"He was a man, take him all in all,
I shall not see his like again"--SHAKESPEARE.
The time came for A.P. Hill to follow on after Longstreet We broke camp
on the 15th, and marched day after day through Culpeper; Chester Gap,
Front Royal and Berryville. On the 25th of June we forded the Potomac
for the last time, crossing below Shepherdstown at the ford by which we
had advanced nine months before in our hurried march from Harper's Ferry
to Sharpsburg. We passed once more through Sharpsburg, and advanced to a
village called Funkstown, in the edge of Pennsylvania, where our
division rested for three days.
On the 29th, Sergeant Rhodes and I went foraging. At some small
farmhouses far off in the hills we found provisions to sell at cheap
prices. Our Confederate money was received with less unwillingness than
we might have expected. We got onions, cheese, and bread--rye-bread.
Rhodes was carrying a tin bucket; he wanted milk. Coming back toward
camp at sunset, we met in a lane two fine cows--a boy driving them home
from pasture. We halted. Rhodes ordered the boy to milk the cows; the
boy replied that he could not milk. "Well, I can," said Rhodes. I held
the sergeant's gun, and he soon drew his bucket full. Meantime, I was
talking with the boy.
"When did you see your brother last?" I asked.
"About two months ago," said he.
"Is he the only brother you have?"
"Yes, sir."
"How does he like the army?"
"He liked it at first; Father tried to keep him from going, but he
couldn't."
"And he doesn't like it now?"
"No, sir; that he don't. He hated to go back, but he had to."
"Say, young man," said Rhodes; "have you got a brother in the Yankee
army?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then I don't pay you a cent for this milk."
I thought that the boy was greatly surprised to know that Rhodes had
intended to pay.
* * * * *
On the last day of the month we moved again; the morning of July 1st
found us marching eastward on the Cashtown road. The heat was great,
although the sun was not high. The march was rapid and unobstructed, as
though A.P. Hill was soon to have work to do. Heth's division led the
corps. We descended from a range of high hills, having in our front an
extensive region dotted over with farmhouses and with fertile fields
interspersed with groves. The march continued; steadily eastward went
the corps.
At nine o'clock the spasmodic patter of rifles was heard in front. We
were halted. Haskell's battalion filed to the right, deployed, and the
column marched on, with the sharp-shooters moving as skirmishers
parallel with the brigade.
The firing in front increased. The battalion flanked to the right and
went forward in line to the top of a hill overlooking a large low plain
to the south. We halted in position, occupying a most formidable
defensive line. In our rear, half a mile, the division, and perhaps
other divisions, went by into battle, and left us on the hill,
protecting their flank and rear.
Cavalry were visible in our front. They moved over the plain in many
small groups, but throughout the day did not venture within range of our
rifles. A great engagement seemed in progress at our rear and left. We
could see the smoke of burning houses and see shells burst in the air,
and could hear the shouts of our men as they advanced from one position
to another, driving the enemy.
A little before sunset Captain Haskell came to me and handed me a folded
paper. "Find General Pender," he said, "and give him this note. I fear
the battalion has been forgotten here, and I am asking for orders. Be
back as quickly as you can."
My way was over the battlefield. I passed between houses yet burning.
Dead and wounded lay intermingled, Federals and Confederates. In one
place behind a stone fence there were many blue corpses. The ambulances
and infirmary men were busy. In a road I saw side by side a Confederate
and a Federal. The Confederate was on his back; his jacket was open; his
shirt showed a great red splotch right on his breast. Death must have
been instantaneous.
At the Seminary I found at last our line. It had been much farther
forward, but had been withdrawn to the hill. General Pender was yet on
his horse. I handed him the note. He read it, and said, without looking
at me, "Tell the Captain to bring his men in."
I ran down the line to find Company H. In a few minutes I saw Lieutenant
Barnwell and the men. Larkin of Company H, colour-bearer of the
regiment, had fallen; Corporal Jones was dead; many men were wounded.
The brigade had fought well; it had charged the enemy behind a stone
fence and routed them, and had pursued them through the streets of the
town and taken many prisoners. Butler and Williams had gone into a house
foraging, and in the cellar had taken a whole company commanded by a
lieutenant. Other tales there were to tell. Albert Youmans had gone
entirely through the town, followed by straggling men, and had reached
the top of Cemetery Hill, and had seen a confused mass of men in utter
disorganization, and had waved his hat and shouted to the men behind him
to come on; but Major Alston had already ordered the pursuit stopped.
The flag of the First had waved in the streets of the town before that
of any other regiment. The commander of the Federals, General Reynolds,
had been killed. Archer's brigade of Heth's division had in the early
hours of the battle advanced too far, and many of the brigade had
been captured.
All this and more I heard in the few minutes which I dared to give. I
hurried back to the battalion, running to make up lost time. It was not
yet thoroughly dark as I made my way for the second time over the bloody
field. I passed again between the Confederate and the Federal whom I had
seen lying side by side. Our man was sitting in the road, and
eating hardtack.
When I reached the battalion all ears were open for news. When I told
about seeing the supposed dead man alive again and eating hardtack,
Charley Wilson shouted, "And he got it out of that Yankee's haversack!"
For a while that night the battalion lay behind the brigade. At ten
o'clock Captain Haskell called me. He was sitting alone. He made me
sit by him.
"Jones," said he, "Company A will not move to-night, but the other
companies will relieve the skirmishers at daybreak."
"I wish Company A could go, too," said I.
"Company A has done a little extra duty to-day; it will be held in
reserve."
"But what extra duty has Company A done, Captain?"
"It has sent one man on special service," said he; "you may say that it
was not a great duty; but it was something, and rules must be observed.
Of course, if your company happened to be of average number and either
of the others was very small, I should take Company A instead. But it
does not so happen; so the work you have done to-day gives Company A a
rest--if rest it can be called."
"But why not take the whole battalion?"
"Only two companies are needed. The losses of the brigade to-day have
been so great that two companies can cover our front. Lee attacks
again," he continued sadly; "he has fought but one defensive battle."
"But you must allow, Captain," said I, "that Chancellorsville was a
great victory--and to-day's battle also."
"Chancellorsville was indeed a great victory," said he; "but the enemy
is as strong as ever. I cannot suggest anything against
Chancellorsville, except that I think that we should not have stopped on
Sunday morning after taking the second line of intrenchments. General
Lee heard of Sedgwick's movement just at the wrong time I dare say.
Should he not have pressed Hooker into the river before giving attention
to Sedgwick[8]?"
[8] Captain Haskell is wrong here. Hooker's new position was impregnable
to any attack the Confederates were then able to make. Hooker himself,
as well as his army, wished for the Confederates to attack. Lee's march
against Sedgwick, at this juncture, was the right movement. See the
Comte de Paris, _in loc_. [ED.]
"Then you believe in attacking," said I.
"True; I do under such circumstances. The trouble with us has been that
we attack resisting troops, and when we defeat them we refuse to trouble
them any more: we let them get away. Yet, as you say, Chancellorsville
was a great victory; anything that would have sent Hooker's army back
over the river, even without a battle, would have been success. But
speaking from a military view, I dare say it was a false movement to
divide our forces as we did there. We succeeded because our opponents
allowed us to succeed. It was in Hooker's power on Saturday to crush
either Jackson or McLaws. Yet, as you suggest, General Lee was compelled
to take great risks; no matter what he should do, his position seemed
well-nigh desperate, and he succeeded by the narrowest margin. Even on
Sunday morning, before the action began, if General Lee had only known
the exact condition below us at Fredericksburg, I dare say Hooker would
in the end have claimed a victory, for General Lee would not have
assaulted Hooker's works."
"But would he not have overcome Sedgwick?" I asked.
"Pardon me. After Hooker's defeat Lee could afford to march against
Sedgwick, but not before. I think he would have retreated. We had
enormous good fortune. It was as great as at the first Manassas, when
Beauregard, finding himself flanked by McDowell, won the battle by the
steady conduct of a few regiments who held the enemy until Johnston's
men came up. Of course I am not making any comparison between Generals
Lee and Beauregard. But Manassas and Chancellorsville are past, and
observe, sir, what a loss we have had to-day. I dare say the enemy's
loss is heavier, but he can stand losses here, and we cannot; another
day or two like to-day, and we are ruined. To beat back a corps of the
enemy for a mile or so until it occupies a stronger position than
before, is not--you will agree with, me--the defensive warfare which,
the Confederacy began. What can General Lee do to-morrow but attack? He
will attack, and I trust we shall defeat Meade's army; but we cannot
destroy it, and it will be filled up again long before we can get any
reënforcement. Indeed, Jones, I do not see how we can be reënforced at
all--so far from our base, and the enemy so powerful to prevent it."
"Cannot General Lee await an attack?"
"I fear that he cannot, Jones; the enemy would grow stronger every day,
while we should become weaker. The enemy would not attack until we
should begin to retreat; then they would embarrass our retreat and
endeavour to bring us to battle."
"Then you would advise immediate retreat?"
"My friend, we must risk a battle. But even if we gain it, we shall be
losers. The campaign was false from the start. Is it not absurd for a
small army of a weak nation to invade a great nation in the face of more
powerful armies? If we had arms which the Federals could not match, we
should find it easy to conquer a peace on this field. But their
equipment is superior to ours. The campaign is wrong. If inactivity
could not have been tolerated, we should have reënforced General Bragg
and regained our own country instead of running our heads against this
wall up here. But, do you not agree with, me that inactivity would have
been best? Hooker's army would not have stirred this summer until too
late for any important campaign. The year would have closed with
Virginia secure and with great recuperation to all our eastern states.
Our army would have been swelled by the return of our wounded and sick,
without any losses to offset our increase. As it is, our losses are
going to be difficult if not impossible to make up. I fear that Lee's
army will never be as strong hereafter as it is to-night."
"But would not a great victory here give us peace?"
"I fear not; we cannot gain such a victory as would do that. Look at the
victories of this war. They have been claimed by both aides--many of
them. The defeated recover very quickly. Except Fort Donelson, where has
there been a great victory?"
"The Chickahominy," said I.
"Gaines's Mill was a victory; but we lost more men than the Federals,
and McClellan escaped us."
"Second Manassas."
"Pope claimed a victory for the first day, and his army escaped on the
second day. True, it was beaten, but it is over yonder now on
that hill."
"Fredericksburg."
"Yes; that was a victory, and Burnside should not have been allowed to
get away. Do you remember a story in the camp to the effect that Jackson
was strongly in favour of a night attack upon the Federals huddled up
on our side of the river?"
"Yes, Captain. I heard of it after I returned from the hospital. You
know I was not in the battle."
"I remember. Well, the rumour was true. General Jackson wished to throw
his corps upon the enemy the night after the battle; the men were to
wear strips of white cloth, around their arms so that they might
recognize each other."
"And you believe the attack would have succeeded?"
"Beyond all question, Jones. We should have driven the Federals into the
river. We lost there our greatest opportunity."
"And you think we could have done the same thing to Hooker's army?"
"True--or nearly so; but we allowed Hooker as well as Burnside to get
away. I have sometimes thought that General Lee is too merciful, and
that he is restrained because we are killing our own people. If
Burnside's men had been of a foreign nation, I think Lee might have
listened more willingly to Jackson. The feeling may have been balanced
in our favour at Sharpsburg. If McClellan had been killing Frenchmen, I
dare say he would have had more fight in him on the 18th of September.
After all that we read in the newspapers, Jones, about the vandalism
practised in this war, yet this war is, I dare say, the least inhumane
that ever was waged. I don't think our men hate the men on the
other side."
"I don't," said I.
"Be that as it may; whether we are too merciful or too unfortunate as to
opportunity, the fact remains that armies are not destroyed; they get
away; when we gain a field, it is only the moral effect that remains
with us. War is different from the old wars. The only thorough defeats
are surrenders. It would take days for Lee's army to shoot down Meade's
at long range, even if Meade should stand and do nothing. We may defeat
Meade,--I don't see why we should not,--but in less than a week we
should be compelled to fight him again, and we should be weaker and he
would be stronger than before."
"I have often-wondered," said I, "how the ancients destroyed whole
armies."
"Conditions allowed them to do it." said the captain. "In Caesar's wars,
for instance, men fought hand to hand, physical strength and endurance
were the qualities that prevailed. The men became exhausted backing away
or slinging away at each other. In such a condition a regiment of
cavalry is turned loose on a broad plain against a division unable to
flee, and one horseman puts a company to death; all he has to do is to
cut and thrust."
"A victory should at least enable us to hold our ground until we could
get reënforcements," I said.
"True; but we should get one man and the enemy would get twenty."
"We could retire after victory," I said.
"Can you believe that General Lee would do that? I do not know that he
is responsible for this offensive campaign, but we all know that he is
quicker to fight than to retreat. It is astonishing to me that his
reputation is that of a defensive general. I dare say his wonderful
ability as an engineer accounts for it."
"If we should gain a victory here, would not England or France recognize
us?"
"Would it not require a succession of great victories for that? Ever
since Lincoln's proclamation there has been no sound hope of European
recognition. There was one hope, but that was soon gone."
"What was it, Captain?"
"The hope that the Confederacy would meet Lincoln's order by
emancipating the slaves gradually."
"Was that seriously thought of?"
"Yes; there was much discussion of it, but privately in the main. We do
not know what took place in Congress, but it has leaked out that there
was a strong party there in favour of it. Whether any vote was ever had
I do not know; I dare say those in favour of the measure found they were
not strong enough, and thought best not to press it."
"What effect would such a course have had?"
"I can say only what I think. I believe that England would have
recognized us. The North, too, would have been disarmed, in a measure.
In fact, the great bugaboo that brought on the war would have been laid
at rest. The North would have been eager to conciliate the South, and it
would have become possible to reconstruct the Union with clear
definitions of the sovereignty of the States."
"I remember your telling me long ago that you would favour a gradual
emancipation."
"Yes; our form of slavery is not bad, it is true, Jones; in fact, there
is great justification for it. It is too universal, however. It does not
give enough opportunity for a slave to develop, and to make a future for
himself. Still, we have some grand men among the slaves. Many of them
would suffer death for the interest of their masters' families. Then,
too, we have in the South a type unknown in the rest of the world since
feudalism: we have in Virginia, in South Carolina, in Louisiana,
reproductions of the old nobility. The world is richer for such men. The
general condition of the slaves is good. We know that the negro is an
inferior race. We have done him no injustice by giving him a small share
in a civilization which his kings could never know. He was a slave at
home; he is less a slave here. He has been contented. Witness his
docility, his kindness even, to our wives and children while his masters
are at war, seemingly to perpetuate his bonds. Such conduct deserves
recognition. I would say that a system of rewards should be planned by
which a worthy negro, ambitious to become free, could by meritorious
conduct achieve his freedom. But this act of Lincoln's is monstrous. It
is good for nobody. A race of slaves, suddenly become free, is a race of
infants with the physical force of men. What would become of them?
Suppose the North should succeed. Suppose the Confederate armies
disbanded, and the States back in the Union or held as territories. Has
anybody the least idea that the whites of the South would tolerate the
new dignity of their former slaves? The condition would be but the
beginning of race hatred that would grow into active hostility, and
would never end. The whites would band together and punish negro
offences more severely than ever. The negroes could not combine. The
result would be cruelty to the black man; his condition would be far
worse than before. Even supposing that Northern armies should
indefinitely occupy all our territory; even supposing that our own
people should be driven out and our lands given to the slaves--what
would become of them? We know their character. They look not one day
ahead. There would be famine, riot, pestilence, anarchy. And the worst
men of the race would hold the rest in terror. Immorality would be at a
premium, sir. The race would lose what it had gained. But, on the other
hand, put into practice a plan for gradual freedom based on good
conduct; you would see whites and blacks living in peace. The negro
would begin to improve, and the white people would help him. It would
not be long before the ideal of the negro would be individual freedom,
not race freedom, as it is the white man's ideal now. There would be
great striving throughout the negro race, which would be affected
thereby from first to last of them. Yes, I believe that if we had so
done we should have been recognized. England does not believe in sudden
emancipation. She provides for the freeing of the slaves throughout her
dominions, but gradually carries her plans into effect, and she pays the
owners. I sometimes think that American Revolution was a mistake for the
Southern colonies, for South Carolina especially."
"A mistake, Captain? That is a new idea to me."
"We certainly had not the reason to rebel that Massachusetts had. Our
best people--and we had many of them--were closely allied to the best of
the English, more closely than to Massachusetts. Our trade with the
mother country was profitable, and our products were favoured by
bounties. We had no connection, with the French and Indian wars which
had given rise to so much trouble between Great Britain and New England.
But our people thought it would be base to desert the cause of
Massachusetts. I dare say this thought was the main reason that caused
South Carolina to throw in her lot with that of our Northern colonies.
See what we get for it. We renounce our profitable commerce with
England, and we help our sister colonies; just so soon as their
profitable commerce with us is threatened by our withdrawal, they
maintain it by putting us to death. It is their nature, sir. They live
by trade. If they continue to increase in power, they will hold the West
in commercial subjection--and the isles of the sea, if they can ever
reach to them. Death has no such terrors to them as loss of trade."
"But could the Revolution have succeeded without the South?"
"Certainly not. The South really bore the brunt of the war. New England
suffered very little. New York suffered; so did Pennsylvania and New
Jersey, but nothing in comparison with South Carolina, which was in
reality no more than a conquered province for years, and yet held
faithful to the cause of the colonies. And it was the eventual success
of the Southern arms that caused the surrender of Cornwallis. The North
is very ungrateful to us."
"With Great Britain and America under one government, we should have
been a very powerful nation," said I, musingly.
"And this war never would have been possible. Our slaves would have been
freed wisely, and we should have been paid for them. England and
America could have controlled the world in peace; but here we are,
diligently engaged in killing one another."
"Captain, I think our men are in better spirits than ever before."
"That is very true, Jones. They are full of hope and courage. I have
hope also, but I see no quick ending to this war."
"I don't believe this army can be defeated," said I.
"It cannot. It may suffer great losses, and be forced to
retreat,--indeed, I think that consequence a natural inference from the
situation,--- but it cannot be badly defeated; it cannot be
disorganized. It would take months to overcome it."
"Then you really believe that we shall retreat?"
"Yes; I believe we shall fight, and we shall fight hard, and have
losses, but the enemy will be very cautious of attack, and those of us
who are able to march shall see Virginia again."
"Those who are able to march? Could we leave our wounded here?"
"I was thinking only of the fallen. If ever the history of this war is
truly written, the greatest honours of all will be paid to the common
soldiers, men who, without a particle of interest in slaves, give their
lives for independence--- the independence of their States. Yet it is
useless to grieve in anticipation."
"A soldier's death should not be a thing to grieve over," said I; "at
least, so it seems to me. I think I should prefer death in battle to
death by disease."
"True; and death must come, sooner or later, to all of us.
"'On two days it steads not to run from the grave,
The appointed and the unappointed day;
On the first, neither balm nor physician can save,
Nor thee, on the second, the Universe slay.'"
"Who is that, Captain?"
"The Persian Omar Khayyam, followed by Emerson."
"How do you spell that Persian's name, Captain?"
"K-h-a-y-y-a-m."
"And you pronounce it Ki-yam?"
"That is the way I pronounced it; is it not correct?"
"I don't know. I never heard of him before, but the name seems not
unfamiliar. Is he living?"
"Oh, no; dead centuries since. Were you hoping to find one of your old
personal friends?"
"Don't laugh, Captain. Somehow the name seems to carry me back
somewhere."
"Maybe you knew him in a previous existence."
"Don't laugh, Captain. It is not the words, but merely the name that
strikes me. You don't believe the words yourself."
"I do and I do not. I believe them in a sense."
"In what sense, Captain?"
"In the sense in which the poet taught. The religion of the East is
fatalism. A fatalist who endeavours to shun death is inconsistent."
"But you are not a fatalist."
"No, and yes. Another poet has said that divinity shapes the ends that
we rough-hew; I should reverse this and say that life is blocked out in
the large for us by powers over which we can have no control, but that
within certain limits we do the shaping of our own lives."
"A new and better version," said I; "to-morrow some shaping will be
done. What effect on the general result to nations and the world does
one battle, more or fewer, have?"
"Some events are counterbalanced by others, seemingly, and the result is
nothing; but every event is important to some life."
"Captain, Youmans says he got to the top of the hill over yonder, and
that we could have occupied it but that our men were recalled."
"It would have made little difference," said he. "The enemy would only
have intrenched farther off. I dare say they are digging at
this moment."
Then he said, "Go back to your place, Jones, and never fail to do your
full duty. I am serious, because war is serious. The more we have to do,
the more must we nerve ourselves to do it. We must collect all our
energies, and each man must do the work of two. Impress the men strongly
with the necessity for courage and endurance."
The full moon was shining in high heaven. I bade the Captain good night.
* * * * *
On the morning of July 2d, Company A still lay behind the brigade, which
was in line a little to the south of the Seminary. The sun shone hot.
The skirmishers were busy in front. Artillery roared at our left and far
to our right. At times shells came over us. A caisson near by exploded.
In the afternoon a great battle was raging some two miles to our right.
Longstreet's corps had gone in.
At four o'clock I saw some litter-bearers moving to the rear. On the
litter was a body. The litter-bearers halted. A few men gathered around.
Then the men of Company H began to stir. Some of them approached the
litter. Who was it? I became anxious. The men came slowly back--one at a
time--grim.