CEDAR RUN
The victories in the Valley, the retreat of Banks, Shields, and
Frémont, followed by the victory of Gaines’ Mill, had raised the hopes
of the South to the highest pitch.
When McClellan fell back to the James the capture or destruction of his
army seemed a mere matter of time, and it was confidently expected that
a disaster of such magnitude would assuredly bring the North to terms.
But the slaughter of the Confederates at Malvern Hill, the unmolested
retreat of the enemy to Harrison’s Landing, the fortification of that
strong position, induced a more sober mood. The Northern soldiers had
displayed a courage for which the South had not yet given them credit.
On the last of the Seven Days they had fought almost as stubbornly as
on the first. Their losses had been heavy, but they had taught their
adversaries that they were no longer the unmanageable levies of Bull
Run, scattered by the first touch of disaster to the four winds. It was
no frail barrier which stood now between the South and her
independence, but a great army of trained soldiers, seasoned by
experience, bound together by discipline, and capable of withstanding a
long series of reverses. And when it became clear that McClellan,
backed by the fleet, had no intention of losing his grip on Richmond;
when the news came that Lincoln had asked for 300,000 fresh troops; and
that the Federal Army of the West, undisturbed by Lee’s victories, was
still advancing through Tennessee,[1] the power and persistency of the
North were revealed in all their huge proportions.
But the disappointment of the Southern people in no way abated their
gratitude. The troops drank their fill of praise. The deeds of the
Valley regiments were on every tongue. The Stonewall Brigade was the
most famous organisation in the Confederacy. To have marched with
Jackson was a sure passport to the good graces of every citizen. Envied
by their comrades, regarded as heroes by the admiring crowds that
thronged the camps, the ragged soldiers of the Shenandoah found ample
compensation for their labour. They had indeed earned the rest which
was now given them. For more than two months they had been marching and
fighting without cessation. Since they left Elk Run, on April 29, until
they fell back to the capital on July 8, their camps had never stood in
the same spot for more than four days in succession.
But neither they nor their general looked forward to a long sojourn
within the works round Richmond. The men pined for the fresh breezes of
their native highlands. The tainted atmosphere of a district which was
one vast battle-ground told upon their health, and the people of
Richmond, despite their kindness, were strangers after all. Nor was
Jackson less anxious to leave the capital. The heavy rain which had
deluged the bivouac on the Chickahominy had chilled him to the bone.
During the whole of the pursuit, from White Oak Swamp to Westover, he
had suffered from fever. But his longing for a move westward was
dictated by other motives than the restoration of his health. No sooner
had it become evident that McClellan’s position was impregnable than he
turned his thoughts to some more vulnerable point. He would allow the
enemy no respite. In his opinion there should be no “letting up” in the
attack. The North should be given no leisure to reorganise the armies
or to train recruits. A swift succession of fierce blows, delivered at
a vital point, was the only means of bringing the colossus to its
knees, and that vital point was far from Richmond.
Before the Confederate troops marched back to Richmond
he laid his views before the member of Congress for the Winchester
district, and begged Mr. Boteler to impress them on the Government.
“McClellan’s army,” he said, “was manifestly thoroughly beaten,
incapable of moving until it had been reorganised and reinforced. There
was danger,” he foresaw, “that the fruits of victory would be lost, as
they had been lost after Bull Run. The Confederate army should at once
leave the malarious district round Richmond, and moving northwards,
carry the horrors of invasion across the border. This,” he said, “was
the only way to bring the North to its senses, and to end the war. And
it was within the power of the Confederates, if they were to
concentrate their resources, to make a successful bid for victory.
60,000 men might march into Maryland and threaten Washington. But while
he was anxious that these views should be laid before the President, he
would earnestly disclaim the charge of self-seeking. He wished to
follow, and not to lead. He was willing to follow anyone—Lee, or Ewell,
or anyone who would fight.” “Why do you not urge your views,” asked Mr.
Boteler, “on General Lee?” “I have done so,” replied Jackson. “And what
does he say to them?” “He says nothing,” was the answer; “but do not
understand that I complain of this silence; it is proper that General
Lee should observe it. He is wise and prudent. He feels that he bears a
fearful responsibility, and he is right in declining a hasty expression
of his purpose to a subordinate like me.”[2]
Jackson was perfectly right in his estimate of the Federal army.
McClellan had 90,000 men, but 16,000 were sick, and he was still under
the delusion that he had been defeated by more than twice his numbers.
His letters to the President, it is true, betrayed no misgiving. He was
far from admitting that he had been defeated. His army, he wrote, was
now so favourably placed that an advance on Richmond was easy. He was
full of confidence. He was watching carefully for any fault committed
by the enemy, and would take advantage of it. The spirit of his
army, he declared, was such that he felt unable to restrain it from
speedily assuming the offensive. He had determined not to fall back
unless he was absolutely forced to do so. He was ready for a rapid and
heavy blow at Richmond. But to strike that blow he required heavy
reinforcements, and while waiting their arrival he was unwilling to
leave his strong position.[3]
Jackson’s views were considered by Mr. Davis. For the present, however,
they were disregarded. The situation, in the opinion of the Government,
was still critical. McClellan might be reinforced by sea. He might be
superseded by a more energetic commander, and the Federals might then
cross to the right bank of the James, cut the railways which connected
Richmond with the South, and turn the line of fortifications. The
losses of the Seven Days had reduced the Confederate strength to
60,000. Under such circumstances it was not considered safe to remove
the army from the capital. Jackson, however, was entrusted with a more
congenial duty than watching an enemy who, he was absolutely convinced,
had no intention of leaving his intrenchments.
July 13 His longing for active work was gratified by an order to march
westward. Lee, finding McClellan immovable, had recourse to his former
strategy. He determined to play once more on Lincoln’s fears. The Army
of Virginia, under the command of Pope, defended Washington. Would the
Northern Government, when the news came that Stonewall Jackson was
returning to the Shenandoah, deem this force sufficient to protect the
capital? Would they not rather think it necessary to recall McClellan?
The experiment was worth trying. After some delay in recovering from
the disorganisation caused by the disasters in the Valley, Pope had
assembled his army east of the Blue Ridge, near the sources of the
Rappahannock. Sperryvile, his advanced post, was no more than forty
miles north of the Virginia Central Railway, and his cavalry was
already advancing. It was essential that
the railway, the chief line of supply of the Confederate army, should
be protected; and Jackson was instructed to halt near Gordonsville.
July 16 On the 16th his leading brigades reached their destination.
Their arrival was opportune. The Federal cavalry, with a strong
infantry support, was already threatening Gordonsville. On learning,
however, that the town was occupied they at once fell back.
Jackson, as soon as his command was up, and he had had time to
ascertain the Federal strength, applied for reinforcements. His own
numbers were very small. The divisions of D. H. Hill and Whiting had
remained at Richmond. The Army of the Valley, reduced to its original
elements, was no more than 11,000 strong. Pope’s army consisted of
47,000 men.[4] But the Federals were scattered over a wide front.
Sigel, a German who had succeeded Frémont, was near Sperryville, and
Banks lay close to Sigel. Each of these officers commanded an army
corps of two divisions. Of McDowell’s army corps, Ricketts’ division
held Warrenton, twenty-five miles east of Banks; while King’s division
was retained at Fredericksburg, forty miles south-east of Ricketts’.
Such dispersion seemed to invite attack. Lee, however, found it
impossible to comply with his lieutenant’s request for such aid as
would enable him to assume the offensive. The army covering Richmond
was much smaller than McClellan’s, and the Confederates were aware that
a large reinforcement for the latter, under General Burnside, had
landed in the Peninsula. But assistance was promised in case Pope
advanced so far south that troops could be detached without risk to
Richmond. Pope, in fact, was too far off, and Jackson was to entice him
forward.
A week, however, passed away without any movement on the part of
McClellan. He knew that Lee’s army was diminished; and it was believed
at his headquarters that “Jackson had started towards the Valley with
60,000 to 80,000 troops.”[5] He knew that there was no large force
within ten miles of his outposts, and if the President would send him
20,000 or 30,000 more men he said that he was ready to march on
Richmond. But, as yet, he had not observed the opportunity for which,
according to his own account, he was so carefully watching. Pope was
far more enterprising. His cavalry had burned the railway depôt at
Beaver Dam, destroyed some Confederate stores, cut the line at several
points, and threatened Hanover Junction. Stuart, with his cavalry
division, was immediately sent northwards, and Lee ordered A. P. Hill
to Gordonsville.
Jackson’s letters to headquarters at this period are missing. But Lee’s
answers indicate the tenor of the views therein expressed. On July 27
the Commander-in-Chief wrote:—
“I have received your dispatch of the 26th instant. I will send A. P.
Hill’s division and the Second Brigade of Louisiana volunteers to you.
. . . I want Pope to be suppressed. . . . A. P. Hill you will, I think,
find a good officer, with whom you can consult, and by advising with
your division commanders as to your movements, much trouble will be
saved you in arranging details, and they can act more intelligently. I
wish to save you trouble from my increasing your command. Cache your
troops as much as possible till you can strike your blow, and be
prepared to return to me when done, if necessary. I will endeavour to
keep General McClellan quiet till it is over, if rapidly executed.”
Illustration: Map of the Environs of Warrenton, Virginia. For larger
view click on image.
This letter, besides containing a delicate hint that extreme reticence
is undesirable, evidently refers to some plan proposed by Jackson.
Whatever this may have been, it is certain that both he and Lee were in
close accord. They believed that the best method of protecting the
railway was, in Lee’s words, “to find the main body of the enemy and
drive it,” and they were agreed that there should be no more Malvern
Hills. “You are right,” says Lee on August 4, “in not attacking them in
their strong and chosen positions. They ought always to be turned as
you propose, and thus force them on to more favourable ground.”
At the end of July, about the same time that Hill
joined Jackson, Pope, under instructions from Washington, moved
forward. His cavalry occupied the line of Robertson River, within
twenty miles of the Confederate lines, and it became clear that he
intended advancing on Gordonsville. His infantry, however, had not yet
crossed Hazel Run, and Jackson, carefully concealing his troops,
remained on the watch for a few days longer. His anxiety, however, to
bring his enemy to battle was even greater than usual. Pope had already
gained an unenviable notoriety. On taking over command he had issued an
extraordinary address. His bombast was only equalled by his want of
tact. Not content with extolling the prowess of the Western troops,
with whom he had hitherto served, he was bitterly satirical at the
expense of McClellan and of McClellan’s army. “I have come to you,” he
said to his soldiers, “from the West, where we have always seen the
backs of our enemies—from an army whose business it has been to seek
the adversary, and beat him when found, whose policy has been attack
and not defence. . . . I presume that I have been called here to pursue
the same system, and to lead you against the enemy. It is my purpose to
do so, and that speedily. . . . Meantime, I desire you to dismiss from
your minds certain phrases, which I am sorry to find much in vogue
amongst you. I hear constantly of taking strong positions and holding
them—of lines of retreat and of bases of supplies. Let us discard such
ideas. . . . Let us study the probable line of retreat of our
opponents, and leave our own to take care of themselves. Let us look
before and not behind. Success and glory are in the advance. Disaster
and shame lurk in the rear.”[6]
Even the Northern press made sport of Pope’s “’Ercles vein,” and the
Confederates contrasted his noisy declamation with the modesty of Lee
and Jackson. To the South the new commander was peculiarly obnoxious.
He was the first of the Federal generals to order that the troops
should subsist upon the country, and that the people should be held
responsible for all damage done to roads, railways, and
telegraphs by guerillas. His orders, it is true, were warranted by the
practice of war. But “forced requisitions,” unless conducted on a
well-understood system, must inevitably degenerate into plunder and
oppression; and Pope, in punishing civilians, was not careful to
distinguish between the acts of guerillas and those of the regular
Confederate cavalry. “These orders,” says a Northern historian, “were
followed by the pillaging of private property, and by insults to
females to a degree unknown heretofore during the war.” But in
comparison with a third edict they were mild and humane. On July 23
Pope’s generals were instructed to arrest every Virginian within the
limits of their commands, to administer the oath of allegiance to the
Union, and to expel from their homes all those who refused to take it.
This order was preceded by one from General von Steinwehr, a German
brigadier, directing the arrest of five prominent citizens, to be held
as hostages, and to suffer death in the event of any soldiers being
shot by bushwhackers. The Confederate Government retaliated by
declaring that Pope and his officers were not entitled to be considered
as soldiers. If captured they were to be imprisoned so long as their
orders remained unrepealed; and in the event of any unarmed Confederate
citizens being tried and shot, an equal number of Federal prisoners
were to be hanged. It need hardly be added that the operations north of
Gordonsville were watched with peculiar interest by the South. “This
new general,” it was said to Jackson, “claims your attention.” “And,
please God, he shall have it,” was the reply.
Nevertheless, with all his peculiar characteristics, Pope was no
despicable foe. The Federal cavalry were employed with a boldness which
had not hitherto been seen. Their outposts were maintained twenty miles
in advance of the army. Frequent reconnaissances were made. A regiment
of Jackson’s cavalry was defeated at Orange Court House, with a loss of
60 or 70 men, and scouting parties penetrated to within a few miles of
Gordonsville. Even Banks was spurred to activity, and learned at last
that information is generally to be obtained
if it is resolutely sought.[7] Very little that occurred within the
Confederate lines escaped the vigilance of the enemy; and although
Jackson’s numbers were somewhat overestimated, Pope’s cavalry,
energetically led by two able young officers, Generals Buford and
Bayard, did far better service than McClellan’s detectives. Jackson had
need of all his prudence. Including the Light Division, his force
amounted to no more than 24,000 men; and if Pope handled his whole army
with as much skill as he used his cavalry, it would go hard with
Gordonsville. 24,000 men could hardly be expected to arrest the march
of 47,000 unless the larger force should blunder.
During the first week in August events began to thicken. Stuart made a
strong reconnaissance towards Fredericksburg, and administered a check
to the Federal scouting parties in that quarter. But McClellan threw
forward a division and occupied Malvern Hill, and it became evident
that Pope also was meditating a further advance.
Jackson, for the purpose of luring him forward, and also of concealing
Hill’s arrival, had drawn back his cavalry, and moved his infantry
south of Gordonsville. Pope was warned from Washington that this was
probably a ruse. His confidence, however, was not to be shaken. “Within
ten days,” he reported, “unless the enemy is heavily reinforced from
Richmond, I shall be in possession of Gordonsville and
Charlottesville.”
Although such an operation would carry Pope far from Washington there
was no remonstrance from headquarters. Lincoln and Stanton, mistrustful
at last of their ability as strategists, had called to their councils
General Halleck, who had shown some evidence of capacity while in
command of the Western armies. The new Commander-in-Chief had a
difficult problem to work out. It is impossible to determine how far
Jackson’s movement to Gordonsville influenced the Federal authorities,
but immediately on Halleck’s arrival
at Washington, about the same date that the movement was reported, he
was urged, according to his own account, to withdraw McClellan from the
Peninsula. “I delayed my decision,” he says, “as long as I dared delay
it;” but on August 3 his mind was made up, and McClellan, just after
Hill joined Jackson, was ordered to embark his army at Fortress Monroe,
sail to Aquia Creek, near Fredericksburg, and join Pope on the
Rappahannock. The proposed combination, involving the transfer by sea
of 90,000 men, with all their artillery and trains, was a manœuvre full
of danger.[8] The retreat and embarkation of McClellan’s troops would
take time, and the Confederates, possessing the interior lines, had two
courses open to them:—
1. Leaving Jackson to check Pope, they might attack McClellan as soon
as he evacuated his intrenched position at Harrison’s Landing.
2. They might neglect McClellan and concentrate against Pope before he
could be reinforced.
Halleck considered that attack on McClellan was the more likely, and
Pope was accordingly instructed to threaten Gordonsville, so as to
force Lee to detach heavily from Richmond, and leave him too weak to
strike the Army of the Potomac.
August 6 On August 6 Pope commenced his advance. Banks had pushed a
brigade of infantry from Sperryville to Culpeper Court House, and
Ricketts’ division (of McDowell’s corps) was ordered to cross the
Rappahannock at Waterloo Bridge and march to the same spot. Jackson,
whose spies had informed him of the enemy’s dispositions, received
early intelligence of Banks’ movement, and the next afternoon his three
divisions were ordered forward, marching by roads where there was no
chance of their being seen. “He hoped,” so he wrote to Lee, “through
the blessing of Providence, to defeat the advanced Federal detachment
before reinforcements should arrive.” This detachment was
his first objective; but he had long since recognised the strategic
importance of Culpeper Court House. At this point four roads meet, and
it was probable, from their previous dispositions, that the Federal
army corps would use three of these in their advance. Pope’s right wing
at Sperryville would march by Woodville and Griffinsburg. His centre
had already moved forward from Warrenton. His left wing at Falmouth,
north of Fredericksburg, would march by Bealeton and Brandy Station, or
by Richardsville and Georgetown. As all these roads were several miles
apart, and the lateral communications were indifferent, the three
columns, during the movement on Culpeper Court House, would be more or
less isolated; and if the Confederates could seize the point at which
the roads met, it might be possible to keep them apart, to prevent them
combining for action, and to deal with them in detail. Pope, in fact,
had embarked on a manœuvre which is always dangerous in face of a
vigilant and energetic enemy. Deceived by the passive attitude which
Jackson had hitherto maintained, and confident in the strength of his
cavalry, which held Robertson River, a stream some ten miles south of
Culpeper Court House, he had pushed a small force far in advance, and
was preparing to cross Hazel Run in several widely separated columns.
He had no apprehension that he might be attacked during the process.
Most generals in Jackson’s situation, confronted by far superior
numbers, would have been content with occupying a defensive position in
front of Gordonsville, and neither Pope nor Halleck had gauged as yet
the full measure of their opponent’s enterprise. So confident was the
Federal Commander-in-Chief that General Cox, with 11,000 men, was
ordered to march from Lewisburg, ninety miles south-west of Staunton,
to join Pope at Charlottesville.[9]
Jackson’s force was composed as follows:—
Jackson’s Own Division (commanded by Winder)
Ewell
A. P. Hill (The Light Division)
Cavalry 3,000 7,550 12,000 1,200 ——— 23,750 ———
Jackson was by no means displeased when he learned who was in command
of the Federal advance. “Banks is in front of me,” he said to Dr.
McGuire, “he is always ready to fight;” and then, laughing, he added as
if to himself, “and he generally gets whipped.”
The Confederate regiments, as a rule, were very weak. The losses of the
Seven Days, of Winchester, of Cross Keys, and of Port Republic had not
yet been replaced. Companies had dwindled down to sections. Brigades
were no stronger than full battalions, and the colonel was happy who
could muster 200 muskets. But the waste of the campaign was not
altogether an evil. The weak and sickly had been weeded out. The
faint-hearted had disappeared, and if many of the bravest had fallen
before Richmond, those who remained were hardy and experienced
soldiers. The army that lay round Gordonsville was the best that
Jackson had yet commanded. The horses, which had become almost useless
in the Peninsula, had soon regained condition on the rich pastures at
the foot of the South-west Mountains. Nearly every man had seen
service. The officers were no longer novices. The troops had implicit
confidence in their leaders, and their _moral_ was high. They had not
yet tasted defeat. Whenever they had met the enemy he had abandoned the
field of battle. With such troops much might be risked, and if the
staff was not yet thoroughly trained, the district in which they were
now operating was far less intricate than the Peninsula. As the troops
marched westward from Richmond, with their faces towards their own
mountains, the country grew more open, the horizon larger, and the
breezes purer. The dark forests disappeared. The clear streams, running
swiftly over rocky beds, were a welcome change from the swamps of the
Chickahominy. North of Gordonsville the spurs of the Blue Ridge,
breaking up into long chains of isolated hills, towered high above the
sunlit plains. The rude tracks of the Peninsula, winding through the
woods, gave place to broad and well-trodden highways. Nor did the
marches now depend upon the guidance of some casual rustic or terrified
negro. There were many in
the Confederate ranks who were familiar with the country; and the quick
pencil of Captain Hotchkiss, Jackson’s trusted engineer, who had
rejoined from the Valley, was once more at his disposal. Information,
moreover, was not hard to come by. The country was far more thickly
populated than the region about Richmond, and, notwithstanding Pope’s
harsh measures, he was unable to prevent the people communicating with
their own army. If the men had been unwilling to take the risk, the
women were quite ready to emulate the heroines of the Valley, and the
conduct of the Federal marauders had served only to inflame their
patriotism. Under such circumstances Jackson’s task was relieved of
half its difficulties. He was almost as much at home as on the
Shenandoah, and although there were no Massanuttons to screen his
movements, the hills to the north, insignificant as they might be when
compared with the great mountains which divide the Valley, might still
be turned to useful purpose.
August 7 On August 7, starting late in the afternoon, the Confederates
marched eight miles by a country track, and halted at Orange Court
House. Culpeper was still twenty miles distant, and two rivers, the
Rapidan and Robertson, barred the road. The Robertson was held by 5,000
or 6,000 Federal cavalry; five regiments, under General Buford, were
near Madison Court House; four, under General Bayard, near Rapidan
Station. East of the railway two more regiments held Raccoon Ford;
others watched the Rappahannock as far as Fredericksburg, and on
Thoroughfare Mountain, ten miles south-west of Culpeper, and commanding
a view of the surrounding country as far as Orange Court House, was a
signal station.
August 8 Early on the 8th, Ewell’s division crossed the Rapidan at
Liberty Mills, while the other divisions were ordered to make the
passage at Barnett’s Ford, six miles below. A forced march should have
carried the Confederates to within striking distance of Culpeper, and a
forced march was almost imperative. The cavalry had been in contact;
the advance must already have been reported to Pope, and within
twenty-four hours
the whole of the Federal army, with the exception of the division at
Fredericksburg, might easily be concentrated in a strong position.
Still there were no grounds for uneasiness. If the troops made sixteen
miles before nightfall, they would be before Culpeper soon after dawn,
and sixteen miles was no extraordinary march for the Valley regiments.
But to accomplish a long march in the face of the enemy, something is
demanded more than goodwill and endurance on the part of the men. If
the staff arrangements are faulty, or the subordinate commanders
careless, the best troops in the world will turn sluggards. It was so
on August 8. Jackson’s soldiers never did a worse day’s work during the
whole course of his campaigns. Even his energy was powerless to push
them forward. The heat, indeed, was excessive. Several men dropped dead
in the ranks; the long columns dragged wearily through the dust, and
the Federal cavalry was not easily pushed back. Guns and infantry had
to be brought up before Bayard’s dismounted squadrons were dislodged.
But the real cause of delay is to be found elsewhere. Not only did
General Hill misunderstand his orders, but, apparently offended by
Jackson’s reticence, he showed but little zeal. The orders were
certainly incomplete. Nothing had been said about the supply trains,
and they were permitted to follow their divisions, instead of moving in
rear of the whole force. Ewell’s route, moreover, was changed without
Hill being informed. The lines of march crossed each other, and Hill
was delayed for many hours by a long column of ambulances and waggons.
So tedious was the march that when the troops halted for the night,
Ewell had made eight miles, Hill only two, and the latter was still
eighteen miles from Culpeper. Chagrined by the delay, Jackson reported
to Lee that “he had made but little progress, and that the expedition,”
he feared, “in consequence of his tardy movements, would be productive
of little good.”
How the blame should be apportioned it is difficult to say. Jackson
laid it upon Hill. And that officer’s conduct
was undoubtedly reprehensible. The absence of Major Dabney, struck down
by sickness, is a possible explanation of the faulty orders. But that
Jackson would have done better to have accepted Lee’s hint, to have
confided his intentions to his divisional commanders, and to have
trusted something to their discretion, seems more than clear. In war,
silence is not invariably a wise policy. It was not a case in which
secrecy was all-important. The movement had already been discovered by
the Federal cavalry, and in such circumstances the more officers that
understood the intention of the general-in-chief the better. Men who
have been honoured with their leader’s confidence, and who grasp the
purpose of the efforts they are called upon to make, will co-operate,
if not more cordially, at least more intelligently, than those who are
impelled by the sense of duty alone.
As it was, so much time had been wasted that Jackson would have been
fully warranted in suspending the movement, and halting on the Rapidan.
The Federals were aware he was advancing. Their divisions were not so
far apart that they could not be concentrated within a few hours at
Culpeper, and, in approaching so close, he was entering the region of
uncertainty. Time was too pressing to admit of waiting for the reports
of spies. The enemy’s cavalry was far more numerous than his own, and
screened the troops in rear from observation. The information brought
in by the country people was not to be implicitly relied on; their
estimate of numbers was always vague, and it would be exceedingly
difficult to make sure that the force at Culpeper had not been strongly
reinforced. It was quite on the cards that the whole of Pope’s army
might reach that point in the course of the next day, and in that case
the Confederates would be compelled to retreat, followed by a superior
army, across two bridgeless rivers.
Nevertheless, the consideration of these contingencies had no effect on
Jackson’s purpose. The odds, he decided, were in his favour; and the
defeat of Pope’s army in detail, with all the consequences that might
follow, was worth risking much to bring about. It was still possible
that Pope might delay his concentration; it was still possible that an
opportunity might present itself; and, as he had done at Winchester in
March, when threatened by a force sevenfold stronger than his own, he
resolved to look for that opportunity before he renounced his
enterprise.
August 9 In speed and caution lay the only chance of success. The start
on the 9th was early. Hill, anxious to redeem his shortcomings, marched
long before daylight, and soon caught up with Ewell and Winder. Half of
the cavalry covered the advance; the remainder, screening the left
flank, scouted west and in the direction of Madison Court House. Two
brigades of infantry, Gregg’s and Lawton’s, were left in rear to guard
the trains, for the Federal horsemen threatened danger, and the army,
disembarrassed of the supply waggons, pressed forward across the
Rapidan. Pushing the Federal cavalry before them, the troops reached
Robertson River. The enemy’s squadrons, already worn out by incessant
reconnaissance and picket duty, were unable to dispute the passage, and
forming a single column, the three divisions crossed the Locustdale
Ford. Climbing the northern bank, the high-road to Culpeper, white with
dust, lay before them, and to their right front, little more than two
miles distant, a long wooded ridge, bearing the ominous name of
Slaughter Mountain, rose boldly from the plain.
Ewell’s division led the march, and shortly before noon, as the troops
swept past the western base of Slaughter Mountain, it was reported that
the Federal cavalry, massed in some strength, had come to a halt a mile
or two north, on the bank of a small stream called Cedar Run.
The Confederate guns opened, and the hostile cavalry fell back; but
from a distant undulation a Federal battery came into action, and the
squadrons, supported by this fire, returned to their old position.
Although Cedar Run was distant seven miles from Culpeper, it was
evident, from the attitude of the cavalry, that the enemy was inclined
to make a stand, and that in all probability Banks’ army corps was in
support.[10] Early’s brigade, forming the advanced
guard which had halted in a wood by the roadside, was now ordered
forward. Deploying to the right of the highway, it drove in the enemy’s
vedettes, and came out on the open ground which overlooks the stream.
Across the shallow valley, covered with the high stalks and broad
leaves of Indian corn, rose a loftier ridge, twelve hundred yards
distant, and from more than one point batteries opened on the
Confederate scouts. The regiments of the advanced guard were
immediately withdrawn to the reverse slope of the ridge, and Jackson
galloped forward to the mound of the guns. His dispositions had been
quickly made. A large force of artillery was ordered to come into
action on either flank of the advanced guard. Ewell’s division was
ordered to the right, taking post on the northern face of Slaughter
Mountain; Winder was ordered to the left, and Hill, as soon as he came
up, was to form the reserve, in rear of Winder. These movements took
time. The Confederate column, 20,000 infantry and fifteen batteries,
must have occupied more than seven miles of road; it would consequently
take over two hours for the whole force to deploy for battle.
2.45 p.m. Before three o’clock, however, the first line was formed. On
the right of the advanced guard, near a clump of cedars, were eight
guns, and on Slaughter Mountain eight more. Along the high-road to the
left six guns of Winder’s division were soon afterwards deployed,
reinforced by four of Hill’s. These twenty-six pieces, nearly the whole
of the long-range ordnance which the Confederates possessed, were
turned on the opposing batteries, and for nearly two hours the
artillery thundered across the valley. The infantry, meanwhile,
awaiting Hill’s arrival, had come into line. Ewell’s brigades,
Trimble’s, and the Louisianians (commanded by Colonel Forno) had halted
in the woods on the extreme right, at the base of the mountain,
threatening the enemy’s flank. Winder had come up on the left, and had
posted the Stonewall Brigade in rear of his guns; Campbell’s
brigade, under Lieutenant-Colonel Garnett, was stationed in front,
west, and Taliaferro’s brigade east, of the road. The 10,000 men of the
Light Division, however, were still some distance to the rear, and the
position was hardly secure against a counterstroke. The left of the
line extended along a skirt of woodland, which ran at right angles to
the road, overlooking a wheat-field but lately reaped, on the further
side of which, and three hundred yards distant, was dense wood. This
point was the most vulnerable, for there was no support at hand, and a
great tract of forest stretched away westward, where cavalry was
useless, but through which it was quite possible that infantry might
force its way. Jackson ordered Colonel Garnett, commanding the brigade
on this flank, “to look well to his left, and to ask his divisional
commander for reinforcements.” The brigadier sent a staff officer and
an orderly to reconnoitre the forest to the left, and two officers were
dispatched to secure the much-needed support.
But at this juncture General Winder was mortally wounded by a shell;
there was some delay in issuing orders, and before the weak place in
the line could be strengthened the storm broke. The enemy’s batteries,
five in number, although the concentrated fire of the Confederates had
compelled them to change position, had not yet been silenced. No large
force of Federal infantry had as yet appeared; skirmishers only had
pushed forward through the corn; but the presence of so many guns was a
clear indication that a strong force was not far off, and Jackson had
no intention of attacking a position which had not yet been
reconnoitred until his rear division had closed up, and the hostile
artillery had lost its sting.
5 p.m. About five o’clock, however, General Banks, although his whole
force, including Bayard’s cavalry, did not exceed 9,000 officers and
men,[11] and Ricketts’ division, in support, was four miles distant,
gave orders for a general attack.[12] Two brigades, crossing the rise
which formed the Federal position,
bore down on the Confederate centre, and strove to cross the stream.
Early was hard pressed, but, Taliaferro’s brigade advancing on his
left, he held his own; and on the highroad, raked by a Confederate gun,
the enemy was unable to push forward. But within the wood to the left,
at the very point where Jackson had advised precaution, the line of
defence was broken through. On the edge of the timber commanding the
wheatfield only two Confederate regiments were posted, some 500 men all
told, and the 1st Virginia, on the extreme left, was completely
isolated. The Stonewall Brigade, which should have been placed in
second line behind them, had not yet received its orders; it was more
than a half-mile distant, in rear of Winder’s artillery, and hidden
from the first line by the trees and undergrowth. Beyond the
wheat-field 1,500 Federals, covered by a line of skirmishers, had
formed up in the wood. Emerging from the covert with fixed bayonets and
colours flying, their long line, overlapping the Confederate left,
moved steadily across the three hundred yards of open ground. The
shocks of corn, and some ragged patches of scrub timber, gave cover to
the skirmishers, but in the closed ranks behind the accurate fire of
the Southern riflemen made fearful ravages. Still the enemy pressed
forward; the skirmishers darted from bush to bush; the regiments on the
right swung round, enveloping the Confederate line; and the 1st
Virginia, despite the entreaties of its officers, broke and
scattered.[13] Assailed in front from the field and in flank from the
forest, the men would stand no longer, and flying back through the
woodland, left the way open to the very rear of the position. The 42nd
Virginia, outflanked in turn, was compelled to give ground; and the
Federals, without waiting to reform, swept rapidly through the wood,
and bore down upon the flank of Taliaferro’s brigade and Winder’s
batteries.
And now occurred a scene of terrible confusion. So swift was the
onslaught that the first warning received by the Confederates on the
highroad was a sudden storm
of musketry, the loud cheers of the enemy, and the rush of fugitives
from the forest. Attacked simultaneously in front, flank and rear, with
the guns and limbers entangled among the infantry, Winder’s division
was subjected to an ordeal of which it was without experience. The
batteries, by Jackson’s order, were at once withdrawn, and not a gun
was lost. The infantry, however, did not escape so lightly. The
Federals, emboldened by the flight of the artillery, charged forward
with reckless courage. Every regimental commander in Garnett’s brigade
was either killed or wounded. Taliaferro’s brigade was driven back, and
Early’s left was broken. Some regiments attempted to change front,
others retreated in disorder. Scattered groups, plying butt and
bayonet, endeavoured to stay the rout. Officers rushed into the
_mêlée,_ and called upon those at hand to follow. Men were captured and
recaptured, and, for a few moments, the blue and grey were mingled in
close conflict amid the smoke. But the isolated efforts of the
Confederates were of no avail. The first line was irretrievably broken;
the troops were mingled in a tumultuous mass, through which the shells
tore shrieking; the enemy’s bayonets were surging forward on every
side, and his well-served batteries, firing over the heads of their own
infantry, played heavily on the road. But fortunately for the
Virginians the Federal right wing was unsupported; and although the
Light Division was still at some distance from the field, the Stonewall
Brigade was already advancing. Breaking through the rout to the left of
the highroad, these five staunch regiments, undismayed by the disaster,
opened a heavy fire. The Federals, although still superior in numbers
at the decisive point, had lost all order in their successful charge;
to meet this fresh onset they halted and drew together, and then
Jackson, with wonderful energy, restored the battle.
Sending orders for Ewell and A. P. Hill to attack at once, he galloped
forward, unattended by either staff officer or orderly, and found
himself in the midst of his own men, his soldiers of the Valley, no
longer presenting the stubborn front of Bull Run or Kernstown, but an
ungovernable mob, breaking rapidly to the rear, and on the very
verge of panic. Drawing his sword, for the first time in the war, his
voice pealed high above the din; the troops caught the familiar
accents, instinct with resolution, and the presence of their own
general acted like a spell. “Rally, men,” he shouted, “and follow me!”
Taliaferro, riding up to him, emphatically insisted that the midst of
the _mêlée_ was no place for the leader of an army. He looked a little
surprised, but with his invariable ejaculation of “Good, good,” turned
slowly to the rear. The impulse, however, had already been given to the
Confederate troops. With a wild yell the remnant of the 21st Virginia
rushed forward to the front, and received the pursuers with a sudden
volley. The officers of other regiments, inspired by the example of
their commander, bore the colours forward, and the men, catching the
enthusiasm of the moment, followed in the path of the 21st. The
Federals recoiled. Taliaferro and Early, reforming their brigades,
again advanced upon the right; and Jackson, his front once more
established, turned his attention to the counterstroke he had already
initiated.
Ewell was ordered to attack the Federal left. Branch, leading the Light
Division, was sent forward to support the Stonewall Brigade, and Lane
to charge down the highroad. Thomas was to give aid to Early. Archer
and Pender, following Branch, were to outflank the enemy’s right, and
Field and Stafford were to follow as third line.
Ewell was unable to advance at once, for the Confederate batteries on
Slaughter Mountain swept the whole field, and it was some time before
they could be induced to cease fire. But on the left the mass of fresh
troops, directed on the critical point, exerted a decisive influence.
The Federal regiments, broken and exhausted, were driven back into the
wood and across the wheat-field by the charge of the Stonewall Brigade.
Still they were not yet done with. Before Hill’s troops could come into
action, Jackson’s old regiments, as they advanced into the open, were
attacked in front and threatened on the flank. The 4th and 27th
Virginia were immediately thrown back to meet the more pressing danger,
forming to the left within
the wood; but assailed in the confusion of rapid movement, they gave
way and scattered through the thickets. But the rift in the line was
rapidly closed up. Jackson, riding in front of the Light Division, and
urging the men to hold their fire and use their bayonets, rallied the
27th and led them to the front; while Branch’s regiments, opening their
ranks for the fugitives to pass through, and pressing forward with
unbroken line, drove back the Northern skirmishers, and moving into the
wheatfield engaged their main body in the opposite wood.
[Illustration: Map of the Battle of Cedar Run, Virginia, Saturday,
August 9th, 1862.]
Lane, meanwhile, was advancing astride the road; Archer and Pender, in
accordance with Jackson’s orders, were sweeping round through the
forest, and Field and Stafford were in rear of Branch. A fresh brigade
had come up to sustain the defeated Federals; but gallantly as they
fought, the Northerners could make no head against overwhelming
numbers. Outflanked to both right and left, for Early and Ewell were
now moving forward, they began to yield. Jackson rode forward to the
wheat-field, and just at this moment Banks made a despairing effort to
extricate his infantry. Two squadrons, hitherto concealed by the woods,
appeared suddenly on the road, and, deploying into two lines, charged
full against the Confederate centre. The skirmishers were ridden down;
but the troops in rear stood firm, and several companies, running to a
fence along the highway, poured a devastating fire into the mass of
horsemen. Out of 174 officers and men only 71 rode back.[14]
6.30 p.m. This brilliant but useless exploit brought no respite to the
Federals. Archer and Pender had turned their right; Ewell was pressing
forward against their left, scaling the ridge on which their batteries
had been posted; Early and Lane were pressing back their centre, and
their guns had already limbered up. Jackson, galloping to the front,
was received with the cheers of his victorious troops. In every quarter
of the field the enemy was in full retreat, and as darkness began to
fall the whole Confederate line crossed Cedar Run and swept up the
slopes beyond. Every yard of ground bore witness to the severity of the
fighting. The slaughter had been very heavy. Within ninety minutes
3,000 men had fallen. The woods were a shambles, and among the corn the
dead lay thick. Scores of prisoners surrendered themselves, and
hundreds of discarded muskets bore witness to the demoralisation of the
Northerners. Nevertheless, the pursuit was slow. The impetuosity of the
Confederates, eager to complete their triumph, was checked with a firm
hand. The infantry were ordered to reform before they entered the dense
forest which lay between them and Culpeper. The guns, unable to cross
Cedar Run except by the road, were brought over in a single column, and
two fresh brigades, Field’s and Stafford’s, which had not yet fired a
shot, were brought forward as advanced guard. Although Jackson had been
careful to bring guides who knew the woodland tracks, there was need
for prudence. The light was failing; the cavalry could find no space to
act; and, above all, the whereabouts of Pope’s main body was still
uncertain. The Federals had fought with fine courage. Their resolute
attack, pressed home with extraordinary dash, had rolled up the
choicest of the Valley regiments. And yet it was evident that only a
small portion of the Northern army had been engaged. The stirring
incidents of the battle had been crowded into a short space of time. It
was five o’clock when the Federals left their covert. An hour and a
half later they had abandoned the field. Their precipitate retreat, the
absence of a strong rear-guard, were sure tokens that every regiment
had been employed in the attack, and it was soon discovered by the
Confederate soldiers that these regiments were old opponents of the
Valley army. The men who had surprised and outflanked Jackson’s old
division were the same men that had been surprised at Front Royal and
outflanked at Winchester. But Banks’ army corps formed only a third
part of Pope’s army. Sigel and McDowell were still to be accounted for.
It was possible, however, that no more formidable enemies than the
troops already defeated would be found between Cedar Run and Culpeper,
and Jackson, intent
upon securing that strategic point before morning,[15] pushed steadily
forward. Of the seven miles that intervened between the battle-field
and the Court House only one-and-a-half had been passed, when the
scouts brought information that the enemy was in position a few hundred
yards to the front. A battery was immediately sent forward to develop
the situation. The moon was full, and on the far side of the glade
where the advanced guard, acting under Jackson’s orders, had halted and
deployed, a strong line of fire marked the hostile front. Once more the
woodland avenues reverberated to the crash of musketry, and when the
guns opened a portion of the Federal line was seen flying in disorder.
Pope himself had arrived upon the scene, but surprised by the sudden
salvo of Jackson’s guns, he was constrained to do what he had never
done in the West—to turn his back upon the enemy, and seek a safer
position. Yet despite the disappearance of the staff the Union
artillery made a vigorous reply. Two batteries, hidden by the timber,
concentrated on the four guns of the advanced guard, and about the same
moment the Confederate cavalry on the extreme right reported that they
had captured prisoners belonging to Sigel’s army corps. “Believing it
imprudent,” says Jackson, “to continue to move forward during the
darkness, I ordered a halt for the night.”
August 10 Further information appears to have come to hand after
midnight; and early the next morning General Stuart, who had arrived on
a tour of inspection, having been placed in charge of the cavalry,
ascertained beyond all question that the greater part of Pope’s army
had come up. The Confederates were ordered to withdraw, and before noon
nearly the whole force had regained their old position on Cedar Run.
They were not followed, save by the Federal cavalry; and for two days
they remained in position, ready to receive attack. The enemy, however,
gave no sign of aggressive intentions.
August 11 On the morning of the 11th a flag of truce was received, and
Pope was permitted to bury the dead which had not already been
interred. The same
night, his wounded, his prisoners, and the captured arms having already
been removed, Jackson returned to his old camps near Gordonsville.
August 12 His position on Cedar Run, tactically strong, was
strategically unsound. The intelligence he had obtained was
substantially correct. With the exception of five regiments of
McDowell’s cavalry, only Banks’ army corps had been engaged at Cedar
Run. But during the evening both Sigel and McDowell had reached the
field, and it was their troops which had checked the Confederate
pursuit. In fact, on the morning of the 10th, Pope, besides 5,000
cavalry, had 22,000 fresh troops in addition to those which had been
defeated, and which he estimated at 5,000 effectives, wherewith to bar
the way to Culpeper. McDowell’s second division, 10,000 strong, on the
march from Fredericksburg, was not more than twenty mites east of
Slaughter Mountain.
In front, therefore, Jackson was confronted by superior numbers. At the
least estimate, 32,000 men were posted beyond Cedar Run, and 10,000
under King were coming up from Fredericksburg. Nor was a preponderance
of numbers the only obstacle with which Jackson had to deal. A direct
attack on Pope was impossible, but a turning movement, by way of James
City, might have found him unprepared, or a swift advance might have
crushed King. But for the execution of either manœuvre a large force of
cavalry was absolutely essential. By this means alone could the march
be concealed and a surprise effected. In view, however, of the superior
strength of the Federal horsemen such a project was unfeasible, and
retreat was manifestly the only alternative. Nevertheless, it was not
till he was assured that no further opportunity would be given him that
Jackson evacuated his position. For two days he remained on Cedar Run,
within two miles of the Federal outposts, defying his enemy to battle.
If an attack on the Federals promised nothing but defeat, it was not so
sure that Pope with 27,000 infantry, of whom a considerable number had
just tasted defeat, would be able to oust Jackson with 22,000 from a
position
which the latter had selected; and it was not till King’s approach gave
the Federals an overwhelming superiority that the Confederates withdrew
behind the Rapidan.
With sublime audacity, as soon as his enemy had disappeared, Pope
claimed the battle of Cedar Run as a Federal success. Carried away by
enthusiasm he ventured to forecast the future. “It is safe to predict,”
he declared in a general order, “that this is only the first of a
series of victories which shall make the Army of Virginia famous in the
land.” That such language, however, was the natural result of intense
relief at Jackson’s retreat may be inferred from his telegrams, which,
unfortunately for his reputation, have been preserved in the archives
of Washington. Nor was his attitude on the 10th and 11th that of a
victorious commander. For two days he never stirred from his position.
He informed Halleck that the enemy was in very superior force, that
Stuart and Longstreet had joined Jackson, and while the Confederates
were withdrawing he was telegraphing that he would certainly be
attacked the next morning.
Halleck’s reply to Pope’s final dispatch, which congratulated the
defeated army corps on a “hard-earned but brilliant success,” must have
astonished Banks and his hapless troops. They might indeed be fairly
considered to have “covered themselves with glory.”[16] 9,000 men, of
which only 7,000 were infantry, had given an enemy of more than double
their strength a hard fight. They had broken some of the best troops in
the Confederate army, under their most famous leader; and if they had
been overwhelmed by numbers, they had at least fought to the last man.
Jackson himself bore witness to the vigour of their onslaught, to their
“temporary triumph,” and to the “impetuous valour” of their cavalry.
The Federal defeat was more honourable than many victories. But that it
was a crushing defeat can hardly be disputed. The two divisions which
had been engaged were completely shattered, and Pope reported that they
were no longer fit for service. The casualties amongst the infantry
amounted to a third
of the total strength. Of the brigade that had driven in the
Confederate left the 28th New York lost the whole of its company
officers; the 5th Connecticut 17 officers out of 20, and the 10th Maine
had 170 killed or wounded. In two brigades nearly every field-officer
and every adjutant was struck down. The 2nd Massachusetts, employed in
the last effort to hold back Jackson’s counterstroke, lost 16 officers
out of 28, and 147 men out of 451. The Ohio regiments, which had been
with Shields at Kernstown and Port Republic, and had crossed Cedar Run
opposite the Confederate centre, were handled even more roughly. The
5th lost 118 men out of 275, the 7th 10 officers out of 14, and 170 men
out of 293. Two generals were wounded and one captured. 400 prisoners,
three stand of colours, 5,000 rifles and one gun were taken by the
Southerners, and, including those suffered by Sigel and McDowell in the
night action, the sum of losses reached 2,380. The Confederates by no
means came off scatheless. General Winder died upon the field; and the
two brigades that stood the brunt of the attack, together with Early’s,
suffered heavily. But the number of killed and wounded amounted to no
more than 1,314, and many of the brigades had few losses to report. The
spirit of the Valley troops was hardly to be tamed by such punishment
as this. Nevertheless, Northern historians have not hesitated to rank
Cedar Run as a battle unfavourable to the Confederates. Swinton
declares that Jackson undertook the pursuit of Banks, “_under the
impression_ that he had gained a victory.“[17] Southern writers, on the
other hand, have classed Cedar Run amongst the most brilliant
achievements of the war, and an unbiassed investigation goes far to
support their view.
During the first week in August Jackson, protecting the Virginia
Central Railroad, was confronted by a much superior force. He could
expect no further reinforcements,
for McClellan was still near Richmond, and according to the latest
information was actually advancing. On the 7th he heard that Pope also
was moving forward from Hazel Run, and had pushed a portion of his army
as far as Culpeper. In face of the overwhelming strength of the Federal
cavalry it was impossible, if he occupied a defensive position, that he
could protect the railroad; for while their infantry and artillery held
him in front, their swarming squadrons would operate at their leisure
on either flank. Nor could a defensive position have been long
maintained. There were no natural obstacles, neither river nor
mountains, to protect Jackson’s flanks; and the railroad—his line of
supply—would have been parallel to his front. In a vigorous offensive,
then, should opportunity offer, lay his best chance of success. That
opportunity was offered by the unsupported advance of the Federal
detachment under Banks. It is true that Jackson hoped to achieve more
than the defeat of this comparatively small force. If he could have
seized Culpeper he might have been able to deal with Pope’s army in
detail; he saw before him another Valley campaign, and he was fully
justified in believing that victory on the Rapidan would bring
McClellan back to Washington.
His anticipations were not altogether realised. He crushed the
detachment immediately opposed to him, but he failed to seize Culpeper,
and McClellan had already been ordered, although this was unknown to
the Confederates, to evacuate the Peninsula. But it cannot be fairly
said that his enterprise was therefore useless. Strategically it was a
fine conception. The audacity of his manœuvre was not the least of its
merits. For an army of 24,000 men, weak in cavalry, to advance against
an army of 47,000, including 5,000 horsemen, was the very height of
daring. But it was the daring of profound calculation. As it was,
Jackson ran little risk. He succeeded in his immediate object. He
crushed Pope’s advanced guard, and he retreated unmolested, bearing
with him the prisoners, the colours, and the arms which he had
captured. If he did not succeed in occupying Culpeper, it was not his
fault. Fortune was against
him. On the very day that he had moved forward Pope had done the same.
Banks and McDowell were at Culpeper on the 8th, and Sigel received
orders to move the same day.
Nevertheless the expedition was far from barren in result. If Jackson
failed to defeat Pope altogether, he at least singed his beard. It was
well worth the loss of 1,300 men to have destroyed two whole divisions
under the very eyes of the general commanding a superior army. A few
days later Pope was to feel the want of these gallant regiments,[18]
and the confidence of his troops in their commander was much shaken.
Moreover, the blow was felt at Washington. There was no more talk of
occupying Gordonsville. Pope was still full of ardour. But Halleck
forbade him to advance further than the Rapidan, where Burnside would
reinforce him; and McClellan was ordered to hasten the departure of his
troops from the Peninsula.
Jackson’s tactics have been criticised as severely as his strategy.
Because his first line was broken it is asserted that he narrowly
escaped a serious defeat, and that had the two forces been equally
matched Banks would have won a decisive victory. This is hardly sound
criticism. In the first place, Jackson was perfectly well aware that
the two forces were not equally matched. If he had had no more men than
Banks, would he have disposed his forces as he did? He would scarcely
have occupied the same extent of ground with 9,000 men that he did with
20,000. His actual front, when Banks attacked, was two miles long. With
smaller numbers he would have occupied a smaller front, and would have
retained a sufficient force in reserve. In the second place, it is
generally possible for an inferior force, if it puts every man into the
fighting-line, to win some measure of success. But such success, as was
shown at Kernstown, can seldom be more than temporary; and if the enemy
makes good use of his reserves must end in defeat.
So far from Jackson’s tactics being indifferent, it is very easy to
show that they were exactly the contrary. Immediately he came upon the
field he sent Ewell to occupy Slaughter Mountain, a mile distant from
his line of march; and the huge hill, with batteries planted on its
commanding terraces, not only secured his flank, but formed a strong
pivot for his attack on the Federal right. The preliminary operations
were conducted with due deliberation. There was no rushing forward to
the attack while the enemy’s strength was still uncertain. The ridge
occupied by the enemy, so far as possible, was thoroughly reconnoitred,
and every rifled gun was at once brought up. The artillery positions
were well selected, for, notwithstanding their superiority of ordnance,
the Federal batteries suffered far more heavily than the Confederates.
The one weak point was the extreme left, and to this point Jackson in
person directed the attention of his subordinates. “Had
reinforcements,” says Colonel Garnett, who commanded the troops that
first gave way, “momentarily expected, arrived ten minutes sooner no
disaster would have happened.”[19] That the point was not strengthened,
that the Stonewall Brigade was not posted in second line behind the 1st
Virginia, and that only a staff officer and an orderly were sent to
patrol the forest to the westward, instead of several companies of
infantry, was in no way due to the general-in-chief.
Nor was the position of A. P. Hill’s division, which, in conjunction
with the Stonewall Brigade, averted the disaster and won the victory, a
fortuitous circumstance. Before the attack began it had been directed
to this point, and the strong counterstroke which was made by these
fresh troops was exactly the manœuvre which the situation demanded. At
the time it was ordered the Confederate left and centre were hard
pressed. The Stonewall Brigade had checked the troops which had issued
from the forest, but the whole Confederate line was shaken. The normal,
though less brilliant, course would have been to have re-established
the front, and not
till that had been done to have ventured on the counter-stroke.
Jackson, with that quick intuition which is possessed by few, saw and
seized his opportunity while the Federals were still pressing the
attack. One of Hill’s brigades was sent to support the centre, and,
almost in the same breath, six others, a mass of 7,000 or 8,000 men,
were ordered to attack the enemy’s right, to outflank it, and to roll
back his whole line upon Ewell, who was instructed at the same moment
to outflank the left. Notwithstanding some delay in execution, Ewell’s
inability to advance, and the charge of the Federal cavalry, this
vigorous blow changed the whole aspect of the battle within a short
half-hour. Conceived in a moment, in the midst of wild excitement and
fierce tumult, delivered with all the strength available, it cannot be
judged otherwise than as the mark of a great captain. Few battles,
indeed, bear the impress of a single personality more clearly than
Cedar Run. From the first cannon-shot of the advanced guard until the
last volley in the midnight forest, one will directed every movement.
The field was no small one. The fight was full of startling changes. It
was no methodical conflict, but a fierce struggle at close quarters,
the lines swaying to and fro, and the ground covered with confused
masses of men and guns, with flying batteries and broken regiments. But
the turmoil of battle found a master. The strong brain was never
clearer than when the storm raged most fiercely. Wherever his presence
was most needed there Jackson was seen, rallying the fugitives,
reinforcing the centre, directing the counterstroke, and leading the
pursuit. And he was well supported. His subordinate generals carried
out their orders to the letter. But every order which bore upon the
issue of the battle came from the lips of one man.
If Northern writers have overlooked the skill with which Jackson
controlled the fight, they have at the same time misunderstood his
action two days later. His retreat to Gordonsville has been represented
as a flight. He is said to have abandoned many wounded and stragglers,
and to have barely saved his baggage. In all this there is not one word
of truth. We have, indeed, the report of the Federal officer who
conducted the pursuit. “The flight of the enemy after Saturday’s fight
was most precipitate and in great confusion. His old camp was strewn
with dead men, horses, and arms. . . . A good many (Federal) prisoners,
wounded in Saturday’s fight, were found almost abandoned. Major
Andrews, chief of artillery to General Jackson, was found, badly
wounded, at Crooked Run, in charge of an assistant surgeon.” It is
hardly necessary to say that General Buford, the officer thus
reporting, had not been present at the battle. He had been out off with
his four regiments by the advance of the Confederate cavalry, and had
retired on Sperryville. He may accordingly be excused for imagining
that a retreat which had been postponed for two days was precipitate.
But dead men, dead horses, and old arms which the Confederates had
probably exchanged for those which were captured, several wounded
Federals, who had been prisoners in the enemy’s hands, and one wounded
Confederate, a major of horse-artillery and not a staff officer at all,
are hardly evidences of undue haste or great confusion. Moreover, in
the list of Confederate casualties only thirty-one men were put down as
missing.
It is true that Jackson need not have retreated so far as Gordonsville.
He might have halted behind the Rapidan, where the bluffs on the south
bank overlook the level country to the north. But Jackson’s manœuvres,
whether in advance or retreat, were invariably actuated by some
definite purpose, and what that purpose was he explains in his
dispatches.[20] “I remained in position until the night of the 11th,
when I returned to the vicinity of Gordonsville, in order to avoid
being attacked by the vastly superior force in front of me, _and with
the hope that by thus falling back, General Pope would be induced to
follow me until I should be reinforced._” That Pope, had he been left
to his own judgment, would have crossed the Rapidan is certain. “The
enemy,” he reported, “has retreated to Gordonsville. . . . I shall move
forward on Louisa Court House as soon as Burnside arrives.” He was
restrained, however,
by the more wary Halleck. “Beware of a snare,” wrote the
Commander-in-Chief. “Feigned retreats are ‘Secesh’ tactics.” How wise
was this warning, and what would have been the fate of Pope had he
recklessly crossed the Rapidan, the next chapter will reveal.
[1] After the repulse of the Confederates at Malvern Hill, and the
unmolested retreat of the Army of the Potomac to Harrison’s Landing,
Lincoln cancelled his demand for troops from the West.
[2] Dabney, vol. ii, pp. 230, 231.
[3] O.R., vol. xi, part ii, p. 306.
[4] Sigel, 13,000; Banks, 11,000; McDowell, 18,000; Bayard’s and
Bulord’s cavalry, 5,000.
[5] O.R., vol. xi, part iii, p. 334.
[6] O.R., vol. xii, part iii, p. 474.
[7] “We must constantly feel the enemy, know where he is, and what he
is doing. Vigilance, activity, and a precaution that has a
considerable mixture of audacity in it will carry you through many
difficulties.” Such were his instructions to an officer of the regular
army! It was unfortunate he had not acted on those sound principles in
the Valley.
[8] McClellan had received no further reinforcements than those sent
from Washington. Burnside, with 14,000 men, remained at Fortress
Monroe until the beginning of August, when he embarked for Aquia
Creek, concentrating on August 5. Hunter’s troops were withheld.
[9] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 281.
[10] This was the case. Banks had reached Culpeper on the 8th. On the
same day his advanced brigade was sent forward to Cedar Run, and was
followed by the rest of the army corps on the 9th.
[11] 3,500 of Banks’ army corps had been left at Winchester, and his
sick were numerous.
[12] Banks had received an order from Pope which might certainly be
understood to mean that he should take the offensive if the enemy
approached.—_Report of Committee of Congress,_ vol. iii, p. 45.
[13] O.R., vol. xii, part ii, p. 201.
[14] O.R., vol. xii, part ii, p. 141.
[15] nReport. O.R., vol. xii, part ii, p. 184.ote
[16] O.R., vol. xii, part ii, p. 135.
[17] I may here express my regret that in the first edition I should
have classed Mr. Ropes amongst the adverse critics of Jackson’s
operations at this period. How I came to fall into the error I cannot
explain. I should certainly have remembered that Mr. Ropes’ writings
are distinguished as much by impartiality as by ability.
[18] So late as August 28, Pope reported that Banks’ troops were much
demoralised. O.R., vol. xii, part iii, p. 653.
[19] O.R., vol. xii, part ii, p. 201.
[20] O.R., vol. xii, part ii, p. 185.