FREDERICKSBURG
1862. October While the Army of Northern Virginia was resting in the
Valley, McClellan was preparing for a winter campaign. He was unable,
however, to keep pace with the impatience of the Northern people. Not
only was he determined to postpone all movement until his army was
properly equipped, his ranks recruited, his cavalry remounted, and his
administrative services reorganised, but the military authorities at
Washington were very slow in meeting his demands. Notwithstanding,
then, the orders of the President, the remonstrances of Halleck, and
the clamour of the press, for more than five weeks after the battle of
Sharpsburg he remained inactive on the Potomac. It may be that in the
interests of the army he was perfectly right in resisting the pressure
brought to bear upon him. He was certainly the best judge of the temper
of his troops, and could estimate more exactly than either Lincoln or
Halleck the chances of success if he were to encounter Lee’s veterans
on their native soil. However this may be, his inaction was not in
accordance with the demands of the political situation. The President,
immediately the Confederates retired from Maryland, had taken a step
which changed the character of the war. Hitherto the Northerners had
fought for the restoration of the Union on the basis of the
Constitution, as interpreted by themselves. Now, after eighteen months
of conflict, the Constitution was deliberately violated. For the clause
which forbade all interference with the domestic institutions of the
several States, a declaration that slavery should no longer exist
within the boundaries
of the Republic was substituted, and the armies of the Union were
called upon to fight for the freedom of the negro.
In the condition of political parties this measure was daring. It was
not approved by the Democrats, and many of the soldiers were Democrats;
or by those—and they were not a few—who believed that compromise was
the surest means of restoring peace; or by those—and they were
numerous—who thought the dissolution of the Union a smaller evil than
the continuance of the war. The opposition was very strong, and there
was but one means of reconciling it—vigorous action on the part of the
army, the immediate invasion of Virginia, and a decisive victory. Delay
would expose the framers of the measure to the imputation of having
promised more than they could perform, of wantonly tampering with the
Constitution, and of widening the breach between North and South beyond
all hope of healing.
In consequence, therefore, of McClellan’s refusal to move forward, the
friction between the Federal Government and their general-in-chief,
which, so long as Lee remained in Maryland, had been allayed, once more
asserted its baneful influence; and the aggressive attitude of the
Confederates did not serve to make matters smoother. Although the
greater part of October was for the Army of Northern Virginia a period
of unusual leisure, the troops were not altogether idle. As soon as the
stragglers had been brought in, and the ranks of the divisions once
more presented a respectable appearance, various enterprises were
undertaken. The Second Army Corps was entrusted with the destruction of
the Baltimore and Ohio Railway, a duty carried out by Jackson with
characteristic thoroughness. The line from Harper’s Ferry to
Winchester, as well as that from Manassas Junction to Strasburg, were
also torn up; and the spoils of the late campaign were sent south to
Richmond and Staunton. These preparations for defensive warfare were
not, however, so immediately embarrassing to the enemy as the action of
the cavalry. Stuart’s three brigades, after the affair at
Boteler’s Ford, picketed the line of the Potomac from the North
Mountain to the Shenandoah, a distance of forty miles: Hampton’s
brigade at Hedgesville, Fitzhugh Lee’s at Shepherdstown, Munford’s at
Charlestown, and headquarters near Leetown.
On October 8 General Lee, suspecting that McClellan was meditating some
movement, ordered the cavalry to cross the Potomac and reconnoitre.
Oct. 9 Selecting 600 men from each of his brigades, with General
Hampton, Colonels W. H. F. Lee and W. E. Jones in command, and
accompanied by four horse-artillery guns, Stuart rendezvoused on the
night of the 9th at Darkesville. As the day dawned he crossed the
Potomac at McCoy’s Ford, drove in the Federal pickets, and broke up a
signal station near Fairview.
Oct. 10 Marching due north, he reached Mercersburg at noon, and
Chambersburg, forty-six miles from Darkesville, at 7 p.m. on October
10. Chambersburg, although a Federal supply depôt of some importance,
was without a garrison, and here 275 sick and wounded were paroled, 500
horses requisitioned, the wires cut, and the railroad obstructed; while
the machine shops, several trains of loaded cars, and a large quantity
of small arms, ammunition, and clothing was destroyed.
Oct. 11 At nine the next morning the force marched in the direction of
Gettysburg, moving round the Federal rear. Then, crossing the
mountains, it turned south through Emmittsburg, passed the Monocacy
near Frederick, and after a march of ninety miles since leaving
Chambersburg reached Hyattstown at daylight on the 12th.
Oct.12 Here, on the road which formed McClellan’s line of communication
with Washington, a few waggons were captured, and information came to
hand that 4,000 or 5,000 Federal troops were near Poolesville, guarding
the fords across the Potomac. Moving at a trot through the woods, the
column, leaving Poolesville two or three miles to the left, made for
the mouth of the Monocacy. About a mile and a half from that river an
advanced guard of hostile cavalry, moving eastward, was encountered and
driven in. Colonel Lee’s men were
dismounted, a gun was brought into action, and under cover of this
screen, posted on a high crest, the main body made a dash for White’s
Ford. The point of passage, although guarded by about 100 Federal
riflemen, was quickly seized, and Stuart’s whole force, together with
the captured horses, had completed the crossing before the enemy,
advancing in large force from the Monocacy, was in a position to
interfere.
This brilliantly conducted expedition was as fruitful of results as the
ride round McClellan’s army in the previous June. The information
obtained was most important. Lee, besides being furnished with a
sufficiently full report of the Federal dispositions, learned that no
part of McClellan’s army had been detached to Washington, but that it
was being reinforced from that quarter, and that therefore no over-sea
expedition against Richmond was to be apprehended. Several hundred fine
horses from the farms of Pennsylvania furnished excellent remounts for
the Confederate troopers. Prominent officials were brought in as
hostages for the safety of the Virginia citizens who had been thrown
into Northern prisons. Only a few scouts were captured by the enemy,
and not a man was killed. The distance marched by Stuart, from
Darkesville to White’s Ford, was one hundred and twenty-six miles, of
which the last eighty were covered without a halt. Crossing the Potomac
at McCoy’s Ford about 6 a.m. on October 10, he had recrossed it at
White’s Ford, between 1 and 2 p.m. on October 12; he was thus for
fifty-six hours inside the enemy’s lines, and during the greater part
of his march within thirty miles of McClellan’s headquarters near
Harper’s Ferry.
It is often the case in war that a well-planned and boldly executed
enterprise has a far greater effect than could possibly have been
anticipated. Neither Lee nor Stuart looked for larger results from this
raid than a certain amount of plunder and a good deal of intelligence.
But skill and daring were crowned with a more ample reward than the
attainment of the immediate object.
In the first place, the expedition, although there was little fighting,
was most destructive to the Federal cavalry.
McClellan had done all in his power to arrest the raiders. Directly the
news came in that they had crossed the Potomac, troops were sent in
every direction to cut off their retreat. Yet so eminently judicious
were Stuart’s precautions, so intelligent the Maryland soldiers who
acted as his guides, and so rapid his movements, that although constant
reports were received by the Federal generals as to the progress and
direction of his column, the information came always too late to serve
any practical purpose, and his pursuers were never in time to bar his
march. General Pleasanton, with such cavalry as could be spared from
the picket line, marched seventy-eight miles in four-and-twenty hours,
and General Averell’s brigade, quartered on the Upper Potomac, two
hundred miles in four days. The severity of the marches told heavily on
these commands, already worn out by hard work on the outposts; and so
many of the horses broke down that a period of repose was absolutely
necessary to refit them for the field. Until his cavalry should have
recovered it was impossible for McClellan to invade Virginia.
In the second place, neither the Northern Government nor the Northern
people could forget that this was the second time that McClellan had
allowed Stuart to ride at will round the Army of the Potomac. Public
confidence in the general-in-chief was greatly shaken; and a handle was
given to his opponents in the ranks of the abolitionists, who, because
he was a Democrat, and had much influence with the army, were already
clamouring for his removal.
Oct. 26 The respite which Stuart had gained for Virginia was not,
however, of long duration. On October 26, McClellan, having ascertained
by means of a strong reconnaissance in force that the Confederate army
was still in the vicinity of Winchester, commenced the passage of the
Potomac. The principal point of crossing was near Berlin, and so soon
as it became evident that the Federal line of operations lay east of
the Blue Ridge, Lee ordered Longstreet to Culpeper Court House.
Jackson, taking post on the road between Berryville and Charlestown,
was to remain in the Valley.
On November 7 the situation was as follows:—
ARMY OF THE POTOMAC.
First Corps
Second Corps
Third Corps
Fifth Corps
Ninth Corps
Eleventh Corps
Cavalry Division
Line of Supply
Twelfth Corps Warrenton.
Rectortown.
Between Manassas Junction and Warrenton.
White Plains.
Waterloo.
New Baltimore.
Rappahannock Station and Sperryville.
Orange and Alexandria and Manassas Railways.
Harper’s Ferry and Sharpsburg.
ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA.
First Corps
Second Corps
Cavalry Division
Lines of Supply Culpeper Court House.
Headquarters, Millwood.
Hampton’s and Fitzhugh Lee’s Brigades
on the Rappahannock.
Munford’s Brigade with Jackson.
Staunton—Strasburg.
Staunton—Culpeper Court House.
Richmond—Gordonsville.
Nov. 7 On this date the six corps of the Army of the Potomac which were
assembled between the Bull Run Mountains and the Blue Ridge numbered
125,000 officers and men present for duty, together with 320 guns.
The returns of the Army of Northern Virginia give the following
strength:—
Guns First Army Corps
Second Army Corps
Cavalry Division
Reserve Artillery 31,939
31,794
7,176
900
———
71,809 112
123
4
36
——
275 (54 short-range smooth-bores)
(53 short-range smooth-bores)
(20 short-range smooth-bores)
The Confederates were not only heavily outnumbered by the force
immediately before them, but along the Potomac, from Washington
westward, was a second hostile army, not indeed so large as that
commanded by
McClellan, but larger by several thousands than that commanded by Lee.
The Northern capital held a garrison of 80,000; at Harper’s Ferry were
10,000; in the neighbourhood of Sharpsburg over 4,000; along the
Baltimore and Ohio Railroad 8,000. Thus the total strength of the
Federals exceeded 225,000 men. Yet in face of this enormous host, and
with Richmond only weakly garrisoned behind him, Lee had actually
separated his two wings by an interval of sixty miles. He was evidently
playing his old game, dividing his army with a view to a junction on
the field of battle.
Lincoln, in a letter of advice with which he had favoured McClellan a
few days previously, had urged the importance of making Lee’s line of
supply the first objective of the invading army. “An advance east of
the Blue Ridge,” he said, “would at once menace the enemy’s line of
communications, and compel him to keep his forces together; and if Lee,
disregarding this menace, were to cut in between the Army of the
Potomac and Washington, McClellan would have nothing to do but to
attack him in rear.” He suggested, moreover, that by hard marching it
might be possible for McClellan to reach Richmond first.
The Confederate line of communications, so the President believed, ran
from Richmond to Culpeper Court House, and McClellan’s advanced guards,
on November 7, were within twenty miles of that point. Lee, however,
had altogether failed to respond to Mr. Lincoln’s strategical
pronouncements. Instead of concentrating his forces he had dispersed
them; and instead of fearing for his own communications, he had placed
Jackson in a position to interfere very seriously with those of his
enemy.
Mr. Lincoln’s letter to McClellan shows that the lessons of the war had
not been altogether lost upon him. Generals Banks and Pope, with some
stimulus from Stonewall Jackson, had taught him what an important part
is played by lines of supply. He had mastered the strategical truism
that an enemy’s communications are his weakest point. But there were
other considerations which had not come home to him. He had overlooked
the possibility
that Lee might threaten McClellan’s communications before McClellan
could threaten his; and he had yet to learn that an army operating in
its own country, if proper forethought be exercised, can establish an
alternative line of supply, and provide itself with a double base, thus
gaining a freedom of action of which an invader, bound, unless he has
command of the sea, to a single line, is generally deprived.
The President appears to have thought that, if Lee were cut off from
Richmond, the Army of Northern Virginia would be reduced to starvation,
and become absolutely powerless. It never entered his head that the
astute commander of that army had already, in anticipation of the very
movement which McClellan was now making, established a second base at
Staunton, and that his line of supply, in case of necessity, would not
run over the open country between Richmond and Gordonsville, but from
Staunton to Culpeper, behind the ramparts of the Blue Ridge.
Lee, in fact, accepted with equanimity the possibility of the Federals
intervening between himself and Richmond. He had already, in the
campaign against Pope, extricated himself from such a situation by a
bold stroke against his enemy’s communications; and the natural
fastness of the Valley, amply provided with food and forage, afforded
facilities for such a manœuvre which had been altogether absent before
the Second Manassas. Nor was he of Mr. Lincoln’s opinion, that if the
Army of Northern Virginia cut in between Washington and McClellan it
would be a simple operation for the latter to about face and attack the
Confederates in rear. He knew, and Mr. Lincoln, if he had studied
Pope’s campaign, should have known it too, that the operation of
countermarching, if the line of communication has been cut, is not only
apt to produce great confusion and great suffering, but has the very
worst effect on the _moral_ of the troops. But Lee had that practical
experience which Mr. Lincoln lacked, and without which it is but waste
of words to dogmatise on strategy. He was well aware that a large army
is a cumbrous machine, not readily deflected from the original
direction of the line of march;[1] and, more than all, he had that
intimate acquaintance with the soldier in the ranks, that knowledge of
the human factor, without which no military problem, whether of
strategy, tactics, or organisation, can be satisfactorily solved.
McClellan’s task, therefore, so long as he had to depend for his
supplies on a single line of railway, was not quite so simple as Mr.
Lincoln imagined.
Nevertheless, on November 7 Lee decided to unite his army. As soon as
the enemy advanced from Warrenton, Jackson was to ascend the Valley,
and crossing the Blue Ridge at Fisher’s Gap, join hands with
Longstreet, who would retire from Madison Court House to the vicinity
of Gordonsville. The Confederates would then be concentrated on
McClellan’s right flank should he march on Richmond, ready to take
advantage of any opportunity for attack; or, if attack were considered
too hazardous, to threaten his communications, and compel him to fall
back to the Potomac.
The proposed concentration, however, was not immediately carried out.
In the first place, the Federal advance came to a sudden standstill;
and, in the second place, Jackson was unwilling to abandon his post of
vantage behind the Blue Ridge. It need hardly be said that the policy
of manœuvring instead of intrenching, of aiming at the enemy’s flank
and rear instead of barring his advance directly, was in full agreement
with his views of war; and it appears that about this date he had
submitted proposals for a movement against the Federal communications.
It would be interesting indeed to have the details of his design, but
Jackson’s letter-book for this period has unfortunately disappeared,
nor did he communicate his ideas to any of his staff. Letters from
General Lee, however, indicate that the manœuvre proposed was of the
same character as
that which brought Pope in such hot haste from the Rappahannock to Bull
Run, and that it was Jackson’s suggestion which caused the
Commander-in-Chief to reconsider his determination of uniting his army.
“As long as General Jackson,” wrote Lee to the Secretary of War on
November 10, “can operate with safety, and secure his retirement west
of the Massanutton Mountains, I think it advantageous that he should be
in a position to threaten the enemy’s flank and rear, and thus prevent
his advance southward on the east side of the Blue Ridge. General
Jackson has been directed accordingly, and should the enemy descend
into the Valley, General Longstreet will attack his rear, and cut off
his communications. The enemy apparently is so strong in numbers that I
think it preferable to baffle his designs by manœuvring, rather than
resist his advance by main force, To accomplish the latter without too
great a risk and loss would require more than double our present
numbers.”[2]
His letter to Jackson, dated November 9, ran as follows: “The enemy
seems to be massing his troops along the Manassas Railroad in the
vicinity of Piedmont, which gives him great facilities for bringing up
supplies from Alexandria. It has occurred to me that his object may be
to seize upon Strasburg with his main force, to intercept your ascent
of the Valley. . . . This would oblige you to cross into the Lost River
Valley, or west of it, unless you could force a passage through the
Blue Ridge; hence my anxiety for your safety. If you can prevent such a
movement of the enemy, and operate strongly on his flank and rear
through the gaps of the Blue Ridge, you would certainly in my opinion
effect the object you propose. A demonstration of crossing into
Maryland would serve the same purpose, and might call him back to the
Potomac. As my object is to retard and baffle his designs, if it can be
accomplished by manœuvring your corps as you propose, it will serve my
purpose as well as if effected in any other way. With this
understanding, you can use your discretion, which I know I can rely
upon, in remaining or advancing up the
Valley. Keep me advised of your movements and intentions; and you must
keep always in view the probability of an attack upon Richmond from
either north or south, when a concentration of force will become
necessary.”[3]
Jackson’s plan, however, was not destined to be tried. McClellan had
issued orders for the concentration of his army at Warrenton. His
troops had never been in better condition. They were in good spirits,
well supplied and admirably equipped. Owing to the activity of his
cavalry, coupled with the fact that the Confederate horses were at this
time attacked by a disease which affected both tongue and hoof, his
information was more accurate than usual. He knew that Longstreet was
at Culpeper, and Jackson in the Valley. He saw the possibility of
separating the two wings of the enemy’s forces, and of either defeating
Longstreet or forcing him to fall back to Gordonsville, and he had
determined to make the attempt.
On the night of November 7, however, at the very moment when his army
was concentrating for an advance against Longstreet, McClellan was
ordered to hand over his command to General Burnside. Lincoln had
yielded to the insistence of McClellan’s political opponents, to the
rancour of Stanton, and the jealousy of Halleck. But in sacrificing the
general who had saved the Union at Sharpsburg he sacrificed the lives
of many thousands of his soldiers. A darker day than even the Second
Manassas was in store for the Army of the Potomac. McClellan was not a
general of the first order. But he was the only officer in the United
States who had experience of handling large masses of troops, and he
was improving every day. Stuart had taught him the use of cavalry, and
Lee the value of the initiative. He was by no means deficient in
resolution, as his march with an army of recently defeated men against
Lee in Maryland conclusively proves; and although he had never won a
decisive victory, he possessed, to a degree which was never attained by
any of his successors, the confidence and affection of his troops. But
deplorable
as was the weakness which sanctioned his removal on the eve of a
decisive manœuvre, the blunder which put Burnside in his place was even
more so. The latter appears to have been the _protégé_ of a small
political faction. He had many good qualities. He was a firm friend,
modest, generous, and energetic. But he was so far from being
distinguished for military ability that in the Army of the Potomac it
was very strongly questioned whether he was fit to command an army
corps. His conduct at Sharpsburg, where he had been entrusted with the
attack on the Confederate right, had been the subject of the severest
criticism, and by not a few of his colleagues he was considered
directly responsible for the want of combination which had marred
McClellan’s plan of attack. More than once Mr. Lincoln infringed his
own famous aphorism, “Never swap horses when crossing a stream,” but
when he transferred the destinies of the Army of the Potomac from
McClellan to Burnside he did more—he selected the weakest of his team
of generals to bear the burden.
At the same time that McClellan was superseded, General FitzJohn
Porter, the gallant soldier of Gaines’ Mill and Malvern Hill, probably
the best officer in the Army of the Potomac, was ordered to resign
command of the Fifth Army Corps, and to appear before a court-martial
on charges of incompetency and neglect of duty at the Second Manassas.
The fact that those charges were preferred by Pope, and that Porter had
been allowed to retain his command through the campaign in Maryland,
were hardly calculated to inspire the army with confidence in either
the wisdom or the justice of its rulers; and it was the general opinion
that his intimate friendship with McClellan had more to say to his
trial than his alleged incompetency.
Burnside commenced his career by renouncing the enterprise which
McClellan had contemplated. Longstreet was left unmolested at Culpeper;
and, in order to free the communications from Jackson, the Federal army
was marched eastward along the Rappahannock to Falmouth, a new line of
supply being established between that village
and Aquia Creek, the port on the Potomac, six hours’ sail from
Washington.
Lee had already foreseen that Jackson’s presence in the Valley might
induce the Federals to change their line of operations. Fredericksburg,
on the south side of the Rappahannock, and the terminus of the Richmond
and Potomac Railroad, had consequently been garrisoned by an infantry
regiment and a battery, while three regiments of cavalry patrolled the
river. This force, however, was not posted on the Rappahannock with a
view of retarding the enemy’s advance, but merely for observation. Lee,
at this date, had no intention of concentrating at Fredericksburg. The
Federals, if they acted with resolution, could readily forestall him,
and the line of the North Anna, a small but difficult stream,
thirty-six miles south, offered peculiar advantages to the defence.
Nov. 17 The Federal march was rapid. On November 15 the Army of the
Potomac left Warrenton, and the advanced guard reached Falmouth on the
afternoon of the 17th. General Sumner, in command, observing the
weakness of the Confederate garrison, requested permission from
Burnside to cross the Rappahannock and establish himself on the further
bank. Although two army corps were at hand, and the remainder were
rapidly closing up, Burnside refused, for the bridges had been broken,
and he was unwilling to expose part of his forces on the right bank
with no means of retreat except a difficult and uncertain ford. The
same day, part of Longstreet’s corps and a brigade of cavalry were sent
to Fredericksburg; and on the 19th, Lee, finding that the Federals had
left Warrenton, ordered Longstreet to concentrate his whole force at
Fredericksburg, and summoned Jackson from the Valley to Orange Court
House.
Jackson, meanwhile, had moved to Winchester, probably with the design
of threatening the enemy’s garrisons on the Potomac, and this
unexpected movement had caused much perturbation in the North.
Pennsylvania and Maryland expected nothing less than instant invasion.
The merchant feared for his strong-box, the farmer for
his herds; plate was once more packed up; railway presidents demanded
further protection for their lines; generals begged for reinforcements,
and, according to the “Times” Correspondent, it was “the universal
belief that Stonewall Jackson was ready to pounce upon Washington from
the Shenandoah, and to capture President, Secretaries, and all.” But
before apprehension increased to panic, before Mr. Lincoln had become
infected by the prevailing uneasiness, the departure of the
Confederates from the Valley brought relief to the affrighted citizens.
On November 22 Jackson bade farewell to Winchester. His headquarters
were not more than a hundred yards from Dr. Graham’s manse, and he
spent his last evening with his old friends. “He was in fine health and
fine spirits,” wrote the minister’s wife to Mrs. Jackson. “The children
begged to be permitted to sit up to see “General Jackson,” and he
really seemed overjoyed to see them, played with them and fondled them,
and they were equally pleased. I have no doubt it was a great
recreation to him. He seemed to be living over last winter again, and
talked a great deal about the hope of getting back to spend this winter
with us, in the old room, which I told him I was keeping for you and
him. He certainly has had adulation enough to spoil him, but it seems
not to affect or harm him at all. He is the same humble, dependent
Christian, desiring to give God all the glory, looking to Him alone for
a blessing, and not thinking of himself.”
So it was with no presage that this was the last time he would look
upon the scenes he loved that Jackson moved southward by the Valley
turnpike. Past Kernstown his columns swept, past Middletown and
Strasburg, and all the well-remembered fields of former triumphs; until
the peaks of the Massanuttons threw their shadows across the highway,
and the mighty bulk of the noble mountains, draped in the gold and
crimson of the autumn, once more re-echoed to the tramp of his
swift-footed veterans. Turning east at New Market, he struck upwards by
the familiar road; and then, descending the narrow pass, he forded the
Shenandoah, and crossing the Luray valley vanished in the forests of
the Blue Ridge. Through the dark pines of Fisher’s Gap he led his
soldiers down to the Virginia plains, and the rivers and the mountains
knew him no more until their dead returned to them.
On the 26th the Second Army Corps was at Madison Court House.
Nov. 27 The next day it was concentrated at Orange Court House,
six-and-thirty miles from Fredericksburg. In eight days, two being
given to rest, the troops had marched one hundred and twenty miles, and
with scarce a straggler, for the stern measures which had been taken to
put discipline on a firmer basis, and to make the regimental officers
do their duty, had already produced a salutary effect.
On Jackson’s arrival at Orange Court House he found the situation
unchanged. Burnside, notwithstanding that heavy snow-storms and sharp
frosts betokened the approach of winter, the season of impassable roads
and swollen rivers, was still encamped near Falmouth. The difficulty of
establishing a new base of supplies at Aquia Creek, and some delay on
the part of the Washington authorities in furnishing him with a pontoon
train, had kept him idle; but he had not relinquished his design of
marching upon Richmond. His quiescence, however, together with the
wishes of the President, had induced General Lee to change his plans.
The Army of Northern Virginia, 78,500 strong, although, in order to
induce the Federals to attack, it was not yet closely concentrated, was
ready to oppose in full force the passage of the Rappahannock, and all
thought of retiring to the North Anna had been abandoned.
Nov. 29 On November 29, therefore, Jackson was ordered forward, and
while the First Army Corps occupied a strong position in rear of
Fredericksburg, with an advanced detachment in the town, the Second was
told off to protect the lower reaches of the Rappahannock. Ewell’s
division, still commanded by Early, was posted at Skinker’s Neck,
twelve miles south-east of Fredericksburg, a spot which afforded many
facilities for crossing; D. H. Hill’s at Port Royal, already menaced by
Federal gunboats, six
miles further down stream; A. P. Hill’s and Taliaferro’s (Jackson’s
own) at Yerby’s House and Guiney’s Station, five and nine miles
respectively from Longstreet’s right; and Stuart, whose division was
now increased to four brigades, watched both front and flanks.
The Rappahannock was undoubtedly a formidable obstacle. Navigable for
small vessels as far as Fredericksburg, the head of the tide water, it
is two hundred yards wide in the neighbourhood of the city, and it
increases in width and depth as it flows seaward. But above Falmouth
there are several easy fords; the river banks, except near
Fredericksburg, are clad with forest, hiding the movements of troops;
and from Falmouth downward, the left bank, under the name of the
Stafford Heights, so completely commands the right that it was
manifestly impossible for the Confederates to prevent the enemy,
furnished with a far superior artillery, from making good the passage
of the stream. A mile west of Fredericksburg, however, extending from
Beck’s Island to the heights beyond the Massaponax Creek, runs a long
low ridge, broken by ravines and partially covered with timber, which
with some slight aid from axe and spade could be rendered an
exceedingly strong position. Longstreet, who occupied this ridge, had
been ordered to intrench himself; gun-pits had been dug on the bare
crest, named Marye’s Hill, which immediately faces Fredericksburg; a
few shelter-trenches had been thrown up, natural defences improved, and
some slight breastworks and abattis constructed along the outskirts of
the woods. These works were at extreme range from the Stafford Heights;
and the field of fire, extending as far as the river, a distance
varying from fifteen hundred to three thousand yards, needed no
clearing. Over such ground a frontal attack, even if made by superior
numbers, had little chance of success.
But notwithstanding its manifest advantages the position found no
favour in the eyes of Jackson. It could be easily turned by the fords
above Falmouth—Banks’, United States, Ely’s, and Germanna. This,
however, was a minor disqualification compared with the restrictions in
the way of offensive action. If the enemy should cross at
Fredericksburg, both his flanks would be protected by the river, while
his numerous batteries, arrayed on the Stafford Heights, and commanding
the length and the breadth of the battle-field, would make
counterstroke difficult and pursuit impossible. To await attack,
moreover, was to allow the enemy to choose his own time and place, and
to surrender the advantages of the initiative. Burnside’s
communications were protected by the Rappahannock, and it was thus
impracticable to manœuvre against his most vulnerable point, to inflict
on him a surprise, to compel him to change front, and, in case he were
defeated, to cut him off from his base and deprive him of his supplies.
The line of the North Anna, in Jackson’s opinion, promised far greater
results. The Federals, advancing from Fredericksburg, would expose
their right flank and their communications for a distance of
six-and-thirty miles; and if they were compelled to retreat, the
destruction of their whole army was within the bounds of possibility.
“I am opposed,” he said to General D. H. Hill, “to fighting on the
Rappahannock. We will whip the enemy, but gain no fruits of victory. I
have advised the line of the North Anna, but have been overruled.”[4]
So the days passed on. The country was white with snow. The temperature
was near zero, and the troops, their blankets as threadbare as their
uniforms, without greatcoats, and in many instances without boots,
shivered beneath the rude shelters of their forest bivouacs.
Fortunately there was plenty of work. Roads were cut through the woods,
and existing tracks improved. The river banks were incessantly
patrolled. Fortifications were constructed at Port Royal and Skinker’s
Neck, and the movements of the Federals, demonstrating now here and now
there, kept the whole army on the alert. Nor were Jackson’s men
deprived of all excitement. He had the satisfaction of reporting to
General Lee that D. H. Hill, with the aid of Stuart’s horse-artillery,
had frustrated two attempts of the Federal gunboats to pass up the
river at Port Royal;
and that the vigilance of Early at Skinker’s Neck had caused the enemy
to abandon the design which he had apparently conceived of crossing at
that point.
Dec. 11 But more vigorous operations were not long postponed. On
December 10, General Burnside, urged by the impatience of the Northern
press, determined to advance, and the next morning, at 3 a.m., the
signal guns of the Confederates gave notice that the enemy was in
motion. One hundred and forty Federal guns, many of large calibre,
placed in epaulments on the Stafford Heights, frowned down upon
Fredericksburg, and before the sun rose the Federal bridge builders
were at work on the opposite shore. The little city, which had been
deserted by the inhabitants, was held by Barksdale’s Mississippi
brigade of McLaws’ division, about 1,600 strong, and the conduct of
this advanced detachment must have done much to inspirit the troops who
watched their prowess from the ridge in rear. A heavy fog hung upon the
water, and not until the bridge was two-thirds completed, and shadowy
figures became visible in the mist, did the Mississippians open fire.
At such close quarters the effect was immediate, and the builders fled.
Twice, at intervals of half an hour, they ventured again upon the
deserted bridge, and twice were they driven back. Strong detachments
were now moved forward by the Federals to cover the working parties,
and artillery began to play upon the town. The Southerners, however,
securely posted in rifle-pits and cellars, were not to be dislodged;
and at ten o’clock Burnside ordered the heavy batteries into action.
Every gun which could be brought to bear on Fredericksburg discharged
fifty rounds of shot and shell. To this bombardment, which lasted
upwards of an hour, Longstreet’s artillery could make no reply. Yet
though the effect on the buildings was appalling, and flames broke out
in many places, the defenders not only suffered little loss, but at the
very height of the cannonade repelled another attempt to complete the
bridge.
After a delay of several hours General Hooker, commanding the advance,
called for volunteers to cross the river in boats. Four regiments came
forward. The pontoons
were manned, and though many lives were lost during the transit, the
gallant Federals pushed quickly across; others followed, and Barksdale,
who had no orders to hold the place against superior strength, withdrew
his men from the river bank. About 4.30 p.m., three bridges being at
last established, the enemy pushed forward, and the Mississippians,
retiring in good order, evacuated Fredericksburg. A mile below, near
the mouth of Hazel Run, the Confederate outposts had been driven in,
and three more bridges had been thrown across. Thus on the night of the
11th the Federals, who were now organised in three Grand Divisions,
each of two army corps, had established their advanced guards on the
right bank of the Rappahannock, and, under cover of the batteries on
the Stafford Heights, could rapidly and safely pass over their great
host of 120,000 men.[5]
Burnside had framed his plan of attack on the assumption that Lee’s
army was dispersed along the Rappahannock. His balloon had reported
large Confederate bivouacs below Skinker’s Neck, and he appears to have
believed that Lee, alarmed by his demonstrations near Port Royal, had
posted half his army in that neighbourhood. Utterly unsuspicious that a
trap had been laid for him, he had resolved to take advantage of this
apparently vicious distribution, and, crossing rapidly at
Fredericksburg, to defeat the Confederate left before the right could
lend support. Port Royal is but eighteen miles from Fredericksburg, and
in prompt action, therefore, lay his only hope of success. Burnside,
however, after the successful establishment, of his six bridges,
evinced the same want of resolution which had won him so unenviable a
reputation at Sharpsburg. The long hours of darkness slipped peacefully
away; no unusual sound broke the silence of the night, and all was
still along the Rappahannock.
Dec. 12 It was not till the next morning, December 12, that the army
began to cross, and the movement, made difficult by a dense fog, was by
no means energetic. Four of the six army corps were transferred during
the
day to the southern bank; but beyond a cavalry reconnaissance, which
was checked by Stuart, there was no fighting, and to every man in the
Federal ranks it was perfectly plain that the delay was fatal.
Lee, meanwhile, with ample time at his disposal and full confidence in
the wisdom of his dispositions, calmly awaited the development of his
adversary’s plans. Jackson brought up A. P. Hill and Taliaferro at
noon, and posted them on Longstreet’s right; but it was not till that
hour, when it had at last become certain that the whole Federal army
was crossing, that couriers were dispatched to call in Early and D. H.
Hill. Once more the Army of Northern Virginia was concentrated at
exactly the right moment on the field of battle.[6]
Dec. 13 Like its predecessor, December 13 broke dull and calm, and the
mist which shrouded river and plain hid from each other the rival
hosts. Long before daybreak the Federal divisions still beyond the
stream began to cross; and as the morning wore on, and the troops near
Hazel Run moved forward from their bivouacs, the rumbling of artillery
on the frozen roads, the loud words of command, and the sound of
martial music came, muffled by the fog, to the ears of the Confederates
lying expectant on the ridge. Now and again the curtain lifted for a
moment, and the Southern guns assailed the long dark columns of the
foe. Very early had the Confederates taken up their position. The
ravine of Deep Run, covered with tangled brushwood, was the line of
demarcation between Jackson and Longstreet. On the extreme right of the
Second Corps, and half a mile north of the marshy valley of the
Massaponax, where a spur called Prospect Hill juts down from the wooded
ridge, were fourteen guns under Colonel Walker. Supported by two
regiments of Field’s brigade, these pieces were held back for the
present within the forest which here clothed the ridge. Below Prospect
Hill, and running thence along the front of the position, the
embankment of the Richmond and Potomac Railroad formed a tempting
breastwork. It was utilised, however,
only by the skirmishers of the defence. The edge of the forest, One
hundred and fifty to two hundred yards in rear, looked down upon an
open and gentle slope, and along the brow of this natural glacis,
covered by the thick timber, Jackson posted his fighting-line. To this
position it was easy to move up his supports and reserves without
exposing them to the fire of artillery; and if the assailants should
seize the embankment, he relied upon the deadly rifles of his infantry
to bar their further advance up the ascent beyond.
The Light Division supplied both the first and second lines of
Jackson’s army corps. To the left of Walker’s guns, posted in a
shelter-trench within the skirts of the wood, was Archer’s brigade of
seven regiments, including two of Field’s, the left resting on a
coppice that projected beyond the general line of forest. On the
further side of this coppice, but nearer the embankment, lay Lane’s
brigade, an unoccupied space of six hundred yards intervening between
his right and Archer’s left. Between Lane’s right and the edge of the
coppice was an open tract two hundred yards in breadth. Both of these
brigades had a strong skirmish line pushed forward along and beyond the
railroad. Five hundred yards in rear, along a road through the woods
which had been cut by Longstreet’s troops, Gregg’s South Carolina
brigade, in second line, covered the interval between Archer and Lane.
To Lane’s left rear lay Pender’s brigade, supporting twelve guns posted
in the open, on the far side of the embankment, and twenty-one massed
in a field to the north of a small house named Bernard’s Cabin. Four
hundred yards in rear of Lane’s left and Pender’s right was stationed
Thomas’s brigade of four regiments.[7]
It is necessary to notice particularly the shape, size, and position of
the projecting tongue of woodland which
broke the continuity of Hill’s line. A German officer on Stuart’s staff
had the day previous, while riding along the position, remarked its
existence, and suggested the propriety of razing it; but, although
Jackson himself predicted that there would be the scene of the severest
fighting, the ground was so marshy within its depths, and the
undergrowth so dense and tangled, that it was judged impenetrable and
left unoccupied—an error of judgment which cost many lives. General
Lane had also recognised the danger of leaving so wide a gap between
Archer and himself, and had so reported, but without effect, to his
divisional commander.
The coppice was triangular in shape, and extended nearly six hundred
yards beyond the embankment. The base, which faced the Federals, was
five hundred yards long. Beyond the apex the ground was swampy and
covered with scrub, and the ridge, depressed at this point to a level
with the plain, afforded no position from which artillery could command
the approach to or issue from this patch of jungle. A space of seven
hundred yards along the front was thus left undefended by direct fire.
[Illustration: The Field of Fredericksburg]
Early, who with D. H. Hill had marched in shortly after daybreak,
formed the right of the third line, Taliaferro the left. The division
of D. H. Hill, with several batteries, formed the general reserve, and
a portion of Early’s artillery was posted about half a mile in rear of
his division, in readiness, if necessary, to relieve the guns on
Prospect Hill.
Jackson’s line was two thousand six hundred yards in length, and his
infantry 30,000 strong, giving eleven rifles to the yard; but nearly
three-fourths of the army corps, the divisions of Early, Taliaferro,
and D. H. Hill, were in third line and reserve. Of his one hundred and
twenty-three guns only forty-seven were in position, but the wooded and
broken character of the ground forbade a further deployment of his
favourite arm. His left, near Deep Run, was in close touch with Hood’s
division of Longstreet’s army corps; and in advance of his right,
already protected by the Massaponax, was Stuart with two brigades and
his
horse-artillery. One Whitworth gun, a piece of great range and large
calibre, was posted on the wooded heights beyond the Massaponax,
north-east of Yerby’s House.
Jackson’s dispositions were almost identical with those which he had
adopted at the Second Manassas. His whole force was hidden in the
woods; every gun that could find room was ready for action, and the
batteries were deployed in two masses. Instead, however, of giving each
division a definite section of the line, he had handed over the whole
front to A. P. Hill. This arrangement, however, had been made before D.
H. Hill and Early came up, and with the battle imminent a change was
hazardous. In many respects, moreover, the ground he now occupied
resembled that which he had so successfully defended on August 29 and
30. There was the wood opposite the centre, affording the enemy a
covered line of approach; the open fields, pasture and stubble, on
either hand; the stream, hidden by timber and difficult of passage, on
the one flank, and Longstreet on the other. But the position at
Fredericksburg was less strong for defence than that at the Second
Manassas, for not only was Jackson’s line within three thousand yards—a
long range but not ineffective—of the heavy guns on the Stafford
Heights, but on the bare plain between the railway and the river there
was ample room for the deployment of the Federal field-batteries. At
the Second Manassas, on the other hand, the advantages of the artillery
position had been on the side of the Confederates.
Nevertheless, with the soldiers of Sharpsburg, ragged indeed and
under-fed, but eager for battle and strong in numbers, there was no
reason to dread the powerful artillery of the foe; and Jackson’s
confidence was never higher than when, accompanied by his staff, he
rode along his line of battle. He was not, however, received by his
soldiers with their usual demonstrations of enthusiastic devotion. In
honour of the day he had put on the uniform with which Stuart had
presented him; the old cadet cap, which had so often waved his men to
victory, was replaced by a head-dress resplendent with gold lace;
“Little Sorrel” had been deposed in favour of a more imposing charger;
and
the veterans failed to recognise their commander until he had galloped
past them. A Confederate artillery-man has given a graphic picture of
his appearance when the fight was at its hottest:—
“A general officer, mounted upon a superb bay horse and followed by a
single courier, rode up through our guns. Looking neither to the right
nor the left, he rode straight to the front, halted, and seemed gazing
intently on the enemy’s line of battle. The outfit before me, from top
to toe, cap, coat, top-boots, horse and furniture, were all of the new
order of things. But there was something about the man that did not
look so new after all. He appeared to be an old-time friend of all the
turmoil around him. As he had done us the honour to make an afternoon
call on the artillery, I thought it becoming in someone to say
something on the occasion. No one did, however, so, although a somewhat
bashful and weak-kneed youngster, I plucked up courage enough to
venture to remark that those big guns over the river had been knocking
us about pretty considerably during the day. He quickly turned his
head, and I knew in an instant who it was before me. The clear-cut,
chiselled features; the thin, compressed and determined lips; the calm,
steadfast eye; the countenance to command respect, and in time of war
to give the soldier that confidence he so much craves from a superior
officer, were all there. He turned his head quickly, and looking me all
over, rode up the line and away as quickly and silently as he came, his
little courier hard upon his heels; and this was my first sight of
Stonewall Jackson.”
From his own lines Jackson passed along the front, drawing the fire of
the Federal skirmishers, who were creeping forward, and proceeded to
the centre of the position, where, on the eminence which has since
borne the name of Lee’s Hill, the Commander-in-Chief, surrounded by his
generals, was giving his last instructions. It was past nine o’clock.
The sun, shining out with almost September warmth, was drawing up the
mist which hid the opposing armies; and as the dense white folds
dissolved and rolled sway, the Confederates saw the broad
plain beneath them dark with more than 80,000 foes. Of these the left
wing, commanded by Franklin, and composed of 55,000 men and 116 guns,
were moving against the Second Corps; 30,000, under Sumner, were
forming for attack on Longstreet, and from the heights of Stafford,
where the reserves were posted in dense masses, a great storm of shot
and shell burst upon the Confederate lines. “For once,” says Dabney,
“war unmasked its terrible proportions with a distinctness hitherto
unknown in the forest-clad landscapes of America, and the plain of
Fredericksburg presented a panorama that was dreadful in its grandeur.”
It was then that Longstreet, to whose sturdy heart the approach of
battle seemed always welcome, said to Jackson, “General, do not all
those multitudes of Federals frighten you?” “We shall very soon see
whether I shall not frighten them;” and with this grim reply the
commander of the Second Corps rode back to meet Franklin’s onset.
9 a.m. The Federals were already advancing. From Deep Run southward,
for more than a mile and a half, three great lines of battle,
accompanied by numerous batteries, moved steadily forward, powerful
enough, to all appearance, to bear down all opposition by sheer weight
of numbers. “On they came,” says an eye-witness, “in beautiful order,
as if on parade, their bayonets glistening in the bright sunlight; on
they came, waving their hundreds of regimental flags, which relieved
with warm bits of colouring the dull blue of the columns and the russet
tinge of the wintry landscape, while their artillery beyond the river
continued the cannonade with unabated fury over their heads, and gave a
background of white fleecy smoke, like midsummer clouds, to the
animated picture.”
And yet that vast array, so formidable of aspect, lacked that moral
force without which physical power, even in its most terrible form, is
but an idle show. Not only were the strength of the Confederate
position, the want of energy in the preliminary movements, the
insecurity of their own situation, but too apparent to the intelligence
of the regimental officers and men, but they mistrusted their
commander. Northern writers have recorded that the Army of the Potomac
never went down to battle with less alacrity than on this day at
Fredericksburg.
Nor was the order of attack of such a character as to revive the
confidence of the troops. Burnside, deluded by the skill with which
Jackson had hidden his troops into the belief that the Second Army
Corps was still at Port Royal, had instructed Franklin to seize the
ridge with a single division, and Meade’s 4,500 Pennsylvanians were
sent forward alone, while the remainder of the Grand Division, over
50,000 strong, stood halted on the plain, awaiting the result of this
hopeless manœuvre.[8] Meade advanced in three lines, each of a brigade,
with skirmishers in front and on the flank, and his progress was soon
checked. No sooner had his first line crossed the Richmond road than
the left was assailed by a well-directed and raking artillery fire.
Captain Pelham, commanding Stuart’s horse-artillery, had galloped
forward by Jackson’s orders with his two rifled guns, and, escorted by
a dismounted squadron, had come into action beyond a marshy stream
which ran through a tangled ravine on the Federal flank. So telling was
his fire that the leading brigade wavered and gave ground; and though
Meade quickly brought up his guns and placed his third brigade _en
potence_ in support, he was unable to continue his forward movement
until he had brushed away his audacious antagonist. The four
Pennsylvania batteries were reinforced by two others; but rapidly
changing his position as often as the Federal gunners found his range,
for more than half an hour Pelham defied their efforts, and for that
space of time arrested the advance of Meade’s 4,500 infantry. One of
his pieces was soon disabled; but with the remaining gun, captured from
the enemy six months before, he maintained the unequal fight until his
limbers were empty, and he received peremptory orders from Stuart to
withdraw.
On Pelham’s retirement, Franklin, bringing several batteries forward to
the Richmond road, for more than
half an hour subjected the woods before him to a heavy cannonade, in
which the guns on the Stafford Heights played a conspicuous part.
Hidden, however, by the thick timber, Jackson’s regiments lay secure,
unharmed by the tempest that crashed above them through the leafless
branches; and, reserving their fire for the hostile infantry, his guns
were silent. The general, meanwhile, according to his custom, had
walked far out into the fields to reconnoitre for himself, and luck
favoured the Confederacy on this day of battle. Lieutenant Smith was
his only companion, and a Federal sharpshooter, suddenly rising from
some tall weeds two hundred paces distant, levelled his rifle and
fired. The bullet whistled between their heads, and Jackson, turning
with a smile to his aide-de-camp, said cheerfully: “Mr. Smith, had you
not better go to the rear? They may shoot you.” Then, having
deliberately noted the enemy’s arrangements, he returned to his station
on Prospect Hill.
11.15 a.m. It was past eleven before Meade resumed his advance. Covered
by the fire of the artillery, his first line was within eight hundred
yards of Jackson’s centre, when suddenly the silent woods awoke to
life. The Confederate batteries, pushing forward from the covert, came
rapidly into action, and the flash and thunder of more than fifty guns
revealed to the astonished Federals the magnitude of the task they had
undertaken. From front and flank came the scathing fire; the
skirmishers were quickly driven in, and on the closed ranks behind
burst the full fury of the storm. Dismayed and decimated by this fierce
and unexpected onslaught, Meade’s brigades broke in disorder and fell
back to the Richmond road.
For the next hour and a half an artillery duel, in which over 400 guns
took part, raged over the whole field, and the Confederate batteries,
their position at last revealed, engaged with spirit the more numerous
and powerful ordnance of the enemy. Then Franklin brought up three
divisions to Meade’s support; and from the smouldering ruins of
Fredericksburg, three miles to the northward, beyond the high trees of
Hazel Run, the deep columns of Sumner’s
Grand Division deployed under the fire of Longstreet’s guns. Sumner’s
attack had been for some time in progress before Franklin was in
readiness to co-operate. The battle was now fully developed, and the
morning mists had been succeeded by dense clouds of smoke, shrouding
bill and plain, through which the cannon flashed redly, and the defiant
yells of Longstreet’s riflemen, mingled with their rattling volleys,
stirred the pulses of Jackson’s veterans. As the familiar sounds were
borne to their ears, it was seen that the dark lines beyond the
Richmond road were moving forward, and the turn of the Second Corps had
come.
1 p.m. It was one o’clock, and Jackson’s guns had for the moment ceased
their fire. Meade’s Pennsylvanians had rallied. Gibbon’s division had
taken post on their right; Biney and Newton were in support; and
Doubleday, facing south, was engaged with Stuart’s dismounted troopers.
Twenty-one guns on the right, and thirty on the left, stationed on the
Richmond road, a thousand yards from the Confederate position, formed a
second tier to the heavier pieces on the heights, and fired briskly on
the woods. Preceded by clouds of skirmishers, Meade and Gibbon advanced
in column of brigades at three hundred paces distance, the whole
covering a front of a thousand yards; and the supporting divisions
moved up to the Richmond road.
When the Federals reached the scene of their former repulse, Jackson’s
guns again opened; but without the same effect, for they were now
exposed to the fire of the enemy’s batteries at close range. Even
Pelham could do but little; and the artillery beyond the railroad on
Hill’s left was quickly driven in.
Meade’s rear brigade was now brought up and deployed on the left of the
first, in the direction of the Massaponax, thus further extending the
front.
The leading brigade made straight for the tongue of woodland which
interposed between Lane and Archer. As they neared the Confederate
line, the Pennsylvanians, masked by the trees, found that they were no
longer exposed to fire, and that the coppice was unoccupied.
Quickly crossing the border, through swamp and undergrowth they pushed
their way, and, bursting from the covert to the right, fell on the
exposed flank of Lane’s brigade. The fight was fierce, but the
Southerners were compelled to give ground, for neither Archer nor Gregg
was able to lend assistance.
Meade’s second brigade, though following close upon the first, had,
instead of conforming to the change of direction against Lane’s flank,
rushed forward through the wood. Two hundred paces from the embankment
it came in contact with Archer’s left, which was resting on the very
edge of the coppice. The Confederates were taken by surprise. Their
front was secured by a strong skirmish line; but on the flank, as the
thickets appeared impenetrable, neither scouts nor pickets had been
thrown out, and the men were lying with arms piled. Two regiments,
leaping to their feet and attempting to form line to the left, were
broken by a determined charge, and gave way in disorder. The remainder,
however, stood firm, for the Federals, instead of following up their
success in this direction, left Archer to be dealt with by the third
brigade of the division, which had now reached the railroad, and swept
on towards the military road, where Gregg’s brigade was drawn up within
the forest. So thick was the cover, and so limited the view, that
General Gregg, taking the advancing mass for part of Archer’s line
retiring, restrained the fire of his men. The Federals broke upon his
right. He himself fell mortally wounded. His flank regiment, a
battalion of conscripts, fled, except one company, without firing a
shot. The two regiments on the opposite flank, however, were with great
readiness turned about, and changing front inwards, arrested the
movement of the enemy along the rear.
The Federals had now been joined by a portion of the first brigade,
inspirited by their victory over Lane, and the moment, to all
appearance, seemed critical in the extreme for the Confederates. To the
left rear of the attacking column, Meade’s third brigade was held in
check by Walker’s batteries and the sturdy Archer, who,
notwithstanding that a strong force had passed beyond his flank, and
had routed two of his regiments, still resolutely held his ground, and
prevented his immediate opponents from joining the intruding column. To
the right rear, opposite Pender, Gibbon’s division had been checked by
the fire of the great battery near Bernard’s Cabin; two of his brigades
had been driven back, and the third had with difficulty gained the
shelter of the embankment. So from neither left nor right was immediate
support to be expected by Meade’s victorious regiments. But on the
Richmond road were the divisions of Birney and Newton, with Doubleday’s
and Sickles’ not far in rear, and 20,000 bayonets might have been
thrown rapidly into the gap which the Pennsylvanians had so vigorously
forced. Yet Jackson’s equanimity was undisturbed. The clouds of smoke
and the thick timber hid the fighting in the centre from his post of
observation on Prospect Hill, and the first intimation of the enemy’s
success was brought by an aide-de-camp, galloping wildly up the slope.
“General,” he exclaimed in breathless haste, “the enemy have broken
through Archer’s left, and General Gregg says he must have help, or he
and General Archer will both lose their position.” Jackson turned round
quietly, and without the least trace of excitement in either voice or
manner, sent orders to Early and Taliaferro, in third line, to advance
with the bayonet and clear the front. Then, with rare self-restraint,
for the fighting instinct was strong within him, and the danger was so
threatening as to have justified his personal interference, he raised
his field-glasses and resumed his scrutiny of the enemy’s reserves on
the Richmond road.
1.45 p.m. His confidence in his lieutenants was not misplaced. Early’s
division, already deployed in line, came forward with a rush, and the
Stonewall Brigade, responding with alacrity to Jackson’s summons, led
the advance of Taliaferro.
The counterstroke was vigorous. Meade’s brigades had penetrated to the
heart of the Confederate position, but their numbers were reduced to
less than 2,000 bayonets; in the fierce fighting and dense thickets
they had lost all semblance of cohesion, and not a single regiment had
supported them. The men looked round in vain for help, and the forest
around them resounded with the yells of the Confederate reinforcements.
Assailed in front and flank by a destructive fire, the Pennsylvanians
were rapidly borne back. Hill’s second line joined in Early’s advance.
Gibbon was strongly attacked. Six brigades, sweeping forward from the
forest, dashed down the slopes, and in a few moments the broken
remnants of the Federal divisions were dispersing in panic across the
plain. As the enemy fled the Confederate gunners, disregarding the
shells of Franklin’s batteries, poured a heavy fire into the receding
mass; and although instructions had been given that the counterstroke
was not to pass the railroad, Hoke’s and Atkinson’s brigades,[9]
carried away by success and deaf to all orders, followed in swift
pursuit. Some of Birney’s regiments, tardily coming forward to Meade’s
support, were swept away, and the yelling line of grey infantry,
shooting down the fugitives and taking many prisoners, pressed on
towards the Richmond road. There the remainder of Birney’s division was
drawn up, protected by the breast-high bank, and flanked by artillery;
yet it seemed for a moment as if the two Confederate brigades would
carry all before them.
The troops of Meade and Gibbon were streaming in confusion to the rear.
Two batteries had been abandoned, and before Hake’s onset the left of
Birney’s infantry gave ground for fifty yards. But the rash advance had
reached its climax. Unsupported, and with empty cartridge-boxes, the
Southerners were unable to face the fire from the road; sixteen guns
had opened on them with canister; and after suffering heavy losses in
killed, wounded, and prisoners, they withdrew in disorder but
unpursued.
The success of the Second Army Corps was greater than even Jackson
realised. Meade and Gibbon had lost 4,000 officers and men; and it was
not till late in the afternoon that they were rallied on the river
bank. The casualties in Birney’s division swelled the total to 5,000,
and the Confederate counterstroke had inflicted a
heavier blow than the tale of losses indicates. Not only the troops
which had been engaged, but those who had witnessed their defeat, who
had seen them enter the enemy’s position, and who knew they should have
been supported, were much disheartened.
2.30 p.m. At 2.30 p.m., soon after the repulse of Hake and Atkinson,
Burnside, having just witnessed the signal failure of a fourth assault
on Longstreet, sent an urgent order to Franklin to renew his attack.
Franklin made no response. He had lost all confidence both in his
superior and his men, and he took upon himself to disobey.
On the Confederate side Taliaferro and Early, with part of the Light
Division, now held the railway embankment and the skirt of the woods.
D. H. Hill was brought up into third line, and the shattered brigades
of A. P. Hill were withdrawn to the rear. During the rest of the
afternoon the skirmishers were actively engaged, but although Jackson’s
victorious soldiery long and eagerly expected a renewal of the assault,
the enemy refused to be again tempted to close quarters.
On the left, meanwhile, where the battle still raged, the Confederates
were equally successful. Against an impregnable position 40,000
Northerners were madly hurled by the general of Mr. Lincoln’s choice.
By those hapless and stout-hearted soldiers, sacrificed to
incompetency, a heroism was displayed which won the praise and the pity
of their opponents. The attack was insufficiently prepared, and feebly
supported, by the artillery. The troops were formed on a narrow front.
Marye’s Hill, the strongest portion of the position, where the
Confederate infantry found shelter behind a stout stone wall, and
numerous batteries occupied the commanding ground in rear, was selected
for assault. Neither feint nor demonstration, the ordinary expedients
by which the attacker seeks to distract the attention and confuse the
efforts of the defence, was made use of; and yet division after
division, with no abatement of courage, marched in good order over the
naked plain, dashed forward with ever-thinning ranks, and then,
receding sullenly before the
storm of fire, left, within a hundred yards of the stone wall, a long
line of writhing forms to mark the limit of their advance.
3 p.m. Two army corps had been repulsed by Longstreet with fearful
slaughter when Meade and Gibbon gave way before Jackson’s
counterstroke, and by three o’clock nearly one-half of the Federal army
was broken and demoralised. The time appeared to have come for a
general advance of the Confederates. Before Fredericksburg, the wreck
of Sumner’s Grand Division was still clinging to such cover as the
ground afforded. On the Richmond road, in front of Jackson, Franklin
had abandoned all idea of the offensive, and was bringing up his last
reserves to defend his line. The Confederates, on the other hand, were
in the highest spirits, and had lost but few.
General Lee’s arrangements, however, had not included preparation for a
great counterstroke, and such a movement is not easily improvised. The
position had been occupied for defensive purposes alone. There was no
general reserve, no large and intact force which could have moved to
the attack immediately the opportunity offered. “No skill,” says
Longstreet, “could have marshalled our troops for offensive operations
in time to meet the emergency. My line was long and over broken
country, so much so that the troops could not be promptly handled in
offensive operations. Jackson’s corps was in mass, and could he have
anticipated the result of my battle, he would have been justified in
pressing Franklin to the river when the battle of the latter was lost.
Otherwise, pursuit would have been as unwise as the attack he had just
driven off. It is well known that after driving off attacking forces,
if immediate pursuit can be made, so that the victors can go along with
the retreating forces pell-mell, it is well enough to do so; but the
attack should be immediate. To follow a success by counter-attack
against the enemy in position is problematical.”[10]
Moreover, so large was the battle-field, so limited the view by reason
of the woods, and with such ease had the
Federal attacks been repulsed, that General Lee was unaware of the
extent of his success. Ignorant, too, as he necessarily was, of the
mistrust and want of confidence in its leaders with which the Federal
army was infected, he was far from suspecting what a strong ally he had
in the hearts of his enemies; while, on the other hand, the
inaccessible batteries on the Stafford Heights were an outward and
visible token of unabated strength.
Jackson, however, although the short winter day was already closing in,
considered that the attempt was worth making. About 3 p.m. he had seen
a feeble attack on the Confederate centre repulsed by Hood and Pender,
and about the same time he received information of Longstreet’s
success.
Franklin, meanwhile, was reforming his lines behind the high banks of
the Richmond road, and the approach of his reserves, plainly visible
from the Confederate position, seemed to presage a renewed attack. “I
waited some time,” says Jackson, “to receive it, but he making no
forward movement, I determined, if prudent, to do so myself. The
artillery of the enemy was so judiciously posted as to make an advance
of our troops across the plain very hazardous; yet it was so promising
of good results, if successfully executed, as to induce me to make
preparations for the attempt. In order to guard against disaster, the
infantry was to be preceded by artillery, and the movement postponed
until late in the afternoon, so that if compelled to retire, it would
be under cover of the night.”[11]
Jackson’s decision was not a little influenced by Stuart, or rather by
the reports which Stuart, who had sent out staff officers to keep the
closest watch on the enemy’s movements, had been able to furnish of the
demoralised condition of a great part of Franklin’s force. The cavalry
general, as soon as he verified the truth of these reports in person,
galloped off to confer with Jackson on Prospect Hill, and a message was
at once sent to Lee, requesting permission for an advance. A single
cannon shot was to be the signal for a general attack, which Stuart,
striking the
enemy in flank, was to initiate with his two brigades and the lighter
guns.
“Returning to our position,” to quote Stuart’s chief of staff, “we
awaited in anxious silence the desired signal; but minute after minute
passed by, and the dark veil of the winter night began to envelop the
valley, when Stuart, believing that the summons agreed upon had been
given, issued the order to advance. Off we went into the gathering
darkness, our sharpshooters driving their opponents easily before them,
and Pelham with his guns, pushing ahead at a trot, giving them a few
shots whenever the position seemed favourable, and then again pressing
forward. This lasted about twenty minutes, when the fire of the enemy’s
infantry began to be more and more destructive, and other fresh
batteries opened upon us. Still all remained silent upon our main line.
Our situation had become, indeed, a critical one, when a courier from
General Jackson galloped up at full speed, bringing the order for
Stuart to retreat as quickly as he could to his original position.”
Under cover of the night this retrograde movement was effected without
loss; and the cavalry, as they marched back, saw the camp-fires
kindling on the skirts of the forest, and the infantry digging
intrenchments by the fitful glare.
The Second Corps had not come into action. Jackson had issued orders
that every gun, of whatever calibre or range, which was not disabled
should be brought to the front and open fire at sunset; and that as
soon as the enemy showed signs of wavering, the infantry should charge
with fixed bayonets, and sweep the invaders into the river. Hood’s
division, which had been temporarily placed at his disposal, was
instructed to co-operate.[12] It appears, however, that it had not been
easy, in the short space of daylight still available, to remedy the
confusion into which the Confederates had been thrown by Meade’s attack
and their own counterstroke. The divisions were to some extent mixed
up. Several regiments had been broken, and the ammunition of both
infantry and artillery needed replenishment.
Moreover, it was difficult in the extreme to bring the batteries
forward through the forest; and, when they eventually arrived, the
strength of the Federal position was at once revealed. Franklin’s line
was defended by a hundred and sixteen field pieces, generally of
superior metal to those of the Confederates, and the guns on the
Stafford Heights, of which at least thirty bore upon Jackson’s front,
were still in action. As the first Confederate battery advanced, this
great array of artillery, which had been for some time comparatively
quiet, reopened with vigour, and, to use Jackson’s words, “so
completely swept our front as to satisfy me that the proposed movement
should be abandoned.”
But he was not yet at the end of his resources. A strong position,
which cannot be turned, is not always impregnable. If the ground be
favourable, and few obstacles exist, a night attack with the bayonet,
especially if the enemy be exhausted or half-beaten, has many chances
of success; and during the evening Jackson made arrangements for such a
movement. “He asked me,” says Dr. McGuire, “how many yards of bandaging
I had, and when I replied that I did not know the exact number, but
that I had enough for another fight, he seemed a little worried at my
lack of information and showed his annoyance. I repeated rather
shortly, ‘I have enough for another battle,’ meaning to imply that this
was all that it was necessary for him to know. I then asked him: ‘Why
do you want to know how much bandaging I have?’ He said: ‘I want a yard
of bandaging to put on the arm of every soldier in this night’s attack,
so that the men may know each other from the enemy.’ I told him I had
not enough cotton cloth for any such purpose, and that he would have to
take a piece of the shirt tail of each soldier to supply the cloth,
but, unfortunately, half of them had no shirts! The expedient was never
tried. General Lee decided that the attack would be too hazardous.”[13]
That night both armies lay on their arms. Burnside,
notwithstanding that he spent several hours amongst the troops before
Fredericksburg, and found that both officers and men were opposed to
further attack, decided to renew the battle the next day. His
arrangements became known to Lee, an officer or orderly carrying
dispatches having strayed within the Confederate outposts,[14] and the
Southern generals looked forward, on the morning of the 14th, to a
fresh attack, a more crushing repulse, and a general counterstroke.
Such cheerful anticipations, however, so often entertained by generals
holding a strong defensive position, are but seldom realised, and
Fredericksburg was no exception. The Confederates spent the night in
diligent preparation. Supplies of ammunition were brought up and
distributed, the existing defences were repaired, abattis cut and laid,
and fresh earthworks thrown up. Jackson, as usual on the eve of battle,
was still working while others rested. Until near midnight he sat up
writing and dispatching orders; then, throwing himself, booted and
spurred, on his camp bed, he slept for two or three hours, when he
again arose, lighted his candle, and resumed his writing. Before four
o’clock he sent to his medical director to inquire as to the condition
of General Gregg. Dr. McGuire reported that his case was hopeless, and
Jackson requested that he would go over and see that he had everything
he wished. Somewhat against his will, for there were many wounded who
required attention, the medical officer rode off, but scarcely had he
entered the farmhouse where Gregg was lying, than he heard the tramp of
horses, and Jackson himself dismounted on the threshold. The brigadier,
it appears, had lately fallen under the ban of his displeasure; but
from the moment his condition was reported, Jackson forgot everything
but the splendid services he had rendered on so many hard-fought
fields; and in his anxiety that every memory should be effaced which
might embitter his last moments, he had followed Dr. McGuire to his
bedside.
The interview was brief, and the dying soldier was
the happier for it; but the scene in that lonely Virginian homestead,
where, in the dark hours of the chill December morning, the life of a
strong man, of a gallant comrade, of an accomplished gentleman, and of
an unselfish patriot—for Gregg was all these—was slowly ebbing, made a
deeper impression on those who witnessed it than the accumulated
horrors of the battle-field. Sadly and silently the general and his
staff officer rode back through the forest, where the troops were
already stirring round the smouldering camp-fires. Their thoughts were
sombre. The Confederacy, with a relatively slender population, could
ill spare such men as Gregg. And yet Jackson, though yielding to the
depression of the moment, and deploring the awful sacrifices which the
defence of her liberties imposed upon the South, was in no melting
mood. Dr. McGuire, when they reached headquarters, put a question as to
the best means of coping with the overwhelming numbers of the enemy.
“Kill them, sir! kill every man!” was the reply of the stern soldier
who but just now, with words of tender sympathy and Christian hope, had
bade farewell to his dying comrade.
Dec. 14 But on December 14, as on the morrow of Sharpsburg, the
Confederates were doomed to disappointment. “Darkness still prevailed,”
writes Stuart’s chief of the staff, “when we mounted our horses and
again hastened to Prospect Hill, the summit of which we reached just in
time to see the sun rising, and unveiling, as it dispersed the haze,
the long lines of the Federal army, which once more stood in full line
of battle between our own position and the river. I could not withhold
my admiration as I looked down upon the well-disciplined ranks of our
antagonists, astonished that these troops now offering so bold a front
should be the same whom not many hours since I had seen in complete
flight and disorder. The skirmishers of the two armies were not much
more than a hundred yards apart, concealed from each other’s view by
the high grass in which they were lying, and above which, from time to
time, rose a small cloud of blue smoke, telling that a shot had been
fired. As the boom of artillery began
to sound from different parts of the line, and the attack might be
expected every minute, each hastened to his post.”
But though the skirmishing at times grew hotter, and the fire of the
artillery more rapid, long intervals of silence succeeded, until it at
length became apparent to the Confederates that the enemy, though well
prepared to resist attack, was determined not to fight outside his
breastworks. Burnside, indeed, giving way to the remonstrances of his
subordinates, had abandoned all idea of further aggressive action, and
unless Lee should move forward, had determined to recross the Potomac.
Dec. 15 The next morning saw the armies in the same positions, and the
Federal wounded, many of whom had been struck down nearly forty-eight
hours before, still lying untended between the hostile lines. It was
not till now that Burnside admitted his defeat by sending a flag of
truce with a request that he might be allowed to bury his dead.[15]
The same night a fierce storm swept the valley of the Rappahannock, and
the Army of the Potomac repassed the bridges, evading, under cover of
the elements, the observation of the Confederate patrols.
The retreat was effected with a skill which did much credit to the
Federal staff. Within fourteen hours 100,000 troops, with the whole of
their guns, ambulances, and ammunition waggons, were conveyed across
the Rappahannock;
but there remained on the south bank sufficient evidence to show that
the Army of the Potomac had not escaped unscathed. When the morning
broke the dead lay thick upon the field; arms and accoutrements, the
_débris_ of defeat, were strewed in profusion on every hand, and the
ruined houses of Fredericksburg were filled with wounded. Burnside lost
in the battle 12,647 men.
LEFT ATTACK—FRANKLIN
First Corps Meade’s Division
Gibbon’s Division
Doubleday’s Division 1,853
1,267
214 Third Corps Birney’s Division
Sickles’ Division 950
100 Sixth Corps Newton’s Division 63 Total ———
4,447
CENTRE
Brook’s Division
Howe’s Division 197
186 Total ———
383
RIGHT ATTACK—SUMNER AND HOOKER
Second Corps Hancock’s Division
Howard’s Division
French’s Division 2,032
914
1,160 Ninth Corps Burns’ Division
Sturgis’ Division
Getty’s Division 27
1,007
296 Third Corps Whipple’s Division 129 Fifth Corps Griffin’
Division
Sykes’ Division
Humphrey’s Division 926
228
1,019 Engineers and Reserve Artillery, etc. 79 Total ———
7,817
Grand Total (including 877 officers) 12,647
(589 prisoners)
The Confederates showed 5,309 casualties out of less than 30,000
actually engaged.
LEFT WING—LONGSTREET
First Corps Ransom’s Division
McLaws’ Division
Anderson’s Division 535
858
159 Artillery 37 Total ———
1,589
(1,224 on December 12.)
CENTRE
First Corps Pickett’s Division
Hood’s Division 54
251 Total ———
305
RIGHT WING—JACKSON
Light Division
Early’s Division
D. H. Hill’s Division
Taliaferro’s Division 2,120
932
173
190 Total (including 500 captured) ———
3,415
No attempt was made by the Confederates to follow the enemy across the
Rappahannock. The upper fords were open; but the river was rising fast,
and the Army of the Potomac, closely concentrated and within a few
miles of Aquia Creek, was too large to be attacked, and too close to
its base to permit effective manœuvres, which might induce it to
divide, against its line of communications. The exultation of the
Southern soldiers in their easy victory was dashed by disappointment.
Burnside’s escape had demonstrated the fallacy of one of the so-called
rules of war. The great river which lay behind him during the battle of
Fredericksburg had proved his salvation instead of—as it theoretically
should—his ruin. Over the six bridges his troops had more lines of
retreat than is usually the case when roads only are available; and
these lines of retreat were secure, protected from the Confederate
cavalry by the river, and from the infantry and artillery by the
batteries on the Stafford Heights. Had the battle been fought on the
North Anna, thirty-six miles from Fredericksburg, the result might have
been very different. A direct counterstroke would possibly have been no
more practicable
than on the Rappahannock, for the superior numbers of the enemy, and
his powerful artillery, could not have been disregarded. Nor would a
direct pursuit have been a certain means of making success decisive;
the rear of a retreating army, as the Confederates had found to their
cost at Malvern Hill, is usually its strongest part. But a pursuit
directed against the flanks, striking the line of retreat, cutting off
the supply and ammunition trains, and blocking the roads, a pursuit
such as Jackson had organised when he drove Banks from the Valley, if
conducted with vigour, seldom fails in its effect. And who would have
conducted such an operation with greater skill and energy than Stuart,
at the head of his 9,000 horsemen? Who would have supported Stuart more
expeditiously than the “foot-cavalry” of the Second Army Corps?
Lee’s position at Fredericksburg, strong as it might appear, was
exceedingly disadvantageous. A position which an army occupies with a
view to decisive battle should fulfil four requirements:—
1. It should not be too strong, or the enemy will not attack it.
2. It should give cover to the troops both from view and fire from
artillery, and have a good field of fire.
3. It should afford facilities for counterstroke.
4. It should afford facilities for pursuit.
Of these Lee’s battle-field fulfilled but the first and second. It
would have been an admirable selection if the sole object of the
Confederates had been to gain time, or to prevent the enemy
establishing himself south of the Rappahannock; but to encompass the
destruction of the enemy’s whole army it was as ill adapted as
Wellington’s position at Torres Vedras, at Busaco, or at Fuentes
d’Onor. But while Wellington in taking up these positions had no
further end in view than holding the French in check, the situation of
the Confederacy was such that a decisive victory was eminently
desirable. Nothing was to be gained by gaining time. The South could
furnish Lee with no further reinforcements. Every able-bodied man was
in the service of his country; and it was perfectly certain that the
Western
armies, although they had been generally successful during the past
year, would never be permitted by Mr. Davis to leave the valley of the
Mississippi.
The Army of Northern Virginia was not likely to be stronger or more
efficient. Equipped with the spoils of many victories, it was more on a
level with the enemy than had hitherto been the case. The ranks were
full. The men were inured to hardships and swift marches; their health
was proof against inclement weather, and they knew their work on the
field of battle. The artillery had recently been reorganised. During
the Peninsular campaign the batteries had been attached to the infantry
brigades, and the indifferent service they had often rendered had been
attributed to the difficulty of collecting the scattered units, and in
handling them in combination. Formed into battalions of four or six
batteries a large number of guns was now attached to each of the
divisions, and each army corps had a strong reserve; so that the
concentration of a heavy force of artillery on any part of a position
became a feasible operation. The cavalry, so admirably commanded by
Stuart, Hampton, and the younger Lees, was not less hardy or efficient
than the infantry, and the _moral_ of the soldiers of every arm,
founded on confidence in themselves not less than on confidence in
their leaders, was never higher.
“After the truce had been agreed upon,” says Captain Smith,
“litter-bearers to bring away the dead and wounded were selected from
the command of General Bodes. When they had fallen in, General Bodes
said to them: ‘Now, boys, those Yankees are going to ask you questions,
and you must not tell them anything. Be very careful about this.’ At
this juncture one of the men spoke up, and said, ‘General, can’t we
tell them that we whipped them yesterday?’ Bodes replied, laughing:
‘Yes, yes! you can tell them that.’ Immediately another man spoke up:
‘General, can’t we tell them that we can whip them tomorrow and the day
after?’ Bodes again laughed, and sent those incorrigible jokers off
with: ‘Yes, yes! go on, go on! Tell them what you please.’”
The Army of the Potomac, on the other hand, was not
likely to become weaker or less formidable if time were allowed it to
recuperate. It had behind it enormous reserves. 60,000 men had been
killed, wounded, or captured since the battle of Kernstown, and yet the
ranks were as full as when McClellan first marched on Richmond. Many
generals had disappeared; but those who remained were learning their
trade; and the soldiers, although more familiar with defeat than
victory, showed little diminution of martial ardour. Nor had the strain
of the war sapped the resources of the North. Her trade, instead of
dwindling, had actually increased; and the gaps made in the population
by the Confederate bullets were more than made good by a constant
influx of immigrants from Europe.
It was not by partial triumphs, not by the slaughter of a few brigades,
by defence without counterstroke, by victories without pursuit, that a
Power of such strength and vitality could be compelled to confess her
impotence. Whether some overwhelming disaster, a Jena or a Waterloo,
followed by instant invasion, would have subdued her stubborn spirit is
problematical. Rome survived Cannæ, Scotland Flodden, and France Sedan.
But in some such crowning mercy lay the only hope of the Confederacy,
and had the Army of the Potomac, ill-commanded as it was, been drawn
forward to the North Anna, it might have been utterly destroyed.
Half-hearted strategy, which aims only at repulsing the enemy’s attack,
is not the path to king-making victory; it is not by such feeble means
that States secure or protect their independence. To occupy a position
where Stuart’s cavalry was powerless, where the qualities which made
Lee’s infantry so formidable—the impetuosity of their attack, the
swiftness of their marches—had no field for display, and where the
enemy had free scope for the employment of his artillery, his strongest
arm, was but to postpone the evil day. It had been well for the
Confederacy if Stonewall Jackson, whose resolute strategy had but one
aim, and that aim the annihilation of the enemy, had been the supreme
director of her councils. To paraphrase Mahan: “The strategic mistake
(in occupying a position for which pursuit was impracticable)
neutralised the tactical advantage
gained, thus confirming the military maxim that a strategic mistake is
more serious and far-reaching in its effects than an error in tactics.”
Lee, however, was fettered by the orders of the Cabinet; and Mr. Davis
and his advisers, more concerned with the importance of retaining an
area of country which still furnished supplies than of annihilating the
Army of the Potomac, and relying on European intervention rather than
on the valour of the Southern soldier, were responsible for the
occupation of the Fredericksburg position. In extenuation of their
mistake it may, however, be admitted that the advantages of
concentration on the North Anna were not such as would impress
themselves on the civilian mind, while the surrender of territory would
undoubtedly have embarrassed both the Government and the supply
department. Moreover, at the end of November, it might have been urged
that if Burnside were permitted to possess himself of Fredericksburg,
it was by no means certain that he would advance on Richmond;
establishing himself in winter quarters, he might wait until the
weather improved, controlling, in the meantime, the resources and
population of that portion of Virginia which lay within his reach.
Nevertheless, as events went far to prove, Mr. Davis would have done
wisely had he accepted the advice of the soldiers on the spot. His
strategical glance was less comprehensive than that of Lee and Jackson.
In the first place, they knew that if Burnside proposed going into
winter quarters, he would not deliberately place the Rappahannock
between himself and his base, nor halt with the great forest of
Spotsylvania on his flank. In the second place, there could be no
question but that the Northern Government and the Northern people would
impel him forward. The tone of the press was unmistakable; and the very
reason that Burnside had been appointed to command was because
McClellan was so slow to move. In the third place, both Lee and Jackson
saw the need of decisive victory. With them questions of strategic
dispositions, offering chances of such victory, were of more importance
than questions
of supply or internal politics. They knew with what rapidity the
Federal soldiers recovered their _moral_; and they realised but too
keenly the stern determination which inspired the North. They had seen
the hosts of invasion retire in swift succession, stricken and
exhausted, before their victorious bayonets. Thousands of prisoners had
been marched to Richmond; thousands of wounded, abandoned on the
battle-field, had been paroled; guns, waggons and small arms, enough to
equip a great army, had been captured; and general after general had
been reduced to the ignominy that awaits a defeated leader. Frémont and
Shields had disappeared; Banks was no longer in the field; Porter was
waiting trial; McDowell had gone; Pope had gone, and McClellan; and yet
the Army of the Potomac still held its ground, the great fleets still
kept their stations, the capture of Richmond was still the objective of
the Union Government, and not for a single moment had Lincoln wavered
from his purpose.
It will not be asserted that either Lee or Jackson fathomed the source
of this unconquerable tenacity, They had played with effect on the
fears of Lincoln; they had recognised in him the motive power of the
Federal hosts; but they had not yet learned, for the Northern people
themselves had not yet learned it, that they were opposed by an
adversary whose resolution was as unyielding as their own, who loved
the Union even as they loved Virginia, and who ruled the nation with
the same tact and skill that they ruled their soldiers.
In these pages Mr. Lincoln has not been spared. He made mistakes, and
he himself would have been the last to claim infallibility. He had
entered the White House with a rich endowment of common-sense, a high
sense of duty, and an extraordinary knowledge of the American
character; but his ignorance of statesmanship directing arms was great,
and his military errors were numerous. Putting these aside, his tenure
of office during the dark days of ’61 and ’62 had been marked by the
very highest political sagacity; his courage and his patriotism had
sustained the nation in its distress; and in spite of every obstacle he
was gradually
bringing into being a unity of sympathy and of purpose, which in the
early days of the war had seemed an impossible ideal. Not the least
politic of his measures was the edict of emancipation, published after
the battle of Sharpsburg. It was not a measure without flaw. It
contained paragraphs which might fairly be interpreted, and were so
interpreted by the Confederates, as inciting the negroes to rise
against their masters, thus exposing to all the horrors of a servile
insurrection, with its accompaniments of murder and outrage, the farms
and plantations where the women and children of the South lived lonely
and unprotected. But if the edict served only to embitter the
Southerners, to bind the whole country together in a still closer
league of resistance, and to make peace except by conquest impossible,
it was worth the price. The party in the North which fought for the
re-establishment of the Union had carried on the war with but small
success. The tale of reverses had told at last upon recruiting. Men
were unwilling to come forward; and those who were bribed by large
bounties to join the armies were of a different character to the
original volunteer. Enthusiasm in the cause was fast diminishing when
Lincoln, purely on his own initiative, proclaimed emancipation, and,
investing the war with the dignity of a crusade, inspired the soldier
with a new incentive, and appealed to a feeling which had not yet been
stirred. Many Northerners had not thought it worth while to fight for
the re-establishment of the Union on the basis of the Constitution. If
slavery was to be permitted to continue they preferred separation; and
these men were farmers and agriculturists, the class which furnished
the best soldiers, men of American birth, for the most part
abolitionists, and ready to fight for the principle they had so much at
heart. It is true that the effect of the edict was not at once
apparent. It was not received everywhere with acclamation. The army had
small sympathy with the coloured race, and the political opponents of
the President accused him vehemently of unconstitutional action. Their
denunciations, however, missed the mark. The letter of the
Constitution, as Mr. Lincoln clearly saw, had ceased to be
regarded, at least by the great bulk of the people, with superstitious
reverence.
They had learned to think more of great principles than of political
expedients; and if the defence of their hereditary rights had welded
the South into a nation, the assertion of a still nobler principle, the
liberty of man, placed the North on a higher plane, enlisted the
sympathy of Europe, and completed the isolation of the Confederacy.
But although Lee and Jackson had not yet penetrated the political
genius of their great antagonist, they rated at its true value the
vigour displayed by his Administration, and they saw that something
more was wanting to wrest their freedom from the North than a mere
passive resistance to the invader’s progress. Soon after the battle of
Fredericksburg, Lee went to Richmond and laid proposals for an
aggressive campaign before the President. “He was assured, however,”
says General Longstreet, “that the war was virtually over, and that we
need not harass our troops by marches and other hardships. Gold had
advanced in New York to two hundred premium, and we were told by those
in the Confederate capital that in thirty or forty days we would be
recognised (by the European Powers) and peace proclaimed. General Lee
did not share this belief.”[16]
Dec. 18 So Jackson, who had hoped to return to Winchester, was doomed
to the inaction of winter quarters on the Rappahannock, for with
Burnside’s repulse operations practically ceased. The Confederate
cavalry, however, did not at once abandon hostilities. On December 18,
Hampton marched his brigade as far as the village of Occoquan, bringing
off 150 prisoners and capturing a convoy.
Dec. 26 And on December 26 Stuart closed his record for 1862 by leading
1,800 troopers far to the Federal rear. After doing much damage in the
district about Occoquan and Dumfries, twenty miles from Burnside’s
headquarters, he marched northward in the direction of Washington, and
penetrated as far as Burke’s Station, fifteen miles from Alexandria.
Sending a telegraphic
message to General Meigs, Quartermaster-General at Washington, to the
effect that the mules furnished to Burnside’s army were of such bad
quality that he was embarrassed in taking the waggons he had captured
into the Confederate lines, and requesting that a better class of
animal might be supplied in future, he returned by long marches through
Warrenton to Culpeper Court House, escaping pursuit, and bringing with
him a large amount of plunder and many prisoners. From the afternoon of
December 26 to nightfall on December 31 he rode one hundred and fifty
miles, losing 28 officers and men in skirmishes with detachments of the
Federal cavalry. He had contrived to throw a great part of the troops
sent to meet him into utter confusion by intercepting their telegrams,
and answering them himself in a manner that scattered his pursuers and
broke down their horses.
Near the end of January, Burnside made a futile attempt to march his
army round Lee’s flank by way of Ely’s and Germanna Fords. The weather,
however, was inclement; the roads were in a fearful condition, and the
troops experienced such difficulty in movement, that the operation,
which goes by the name of the Mud Campaign, was soon abandoned.
1863. Jan. 26 On January 26, Burnside, in consequence of the strong
representations made by his lieutenants to the President, was
superseded. General Hooker, the dashing fighter of the Antietam,
replaced him in command of the Army of the Potomac, and the Federal
troops went into winter quarters about Falmouth, where, on the opposite
shore of the Rappahannock, within full view of the sentries, stood a
row of finger-posts, on which the Confederate soldiers had painted the
taunting legend, “This way to Richmond!”
[1] On November 1 the Army of the Potomac (not including the Third
Corps) was accompanied by 4,818 waggons and ambulances, 8,500
transport horses, and 12,000 mules. O.R., vol. xix, part i, pp. 97–8.
The train of each army corps and of the cavalry covered eight miles of
road, or fifty miles for the whole.
[2] O.R., vol. xix, part ii, p. 711.
[3] O.R., vol. xix, part ii, p. 705.
[4] Dabney, vol. ii, p. 355. From _Manassas to Appomattox,_ p. 299.
[5] The three Grand Divisions were commanded by Sumner, Hooker, and
Franklin.
[6] Lord Wolseley. _North American Review,_ vol. 149, p. 282.
[7] The dispositions were as follows:—
12 guns Lane Archer ------- ---- ------
14 guns 21 guns
------- ------- ----- Thomas Pender ------
------ Gregg
[8] Franklin’s Grand Division consisted of the 42,800 men, and 12,000
of Hooker’s Grand Division had reinforced him.
[9] Of Early’s Division.
[10] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. iii, pp. 82–3.
[11] _Jackson’s Reports,_ O.R., vol. xxi, p. 634.
[12] _Advance and Retreat,_ Lieutenant-General J. B. Hood, p. 50.
[13] Letter to the author.
[14] _From Manassas to Appomattox,_ p. 316.
[15] “When the flag of truce,” says Major Hotchkiss, “was received by
General Jackson, he asked me for paper and pencil, and began a letter
to be sent in reply; but after writing a few lines he handed the paper
back, and sent a personal message by Captain Smith.”
Captain Smith writes: “The general said to me, before I went out to
meet Colonel Sumner, representing the Federals: ‘If you are asked
who is in command of your right, do not tell them I am, and be
guarded in your remarks.’ It so happened that Colonel Sumner was
the brother-in-law of Colonel Long, an officer on General Lee’s
staff. While we were together, another Federal officer named Junkin
rode up. He was the brother or cousin of Jackson’s first wife, and
I had known him before the war. After some conversation, Junkin
asked me to give his regards to General Jackson, and to deliver a
message from the Reverend Dr. Junkin, the father of his first wife.
I replied, ‘I will do so with pleasure when I meet General
Jackson.’ Junkin smiled and said: ‘It is not worth while for you to
try to deceive us. We know that General Jackson is in front of
us.’”
[16] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. iii, p. 84.