While Grant was earning a reputation as a fighting general in the West,
Lee had been at a desk in Richmond attending to his duties as chief
military adviser to the Confederate President, which prevented him from
taking active part in any operations in the field. As a matter of fact,
however, there had been no important engagements in the East, for "On to
Richmond!" had become the war cry of the North, and all the energies of
the Federal government had been centered on preparations for the capture
of the Southern capital. Indeed, if Richmond had been the treasure house
and last refuge of the Confederacy, no greater efforts could have been
made to secure it, although it was by no means essential to either the
North or the South and the war would have continued no matter which flag
floated above its roofs. Nevertheless, the idea of marching into the
enemy's capital appealed to the popular imagination and this undoubtedly
dictated much of the early strategy of the war.
At all events, while the opening moves in the campaign for the
possession of the Mississippi were being made, a vast army was being
equipped near Washington for the express purpose of capturing Richmond.
The preparation of this force had been entrusted to General George B.
McClellan whose ability in organizing, drilling and disciplining the
troops had made him a popular hero and given him such a reputation as a
military genius that he was universally hailed as "the young Napoleon."
He had, indeed, created the most thoroughly equipped army ever seen in
America, and when he advanced toward Virginia in April, 1862, at the
head of over 100,000 men the supporters of the Union believed that the
doom of the Confederacy was already sealed.
From this office in Richmond Lee watched these formidable preparations
for invading the South with no little apprehension. He knew that the
Confederates had only about 50,000 available troops with which to oppose
McClellan's great army and had the Union commander been aware of this he
might have moved straight against the city and swept its defenders from
his path. But McClellan always believed that he was outnumbered and on
this occasion he wildly exaggerated his opponents' strength. In fact,
he crept forward so cautiously that the Confederates, who had
almost resigned themselves to losing the city, hastened to bring
up reënforcements and erect defensive works of a really formidable
character. The best that was hoped for, however, was to delay the Union
army. To defeat it, or even to check its advance, seemed impossible,
and doubtless it would have proved so had it not been for the brilliant
exploits of the man who was destined to become Lee's "right hand."
This man was General Thomas Jonathan Jackson, who had earned the
nickname of "Stonewall" at Bull Run and was at that time in command of
about 15,000 men guarding the fertile Shenandoah Valley, the "granary
of Virginia." Opposing this comparatively small army were several
strong Union forces which were considered amply sufficient to capture
or destroy it, and McClellan proceeded southward, with no misgivings
concerning Jackson. But the wily Confederate had no intention of
remaining idle and McClellan's back was scarcely turned before he
attacked and utterly routed his nearest opponents. A second, third and
even a fourth army was launched against him, but he twisted, turned and
doubled on his tracks with bewildering rapidity, cleverly luring his
opponents apart; and then, falling on each in turn with overwhelming
numbers, hurled them from his path with astonishing ease and suddenly
appeared before Washington threatening its capture.
Astounded and alarmed at this unexpected peril, the Federal authorities
instantly ordered McDowell's corps of 40,000 men, which was on the
point of joining McClellan, to remain and defend the capital. This was
a serious blow to McClellan who had counted upon using these troops,
though even without them he greatly outnumbered the Confederates. But
the idea that he was opposed by an overwhelming force had taken such a
firm hold on his mind that he was almost afraid to move, and while he
was timidly feeling his way General Joseph Johnston, commanding the
defenses at Richmond, attacked his advance corps at Seven Pines, May
31, 1862. A fierce contest followed, during which Johnston was severely
wounded, and Jefferson Davis, who was on the field, promptly summoned
General Lee to the command.
It was a serious situation which confronted Lee when he was thus
suddenly recalled to active duty, for McClellan's army outnumbered his
by at least 40,000 men and it was within six miles of Richmond, from
the roofs of whose houses the glow of the Union campfires was plainly
visible. Nevertheless, he determined to put on a bold front and attack
his opponent at his weakest point. But how to discover this was a
difficult problem and the situation did not admit of a moment's delay.
Under ordinary circumstances the information might have been secured
through spies, but there was no time for this and confronted by the
necessity for immediate action, Lee thought of "Jeb" Stuart, his son's
classmate at West Point, who had acted as aide in the capture of John
Brown.
Stuart was only twenty-nine years old but he had already made a name for
himself as a general of cavalry, and Lee knew him well enough to feel
confident that, if there was any one in the army who could procure the
needed information, he was the man. He, accordingly, ordered him to take
1,200 troopers and a few field guns and ride straight at the right flank
of the Union army until he got near enough to learn how McClellan's
forces were posted at that point.
This perilous errand was just the opportunity for which Stuart had been
waiting, and without the loss of a moment he set his horsemen in motion.
Directly in his path lay the Federal cavalry but within twenty-four
hours he had forced his way through them and carefully noted the exact
position of the Union troops. His mission was then accomplished, but by
this time the Federal camp was thoroughly aroused and, knowing that if
he attempted to retrace his steps his capture was almost certain, he
pushed rapidly forward and, passing around the right wing, proceeded to
circle the rear of McClellan's entire army. So speedily did he move that
the alarm of his approach was no sooner given in one quarter than he
appeared in another and thus, like a boy disturbing a row of hornets'
nests with a long stick, he flashed by the whole line, reached the Union
left, swung around it and reported to Lee with his command practically
intact.
That a few squadrons of cavalry should have been able to ride around
his army of 100,000 men and escape unscathed astonished and annoyed
McClellan but he utterly failed to grasp the true purpose of this
brilliant exploit, and Lee took the utmost care to see that his
suspicions were not aroused. Stuart's information had convinced him that
the right wing of the Union army was badly exposed and might be attacked
with every prospect of success, but to insure this it was necessary
that McClellan's attention should be distracted from the real point of
danger. The Confederate commander thoroughly understood his opponent's
character and failings, for he had taken his measure during the Mexican
War and knowing his cautious nature, he spread the news that heavy
reënforcements had been forwarded to Jackson in the Shenandoah Valley.
This he felt sure would confirm McClellan's belief that he had such
overwhelming numbers that he could afford to withdraw troops from
Richmond, and the ruse was entirely successful, for the Union commander
hesitated to advance, and the Federal authorities, hearing of Jackson's
supposed reënforcement, became increasingly alarmed for the safety of
Washington.
Meanwhile, a courier had been secretly hurried to Jackson, ordering him
to rush his troops from the Shenandoah Valley and attack McClellan's
right wing from the rear while Lee assaulted it from the front. But the
Union right wing numbered fully 25,000 men and Jackson had only 15,000.
So to make the attack overwhelming it was necessary for Lee to withdraw
40,000 men from the defenses of Richmond, leaving the city practically
unprotected. Unquestionably, this was a most dangerous move, for had
McClellan suspected the truth he might have forced his way into the
capital without much difficulty. But here again Lee counted upon his
adversary's character, for he directed the troops that remained in the
trenches to keep up a continuous feint of attacking the Union left wing,
in the hope that this show of force would cause McClellan to look to his
safety in that quarter, which is precisely what he did. Indeed, he was
still busy reporting the threatening movements against his left, when
Lee and Jackson's combined force of 55,000 men fell upon his right with
fearful effect at Gaines' Mill (June 27, 1862). From that moment his
campaign for the capture of Richmond became a struggle to save his own
army from capture or destruction.
The only safety lay in flight but at the moment of defeat and impending
disaster it was not easy to extricate the troops from their dangerous
position, and McClellan showed high skill in masking his line of
retreat. Lee did not, therefore, immediately discover the direction
in which he was moving and this delay probably prevented him from
annihilating the remnants of the Union army. Once on the trail, however,
he lost no time and, loosing "his dogs of war," they fell upon the
retreating columns again and again in the series of terrible conflicts
known as the "Seven Days' Battles." But the Union army was struggling
for its life and, like a stag at bay, it fought off its pursuers with
desperate courage, until finally at Malvern Hill (July 1, 1862), it
rolled them back with such slaughter that a bolder leader might have
been encouraged to advance again toward Richmond. As it was, however,
McClellan was well content to remove his shattered legions to a point of
safety at Harrison's Landing, leaving Lee in undisturbed possession of
the field dyed with the blood of well-nigh 30,000 men.