GROVETON AND THE SECOND MANASSAS
During the summer of 1862 the stirring events in the Western hemisphere
attracted universal attention. All eyes were fixed on Richmond. The
fierce fighting on the Chickahominy, and the defeat of the invaders,
excited Europe hardly less than it did the North. The weekly mails were
eagerly awaited. The newspapers devoted many columns to narrative,
criticism, and prediction. The strategy and tactics of the rival armies
were everywhere discussed, and the fact that almost every single item
of intelligence came from a Northern source served only as a whet to
curiosity. The vast territory controlled by the Confederacy was so
completely cut off from the outer world that an atmosphere of mystery
enveloped the efforts of the defence. “The Southern States,” it has
been said, “stood in the attitude of a beleaguered fortress. The war
was in truth a great siege; the fortress covered an area of more than
700,000 square miles, and the lines of investment around it extended
over more than 10,000 miles.” Within the circle of Federal cannon and
Federal cruisers only the imagination could penetrate. At rare
intervals some daring blockade-runner brought a budget of Southern
newspapers, or an enterprising correspondent succeeded in transmitting
a dispatch from Richmond. But such glimpses of the situation within the
cordon did little more than tantalise. The news was generally belated,
and had often been long discounted by more recent events. Still, from
Northern sources alone, it was abundantly clear that the weaker of the
two belligerents was making a splendid struggle. Great names and great
achievements loomed large through
the darkness. The war at the outset, waged by ill-trained and
ill-disciplined volunteers, commanded by officers unknown to fame, had
attracted small notice from professional soldiers. After the Seven
Days’ battles it assumed a new aspect. The men, despite their
shortcomings, had displayed undeniable courage, and the strategy which
had relieved Richmond recalled the master-strokes of Napoleon. It was
evident that the Southern army was led by men of brilliant ability, and
the names of Lee’s lieutenants were on every tongue. Foremost amongst
these was Stonewall Jackson. Even the Northern newspapers made no
scruple of expressing their admiration, and the dispatches of their own
generals gave them constant opportunities of expatiating on his skill.
During the first weeks of August, the reports from the front, whether
from Winchester, from Fredericksburg, or from the Peninsula, betrayed
the fear and uneasiness he inspired. The overthrow of Pope’s advanced
guard at Cedar Run, followed by the unaccountable disappearance of the
victorious army, was of a piece with the manœuvres in the Valley. What
did this disappearance portend? Whither had the man of mystery betaken
himself? Where would the next blow fall? “I don’t like Jackson’s
movements,” wrote McClellan to Halleck; “he will suddenly appear when
least expected.” This misgiving found many echoes. While Jackson was
operating against Pope, McClellan had successfully completed the
evacuation of Harrison’s Landing. Embarking his sick, he marched his
five army corps to Fortress Monroe, observed by Lee’s patrols, but
otherwise unmolested. The quiescence of the Confederates, however,
brought no relief to the North. Stocks fell fast, and the premium on
gold rose to sixteen per cent. For some days not a shot had been fired
along the Rapidan. Pope’s army rested in its camps. Jackson had
completely vanished. But the silence at the front was not considered a
reassuring symptom.
If the Confederates had allowed McClellan to escape, it was very
generally felt that they had done so only because they were preparing
to crush Pope before he could be
reinforced. “It is the fear of this operation,” wrote the _Times_
Special Correspondent in the Northern States, “conducted by the
redoubtable Stonewall Jackson, that has filled New York with uneasy
forebodings. Wall Street does not ardently believe in the present good
fortune or the future prospects of the Republic.”[1]
Neither the knowledge which McClellan possessed of his old West Point
comrade, nor the instinct of the financiers, proved misleading. Jackson
had already made his plans. Even before he had lured Pope forward to
the Rapidan he had begun to plot his downfall. “When we were marching
back from Cedar Run,” writes Major Hotchkiss, “and had passed Orange
Court House on our way to Gordonsville, the general, who was riding in
front of the staff, beckoned me to his aide. He at once entered into
conversation, and said that as soon as we got back to camp he wished me
to prepare maps of the whole country between Gordonsville and
Washington, adding that he required several copies—I think five.
August 13 “This was about noon on Sunday, and as we were near camp I
asked him if the map was to be begun immediately, knowing his great
antipathy to doing anything on Sunday which was not a work of
necessity. He replied that it was important to have it done at
once.”[2]
August 14 The next day, August 14, the exact position of the Federal
army was ascertained. The camps were north and east of Slaughter
Mountain, and Jackson instructed Captain Boswell, his chief engineer,
who had lived in the neighbourhood, to report on the best means of
turning the enemy’s left flank and reaching Warrenton, thus intervening
between Pope and Washington, or between Pope and Aquia Creek. The line
of march recommended by Boswell led through Orange Court House to
Pisgah Church, and crossing the Rapidan at Somerville Ford, ran by Lime
Church and Stevensburg to Brandy Station.
August 15 On the night of the 15th, after two days’ rest, the three
divisions moved from Gordonsville to Pisgah Church, and there halted to
await reinforcements.
These were already on their way. On the 13th General Lee had learned
that Burnside, who had already left the Peninsula for Aquia Creek on
the Potomac, was preparing to join Pope, and it was reported by a
deserter that part of McClellan’s army had embarked on the transports
at Harrison’s Landing. Inferring that the enemy had relinquished all
active operations in the Peninsula, and that Pope would soon be
reinforced by the Army of the Potomac, Lee resolved to take the
offensive without delay. The campaign which Jackson had suggested more
than a month before, when McClellan was still reeling under the effects
of his defeat, and Pope’s army was not yet organised, was now to be
begun. The same evening the railway conveyed Longstreet’s advanced
brigade to Gordonsville, and with the exception of D. H. Hill’s and
McLaws’ divisions, which remained to watch McClellan, the whole army
fled.
On the 15th Lee met his generals in council. The map drawn by Captain
Hotchkiss was produced, and the manœuvre which had suggested itself to
Jackson was definitely ordered by the Commander-in-Chief. The Valley
army, at dawn on the 18th, was to cross the Rapidan at Somerville Ford.
Longstreet, preceded by Stuart, who was to cut the Federal
communications in rear of Culpeper Court House, was to make the passage
at Raccoon Ford. Jackson’s cavalry was to cover the left and front, and
Anderson’s division was to form a general reserve. The movement was
intended to be speedy. Only ambulances and ammunition waggons were to
follow the troops. Baggage and supply trains were to be parked on the
south side of the Rapidan, and the men were to carry three days’ cooked
rations in their haversacks.
On Clark’s Mountain, a high hill near Pisgah Church, Jackson had
established a signal station. The view from the summit embraced an
extensive landscape. The ravages of war had not yet effaced its
tranquil beauty, nor had the names of its bright rivers and thriving
villages become household words. It was still unknown to history, a
peaceful and pastoral district, remote from the beaten
tracks of trade and travel, and inhabited by a quiet and industrious
people. To-day there are few regions which boast sterner or more heroic
memories. To the right, rolling away in light and shadow for a score of
miles, is the great forest of Spotsylvania, within whose gloomy depths
lie the fields of Chancellorsville; where the breastworks of the
Wilderness can still be traced; and on the eastern verge of which stand
the grass-grown batteries of Fredericksburg. Northward, beyond the
woods which hide the Rapidan, the eye ranges over the wide and fertile
plains of Culpeper, with the green crest of Slaughter Mountain
overlooking Cedar Run, and the dim levels of Brandy Station, the scene
of the great cavalry battle,[3] just visible beyond. Far away to the
north-east the faint outline of a range of hills marks the source of
Bull Run and the Manassas plateau, and to the west, the long rampart of
the Blue Ridge, softened by distance, stands high above the Virginia
plains.
August 17 On the afternoon of August 17, Pope’s forces seemed doomed to
inevitable destruction. The Confederate army, ready to advance the next
morning, was concentrated behind Clark’s Mountain, and Lee and Jackson,
looking toward Culpeper, saw the promise of victory in the careless
attitude of the enemy. The day was hot and still. Round the base of
Slaughter Mountain, fifteen miles northward, clustered many thousands
of tents, and the blue smoke of the camp-fires rose straight and thin
in the sultry air. Regiments of infantry, just discernible through the
glare, were marching and countermarching in various directions, and
long waggon-trains were creeping slowly along the dusty roads. Near at
hand, rising above the tree-tops, the Union colours showed that the
outposts still held the river, and the flash of steel at the end of
some woodland vista betrayed the presence of scouting party or vedette.
But there were no symptoms of unusual excitement, no sign of working
parties, of reinforcements for the advanced posts, of the construction
of earthworks or abattis. Pope’s camps were scattered over a wide tract
of
country, his cavalry was idle, and it seemed absolutely certain that he
was unconscious of the near neighbourhood of the Confederate army.
The inference was correct. The march to Pisgah Church had escaped
notice. The Federals were unaware that Lee had arrived at Gordonsville,
and they had as yet no reason to believe that there was the smallest
danger of attack.
Between Raccoon and Locustdale fords, and stretching back to Culpeper
Court House, 52,500 men—for Reno, with two divisions of Burnside’s
army, 8,000 strong, had arrived from Fredericksburg—were in camp and
bivouac. The front was protected by a river nearly a hundred yards
wide, of which every crossing was held by a detachment, and Pope had
reported that his position was so strong that it would be difficult to
drive him from it. But he had not made sufficient allowance for the
energy and ability of the Confederate leaders. His situation, in
reality, was one of extreme danger. In ordering Pope to the Rapidan,
and bidding him “fight like the devil’[4] until McClellan should come
up, Halleck made the same fatal error as Stanton, when he sent Shields
up the Luray Valley in pursuit of Jackson. He had put an inferior force
within reach of an enemy who held the interior lines, and had ordered
two armies, separated by several marches, to effect their concentration
under the fire of the enemy’s guns. And if Pope’s strategical position
was bad, his tactical position was even worse. His left, covering
Raccoon and Somerville Fords, was very weak. The main body of his army
was massed on the opposite flank, several miles distant, astride the
direct road from Gordonsville to Culpeper Court House, and he remained
without the least idea, so late as the morning of the 18th, that the
whole Confederate army was concentrated behind Clark’s Mountain, within
six miles of his most vulnerable point. Aware that Jackson was based on
Gordonsville, he seems to have been convinced that if he advanced at
all, he would advance directly on Culpeper
Court House; and the move to Pisgah Church, which left Gordonsville
unprotected, never entered into his calculations. A sudden attack
against his left was the last contingency that he anticipated; and had
the Confederates moved as Lee intended, there can be no question but
that the Federal army, deprived of all supplies, cut off from
Washington, and forced to fight on ground where it was unprepared,
would have been disastrously defeated.
But it was not to be. The design was thwarted by one of those petty
accidents which play so large a part in war. Stuart had been instructed
to lead the advance. The only brigade at his disposal had not yet come
up into line, but a message had been sent to appoint a rendezvous, and
it was expected to reach Verdiersville, five miles from Raccoon Ford,
on the night of the 17th. Stuart’s message, however, was not
sufficiently explicit. Nothing was said of the exigencies of the
situation; and the brigadier, General Fitzhugh Lee, not realising the
importance of reaching Verdiersville on the 17th, marched by a
circuitous route in order to replenish his supplies. At nightfall he
was still absent, and the omission of a few words in a simple order
cost the Confederates dear. Moreover, Stuart himself, who had ridden to
Verdiersville with a small escort, narrowly escaped capture. His plumed
hat, with which the whole army was familiar, as well as his
adjutant-general and his dispatch-box, fell into the hands of a Federal
reconnoitring party; and among the papers brought to Pope was found a
letter from General Lee, disclosing the fact that Jackson had been
strongly reinforced.
In consequence of the absence of Fitzhugh Lee’s brigade, the movement
was postponed until the morning of the 20th. The Commander-in-Chief was
of opinion that the horses, exhausted by their long march, would
require some rest before they were fit for the hard work he proposed
for them. Jackson, for once in opposition, urged that the movement
should go forward. His signal officer on Clark’s Mountain reported that
the enemy was quiet, and even extending his right up stream. The
location of the Federal divisions had been already ascertained. The
cavalry was not required to get information. There was no need,
therefore, to wait till Fitzhugh Lee’s brigade was fit for movement.
Jackson had, with his own command, a sufficient number of squadrons to
protect the front and flanks of the whole army; and the main object was
not to cut the enemy’s communications, but to turn his left and
annihilate him. Pope was still isolated, still unconscious of his
danger, and the opportunity might never return.
The suggestion, however, was overruled, and “it was fortunate,” says
one of Pope’s generals, “that Jackson was not in command of the
Confederates on the night of August 17; for the superior force of the
enemy must have overwhelmed us, if we could not have escaped, and
escape on that night was impossible.”[5]
It is probable, however, that other causes induced General Lee to hold
his hand. There is good reason to believe that it was not only the
cavalry that was unprepared. The movement from Richmond had been rapid,
and both vehicles and supplies had been delayed. Nor were all the
generals so avaricious of time as Jackson. It was impossible, it was
urged, to move without some food in the waggons. Jackson replied that
the enemy had a large magazine at Brandy Station, which might easily be
captured, and that the intervening district promised an abundance of
ripening corn and green apples. It was decided, however, that such
fare, on which, it may be said, the Confederates learned afterwards to
subsist for many days in succession, was too meagre for the work in
hand. Jackson, runs the story, groaned so audibly when Lee pronounced
in favour of postponement, that Longstreet called the attention of the
Commander-in-Chief to his apparent disrespect.
August 18 Be this as it may, had it been possible to adopt Jackson’s
advice, the Federal army would have been caught in the execution of a
difficult manœuvre. On the morning of the 18th, about the very hour
that the advance should have begun, Pope was informed by a spy that the
Confederate army was assembled behind Clark’s
Mountain and the neighbouring hills; that the artillery horses were
harnessed, and that the troops were momentarily expecting orders to
cross the river and strike his rear. He at once made preparations for
retreat. The trains moved off to seek shelter behind the Rappahannock,
and the army followed, leaving the cavalry in position, and marching as
follows:—
Reno by Stevensburg to Kelly’s Ford.
Banks and McDowell by Culpeper Court House and
Brandy Station to the Rappahannock railway bridge.
Sigel by Rixeyville to Sulphur Springs.
August 19 The march was slow and halts were frequent. The long lines of
waggons blocked every road, and on the morning of August 19 the troops
were still at some distance from the Rappahannock, in neither condition
nor formation to resist a resolute attack.
August 20 The movement, however, was not discovered by the Confederates
until it had been more than four-and-twenty hours in progress. General
Lee, on August 19, had taken his stand on Clark’s Mountain, but the
weather was unfavourable for observation. Late in the afternoon the
haze lifted, and almost at the same moment the remaining tents of the
Federal army, fifteen miles away to the north-west, suddenly vanished
from the landscape, and great clouds of dust, rising high above the
woods, left it no longer doubtful that Pope had taken the alarm. It was
too late to interfere, and the sun set on an army baffled of its prey.
In the Confederate councils there was some dismay, among the troops
much heart-burning. Every hour that was wasted brought nearer the
junction of Pope and McClellan, and the soldiers were well aware that a
most promising opportunity, which it was worth while living on green
corn and apples to secure, had been allowed to slip. Nevertheless, the
pursuit was prompt. By the light of the rising moon the advanced guards
plunged thigh-deep into the clear waters of the Rapidan, and the whole
army crossed by Raccoon and Somerville Fords. Stuart, with Robertson’s
and Fitzhugh Lee’s brigades, pressed forward on the traces
of the retreating foe. Near Brandy Station the Federal cavalry made a
stubborn stand. The Confederates, covering a wide front, had become
separated. Robertson had marched through Stevensburg, Fitzhugh Lee on
Kelly’s Ford, an interval of six miles dividing the two brigades; and
when Robertson was met by Bayard’s squadrons, holding a skirt of woods
with dismounted men, it was several hours before a sufficient force
could be assembled to force the road. Towards evening two of Fitzhugh
Lee’s regiments came up, and the Confederates were now concentrated in
superior numbers. A series of vigorous charges, delivered by successive
regiments on a front of fours, for the horsemen were confined to the
road, hurried the retreating Federals across the Rappahannock; but the
presence of infantry and guns near the railway bridge placed an
effective barrier in the way of further pursuit. Before nightfall
Jackson’s advanced guard reached Brandy Station, after a march of
twenty miles, and Longstreet bivouacked near Kelly’s Ford.
The Rappahannock, a broad and rapid stream, with banks high and
well-timbered, now rolled between the hostile armies. Pope, by his
timely retreat, had gained a position where he could be readily
reinforced, and although the river, in consequence of the long drought,
had much dwindled from its usual volume, his front was perfectly
secure.
The situation with which the Confederate commander had now to deal was
beset by difficulties. The delay from August 18 to August 20 had been
most unfortunate. The Federals were actually nearer Richmond than the
Army of Northern Virginia, and if McClellan, landing as Burnside had
done at Aquia Creek, were to move due south through Fredericksburg, he
would find the capital but feebly garrisoned. It was more probable,
however, that he would reinforce Pope, and Lee held fast to his idea of
crushing his enemies in detail. Aquia Creek was only thirty-five miles’
march from the Rappahannock, but the disembarkation with horses,
trains, and artillery must needs be a lengthy process, and it might
still be possible, by skilful and swift
manœuvres, to redeem the time which had been already lost. But the
Federal position was very strong.
August 21 Early on the 21st it was ascertained that Pope’s whole army
was massed on the left bank of the Rappahannock, extending from Kelly’s
Ford to Hazel Run, and that a powerful artillery crowned the commanding
bluffs. To turn the line of the river from the south was hardly
practicable. The Federal cavalry was vigilant, and Pope would have
quietly fallen back on Washington. A turning movement from the north
was more promising, and during the day Stuart, supported by Jackson,
made vigorous efforts to find a passage across the river. Covered by a
heavy fire of artillery, the squadrons drove in a regiment and a
battery holding Beverley Ford, and spread their patrols over the
country on the left bank. It was soon evident, however, that the ground
was unsuitable for attack, and Stuart, menaced by a strong force of
infantry, withdrew his troopers across the stream. Nothing further was
attempted. Jackson went into bivouac near St. James’s Church, and
Longstreet closed in upon his right.
August 22 The next morning, in accordance with Lee’s orders to “seek a
more favourable place to cross higher up the river, and thus gain the
enemy’s right,” Jackson, still preceded by Stuart, and concealing his
march as far as possible in the woods, moved towards the fords near
Warrenton Springs. Longstreet, meanwhile, marched towards the bridge at
Rappahannock Station, where the enemy had established a _tête-de-pont,_
and bringing his guns into action at every opportunity, made brisk
demonstrations along the river.
Late in the afternoon, after an attack on his rear-guard at Welford’s
Mill had been repulsed by Trimble, reinforced by Hood, Jackson, under a
lowering sky, reached the ruined bridge at the Sulphur Springs. Only a
few of the enemy’s cavalry had been descried, and he at once made
preparations to effect the passage of the Rappahannock. The 13th
Georgia dashed through the ford, and occupied the cottages of the
little watering-place. Early’s brigade and two batteries crossed by an
old mill-dam, a mile below, and
took post on the ridge beyond. But heavy rain had begun to fall; the
night was closing in; and the river, swollen by the storms in the
mountains, was already rising. The difficulties of the passage
increased every moment, and the main body of the Valley army was
ordered into bivouac on the western bank. It was not, however, the
darkness of the ford or the precarious footing of the mill-dam that
held Jackson back from reinforcing his advanced guard, but the
knowledge that these dangerous roadways would soon be submerged by a
raging torrent. Early was, indeed, in peril, but it was better that one
brigade should take its chance of escape than that one half the column
should be cut off from the remainder.
August 23 Next morning the pioneers were ordered to repair the bridge,
while Longstreet, feinting strongly against the _tête-de-pont,_ gave
Pope occupation. Early’s troops, under cover of the woods, moved
northward to the protection of a creek named Great Run, and although
the Federal cavalry kept close watch upon him, no attack was made till
nightfall. This was easily beaten back; and Jackson, anxious to keep
the attention of the enemy fixed on this point, sent over another
brigade.
August 24 At dawn on the 24th, however, as the Federals were reported
to be advancing in force, the detachment was brought back to the
Confederate bank. The men had been for two days and a night without
food or shelter. It was in vain that Early, after the bridge had been
restored, had requested to be withdrawn. Jackson sent Lawton to
reinforce him with the curt message: “Tell General Early to hold his
position;” and although the generals grumbled at their isolation, Pope
was effectually deluded into the conviction that a serious attack had
been repulsed, and that no further attempt to turn his right was to be
immediately apprehended. The significance of Jackson’s action will be
seen hereafter.
While Jackson was thus mystifying the enemy, both Longstreet and Stuart
had been hard at work. The former, after an artillery contest of
several hours’ duration, had driven the enemy from his _tête-de-pont_
on the railway, and had burnt the bridge. The latter, on the morning of
the
22nd, had moved northward with the whole of the cavalry, except two
regiments, and had ridden round the Federal right. Crossing the
Rappahannock at Waterloo Bridge and Hart’s Mills, he marched eastward
without meeting a single hostile scout, and as evening fell the column
of 1,500 men and two pieces of artillery clattered into Warrenton. The
troopers dismounted in the streets. The horses were fed and watered,
and while the officers amused themselves by registering their names,
embellished with fantastic titles, at the hotel, Stuart’s staff,
questioning the throng of women and old men, elicited important
information. None of the enemy’s cavalry had been seen in the vicinity
for some days, and Pope’s supply trains were parked at Catlett’s
Station, on the Orange and Alexandria Railway, ten miles south-east.
After an hour’s rest the force moved on, and passing through Auburn
village was caught by the same storm that had cut off Early. The narrow
roads became running streams, and the creeks which crossed the line of
march soon rose to the horses’ withers. But this was the very condition
of the elements most favourable for the enterprise. The enemy’s
vedettes and patrols, sheltering from the fury of the storm, were
captured, one after another, by the advanced guard, and the two
brigades arrived at Catlett’s Station without the Federals receiving
the least notice of their approach.
A moment’s halt, a short consultation, a silent movement forward, and
the astonished sentinels were overpowered. Beyond were the encampments
and the trains, guarded by 1,500 infantry and 500 horsemen. The night
was dark—the darkest, said Stuart, that he had ever known. Without a
guide concerted action seemed impossible. The rain still fell in
torrents, and the raiders, soaked to the skin, could only grope
aimlessly in the gloom. But just at this moment a negro was captured
who recognised Stuart, and who knew where Pope’s baggage and horses
were to be found. He was told to lead the way, and Colonel W. H. F.
Lee, a son of the Commander-in-Chief, was ordered to follow with his
regiment. The guide
led the column towards the headquarter tents. “Then there mingled with
the noise of the rain upon the canvas and the roar of the wind in the
forest the rushing sound of many horsemen, of loud voices, and clashing
sabres.” One of Pope’s staff officers, together with the uniform and
horses of the Federal commander, his treasure chest, and his personal
effects, fell into the hands of the Confederates, and the greater part
of the enemy’s troops, suddenly alarmed in the deep darkness, dispersed
into the woods. Another camp was quickly looted, and the 1st and 5th
Virginia Cavalry were sent across the railway, riding without accident,
notwithstanding the darkness, over a high embankment with deep ditches
on either side. But the Federal guards had now rallied under cover, and
the attack on the railway waggons had to be abandoned. Another party
had taken in hand the main object of the expedition, the destruction of
the railway bridge over Cedar Run. The force which should have defended
it was surprised and scattered. The timbers, however, were by this time
thoroughly saturated, and only a few axes had been discovered. Some
Federal skirmishers maintained a heavy fire from the opposite bank, and
it was impossible to complete the work. The telegraph was more easily
dealt with; and shortly before daylight on the 23rd, carrying with him
300 prisoners, including many officers, Stuart withdrew by the light of
the blazing camp, and after a march of sixty miles in six-and-twenty
hours, reached the Sulphur Springs before evening.
The most important result of this raid was the capture of Pope’s
dispatch book, containing most detailed information as to his strength,
dispositions, and designs; referring to the reinforcements he expected,
and disclosing his belief that the line of the Rappahannock was no
longer tenable. But the enterprise had an indirect effect upon the
enemy’s calculations, which was not without bearing on the campaign.
Pope believed that Stuart’s advance on Catlett’s Station had been made
in connection with Jackson’s attempt to cross at Sulphur Springs; and
the retreat of the cavalry, combined with that of Early, seemed
to indicate that the movement to turn his right had been definitely
abandoned.
The Federal commander was soon to be undeceived. Thrice had General Lee
been baulked. The enemy, who should have been annihilated on August 19,
had gained six days’ respite. On the 20th he had placed himself behind
the Rappahannock. On the 22nd the rising waters forbade Jackson’s
passage at the Sulphur Springs; and now, on the afternoon of the 24th,
the situation was still unchanged. Disregarding Longstreet’s
demonstrations, Pope had marched northward, keeping pace with Jackson,
and his whole force was concentrated on the great road which runs from
the Sulphur Springs through Warrenton and Gainesville to Washington and
Alexandria. He had answered move by countermove. Hitherto, except in
permitting Early to recross the river, he had made no mistake, and he
had gained time. He had marched over thirty miles, and executed
complicated manœuvres, without offering the Confederates an opening.
His position near the Sulphur Springs was as strong as that which he
had left on the lower reaches near the railway bridge. Moreover, the
correspondence in his dispatch book disclosed the fact that a portion
at least of McClellan’s army had landed at Aquia Creek, and was
marching to Bealtown;[6] that a strong force, drawn from the Kanawha
Valley and elsewhere, was assembling at Washington; and that 150,000
men might be concentrated within a few days on the Rappahannock. Lee,
on learning McClellan’s destination, immediately asked that the troops
which had been retained at Richmond should be sent to join him. Mr.
Davis assented, but it was not till the request had been repeated and
time lost that the divisions of D. H. Hill and McLaws’, two brigades of
infantry, under J. G. Walker, and Hampton’s cavalry
brigade were ordered up. Yet these reinforcements only raised Lee’s
numbers to 75,000 men, and they were from eighty to a hundred miles
distant by an indifferent railroad.
Nor was it possible to await their arrival. Instant action was
imperative. But what action was possible? A defensive attitude could
only result in the Confederate army being forced back by superior
strength; and retreat on Richmond would be difficult, for the Federals
held the interior lines. The offensive seemed out of the question.
Pope’s position was more favourable than before. His army was massed,
and reinforcements were close at hand. His right flank was well
secured. The ford at Sulphur Springs and the Waterloo Bridge were both
in his possession; north of the Springs rose the Bull Run Mountains, a
range covered with thick forest, and crossed by few roads; and his left
was protected by the march of McClellan’s army corps from Aquia Creek.
Even the genius of a Napoleon might well have been baffled by the
difficulties in the way of attack. But there were men in the
Confederate army to whom overwhelming numbers and strong positions were
merely obstacles to be overcome.
On August 24 Lee removed his headquarters to Jefferson, where Jackson
was already encamped, and on the same evening, with Pope’s captured
correspondence before them, the two generals discussed the problem.
What occurred at this council of war was never made public. To use
Lee’s words: “A plan of operations was determined on;” but by whom it
was suggested there is none to tell us. “Jackson was so reticent,”
writes Dr. McGuire, “that it was only by accident that we ever found
out what he proposed to do, and there is no staff officer living (1897)
who could throw any light on this matter. The day before we started to
march round Pope’s army I saw Lee and Jackson conferring together.
Jackson—for him—was very much excited, drawing with the toe of his boot
a map in the sand, and gesticulating in a much more earnest way than he
was in the habit of doing. General Lee was simply listening, and after
Jackson had got through, he nodded his head, as if
acceding to some proposal. I believe, from what occurred afterwards,
that Jackson suggested the movement as it was made, but I have no
further proof than the incident I have just mentioned.”[7] It is only
certain that we have record of few enterprises of greater daring than
that which was then decided on; and no matter from whose brain it
emanated, on Lee fell the burden of the responsibility; on his
shoulders, and on his alone, rested the honour of the Confederate arms,
the fate of Richmond, the independence of the South; and if we may
suppose, so consonant was the design proposed with the strategy which
Jackson had already practised, that it was to him its inception was
due, it is still to Lee that we must assign the higher merit. It is
easy to conceive. It is less easy to execute. But to risk cause and
country, name and reputation, on a single throw, and to abide the issue
with unflinching heart, is the supreme exhibition of the soldier’s
fortitude.
Lee’s decision was to divide his army. Jackson, marching northwards,
was to cross the Bull Run Mountains at Thoroughfare Gap, ten miles as
the crow flies from the enemy’s right, and strike the railway which
formed Pope’s line of supply. The Federal commander, who would
meanwhile be held in play by Longstreet, would be compelled to fall
back in a north-easterly direction to save his communications, and thus
be drawn away from McClellan. Longstreet would then follow Jackson, and
it was hoped that the Federals, disconcerted by these movements, might
be attacked in detail or forced to fight at a disadvantage. The risk,
however, was very great.
An army of 55,000 men was about to march into a region occupied by
100,000,[8] who might easily be reinforced to 150,000; and it was to
march in two wings,
separated from each other by two days’ march. If Pope were to receive
early warning of Jackson’s march, he might hurl his whole force on one
or the other. Moreover, defeat, with both Pope and McClellan between
the Confederates and Richmond, spelt ruin and nothing less. But as Lee
said after the war, referring to the criticism evoked by manœuvres, in
this as in other of his campaigns, which were daring even to rashness,
“Such criticism is obvious, but the disparity of force between the
contending forces rendered the risks unavoidable.”[9] In the present
case the only alternative was an immediate retreat; and retreat, so
long as the enemy was not fully concentrated, and there was a chance of
dealing with him in detail, was a measure which neither Lee nor Jackson
was ever willing to advise.
On the evening of the 24th Jackson began his preparations for the most
famous of his marches. His troops were quietly withdrawn from before
the Sulphur Springs, and Longstreet’s division, unobserved by the
Federals, took their place. Captain Boswell was ordered to report on
the most direct and hidden route to Manassas Junction, and the three
divisions—Ewell’s, Hill’s, and the Stonewall, now commanded by
Taliaferro—assembled near Jefferson. Three days’ cooked rations were to
be carried in the haversacks, and a herd of cattle, together with the
green corn standing in the fields, was relied upon for subsistence
until requisition could be made on the Federal magazines. The troops
marched light. Knapsacks were left behind. Tin cans and a few
frying-pans formed the only camp equipment, and many an officer’s
outfit consisted of a few badly baked biscuits and a handful of salt.
August 25 Long before dawn the divisions were afoot. The men were
hungry, and their rest had been short; but they were old acquaintances
of the morning star, and to march while the east was still grey had
become a matter of routine. But as their guides led northward, and the
sound of the guns, opening along the Rappahannock, grew fainter and
fainter, a certain excitement began to pervade the column. Something
mysterious was in the air.
What their movement portended not the shrewdest of the soldiers could
divine; but they recalled their marches in the Valley and their
inevitable results, and they knew instinctively that a surprise on a
still larger scale was in contemplation. The thought was enough. Asking
no questions, and full of enthusiasm, they followed with quick step the
leader in whom their confidence had become so absolute. The flood had
subsided on the Upper Rappahannock, and the divisions forded it at
Hinson’s Mill, unmolested and apparently unobserved. Without halting it
pressed on, Boswell with a small escort of cavalry leading the way. The
march led first by Amissville, thence north to Orleans, beyond
Hedgeman’s River, and thence to Salem, a village on the Manassas Gap
Railroad. Where the roads diverged from the shortest line the troops
took to the fields. Guides were stationed by the advanced guard at each
gap and gate which marked the route. Every precaution was taken to
conceal the movement. The roads in the direction of the enemy were
watched by cavalry, and so far as possible the column was directed
through woods and valleys. The men, although they knew nothing of their
destination, whether Winchester, or Harper’s Ferry, or even Washington
itself, strode on mile after mile, through field and ford, in the
fierce heat of the August noon, without question or complaint. “Old
Jack” had asked them to do their best, and that was enough to command
their most strenuous efforts.
Near the end of the day Jackson rode to the head of the leading
brigade, and complimented the officers on the fine condition of the
troops and the regularity of the march. They had made more than twenty
miles, and were still moving briskly, well closed up, and without
stragglers. Then, standing by the wayside, he watched his army pass.
The sun was setting, and the rays struck full on his familiar face,
brown with exposure, and his dusty uniform. Ewell’s division led the
way, and when the men saw their general, they prepared to salute him
with their usual greeting. But as they began to cheer he raised his
hand to stop them, and the word passed down the column, “Don’t shout,
boys, the
Yankees will hear us;” and the soldiers contented themselves with
swinging their caps in mute acclamation. When the next division passed
a deeper flush spread over Jackson’s face. Here were the men he had so
often led to triumph, the men he had trained himself, the men of the
Valley, of the First Manassas, of Kernstown, and McDowell. The
Stonewall regiments were before him, and he was unable to restrain
them; devotion such as theirs was not to be silenced at such a moment,
and the wild battle-yell of his own brigade set his pulses tingling.
For once a breach of discipline was condoned. “It is of no use,” said
Jackson, turning to his staff, “you see I can’t stop them;” and then,
with a sudden access of intense pride in his gallant veterans, he
added, half to himself, “Who could fail to win battles with such men as
these?”
It was midnight before the column halted near Salem village, and the
men, wearied outright with their march of six-and-twenty miles, threw
themselves on the ground by the piles of muskets, without even
troubling to unroll their blankets. So far the movement had been
entirely successful. Not a Federal had been seen, and none appeared
during the warm midsummer night. Yet the soldiers were permitted scant
time for rest. Once more they were aroused while the stars were bright;
and, half awake, snatching what food they could, they stumbled forward
through the darkness.
August 26 As the cool breath of the morning rose about them, the dark
forests of the Bull Run Mountains became gradually visible in the faint
light of the eastern sky, and the men at last discovered whither their
general was leading them. With the knowledge, which spread quickly
through the ranks, that they were making for the communications of the
boaster Pope, the regiments stepped out with renewed energy. “There was
no need for speech, no breath to spare if there had been—only the
shuffling tramp of marching feet, the rumbling of wheels, the creak and
clank of harness and accoutrements, with an occasional order, uttered
under the breath, and always the same: ‘Close up, men! Close up!’”[10]
Through Thoroughfare Gap, a narrow gorge in the Bull Run range, with
high cliffs, covered with creepers and crowned with pines on either
hand, the column wound steadily upwards; and, gaining the higher level,
the troops looked down on the open country to the eastward. Over a vast
area of alternate field and forest, bounded by distant uplands, the
shadows of the clouds were slowly sailing. Issuing from the mouth of
the pass, and trending a little to the south-east, ran the broad
high-road, passing through two tiny hamlets, Haymarket and Gainesville,
and climbing by gentle gradients to a great bare plateau, familiar to
the soldiers of Bull Run under the name of Manassas Plains. At
Gainesville this road was crossed by another, which, lost in dense
woods, appeared once more on the open heights to the far north-east,
where the white buildings of Centreville glistened in the sunshine. The
second road was the Warrenton and Alexandria highway, the direct line
of communication between Pope’s army and Washington, and it is not
difficult to divine the anxiety with which it was scrutinised by
Jackson. If his march had been detected, a far superior force might
already be moving to intercept him. At any moment the news might come
in that the Federal army was rapidly approaching; and even were that
not the case, it seemed hardly possible that the Confederate column,
betrayed by the dust, could escape the observation of passing patrols
or orderlies. But not a solitary scout was visible; no movement was
reported from the direction of Warrenton; and the troops pressed on,
further and further round the Federal rear, further and further from
Lee and Longstreet. The cooked rations which they carried had been
consumed or thrown away; there was no time for the slaughter and
distribution of the cattle; but the men took tribute from the fields
and orchards, and green corn and green apples were all the morning meal
that many of them enjoyed. At Gainesville the column was joined by
Stuart, who had maintained a fierce artillery fight at Waterloo Bridge
the previous day; and then, slipping quietly away under cover of the
darkness, had marched at two in the morning to cover
Jackson’s flank. The sun was high in the heavens, and still the enemy
made no sign. Munford’s horsemen, forming the advanced guard, had long
since reached the Alexandria turnpike, sweeping up all before them, and
neither patrols nor orderlies had escaped to carry the news to
Warrenton.
So the point of danger was safely passed, and thirteen miles in rear of
Pope’s headquarters, right across the communications he had told his
troops to disregard, the long column swung swiftly forward in the
noonday heat. Not a sound, save the muffled roll of many wheels, broke
the stillness of the tranquil valley; only the great dust cloud,
rolling always eastward up the slopes of the Manassas plateau, betrayed
the presence of war.
Beyond Gainesville Jackson took the road which led to Bristoe Station,
some seven miles south of Manassas Junction. Neither the success which
had hitherto accompanied his movement, nor the excitement incident on
his situation, had overbalanced his judgment. From Gainesville the
Junction might have been reached in little more than an hour’s march;
and prudence would have recommended a swift dash at the supply depôt,
swift destruction, and swift escape. But it was always possible that
Pope might have been alarmed, and the railroad from Warrenton Junction
supplied him with the means of throwing a strong force of infantry
rapidly to his rear. In order to obstruct such a movement Jackson had
determined to seize Bristoe Station. Here, breaking down the railway
bridge over Broad Run, and establishing his main body in an almost
impregnable position behind the stream, he could proceed at his leisure
with the destruction of the stores at Manassas Junction. The advantages
promised by this manœuvre more than compensated for the increased
length of the march.
The sun had not yet set when the advanced guard arrived within striking
distance of Bristoe Station. Munford’s squadrons, still leading the
way, dashed upon the village. Ewell followed in hot haste, and a large
portion of the guard, consisting of two companies, one of cavalry and
one of infantry, was immediately captured.
A train returning empty from Warrenton Junction to Alexandria darted
through the station under a heavy fire.[11] The line was then torn up,
and two trains which followed in the same direction as the first were
thrown down a high embankment. A fourth, scenting danger ahead, moved
back before it reached the break in the road. The column had now closed
up, and it was already dark. The escape of the two trains was most
unfortunate. It would soon be known, both at Alexandria and Warrenton,
that Manassas Junction was in danger. The troops had marched nearly
five-and-twenty miles, but if the object of the expedition was to be
accomplished, further exertions were absolutely necessary. Trimble,
energetic as ever, volunteered with two regiments, the 21st Georgia and
21st North Carolina, to move on Manassas Junction. Stuart was placed in
command, and without a moment’s delay the detachment moved northward
through the woods. The night was hot and moonless. The infantry moved
in order of battle, the skirmishers in advance; and pushing slowly
forward over a broken country, it was nearly midnight before they
reached the Junction. Half a mile from the depôt their advance was
greeted by a salvo of shells. The Federal garrison, warned by the
fugitives from Bristoe Station, were on the alert; but so harmless was
their fire that Trimble’s men swept on without a check. The two
regiments, one on either side of the railroad, halted within a hundred
yards of the Federal guns. The countersign was passed down the ranks,
and the bugles sounded the charge. The Northern gunners, without
waiting for the onset, fled through the darkness, and two batteries,
each with its full complement of guns and waggons, became the prize of
the Confederate infantry. Stuart, coming up on the flank, rode down the
fugitives. Over 300 prisoners were taken, and the remainder of the
garrison streamed northward through the deserted camps. The results of
this attack more than compensated for the exertions the troops had
undergone. Only 15 Confederates had been wounded, and the supplies on
which Pope’s army, whether it was intended to move against Longstreet
or merely to hold the line of the Rappahannock, depended both for food
and ammunition were in Jackson’s hands.
August 27 The next morning Hill’s and Taliaferro’s divisions joined
Trimble. Ewell remained at Bristoe; cavalry patrols were sent out in
every direction, and Jackson, riding to Manassas, saw before him the
reward of his splendid march. Streets of warehouses, stored to
overflowing, had sprung up round the Junction. A line of freight cars,
two miles in length, stood upon the railway. Thousands of barrels,
containing flour, pork, and biscuit, covered the neighbouring fields.
Brand-new ambulances were packed in regular rows. Field-ovens, with the
fires still smouldering, and all the paraphernalia of a large bakery,
attracted the wondering gaze of the Confederate soldiery; while great
pyramids of shot and shell, piled with the symmetry of an arsenal,
testified to the profusion with which the enemy’s artillery was
supplied.
It was a strange commentary on war. Washington was but a long day’s
march to the north; Warrenton, Pope’s headquarters, but twelve miles
distant to the south-west; and along the Rappahannock, between Jackson
and Lee, stood the tents of a host which outnumbered the whole
Confederate army. No thought of danger had entered the minds of those
who selected Manassas Junction as the depôt of the Federal forces. Pope
had been content to leave a small guard as a protection against raiding
cavalry. Halleck, concerned only with massing the whole army on the
Rappahannock, had used every effort to fill the storehouses. If, he
thought, there was one place in Virginia where the Stars and Stripes
might be displayed in full security, that place was Manassas Junction;
and here, as nowhere else, the wealth of the North had been poured out
with a prodigality such as had never been seen in war. To feed, clothe,
and equip the Union armies no expenditure was
deemed extravagant. For the comfort and well-being of the individual
soldier the purse-strings of the nation were freely loosed. No demand,
however preposterous, was disregarded. The markets of Europe were
called upon to supply the deficiencies of the States; and if money
could have effected the re-establishment of the Union, the war would
have already reached a triumphant issue. But the Northern Government
had yet to learn that the accumulation of men, materiel, and supplies
is not in itself sufficient for success. Money alone cannot provide
good generals, a trained staff, or an efficient cavalry; and so on this
August morning 20,000 ragged Confederates, the soldiers of a country
which ranked as the poorest of nations, had marched right round the
rear of the Federal army, and were now halted in undisturbed possession
of all that made that army an effective force.
Few generals have occupied a position so commanding as did Jackson on
the morning of August 27. His enemies would henceforward have to dance
while he piped. It was Jackson, and not Pope, who was to dictate the
movements of the Federal army. It was impossible that the latter could
now maintain its position on the Rappahannock, and Lee’s strategy had
achieved its end. The capture of Manassas Junction, however, was only
the first step in the campaign. Pope, to restore his communications
with Alexandria, would be compelled to fall back; but before he could
be defeated the two Confederate wings must be united, and the harder
part of the work would devolve on Jackson. The Federals, at Warrenton,
were nearer by five miles to Thoroughfare Gap, his shortest line of
communication with Lee and Longstreet, than he was himself. Washington
held a large garrison, and the railway was available for the transit of
the troops. The fugitives from Manassas must already have given the
alarm, and at any moment the enemy might appear.
If there were those in the Confederate ranks who considered the
manœuvres of their leader overbold, their misgivings were soon
justified.
A train full of soldiers from Warrenton Junction put back on finding
Ewell in possession of Bristoe Station; but a more determined effort
was made from the direction of Alexandria. So early as seven o’clock a
brigade of infantry, accompanied by a battery, detrained on the north
bank of Bull Run, and advanced in battle order against the
Junction.[12] The Federals, unaware that the depôt was held in
strength, expected to drive before them a few squadrons of cavalry. But
when several batteries opened a heavy fire, and heavy columns advanced
against their flanks, the men broke in flight towards the bridge. The
Confederate infantry followed rapidly, and two Ohio regiments, which
had just arrived from the Kanawha Valley, were defeated with heavy
loss. Fitzhugh Lee, who had fallen back before the enemy’s advance, was
then ordered in pursuit. The cars and railway bridge were destroyed;
and during the day the brigade followed the fugitives as far as Burke’s
Station, only twelve miles from Alexandria.
This feeble attack appears to have convinced Jackson that his danger
was not pressing. It was evident that the enemy had as yet no idea of
his strength. Stuart’s cavalry watched every road; Ewell held a strong
position on Broad Run, barring the direct approach from Warrenton
Junction, and it was determined to give the wearied soldiers the
remainder of the day for rest and pillage. It was impossible to carry
away even a tithe of the stores, and when an issue of rations had been
made, the bakery set working, and the liquor placed under guard, the
regiments were let loose on the magazines. Such an opportunity occurs
but seldom in the soldiers’ service, and the hungry Confederates were
not the men to let it pass. “Weak and haggard from their diet of green
corn and apples, one can well imagine,” says Gordon, “with what
surprise their eyes opened upon the contents of the sutlers’ stores,
containing an amount and
variety of property such as they had never conceived. Then came a
storming charge of men rushing in a tumultuous mob over each other’s
heads, under each other’s feet, anywhere, everywhere, to satisfy a
craving stronger than a yearning for fame. There were no laggards in
that charge, and there was abundant evidence of the fruits of victory.
Men ragged and famished clutched tenaciously at whatever came in their
way, whether of clothing or food, of luxury or necessity. Here a long
yellow-haired, barefooted son of the South claimed as prizes a
toothbrush, a box of candles, a barrel of coffee; while another, whose
butternut homespun hung round him in tatters, crammed himself with
lobster salad, sardines, potted game and sweetmeats, and washed them
down with Rhenish wine. Nor was the outer man neglected. From piles of
new clothing the Southerners arrayed themselves in the blue uniforms of
the Federals. The naked were clad, the barefooted were shod, and the
sick provided with luxuries to which they had long been strangers.”[13]
The history of war records many extraordinary scenes, but there are few
more ludicrous than this wild revel at Manassas. Even the chagrin of
Northern writers gives way before the spectacle; and Jackson must have
smiled grimly when he thought of the maxim which Pope had promulgated
with such splendid confidence: “Let us study the probable lines of
retreat of our opponents, and leave our own to take care of
themselves!”
It was no time, however, to indulge in reflections on the irony of
fortune. All through the afternoon, while the sharp-set Confederates
were sweeping away the profits which the Northern sutlers had wrung
from Northern soldiers, Stuart’s vigilant patrols sent in report on
report of the Federal movements. From Warrenton heavy columns were
hurrying over the great highroad to Gainesville, and from Warrenton
Junction a large force of all arms was marching direct on Bristoe.
There was news, too, from Lee. Despite the distance to be covered, and
the
proximity of the enemy, a trooper of the Black Horse, a regiment of
young planters which now formed Jackson’s Escort, disguised as a
countryman, made his way back from headquarters, and Jackson learned
that Longstreet, who had started the previous evening, was following
his own track by Orleans, Salem, and Thoroughfare Gap.[14] It was
evident, then, that the whole Federal army was in motion northwards,
and that Longstreet had crossed the Rappahannock. But Longstreet had
many miles to march and Thoroughfare Gap to pass before he could lend
assistance; and the movement of the enemy on Gainesville threatened to
intervene between the widely separated wings of the Confederate army.
It was no difficult matter for Jackson to decide on the course to be
adopted. There was but one thing to do, to retreat at once; and only
one line of escape still open, the roads leading north and north-west
from Manassas Junction. To remain at Manassas and await Lee’s arrival
would have been to sacrifice his command. 20,000 men, even with the
protection of intrenchments, could hardly hope to hold the whole
Federal army at bay for two days; and it was always possible that Pope,
blocking Thoroughfare Gap with a portion of his force, might delay Lee
for even longer than two days. Nor did it recommend itself to Jackson
as sound strategy to move south, attack the Federal column approaching
Bristoe, and driving it from his path to escape past the rear of the
column moving to Gainesville. The exact position of the Federal troops
was far from clear. Large forces might be encountered near the
Rappahannock, and part of McClellan’s army was known to be marching
westward from Aquia Creek. Moreover, such a movement would have
accentuated the separation of the Confederate wings, and a local
success over a portion of the hostile army would have been but a poor
substitute for the decisive victory which Lee hoped to win when his
whole force was once more concentrated.
About three in the afternoon the thunder of artillery was heard from
the direction of Bristoe. Ewell had sent a brigade along the railroad
to support some cavalry on reconnaissance, and to destroy a bridge over
Kettle Run. Hardly had the latter task been accomplished when a strong
column of Federal infantry emerged from the forest and deployed for
action. Hooker’s division of 5,500 men, belonging to McClellan’s army,
had joined Pope on the same day that Jackson had crossed the
Rappahannock, and had been dispatched northwards from Warrenton
Junction as soon as the news came in that Manassas Junction had been
captured. Hooker had been instructed to ascertain the strength of the
enemy at Manassas, for Pope was still under the impression that the
attack on his rear was nothing more than a repetition of the raid on
Catlett’s Station. Striking the Confederate outposts at Kettle Run, he
deployed his troops in three lines and pushed briskly forward. The
batteries on both sides opened, and after a hot skirmish of an hour’s
duration Ewell, who had orders not to risk an engagement with superior
forces, found that his flanks were threatened. In accordance with his
instructions he directed his three brigades to retire in succession
across Broad Run. This difficult manœuvre was accomplished with
trifling loss, and Hooker, ascertaining that Jackson’s whole corps,
estimated at 30,000 men, was near at hand, advanced no further than the
stream. Ewell fell back slowly to the Junction; and shortly after
midnight the three Confederate divisions had disappeared into the
darkness. The torch had already been set to the captured stores;
warehouses, trains, camps, and hospitals were burning fiercely, and the
dark figures of Stuart’s troopers, still urging on the work, passed to
and fro amid the flames. Of the value of property destroyed it is
difficult to arrive at an estimate. Jackson, in his official report,
enumerates the various items with an unction which he must have
inherited from some moss-trooping ancestor. Yet the actual quantity
mattered little, for the stores could be readily replaced. But the
effect of their destruction on the Federal operations was for the time
being overwhelming. And of this
destruction Pope himself was a witness. The fight with Ewell had just
ceased, and the troops were going into bivouac, when the
Commander-in-Chief, anxious to ascertain with his own eyes the extent
of the danger to which he was exposed, reached Bristoe Station. There,
while the explosion of the piles of shells resembled the noise of a
great battle, from the ridge above Broad Run he saw the sky to the
north-east lurid with the blaze of a vast conflagration; and there he
learned for the first time that it was no mere raid of cavalry, but
Stonewall Jackson, with his whole army corps, who stood between himself
and Washington.
For the best part of three days the Union general had been completely
mystified. Jackson had left Jefferson on the 25th. But although his
march had been seen by the Federal signaller on the hills near Waterloo
Bridge,[15] and the exact strength of his force had been reported, his
destination had been unsuspected. When the column was last seen it was
moving northward from Orleans, but the darkness had covered it, and the
measure of prolonging the march to midnight bore good fruit. For the
best part of two days Jackson had vanished from his enemy’s view, to be
found by Pope himself at Manassas Junction.[16] Nevertheless, although
working in the dark, the Federal commander, up to the moment he reached
Bristoe Station, had acted with sound judgment. He had inferred from
the reports of his signalmen that Jackson was marching to Front Royal
on the Shenandoah; but in order to clear up the situation, on the 26th
Sigel and McDowell were ordered to force the passage of the
Rappahannock at Waterloo Bridge and the Sulphur Springs, and obtain
information of the enemy’s movements. Reno, at the same time, was to
cross below the railway bridge and make for Culpeper. The manœuvres,
however, were not carried out as contemplated. Only McDowell advanced;
and as Lee had replaced Longstreet, who marched to Orleans the same
afternoon, by Anderson, but little was discovered.
[Illustration: Situation at Sunset, August 27th, 1862.]
It was evident, however, that the Confederates were trending steadily
northwards, and on the night of the 26th Pope ordered his 80,000
Federals to concentrate in the neighbourhood of Warrenton. Reports had
come in that hostile troops had passed through Salem, White Plains, and
Thoroughfare Gap.[17] But it seemed improbable, both to Pope and
McDowell, the second in command, that more was meant by this than a
flank attack on Warrenton. McDowell expressed his opinion that a
movement round the right wing in the direction of Alexandria was far
too hazardous for the enemy to attempt. Pope appears to have
acquiesced, and a line of battle near Warrenton, with a strong reserve
at Greenwich, to the right rear, was then decided on. Franklin’s army
corps from the Peninsula, instead of proceeding to Aquia Creek, was
disembarking at Alexandria, and Halleck had been requested to push
these 10,000 men forward with all speed to Gainesville. The Kanawha
regiments had also reached Washington, and Pope was under the
impression that these too would be sent to join him. He had therefore
but little apprehension for his rear. The one error of judgment into
which both Pope and McDowell had been betrayed was in not giving Lee
due credit for audacity or Jackson for energy. That Lee would dare to
divide his army they had never conceived; that Jackson would march
fifty miles in two days and place his single corps astride their
communications was an idea which had they thought of they would have
instantly dismissed. Like the Austrian generals when they first
confronted Napoleon, they might well have complained that their enemy
broke every rule of the military art; and like all generals who believe
that war is a mere matter of precedent, they found themselves
egregiously deceived.
The capture of Manassas, to use Pope’s own words, rendered his position
at Warrenton no longer tenable, and early on the 27th, the army,
instead of concentrating on Warrenton, was ordered to move to
Gainesville (from Gainesville it was easy to block Thoroughfare Gap);
Buford’s cavalry brigade was thrown out towards White Plains to observe
Longstreet, and Hooker was dispatched to clear up the situation at
Manassas. This move, which was completed before nightfall, could hardly
have been improved upon. The whole Federal army was now established on
the direct line of communication between Jackson and Lee, and although
Jackson might still escape, the Confederates had as yet gained no
advantage beyond the destruction of Pope’s supplies. It seemed
impossible that the two wings could combine east of the Bull Run
Mountains. But on the evening of the 27th, after the conclusion of the
engagement at Bristoe Station, Pope lost his head. The view he now took
of the situation was absolutely erroneous. Ewell’s retreat before
Hooker he interpreted as an easy victory, which fully compensated for
the loss of his magazines. He imagined that Jackson had been surprised,
and that no other course was open to him than to take refuge in the
intrenchments of Manassas Junction and await Lee’s arrival. Orders were
at once issued for a manœuvre which should ensure the defeat of the
presumptuous foe. The Federal army corps, marching in three columns,
were called up to Manassas, a movement which would leave Thoroughfare
Gap unguarded save by Buford’s cavalry. Some were to move at midnight,
others “at the very earliest blush of dawn.” “We shall bag the whole
crowd, if they are prompt and expeditious,”[18] said Pope, with a sad
lapse from the poetical phraseology he had just employed.
August 28 And so, on the morning of the 28th, a Federal army once more
set out with the expectation of surrounding Jackson, to find once more
that the task was beyond their powers.
The march was slow. Pope made no movement from
Bristoe Station until Hooker had been reinforced by Kearney and Reno;
McDowell, before he turned east from Gainesville, was delayed by
Sigel’s trains, which crossed his line of march, and it was not till
noon that Hooker’s advanced guard halted amid the still smouldering
ruins on the Manassas plateau. The march had been undisturbed. The
redoubts were untenanted. The woods to the north were silent. A few
grey-coated vedettes watched the operations from far-distant ridges; a
few stragglers, overcome perhaps by their Gargantuan meal of the
previous evening, were picked up in the copses, but Jackson’s divisions
had vanished from the earth.