XIII. THE SEVEN DAYS. GAINES’ MILL…

XIII. THE SEVEN DAYS. GAINES’ MILL

1862 The region whither the interest now shifts is very different from the Valley. From the terraced banks of the Rappahannock, sixty miles north of Richmond, to the shining reaches of the James, where the capital of the Confederacy stands high on her seven hills, the lowlands of Virginia are clad with luxuriant vegetation. The roads and railways run through endless avenues of stately trees; the shadows of the giant oaks lie far across the rivers, and ridge and ravine are mantled with the unbroken foliage of the primeval forest. In this green wilderness the main armies were involved. But despite the beauty of broad rivers and sylvan solitudes, gay with gorgeous blossoms and fragrant with aromatic shrubs, the eastern, or tidewater, counties of Virginia had little to recommend them as a theatre of war. They were sparsely settled. The wooden churches, standing lonely in the groves where the congregations hitched their horses; the solitary taverns, half inns and half stores; the court-houses of the county justices, with a few wooden cottages clustered round them, were poor substitutes for the market-towns of the Shenandoah. Here and there on the higher levels, surrounded by coppice and lawn, by broad acres of corn and clover, the manors of the planters gave life and brightness to the landscape. But the men were fighting in Lee’s ranks, their families had fled to Richmond, and these hospitable homes showed signs of poverty and neglect. Neither food nor forage was to be drawn from the country, and the difficulties of supply and shelter were not the worst obstacles to military operations. At this season of the year the climate and the soil were persistent foes. The roads were mere tracks, channels which served as drains for the interminable forest. The deep meadows, fresh and green to the eye, were damp and unwholesome camping-grounds. Turgid streams, like the Chickahominy and its affluents, winding sluggishly through rank jungles, spread in swamp and morass across the valleys, and the languid atmosphere, surcharged with vapour, was redolent of decay.

June Through this malarious region the Federal army had been pushing its slow way forward for more than six weeks, and 105,000 men, accompanied by a large siege train, lay intrenched within sight of the spires of Richmond. 30,000 were north of the Chickahominy, covering the York River Railway and waiting the coming of McDowell. The remainder, from Woodbury’s Bridge to the Charles City road, occupied the line of breastworks which stood directly east of the beleaguered city. So nearly was the prize within their grasp that the church bells, and even the clocks striking the hour, were heard in the camps; and at Mechanicsville Bridge, watched by a picket, stood a sign-post which bore the legend: “To Richmond, 4½ miles.” The sentries who paced that beat were fortunate. For the next two years they could boast that no Federal soldier, except as a prisoner, had stood so close as they had to the rebel stronghold. But during these weeks in June not a single soul in McClellan’s army, and few in the Confederacy, suspected that the flood of invasion had reached high-water mark. Richmond, gazing night after night at the red glow which throbbed on the eastern vault, the reflection of countless camp-fires, and, listening with strained ears to the far-off call of hostile bugles, seemed in perilous case. No formidable position protected the approaches. Earthworks, indeed, were in process of construction; but, although the left flank at New Bridge was covered by the Chickahominy, the right was protected by no natural obstacle, as had been the case at Yorktown; and the lines occupied no commanding site. Nor had the Government been able to assemble an army of a strength sufficient to man the whole front. Lee, until Jackson joined him, commanded no more than 72,500 men. Of these a large portion were new troops, and their numbers had been reduced by the 7,000 dispatched under Whiting to the Valley.

June 11 But if the Federal army was far superior in numbers, it was not animated by an energy in proportion to its strength. The march from the White House was more sluggish than the current of the Chickahominy. From May 17 to June 26 the Army of the Valley had covered four hundred miles. Within the same period the Army of the Potomac had covered twenty. It is true that the circumstances were widely different. McClellan had in front of him the lines of Richmond, and his advance had been delayed by the rising of the Chickahominy. He had fought a hard fight at Seven Pines; and the constant interference of Jackson had kept him waiting for McDowell. But, at the same time, he had displayed an excess of caution which was perfectly apparent to his astute opponent. He had made no attempt to use his superior numbers; and Lee had come to the conclusion that the attack on Richmond would take the same form as the attack on Yorktown,—the establishment of great batteries, the massing of heavy ordnance, and all the tedious processes of a siege. He read McClellan like an open book. He had personal knowledge both of his capacity and character, for they had served together on the same staff in the Mexican war. He knew that his young adversary was a man of undoubted ability, of fascinating address, and of courage that was never higher than when things were at their worst. But these useful qualities were accompanied by marked defects. His will was less powerful than his imagination. Bold in conception, he was terribly slow in execution. When his good sense showed him the opportunity, his imagination whispered, “Suppose the enemy has reserves of which I know nothing! Is it not more prudent to wait until I receive more accurate information?” And so “I dare not,” inevitably waited on “I would.” He forgot that in war it is impossible for a general to be absolutely certain. It is sufficient, according to Napoleon, if the odds in his favour are three to two; and if he cannot discover from the attitude of his enemy what the odds are, he is unfitted for supreme command.

Before Yorktown McClellan’s five army corps had been held in check, first by 15,000 men, then by 58,000, protected by earthworks of feeble profile.[1] The fort at Gloucester Point was the key of the Confederate lines.[2] McClellan, however, although a division was actually under orders to move against it, appears to have been unwilling to risk a failure.[3] The channel of the York was thus closed both to his transports and the gunboats, and he did nothing whatever to interfere with Johnston’s long line of communications, which passed at several points within easy reach of the river bank. Nor had he been more active since he had reached West Point. Except for a single expedition, which had dispersed a Confederate division near Hanover Court House, north of the Chickahominy, he had made no aggressive movement. He had never attempted to test the strength of the fortifications of Richmond, to hinder their construction, or to discover their weak points. His urgent demands for reinforcements had appeared in the Northern newspapers, and those newspapers had found their way to Richmond. From the same source the Confederates were made aware that he believed himself confronted by an army far larger than his own; and when, on the departure of Whiting’s division for the Valley, he refused to take advantage of the opportunity to attack Lee’s diminished force, it became abundantly clear, if further proof were wanting, that much might be ventured against so timid a commander.

From his knowledge of his adversary’s character, and still more from his attitude, Lee had little difficulty in discovering his intentions. McClellan, on the other hand, failed to draw a single correct inference. And yet the information at his disposal was sufficient to enable him to form a fair estimate of how things stood in the Confederate camp. He had been attacked at Seven Pines, but not by superior numbers; and it was hardly likely that the enemy had not employed their whole available strength in this battle; otherwise their enterprise was insensate. Furthermore, it was clearly to the interests of the Confederates to strike at his army before McDowell could join him. They had not done so, and it was therefore probable that they did not feel themselves strong enough to do so. It is true that he was altogether misled by the intelligence supplied as to the garrison of Richmond by his famous detective staff. 200,000 was the smallest number which the chief agent would admit. But that McClellan should have relied on the estimate of these untrained observers rather than on the evidence furnished by the conduct of the enemy is but a further proof that he lacked all power of deduction.[4]

It may well be questioned whether he was anxious at heart to measure swords with Lee. His knowledge of his adversary, whose reputation for daring, for ability, for strength of purpose, had been higher than any other in the old army, must needs have had a disturbing influence on his judgment. Against an enemy he did not know McClellan might have acted with resolution. Face to face with Lee, it can hardly be doubted that the weaker will was dominated by the stronger. Vastly different were their methods of war. McClellan made no effort whatever either to supplement or to corroborate the information supplied by his detectives. Since he had reached West Point his cavalry had done little.[5] Lee, on the other hand, had found means to ascertain the disposition of his adversary’s troops, and had acquired ample information of the measures which had been taken to protect the right wing, north of the Chickahominy, the point he had determined to attack.

June 12 Early on June 12, with 1,200 horsemen and a section of artillery, Stuart rode out on an enterprise of a kind which at that time was absolutely unique, and which will keep his memory green so long as cavalry is used in war. Carefully concealing his march, be encamped that night near Taylorsville, twenty-two miles north of Richmond, and far beyond the flank of the Federal intrenchments.

June 13 The next morning he turned eastward towards Hanover Court House. Here he drove back a picket, and his advanced guard, with the loss of one officer, soon afterwards charged down a squadron of regulars. A few miles to the south-east, near Old Church, the enemy’s outposts were finally dispersed; and then, instead of halting, the column pushed on into the very heart of the district occupied by the Federals, and soon found itself in rear of their encampments. Stuart had already gained important information. He had learned that McClellan’s right flank extended but a short way north of the Chickahominy, that it was not fortified, and that it rested on neither swamp nor stream, and this was what Lee had instructed him to discover. But it was one thing to obtain the information, another to bring it back. If he returned by the road he had come, it was probable he would be cut off, for the enemy was thoroughly roused, and the South Anna River, unfordable from recent rains, rendered a détour to the north impracticable. To the mouth and west of him lay the Federal army, some of the infantry camps not five miles distant. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. He could hardly reach Hanover Court House before dark, and he might find it held by the enemy. To escape from the dilemma he determined on a plan of extraordinary daring, which involved nothing less than the passage of the Chickahominy in rear of the enemy, and a circuit of the entire Federal army.

The audacity of the design proved the salvation of his command. The enemy had assembled a strong force of both cavalry and infantry at Hanover Court House, under Stuart’s father-in-law, General Cooke; but, misled by the reports brought in, and doubtless perplexed by the situation, the latter pursued but slowly and halted for the night at Old Church. Stuart, meanwhile, had reached Tunstall’s Station on the York River Railway, picking up prisoners at every step. Here, routing the guard, he tore up the rails, destroyed a vast amount of stores and many waggons, broke down the telegraph and burnt the railway bridge, his men regaling themselves on the luxuries which were found in the well-stored establishments of the sutlers. Two squadrons, dispatched to Garlick’s Landing on the Pamunkey, set fire to two transports, and rejoined with a large number of prisoners, horses, and mules. Then, led by troopers who were natives of the country, the column marched south-east by the Williamsburg road, moving further and still further away from Richmond. The moon was full, and as the troops passed by the forest farms, the women, running to the wayside, wept with delight at the unexpected apparition of the grey jackets, and old men showered blessings on the heads of their gallant countrymen. At Talleysville, eight miles east, Stuart halted for three hours; and shortly after midnight, just as a Federal infantry brigade reached Tunstall’s Station in hot pursuit, he turned off by a country road to the Chickahominy.

June 14 At Forge Bridge, where he arrived at daylight, he should have found a ford; but the river had overflowed its banks, and was full of floating timber. Colonel Fitzhugh Lee, not the least famous member of a famous family, accompanied by a few men, swam his horse at imminent peril over to the other bank; but, although he re-crossed the swollen waters in the same manner, the daring young officer had to report that the passage was impracticable. It was already light. The enemy would soon be up, and the capture of the whole column seemed absolutely certain. Hitherto the men, exhilarated by the complete success of the adventure, had borne themselves as gaily as if they were riding through the streets of Richmond. But the danger of their situation was now forcibly impressed upon them, and the whole command became grave and anxious. Stuart alone was unmoved, and at this juncture one of his scouts informed him that the skeleton of an old bridge spanned the stream about a mile below. An abandoned warehouse furnished the materials for a footway, over which the troopers passed, holding the bridles of their horses as they swam alongside. Half the column thus crossed, while the remainder strengthened the bridge so as to permit the passage of the artillery. By one o’clock the whole force was over the Chickahominy, unmolested by the enemy, of whom only small parties, easily driven back by the rear-guard, had made their appearance.

Thirty-five miles now to Richmond, in rear of the left wing of the Northern army, and within range, for some portion of the march, of the gunboats on the James River! Burning the bridge, with a wave of the hand to the Federal horsemen who covered the heights above Stuart plunged into the woods, and without further misadventure brought his troops at sunset to the neighbourhood of Charles City Court House. Leaving his men sleeping, after thirty-six hours in the saddle, he rode to Richmond to report to Lee.

June 15 Before dawn on the 15th, after covering another thirty miles, over a road which was patrolled by the enemy, he reached head-quarters. His squadrons followed, marching at midnight, and bringing with them 165 prisoners and 260 captured horses and mules.

This extraordinary expedition, which not only effected the destruction of a large amount of Federal property, and broke up, for the time being, their line of supplies, but acquired information of the utmost value, and shook the confidence of the North in McClellan’s generalship, was accomplished with the loss of one man. These young Virginia soldiers marched one hundred and ten miles in less than two days. “There was something sublime,” says Stuart, “in the implicit confidence and unquestioning trust of the rank and file in a leader guiding them straight, apparently, into the very jaws of the enemy, every step appearing to them to diminish the hope of extrication.”[6] Nor was the influence of their achievement on the moral of the whole Confederate army the least important result attained. A host of over 100,000 men, which had allowed a few squadrons to ride completely round it, by roads which were within hearing of its bugles, was no longer considered a formidable foe.

On receiving Stuart’s information, Lee drew up the plan of operations which had been imparted to Jackson on the 22nd.

It was a design which to all appearance was almost foolhardy. The Confederate army was organised as follows:—

Longstreet A. P. Hill Magruder Huger Holmes D. H. Hill Jackson Cavalry Reserve Artillery 9,000 14,000 13,000 9,000 6,500 10,000 18,500 3,000 3,000 ——— 86,500[7]

June 24 On the night of June 24 the whole of these troops, with the exception of the Valley army, were south of the Chickahominy, holding the earthworks which protected Richmond. Less than two miles eastward, strongly intrenched, lay four of McClellan’s army corps, in round numbers 75,000 officers and men.[8]

To attack this force, even after Jackson’s arrival, was to court disaster. The right was protected by the Chickahominy, the left rested on White Oak Swamp, a network of sluggish streams and impassable swamps, screened everywhere by tangled thickets. It needed not the presence of the siege ordnance, placed on the most commanding points within the lines, to make such a position absolutely impregnable.

North of the Chickahominy, however, the Federals were less favourably situated. The Fifth Army Corps, 25,000 strong,[9] under General FitzJohn Porter, had been pushed forward, stretching a hand to McDowell and protecting the railway, in the direction of Mechanicsville; and although the tributaries of the Chickahominy, running in from the north, afforded a series of positions, the right flank of these positions, resting, as Stuart had ascertained, on no natural obstacle, was open to a turning movement. Furthermore, in rear of the Fifth Corps, and at an oblique angle to the front, ran the line of supply, the railway to West Point. If Porter’s right were turned, the Confederates, threatening the railway, would compel McClellan to detach largely to the north bank of the Chickahominy in order to recover or protect the line.

On the north bank of the Chickahominy, therefore, Lee’s attention had been for some time fixed. Here was his adversary’s weak point, and a sudden assault on Porter, followed up, if necessary, by an advance against the railway, would bring McClellan out of his intrenchments, and force him to fight at a disadvantage. To ensure success, however, in the attack on Porter it was necessary to concentrate an overwhelming force on the north bank; and this could hardly be done without so weakening the force which held the Richmond lines that it would be unable to resist the attack of the 75,000 men who faced it. If McClellan, while Lee was fighting Porter, boldly threw forward the great army he had on the south bank, the rebel capital might be the reward of his resolution. The danger was apparent to all, but Lee resolved to risk it, and his audacity has not escaped criticism. It has been said that he deliberately disregarded the contingency of McClellan either advancing on Richmond, or reinforcing Porter. The truth is, however, that neither Lee, nor those generals about him who knew McClellan, were in the least apprehensive that their over-cautious adversary, if the attack were sudden and well sustained, would either see or utilise his opportunity.

From Hannibal to Moltke there has been no great captain who has neglected to study the character of his opponent, and who did not trade on the knowledge thus acquired, and it was this knowledge which justified Lee’s audacity.

The real daring of the enterprise lay in the inferiority of the Confederate armament. Muskets and shot-guns, still carried by a large part of the army, were ill-matched against rifles of the most modern manufacture; while the smooth-bore field-pieces, with which at least half the artillery was equipped, possessed neither the range nor the accuracy of the rifled ordnance of the Federals.

That Lee’s study of the chances had not been patient and exhaustive it is impossible to doubt. He was no hare-brained leader, but a profound thinker, following the highest principles of the military art. That he had weighed the disconcerting effect which the sudden appearance of the victorious Jackson, with an army of unknown strength, would produce upon McClellan, goes without saying. He had omitted no precaution to render the surprise complete, and although the defences of Richmond were still too weak to resist a resolute attack, Magruder, the same officer who had so successfully imposed upon McClellan at Yorktown, was such a master of artifice that, with 28,000 men and the reserve artillery,[10] he might be relied upon to hold Richmond until Porter had been disposed of. The remainder of the army, 2,000 of Stuart’s cavalry, the divisions of Longstreet and the two Hills, 35,000 men all told, crossing to the north bank of the Chickahominy and combining with the 18,500 under Jackson, would be sufficient to crush the Federal right.

The initial operations, however, were of a somewhat complicated nature. Four bridges[11] crossed the river on Lee’s left. A little more than a mile and a half from Mechanicsville Bridge, up stream, is Meadow Bridge, and five and a half miles further up is another passage at the Half Sink, afterwards called Winston’s Bridge. Three and a half miles below Mechanicsville Bridge is New Bridge. The northern approaches to Mechanicsville, Meadow, and New Bridge, were in possession of the Federals; and it was consequently no simple operation to transfer the troops before Richmond from one bank of the Chickahominy to the other. Only Mechanicsville and Meadow Bridges could be used. Winston’s Bridge was too far from Richmond, for, if Longstreet and the two Hills were to cross at that point, not only would Magruder be left without support during their march, but McClellan, warned by his scouts, would receive long notice of the intended blow and have ample time for preparation. To surprise Porter, to give McClellan no time for reflection, and at the same time to gain a position which would bring the Confederates operating on the north bank into close and speedy communication with Magruder on the south, another point of passage must be chosen. The position would be the one commanding New Bridge, for the Confederate earthworks, held by Magruder, ran due south from that point. But Porter was already in possession of the coveted ground, with strong outposts at Mechanicsville. To secure, then, the two centre bridges was the first object. This, it was expected, would be achieved by the advance of the Valley army, aided by a brigade from the Half Sink, against the flank and rear of the Federals at Mechanicsville. Then, as soon as the enemy fell back, Longstreet and the two Hills would cross the river by the Meadow and Mechanicsville Bridges, and strike Porter in front, while Jackson attacked his right. A victory would place the Confederates in possession of New Bridge, and the troops north of the Chickahominy would be then in close communication with Magruder.

Lee’s orders were as follows:—’Headquarters, Army of Northern Virginia, June 24, 1862. General Orders, No. 75.

“I.—General Jackson’s command will proceed to-morrow (June 25) from Ashland towards the Slash (Merry Oaks) Church, and encamp at some convenient point west of the Central Railroad. Branch’s brigade of A. P. Hill’s division will also, to-morrow evening, take position on the Chickahominy, near Half Sink. At three o’clock Thursday morning, 26th instant, General Jackson will advance on the road leading to Pole Green Church, communicating his march to General Branch, who will immediately cross the Chickahominy, and take the road leading to Mechanicsville. As soon as the movements of these columns are discovered, General A. P. Hill, with the rest of his division, will cross the Chickahominy at Meadow Bridge, and move direct upon Mechanicsville. To aid his advance the heavy batteries on the Chickahominy will at the proper time open upon the batteries at Mechanicsville. The enemy being driven from Mechanicsville and the passage of the bridge being opened, General Longstreet, with his division and that of General D. H. Hill, will cross the Chickahominy at or near that point; General D. H. Hill moving to the support of General Jackson, and General Longstreet supporting General A. P. Hill; the four divisions keeping in communication with each other, and moving en échelon on separate roads if practicable; the left division in advance, with skirmishers and sharp-shooters extending in their front, will sweep down the Chickahominy, and endeavour to drive the enemy from his position above New Bridge, General Jackson bearing well to his left, turning Beaver Dam Creek, and taking the direction towards Cold Harbour. They will then press forward towards the York River Railroad, closing upon the enemy’s rear, and forcing him down the Chickahominy. An advance of the enemy towards Richmond will be prevented by vigorously following his rear, and crippling and arresting his progress.

“II.—The divisions under Generals Huger and Magruder will hold their position in front of the enemy against attack, and make such demonstrations, Thursday, as to discover his operations. Should opportunity offer, the feint will be converted into a real attack. . . .

“III.—General Stuart, with the 1st, 4th, and 9th Virginia Cavalry, the cavalry of Cobb’s Legion, and the Jeff Davis Legion, will cross the Chickahominy to-morrow (Wednesday, June 25), and take position to the left of General Jackson’s line of march. The main body will be held in reserve, with scouts well extended to the front and left. General Stuart will keep General Jackson informed of the movements of the enemy on his left, and will cooperate with him in his advance. . . .”

June 25 On the 25th Longstreet and the two Hills moved towards the bridges; and although during the movement McClellan drove back Magruder’s pickets to their trenches, and pushed his own outposts nearer Richmond, Lee held firmly to his purpose. As a matter of fact, there was little to be feared from McClellan. With a profound belief in the advantages of defensive and in the strength of a fortified position, he expected nothing less than that the Confederates would leave the earthworks they had so laboriously constructed, and deliberately risk the perils of an attack. He seems to have had little idea that in the hands of a skilful general intrenchments may form a “pivot of operations,’[12] the means whereby he covers his most vulnerable point, holds the enemy in front, and sets his main body free for offensive action. Yet McClellan was by no means easy in his mind. He knew Jackson was approaching. He knew his communications were threatened. Fugitive negroes, who, as usual, either exaggerated or lied, had informed him that the Confederates had been largely reinforced, and that Beauregard, with a portion of the Western army, had arrived in Richmond. But that his right wing was in danger he had not the faintest suspicion. He judged Lee by himself. Such a plan as leaving a small force to defend Richmond, and transferring the bulk of the army to join Jackson, he would have at once rejected as over-daring. If attack came at all, he expected that it would come by the south bank; and he was so far from anticipating that an opportunity for offensive action might be offered to himself that, on the night of the 25th, he sent word to his corps commanders that they were to regard their intrenchments as “the true field of battle.”[13]

June 26. 3 a.m. Lee’s orders left much to Jackson. The whole operation which Lee had planned hinged upon his movements. On the morning of the 24th he was at Beaver Dam Station. The same night he was to reach Ashland, eighteen miles distant as the crow flies. On the night of the 25th he was to halt near the Slash Church, just west of the Virginia Central Railway, and six miles east of Ashland. At three o’clock, however, on the morning of the 26th, the Army of the Valley was still at Ashland, and it was not till nine that it crossed the railroad.

10.30 a.m. Branch, on hearing that Jackson was at last advancing, passed the Chickahominy by Winston’s Bridge, and driving Federal pickets before him, moved on Mechanicsville. General A. P. Hill was meanwhile near Meadow Bridge, waiting until the advance of Jackson and Branch should turn the flank of the Federal force which blocked his passage.

3 p.m. At 3 p.m., hearing nothing from his colleagues, and apprehensive that longer delay might hazard the failure of the whole plan, he ordered his advanced guard to seize the bridge. The enemy, already threatened in rear by Branch, at once fell back. Hill followed the retiring pickets towards Beaver Dam Creek, and after a short march of three miles found himself under fire of the Federal artillery. Porter had occupied a position about two miles above New Bridge.

The rest of the Confederate army was already crossing the Chickahominy; and although there was no sign of Jackson, and the enemy’s front was strong, protected by a long line of batteries, Hill thought it necessary to order an attack. A message from Lee, ordering him to postpone all further movement, arrived too late.[14] There was no artillery preparation, and the troops, checked unexpectedly by a wide abattis, were repulsed with terrible slaughter, the casualties amounting to nearly 2,000 men.[15] The Union loss was 360.[16]

4.30 p.m. Jackson, about 4.30 p.m., before this engagement had begun, had reached Hundley’s Corner, three miles north of the Federal position, but separated from it by dense forest and the windings of the creek. On the opposite bank was a detachment of Federal infantry, supported by artillery.

6 p.m. Two guns, accompanied by the advanced guard, sufficed to drive this force to the shelter of the woods; and then, establishing his outposts, Jackson ordered his troops to bivouac.

It has been asserted by more than one Southern general that the disaster at Beaver Dam Creek was due to Jackson’s indifferent tactics; and, at first sight, the bare facts would seem to justify the verdict. He had not reached his appointed station on the night of the 25th, and on the 26th he was five hours behind time. He should have crossed the Virginia Central Railway at sunrise, but at nine o’clock he was still three miles distant. His advance against the Federal right flank and rear should have been made in co-operation with the remainder of the army. But his whereabouts was unknown when Hill attacked; and although the cannonade was distinctly heard at Hundley’s Corner, he made no effort to lend assistance, and his troops were encamping when their comrades, not three miles away, were rushing forward to the assault. There would seem to be some grounds, then, for the accusation that his delay thwarted General Lee’s design; some reason for the belief that the victor of the Valley campaign, on his first appearance in combination with the main army, had proved a failure, and that his failure was in those very qualities of swiftness and energy to which he owed his fame.

General D. H. Hill has written that “Jackson’s genius never shone when he was under the command of another. It seemed then to be shrouded or paralysed. . . . MacGregor on his native heath was not more different from MacGregor in prison than was Jackson his own master from Jackson in a subordinate position. This was the keynote to his whole character. The hooded falcon cannot strike the quarry.”[17]

The reader who has the heart to follow this chronicle to the end will assuredly find reason to doubt the acumen, however he may admire the eloquence, of Jackson’s brother-in-law. When he reads of the Second Manassas, of Harper’s Ferry, of Sharpsburg and of Chancellorsville, he will recall this statement with astonishment; and it will not be difficult to show that Jackson conformed as closely to the plans of his commander at Mechanicsville as elsewhere.

The machinery of war seldom runs with the smoothness of clockwork. The course of circumstances can never be exactly predicted. Unforeseen obstacles may render the highest skill and the most untiring energy of no avail; and it may be well to point out that the task which was assigned to Jackson was one of exceeding difficulty. In the first place, his march of eight-and-twenty miles, from Frederickshall to Ashland, on June 23, 24, and 25, was made over an unmapped country, unknown either to himself or to his staff, which had lately been in occupation of the Federals. Bridges had been destroyed and roads obstructed. The Valley army had already marched far and fast; and although Dabney hints that inexperienced and sluggish subordinates were the chief cause of delay, there is hardly need to look so far for excuse.[18] The march from Ashland to Hundley’s Corner, sixteen miles, was little less difficult. It was made in two columns, Whiting and the Stonewall division, now under Winder, crossing the railway near Merry Oaks Church, Ewell moving by Shady Grove Church, but this distribution did not accelerate the march. The midsummer sun blazed fiercely down on the dusty roads; the dense woods on either hand shut out the air, and interruptions were frequent. The Federal cavalry held a line from Atlee’s Station to near Hanover Court House. The 8th Illinois, over 700 strong, picketed all the woods between the Chickahominy and the Totopotomoy Creek. Two other regiments prolonged the front to the Pamunkey, and near Hundley’s Corner and Old Church were posted detachments of infantry. Skirmishing was constant. The Federal outposts contested every favourable position. Here and there the roads were obstructed by felled trees; a burned bridge over the Totopotomoy delayed the advance for a full hour, and it was some time before the enemy’s force at Hundley’s Corner was driven behind Beaver Dam Creek.

At the council of war, held on the 23rd, Lee had left it to Jackson to fix the date on which the operation against the Federal right should begin, and on the latter deciding on the 26th, Longstreet had suggested that he should make more ample allowance for the difficulties that might be presented by the country and by the enemy, and give himself more time.[19] Jackson had not seen fit to alter his decision, and it is hard to say that he was wrong.

Had McClellan received notice that the Valley army was approaching, a day’s delay would have given him a fine opportunity. More than one course would have been open to him. He might have constructed formidable intrenchments on the north bank of the Chickahominy and have brought over large reinforcements of men and guns; or he might have turned the tables by a bold advance on Richmond. It was by no means inconceivable that if he detected Lee’s intention and was given time to prepare, he might permit the Confederates to cross the Chickahominy, amuse them there with a small force, and hurl the rest of his army on the works which covered the Southern capital. It is true that his caution was extreme, and to a mind which was more occupied with counting the enemy’s strength than with watching for an opportunity, the possibility of assuming the offensive was not likely to occur. But, timid as he might be when no enemy was in sight, McClellan was constitutionally brave; and when the chimeras raised by an over-active imagination proved to be substantial dangers, he was quite capable of daring resolution. Time, therefore, was of the utmost importance to the Confederates. It was essential that Porter should be overwhelmed before McClellan realised the danger; and if Jackson, in fixing a date for the attack which would put a heavy tax on the marching powers of his men, already strained to the utmost, ran some risks, from a strategical point of view those risks were fully justified.

In the second place, an operation such as that which Lee had devised is one of the most difficult manœuvres which an army can be called upon to execute. According to Moltke, to unite two forces on the battle-field, starting at some distance apart, at the right moment, is the most brilliant feat of generalship. The slightest hesitation may ruin the combination. Haste is even more to be dreaded. There is always the danger that one wing may attack, or be attacked, while the other is still far distant, and either contingency may be fatal. The Valley campaign furnishes more than one illustration. In their pursuit of Jackson, Shields and Fremont failed to co-operate at Strasburg, at Cross Keys, and at Port Republic. And greater generals than either Shields or Fremont have met with little better success in attempting the same manœuvre. At both Eylau and Bautzen Napoleon was deprived of decisive victory by his failure to ensure the co-operation of his widely separated columns.

Jackson and A. P. Hill, on the morning of the 26th, were nearly fifteen miles apart. Intercommunication at the outset was ensured by the brigade under Branch; but as the advance progressed, and the enemy was met with, it became more difficult. The messengers riding from one force to the other were either stopped by the Federals, or were compelled to make long détours; and as they approached the enemy’s position, neither Hill nor Jackson was informed of the whereabouts of the other.

The truth is, that the arrangements made by the Confederate headquarter staff were most inadequate. In the first place, the order of the 24th, instructing Jackson to start from Slash Church at 3 a.m. on the 26th, and thus leading the other generals to believe that he would certainly be there at that hour, should never have been issued. When it was written Jackson’s advanced guard was at Beaver Dam Station, the rear brigades fifteen miles behind; and to reach Slash Church his force had to march forty miles through an intricate country, in possession of the enemy, and so little known that it was impossible to designate the route to be followed. To fix an hour of arrival so long in advance was worse than useless, and Jackson cannot be blamed if he failed to comply with the exact letter of a foolish order. As it was, so many of the bridges were broken, and so difficult was it to pass the fords, that if Dr. Dabney had not found in his brother, a planter of the neighbourhood, an efficient substitute for the guide headquarters should have provided, the Valley army would have been not hours but days too late. In the second place, the duty of keeping up communications should not have been left to Jackson, but have been seen to at headquarters. Jackson had with him only a few cavalry, and these few had not only to supply the necessary orderlies for the subordinate generals, and the escorts for the artillery and trains, but to form his advanced guard, for Stuart’s squadrons were on his left flank, and not in his front. Moreover, his cavalry were complete strangers to the country, and there were no maps. In such circumstances the only means of ensuring constant communication was to have detached two of Stuart’s squadrons, who knew the ground, to establish a series of posts between Jackson’s line of march and the Chickahominy; and to have detailed a staff officer, whose sole duty would have been to furnish the Commander-in-Chief with hourly reports of the progress made, to join the Valley army.[20] It may be remarked, too, that Generals Branch and Ewell, following converging roads, met near Shady Grove Church about 3 p.m. No report appears to have been sent by the latter to General A. P. Hill; and although Branch a little later received a message to the effect that Hill had crossed the Chickahominy and was moving on Mechanicsville,[21] the information was not passed on to Jackson.

Neglect of these precautions made it impracticable to arrange a simultaneous attack, and co-operation depended solely on the judgment of Hill and Jackson. In the action which ensued on Beaver Dam Creek there was no co-operation whatever. Hill attacked and was repulsed. Jackson had halted at Hundley’s Corner, three miles distant from the battle-field. Had the latter come down on the Federal rear while Hill moved against their front an easy success would in all probability have been the result.

Nevertheless, the responsibility for Hill’s defeat cannot be held to rest on Jackson’s shoulders. On August 18, 1870, the Prussian Guards and the Saxon Army Corps were ordered to make a combined attack on the village of St. Privat, the Guards moving against the front, the Saxons against the flank. When the order was issued the two corps were not more than two miles apart. The tract of country which lay between them was perfectly open, the roads were free, and inter-communication seemed easy in the extreme. Yet, despite their orders, despite the facilities of communication, the Guards advanced to the attack an hour and a half too soon; and from six o’clock to nearly seven their shattered lines lay in front of the position, at the mercy of a vigorous counterstroke, without a single Saxon regiment coming to their aid. But the Saxons were not to blame. Their march had been unchecked; they had moved at speed. On their part there had been no hesitation; but on the part of the commander of the Guards there had been the same precipitation which led to the premature attack on the Federal position at Beaver Dam Creek. It was the impatience of General Hill, not the tardiness of Jackson, which was the cause of the Confederate repulse.

We may now turn to the question whether Jackson was justified in not marching to the sound of the cannon. Referring to General Lee’s orders, it will be seen that as soon as Longstreet and D. H. Hill had crossed the Chickahominy the four divisions of the army were to move forward in communication with each other and drive the enemy from his position, Jackson, in advance upon the left, “turning Beaver Dam Creek, and taking the direction of Cold Harbour.”

When Jackson reached Hundley’s Corner, and drove the Federal infantry behind the Creek, the first thing to do, as his orders indicated, was to get touch with the rest of the army. It was already near sunset; between Hundley’s Corner and Mechanicsville lay a dense forest, with no roads in the desired direction; and it was manifestly impossible, under ordinary conditions, to do more that evening than to establish connection; the combined movement against the enemy’s position must be deferred till the morning. But the sound of battle to the south-west introduced a complication. “We distinctly heard,” says Jackson, “the rapid and continued discharges of cannon.”[22] What did this fire portend? It might proceed, as was to be inferred from Lee’s orders, from the heavy batteries on the Chickahominy covering Hill’s passage. It might mean a Federal counterstroke on Hill’s advanced guard; or, possibly, a premature attack on the part of the Confederates. General Whiting, according to his report, thought it “indicated a severe battle.”[23] General Trimble, marching with Ewell, heard both musketry and artillery; and in his opinion the command should have moved forward;[24] and whatever may have been Jackson’s orders, it was undoubtedly his duty, if he believed a hot engagement was in progress, to have marched to the assistance of his colleagues. He could not help them by standing still. He might have rendered them invaluable aid by pressing the enemy in flank. But the question is, What inference did the cannonade convey to Jackson’s mind? Was it of such a character as to leave no doubt that Hill was in close action, or might it be interpreted as the natural accompaniment of the passage of the Chickahominy? The evidence is conflicting. On the one hand we have the evidence of Whiting and Trimble, both experienced soldiers; on the other, in addition to the indirect evidence of Jackson’s inaction, we have the statement of Major Dabney. “We heard no signs,” says the chief of the staff, “of combat on Beaver Dam Creek until a little while before sunset. The whole catastrophe took place in a few minutes about that time; and in any case our regiments, who had gone into bivouac, could not have been reassembled, formed up, and moved forward in time to be of any service. A night attack through the dense, pathless, and unknown forest was quite impracticable.”[25] It seems probable, then—and the Federal reports are to the same effect[26]—that the firing was only really heavy for a very short period, and that Jackson believed it to be occasioned by Hill’s passage of the Chickahominy, and the rout of the Federals from Mechanicsville. Neither Trimble nor Whiting were aware that Lee’s orders directed that the operation was to be covered by a heavy cannonade.

Obeying orders very literally himself, Jackson found it difficult to believe that others did not do the same. He knew that the position he had taken up rendered the line of Beaver Dam Creek untenable by the Federals. They would never stand to fight on that line with a strong force established in their rear and menacing their communications, nor would they dare to deliver a counterstroke through the trackless woods. It might confidently be assumed, therefore, that they would fall back during the night, and that the Confederate advance would then be carried out in that concentrated formation which Lee’s orders had dictated. Such, in all probability, was Jackson’s view of the situation; and that Hill, in direct contravention of those orders, would venture on an isolated attack before that formation had been assumed never for a moment crossed his mind.[27]

Illustration: Map of The Environs of Richmond For larger view click on image.

Hill, on the other hand, seems to have believed that if the Federals were not defeated on the evening of the 26th they would make use of the respite, either to bring up reinforcements, or to advance on Richmond by the opposite bank of the Chickahominy. It is not impossible that he thought the sound of his cannon would bring Jackson to his aid. That it would have been wiser to establish communication, and to make certain of that aid before attacking, there can be no question. It was too late to defeat Porter the same evening. Nothing was to be gained by immediate attack, and much would be risked. The last assault, in which the heaviest losses were incurred, was made just as night fell. It was a sacrifice of life as unnecessary as that of the Prussian Guard before St. Privat. At the same time, that General Hill did wrong in crossing the Chickahominy before he heard of his colleague’s approach is not a fair accusation. To have lingered on the south bank would have been to leave Jackson to the tender mercies of the Federals should they turn against him in the forest. Moreover, it was Hill’s task to open a passage for the remaining divisions, and if that passage had been deferred to a later hour, it is improbable that the Confederate army would have been concentrated on the north bank of the Chickahominy until the next morning. It must be admitted, too, that the situation in which Hill found himself, after crossing the river, was an exceedingly severe test of his self-control. His troops had driven in the Federal outposts; infantry, cavalry, and artillery were retiring before his skirmishers. The noise of battle filled the air. From across the Chickahominy thundered the heavy guns, and his regiments were pressing forward with the impetuous ardour of young soldiers. If he yielded to the excitement of the moment, if eagerness for battle overpowered his judgment, if his brain refused to work calmly in the wild tumult of the conflict, he is hardly to be blamed. The patience which is capable of resisting the eagerness of the troops, the imperturbable judgment which, in the heat of action, weighs with deliberation the necessities of the moment, the clear vision which forecasts the result of every movement—these are rare qualities indeed.

During the night Porter fell back on Gaines’ Mill. While the engagement at Beaver Dam Creek was still in progress vast clouds of dust, rising above the forests to the north-west and north, had betrayed the approach of Jackson, and the reports of the cavalry left no doubt that he was threatening the Federal rear.

The retreat was conducted in good order, a strong rear-guard, reinforced by two batteries of horse-artillery, holding the Confederates in check, and before morning a second position, east of Powhite Creek, and covering two bridges over the Chickahominy, Alexander’s and Grapevine, was occupied by the Fifth Army Corps.

June 27, 5 a.m. New Bridge was now uncovered, and Lee’s army was in motion shortly after sunrise, Jackson crossing Beaver Dam Creek and moving due south in the direction of Walnut Grove Church.[28] The enemy, however, had already passed eastward; and the Confederates, well concentrated and in hand, pushed forward in pursuit; A. P. Hill, with Longstreet on his right, moving on Gaines’ Mill, while Jackson, supported by D. H. Hill, and with Stuart covering his left, marched by a more circuitous route to Old Cold Harbour. Near Walnut Grove Church Jackson met the Commander-in-Chief, and it is recorded that the staff officers of the Valley army, noting the eagerness displayed by General Lee’s suite to get a glimpse of “Stonewall,” then for the first time realised the true character and magnitude of the Valley campaign.

12 noon About noon, after a march of seven miles, A. P. Hill’s scouts reported that the Federals had halted behind Powhite Creek. The leading brigade was sent across the stream, which runs past Gaines’ Mill, and pressing through the thick woods found the enemy in great strength on a ridge beyond. Hill formed his division for attack, and opened fire with his four batteries. The enemy’s guns, superior in number, at once responded, and the skirmish lines became actively engaged. The Confederate general, despite urgent messages from his subordinates, requesting permission to attack, held his troops in hand, waiting till he should be supported, and for two and a half hours the battle was no more than an affair of “long bowls.”

The position held by the defence was emphatically one to impose caution on the assailants. To reach it the Confederates were confined to three roads, two from Mechanicsville, and one from Old Cold Harbour. These roads led each of them through a broad belt of forest, and then, passing through open fields, descended into a winding valley, from five hundred to a thousand yards in breadth. Rising near McGehee’s House, due south of Old Cold Harbour, a sluggish creek, bordered by swamps and thick timber, and cutting in places a deep channel, filtered through the valley to the Chickahominy. Beyond this stream rose an open and undulating plateau, admirably adapted to the movement of all arms, and with a slight command of the opposite ridge. On the plateau, facing west and north, the Federals were formed up. A fringe of trees and bushes along the crest gave cover and concealment to the troops. 60 feet below, winding darkly through the trees, the creek covered the whole front; and in the centre of the position, east of New Cold Harbour, the valley was completely filled with tangled wood.

Towards Old Cold Harbour the timber on the Confederate side of the ravine was denser than elsewhere. On the Federal left flank the valley of the Chickahominy was open ground, but it was swept by heavy guns from the right bank of the river, and at this point the creek became an almost impassable swamp.

Porter, who had been reinforced by 9,000 men under General Slocum, now commanded three divisions of infantry, four regiments of cavalry, and twenty-two batteries, a total of 36,000 officers and men. The moral of the troops had been strengthened by their easy victory of the previous day. Their commander had gained their confidence; their position had been partially intrenched, and they could be readily supported by way of Alexander’s and Grapevine Bridges from the south bank of the Chickahominy.

The task before the Confederates, even with their superior numbers, was formidable in the extreme. The wooded ridge which encircled the position afforded scant room for artillery, and it was thus impracticable to prepare the attack by a preliminary bombardment. The ground over which the infantry must advance was completely swept by fire, and the centre and left were defended by three tiers of riflemen, the first sheltered by the steep banks of the creek, the second halfway up the bluff, covered by a breastwork, the third on the crest, occupying a line of shelter-trenches; and the riflemen were supported by a dozen batteries of rifled guns.[29]

But Lee had few misgivings. In one respect the Federal position seemed radically defective. The line of retreat on White House was exposed to attack from Old Cold Harbour. In fact, with Old Cold Harbour in possession of the Confederates, retreat could only be effected by one road north of the Chickahominy, that by Parker’s Mill and Dispatch Station; and if this road were threatened, Porter, in order to cover it, would be compelled to bring over troops from his left and centre, or to prolong his line until it was weak everywhere. There was no great reason to fear that McClellan would send Porter heavy reinforcements. To do so he would have to draw troops from his intrenchments on the south bank of the Chickahominy, and Magruder had been instructed to maintain a brisk demonstration against this portion of the line. It was probable that the Federal commander, with his exaggerated estimate of the numbers opposed to him, would be induced by this means to anticipate a general attack against his whole front, and would postpone moving his reserves until it was too late.

While Hill was skirmishing with the Federals, Lee was anxiously awaiting intelligence of Jackson’s arrival at Old Cold Harbour.

2.30 p.m. Longstreet was already forming up for battle, and at 2.30 Hill’s regiments were slipped to the attack. A fierce and sanguinary conflict now ensued. Emerging in well-ordered lines from the cover of the woods, the Confederates swept down the open slopes. Floundering in the swamps, and struggling through the abattis which had been placed on the banks of the stream, they drove in the advanced line of hostile riflemen, and strove gallantly to ascend the slope which lay beyond. “But brigade after brigade,” says General Porter, “seemed almost to melt away before the concentrated fire of our artillery and infantry; yet others pressed on, followed by supports daring and brave as their predecessors, despite their heavy losses and the disheartening effect of having to clamber over many of their disabled and dead, and to meet their surviving comrades rushing back in great disorder from the deadly contest.”[30] For over an hour Hill fought on without support. There were no signs of Jackson, and Longstreet, whom it was not intended to employ until Jackson’s appearance should have caused the Federals to denude their left, was then sent in to save the day.

As on the previous day, the Confederate attack had failed in combination. Jackson’s march had been again delayed. The direct road from Walnut Grove Church to Old Cold Harbour, leading through the forest, was found to be obstructed by felled timber and defended by sharpshooters, and to save time Jackson’s division struck off into the road by Bethesda Church. This threw it in rear of D. H. Hill, and it was near 2 p.m. when the latter’s advanced guard reached the tavern at the Old Cold Harbour cross roads. No harm, however, had been done. A. P. Hill did not attack till half an hour later. But when he advanced there came no response from the left. A battery of D. H. Hill’s division was brought into action, but was soon silenced, and beyond this insignificant demonstration the Army of the Valley made no endeavour to join the battle. The brigades were halted by the roadside. Away to the right, above the intervening forest, rolled the roar of battle, the crash of shells and the din of musketry, but no orders were given for the advance.

Nor had Jackson’s arrival produced the slightest consternation in the Federal ranks. Although from his position at Cold Harbour he seriously threatened their line of retreat to the White House, they had neither denuded their left nor brought up their reserves. Where he was now established he was actually nearer White House than any portion of Porter’s army corps, and yet that general apparently accepted the situation with equanimity.

Lee had anticipated that Jackson’s approach would cause the enemy to prolong their front in order to cover their line of retreat to the White House, and so weaken that part of the position which was to be attacked by Longstreet; and Jackson had been ordered[31] to draw up his troops so as to meet such a contingency. “Hoping,” he says in his report, “that Generals A. P. Hill and Longstreet would soon drive the Federals towards me, I directed General D. H. Hill to move his division to the left of the wood, so as to leave between him and the wood on the right an open space, across which I hoped that the enemy would be driven.” But Lee was deceived. The Federal line of retreat ran not to the White House, but over Grapevine Bridge. McClellan had for some time foreseen that he might be compelled to abandon the York River Railway, and directly he suspected that Jackson was marching to Richmond had begun to transfer his line of operations from the York to the James, and his base of supply from the White House to Harrison’s Landing.

So vast is the amount of stores necessary for the subsistence, health, and armament of a host like McClellan’s that a change of base is an operation which can only be effected under the most favourable circumstances.[32] It is evident, then, that the possibility of the enemy shifting his line of operations to the James, abandoning the York River Railroad, might easily have escaped the penetration of either Lee or Jackson. They were not behind the scenes of the Federal administrative system. They were not aware of the money, labour, and ingenuity which had been lavished on the business of supply. They had not seen with their own eyes the fleet of four hundred transports which covered the reaches of the York. They had not yet realised the enormous advantage which an army derives from the command of the sea.

Nor were they enlightened by the calmness with which their immediate adversaries on the field of battle regarded Jackson’s possession of Old Cold Harbour. Still, one fact was manifest: the Federals showed no disposition whatever to weaken or change their position, and it was clear that the success was not to be attained by mere manœuvre. Lee, seeing Hill’s division roughly handled, ordered Longstreet forward, while Jackson, judging from the sound and direction of the firing that the original plan had failed, struck in with vigour. Opposed to him was Sykes’ division of regulars, supported by eighteen guns, afterwards increased to twenty-four; and in the men of the United States Army the Valley soldiers met a stubborn foe. The position, moreover, occupied by Sykes possessed every advantage which a defender could desire. Manned even by troops of inferior mettle it might well have proved impregnable. The valley was wider than further west, and a thousand yards intervened between the opposing ridges. From either crest the cornfields sloped gently to the marshy sources of the creek, hidden by tall timber and dense undergrowth. The right and rear of the position were protected by a second stream, running south to the Chickahominy, and winding through a swamp which Stuart, posted on Jackson’s left, pronounced impassable for horsemen. Between the head waters of these two streams rose the spur on which stands McGehee’s house, facing the road from Old Cold Harbour, and completely commanding the country to the north and north-east. The flank, therefore, was well secured; the front was strong, with a wide field of fire; the Confederate artillery, even if it could make its way through the thick woods on the opposite crest, would have to unlimber under fire at effective range, and the marsh below, with its tangled undergrowth and abattis, could hardly fail to throw the attacking infantry into disorder. Along the whole of Sykes’ line only two weak points were apparent. On his left, as already described, a broad tract of woodland, covering nearly the whole valley, and climbing far up the slope on the Federal side, afforded a covered approach from one crest to the other; on his right, a plantation of young pines skirted the crest of McGehee’s Hill, and ran for some distance down the slope. Under shelter of the timber it was possible that the Confederate infantry might mass for the assault; but once in the open, unaided by artillery, their further progress would be difficult. Under ordinary circumstances a thorough reconnaissance, followed by a carefully planned attack, would have been the natural course of the assailant. The very strength of the position was in favour of the Confederates. The creek which covered the whole front rendered a counterstroke impracticable, and facilitated a flank attack. Holding the right bank of the creek with a portion of his force, Jackson might have thrown the remainder against McGehee’s Hill, and, working round the flank, have repeated the tactics of Kernstown, Winchester, and Port Republic.

But the situation permitted no delay. A. P. Hill was hard pressed. The sun was already sinking. McClellan’s reserves might be coming up, and if the battle was to be won, it must be won by direct attack. There was no time for further reconnaissance, no time for manœuvre.

Jackson’s dispositions were soon made. D. H. Hill, eastward of the Old Cold Harbour road, was to advance against McGehee’s Hill, overlapping, if possible, the enemy’s line. Ewell was to strike in on Hill’s right, moving through the tract of woodland; Lawton, Whiting, and Winder, in the order named, were to fill the gap between Ewell’s right and the left of A. P. Hill’s division, and the artillery was ordered into position opposite McGehee’s Hill.

4 p.m. D. H. Hill, already in advance, was the first to move. Pressing forward from the woods, under a heavy fire of artillery, his five brigades, the greater part in first line, descended to the creek, already occupied by his skirmishers. In passing through the marshy thickets, where the Federal shells were bursting on every hand, the confusion became great. The brigades crossed each other’s march. Regiments lost their brigades, and companies their regiments. At one point the line was so densely crowded that whole regiments were forced to the rear; at others there were wide intervals, and effective supervision became impossible. Along the edge of the timber the fire was fierce, for the Union regulars were distant no more than four hundred yards; the smoke rolled heavily through the thickets, and on the right and centre, where the fight was hottest, the impetuosity of both officers and men carried them forward up the slope. An attempt to deliver a charge with the whole line failed in combination, and such portion of the division as advanced, scourged by both musketry and artillery, fell back before the fire of the unshaken Federals.

In the wood to the right Ewell met with even fiercer opposition. So hastily had the Confederate line been formed, and so difficult was it for the brigades to maintain touch and direction in the thick covert, that gaps soon opened along the front; and of these gaps, directly the Southerners gained the edge of the timber, the Northern brigadiers took quick advantage. Not content with merely holding their ground, the regular regiments, changing front so as to strike the flanks of the attack, came forward with the bayonet, and a vigorous counterstroke, delivered by five battalions, drove Ewell across the swamp. Part of Trimble’s brigade still held on in the wood, fighting fiercely; but the Louisiana regiments were demoralised, and there were no supports on which they might have rallied.

Jackson, when he ordered Hill to the front, had sent verbal instructions-always dangerous-for the remainder of his troops to move forward inline of battle.”[33] The young staff officer to whom these instructions were entrusted, misunderstanding the intentions of his chief, communicated the message to the brigadiers with the addition that “they were to await further orders before engaging the enemy.” Partly for this reason, and partly because the rear regiments of his division had lost touch with the leading brigades, Ewell was left without assistance. For some time the error was undiscovered. Jackson grew anxious. From his station near Old Cold Harbour little could be seen of the Confederate troops. On the ridge beyond the valley the dark lines of the enemy’s infantry were visible amongst the trees, with their well-served batteries on the crests above. But in the valley immediately beneath, and as well as in the forest to the right front, the dense smoke and the denser timber hid the progress of the fight. Yet the sustained fire was a sure token that the enemy still held his own; and for the first time and the last his staff beheld their leader riding restlessly to and fro, and heard his orders given in a tone which betrayed the storm within.[34] “Unconscious,” says Dabney, “that his veteran brigades were but now reaching the ridge of battle, he supposed that all his strength had been put forth, and (what had never happened before) the enemy was not crushed.”[35] Fortunately, the error of the aide-de-camp had already been corrected by the vigilance of the chief of the staff, and the remainder of the Valley army was coming up.

Their entry into battle was not in accordance with the intentions of their chief. Whiting should have come in on Ewell’s right, Lawton on the right of Whiting, and Jackson’s division on the right of Lawton. Whiting led the way; but he had advanced only a short distance through the woods when he was met by Lee, who directed him to support General A. P. Hill.[36] The brigades of Law and of Hood were therefore diverted to the right, and, deploying on either side of the Gaines’ Mill road, were ordered to assault the commanding bluff which marked the angle of the Federal position. Lawton’s Georgians, 3,500 strong, moved to the support of Ewell; Cunningham and Fulkerson, of Winder’s division, losing direction in the thickets, eventually sustained the attack of Longstreet, and the Stonewall Brigade reinforced the shattered ranks of D. H. Hill. Yet the attack was strong, and in front of Old Cold Harbour six batteries had forced their way through the forest.

As this long line of guns covered McGehee’s Hill with a storm of shells, and the louder crash of musketry told him that his lagging brigades were coming into line, Jackson sent his last orders to his divisional commanders: “Tell them,” he said, “this affair must hang in suspense no longer; let them sweep the field with the bayonet.” But there was no need for further urging. Before the messengers arrived the Confederate infantry, in every quarter of the battlefield, swept forward from the woods, and a vast wave of men converged upon the plateau. Lee, almost at the same moment as Jackson, had given the word for a general advance. As the supports came thronging up the shout was carried down the line, “The Valley men are here!” and with the cry of “Stonewall Jackson!” for their slogan, the Southern army dashed across the deep ravine. Whiting, with the eight regiments of Hood and Law, none of which had been yet engaged, charged impetuously against the centre. The brigades of A. P. Hill, spent with fighting but clinging stubbornly to their ground, found strength for a final effort. Longstreet threw in his last reserve against the triple line which had already decimated his division. Lawton’s Georgians bore back the regulars. D. H. Hill, despite the fire of the batteries on McGehee’s Hill, which, disregarding the shells of Jackson’s massed artillery, turned with canister on the advancing infantry, made good his footing on the ridge; and as the sun, low on the horizon, loomed blood-red through the murky atmosphere, the Confederate colours waved along the line of abandoned breastworks.

As the Federals retreated, knots of brave men, hastily collected by officers of all ranks, still offered a fierce resistance, and, supported by the batteries, inflicted terrible losses on the crowded masses which swarmed up from the ravine; but the majority of the infantry, without ammunition and with few officers, streamed in disorder to the rear. For a time the Federal gunners stood manfully to their work. Porter’s reserve artillery, drawn up midway across the upland, offered a rallying point to the retreating infantry. Three small squadrons of the 5th United States Cavalry made a gallant but useless charge, in which out of seven officers six fell; and on the extreme right the division of regulars, supported by a brigade of volunteers, fell back fighting to a second line. As at Bull Run, the disciplined soldiers alone showed a solid front amid the throng of fugitives. Not a foot of ground had they yielded till their left was exposed by the rout of the remainder. Of the four batteries which supported them only two guns were lost, and on their second position they made a determined effort to restore the fight. But their stubborn valour availed nothing against the superior numbers which Lee’s fine strategy had concentrated on the field of battle.

Where the first breach was made in the Federal line is a matter of dispute. Longstreet’s men made a magnificent charge on the right, and D. H. Hill claimed to have turned the flank of the regulars; but it is abundantly evident that the advent of Jackson’s fresh troops, and the vigour of their assault, broke down the resistance of the Federals.[37] When the final attack developed, and along the whole front masses of determined men, in overwhelming numbers, dashed against the breastworks, Porter’s troops were well-nigh exhausted, and not a single regiment remained in reserve. Against the very centre of his line the attack was pushed home by Whiting’s men with extraordinary resolution. His two brigades, marching abreast, were formed in two lines, each about 2,000 strong. Riding along the front, before they left the wood, the general had enjoined his men to charge without a halt, in double time, and without firing. “Had these orders,” says General Law, “not been strictly obeyed the assault would have been a failure. No troops could have stood long under the withering storm of lead and iron that beat in their faces as they became fully exposed to view from the Federal line.”[38] The assault was met with a courage that was equally admirable.[39] But the Confederate second line reinforced the first at exactly the right moment, driving it irresistibly forward; and the Federal regiments, which had been hard pressed through a long summer afternoon, and had become scattered in the thickets, were ill-matched with the solid and ordered ranks of brigades which had not yet fired a shot. It was apparently at this point that the Southerners first set foot on the plateau, and sweeping over the intrenchments, outflanked the brigades which still held out to right and left, and compelled them to fall back. Inspired by his soldierly enthusiasm for a gallant deed, Jackson himself has left us a vivid description of the successful charge. “On my extreme right,” he says in his report, “General Whiting advanced his division through the dense forest and swamp, emerging from the wood into the field near the public road and at the head of the deep ravine which covered the enemy’s left. Advancing thence through a number of retreating and disordered regiments he came within range of the enemy’s fire, who, concealed in an open wood and protected by breastworks, poured a destructive fire for a quarter of a mile into his advancing line, under which many brave officers and men fell. Dashing on with unfaltering step in the face of these murderous discharges of canister and musketry, General Hood and Colonel Law, at the heads of their respective brigades, rushed to the charge with a yell. Moving down a precipitous ravine, leaping ditch and stream, clambering up a difficult ascent, and exposed to an incessant and deadly fire from the intrenchments, those brave and determined men pressed forward, driving the enemy from his well-selected and fortified position. In this charge, in which upwards of 1,000 men fell killed and wounded before the fire of the enemy, and in which 14 pieces of artillery and nearly a whole regiment were captured, the 4th Texas, under the lead of General Hood, was the first to pierce these strongholds and seize the guns.”[40]

How fiercely the Northern troops had battled is told in the outspoken reports of the Confederate generals. Before Jackson’s reserves were thrown in the first line of the Confederate attack had been exceedingly roughly handled. A. P. Hill’s division had done good work in preparing the way for Whiting’s assault, but a portion of his troops had become demoralised. Ewell’s regiments met the same fate; and we read of them “skulking from the front in a shameful manner; the woods on our left and rear full of troops in safe cover, from which they never stirred;” of “regiment after regiment rushing back in utter disorder;” of others which it was impossible to rally; and of troops retiring in confusion, who cried out to the reinforcements, “You need not go in; we are whipped, we can’t do anything!” It is only fair to say that the reinforcements replied, “Get out of our way, we will show you how to do it;“[41] but it is not to be disguised that the Confederates at one time came near defeat. With another division in reserve at the critical moment, Porter might have maintained his line unbroken. His troops, had they been supported, were still capable of resistance.

McClellan, however, up to the time the battle was lost, had sent but one division (Slocum’s) and two batteries to Porter’s support. 66,000 Federals, on the south bank of the Chickahominy, had been held in their intrenchments, throughout the day, by the demonstrations of 28,000 Confederates. Intent on saving his trains, on securing his retreat to the river James, and utterly regardless of the chances which fortune offered, the “Young Napoleon” had allowed his rearguard to be overwhelmed. He was not seen on the plateau which his devoted troops so well defended, nor even at the advanced posts on the further bank of the Chickahominy. So convinced was he of the accuracy of the information furnished by his detective staff that he never dreamt of testing the enemy’s numbers by his own eyesight. Had he watched the development of Lee’s attack, noted the small number of his batteries, the long delay in the advance of the supports, the narrow front of his line of battle, he would have discovered that the Confederate strength had been greatly exaggerated. There were moments, too, during the fight when a strong counterstroke, made by fresh troops, would have placed Lee’s army in the greatest peril. But a general who thinks only of holding his lines and not of annihilating the enemy is a poor tactician, and McClellan’s lack of enterprise, which Lee had so accurately gauged, may be inferred from his telegram to Lincoln: “I have lost this battle because my force is too small.”[42]

Porter was perhaps a more than sufficient substitute for the Commander-in-Chief. His tactics, as fighting a waiting battle, had been admirable; and, when his front was broken, strongly and with cool judgment he sought to hold back the enemy and cover the bridges. The line of batteries he established across the plateau—80 guns in all—proved at first an effective barrier. But the retreat of the infantry, the waning light, and the general dissolution of all order, had its effect upon the gunners. When the remnant of the 5th Cavalry was borne back in flight, the greater part of the batteries had already limbered up, and over the bare surface of the upland the Confederate infantry, shooting down the terrified teams, rushed forward in hot pursuit. 22 guns, with a large number of ammunition waggons, were captured on the field, prisoners surrendered at every step, and the fight surged onward towards the bridges. But between the bridges and the battlefield, on the slopes falling to the Chickahominy, the dark forest covered the retreat of the routed army. Night had already fallen. The confusion in the ranks of the Confederates was extreme, and it was impossible to distinguish friend from foe. All direction had been lost. None knew the bearings of the bridges, or whether the Federals were retreating east or south. Regiments had already been exposed to the fire of their comrades, and in front of the forest a perceptible hesitation seized on both officers and men. At this moment, in front of D. H. Hill’s division, which was advancing by the road leading directly to the bridges, loud cheers were heard. It was clear that Federal reinforcements had arrived; the general ordered his troops to halt, and along the whole line the forward movement came quickly to a standstill. Two brigades, French’s and Meagher’s, tardily sent over by McClellan, had arrived in time to stave off a terrible disaster. Pushing through the mass of fugitives with the bayonet, these fine troops had crossed the bridge, passed through the woods, and formed line on the southern crest of the plateau. Joining the regulars, who still presented a stubborn front, they opened a heavy fire, and under cover of their steadfast lines Porter’s troops withdrew across the river.

Notwithstanding this strong reinforcement of 5,000 or 6,000 fresh troops, it is by no means impossible, had the Confederates pushed resolutely forward, that the victory would have been far more complete. “Winder,” says General D. H. Hill, “thought that we ought to pursue into the woods, on the right of the Grapevine Bridge road; but not knowing the position of our friends, nor what Federal reserves might be awaiting us in the woods, I thought it advisable not to move on. General Lawton concurred with me. I had no artillery to shell the woods in front, as mine had not got through the swamp. Winder,” he adds, “was right; even a show of pressure must have been attended with great result.”[43] Had Jackson been at hand the pressure would in all probability have been applied. The contagion of defeat soon spreads; and whatever reserves a flying enemy may possess, if they are vigorously attacked whilst the fugitives are still passing through their ranks, history tells us, however bold their front, that, unless they are intrenched, their resistance is seldom long protracted. More than all, when night has fallen on the field, and prevents all estimate of the strength of the attack, a resolute advance has peculiar chances of success. But when his advanced line halted Jackson was not yet up; and before he arrived the impetus of victory had died away; the Federal reserves were deployed in a strong position, and the opportunity had already passed.

It is no time, when the tide of victory bears him forward, for a general “to take counsel of his fears.” It is no time to count numbers, or to conjure up the phantoms of possible reserves; the sea itself is not more irresistible than an army which has stormed a strong position, and which has attained, in so doing, the exhilarating consciousness of superior courage. Had Stuart, with his 2,000 horsemen, followed up the pursuit towards the bridges, the Federal reserves might have been swept away in panic. But Stuart, in common with Lee and Jackson, expected that the enemy would endeavour to reach the White House, and when he saw that their lines were breaking he had dashed down a lane which led to the river road, about three miles distant. When he reached that point, darkness had already fallen, and finding no traces of the enemy, he had returned to Old Cold Harbour.

On the night of the battle the Confederates remained where the issue of the fight had found them. Across the Grapevine road the pickets of the hostile forces were in close proximity, and men of both sides, in search of water, or carrying messages, strayed within the enemy’s lines. Jackson himself, it is said, came near capture. Riding forward in the darkness, attended by only a few staff officers, he suddenly found himself in presence of a Federal picket. Judging rightly of the enemy’s moral, he set spurs to his horse, and charging into the midst, ordered them to lay down their arms; and fifteen or twenty prisoners, marching to the rear, amused the troops they met on the march by loudly proclaiming that they had the honour of being captured by Stonewall Jackson. These men were not without companions. 2,830 Federals were reported either captured or missing; and while some of those were probably among the dead, a large proportion found their way to Richmond; 4,000, moreover, had fallen on the field of battle.[44]

The Confederate casualties were even a clearer proof of the severity of the fighting. So far as can be ascertained, 8,000 officers and men were killed or wounded.

Longstreet A.P. Hill Jackson 1,850 2,450 3,700

Jackson’s losses were distributed as follows:—

Jackson’s own Division Ewell Whiting D.H. Hill 600 650 1,020 1,430

The regimental losses, in several instances, were exceptionally severe. Of the 4th Texas, of Hood’s brigade, the first to pierce the Federal line, there fell 20 officers and 230 men. The 20th North Carolina, of D.H. Hill’s division, which charged the batteries on McGehee’s Hill, lost 70 killed and 200 wounded; of the same division the 3rd Alabama lost 200, and the 12th North Carolina 212; while two of Lawton’s regiments, the 31st and the 38th Georgia, had each a casualty list of 170. Almost every single regiment north of the Chickahominy took part in the action. The cavalry did nothing, but at least 48,000 infantry were engaged, and seventeen batteries are mentioned in the reports as having participated in the battle.

[1] “No one but McClellan would have hesitated to attack.” Johnston to Lee, April 22, 1862. O.R., vol. xi, part3, p. 456.

[2] Narrative of Military Operations, General J. B. Johnston, pp. 112, 113.

[3] The garrison consisted only of a few companies of heavy artillery, and the principal work was still unfinished when Yorktown fell. Reports of Dr. Comstock, and Colonel Cabell, C.S.A. O.R., vol. xi, part i.

[4] In one sense McClellan was not far wrong in his estimate of the Confederate numbers. In assuming control of the Union armies Lincoln and Stanton made their enemies a present of at least 50,000 men.

[5] It must be admitted that his cavalry was very weak in proportion to the other arms. On June 20 he had just over 5,000 sabres (O.R., vol. xi, part iii, p. 238), of which 3,000 were distributed among the army corps. The Confederates appear to have had about 3,000, but of superior quality, familiar, more or less, with the country, and united under one command. It is instructive to notice how the necessity for a numerous cavalry grew on the Federal commanders. In 1864 the Army of the Potomac was accompanied by a cavalry corps over 13,000 strong, with 32 guns. It is generally the case in war, even in a close country, that if the cavalry is allowed to fall below the usual proportion of one trooper to every six men of the other arms the army suffers.

[6] Stuart’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i.

[7] This estimate is rather larger than that of the Confederate historians (Allan, W. H. Taylor, &c., &c.), but it has been arrived at after a careful examination of the strength at different dates and the losses in the various engagements.

[8] Return of June 20, O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 238.

[9] The Fifth Army Corps included McCall’s division, which had but recently arrived by water from Fredericksburg. Report of June 20, O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 238.

[10] Magruder’s division, 13,000; Huger’s division, 9,000; reserve artillery, 3,000; 5 regiments of cavalry, 2,000. Holmes’ division, 6,500, was still retained on the south bank of the James.

[11] Lee’s bridge, shown on the map, had either been destroyed or was not yet built.

[12] The meaning of this term is clearly defined in Lee’s report. “It was therefore determined to construct defensive lines, so as to enable a part of the army to defend the city, and leave the other part free to operate on the north bank.” O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 490.

[13] O.R., vol. xi, part iii, p. 252.

[14] Letter from Captain T. W. Sydnor, 4th Virginia Cavalry, who carried the message.

[15] So General Porter. Battles and Leaders, vol. ii, p. 331.

[16] O.R., vol. xi, part i, pp. 38, 39.

[17] Battles and Leaders, vol. ii, pp. 389, 390.

[18] Dr. White, in his excellent Life of Lee, states that the tardiness of the arrival of the provisions sent him from Richmond had much to do with the delay of Jackson’s march.

[19] “Lee’s Attacks North of the Chickahominy.” By General D. H. Hill. Battles and Leaders, vol. ii, p. 347. General Longstreet, however, From Manassas to Appomattox, says Jackson appointed the morning of the 25th, but, on Longstreet’s suggestion, changed the date to the 26th.

[20] Of the events of June 26 Dr. Dabney, in a letter to the author, writes as follows:—“Here we had a disastrous illustration of the lack of an organised and intelligent general staff. Let my predicament serve as a specimen. As chief of Jackson’s staff, I had two assistant adjutant-generals, two men of the engineer department, and two clerks. What did I have for orderlies and couriers? A detail from some cavalry company which happened to bivouac near. The men were sent to me without any reference to their local knowledge, their intelligence, or their courage; most probably they were selected for me by their captain on account of their lack of these qualities. Next to the Commander-in-Chief, the Chief of the General Staff should be the best man in the country. The brains of an army should be in the General Staff. The lowest orderlies attached to it should be the very best soldiers in the service, for education, intelligence, and courage. Jackson had to find his own guide for his march from Beaver Dam Station. He had not been furnished with a map, and not a single orderly or message reached him during the whole day.”

[21] Branch’s Report, O.R., vol. ii, part ii, p. 882.

[22] Jackson’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 553.

[23] Whiting’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 562.

[24] Trimble’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 614.

[25] Letter to the author.

[26] Porter’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 222. Battles and Leaders, vol. ii, p. 330.

[27] Longstreet, on page 124 of his From Manassas to Appomattox, declares that “Jackson marched by the fight without giving attention, and went into camp at Hundley’s Corner, half a mile in rear of the enemy’s position. A reference to the map is sufficient to expose the inaccuracy of this statement.

[28] Jackson’s division—so-called in Lee’s order—really consisted of three divisions:—

Whiting’s Division Hood’s Brigade Law’s Brigade Jackson’s [Winder] Division Stonewall Brigade Cunningham’s Brigade Fulkerson’s Brigade Lawton’s Brigade Ewell’s Division B. T. Johnson’s Elzey’s Brigade Trimble’s Brigade Taylor’s Brigade

[29] The remainder of the guns were in reserve.Return to passage

[30] Battles and Leaders of the Civil War, vol. ii, p. 337.Return to passage

[31] This order was verbal; no record of it is to be found, and Jackson never mentioned, either at the time or afterwards, what its purport was. His surviving staff officers, however, are unanimous in declaring that he must have received direct instructions from General Lee. “Is it possible,” writes Dr. McGuire, “that Jackson, who knew nothing of the country, and little of the exact situation of affairs, would have taken the responsibility of stopping at Old Cold Harbour for an hour or more, unless he had had the authority of General Lee to do so? I saw him that morning talking to General Lee. General Lee was sitting on a log, and Jackson standing up. General Lee was evidently giving him instructions for the day.” In his report (O.R., vol. ii, part i, p. 492) Lee says: “The arrival of Jackson on our left was momentarily expected; it was supposed that his approach would cause the enemy’s extension in that direction.”Return to passage

[32] The Army of the Potomac numbered 105,000 men, and 25,000 animals. 600 tons of ammunition, food, forage, medical and other supplies had to be forwarded each day from White House to the front; and at one time during the operations from fifty to sixty days’ rations for the entire army, amounting probably to 25,000 tons, were accumulated at the depot. 5 tons daily per 1,000 men is a fair estimate for an army operating in a barren country.Return to passage

[33] The instructions, according to Dr. Dabney, ran as follows:— “The troops are standing at ease along our line of march. Ride back rapidly along the line and tell the commanders to advance instantly en échelon from the left. Each brigade is to follow as a guide the right regiment of the brigade on the left, and to keep within supporting distance. Tell the commanders that if this formation fails at any point, to form line of battle and move to the front, pressing to the sound of the heaviest firing and attack the enemy vigorously wherever found. As to artillery, each commander must use his discretion. If the ground will at all permit tell them to take in their field batteries and use them. If not, post them in the rear.” Letter to the author.Return to passage

[34] It may be noted that Jackson’s command had now been increased by two divisions, Whiting’s and D. H. Hill’s, but there had been no increase in the very small staff which had sufficed for the Valley army. The mistakes which occurred at Gaines’ Mill, and Jackson’s ignorance of the movements and progress of his troops, were in great part due to his lack of staff officers. A most important message, writes Dr. Dabney, involving tactical knowledge, was carried by a non-combatant.Return to passage

[35] Dabney, vol. ii, p. 194.Return to passage

[36] Whiting’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 563.Return to passage

[37] Porter himself thought that the first break in his line was made by Hood, at a point where he least expected it.” Battles and Leaders, vol. ii, pp. 335, 340.Return to passage

[38] Battles and Leaders, vol. ii, p. 363.Return to passage

[39] “The Confederates were within ten paces when the Federals broke cover, and leaving their log breastworks, swarmed up the hill in rear, carrying the second line with them in their rout.”—General Law, Battles and Leaders, vol. ii, p. 363.Return to passage

[40] Jackson’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part 1, pp. 555, 556.Return to passage

[41] Reports of Whiting, Trimble, Bodes, Bradley T. Johnson, O.R., vol. xi, part i.Return to passage

[42] Report of Committee on the Conduct of the War.Return to passage

[43] Battles and Leaders, vol. ii, p. 357.Return to passage

[44] O.R., vol. xi, part i, pp. 40–42.Return to passage

XIV. THE SEVEN DAYS. FRAYSER’S FARM AND MALVERN HILL

June 28, 1862 The battle of Gaines’ Mill, although the assailants suffered heavier losses than they inflicted, was a long step towards accomplishing the deliverance of Richmond. One of McClellan’s five army corps had been disposed of, a heavy blow had been struck at the moral of his whole army, and his communications with the White House and the Pamunkey were at the mercy of his enemies. Still the Confederate outlook was not altogether clear. It is one thing to win a victory, but another to make such use of it as to annihilate the enemy. Porter’s defeat was but a beginning of operations; and although Lee was convinced that McClellan would retreat, he was by no means so certain that his escape could be prevented. Yet this was essential. If the Federal army were suffered to fall back without incurring further loss, it would be rapidly reinforced from Washington, and resuming the advance, this time with still larger numbers, might render Gaines’ Mill a barren victory. How to compass the destruction of McClellan’s host was the problem that now confronted the Confederate leader; and before a plan could be devised it was necessary to ascertain the direction of the retreat.

On the morning of June 28 it was found that no formed body of Federal troops remained north of the Chickahominy. French, Meagher, and Sykes, the regulars forming the rear-guard, had fallen back during the night and destroyed the bridges. Hundreds of stragglers were picked up, and one of the most gallant of the Northern brigadiers[1] was found asleep in the woods, unaware that his troops had crossed the stream. No further fighting was to be expected on the plateau. But it was possible that the enemy might still endeavour to preserve his communications, marching by the south bank of the river and recrossing by the railway and Bottom’s Bridges. Stuart, supported by Ewell, was at once ordered to seize the former; but when the cavalry reached Dispatch Station, a small Federal detachment retreated to the south bank of the Chickahominy and fired the timbers.

Meanwhile, from the field of Gaines’ Mill, long columns of dust, rising above the forests to the south, had been descried, showing that the enemy was in motion; and when the news came in that the railway bridge had been destroyed, and that the line itself was unprotected, it was at once evident that McClellan had abandoned his communications with White House.

This was valuable information, but still the line of retreat had not yet been ascertained. The Federals might retreat to some point on the James River, due south, there meeting their transports, or they might march down the Peninsula to Yorktown and Fortress Monroe. “In the latter event,” says Lee, “it was necessary that our troops should continue on the north bank of the river, and until the intention of General McClellan was discovered it was deemed injudicious to change their disposition. Ewell was therefore ordered to proceed to Bottom’s Bridge, and the cavalry to watch the bridges below. No certain indications of a retreat to the James River were discovered by our forces (Magruder) on the south side of the Chickahominy, and late in the afternoon the enemy’s works were reported to be fully manned. Below (south of) the enemy’s works the country was densely wooded and intersected by impassable swamps, at once concealing his movements and precluding reconnaissances except by the regular roads, all of which were strongly guarded. The bridges over the Chickahominy in rear of the enemy were destroyed, and their reconstruction impracticable in the presence of his whole army and powerful batteries. We were therefore compelled to wait until his purpose should be developed.”[2]

During the day, therefore, the Confederate army remained on the battle-field, waiting for the game to bolt. In the evening, however, signs of a general movement were reported in rear of the intrenchments at Seven Pines; and as nothing had been observed by the cavalry on the Chickahominy, Lee, rightly concluding that McClellan was retreating to the James, issued orders for the pursuit to be taken up the next morning.

But to intercept the enemy before he could fortify a position, covered by the fire of his gunboats, on the banks of the James, was a difficult operation. The situation demanded rapid marching, close concert, and delicate manœuvres. The Confederate army was in rear of the Federals, and separated from them by the Chickahominy, and, to reach the James, McClellan had only fourteen miles to cover. But the country over which he had to pass was still more intricate, and traversed by even fewer roads, than the district which had hitherto been the theatre of operations. Across his line of march ran the White Oak Swamp, bordered by thick woods and a wide morass, and crossed by only one bridge. If he could transfer his whole army south of this stream, without molestation, he would find himself within six miles of his gunboats; and as his left flank was already resting on the Swamp, it was not easy for Lee’s army to prevent his passage.

But 28,000 Confederates were already south of the Chickahominy, on the flank of McClellan’s line of march, and it was certainly possible that this force might detain the Federals until A. P. Hill, Longstreet, and Jackson should come up. Magruder and Huger were therefore ordered to advance early on the 29th, and moving, the one by the Williamsburg, the other by the Charles City road, to strike the enemy in flank.

A. P. Hill and Longstreet, recrossing the Chickahominy at New Bridge, were to march by the Darbytown road in the direction of Charles City cross roads, thus turning the head waters of the White Oak Swamp, and threatening the Federal rear.

Jackson, crossing Grapevine Bridge, was to move down the south bank of the Chickahominy, cross the Swamp by the bridge, and force his way to the Long Bridge road.

The Confederate army was thus divided into four columns, moving by four different roads; each column at starting was several miles distant from the others, and a junction was to be made upon the field of battle. The cavalry, moreover, with the exception of a few squadrons, was far away upon the left, pursuing a large detachment which had been observed on the road to the White House.[3]

McClellan had undoubtedly resolved on a most hazardous manœuvre. His supply and ammunition train consisted of over five thousand waggons. He was encumbered with the heavy guns of the siege artillery. He had with him more than fifty field batteries; his army was still 95,000 strong; and this unwieldy multitude of men, horses, and vehicles, had to be passed over White Oak Swamp, and then to continue its march across the front of a powerful and determined enemy.

But Lee also was embarrassed by the nature of the country.[4] If McClellan’s movements were retarded by the woods, swamps, and indifferent roads, the same obstacles would interfere with the combination of the Confederate columns; and the pursuit depended for success on their close co-operation.

June 29 The first day’s work was hardly promising. The risks of unconnected manœuvres received abundant illustration. Magruder, late in the afternoon, struck the enemy’s rearguard near Savage’s Station, but was heavily repulsed by two Federal army corps. Huger, called by Magruder to his assistance, turned aside from the road which had been assigned to him, and when he was recalled by an urgent message from Lee, advanced with the timidity which almost invariably besets the commander of an isolated force in the neighbourhood of a large army. Jackson, whose line of march led him directly on Savage’s Station, was delayed until after nightfall by the necessity of rebuilding the Grapevine Bridge.[5] Stuart had gone off to the White House, bent on the destruction of the enemy’s supply depot. Longstreet and Hill encamped south-west of Charles City cross roads, but saw nothing of the enemy. Holmes, with 6,500 men, crossed the James during the afternoon and encamped on the north bank, near Laurel Hill Church. During the night the Federal rearguard fell back, destroying the bridge over White Oak Swamp; and although a large quantity of stores were either destroyed or abandoned, together with a hospital containing 2,500 wounded, the whole of McClellan’s army, men, guns, and trains, effected the passage of this dangerous obstacle.

June 30 The next morning Longstreet, with Hill in support, moved forward, and found a Federal division in position near Glendale. Bringing his artillery into action, he held his infantry in hand until Huger should come up on his left, and Jackson’s guns be heard at White Oak Bridge. Holmes, followed by Magruder, was marching up the Newmarket road to Malvern House; and when the sound of Jackson’s artillery became audible to the northwards, Lee sent Longstreet forward to the attack. A sanguinary conflict, on ground covered with heavy timber, and cut up by deep ravines, resulted in the Federals holding their ground till nightfall; and although many prisoners and several batteries were captured by the Confederates, McClellan, under cover of the darkness, made good his escape.

The battle of Glendale or Frayser’s Farm was the crisis of the “Seven Days.” Had Lee been able to concentrate his whole strength against the Federals it is probable that McClellan would never have reached the James. But Longstreet and Hill fought unsupported. As the former very justly complained, 50,000 men were within hearing of the guns but none came to co-operate, and against the two Confederate divisions fought the Third Federal Army Corps, reinforced by three divisions from the Second, Fifth, and Sixth. Huger’s march on the Charles City road was obstructed by felled trees. When he at last arrived in front of the enemy, he was held in check by two batteries, and he does not appear to have opened communication with either Lee or Longstreet. Magruder had been ordered to march down from Savage Station to the Darbytown road, and there to await orders. At 4.30 p.m. he was ordered to move to Newmarket in support of Holmes. This order was soon countermanded, but he was unable to join Longstreet until the fight was over. Holmes was held in check by Porter’s Army Corps, minus McCall’s division, on Malvern Hill; and the cavalry, which might have been employed effectively against the enemy’s left flank and rear, was still north of the Chickahominy, returning from a destructive but useless raid on the depôt at the White House. Nor had the conduct of the battle been unaffected by the complicated nature of the general plan. Longstreet attacked alone, Hill being held back, in order to be fresh for the pursuit when Jackson and Huger should strike in. The attack was successful, and McCall’s division, which had shared the defeat at Gaines’ Mill, was driven from its position. But McCall was reinforced by other divisions; Longstreet was thrown on to the defensive by superior numbers, and when Hill was at length put in, it was with difficulty that the fierce counterblows of the Federals were beaten off.

Jackson had been unable to participate in the conflict. When night fell he was still north of the White Oak Swamp, seven miles distant from his morning bivouac, and hardly a single infantry man in his command had pulled a trigger. According to his own report his troops reached White Oak Bridge about noon. “Here the enemy made a determined effort to retard our advance and thereby to prevent an immediate junction between General Longstreet and myself. We found the bridge destroyed, the ordinary place of crossing commanded by their batteries on the other side, and all approach to it barred by detachments of sharp-shooters concealed in a dense wood close by. . . . A heavy cannonading in front announced the engagement of General Longstreet at Frayser’s Farm (Glendale) and made me eager to press forward; but the marshy character of the soil, the destruction of the bridge over the marsh and creek, and the strong position of the enemy for defending the passage, prevented my advancing until the following morning.”[6]

Such are Jackson’s reasons for his failure to co-operate with Longstreet. It is clear that he was perfectly aware of the importance of the part he was expected to play; and he used every means which suggested itself as practicable to force a crossing. The 2nd Virginia Cavalry, under Colonel Munford, had now joined him from the Valley, and their commanding officer bears witness that Jackson showed no lack of energy.

“When I left the general on the preceding evening, he ordered me to be at the cross-roads (five miles from White Oak Bridge) at sunrise the next morning, ready to move in advance of his troops. The worst thunderstorm came up about night I ever was in, and in that thickly wooded country one could not see his horse’s ears. My command scattered in the storm, and I do not suppose that any officer had a rougher time in any one night than I had to endure. When the first grey dawn appeared I started off my adjutant and officers to bring up the scattered regiment; but at sunrise I had not more than fifty men, and I was half a mile from the cross-roads. When I arrived, to my horror there sat Jackson waiting for me. He was in a bad humour, and said, ‘Colonel, my orders to you were to be here at sunrise.’ I explained my situation, telling him that we had no provisions, and that the storm and the dark night had conspired against me. When I got through he replied, ‘Yes, sir. But, Colonel, I ordered you to be here at sunrise. Move on with your regiment. If you meet the enemy drive in his pickets, and if you want artillery, Colonel Crutchfield will furnish you.’

“I started on with my little handful of men. As others came straggling on to join me, Jackson noticed it, and sent two couriers to inform me that ‘my men were straggling badly.’ I rode back and went over the same story, hoping that he would be impressed with my difficulties. He listened to me, but replied as before, ‘Yes, sir. But I ordered you to be here at sunrise, and I have been waiting for you for a quarter of an hour.’

“Seeing that he was in a peculiar mood, I determined to make the best of my trouble, sent my adjutant back, and made him halt the stragglers and form my men as they came up; and with what I had, determined to give him no cause for complaint. When we came upon the enemy’s picket we charged, and pushed the picket every step of the way into their camp, where there were a large number of wounded and many stores. It was done so rapidly that the enemy’s battery on the other side of White Oak Swamp could not fire on us without endangering their own friends.

“When Jackson came up he was smiling, and he at once (shortly after noon) ordered Colonel Crutchfield to bring up the artillery, and very soon the batteries were at work. After the lapse of about an hour my regiment had assembled, and while our batteries were shelling those of the enemy, Jackson sent for me and said, ‘Colonel, move your regiment over the creek, and secure those guns. I will ride with you to the Swamp.’ When we reached the crossing we found that the enemy had torn up the bridge, and had thrown the timbers into the stream, forming a tangled mass which seemed to prohibit a crossing. I said to General Jackson that I did not think that we could cross. He looked at me, waved his hand, and replied, ‘Yes, Colonel, try it.’ In we went and floundered over, and before I formed the men, Jackson cried out to me to move on at the guns. Colonel Breckenridge started out with what we had over, and I soon got over the second squadron, and moved up the hill. We reached the guns, but they had an infantry support which gave us a volley; at the same time a battery on our right, which we had not seen, opened on us, and back we had to come. I moved down the Swamp about a quarter of a mile, and re-crossed with great difficulty by a cow-path.”[7]

The artillery did little better than the cavalry. The ground on the north bank of the Swamp by no means favoured the action of the guns. To the right of the road the slopes were clear and unobstructed, hut the crest was within the forest; while to the left a thick pine wood covered both ridge and valley. On the bank held by the Federals the ground was open, ascending gently to the ridge; but the edge of the stream, immediately opposite the cleared ground on the Confederate right, was covered by a belt of tall trees, in full leaf, which made observation, by either side, a matter of much difficulty. This belt was full of infantry, while to the right rear, commanding the ruined bridge, stood the batteries which had driven back the cavalry.

After some time spent in reconnaissance, it was determined to cut a track through the wood to the right of the road. This was done, and thirty-one guns, moving forward simultaneously ready-shotted, opened fire on the position. The surprise was complete. One of the Federal batteries dispersed in confusion; the other disappeared, and the infantry supports fell back. Jackson immediately ordered two guns to advance down the road, and shell the belt of trees which harboured the enemy’s skirmishers. These were driven back; the divisions of D. H. Hill and Whiting were formed up in the pine wood on the left, and a working party was sent forward to repair the bridge. Suddenly, from the high ground behind the belt of trees, by which they were completely screened, two fresh Federal batteries—afterwards increased to three—opened on the line of Confederate guns. Under cover of this fire their skirmishers returned to the Swamp, and their main line came forward to a position whence it commanded the crossing at effective range. The two guns on the road were sent to the right-about. The shells of the Federal batteries fell into the stream, and the men who had been labouring at the bridge ran back and refused to work. The artillery duel, in which neither side could see the other, but in which both suffered some loss, continued throughout the afternoon.

Meantime a Confederate regiment, fording the stream, drove in the hostile skirmishers, and seized the belt of trees; Wright’s brigade, of Huger’s division, which had joined Jackson as the guns came into action, was sent back to force a passage at Brackett’s Ford, a mile up stream; and reconnaissances were pushed out to find some way of turning the enemy’s position. Every road and track, however, was obstructed by felled trees and abattis, and it was found that a passage was impracticable at Brackett’s Ford. Two companies were pushed over the creek, and drove back the enemy’s pickets. “I discovered,” says Wright, “that the enemy had destroyed the bridge, and had completely blockaded the road through the Swamp by felling trees in and across it. . . . I ascertained that the road debouched from the Swamp into an open field (meadow), commanded by a line of high hills, all in cultivation and free from timber. Upon this ridge of hills the enemy had posted heavy batteries of field-artillery, strongly supported by infantry, which swept the meadow by a direct and cross fire, and which could be used with terrible effect upon my column while struggling through the fallen timber in the wood through the Swamp.”[8] Having ascertained that the enemy was present in great strength on the further bank, that every road was obstructed, and that there was no means of carrying his artillery over the creek, or favourable ground on which his infantry could act, Jackson gave up all hope of aiding Longstreet.

That the obstacles which confronted him were serious there can be no question. His smooth-bore guns, although superior in number, were unable to beat down the fire of the rifled batteries. The enemy’s masses were well hidden. The roads were blocked, the stream was swollen, the banks marshy, and although infantry could cross them, the fords which had proved difficult for the cavalry would have stopped the artillery, the ammunition waggons, and the ambulances; while the Federal position, on the crest of a long open slope, was exceedingly strong. Jackson, as his report shows, maturely weighed these difficulties, and came to the conclusion that he could do no good by sending over his infantry alone. It was essential, it is true, to detain as many as possible of the enemy on the banks of the Swamp, while Longstreet, Hill, Huger, and Magruder dealt with the remainder; and this he fully realised, but it is by no means improbable that he considered the heavy fire of his guns and the threatening position of his infantry would have this effect.

It is interesting to note how far this hope, supposing that he entertained it, was fulfilled. Two divisions of Federal infantry and three batteries—a total of 22,000 men—defended the passage at White Oak Bridge against 27,000 Confederates, including Wright; and a detached force of infantry and guns was posted at Brackett’s Ford.[9] On the Confederate artillery opening fire, two brigades were sent up from near Glendale, but when it was found that this fire was not followed up by an infantry attack, these brigades, with two others in addition, were sent over to reinforce the troops which were engaged with Longstreet. When these facts became known; when it was clear that had Jackson attacked vigorously, the Federals would hardly have dared to weaken their line along White Oak Swamp, and that, in these circumstances, Longstreet and A. P. Hill would probably have seized the Quaker road, his failure to cross the creek exposed him to criticism. Not only did his brother-generals complain of his inaction, but Franklin, the Federal commander immediately opposed to him, writing long afterwards, made the following comments:—

“Jackson seems to have been ignorant of what General Lee expected of him, and badly informed about Brackett’s Ford. When he found how strenuous was our defence at the bridge, he should have turned his attention to Brackett’s Ford also. A force could have been as quietly gathered there as at the bridge; a strong infantry movement at the ford would have easily overrun our small force there, placing our right at Glendale, held by Slocum’s division, in great jeopardy, and turning our force at the bridge by getting between it and Glendale. In fact, it is likely that we should have been defeated that day had General Jackson done what his great reputation seems to make it imperative he should have done.”[10] But General Franklin’s opinion as to the ease with which Brackett’s Ford might have been passed is not justified by the facts. In the first place, General Slocum, who was facing Huger, and had little to do throughout the day, had two brigades within easy distance of the crossing; in the second place, General Wright reported the ford impassable; and in the third place, General Franklin himself admits that directly Wright’s scouts were seen near the ford two brigades of Sedgwick’s division were sent to oppose their passage.

General Long, in his life of Lee, finds excuse for Jackson in a story that he was utterly exhausted, and that his staff let him sleep until the sun was high. Apart from the unlikelihood that a man who seems to have done without sleep whenever the enemy was in front should have permitted himself to be overpowered at such a crisis, we have Colonel Munford’s evidence that the general was well in advance of his columns at sunrise, and the regimental reports show that the troops were roused at 2.30 a.m.

Jackson may well have been exhausted. He had certainly not spared himself during the operations. On the night of the 27th, after the battle of Gaines’ Mill, he went over to Stuart’s camp at midnight, and a long conference took place. At 8.30 on the morning of the 29th he visited Magruder, riding across Grapevine Bridge from McGehee’s House, and his start must have been an early one. In a letter to his wife, dated near the White Oak Bridge, he says that in consequence of the heavy rain he rose “about midnight” on the 30th. Yet his medical director, although he noticed that the general fell asleep while he was eating his supper the same evening, says that he never saw him more active and energetic than during the engagement;[11] and Jackson himself, neither in his report nor elsewhere, ever admitted that he was in any way to blame.

It is difficult to conceive that his scrupulous regard for truth, displayed in every action of his life, should have yielded in this one instance to his pride. He was perfectly aware of the necessity of aiding Longstreet; and if, owing to the obstacles enumerated in his report, he thought the task impossible, his opinion, as that of a man who as difficulties accumulated became the more determined to overcome them, must be regarded with respect. The critics, it is possible, have forgotten for the moment that the condition of the troops is a factor of supreme importance in military operations. General D. H. Hill has told us that “Jackson’s own corps was worn out by long and exhausting marches, and reduced in numbers by numerous sanguinary battles;”[12] and he records his conviction that pity for his troops had much to do with the general’s inaction. Hill would have probably come nearer the truth if he had said that the tired regiments were hardly to be trusted in a desperate assault, unsupported by artillery, on a position which was even stronger than that which they had stormed with such loss at Gaines’ Mill.

Had Jackson thrown two columns across the fords—which the cavalry, according to Munford, had not found easy,—and attempted to deploy on the further bank, it was exceedingly probable that they would have been driven back with tremendous slaughter. The refusal of the troops to work at the bridge under fire was in itself a sign that they had little stomach for hard fighting.

It may be argued that it was Jackson’s duty to sacrifice his command in order to draw off troops from Glendale. But on such unfavourable ground the sacrifice would have been worse than useless. The attack repulsed—and it could hardly have gone otherwise—Franklin, leaving a small rear-guard to watch the fords, would have been free to turn nearly his whole strength against Longstreet. It is quite true, as a tactical principle, that demonstrations, such as Jackson made with his artillery, are seldom to be relied upon to hold an enemy in position. When the first alarm has passed off, and the defending general becomes aware that nothing more than a feint is intended, he will act as did the Federals, and employ his reserves elsewhere. A vigorous attack is, almost invariably, the only means of keeping him to his ground. But an attack which is certain to be repulsed, and to be repulsed in quick time, is even less effective than a demonstration. It may be the precursor of a decisive defeat.

But it is not so much for his failure to force the passage at White Oak Swamp that Jackson has been criticised, as for his failure to march to Frayser’s Farm on finding that the Federal position was impregnable. “When, on the forenoon of the 30th,” writes Longstreet, “Jackson found his way blocked by Franklin, he had time to march to the head of it (White Oak Swamp), and across to the Charles City road, in season for the engagement at Frayser’s Farm [Glendale], the distance being about four miles.”[13]

Without doubt this would have been a judicious course to pursue, but it was not for Jackson to initiate such a movement. He had been ordered by General Lee to move along the road to White Oak Swamp, to endeavour to force his way to the Long Bridge road, to guard Lee’s left flank from any attack across the fords or bridges of the lower Chickahominy, and to keep on that road until he received further orders. These further orders he never received; and it was certainly not his place to march to the Charles City road until Lee, who was with Longstreet, sent him instructions to do so. “General Jackson,” says Dr. McGuire, “demanded of his subordinates implicit, blind obedience. He gave orders in his own peculiar, terse, rapid way, and he did not permit them to be questioned. He obeyed his own superiors in the same fashion. At White Oak Swamp he was looking for some message from General Lee, but he received none, and therefore, as a soldier, he had no right to leave the road which had been assigned to him. About July 18, 1862, the night before we started to Gordonsville, Crutchfield, Pendleton (assistant adjutant-general), and myself were discussing the campaign just finished. We were talking about the affair at Frayser’s Farm, and wondering if it would have been better for Jackson with part of his force to have moved to Longstreet’s aid. The general came in while the discussion was going on, and curtly said: ‘If General Lee had wanted me he could have sent for me.’ It looked the day after the battle, and it looks to me now, that if General Lee had sent a staff officer, who could have ridden the distance in forty minutes, to order Jackson with three divisions to the cross roads, while D. H. Hill and the artillery watched Franklin, we should certainly have crushed McClellan’s army. If Lee had wanted Jackson to give direct support to Longstreet, he could have had him there in under three hours. The staff officer was not sent, and the evidence is that General Lee believed Longstreet strong enough to defeat the Federals without direct aid from Jackson.”[14] Such reasoning appears incontrovertible. Jackson, be it remembered, had been directed to guard the left flank of the army “until further orders.” Had these words been omitted, and he had been left free to follow his own judgment, it is possible that he would have joined Huger on the Charles City road with three divisions. But in all probability he felt himself tied down by the phrase which Moltke so strongly reprobates. Despite Dr. McGuire’s statement Jackson knew well that disobedience to orders may sometimes be condoned. It may be questioned whether he invariably demanded “blind” obedience. “General,” said an officer, “you blame me for disobedience of orders, but in Mexico you did the same yourself.” “But I was successful,” was Jackson’s reply; as much as to say that an officer, when he takes upon himself the responsibility of ignoring the explicit instructions of his superior, must be morally certain that he is doing what that superior, were he present, would approve. Apply this rule to the situation at White Oak Swamp. For anything Jackson knew it was possible that Longstreet and Hill might defeat the Federals opposed to them without his aid. In such case, Lee, believing Jackson to be still on the left flank, would have ordered him to prevent the enemy’s escape by the Long Bridge. What would Lee have said had his “further orders” found Jackson marching to the Charles City road, with the Long Bridge some miles in rear? The truth is that the principle of marching to the sound of the cannon, though always to be borne in mind, cannot be invariably followed. The only fair criticism on Jackson’s conduct is that he should have informed Lee of his inability to force the passage across the Swamp, and have held three divisions in readiness to march to Glendale. This, so far as can be ascertained, was left undone, but the evidence is merely negative.

Except for this apparent omission, it cannot be fairly said that Jackson was in the slightest degree responsible for the failure of the Confederate operations. If the truth be told, Lee’s design was by no means perfect. It had two serious defects. In the first place, it depended for success on the co-operation of several converging columns, moving over an intricate country, of which the Confederates had neither accurate maps nor reliable information. The march of the columns was through thick woods, which not only impeded intercommunication, but provided the enemy with ample material for obstructing the roads, and Jackson’s line of march was barred by a formidable obstacle in White Oak Swamp, an admirable position for a rear-guard. In the second place, concentration at the decisive point was not provided for. The staff proved incapable of keeping the divisions in hand. Magruder was permitted to wander to and fro after the fashion of D’Erlon between Quatre Bras and Ligny. Holmes was as useless as Grouchy at Waterloo. Huger did nothing, although some of his brigades, when the roads to the front were found to be obstructed, might easily have been drawn off to reinforce Longstreet. The cavalry had gone off on a raid to the White House, instead of crossing the Chickahominy and harassing the enemy’s eastward flank; and at the decisive point only two divisions were assembled, 20,000 men all told, and these two divisions attacked in succession instead of simultaneously. Had Magruder and Holmes, neither of whom would have been called upon to march more than thirteen miles, moved on Frayser’s Farm, and had part of Huger’s division been brought over to the same point, the Federals would in all probability have been irretrievably defeated. It is easy to be wise after the event. The circumstances were extraordinary. An army of 75,000 men was pursuing an army of 95,000, of which 65,000, when the pursuit began, were perfectly fresh troops. The problem was, indeed, one of exceeding difficulty; but, in justice to the reputation of his lieutenants, it is only fair to say that Lee’s solution was not a masterpiece.

During the night which followed the battle of Frayser’s Farm the whole Federal army fell back on Malvern Hill—a strong position, commanding the country for many miles, and very difficult of access, on which the reserve artillery, supported by the Fourth and Fifth Corps, was already posted.

July 1 The Confederates, marching at daybreak, passed over roads which were strewn with arms, blankets, and equipments. Stragglers from the retreating army were picked up at every step. Scores of wounded men lay untended by the roadside. Waggons and ambulances had been abandoned; and with such evidence before their eyes it was difficult to resist the conviction that the enemy was utterly demoralised. That McClellan had seized Malvern Hill, and that it was strongly occupied by heavy guns, Lee was well aware. But, still holding to his purpose of annihilating his enemy before McDowell could intervene from Fredericksburg, he pushed forward, determined to attack; and with his whole force now well in hand the result seemed assured. Three or four miles south of White Oak Swamp Jackson’s column, which was leading the Confederate advance, came under the fire of the Federal batteries. The advanced guard deployed in the woods on either side of the road, and Lee, accompanied by Jackson, rode forward to reconnoitre.

Malvern Hill, a plateau rising to the height of 150 feet above the surrounding forests, possessed nearly every requirement of a strong defensive position. The open ground on the top, undulating and unobstructed, was a mile and a half in length by half a mile in breadth. To the north, north-west, and north-east it fell gradually, the slopes covered with wheat, standing or in shock, to the edge of the woods, which are from eight to sixteen hundred yards distant from the commanding crest. The base of the hill, except to the east and south-east, was covered with dense forest; and within the forest, at the foot of the declivity, ran a tortuous and marshy stream. The right flank was partially protected by a long mill-dam. The left, more open, afforded an excellent artillery position overlooking a broad stretch of meadows, drained by a narrow stream and deep ditches, and flanked by the fire of several gunboats. Only three approaches, the Quaker and the river roads, and a track from the north-west, gave access to the heights.

The reconnaissance showed that General Porter, commanding the defence, had utilised the ground to the best advantage. A powerful artillery, posted just in rear of the crest, swept the entire length of the slopes, and under cover in rear were dense masses of infantry, with a strong line of skirmishers pushed down the hill in front.

Nevertheless, despite the formidable nature of the Federal preparations, orders were immediately issued for attack. General Lee, who was indisposed, had instructed Longstreet to reconnoitre the enemy’s left, and to report whether attack was feasible. Jackson was opposed to a frontal attack, preferring to turn the enemy’s right. Longstreet, however, was of a different opinion. “The spacious open,” he says, “along Jackson’s front appeared to offer a field for play of a hundred or more guns. . . . I thought it probable that Porter’s batteries, under the cross-fire of the Confederates’ guns posted on his left and front, could be thrown into disorder, and thus make way for the combined assaults of the infantry. I so reported, and General Lee ordered disposition accordingly, sending the pioneer corps to cut a road for the right batteries.”[15]

4 p.m. It was not till four o’clock that the line of battle was formed. Jackson was on the left, with Whiting to the left of the Quaker road, and D. H. Hill to the right; Ewell’s and Jackson’s own divisions were in reserve. Nearly half a mile beyond Jackson’s right came two of Huger’s brigades, Armistead and Wright, and to Huger’s left rear was Magruder. Holmes, still on the river road, was to assail the enemy’s left. Longstreet and A. P. Hill were in reserve behind Magruder, on the Long Bridge road.

The deployment of the leading divisions was not effected without loss, for the Federal artillery swept all the roads and poured a heavy fire into the woods; but at length D. H. Hill’s infantry came into line along the edge of the timber.

The intervening time had been employed in bringing the artillery to the front; and now were seen the tremendous difficulties which confronted the attack. The swamps and thickets through which the batteries had to force their way were grievous impediments to rapid or orderly movement, and when they at last emerged from the cover, and unlimbered for action, the concentrated fire of the Federal guns overpowered them from the outset. In front of Huger four batteries were disabled in quick succession, the enemy concentrating fifty or sixty guns on each of them in turn; four or five others which Jackson had ordered to take post on the left of his line, although, with two exceptions, they managed to hold their ground, were powerless to subdue the hostile fire. “The obstacles,” says Lee in his report, “presented by the woods and swamp made it impracticable to bring up a sufficient amount of artillery to oppose successfully the extraordinary force of that arm employed by the enemy, while the field itself afforded us few positions favourable for its use and none for its proper concentration.”

According to Longstreet, when the inability of the batteries to prepare the way for the infantry was demonstrated by their defeat, Lee abandoned the original plan of attack. “He proposed to me to move “round to the left with my own and A. P. Hill’s division, and turn the Federal right.” I issued my orders accordingly for the two divisions to go around and turn the Federal right, when in some way unknown to me the battle was drawn on.”[16]

Unfortunately, through some mistake on the part of Lee’s staff, the order of attack which had been already issued was not rescinded. It was certainly an extraordinary production. “Batteries,” it ran, “have been established to rake the enemy’s line. If it is broken, as is probable, Armistead, who can witness the effect of the fire, has been ordered to charge with a yell. Do the same.”[17] This was to D. H. Hill and to Magruder, who had under his command Huger’s and McLaws’ divisions as well as his own.

5.30 p.m. So, between five and six o’clock, General D. H. Hill, believing that he heard the appointed signal, broke forward from the timber, and five brigades, in one irregular line, charged full against the enemy’s front. The Federals, disposed in several lines, were in overwhelming strength. Their batteries were free to concentrate on the advancing infantry. Their riflemen, posted in the interval between the artillery masses, swept the long slopes with a grazing fire, while fence, bank, and ravine, gave shelter from the Confederate bullets. Nor were the enormous difficulties which confronted the attack in any way mitigated by careful arrangement on the part of the Confederate staff. The only hope of success, if success were possible, lay in one strong concentrated effort; in employing the whole army; in supporting the infantry with artillery, regardless of loss, at close range; and in hurling a mass of men, in several successive lines, against one point of the enemy’s position. It is possible that the Federal army, already demoralised by retreat, might have yielded to such vigorous pressure. But in the Confederate attack there was not the slightest attempt at concentration. The order which dictated it gave an opening to misunderstanding; and, as is almost invariably the case when orders are defective, misunderstanding occurred. The movement was premature. Magruder had only two brigades of his three divisions, Armistead’s and Wright’s, in position. Armistead, who was well in advance of the Confederate right, was attacked by a strong body of skirmishers. D. H. Hill took the noise of this conflict for the appointed signal, and moved forward. The divisions which should have supported him had not yet crossed the swamp in rear; and thus 10,500 men, absolutely unaided, advanced against the whole Federal army. The blunder met with terrible retribution. On that midsummer evening death reaped a fearful harvest. The gallant Confederate infantry, nerved by their success at Gaines’ Mill, swept up the field with splendid determination. “It was the onset of battle,” said a Federal officer present, “with the good order of a review.” But the iron hail of grape and canister, laying the ripe wheat low as if it had been cut with a sickle, and tossing the shocks in air, rent the advancing lines from end to end. Hundreds fell, hundreds swarmed back to the woods, but still the brigades pressed on, and through the smoke of battle the waving colours led the charge. But the Federal infantry had yet to be encountered. Lying behind their shelter they had not yet fired a shot; but as the Confederates reached close range, regiment after regiment, springing to their feet, poured a devastating fire into the charging ranks. The rush was checked. Here and there small bodies of desperate men, following the colours, still pressed onward, but the majority lay down, and the whole front of battle rang with the roar of musketry. But so thin was the Confederate line that it was impossible to overcome the sustained fire of the enemy. The brigade reserves had already been thrown in; there was no further support at hand; the Federal gunners, staunch and resolute, held fast to their position, and on every part of the line Porter’s reserves were coming up. As one regiment emptied its cartridge-boxes it was relieved by another. The volume of fire never for a moment slackened; and fresh batteries, amongst which were the 32-pounders of the siege train, unlimbering on the flanks, gave further strength to a front which was already impregnable.

Jackson, meanwhile, on receiving a request for reinforcements, had sent forward three brigades of his own division and a brigade of Hill’s. But a mistake had been committed in the disposition of these troops. The order for attack had undoubtedly named only D. H. Hill’s division. But there was no good reason that it should have been so literally construed as to leave the division unsupported. Whiting was guarding the left flank, and was not available; but Ewell and Winder were doing nothing, and there can be no question but that they should have advanced to the edge of the woods directly D. H. Hill moved forward, and have followed his brigades across the open, ready to lend aid directly his line was checked. As it was, they had been halted within the woods and beyond the swamp, and the greater part, in order to avoid the random shells, had moved even further to the rear. It thus happened that before the reinforcements arrived Hill’s division had been beaten back, and under the tremendous fire of the Federal artillery it was with difficulty that the border of the forest was maintained.

While Hill was retiring, Huger, and then Magruder, came into action on the right. It had been reported to Lee that the enemy was beginning to fall back. This report originated, there can be little doubt, in the withdrawal of the Federal regiments and batteries which had exhausted their ammunition and were relieved by others; but, in any case, it was imperative that D. H. Hill should be supported, and the other divisions were ordered forward with all speed. Huger’s and Magruder’s men attacked with the same determination as had been displayed by Hill’s, but no better success attended their endeavours. The brigades were not properly formed when the order arrived, but scattered over a wide front, and they went in piecemeal. Magruder’s losses were even greater than Hill’s; and with his defeat the battle ceased.

Had the Federals followed up the repulse with a strong counter-attack the victory of Malvern Hill might have been more decisive than that of Gaines’ Mill. It is true that neither Longstreet nor A. P. Hill had been engaged, and that three of Jackson’s divisions, his own, Whiting’s and Ewell’s, had suffered little. But Magruder and D. H. Hill, whose commands included at least 30,000 muskets, one half of Lee’s infantry, had been completely crushed, and Holmes on the river road was too far off to lend assistance. The fatal influence of a continued retreat had paralysed, however, the initiative of the Federal generals. Intent only on getting away unscathed, they neglected, like McClellan at Gaines’ Mill, to look for opportunities, forgetting that when an enemy is pursuing in hot haste he is very apt to expose himself. Jackson had acted otherwise at Port Republic.

The loss of over 5,000 men was not the worst which had befallen the Confederates. “The next morning by dawn,” says one of Ewell’s brigadiers, “I went off to ask for orders, when I found the whole army in the utmost disorder—thousands of straggling men were asking every passer-by for their regiments; ambulances, waggons, and artillery obstructing every road, and altogether, in a drenching rain, presenting a scene of the most woeful and disheartening confusion.”[18] The reports of other officers corroborate General Trimble’s statement, and there can be no question that demoralisation had set in. Whether, if the Federals had used their large reserves with resolution, and, as the Confederates fell back down the slopes, had followed with the bayonet, the demoralisation would not have increased and spread, must remain in doubt. Not one of the Southern generals engaged has made public his opinion. There is but one thing certain, that with an opponent so blind to opportunity as McClellan a strong counterstroke was the last thing to be feared. After witnessing the opening of the attack, the Federal commander, leaving the control of the field to Porter, had ridden off to Harrison’s Landing, eight miles down the James, whither his trains, escorted by the Fourth Army Corps, had been directed, and where he had determined to await reinforcements. The Federal troops, moreover, although they had withstood the charge of the Confederate infantry with unbroken ranks, had not fought with the same spirit as they had displayed at Gaines’ Mill. General Hunt, McClellan’s chief of artillery, to whose admirable disposition of the batteries the victory was largely due, wrote that “the battle was desperately contested, and frequently trembled in the balance. The last attack . . . was nearly successful; but we won from the fact that we had kept our reserves in hand.”[19] Nor had McClellan much confidence in his army. “My men,” he wrote to Washington on the morning of the battle, “are completely exhausted, and I dread the result if we are attacked to-day by fresh troops. If possible, I shall retire to-night to Harrison’s Landing, where the gunboats can render more aid in covering our position. Permit me to urge that not an hour should be lost in sending me fresh troops. More gunboats are much needed. . . . I now pray for time. My men have proved themselves the equals of any troops in the world, but they are worn out. Our losses have been very great, we have failed to win only because overpowered by superior numbers.”[20]

Surely a more despairing appeal was never uttered. The general, whose only thought was “more gunboats and fresh troops,” whatever may have been the condition of his men, had reached the last stage of demoralisation.

The condition to which McClellan was reduced seems to have been realised by Jackson. The crushing defeat of his own troops failed to disturb his judgment. Whilst the night still covered the battle-field, his divisional generals came to report the condition of their men and to receive instructions. “Every representation,” says Dabney, “which they made was gloomy.” At length, after many details of losses and disasters, they concurred in declaring that McClellan would probably take the aggressive in the morning, and that the Confederate army was in no condition to resist him. Jackson had listened silently, save when he interposed a few brief questions, to all their statements; but now he replied: “No; he will clear out in the morning.”

July 2 The forecast was more than fulfilled. When morning dawned, grey, damp, and cheerless, and the Confederate sentinels, through the cold mist which rose from the sodden woods, looked out upon the battle-field, they saw that Malvern Hill had been abandoned. Only a few cavalry patrols rode to and fro on the ground which had been held by the Federal artillery, and on the slopes below, covered with hundreds of dead and dying men, the surgeons were quietly at work. During the night the enemy had fallen back to Harrison’s Landing, and justification for Lee’s assault at Malvern Hill may be found in the story of the Federal retreat. The confusion of the night march, following on a long series of fierce engagements, told with terrible effect on the moral of the men, and stragglers increased at every step. “It was like the retreat,” said one of McClellan’s generals, “of a whipped army. We retreated like a parcel of sheep, and a few shots from the rebels would have panic-stricken the whole command.”[21] At length, through blinding rain, the flotilla of gunboats was discovered, and on the long peninsula between Herring Run and the James the exhausted army reached a resting-place. But so great was the disorder, that during the whole of that day nothing was done to prepare a defensive position; a ridge to the north, which commanded the whole camp, was unoccupied; and, according to the Committee of Congress which took evidence on the conduct of the war, “nothing but a heavy rain, thereby preventing the enemy from bringing up their artillery, saved the army from destruction.”[22] McClellan’s own testimony is even more convincing. “The army,” he wrote on July 8, the second day after the battle, “is thoroughly worn out and requires rest and very heavy reinforcements. . . . I am in hopes that the enemy is as completely worn out as we are. . . . The roads are now very bad; for these reasons I hope we shall have enough breathing space to reorganise and rest the men, and get them into position before the enemy can attack again. . . . It is of course impossible to estimate as yet our losses, but I doubt whether there are to-day more than 50,000 men with the colours.”[23]

As his army of 105,000 men, during the whole of the Seven Days, lost only 16,000, the last admission, if accurate, is most significant. Nearly half the men must either have been sick or straggling.

It was not because the Confederates were also worn out that the Federals were given time to reorganise and to establish themselves in a strong position. Jackson, the moment it was light, rode through the rain to the front. Learning that the enemy had evacuated their position, he ordered his chief of staff to get the troops under arms, to form the infantry in three lines of battle, and then to allow the men to build fires, cook their rations, and dry their clothes. By 11 o’clock the ammunition had been replenished, and his four divisions were formed up. Longstreet’s brigades had pushed forward a couple of miles, but no orders had reached the Valley troops, and Major Dabney rode off to find his general. “I was told,” he writes, “that he was in the Poindexter House, a large mansion near Willis’ Church. Lee, Jackson, Dr. McGuire, and Major Taylor of Lee’s staff, and perhaps others, were in the dining-room. Asking leave to report to General Jackson that his orders had been fulfilled, I was introduced to General Lee, who, with his usual kindness, begged me to sit by the fire and dry myself. Here I stayed much of the day, and witnessed some strange things. Longstreet, wet and muddy, was the first to enter. He had ridden round most of the battle-field, and his report was not particularly cheerful. Jackson was very quiet, never volunteering any counsel or suggestion, but answering when questioned in a brief, deferential tone. His countenance was very serious, and soon became very troubled. After a time the clatter of horses’ hoofs was heard, and two gentlemen came in, dripping. They were the President and his nephew. Davis and Lee then drew to the table, and entered into an animated military discussion. Lee told the President the news which the scouts were bringing in, of horrible mud, and of abandoned arms and baggage waggons. They then debated at length what was to be done next. McClellan was certainly retiring, but whether as beaten or as only manœuvring was not apparent, nor was the direction of his retreat at all clear. Was he aiming for some point on the lower James where he might embark and get away? or at some point on the upper James—say Shirley, or Bermuda Hundred—where he could cross the river (he had pontoons and gunboats) and advance on Richmond from the south? Such were the questions which came up, and at length it was decided that the army should make no movement until further information had been received. The enemy was not to be pursued until Stuart’s cavalry, which had arrived the previous evening at Nance’s Shop, should obtain reliable information.

“Jackson, meanwhile, sat silent in his corner. I watched his face. The expression, changing from surprise to dissent, and lastly to intense mortification, showed clearly the tenor of his thoughts. He knew that McClellan was defeated, that he was retreating and not manœuvring. He knew that his troops were disorganised, that sleeplessness, fasting, bad weather, and disaster must have weakened their moral. He heard it said by General Lee that the scouts reported the roads so deep in mud that the artillery could not move, that our men were wet and wearied. But Jackson’s mind reasoned that where the Federals could march the Confederates could follow, and that a decisive victory was well worth a great effort.”[24]

July 3 The decision of the council of war was that the army should move the next morning in the direction of Harrison’s Landing. Longstreet, whose troops had not been engaged at Malvern Hill, was to lead the way. But the operations of this day were without result. The line of march was by Carter’s Mill and the river road. But after the troops had been set in motion, it was found that the river road had been obstructed by the enemy, and Lee directed Longstreet to countermarch to the Charles City cross roads and move on Evelington Heights.[25] But ignorance of the country and inefficient guides once more played into the enemy’s hands, and when night closed the troops were still some distance from the Federal outposts.

The delay had been exceedingly unfortunate. At 9 a.m. Stuart’s cavalry had occupied the Evelington Heights, and, believing that Longstreet was close at hand, had opened fire with a single howitzer on the camps below. The consternation caused by this unlooked-for attack was great. But the Federals soon recovered from their surprise, and, warned as to the danger of their situation, sent out infantry and artillery to drive back the enemy and secure the heights. Stuart, dismounting his troopers, held on for some time; but at two o’clock, finding that the Confederate infantry was still six or seven miles distant, and that his ammunition was failing, he gave up the Heights, which were immediately fortified by the enemy. Had the cavalry commander resisted the temptation of spreading panic in the enemy’s ranks, and kept his troops under cover, infantry and artillery might possibly have been brought up to the Heights before they were occupied by the Federals. In any case, it was utterly useless to engage a whole army with one gun and a few regiments of cavalry, and in war, especially in advanced guard operations, silence is often golden.[26] It was not till they were warned by the fire of Stuart’s howitzer that the Federals realised the necessity of securing and intrenching the Evelington Heights, and it is within the bounds of possibility, had they been left undisturbed, that they might have neglected them altogether. McClellan, according to his letters already quoted, believed that the condition of the roads would retard the advance of the enemy; and, as is evident from a letter he wrote the same morning, before the incident took place, he was of opinion that there was no immediate need for the occupation of a defensive position.[27]

During this day the Valley divisions, crawling in rear of Longstreet, had marched only three miles; and such sluggish progress, at so critical a moment, put the climax to Jackson’s discontent. His wrath blazed forth with unwonted vehemence. “That night,” says Dabney,[28] “he was quartered in a farmhouse a mile or two east of Willis’ Church. The soldier assigned to him as a guide made a most stupid report, and admitted that he knew nothing of the road. Jackson turned on him in fierce anger, and ordered him from his presence with threats of the severest punishment. On retiring, he said to his staff, ‘Now, gentlemen, Jim will have breakfast for you punctually at dawn. I expect you to be up, to eat immediately, and be in the saddle without delay. We must burn no more daylight.’ About daybreak I heard him tramping down the stairs. I alone went out to meet him. All the rest were asleep. He addressed me in stern tones: ‘Major, how is it that this staff never will be punctual?’ I replied: ‘I am in time; I cannot control the others.’ Jackson turned in a rage to the servant: ‘Put back that food into the chest, have that chest in the waggon, and that waggon moving in two minutes.’ I suggested, very humbly, that he had better at least take some food himself. But he was too angry to eat, and repeating his orders, flung himself into the saddle, and galloped off. Jim gave a low whistle, saying: ‘My stars, but de general is just mad dis time; most like lightnin’ strike him!’”

July 4 With the engagement on the Evelington Heights the fighting round Richmond came to an end. When Lee came up with his advanced divisions on the morning of the 4th, he found the pickets already engaged, and the troops formed up in readiness for action. He immediately rode forward with Jackson, and the two, dismounting, proceeded without staff or escort to make a careful reconnaissance of the enemy’s position. Their inspection showed them that it was practically impregnable. The front, facing westward, was flanked from end to end by the fire of the gunboats, and the Evelington Heights, already fortified, and approached by a single road, were stronger ground than even Malvern Hill. The troops were therefore withdrawn to the forest, and for the next three days, with the exception of those employed in collecting the arms and stores which the Federals had abandoned, they remained inactive.

July 8 On July 8, directing Stuart to watch McClellan, General Lee fell back to Richmond.

The battles of the Seven Days cost the Confederates 20,000 men. The Federals, although defeated, lost no more than 16,000, of whom 10,000, nearly half of them wounded, were prisoners. In addition, however, 52 guns and 35,000 rifles became the prize of the Southerners; and vast as was the quantity of captured stores, far greater was the amount destroyed.

But the defeat of McClellan’s army is not to be measured by a mere estimate of the loss in men and in materiel. The discomfited general sought to cover his failure by a lavish employment of strategic phrases. The retreat to the James, he declared, had been planned before the battle of Mechanicsville. He had merely manœuvred to get quit of an inconvenient line of supply, and to place his army in a more favourable position for attacking Richmond. He congratulated his troops on their success in changing the line of operations, always regarded as the most hazardous of military expedients. Their conduct, he said, ranked them among the most celebrated armies of history. Under every disadvantage of numbers, and necessarily of position also, they had in every conflict beaten back their foes with enormous slaughter. They had reached the new base complete in organisation and unimpaired in spirit.[29]

It is possible that this address soothed the pride of his troops. It certainly deluded neither his own people nor the South. The immediate effect of his strategic manœuvre was startling.

5,000 men, the effective remnant of Shields’ division, besides several new regiments, were sent to the Peninsula from the army protecting Washington. General Burnside, who had mastered a portion of the North Carolina coast, was ordered to suspend operations, to leave a garrison in New Berne, and to bring the remainder of his army to Fortress Monroe. Troops were demanded from General Hunter, who had taken the last fort which defended Savannah, the port of Georgia.[30] The Western army of the Union was asked to reinforce McClellan, and Lincoln called on the Northern States for a fresh levy. But although 300,000 men were promised him, the discouragement of the Northern people was so great that recruits showed no alacrity in coming forward. The South, on the other hand, ringing with the brilliant deeds of Lee and Jackson, turned with renewed vigour to the task of resisting the invader. Richmond, the beleaguered capital, although the enemy was in position not more than twenty miles away, knew that her agony was over. The city was one vast hospital. Many of the best and bravest of the Confederacy had fallen in the Seven Days, and the voice of mourning hushed all sound of triumph. But the long columns of prisoners, the captured cannon, the great trains of waggons, piled high with spoil, were irrefragable proof of the complete defeat of the invader.

When the army once more encamped within sight of the city it was received as it deserved. Lee and Jackson were the special objects of admiration. All recognised the strategic skill which had wrought the overthrow of McClellan’s host; and the hard marches and sudden blows of the campaign on the Shenandoah, crowned by the swift transfer of the Valley army from the Blue Ridge to the Chickahominy, took fast hold of the popular imagination. The mystery in which Jackson’s operations were involved, the dread he inspired in the enemy, his reticence, his piety, his contempt of comfort, his fiery energy, his fearlessness, and his simplicity aroused the interest and enthusiasm of the whole community. Whether Lee or his lieutenant was the more averse to posing before the crowd it is difficult to say. Both succeeded in escaping all public manifestation of popular favour; both went about their business with an absolute absence of ostentation, and if the handsome features of the Commander-in-Chief were familiar to the majority of the citizens, few recognised in the plainly dressed soldier, riding alone through Richmond, the great leader of the Valley, with whose praises not the South only, but the whole civilised world, was already ringing.

[1] General Reynolds.

[2] Lee’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i, pp. 493, 494.

[3] This detachment, about 3,500 strong, consisted of the outposts that had been established north and north-east of Beaver Dam Creek on June 27, of the garrison of the White House, and of troops recently disembarked.

[4] Strange to say, while the Confederates possessed no maps whatever, McClellan was well supplied in this respect. “Two or three weeks before this,” says General Averell (Battles and Leaders, vol. ii, p. 431), “three officers of the 3rd Pennsylvania Cavalry, and others, penetrated the region between the Chickahominy and the James, taking bearings and making notes. Their fragmentary sketches, when put together, made a map which exhibited all the roadways, fields, forests, bridges, the streams, and houses, so that our commander knew the country to be traversed far better than any Confederate commander.”

[5] Jackson had with him a gang of negroes who, under the superintendence of Captain Mason, a railroad contractor of long experience, performed the duties which in regular armies appertain to the corps of engineers. They had already done useful service in the Valley.

[6] O.R., vol. xi, part i, pp. 556, 557.

[7] “Jackson himself,” writes Dr. McGuire, “accompanied by three or four members of his staff, of whom I was one, followed the cavalry across the Swamp. The ford was miry and deep, and impracticable for either artillery or infantry.”

[8] O.R., vol. xi, part i, pp. 810, 811.

[9] General Heintzleman, commanding the Federal 3rd Corps, reports that he had placed a force at Brackett’s Ford (O.R., vol. xi, part ii, p. 100). General Slocum (6th Corps) sent infantry and a 12-pounder howitzer (O.R., volume xi, part ii, p. 435) to the same point; and Seeley’s battery of the 3rd Corps was also engaged here (O.R., vol. xi, part ii, p. 106). The force at White Oak Bridge was constituted as follows:—

Smith’s Division Richardson’s Division Sedgwick’s Division (Dana’s and Sully’s Brigades) Peck’s Division (Naglee’s Brigade) of the 6th Corps. of the 2nd Corps. of the 2nd Corps. of the 4th Corps.

[10] Battles and Leaders, vol. ii, p. 381.Return to passage

[11] Letter from Dr. Hunter McGuire to the author.Return to passage

[12] Battles and Leaders, vol. ii, p. 389.Return to passage

[13] From Manassas to Appomattox, p. 150.Return to passage

[14] Letter to the author.Return to passage

[15] From Manassas to Appomattox, p. 143.Return to passage

[16] Battles and Leaders, vol. ii, p. 403.Return to passage

[17] O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 677.Return to passage

[18] Trimble’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 619.Return to passage

[19] Three horse-batteries and eight 32-pr. howitzers were “brought up to the decisive point at the close of the day, thus bringing every gun of this large artillery force (the artillery reserve) into the most active and decisive use. Not a gun remained unemployed: not one could have been safely spared.—Hunt’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part ii, p. 239.Return to passage

[20] O.R., vol. xi, part iii, p. 282.Return to passage

[21] Report on the Conduct of the War, p. 580. General Hooker’s evidence.Return to passage

[22] Report on the Conduct of the War, p. 27.Return to passage

[23] O.R., vol. xi, part i, pp. 291, 292.Return to passage

[24] Letter to the author. Dr. McGuire writes to the same effect.Return to passage

[25] Evelington Heights are between Rawling’s Mill Pond and Westover.Return to passage

[26] The military student will compare the battles of Weissembourg, Vionville, and Gravelotte in 1870, all of which began with a useless surprise.Return to passage

[27] O.R., vol. xi, part iii, pp. 291–2.Return to passage

[28] Letter to the author.Return to passage

[29] O.R., vol. xi, part iii, p. 299.Return to passage

[30] The forces under Burnside and Hunter amounted to some 35,000 men.Return to passage

XV. CEDAR RUN

The victories in the Valley, the retreat of Banks, Shields, and Frémont, followed by the victory of Gaines’ Mill, had raised the hopes of the South to the highest pitch.

When McClellan fell back to the James the capture or destruction of his army seemed a mere matter of time, and it was confidently expected that a disaster of such magnitude would assuredly bring the North to terms. But the slaughter of the Confederates at Malvern Hill, the unmolested retreat of the enemy to Harrison’s Landing, the fortification of that strong position, induced a more sober mood. The Northern soldiers had displayed a courage for which the South had not yet given them credit. On the last of the Seven Days they had fought almost as stubbornly as on the first. Their losses had been heavy, but they had taught their adversaries that they were no longer the unmanageable levies of Bull Run, scattered by the first touch of disaster to the four winds. It was no frail barrier which stood now between the South and her independence, but a great army of trained soldiers, seasoned by experience, bound together by discipline, and capable of withstanding a long series of reverses. And when it became clear that McClellan, backed by the fleet, had no intention of losing his grip on Richmond; when the news came that Lincoln had asked for 300,000 fresh troops; and that the Federal Army of the West, undisturbed by Lee’s victories, was still advancing through Tennessee,[1] the power and persistency of the North were revealed in all their huge proportions. But the disappointment of the Southern people in no way abated their gratitude. The troops drank their fill of praise. The deeds of the Valley regiments were on every tongue. The Stonewall Brigade was the most famous organisation in the Confederacy. To have marched with Jackson was a sure passport to the good graces of every citizen. Envied by their comrades, regarded as heroes by the admiring crowds that thronged the camps, the ragged soldiers of the Shenandoah found ample compensation for their labour. They had indeed earned the rest which was now given them. For more than two months they had been marching and fighting without cessation. Since they left Elk Run, on April 29, until they fell back to the capital on July 8, their camps had never stood in the same spot for more than four days in succession.

But neither they nor their general looked forward to a long sojourn within the works round Richmond. The men pined for the fresh breezes of their native highlands. The tainted atmosphere of a district which was one vast battle-ground told upon their health, and the people of Richmond, despite their kindness, were strangers after all. Nor was Jackson less anxious to leave the capital. The heavy rain which had deluged the bivouac on the Chickahominy had chilled him to the bone. During the whole of the pursuit, from White Oak Swamp to Westover, he had suffered from fever. But his longing for a move westward was dictated by other motives than the restoration of his health. No sooner had it become evident that McClellan’s position was impregnable than he turned his thoughts to some more vulnerable point. He would allow the enemy no respite. In his opinion there should be no “letting up” in the attack. The North should be given no leisure to reorganise the armies or to train recruits. A swift succession of fierce blows, delivered at a vital point, was the only means of bringing the colossus to its knees, and that vital point was far from Richmond.

Before the Confederate troops marched back to Richmond he laid his views before the member of Congress for the Winchester district, and begged Mr. Boteler to impress them on the Government. “McClellan’s army,” he said, “was manifestly thoroughly beaten, incapable of moving until it had been reorganised and reinforced. There was danger,” he foresaw, “that the fruits of victory would be lost, as they had been lost after Bull Run. The Confederate army should at once leave the malarious district round Richmond, and moving northwards, carry the horrors of invasion across the border. This,” he said, “was the only way to bring the North to its senses, and to end the war. And it was within the power of the Confederates, if they were to concentrate their resources, to make a successful bid for victory. 60,000 men might march into Maryland and threaten Washington. But while he was anxious that these views should be laid before the President, he would earnestly disclaim the charge of self-seeking. He wished to follow, and not to lead. He was willing to follow anyone—Lee, or Ewell, or anyone who would fight.” “Why do you not urge your views,” asked Mr. Boteler, “on General Lee?” “I have done so,” replied Jackson. “And what does he say to them?” “He says nothing,” was the answer; “but do not understand that I complain of this silence; it is proper that General Lee should observe it. He is wise and prudent. He feels that he bears a fearful responsibility, and he is right in declining a hasty expression of his purpose to a subordinate like me.”[2]

Jackson was perfectly right in his estimate of the Federal army. McClellan had 90,000 men, but 16,000 were sick, and he was still under the delusion that he had been defeated by more than twice his numbers. His letters to the President, it is true, betrayed no misgiving. He was far from admitting that he had been defeated. His army, he wrote, was now so favourably placed that an advance on Richmond was easy. He was full of confidence. He was watching carefully for any fault committed by the enemy, and would take advantage of it. The spirit of his army, he declared, was such that he felt unable to restrain it from speedily assuming the offensive. He had determined not to fall back unless he was absolutely forced to do so. He was ready for a rapid and heavy blow at Richmond. But to strike that blow he required heavy reinforcements, and while waiting their arrival he was unwilling to leave his strong position.[3]

Jackson’s views were considered by Mr. Davis. For the present, however, they were disregarded. The situation, in the opinion of the Government, was still critical. McClellan might be reinforced by sea. He might be superseded by a more energetic commander, and the Federals might then cross to the right bank of the James, cut the railways which connected Richmond with the South, and turn the line of fortifications. The losses of the Seven Days had reduced the Confederate strength to 60,000. Under such circumstances it was not considered safe to remove the army from the capital. Jackson, however, was entrusted with a more congenial duty than watching an enemy who, he was absolutely convinced, had no intention of leaving his intrenchments.

July 13 His longing for active work was gratified by an order to march westward. Lee, finding McClellan immovable, had recourse to his former strategy. He determined to play once more on Lincoln’s fears. The Army of Virginia, under the command of Pope, defended Washington. Would the Northern Government, when the news came that Stonewall Jackson was returning to the Shenandoah, deem this force sufficient to protect the capital? Would they not rather think it necessary to recall McClellan? The experiment was worth trying. After some delay in recovering from the disorganisation caused by the disasters in the Valley, Pope had assembled his army east of the Blue Ridge, near the sources of the Rappahannock. Sperryvile, his advanced post, was no more than forty miles north of the Virginia Central Railway, and his cavalry was already advancing. It was essential that the railway, the chief line of supply of the Confederate army, should be protected; and Jackson was instructed to halt near Gordonsville.

July 16 On the 16th his leading brigades reached their destination. Their arrival was opportune. The Federal cavalry, with a strong infantry support, was already threatening Gordonsville. On learning, however, that the town was occupied they at once fell back.

Jackson, as soon as his command was up, and he had had time to ascertain the Federal strength, applied for reinforcements. His own numbers were very small. The divisions of D. H. Hill and Whiting had remained at Richmond. The Army of the Valley, reduced to its original elements, was no more than 11,000 strong. Pope’s army consisted of 47,000 men.[4] But the Federals were scattered over a wide front. Sigel, a German who had succeeded Frémont, was near Sperryville, and Banks lay close to Sigel. Each of these officers commanded an army corps of two divisions. Of McDowell’s army corps, Ricketts’ division held Warrenton, twenty-five miles east of Banks; while King’s division was retained at Fredericksburg, forty miles south-east of Ricketts’. Such dispersion seemed to invite attack. Lee, however, found it impossible to comply with his lieutenant’s request for such aid as would enable him to assume the offensive. The army covering Richmond was much smaller than McClellan’s, and the Confederates were aware that a large reinforcement for the latter, under General Burnside, had landed in the Peninsula. But assistance was promised in case Pope advanced so far south that troops could be detached without risk to Richmond. Pope, in fact, was too far off, and Jackson was to entice him forward.

A week, however, passed away without any movement on the part of McClellan. He knew that Lee’s army was diminished; and it was believed at his headquarters that “Jackson had started towards the Valley with 60,000 to 80,000 troops.”[5] He knew that there was no large force within ten miles of his outposts, and if the President would send him 20,000 or 30,000 more men he said that he was ready to march on Richmond. But, as yet, he had not observed the opportunity for which, according to his own account, he was so carefully watching. Pope was far more enterprising. His cavalry had burned the railway depôt at Beaver Dam, destroyed some Confederate stores, cut the line at several points, and threatened Hanover Junction. Stuart, with his cavalry division, was immediately sent northwards, and Lee ordered A. P. Hill to Gordonsville.

Jackson’s letters to headquarters at this period are missing. But Lee’s answers indicate the tenor of the views therein expressed. On July 27 the Commander-in-Chief wrote:—

“I have received your dispatch of the 26th instant. I will send A. P. Hill’s division and the Second Brigade of Louisiana volunteers to you. . . . I want Pope to be suppressed. . . . A. P. Hill you will, I think, find a good officer, with whom you can consult, and by advising with your division commanders as to your movements, much trouble will be saved you in arranging details, and they can act more intelligently. I wish to save you trouble from my increasing your command. Cache your troops as much as possible till you can strike your blow, and be prepared to return to me when done, if necessary. I will endeavour to keep General McClellan quiet till it is over, if rapidly executed.”

Illustration: Map of the Environs of Warrenton, Virginia. For larger view click on image.

This letter, besides containing a delicate hint that extreme reticence is undesirable, evidently refers to some plan proposed by Jackson. Whatever this may have been, it is certain that both he and Lee were in close accord. They believed that the best method of protecting the railway was, in Lee’s words, “to find the main body of the enemy and drive it,” and they were agreed that there should be no more Malvern Hills. “You are right,” says Lee on August 4, “in not attacking them in their strong and chosen positions. They ought always to be turned as you propose, and thus force them on to more favourable ground.”

At the end of July, about the same time that Hill joined Jackson, Pope, under instructions from Washington, moved forward. His cavalry occupied the line of Robertson River, within twenty miles of the Confederate lines, and it became clear that he intended advancing on Gordonsville. His infantry, however, had not yet crossed Hazel Run, and Jackson, carefully concealing his troops, remained on the watch for a few days longer. His anxiety, however, to bring his enemy to battle was even greater than usual. Pope had already gained an unenviable notoriety. On taking over command he had issued an extraordinary address. His bombast was only equalled by his want of tact. Not content with extolling the prowess of the Western troops, with whom he had hitherto served, he was bitterly satirical at the expense of McClellan and of McClellan’s army. “I have come to you,” he said to his soldiers, “from the West, where we have always seen the backs of our enemies—from an army whose business it has been to seek the adversary, and beat him when found, whose policy has been attack and not defence. . . . I presume that I have been called here to pursue the same system, and to lead you against the enemy. It is my purpose to do so, and that speedily. . . . Meantime, I desire you to dismiss from your minds certain phrases, which I am sorry to find much in vogue amongst you. I hear constantly of taking strong positions and holding them—of lines of retreat and of 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. Let us look before and not behind. Success and glory are in the advance. Disaster and shame lurk in the rear.”[6]

Even the Northern press made sport of Pope’s “’Ercles vein,” and the Confederates contrasted his noisy declamation with the modesty of Lee and Jackson. To the South the new commander was peculiarly obnoxious. He was the first of the Federal generals to order that the troops should subsist upon the country, and that the people should be held responsible for all damage done to roads, railways, and telegraphs by guerillas. His orders, it is true, were warranted by the practice of war. But “forced requisitions,” unless conducted on a well-understood system, must inevitably degenerate into plunder and oppression; and Pope, in punishing civilians, was not careful to distinguish between the acts of guerillas and those of the regular Confederate cavalry. “These orders,” says a Northern historian, “were followed by the pillaging of private property, and by insults to females to a degree unknown heretofore during the war.” But in comparison with a third edict they were mild and humane. On July 23 Pope’s generals were instructed to arrest every Virginian within the limits of their commands, to administer the oath of allegiance to the Union, and to expel from their homes all those who refused to take it. This order was preceded by one from General von Steinwehr, a German brigadier, directing the arrest of five prominent citizens, to be held as hostages, and to suffer death in the event of any soldiers being shot by bushwhackers. The Confederate Government retaliated by declaring that Pope and his officers were not entitled to be considered as soldiers. If captured they were to be imprisoned so long as their orders remained unrepealed; and in the event of any unarmed Confederate citizens being tried and shot, an equal number of Federal prisoners were to be hanged. It need hardly be added that the operations north of Gordonsville were watched with peculiar interest by the South. “This new general,” it was said to Jackson, “claims your attention.” “And, please God, he shall have it,” was the reply.

Nevertheless, with all his peculiar characteristics, Pope was no despicable foe. The Federal cavalry were employed with a boldness which had not hitherto been seen. Their outposts were maintained twenty miles in advance of the army. Frequent reconnaissances were made. A regiment of Jackson’s cavalry was defeated at Orange Court House, with a loss of 60 or 70 men, and scouting parties penetrated to within a few miles of Gordonsville. Even Banks was spurred to activity, and learned at last that information is generally to be obtained if it is resolutely sought.[7] Very little that occurred within the Confederate lines escaped the vigilance of the enemy; and although Jackson’s numbers were somewhat overestimated, Pope’s cavalry, energetically led by two able young officers, Generals Buford and Bayard, did far better service than McClellan’s detectives. Jackson had need of all his prudence. Including the Light Division, his force amounted to no more than 24,000 men; and if Pope handled his whole army with as much skill as he used his cavalry, it would go hard with Gordonsville. 24,000 men could hardly be expected to arrest the march of 47,000 unless the larger force should blunder.

During the first week in August events began to thicken. Stuart made a strong reconnaissance towards Fredericksburg, and administered a check to the Federal scouting parties in that quarter. But McClellan threw forward a division and occupied Malvern Hill, and it became evident that Pope also was meditating a further advance.

Jackson, for the purpose of luring him forward, and also of concealing Hill’s arrival, had drawn back his cavalry, and moved his infantry south of Gordonsville. Pope was warned from Washington that this was probably a ruse. His confidence, however, was not to be shaken. “Within ten days,” he reported, “unless the enemy is heavily reinforced from Richmond, I shall be in possession of Gordonsville and Charlottesville.”

Although such an operation would carry Pope far from Washington there was no remonstrance from headquarters. Lincoln and Stanton, mistrustful at last of their ability as strategists, had called to their councils General Halleck, who had shown some evidence of capacity while in command of the Western armies. The new Commander-in-Chief had a difficult problem to work out. It is impossible to determine how far Jackson’s movement to Gordonsville influenced the Federal authorities, but immediately on Halleck’s arrival at Washington, about the same date that the movement was reported, he was urged, according to his own account, to withdraw McClellan from the Peninsula. “I delayed my decision,” he says, “as long as I dared delay it;” but on August 3 his mind was made up, and McClellan, just after Hill joined Jackson, was ordered to embark his army at Fortress Monroe, sail to Aquia Creek, near Fredericksburg, and join Pope on the Rappahannock. The proposed combination, involving the transfer by sea of 90,000 men, with all their artillery and trains, was a manœuvre full of danger.[8] The retreat and embarkation of McClellan’s troops would take time, and the Confederates, possessing the interior lines, had two courses open to them:—

1. Leaving Jackson to check Pope, they might attack McClellan as soon as he evacuated his intrenched position at Harrison’s Landing.

2. They might neglect McClellan and concentrate against Pope before he could be reinforced.

Halleck considered that attack on McClellan was the more likely, and Pope was accordingly instructed to threaten Gordonsville, so as to force Lee to detach heavily from Richmond, and leave him too weak to strike the Army of the Potomac.

August 6 On August 6 Pope commenced his advance. Banks had pushed a brigade of infantry from Sperryville to Culpeper Court House, and Ricketts’ division (of McDowell’s corps) was ordered to cross the Rappahannock at Waterloo Bridge and march to the same spot. Jackson, whose spies had informed him of the enemy’s dispositions, received early intelligence of Banks’ movement, and the next afternoon his three divisions were ordered forward, marching by roads where there was no chance of their being seen. “He hoped,” so he wrote to Lee, “through the blessing of Providence, to defeat the advanced Federal detachment before reinforcements should arrive.” This detachment was his first objective; but he had long since recognised the strategic importance of Culpeper Court House. At this point four roads meet, and it was probable, from their previous dispositions, that the Federal army corps would use three of these in their advance. Pope’s right wing at Sperryville would march by Woodville and Griffinsburg. His centre had already moved forward from Warrenton. His left wing at Falmouth, north of Fredericksburg, would march by Bealeton and Brandy Station, or by Richardsville and Georgetown. As all these roads were several miles apart, and the lateral communications were indifferent, the three columns, during the movement on Culpeper Court House, would be more or less isolated; and if the Confederates could seize the point at which the roads met, it might be possible to keep them apart, to prevent them combining for action, and to deal with them in detail. Pope, in fact, had embarked on a manœuvre which is always dangerous in face of a vigilant and energetic enemy. Deceived by the passive attitude which Jackson had hitherto maintained, and confident in the strength of his cavalry, which held Robertson River, a stream some ten miles south of Culpeper Court House, he had pushed a small force far in advance, and was preparing to cross Hazel Run in several widely separated columns. He had no apprehension that he might be attacked during the process. Most generals in Jackson’s situation, confronted by far superior numbers, would have been content with occupying a defensive position in front of Gordonsville, and neither Pope nor Halleck had gauged as yet the full measure of their opponent’s enterprise. So confident was the Federal Commander-in-Chief that General Cox, with 11,000 men, was ordered to march from Lewisburg, ninety miles south-west of Staunton, to join Pope at Charlottesville.[9]

Jackson’s force was composed as follows:—

Jackson’s Own Division (commanded by Winder) Ewell A. P. Hill (The Light Division) Cavalry 3,000 7,550 12,000 1,200 ——— 23,750 ———

Jackson was by no means displeased when he learned who was in command of the Federal advance. “Banks is in front of me,” he said to Dr. McGuire, “he is always ready to fight;” and then, laughing, he added as if to himself, “and he generally gets whipped.”

The Confederate regiments, as a rule, were very weak. The losses of the Seven Days, of Winchester, of Cross Keys, and of Port Republic had not yet been replaced. Companies had dwindled down to sections. Brigades were no stronger than full battalions, and the colonel was happy who could muster 200 muskets. But the waste of the campaign was not altogether an evil. The weak and sickly had been weeded out. The faint-hearted had disappeared, and if many of the bravest had fallen before Richmond, those who remained were hardy and experienced soldiers. The army that lay round Gordonsville was the best that Jackson had yet commanded. The horses, which had become almost useless in the Peninsula, had soon regained condition on the rich pastures at the foot of the South-west Mountains. Nearly every man had seen service. The officers were no longer novices. The troops had implicit confidence in their leaders, and their moral was high. They had not yet tasted defeat. Whenever they had met the enemy he had abandoned the field of battle. With such troops much might be risked, and if the staff was not yet thoroughly trained, the district in which they were now operating was far less intricate than the Peninsula. As the troops marched westward from Richmond, with their faces towards their own mountains, the country grew more open, the horizon larger, and the breezes purer. The dark forests disappeared. The clear streams, running swiftly over rocky beds, were a welcome change from the swamps of the Chickahominy. North of Gordonsville the spurs of the Blue Ridge, breaking up into long chains of isolated hills, towered high above the sunlit plains. The rude tracks of the Peninsula, winding through the woods, gave place to broad and well-trodden highways. Nor did the marches now depend upon the guidance of some casual rustic or terrified negro. There were many in the Confederate ranks who were familiar with the country; and the quick pencil of Captain Hotchkiss, Jackson’s trusted engineer, who had rejoined from the Valley, was once more at his disposal. Information, moreover, was not hard to come by. The country was far more thickly populated than the region about Richmond, and, notwithstanding Pope’s harsh measures, he was unable to prevent the people communicating with their own army. If the men had been unwilling to take the risk, the women were quite ready to emulate the heroines of the Valley, and the conduct of the Federal marauders had served only to inflame their patriotism. Under such circumstances Jackson’s task was relieved of half its difficulties. He was almost as much at home as on the Shenandoah, and although there were no Massanuttons to screen his movements, the hills to the north, insignificant as they might be when compared with the great mountains which divide the Valley, might still be turned to useful purpose.

August 7 On August 7, starting late in the afternoon, the Confederates marched eight miles by a country track, and halted at Orange Court House. Culpeper was still twenty miles distant, and two rivers, the Rapidan and Robertson, barred the road. The Robertson was held by 5,000 or 6,000 Federal cavalry; five regiments, under General Buford, were near Madison Court House; four, under General Bayard, near Rapidan Station. East of the railway two more regiments held Raccoon Ford; others watched the Rappahannock as far as Fredericksburg, and on Thoroughfare Mountain, ten miles south-west of Culpeper, and commanding a view of the surrounding country as far as Orange Court House, was a signal station.

August 8 Early on the 8th, Ewell’s division crossed the Rapidan at Liberty Mills, while the other divisions were ordered to make the passage at Barnett’s Ford, six miles below. A forced march should have carried the Confederates to within striking distance of Culpeper, and a forced march was almost imperative. The cavalry had been in contact; the advance must already have been reported to Pope, and within twenty-four hours the whole of the Federal army, with the exception of the division at Fredericksburg, might easily be concentrated in a strong position.

Still there were no grounds for uneasiness. If the troops made sixteen miles before nightfall, they would be before Culpeper soon after dawn, and sixteen miles was no extraordinary march for the Valley regiments. But to accomplish a long march in the face of the enemy, something is demanded more than goodwill and endurance on the part of the men. If the staff arrangements are faulty, or the subordinate commanders careless, the best troops in the world will turn sluggards. It was so on August 8. Jackson’s soldiers never did a worse day’s work during the whole course of his campaigns. Even his energy was powerless to push them forward. The heat, indeed, was excessive. Several men dropped dead in the ranks; the long columns dragged wearily through the dust, and the Federal cavalry was not easily pushed back. Guns and infantry had to be brought up before Bayard’s dismounted squadrons were dislodged. But the real cause of delay is to be found elsewhere. Not only did General Hill misunderstand his orders, but, apparently offended by Jackson’s reticence, he showed but little zeal. The orders were certainly incomplete. Nothing had been said about the supply trains, and they were permitted to follow their divisions, instead of moving in rear of the whole force. Ewell’s route, moreover, was changed without Hill being informed. The lines of march crossed each other, and Hill was delayed for many hours by a long column of ambulances and waggons. So tedious was the march that when the troops halted for the night, Ewell had made eight miles, Hill only two, and the latter was still eighteen miles from Culpeper. Chagrined by the delay, Jackson reported to Lee that “he had made but little progress, and that the expedition,” he feared, “in consequence of his tardy movements, would be productive of little good.”

How the blame should be apportioned it is difficult to say. Jackson laid it upon Hill. And that officer’s conduct was undoubtedly reprehensible. The absence of Major Dabney, struck down by sickness, is a possible explanation of the faulty orders. But that Jackson would have done better to have accepted Lee’s hint, to have confided his intentions to his divisional commanders, and to have trusted something to their discretion, seems more than clear. In war, silence is not invariably a wise policy. It was not a case in which secrecy was all-important. The movement had already been discovered by the Federal cavalry, and in such circumstances the more officers that understood the intention of the general-in-chief the better. Men who have been honoured with their leader’s confidence, and who grasp the purpose of the efforts they are called upon to make, will co-operate, if not more cordially, at least more intelligently, than those who are impelled by the sense of duty alone.

As it was, so much time had been wasted that Jackson would have been fully warranted in suspending the movement, and halting on the Rapidan. The Federals were aware he was advancing. Their divisions were not so far apart that they could not be concentrated within a few hours at Culpeper, and, in approaching so close, he was entering the region of uncertainty. Time was too pressing to admit of waiting for the reports of spies. The enemy’s cavalry was far more numerous than his own, and screened the troops in rear from observation. The information brought in by the country people was not to be implicitly relied on; their estimate of numbers was always vague, and it would be exceedingly difficult to make sure that the force at Culpeper had not been strongly reinforced. It was quite on the cards that the whole of Pope’s army might reach that point in the course of the next day, and in that case the Confederates would be compelled to retreat, followed by a superior army, across two bridgeless rivers.

Nevertheless, the consideration of these contingencies had no effect on Jackson’s purpose. The odds, he decided, were in his favour; and the defeat of Pope’s army in detail, with all the consequences that might follow, was worth risking much to bring about. It was still possible that Pope might delay his concentration; it was still possible that an opportunity might present itself; and, as he had done at Winchester in March, when threatened by a force sevenfold stronger than his own, he resolved to look for that opportunity before he renounced his enterprise.

August 9 In speed and caution lay the only chance of success. The start on the 9th was early. Hill, anxious to redeem his shortcomings, marched long before daylight, and soon caught up with Ewell and Winder. Half of the cavalry covered the advance; the remainder, screening the left flank, scouted west and in the direction of Madison Court House. Two brigades of infantry, Gregg’s and Lawton’s, were left in rear to guard the trains, for the Federal horsemen threatened danger, and the army, disembarrassed of the supply waggons, pressed forward across the Rapidan. Pushing the Federal cavalry before them, the troops reached Robertson River. The enemy’s squadrons, already worn out by incessant reconnaissance and picket duty, were unable to dispute the passage, and forming a single column, the three divisions crossed the Locustdale Ford. Climbing the northern bank, the high-road to Culpeper, white with dust, lay before them, and to their right front, little more than two miles distant, a long wooded ridge, bearing the ominous name of Slaughter Mountain, rose boldly from the plain.

Ewell’s division led the march, and shortly before noon, as the troops swept past the western base of Slaughter Mountain, it was reported that the Federal cavalry, massed in some strength, had come to a halt a mile or two north, on the bank of a small stream called Cedar Run.

The Confederate guns opened, and the hostile cavalry fell back; but from a distant undulation a Federal battery came into action, and the squadrons, supported by this fire, returned to their old position. Although Cedar Run was distant seven miles from Culpeper, it was evident, from the attitude of the cavalry, that the enemy was inclined to make a stand, and that in all probability Banks’ army corps was in support.[10] Early’s brigade, forming the advanced guard which had halted in a wood by the roadside, was now ordered forward. Deploying to the right of the highway, it drove in the enemy’s vedettes, and came out on the open ground which overlooks the stream. Across the shallow valley, covered with the high stalks and broad leaves of Indian corn, rose a loftier ridge, twelve hundred yards distant, and from more than one point batteries opened on the Confederate scouts. The regiments of the advanced guard were immediately withdrawn to the reverse slope of the ridge, and Jackson galloped forward to the mound of the guns. His dispositions had been quickly made. A large force of artillery was ordered to come into action on either flank of the advanced guard. Ewell’s division was ordered to the right, taking post on the northern face of Slaughter Mountain; Winder was ordered to the left, and Hill, as soon as he came up, was to form the reserve, in rear of Winder. These movements took time. The Confederate column, 20,000 infantry and fifteen batteries, must have occupied more than seven miles of road; it would consequently take over two hours for the whole force to deploy for battle.

2.45 p.m. Before three o’clock, however, the first line was formed. On the right of the advanced guard, near a clump of cedars, were eight guns, and on Slaughter Mountain eight more. Along the high-road to the left six guns of Winder’s division were soon afterwards deployed, reinforced by four of Hill’s. These twenty-six pieces, nearly the whole of the long-range ordnance which the Confederates possessed, were turned on the opposing batteries, and for nearly two hours the artillery thundered across the valley. The infantry, meanwhile, awaiting Hill’s arrival, had come into line. Ewell’s brigades, Trimble’s, and the Louisianians (commanded by Colonel Forno) had halted in the woods on the extreme right, at the base of the mountain, threatening the enemy’s flank. Winder had come up on the left, and had posted the Stonewall Brigade in rear of his guns; Campbell’s brigade, under Lieutenant-Colonel Garnett, was stationed in front, west, and Taliaferro’s brigade east, of the road. The 10,000 men of the Light Division, however, were still some distance to the rear, and the position was hardly secure against a counterstroke. The left of the line extended along a skirt of woodland, which ran at right angles to the road, overlooking a wheat-field but lately reaped, on the further side of which, and three hundred yards distant, was dense wood. This point was the most vulnerable, for there was no support at hand, and a great tract of forest stretched away westward, where cavalry was useless, but through which it was quite possible that infantry might force its way. Jackson ordered Colonel Garnett, commanding the brigade on this flank, “to look well to his left, and to ask his divisional commander for reinforcements.” The brigadier sent a staff officer and an orderly to reconnoitre the forest to the left, and two officers were dispatched to secure the much-needed support.

But at this juncture General Winder was mortally wounded by a shell; there was some delay in issuing orders, and before the weak place in the line could be strengthened the storm broke. The enemy’s batteries, five in number, although the concentrated fire of the Confederates had compelled them to change position, had not yet been silenced. No large force of Federal infantry had as yet appeared; skirmishers only had pushed forward through the corn; but the presence of so many guns was a clear indication that a strong force was not far off, and Jackson had no intention of attacking a position which had not yet been reconnoitred until his rear division had closed up, and the hostile artillery had lost its sting.

5 p.m. About five o’clock, however, General Banks, although his whole force, including Bayard’s cavalry, did not exceed 9,000 officers and men,[11] and Ricketts’ division, in support, was four miles distant, gave orders for a general attack.[12] Two brigades, crossing the rise which formed the Federal position, bore down on the Confederate centre, and strove to cross the stream. Early was hard pressed, but, Taliaferro’s brigade advancing on his left, he held his own; and on the highroad, raked by a Confederate gun, the enemy was unable to push forward. But within the wood to the left, at the very point where Jackson had advised precaution, the line of defence was broken through. On the edge of the timber commanding the wheatfield only two Confederate regiments were posted, some 500 men all told, and the 1st Virginia, on the extreme left, was completely isolated. The Stonewall Brigade, which should have been placed in second line behind them, had not yet received its orders; it was more than a half-mile distant, in rear of Winder’s artillery, and hidden from the first line by the trees and undergrowth. Beyond the wheat-field 1,500 Federals, covered by a line of skirmishers, had formed up in the wood. Emerging from the covert with fixed bayonets and colours flying, their long line, overlapping the Confederate left, moved steadily across the three hundred yards of open ground. The shocks of corn, and some ragged patches of scrub timber, gave cover to the skirmishers, but in the closed ranks behind the accurate fire of the Southern riflemen made fearful ravages. Still the enemy pressed forward; the skirmishers darted from bush to bush; the regiments on the right swung round, enveloping the Confederate line; and the 1st Virginia, despite the entreaties of its officers, broke and scattered.[13] Assailed in front from the field and in flank from the forest, the men would stand no longer, and flying back through the woodland, left the way open to the very rear of the position. The 42nd Virginia, outflanked in turn, was compelled to give ground; and the Federals, without waiting to reform, swept rapidly through the wood, and bore down upon the flank of Taliaferro’s brigade and Winder’s batteries.

And now occurred a scene of terrible confusion. So swift was the onslaught that the first warning received by the Confederates on the highroad was a sudden storm of musketry, the loud cheers of the enemy, and the rush of fugitives from the forest. Attacked simultaneously in front, flank and rear, with the guns and limbers entangled among the infantry, Winder’s division was subjected to an ordeal of which it was without experience. The batteries, by Jackson’s order, were at once withdrawn, and not a gun was lost. The infantry, however, did not escape so lightly. The Federals, emboldened by the flight of the artillery, charged forward with reckless courage. Every regimental commander in Garnett’s brigade was either killed or wounded. Taliaferro’s brigade was driven back, and Early’s left was broken. Some regiments attempted to change front, others retreated in disorder. Scattered groups, plying butt and bayonet, endeavoured to stay the rout. Officers rushed into the mêlée, and called upon those at hand to follow. Men were captured and recaptured, and, for a few moments, the blue and grey were mingled in close conflict amid the smoke. But the isolated efforts of the Confederates were of no avail. The first line was irretrievably broken; the troops were mingled in a tumultuous mass, through which the shells tore shrieking; the enemy’s bayonets were surging forward on every side, and his well-served batteries, firing over the heads of their own infantry, played heavily on the road. But fortunately for the Virginians the Federal right wing was unsupported; and although the Light Division was still at some distance from the field, the Stonewall Brigade was already advancing. Breaking through the rout to the left of the highroad, these five staunch regiments, undismayed by the disaster, opened a heavy fire. The Federals, although still superior in numbers at the decisive point, had lost all order in their successful charge; to meet this fresh onset they halted and drew together, and then Jackson, with wonderful energy, restored the battle.

Sending orders for Ewell and A. P. Hill to attack at once, he galloped forward, unattended by either staff officer or orderly, and found himself in the midst of his own men, his soldiers of the Valley, no longer presenting the stubborn front of Bull Run or Kernstown, but an ungovernable mob, breaking rapidly to the rear, and on the very verge of panic. Drawing his sword, for the first time in the war, his voice pealed high above the din; the troops caught the familiar accents, instinct with resolution, and the presence of their own general acted like a spell. “Rally, men,” he shouted, “and follow me!” Taliaferro, riding up to him, emphatically insisted that the midst of the mêlée was no place for the leader of an army. He looked a little surprised, but with his invariable ejaculation of “Good, good,” turned slowly to the rear. The impulse, however, had already been given to the Confederate troops. With a wild yell the remnant of the 21st Virginia rushed forward to the front, and received the pursuers with a sudden volley. The officers of other regiments, inspired by the example of their commander, bore the colours forward, and the men, catching the enthusiasm of the moment, followed in the path of the 21st. The Federals recoiled. Taliaferro and Early, reforming their brigades, again advanced upon the right; and Jackson, his front once more established, turned his attention to the counterstroke he had already initiated.

Ewell was ordered to attack the Federal left. Branch, leading the Light Division, was sent forward to support the Stonewall Brigade, and Lane to charge down the highroad. Thomas was to give aid to Early. Archer and Pender, following Branch, were to outflank the enemy’s right, and Field and Stafford were to follow as third line.

Ewell was unable to advance at once, for the Confederate batteries on Slaughter Mountain swept the whole field, and it was some time before they could be induced to cease fire. But on the left the mass of fresh troops, directed on the critical point, exerted a decisive influence. The Federal regiments, broken and exhausted, were driven back into the wood and across the wheat-field by the charge of the Stonewall Brigade. Still they were not yet done with. Before Hill’s troops could come into action, Jackson’s old regiments, as they advanced into the open, were attacked in front and threatened on the flank. The 4th and 27th Virginia were immediately thrown back to meet the more pressing danger, forming to the left within the wood; but assailed in the confusion of rapid movement, they gave way and scattered through the thickets. But the rift in the line was rapidly closed up. Jackson, riding in front of the Light Division, and urging the men to hold their fire and use their bayonets, rallied the 27th and led them to the front; while Branch’s regiments, opening their ranks for the fugitives to pass through, and pressing forward with unbroken line, drove back the Northern skirmishers, and moving into the wheatfield engaged their main body in the opposite wood.

Lane, meanwhile, was advancing astride the road; Archer and Pender, in accordance with Jackson’s orders, were sweeping round through the forest, and Field and Stafford were in rear of Branch. A fresh brigade had come up to sustain the defeated Federals; but gallantly as they fought, the Northerners could make no head against overwhelming numbers. Outflanked to both right and left, for Early and Ewell were now moving forward, they began to yield. Jackson rode forward to the wheat-field, and just at this moment Banks made a despairing effort to extricate his infantry. Two squadrons, hitherto concealed by the woods, appeared suddenly on the road, and, deploying into two lines, charged full against the Confederate centre. The skirmishers were ridden down; but the troops in rear stood firm, and several companies, running to a fence along the highway, poured a devastating fire into the mass of horsemen. Out of 174 officers and men only 71 rode back.[14]

6.30 p.m. This brilliant but useless exploit brought no respite to the Federals. Archer and Pender had turned their right; Ewell was pressing forward against their left, scaling the ridge on which their batteries had been posted; Early and Lane were pressing back their centre, and their guns had already limbered up. Jackson, galloping to the front, was received with the cheers of his victorious troops. In every quarter of the field the enemy was in full retreat, and as darkness began to fall the whole Confederate line crossed Cedar Run and swept up the slopes beyond. Every yard of ground bore witness to the severity of the fighting. The slaughter had been very heavy. Within ninety minutes 3,000 men had fallen. The woods were a shambles, and among the corn the dead lay thick. Scores of prisoners surrendered themselves, and hundreds of discarded muskets bore witness to the demoralisation of the Northerners. Nevertheless, the pursuit was slow. The impetuosity of the Confederates, eager to complete their triumph, was checked with a firm hand. The infantry were ordered to reform before they entered the dense forest which lay between them and Culpeper. The guns, unable to cross Cedar Run except by the road, were brought over in a single column, and two fresh brigades, Field’s and Stafford’s, which had not yet fired a shot, were brought forward as advanced guard. Although Jackson had been careful to bring guides who knew the woodland tracks, there was need for prudence. The light was failing; the cavalry could find no space to act; and, above all, the whereabouts of Pope’s main body was still uncertain. The Federals had fought with fine courage. Their resolute attack, pressed home with extraordinary dash, had rolled up the choicest of the Valley regiments. And yet it was evident that only a small portion of the Northern army had been engaged. The stirring incidents of the battle had been crowded into a short space of time. It was five o’clock when the Federals left their covert. An hour and a half later they had abandoned the field. Their precipitate retreat, the absence of a strong rear-guard, were sure tokens that every regiment had been employed in the attack, and it was soon discovered by the Confederate soldiers that these regiments were old opponents of the Valley army. The men who had surprised and outflanked Jackson’s old division were the same men that had been surprised at Front Royal and outflanked at Winchester. But Banks’ army corps formed only a third part of Pope’s army. Sigel and McDowell were still to be accounted for.

It was possible, however, that no more formidable enemies than the troops already defeated would be found between Cedar Run and Culpeper, and Jackson, intent upon securing that strategic point before morning,[15] pushed steadily forward. Of the seven miles that intervened between the battle-field and the Court House only one-and-a-half had been passed, when the scouts brought information that the enemy was in position a few hundred yards to the front. A battery was immediately sent forward to develop the situation. The moon was full, and on the far side of the glade where the advanced guard, acting under Jackson’s orders, had halted and deployed, a strong line of fire marked the hostile front. Once more the woodland avenues reverberated to the crash of musketry, and when the guns opened a portion of the Federal line was seen flying in disorder. Pope himself had arrived upon the scene, but surprised by the sudden salvo of Jackson’s guns, he was constrained to do what he had never done in the West—to turn his back upon the enemy, and seek a safer position. Yet despite the disappearance of the staff the Union artillery made a vigorous reply. Two batteries, hidden by the timber, concentrated on the four guns of the advanced guard, and about the same moment the Confederate cavalry on the extreme right reported that they had captured prisoners belonging to Sigel’s army corps. “Believing it imprudent,” says Jackson, “to continue to move forward during the darkness, I ordered a halt for the night.”

August 10 Further information appears to have come to hand after midnight; and early the next morning General Stuart, who had arrived on a tour of inspection, having been placed in charge of the cavalry, ascertained beyond all question that the greater part of Pope’s army had come up. The Confederates were ordered to withdraw, and before noon nearly the whole force had regained their old position on Cedar Run. They were not followed, save by the Federal cavalry; and for two days they remained in position, ready to receive attack. The enemy, however, gave no sign of aggressive intentions.

August 11 On the morning of the 11th a flag of truce was received, and Pope was permitted to bury the dead which had not already been interred. The same night, his wounded, his prisoners, and the captured arms having already been removed, Jackson returned to his old camps near Gordonsville.

August 12 His position on Cedar Run, tactically strong, was strategically unsound. The intelligence he had obtained was substantially correct. With the exception of five regiments of McDowell’s cavalry, only Banks’ army corps had been engaged at Cedar Run. But during the evening both Sigel and McDowell had reached the field, and it was their troops which had checked the Confederate pursuit. In fact, on the morning of the 10th, Pope, besides 5,000 cavalry, had 22,000 fresh troops in addition to those which had been defeated, and which he estimated at 5,000 effectives, wherewith to bar the way to Culpeper. McDowell’s second division, 10,000 strong, on the march from Fredericksburg, was not more than twenty mites east of Slaughter Mountain.

In front, therefore, Jackson was confronted by superior numbers. At the least estimate, 32,000 men were posted beyond Cedar Run, and 10,000 under King were coming up from Fredericksburg. Nor was a preponderance of numbers the only obstacle with which Jackson had to deal. A direct attack on Pope was impossible, but a turning movement, by way of James City, might have found him unprepared, or a swift advance might have crushed King. But for the execution of either manœuvre a large force of cavalry was absolutely essential. By this means alone could the march be concealed and a surprise effected. In view, however, of the superior strength of the Federal horsemen such a project was unfeasible, and retreat was manifestly the only alternative. Nevertheless, it was not till he was assured that no further opportunity would be given him that Jackson evacuated his position. For two days he remained on Cedar Run, within two miles of the Federal outposts, defying his enemy to battle. If an attack on the Federals promised nothing but defeat, it was not so sure that Pope with 27,000 infantry, of whom a considerable number had just tasted defeat, would be able to oust Jackson with 22,000 from a position which the latter had selected; and it was not till King’s approach gave the Federals an overwhelming superiority that the Confederates withdrew behind the Rapidan.

With sublime audacity, as soon as his enemy had disappeared, Pope claimed the battle of Cedar Run as a Federal success. Carried away by enthusiasm he ventured to forecast the future. “It is safe to predict,” he declared in a general order, “that this is only the first of a series of victories which shall make the Army of Virginia famous in the land.” That such language, however, was the natural result of intense relief at Jackson’s retreat may be inferred from his telegrams, which, unfortunately for his reputation, have been preserved in the archives of Washington. Nor was his attitude on the 10th and 11th that of a victorious commander. For two days he never stirred from his position. He informed Halleck that the enemy was in very superior force, that Stuart and Longstreet had joined Jackson, and while the Confederates were withdrawing he was telegraphing that he would certainly be attacked the next morning.

Halleck’s reply to Pope’s final dispatch, which congratulated the defeated army corps on a “hard-earned but brilliant success,” must have astonished Banks and his hapless troops. They might indeed be fairly considered to have “covered themselves with glory.”[16] 9,000 men, of which only 7,000 were infantry, had given an enemy of more than double their strength a hard fight. They had broken some of the best troops in the Confederate army, under their most famous leader; and if they had been overwhelmed by numbers, they had at least fought to the last man. Jackson himself bore witness to the vigour of their onslaught, to their “temporary triumph,” and to the “impetuous valour” of their cavalry. The Federal defeat was more honourable than many victories. But that it was a crushing defeat can hardly be disputed. The two divisions which had been engaged were completely shattered, and Pope reported that they were no longer fit for service. The casualties amongst the infantry amounted to a third of the total strength. Of the brigade that had driven in the Confederate left the 28th New York lost the whole of its company officers; the 5th Connecticut 17 officers out of 20, and the 10th Maine had 170 killed or wounded. In two brigades nearly every field-officer and every adjutant was struck down. The 2nd Massachusetts, employed in the last effort to hold back Jackson’s counterstroke, lost 16 officers out of 28, and 147 men out of 451. The Ohio regiments, which had been with Shields at Kernstown and Port Republic, and had crossed Cedar Run opposite the Confederate centre, were handled even more roughly. The 5th lost 118 men out of 275, the 7th 10 officers out of 14, and 170 men out of 293. Two generals were wounded and one captured. 400 prisoners, three stand of colours, 5,000 rifles and one gun were taken by the Southerners, and, including those suffered by Sigel and McDowell in the night action, the sum of losses reached 2,380. The Confederates by no means came off scatheless. General Winder died upon the field; and the two brigades that stood the brunt of the attack, together with Early’s, suffered heavily. But the number of killed and wounded amounted to no more than 1,314, and many of the brigades had few losses to report. The spirit of the Valley troops was hardly to be tamed by such punishment as this. Nevertheless, Northern historians have not hesitated to rank Cedar Run as a battle unfavourable to the Confederates. Swinton declares that Jackson undertook the pursuit of Banks, “under the impression that he had gained a victory.“[17] Southern writers, on the other hand, have classed Cedar Run amongst the most brilliant achievements of the war, and an unbiassed investigation goes far to support their view.

During the first week in August Jackson, protecting the Virginia Central Railroad, was confronted by a much superior force. He could expect no further reinforcements, for McClellan was still near Richmond, and according to the latest information was actually advancing. On the 7th he heard that Pope also was moving forward from Hazel Run, and had pushed a portion of his army as far as Culpeper. In face of the overwhelming strength of the Federal cavalry it was impossible, if he occupied a defensive position, that he could protect the railroad; for while their infantry and artillery held him in front, their swarming squadrons would operate at their leisure on either flank. Nor could a defensive position have been long maintained. There were no natural obstacles, neither river nor mountains, to protect Jackson’s flanks; and the railroad—his line of supply—would have been parallel to his front. In a vigorous offensive, then, should opportunity offer, lay his best chance of success. That opportunity was offered by the unsupported advance of the Federal detachment under Banks. It is true that Jackson hoped to achieve more than the defeat of this comparatively small force. If he could have seized Culpeper he might have been able to deal with Pope’s army in detail; he saw before him another Valley campaign, and he was fully justified in believing that victory on the Rapidan would bring McClellan back to Washington.

His anticipations were not altogether realised. He crushed the detachment immediately opposed to him, but he failed to seize Culpeper, and McClellan had already been ordered, although this was unknown to the Confederates, to evacuate the Peninsula. But it cannot be fairly said that his enterprise was therefore useless. Strategically it was a fine conception. The audacity of his manœuvre was not the least of its merits. For an army of 24,000 men, weak in cavalry, to advance against an army of 47,000, including 5,000 horsemen, was the very height of daring. But it was the daring of profound calculation. As it was, Jackson ran little risk. He succeeded in his immediate object. He crushed Pope’s advanced guard, and he retreated unmolested, bearing with him the prisoners, the colours, and the arms which he had captured. If he did not succeed in occupying Culpeper, it was not his fault. Fortune was against him. On the very day that he had moved forward Pope had done the same. Banks and McDowell were at Culpeper on the 8th, and Sigel received orders to move the same day.

Nevertheless the expedition was far from barren in result. If Jackson failed to defeat Pope altogether, he at least singed his beard. It was well worth the loss of 1,300 men to have destroyed two whole divisions under the very eyes of the general commanding a superior army. A few days later Pope was to feel the want of these gallant regiments,[18] and the confidence of his troops in their commander was much shaken. Moreover, the blow was felt at Washington. There was no more talk of occupying Gordonsville. Pope was still full of ardour. But Halleck forbade him to advance further than the Rapidan, where Burnside would reinforce him; and McClellan was ordered to hasten the departure of his troops from the Peninsula.

Jackson’s tactics have been criticised as severely as his strategy. Because his first line was broken it is asserted that he narrowly escaped a serious defeat, and that had the two forces been equally matched Banks would have won a decisive victory. This is hardly sound criticism. In the first place, Jackson was perfectly well aware that the two forces were not equally matched. If he had had no more men than Banks, would he have disposed his forces as he did? He would scarcely have occupied the same extent of ground with 9,000 men that he did with 20,000. His actual front, when Banks attacked, was two miles long. With smaller numbers he would have occupied a smaller front, and would have retained a sufficient force in reserve. In the second place, it is generally possible for an inferior force, if it puts every man into the fighting-line, to win some measure of success. But such success, as was shown at Kernstown, can seldom be more than temporary; and if the enemy makes good use of his reserves must end in defeat.

So far from Jackson’s tactics being indifferent, it is very easy to show that they were exactly the contrary. Immediately he came upon the field he sent Ewell to occupy Slaughter Mountain, a mile distant from his line of march; and the huge hill, with batteries planted on its commanding terraces, not only secured his flank, but formed a strong pivot for his attack on the Federal right. The preliminary operations were conducted with due deliberation. There was no rushing forward to the attack while the enemy’s strength was still uncertain. The ridge occupied by the enemy, so far as possible, was thoroughly reconnoitred, and every rifled gun was at once brought up. The artillery positions were well selected, for, notwithstanding their superiority of ordnance, the Federal batteries suffered far more heavily than the Confederates. The one weak point was the extreme left, and to this point Jackson in person directed the attention of his subordinates. “Had reinforcements,” says Colonel Garnett, who commanded the troops that first gave way, “momentarily expected, arrived ten minutes sooner no disaster would have happened.”[19] That the point was not strengthened, that the Stonewall Brigade was not posted in second line behind the 1st Virginia, and that only a staff officer and an orderly were sent to patrol the forest to the westward, instead of several companies of infantry, was in no way due to the general-in-chief.

Nor was the position of A. P. Hill’s division, which, in conjunction with the Stonewall Brigade, averted the disaster and won the victory, a fortuitous circumstance. Before the attack began it had been directed to this point, and the strong counterstroke which was made by these fresh troops was exactly the manœuvre which the situation demanded. At the time it was ordered the Confederate left and centre were hard pressed. The Stonewall Brigade had checked the troops which had issued from the forest, but the whole Confederate line was shaken. The normal, though less brilliant, course would have been to have re-established the front, and not till that had been done to have ventured on the counter-stroke. Jackson, with that quick intuition which is possessed by few, saw and seized his opportunity while the Federals were still pressing the attack. One of Hill’s brigades was sent to support the centre, and, almost in the same breath, six others, a mass of 7,000 or 8,000 men, were ordered to attack the enemy’s right, to outflank it, and to roll back his whole line upon Ewell, who was instructed at the same moment to outflank the left. Notwithstanding some delay in execution, Ewell’s inability to advance, and the charge of the Federal cavalry, this vigorous blow changed the whole aspect of the battle within a short half-hour. Conceived in a moment, in the midst of wild excitement and fierce tumult, delivered with all the strength available, it cannot be judged otherwise than as the mark of a great captain. Few battles, indeed, bear the impress of a single personality more clearly than Cedar Run. From the first cannon-shot of the advanced guard until the last volley in the midnight forest, one will directed every movement. The field was no small one. The fight was full of startling changes. It was no methodical conflict, but a fierce struggle at close quarters, the lines swaying to and fro, and the ground covered with confused masses of men and guns, with flying batteries and broken regiments. But the turmoil of battle found a master. The strong brain was never clearer than when the storm raged most fiercely. Wherever his presence was most needed there Jackson was seen, rallying the fugitives, reinforcing the centre, directing the counterstroke, and leading the pursuit. And he was well supported. His subordinate generals carried out their orders to the letter. But every order which bore upon the issue of the battle came from the lips of one man.

If Northern writers have overlooked the skill with which Jackson controlled the fight, they have at the same time misunderstood his action two days later. His retreat to Gordonsville has been represented as a flight. He is said to have abandoned many wounded and stragglers, and to have barely saved his baggage. In all this there is not one word of truth. We have, indeed, the report of the Federal officer who conducted the pursuit. “The flight of the enemy after Saturday’s fight was most precipitate and in great confusion. His old camp was strewn with dead men, horses, and arms. . . . A good many (Federal) prisoners, wounded in Saturday’s fight, were found almost abandoned. Major Andrews, chief of artillery to General Jackson, was found, badly wounded, at Crooked Run, in charge of an assistant surgeon.” It is hardly necessary to say that General Buford, the officer thus reporting, had not been present at the battle. He had been out off with his four regiments by the advance of the Confederate cavalry, and had retired on Sperryville. He may accordingly be excused for imagining that a retreat which had been postponed for two days was precipitate. But dead men, dead horses, and old arms which the Confederates had probably exchanged for those which were captured, several wounded Federals, who had been prisoners in the enemy’s hands, and one wounded Confederate, a major of horse-artillery and not a staff officer at all, are hardly evidences of undue haste or great confusion. Moreover, in the list of Confederate casualties only thirty-one men were put down as missing.

It is true that Jackson need not have retreated so far as Gordonsville. He might have halted behind the Rapidan, where the bluffs on the south bank overlook the level country to the north. But Jackson’s manœuvres, whether in advance or retreat, were invariably actuated by some definite purpose, and what that purpose was he explains in his dispatches.[20] “I remained in position until the night of the 11th, when I returned to the vicinity of Gordonsville, in order to avoid being attacked by the vastly superior force in front of me, and with the hope that by thus falling back, General Pope would be induced to follow me until I should be reinforced.” That Pope, had he been left to his own judgment, would have crossed the Rapidan is certain. “The enemy,” he reported, “has retreated to Gordonsville. . . . I shall move forward on Louisa Court House as soon as Burnside arrives.” He was restrained, however, by the more wary Halleck. “Beware of a snare,” wrote the Commander-in-Chief. “Feigned retreats are ‘Secesh’ tactics.” How wise was this warning, and what would have been the fate of Pope had he recklessly crossed the Rapidan, the next chapter will reveal.

[1] After the repulse of the Confederates at Malvern Hill, and the unmolested retreat of the Army of the Potomac to Harrison’s Landing, Lincoln cancelled his demand for troops from the West.Return to passage

[2] Dabney, vol. ii, pp. 230, 231.Return to passage

[3] O.R., vol. xi, part ii, p. 306.Return to passage

[4] Sigel, 13,000; Banks, 11,000; McDowell, 18,000; Bayard’s and Bulord’s cavalry, 5,000.Return to passage

[5] O.R., vol. xi, part iii, p. 334.Return to passage

[6] O.R., vol. xii, part iii, p. 474.Return to passage

[7] “We must constantly feel the enemy, know where he is, and what he is doing. Vigilance, activity, and a precaution that has a considerable mixture of audacity in it will carry you through many difficulties.” Such were his instructions to an officer of the regular army! It was unfortunate he had not acted on those sound principles in the Valley.Return to passage

[8] McClellan had received no further reinforcements than those sent from Washington. Burnside, with 14,000 men, remained at Fortress Monroe until the beginning of August, when he embarked for Aquia Creek, concentrating on August 5. Hunter’s troops were withheld.Return to passage

[9] Battles and Leaders, vol. ii, p. 281.Return to passage

[10] This was the case. Banks had reached Culpeper on the 8th. On the same day his advanced brigade was sent forward to Cedar Run, and was followed by the rest of the army corps on the 9th.Return to passage

[11] 3,500 of Banks’ army corps had been left at Winchester, and his sick were numerous.Return to passage

[12] Banks had received an order from Pope which might certainly be understood to mean that he should take the offensive if the enemy approached.—Report of Committee of Congress, vol. iii, p. 45.Return to passage

[13] O.R., vol. xii, part ii, p. 201.Return to passage

[14] O.R., vol. xii, part ii, p. 141.Return to passage

[15] nReport. O.R., vol. xii, part ii, p. 184.oteReturn to passage

[16] O.R., vol. xii, part ii, p. 135.Return to passage

[17] I may here express my regret that in the first edition I should have classed Mr. Ropes amongst the adverse critics of Jackson’s operations at this period. How I came to fall into the error I cannot explain. I should certainly have remembered that Mr. Ropes’ writings are distinguished as much by impartiality as by ability.Return to passage

[18] So late as August 28, Pope reported that Banks’ troops were much demoralised. O.R., vol. xii, part iii, p. 653.Return to passage

[19] O.R., vol. xii, part ii, p. 201.Return to passage

[20] O.R., vol. xii, part ii, p. 185.Return to passage