LEE AND JACKSON: 1862-3
Most Southerners remained spellbound by the glamour of Bull Run
till the hard, sharp truths of '62 began to rouse them from their
flattering dream. They fondly hoped, and even half believed, that
if another Northern army dared to invade Virginia it would certainly
fail against their entrenchments at Bull Run. If, so ran the argument,
the North failed in the open field it must fail still worse against
a fortified position.
The Southern generals vainly urged their Government to put forth
its utmost strength at once, before the more complex and less united
North had time to recover and begin anew. They asked for sixty
thousand men at Bull Run, to be used for a vigorous counterstroke
at Washington. They pointed out the absurdity of misusing the Bull
Run (or Manassas) position as a mere shield, fixed to one spot,
instead of making it the hilt of a sword thrust straight at the heart
of the North. Robert E. Lee, now a full general in the Confederate
Army and adviser to the President, grasped the whole situation
from the first and urged the right solution in the official way.
Stonewall Jackson, still a junior general, was in full accord with
Lee, as we know from the confidential interview (at the end of
October, '61) between him and his divisional commander, General G.
W. Smith, who made it public many years later. The gist of Jackson's
argument was this: "McClellan won't come out this year with his
army of recruits. We ought to invade now, not wait to be invaded
later on. If Davis would concentrate every man who can be spared
from all other points and let us invade before winter sets in,
then McClellan's recruits couldn't stand against us in the field.
Let us cross the upper Potomac, occupy Baltimore, and, holding
Maryland, cut the communications of Washington, force the Federal
Government out of it, beat McClellan if he attacks, destroy industrial
plants liable to be turned to warlike ends, cut the big commercial
lines of communication, close the coal mines, seize the neck of
land between Pittsburg and Lake Erie, live on the country by
requisition, and show the North what it would cost to conquer the
South." On asking Smith if he agreed, Smith answered: "I will tell
you a secret; for I am sure it won't be divulged. These views were
rejected by the Government during the conference at Fairfax Court
House at the beginning of the month." Jackson thereupon shook Smith's
hand, saying, "I am sorry, very sorry," and, mounting Little Sorrel
without another word, rode sadly away.
Jefferson Davis probably, and some of his Cabinet possibly, understood
what Lee, "Joe" Johnston, Beauregard, Smith, and Jackson so strongly
urged. But they feared the outcry that would assuredly be raised by
people in districts denuded of troops for the grand concentration
elsewhere. So they remained passive when they should have been active,
and, trying to strengthen each separate part, fatally weakened the
whole.
Meanwhile the North was collecting the different elements of warlike
force and changing its Secretary of War. Cameron was superseded
by Stanton on the fifteenth of January. Twelve days later Lincoln
issued the first of those military orders which, as we have just
seen, he afterwards told Grant that the impatience of the loyal
North compelled him to issue, though he knew some were certainly, and
all were possibly, wrong. This first order was one of the certainly
wrong. McClellan's unready masses were to begin an unlimited mud
march through the early spring roads of Virginia on the twenty-second
of February, in honor of Washington's birthday. A reconnoitering
staff officer reported the roads as being in their proper places;
but he guessed the bottom had fallen out. So McClellan was granted
some delay.
His grand total was now over two hundred thousand men. The Confederate
grand total was estimated at a hundred and fifteen thousand by the
civilian detectives whom the Federal Government employed to serve
in place of an expert intelligence staff. The detective estimate
was sixty-five thousand men out. The real Confederate strength
at this time was only fifty thousand. There was little chance of
getting true estimates in any other way, as the Federal Government
had no adequate cavalry. Most of the few cavalry McClellan commanded
were as yet a mere collection of men and horses, quite unfit for
reconnoitering and testing an enemy's force.
McClellan's own plan, formed on the supposition that the Confederates
held the Bull Run position with at least a hundred thousand men,
involved the transfer of a hundred and fifty thousand Federals by
sea from Washington to Fortress Monroe, on the historic peninsula
between the York and James rivers. Then, using these rivers as
lines of communication, his army would take Richmond in flank.
Lincoln's objection to this plan was based on the very significant
argument that while the Federal army was being transported piecemeal
to Fortress Monroe the Confederates might take Washington by a
sudden dash from their base at Centreville, only thirty miles off.
This was a valid objection; for Washington was not only the Federal
Headquarters but the very emblem of the Union cause--a sort of living
Stars and Stripes--and Washington lost might well be understood to
mean almost the same as if the Ship of State had struck her colors.
On the ninth of March the immediate anxiety about Washington was
relieved. That day came news that the _Monitor_ had checkmated the
_Merrimac_ in Hampton Roads and that "Joe" Johnston had withdrawn
his forces from the Bull Run position and had retired behind the
Rappahannock to Culpeper. On the tenth McClellan began a reconnoitering
pursuit of Johnston from Washington. Having found burnt bridges and
other signs of decisive retirement, he at last persuaded the reluctant
Lincoln to sanction the Peninsula Campaign. On the seventeenth his
army began embarking for Fortress Monroe, ten thousand men at a
time, that being all the transports could carry. For a week the
movement of troops went on successfully; while the Confederates
could not make out what was happening along the coast. Everything
also seemed quite safe, from the Federal point of view, in the
Shenandoah Valley, where General Banks commanded. And both there
and along the Potomac the Federals were in apparently overwhelming
strength; even though the detectives doing duty as staff officers
still kept on doubling the numbers of all the Confederates under
arms.
Suddenly, on the twenty-third, a fight at Kernstown in the Shenandoah
Valley gave a serious shock to the victorious Federals, not only
there but all over the semicircle of invasion, from West Virginia
round by the Potomac and down to Fortress Monroe. The fighting on
both sides was magnificent. Yet Kernstown itself was a very small
affair. Little more than ten thousand men had been in action: seven
thousand Federals under Shields against half as many Confederates
under Stonewall Jackson. The point is that Jackson's attack, though
unsuccessful, was very disconcerting elsewhere. From Kernstown the
area of disturbance spread like wildfire till the tactical victory
of seven thousand Federals had spoilt the strategy of thirty times
as many. Shields reported: "I set to work during the night to bring
together all the troops within my reach. I sent an express after
Williams's division, requesting the rear brigade, about twenty miles
distant, to march all night and join me in the morning. I swept the
posts in rear of almost all their guards, hurrying them forward
by forced marches, to be with me at daylight." Banks, now on his
way to Washington, halted in alarm at Harper's Ferry. McClellan,
perceiving that Jackson's little force was more than a mere corps of
observation, approved Banks and added: "As soon as you are strong
enough push Jackson hard and drive him well beyond Strasburg,"
that is, west of the Massanuttons, where Frémont could close in
and finish him. Lincoln had already been thinking of transferring
nine thousand men from McClellan to Frémont. Kernstown decided
it; so off they went to West Virginia. Still fearing an attack
on Washington, Lincoln halted McDowell's army corps, thirty-seven
thousand strong, on the march overland to join McClellan on the
Peninsula, and kept them stuck fast round Centreville, near Bull
Run. And so McClellan's Peninsular force was suddenly reduced by
forty-six thousand men.
April was a month of maneuvers and suspense. By the end of it McClellan,
based on Fortress Monroe, had accumulated a hundred and ten thousand
men. The Confederates on the Peninsula, holding Yorktown, numbered
fifty thousand. McClellan sadly missed McDowell, whose corps was to
have taken the fort at Gloucester Point that prevented the Federal
gunboats from turning the enemy's lines at Yorktown. McDowell moved
south to Fredericksburg, leaving a small force near Manassas Junction
to connect him with the garrison of Washington. The Confederates
could spare only twelve thousand men to watch him. Meanwhile Banks
occupied the Shenandoah Valley, having twenty thousand men at
Harrisonburg and smaller forces at several points all round, from
southwest to northeast, each designed to form part of the net that
was soon to catch Jackson. Beyond Banks stood Frémont's force in
West Virginia, also ready to close in. Jackson's complete grand
total was less than that of Banks's own main body. Yet, with one
eye on Richmond, he lay in wait at Swift Run Gap, crouching for a
tiger-spring at Banks. Virginia was semicircled by superior forces.
But everywhere inside the semicircle the Confederate parts all
formed one strategic whole; while the Federal parts outside did not.
Moreover, the South had already decided to call up every available
man; thus forestalling the North by more than ten months on the
vital issue of conscription.
In May the preliminary clash of arms began on the Peninsula. The
Confederates evacuated the Yorktown lines on the third. On the
fifth McClellan's advanced guard fought its way past Williamsburg.
On the seventh he began changing his base from Fortress Monroe to
White House on the Pamunkey. Here on the sixteenth he was within
twenty miles of Richmond, while all the seaways behind him were safe
in Union hands. The fate not only of Richmond but of the whole South
seemed trembling in the scales. The Northern armies had cleared
the Mississippi down to Memphis. The Northern navy had taken New
Orleans, the greatest Southern port. And now the Northern hosts
were striking at the Southern capital. McClellan with double numbers
from the east, McDowell with treble numbers from the north, and the
Union navy, with more than fourfold strength on all the navigable
waters, were closing in. The Confederate Government had even decided
to take the extreme step of evacuating Richmond, hoping to prolong
the struggle elsewhere. The official records had been packed. Davis
had made all arrangements for the flight of his family. And from
Drewry's Bluff, eight miles south of Richmond, the masts of the
foremost Federal vessels could be seen coming up the James, where,
on the eleventh, the _Merrimac_, having grounded, had been destroyed
by her own commander.
But the General Assembly of Virginia, passionately seconded by
the City Council, petitioned the Government to stand its ground
"till not a stone was left upon another." Every man in Richmond who
could do a hand's turn and who was not already in arms marched out
to complete the defenses of the James at Drewry's Bluff. Senators,
bankers, bondmen and free, merchants, laborers, and ministers of
all religions, dug earthworks, hauled cannon, piled ammunition,
or worked, wet to the waist, at the big boom that was to stop the
ships and hold them under fire. The Government had changed its mind.
Richmond was to be held to the last extremity. And the Southern
women were as willing as the men.
In the midst of all this turmoil Lee calmly reviewed the situation.
He saw that the Federal gunboats coming up the James were acting
alone, as the disconnected vanguard of what should have been a
joint advance, and that no army was yet moving to support them.
He knew McClellan and Banks and read them like a book. He also
knew Jackson, and decided to use him again in the Shenandoah Valley
as a menace to Washington. Writing to him on the sixteenth of May,
the very day McClellan reached White House, only twenty miles from
Richmond, he said: "Whatever movement you make against Banks, do it
speedily, and, if successful, drive him back towards the Potomac,
and create the impression, as far as possible, that you design
threatening that line." Moreover, out of his own scanty forces, he
sent Jackson two excellent brigades. Thus, while the great Federal
civilians who knew nothing practical of war were all agog about
Richmond, a single point at one end of the semicircle, the great
Confederate strategist was forging a thunderbolt to relieve the
pressure on it by striking the Federal center so as to threaten
Washington. The fundamental idea was a Fabian defensive at Richmond,
a vigorous offensive in the Valley, to produce Federal dispersion
between these points and Washington; then rapid concentration against
McClellan on the Chickahominy.
The unsupported Federal gunboats were stopped and turned back at
the boom near Drewry's Bluff. McClellan, bent on besieging Richmond
in due form, crawled cautiously about the intervening swamps of the
oozy Chickahominy. McDowell, who could not advance alone, remained
at Fredericksburg. Shields stood behind him, near Catlett's Station,
to keep another eye on nervous Washington.
In the meantime Stonewall Jackson, still in the Shenandoah, had
fought no battles since his tactical defeat at Kernstown on the
twenty-third of March had proved such a pregnant strategic victory
elsewhere. But late in April he had a letter from Lee, telling of
the general situation and suggesting an attack on Banks. Banks,
however, still had twenty thousand men at Harrisonburg, with twenty-five
thousand more in or within call of the Valley. Jackson's complete
grand total was less than eighteen thousand. The odds against him
therefore exceeded five against two; and direct attack was out of
the question. But he now began his maneuvers anew and on a bolder
scale than ever. He had upset the Federal strategy at Kernstown,
when there were less than eight thousand Confederates in the Valley.
What might he not do with ten thousand more? His wonderful Valley
Campaign, famous forever in the history of war, gives us the answer.
He had five advantages over Banks. First, his own expert knowledge
and genius for war, backed by a dauntless character. Banks was a
very able man who had worked his way up from factory hand to Speaker
of the House of Representatives and Governor of Massachusetts. But
he had neither the knowledge, genius, nor character required for
high command; and he owed his present position more to his ardor
as a politician than to his ability as a general. Jackson's second
advantage was his own and his army's knowledge of the country for
which they naturally fought with a loving zeal which no invaders could
equal. The third advantage was in having Turner Ashby's cavalry.
These were horsemen born and bred, who could make their way across
country as easily as the "footy" Federals could along the road.
In answer to a peremptory order a Federal cavalry commander could
only explain: "I can't catch them. They leap fences and walls like
deer. Neither our men nor our horses are so trained." The fourth
advantage was in discipline. Jackson habitually spared his men more
than his officers, and his officers more than himself, whenever
indulgence was possible. But when discipline had to be sternly
maintained he maintained it sternly, throughout all ranks, knowing
that the flower of discipline is self-sacrifice, from the senior
general down, and that the root is due subordination, from the
junior private up. After the Conscription Act had come into force
a few companies, who were time-expired as volunteers, threw down
their arms and told their colonel they wouldn't serve another day.
On hearing this officially Jackson asked: "Why does Colonel Grigsby
refer to me to learn how to deal with mutineers? He should shoot
them where they stand." The rest of the regiment was then paraded
with loaded arms, facing the mutineers, who were given the choice
of complete submission or instant death. They chose submission. That
was the last mutiny under Stonewall Jackson. Both sides suffered from
straggling, the Confederates as much as the Federals. But Confederate
stragglers rejoined the better of the two; and in downright desertion
the Federals were the worse, simply because their own peace party
was by far the stronger. The final advantage brings us back to
strategy, on which the whole campaign was turning. Lee and Jackson
worked the Confederates together. Lincoln and Stanton worked the
Federals apart.
On the last of April Jackson slipped away from Swift Run Gap while
Ewell quietly took his place and Ashby blinded Banks by driving the
Federal cavalry back on Harrisonburg. Jackson's men were thoroughly
puzzled and disheartened when they had to leave the Valley in full
possession of the enemy while they ploughed through seas of mud
towards Richmond. What was the matter? Were they off to Richmond?
No; for they presently wheeled round. "Old Jack's crazy, sure,
this time." Even one of his staff officers thought so himself, and
put it on paper, to his own confusion afterwards. The rain came
down in driving sheets. The roads became mere drains for the oozing
woods. Wheels stuck fast; and Jackson was seen heaving his hardest
with an exhausted gun team. But still the march went on--slosh,
slosh, squelch; they slogged it through. _Close up, men!--close up
in rear!--close up, there, close up!_
On the fourth of May Jackson got word from Edward Johnson, commanding
his detached brigade near Staunton, that Milroy, commanding Frémont's
advanced guard, was coming on from West Virginia. Jackson at once
seized the chance of smashing Milroy by railing in to Staunton before
Banks or Frémont could interfere. This would have been suicidal
against a great commander with a well-trained force. But Banks,
grossly exaggerating Jackson's numbers, was already marching north
to the railhead at New Market, where he would be nearer his friends
if Jackson swooped down. Detraining at Staunton the Confederates
picketed the whole neighborhood to stop news getting out before
they made their dash against Milroy. On the seventh they moved
off. The cadets of the Virginia Military Institute, where Jackson
had been a professor for so many years, had just joined to gain
some experience of the real thing, and as they stepped out in their
smart uniforms, with all the exactness of parade-ground drill,
they formed a marked contrast to the gaunt soldiers of the Valley,
half fed, half clad, but wholly eager for the fray.
[Illustration: CIVIL WAR: VIRGINA CAMPAIGNS, 1862]
That night Milroy got together all the men he could collect at
McDowell, a little village just beyond the Valley and on the road to
Gauley Bridge in West Virginia. He sent posthaste for reinforcements.
But Frémont's men were divided too far west, fearing nothing from
the Valley, while Banks's were thinking of a concentration too
far north.
In the afternoon of the eighth, Milroy attacked Jackson with great
determination and much skill. But after a stern encounter, in which
the outnumbered Federals fought very well indeed, the Confederates
won a decisive victory. The numbers actually engaged--twenty-five
hundred Federals against four thousand Confederates--were even
smaller than at Kernstown. But this time the Confederates won the
tactical victory on the spot as well as the strategic victory all
over the Valley; and the news cheered Richmond at what, as we have
seen already, was its very darkest hour. The night of the battle
Jackson sent out strong working parties to destroy all bridges and
culverts and to block all roads by which Frémont could reach the
Valley. In some places bowlders were rolled down from the hills.
In one the trees were felled athwart the path for a mile. A week
later Jackson was back in the Valley at Lebanon Springs, while
Frémont was blocked off from Banks, who was now distractedly groping
for safety and news.
The following day, the famous sixteenth, we regain touch with Lee,
who, as mentioned already, then wrote to Jackson about attacking
Banks in order to threaten Washington. This dire day at Richmond,
the day McClellan reached White House, was also the one appointed by
the Southern Government as a day of intercession for God's blessing
on the Southern arms. None kept it more fervently, even in beleaguered
Richmond, than pious Jackson in the Valley. Then, like a giant
refreshed, he rose for swift and silent marches and also sudden
hammer-strokes at Banks.
Confident that all would now go well, Washington thought nothing
of the little skirmish at McDowell, because it apparently disturbed
nothing beyond the Shenandoah Valley. The news from everywhere
else was good; and Federals were jubilant. So were the civilian
strategists, particularly Stanton, who, though tied to his desk
as Secretary of War, was busy wire-pulling Banks's men about the
Valley. Stanton ordered Banks to take post at Strasburg and to
hold the bridges at Front Royal with two detached battalions. This
masterpiece of bungling put the Federals at Front Royal in the air,
endangered their communications north to Winchester, and therefore
menaced the Valley line toward Washington. But Banks said nothing;
and Stanton would have snubbed him if he had.
On the twenty-third of May a thousand Federals under Colonel Kenly
were sweltering in the first hot weather of the year at Stanton's
indefensible position of Front Royal when suddenly a long gray line
of skirmishers emerged from the woods, the Confederate bugles rang
out, and Jackson's battle line appeared. Then came a crashing volley,
which drove in the Federal pickets for their lives. Colonel Kenly
did his best. But he was outflanked and forced back in confusion. A
squadron of New York cavalry came to the rescue; but were themselves
outflanked and helpless on the road against the Virginian horsemen,
who could ride across country. Kenly had just made a second stand,
when down came the Virginians, led by Colonel Flournoy at racing
speed over fence and ditch, scattering the Federal cavalry like
chaff before the wind and smashing into the Federal infantry. Two
hundred and fifty really efficient cavalry took two guns (complete
with limbers, men, and horses), killed and wounded a hundred and
fifty-four of their opponents, and captured six hundred prisoners
as well--and all with a loss to themselves of only eleven killed
and fifteen wounded.
Ashby's cavalry, several hundreds strong, pushed on and out to the
flanks, cutting the wires, destroying bridges, and blocking the
roads against reinforcements from beyond the Valley. Three hours
after the attack a dispatch-rider dashed up to Banks's headquarters
at Strasburg. But Banks refused to move, saying, when pressed by
his staff to make a strategic retreat on Winchester, "By God, sir,
I will not retreat! We have more to fear from the opinions of our
friends than from the bayonets of our enemies!" The Cabinet backed
him up next day by actually proposing to reinforce him at Strasburg
with troops from Washington and Baltimore. Nevertheless he was
forced to fly for his life to Winchester. His stores at Strasburg
had to be abandoned. His long train of wagons was checked on the
way, with considerable loss. And some of his cavalry, caught on
the road by horsemen who could ride across country, were smashed
to pieces.
Jackson pressed on relentlessly to Winchester with every one who
could march like "foot cavalry," as his Valley men came to be called.
On the twenty-fifth, the third day of unremitting action, he carried
the Winchester heights and drove Banks through the town. Only the
Second Massachusetts, which had already distinguished itself during
the retreat, preserved its formation. Ten thousand Confederate
bayonets glittered in the morning sun. The long gray lines swept
forward. The piercing rebel yell rose high. And the people, wild
with joy, rushed out of doors to urge the victors on.
By the twenty-sixth, the first day on which Stanton's reinforcements
from Baltimore and Washington could possibly have fought at Strasburg,
the Confederates had reached Martinsburg, fifty miles beyond it.
Banks had already crossed the Potomac, farther on still. The newsboys
of the North were crying, _Defeat of General Banks! Washington in
danger!_ Thirteen Governors were calling for special State militia,
for which a million men were volunteering, spare troops were hurrying
to Harper's Ferry, a reserve corps was being formed at Washington,
the Federal Government was assuming control of all the railroad
lines, and McClellan was being warned that he must either take
Richmond at once or come back to save the capital. Nor did the
strategic disturbance stop even there; for the Washington authorities
ordered McDowell's force at Fredericksburg to the Valley just as
it was coming into touch with McClellan.
On the twenty-eighth Jackson might have taken Harper's Ferry. But
the storm was gathering round him. A great strategist directing
the Federal forces could have concentrated fifty thousand men, by
sunset on the first of June, against Jackson's Army of the Valley,
which could not possibly have mustered one-third of such a number.
McDowell arrived that night at Front Royal. He had vainly protested
against the false strategy imposed by the Government from Washington,
and he was not a free agent now. Yet, even so, his force was at
least a menace to Jackson, who had only two chances of getting
away to aid in the defeat of McClellan and the saving of Richmond.
One was to outmarch the converging Federals, gain interior lines
along the Valley, and defeat them there in detail. The other was to
march into friendly Maryland, trusting to her Southern sentiments
for help and reinforcements. He decided on the Valley route and
marched straight in between his enemies.
His fortnight's work, from the nineteenth of May to the first of
June, inclusive, is worth summing up. In these fourteen days he
had marched 170 miles, routed 12,500 men, threatened an invasion
of the North, drawn McDowell off from Fredericksburg, taken or
destroyed all Federal stores at Front Royal, Winchester, and
Martinsburg, and brought off safely a convoy seven miles long.
Moreover, he had done all this with the loss of only six hundred,
though sixty thousand enemies lay on three sides of his own sixteen
thousand men.
His remaining problem was harder still. It was how to mystify,
tire out, check short, and then immobilize the converging Federals
long enough to let him slip secretly away in time to help Johnston
and Lee against McClellan. Jackson, like his enemies, moved through
what has been well called the Fog of War--that inevitable uncertainty
through which all commanders must find their way. But none of his
enemies equaled him in knowledge, genius, or character for war.
The first week in June saw desperate marches in the Valley, with
the outnumbering Federals hot-foot on the trail of Jackson, who
turned to bay one moment and at the next was off again. On the
sixth the Federals got home against his rear guard. It began to
waver, and Ashby ordered the infantry to charge. As he gave the
order his horse fell dead. In a flash he was up, waving his sword
and shouting: "Charge, for God's sake, charge!" The Confederate
line swept forward gallantly. But, just as it left the wood, Ashby
was shot through the heart. His men avenged him. Yet none could
fill his place as a born leader of irregular light horse.
Next morning the hounds were hot upon the scent again: Shields
and Frémont converging on Jackson, whom they would run to earth
somewhere north of Staunton. But on the eighth and ninth Jackson
turned sharply and bit back, first at Frémont close to Cross Keys,
then at Shields near Port Republic. Each was caught alone, just
before their point of junction, and each was defeated in detail
as well.
Fully to appreciate Jackson's strategy we must compare the strategical
and tactical numbers concerned throughout this short but momentous
Valley Campaign. The strategic numbers are those at the disposal
of the commander within the theater of operations. The tactical
numbers are those actually present on the field of battle, whether
engaged or not. At McDowell the Federals had 30,000 in strategic
strength against 17,000 Confederates; yet the Confederates got 6000
on to the field of battle against no more than 2500. At Winchester
the Federal strategic strength was 60,000 against 16,000; yet the
Confederate tactical strength was every man of the 16,000 against
7500--only one-eighth of Banks's grand total. At Cross Keys the
strategic strengths were 23,000 Federals against 13,000 Confederates;
yet 12,750 Federals were beaten by 8000 Confederates. Finally, at
Port Republic, the Federals, with a strategic strength of 22,000
against the Confederate 12,700, could only bring a tactical strength
of 4500 to bear on 6000 Confederates. The grand aggregate of these
four remarkable actions is well worth adding up. It comes to this
in strategic strength: 135,000 Federals against 58,700 Confederates.
Yet in tactical strength the odds are reversed; for they come to
this: 36,000 Confederates against only 27,250 Federals. Therefore
Stonewall Jackson, with strategic odds of nearly seven to three
against him, managed to fight with tactical odds of four to three
in his favor.
While Jackson was fighting in the Valley the Confederates at Richmond
were watching the nightly glow of Federal camp fires. McClellan
had 30,000 men north of the Chickahominy, waiting for McDowell to
come back from his enterprise against Jackson, and 75,000 south
of it. What could the 65,000 Confederates do, except hold fast to
their lines? TO RICHMOND 4-1/2 MILES: so read the sign-post at
the Mechanicsville bridge, and there stood the nearest Federal
picket. Johnston and Lee knew, however, that McClellan's alarmist
detectives swore to a Confederate army three times its actual strength
at this time; and there was reason to hope that the consequent
moral ascendancy would help the shock of an attack suddenly made
on one of McClellan's two wings while the flooded Chickahominy
flowed between them and its oozy swamps bewildered his staff.
Hearing that McDowell need not be feared, Johnston attacked at
daylight on the thirty-first of May. The battle of Seven Pines
(known also as Fair Oaks) was not unlike Shiloh. The Federals were
taken by surprise on the first day and only succeeded in holding
their own by hard fighting and with a good deal of loss. A mistake
was made by the Confederate division told off for the attack on the
key to the Federal front (an attack which, if completely successful,
would have split the Federals in two) and the main bodies were
engaged before this fatal error could be rectified. So the surprised
Federals gradually recovered from the first shock and began to
feel and use their hitherto unrealized strength. On the second
day (the first of June) Johnston, who had been severely wounded,
was plainly defeated and compelled to fall back on Richmond again.
On the morrow of this defeat Lee was appointed to "the immediate
command of the armies in eastern Virginia and North Carolina."
Davis was not war statesman enough to make him Commander-in-Chief
till '65--four years too late. Johnston did not reappear till he
tried to relieve Vicksburg from the determined attacks of Grant
in '63.
The twelfth of June will be remembered forever in the annals of
cavalry for Stuart's first great ride round McClellan's host. With
twelve hundred troopers and two horse artillery guns he stole out
beyond the western flank of the Federals and reached Taylorsville that
evening, twenty-two miles north of Richmond. Next day he rode right in
among the Federal posts in rear, discovering that McClellan's right
stretched little north of the Chickahominy, that it was not fortified,
and that it did not rest on any strong natural feature, such as a
swampy stream. This was exactly the information Lee required. So
far, so good. The Federals met with up to this time had simply been
ridden down. But now the whole country was alarmed and McClellan
had forces out to cut Stuart off on his return, while General Cooke
(Stuart's father-in-law) began to pursue him from Hanover Court
House.
Then Stuart took the boldest step of all, deciding to go clear round
the rest of the Federal army. At Tunstall's Station on the York
River Railroad he routed the guard, tore up the track, destroyed the
stores and wagons, cut the wires, burnt the bridge, and replenished
his supplies. Thence southeast, by the Williamsburg road, his column
marched under a full summer moon, the people running out of doors,
wild with joy at his daring. At sunrise he reached the Chickahominy,
only to find it flooded, full of timber, and spanned by nothing
better than a broken bridge. But, using the materials of a warehouse
to make a footway, the troopers crossed in single file, leading
their chargers, which swam. Waving his hand to the Federals, who had
just arrived too late, Stuart pushed on the remaining thirty-five
miles to Richmond, rounding the Federal flank within range of Federal
gunboats on the James.
This magnificent raid not only procured in three days information
that McClellan's civilian detectives could not have procured in
three years but raised Confederate morale and depressed the Federals
correspondingly. Moreover, it drove the first nail into McClellan's
coffin. For in October, just after another Stuart raid, the following
curious incident occurred on board the _Martha Washington_ when
Lincoln was returning from an Alexandria review which had cheered
him up considerably, coming, as it did, after Lee had failed in
Maryland. By way of answering the very pertinent question--"Mr.
President, how about McClellan?"--Lincoln simply drew a ring on
the deck, quietly adding: "When I was a boy we used to play a game
called 'Three times round and out.' Stuart has been round McClellan
twice. The third time McClellan will be out."
Stuart rode ahead of his troopers, straight to Lee, who immediately
wrote to Jackson suggesting that the Army of the Valley, while
keeping the Federals alarmed to the last about an attack on the
line of the Potomac, might secretly slip away and join a combined
attack on McClellan. Jackson, who had of course foreseen this, was
ready with every blind known to the art of war. Even his staff
and generals knew nothing of their destination. The first move was
so secret that the enemy never suspected anything till it was too
late, while friends thought there was to be another surprise in
the Valley. The second move led various people to suspect a march
on Washington--no bad news to leak out; and nothing but misleading
items did leak out. The Army of the Valley moved within a charmed
circle of cavalry which prevented any one from going forward, ahead
of the advance, and swept before it all stragglers through whom
the news might leak out by the rear. On the twenty-third of June,
only eight days after Stuart had reported his raid to Lee, Jackson
attended Lee's conference at the same place, Richmond. The Valley
Army was then on its thirty-mile march from Frederick's Hall to
Ashland, where it arrived on the twenty-fifth, fifteen miles north.
McClellan had over a hundred thousand men. Lee had less than ninety
thousand, even after Jackson had joined him. To attack McClellan's
strongly fortified front, with its almost impregnable flanks, would
have been suicide. But McClellan's farther right, commanded by that
excellent officer, FitzJohn Porter, lay north of the Chickahominy,
with its own right open for junction with McDowell. So Lee, knowing
McClellan and the state of this Federal right, decided on the
twenty-fourth to attack Porter and threaten McClellan's communications
not only with McDowell to the north but with White House, the Federal
base twenty miles northeast. This was an exceedingly bold move,
first, because McClellan had plenty of men to take Richmond during
Lee's march north, secondly, because it meant the convergence of
separate forces on the field of battle (Jackson being at Ashland,
fifteen miles from Richmond) and, thirdly, because the Confederates
were inferior in armament and in supplies of all kinds as well
as in actual numbers. Magruder, who had held the Yorktown lines
so cleverly with such inferior forces, was to hold Richmond (on
both sides of the James) with thirty-five thousand men against
McClellan's seventy-five thousand, while Lee and Jackson converged
on Porter's twenty-five thousand with over fifty thousand.
Then followed the famous Seven Days, beginning on the twenty-sixth
of June near the signpost at the Mechanicsville bridge--TO RICHMOND
4-1/2 MILES--and ending at Harrison's Landing on the second of July.
On the twenty-sixth the attack was made with consummate strategic
skill. But it was marred by bad staff work, by the great obstructions
in Jackson's path, and by A. P. Hill's premature attack with ten
thousand men against Porter's admirable front at Beaver Dam Creek.
Hill's men moved down their own side of the little valley in dense
masses till every gun and rifle on Porter's side was suddenly unmasked.
No scythe could have mowed the leading Confederates better. Two
thousand went down in the first few minutes, and the rest at once
retreated.
Porter fell back on Gaines's Mill, where, after being reinforced,
he took up a strong position on the twenty-seventh. Again there
was failure in combining the attack. Jackson found obstructions
that even he could not overcome quickly enough. Hill attacked again
with the utmost gallantry, wave after wave of Confederates rushing
forward only to melt away before the concentrated fire of Porter's
reinforced command.
But at last the Confederates--though checked and roughly
handled--converged under Lee's own eye; and an inferno of shot
and shell loosened and shook the steadfast Federal defense. Lee
and Jackson, though far apart, gave the word for the final charge
at almost the same moment. As Jackson's army suddenly burst into
view and swept forward to the assault the joyful news was shouted
down the ranks: "The Valley men are here!" Thereupon Lee's men took
up the double-quick with "Stonewall Jackson! Jackson! Jackson!"
as their battle cry. The Federals fought right valiantly till their
key-point suddenly gave way, smashed in by weight of numbers; for
Lee had brought into action half as many again as Porter had, even
with his reinforcements. On the gallantly defended hill the long
blue lines rocked, reeled, and broke to right and left all but
the steadfast regulars, whose infantry fell back in perfect order,
whose cavalry made a desperate though futile attempt to stay the
rout by charging one against twenty, and whose four magnificent
batteries, splendidly served to the very last round, retired unbroken
with the loss of only two guns. Then the Confederate colors waved
in triumph on the hard-won crest against the crimson of the setting
sun.
The victorious Confederates spent the twenty-eighth and twenty-ninth
in finding the way to McClellan's new base. His absolute control
of all the waterways had enabled him to change his base from White
House on the Pamunkey to Harrison's Landing on the James. When the
Confederates discovered his line of retreat by the Quaker Road they
pressed in to cut it. On the thirtieth there was severe fighting
in White Oak Swamp and on Frayser's Farm. But the Federals passed
through, and made a fine stand on Malvern Hill next day. Finally,
when they turned at bay on the Evelington Heights, which covered
Harrison's Landing, they convinced their pursuers that it would
be fatal to attack again; for now Northern sea-power was visibly
present in flotillas of gunboats, which made the flanks as hopelessly
strong as the front.
McClellan therefore remained safely behind his entrenchments, with
the navy in support. He had to his own credit the strategic success
of having foiled Lee by a clever change of base; and to the credit
of his army stood some first-rate fighting besides some tactical
success, especially at Malvern Hill. Nevertheless the second invasion
of Virginia was plainly a failure; though by no means a glaring
disaster, like the first invasion at Bull Run.
McClellan, again reinforced, still professed his readiness to take
Richmond under conditions that suited himself. But the most promising
Northern force now seemed to be Pope's Army of Virginia, coming
down from the line of the Potomac, forty-seven thousand strong,
composed of excellent material, and heralded by proclamations which
even McClellan could never excel. John Pope, Halleck's hero of Island
Number Ten, came from the West to show the East how to fight. "I
presume that I have been called here to lead you against the enemy,
and that speedily. I hear constantly of taking strong positions
and holding them--of lines of retreat and bases of supplies. Let
us discard such ideas. Let us study the probable line of retreat
of our opponents, and leave our own to take care of themselves."
His Army of Virginia contained Frémont's (now Sigel's) corps, as
well as those of Banks and McDowell--all experts in the art of
"chasing Jackson."
Jackson was soon ready to be chased again. The Confederate strength
had been reduced by the Seven Days and not made good by reinforcement;
so Lee could spare Jackson only twenty-four thousand men with whom
to meet the almost double numbers under Pope. But Jackson's men had
the better morale, not only on account of their previous service but
because of their rage to beat Pope, who, unlike other Northerners,
was enforcing the harshest rules of war. His lieutenant, General von
Steinwehr, went further, not only seizing prominent civilians as
hostages (to be shot whenever he chose to draw his own distinctions
between Confederate soldiers and guerillas) but giving his German
subordinates a liberty that some of them knew well how to turn
into license. This, of course, was most exceptional; for nearly
all Northerners made war like gentlemen. Unhappily, those who did
not were bad enough and numerous enough to infuriate the South.
Halleck, who had now become chief military adviser to the Union
Government, was as cautious as McClellan and had so little discernment
that he thought Pope a better general than Grant. Lincoln, Stanton,
and Halleck put their heads together; and an order soon followed
which had the effect of relieving the pressure on Richmond and
giving the initiative to Lee. Halleck ordered McClellan to withdraw
from Harrison's Landing, take his Army of the Potomac round by sea
to Aquia Creek, and join Pope on the Rappahannock--an operation
requiring the whole month of August to complete.
Lee lost no time. His first move was to get Pope's advanced troops
defeated by Jackson, who brought more than double numbers against
Banks at Cedar Run on the ninth of August. The Federals fought
magnificently, nine against twenty thousand men. After the battle
Jackson marched across the Rapidan, and Halleck wisely forbade
Pope from following him, even though the first of Burnside's men
(now the advanced guard of McClellan's army) had arrived at Aquia
and were marching overland to Pope. Then followed some anxious days
at Federal Headquarters. Jackson vanished; and Pope's cavalry,
numerous as it was, wore itself out trying to find the clue. McClellan
was still busy moving his men from Harrison's Landing to Fortress
Monroe, whence detachments kept sailing to Aquia. What would Lee
do now?
On the thirteenth he began entraining Longstreet's troops for
Gordonsville. On the fifteenth he conferred with his generals.
And on the seventeenth, from the lookout on Clark's Mountain, he
saw Pope's unsuspecting army camped round Slaughter Mountain within
fifteen miles of the united Confederates. Halleck had just given
Pope the fatal order to "fight like the devil" till McClellan came
up. Pope was full of confidence. And there he lay, in a bad strategic
and worse tactical position, and with slightly inferior numbers,
just within reach of Jackson and Lee. Pope was, however, saved from
immediate disaster by an oversight on the part of Stuart. In ordering
Fitzhugh Lee's cavalry brigade to rendezvous at Verdierville that
night Stuart forgot to make the order urgent and the missing brigade
came in late. Stuart, anxious to see the enemy's position for himself,
rode out and was nearly taken prisoner. His dispatch-box fell into
Pope's hands, with a memorandum of Jackson's reinforcements. Jackson
was for attacking next day in any case and groaned aloud when Lee
decided not to, owing to the failure of cavalry combination in
front and the belated supplies in the rear. Pope retired safely on
the eighteenth, and on the nineteenth a thick haze hid his rear
from Lee's lookout.
Lee was now in a very difficult position, apparently face to face
with what would soon be the joint forces of Pope, McClellan, and
probably another corps from Washington: the whole well fed, well
armed, and certainly more than twice as strong as the united
Confederates. But Jackson and Stuart multiplied their forces by
skillful maneuvers and mystifying raids, and presently Stuart had
his revenge for the affront he had suffered on the seventeenth.
On the tempestuous night of the twenty-second he captured Pope's
dispatches. On the twenty-fourth, at Jefferson, Lee and Jackson
discussed the situation with these dispatches before them. Dr.
Hunter McGuire, the Confederate staff-surgeon, noticed that Jackson
was unusually animated, drawing curves in the sand with the toe
of his boot while Lee nodded assent. Perhaps it was Jackson who
suggested the strategic idea of that wonderful last week in August.
However that may have been, Lee alone was responsible for its adoption
and superior direction.
With a marvelous insight into the characters of his opponents,
a consummate knowledge of the science and art of war, and--quite
as important--an exact appreciation of the risks worth running,
Lee actually divided his 55,000 men in face of Pope's 80,000, of
20,000 more at Washington and Aquia, and of 50,000 available
reinforcements. Then, by the well-deserved results obtained, he
became one of the extremely few really great commanders of all
time.
The "bookish theorick" who, with all the facts before him, revels
in the fond delights of retrospective prophecy, will never understand
how Lee succeeded in this enterprise, except by sheer good luck.
Only those who themselves have groped their perilous way through
the dense, distorting fog of war can understand the application
of that knowledge, genius, and character for war which so rarely
unite in one man.
Lee sent Jackson north, to march at utmost speed under cover of
the Bull Run Mountains, to cross them at Thoroughfare Gap, and
to cut Pope's line at Manassas, where the enormous Federal field
base had been established. Unknown to Pope, Longstreet then slipped
into Jackson's place, so as to keep Pope in play till the raid on
Manassas and threat against Washington would draw him northeast,
away from McClellan at Aquia. The final move of this profound,
though very daring, plan was to take advantage of the Federal
distractions and consequent dispersions so as to effect a junction
on the field of battle against a conquerable force.
Jackson moved off by the first gray streak of dawn on the twenty-fifth,
and that day made good the six-and-twenty miles to Salem Church.
Screened by Stuart's cavalry, and marching through a country of
devoted friends on such an errand as a commonplace general would
never suspect, Jackson stole this march on Pope in perfect safety.
The next day's march was far more dangerous. Roused while the stars
were shining the men moved off in even greater wonder as to their
destination. But when the first flush of dawn revealed the Bull
Run Mountains, with the well-known Thoroughfare Gap straight to
their front, they at once divined their part of Lee's stupendous
plan: a giant raid on Manassas, the Federal base of superabundant
supplies. The news ran down the miles of men, and with it the thrill
that presaged victory. Mile after mile was gained, almost in dead
silence, except for the clank of harness, the rumble of wheels, the
running beat of hoofs, and that long, low, ceaselessly rippling sound
of multitudinous men's feet. Hungry, ill-clad, and worn to their
last spare ounce, the gaunt gray ranks strained forward, slipped
from their leash at last and almost in sight of their prey. So far
they were undiscovered. But the Gap was only ten miles by airline
from Pope's extreme right, and the tell-tale cloud of dust, floating
down the mountain side above them, must soon be sighted, signaled,
noted, and attended to. Only speed, the speed of "foot-cavalry,"
could now prevail, and not a man must be an inch behind. _Close
up, men, close up!--Close up there in rear!--Close up! Close up!_
By noon the head of the column had already crossed those same
communications which Pope had told his army to disregard in favor
of the much more interesting enemy line of retreat. Little did he
think that the man he had come to chase was about to burn the bridge
at Bristoe Station and thus cut the line between the Federal front
at Warrenton and the Federal base at Manassas. All went well with
Jackson, except that some news escaped to Washington and Warrenton
sooner than he expected. A Federal train dashed on to Washington
before the rails could be torn up. The next two trains were both
derailed and wrecked. But the fourth put all brakes down and speeded
back to Warrenton. Jackson quickly took up a very strong position
on the north side of Broad Run, behind the burnt railway bridge,
and sent Stuart's troopers with two battalions of "foot-cavalry"
to raid the base at Manassas, replenish the exhausted Confederate
supplies, and do the northward scouting.
The situation of the rival armies on the night of the twenty-seventh
forms one of the curiosities of war. Jackson was concentrating
round Manassas Junction. Lee was following Jackson's line of march,
but was still beyond Thoroughfare Gap. Between them stood part of
Pope's army, the whole of which occupied an irregular quadrilateral
formed by lines joining the following points: Warrenton Junction,
Bristoe Station, Gainesville, and Thoroughfare Gap. Thirty miles
northeast were the twenty thousand Federals who joined Pope too
late. Thirty miles southeast the rear of McClellan's forces were
still massing at Aquia. In Pope's opinion Jackson was clearly trapped
and Lee cut off.
But when Pope began to close his cumbrous net the following day
Jackson had disappeared again. Orders and counter-orders thereupon
succeeded each other in bewildering confusion. McClellan could
be left out: and a very good thing too, thought Pope, who wanted
the victory all to himself, and whose own army greatly outnumbered
Lee's and Jackson's put together. But Washington was nervous again;
it contained the reinforcements; and it had suddenly become
indispensable to Pope as an immediate base of supplies now that the
base at Manassas had been so completely destroyed. Pope's troops
therefore mostly drew east during the twenty-eighth, forming by
nightfall a long irregular line, facing west, with its right beyond
Centreville and its extreme left held by Banks's mauled divisions
south of Catlett's Station. Meanwhile Jackson had slipped into
place in the curve of Bull Run, facing southeast, with his left
near Stone Bridge, his back to Sudley Springs, and his right open
to junction with Lee, who was waiting for daylight to force the
Gap against the single division left there on guard.
During the afternoon, while Jackson's tired men were lying sound
asleep in their ranks, Jackson himself was roused to see captured
orders which showed that some Federals were crossing his front.
Reading these orders to his divisional commanders he immediately
ordered one to attack and another to support. If the Federals concerned
were exposing an unguarded flank they should be attacked at a
disadvantage. If they were screening larger forces trying to join
the reinforcements from Washington or Aquia, then they should be
attacked so as to distract Pope's attention and draw him on before
the Federal union became complete, though not before Lee had reached
the new Bull Run position the following day. The attack was consequently
made from the woods around Groveton not too long before dark. It
resulted in a desperate frontal fight, neither side knowing what
the other had in its rear or on its flanks. Again the Federals
were outnumbered: twenty-eight against forty-five hundred men in
action. But again they fought with the utmost resolution and drew
off in good order. The strategic advantage, however, was wholly
Confederate; for Pope, who thought Jackson must now be falling
back to the Gap, at once began confusedly trying to concentrate
for pursuit on the twenty-ninth--the very thing that suited Lee
and Jackson best.
Early that morning the two-days' Battle of Second Manassas (or
Second Bull Run) began with Pope's absurd attempt to pursue an
army drawn up in line of battle. Moreover, Jackson's position was
not only strong in itself but well adapted for giving attackers a
shattering surprise. The left rested on Bull Run at Sudley Ford.
The center occupied the edge of the flat-topped Stony Ridge. A
quarter-mile in front of it, and some way lower down, were the
embankments and cuttings of an unfinished railroad. On the right
was Stuart's Hill, where Lee was to join by sending Longstreet in.
The approaches in rear were hidden from the eyes of an enemy in
front. The cuttings and embankments made excellent field works for
the defense. And the forward edge of the Ridge was wooded enough
to let counter-attackers mass under cover and then run down to
surprise the attackers by manning the cuttings and embankments.
Sigel's Germans, supported by the splendid Pennsylvanians under
Reynolds, advanced from the Henry Hill to hold Jackson till Pope
could come up and finish him. The numbers were about even, with slight
odds in favor of Jackson. But the shock was delivered piecemeal.
Each part was roughly handled and driven back in disorder. And
by the time Reynolds had come to the front Lee's advanced guard
was arriving. Then eighteen thousand Federals marched in from
Centreville under Reno, Kearny, and "fighting Joe Hooker," of whom
we shall hear again. Pope came up in person with the rest of his
available command, rode along his line, and explained the situation
as founded on his ignorance and colored by his fancy. At this very
moment Longstreet came up on Jackson's right. Reynolds went into
action against what he thought was Jackson's extended right but
what was really Longstreet's left. Meanwhile the Centreville troops
attacked near Bull Run. But that dashing commander, Philip Kearny,
was held up by Jackson's concentrated guns; so Hooker and Reno
advanced alone, straight for the railroad line. The Confederates
behind it poured in a tremendous hail of bullets, and the long
dry grass caught fire. But nothing stopped Hooker till bayonets
were crossed on the rails and the Confederate line was broken. Then
the Confederate reserves charged in and drove the Federals back.
No sooner was this seen than, with a burst of cheering, another
blue line surged forward. Again the Confederate front was broken,
but again their reserves drove back the Federals. And so the fight
went on, with stroke and counterstroke, till, at a quarter past
five, twelve hours after Pope's first men had started from the
Henry Hill, his thirty thousand attackers found themselves unable
to break through.
Pope wished to make one more effort to round up Jackson's supposedly
open right. But Porter quite properly sent back word that it was
far too strong for his own ten thousand. In reply Pope angrily
ordered an immediate attack. But it was now too dark, and the battle
ended for the day.
Strangely enough, Lee was also having trouble with his subordinate
on the same flank at the same time, but with this difference, that
Porter was right while Longstreet was wrong. Lee saw his chance of
rolling up Pope's left and ordered Longstreet to do it. But, after
reconnoitering the ground, Longstreet came back to say the chance
was "not inviting." Again Lee ordered an attack. But Longstreet
wasted time, looking for needlessly favorable ground till long after
dark. Meanwhile the Federals were also feeling their way forward
over the same ground to get into a good flanking position for next
day's battle. So the two sides met; and it was past midnight when
Longstreet settled down. Lee wanted a sword thrust. Longstreet gave
a pin prick. We shall meet Longstreet again, in the same character
of obstructive subordinate, at Gettysburg. But he was, for the
most part, a very good officer indeed; and the South, with its
scanty supply of trained leaders, could not afford to make changes
like the North. The fault, too, was partly Lee's; for his one weak
point with good but wayward subordinates was a tendency to let his
sensitive consideration for their feelings overcome his sterner
insight into their defects.
At noon on the fatal thirtieth of August, Pope, self-deluded and
self-sufficient as before, dismayed his best officers by ordering
his sixty-five thousand men to be "immediately thrown forward in
pursuit of the enemy," whose own fifty thousand were now far readier
than on the previous day.
Then the dense blue masses marched to their doom. Twenty thousand
bayonets shone together from Groveton to Bull Run. Forty thousand
more supported them on the slopes in rear, while every Federal
gun thundered forth protectingly from the heights behind. The
Confederate batteries were pointed out as the objective of attack.
Not one glint of steel appeared between these batteries and the
glittering Federal host. To the men in the ranks and to Pope himself
victory seemed assured. But no sooner had that brave array come
within rifle range of the deserted railroad line than, high and
clear, the Confederate bugles called along the hidden edges of
the flat-topped Ridge; when instantly the great gray host broke
cover, ran forward as one man, and held the whole embankment with
a line of fire and steel.
A shock of sheer amazement ran through the Federal mass. Then,
knightly as any hero of romance, a mounted officer rode out alone,
in front of the center, and, with his sword held high, continued
leading the advance, which itself went on undaunted. The Confederate
flank batteries crossed their fire on this devoted center. Bayonets
flashed out of line in hundreds as their owners fell. Colors were
cut down, raised high, cut down again. But still that gallant horse
and man went on, unswerving and untouched. Even the sweeping volleys
spared them both, though now, as the Federals closed, these volleys
cut down more men than the cross-fire of the guns. At last the
unscathed hero waved his sword and rode straight up the deadly
embankment, followed by the charging line. "Don't kill him! Don't
kill him!" shouted the admiring Confederates as his splendid figure
stood, one glorious moment, on the top. The next, both horse and man
sank wounded, and were at once put under cover by their generous
foes.
For thirty-five dire minutes the fight raged face to face. One
Federal color rose, fell, and rose again as fast as living hands
could take it from the dead. Over a hundred men lay round it when
the few survivors drew back to re-form. Pope fed his front line
with reserves, who advanced with the same undaunted gallantry, but
also with the same result. As if to make this same result more sure
he never tried to win by one combined assault, wave after crashing
wave, without allowing the defense to get its second wind; but let
each unit taste defeat before the next came on. Federal bravery
remained. But Federal morale was rapidly disintegrating under the
palpable errors of Pope. Misguided, misled, and mishandled, the
blue lines still fought on till four, by which time every corps,
division, and brigade had failed entirely.
Then, at the perfect moment and in the perfect way, Lee's counterstroke
was made: the beaten Federals being assailed in flank as well as
front by every sword, gun, bayonet, and bullet that could possibly
be brought to bear. Only the batteries remained on the ridge, firing
furiously till the Federals were driven out of range. The infantry
and cavalry were sent in--wave after wave of them, without respite,
till the last had hurled destruction on the foe.
As at the First Bull Run, so here, the regulars fell back in good
order, fighting to the very end. But the rest of Pope's Army of
Virginia was no longer an organized unit. Even strong reinforcements
could do nothing for it now. On the second of September, three days
after the battle, its arrival at Washington, heralded by thousands
of weary stragglers, threw the whole Union into gloom.
The first counter-invasion naturally followed. Southern hopes ran
high. Bragg's invasion of Kentucky seemed to be succeeding at this
time. The trans-Mississippi line still held at Vicksburg and Port
Hudson. Richmond had been saved. Washington was menaced. And most
people on both sides thought so much more of the land than of the
sea that the Federal victories along the coast and up the Mississippi
were half forgotten for the time being; and so was the strangling
blockade. Lee, of course, saw the situation as a whole; and, as a
whole, it was far from bright. But though the counter-invasion was
now a year too late it seemed worth making. Maryland was full of
Southern sympathizers; and campaigning there would give Virginia a
chance to recuperate, while also preventing the North from recovering
too quickly from its last reverse. Thus it was with great expectations
that the Confederates crossed the Potomac singing _Maryland, my
Maryland!_
But Maryland did not respond to this appeal. The women, it is true,
were mostly Southern to the core and ready to serve the Confederate
cause in every way they could. But the men, reflecting more, knew
they were in the grip of Northern sea-power. Nor could they fail
to notice the vast difference between the warlike resources of
the North and South. Northern armies had been marching through for
many months, well fed, well armed, and superabundantly supplied.
The Confederates, on the other hand, were fewer in numbers, half
starved, in ragged clothing, less well armed, and far less abundantly
supplied in every way. A Northerner who fell sick could generally
count on the best of medical care, not to mention a profusion of
medical comforts. But the blockade kept medicines and surgical
instruments out of the Southern ports; and the South could make
few of her own. So, to be very sick or badly wounded meant almost
a sentence of death in the South. Eighteen months of war had
disillusioned Maryland. The expected reinforcements never came.
Lee had again divided his army in the hope of snatching victory by
means of better strategy. On the thirteenth of September Jackson
was bombarding the Federals at Harper's Ferry, Longstreet was at
Hagerstown, and Stuart was holding the gaps of South Mountain.
The same day McClellan, whose whole army was at Frederick, received
a copy of Lee's orders. They had been wrapped round three cigars
and lost by a careless Confederate staff officer. Had McClellan
forced the gaps immediately, maneuvered with reasonable skill, and
struck home with every available man, he might have annihilated
Lee. But he let the thirteenth pass quietly; and when he did take the
passes on the fourteenth it cost him a good deal, as the Confederate
infantry had reinforced Stuart. On the fifteenth Jackson took Harper's
Ferry. On the sixteenth he joined Lee at Antietam. And on the
seventeenth, when the remaining availables had also joined Lee,
McClellan made up his mind to attack. "Ask me for anything but
time," said the real Napoleon. The "Young Napoleon" did not even
need the asking.
Antietam (so called from the Antietam Creek) or Sharpsburg (so
called from the Confederate headquarters there) was one of the
biggest battles of the Civil War; and it might possibly have been
the most momentous. But, as things turned out, it was in itself an
indecisive action, spoilt for the Federals, first, by McClellan's
hesitating strategy, and then by his failure to press the attack home
at all costs, with every available man, in an unbroken succession
of assaults. He had over 80,000 men with 275 guns against barely
40,000 with 194 guns of inferior strength. But though the Federals
fought with magnificent devotion, and though the losses were very
serious on both sides, the tactical result was a mutual checkmate.
The strategic result, however, was a Confederate defeat; for, with
his few worn veterans, Lee had no chance whatever of keeping his
precarious hold on a neutral Maryland.
October was a quiet month, each side reorganizing without much
interference from the other, except for Stuart's second raid round
the whole embattled army of McClellan. This time Stuart took nearly
two thousand men and four horse artillery guns. Crossing the Potomac
at McCoy's Ford on the tenth he reached Chambersburg that night,
destroyed the Federal stores, took all the prisoners he wanted,
cut the wires, obstructed the rails, and went on with hundreds
of Federal horses. Next day he circled the Federal rear toward
Gettysburg, turned south through Emmitsburg, and crossed McClellan's
line of communications with Washington at Hyattstown early on the
twelfth. By this time the Federal cavalry were riding themselves to
exhaustion in vain pursuit; while many other forces were trying to
close in and cut him off. But he reached the mouth of the Monocacy
and crossed White's Ford in safety, fighting off all interference.
The information he brought back was of priceless value. Lee now
learned that McClellan was not falling back on Washington but being
reinforced from there, and that consequently no new Peninsula Campaign
was to be feared at present. This alone was worth the effort, risk,
and negligible loss. Stuart had marched a hundred and twenty-six
miles on the Federal side of the Potomac--eighty of them without
a single halt; and he had been fifty-six hours inside the Federal
lines, mostly within four riding hours of McClellan's own headquarters.
This second stinging raid roused the loyal North to fury; and by
November a new invasion of Virginia was in full swing on the old
ground, with McClellan at Warrenton, Lee at Culpeper, and Jackson
in the Valley.
But McClellan's own last chance had gone. Late at night on the
seventh he was sitting alone in his tent, writing to his wife, when
Burnside asked if he could come in with General C. P. Buckingham,
the confidential staff officer to the War Department. After some
forced conversation Buckingham handed McClellan a paper ordering his
supersession by Burnside. McClellan simply said: "Well, Burnside,
I turn the command over to you." The eighth and ninth were spent in
handing over; and on the tenth McClellan made his official farewell.
Next day he was entraining at Warrenton Junction when the men,
among whom he was immensely popular, broke ranks and swarmed round
his car, cursing the Government and swearing they would follow
no one but their "Old Commander." McClellan, with all his faults
in the field, was a good organizer, an extremely able engineer,
a very brave soldier, a very sympathetic comrade in arms, and a
regular father to his men, whose personal interests were always his
first care. The moment was critical. McClellan, had he chosen, might
have imitated the Roman generals who led the revolts of Prætorian
Guards. But he stepped out on the front platform of the car, held
up his hand, and, amid tense silence, asked the men to "stand by
General Burnside as you have stood by me." The car they had uncoupled
to prevent his departure was run up and coupled again; and then,
amid cheers of mournful farewell, they let him go.
General Ambrose E. Burnside was expected to smash Lee, take Richmond,
and end the war at once. He was a good subordinate, but quite unfit
for supreme command, which he accepted only under protest. Moreover,
he was not supported as he should have been by the War Department,
nor even by the Headquarter Staff. While changing his position from
Warrenton to Fredericksburg he was hampered by avoidable delays.
So when he reached Falmouth he found Lee had forestalled him on
the opposing heights of Fredericksburg itself.
The disastrous thirteenth of December was dull, calm, and misty.
But presently the sun shone down with unwonted warmth; the mists
rolled up like curtains; and there stood 200,000 men, arrayed in
order of battle: 80,000 Confederates awaiting the onslaught of
120,000 Federals.
On came the solid masses of the Federals, eighty thousand strong,
with forty in support, amid the thunder of five hundred attacking
and defending guns. The sunlight played upon the rising tide of
Federal bayonets as on sea currents when they turn inshore. The
colors waved proudly as ever; and to the outward eye the attack
seemed almost strong enough to drive the stern and silent gray
Confederates clear off the crest. But the indispensable morale was
wanting. For this was the end of a long campaign, full of drawn
battles and terrible defeats. Burnside was an unpopular substitute
for McClellan; he was not in any way a great commander; and he was
acting under pressure against his own best judgment. His army knew
or felt all this; and he knew they knew or felt it. The Federals,
for all their glorious courage, felt, when the two fronts met at
Fredericksburg, that they were no more than sacrificial pawns in
the grim game of war. After much useless slaughter they reeled
back beaten. But they could and did retire in safety, skillfully
"staffed" by their leaders and close to their unconquerable sea.
Lee could make no counterstroke. The Confederate Government had
not dared to let him occupy the far better position on the line
of the North Anna, from which a vigorous counterstroke might have
almost annihilated a beaten attacker, who would have been exposed
on both flanks, beyond the sure protection of the sea. Thus fear of
an outcry against "abandoning" the country between Fredericksburg
and the North Anna caused the Southern politicians to lose their
chance at home. But without a decisive victory they could not hope
for foreign intervention. So losing their chance at home made them
lose it abroad as well.
Burnside was dazed by his defeat and the appalling loss of life
in vain. But after five weeks of most discouraging inaction he
tried to surprise Lee by crossing the Rappahannock several miles
higher up. On the twentieth and twenty-first of that miserable
January the Federal army ploughed its dreary way through sloughs
of gluey mud under torrents of chilling rain. Then, when the pace
had slackened to a funereal crawl, and the absurdly little chance of
surprising Lee had vanished altogether, this despairing "Mud March"
came to its wretched end. Four days later Burnside was superseded by
one of his own subordinates, General Joseph Hooker, known to all
ranks as "Fighting Joe Hooker."
Fredericksburg, the spell of relaxing winter quarters beside the
fatal Rappahannock, and then the fatal "Mud March," combined to
lower Federal morale. Yet the mass of the men, being composed of
fine human material, quickly recovered under "Fighting Joe Hooker,"
who knew what discipline meant. Numbers and discipline tell. But
disciplined numbers were not the only or even the greatest menace
to the South. For here, as farther west, the Confederate Government
was beginning to be foolish just as the Federal Government showed
signs of growing wise. Lincoln and Stanton were giving Joe Hooker a
fairly free hand just when Davis and Seddon (his makeshift minister
of war) were using Confederate forces as puppets to be pulled about
by Cabinet strings from Richmond. Here again (as later on at
Chattanooga) Longstreet was sent away on a useless errand just
when he was needed most by Lee. Good soldier though he was in many
ways he was no such man as Stonewall Jackson; and, in this one
year, he failed his seniors thrice.
It is true enough that the April situation of 1863 might well shake
governmental nerves; for Richmond was being menaced from three
points--north, southeast, and south: Fredericksburg due north,
Suffolk southeast, Newbern south. Newbern in North Carolina was
a long way off. But its possession by an active enemy threatened
the rail connection from Richmond south to Wilmington, Charleston,
and Savannah, the only three Atlantic ports through which the South
could get supplies from overseas. Suffolk was nearer. It covered
the landward side of Norfolk, which, with Fortress Monroe, might
become the base of a new Peninsula Campaign. But Fredericksburg
was nearest; nearest to Richmond, nearest to Washington, nearest
to the main Southern force; and not only nearest but strongest, in
every way strongest and most to be feared. "Fighting Joe Hooker" was
there, with a hundred and thirty thousand men, already stirring for
the spring campaign that was to wipe out memories of Fredericksburg,
make short work of Lee, and end the war at Richmond.
Yet Longstreet cheerfully marched off, pleased with his new command,
to see what he could do to soothe the Government by winning laurels
for himself at Suffolk. On the seventeenth, just two weeks before
the supreme test came on Lee's weakened army at Chancellorsville,
Longstreet reported to Seddon that Suffolk would cost three thousand
men, if taken by assault, or three days' heavy firing if subdued by
bombardment. Shrinking from such expenditure of life or ammunition,
Davis, Seddon, and Longstreet fell back on a siege, which, preventing
all junction with Lee, might well have cost the ruin of their cause.
Lee and Jackson then prepared to make the best of a bad business
along the Rappahannock, and to snatch victory once more, if possible,
from the very jaws of death. The prospect was grimmer than before.
Hooker was a better fighter than McClellan and wiser than Burnside
or Pope. Moreover, after two years of war, the Union Government
had at last found out that civilian detectives knew less about
armies than expert staff officers know, and that cavalry which
was something more than mere men on horses could collect a little
information too. Hooker knew Lee's strength as well as his own.
So he decided to hold Lee fast with one part of the big Federal
army, turn his flank with another, and cut his line of supply and
retreat with Stoneman's ten thousand sabers as well. The respective
grand totals were 130,000 Federals against 62,000 Confederates.
So far, so good; so very good indeed that Hooker and his staff
were as nearly free from care on May Day as headquarter men can
ever be in the midst of vital operations. Hooker had just reason to
be proud of the Army of the Potomac and of his own work in reviving
it. He had, indeed, issued one bombastic order of the day in which
he called it "the finest on the planet." But even this might be
excused in view of the popular call for encouraging words. What
was more to the point was the reëstablishment of Federal morale,
which had been terribly shaken after the great Mud March. Hooker's
sworn evidence (as given in the official _Report of Committee on
the Conduct of the War_) speaks for itself: "The moment I was placed
in command I caused a return to be made of the absentees of the
army, and found the number to be 2922 commissioned officers and
81,964 non-commissioned officers and privates. They were scattered
all over the country, and the majority were absent from causes
unknown."
On the twenty-eighth of April Stuart saw the redisciplined Federals
in motion far up the Rappahannock, while next day Jackson saw others
laying pontoons thirty miles lower down, just on the seaward side
of Fredericksburg. Lee took this news with genial calm, remarking
to the aide: "Well, I heard firing and was beginning to think it
was time some of your lazy young fellows were coming to tell me
what it was about. Tell your good general he knows what to do with
the enemy just as well as I do." On the thirtieth it became quite
clear that Hooker was bent on turning Lee's left and that he had
divided his army to do so. Jackson wished to attack Sedgwick's
35,000 Federals still on the plains of Fredericksburg. But Lee
convinced him that the better way would be to hold these men with
10,000 Confederates in the fortified position on the confronting
heights while the remaining 52,000 should try to catch Hooker himself
between the jaws of a trap in the forest round Chancellorsville,
where the Federal masses would be far more likely to get out of
hand. It was an extremely daring maneuver to be setting this trap
when Sedgwick had enough men to storm the heights of Fredericksburg,
when Stoneman was on the line of communication with the south,
and when Hooker himself, with superior numbers, was gaining Lee's
rear. But Lee had Jackson as his lieutenant, not Longstreet, as
he was to have at Gettysburg.
Hooker's movements were rapid, well arranged, and admirably executed
up to the evening of the first of May, when, finding those of the
enemy very puzzling among the dense woods, he chose the worst of
three alternatives. The first and best, an immediate counter-attack,
would have kept up his army's morale and, if well executed, revealed
his own greater strength. The second, a continued advance till he
reached clearer ground, might have succeeded or not. The third
and worst was to stand on his defense, a plan which, however sound
in other places, was fatal here, because it not only depressed
the spirits of his army but gave two men of genius the initiative
against him in a country where they were at home and he was not.
The absence of ten thousand cavalry baffled his efforts to get
trustworthy information on the ground, while the dense woods baffled
his balloons from above. On the second of May he still thought
the initiative was his, that the Confederates were retreating,
and that his own jaws were closing on them instead of theirs on
him.
Meanwhile, owing to miscalculations of the space that had to be
held in force, his right was not only thrown forward too far but
presented a flank in the air. This was the flank round which Stonewall
Jackson maneuvered with such consummate skill that it was taken on
three sides and rolled up in fatal confusion. Its commander, the
very capable General O. O. Howard, who perceived the mistake he
could not correct, tried hard to stay the rout. But, as his whole
reserve had been withdrawn by Hooker to join an attack elsewhere,
his lines simply melted away.
The three days' battle that followed (ending on the fifth of May)
was bravely fought by the bewildered Federals. Yet all in vain.
Hooker was caught like a bull in a net; and the more he struggled
the worse it became. At 6 P.M. on the second the cunning trap was
sprung when a single Confederate bugle rang out. Instantly other
bugles repeated the call at regular intervals through miles of
forest. Then, high and clear on the silent air of that calm May
evening, the rebel yell rose like the baying of innumerable hounds,
hot on the scent of their quarry, with Jackson leading on. Nothing
could stop the eager gray lines, wave after wave of them pressing
through the woods; not even the gallant fifty guns that fought with
desperation in defense of Hazel Grove, where Hooker was rallying
his men.
For two days more the tide of battle ebbed and flowed; but always
against the Federals in the end, till, broken, bewildered, and
disheartened, they retired as best they could. Lee was unable to
pursue. Longstreet's men were still missing; and so were many supplies
that should have been forwarded from Richmond. There the Government
clung to the fond belief that this mere victory had won the war,
and that pursuit was useless. Thus Lee's last chance of crushing
the invaders was taken from him by his friends.
At the same time the Southern cause suffered another irreparable
loss; but in this case at the purely accidental hands of Southern
men. Jackson's staff, suddenly emerging from a thicket as the first
night closed in, was mistaken for Federal cavalry and shot down.
Jackson himself was badly wounded in three places and carried from
the field. He never heard the rebel yell again. Next Sunday, when the
staff-surgeon told him that he could not possibly live through the
night, he simply answered: "Very good, very good; it is all right."
Presently he asked Major Pendleton what chaplain was preaching at
headquarters. "Mr. Lacy, sir; and the whole army is praying for
you." "Thank God," said Jackson, "they are very kind to me." A
little later, rousing himself as if from sleep, he called out:
"Order A. P. Hill to prepare for action! Pass the infantry to the
front! Tell Major Hawks--" There his strength failed him. But after
a pause he said quietly, "Let us cross over the river and rest
under the shade of the trees." And with these words he died.