HARPER’S FERRY
Sept. 1862 The Confederate operations in Virginia during the spring and
summer of 1862 had been successful beyond expectation and almost beyond
precedent. Within six months two great armies had been defeated;
McClellan had been driven from the Peninsula, and Pope from the
Rappahannock. The villages of Virginia no longer swarmed with foreign
bayonets. The hostile camps had vanished from her inland counties.
Richmond was free from menace; and in the Valley of the Shenandoah the
harvest was gathered in without let or hindrance. Except at Winchester
and Martinsburg, where the garrisons, alarmed by the news of Pope’s
defeat, were already preparing to withdraw; in the vicinity of Norfolk,
and at Fortress Monroe, the invaders had no foothold within the
boundaries of the State they had just now overrun; and their
demoralised masses, lying exhausted behind the fortifications of
Washington and Alexandria, were in no condition to resume the
offensive. The North had opened the campaign in the early spring with
the confident hope of capturing the rebel capital; before the summer
was over it was questionable whether it would be able to save its own.
Had the rival armies been equally matched in numbers and equipment this
result would have hardly been remarkable. The Federals had had great
difficulties to contend with—an unknown country, bad roads, a hostile
population, natural obstacles of formidable character, statesmen
ignorant of war, and generals at loggerheads with the Administration.
Yet so superior were their numbers, so ample their resources, that even
these
disadvantages might have been overcome had the strategy of the Southern
leaders been less admirable. Lee, Jackson, and Johnston had played the
_rôle_ of the defender to perfection. No attempt had been made to hold
the frontier. Mobility and not earthwork was the weapon on which they
had relied. Richmond, the only fortress, had been used as a pivot of
operations, and not merely as a shelter for the army. The specious
expedient of pushing forward advanced guards to harass or delay the
enemy had been avoided; and thus no opportunity had been offered to the
invaders of dealing with the defence in detail, or of raising their own
_moral_ by victory over isolated detachments. The generals had declined
battle until their forces were concentrated and the enemy was divided.
Nor had they fought except on ground of their own choice. Johnston had
refused to be drawn into decisive action until McClellan became
involved in the swamps of the Chickahominy. Jackson, imitating like his
superior the defensive strategy of Wellington and Napoleon, had fallen
back to a zone of manœuvre south of the Massanuttons. By retreating to
the inaccessible fastness of Elk Run Valley he had drawn Banks and
Frémont up the Shenandoah, their lines of communication growing longer
and more vulnerable at every march, and requiring daily more men to
guard them. Then, rushing from his stronghold, he had dealt his blows,
clearing the Valley from end to end, destroying the Federal magazines,
and threatening Washington itself; and when the overwhelming masses he
had drawn on himself sought to cut him off, he had selected his own
battle-field, and crushed the converging columns which his skill had
kept apart. The hapless Pope, too, had been handled in the same fashion
as McClellan, Banks, Shields, and Frémont. Jackson had lured him
forward to the Rapidan; and although his retreat had been speedy, Lee
had completed his defeat before he could be efficiently supported. But,
notwithstanding all that had been done, much yet remained to do.
It was doubtless within the bounds of probability that a second attempt
to invade Virginia would succeed no
better than the first. But it was by no means certain that the
resolution of the North was not sufficient to withstand a long series
of disasters so long as the war was confined to Southern territory;
and, at the same time, it might well be questioned whether the South
could sustain, without foreign aid, the protracted and exhausting
process of a purely defensive warfare. If her tactics, as well as her
strategy, could be confined to the defensive; that is, if her generals
could await the invaders in selected and prepared positions, and if no
task more difficult should devolve upon her troops than shooting down
their foes as they moved across the open to the assault of strong
intrenchments, then the hope might reasonably be entertained that she
might tire out the North. But the campaign, so far as it had
progressed, had shown, if indeed history had not already made it
sufficiently clear, that opportunities for such tactics were not likely
to occur. The Federal generals had consistently refused to run their
heads against earthworks. Their overwhelming numbers would enable them
to turn any position, however formidable; and the only chance of
success lay in keeping these numbers apart and in preventing them from
combining.
It was by strategic and tactical counterstrokes that the recent
victories had been won. Although it had awaited attack within its own
frontier, the Army of Northern Virginia had but small experience of
defensive warfare. With the exception of the actions round Yorktown, of
Cross Keys, and of the Second Manassas, the battles had been entirely
aggressive. The idea that a small army, opposed to one vastly superior,
cannot afford to attack because the attack is costly, and that it must
trust for success to favourable ground, had been effectually dispelled.
Lee and Jackson had taught the Southerners that the secret of success
lies not in strong positions, but in the concentration, by means of
skilful strategy, of superior numbers on the field of battle. Their
tactics had been essentially offensive, and it is noteworthy that their
victories had not been dearly purchased. If we compare them with those
of the British in the Peninsula, we shall
find that with no greater loss than Wellington incurred in the
defensive engagements of three years, 1810, 1811, 1812, the
Confederates had attacked and routed armies far larger in proportion
than those which Wellington had merely repulsed.[1]
But if they had shown that the best defence lies in a vigorous
offensive, their offensive had not yet been applied at the decisive
point. To make victory complete it is the sounder policy to carry the
war into hostile territory. A nation endures with comparative
equanimity defeat beyond its own borders. Pride and prestige may
suffer, but a high-spirited people will seldom be brought to the point
of making terms unless its army is annihilated in the heart of its own
country, unless the capital is occupied and the hideous sufferings of
war are brought directly home to the mass of the population. A single
victory on Northern soil, within easy reach of Washington, was far more
likely to bring about the independence of the South than even a
succession of victories in Virginia. It was time, then, for a strategic
counterstroke on a larger scale than had hitherto been attempted. The
opportunity was ripe. No great risk would be incurred by crossing the
Potomac. There was no question of meeting a more powerful enemy. “The
Federals, recruited by fresh levies; would undoubtedly be numerically
the stronger; and the Confederate equipment, despite the large captures
of guns and rifles, was still deficient. But for deficiencies in
numbers and in materiel the higher _moral_ and the more skilful leading
would make ample compensation. It might safely be inferred that the
Northern soldiers would no longer display the cool confidence of
Gaines’ Mill or even of Malvern Hill. The places of the brave and
seasoned soldiers who had fallen would
be filled by recruits; and generals who had been out-manœuvred on so
many battle-fields might fairly be expected, when confronted once more
with their dreaded opponents, to commit even more egregious errors than
those into which they had already fallen.
Sept. 2 Such were the ideas entertained by Lee and accepted by the
President, and on the morning of September 2, as soon as it was found
that the Federals had sought shelter under the forts of Alexandria,
Jackson was instructed to cross the Potomac, and form the advanced
guard of the army of invasion. It may be imagined with what feelings he
issued his orders for the march on Leesburg, above which lay an easy
ford. For more than twelve months, since the very morrow of Bull Run,
he had persistently advocated an aggressive policy.[2] The fierce
battles round Richmond and Manassas he had looked upon as merely the
prelude to more resolute efforts. After he had defeated Banks at
Winchester he had urged his friend Colonel Boteler to inform the
authorities that, if they would reinforce him, he would undertake to
capture Washington. The message had been conveyed to Lee. “Tell General
Jackson,” was the reply of the Commander-in-Chief, “that he must first
help me to drive these people away from Richmond.” This object had been
now thoroughly accomplished, and General Lee’s decision to redeem his
promise was by none more heartily approved than by the leader of the
Valley army. And yet, though the risks of the venture were small, the
prospects of complete success were dubious. The opportunity had come,
but the means of seizing it were feeble. Lee himself was buoyed up by
no certain expectation of great results. In
advocating invasion he confessed to the President that his troops were
hardly fit for service beyond the frontier. “The army,” he wrote, “is
not properly equipped for an invasion of the enemy’s territory. It
lacks much of the material of war, is feeble in transportation, the
animals being much reduced, and the men are poorly provided with
clothes. And in thousands of instances are destitute of shoes. . . .
What concerns me most is the fear of getting out of ammunition.”[3]
This description was by no means over-coloured. As a record of military
activity the campaign of the spring and summer of 1862 has few
parallels. Jackson’s division, since the evacuation of Winchester at
the end of February, that is, in six months, had taken part in no less
than eight battles and innumerable minor engagements; it had marched
nearly a thousand miles, and it had long ago discarded tents. The
remainder of the army had been hardly less severely tasked. The demands
of the outpost service in front of Richmond had been almost as trying
as the forced marches in the Valley, and the climate of the Peninsula
had told heavily on the troops. From the very first the army had been
indifferently equipped; the ill effects of hasty organisation were
still glaring; the regimental officers had not yet learned to study the
wants and comfort of their men; the troops were harassed by the
ignorance of a staff that was still half-trained, and the commissariat
officials were not abreast of their important duties. More than all,
the operations against Pope, just brought to a successful issue, had
been most arduous; and the strain on the endurance of the troops, not
yet recovered from their exertions in the Peninsula, had been so great
that a period of repose seemed absolutely necessary. It was not only
that battle and sickness had thinned the ranks, but that those whose
health had been proof against continued hardships, and whose strength
and spirit were still equal to further efforts, were so badly shod that
a few long marches over indifferent roads were certain to be more
productive of casualties than a pitched battle. The want of
boots had already been severely felt.[4] It has been said that the
route of the Confederate army from the Rappahannock to Chantilly might
have been traced by the stains of bloody feet along the highways; and
if the statement is more graphic than exact, yet it does not fall far
short of the truth. Many a stout soldier, who had hobbled along on his
bare feet until Pope was encountered and defeated, found himself
utterly incapable of marching into Maryland. In rear of the army the
roads were covered with stragglers. Squads of infantry, banding
together for protection, toiled along painfully by easy stages, unable
to keep pace with the colours, but hoping to be up in time for the next
fight; and amongst these were not a few officers. But this was not the
worst. Lax discipline and the absence of soldierly habits asserted
themselves with the same pernicious effect as in the Valley. Not all
the stragglers had their faces turned towards the enemy, not all were
incapacitated by physical suffering. Many, without going through the
formality of asking leave, were making for their homes, and had no idea
that their conduct was in any way peculiar. They had done their duty in
more than one battle, they had been long absent from their farms, their
equipment was worn out, the enemy had been driven from Virginia, and
they considered that they were fully entitled to some short repose. And
amongst these, whose only fault was an imperfect sense of their
military obligations, was the residue of cowards and malingerers shed
by every great army engaged in protracted operations.
Lee had been joined by the divisions of D. H. Hill, McLaws, Walker, and
by Hampton’s cavalry, and the strength of his force should have been
65,000 effectives.[5] But it was evident that these numbers could not
be long
maintained. The men were already accustomed to half-rations of green
corn, and they would be no worse off in Maryland and Pennsylvania,
untouched as yet by the ravages of war, than in the wasted fields of
Virginia. The most ample commissariat, however, would not compensate
for the want of boots and the want of rest, and a campaign of invasion
was certain to entail an amount of hard marching to which the strength
of the troops was hardly equal. Not only had the South to provide from
her seven millions of white population an army larger than that of
Imperial France, but from a nation of agriculturists she had to provide
another army of craftsmen and mechanics to enable the soldiers to keep
the field. For guns and gun-carriages, powder and ammunition, clothing
and harness, gunboats and torpedoes, locomotives and railway plant, she
was now dependent on the hands of her own people and the resources of
her own soil; the organisation of those resources, scattered over a
vast extent of territory, was not to be accomplished in the course of a
few months, nor was the supply of skilled labour sufficient to fill the
ranks of her industrial army. By the autumn of 1862, although the
strenuous efforts of every Government department gave the lie to the
idea, not uncommon in the North, that the Southern character was
shiftless and the Southern intellect slow, so little real progress had
been made that if the troops had not been supplied from other sources
they could hardly have marched at all. The captures made in the Valley,
in the Peninsula, and in the Second Manassas campaign proved of
inestimable value. Old muskets were exchanged for new, smooth-bore
cannon for rifled guns, tattered blankets for good overcoats. “Mr.
Commissary Banks,” his successor Pope, and McClellan himself, had
furnished their enemies with the material of war, with tents,
medicines, ambulances, and ammunition waggons. Even the vehicles at
Confederate headquarters bore on their tilts the initials U.S.A.; many
of Lee’s soldiers were partially clothed in Federal uniforms, and the
bad quality of the boots supplied by the Northern contractors was a
very general subject of complaint in the
Southern ranks. Nor while the men were fighting were the women idle.
The output of the Government factories was supplemented by private
enterprise. Thousands of spinning-wheels, long silent in dusty
lumber-rooms, hummed busily in mansion and in farm; matrons and maids,
from the wife and daughters of the Commander-in-Chief to the mother of
the drummer-boy, became weavers and seamstresses; and in every
household of the Confederacy, although many of the necessities of
life—salt, coffee and sugar—had become expensive luxuries, the needs of
the army came before all else.
But notwithstanding the energy of the Government and the patriotism of
the women, the troops lacked everything but spirit. Nor, even with more
ample resources, could their wants have been readily supplied. In any
case this would have involved a long halt in a secure position, and in
a few weeks the Federal strength would be increased by fresh levies,
and the _moral_ of their defeated troops restored. But even had time
been given the Government would have been powerless to render
substantial aid. Contingents of recruits were being drilled into
discipline at Richmond; yet they hardly exceeded 20,000 muskets; and it
was not on the Virginia frontier alone that the South was hard pressed.
The Valley of the Mississippi was beset by great armies; Alabama was
threatened, and Western Tennessee was strongly occupied; it was already
difficult to find a safe passage across the river for the supplies
furnished by the prairies of Texas and Louisiana, and communication
with Arkansas had become uncertain. If the Mississippi were lost, not
only would three of the most fertile States, as prolific of hardy
soldiers as of fat oxen, be cut off from the remainder, but the enemy,
using the river as a base, would push his operations into the very
heart of the Confederacy. To regain possession of the great waterway
seemed of more vital importance than the defence of the Potomac or the
secession of Maryland, and now that Richmond had been relieved, the
whole energy of the Government was expended on the operations in
Kentucky and
Tennessee. It may well be questioned whether a vigorous endeavour,
supported by all the means available, and even by troops drawn from the
West, to defeat the Army of the Potomac and to capture Washington,
would not have been a more efficacious means to the same end; but Davis
and his Cabinet consistently preferred dispersion to concentration,
and, indeed, the situation of the South was such as might well have
disturbed the strongest brains. The sea-power of the Union was telling
with deadly effect. Although the most important strategic points on the
Mississippi were still held by Confederate garrisons, nearly every mile
of the great river, from Cairo to New Orleans, was patrolled by the
Federal gunboats; and in deep water, from the ports of the Atlantic to
the roadsteads of the Gulf, the frigates maintained their vigilant
blockade.
Even on the northern border there was hardly a gleam of light across
the sky. The Federal forces were still formidable in numbers, and a
portion of the Army of the Potomac had not been involved in Pope’s
defeat. It was possible, therefore, that more skilful generalship than
had yet been displayed by the Northern commanders might deprive the
Confederates of all chance of winning a decisive victory. Yet, although
the opportunity of meeting the enemy with a prospect of success might
never offer, an inroad into Northern territory promised good results.
1. Maryland, still strong in sympathy with the South, might be induced
by the presence of a Southern army to rise against the Union.
2. The Federal army would be drawn off westward from its present
position; and so long as it was detained on the northern frontier of
Virginia nothing could be attempted against Richmond, while time would
be secured for improving the defences of the Confederate capital.
3. The Shenandoah Valley would be most effectively protected, and its
produce transported without risk of interruption both to Lee’s army and
to Richmond.
To obtain such advantages as these was worth an effort, and Lee, after
careful consideration, determined to cross the
Potomac. The movement was made with the same speed which had
characterised the operations against Pope. It was of the utmost
importance that the passage of the river should be accomplished before
the enemy had time to discover the design and to bar the way. Stuart’s
cavalry formed the screen. On the morning after the battle of
Chantilly, Fitzhugh Lee’s brigade followed the retreating Federals in
the direction of Alexandria. Hampton’s brigade was pushed forward to
Dranesville by way of Hunter’s Mill. Robertson’s brigade made a strong
demonstration towards Washington, and Munford, with the 2nd Virginia,
cleared out a Federal detachment which occupied Leesburg. Behind the
cavalry the army marched unmolested and unobserved.[6]
Sept. 6 D. H. Hill’s division was pushed forward as advanced guard;
Jackson’s troops, who had been granted a day’s rest, brought up the
rear, and on the morning of the 6th reached White’s Ford on the
Potomac. Through the silver reaches of the great river the long columns
of men and waggons, preceded by Fitzhugh Lee’s brigade, splashed and
stumbled, and passing through the groves of oaks which overhung the
water, wound steadily northward over the green fields of Maryland.
Sept. 7 The next day Frederick was occupied by Jackson, who was once
more in advance; the cavalry at Urbanna watched the roads to
Washington, and every city in the North was roused by the tidings that
the grey jackets had crossed the border. But although the army had
entered Maryland without the slightest difficulty, the troops were not
received with the enthusiasm they had anticipated. The women, indeed,
emulating their Virginia sisters, gave a warm welcome to the heroes of
so many victories. But the men, whether terrorised by the stern rule of
the Federal Government, or mistrusting the power of the Confederates to
secure them from further punishment, showed little disposition to join
the ranks. It is possible that the appearance of the Southern soldiery
was not without effect. Lee’s troops, after five months’ hard marching
and hard fighting, were no delectable objects. With torn and brimless
hats, strands of rope for belts, and raw-hide moccasins of their own
manufacture in lieu of boots; covered with vermin, and carrying their
whole kit in Federal haversacks, the ragged scarecrows who swarmed
through the streets of Frederick presented a pitiful contrast to the
trim battalions which had hitherto held the Potomac. Their conduct
indeed was exemplary. They had been warned that pillage and
depredations would be severely dealt with, and all requisitions, even
of fence-rails, were paid for on the spot. Still recruits were few. The
warworn aspect and indifferent equipment of the “dirty darlings,” as
more than one fair Marylander spoke of Jackson’s finest soldiers,
failed to inspire confidence, and it was soon evident that the western
counties of Maryland had small sympathy with the South.
There were certainly exceptions to the general absence of cordiality.
The troops fared well during their sojourn in Frederick. Supplies were
plentiful; food and clothing were gratuitously distributed, and Jackson
was presented with a fine but unbroken charger. The gift was timely,
for “Little Sorrel,” the companion of so many marches, was lost for
some days after the passage of the Potomac; but the Confederacy was
near paying a heavy price for
the “good grey mare.” When Jackson first mounted her a band struck up
close by, and as she reared the girth broke, throwing her rider to the
ground. Fortunately, though stunned and severely bruised, the general
was only temporarily disabled, and, if he appeared but little in public
during his stay in Frederick, his inaccessibility was not due to broken
bones. “Lee, Longstreet, and Jackson, and for a time Jeb Stuart,”
writes a staff officer, “had their headquarters near one another in
Best’s Grove. Hither in crowds came the good people of Frederick,
especially the ladies, as to a fair. General Jackson, still suffering
from his hurt, kept to his tent, busying himself with maps and official
papers, and declined to see visitors. Once, however, when he had been
called to General Lee’s tent, two young girls waylaid him, paralysed
him with smiles and questions, and then jumped into their carriage and
drove off rapidly, leaving him there, cap in hand, bowing, blushing,
speechless. But once safe in his tent, he was seen no more that
day.”[7] The next evening (Sunday) he went with his staff to service in
the town, and slept soundly, as he admitted to his wife, through the
sermon of a minister of the German Reformed Church.[8]
But it was not for long that the Confederates were permitted to repose
in Frederick. The enemy had made no further reply to the passage of the
Potomac beyond concentrating to the west of Washington. McClellan, who
had superseded Pope, was powerless, owing to the inefficiency of his
cavalry, to penetrate the cordon of Stuart’s pickets, and to ascertain,
even approximately, the dispositions of the invading force. He was
still in doubt if the whole or only part of Lee’s army had crossed
into Maryland; and whether his adversary intended to attack Washington
by the left bank of the Potomac, to move on Baltimore, or to invade
Pennsylvania, were questions which he had no means of determining. This
uncertainty compelled him to move cautiously, and on September 9 his
advanced guard was still twenty miles east of Frederick.
Nevertheless, the situation of the Confederates had become suddenly
complicated. When the march into Maryland was begun, three towns in the
Valley were held by the Federals. 3,000 infantry and artillery occupied
Winchester. 3,000 cavalry were at Martinsburg; and Harper’s Ferry, in
process of conversion into an intrenched camp, had a garrison of 8,000
men. Lee was well aware of the presence of these forces when he
resolved to cross the Potomac, but he believed that immediately his
advance threatened to separate them from the main army, and to leave
them isolated, they would be ordered to insure their safety by a timely
retreat. Had it depended upon McClellan this would have been done.
Halleck, however, thought otherwise; and the officer commanding at
Harper’s Ferry was ordered to hold his works until McClellan should
open communication with him.
On arrival at Frederick, therefore, the Confederates, contrary to
anticipation, found 14,000 Federals still established in their rear,
and although Winchester had been evacuated,[9] it was clear that
Harper’s Ferry was to be defended. The existence of the intrenched camp
was a serious obstacle to the full development of Lee’s designs. His
line of communication had hitherto run from Rapidan Station to Manassas
Junction, and thence by Leesburg and Point of Rocks to Frederick. This
line was within easy reach of Washington, and liable to be cut at any
moment by the enemy’s cavalry. Arrangements had therefore been already
made to transfer the line to the Valley. There, sheltered by the Blue
Ridge, the convoys of
sick and wounded, of arms, clothing, and ammunition, could move in
security from Staunton to Shepherdstown, and the recruits which were
accumulating at Richmond be sent to join the army in Northern
territory. But so long as Harper’s Ferry was strongly garrisoned this
new line would be liable to constant disturbance, and it was necessary
that the post should either be masked by a superior force, or carried
by a _coup de main._ The first of these alternatives was at once
rejected, for the Confederate numbers were too small to permit any
permanent detachment of a considerable force, and without hesitation
Lee determined to adopt the bolder course. 25,000 men, he considered,
would be no more than sufficient to effect his object. But 25,000 men
were practically half the army, and the plan, when laid before the
generals, was not accepted without remonstrance. Longstreet, indeed,
went so far as to refuse command of the detachment. “I objected,” he
writes, “and urged that our troops were worn with marching and were on
short rations, and that it would be a bad idea to divide our forces
while we were in the enemy’s country, where he could get information,
in six or eight hours, of any movement we might make. The Federal army,
though beaten at the Second Manassas, was not disorganised, and it
would certainly come out to look for us, and we should guard against
being caught in such a condition. Our army consisted of a superior
quality of soldiers, but it was in no condition to divide in the
enemy’s country. I urged that we should keep it in hand, recruit our
strength, and get up supplies, and then we could do anything we
pleased. General Lee made no reply to this, and I supposed the Harper’s
Ferry scheme was abandoned.”[10]
Jackson, too, would have preferred to fight McClellan first, and
consider the question of communicating afterwards;[11] but he accepted
with alacrity the duty which his colleague had declined. His own
divisions, reinforced by
those of McLaws, R. H. Anderson,[12] and Walker, were detailed for the
expedition; Harper’s Ferry was to be invested on three sides, and the
march was to begin at daybreak on September 10. Meanwhile, the
remainder of the army was to move north-west to Hagerstown,
five-and-twenty miles from Frederick, where it would alarm Lincoln for
the safety of Pennsylvania, and be protected from McClellan by the
parallel ranges of the Catoctin and South Mountains.
Undoubtedly, in ordinary circumstances, General Longstreet would have
been fully justified in protesting against the dispersion of the army
in the presence of the enemy. Hagerstown and Harper’s Ferry are
five-and-twenty miles apart, and the Potomac was between them.
McClellan’s advanced guard, on the other hand, was thirty miles from
Harper’s Ferry, and forty-five from Hagerstown. The Federals were
advancing, slowly and cautiously it is true, but still pushing
westward, and it was certainly possible, should they receive early
intelligence of the Confederate movements, that before Harper’s Ferry
fell a rapid march might enable them to interpose between Lee and
Jackson. But both Lee and Jackson calculated the chances with a surer
grasp of the several factors. Had the general in command of the Federal
army been bold and enterprising, had the Federal cavalry been more
efficient, or Stuart less skilful, they would certainly have hesitated
before running the risk of defeat in detail. But so long as McClellan
controlled the movements of the enemy, rapid and decisive action was
not to be apprehended; and it was exceedingly improbable that the
scanty and unreliable information which he might obtain from civilian
sources would induce him to throw off his customary caution. Moreover,
only a fortnight previously the Federal army had been heavily
defeated.[13]
Sept. 10 Lee had resolved to woo fortune while she was in the
mood. The movement against Harper’s Ferry once determined, it was
essential that it should be carried out with the utmost speed, and
Jackson marched with even more than ordinary haste, but without
omitting his usual precautions. Before starting he asked for a map of
the Pennsylvania frontier, and made many inquiries as to roads and
localities to the north of Frederick, whereas his route lay in the
opposite direction. “The cavalry, which preceded the column,” says
Colonel Douglas, “had instructions to let no civilian go to the front,
and we entered each village we passed before the inhabitants knew of
our coming. In Middletown two very pretty girls, with ribbons of red,
white, and blue floating from their hair, and small Union flags in
their hands, rushed out of a house as we passed, came to the kerbstone,
and with much laughter waved their flags defiantly in the face of the
general. He bowed, raised his hat, and turning with his quiet smile to
the staff, said, ‘We evidently have no friends in this town.’
Sept. 11 “Having crossed South Mountain at Turner’s Gap, the command
encamped for the night within a mile of Boonsboro’ (fourteen miles from
Frederick). Here General Jackson must determine whether he would go to
Williamsport or turn towards Shepherdstown. I at once rode into the
village with a cavalryman to make some inquiries, but we ran into a
Federal squadron, who without ceremony proceeded to make war upon us.
We retraced our steps, and although we did not stand upon the order of
our going, a squad of them escorted us out of the town with great
rapidity. Reaching the top of the hill, we discovered, just over it,
General Jackson, walking slowly towards us, leading his horse. There
was but one thing to do. Fortunately the chase had become less
vigorous, and with a cry of command to unseen troops, we turned and
charged the enemy. They, suspecting trouble, turned and fled, while the
general quickly galloped to the rear. As I returned to camp I picked up
the gloves which he had dropped in mounting, and took them to him.
Although he had sent a regiment of infantry to the front as soon as he
went back, the only
allusion he made to the incident was to express the opinion that I had
a very fast horse.
“The next morning, having learned that the Federal troops still
occupied Martinsburg, General Jackson took the direct road to
Williamsport. He then forded the Potomac, the troops singing, the bands
playing ‘Carry me back to ole Virginny!’ We marched on Martinsburg.
Sept. 12 “General A. P. Hill took the direct turnpike, while Jackson,
with the rest of his command, followed a side road, so as to approach
Martinsburg from the west, and encamped four miles from the town. His
object was to drive General White, who occupied Martinsburg, towards
Harper’s Ferry, and thus ‘corral’ all the Federal troops in that
military pen. As the Comte de Paris puts it, he ‘organised a grand
hunting match through the lower Valley, driving all the Federal
detachments before him and forcing them to crowd into the blind alley
of Harper’s Ferry.’
“The next morning the Confederates entered Martinsburg. Here the
general was welcomed with enthusiasm, and a great crowd hastened to the
hotel to greet him. At first he shut himself up in a room to write
dispatches, but the demonstration became so persistent that he ordered
the door to be opened. The crowd, chiefly ladies, rushed in and
embarrassed the general with every possible outburst of affection, to
which he could only reply, ‘Thank you, you are very kind.’ He gave them
his autograph in books and on scraps of paper, cut a button from his
coat for a little girl, and then submitted patiently to an attack by
the others, who soon stripped the coat of nearly all the remaining
buttons. But when they looked beseechingly at his hair, which was thin,
he drew the line, and managed to close the interview. These
blandishments did not delay his movements, however, for in the
afternoon he was off again, and his troops bivouacked on the banks of
the Opequon.”[14]
Sept. 13 On the 13th Jackson passed through Halltown and halted a mile
north of that village,[15] throwing out pickets to hold the roads which
lead south and west from Harper’s Ferry. Meanwhile, McLaws and Walker
had taken possession of the heights to the north and east, and the
intrenched camp of the Federals, which, in addition to the garrison,
now held the troops who had fled from Martinsburg, was surrounded on
every side. The Federal officer in command had left but one brigade and
two batteries to hold the Maryland Heights, the long ridge, 1,000 feet
high, on the north shore of the Potomac, which looks down on the
streets of the little town. This detachment, although strongly posted,
and covered by breastworks and abattis, was driven off by General
McLaws; while the Loudoun Heights, a portion of the Blue Ridge, east of
the Shenandoah, and almost equally commanding, were occupied without
opposition by General Walker. Harper’s Ferry was now completely
surrounded. Lee’s plans had been admirably laid and precisely executed,
and the surrender of the place was merely a question of hours.
Nor had matters progressed less favourably elsewhere. In exact
accordance with the anticipations of Lee and Jackson, McClellan, up
till noon on the 13th, had received no inkling whatever of the
dangerous manœuvres which Stuart so effectively concealed, and his
march was very slow. On the 12th, after a brisk skirmish with the
Confederate cavalry, his advanced guard had occupied Frederick, and
discovered that the enemy had marched off in two columns, one towards
Hagerstown, the other towards Harper’s Ferry, but he was uncertain
whether Lee intended to recross the Potomac or to move northwards into
Pennsylvania. On the morning of the 13th, although General Hooker,
commanding the First Army Corps, took the liberty of reporting that, in
his opinion, “the rebels had no more intention of going to Pennsylvania
than they had
of going to heaven,” the Federal Commander-in-Chief was still
undecided, and on the Boonsboro’ road only his cavalry was pushed
forward. In four days McClellan had marched no more than
five-and-twenty miles; he had been unable to open communication with
Harper’s Ferry, and he had moved with even more than his usual caution.
But at noon on the 13th he was suddenly put into possession of the most
ample information. A copy of Lee’s order for the investment of Harper’s
Ferry, in which the exact position of each separate division of the
Confederate army was laid down, was picked up in the streets of
Frederick, and chance had presented McClellan with an opportunity
unique in history.[16] He was within twenty miles of Harper’s Ferry.
The Confederates were more than that distance apart. The intrenched
camp still held out, for the sound of McLaws’ battle on the Maryland
Heights was distinctly heard during the afternoon, and a resolute
advance would have either compelled the Confederates to raise the
siege, or have placed the Federal army between their widely separated
wings.
But, happily for the South, McClellan was not the man for the
opportunity. He still hesitated, and during the afternoon of the 13th
only one division was pushed forward. In front of him was the South
Mountain, the name given to the continuation of the Blue Ridge north of
the Potomac, and the two passes, Turner’s and Crampton’s Gaps, were
held by Stuart. No Confederate infantry, as Lee’s order indicated, with
the exception, perhaps, of a rear-guard, were nearer the passes than
the Maryland Heights and Boonsboro’.[17] The roads were good and the
weather fine, and a night march of twelve miles would have placed the
Federal advanced guards at the foot of the mountains, ready to force
the Gaps at earliest dawn. McClellan, however, although his men had
made no unusual exertions during the past few days, preferred to wait
till daylight.
Nevertheless, on the night of the 13th disaster threatened the
Confederates. Harper’s Ferry had not yet fallen, and, in addition to
the cavalry, D. H. Hill’s division was alone available to defend the
passes. Lee, however, still relying on McClellan’s irresolution,
determined to hold South Mountain, thus gaining time for the reduction
of Harper’s Ferry, and Longstreet was ordered back from Hagerstown,
thirteen miles west of Boonsboro’, to Hill’s assistance.
Sept. 14 On the same night Jackson, at Halltown, opened communications
with McLaws and Walker, and on the next morning (Sunday) he made the
necessary arrangements to ensure combination in the attack. The Federal
lines, although commanded by the Maryland and Loudoun Heights to the
north and east, opposed a strong front to the south and west. The
Bolivar Heights, an open plateau, a mile and a quarter in length, which
has the Potomac on the one flank and the Shenandoah on the other, was
defended by several batteries and partially intrenched. Moreover, it
was so far from the summits occupied by McLaws and Walker that their
guns, although directed against the enemy’s rear, could hardly render
effective aid; only the extremities of the plateau were thoroughly
exposed to fire from the heights.
In order to facilitate communication across the two great rivers
Jackson ordered a series of signal stations to be established, and
while his own batteries were taking up their ground to assail the
Bolivar Heights he issued his instructions to his colleagues. At ten
o’clock the flags on the Loudoun Heights signalled that Walker had six
rifled guns in position. He was ordered to wait until McLaws,
who was employed in cutting roads through the woods, should have done
the same, and the following message explained the method of attack:—
“General McLaws,—If you can, establish batteries to drive the enemy
from the hill west of Bolivar and on which Barbour’s House is, and from
any other position where he may be damaged by your artillery. Let me
know when you are ready to open your batteries, and give me any
suggestions by which you can operate against the enemy. Cut the
telegraph line down the Potomac if it is not already done. Keep a good
look-out against a Federal advance from below. Similar instructions
will be sent to General Walker. I do not desire any of the batteries to
open until all are ready on both sides of the river, except you should
find it necessary, of which you must judge for yourself. I will let you
know when to open all the batteries.
“T. J. JACKSON,
_“Major-General Commanding.”_[18]
About half-past two in the afternoon McLaws reported that his guns were
up, and a message “to fire at such positions of the enemy as will be
most effective,” followed the formal orders for the co-operation of the
whole force.
“Headquarters, Valley District,
Sept. 14, 1862.
“1. To-day Major-General McLaws will attack so as to sweep with his
artillery the ground occupied by the enemy, take his batteries in
reverse, and otherwise operate against him as circumstances may
justify.
“2. Brigadier-General Walker will take in reverse the battery on the
turnpike, and sweep with his artillery the ground occupied by the
enemy, and silence the batteries on the island of the Shenandoah should
he find a battery (_sic_) there.
“3. Major-General A. P. Hill will move along the left bank of the
Shenandoah, and thus turn the enemy’s left flank and enter Harper’s
Ferry.
“4. Brigadier-General Lawton will move along the turnpike for the
purpose of supporting General Hill, and otherwise operating against the
enemy to the left of General Hill.
“5. Brigadier-General Jones will, with one of his brigades and a
battery of artillery, make a demonstration against the enemy’s right;
the remaining part of his division will constitute the reserve and move
along the turnpike.
“By order of Major-General Jackson,
“WM. L. JACKSON,
_“Acting Assistant Adjutant-General’_[19]
Jackson, it appears, was at first inclined to send a flag of truce, for
the purpose of giving the civilian population time to get away, should
the garrison refuse to surrender; but during the morning heavy firing
was heard to the northward, and McLaws reported that he had been
obliged to detach troops to guard his rear against McClellan. The
batteries were therefore ordered to open fire on the Federal works
without further delay.
According to General Walker, Jackson, although he was aware that
McClellan had occupied Frederick, not over twenty miles distant, could
not bring himself to believe that his old classmate had overcome his
prudential instincts, and attributed the sounds of battle to a cavalry
engagement. It is certain that he never for a single moment anticipated
a resolute attempt to force the passages of the South Mountain, for, in
reply to McLaws, he merely instructed him to ask General P. H. Hill to
protect his rear, and to communicate with Lee at Hagerstown. Had he
entertained the slightest suspicion that McClellan was advancing with
his whole force against the passages of the South Mountain, he would
hardly have suggested that Hill would be asked to defend Crampton’s as
well as Turner’s Gap.
Illustration: Harper’s Ferry, Virginia. For larger view click on image.
With full confidence, therefore, that he would have time to enforce the
surrender of Harper’s Ferry and to join Lee on the further bank of the
Potomac, the progress of
his attack was cautious and methodical. “The position in front of me,”
he wrote to McLaws, “is a strong one, and I desire to remain quiet, and
let you and Walker draw attention from Furnace Hill (west of Bolivar
Heights), so that I may have an opportunity of getting possession of
the hill without much loss.” It was not, then, till the artillery had
been long in action, and the fire of the enemy’s guns had been in some
degree subdued, that the infantry was permitted to advance. Although
the Federal batteries opened vigorously on the lines of skirmishers,
the casualties were exceedingly few. The troops found cover in woods
and broken ground, and before nightfall Hill had driven in the enemy’s
pickets, and had secured a knoll on their left flank which afforded an
admirable position for artillery. Lawton, in the centre, occupied a
ridge over which ran the Charlestown turnpike, brought his guns into
action, and formed his regiments for battle in the woods. Jones’
division held the Shepherdstown road on Lawton’s left, seized Furnace
Hill, and pushed two batteries forward.
No attempt was made during this Sunday evening to storm the Bolivar
Heights; and yet, although the Confederate infantry had been hardly
engaged, the enemy had been terribly shaken. From every point of the
compass, from the lofty crests which looked down upon the town, from
the woods towards Charlestown, from the hill to westward, a ceaseless
hail of shells had swept the narrow neck to which the garrison was
confined. Several guns had been dismounted. More than one regiment of
raw troops had dispersed in panic, and had been with difficulty
rallied. The roads were furrowed with iron splinters. Many buildings
had been demolished, and although the losses among the infantry,
covered by their parapets, had been insignificant, the batteries had
come almost to their last round.
During the night Jackson made preparations for an early assault. Two of
A. P. Hill’s brigades, working their way along the bank of the
Shenandoah, over ground which the Federal commander had considered
impassable, established themselves to the left rear of the Bolivar
Heights. Guns were brought up to the knoll which Hill
had seized during the afternoon; and ten pieces, which Jackson had
ordered to be taken across the Shenandoah by Keyes’ Ford, were placed
in a position whence they could enfilade the enemy’s works at effective
range. Lawton and Jones pushed forward their lines until they could
hear voices in the intrenchments; and a girdle of bayonets, closely
supported by many batteries, encircled the hapless Federals. The
assault was to be preceded by a heavy bombardment, and the advance was
to be made as soon as Hill’s guns ceased fire.
Sept. 15 All night long the Confederates slept upon their arms, waiting
for the dawn. When day broke, a soft silver mist, rising from the broad
Potomac, threw its protecting folds over Harper’s Ferry. But the
Southern gunners knew the direction of their targets; the clouds were
rent by the passage of screaming shells, and as the sun, rising over
the Loudoun Heights, dispersed the vapour, the whole of Jackson’s
artillery became engaged. The Federal batteries, worked with stubborn
courage, and showing a bold front to every fresh opponent, maintained
the contest for an hour; but, even if ammunition had not failed them,
they could not have long withstood the terrible fire which took them in
front, in flank, and in reverse.[20] Then, perceiving that the enemy’s
guns were silenced, Hill ordered his batteries to cease fire, and threw
forward his brigades against the ridge. Staunch to the last, the
Federal artillerymen ran their pieces forward, and opened on the
Confederate infantry. Once more the long line of Jackson’s guns crashed
out in answer, and two batteries, galloping up to within four hundred
yards of the ridge, poured in a destructive fire over the heads of
their own troops. Hill’s brigades, when the artillery duel recommenced,
had halted at the foot of the slope. Beyond, over the bare fields, the
way was obstructed by felled timber, the lopped branches of which were
closely interlaced, and above the abattis rose the line of breastworks.
But before the charge was sounded
the Confederate gunners completed the work they had so well begun. At
7.30 a.m. the white flag was hoisted, and with the loss of no more than
100 men Jackson had captured Harper’s Ferry with his artillery alone.
The general was near the church in the wood on the Charlestown road,
and Colonel Douglas was sent forward to ascertain the enemy’s purpose.
“Near the top of the hill,” he writes, “I met General White (commanding
the Federals), and told him my mission. Just then General Hill came up
from the direction of his line, and on his request I conducted them to
General Jackson, whom I found sitting on his horse where I had left
him. He was not, as the Comte de Paris says, leaning against a tree
asleep, but exceedingly wide-awake. . . . The surrender was
unconditional, and then General Jackson turned the matter over to
General A. P. Hill, who allowed General White the same liberal terms
that Grant afterwards gave Lee at Appomattox. The fruits of the
surrender were 12,520 prisoners, 13,000 small arms, 73 pieces of
artillery, and several hundred waggons.
“General Jackson, after a brief dispatch to General Lee announcing the
capitulation, rode up to Bolivar and down into Harper’s Ferry. The
curiosity in the Union army to see him was so great that the soldiers
lined the sides of the road. Many of them uncovered as he passed, and
he invariably returned the salute. One man had an echo of response all
about him when he said aloud: ‘Boys, he’s not much for looks, but if
we’d had him we wouldn’t have been caught in this trap.’”[21]
The completeness of the victory was marred by the escape of the Federal
cavalry. Under cover of the night 1,200 horsemen, crossing the pontoon
bridge, and passing swiftly up the towpath under the Maryland Heights,
had ridden boldly beneath the muzzles of McLaws’ batteries, and, moving
north-west, had struck out for Pennsylvania. Yet the capture of
Harper’s Ferry was a notable exploit, although Jackson seems to have
looked upon it as a mere matter of course.
“Through God’s blessing,” he reported to Lee at eight o’clock,
“Harper’s Ferry and its garrison are to be surrendered. As Hill’s
troops have borne the heaviest part of the engagement, he will be left
in command until the prisoners and public property shall be disposed
of, unless you direct otherwise. The other forces can move off this
evening so soon as they get their rations. To what point shall they
move? I write at this time in order that you may be apprised of the
condition of things. You may expect to hear from me again to-day, after
I get more information respecting the number of prisoners, etc.”[22]
Lee, with D. H. Hill, Longstreet, and Stuart, was already falling back
from the South Mountain to Sharpsburg, a little village on the right
bank of the Antietam Creek; and late in the afternoon Jackson, Walker,
and McLaws were ordered to rejoin without delay.[23] September 14 had
been an anxious day for the Confederate Commander-in-Chief. During the
morning D. H. Hill, with no more than 5,000 men in his command, had
seen the greater part of McClellan’s army deploy for action in the wide
valley below and to the eastward of Turner’s Gap. Stuart held the woods
below Crampton’s Gap, six miles south, with Robertson’s brigade, now
commanded by the gallant Munford; and on the heights above McLaws had
posted three brigades, for against this important pass, the shortest
route by which the Federals could interpose between Lee and Jackson,
McClellan’s left wing, consisting of 20,000 men under General Franklin,
was steadily advancing.
The positions at both Turner’s and Crampton’s Gaps were very strong.
The passes, at their highest points, are at least 600 feet above the
valley, and the slopes steep, rugged, and thickly wooded. The enemy’s
artillery had
little chance. Stone walls, running parallel to the crest, gave much
protection to the Southern infantry, and loose boulders and rocky
scarps increased the difficulties of the ascent. But the numbers
available for defence were very small; and had McClellan marched during
the night he would probably have been master of the passes before
midday. As it was, Crampton’s Gap was not attacked by Franklin until
noon; and although at the same hour the advanced guard of the Federal
right wing had gained much ground, it was not till four in the evening
that a general attack was made on Turner’s Gap. By this time
Longstreet, after a march of thirteen miles, had reached the
battle-field;[24] and despite the determination with which the attack
was pressed, Turner’s Gap was still held when darkness fell.
The defence of Crampton’s Gap had been less successful. Franklin had
forced the pass before five o’clock, and driving McLaws’ three brigades
before him, had firmly established himself astride the summit. The
Confederate losses were larger than those which they had inflicted.
McClellan reports 1,791 casualties on the right, Franklin 533 on the
left. McLaws’ and Munford’s loss was over 800, of whom 400 were
captured. The number of killed and wounded in Hill’s and Longstreet’s
commands is unknown; it probably reached a total of 1,500, and 1,100 of
their men were marched to Frederick as prisoners. Thus the day’s
fighting had cost the South 3,400 men. Moreover, Longstreet’s
ammunition column, together with an escort of 600 men, had been cut up
by the cavalry which had escaped from Harper’s Ferry, and which had
struck the Hagerstown road as it marched northward into Pennsylvania.
Yet, on the whole, Lee had no reason to be chagrined with the result of
his operations. McClellan had acted with unexpected vigour. But neither
in strategy nor in tactics had he displayed improvement on his
Peninsular methods. He should have thrown the bulk of his army against
Crampton’s Gap, thus intervening between Lee and Jackson; but instead
of doing so he had directed 70,000 men against Turner’s Gap. Nor had
the attack on Hill and Longstreet been characterised by resolution. The
advanced guard was left unsupported until 2 p.m., and not more than
30,000 men were employed throughout the day. Against this number 8,000
Confederates had held the pass. Cobb, one of McLaws’ brigadiers, who
commanded the defence at Crampton’s Gap, though driven down the
mountain, had offered a stout resistance to superior forces; and
twenty-four hours had been gained for Jackson. On the other hand, in
face of superior numbers, the position at Turner’s Gap had become
untenable; and during the night Hill and Longstreet marched to
Sharpsburg.
Sept. 15 This enforced retreat was not without effect on the _moral_ of
either army. McClellan was as exultant as he was credulous. “I have
just learned,” he reported to Halleck at 8 a.m. on the 15th, “from
General Hooker, in advance, that the enemy is making for Shepherdstown
in a perfect panic; and that General Lee last night stated publicly
that he must admit they had been shockingly whipped. I am hurrying
forward to endeavour to press their retreat to the utmost.” Then, two
hours later: “Information this moment received completely confirms the
rout and demoralisation of the rebel army. It is stated that Lee gives
his losses as 15,000. We are following as rapidly as the men can
move.”[25] Nor can it be doubted that McClellan’s whole army,
unaccustomed to see their antagonists give ground before them, shared
the general’s mood.[26] Amongst the Confederates, on the other hand,
there was some depression. It could not be disguised that
a portion of the troops had shown symptoms of demoralisation. The
retreat to the Antietam, although effectively screened by Fitzhugh
Lee’s brigade of cavalry, was not effected in the best of order. Many
of the regiments had been broken by the hard fighting on the mountain;
men had become lost in the forest, or had sought safety to the rear;
and the number of stragglers was very large. It was not, then, with its
usual confidence that the army moved into position on the ridge above
the Antietam Creek. General Longstreet, indeed, was of opinion that the
army should have recrossed the Potomac at once. “The moral effect of
our move into Maryland had been lost by our discomfiture at South
Mountain, and it was evident we could not hope to concentrate in time
to do more than make a respectable retreat, whereas by retiring before
the battle [of Sharpsburg] we could have claimed a very successful
campaign.”[27] So spake the voice of prudence. Lee, however, so soon as
he was informed of the fall of Harper’s Ferry, had ordered Jackson to
join him, resolving to hold his ground, and to bring McClellan to a
decisive battle on the north bank of the Potomac.
Although 45,000 men—for Lee at most could count on no more than this
number, so great had been the straggling—were about to receive the
attack of over 90,000, Jackson, when he reached Sharpsburg on the
morning of the 16th, heartily approved the Commander-in-Chief’s
decision, and it is worth while to consider the reasons which led them
to disagree with Longstreet.
1. Under ordinary conditions, to expect an army of 45,000 to wrest
decisive victory from one of 90,000 well-armed enemies would be to
demand an impossibility. The defence, when two armies are equally
matched, is physically stronger than the attack, although we have
Napoleon’s word for it that the defence has the harder task. But that
the inherent strength of the defence is so great as to enable the
smaller force to annihilate its enemy is contrary to all the teaching
of history. By making good use of favourable ground, or by constructing
substantial works,
the smaller force may indeed stave off defeat and gain time. But it can
hope for nothing more. The records of warfare contain no instance, when
two armies were of much the same quality, of the smaller army bringing
the campaign to a decisive issue by defensive tactics. Wellington and
Lee both fought many defensive battles with inferior forces. But
neither of them, under such conditions, ever achieved the destruction
of their enemy. They fought such battles to gain time, and their hopes
soared no higher. At Talavera, Busaco, Fuentes d’Onor, where the French
were superior to the allies, Wellington repulsed the attack, but he did
not prevent the defeated armies taking the field again in a few days.
At the Wilderness, Spotsylvania, the North Anna, and Cold Harbour, the
great battles of 1864, Lee maintained his ground, but he did not
prevent Grant moving round his flank in the direction of Richmond. At
the Second Manassas, Jackson stood fast for the greater part of two
days, but he would never have driven Pope across Bull Run without the
aid of Longstreet. Porter at Gaines’ Mill held 55,000 men with 35,000
for more than seven hours, but even if he had maintained his position,
the Confederate army would not have become a mob of fugitives. No;
except on peculiarly favourable ground, or when defending an intrenched
camp, an army matched with one of equal efficiency and numerically
superior, can never hope for decisive success. So circumstanced, a wise
general will rather retreat than fight, and thus save his men for a
more favourable opportunity.[28]
But Lee and Jackson had not to deal with ordinary conditions. Whatever
may have been the case in the Peninsula and in the Valley, there can be
no question but that the armies in Maryland were by no means equal in
quality. The Federals were far more accustomed to retreat than advance.
For several months, whether they were engaged on the Shenandoah, on the
Chickahominy, on the Rappahannock, or on Bull Run, they had been
invariably outmanœuvered. Their losses had been exceedingly severe, not
only in battle, but from sickness and straggling. Many of their bravest
officers and men had fallen. With the exception of the Second and Sixth
Army Corps, commanded by Sumner and by Franklin, by far the greater
part of the troops had been involved in Pope’s defeat, and they had not
that trust in their leaders which promises a strong offensive. While at
Washington the army had been reinforced by twenty-four regiments of
infantry, but the majority of these troops had been but lately raised;
they knew little of drill; they were commanded by officers as ignorant
as themselves, and they had never fired a musket. Nor were the generals
equal in capacity to those opposing them. “If a student of history,”
says a Northern officer, “familiar with the characters who figured in
the War of Secession, but happening to be ignorant of the battle of
Antietam, should be told the names of the men who held high commands
there, he would say that with anything like equality of forces the
Confederates must have won, for their leaders were men who made great
names in the war, while the Federal leaders were, with few exceptions,
men who never became conspicuous, or became conspicuous only through
failure.”[29] And the difference in military capacity extended to the
rank and file. When the two armies met on the Antietam, events had been
such as to confer a marked superiority on the Southerners. They were
the children of victory, and every man in the army had participated in
the successes of Lee and Jackson. They had much experience of battle.
They were supremely confident in their own prowess, for the fall of
Harper’s Ferry had made more than amends for the retreat from South
Mountain, and they were supremely confident in their leaders. No new
regiments weakened
the stability of their array. Every brigade and every regiment could be
depended on. The artillery, which had been but lately reorganised in
battalions, had, under the fostering care of General Pendleton, become
peculiarly efficient, although the materiel was still indifferent; and
against Stuart’s horsemen the Federal cavalry was practically useless.
In every military attribute, then, the Army of Northern Virginia was so
superior to the Army of the Potomac that Lee and Jackson believed that
they might fight a defensive battle, outnumbered as they were, with the
hope of annihilating their enemy. They were not especially favoured by
the ground, and time and means for intrenching were both wanting; but
they were assured that not only were their veterans capable of holding
the position, but, if favoured by fortune, of delivering a
counterstroke which should shiver the Army of the Potomac into a
thousand fragments.
2. By retreating across the Potomac, in accordance with General
Longstreet’s suggestion, Lee would certainly have avoided all chances
of disaster. But, at the same time, he would have abandoned a good hope
of ending the war. The enemy would have been fully justified in
assuming that the retrograde movement had been made under the
compulsion of his advance, and the balance of _moral_ have been
sensibly affected in favour of the Federals. If the Potomac had once
been placed between the opposing forces, McClellan would have had it in
his power to postpone an encounter until his army was strongly
reinforced, his raw regiments trained, and his troops rested. The
passage of the river, it is true, had been successfully forced by the
Confederates on September 5. But it by no means followed that it could
be forced for the second time in face of a concentrated enemy, who
would have had time to recover his _moral_ and supply his losses.
McClellan, so long as the Confederates remained in Maryland, had
evidently made up his mind to attack. But if Maryland was evacuated he
would probably content himself with holding the line of the Potomac;
and, in view of the relative strength of the two armies, it would be an
extraordinary stroke of fortune which should lay him open to assault.
Lee and Jackson were firmly convinced that it was the wiser policy to
give the enemy no time to reorganise and recruit, but to coerce him to
battle before he had recovered from the defeat which he had sustained
on the heights above Bull Run. To recross the Potomac would be to
slight the favours of fortune, to abandon the initiative, and to
submit, in face of the vast numbers of fresh troops which the North was
already raising, to a defensive warfare, a warfare which might protract
the struggle, but which must end in the exhaustion of the Confederacy.
McClellan’s own words are the strongest justification of the views held
by the Southern leaders:—
“The Army of the Potomac was thoroughly exhausted and depleted by the
desperate fighting and severe marching in the unhealthy regions of the
Chickahominy and afterwards, during the second Bull Run campaign; its
trains, administrative services and supplies were disorganised or
lacking in consequence of the rapidity and manner of its removal from
the Peninsula, as well as from the nature of its operations during the
second Bull Run campaign.
“Had General Lee remained in front of Washington (south of the Potomac)
it would have been the part of wisdom to hold our own army quiet until
its pressing wants were fully supplied, its organisation was restored,
and its ranks were filled with recruits—in brief, until it was prepared
for a campaign. But as the enemy maintained the offensive, and crossed
the Upper Potomac to threaten or invade Pennsylvania, it became
necessary to meet him at any cost, notwithstanding the condition of the
troops, to put a stop to the invasion, to save Baltimore and
Washington, and throw him back across the Potomac. Nothing but sheer
necessity justified the advance of the Army of the Potomac to South
Mountain and Antietam in its then condition. The purpose of advancing
from Washington was simply to meet the necessities of the moment by
frustrating Lee’s invasion of the Northern States, and when that was
accomplished, to push with
the utmost rapidity the work of reorganisation and supply, so that a
new campaign might be promptly inaugurated with the army in condition
to prosecute it to a successful termination without intermission.”[30]
And in his official report, showing what the result of a Confederate
success might well have been, he says: “One battle lost and almost all
would have been lost. Lee’s army might have marched as it pleased on
Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia, or New York. It could have levied
its supplies from a fertile and undevastated country, extorted tribute
from wealthy and populous cities, and nowhere east of the Alleghenies
was there another organised force to avert its march.”[31]
3. The situation in the West was such that even a victory in Maryland
was exceedingly desirable. Confederate movements in Tennessee and
Kentucky had won a measure of success which bade fair to open up a
brilliant opportunity. Should the Federals be defeated in both the
theatres of war, the blow would be felt throughout the length and
breadth of the Northern States; and, in any case, it was of the utmost
importance that all McClellan’s troops should be retained in the East.
So, when the tidings came of Jackson’s victory at Harper’s Ferry, both
armies braced themselves for the coming battle, the Confederates in the
hope that it would be decisive of the war, the Federals that it would
save the capital. But the Confederates had still a most critical time
before them, and Lee’s daring was never more amply illustrated than
when he made up his mind to fight on the Antietam. McClellan’s great
army was streaming through the passes of the South Mountain. At
Rohrersville, six miles east of the Confederate bivouacs, where he had
halted as soon as the cannonade at Harper’s Ferry ceased, Franklin was
still posted with 20,000 men. From their battle-field at Turner’s Gap,
ten miles from Sharpsburg, came the 70,000 which composed the right and
centre; and on the banks of the Antietam but 15,000 Southerners were in
position.
Jackson had to get rid of his prisoners, to march seventeen miles, and
to ford the Potomac before he could reach the ground. Walker was twenty
miles distant, beyond the Shenandoah; and McLaws, who would be
compelled by Franklin’s presence near Rohrersville to cross at Harper’s
Ferry and follow Jackson, over five-and-twenty. Would they be up before
McClellan attacked? Lee, relying on McClellan’s caution and Jackson’s
energy, answered the question in the affirmative.
The September day wore on. The country between the South Mountain and
Sharpsburg, resembling in every characteristic the Valley of the
Shenandoah, is open and gently undulating. No leagues of woodland, as
in Eastern Virginia, block the view. The roads run through wide
cornfields and rolling pastures, and scattered copses are the only
relics of the forest. It was not yet noon when the Federal scouts
appeared among the trees which crown the left bank of the Antietam
Creek. “The number increased, and larger and larger grew the field of
blue until it seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see. It was an
awe-inspiring spectacle,” adds Longstreet, “as this grand force settled
down in sight of the Confederates, shattered by battles and scattered
by long and tedious marches.”[32] But when night fell upon the field
the only interchange of hostilities had been a brief engagement of
artillery. McClellan’s advance, owing to the difficulty of passing his
great army through the mountains, and to the scarcity of roads, had
been slow and tedious; in some of the divisions there had been
unnecessary delay; and Lee had so disposed his force that the Federal
commander, unenlightened as to the real strength of his adversary,
believed that he was opposed by 50,000 men.
Sept. 16 Nor was the next morning marked by any increase of activity.
McClellan, although he should have been well aware that a great part of
the Confederate army was still west of the Potomac, made no attack. “It
was discovered,” he reports, “that the enemy had changed the position
of some of his batteries. The masses of
his troops, however, were still concealed behind the opposite heights.
It was afternoon before I could move the troops to their positions for
attack, being compelled to spend the morning in reconnoitring the new
position taken up by the enemy, examining the ground, and finding
fords, clearing the approaches, and hurrying up the ammunition and
supply trains.”[33]
Considering that McClellan had been in possession of the left bank of
the Antietam since the forenoon of the previous day, all these
preliminaries might well have been completed before daylight on the
16th. That a change in the dispositions of a few batteries, a change so
unimportant as to pass unnoticed in the Confederate reports, should
have imposed a delay, when every moment was precious, of many hours,
proves that Lee’s and Jackson’s estimate of their opponent’s character
was absolutely correct. While McClellan was reconnoitring, and the guns
were thundering across the Antietam, Jackson and Walker crossed the
Potomac, and reported to Lee in Sharpsburg.[34] Walker had expected to
find the Commander-in-Chief anxious and careworn. “Anxious no doubt he
was; but there was nothing in his look or manner to indicate it. On the
contrary, he was calm, dignified, and even cheerful. If he had had a
well-equipped army of a hundred thousand veterans at his back, he could
not have appeared more composed and confident. On shaking hands with
us, he simply expressed his satisfaction with the result of our
operations at Harper’s Ferry, and with our timely arrival at
Sharpsburg; adding that with our reinforcements he felt confident of
being able to hold his ground until the arrival of the divisions of R.
H. Anderson, McLaws, and A. P. Hill, which were still behind, and which
did not arrive till next day.”[35]
Yet the reinforcements which Jackson and Walker had brought up were no
considerable addition to Lee’s
strength. Jones’ division consisted of no more than 1,600 muskets,
Lawton’s of less than 3,500. Including officers and artillery,
therefore, the effectives of these divisions numbered about 5,500. A.
P. Hill’s division appears to have mustered 5,000 officers and men, and
we may add 1,000 for men sick or on detached duties. The total should
undoubtedly have been larger. After the battle of Cedar Run, Jackson
had 22,450 effectives in his ranks. His losses in the operations
against Pope, and the transfer of Robertson’s cavalry to Stuart, had
brought his numbers down by 5,787; but on September 16, including 70
killed or wounded at Harper’s Ferry, they should have been not less
than 16,800. In reality they were only 11,500. We have not far to look
for the cause of this reduction. Many of the men had absented
themselves before the army crossed into Maryland; and if those who
remained with the colours had seen little fighting since Pope’s defeat,
they had had no reason to complain of inactivity. The operations which
resulted in the capture of Harper’s Ferry had been arduous in the
extreme. Men who had taken part in the forced marches of the Valley
campaign declared that the march from Frederick to Harper’s Ferry
surpassed all their former experiences. In three-and-a-half days they
had covered over sixty miles, crossing two mountain ranges, and fording
the Potomac. The weather had been intensely hot, and the dust was
terrible. Nor had the investment of Harper’s Ferry been a period of
repose. They had been under arms during the night which preceded the
surrender, awaiting the signal to assault within a few hundred yards of
the enemy’s sentries. As soon as the terms of capitulation were
arranged they had been hurried back to the bivouac, had cooked two
days’ rations, and shortly after midnight had marched to the Potomac,
seventeen miles away. This night march, coming on the top of their
previous exertions, had taxed the strength of many beyond endurance.
The majority were badly shod. Many were not shod at all. They were
ill-fed, and men ill-fed are on the highroad to hospital. There were
stragglers, then, from every company in the command. Even the Stonewall
Brigade, though it had still preserved its five regiments, was reduced
to 300 muskets; and the other brigades of Jackson’s division were but
little stronger. Walker’s division, too, although less hardly used in
the campaign than the Valley troops, had diminished under the strain of
the night march, and mustered no more than 3,500 officers and men at
Sharpsburg. Thus the masses of troops which McClellan conceived were
hidden in rear of D. H. Hill and Longstreet amounted in reality to some
10,000 effective soldiers.
It was fortunate, indeed, that in their exhausted condition there was
no immediate occasion for their services on September 16. The shadows
grew longer, but yet the Federals made no move; even the fire of the
artillery died away, and the men slept quietly in the woods to north
and west of the little town. Meanwhile, in an old house, one of the few
which had any pretensions to comfort in Sharpsburg, the generals met in
council. Staff officers strolled to and fro over the broad brick
pavement; the horses stood lazily under the trees which shaded the
dusty road; and within, Lee, Jackson, and Longstreet pored long and
earnestly over the map of Maryland during the bright September
afternoon. But before the glow of a lovely sunset had faded from the
sky the artillery once more opened on the ridge above, and reports came
in that the Federals were crossing the Antietam near Pry’s Mill. Lee at
once ordered Longstreet to meet this threat with Hood’s division, and
Jackson was ordered into line on the left of Hood. No serious
collision, however, took place during the evening. The Confederates
made no attempt to oppose the passage of the Creek. Hood’s pickets were
driven in, but a speedy reinforcement restored the line, and except
that the batteries on both sides took part the fighting was little more
than an affair of outposts. At eleven o’clock Hood’s brigades were
withdrawn to cook and eat. Jackson’s division filled their place; and
the night, although broken by constant alarms, passed away without
further conflict. The Federal movements had clearly exposed their
intention of attacking, and had even revealed the point which they
would first assail.
McClellan had thrown two army corps, the First under Hooker, and the
Twelfth under Mansfield, across the Antietam; and they were now posted,
facing southward, a mile and a half north of Sharpsburg, concealed by
the wood beyond Jackson’s left.
NOTE
The essential paragraphs of the lost order ran as follows:—
“The army will resume its march to-morrow, taking the Hagerstown road.
General Jackson’s command will form the advance, and after passing
Middletown, with such portions as he may select, take the route towards
Sharpsburg, cross the Potomac at the most convenient point, and by
Friday night (September 12) take possession of the Baltimore and Ohio
Railroad, capture such of the enemy as may be at Martinsburg, and
intercept such as may attempt to escape from Harper’s Ferry.
“General Longstreet’s command will pursue the same road as far as
Boonsboro’, where it will halt with the reserve, supply, and baggage
trains of the army.
“General McLaws, with his own division and that of General Anderson,
will follow General Longstreet; on reaching Middletown he will take the
route to Harper’s Ferry, and by Friday morning (September 12) possess
himself of the Maryland Heights and endeavour to capture the enemy at
Harper’s Ferry and vicinity.
“General Walker with his division . . . will take possession of the
Loudoun Heights, if practicable by Friday morning (September 12), . . .
He will as far as practicable co-operate with General McLaws and
General Jackson in intercepting the retreat of the enemy.
“General D. H. Hill’s division will form the rear-guard of the army,
pursuing the road taken by the main body.
“General Stuart will detach a squadron of cavalry to accompany the
commands of Generals Longstreet, Jackson, and McLaws, and, with the
main body of the cavalry, will cover the route of the army and bring up
all stragglers.
“The commands of Generals Jackson, McLaws and Walker, after
accomplishing the objects for which they have been detached, will join
the main body at Boonsboro’ or Hagerstown.”
The second paragraph was afterwards modified by General Lee so as to
place Longstreet at Hagerstown.
[1] Wellington’s losses in the battles of these three years were
33,000. The Confederates lost 23,000 in the Valley and the Seven Days
and 10,000 in the campaign against Pope. It is not to be understood,
however, that the Duke’s strategy was less skilful or less audacious
than Lee’s and Jackson’s. During these three years his army, largely
composed of Portuguese and Spaniards, was incapable of offensive
tactics against his veteran enemies, and he was biding his time. It
was the inefficiency of his allies and the miserable support he
received from the English Government that prevented him, until 1813,
from adopting a bolder policy.
[2] In Mrs. Jackson’s Memoirs of her husband a letter is quoted from
her brother-in-law, giving the substance of a conversation with
General Jackson on the conduct of the war. This letter I have not felt
justified in quoting. In the first place, it lacks corroboration; in
the second place, it contains a very incomplete statement of a large
strategical question; in the third place, the opinions put in
Jackson’s mouth are not only contradictory, but altogether at variance
with his practice; and lastly, it attributes certain ideas to the
general—raising “the black flag.” &c.—which his confidential aid
officers declare that he never for a moment entertained.
[3] O.R., vol. xix, part ii, pp. 590, 591.
[4] “1,000 pairs of shoes were obtained in Fredericktown, 250 pairs in
Williamsport, and about 400 pairs in this city (Hagerstown). They will
not be sufficient to cover the bare feet of the army.” Lee to Davis,
September 12, 1862. O.R., vol. xix, part ii, p. 605.
[5] Calculated on the basis of the Field Returns dated July 20, 1862,
with the addition of Jackson’s and Ewell’s divisions, and subtracting
the losses (10,000) of the campaign against Pope.
[6] The Army of Northern Virginia was thus organised during the
Maryland campaign:—
Longstreet’s McLaws’ Division
R. H. Anderson’s Division
D. R. Jones’ Division
J. G. Walker’s Division
Evans’ Brigade
Washington Artillery
S. D. Lee’s Artillery battalion = 35,600 Jackson’s Ewell’s (Lawton)
Division
The Light (A. P. Hill) Division
Jackson’s own (J. R. Jones) Division = 16,800
D. H. Hill’s Division = 7,000
Pendleton’s Reserve Artillery, 4 battalions = 1,000
Stuart Hampton’s Brigade
Fitzhugh Lee’s Brigade
Robertson’s Brigade
3 H.A. Batteries, Captain Pelham = 4,000
Total ——— 64,400
No allowance has been made for straggling. It is doubtful if more than
55,000 men entered Maryland.
[7] “Stonewall Jackson in Maryland.” Colonel H. K. Douglas. _Battles
and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 621.
[8] “The minister,” says Colonel Douglas, “was credited with much
loyalty and courage, because he had prayed for the President of the
United States in the very presence of Stonewall Jackson. Well, the
general didn’t hear the prayer, and if he had he would doubtless have
felt like replying as General Ewell did, when asked at Carlisle,
Pennsylvania, if he would permit the usual prayer for President
Lincoln—‘Certainly; I’m sure he needs it.’”
[9] On the night of September 2. Lee’s Report, O.R., vol. xix, part i,
p. 139.
[10] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 662.
[11] Dabney, vol. ii, p. 302.
[12] Anderson was placed under McLaws’ command.
[13] “Are you acquainted with McClellan?” said Lee to General Walker
on September 8, 1862. “He is an able general but a very cautious one.
His enemies among his own people think him too much so. His army is in
a very demoralised and chaotic condition, and will not be prepared for
offensive operations—or he will not think it so—for three or four
weeks.”—_Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, pp. 605 and 606.
[14] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, pp. 622, 623. Major Hotchkiss
relates that the ladies of Martinsburg made such desperate assaults on
the mane and tail of the general’s charger that he had at last to post
a sentry over the stable.
[15] On September 10 he marched fourteen miles, on September 11
twenty, on September 12 sixteen, and on September 13 twelve, arriving
at Halltown at 11 a.m.
[16] General Longstreet, in his _From Manassas to Appomattox,_
declares that the lost order was sent by General Jackson to General D.
H. Hill, “but was not delivered. The order,” he adds, “that was sent
to General Hill from general headquarters was carefully preserved.”
General Hill, however, in _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 570
(note), says: “It was proper that I should receive that order through
Jackson, and not through me. I have now before me (1888) the order
received from Jackson. My adjutant-general swore affidavit, twenty
years ago, that no order was received at our office from General Lee.”
Jackson was so careful that no one should learn the contents of the
order that the copy he furnished to Hill was written by his own hand.
The copy found by the Federals was wrapped round three cigars, and was
signed by Lee’s adjutant-general.
[17] For the lost order, see Note at end of chapter.
[18] Report of Signal Officer, O.R., vol. xix, part i, p. 958.
[19] Report of Signal Officer, O.R., vol xix, part i, p. 659.
[20] The ten guns which had been carried across the Shenandoah were
specially effective. Report of Colonel Crutchfield, Jackson’s chief of
artillery. O.R., vol. xix, part i, p. 962.
[21] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, pp. 625–7.
[22] O.R., vol. xix, part i, p. 951. General Longstreet (_From
Manassas to Appomattox,_ p. 233) suggests that Jackson, after the
capitulation of Harper’s Ferry, should have moved east of South
Mountain against McClellan’s rear. Jackson, however, was acquainted
neither with McClellan’s position nor with Lee’s intentions, and
nothing could have justified such a movement except the direct order
of the Commander-in-Chief.
[23] “The Invasion of Maryland,” General Longstreet, _Battles and
Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 666.
[24] The order for the march had been given the night before (“The
Invasion of Maryland,” General Longstreet, _Battles and Leaders,_ vol.
ii, p. 666), and there seems to have been no good reason, even
admitting the heat and dust, that Longstreet’s command should not have
joined him at noon. The troops marched “at daylight” (5 a.m.), and
took ten hours to march thirteen miles. As it was, only four of the
brigades took part in the action, and did so, owing to their late
arrival, in very disjointed fashion. Not all the Confederate generals
appear to have possessed the same “driving power” as Jackson.
[25] O.R., vol. xix, pp. 294, 295.
[26] “The _moral_ of our men is now restored.” McClellan to Halleck
after South Mountain. O.R., vol. xix, part ii, p. 294.
[27] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, pp. 666, 667.
[28] Before Salamanca, for instance, because Marmont, whose strength
was equal to his own, was about to be reinforced by 4,000 cavalry,
Wellington had determined to retreat. It is true, however, that when
weaker than Masséna, whom he had already worsted, by 8,000 infantry
and 3,800 sabres, but somewhat stronger in artillery, he stood to
receive attack at Fuentes d’Onor. Yet Napier declares that it was a
very audacious resolution. The knowledge and experience of the great
historian told him that to pit 32,000 Infantry against 40,000 was to
trust too much to fortune.
[29] _The Antietam and Fredericksburg._ General Palfrey p. 53.
[30] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 554.
[31] O.R., vol. xix, part i, p. 65.
[32] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 667.
[33] O.R., vol. xix, part i, p. 55.
[34] According to Jackson’s staff officers he himself reported shortly
after daylight.
[35] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 675.