden off to Harrison’s Landing, eight miles
down the James, whither his trains, escorted by the Fourth Army Corps,
had been directed, and where he had determined to await reinforcements.
The Federal troops, moreover, although they had withstood the charge of
the Confederate infantry with unbroken ranks, had not fought with the
same spirit as they had displayed at Gaines’ Mill. General Hunt,
McClellan’s chief of artillery, to whose admirable disposition of the
batteries the victory was largely due, wrote that “the battle was
desperately contested, and frequently trembled in the balance. The last
attack . . . was nearly successful; but we won from the fact that we
had kept our reserves in hand.”[19] Nor had McClellan much confidence
in his army. “My men,” he wrote to Washington on the morning of the
battle, “are completely exhausted, and I dread the result if we are
attacked to-day by fresh troops. If possible, I shall retire to-night
to Harrison’s Landing, where the gunboats can render more aid in
covering our position. Permit me to urge that not an hour should be
lost in sending me fresh troops. More gunboats are much needed. . . . I
now pray for time. My
men have proved themselves the equals of any troops in the world, but
they are worn out. Our losses have been very great, we have failed to
win only because overpowered by superior numbers.”[20]
Surely a more despairing appeal was never uttered. The general, whose
only thought was “more gunboats and fresh troops,” whatever may have
been the condition of his men, had reached the last stage of
demoralisation.
The condition to which McClellan was reduced seems to have been
realised by Jackson. The crushing defeat of his own troops failed to
disturb his judgment. Whilst the night still covered the battle-field,
his divisional generals came to report the condition of their men and
to receive instructions. “Every representation,” says Dabney, “which
they made was gloomy.” At length, after many details of losses and
disasters, they concurred in declaring that McClellan would probably
take the aggressive in the morning, and that the Confederate army was
in no condition to resist him. Jackson had listened silently, save when
he interposed a few brief questions, to all their statements; but now
he replied: “No; he will clear out in the morning.”
July 2 The forecast was more than fulfilled. When morning dawned, grey,
damp, and cheerless, and the Confederate sentinels, through the cold
mist which rose from the sodden woods, looked out upon the
battle-field, they saw that Malvern Hill had been abandoned. Only a few
cavalry patrols rode to and fro on the ground which had been held by
the Federal artillery, and on the slopes below, covered with hundreds
of dead and dying men, the surgeons were quietly at work. During the
night the enemy had fallen back to Harrison’s Landing, and
justification for Lee’s assault at Malvern Hill may be found in the
story of the Federal retreat. The confusion of the night march,
following on a long series of fierce engagements, told with terrible
effect on the _moral_ of the men, and stragglers increased at every
step. “It was like the retreat,” said one of McClellan’s generals, “of
a whipped army. We retreated like a parcel of sheep, and a
few shots from the rebels would have panic-stricken the whole
command.”[21] At length, through blinding rain, the flotilla of
gunboats was discovered, and on the long peninsula between Herring Run
and the James the exhausted army reached a resting-place. But so great
was the disorder, that during the whole of that day nothing was done to
prepare a defensive position; a ridge to the north, which commanded the
whole camp, was unoccupied; and, according to the Committee of Congress
which took evidence on the conduct of the war, “nothing but a heavy
rain, thereby preventing the enemy from bringing up their artillery,
saved the army from destruction.”[22] McClellan’s own testimony is even
more convincing. “The army,” he wrote on July 8, the second day after
the battle, “is thoroughly worn out and requires rest and very heavy
reinforcements. . . . I am in hopes that the enemy is as completely
worn out as we are. . . . The roads are now very bad; for these reasons
I hope we shall have enough breathing space to reorganise and rest the
men, and get them into position before the enemy can attack again. . .
. It is of course impossible to estimate as yet our losses, but I doubt
whether there are to-day more than 50,000 men with the colours.”[23]
As his army of 105,000 men, during the whole of the Seven Days, lost
only 16,000, the last admission, if accurate, is most significant.
Nearly half the men must either have been sick or straggling.
It was not because the Confederates were also worn out that the
Federals were given time to reorganise and to establish themselves in a
strong position. Jackson, the moment it was light, rode through the
rain to the front. Learning that the enemy had evacuated their
position, he ordered his chief of staff to get the troops under arms,
to form the infantry in three lines of battle, and then to allow the
men to build fires, cook their rations, and dry their clothes. By 11
o’clock the ammunition had been
replenished, and his four divisions were formed up. Longstreet’s
brigades had pushed forward a couple of miles, but no orders had
reached the Valley troops, and Major Dabney rode off to find his
general. “I was told,” he writes, “that he was in the Poindexter House,
a large mansion near Willis’ Church. Lee, Jackson, Dr. McGuire, and
Major Taylor of Lee’s staff, and perhaps others, were in the
dining-room. Asking leave to report to General Jackson that his orders
had been fulfilled, I was introduced to General Lee, who, with his
usual kindness, begged me to sit by the fire and dry myself. Here I
stayed much of the day, and witnessed some strange things. Longstreet,
wet and muddy, was the first to enter. He had ridden round most of the
battle-field, and his report was not particularly cheerful. Jackson was
very quiet, never volunteering any counsel or suggestion, but answering
when questioned in a brief, deferential tone. His countenance was very
serious, and soon became very troubled. After a time the clatter of
horses’ hoofs was heard, and two gentlemen came in, dripping. They were
the President and his nephew. Davis and Lee then drew to the table, and
entered into an animated military discussion. Lee told the President
the news which the scouts were bringing in, of horrible mud, and of
abandoned arms and baggage waggons. They then debated at length what
was to be done next. McClellan was certainly retiring, but whether as
beaten or as only manœuvring was not apparent, nor was the direction of
his retreat at all clear. Was he aiming for some point on the lower
James where he might embark and get away? or at some point on the upper
James—say Shirley, or Bermuda Hundred—where he could cross the river
(he had pontoons and gunboats) and advance on Richmond from the south?
Such were the questions which came up, and at length it was decided
that the army should make no movement until further information had
been received. The enemy was not to be pursued until Stuart’s cavalry,
which had arrived the previous evening at Nance’s Shop, should obtain
reliable information.
“Jackson, meanwhile, sat silent in his corner. I
watched his face. The expression, changing from surprise to dissent,
and lastly to intense mortification, showed clearly the tenor of his
thoughts. He knew that McClellan was defeated, that he was retreating
and not manœuvring. He knew that his troops were disorganised, that
sleeplessness, fasting, bad weather, and disaster must have weakened
their _moral_. He heard it said by General Lee that the scouts reported
the roads so deep in mud that the artillery could not move, that our
men were wet and wearied. But Jackson’s mind reasoned that where the
Federals could march the Confederates could follow, and that a decisive
victory was well worth a great effort.”[24]
July 3 The decision of the council of war was that the army should move
the next morning in the direction of Harrison’s Landing. Longstreet,
whose troops had not been engaged at Malvern Hill, was to lead the way.
But the operations of this day were without result. The line of march
was by Carter’s Mill and the river road. But after the troops had been
set in motion, it was found that the river road had been obstructed by
the enemy, and Lee directed Longstreet to countermarch to the Charles
City cross roads and move on Evelington Heights.[25] But ignorance of
the country and inefficient guides once more played into the enemy’s
hands, and when night closed the troops were still some distance from
the Federal outposts.
The delay had been exceedingly unfortunate. At 9 a.m. Stuart’s cavalry
had occupied the Evelington Heights, and, believing that Longstreet was
close at hand, had opened fire with a single howitzer on the camps
below. The consternation caused by this unlooked-for attack was great.
But the Federals soon recovered from their surprise, and, warned as to
the danger of their situation, sent out infantry and artillery to drive
back the enemy and secure the heights. Stuart, dismounting his
troopers, held on for some time; but at two o’clock, finding that the
Confederate infantry was still six or seven miles distant,
and that his ammunition was failing, he gave up the Heights, which were
immediately fortified by the enemy. Had the cavalry commander resisted
the temptation of spreading panic in the enemy’s ranks, and kept his
troops under cover, infantry and artillery might possibly have been
brought up to the Heights before they were occupied by the Federals. In
any case, it was utterly useless to engage a whole army with one gun
and a few regiments of cavalry, and in war, especially in advanced
guard operations, silence is often golden.[26] It was not till they
were warned by the fire of Stuart’s howitzer that the Federals realised
the necessity of securing and intrenching the Evelington Heights, and
it is within the bounds of possibility, had they been left undisturbed,
that they might have neglected them altogether. McClellan, according to
his letters already quoted, believed that the condition of the roads
would retard the advance of the enemy; and, as is evident from a letter
he wrote the same morning, before the incident took place, he was of
opinion that there was no immediate need for the occupation of a
defensive position.[27]
During this day the Valley divisions, crawling in rear of Longstreet,
had marched only three miles; and such sluggish progress, at so
critical a moment, put the climax to Jackson’s discontent. His wrath
blazed forth with unwonted vehemence. “That night,” says Dabney,[28]
“he was quartered in a farmhouse a mile or two east of Willis’ Church.
The soldier assigned to him as a guide made a most stupid report, and
admitted that he knew nothing of the road. Jackson turned on him in
fierce anger, and ordered him from his presence with threats of the
severest punishment. On retiring, he said to his staff, ‘Now,
gentlemen, Jim will have breakfast for you punctually at dawn. I expect
you to be up, to eat immediately, and be in the saddle without delay.
We must burn no more daylight.’ About daybreak I heard him tramping
down the stairs. I alone went out to meet him. All the rest were
asleep. He addressed me in
stern tones: ‘Major, how is it that this staff never will be punctual?’
I replied: ‘I am in time; I cannot control the others.’ Jackson turned
in a rage to the servant: ‘Put back that food into the chest, have that
chest in the waggon, and that waggon moving in two minutes.’ I
suggested, very humbly, that he had better at least take some food
himself. But he was too angry to eat, and repeating his orders, flung
himself into the saddle, and galloped off. Jim gave a low whistle,
saying: ‘My stars, but de general is just mad dis time; most like
lightnin’ strike him!’”
July 4 With the engagement on the Evelington Heights the fighting round
Richmond came to an end. When Lee came up with his advanced divisions
on the morning of the 4th, he found the pickets already engaged, and
the troops formed up in readiness for action. He immediately rode
forward with Jackson, and the two, dismounting, proceeded without staff
or escort to make a careful reconnaissance of the enemy’s position.
Their inspection showed them that it was practically impregnable. The
front, facing westward, was flanked from end to end by the fire of the
gunboats, and the Evelington Heights, already fortified, and approached
by a single road, were stronger ground than even Malvern Hill. The
troops were therefore withdrawn to the forest, and for the next three
days, with the exception of those employed in collecting the arms and
stores which the Federals had abandoned, they remained inactive.
July 8 On July 8, directing Stuart to watch McClellan, General Lee fell
back to Richmond.
The battles of the Seven Days cost the Confederates 20,000 men. The
Federals, although defeated, lost no more than 16,000, of whom 10,000,
nearly half of them wounded, were prisoners. In addition, however, 52
guns and 35,000 rifles became the prize of the Southerners; and vast as
was the quantity of captured stores, far greater was the amount
destroyed.
But the defeat of McClellan’s army is not to be measured by a mere
estimate of the loss in men and in materiel. The discomfited general
sought to cover his failure by a lavish employment of strategic
phrases. The
retreat to the James, he declared, had been planned before the battle
of Mechanicsville. He had merely manœuvred to get quit of an
inconvenient line of supply, and to place his army in a more favourable
position for attacking Richmond. He congratulated his troops on their
success in changing the line of operations, always regarded as the most
hazardous of military expedients. Their conduct, he said, ranked them
among the most celebrated armies of history. Under every disadvantage
of numbers, and necessarily of position also, they had in every
conflict beaten back their foes with enormous slaughter. They had
reached the new base complete in organisation and unimpaired in
spirit.[29]
It is possible that this address soothed the pride of his troops. It
certainly deluded neither his own people nor the South. The immediate
effect of his strategic manœuvre was startling.
5,000 men, the effective remnant of Shields’ division, besides several
new regiments, were sent to the Peninsula from the army protecting
Washington. General Burnside, who had mastered a portion of the North
Carolina coast, was ordered to suspend operations, to leave a garrison
in New Berne, and to bring the remainder of his army to Fortress
Monroe. Troops were demanded from General Hunter, who had taken the
last fort which defended Savannah, the port of Georgia.[30] The Western
army of the Union was asked to reinforce McClellan, and Lincoln called
on the Northern States for a fresh levy. But although 300,000 men were
promised him, the discouragement of the Northern people was so great
that recruits showed no alacrity in coming forward. The South, on the
other hand, ringing with the brilliant deeds of Lee and Jackson, turned
with renewed vigour to the task of resisting the invader. Richmond, the
beleaguered capital, although the enemy was in position not more than
twenty miles away, knew that her agony was over. The city was one vast
hospital. Many of the best and bravest of the Confederacy had fallen in
the Seven Days, and the voice of mourning hushed all sound
of triumph. But the long columns of prisoners, the captured cannon, the
great trains of waggons, piled high with spoil, were irrefragable proof
of the complete defeat of the invader.
When the army once more encamped within sight of the city it was
received as it deserved. Lee and Jackson were the special objects of
admiration. All recognised the strategic skill which had wrought the
overthrow of McClellan’s host; and the hard marches and sudden blows of
the campaign on the Shenandoah, crowned by the swift transfer of the
Valley army from the Blue Ridge to the Chickahominy, took fast hold of
the popular imagination. The mystery in which Jackson’s operations were
involved, the dread he inspired in the enemy, his reticence, his piety,
his contempt of comfort, his fiery energy, his fearlessness, and his
simplicity aroused the interest and enthusiasm of the whole community.
Whether Lee or his lieutenant was the more averse to posing before the
crowd it is difficult to say. Both succeeded in escaping all public
manifestation of popular favour; both went about their business with an
absolute absence of ostentation, and if the handsome features of the
Commander-in-Chief were familiar to the majority of the citizens, few
recognised in the plainly dressed soldier, riding alone through
Richmond, the great leader of the Valley, with whose praises not the
South only, but the whole civilised world, was already ringing.
[1] General Reynolds.
[2] Lee’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i, pp. 493, 494.
[3] This detachment, about 3,500 strong, consisted of the outposts
that had been established north and north-east of Beaver Dam Creek on
June 27, of the garrison of the White House, and of troops recently
disembarked.
[4] Strange to say, while the Confederates possessed no maps whatever,
McClellan was well supplied in this respect. “Two or three weeks
before this,” says General Averell (_Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p.
431), “three officers of the 3rd Pennsylvania Cavalry, and others,
penetrated the region between the Chickahominy and the James, taking
bearings and making notes. Their fragmentary sketches, when put
together, made a map which exhibited all the roadways, fields,
forests, bridges, the streams, and houses, so that our commander knew
the country to be traversed far better than any Confederate
commander.”
[5] Jackson had with him a gang of negroes who, under the
superintendence of Captain Mason, a railroad contractor of long
experience, performed the duties which in regular armies appertain to
the corps of engineers. They had already done useful service in the
Valley.
[6] O.R., vol. xi, part i, pp. 556, 557.
[7] “Jackson himself,” writes Dr. McGuire, “accompanied by three or
four members of his staff, of whom I was one, followed the cavalry
across the Swamp. The ford was miry and deep, and impracticable for
either artillery or infantry.”
[8] O.R., vol. xi, part i, pp. 810, 811.
[9] General Heintzleman, commanding the Federal 3rd Corps, reports
that he had placed a force at Brackett’s Ford (O.R., vol. xi, part ii,
p. 100). General Slocum (6th Corps) sent infantry and a 12-pounder
howitzer (O.R., volume xi, part ii, p. 435) to the same point; and
Seeley’s battery of the 3rd Corps was also engaged here (O.R., vol.
xi, part ii, p. 106). The force at White Oak Bridge was constituted as
follows:—
Smith’s Division
Richardson’s Division
Sedgwick’s Division (Dana’s and Sully’s Brigades)
Peck’s Division (Naglee’s Brigade) of the 6th Corps.
of the 2nd Corps.
of the 2nd Corps.
of the 4th Corps.
[10] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 381.
[11] Letter from Dr. Hunter McGuire to the author.
[12] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 389.
[13] _From Manassas to Appomattox,_ p. 150.
[14] Letter to the author.
[15] _From Manassas to Appomattox,_ p. 143.
[16] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 403.
[17] O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 677.
[18] Trimble’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 619.
[19] Three horse-batteries and eight 32-pr. howitzers were “brought up
to the decisive point at the close of the day, thus bringing every gun
of this large artillery force (the artillery reserve) into the most
active and decisive use. Not a gun remained unemployed: not one could
have been safely spared.—Hunt’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part ii, p.
239.
[20] O.R., vol. xi, part iii, p. 282.
[21] Report on the Conduct of the War, p. 580. General Hooker’s
evidence.
[22] Report on the Conduct of the War, p. 27.
[23] O.R., vol. xi, part i, pp. 291, 292.
[24] Letter to the author. Dr. McGuire writes to the same effect.
[25] Evelington Heights are between Rawling’s Mill Pond and Westover.
[26] The military student will compare the battles of Weissembourg,
Vionville, and Gravelotte in 1870, all of which began with a useless
surprise.
[27] O.R., vol. xi, part iii, pp. 291–2.
[28] Letter to the author.
[29] O.R., vol. xi, part iii, p. 299.
[30] The forces under Burnside and Hunter amounted to some 35,000 men.