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<title>STONEWALL JACKSON AND THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR</title>
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<section id="1" fatherid="0" title="VOLUME 1" lv="" priority="0" level="1">
<section id="2" fatherid="1" title="INTRODUCTION" lv="" priority="0" level="2">
Before the great Republic of the West had completed a century of
independent national existence, its political fabric was subjected to
the strain of a terrible internecine war. That the true cause of
conflict was the antagonism between the spirit of Federalism and the
theory of "States' Rights" is very clearly explained in the following
pages, and the author exactly expresses the feeling with which most
Englishmen regard the question of Secession, when he implies that had
he been a New Englander he would have fought to the death to preserve
the Union, while had he been born in Virginia he would have done as
much in defence of a  the South believed inalienable. The war
thus brought about dragged on its weary length from the spring of
1861 to the same season of 1865. During its progress reputations were
made that will live for ever in American history, and many remarkable
men came to the front. Among these not the least prominent was
"Stonewall Jackson," who to the renown of a great soldier and
unselfish patriot added the ber fame of a Christian hero; and to
those who would know what manner of man this Stonewall Jackson was,
and why he was so universally revered, so beloved, so trusted by his
men, I can cordially recommend Colonel Henderson's delightful
volumes. From their perusal I have derived real pleasure and sound
instruction. They have taught me much; they have made me think still
more; and I hope they may do the same for many others in the British
Army. They are worth the closest study, for few military writers have
possessed Colonel Henderson's grasp of tactical and strategical
principles, or his knowledge of the methods which have controlled
their application by the most famous soldiers, from Hannibal to Von
Moltke. Gifted with a rare power of describing not only great
military events but the localities where they occurred, he places
clearly before his readers, in logical sequence, the circumstances
which brought them about. He has accomplished, too, the difficult
task of combining with a brilliant and critical history of a great
war the life-story of a great commander, of a most singular and
remarkable man. The figure, the character, the idiosyncrasies of the
famous Virginian, as well as the lofty motives which influenced him
throughout, are most sympathetically portrayed.

There have been few more fitted by natural instincts, by education,
by study, and by self-discipline to become leaders of men than
Stonewall Jackson. From the day he joined that admirable school at
West Point he may be said to have trained himself mentally, morally,
and physically, for the position to which he aspired, and which it
would seem he always believed he would reach. Shy as a lad, reserved
as a man, speaking little but thinking much, he led his own life,
devouring the experiences of great men, as recorded in military
history, in order that when his time came he should be capable of
handling his troops as they did. A man of very simple tastes and
habits, but of strong religious principles, drawn directly from the
Bible; a child in purity; a child in faith; the Almighty always in
his thoughts, his stay in trouble, his guide in every difficulty,
Jackson's individuality was more striking and more complete than that
of all others who played leading parts in the great tragedy of
Secession. The most reckless and irreligious of the Confederate
soldiers were silent in his presence, and stood awestruck and abashed
before this great God-fearing man; and even in the far-off Northern
States the hatred of the formidable "rebel" was tempered by an
irrepressible admiration of his piety, his sincerity, and his
resolution. The passions then naturally excited have now calmed down,
and are remembered no more by a reunited and chivalrous nation. With
that innate love of virtue and real worth which has always
distinguished the American people, there has long been growing up,
even among those who were the fiercest foes of the South, a feeling
of love and reverence for the memory of this great and true-hearted
man of war, who fell in what he firmly believed to be a sacred cause.
The fame of Stonewall Jackson is no longer the exclusive property of
Virginia and the South; it has become the birth of every man
privileged to call himself an American.

Colonel Henderson has made a special study of the Secession War, and
it would be difficult, in my opinion, to find a man better qualified
in every respect for the task he has undertaken. I may express the
hope that he will soon give us the history of the war from the death
of Stonewall Jackson to the fall of Richmond. Extending as it did
over a period of four years, and marked by achievements which are a
lasting honour to the Anglo-Saxon name, the struggle of the South for
independence is from every point of view one of the most important
events in the second half of the century, and it should not be 
half told. Until the battle where Stonewall Jackson fell, the tide of
success was flowing, and had borne the flag of the new Confederacy
within sight of the gates of Washington. Colonel Henderson deals only
with what I think may be called the period of Southern victories, for
the tide began to ebb when Jackson fell; and those who read his
volumes will, I am convinced, look forward eagerly to his story of
the years which followed, when Grant, with the skill of a practised
strategist, threw a net round the Confederate capital, drawing it
gradually together until he imprisoned its starving garrison, and
compelled Lee, the ablest commander of his day, to surrender at
discretion.

But the application of strategical and tactical principles, and the
example of noble lives, are not the only or even the most valuable
lessons of great wars. There are lessons which concern nations rather
than individuals; and there are two to be learnt from the Secession
War which are of peculiar value to both England and the United
States, whose armies are comparatively small and raised by voluntary
enlistment. The first is the necessity of maintaining at all times
(for it is impossible to predict what tomorrow may have in store for
us) a well-organised standing army in the highest state of
efficiency, and composed of thoroughly-trained and full-grown men.
This army to be large enough for our military requirements, and
adapted to the character, the habits, and the traditions of the
people. It is not necessary that the whole force should be actually
serving during peace: one half of it, provided it is periodically
drilled and exercised, can be formed into a Reserve; the essential
thing is that it should be as perfect a weapon as can be forged.

The second lesson is that to hand over to civilians the
administration and organisation of the army, whether in peace or in
war, or to allow them to interfere in the selection of officers for
command or promotion, is most injurious to efficiency; while, during
war, to allow them, no matter how high their political capacity, to
dictate to commanders in the field any line of conduct, after the
army has once received its commission, is simply to ensure disaster.

The first of these lessons is brought home to us by the opening
events of this unreasonably protracted war. As I have elsewhere said,
most military students will admit that had the United States been
able, early in 1861, to put into the field, in addition to their
volunteers, one Army Corps of regular troops, the war would have
ended in a few months. An enormous expenditure of life and money, as
well as a serious dislocation and loss of trade, would have been thus
avoided. Never have the evil consequences which follow upon the
absence of an adequate and well-organised army been more forcibly
exemplified.

But, alas! when this lesson is preached in a country governed
alternately by rival political parties, and when there is no
immediate prospect of national danger, it falls on deaf ears. The
demands made by the soldiers to put the army on a thoroughly
efficient footing are persistently ignored, for the necessary means
are almost invariably required for some other object, more popular at
the moment and in a parliamentary--or party--sense more useful. The
most scathing comment on such a system of administration is furnished
in the story told by Colonel Henderson. The fearful trials to which
the United States were subjected expose the folly and self-deception
of which even well-meaning party leaders are too often capable.
Ministers bluster about fighting and yet refuse to spend enough money
on the army to make it fit for use; and on both sides of the Atlantic
the lessons taught by the Peninsula, the Crimea, and the Secession
War are but seldom remembered.

The pleasing notion that, whenever war comes, money can obtain for
the nation all that it requires is still, it would seem, an article
of at least lip-faith with the politicians of the English-speaking
race throughout the world. Gold will certainly buy a nation powder,
pills, and provisions; but no amount of wealth, even when supported
by a patriotic willingness to enlist, can buy discipline, training,
and skilful leading. Without these there can be no such thing as an
efficient army, and success in the field against serious opposition
is merely the idle dream of those who know not war.

If any nation could improvise an army at short notice it would be the
United States, for its men, all round, are more hardy, more
self-reliant, and quicker to learn than those of older communities.
But, notwithstanding this advantage, both in 1861 and 1898 the United
States failed to create the thoroughly efficient armies so suddenly
required, and in both instances the unnecessary sufferings of the
private soldier were the price paid for the weakness and folly of the
politicians. In 1861 the Governors of the several Northern States
were ordered to call for volunteers to enlist for ninety days, the
men electing their own officers. It was generally believed throughout
the North that all Southern resistance would collapse before the
great armies that would thus be raised. But the troops sent out to
crush the rebellion, when they first came under fire, were soldiers
only in outward garb, and at Bull Run, face to face with shot and
shell, they soon lapsed into the condition of a terrified rabble, and
ran away from another rabble almost equally demoralised; and this,
not because they were cowards, for they were of the same breed as the
young regular soldiers who retreated from the same field in such
excellent order, but because they neither understood what discipline
was nor the necessity for it, and because the staff and regimental
officers, with few exceptions, were untrained and inexperienced.

Mr. Davis, having prevented the Southern army from following up the
victory at Bull Run, gave the Northern States some breathing time.
Mr. Lincoln was thus able to raise a new army of over 200,000 men for
the projected advance on Richmond.

The new army was liberally supplied with guns, pontoons, balloons,
hospitals, and waggons; but, with the exception of a few officers
spared from the regular army, it was without trained soldiers to lead
it, or staff officers to move and to administer its Divisions. It
must be admitted, I think, that General McClellan did all that a man
could do in the way of training this huge mass. But when the day came
for it to move forward, it was still unfit for an offensive campaign
against a regular army. To the practised eye of an able and
experienced soldier who accompanied McClellan, the Federal host was
an army only in name. He likened it to a giant lying prone upon the
earth, in appearance a Hercules, but wanting the bone, the muscle,
and the nervous organisation necessary to set the great frame in
motion. Even when the army was landed in the Peninsula, although the
process of training and organisation had been going on for over six
months, it was still a most unwieldy force. Fortunately for the
Union, the Confederate army, except as regards the superior leaders
and the cavalry, was hardly more efficient.

The United States, fully realising their need of a larger regular
army, are now on the point of increasing their existing force to
treble its present strength. Their troops, like our own, are raised
by voluntary enlistment for a short period of service with the
colours. England has always very great difficulty in filling the
ranks even with undeveloped youths. The United States obtain as many
full-grown men as they require, because they have the wisdom to pay
their men well, on a scale corresponding to the market rate of wages.
Here they are fortunate; but men are not everything, and I will still
draw the moral that a nation is more than blind when it deliberately
elects to entrust its defence to an army that is not as perfect as
training and discipline can make it, that is not led by practised
officers, staff and regimental, and that is not provided with a
powerful and efficient artillery. Overwhelming disaster is in store
for such nation if it be attacked by a large regular army; and when
it falls there will be none to pity. To hang the ministers who led
them astray, and who believed they knew better than any soldier how
the army should be administered, will be but poor consolation to an
angry and deluded people.

Let me now dwell briefly upon the second of the two great national
lessons taught by the Secession War. I shall say nothing here upon
civilian meddling with army organisation and with the selection of
officers for command, but I wish particularly to point out the result
of interference on the part of a legislative assembly or minister
with the plans and dispositions of the generals commanding in the
field. Take first the notorious instance of Mr. Lincoln's
interference with McClellan in the spring of 1862. McClellan, who was
selected to command the army which was to capture Richmond and end
the war, was a soldier of known ability, and, in my opinion, if he
had not been interfered with by the Cabinet in Washington, he would
probably have succeeded. It is true, as Colonel Henderson has said,
that he made a mistake in not playing up to Lincoln's
susceptibilities with regard to the safety of the Federal capital.
But Lincoln made a far greater mistake in suddenly reducing
McClellan's army by 40,000 men, and by removing Banks from his
jurisdiction, when the plan of campaign had been approved by the
Cabinet, and it was already too late to change it. It is possible,
considering the political situation, that the garrison of Washington
was too small, and it was certainly inefficient; but the best way of
protecting Washington was to give McClellan the means of advancing
rapidly upon Richmond. Such an advance would have made a Confederate
counterstroke against the Northern capital, or even a demonstration,
impossible. But to take away from McClellan 40,000 men, the very
force with which he intended to turn the Yorktown lines and drive the
enemy back on Richmond, and at the same time to isolate Banks in the
Shenandoah Valley, was simply playing into the enemy's hands. What
Lincoln did not see was that to divide the Federal army into three
portions, working on three separate lines, was to run a far greater
risk than would be incurred by leaving Washington weakly garrisoned.
I cannot bring myself to believe that he in the least realised all
that was involved in changing a plan of operations so vast as
McClellan's.

Again, look at the folly of which Mr. Benjamin, the Confederate
Secretary of War, was guilty at the same period. The reader should
carefully study the chapter in which Colonel Henderson describes
Stonewall Jackson's resignation of his command when his arrangements
in the field were altered, without his cognizance, by the Secretary
of War.

I should like to emphasise his words: "That the soldier," he says,
"is but the servant of the statesman, as war is but an instrument of
diplomacy, no educated soldier will deny. Politics must always
exercise a supreme influence on strategy; yet it cannot be gainsaid
that interference with the commander in the field is fraught with the
gravest danger."* (* Volume 1 chapter 7.)

The absolute truth of this remark is proved, not only by many
instances in his own volumes, but by the history of war in all ages,
and the principle for which Jackson contended when he sent in his
resignation would seem too well founded to be open to the slightest
question. Yet there are those who, oblivious of the fact that neglect
of this principle has been always responsible for protracted wars,
for useless slaughter, and costly failures, still insist on the
omniscience of statesmen; who regard the protest of the soldier as
the mere outcome of injured vanity, and believe that politics must
suffer unless the politician controls strategy as well as the
finances. Colonel Henderson's pages supply an instructive commentary
on these ideas. In the first three years of the Secession War, when
Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Stanton practically controlled the movements of
the Federal forces, the Confederates were generally successful.
Further, the most glorious epoch of the Confederacy was the critical
period of 1862, when Lee was allowed to exercise the full authority
of Commander-in-Chief; and lastly, the Northern prospects did not
begin to ben until Mr. Lincoln, in March 1864, with that
unselfish intelligence which distinguished him, abdicated his
military functions in favour of General Grant. And yet while Lee and
Grant had a free hand over the military resources of their respective
nations the political situation suffered no harm whatever, no
extravagant demands were made upon the exchequer, and the Government
derived fresh strength from the successes of the armies.

The truth is that a certain class of civilians cannot rid themselves
of the suspicion that soldiers are consumed by an inordinate and
bloodthirsty ambition. They cannot understand that a man brought up
from his youth to render loyal obedience is less likely than most
others to run counter to constituted authority. They will not see
that a soldier's pride in his own army and in the manhood of his own
race tends to make him a devoted patriot. They do not realise that a
commander's familiarity with war, whether gained by study or
experience, must, unless his ability be limited, enable him to
accommodate his strategy to political exigencies. Nor will they admit
that he can possess a due sense of economy, although none knows
better than an educated soldier the part played in war by a sound and
thrifty administration of the national resources.

The soldier, on the other hand, knows that his art is most difficult,
that to apply strategical principles correctly experience, study,
knowledge of men, and an intimate acquaintance with questions of
supply, transport, and the movement of masses, are absolutely
necessary. He is aware that what may seem matters of small moment to
the civilian--such as the position of a brigade, the strength of a
garrison, the command of a detachment--may affect the whole course of
a campaign; and consequently, even if he had not the historical
examples of Aulic Councils and other such assemblies to warn him, he
would rebel against the meddling of amateurs. Let it not be forgotten
that an enormous responsibility rests on the shoulders of a commander
in the field: the honour of army committed to his charge, the lives
of the brave men under him, perhaps the existence of his country; and
that failure, even if he can plead that he only obeyed the orders of
his Government, or that he was supplied with inadequate means, will
be laid at his door. McDowell received no mercy after Bull Run,
although he had protested against attacking the Confederates; and it
was long before the reputation of Sir John Moore was cleared in the
eyes of the English people.

Such, to my mind, are the most important lessons to be drawn from
this history of the first period of the Secession War. But it is not
alone to draw attention to the teaching on these points that I have
acceded, as an old friend, to Colonel Henderson's request that I
should write an Introduction to his second edition. In these days of
sensational literature and superficial study there is a prejudice
against the story that fills more than one volume. But the reader who
opens these pages is so carried away by the intense interest of the
subject, clothed as it is in forcible and yet graceful language, that
he closes them with regret; and I am only too glad to ask others to
share the very great pleasure I have myself enjoyed in reading them.
I know of no book which will add more largely to the soldier's
knowledge of strategy and the art of war; and the ordinary reader
will find in this Life of Stonewall Jackson, true and accurate as it
is, all the charm and fascination of a great historical romance.

</section>
<section id="3" fatherid="1" title="PREFACE" lv="" priority="0" level="2">
To write the life of a great general, to analyse his methods of war
and discipline, to appraise the weight of his responsibilities, and
to measure the extent of his capacity, it would seem essential that
the experience of the writer should have run on parallel lines. An
ordinary soldier, therefore, who notwithstanding his lack of such
experience attempts the task, may be justly accused of something
worse than presumption. But if we were to wait for those who are
really qualified to deal with the achievements of famous captains, we
should, as a rule, remain in ignorance of the lessons of their lives,
for men of the requisite capacity are few in a generation. So the
task, if it is to be done at all, must perforce be  to those who
have less knowledge but more leisure.

In the present case, however, the mass of contemporary testimony is
so large that any initial disadvantages, I venture to think, will be
less conspicuous than they might otherwise have been. The Official
Records of the War of the Rebellion contain every dispatch, letter,
and message, public or confidential, which has been preserved; and in
the daily correspondence of the generals on both sides, together with
the voluminous reports of officers of all grades, the tale of the
campaigns is written so plain that none can fail to read. Again,
Stonewall Jackson's military career, either in full or in part, has
been narrated by more than one of his staff officers, whose
intercourse with him was necessarily close and constant; and, in
addition, the literature of the war abounds with articles and
sketches contributed by soldiers of all ranks who, at one time or
another, served under his command. It has been my privilege,
moreover, to visit the battle-fields of Virginia with men who rode by
his side when he won his victories, to hear on the spot the
description of his manoeuvres, of his bearing under fire, and of his
influence over his troops. I can thus make fairly certain that my
facts are accurate. But in endeavouring to ascertain the strength of
the armies at different periods I have been less fortunate. For the
most part I have rested on the Official Records* (* Referred to in
the text as O.R.); it is to be regretted, however, that, so far as
the Confederates are concerned, there are several gaps in the series
of returns, and I have found it extremely difficult to arrive at a
fair estimate of the approximate strength at any period within these
intervals. For instance, the numbers at Lee's disposal at the end of
August 1862 rest on the basis of a return dated July 20, and in the
meantime several regiments and batteries had been transferred
elsewhere, while others had been added. I have done my best, however,
to trace all such changes; and where officers and employed men are
not included in the returns, I have been careful to add a normal
percentage to the official totals.

As regards Jackson's place in history, my labours have been greatly
facilitated by the published opinions of many distinguished
soldiers--American, English, French, and German; and I have
endeavoured, at every step, as the surest means of arriving at a just
conclusion, to compare his conduct of military affairs with that of
the acknowledged masters of war. His private life, from his boyhood
onwards, has been so admirably depicted by his widow* (* Memoirs of
Stonewall Jackson. The Prentice Press, Louisville, Kentucky.), that I
have had nothing more to do than to select from her pages such
incidents and letters as appear best suited to illustrate his
character, and to add a few traits and anecdotes communicated by his
personal friends.

Several biographies have already been published, and that written by
the late Reverend R.L. Dabney, D.D., sometime Major in the
Confederate army, and Jackson's Chief of the Staff for several
months, is so complete and powerful that the need of a successor is
not at once apparent. This work, however, was brought out before the
war had ceased, and notwithstanding his intimate relations with his
hero, it was impossible for the author to attain that fulness and
precision of statement which the study of the Official Records can
alone ensure. Nor was Dr. Dabney a witness of all the events he so
vigorously described. It is only fitting, however, that I should
acknowledge the debt I owe to a soldier and writer of such
conspicuous ability. Not only have I quoted freely from his pages,
but he was good enough, at my request, to write exhaustive memoranda
on many episodes of Jackson's career.

Cooke's Life of Jackson is still popular, and deservedly so; but
Cooke, like Dr. Dabney, had no access to the Official Records, and
his narrative of the battles, picturesque and lifelike as it is, can
hardly be accepted as sober history. On the other hand, the several
works of the late Colonel William Allan, C.S.A., in collaboration
with Major Hotchkiss, C.S.A., are as remarkable for their research
and accuracy as for their military acumen; while the volumes of the
Southern Historical Society, together with the remarkable series of
articles entitled "Battles and Leaders of the Civil War," written by
the leading participants on either side, are a perfect mine of wealth
to the historical student. I need hardly add that the memoirs and
biographies of both the Federal and Confederate generals, of Lee,
Grant, Stuart, Sherman, Johnston, Longstreet, Beauregard, McClellan,
Hancock, Pendleton and others, are a necessary complement to the
Official Records.

Nevertheless, with all this mass of information at my command, had it
not been for the exceeding kindness of the friends and comrades of
Stonewall Jackson, I much doubt whether I should have been able to
complete my task. To the late Major Hotchkiss, his trusted staff
officer, whatever of value these volumes may contain is largely due.
Not only did he correct the topographical descriptions, but he
investigated most carefully many disputed points; and in procuring
the evidence of eye-witnesses, and thus enabling me to check and
amplify the statements of previous writers, he was indefatigable. Dr.
Hunter McGuire, Medical Director of Jackson's successive commands,
has given me much of his valuable time. The Reverend J.P. Smith,
D.D., Jackson's aide-de-camp, has rendered me great assistance; and
from many officers and men of the Stonewall Brigade, of Jackson's
Division, and of the Second Army Corps, I have received contributions
to this memorial of their famous chief. Generals Gustavus Smith,
Fitzhugh Lee, Stephen D. Lee, and N.G. Harris, Colonel Williams,
Colonel Poague, and R.E. Lee, Esquire, of Washington, D.C., all
formerly of the Confederate States Army, have supplied me with new
matter. Colonel Miller, U.S.A., most courteously responded to my
request for a copy of the services of his regiment, the First
Artillery, in the Mexican war. The late General John Gibbon, U.S.A.,
wrote for me his reminiscences of Jackson as a cadet at West Point,
and as a subaltern in Mexico; and many officers who fought for the
Union have given me information as to the tactics and discipline of
the Federal armies. The Reverend J. Graham, D.D., of Winchester,
Virginia; Dr. H.A. White, of Washington and Lee University,
Lexington, Virginia, author of an admirable life of General Lee; and
the Hon. Francis Lawley, once Special Correspondent of the Times in
the Confederate States, have been most kind in replying to my many
questions. To Major-General Hildyard, C.B., late Commandant of the
Staff College, I am indebted for much valuable criticism on the
campaigns of 1862; and my warmest thanks are here tendered to the
Commander-in-Chief, Field-Marshal Lord Wolseley, for much information
and more encouragement.

I cannot conceal from myself, however, that notwithstanding the
numerous authorities I have been enabled to consult, as well as the
intrinsic interest of my subject, many of the following chapters will
be found excessively dull by civilian readers. Stonewall Jackson's
military career was not all hard fighting; nor was it on the
battlefield alone that his supreme ability for war was made manifest.
His time and thoughts were more occupied by strategy, that is, by
combinations made out of the enemy's sight, than by tactics, that is,
by manoeuvres executed in the enemy's presence. But strategy,
unfortunately, is an unpopular science, even among soldiers,
requiring both in practice and in demonstration constant and careful
study of the map, the closest computation of time and space, a grasp
of many factors, and the strictest attention to the various steps in
the problems it presents. At the same time, it is a science which
repays the student, although he may have no direct concern with
military affairs; for not only will a comprehension of its immutable
principles add a new interest to the records of stirring times and
great achievements, but it will make him a more useful citizen.

In free countries like Great Britain, her colonies, and the United
States, the weight of intelligent opinion, in all matters of moment,
generally turns the scale; and if it were generally understood that,
in regular warfare, success depends on something more than rank and
experience, no Government would dare entrust the command of the army
to any other than the most competent soldier. The campaigns of the
Civil War show how much may be achieved, even with relatively feeble
means, by men who have both studied strategy and have the character
necessary for its successful practice; and they also show, not a whit
less forcibly, what awful sacrifices may be exacted from a nation
ignorant that such a science exists. And such ignorance is
widespread. How seldom do we hear a knowledge of strategy referred to
as an indispensable acquirement in those who aspire to high command?
How often is it repeated, although in so doing the speakers betray
their own shortcomings, that strategy is a mere matter of
common-sense? Yet the plain truth is that strategy is not only the
determining factor in civilised warfare, but that, in order to apply
its principles, the soundest common-sense must be most carefully
trained. Of all the sciences connected with war it is the most
difficult. If the names of the great captains, soldiers and sailors,
be recalled, it will be seen that it is to the breadth of their
strategical conceptions rather than to their tactical skill that they
owe their fame. An analysis of the great wars shows that their course
was generally marked by the same vicissitudes. First we have the
great strategist, a Hannibal, or a Napoleon, or a Lee, triumphing
with inferior numbers over adversaries who are tacticians and nothing
more. Then, suddenly, the tide of victory is checked, and brilliant
manoeuvres no longer avail. Fabius and Scipio, Wellington, Nelson,
and St. Vincent, Grant, Sherman, and Farragut, have replaced the mere
tacticians; and the superior resources, wielded with strategical
skill, exert their inevitable effect. Or it may be that fortune is
constant throughout to her first favourite; and that a Marlborough, a
Frederick, a Washington, a Moltke, opposed only by good fighting men,
never by an accomplished strategist, marches from victory to victory.
It is impossible, then, to estimate the ability of any general
without considering his strategy. Moreover, in this age of
inventions, of rapid movement, and of still more rapid communication,
the science is more complicated and even more important than
heretofore; and it is deserving, therefore, of far closer attention,
from both soldiers and civilians, than it has hitherto received. It
is for these reasons that I have described and discussed in such
minute detail the strategy of the campaigns with which Jackson had to
do.

I have only to add that should anything in these pages wound the
susceptibilities of any one of those splendid soldiers and gallant
gentlemen who took part in the Civil War, whether he be Northerner or
Southerner, I here tender him my humblest apologies; assuring him, at
the same time, that while compiling these pages I have always borne
in mind the words of General Grant: "I would like to see truthful
history written. Such history will do full credit to the courage,
endurance, and ability of the American citizen, no matter what
section he hailed from, or in what ranks he fought." I am very
strongly of opinion that any fair-minded man may feel equal sympathy
with both Federal and Confederate. Both were so absolutely convinced
that their cause was just, that it is impossible to conceive either
Northerner or Southerner acting otherwise than he did. If Stonewall
Jackson had been a New Englander, educated in the belief that
secession was rebellion, he would assuredly have shed the last drop
of his blood in defence of the Union; if Ulysses Grant had been a
Virginian, imbibing the doctrine of States' s with his mother's
milk, it is just as certain that he would have worn the Confederate
grey. It is with those Northerners who would have allowed the Union
to be broken, and with those Southerners who would have tamely
surrendered their hereditary s, that no Englishman would be
willing to claim kinship.

</section>
<section id="4" fatherid="1" title="WEST POINT" lv="CHAPTER 1.1." priority="0" level="2">
In the first quarter of the century, on the hills which stand above
the Ohio River, but in different States of the Union, were born two
children, destined, to all appearance, to lives of narrow interests
and thankless toil. They were the sons of poor parents, without
influence or expectations; their native villages, deep in the
solitudes of the West, and remote from the promise and possibilities
of great cities, offered no road to fortune. In the days before the
railway, escape from the wilderness, except for those with long
purses, was very difficult; and for those who remained, if their
means were small, the farm and the store were the only occupations.
But a farmer without capital was little better than a hired hand;
trade was confined to the petty dealings of a country market; and
although thrift and energy, even under such depressing conditions,
might eventually win a competence, the most ardent ambition could
hardly hope for more. Never was an obscure existence more
irretrievably marked out than for these children of the Ohio; and
yet, before either had grown grey, the names of Abraham Lincoln,
President of the United States, and of Stonewall Jackson,
Lieutenant-General in the Confederate Army, were household words in
both America and Europe. Descendants of the pioneers, those hardy
borderers, half soldiers and half farmers, who held and reclaimed,
through long years of Indian warfare, the valleys and prairies of the
West, they inherited the best attributes of a frank and valiant race.
Simple yet wise, strong yet gentle, they were gifted with all the
qualities which make leaders of men. Actuated by the highest
principles, they both ennobled the cause for which they fought; and
while the opposition of such kindred natures adds to the dramatic
interest of the Civil War, the career of the great soldier, although
a theme perhaps less generally attractive, may be followed as
profitably as that of the great statesmen. Providence dealt with them
very differently. The one was struck down by a mortal wound before
his task was well begun; his life, to all human seeming, was given in
vain, and his name will ever be associated with the mournful memories
of a lost cause and a vanished army. The other, ere he fell beneath
the assassin's stroke, had seen the abundant fruits of his mighty
labours; his sun set in a cloudless sky. And yet the resemblance
between them is very close. Both dared:

For that sweet mother-land which gave them birth
Nobly to do, nobly to die. Their names,
Graven on memorial columns, are a song
Heard in the future;...more than wall
And rampart, their examples reach a hand
Far thro' all years, and everywhere they meet
And kindle generous purpose, and the strength
To mould it into action pure as theirs.

Jackson, in one respect, was more fortunate than Lincoln. Although
born to poverty, he came of a Virginia family which was neither
unknown nor undistinguished, and as showing the influences which went
to form his character, its history and traditions may be briefly
related.

It is an article of popular belief that the State of Virginia, the
Old Dominion of the British Crown, owes her fame to the blood of the
English Cavaliers. The idea, however, has small foundation in fact.
Not a few of her great names are derived from a less romantic source,
and the Confederate general, like many of his neighbours in the
western portion of the State, traced his origin to the Lowlands of
Scotland. An ingenious author of the last century, himself born on
Tweed-side, declares that those Scotch families whose patronymics end
in "son," although numerous and respectable, and descended, as the
distinctive syllable denotes, from the Vikings, have seldom been
pre-eminent either in peace or war. And certainly, as regards the
Jacksons of bygone centuries, the assertion seems justified. The name
is almost unknown to Border history. In neither lay nor legend has it
been preserved; and even in the "black lists" of the wardens, where
the more enterprising of the community were continually proclaimed as
thieves and malefactors, it is seldom honoured with notice. The
omission might be held as evidence that the family was of peculiar
honesty, but, in reality, it is only a proof that it was
insignificant. It is not improbable that the Jacksons were one of the
landless clans, whose only heritages were their rude "peel" towers,
and who, with no acknowledged chief of their own race, followed, as
much for protection as for plunder, the banner of some more powerful
house. In course of time, when the Marches grew peaceful and morals
improved, when cattle-lifting, no longer profitable, ceased to be an
honourable occupation, such humbler marauders drifted away into the
wide world, leaving no trace behind, save the grey ruins of their
grim fortalices, and the incidental mention of some probably
disreputable scion in a chapman's ballad. Neither mark nor memory of
the Jacksons remains in Scotland. We only know that some members of
the clan, impelled probably by religious persecution, made their way
to Ulster, where a strong colony of Lowlanders had already been
established.

Under a milder sky and a less drastic government the expatriated
Scots lost nothing of their individuality. Masterful and independent
from the beginning, masterful and independent they remained,
inflexible of purpose, impatient of justice, and staunch to their
ideals. Something, perhaps, they owed to contact with the Celt.
Wherever the Ulster folk have made their home, the breath of the
wholesome North has followed them, preserving untainted their
hereditary virtues. Shrewd, practical, and thrifty, prosperity has
consistently rewarded them; and yet, in common with the Irishmen of
English stock, they have found in the trade of arms the most
congenial outlet for their energies. An abiding love of peace can
hardly be enumerated amongst their more prominent characteristics;
and it is a remarkable fact, which, unless there is some mysterious
property in the air, can only be explained by the intermixture of
races, that Ireland "within the Pale" has been peculiarly prolific of
military genius. As England has bred admirals, so the sister isle has
bred soldiers. The tenacious courage of the Anglo-Saxon, blended with
the spirit of that people which above all others delights in war, has
proved on both sides of the Atlantic a most powerful combination of
martial qualities. The same mixed strain which gave England Wolfe and
Wellington, the Napiers and the Lawrences, has given America some of
her greatest captains; and not the least famous of her Presidents is
that General Jackson who won the battle of New Orleans in 1814. So,
early in the century the name became known beyond the seas; but
whether the same blood ran in the veins of the Confederate general
and of the soldier President is a matter of some doubt. The former,
in almost every single respect, save his warm heart, was the exact
converse of the typical Irishman, the latter had a hot temper and a
ready wit. Both, however, were undeniably fond of fighting, and a
letter still preserved attests that their ancestors had lived in the
same parish of Londonderry.* (* This letter is in the possession of
Thomas Jackson Arnold, Esquire, of Beverly, West Virginia, nephew of
General "Stonewall" Jackson.)

1748.

John Jackson, the great-grandfather of our hero, landed in America in
1748, and it was not long before he set his face towards the
wilderness. The emigrants from Ulster appear as a rule to have moved
westward. The States along the coast were already colonised, and,
despite its fertility, the country was little to their taste. But
beyond the border, in the broad Appalachian valley which runs from
the St. Lawrence to Alabama, on the banks of the great rivers, the
Susquehanna, the Ohio, the Cumberland, and the Tennessee, they found
a land after their own heart, a soil with whose properties they were
familiar, the sweet grasses and soft contours of their native hills.
Here, too, there was ample room for their communities, for the West
was as yet but sparsely tenanted. No inconsiderable number,
penetrating far into the interior, settled eventually about the
headwaters of the Potomac and the James. This highland region was the
debatable ground of the United States. So late as 1756 the State of
Virginia extended no further than the crests of the Blue Ridge. Two
hundred miles westward forts flying French colours dominated the
valley of the Ohio, and the wild and inhospitable tract, a very
labyrinth of mountains, which lay between, was held by the fierce
tribes of the "Six Nations" and the Leni-Lenape. Two years later the
French had been driven back to Canada; but it was not till near the
close of the century that the savage was finally dispossessed of his
spacious hunting grounds.

It was on these green uplands, where fight and foray were as frequent
as once on the Scottish border, that John Jackson and his wife, a
fellow passenger to America, by name Elizabeth Cummins, first pitched
their camp, and here is still the home of their descendants.

January 21, 1824.

In the little town of Clarksburg, now the county-seat of Harrison,
but then no more than a village in the Virginia backwoods, Thomas
Jonathan Jackson was born on January 21, 1824. His father was a
lawyer, clever and popular, who had inherited a comfortable
patrimony. The New World had been generous to the Jacksons. The
emigrant of 1748  a valuable estate, and his many sons were
uniformly prosperous. Nor was their affluence the reward of energy
and thrift alone, for the lands reclaimed by axe and plough were held
by a charter of sword and musket. The redskin fought hard for his
ancestral domains. The stockaded forts, which stood as a citadel of
refuge in every settlement, were often the scene of fierce attack and
weary leaguer, and the nursing mothers of the frontier families were
no strangers to war and bloodshed. The last great battle with the
Indians east of the Ohio was fought in 1774, but the military
experience of the pioneers was not confined to the warfare of the
border. John Jackson and his sons bore arms in the War of
Independence, and the trained riflemen of West Virginia were welcome
recruits in the colonial ranks. With the exception of the Highlanders
of the '45, who had been deported in droves to the plantations, no
race had less cause to remain loyal to the Crown than the men of
Ulster blood. Even after the siege of Londonderry they had been
proscribed and persecuted; and in the War of Independence the
fiercest enemies of King George were the descendants of the same
Scotch-Irish who had held the north of Ireland for King William.

In Washington's campaigns more than one of the Jacksons won rank and
reputation; and when peace was established they married into
influential families. Nor was the next generation less successful.
Judges, senators, and soldiers upheld the honour of the name, and
proved the worth of the ancestral stock. They were marked, it is
said, by strong and characteristic features, by a warm feeling of
clanship, a capacity for hard work, and a decided love of roving.
Some became hunters, others explorers, and the race is now scattered
from Virginia to Oregon. A passion for litigation was a general
failing, and none of them could resist the fascination of machinery.
Every Jackson owned a mill or factory of some sort--many of them more
than one--and their ventures were not always profitable. Jackson's
father, among others, found it easier to make money than to keep it.
Generous and incautious, he became deeply involved by becoming
security for others; high play increased his embarrassments; and when
he died in 1827 every vestige of his property was swept away. His
young widow,  with three small children, two sons and a daughter,
became dependent on the assistance of her kinsfolk for a livelihood,
and on the charity of the Freemasons for a roof. When Thomas, her
second son, was six years old, she married a Captain Woodson; but her
second matrimonial venture was not more fortunate than her first. Her
husband's means were small, and necessity soon compelled her to
commit her two boys to the care of their father's relatives.

1831.

Within a year the children stood round her dying bed, and at a very
early age our little Virginian found himself a penniless orphan. But,
as he never regretted his poverty, so he never forgot his mother. To
the latest hour of his life he loved to recall her memory, and years
after she had passed away her influence still remained. Her beauty,
her counsels, their last parting, and her happy death, for she was a
woman of deep religious feeling, made a profound impression on him.
To his childhood's fancy she was the embodiment of every grace; and
so strong had been the sympathy between them, that even in the midst
of his campaigns she was seldom absent from his thoughts. After her
death the children found a home with their father's half-brother, who
had inherited the family estates, and was one of the largest
slave-owners in the district. Their surroundings, however, could
hardly be called luxurious. Life on the Ohio was very different from
life on the coast. The western counties of Virginia were still
practically on the frontier of the United States. The axe had thinned
the interminable woods; mills were busy on each mountain stream, and
the sunny valleys were rich in fruit and corn. But as yet there was
little traffic. Steam had not yet come to open up the wilderness. The
population was small and widely scattered; and the country was cut
off as much by nature as by distance from the older civilisation of
the East. The parallel ranges of the Alleghanies, with their pathless
forests and great canyons, were a formidable barrier to all
intercourse. The West was a world in itself. The only outlets
eastward were the valleys of the Potomac and the James, the one
leading to Washington, the other to Richmond; and so seldom were they
used that the yeomen of the Ohio uplands were almost as much opposed,
both in character and in mode of life, to the planters beyond the
Blue Ridge, as the Covenanters of Bothwell Brig to the gentlemen of
Dundee's Life Guards.

Although the sturdy independence and simple habits of the borderers
were not affected by contact with wealthier communities, isolation
was not in every way a blessing. Served by throngs of slaves, the
great landowners of East Virginia found leisure to cultivate the arts
which make life more pleasant. The rambling houses on the banks of
the James, the Rappahannock, and the Potomac, built on the model of
English manors, had their libraries and picture-galleries. A
classical academy was the boast of every town, and a university
training was considered as essential to the son of a planter as to
the heir of an English squire. A true aristocracy, in habit and in
lineage, the gentlemen of Virginia long swayed the councils of the
nation, and among them were many who were intimate with the best
representatives of European culture. Beyond the Alleghanies there
were no facilities for education; and even had opportunities offered
few would have had the leisure to enjoy them. Labour was scarce,
either slave or hired. The owners of farms were their own managers
and overseers, and young men had to serve a practical apprenticeship
to lumbering and agriculture. To this rule, despite his uncle's
wealth, Jackson was no exception. He had to fight his own battle, to
rub shoulders with all sorts and conditions of men, and to hold his
own as best he could.

It was a hard school, then, in which he grew to manhood. But for that
very reason it was a good school for the future soldier. For a man
who has to push his own way in the world, more especially if he has
to carve it with his sword, a boyhood passed amidst surroundings
which boast of no luxury and demand much endurance, is the best
probation. Von Moltke has recorded that the comfortless routine of
the Military Academy at Copenhagen inured him to privation, and
Jackson learned the great lesson of self-reliance in the rough life
of his uncle's homestead.

The story of his early years is soon told. As a blue-eyed child, with
long fair hair, he was curiously thoughtful and exceedingly
affectionate. His temper was generous and cheerful. His truthfulness
was proverbial, and his little sister found in him the kindest of
playmates and the sturdiest of protectors. He was distinguished, too,
for his politeness, although good manners were by no means rare in
the rustic West. The manly courtesy of the true American is no exotic
product; nor is the universal deference to woman peculiar to any
single class. The farmer of the backwoods might be ignorant of the
conventionalities, but the simplicity and unselfishness which are the
root of all good breeding could be learned in West Virginia as
readily as in Richmond.

Once, tempted by his brother, the boy  his adopted home, and the
two children, for the elder was no more than twelve, wandered down
the Ohio to the Mississippi, and spent the summer on a lonely and
malarious island, cutting wood for passing steamers. No one opposed
their going, and it seems to have been considered quite natural in
that independent community that the veriest urchins should be allowed
to seek their fortunes for themselves. Returning, ragged and
fever-stricken, the little adventurers submitted once more to the
routine of the farm and to the intermittent studies of a country
school. After his failure as a man of business, our small hero showed
no further inclination to seek his fortunes far afield. He was fond
of his home. His uncle, attracted by his steadiness and good sense,
treated him more as a companion than a child; and in everything
connected with the farm, as well as in the sports of the country
side, the boy took the keenest interest. Delicate by nature, with a
tendency to consumption inherited from his mother, his physique and
constitution benefited by a life of constant exercise and wholesome
toil. At school he was a leader in every game, and his proficiency in
the saddle proved him a true Virginian. Fox-hunting and horse-racing
were popular amusements, and his uncle not only kept a stable of
well-bred horses, but had a four-mile race-course on his own grounds.
As a light-weight jockey the future general was a useful member of
the household, and it was the opinion of the neighbourhood that "if a
horse had any winning qualities whatever in him, young Jackson never
failed to bring them out."

In the management of the estate he learned early to put his shoulder
to the wheel. Transporting timber from the forest to the saw-mill was
one of his most frequent tasks, and tradition records that if a tree
were to be moved from ground of unusual difficulty, or if there were
one more gigantic than the rest, the party of labourers was put under
his control, and the work was sure to be effected.

One who knew him well has described his character. "He was a youth of
exemplary habits, of indomitable will and undoubted courage. He was
not what is nowadays termed brilliant, but he was one of those
untiring, matter-of-fact persons who would never give up an
undertaking until he accomplished his object. He learned slowly, but
what he got into his head he never forgot. He was not quick to
decide, except when excited, and then, when he made up his mind to do
a thing, he did it on short notice and in quick time. Once, while on
his way to school, an overgrown rustic behaved rudely to one of the
school-girls. Jackson fired up, and told him he must apologise at
once or he would thrash him. The big fellow, supposing that he was
more than a match for him, refused, whereupon Jackson pitched into
him, and gave him a severe pounding."

His surroundings, then, although neither refined nor elevating, were
not unwholesome; but of the moral influences to which he was
subjected, so much cannot be said, while the stock of piety that the
original settlers brought with them had not entirely vanished. There
was much irregularity of life; few men gave any thought to religion,
and young Jackson drifted with the tide. Yet there was something that
preserved him from contamination. His uncle, kindest of guardians,
though irreligious and a sportsman, was scrupulously exacting in
matters of integrity and veracity. His associates included the most
respectable, yet the morals of the sporting fraternity of a frontier
settlement are not likely to have been edifying. That his nephew, as
he himself declares, was an ardent frequenter of races,
"house-raisings,"* (* Anglice, house-warmings.) and country dances is
hardly surprising, and it is assuredly no ground whatever for
reproach. Nor is it strange that, amid much laxity, he should have
retained his integrity, that his regard for truth should have
remained untarnished, and that he should have consistently held aloof
from all that was mean and vile. His mother was no mere memory to
that affectionate nature.

His good qualities, however, would scarcely of themselves have done
more than raise him to a respectable rank amongst the farmers of West
Virginia. A spur was wanting to urge him beyond the limits of so
contracted an existence, and that spur was supplied by an honourable
ambition. Penniless and dependent as he was, he still remembered that
his ancestors had been distinguished beyond the confines of their
native county, and this legitimate pride in his own people, a far-off
reflection, perhaps, of the traditional Scottish attitude towards
name and pedigree, exercised a marked influence on his whole career.
"To prove himself worthy of his forefathers was the purpose of his
early manhood. It gives us a key to many of the singularities of his
character; to his hunger for self-improvement; to his punctilious
observance, from a boy, of the essentials of gentlemanly bearing, and
to the uniform assertion of his self-respect."* (* Dabney volume 1
page 29.)

1841.

It was his openly expressed wish for larger advantages than those
offered by a country school that brought about his opportunity. In
1841, at the age of seventeen, he became a constable of the county. A
sort of minor sheriff, he had to execute the decrees of the justices,
to serve their warrants, to collect small debts, and to summon
witnesses. It was a curious office for a boy, but a year or two
before he had been seized with some obscure form of dyspepsia, and
the idea that a life on horseback, which his duties necessitated,
might restore his health, had induced his relatives to obtain the
post for him. Jackson himself seems to have been influenced by the
hope that his salary would help towards his education, and by the
wish to become independent of his uncle's bounty. His new duties were
uncongenial, but, despite his youth, he faced his responsibilities
with a determination which men of maturer years might well have
envied. In everything he was scrupulously exact. His accounts were
accurately kept; he was punctuality itself, and his patience was
inexhaustible. For two years he submitted cheerfully to the drudgery
of his position, re-establishing his health, but without advancing a
single step towards the goal of his ambition. But before he was
nineteen his hopes were unexpectedly realised.

1842.

The Military Academy at West Point not only provided, at the expense
of the nation, a sound and liberal education, but offered an opening
to an honourable career. Nominations to cadetships were made by the
Secretary of War, on the recommendation of members of Congress, and
in 1842 a vacancy occurred which was to be filled by a youth from the
Congressional District in which Clarksburg was included. Jackson,
informed of the chance by a friendly blacksmith, eagerly embraced it,
and  no stone unturned to attain his object. Every possible
influence that could be brought to bear on the member for the
district was immediately enlisted. To those who objected that his
education was too imperfect to enable him even to enter the Academy,
he replied that he had the necessary application, that he hoped he
had the capacity, and that he was at least determined to try. His
earnestness and courage won upon all. His application was strongly
backed by those who had learned to value his integrity and exactness,
and Mr. Hays, the member for the district, wrote that he would do all
in his power to secure the appointment. No sooner had the letter been
read than Jackson determined to go at once to Washington, in order
that he might be ready to proceed to West Point without a moment's
delay. Packing a few clothes into a pair of saddlebags, he mounted
his horse, and accompanied by a servant, who was to bring the animal
home, rode off to catch the coach at Clarksburg. It had already
passed, but galloping on, he overtook it at the next stage, and on
his arrival at Washington, Mr. Hays at once introduced him to the
Secretary of War. On presenting him, he explained the disadvantages
of his education, but begged indulgence for him on account of his
pluck and determination. The Secretary plied him with questions, but
Jackson was not to be diverted from his purpose; and so good was the
impression which he made that he then and there received his warrant,
accompanied by some excellent advice. "Sir," said the Secretary, "you
have a good name. Go to West Point, and the first man who insults
you, knock him down, and have it charged to my account!"

Mr. Hays proposed that the new-fledged cadet should stay with him for
a few days in order to see the sights of Washington. But as the
Academy was already in session, Jackson, with a strong appreciation
of the value of time, begged to decline. He was content to ascend to
the roof of the Capitol, then still building, and look once on the
magnificent panorama of which it is the centre.

At his feet lay the city, with its busy streets and imposing
edifices. To the south ran the Potomac, bearing on its ample tide the
snowy sails of many merchantmen, and spanned by a bridge more than a
mile in length. Over against the Capitol, looking down on that
wide-watered shore, stood the white porch of Arlington, once the
property of Washington, and now the home of a young officer of the
United States army, Robert Edward Lee. Beyond Arlington lay Virginia,
Jackson's native State, stretching back in leafy hills and verdant
pastures, and far and low upon the western horizon his own mountains
loomed faintly through the summer haze. It was a strange freak of
fortune that placed him at the very outset of his career within sight
of the theatre of his most famous victories. It was a still stranger
caprice that was to make the name of the simple country youth,
ill-educated and penniless, as terrible in Washington as the name of
the Black Douglas was once in Durham and Carlisle.

1842.

It was in July 1842 that one of America's greatest soldiers first
answered to his name on the parade-ground at West Point. Shy and
silent, clad in Virginia homespun, with the whole of his personal
effects carried in a pair of weather-stained saddle bags, the
impression that he made on his future comrades, as the Secretary of
War appears to have anticipated, was by no means favourable. The West
Point cadets were then, as now, remarkable for their up
carriage, the neatness of their appointments, and their soldierly
bearing towards their officers and towards each other. The grey
coatee, decorated with b buttons and broad gold lace, the shako
with tall plumes, the spotless white trousers, set off the trim young
figures to the best advantage; and the full-dress parade of the cadet
battalion, marked by discipline and precision in every movement, is
still one of the most attractive of military spectacles.

These natty young gentlemen were not slow to detect the superficial
deficiencies of the newcomer. A system of practical joking, carried
to extremes, had long been a feature of West Point life. Jackson,
with the rusticity of the backwoods apparent at every turn, promised
the highest sport. And here it may be written, once for all, that
however nearly in point of character the intended victim reached the
heroic standard, his outward graces were few. His features were well
cut, his forehead high, his mouth small and firm, and his complexion
fresh. Yet the ensemble was not striking, nor was it redeemed by
grave eyes and a heavy jaw, a strong but angular frame, a certain
awkwardness of movement, and large hands and feet. His would-be
tormentors, however, soon found they had mistaken their man. The
homespun jacket covered a natural shrewdness which had been sharpened
by responsibility. The readiness of resource which had characterised
the whilom constable was more than a match for their most ingenious
schemes; and baffled by a temper which they were powerless to
disturb, their attempts at persecution, apparently more productive of
amusement to their victim than to themselves, were soon abandoned.

Rough as was the life of the Virginia border, it had done something
to fit this unpromising recruit for the give and take of his new
existence. Culture might be lacking in the distant West, but the air
men breathed was at least the blessed breath of independence. Each
was what he made himself. A man's standing depended on his success in
life, and success was within the reach of all. There, like his
neighbours, Jackson had learned to take his own part; like them he
acknowledged no superiority save that of actual merit, and believing
that the richest prize might be won by energy and perseverance,
without diffidence or misgiving he faced his future. He knew nothing
of the life of the great nation of which he was so insignificant an
atom, of the duties of the army, of the manners of its officers. He
knew only that even as regards education he had an uphill task before
him. He was indeed on the threshold of a new world, with his own way
to make, and apparently no single advantage in his favour. But he
came of a fighting race; he had his own inflexible resolution to
support him, and his determination expressed itself in his very
bearing. Four cadets, three of whom were afterwards Confederate
generals,* (* A.P. Hill, G.E. Pickett, and D.H. Maury.) were standing
together when he first entered the gates of the Academy. "There was
about him," says one of them, "so sturdy an expression of purpose
that I remarked, "That fellow looks as if he had come to stay.""

Jackson's educational deficiencies were more difficult of conquest
than the goodwill of his comrades. His want of previous training
placed him at a great disadvantage. He commenced his career amongst
"the Immortals" (the last section of the class), and it was only by
the most strenuous efforts that he maintained his place. His
struggles at the blackboard were often painful to witness. In the
struggle to solve a problem he invariably covered both his face and
uniform with chalk, and he perspired so freely, even in the coldest
weather, that the cadets, with boyish exaggeration, declared that
whenever "the General," as he had at once been dubbed in honour of
his namesake, the victor of New Orleans, got a difficult proposition
he was certain to flood the classroom. It was all he could do to pass
his first examination.* (* Communicated by General John Gibbon,
U.S.A.)

"We were studying," writes a classmate, "algebra and analytical
geometry that winter, and Jackson was very low in his class. Just
before the signal lights out he would pile up his grate with
anthracite coal, and lying prone before it on the floor, would work
away at his lessons by the glare of the fire, which scorched his very
brain, till a late hour of the night. This evident determination to
succeed not only aided his own efforts directly, but impressed his
instructors in his favour. If he could not master the portion of the
text-book assigned for the day, he would not pass it over, but
continued to work at it till he understood it. Thus it often happened
that when he was called out to repeat his task, he had to reply that
he had not yet reached the lesson of the day, but was employed upon
the previous one. There was then no alternative but to mark him as
unprepared, a proceeding which did not in the least affect his
resolution."

Despite all drawbacks, his four years at the Academy were years of
steady progress. "The Immortals" were soon  far behind. At the
end of the first twelve months he stood fifty-first in a class of
seventy-two, but when he entered the first class, and commenced the
study of logic, that bugbear to the majority, he shot from near the
foot of the class to the top. In the final examination he came out
seventeenth, notwithstanding that the less successful years were
taken into account, and it was a frequent remark amongst his brother
cadets that if the course had been a year longer he would have come
out first. His own satisfaction was complete. Not only was his
perseverance rewarded by a place sufficiently high to give him a
commission in the artillery, but his cravings for knowledge had been
fully gratified. West Point was much more than a military school. It
was a university, and a university under the very strictest
discipline, where the science of the soldier formed only a portion of
the course. Subjects which are now considered essential to a military
education were not taught at all. The art of war gave place to ethics
and engineering; and mathematics and chemistry were considered of far
more importance than topography and fortification. Yet with French,
history, and drawing, it will be admitted that the course was
sufficiently comprehensive. No cadet was permitted to graduate unless
he had reached a high standard of proficiency. Failures were
numerous. In the four years the classes grew gradually smaller, and
the survival of the fittest was a principle of administration which
was rigidly observed.

The fact, then, that a man had passed the final examination at West
Point was a sufficient certificate that he had received a thorough
education, that his mental faculties had been strengthened by four
years of hard work, and that he was well equipped to take his place
amongst his fellow men. And it was more than this. Four years of the
strictest discipline, for the cadets were allowed only one vacation
during their whole course, were sufficient to break in even the most
careless and the most slovenly to neatness, obedience, and
punctuality. Such habits are not easily unlearned, and the West Point
certificate was thus a guarantee of qualities that are everywhere
useful. It did not necessarily follow that because a cadet won a
commission he remained a soldier. Many went to civil life, and the
Academy was an excellent school for men who intended to find a career
as surveyors or engineers. The great railway system of the United
States was then in its infancy; its development offered endless
possibilities, and the work of extending civilisation in a vast and
rapidly improving country had perhaps more attraction for the
ambitious than the career of arms. The training and discipline of
West Point were not, then, concentrated in one profession, but were
disseminated throughout the States; and it was with this purpose that
the institution of the Academy had been approved by Congress.

In the wars with England the militia of the different States had
furnished the means both of resistance and aggression, but their
grave shortcomings, owing principally to the lack of competent
officers, had been painfully conspicuous. After 1814, the principle
that the militia was the first line of defence was still adhered to,
and the standing army was merely maintained as a school for generals
and a frontier guard. It was expected, however, that in case of war
the West Point graduates would supply the national forces with a
large number of officers who, despite their civil avocations, would
at least be familiar with drill and discipline. This fact is to be
borne in mind in view of the Civil War. The demands of the enormous
armies then put into the field were utterly unprecedented, and the
supply of West Pointers was altogether inadequate to meet them; but
the influence of the Military Academy was conspicuous throughout. Not
a few of the most able generals were little more than boys; and yet,
as a rule, they were far superior to those who came from the militia
or volunteers. Four years of strict routine, of constant drill, and
implicit subordination, at the most impressionable period of life,
proved a far better training for command than the desultory and
intermittent service of a citizen army.

During his stay at West Point Jackson's development was not all in
one direction. He gained in health and strength. When he joined he
had not yet attained his full height, which fell short of six feet by
two inches. The constant drilling developed his frame. He grew
rapidly, and soon acquired the erect bearing of the soldier; but
notwithstanding the incessant practice in riding, fencing and
marching, his anatomical peculiarities still asserted themselves. It
was with great difficulty that he mastered the elementary process of
keeping step, and despite his youthful proficiency as a jockey, the
regulation seat of the dragoon, to be acquired on the back of a rough
cavalry trooper, was an accomplishment which he never mastered. If it
be added that his shyness never thawed, that he was habitually
silent, it is hardly surprising to find that he had few intimates at
the Academy. Caring nothing for the opinion of others, and tolerant
of association rather than seeking it, his self-contained nature
asked neither sympathy nor affection. His studious habits never 
him. His only recreation was a rapid walk in the intervals of the
classes. His whole thoughts and his whole energy were centred on
doing his duty, and passing into the army with all the credit he
could possibly attain. Although he was thoroughly happy at West
Point, life to him, even at that early age, was a serious business,
and most seriously he set about it.

Still, unsociable and irresponsive as he was, there were those in
whose company he found pleasure, cadets who had studied subjects not
included in the West Point course, and from whom there was something
to be learned. It was an unwritten law of the Academy that those of
the senior year should not make companions of their juniors. But
Jackson paid no heed to the traditionary code of etiquette. His
acquaintances were chosen regardless of standing, as often from the
class below him as his own; and in yet another fashion his strength
of character was displayed. Towards those who were guilty of
dishonourable conduct he was merciless almost to vindictiveness. He
had his own code of  and wrong, and from one who infringed it he
would accept neither apology nor excuse. His musket, which was always
scrupulously clean, was one day replaced by another in most slovenly
order. He called the attention of his captain to his loss, and
described the private mark by which it was to be identified. That
evening, at the inspection of arms, it was found in the hands of
another cadet, who, when taxed with his offence, endeavoured to
shield himself by falsehood. Jackson's anger was unbounded, and for
the moment his habitual shyness completely disappeared. He declared
that such a creature should not continue a member of the Academy, and
demanded that he should be tried by court-martial and expelled. It
was only by means of the most persevering remonstrances on the part
of his comrades and his officers that he could be induced to waive
his  of pressing the charge. His regard for duty, too, was no
less marked than his respect for truth. During one half-year his
room-mate was orderly-sergeant of his company, and this good-natured
if perfunctory young gentleman often told Jackson that he need not
attend the reveille roll-call, at which every cadet was supposed to
answer to his name. Not once, however, did he avail himself of the
privilege.* (* Communicated by Colonel P.T. Turnley.)

At the same time he was not altogether so uncompromising as at first
sight he appeared. At West Point, as in after years, those who saw
him interested or excited noticed that his smile was singularly
sweet, and the cadets knew that it revealed a warm heart within.
Whenever, from sickness or misfortune, a comrade stood in need of
sympathy, Jackson was the first to offer it, and he would devote
himself to his help with a tenderness so womanly that it sometimes
excited ridicule. Sensitive he was not, for of vanity he had not the
slightest taint; but of tact and sensibility he possessed more than
his share. If he was careless of what others thought of him, he
thought much of them. Though no one made more light of pain on his
own account, no one could have more carefully avoided giving pain to
others, except when duty demanded it; and one of his classmates* (*
Colonel Turnley.) testifies that he went through the trying ordeal of
four years at West Point without ever having a hard word or bad
feeling from cadet or professor.

Nor did his comrades fail to remember that when he was unjustly
blamed he chose to bear the imputation silently rather than expose
those who were really at fault. And so, even in that lighthearted
battalion, his sterling worth compelled respect. All honoured his
efforts and wished him God-speed. "While there were many," says
Colonel Turnley, "who seemed to surpass him in intellect, in
geniality, and in good-fellowship, there was no one of our class who
more absolutely possessed the respect and confidence of all; and in
the end Old Jack, as he was always called, with his desperate
earnestness, his unflinching straightforwardness, and his high sense
of honour, came to be regarded by his comrades with something very
like affection."

One peculiarity cannot be passed by.

When at study he always sat bolt up at his table with his book
open before him, and when he was not using pencil and paper to solve
a problem, he would often keep his eyes fixed on the wall or ceiling
in the most profound abstraction. "No one I have ever known," says a
cadet who shared his barrack-room, "could so perfectly withdraw his
mind from surrounding objects or influences, and so thoroughly
involve his whole being in the subject under consideration. His
lessons were uppermost in his mind, and to thoroughly understand them
was always his determined effort. To make the author's knowledge his
own was ever the point at which he aimed. This intense application of
mind was naturally strengthened by constant exercise, and month by
month, and year by year, his faculties of perception developed
rapidly, until he grasped with unerring quickness the inceptive
points of all ethical and mathematical problems."

This power of abstraction and of application is well worth noting,
for not only was it remarkable in a boy, but, as we shall see
hereafter, it had much to do with the making of the soldier.

At West Point Jackson was troubled with the return of the obscure
complaint which had already threatened him, and he there began that
rigid observance of the laws of health which afterwards developed to
almost an eccentricity. His peculiar attitude when studying was due
to the fear that if he bent over his work the compression of his
internal organs might increase their tendency to disease.

And not only did he lay down rules for his physical regimen. A book
of maxims which he drew up at West Point has been preserved, and we
learn that his scrupulous exactness, his punctilious courtesy, and
his choice of companions were the outcome of much deliberation.

Nothing in this curious volume occurs to show that his thoughts had
yet been turned to religion. It is as free from all reference to the
teachings of Christianity as the maxims of Marcus Aurelius.

Every line there written shows that at this period of Jackson's life
devotion to duty was his guiding rule; and, notwithstanding his
remarkable freedom from egotism, the traces of an engrossing ambition
and of absolute self-dependence are everywhere apparent. Many of the
sentiments he would have repudiated in after-life as inconsistent
with humility; but there can be no question that it was a strong and
fearless hand that penned on a conspicuous page the sentence: "You
can be what you resolve to be."

1846.

Jackson was already a man in years when he passed his final
examination, and here the record of his boyhood may fitly close. He
had made no particular mark at the Academy. His memory, in the minds
of his comrades, was associated with his gravity, his silence, his
kind heart, and his awkward movements. No one suspected him of nobler
qualities than dogged perseverance and a strict regard for truth. The
officers and sergeants of the cadet battalion were supplied by the
cadets themselves; but Jackson was never promoted. In the mimic
warfare of the playground at Brienne Napoleon was master of the
revels. His capacity for command had already been detected; but
neither comrade nor teacher saw beneath the unpromising exterior of
the West Point student a trace of aught save what was commonplace.

And yet there is much in the boyhood of Stonewall Jackson that
resembles the boyhood of Napoleon, of all great soldiers the most
original. Both were affectionate. Napoleon lived on bread and water
that he might educate his brothers; Jackson saved his cadet's pay to
give his sister a silk dress. Both were indefatigable students,
impressed with the conviction that the world was to be conquered by
force of intellect. Jackson, burning his lessons into his brain, is
but the counterpart of the young officer who lodged with a professor
of mathematics that he might attend his classes, and who would wait
to explain the lectures to those who had not clearly understood them.
Both were provincial, neither was prepossessing. If the West Point
cadets laughed at Jackson's large hands and feet, was not Napoleon,
with his thin legs thrust into enormous boots, saluted by his
friend's children, on his first appearance in uniform, with the
nickname of Le Chat Botte? It is hard to say which was the more
laughable: the spare and bony figure of the cadet, sitting bolt
up like a graven image in a tight uniform, with his eyes glued
to the ceiling of his barrack-room, or the young man, with gaunt
features, round shoulders, and uncombed hair, who wandered alone
about the streets of Paris in 1795.

They had the same love of method and of order. The accounts of the
Virginian constable was not more scrupulously kept than the ledgers
of Napoleon's household, nor could they show a greater regard for
economy than the tailor's bill, still extant, on which the future
Emperor gained a reduction of four sous. But it was not on such
trivial lines alone that they run parallel. An inflexibility of
purpose, an absolute disregard of popular opinion, and an unswerving
belief in their own capacity, were predominant in both. They could
say "No." Neither sought sympathy, and both felt that they were
masters of their own fate. "You can be whatever you resolve to be"
may be well placed alongside the speech of the brigadier of
five-and-twenty: "Have patience. I will command in Paris presently.
What should I do there now?"

But here the parallel ends. In Jackson, even as a cadet, self was
subordinate to duty. Pride was foreign to his nature. He was
incapable of pretence, and his simplicity was inspired by that
disdain of all meanness which had been his characteristic from a
child. His brain was disturbed by no wild visions; no intemperate
ambition confused his sense of  and wrong. "The essence of his
mind," as has been said of another of like mould, "was clearness,
healthy purity, incompatibility with fraud in any of its forms." It
was his instinct to be true and straightforward as it was Napoleon's
to be false and subtle. And, if, as a youth, he showed no trace of
marked intellectual power; if his instructors saw no sign of
masterful resolution and a genius for command, it was because at West
Point, as elsewhere, his great qualities lay dormant, awaiting the
emergency that should call them forth.

</section>
<section id="5" fatherid="1" title="MEXICO. 1846-47" lv="CHAPTER 1.2." priority="0" level="2">
1846.

On June 30, 1846, Jackson received the brevet rank of second
lieutenant of artillery. He was fortunate from the very outset of his
military career. The officers of the United States army, thanks to
the thorough education and Spartan discipline of West Point, were
fine soldiers; but their scope was limited. On the western frontier,
far beyond the confines of civilisation, stood a long line of forts,
often hundreds of miles apart, garrisoned by a few troops of cavalry
or companies of infantry. It is true that there was little chance of
soldierly capacity rusting in these solitary posts. From the borders
of Canada to the banks of the Rio Grande swarmed thousands of savage
warriors, ever watchful for an opportunity to pay back with bloody
interest the aggression of the whites. Murder, robbery, and massacre
followed each other in rapid succession, and the troops were allowed
few intervals of rest. But the warfare was inglorious--a mere series
of petty incidents, the punishment of a raid, or the crushing of an
isolated revolt. The scanty butcher's bills of the so-called battles
made small appeal to the popular imagination, and the deeds of the
soldiers in the western wilderness, gallant as they might be, aroused
less interest in the States than the conflicts of the police with the
New York mob. But although pursuits which carried the adversaries
half across the continent, forays which were of longer duration than
a European war, and fights against overwhelming odds, where no
quarter was asked or given, kept the American officers constantly
employed, their training was hardly sufficient for the needs of a
great campaign. In the running fights against Apache or Blackfoot the
rules of strategy and tactics were of small account. The soldier was
constrained to acknowledge the brave and the trapper as his teachers;
and Moltke himself, with all his lore, would have been utterly
baffled by the cunning of the Indian. Before the war of 1845-6 the
strength of the regular army was not more than 8500 men; and the
whole of this force, with the exception of a few batteries, was
scattered in small detachments along the frontier. The troops were
never brought together in considerable bodies; and although they were
well drilled and under the strictest discipline, neither the
commanders nor the staff had the least experience of handling men in
masses. Many of the infantry officers had never drilled with a whole
battalion since they  West Point. A brigade of cavalry--that is,
two or three regiments working together as a single unit--had never
been assembled; and scarcely a single general had ever commanded a
force composed of the three arms, either on service or on parade.
"During my twenty years of service on the frontier," said one of the
most famous of the Confederate leaders,* (* General R.S. Ewell.) "I
learned all about commanding fifty United States dragoons and forgot
everything else."

Nevertheless, this life of enterprise and hard work, the constant
struggle against nature, for the illimitable space of the
inhospitable wilderness was a more formidable antagonist than the
stealthy savage, benefited the American soldier in more ways than
one. He grew accustomed to danger and privation. He learned to use
his wits; to adapt his means to his end; to depend on his
intelligence rather than on rule. Above all, even the most junior had
experience of independent command before the enemy. A ready
assumption of responsibility and a prompt initiative distinguished
the regular officers from the very outset of the Civil War; and these
characteristics had been acquired on the western prairies.

But the warfare of the frontier had none of the glamour of the
warfare which is waged with equal arms against an equal enemy, of the
conflict of nation against nation. To bring the foe to bay was a
matter of the utmost difficulty. A fight at close quarters was of
rare occurrence, and the most successful campaign ended in the
destruction of a cluster of dirty wigwams, or the surrender of a
handful of starving savages. In such unsatisfactory service Jackson
was not called upon to take a part. It is doubtful if he ever crossed
the Mississippi. His first experience of campaigning was to be on a
field where gleams of glory were not wanting. The ink on his
commission was scarcely dry when the artillery subaltern was ordered
to join his regiment, the First Artillery, in Mexico. The war with
the Southern Republic had blazed out on the Texan border in 1845, and
the American Government had now decided to carry it into the heart of
the hostile territory. With the cause of quarrel we have no concern.
General Grant has condemned the war as "one of the most unjust ever
waged by a stronger against a weaker nation."* (* Grant's Memoirs
volume 1 page 53.) Be this as it may, it is doubtful whether any of
Grant's brother officers troubled themselves at all with the equity
of invasion. It was enough for them that the expedition meant a
struggle with a numerous enemy, armed and organised on the European
model, and with much experience of war; that it promised a campaign
in a country which was the very region of romance, possessing a
lovely climate, historic cities, and magnificent scenery. The genius
of Prescott had just disentombed from dusty archives the marvellous
story of the Spanish conquest, and the imagination of many a youthful
soldier had been already kindled by his glowing pages. To follow the
path of Cortez, to traverse the golden realms of Montezuma, to look
upon the lakes and palaces of Mexico, the most ancient city of
America, to encamp among the temples of a vanished race, and to hear,
while the fireflies flitted through the perfumed night, the music of
the black-eyed maidens of New Spain--was ever more fascinating
prospect offered to a subaltern of two-and-twenty?

The companies of the First Artillery which had been detailed for
foreign service were first transferred to Point Isabel, at the mouth
of the Rio Grande. Several engagements had already taken place. Palo
Alto, Resaca de la Palma, and Monterey were brilliant American
victories, won by hard fighting over superior numbers; and a vast
extent of territory had been overrun. But the Mexicans were still
unconquered. The provinces they had lost were but the fringe of the
national domains; the heart of the Republic had not yet felt the
pressure of war, and more than six hundred miles of difficult country
intervened between the invaders and the capital. The American
proposals for peace had been summarily rejected. A new President,
General Santa Anna, had been raised to power, and under his vigorous
administration the war threatened to assume a phase sufficiently
embarrassing to the United States.

Jackson had been attached to a heavy battery, and his first duty was
to transport guns and mortars to the forts which protected Point
Isabel. The prospect of immediate employment before the enemy was
small. Operations had come to a standstill. It was already apparent
that a direct advance upon the capital, through the northern
provinces, was an enterprise which would demand an army much larger
than the Government was disposed to furnish. It seemed as if the
First Artillery had come too late. Jackson was fearful that the war
might come to an end before his regiment should be sent to the front.
The shy cadet had a decided taste for fighting. "I envy you men," he
said to a comrade more fortunate than himself,* (* Lieutenant D.H.
Hill, afterwards his brother-in-law.) "who have been in battle. How I
should like to be in ONE battle!" His longing for action was soon
gratified. Mexico had no navy and a long sea-board. The fleet of the
United States was strong, their maritime resources ample, and to land
an army on a shorter route to the distant capital was no difficult
undertaking.

1847.

General Winfield Scott, who had been sent out as commander-in-chief,
was permitted, early in 1847, to organise a combined naval and
military expedition for the reduction of Vera Cruz, the principal
port of the Republic, whence a good road leads to Mexico. The line of
advance would be thus reduced to two hundred and sixty miles; and the
natural obstacles, though numerous enough, were far less serious than
the deserts which barred invasion from the north. For this enterprise
most of the regular regiments were withdrawn from the Rio Grande; and
General Taylor, the hero of Palo Alto and Monterey, was  with a
small army, composed principally of volunteers, to hold the conquered
provinces. Scott's troops assembled in the first instance at Tampico.
The transports, eighty in number, having embarked their freight, were
directed to rendezvous in the road stead of Lobos, one hundred and
twenty miles north of Vera Cruz; and when the whole had assembled,
the fleet set sail for Los Sacrificios, the island where Cortez had
landed in 1520, three miles south of the city. The army of invasion,
in which the First Regiment of Artillery was included, consisted of
13,000 men.

March 9.

On the morning of March 9 the sun shone propitiously on the
expedition. The surf-boats, each holding from seventy to eighty men,
were quickly arrayed in line. Then, dashing forward simultaneously,
with the strains of martial music sweeping over the smooth waters of
the bay, they neared the shore. The landing was covered by seven
armed vessels, and as the boats touched the beach the foremost men
leaped into the water and ran up the sandy shore. In one hour General
Worth's division, numbering 4500 men, was disembarked; and by the
same precise arrangements the whole army was landed in six hours
without accident or confusion. To the astonishment of the Americans
the enemy offered no resistance, and the troops bivouacked in line of
battle on the beach.

Little more than a mile north, across a waste of sand-hills, rose the
white walls of Vera Cruz. The city was held by 4000 men, and its
armament was formidable. The troops, however, but partially
organised, were incapable of operations in the open field. The
garrison had not been reinforced. Santa Anna, on learning that the
American army on the Rio Grande had been reduced, had acted with
commendable promptitude. Collecting all the troops that were
available he had marched northwards, expecting, doubtless, to
overwhelm Taylor and still to be in time to prevent Scott from
seizing a good harbour. But distance was against him, and his
precautions were inadequate. Even if he defeated Taylor, he would
have to march more than a thousand miles to encounter Scott, and Vera
Cruz was ill provided for a siege. It was difficult, it is true, for
the Mexican general to anticipate the point at which the Americans
would disembark. An army that moves by sea possesses the advantage
that its movements are completely veiled. But Vera Cruz was decidedly
the most probable objective of the invaders, and, had it been made
secure, the venture of the Americans would have been rendered
hazardous. As it was, with Santa Anna's army far away, the reduction
of the fortress presented little difficulty. An immediate assault
would in all likelihood have proved successful. Scott, however,
decided on a regular siege. His army was small, and a march on the
capital was in prospect. The Government grudged both men and money,
and an assault would have cost more lives than could well be spared.
On March 18 the trenches were completed. Four days later, sufficient
heavy ordnance having been landed, the bombardment was begun.

March 27.

On the 27th the town surrendered; the garrison laid down their arms,
and 400 cannon, many of large calibre, fell into the hands of the
Americans.

The fall of Vera Cruz was brought about by the heavy artillery, aided
by the sailors, and the First Regiment was continuously engaged. The
Mexican fire, notwithstanding their array of guns, was comparatively
harmless. The garrison attempted no sortie; and only 64 of the
investing force were killed or wounded. Nevertheless, Jackson's
behaviour under fire attracted notice, and a few months later he was
promoted to first lieutenant "for gallant and meritorious conduct at
the siege of Vera Cruz."* (* He had been promoted second lieutenant
on March 3. Records of the First Regiment of Artillery.)

Scott had now secured an admirable line of operations; but the
projected march upon the city of Mexico was a far more arduous
undertaking than the capture of the port. The ancient capital of
Montezuma stands high above the sea. The famous valley which
surrounds it is embosomed in the heart of a vast plateau, and the
roads which lead to this lofty region wind by steep gradients over
successive ranges of rugged and precipitous mountains. Between Vera
Cruz and the upland lies a level plain, sixty miles broad, and
covered with tropical forest. Had it been possible to follow up the
initial victory by a rapid advance, Cerro Gordo, the first, and the
most difficult, of the mountain passes, might have been occupied
without a blow. Santa Anna, defeated by Taylor at Buena Vista, but
returning hot foot to block Scott's path, was still distant, and
Cerro Gordo was undefended. But the progress of the Americans was
arrested by the difficulties inherent in all maritime expeditions.

An army landing on a hostile coast has to endure a certain period of
inactivity. Under ordinary circumstances, as at Vera Cruz, the
process of disembarking men is rapidly accomplished. The field-guns
follow with but little delay, and a certain proportion of cavalry
becomes early available. But the disembarkation of the
impedimenta--the stores, waggons, hospitals, ammunition, and
transport animals--even where ample facilities exist, demands far
more time than the disembarkation of the fighting force. In the
present case, as all the animals had to be requisitioned in the
country, it was not till the middle of April that supplies and
transport sufficient to warrant further movement had been
accumulated; and meanwhile General Santa Anna, halting in the
mountains, had occupied the pass of Cerro Gordo with 13,000 men and
42 pieces of artillery. The Mexican position was exceedingly strong.
The  rested on a deep ravine, with precipitous cliffs; the ,
on the hill of Cerro Gordo, covered with batteries, and towering to
the height of several hundred feet above the surrounding ridges;
while the front, strongly intrenched, and commanding the road which
wound zigzag fashion up the steep ascent, followed the crest of a
lofty ridge.

The Americans reached the foot of the pass without difficulty. The
enemy had made no attempt to check their passage through the forest.
Confident in the inaccessibility of his mountain crags, in his
numerous guns and massive breastworks, Santa Anna reserved his
strength for battle on ground of his own selection.

Several days were consumed in reconnaissance. The engineers, to whom
this duty was generally assigned in the American army, pushed their
explorations to either flank. At length the quick eye of a young
officer, Captain Robert Lee, already noted for his services at Vera
Cruz, discovered a line of approach, hidden from the enemy, by which
the position might be turned. In three days a rough road was
constructed by which guns could be brought to bear on the hill of
Cerro Gordo, and infantry marched round to strike the Mexicans in
rear.

April 18.

The attack, delivered at daylight on April 18, was brilliantly
successful. The enemy was completely surprised. Cerro Gordo was
stormed with the bayonet, and Santa Anna's , assaulted from a
direction whence he confessed that he had not believed a goat could
approach his lines, was rolled back in confusion on his centre. 1200
Mexicans were killed and wounded, and 3000 captured, together with
the whole of their artillery.* (* The Americans had about 8500 men
upon the field, and their loss was 431, including two generals.
Memoirs of Lieutenant-General Scott.) The next day the pursuit was
pushed with uncompromising resolution. Amidst pathless mountains,
6000 feet above the sea, where every spur formed a strong position,
the defeated army was permitted neither halt nor respite. The
American dragoons, undeterred by numbers, pressed forward along the
road, making hundreds of prisoners, and spreading panic in the broken
ranks.

May 15.

The infantry followed, sturdily breasting the long ascent; a second
intrenched position, barring the La Hoya pass, was abandoned on their
approach; the strong castle of Perote, with an armament of 60 guns
and mortars, opened its gates without firing a shot, and on May 15
the great city of Puebla, surrounded by glens of astonishing
fertility, and only eighty miles from Mexico, was occupied without
resistance.

At Cerro Gordo the First Artillery were employed as infantry. Their
colours were amongst the first to be planted on the enemy's
breastworks. But in none of the reports does Jackson's name occur.*
(* According to the Regimental Records his company (K) was not
engaged in the battle, but only in the pursuit.) The battle, however,
brought him good luck. Captain Magruder, an officer of his own
regiment, who was to win distinction on wider fields, had captured a
Mexican field battery, which Scott presented to him as a reward for
his gallantry. Indian wars had done but little towards teaching
American soldiers the true use of artillery. Against a rapidly moving
enemy, who systematically forebore exposing himself in mass, and in a
country where no roads existed, only the fire-arm was effective. But
already, at Palo Alto and Resaca, against the serried lines and
thronging cavalry of the Mexicans, light field-guns had done
extraordinary execution. The heavy artillery, hitherto the more
favoured service, saw itself eclipsed. The First Regiment, however,
had already been prominent on the fighting line. It had won
reputation with the bayonet at Cerro Gordo, and before Mexico was
reached there were other battles to be fought, and other positions to
be stormed. A youth with a predilection for hard knocks might have
been content with the chances offered to the foot-soldier. But
Jackson's partiality for his own arm was as marked as was Napoleon's,
and the decisive effect of a well-placed battery appealed to his
instincts with greater force than the wild rush of a charge of
infantry. Skilful manoeuvring was more to his taste than the mere
bludgeon work of fighting at close quarters.

Two subalterns were required for the new battery. The position meant
much hard work, and possibly much discomfort. Magruder was restless
and hot-tempered, and the young officers of artillery showed no
eagerness to go through the campaign as his subordinates. Not so
Jackson. He foresaw that service with a light battery, under a bold
and energetic leader, was likely to present peculiar opportunities;
and with his thorough devotion to duty, his habits of industry, and
his strong sense of self-reliance, he had little fear of
disappointing the expectations of the most exacting superior. "I
wanted to see active service," he said in after years, "to be near
the enemy in the fight; and when I heard that John Magruder had got
his battery I bent all my energies to be with him, for I knew if any
fighting was to be done, Magruder would be "on hand."" His soldierly
ambition won its due reward. The favours of fortune fall to the men
who woo more often than to those who wait. The barrack-room proverb
which declares that ill-luck follows the volunteer must assuredly
have germinated in a commonplace brain. It is characteristic of men
who have cut their way to fame that they have never allowed the
opportunity to escape them. The successful man pushes to the front
and seeks his chance; those of a temper less ardent wait till duty
calls and the call may never come. Once before, when, despite his
manifold disadvantages, he secured his nomination to West Point,
Jackson had shown how readily he recognised an opening; now, when his
comrades held back, he eagerly stepped forward, to prove anew the
truth of the vigorous adage, "Providence helps those who help
themselves."

The American army was delayed long at Puebla. Several regiments of
volunteers, who had engaged only for a short term of service,
demanded their discharge, and reinforcements were slow in arriving.

August 7.

It was not until the first week in August that Scott was able to move
upon the capital. The army now numbered 14,000 men. Several hundred
were sick in hospital, and 600 convalescents, together with 600
effectives, were  to garrison Puebla. The field force was
organised in four divisions: the first, under Major-General Worth;
the second, under Major-General Twiggs; the third, to which
Magruder's battery was attached, under Major-General Pillow; the
fourth (volunteers and marines), under Major-General Pierce. Four
field batteries, a small brigade of dragoons, and a still smaller
siege train* (* Two 24-pounders, two 8-inch howitzers, and two light
pieces. Ripley's History of the Mexican War.) made up a total of
11,500 officers and men. During the three months that his enemy was
idle at Puebla, Santa Anna had reorganised his army; and 30,000
Mexicans, including a formidable body of cavalry, fine horsemen and
well trained,* (* It is said, however, that their horses were little
more than ponies, and far too light for a charge. Semmes' Campaign of
General Scott.) and a large number of heavy batteries, were now ready
to oppose the advance of the invaders.

On August 10 the American army crossed the Rio Frio Mountains, 10,000
feet above the sea, the highest point between the Atlantic and the
Pacific, and as the troops descended the western slopes the valley of
Mexico first broke upon their view. There, beneath the shadow of her
mighty mountains, capped with eternal snows, stood

The Imperial city, her far circling walls,
Her garden groves, and stately palaces.

There lay the broad plain of Tenochtitlan, with all its wealth of
light and colour, the verdure of the forest, the warmer hues of the
great corn-fields, ripening to the harvest, and the sheen and sparkle
of the distant lakes. There it lay, as it burst upon the awe-struck
vision of Cortez and his companions, "bathed in the golden sunshine,
stretched out as it were in slumber, in the arms of the giant hills."

On every hand were the signs of a teeming population. White villages
and substantial haciendas glistened in the woodlands; roads broad and
well-travelled crossed the level; and in the clear atmosphere of
those lofty altitudes the vast size of the city was plainly visible.
The whole army of Mexico formed the garrison; hills crowned with
batteries commanded the approaches, while a network of canals on
either flank and a broad area of deep water enhanced the difficulties
of manoeuvre. The line of communication, far too long to be
maintained by the small force at Scott's disposal, had already been
abandoned. The army depended for subsistence on what it could
purchase in the country; the sick and wounded were carried with the
troops, and there was no further reserve of ammunition than that
which was packed in the regimental waggons. Cortez and his four
hundred when they essayed the same enterprise were not more
completely isolated, for, while the Spaniard had staunch allies in
the hereditary foes of the Aztecs, Scott's nearest supports were at
Puebla, eighty miles from Mexico, and these numbered only 1200
effective soldiers. The most adventurous of leaders might well have
hesitated ere he plunged into the great valley, swarming with
enemies, and defended by all the resources of a civilised State. But
there was no misgiving in the ranks of the Americans. With that
wholesome contempt for a foreign foe which has wrought more good than
evil for the Anglo-Saxon race, the army moved forward without a halt.
"Recovering," says Scott, "from the trance into which the magnificent
spectacle had thrown them, probably not a man in the column failed to
say to his neighbour or himself, "That splendid city shall soon be
ours!""

The fortifications which protected Mexico on the east were found to
be impregnable. The high ridge of El Penon, manned by nearly the
whole of Santa Anna's army, blocked the passage between the lakes,
and deep morasses added to the difficulties of approach. To the
south, however, on the far side of Lake Chalco, lay a more level
tract, but accessible only by roads which the Mexicans deemed
impracticable. Despite the difficulties of the route, the manoeuvre
of Cerro Gordo was repeated on a grander scale.

August 16 to 18.

After a toilsome march of seven-and-twenty miles from Ayotla, over
the spurs of the sierras, the troops reached the great road which
leads to the capital from the south. Across this road was more than
one line of fortifications, to which the Mexican army had been
hurriedly transferred. The hacienda of San Antonio, six miles from
the city, strengthened by field-works and defended by heavy guns,
commanded the highway. To the east was a morass, and beyond the
morass were the blue waters of Lake Chalco; while to the west the
Pedregal, a barren tract of volcanic scoriae, over whose sharp rocks
and deep fissures neither horse nor vehicle could move, flanked the
American line of march. The morass was absolutely impassable.

August 19.

The gloomy solitude of the Pedregal, extending to the mountains, five
miles distant, seemed equally forbidding; but the engineer officers
came once more to the rescue. A road across the Pedregal, little
better than a mule track, was discovered by Captain Lee. Under cover
of a strong escort it was rapidly improved, and Pillow's and Worth's
divisions, accompanied by Magruder's battery, were directed to cross
the waste of rocks. Beyond the Pedregal was a good road, approaching
the city from the south-west; and by this road the post of San
Antonio might be assailed in rear.

Overlooking the road, however, as well as the issues from the
Pedregal, was a high ridge, backed by the mountains, and held by 6000
Mexicans. Opposite this ridge the Americans came out on cultivated
ground, but all further progress was completely checked. Shortly
after midday the leading brigade, with Magruder's battery on hand,
reached the summit of a hill within a thousand yards of the enemy's
breastworks. Magruder came at once into action, and the infantry
attempted to push forward. But the Mexican artillery was far
superior, both in number of pieces and weight of metal, and the
ground was eminently unfavourable for attack. Two-and-twenty heavy
cannon swept the front; the  of the position was secured by a
deep ravine; masses of infantry were observed in rear of the
intrenchments, and several regiments of lancers were in close
support. For three hours the battle raged fiercely. On the  the
Americans pushed forward, crossing with extreme difficulty an
outlying angle of the Pedregal, covered with dense scrub, and
occupied the village of Contreras. But elsewhere they made no
impression. They were without cavalry, and Magruder's guns were far
too few and feeble to keep down the fire of the hostile batteries.
"The infantry," says Scott, "could not advance in column without
being mowed down by grape and canister, nor advance in line without
being ridden down by the enemy's numerous horsemen." Nor were the
Mexicans content on this occasion to remain passively in their works.
Both infantry and cavalry attempted to drive the assailants back upon
the Pedregal; and, although these counterstrokes were successfully
repulsed, when darkness fell the situation of the troops was by no
means favourable. Heavy columns of Mexicans were approaching from the
city; the remainder of the American army was opposite San Antonio,
five miles distant, on the far side of the Pedregal, and no support
could be expected. To add to their discomfort, it rained heavily; the
thunder crashed in the mountains, and torrents of water choked the
streams. The men stood in the darkness drenched and dispirited, and
an attack made by a Mexican battalion induced General Pillow to
withdraw Magruder's battery from the ridge. The senior subaltern had
been killed. 15 gunners and as many horses had fallen. The slopes
were covered with huge boulders, and it was only by dint of the most
strenuous exertions that the guns were brought down in safety to the
lower ground.

A council of war was then held in Contreras Church, and, contrary to
the traditionary conduct of such conventions, a most desperate
expedient was adopted. The Mexican reinforcements, 12,000 strong, had
halted on the main road, their advanced guard within a few hundred
yards of the village. Leaving two regiments to hold this imposing
force in check, it was determined to make a night march and turn the
rear of the intrenchments on the ridge. The Commander-in-Chief was
beyond the Pedregal, opposite San Antonio, and it was necessary that
he should be informed of the projected movement.

"I have always understood," says an officer present in this quarter
of the field, "that what was devised and determined on was suggested
by Captain Lee; at all events the council was closed by his saying
that he desired to return to General Scott with the decision, and
that, as it was late, the decision must be given as soon as possible,
since General Scott wished him to return in time to give directions
for co-operation. During the council, and for hours after, the rain
fell in torrents, whilst the darkness was so intense that one could
move only by groping."

The Pedregal was infested by straggling bands of Mexicans; and yet,
over those five miles of desolation, with no guide but the wind, or
an occasional flash of lightning, Lee, unaccompanied by a single
orderly, made his way to Scott's headquarters. This perilous
adventure was characterised by the Commander-in-Chief as "the
greatest feat of physical and moral courage performed by any
individual during the entire campaign."

August 20.

The night march, although it entailed the passage of a deep ravine,
and was so slow that one company in two hours made no more than four
hundred yards, was completely successful. The Mexicans, trusting to
the strength of their position, and to the presence of the
reinforcements, had neglected to guard their . The lesson of
Cerro Gordo had been forgotten. The storming parties, guided by the
engineers, Lee, Beauregard, and Gustavus Smith, established
themselves, under cover of the darkness, within five hundred paces of
the intrenchments, and as the day broke the works were carried at the
first rush. Seventeen minutes after the signal had been given, the
garrison, attacked in front and rear simultaneously, was completely
dispersed. 800 Mexicans were captured, and nearly as many killed.* (*
4500 Americans (rank and file) were engaged, and the losses did not
exceed 50. Scott's Memoirs.) The reinforcements, unable to intervene,
and probably demoralised by this unlooked-for defeat, fell back to
the village of Churubusco, and San Antonio was evacuated. The pursuit
was hotly pressed. Churubusco was heavily bombarded. For two hours
the American batteries played upon the church and hacienda, both
strongly fortified, and after a counterstroke had been beaten back a
vigorous onslaught, made by the whole line of battle, compelled the
enemy to give way. A brilliant charge of General Shields' brigade
dispersed their last reserves, and the whole of the hostile army fled
in confusion to the city. The American cavalry followed at speed,
using their sabres freely on the panic-stricken masses, and one
squadron, not hearing the recall, dashed up to the very gates of the
city. Scott's losses amounted to 1053, including 76 officers. The
Mexican casualties were 3000 prisoners, and 3250 killed and wounded.
37 field-guns were abandoned, and, a still more valuable capture, a
large supply of ammunition fell into the hands of the victors.

Magruder's battery, it appears, was retained in reserve throughout
the battle of Churubusco, and Jackson's share in the victory was
confined to the engagement of the previous day. But his small charge
of three guns had been handled with skill and daring. Magruder was
more than satisfied. "In a few moments," ran his official report,
"Lieutenant Jackson, commanding the second section of the battery,
who had opened fire upon the enemy's works from a position on the
, hearing our fire still further in front, advanced in handsome
style, and kept up the fire with equal briskness and effect. His
conduct was equally conspicuous during the whole day, and I cannot
too highly commend him to the Major-General's favourable
consideration."

The extreme vigour with which the Americans had prosecuted their
operations now came to an untimely pause. After his double victory at
Contreras and Churubusco, General Scott proposed an armistice. The
whole of the Mexican army had been encountered. It had been
decisively defeated. Its losses, in men and materiel, had been very
heavy. The troops were utterly demoralised. The people were filled
with consternation, and a rapid advance would probably have been
followed by an immediate peace. But Scott was unwilling to drive his
foes to desperation, and he appears to have believed that if they
were spared all further humiliation they would accede without further
resistance to his demands.

The Mexicans, however, were only playing for time. During the
negotiations, in direct defiance of the terms of the armistice, Santa
Anna strengthened his fortifications, rallied his scattered army, and
prepared once more to confront the invader. Scott's ultimatum was
rejected, and on September 5 hostilities were renewed.

September 8.

Three days later the position of Molino del Rey, garrisoned by the
choicest of the Mexican troops, was stormed at dawn. But the enemy
had benefited by his respite. The fighting was desperate. 800
Americans were killed and wounded before the intrenchments and strong
buildings were finally carried; and although the Mexicans again lost
3000 men, including two generals, their spirit of resistance was not
yet wholly crushed.

Driven from their outworks, they had fallen back on a still more
formidable line. Behind the Molino del Rey rose the hill of
Chapultepec, crowned by the great castle which had been the palace of
Montezuma and of the Spanish viceroys, now the military college of
the Republic and the strongest of her fortresses. Three miles from
the city walls, the stronghold completely barred the line of advance
on the San Cosme Gate. Heavy guns mounted on the lofty bastions which
encircled the citadel, commanded every road, and the outflanking
movements which had hitherto set at nought the walls and parapets of
the Mexicans were here impracticable. Still, careful reconnaissance
had shown that, with all its difficulties, this was the most
favourable approach for the invading army. The gates of Belen and San
Antonio were beset by obstacles even more impracticable. The ground
over which the troops would advance to storm the fortress was far
firmer than elsewhere, there was ample space for the American
batteries, and if the hill were taken, the Mexicans, retreating along
two narrow causeways, with deep marshes on either hand, might easily
be deprived of all opportunity of rallying.

September 13.

On the night of the 11th four batteries of heavy guns were
established within easy range. On the 12th they opened fire; and the
next morning the American army, covered by the fire of the artillery,
advanced to the assault. In the victory of Molino del Rey, Magruder's
battery had taken little part. Jackson, posted with his section on
the extreme flank of the line, had dispersed a column of cavalry
which threatened a charge; but, with this brief interlude of action,
he had been merely a spectator. At Chapultepec he was more fortunate.
Pillow's division, to which the battery was attached, attacked the
Mexicans in front, while Worth's division assailed them from the
north. The 14th Infantry, connecting the two attacks, moved along a
road which skirts the base of the hill, and Magruder was ordered to
detach a section of his battery in support. Jackson was selected for
the duty, and as he approached the enemy's position dangers
multiplied at every step. The ground alongside was so marshy that the
guns were unable to leave the road. A Mexican fieldpiece, covered by
a breastwork, raked the causeway from end to end, while from the
heights of Chapultepec cannon of large calibre poured down a
destructive fire. The infantry suffered terribly. It was impossible
to advance along the narrow track; and when the guns were ordered up
the situation was in no way bettered. Nearly every horse was killed
or wounded. A deep ditch, cut across the road, hindered effective
action, and the only position where reply to the enemy's fire was
possible lay beyond this obstacle. Despite the losses of his command
Jackson managed to lift one gun across by hand. But his men became
demoralised. They  their posts. The example of their lieutenant,
walking up and down on the shot-swept road and exclaiming calmly,
"There is no danger: see! I am not hit," failed to inspire them with
confidence. Many had already fallen. The infantry, with the exception
of a small escort, which held its ground with difficulty, had
disappeared; and General Worth, observing Jackson's perilous
situation, sent him orders to retire. He replied it was more
dangerous to withdraw than to stand fast, and if they would give him
fifty veterans he would rather attempt the capture of the breastwork.
At this juncture Magruder, losing his horse as he galloped forward,
reached the road.

The ditch was crowded with soldiers; many wounded; many already dead;
many whose hearts had failed them. Beyond, on the narrow causeway,
the one gun which Jackson had brought across the ditch was still in
action.

Deserted by his gunners, and abandoned by the escort which had been
ordered to support him, the young subaltern still held his ground.
With the sole assistance of a sergeant, of stauncher mettle than the
rest, he was loading and firing his solitary field-piece, rejoicing,
as became the son of a warrior race, in the hot breath of battle, and
still more in the isolation of his perilous position. To stand alone,
in the forefront of the fight, defying the terrors from which others
shrank, was the situation which of all others he most coveted; and
under the walls of Chapultepec, answering shot for shot, and plying
sponge and handspike with desperate energy, the fierce instincts of
the soldier were fully gratified. Nor was Magruder the man to proffer
prudent counsels. A second gun was hoisted across the ditch; the men
rallied; the Mexican artillery was gradually overpowered, and the
breastwork stormed. The crisis of the struggle was already past.
Pillow's troops had driven the enemy from their intrenchments at the
base of the hill, and beneath the shadows of the majestic cypresses,
which still bear the name of the Grove of Montezuma, and up the
rugged slopes which tower above them, pressed the assaulting columns.
A redoubt which stood midway up the height was carried. The Mexicans
fell back from shelter to shelter; but amid smoke and flame the
scaling ladders were borne across the castle ditch, and reared
against the lofty walls were soon covered with streams of men. The
leaders, hurled from the battlements on to the crowd below, failed to
make good their footing, but there were others to take their places.
The supports came thronging up; the enemy, assailed in front and
flank, drew back disheartened, and after a short struggle the
American colours, displayed upon the keep, announced to the citizens
of Mexico that Chapultepec had been captured. Yet the victory was not
complete. The greater part of the garrison had fled from their
intrenchments before the castle had been stormed; and infantry,
cavalry, and artillery, in wild confusion, were crowding in panic on
the causeways. But their numbers were formidable, and the city,
should the army be rallied, was capable of a protracted defence. Not
a moment was to be lost if the battle was to be decisive of the war.
The disorder on Chapultepec was hardly less than that which existed
in the ranks of the defeated Mexicans. Many of the stormers had
dispersed in search of plunder, and regiments and brigades had become
hopelessly intermingled in the assault of the rocky hill. Still the
pursuit was prompt. Towards the San Cosme Gate several of the younger
officers, a lieutenant by name Ulysses Grant amongst the foremost,
followed the enemy with such men as they could collect, and Jackson's
guns were soon abreast of the fighting line. His teams had been
destroyed by the fire of the Mexican batteries. Those of his waggons,
posted further to the rear, had partially escaped. To disengage the
dead animals from the limbers and to replace them by others would
have wasted many minutes, and he had eagerly suggested to Magruder
that the guns should be attached to the waggon-limbers instead of to
their own. Permission was given, and in a few moments his section was
thundering past the cliffs of Chapultepec. Coming into action within
close range of the flying Mexicans, every shot told on their
demoralised masses; but before the San Cosme Gate the enemy made a
last effort to avert defeat. Fresh troops were brought up to man the
outworks; the houses and gardens which lined the road were filled
with skirmishers; from the high parapets of the flat house-tops a
hail of bullets struck the head of the pursuing column; and again and
again the American infantry, without cover and with little space for
movement, recoiled from the attack.

The situation of the invading army, despite the brilliant victory of
Chapultepec, was not yet free from peril. The greater part of the
Mexican forces was still intact. The city contained 180,000
inhabitants, and General Scott's battalions had dwindled to the
strength of a small division. In the various battles before the
capital nearly 3000 officers and men had fallen, and the soldiers who
encompassed the walls of the great metropolis were spent with
fighting.* (* 862 officers and men fell at Chapultepec. Scott's
Memoirs.) One spark of the stubborn courage which bore Cortez and his
paladins through the hosts of Montezuma might have made of that
stately city a second Saragossa. It was eminently defensible. The
churches, the convents, the public buildings, constructed with that
solidity which is peculiarly Spanish, formed each of them a fortress.
The broad streets, crossing each other at  angles, rendered
concentration at any threatened point an easy matter, and beyond the
walls were broad ditches and a deep canal.

Nor was the strength of the city the greatest of Scott's
difficulties. Vera Cruz, his base of operations, was two hundred and
sixty miles distant; Puebla, his nearest supply-depot, eighty miles.
He had abandoned his communications. His army was dependent for food
on a hostile population. In moving round Lake Chalco, and attacking
the city from the south, he had burned his boats. A siege or an
investment were alike impossible. A short march would place the
enemy's army across his line of retreat, and nothing would have been
easier for the Mexicans than to block the road where it passes
between the sierras and the lake. Guerillas were already hovering in
the hills; one single repulse before the gates of the capital would
have raised the country in rear; and hemmed in by superior numbers,
and harassed by a cavalry which was at least equal to the task of
cutting off supplies, the handful of Americans must have cut their
way through to Puebla or have succumbed to starvation.

Such considerations had doubtless been at the root of the temporising
policy which had been pursued after Churubusco. But the uselessness
of half-measures had then been proved. The conviction had become
general that a desperate enterprise could only be pushed to a
successful issue by desperate tactics, and every available battalion
was hurried forward to the assault. Before the San Cosme Gate the
pioneers were ordered up, and within the suburb pick and crowbar
forced a passage from house to house. The guns, moving slowly
forward, battered the crumbling masonry at closest range. The
Mexicans were driven back from breastwork to breastwork; and a
mountain howitzer, which Lieutenant Grant had posted on the tower of
a neighbouring church, played with terrible effect, at a range of two
or three hundred yards, on the defenders of the Gate.

By eight o'clock in the evening the suburb had been cleared, and the
Americans were firmly established within the walls. To the
south-east, before the Belen Gate, another column had been equally
successful. During the night Santa Anna withdrew his troops, and when
day dawned the white flag was seen flying from the citadel. After a
sharp fight with 2000 convicts whom the fugitive President had
released, the invaders occupied the city, and the war was virtually
at an end. From Cerro Gordo to Chapultepec the power of discipline
had triumphed. An army of 30,000 men, fighting in their own country,
and supported by a numerous artillery, had been defeated by an
invading force of one-third the strength. Yet the Mexicans had shown
no lack of courage. "At Chapultepec and Molino del Rey, as on many
other occasions," says Grant, "they stood up as well as any troops
ever did."* (* Grant's Memoirs volume 1 page 169.) But their officers
were inexperienced; the men were ill-instructed; and against an army
of regular soldiers, well led and obedient, their untutored valour,
notwithstanding their superior numbers, had proved of no avail. They
had early become demoralised. Their strongest positions had been
rendered useless by the able manoeuvres of their adversaries.
Everywhere they had been out-generalled. They had never been
permitted to fight on the ground which they had prepared, and in
almost every single engagement they had been surprised. Nor had the
Government escaped the infection which had turned the hearts of the
troops to water.

September 14.

The energy of the pursuit after the fall of Chapultepec had wrought
its full effect, and on September 14 the city of Mexico was
surrendered, without further parley, to a force which, all told,
amounted to less than 7000 men.* (* The total loss in the battles
before the capital was 2703, including 383 officers. Scott's Memoirs.)

With such portion of his force as had not disbanded Santa Anna
undertook the siege of Puebla; and the guerillas, largely reinforced
from the army, waged a desultory warfare in the mountains. But these
despairing efforts were without effect upon the occupation of the
capital. The Puebla garrison beat back every attack; and the bands of
irregular horse men were easily dispersed. During these operations
Magruder's battery remained with headquarters near the capital, and
so far as Jackson was concerned all opportunities for distinction
were past.

February 1848.

The peace negotiations were protracted from September to the
following February, and in their camps beyond the walls the American
soldiers were fain to content themselves with their ordinary duties.

It cannot be said that Jackson had failed to take advantage of the
opportunities which fortune had thrown in his way. As eagerly as he
had snatched at the chance of employment in the field artillery he
had welcomed the tactical emergency which had given him sole command
of his section at Chapultepec. It was a small charge; but he had
utilised it to the utmost, and it had filled the cup of his ambition
to the brim. Ambitious he certainly was. "He confessed," says Dabney,
"to an intimate friend that the order of General Pillow, separating
his section on the day of Chapultepec from his captain, had excited
his abiding gratitude; so much so that while the regular officers
were rather inclined to depreciate the general as an unprofessional
soldier, he loved him because he gave him an opportunity to win
distinction." His friends asked him, long after the war, if he felt
no trepidation when so many were falling round him. He replied: "No;
the only anxiety of which I was conscious during the engagements was
a fear lest I should not meet danger enough to make my conduct
conspicuous."

(MAP: THE CITY OF MEXICO AND ENVIRONS.)

His share of the glory was more than ample. Contreras gave him the
brevet rank of captain. For his conduct at Chapultepec he was
mentioned in the Commander-in-Chief's dispatches, and publicly
complimented on his courage. Shortly after the capture of the city,
General Scott held a levee, and amongst others presented to him was
Lieutenant Jackson. When he heard the name, the general drew himself
up to his full height, and, placing his hands behind him, said with
affected sternness, "I don't know that I shall shake hands with Mr.
Jackson." Jackson, blushing like a girl, was overwhelmed with
confusion. General Scott, seeing that he had called the attention of
every one in the room, said, "If you can forgive yourself for the way
in which you slaughtered those poor Mexicans with your guns, I am not
sure that I can," and then held out his hand. "No greater
compliment," says General Gibbon, "could have been paid a young
officer, and Jackson apparently did not know he had done anything
remarkable till his general told him so."* (* Letter to the author.)
Magruder could find no praise high enough for his industry, his
capacity, and his gallantry, and within eighteen months of his first
joining his regiment he was breveted major. Such promotion was
phenomenal even in the Mexican war, and none of his West Point
comrades made so great a stride in rank. His future in his profession
was assured. He had acquired something more than the spurs of a field
officer in his seven months of service. A subaltern, it has been
said, learns but little of the higher art of war in the course of a
campaign. His daily work so engrosses his attention that he has
little leisure to reflect on the lessons in strategy and tactics
which unfold themselves before him. Without maps, and without that
information of the enemy's numbers and dispositions which alone
renders the manoeuvres intelligible, it is difficult, even where the
inclination exists, to discuss or criticise the problems, tactical
and strategical, with which the general has to deal. But siege and
battle, long marches and rough roads, gave the young American
officers an insight into the practical difficulties of war. It is
something to have seen how human nature shows itself under fire; how
easily panics may be generated; how positions that seem impregnable
may be rendered weak; to have witnessed the effect of surprise, and
to have realised the strength of a vigorous attack. It is something,
too, if a man learns his own worth in situations of doubt and danger;
and if he finds, as did Jackson, that battle sharpens his faculties,
and makes his self-control more perfect, his judgment clearer and
more prompt, the gain in self-confidence is of the utmost value.

Moreover, whether a young soldier learns much or little from his
first campaign depends on his intellectual powers and his previous
training. Jackson's brain, as his steady progress at West Point
proves, was of a capacity beyond the average. He was naturally
reflective. If, at the Military Academy, he had heard little of war;
if, during his service in Mexico, his knowledge was insufficient to
enable him to compare General Scott's operations with those of the
great captains, he had at least been trained to think. It is
difficult to suppose that his experience was cast away. He was no
thoughtless subaltern, but already an earnest soldier; and in after
times, when he came to study for himself the campaigns of Washington
and Napoleon, we may be certain that the teaching he found there was
made doubly impressive when read by the light of what he had seen
himself. Nor is it mere conjecture to assert that in his first
campaign his experience was of peculiar value to a future general of
the Southern Confederacy. Some of the regiments who fought under
Scott and Taylor were volunteers, civilians, like their successors in
the great Civil War, in all but name, enlisted for the war only, or
even for a shorter term, and serving under their own officers.
Several of these regiments had fought well; others had behaved
indifferently; and the problem of how discipline was to be maintained
in battle amongst these unprofessional soldiers obtruded itself as
unpleasantly in Mexico as it had in the wars with England. Amongst
the regular officers, accustomed to the absolute subordination of the
army, the question provoked perplexity and discussion.

So small was the military establishment of the States that in case of
any future war, the army, as in Mexico, would be largely composed of
volunteers; and, despite the high intelligence and warlike enthusiasm
of the citizen battalions, it was evident that they were far less
reliable than the regulars. Even General Grant, partial as he was to
the volunteers, admitted the superiority conferred by drill,
discipline, and highly trained officers. "A better army," he wrote,
"man for man, probably never faced an enemy than the one commanded by
General Taylor in the earlier engagements of the Mexican war."* (*
Grant's Memoirs volume 1 page 168.) These troops were all regulars,
and they were those who carried Scott in triumph from the shores of
the Gulf to the palace of Santa Anna. The volunteers had proved
themselves exceedingly liable to panic. Their superior intelligence
had not enabled them to master the instincts of human nature, and,
although they had behaved well in camp and on the march, in battle
their discipline had fallen to pieces.* (* Ripley's History of the
Mexican War volume 2 page 73 etc.) It could hardly be otherwise. Men
without ingrained habits of obedience, who have not been trained to
subordinate their will to another's, cannot be expected to render
implicit obedience in moments of danger and excitement; nor can they
be expected, under such circumstances, to follow officers in whom
they can have but little confidence. The ideal of battle is a
combined effort, directed by a trained leader. Unless troops are
thoroughly well disciplined such effort is impossible; the leaders
are ignored, and the spasmodic action of the individual is
substituted for the concentrated pressure of the mass. The cavalry
which dissolves into a mob before it strikes the enemy but seldom
attains success; and infantry out of hand is hardly more effective.
In the Mexican campaign the volunteers, although on many occasions
they behaved with admirable courage, continually broke loose from
control under the fire of the enemy. As individuals they fought well;
as organised bodies, capable of manoeuvring under fire and of
combined effort, they proved to be comparatively worthless.

So Jackson, observant as he was, gained on Mexican battle-fields some
knowledge of the shortcomings inherent in half-trained troops. And
this was not all. The expedition had demanded the services of nearly
every officer in the army of the United States, and in the toils of
the march, in the close companionship of the camp, in the excitement
of battle, the shrewder spirits probed the characters of their
comrades to the quick. In the history of the Civil War there are few
things more remarkable than the use which was made of the knowledge
thus acquired. The clue to many an enterprise, daring even to
foolhardiness, is to be found in this. A leader so intimately
acquainted with the character of his opponent as to be able to
predict with certainty what he will do under any given circumstances
may set aside with impunity every established rule of war. "All the
older officers, who became conspicuous in the rebellion," says Grant,
"I had also served with and known in Mexico. The acquaintance thus
formed was of immense service to me in the War of the Rebellion--I
mean what I learned of the characters of those to whom I was
afterwards opposed. I do not pretend to say that all my movements, or
even many of them, were made with special reference to the
characteristics of the commander against whom they were directed. But
my appreciation of my enemies was certainly affected by this
knowledge."* (* Grant's Memoirs volume 1 page 192.)

Many of the generals with whom Jackson became intimately connected,
either as friends or enemies, are named in Scott's dispatches.
Magruder, Hooker, McDowell, and Ambrose Hill belonged to his own
regiment. McClellan, Beauregard, and Gustavus Smith served on the
same staff as Lee. Joseph E. Johnston, twice severely wounded, was
everywhere conspicuous for dashing gallantry. Shields commanded a
brigade with marked ability. Pope was a staff officer. Lieutenant
D.H. Hill received two brevets. Lieutenant Longstreet, struck down
whilst carrying the colours at Chapultepec, was bracketed for
conspicuous conduct with Lieutenant Pickett. Lieutenant Edward
Johnson is mentioned as having specially distinguished himself in the
same battle. Captain Huger, together with Lieutenants Porter and
Reno, did good service with the artillery, and Lieutenant Ewell had
two horses killed under him at Churubusco.

So having proved his mettle and "drunk delight of battle with his
peers," Jackson spent nine pleasant months in the conquered city. The
peace negotiations were protracted. The United States coveted the
auriferous provinces of California and New Mexico, a tract as large
as a European kingdom, and far more wealthy. Loth to lose their
birth, yet powerless to resist, the Mexicans could only haggle
for a price. The States were not disposed to be ungenerous, but the
transfer of so vast a territory could not be accomplished in a
moment, and the victorious army remained in occupation of the capital.

Beneath the shadow of the Stars and Stripes conqueror and conquered
lived in harmony. Mexico was tired of war. Since the downfall of
Spanish rule revolution had followed revolution with startling
rapidity. The beneficent despotism of the great viceroys had been
succeeded by the cruel exactions of petty tyrants, and for many a
long year the country had been ravaged by their armies. The capital
itself had enjoyed but a few brief intervals of peace, and now,
although the bayonets of an alien race were the pledge of their
repose, the citizens revelled in the unaccustomed luxury. Nor were
they ungrateful to those who brought them a respite from alarms and
anarchy. Under the mild administration of the American generals the
streets resumed their wonted aspect. The great markets teemed with
busy crowds. Across the long causeways rolled the creaking waggons,
laden with the produce of far-distant haciendas. Trade was restored,
and even the most patriotic merchants were not proof against the
influence of the American dollar. Between the soldiers and the people
was much friendly intercourse. Even the religious orders did not
disdain to offer their hospitality to the heretics. The uniforms of
the victorious army were to be seen at every festive gathering, and
the graceful Mexicanas were by no means insensible to the admiration
of the stalwart Northerners. Those blue-eyed and fair-haired invaders
were not so very terrible after all; and the beauties of the capital,
accustomed to be wooed in liquid accents and flowery phrases,
listened without reluctance to harsher tones and less polished
compliments. Travellers of many races have borne willing witness to
the charms and virtues of the women of Mexico. "True daughters of
Spain," it has been said, "they unite the grace of Castile to the
vivacity of Andalusia; and more sterling qualities are by no means
wanting. Gentle and refined, unaffectedly pleasing in manners and
conversation, they evince a warmth of heart which wins for them the
respect and esteem of all strangers." To the homes made b by the
presence of these fair specimens of womanhood Scott's officers were
always welcome; and Jackson, for the first time in his life, found
himself within the sphere of feminine attractions. The effect on the
stripling soldier, who, stark fighter as he was, had seen no more of
life than was to be found in a country village or within the
precincts of West Point, may be easily imagined. Who the magnet was
he never confessed; but that he went near losing his heart to some
charming senorita of sangre azul he more than once acknowledged, and
he took much trouble to appear to advantage in her eyes. The
deficiencies in his education which prevented his full enjoyment of
social pleasures were soon made up. He not only learned to dance, an
accomplishment which must have taxed his perseverance to the utmost,
but he spent some months in learning Spanish; and it is significant
that to the end of his life he retained a copious vocabulary of those
tender diminutives which fall so gracefully from Spanish lips.

But during his stay in Mexico other and more lasting influences were
at work. Despite the delights of her delicious climate, where the
roses bloom the whole year round, the charms of her romantic scenery,
and the fascinations of her laughter-loving daughters, Jackson's
serious nature soon asserted itself. The constant round of light
amusements and simple duties grew distasteful. The impress of his
mother's teachings and example was there to guide him; and his native
reverence for all that was good and true received an unexpected
impulse. There were not wanting in the American army men who had a
higher ideal of duty than mere devotion to the business of their
profession. The officer commanding the First Artillery, Colonel Frank
Taylor, possessed that earnest faith which is not content with
solitude. "This good man," says Dabney, "was accustomed to labour as
a father for the religious welfare of his young officers, and during
the summer campaign his instructions and prayers had produced so much
effect as to awake an abiding anxiety and spirit of inquiry in
Jackson's mind." The latter had little prejudice in favour of any
particular sect or church. There was no State Establishment in the
United States. His youth had been passed in a household where
Christianity was practically unknown, and with characteristic
independence he determined to discover for himself the rule that he
should follow. His researches took a course which his Presbyterian
ancestors would assuredly have condemned. But Jackson's mind was
singularly open, and he was the last man in the world to yield to
prejudice. Soon after peace was declared, he had made the
acquaintance of a number of priests belonging to one of the great
religious orders of the Catholic Church. They had invited him to take
up his quarters with them, and when he determined to examine for
himself into the doctrine of the ancient faith, he applied through
them for an introduction to the Archbishop of Mexico. Several
interviews took place between the aged ecclesiastic and the young
soldier. Jackson departed unsatisfied. He acknowledged that the
prelate was a sincere and devout Christian, and he was impressed as
much with his kindness as his learning. But he  Mexico without
any settled convictions on the subject which now absorbed his
thoughts.

June 12.

On June 12, peace having been signed at the end of May, the last of
the American troops marched out of the conquered capital. Jackson's
battery was sent to Fort Hamilton, on Long Island, seven miles below
New York, and there, with his honours thick upon him, he settled down
to the quiet life of a small garrison. He had gone out to Mexico a
second lieutenant; he had come back a field-officer. He had won a
name in the army, and his native State had enrolled him amongst her
heroes. He had gone out an unformed youth; he had come back a man and
a proved leader of men. He had been known merely as an indefatigable
student and a somewhat unsociable companion. He had come back with a
reputation for daring courage, not only the courage which glories in
swift action and the excitement of the charge, but courage of an
enduring quality. And in that distant country he had won more than
fame. He had already learned something of the vanity of temporal
success. He had gone out with a vague notion of ruling his life in
accordance with moral precepts and philosophic maxims; but he was to
be guided henceforward by loftier principles than even devotion to
duty and regard for honour, and from the path he had marked out for
himself in Mexico he never deviated.

</section>
<section id="6" fatherid="1" title="LEXINGTON. 1851 TO 1861." lv="CHAPTER 1.3." priority="0" level="2">
1848.

Of Jackson's life at Fort Hamilton there is little to tell. His
friend and mentor, Colonel Taylor, was in command. The chaplain, once
an officer of dragoons, was a man of persuasive eloquence and earnest
zeal; and surrounded by influences which had now become congenial,
the young major of artillery pursued the religious studies he had
begun in Mexico. There was some doubt whether he had been baptised as
a child. He was anxious that no uncertainty should exist as to his
adhesion to Christianity, but he was unwilling that the sacrament
should bind him to any particular sect.

1849.

On the understanding that no surrender of judgment would be involved,
he was baptised and received his first communion in the Episcopal
Church.

Two years passed without incident, and then Jackson was transferred
to Florida. In his new quarters his stay was brief.

1851.

In March 1851 he was appointed Professor of Artillery Tactics and
Natural Philosophy at the Virginia Military Institute. His success,
for such he deemed it, was due to his own merit. One of his Mexican
comrades, Major D.H. Hill, afterwards his brother-in-law, was a
professor in a neighbouring institution, Washington College, and had
been consulted by the Superintendent of the Institute as to the
filling of the vacant chair.

Hill remembered what had been said of Jackson at West Point: "If the
course had been one year longer he would have graduated at the head
of his class." This voluntary testimonial of his brother cadets had
not passed unheeded. It had weight, as the best evidence of his
thoroughness and application, with the Board of Visitors, and Jackson
was unanimously elected.

The Military Institute, founded twelve years previously on the model
of West Point, was attended by several hundred youths from Virginia
and other Southern States. At Lexington, in the county of Rockbridge,
a hundred miles west of Richmond, stand the castellated buildings and
the wide parade ground which formed the nursery of so many
Confederate soldiers. To the east rise the lofty masses of the Blue
Ridge. To the north successive ranges of rolling hills, green with
copse and woodland, fall gently to the lower levels; and stretching
far away at their feet, watered by that lovely river which the
Indians in melodious syllables called Shenandoah, "b daughter of
the Stars," the great Valley of Virginia,

Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns
And bowery hollows,

lies embosomed within its mountain walls. Of all its pleasant market
towns, Lexington is not the least attractive; and in this pastoral
region, where the great forests stand round about the corn-fields,
and the breezes blow untainted from the uplands, had been built the
College which Washington, greatest of Virginians and greatest of
American soldiers, had endowed. Under the shadow of its towers the
State had found an appropriate site for her military school.

The cadets of the Institute, although they wore a uniform, were
taught by officers of the regular army, were disciplined as soldiers,
and spent some months of their course in camp, were not destined for
a military career. All aspirants for commissions in the United States
army had to pass through West Point; and the training of the State
colleges--for Virginia was not solitary in the possession of such an
institution--however much it may have benefited both the minds and
bodies of the rising generation, was of immediate value only to those
who became officers of the State militia. Still in all essential
respects the Military Institute was little behind West Point. The
discipline was as strict, the drill but little less precise. The
cadets had their own officers and their own sergeants, and the whole
establishment was administered on a military footing. No pains were
spared either by the State or the faculty to maintain the peculiar
character of the school; and the little battalion, although the
members were hardly likely to see service, was as carefully trained
as if each private in the ranks might one day become a general
officer. It was fortunate indeed for Virginia, when she submitted her
destinies to the arbitrament of war, that some amongst her statesmen
had been firm to the conviction that to defend one's country is a
task not a whit less honourable than to serve her in the ways of
peace. She was unable to avert defeat. But she more than redeemed her
honour; and the efficiency of her troops was in no small degree due
to the training so many of her officers had received at the Military
Institute.

Still, notwithstanding its practical use to the State, the offer of a
chair at Lexington would probably have attracted but few of Jackson's
contemporaries. But while campaigning was entirely to his taste, life
in barracks was the reverse. In those unenlightened days to be known
as an able and zealous soldier was no passport to preferment. So long
as an officer escaped censure his promotion was sure; he might reach
without further effort the highest prizes the service offered, and
the chances of the dull and indolent were quite as good as those of
the capable and energetic. The one had no need for, the other no
incentive to, self-improvement, and it was very generally neglected.
Unless war intervened--and nothing seemed more improbable than
another campaign--even a Napoleon would have had to submit to the
inevitable. Jackson caught eagerly at the opportunity of freeing
himself from an unprofitable groove.

"He believed," he said, "that a man who had turned, with a good
military reputation, to pursuits of a semi-civilian character, and
had vigorously prosecuted his mental improvement, would have more
chance of success in war than those who had remained in the treadmill
of the garrison."

It was with a view, then, of fitting himself for command that Jackson
broke away from the restraints of regimental life; not because those
restraints were burdensome or distasteful in themselves, but because
he felt that whilst making the machine they might destroy the man.
Those responsible for the efficiency of the United States army had
not yet learned that the mind must be trained as well as the body,
that drill is not the beginning and the end of the soldier's
education, that unless an officer is trusted with responsibility in
peace he is but too apt to lose all power of initiative in war. That
Jackson's ideas were sound may be inferred from the fact that many of
the most distinguished generals in the Civil War were men whose
previous career had been analogous to his own.* (* Amongst these may
be mentioned Grant, Sherman, and McClellan. Lee himself, as an
engineer, had but small acquaintance with regimental life. The men
who saved India for England in the Great mutiny were of the same
type.)

His duties at Lexington were peculiar. As Professor of Artillery he
was responsible for little more than the drill of the cadets and
their instruction in the theory of gunnery. The tactics of artillery,
as the word is understood in Europe, he was not called upon to
impart. Optics, mechanics, and astronomy were his special subjects,
and he seems strangely out of place in expounding their dry formulas.

In the well-stocked library of the Institute he found every
opportunity of increasing his professional knowledge. He was an
untiring reader, and he read to learn. The wars of Napoleon were his
constant study. He was an enthusiastic admirer of his genius; the
swiftness, the daring, and the energy of his movements appealed to
his every instinct. Unfortunately, both for the Institute and his
popularity, it was not his business to lecture on military history.
We can well imagine him, as a teacher of the art of war, describing
to the impressionable youths around him the dramatic incidents of
some famous campaign, following step by step the skilful strategy
that brought about such victories as Austerlitz and Jena. The
advantage would then have been with his pupils; in the work assigned
to him it was the teacher that benefited. He was by no means
successful as an instructor of the higher mathematics. Although the
theories of light and motion were doubtless a branch of learning
which the cadets particularly detested, his methods of teaching made
it even more repellent. A thorough master of his subject, he lacked
altogether the power of aiding others to master it. No flashes of
humour relieved the tedium of his long and closely-reasoned
demonstrations. He never descended to the level of his pupils'
understanding, nor did he appreciate their difficulties. Facts
presented themselves to his intellect in few lights. As one of his
chief characteristics as a commander was the clearness with which he
perceived the end to be aimed at and the shortest way of reaching it,
so, in his explanations to his stumbling class, he could only repeat
the process by which he himself had solved the problem at issue. We
may well believe that his self-reliant nature, trained to intense
application, overlooked the fact that others, weaker and less gifted,
could not surmount unaided the obstacles which only aroused his own
masterful instincts. Nevertheless, his conscientious industry was not
entirely thrown away. To the ber intellects in his class he
communicated accurate scholarship; and although the majority lagged
far behind, the thoroughness of his mental drill was most useful, to
himself perhaps even more than to the cadets.

1854 to 1857.

The death of his first wife, daughter of the reverend Dr. Junkin,
President of Washington College, after they had been married but
fourteen months, the solution of his religious difficulties, and his
reception into the Presbyterian Church; a five months' tour in
Europe, through Scotland, England, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy;
his marriage to Miss Morrison, daughter of a North Carolina
clergyman: such were the chief landmarks of his life at Lexington.
Ten years, with their burden of joy and sorrow, passed away, of
intense interest to the individual, but to the world a story dull and
commonplace. Jackson was by no means a man of mark in Rockbridge
county. Although his early shyness had somewhat worn off, he was
still as reserved as he had been at West Point. His confidence was
rarely given outside his own home. Intimates he had few, either at
the Institute or elsewhere. Still he was not in the least unsociable,
and there were many houses where he was always welcome. The academic
atmosphere of Lexington did not preclude a certain amount of gaiety.
The presence of Washington College and the Military Institute drew
together a large number of families during the summer, and fair
visitors thronged the leafy avenues of the little town. During these
pleasant months the officers and cadets, as became their cloth, were
always well to the fore. Recreation was the order of the day, and a
round of entertainments enlivened the "Commencements." Major Jackson
attended these gatherings with unfailing regularity, but soon after
his arrival he drew the line at dancing, and musical parties became
the limit of his dissipation. He was anything but a convivial
companion. He never smoked, he was a strict teetotaller, and he never
touched a card. His diet, for reasons of health, was of a most
sparing kind; nothing could tempt him to partake of food between his
regular hours, and for many years he abstained from both tea and
coffee. In those peaceful times, moreover, there was nothing either
commanding or captivating about the Professor of Artillery. His
little romance in Mexico had given him no taste for trivial
pleasures; and his somewhat formal manner was not redeemed by any
special charm of feature. The brow and jaw were undoubtedly powerful;
but the eyes were gentle, and the voice so mild and soft as to belie
altogether the set determination of the thin straight lips. Yet, at
the same time, if Jackson was not formed for general society, he was
none the less capable of making himself exceedingly agreeable in a
restricted and congenial circle. Young and old, when once they had
gained his confidence, came under the spell of his noble nature; and
if his friends were few they were very firm.

Why Jackson should have preferred the Presbyterian denomination to
all others we are nowhere told. But whatever his reasons may have
been, he was a most zealous and hardworking member of his church. He
was not content with perfunctory attendances at the services. He
became a deacon, and a large portion of his leisure time was devoted
to the work which thus devolved on him. His duties were to collect
alms and to distribute to the destitute, and nothing was permitted to
interfere with their exact performance. He was exceedingly charitable
himself--one tenth of his income was laid aside for the church, and
he gave freely to all causes of benevolence and public enterprise. At
the church meetings, whether for business or prayer, he was a regular
attendant, and between himself and his pastor existed the most
confidential relations. Nor did he consider that this was all that
was demanded of him. In Lexington, as in other Southern towns, there
were many poor negroes, and the condition of these ignorant and
helpless creatures, especially of the children, excited his
compassion. Out of his own means he established a Sunday school, in
which he and his wife were the principal teachers. His friends were
asked to send their slaves, and the experiment was successful. The
benches were always crowded, and the rows of black, b-eyed faces
were a source of as much pride to him as the martial appearance of
the cadet battalion.

Jackson's religion entered into every action of his life. No duty,
however trivial, was begun without asking a blessing, or ended
without returning thanks. "He had long cultivated," he said, "the
habit of connecting the most trivial and customary acts of life with
a silent prayer." He took the Bible as his guide, and it is possible
that his literal interpretation of its precepts caused many to regard
him as a fanatic. His observance of the Sabbath was hardly in
accordance with ordinary usage. He never read a letter on that day,
nor posted one; he believed that the Government in carrying the mails
were violating a divine law, and he considered the suppression of
such traffic one of the most important duties of the legislature.
Such opinions were uncommon, even amongst the Presbyterians, and his
rigid respect for truth served to strengthen the impression that he
was morbidly scrupulous. If he unintentionally made a
misstatement--even about some trifling matter--as soon as he
discovered his mistake he would lose no time and spare no trouble in
hastening to correct it. "Why, in the name of reason," he was asked,
"do you walk a mile in the rain for a perfectly unimportant thing?"
"Simply because I have discovered that it was a misstatement, and I
could not sleep comfortably unless I put it ."

He had occasion to censure a cadet who had given, as Jackson
believed, the wrong solution of a problem. On thinking the matter
over at home he found that the pupil was  and the teacher wrong.
It was late at night and in the depth of winter, but he immediately
started off to the Institute, some distance from his quarters, and
sent for the cadet. The delinquent, answering with much trepidation
the untimely summons, found himself to his astonishment the recipient
of a frank apology. Jackson's scruples carried him even further.
Persons who interlarded their conversation with the unmeaning phrase
"you know" were often astonished by the blunt interruption that he
did NOT know; and when he was entreated at parties or receptions to
break through his dietary rules, and for courtesy's sake to accept
some delicacy, he would always refuse with the reply that he had "no
genius for seeming." But if he carried his conscientiousness to
extremes, if he laid down stringent rules for his own governance, he
neither set himself up for a model nor did he attempt to force his
convictions upon others. He was always tolerant; he knew his own
faults, and his own temptations, and if he could say nothing good of
a man he would not speak of him at all. But he was by no means
disposed to overlook conduct of which he disapproved, and undue
leniency was a weakness to which he never yielded. If he once lost
confidence or discovered deception on the part of one he trusted, he
withdrew himself as far as possible from any further dealings with
him; and whether with the cadets, or with his brother-officers, if an
offence had been committed of which he was called upon to take
notice, he was absolutely inflexible. Punishment or report inevitably
followed. No excuses, no personal feelings, no appeals to the
suffering which might be brought upon the innocent, were permitted to
interfere with the execution of his duty.

Such were the chief characteristics of the great Confederate as he
appeared to the little world of Lexington. The tall figure, clad in
the blue uniform of the United States army, always scrupulously neat,
striding to and from the Institute, or standing in the centre of the
parade-ground, while the cadet battalion wheeled and deployed at his
command, was familiar to the whole community. But Jackson's heart was
not worn on his sleeve. Shy and silent as he was, the knowledge that
even his closest acquaintances had of him was hardly more than
superficial. A man who was always chary of expressing his opinions,
unless they were asked for, who declined argument, and used as few
words as possible, attracted but little notice. A few recognised his
clear good sense; the majority considered that if he said little it
was because he had nothing worth saying. Because he went his own way
and lived by his own rules he was considered eccentric; because he
was sometimes absent-minded, and apt to become absorbed in his own
thoughts, he was set down as unpractical; his literal accuracy of
statement was construed as the mark of a narrow intellect, and his
exceeding modesty served to keep him in the background.

At the Institute, despite his reputation for courage, he was no
favourite even with the cadets. He was hardly in sympathy with them.
His temper was always equable. Whatever he may have felt he never
betrayed irritation, and in the lecture-room or elsewhere he was
kindness itself; but his own life had been filled from boyhood with
earnest purpose and high ambition. Hard work was more to his taste
than amusement. Time, to his mind, was far too valuable to be wasted,
and he made few allowances for the thoughtlessness and indolence of
irresponsible youth. As a relief possibly to the educational
treadmill, his class delighted in listening to the story of Contreras
and Chapultepec; but there was nothing about Jackson which
corresponded with a boy's idea of a hero. His aggressive punctuality,
his strict observance of military etiquette, his precise
interpretation of orders, seemed to have as little in common with the
fierce excitement of battle as the uninteresting occupations of the
Presbyterian deacon, who kept a Sunday school for negroes, had with
the reckless gaiety of the traditional sabreur.

"And yet," says one who know him, "they imbibed the principles he
taught. Slowly and certainly were they trained in the direction which
the teacher wished. Jackson justly believed that the chief value of
the Institute consisted in the habits of system and obedience which
it impressed on the ductile characters of the cadets, and regarded
any relaxation of the rules as tending to destroy its usefulness. His
conscientiousness seemed absurd to the young gentlemen who had no
idea of the importance of military orders or of the implicit
obedience which a good soldier deems it his duty to pay to them. But
which was --the laughing young cadet or the grave major of
artillery? Let the thousands who in the bitter and arduous struggle
of the Civil War were taught by stern experience the necessity of
strict compliance with all orders, to the very letter, answer the
question."* (* Cooke page 28.)

"As exact as the multiplication table, and as full of things military
as an arsenal," was the verdict passed on Jackson by one of his
townsmen, and it appears to have been the opinion of the community at
large.

Jackson, indeed, was as inarticulate as Cromwell. Like the great
Protector he "lived silent," and like him he was often misunderstood.
Stories which have been repeated by writer after writer attribute to
him the most grotesque eccentricities of manner, and exhibit his
lofty piety as the harsh intolerance of a fanatic. He has been
represented as the narrowest of Calvinists; and so general was the
belief in his stern and merciless nature that a great poet did not
scruple to link his name with a deed which, had it actually occurred,
would have been one of almost unexampled cruelty. Such calumnies as
Whittier's "Barbara Frichtie" may possibly have found their source in
the impression made upon some of Jackson's acquaintances at
Lexington, who, out of all sympathy with his high ideal of life and
duty, regarded him as morose and morbid; and when in after years the
fierce and relentless pursuit of the Confederate general piled the
dead high upon the battle-field, this conception of his character was
readily accepted. As he rose to fame, men listened greedily to those
who could speak of him from personal knowledge; the anecdotes which
they related were quickly distorted; the slightest peculiarities of
walk, speech, or gesture were greatly exaggerated; and even
Virginians seemed to vie with one another in representing the humble
and kind-hearted soldier as the most bigoted of Christians and the
most pitiless of men.

But just as the majority of ridiculous stories which cluster round
his name rest on the very flimsiest foundation, so the popular
conception of his character during his life at Lexington was
absolutely erroneous. It was only within the portals of his home that
his real nature disclosed itself. The simple and pathetic pages in
which his widow has recorded the story of their married life unfold
an almost ideal picture of domestic happiness, unchequered by the
faintest glimpse of austerity or gloom. That quiet home was the abode
of much content; the sunshine of sweet temper flooded every nook and
corner; and although the pervading atmosphere was essentially
religious, mirth and laughter were familiar guests.

"Those who knew General Jackson only as they saw him in public would
have found it hard to believe that there could be such a
transformation as he exhibited in his domestic life. He luxuriated in
the freedom and liberty of his home, and his buoyancy and joyousness
often ran into a playfulness and abandon that would have been
incredible to those who saw him only when he put on his official
dignity."* (* Memoirs of Stonewall Jackson page 108.) It was seldom,
indeed, except under his own roof, or in the company of his
intimates, that his reserve was broken through; in society he was
always on his guard, fearful lest any chance word might be
misconstrued or give offence. It is no wonder, then, that Lexington
misjudged him. Nor were those who knew him only when he was absorbed
in the cares of command before the enemy likely to see far below the
surface. The dominant trait in Jackson's character was his intense
earnestness, and when work was doing, every faculty of his nature was
engrossed in the accomplishment of the task on hand. But precise,
methodical, and matter-of-fact as he appeared, his was no commonplace
and prosaic nature. He had "the delicacy and the tenderness which are
the rarest and most beautiful ornament of the strong."* (* Marion
Crawford.) Beneath his habitual gravity a vivid imagination,
restrained indeed by strong sense and indulging in no vain visions,
was ever at work; and a lofty enthusiasm, which seldom betrayed
itself in words, inspired his whole being. He was essentially
chivalrous. His deference to woman, even in a land where such
deference was still the fashion, was remarkable, and his sympathy
with the oppressed was as deep as his loyalty to Virginia. He was an
ardent lover of nature. The autumnal glories of the forest, the songs
of the birds, the splendours of the sunset, were sources of unfailing
pleasure. More than all, the strength of his imagination carried him
further than the confines of the material world, and he saw with
unclouded vision the radiant heights that lie beyond.

Jackson, then, was something more than a man of virile temperament;
he was gifted with other qualities than energy, determination, and
common sense. He was not witty. He had no talent for repartee, and
the most industrious collector of anecdotes will find few good things
attributed to him. But he possessed a kindly humour which found vent
in playful expressions of endearment, or in practical jokes of the
most innocent description; and if these outbursts of high spirits
were confined to the precincts of his own home, they proved at least
that neither by temperament nor principle was he inclined to look
upon the darker side. His eye for a ludicrous situation was very
quick, and a joke which told against himself always caused him the
most intense amusement. It is impossible to read the letters which
Mrs. Jackson has published and to entertain the belief that his
temper was ever in the least degree morose. To use her own words,
"they are the overflow of a heart full of tenderness;" it is true
that they seldom omit some reference to that higher life which both
husband and wife were striving hand in hand to lead, but they are
instinct from first to last with the serene happiness of a contented
mind.

Even more marked than his habitual cheerfulness was his almost
feminine sympathy with the poor and feeble. His servants, as was the
universal rule in Virginia, were his slaves; but his relations with
his black dependents were of almost a paternal character, and his
kindness was repaid by that childlike devotion peculiar to the negro
race. More than one of these servants--so great was his reputation
for kindness--had begged him to buy them from their former owners.
Their interests were his special care; in sickness they received all
the attention and comfort that the house afforded; to his favourite
virtues, politeness and punctuality, they were trained by their
master himself, and their moral education was a task he cheerfully
undertook. "There was one little servant in the family," says Mrs.
Jackson, "whom my husband took under his sheltering roof at the
solicitations of an aged lady; to whom the child became a care after
having been  an orphan. She was not b, but he persevered in
drilling her into memorising a child's catechism, and it was a most
amusing picture to see her standing before him with fixed attention,
as if she were straining every nerve, and reciting her answers with
the drop of a curtsey at each word. She had not been taught to do
this, but it was such an effort for her to learn that she assumed the
motion involuntarily."

Jackson's home was childless. A little daughter, born at Lexington,
lived only for a few weeks, and her place remained unfilled. His
sorrow, although he submitted uncomplainingly, was very bitter, for
his love for children was very great. "A gentleman," says Mrs.
Jackson, "who spent the night with us was accompanied by his
daughter, but four years of age. It was the first time the child had
been separated from her mother, and my husband suggested that she
should be committed to my care during the night, but she clung to her
father. After our guests had both sunk in slumber, the father was
aroused by someone leaning over his little girl and drawing the
covering more closely round her. It was only his thoughtful host, who
felt anxious lest his little guest should miss her mother's guardian
care under his roof, and could not go to sleep himself until he was
satisfied that all was well with the child."

These incidents are little more than trivial. The attributes they
reveal seem of small import. They are not such as go towards building
up a successful career either in war or politics. And yet to arrive
at a true conception of Jackson's character it is necessary that such
incidents should be recorded. That character will not appear the less
admirable because its strength and energy were tempered by softer
virtues; and when we remember the great soldier teaching a negro
child, or ministering to the comfort of a sick slave, it becomes easy
to understand the feelings with which his veterans regarded him. The
quiet home at Lexington reveals more of the real man than the camps
and conflicts of the Civil War, and no picture of Stonewall Jackson
would be complete without some reference to his domestic life.

"His life at home," says his wife, "was perfectly regular and
systematic. He arose about six o'clock, and first knelt in secret
prayer; then he took a cold bath, which was never omitted even in the
coldest days of winter. This was followed by a brisk walk, in rain or
shine.

"Seven o'clock was the hour for family prayers, which he required all
his servants to attend promptly and regularly. He never waited for
anyone, not even his wife. Breakfast followed prayers, after which he
 immediately for the Institute, his classes opening at eight
o'clock and continuing to eleven. Upon his return home at eleven
o'clock he devoted himself to study until one. The first book he took
up daily was his Bible, which he read with a commentary, and the many
pencil marks upon it showed with what care he bent over its pages.
From his Bible lesson he turned to his text-books. During those hours
of study he would permit no interruption, and stood all the time in
front of a high desk. After dinner he gave himself up for half an
hour or more to leisure and conversation, and this was one of the
best periods in his home life. He then went into his garden, or
out to his farm to superintend his servants, and frequently joined
them in manual labour. He would often drive me to the farm, and find
a shady spot for me under the trees, while he attended to the work of
the field. When this was not the case, he always returned in time to
take me, if the weather permitted, for an evening walk or drive. In
summer we often took our drives by moonlight, and in the beautiful
Valley of Virginia the queen of night seemed to shine with more
bness than elsewhere. When at home he would indulge himself in a
season of rest and recreation after supper, thinking it was injurious
to health to go to work immediately. As it was a rule with him never
to use his eyes by artificial light, he formed the habit of studying
mentally for an hour or so without a book. After going over his
lessons in the morning, he thus reviewed them at night, and in order
to abstract his thoughts from surrounding objects--a habit which he
had cultivated to a remarkable degree--he would, if alone with his
wife, ask that he might not be disturbed by any conversation; he
would then take his seat with his face to the wall, and remain in
perfect abstraction until he finished his mental task. He was very
fond of being read to, and much of our time in the evening was passed
in my ministering to him in this way. He had a library, which, though
small, was select, composed chiefly of scientific, historical, and
religious books, with some of a lighter character, and some in
Spanish and French. Nearly all of them were full of his pencil marks,
made with a view to future reference." Next to the Bible, history,
both ancient and modern, was his favourite study. Plutarch, Josephus,
Rollin, Robertson, Hallam, Macaulay, and Bancroft were his constant
companions. Shakespeare held an honoured place upon his shelves; and
when a novel fell into his hands he became so absorbed in the story
that he eventually avoided such literature as a waste of time. "I am
anxious," he wrote to a relative, "to devote myself to study until I
shall become master of my profession."

The Jacksons were far from affluent. The professor had nothing but
his salary, and his wife, one of a large family, brought no increase
to their income. But the traditional hospitality of Virginia was a
virtue by no means neglected. He was generous but unostentatious in
his mode of living, and nothing gave him more pleasure than to bid
his friends welcome to his own home.

His outdoor recreations were healthful but not exciting. The hills
round Lexington teemed with game, the rivers with fish, and shooting
and fishing were the favourite amusements of his colleagues. But
Jackson found no pleasure in rod or gun; and although fond of riding
and a good horseman, he never appears to have joined in any of those
equestrian sports to which the Virginians were much addicted. He
neither followed the hunt nor tilted at the ring. His exercise was
taken after more utilitarian fashion, in the garden or the farm.

It need hardly be said that such a lover of order and method was
strictly economical, and the wise administration of the farm and
household permitted an annual expenditure on travel. Many of the most
beautiful localities and famous cities of the east and north were
visited in these excursions. Sometimes he wandered with his wife in
search of health; more often the object of their journey was to see
with their own eyes the splendid scenery of their native land. The
associations which were ever connected in Jackson's mind with his
tour through Europe show how intensely he appreciated the marvels
both of nature and of art.

"I would advise you," he wrote to a friend, "never to name my
European trip to me unless you are blest with a superabundance of
patience, as its very mention is calculated to bring up with it an
almost inexhaustible assemblage of grand and beautiful associations.
Passing over the works of the Creator, which are far the most
impressive, it is difficult to conceive of the influences which even
the works of His creatures exercise over the mind of one who lingers
amidst their master productions. Well do I remember the influence of
sculpture upon me during my short stay in Florence, and how there I
began to realise the sentiment of the Florentine: "Take from me my
liberty, take what you will, but leave me my statuary, leave me these
entrancing productions of art." And similar to this is the influence
of painting."

But delightful as were these holiday expeditions, the day of
Jackson's return to Lexington and his duties never came too soon. In
the quiet routine of his home life, in his work at the Institute, in
the supervision of his farm and garden, in his evenings with his
books, and in the services of his church, he was more than contented.
Whatever remained of soldierly ambition had long been eradicated. Man
of action as he essentially was, he evinced no longing for a wider
sphere of intellectual activity or for a more active existence. Under
his own roof-tree he found all that he desired. "There," says his
wife, "all that was best in his nature shone forth;" and that temper
was surely of the sweetest which could utter no sterner rebuke than
"Ah! that is not the way to be happy!"

Nor was it merely his own gentleness of disposition and the many
graces of his charming helpmate that secured so large a degree of
peace and happiness. Jackson's religion played even a greater part.
It was not of the kind which is more concerned with the terrors of
hell than the glories of paradise. The world to him was no place of
woe and lamentation, its beauties vanity, and its affections a snare.
As he gazed with delight on the gorgeous tints of the autumnal
forests, and the lovely landscapes of his mountain home, so he
enjoyed to the utmost the life and love which had fallen to his lot,
and thanked God for that capacity for happiness with which his nature
was so largely gifted. Yet it cannot be said that he practised no
self-denial. His life, in many respects, was one of constant
self-discipline, and when his time came to sacrifice himself, he
submitted without a murmur. But in his creed fear had no place. His
faith was great. It was not, however, a mere belief in God's
omnipotence and God's justice, but a deep and abiding confidence in
His infinite compassion and infinite love; and it created in him an
almost startling consciousness of the nearness and reality of the
invisible world. In a letter to his wife it is revealed in all its
strength:

"You must not be discouraged at the slowness of recovery. Look up to
Him who giveth liberally for faith to be resigned to His divine will,
and trust Him for that measure of health which will most glorify Him,
and advance to the greatest extent your own real happiness. We are
sometimes suffered to be in a state of perplexity that our faith may
be tried and grow stronger. See if you cannot spend a short time
after dark in looking out of your window into space, and meditating
upon heaven, with all its joys unspeakable and full of glory..."All
things work together for good" to God's children. Try to look up and
be cheerful, and not desponding. Trust our kind Heavenly Father, and
by the eye of faith see that all things are  and for your best
interests. The clouds come, pass over us, and are followed by b
sunshine; so in God's moral dealings with us, He permits to have
trouble awhile. But let us, even in the most trying dispensations of
His Providence, be cheered by the bness which is a little ahead."

It would serve no useful purpose to discuss Jackson's views on
controversial questions. It may be well, however, to correct a common
error. It has been asserted that he was a fatalist, and therefore
careless of a future over which he believed he had no control. Not a
word, however, either in his letters or in his recorded conversations
warrants the assumption. It is true that his favourite maxim was
"Duty is ours, consequences are God's," and that knowing "all things
work together for good," he looked forward to the future without
misgiving or apprehension.

But none the less he believed implicitly that the destiny of men and
of nations is in their own hands. His faith was as sane as it was
humble, without a touch of that presumptuous fanaticism which stains
the memory of Cromwell, to whom he has been so often compared. He
never imagined, even at the height of his renown, when victory on
victory crowned his banners, that he was "the scourge of God," the
chosen instrument of His vengeance. He prayed without ceasing, under
fire as in the camp; but he never mistook his own impulse for a
revelation of the divine will. He prayed for help to do his duty, and
he prayed for success. He knew that:

"More things are wrought by prayer
Than this world dreams of;"

but he knew, also, that prayer is not always answered in the way
which man would have it. He went into battle with supreme confidence,
not, as has been alleged, that the Lord had delivered the enemy into
his hands, but that whatever happened would be the best that could
happen. And he was as free from cant as from self-deception. It may
be said of Jackson, as has been said so eloquently of the men whom,
in some respects, he closely resembled, that "his Bible was literally
food to his understanding and a guide to his conduct. He saw the
visible finger of God in every incident of life...That which in our
day devout men and women feel in their earnest moments of prayer, the
devout Puritan felt, as a second nature, in his rising up and in his
lying down; in the market-place and in the home; in society and in
business; in Parliament, in Council, and on the field of battle. And
feeling this, the Puritan had no shame in uttering the very words of
the Bible wherein he had learned so to feel; nay, he would have
burned with shame had he faltered in using the words. It is very hard
for us now to grasp what this implies...But there was a generation in
which this phraseology was the natural speech of men."* (* Oliver
Cromwell by Frederic Harrison page 29.) Of this generation, although
later in time, was Stonewall Jackson. To him such language as he used
in his letters to his wife, in conversation with his intimates, and
not rarely in his official correspondence, was "the literal assertion
of truths which he felt to the roots of his being," which absorbed
his thoughts, which coloured every action of his life, and which,
from the abundance of his heart, rose most naturally to his lips.

There is no need for further allusion to his domestic or religious
life. If in general society Jackson was wanting in geniality; if he
was so little a man of the world that his example lost much of the
influence which, had he stood less aloof from others, it must have
exercised, it was the fruit of his early training, his natural
reserve, and his extreme humility. It is impossible, however, that so
pure a life should have been altogether without reflex upon others.
If the cadets profited but indirectly, the slaves had cause to bless
his practical Christianity; the poor and the widow knew him as a
friend, and his neighbours looked up to him as the soul of sincerity,
the enemy of all that was false and vile. And for himself--what share
had those years of quiet study, of self-communing, and of
self-discipline, in shaping the triumphs of the Confederate arms? The
story of his military career is the reply.

Men of action have before now deplored the incessant press of
business which leaves them no leisure to think out the problems which
may confront them in the future. Experience is of little value
without reflection, and leisure has its disadvantages. "One can
comprehend," says Dabney, referring to Jackson's peculiar form of
mental exercise, "how valuable was the training which his mind
received for his work as a soldier. Command over his attention was
formed into a habit which no tempest of confusion could disturb. His
power of abstraction became unrivalled. His imagination was trained
and invigorated until it became capable of grouping the most
extensive and complex considerations. The power of his mind was
drilled like the strength of an athlete, and his self-concentration
became unsurpassed."

Such training was undoubtedly the very best foundation for the
intellectual side of a general's business. War presents a constant
succession of problems to be solved by mental processes. For some
experience and resource supply a ready solution. Others, involving
the movements of large bodies, considerations of time and space, and
the thousand and one circumstances, such as food, weather, roads,
topography, and morale, which a general must always bear in mind, are
composed of so many factors, that only a brain accustomed to hard
thinking can deal with them successfully. Of this nature are the
problems of strategy--those which confront a general in command of an
army or of a detached portion of an army, and which are worked out on
the map. The problems of the battle-field are of a different order.
The natural characteristics which, when fortified by experience,
carry men through any dangerous enterprise, win the majority of
victories. But men may win battles and be very poor generals. They
may be born leaders of men, and yet absolutely unfitted for
independent command. Their courage, coolness, and common sense may
accomplish the enemy's overthrow on the field, but with strategical
considerations their intellects may be absolutely incapable of
grappling. In the great wars of the early part of the century Ney and
Blucher were probably the best fighting generals of France and
Prussia. But neither could be trusted to conduct a campaign. Blucher,
pre-eminent on the battle-field, knew nothing of the grand
combinations which prepare and complete success. If he was the strong
 hand of the Prussian army, his chief of staff was the brain.
"Gneisenau," said the old Marshal, "makes the pills which I
administer." "Ney's best qualities," says Jomini, who served long on
his staff, "his heroic valour, his quick coup d'oeil, and his energy,
diminished in the same proportion that the extent of his command
increased his responsibility. Admirable on the field of battle, he
displayed less assurance, not only in council, but whenever he was
not actually face to face with the enemy." It is not of such material
as Ney and Blucher, mistrustful of their own ability, that great
captains are made. Marked intellectual capacity is the chief
characteristic of the most famous soldiers. Alexander, Hannibal,
Caesar, Marlborough, Washington, Frederick, Napoleon, Wellington, and
Nelson were each and all of them something more than mere fighting
men. Few of their age rivalled them in strength of intellect. It was
this, combined with the best qualities of Ney and Blucher, that made
them masters of strategy, and lifted them high above those who were
tacticians and nothing more; and it was strength of intellect that
Jackson cultivated at Lexington.

So, in that quiet home amidst the Virginian mountains, the years sped
by, peaceful and uneventful, varied only by the holiday excursions of
successive summers. By day, the lecture at the Institute, the drill
of the cadet battery, the work of the church, the pleasant toil of
the farm and garden. When night fell, and the curtains were drawn
across the windows that looked upon the quiet street, there in that
home where order reigned supreme, where, as the master wished, "each
door turned softly on a golden hinge," came those hours of thought
and analysis which were to fit him for great deeds.

The even tenor of this calm existence was broken, however, by an
incident which intensified the bitter feeling which already divided
the Northern and Southern sections of the United States. During the
month of January, 1859, Jackson had marched with the cadet battalion
to Harper's Ferry, where, on the northern frontier of Virginia, the
fanatic, John Brown, had attempted to raise an insurrection amongst
the negroes, and had been hung after trial in presence of the troops.
By the South Brown was regarded as a madman and a murderer; by many
in the North he was glorified as a martyr; and so acute was the
tension that early in 1860, during a short absence from Lexington,
Jackson wrote in a letter to his wife, "What do you think about the
state of the country? Viewing things at Washington from human
appearances, I think we have great reason for alarm." A great crisis
was indeed at hand. But if to her who was ever beside him, while the
storm clouds were rising dark and terrible over the fair skies of the
prosperous Republic, the Christian soldier seemed the man best fitted
to lead the people, it was not so outside. None doubted his sincerity
or questioned his resolution, but few had penetrated his reserve. As
the playful tenderness he displayed at home was never suspected, so
the consuming earnestness, the absolute fearlessness, whether of
danger or of responsibility, the utter disregard of man, and the
unquestioning faith in the Almighty, which made up the individuality
which men called Stonewall Jackson, remained hidden from all but one.

To his wife his inward graces idealised his outward seeming; but
others, noting his peculiarities, and deceived by his modesty, saw
little that was remarkable and much that was singular in the staid
professor. Few detected, beneath that quiet demeanour and absent
manner, the existence of energy incarnate and an iron will; and still
fewer beheld, in the plain figure of the Presbyterian deacon, the
potential leader of great armies, inspiring the devotion of his
soldiers, and riding in the forefront of victorious battle.

</section>
<section id="7" fatherid="1" title="SECESSION. 1860 TO 1861." lv="CHAPTER 1.4." priority="0" level="2">
1861.

Jackson spent ten years at Lexington, and he was just five-and-thirty
when he  it. For ten years he had seen no more of military
service than the drills of the cadet battalion. He had lost all touch
with the army. His name had been forgotten, except by his comrades of
the Mexican campaign, and he had hardly seen a regular soldier since
he resigned his commission. But, even from a military point of view,
those ten years had not been wasted. His mind had a wider grasp, and
his brain was more active. Striving to fit himself for such duties as
might devolve on him, should he be summoned to the field, like all
great men and all practical men he had gone to the best masters. In
the campaigns of Napoleon he had found instruction in the highest
branch of his profession, and had made his own the methods of war
which the greatest of modern soldiers both preached and practised.
Maturer years and the search for wisdom had steadied his restless
daring; and his devotion to duty, always remarkable, had become a
second nature. His health, under careful and self-imposed treatment,
had much improved, and the year 1861 found him in the prime of
physical and mental vigour. Already it had become apparent that his
life at Lexington was soon to end. The Damascus blade was not to rust
upon the shelf. During the winter of 1860-61 the probability of a
conflict between the free and slave-holding States, that is, between
North and South, had become almost a certainty. South Carolina,
Mississippi, Alabama, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas, had
formally seceded from the Union; and establishing a Provisional
Government, with Jefferson Davis as President, at Montgomery in
Alabama, had proclaimed a new Republic, under the title of the
Confederate States of America. In order to explain Jackson's attitude
at this momentous crisis, it will be necessary to discuss the action
of Virginia, and to investigate the motives which led her to take the
side she did.

Forces which it was impossible to curb, and which but few detected,
were at the root of the secession movement. The ostensible cause was
the future status of the negro.

Slavery was recognised in fifteen States of the Union. In the North
it had long been abolished, but this made no difference to its
existence in the South. The States which composed the Union were
semi-independent communities, with their own legislatures, their own
magistracies, their own militia, and the power of the purse. How far
their sovereign s extended was a matter of contention; but,
under the terms of the Constitution, slavery was a domestic
institution, which each individual State was at liberty to retain or
discard at will, and over which the Federal Government had no control
whatever. Congress would have been no more justified in declaring
that the slaves in Virginia were free men than in demanding that
Russian conspirators should be tried by jury. Nor was the
philanthropy of the Northern people, generally speaking, of an
enthusiastic nature. The majority regarded slavery as a necessary
evil; and, if they deplored the reproach to the Republic, they made
little parade of their sentiments. A large number of Southerners
believed it to be the happiest condition for the African race; but
the best men, especially in the border States, of which Virginia was
the principal, would have welcomed emancipation. But neither
Northerner nor Southerner saw a practicable method of giving freedom
to the negro. Such a measure, if carried out in its entirety, meant
ruin to the South. Cotton and tobacco, the principal and most
lucrative crops, required an immense number of hands, and in those
hands--his negro slaves--the capital of the planter was locked up.
Emancipation would have swept the whole of this capital away.
Compensation, the remedy applied by England to Jamaica and South
Africa, was hardly to be thought of. Instead of twenty millions
sterling, it would have cost four hundred millions. It was doubtful,
too, if compensation would have staved off the ruin of the planters.
The labour of the free negro, naturally indolent and improvident, was
well known to be most inefficient as compared with that of the slave.
For some years, to say the least, after emancipation it would have
been impossible to work the plantations except at a heavy loss.
Moreover, abolition, in the judgment of all who knew him, meant ruin
to the negro. Under the system of the plantations, honesty and
morality were being gradually instilled into the coloured race. But
these virtues had as yet made little progress; the Christianity of
the slaves was but skin-deep; and if all restraint were removed, if
the old ties were broken, and the influence of the planter and his
family should cease to operate, it was only too probable that the
four millions of Africans would relapse into the barbaric vices of
their original condition. The hideous massacres which had followed
emancipation in San Domingo had not yet been forgotten. It is little
wonder, then, that the majority shrank before a problem involving
such tremendous consequences.

A party, however, conspicuous both in New England and the West, had
taken abolition for its watchword. Small in numbers, but vehement in
denunciation, its voice was heard throughout the Union. Zeal for
universal liberty rose superior to the Constitution. That instrument
was repudiated as an iniquitous document. The sovereign s of the
individual States were indignantly denied. Slavery was denounced as
the sum of all villainies, the slave-holder as the worst of tyrants;
and no concealment was made of the intention, should political power
be secured, of compelling the South to set the negroes free. In the
autumn of 1860 came the Presidential election. Hitherto, of the two
great political parties, the Democrats had long ruled the councils of
the nation, and nearly the whole South was Democratic. The South, as
regards population, was numerically inferior to the North; but the
Democratic party had more than held its own at the ballot-boxes, for
the reason that it had many adherents in the North. So long as the
Southern and Northern Democrats held together, they far outnumbered
the Republicans. In 1860, however, the two sections of the Democratic
party split asunder. The Republicans, favoured by the schism, carried
their own candidate, and Abraham Lincoln became President. South
Carolina at once seceded and the Confederacy was soon afterwards
established.

It is not at first sight apparent why a change of government should
have caused so sudden a disruption of the Union. The Republican
party, however, embraced sections of various shades of thought. One
of these, rising every day to greater prominence, was that which
advocated immediate abolition; and to this section, designated by the
South as "Black Republicans," the new President was believed to
belong. It is possible that, on his advent to office, the political
leaders of the South, despite the safeguards of the Constitution, saw
in the near future the unconditional emancipation of the slaves; and
not only this, but that the emancipated slaves would receive the
 of suffrage, and be placed on a footing of complete equality
with their former masters.* (* Grant's Memoirs volume 1 page 214.) As
in many districts the whites were far outnumbered by the negroes,
this was tantamount to transferring all local government into the
hands of the latter, and surrendering the planters to the mercies of
their former bondsmen.

It is hardly necessary to say that an act of such gross injustice was
never contemplated, except by hysterical abolitionists and those who
truckled for their votes. It was certainly not contemplated by Mr.
Lincoln; and it was hardly likely that a President who had been
elected by a minority of the people would dare, even if he were so
inclined, to assume unconstitutional powers. The Democratic party,
taking both sections together, was still the stronger; and the
Northern Democrats, temporarily severed as they were from their
Southern brethren, would most assuredly have united with them in
resisting any unconstitutional action on the part of the Republicans.

If, then, it might be asked, slavery ran no risk of unconditional
abolition, why should the Southern political leaders have acted with
such extraordinary precipitation? Why, in a country in which, to all
appearances, the two sections had been cordially united, should the
advent to power of one political party have been the signal for so
much disquietude on the part of the other? Had the presidential seat
been suddenly usurped by an abolitionist tyrant of the type of
Robespierre the South could hardly have exhibited greater
apprehension. Few Americans denied that a permanent Union, such as
had been designed by the founders of the Republic, was the best
guarantee of prosperity and peace. And yet because a certain number
of misguided if well-meaning men clamoured for emancipation, the
South chose to bring down in ruin the splendid fabric which their
forefathers had constructed. In thus refusing to trust the good sense
and fair dealing of the Republicans, it would seem, at a superficial
glance, that the course adopted by the members of the new
Confederacy, whether legitimate or not, could not possibly be
justified.* (* I have been somewhat severely taken to task for
attaching the epithets "misguided," "unpractical," "fanatical," to
the abolitionists. I see no reason, however, to modify my language.
It is too often the case that men of the loftiest ideals seek to
attain them by the most objectionable means, and the maxim Fiat
justitia ruat coelum cannot be literally applied to great affairs.
The conversion of the Mahomedan world to Christianity would be a
nobler work than even the emancipation of the negro, but the
missionary who began with reviling the faithful, and then proceeded
to threaten them with fire and the sword unless they changed their
creed, would justly be called a fanatic. Yet the abolitionists did
worse than this, for they incited the negroes to insurrection. Nor do
I think that the question is affected by the fact that many of the
abolitionists were up, earnest, and devout. A good man is not
necessarily a wise man, and I remember that Samuel Johnson and John
Wesley supported King George against the American colonists.)

Unfortunately, something more than mere political rancour was at
work. The areas of slave and of free labour were divided by an
artificial frontier. "Mason and Dixon's line," originally fixed as
the boundary between Pennsylvania on the north and Virginia and
Maryland on the south, cut the territory of the United States into
two distinct sections; and, little by little, these two sections,
geographically as well as politically severed, had resolved
themselves into what might almost be termed two distinct nations.

Many circumstances tended to increase the cleavage. The South was
purely agricultural; the most prosperous part of the North was purely
industrial. In the South, the great planters formed a landed
aristocracy; the claims of birth were ungrudgingly admitted; class
barriers were, to a certain extent, a recognised part of the social
system, and the sons of the old houses were accepted as the natural
leaders of the people. In the North, on the contrary, the only
aristocracy was that of wealth; and even wealth, apart from merit,
had no hold on the respect of the community. The distinctions of
caste were slight in the extreme. The descendants of the Puritans, of
those English country gentlemen who had preferred to ride with
Cromwell rather than with Rupert, to pray with Baxter rather than
with Laud, made no parade of their ancestry; and among the extreme
Republicans existed an innate but decided aversion to the recognition
of social grades. Moreover, divergent interests demanded different
fiscal treatment. The cotton and tobacco of the South, monopolising
the markets of the world, asked for free trade. The manufacturers of
New England, struggling against foreign competition, were strong
protectionists, and they were powerful enough to enforce their will
in the shape of an oppressive tariff. Thus the planters of Virginia
paid high prices in order that mills might flourish in Connecticut;
and the sovereign States of the South, to their own detriment, were
compelled to contribute to the abundance of the wealthier North. The
interests of labour were not less conflicting. The competition
between free and forced labour, side by side on the same continent,
was bound in itself, sooner or later, to breed dissension; and if it
had not yet reached an acute stage, it had at least created a certain
degree of bitter feeling. But more than all--and the fact must be
borne in mind if the character of the Civil War is to be fully
appreciated--the natural ties which should have linked together the
States on either side of Mason and Dixon's line had weakened to a
mere mechanical bond. The intercourse between North and South, social
or commercial, was hardly more than that which exists between two
foreign nations. The two sections knew but little of each other, and
that little was not the good points but the bad.

For more than fifty years after the election of the first President,
while as yet the crust of European tradition overlaid the young
shoots of democracy, the supremacy, social and political, of the
great landowners of the South had been practically undisputed. But
when the young Republic began to take its place amongst the nations,
men found that the wealth and talents which led it forward belonged
as much to the busy cities of New England as to the plantations of
Virginia and the Carolinas; and with the growing sentiment in favour
of universal equality began the revolt against the dominion of a
caste. Those who had carved out their own fortunes by sheer hard work
and ability questioned the superiority of men whose positions were no
guarantee of personal capacity, and whose wealth was not of their own
making. Those who had borne the heat and burden of the day deemed
themselves the equals and more than equals of those who had loitered
in the shade; and, esteeming men for their own worth and not for that
of some forgotten ancestor, they had come to despise those who toiled
not neither did they spin. Tenaciously the Southerners clung to the
supremacy they had inherited from a bygone age. The contempt of the
Northerner was repaid in kind. In the political arena the struggle
was fierce and keen. Mutual hatred, fanned by unscrupulous agitators,
increased in bitterness; and, hindering reconciliation, rose the
fatal barrier of slavery.

It is true that, prior to 1860, the abolitionists were not numerous
in the North; and it is equally true that by many of the best men in
the South the institution which had been bequeathed to them was
thoroughly detested. Looking back over the years which have elapsed
since the slaves were freed, the errors of the two factions are
sufficiently manifest. If, on the one hand, the abolitionist,
denouncing sternly, in season and out of season, the existence of
slavery on the free soil of America, was unjust and worse to the
slave-owner, who, to say the least, was in no way responsible for the
inhuman and shortsighted policy of a former generation; on the other
hand the high-principled Southerner, although in his heart deploring
the condition of the negro, and sometimes imitating the example of
Washington, whose dying bequest gave freedom to his slaves, made no
attempt to find a remedy.* (* On the publication of the first edition
my views on the action of the abolitionists were traversed by critics
whose opinions demand consideration. They implied that in condemning
the unwisdom and violence of the anti-slavery party, I had not taken
into account the aggressive tendencies of the Southern politicians
from 1850 onwards, that I had ignored the attempts to extend slavery
to the Territories, and that I had overlooked the effect of the
Fugitive Slave Law. A close study of abolitionist literature,
however, had made it very clear to me that the advocates of
emancipation, although actuated by the highest motives, never at any
time approached the question in a conciliatory spirit; and that long
before 1850 their fierce cries for vengeance had roused the very
bitterest feelings in the South. In fact they had already made war
inevitable. Draper, the Northern historian, admits that so early as
1844 "the contest between the abolitionists on one side and the
slave-holders on the other hand had become a mortal duel." It may be
argued, perhaps, that the abolitionists saw that the slave-power
would never yield except to armed force, and that they therefore
showed good judgment in provoking the South into secession and civil
war. But forcing the hand of the Almighty is something more than a
questionable doctrine.)

The latter had the better excuse. He knew, were emancipation granted,
that years must elapse before the negro could be trained to the
responsibilities of freedom, and that those years would impoverish
the South. It appears to have been forgotten by the abolitionists
that all races upon earth have required a protracted probation to fit
them for the s of citizenship and the duties of free men. Here
was a people, hardly emerged from the grossest barbarism, and
possibly, from the very beginning, of inferior natural endowment, on
whom they proposed to confer the same s without any probation
whatsoever. A glance at the world around them should have induced
reflection. The experience of other countries was not encouraging.
Hayti, where the blacks had long been masters of the soil, was still
a pandemonium; and in Jamaica and South Africa the precipitate action
of zealous but unpractical philanthropists had wrought incalculable
mischief. Even Lincoln himself, redemption by purchase being
impracticable, saw no other way out of the difficulty than the
wholesale deportation of the negroes to West Africa.

In time, perhaps, under the influence of such men as Lincoln and Lee,
the nation might have found a solution of the problem, and North and
South have combined to rid their common country of the curse of human
servitude. But between fanaticism on the one side and helplessness on
the other there was no common ground. The fierce invectives of the
reformers forbade all hope of temperate discussion, and their
unreasoning denunciations only provoked resentment. And this
resentment became the more bitter because in demanding emancipation,
either by fair means or forcible, and in expressing their intention
of making it a national question, the abolitionists were directly
striking at a  which the people of the South held sacred.

It had never been questioned, hitherto, that the several States of
the Union, so far at least as concerned their domestic institutions,
were each and all of them, under the Constitution, absolutely
self-governing. But the threats which the Black Republicans held out
were tantamount to a proposal to set the Constitution aside. It was
their charter of liberty, therefore, and not only their material
prosperity, which the States that first seceded believed to be
endangered by Lincoln's election. Ignorant of the temper of the great
mass of the Northern people, as loyal in reality to the Constitution
as themselves, they were only too ready to be convinced that the
denunciations of the abolitionists were the first presage of the
storm that was presently to overwhelm them, to reduce their States to
provinces, to wrest from them the freedom they had inherited, and to
make them hewers of wood and drawers of water to the detested
plutocrats of New England.

But the gravamen of the indictment against the Southern people is not
that they seceded, but that they seceded in order to preserve and to
perpetuate slavery; or, to put it more forcibly, that the liberty to
enslave others was the  which most they valued. This charge, put
forward by the abolitionists in order to cloak their own revolt
against the Constitution, is true as regards a certain section, but
as regards the South as a nation it is quite untenable, for
three-fourths of the population derived rather injury than benefit
from the presence in their midst of four million serfs.* (* Of 8.3
million whites in the fifteen slave-holding States, only 346,000 were
slave-holders, and of these 69,000 owned only one negro.) "Had
slavery continued, the system of labour," says General Grant, "would
soon have impoverished the soil and  the country poor. The
non-slave-holder must have  the country, and the small
slave-holder have sold out to his more fortunate neighbour."* (*
Battles and Leaders volume 3 page 689.) The slaves neither bought nor
sold. Their wants were supplied almost entirely by their own labour;
and the local markets of the South would have drawn far larger profit
from a few thousand white labourers than they did from the multitude
of negroes. It is true that a party in the South, more numerous
perhaps among the political leaders than among the people at large,
was averse to emancipation under any form or shape. There were men
who looked upon their bondsmen as mere beasts of burden, more
valuable but hardly more human than the cattle in their fields, and
who would not only have perpetuated but have extended slavery. There
were others who conscientiously believed that the negro was unfit for
freedom, that he was incapable of self-improvement, and that he was
far happier and more contented as a slave. Among these were ministers
of the Gospel, in no small number, who, appealing to the Old
Testament, preached boldly that the institution was of divine origin,
that the coloured race had been created for servitude, and that to
advocate emancipation was to impugn the wisdom of the Almighty.

But there were still others, including many of those who were not
slave-owners, who, while they acquiesced in the existence of an
institution for which they were not personally accountable, looked
forward to its ultimate extinction by the voluntary action of the
States concerned. It was impossible as yet to touch the question
openly, for the invectives and injustice of the abolitionists had so
wrought upon the Southern people, that such action would have been
deemed a base surrender to the dictation of the enemy; but they
trusted to time, to the spread of education, and to a feeling in
favour of emancipation which was gradually pervading the whole
country.* (* There is no doubt that a feeling of aversion to slavery
was fast spreading among a numerous and powerful class in the South.
In Maryland, Kentucky, and Missouri the number of slaves was
decreasing, and in Delaware the institution had almost disappeared.)

The opinions of this party, with which, it may be said, the bulk of
the Northern people was in close sympathy,* (* Grant's Memoirs page
214.) are perhaps best expressed in a letter written by Colonel
Robert Lee, the head of one of the oldest families in Virginia, a
large landed proprietor and slave-holder, and the same officer who
had won such well-deserved renown in Mexico. "In this enlightened
age," wrote the future general-in-chief of the Confederate army,
"there are few, I believe, but will acknowledge that slavery as an
institution is a moral and political evil. It is useless to expatiate
on its disadvantages. I think it a greater evil to the white than to
the coloured race, and while my feelings are strongly interested in
the latter, my sympathies are more deeply engaged for the former. The
blacks are immeasurably better off here than in Africa--morally,
socially, and physically. The painful discipline they are undergoing
is necessary for their instruction as a race, and, I hope, will
prepare them for better things. How long their subjection may be
necessary is known and ordered by a merciful Providence. Their
emancipation will sooner result from the mild and melting influence
of Christianity than from the storms and contests of fiery
controversy. This influence, though slow, is sure. The doctrines and
miracles of our Saviour have required nearly two thousand years to
convert but a small part of the human race, and even among Christian
nations what gross errors still exist! While we see the course of the
final abolition of slavery is still onward, and we give it the aid of
our prayers and all justifiable means in our power, we must leave the
progress as well as the result in His hands, who sees the end and who
chooses to work by slow things, and with whom a thousand years are
but as a single day. The abolitionist must know this, and must see
that he has neither the  nor the power of operating except by
moral means and suasion; if he means well to the slave, he must not
create angry feelings in the master. Although he may not approve of
the mode by which it pleases Providence to accomplish its purposes,
the result will nevertheless be the same; and the reason he gives for
interference in what he has no concern holds good for every kind of
interference with our neighbours when we disapprove of their conduct."

With this view of the question Jackson was in perfect agreement. "I
am very confident," says his wife, "that he would never have fought
for the sole object of perpetuating slavery...He found the
institution a responsible and troublesome one, and I have heard him
say that he would prefer to see the negroes free, but he believed
that the Bible taught that slavery was sanctioned by the Creator
Himself, who maketh all men to differ, and instituted laws for the
bond and free. He therefore accepted slavery, as it existed in the
South, not as a thing desirable in itself, but as allowed by
Providence for ends which it was not his business to determine."

It may perhaps be maintained that to have had no dealings with "the
accursed thing," and to have publicly advocated some process of
gradual emancipation, would have been the nobler course. But, setting
aside the teaching of the Churches, and the bitter temper of the
time, it should be remembered that slavery, although its hardships
were admitted, presented itself in no repulsive aspect to the people
of the Confederate States. They regarded it with feelings very
different from those of the abolitionists, whose acquaintance with
the condition they reprobated was small in the extreme. The lot of
the slaves, the Southerners were well aware, was far preferable to
that of the poor and the destitute of great cities, of the victims of
the sweater and the inmates of fever dens. The helpless negro had
more hands to succour him in Virginia than the starving white man in
New England. The children of the plantation enjoyed a far ber
existence than the children of the slums. The worn and feeble were
maintained by their masters, and the black labourer, looking forward
to an old age of ease and comfort among his own people, was more
fortunate than many a Northern artisan. Moreover, the brutalities
ascribed to the slave-owners as a class were of rare occurrence. The
people of the South were neither less humane nor less moral than the
people of the North or of Europe, and it is absolutely inconceivable
that men of high character and women of gentle nature should have
looked with leniency on cruelty, or have failed to visit the offender
with something more than reprobation. Had the calumnies* (* Uncle
Tom's Cabin to wit.) which were scattered broadcast by the
abolitionists possessed more than a vestige of truth, men like Lee
and Jackson would never have remained silent. In the minds of the
Northern people slavery was associated with atrocious cruelty and
continual suffering. In the eyes of the Southerners, on the other
hand, it was associated with great kindness and the most affectionate
relations between the planters and their bondsmen. And if the
Southerners were blind, it is most difficult to explain the
remarkable fact that throughout the war, although thousands of
plantations and farms, together with thousands of women and children,
all of whose male relatives were in the Confederate armies, were 
entirely to the care of the negroes, both life and property were
perfectly secure.

Such, then, was the attitude of the South towards slavery. The
institution had many advocates, uncompromising and aggressive, but
taking the people as a whole it was rather tolerated than approved;
and, even if no evidence to the contrary were forthcoming, we should
find it hard to believe that a civilised community would have plunged
into revolution in order to maintain it. There can be no question but
that secession was revolution; and revolutions, as has been well
said, are not made for the sake of "greased cartridges." To bring
about such unanimity of purpose as took possession of the whole
South, such passionate loyalty to the new Confederacy, such intense
determination to resist coercion to the bitter end, needed some
motive of unusual potency, and the perpetuation of slavery was not a
sufficient motive. The great bulk of the population neither owned
slaves nor was connected with those who did; many favoured
emancipation; and the working men, a rapidly increasing class, were
distinctly antagonistic to slave-labour. Moreover, the Southerners
were not only warmly attached to the Union, which they had done so
much to establish, but their pride in their common country, in its
strength, its prestige, and its prosperity, was very great. Why,
then, should they break away? History supplies us with a pertinent
example.

Previous to 1765 the honour of England was dear to the people of the
American colonies. King George had no more devoted subjects; his
enemies no fiercer foes. And yet it required very little to reverse
the scroll. The  claimed by the Crown to tax the colonists
hardly menaced their material prosperity. A few shillings more or
less would neither have added to the burdens nor have diminished the
comforts of a well-to-do and thrifty people, and there was some
justice in the demand that they should contribute to the defence of
the British Empire. But the demand, as formulated by the Government,
involved a principle which they were unwilling to admit, and in
defence of their birth as free citizens they flew to arms. So,
in defence of the principle of States' Rights the Southern people
resolved upon secession with all its consequences.

It might be said, however, that South Carolina and her sister States
seceded under the threat of a mere faction; that there was nothing in
the attitude of the Federal Government to justify the apprehension
that the Constitution would be set aside; and that their action,
therefore, was neither more nor less than rank rebellion. But,
whether their s had been infringed or not, a large majority of
the Southern people believed that secession, at any moment and for
any cause, was perfectly legitimate. The several States of the Union,
according to their political creed, were each and all of them
sovereign and independent nations. The Constitution, they held, was
nothing more than a treaty which they had entered into for their own
convenience, and which, in the exercise of their sovereign powers,
individually or collectively, they might abrogate when they pleased.
This interpretation was not admitted in the North, either by
Republicans or Democrats; yet there was nothing in the letter of the
Constitution which denied it, and as regards the spirit of that
covenant North and South held opposite opinions. But both were
perfectly sincere, and in leaving the Union, therefore, and in
creating for themselves a new government, the people of the seceding
States considered that they were absolutely within their .* (*
For an admirable statement of the Southern doctrine, see Ropes'
History of the Civil War volume 1 chapter 1.)

It must be admitted, at the same time, that the action of the States
which first seceded was marked by a petulant haste; and it is only
too probable that the people of these States suffered themselves to
be too easily persuaded that the North meant mischief. It is
impossible to determine how far the professional politician was
responsible for the Civil War. But when we recall the fact that
secession followed close on the overthrow of a faction which had long
monopolised the spoils of office, and that this faction found
compensation in the establishment of a new government, it is not easy
to resist the suspicion that the secession movement was neither more
nor less than a conspiracy, hatched by a clever and unscrupulous
cabal.

It would be unwise, however, to brand the whole, or even the
majority, of the Southern leaders as selfish and unprincipled. Unless
he has real grievances on which to work, or unless those who listen
to him are supremely ignorant, the mere agitator is powerless; and it
is most assuredly incredible that seven millions of Anglo-Saxons, and
Anglo-Saxons of the purest strain--English, Lowland Scottish, and
North Irish--should have been beguiled by silver tongues of a few
ambitious or hare-brained demagogues. The latter undoubtedly had a
share in bringing matters to a crisis. But the South was ripe for
revolution long before the presidential election. The forces which
were at work needed no artificial impulse to propel them forward. It
was instinctively recognised that the nation had outgrown the
Constitution; and it was to this, and not to the attacks upon
slavery, that secession was really due. The North had come to regard
the American people as one nation, and the will of the majority as
paramount.* (* "The Government had been Federal under the Articles of
Confederation (1781), but the Northern people quickly recognised
that that relation was changing under the Constitution (1789). They
began to discern that the power they thought they had delegated was
in fact surrendered, and that henceforth no single State could meet
the general Government as sovereign and equal." Draper's History of
the American Civil War volume 1 page 286.) The South, on the other
hand, holding, as it had always held, that each State was a nation in
itself, denied in toto that the will of the majority, except in
certain specified cases, had any power whatever; and where political
creeds were in such direct antagonism no compromise was possible.
Moreover, as the action of the abolitionists very plainly showed,
there was a growing tendency in the North to disregard altogether the
s of the minority. Secession, in fact, was a protest against mob
rule. The weaker community, hopeless of maintaining its most
cherished principles within the Union, was ready to seize the first
pretext for leaving it; and the strength of the popular sentiment may
be measured by the willingness of every class, gentle and simple,
rich and poor, to risk all and to suffer all, in order to free
themselves from bonds which must soon have become unbearable. It is
always difficult to analyse the motives of those by whom revolution
is provoked; but if a whole people acquiesce, it is a certain proof
of the existence of universal apprehension and deep-rooted
discontent. The spirit of self-sacrifice which animated the
Confederate South has been characteristic of every revolution which
has been the expression of a nation's wrongs, but it has never yet
accompanied mere factious insurrection.

When, in process of time, the history of Secession comes to be viewed
with the same freedom from prejudice as the history of the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, it will be clear that the
fourth great Revolution of the English-speaking race differs in no
essential characteristic from those which preceded it. It was not
simply because the five members were illegally impeached in 1642, the
seven bishops illegally tried in 1688, men shot at Lexington in 1775,
or slavery threatened in 1861, that the people rose. These were the
occasions, not the causes of revolt. In each case a great principle
was at stake: in 1642 the liberty of the subject; in 1688 the
integrity of the Protestant faith; in 1775 taxation only with consent
of the taxed; in 1861 the sovereignty of the individual States.* (*
It has been remarked that States' Rights, as a political principle,
cannot be placed on the same plane as those with which it is here
grouped. History, however, proves conclusively that, although it may
be less vital to the common weal, the  of self-government is
just as deeply cherished. A people that has once enjoyed independence
can seldom be brought to admit that a Union with others deprives it
of the prerogatives of sovereignty, and it would seem that the
treatment of this instinct of nationality is one of the most delicate
and important tasks of statesmanship.)

The accuracy of this statement, as already suggested, has been
consistently denied. That the only principle involved in Secession
was the establishment of slavery on a firmer basis, and that the cry
of States' Rights was raised only by way of securing sympathy, is a
very general opinion. But before it can be accepted, it is necessary
to make several admissions; first, that the Southerners were
absolutely callous to the evils produced by the institution they had
determined to make permanent; second, that they had persuaded
themselves, in face of the tendencies of civilisation, that it was
possible to make it permanent; and third, that they conscientiously
held their progress and prosperity to be dependent on its continued
existence. Are we to believe that the standard of morals and
intelligence was so low as these admissions would indicate? Are we to
believe that if they had been approached in a charitable spirit, that
if the Republican party, disclaiming all  of interference, had
offered to aid them in substituting, by some means which would have
provided for the control of the negro and, at the same time, have
prevented an entire collapse of the social fabric, a system more
consonant with humanity, the Southerners would have still preferred
to leave the Union, and by creating a great slave-power earn the
execration of the Christian world?

Unless the South be credited with an unusual measure of depravity and
of short-sightedness, the reply can hardly be in the affirmative. And
if it be otherwise, there remains but one explanation of the conduct
of the seceding States--namely the dread that if they remained in the
Union they would not be fairly treated.

It is futile to argue that the people were dragooned into secession
by the slave-holders. What power had the slave-holders over the great
mass of the population, over the professional classes, over the small
farmer, the mechanic, the tradesman, the labourer? Yet it is
constantly asserted by Northern writers, although the statement is
virtually an admission that only the few were prepared to fight for
slavery, that the Federal sentiment was so strong among the
Southerners that terrorism must have had a large share in turning
them into Separatists. The answer, putting aside the very patent fact
that the Southerner was not easily coerced, is very plain.
Undoubtedly, throughout the South there was much affection for the
Union; but so in the first Revolution there was much loyalty to the
Crown, and yet it has never been asserted that the people of Virginia
or of New England were forced into sedition against their will. The
truth is that there were many Southerners who, in the vain hope of
compromise, would have postponed the rupture; but when the  of
secession was questioned, and the  of coercion was proclaimed,
all differences of opinion were swept away, and the people,
thenceforward, were of one heart and mind. The action of Virginia is
a striking illustration.

The great border State, the most important of those south of Mason
and Dixon's line, was not a member of the Confederacy when the
Provisional Government was established at Montgomery. Nor did the
secession movement secure any strong measure of approval. In fact,
the people of Virginia, owing to their closer proximity to, and to
their more intimate knowledge of, the North, were by no means
inclined to make of the Black Republican President the bugbear he
appeared to the States which bordered on the Gulf of Mexico. Whilst
acknowledging that the South had grievances, they saw no reason to
believe that redress might not be obtained by constitutional means.
At the same time, although they questioned the expediency, they held
no half-hearted opinion as to the , of secession, and in their
particular case the  seems undeniable. When the Constitution of
the United States was ratified, Virginia, by the mouth of its
Legislature, had solemnly declared "that the powers granted to the
Federal Government under the Constitution, being truly derived from
the people of the United States, may be resumed by them whenever the
same shall be perverted to their injury and oppression." And this
declaration had been more than once reaffirmed. As already stated,
this view of the political status of the Virginia citizen was not
endorsed by the North. Nevertheless, it was not definitely rejected.
The majority of the Northern people held the Federal Government
paramount, but, at the same time, they held that it had no power
either to punish or coerce the individual States. This had been the
attitude of the founders of the Republic, and it is perfectly clear
that their interpretation of the Constitution was this: although the
several States were morally bound to maintain the compact into which
they had voluntarily entered, the obligation, if any one State chose
to repudiate it, could not be legally enforced. Their ideal was a
Union based upon fraternal affection; and in the halcyon days of
Washington's first presidency, when the long and victorious struggle
against a common enemy was still fresh in men's minds, and the sun of
liberty shone in an unclouded sky, a vision so Utopian perhaps seemed
capable of realisation. At all events, the promise of a new era of
unbroken peace and prosperity was not to be sullied by cold
precautions against civil dissensions and conflicting interests. The
new order, under which every man was his own sovereign, would surely
strengthen the links of kindly sympathy, and by those links alone it
was believed that the Union would be held together. Such was the
dream of the unselfish patriots who ruled the destinies of the infant
Republic. Such were the ideas that so far influenced their
deliberations that, with all their wisdom, they  a legacy to
their posterity which deluged the land in blood.

Mr. Lincoln's predecessor in the presidential chair had publicly
proclaimed that coercion was both illegal and inexpedient; and for
the three months which intervened between the secession of South
Carolina and the inauguration of the Republican President, the
Government made not the slightest attempt to interfere with the
peaceable establishment of the new Confederacy. Not a single soldier
reinforced the garrisons of the military posts in the South. Not a
single regiment was recalled from the western frontiers; and the
seceded States, without a word of protest, were permitted to take
possession, with few exceptions, of the forts, arsenals, navy yards
and custom  houses which stood on their own territory. It seemed that
the Federal Government was only waiting until an amicable arrangement
might be arrived at as to the terms of separation.

If, in addition to the words in which she had assented to the
Constitution, further justification were needed for the belief of
Virginia in the  of secession, it was assuredly to be found in
the apparent want of unanimity on so grave a question even in the
Republican party, and in the acquiescent attitude of the Federal
Government.

The people of Virginia, however, saw in the election of a Republican
President no immediate danger of the Constitution being "perverted to
their injury and oppression." The North, generally speaking, regarded
the action of the secessionists with that strange and good-humoured
tolerance with which the American citizen too often regards internal
politics. The common sense of the nation asserted itself in all its
strength. A Union which could only be maintained by force was a
strange and obnoxious idea to the majority. Amid the storm of abuse
and insult in which the two extreme parties indulged, the
abolitionists on the one side, the politicians on the other, Lincoln,

"The still strong man in a blatant land,"

stood calm and steadfast, promising justice to the South, and eager
for reconciliation. And Lincoln represented the real temper of the
Northern people.

So, in the earlier months of 1861, there was no sign whatever that
the Old Dominion might be compelled to use the alternative her
original representatives had reserved. The question of slavery was no
longer to the fore. While reprobating the action of the Confederates,
the President, in his inaugural address (March 4, 1861), had declared
that the Government had no  to interfere with the domestic
institutions of the individual States; and throughout Virginia the
feeling was strong in favour of the Union. Earnest endeavours were
made to effect a compromise, under which the seceded communities
might renew the Federal compact. The Legislature called a Convention
of the People to deliberate on the part that the State should play,
and the other States were invited to join in a Peace Conference at
Washington.

It need hardly be said that during the period of negotiation
excitement rose to the highest pitch. The political situation was the
sole theme of discussion. In Lexington as elsewhere the one absorbing
topic ousted all others, and in Lexington as elsewhere there was much
difference of opinion. But the general sentiment was strongly
Unionist, and in the election of members of the Convention an
overwhelming majority had pronounced against secession. Between the
two parties, however, there were sharp conflicts. A flagstaff flying
the national ensign had been erected in Main Street, Lexington. The
cadets fired on the flag, and substituting the State colours placed a
guard over them. Next morning a report reached the Institute that the
local company of volunteers had driven off the guard, and were about
to restore the Stars and Stripes. It was a holiday, and there were no
officers present. The drums beat to arms. The boys rushed down to
their parade-ground, buckling on their belts, and carrying their
rifles. Ammunition was distributed, and the whole battalion, under
the cadet officers, marched out of the Institute gates, determined to
lower the emblem of Northern tyranny and drive away the volunteers. A
collision would certainly have ensued had not the attacking column
been met by the Commandant.

In every discussion on the action of the State Jackson had spoken
strongly on the side of the majority. In terse phrase he had summed
up his view of the situation. He was no advocate of secession. He
deprecated the hasty action of South Carolina. "It is better," he
said, "for the South to fight for her s in the Union than out of
it." But much as they loved the Union, the people of Virginia revered
still more the principles inculcated by their forefathers, the 
of secession and the illegality of coercion. And when the proposals
of the Peace Conference came to nothing, when all hope of compromise
died away, and the Federal Government showed no sign of recognising
the Provisional Government, it became evident even to the staunchest
Unionist that civil war could no longer be postponed. From the very
first no shadow of a doubt had existed in Jackson's mind as to the
side he should espouse, or the course he should pursue. "If I know
myself," he wrote, "all I am and all I have is at the service of my
country."

According to his political creed his country was his native State,
and such was the creed of the whole South. In conforming to the
Ordinance of Secession enacted by the legislatures of their own
States, the people, according to their reading of the Constitution,
acted as loyal and patriotic citizens; to resist that ordinance was
treason and rebellion; and in taking up arms "they were not, in their
own opinion, rebels at all; they were defending their States--that
is, the nations to which they conceived themselves to belong, from
invasion and conquest."* (* History of the Civil War, Ropes chapter 1
page 3.)

When, after the incident described above, the cadets marched back to
barracks, it was already so certain that the Stars and Stripes would
soon be torn down from every flagstaff in Virginia that their breach
of discipline was easily condoned. They were addressed by the
Commandant, and amid growing excitement officer after officer, hardly
concealing his sympathy with their action, gave vent to his opinions
on the approaching crisis. Jackson was silent. At length, perhaps in
anticipation of some amusement, for he was known to be a stumbling
speaker, the cadets called on him by name. In answer to the summons
he stood before them, not, as was his wont in public assemblies, with
ill-dissembled shyness and awkward gesture, but with body erect and
eyes sparkling. "Soldiers," he said, "when they make speeches should
say but few words, and speak them to the point, and I admire, young
gentlemen, the spirit you have shown in rushing to the defence of
your comrades; but I must commend you particularly for the readiness
with which you listened to the counsel and obeyed the commands of
your superior officer. The time may come," he continued, and the deep
tones, vibrating with unsuspected resolution, held his audience
spellbound, "when your State will need your services; and if that
time does come, then draw your swords and throw away the scabbards."

The crisis was not long postponed. Fort Sumter, in Charleston
Harbour, the port of South Carolina, was held by a Federal garrison.
The State had demanded its surrender, but no reply had been
vouchsafed by Lincoln. On April 8 a message was conveyed to the
Governor of the State that an attempt would be made to supply the
troops with provisions. This message was telegraphed to Montgomery,
still the capital of the Confederacy, and the Government ordered the
reduction of the fort. On the morning of April 12 the Southern
batteries opened fire, and the next day, when the flames were already
scorching the doors of the magazine, the standard of the Union was
hauled down.

Two days later Lincoln spoke with no uncertain voice. 75,000 militia
were called out to suppress the "rebellion." The North gave the
President loyal support. The insult to the flag set the blood of the
nation, of Democrat and Republican, aflame. The time for
reconciliation was passed. The Confederates had committed an
unpardonable crime. They had forfeited all title to consideration;
and even in the minds of those Northerners who had shared their
political creed the memory of their grievances was obliterated.

So far Virginia had given no overt sign of sympathy with the
revolution. But she was now called upon to furnish her quota of
regiments for the Federal army. To have acceded to the demand would
have been to abjure the most cherished principles of her political
existence. As the Federal Government, according to her political
faith, had no jurisdiction whatever within the boundaries of States
which had chosen to secede, it had not the slightest  to
maintain a garrison in Fort Sumter. The action of the Confederacy in
enforcing the withdrawal of the troops was not generally approved of,
but it was held to be perfectly legitimate; and Mr. Lincoln's appeal
to arms, for the purpose of suppressing what, in the opinion of
Virginia, was a strictly constitutional movement, was instantly and
fiercely challenged.

Neutrality was impossible. She was bound to furnish her tale of
troops, and thus belie her principles; or to secede at once, and
reject with a clean conscience the President's mandate. On April 17
she chose the latter, deliberately and with her eyes open, knowing
that war would be the result, and knowing the vast resources of the
North. She was followed by Arkansas, Tennessee, and North Carolina.*
(* Kentucky and Missouri attempted to remain neutral. Maryland was
held in check by the Federal Government, and Delaware sided with the
North. The first three, however, supplied large contingents to the
Confederate armies.)

The world has long since done justice to the motives of Cromwell and
of Washington, and signs are not wanting that before many years have
passed it will do justice to the motives of the Southern people. They
were true to their interpretation of the Constitution; and if the
morality of secession may be questioned, if South Carolina acted with
undue haste and without sufficient provocation, if certain of the
Southern politicians desired emancipation for themselves that they
might continue to enslave others, it can hardly be denied that the
action of Virginia was not only fully justified, but beyond
suspicion. The wildest threats of the Black Republicans, their loudly
expressed determination, in defiance of the Constitution, to abolish
slavery, if necessary by the bullet and the sabre, shook in no degree
whatever her loyalty to the Union. Her best endeavours were exerted
to maintain the peace between the hostile sections; and not till her
liberties were menaced did she repudiate a compact which had become
intolerable. It was to preserve the freedom which her forefathers had
bequeathed her, and which she desired to hand down unsullied to
future generations, that she acquiesced in the revolution.

The North, in resolving to maintain the Union by force of arms, was
upheld by the belief that she was acting in accordance with the
Constitution. The South, in asserting her independence and resisting
coercion, found moral support in the same conviction, and the
patriotism of those who fought for the Union was neither purer nor
more ardent than the patriotism of those who fought for States'
Rights. Long ago, a parliament of that nation to which Jackson and so
many of his compatriots owed their origin made petition to the Pope
that he should require the English king "to respect the independence
of Scotland, and to mind his own affairs. So long as a hundred of us
are  alive," said the signatories, "we will never in any degree
be subjected to the English. It is not for glory, or for riches, or
for honour that we fight, but for liberty alone, which no good man
loses but with his life." More than five hundred years later, for the
same noble cause and in the same uncompromising spirit, the people of
Virginia made appeal to the God of battles.

</section>
<section id="8" fatherid="1" title="HARPER'S FERRY" lv="CHAPTER 1.5." priority="0" level="2">
1861.

Immediately it became apparent that the North was bent upon
re-conquest Jackson offered his sword to his native State. He was
determined to take his share in defending her s and liberties,
even if it were only as a private soldier. Devotion to Virginia was
his sole motive. He shrank from the horrors of civil strife. The
thought that the land he loved so well was to be deluged with the
blood of her own children, that the happy hearths of America were to
be desecrated by the hideous image of war, stifled the promptings of
professional ambition. "If the general Government," he said, "should
persist in the measures now threatened, there must be war. It is
painful enough to discover with what unconcern they speak of war, and
threaten it. They do not know its horrors. I have seen enough of it
to make me look upon it as the sum of all evils."

The methods he resorted to in order that the conflict might be
averted were characteristic. He proposed to the minister of his
church that all Christian people should be called upon to unite in
prayer; and in his own devotions, says his wife, he asked with
importunity that, if it were God's will, the whole land might be at
peace.

His work, after the Ordinance of Secession had been passed, was
constant and absorbing. The Governor of Virginia had informed the
Superintendent of the Institute that he should need the services of
the more advanced classes as drill-masters, and that they must be
prepared to leave for Richmond, under the command of Major Jackson,
at a moment's notice.

The Lexington Presbytery was holding its spring meeting in the church
which Jackson attended, and some of the members were entertained at
his house; but he found no time to attend a single service--every
hour was devoted to the duty he had in hand.

On the Saturday of that eventful week he expressed the hope that he
would not be called upon to leave till Monday; and, bidding his wife
dismiss from her thoughts everything pertaining to the war and his
departure, they spent that evening as they had been accustomed,
reading aloud from religious magazines, and studying together the
lesson which was to be taught on the morrow in the Sunday-school.

But at dawn the next morning came a telegram, directing Major Jackson
to bring the cadets to Richmond immediately. He repaired at once to
the Institute; and at one o'clock, after divine service, at his
request, had been held at the head of the command, the cadet
battalion marched to Staunton, on the Virginia Central Railway, and
there took train.

Camp Lee, the rendezvous of the Virginia army, presented a peculiar
if animated scene. With few exceptions, every man capable of serving
in the field belonged either to the militia or the volunteers. Some
of the companies had a smattering of drill, but the majority were
absolutely untaught, and the whole were without the slightest
conception of what was meant by discipline. And it was difficult to
teach them. The non-commissioned officers and men of the United
States army were either Irish or Germans, without State ties, and
they had consequently no inducement to join the South. With the
officers it was different. They were citizens first, and soldiers
afterwards; and as citizens, their allegiance, so far as those of
Southern birth were concerned, was due to their native States. Out of
the twelve hundred graduates of West Point who, at the beginning of
1861, were still fit for service, a fourth were Southerners, and
these, almost without exception, at once took service with the
Confederacy. But the regular officers were almost all required for
the higher commands, for technical duties, and the staff; thus very
few were  to instruct the volunteers. The intelligence of the men
was high, for every profession and every class was represented in the
ranks, and many of the wealthiest planters preferred, so earnest was
their patriotism, to serve as privates; but as yet they were merely
the elements of a fine army, and nothing more. Their equipment 
as much to be desired as their training. Arms were far scarcer than
men. The limited supply of rifles in the State arsenals was soon
exhausted. Flintlock muskets, converted to percussion action, were
then supplied; but no inconsiderable numbers of fowling-pieces and
shot-guns were to be seen amongst the infantry, while the cavalry, in
default of sabres, carried rude lances fabricated by country
blacksmiths. Some of the troops wore uniform, the blue of the militia
or the grey of the cadet; but many of the companies drilled and
manoeuvred in plain clothes; and it was not till three months later,
on the eve of the first great battle, that the whole of the infantry
had received their bayonets and cartridge boxes.

An assemblage so motley could hardly be called an army; and the
daring of the Government, who, with this levee en masse as their only
bulwark against invasion, had defied a great power, seems at first
sight strongly allied to folly. But there was little cause for
apprehension. The Federal authorities were as yet powerless to
enforce the policy of invasion on which the President had resolved.
The great bulk of the Northern troops were just as far from being
soldiers as the Virginians, and the regular army was too small to be
feared.

The people of the United States had long cherished the Utopian dream
that war was impossible upon their favoured soil. The militia was
considered an archeological absurdity. The regular troops, admirable
as was their work upon the frontier, were far from being a source of
national pride. The uniform was held to be a badge of servitude. The
drunken loafer, bartering his vote for a dollar or a dram, looked
down with the contempt of a sovereign citizen upon men who submitted
to the indignity of discipline; and, in denouncing the expense of a
standing army, unscrupulous politicians found a sure path to popular
favour. So, when secession became something more than a mere threat,
the armed forces of the commonwealth had been reduced almost to
extinction; and when the flag was fired upon, the nation found itself
powerless to resent the insult. The military establishment mustered
no more than 16,000 officers and men. There was no reserve, no
transport, no organisation for war, and the troops were scattered in
distant garrisons. The navy consisted of six screw-frigates, only one
of which was in commission, of five steam sloops, some twenty sailing
ships, and a few gun-boats. The majority of the vessels, although
well armed, were out of date. 9000 officers and men were the extent
of the personnel, and several useful craft, together with more than
1200 guns, were laid up in Norfolk dockyard, on the coast of
Virginia, within a hundred miles of Richmond.*

(* Strength of the Federal Navy at different periods:--
March 4, 1861: 42 ships in commission.
December 1, 1861: 264 ships in commission.
December 1, 1862: 427 ships in commission.
December 1, 1863: 588 ships in commission.
December 1, 1864: 671 ships in commission.)

The cause of the Confederacy, although her white population of seven
million souls was smaller by two-thirds than that of the North, was
thus far from hopeless. The North undoubtedly possessed immense
resources. But an efficient army, even when the supply of men and
arms be unlimited, cannot be created in a few weeks, or even in a few
months, least of all an army of invasion. Undisciplined troops, if
the enemy be ill-handled, may possibly stand their ground on the
defensive, as did Jackson's riflemen at New Orleans, or the colonials
at Bunker's Hill. But fighting behind earthworks is a very different
matter to making long marches, and executing complicated manoeuvres
under heavy fire. Without a trained staff and an efficient
administration, an army is incapable of movement. Even with a
well-organised commissariat it is a most difficult business to keep a
marching column supplied with food and forage; and the problem of
transport, unless a railway or a river be available, taxes the
ability of the most experienced leader. A march of eighty or one
hundred miles into an enemy's country sounds a simple feat, but
unless every detail has been most carefully thought out, it will not
improbably be more disastrous than a lost battle. A march of two or
three hundred miles is a great military operation; a march of six
hundred an enterprise of which there are few examples. To handle an
army in battle is much less difficult than to bring it on to the
field in good condition; and the student of the Civil War may note
with profit how exceedingly chary were the generals, during the first
campaigns, of leaving their magazines. It was not till their
auxiliary services had gained experience that they dared to manoeuvre
freely; and the reason lay not only in deficiencies of organisation,
but in the nature of the country. Even for a stationary force,
standing on the defensive, unless immediately backed by a large town
or a railway, the difficulties of bringing up supplies were enormous.
For an invading army, increasing day by day the distance from its
base, they became almost insuperable. In 1861, the population of the
United States, spread over a territory as large as Europe, was less
than that of England, and a great part of that territory was
practically unexplored. Even at the present day their seventy
millions are but a handful in comparison with the size of their
dominions, and their extraordinary material progress is not much more
than a scratch on the surface of the continent. In Europe Nature has
long since receded before the works of man. In America the struggle
between them has but just begun; and except upon the Atlantic
seaboard man is almost lost to sight in the vast spaces he has yet to
conquer. In many of the oldest States of the Union the cities seem
set in clearings of the primeval forest. The wild woodland encroaches
on the suburbs, and within easy reach of the very capital are
districts where the Indian hunter might still roam undisturbed. The
traveller lands in a metropolis as large as Paris; before a few hours
have passed he may find himself in a wilderness as solitary as the
Transvaal; and although within the boundaries of the townships he
sees little that differs from the England of the nineteenth
century--beyond them there is much that resembles the England of the
Restoration. Except over a comparatively small area an army operating
in the United States would meet with the same obstacles as did the
soldiers of Cromwell and Turenne. Roads are few and indifferent;
towns few and far between; food and forage are not easily obtainable,
for the country is but partially cultivated; great rivers, bridged at
rare intervals, issue from the barren solitudes of rugged plateaus;
in many low-lying regions a single storm is sufficient to convert the
undrained alluvial into a fetid swamp, and tracts as large as an
English county are covered with pathless forest. Steam and the
telegraph, penetrating even the most lonely jungles, afford, it is
true, such facilities for moving and feeding large bodies of men that
the difficulties presented by untamed Nature have undoubtedly been
much reduced. Nevertheless the whole country, even to-day, would be
essentially different from any European theatre of war, save the
steppes of Russia; and in 1861 railways were few, and the population
comparatively insignificant.

The impediments, then, in the way of military operations were such as
no soldier of experience would willingly encounter with an improvised
army. It was no petty republic that the North had undertaken to
coerce. The frontiers of the Confederacy were far apart. The coast
washed by the Gulf of Mexico is eight hundred miles south of Harper's
Ferry on the Potomac; the Rio Grande, the river boundary of Texas, is
seventeen hundred miles west of Charleston on the Atlantic. And over
this vast expanse ran but six continuous lines of railway:--

FROM THE POTOMAC.

1. Washington, Richmond, Lynchburg, Chattanooga, Memphis, New
Orleans.

2. Washington, Richmond, Weldon, Greensboro, Columbia, Atlanta, New
Orleans.

(These connected Richmond with the Mississippi.)

FROM THE OHIO.

3. Cairo, Memphis, New Orleans.

4. Cairo, Corinth, Mobile.

5. Louisville, Nashville, Dalton, Atlanta, Mobile.

(These connected the Ohio with the Gulf of Mexico.)

6. Richmond, Wilmington, Charleston, Savannah.

(This connected Richmond with the ports on the Atlantic.)

Although in the Potomac and the Ohio the Federals possessed two
excellent bases of invasion, on which it was easy to accumulate both
men and supplies, the task before them, even had the regular army
been large and well equipped, would have been sufficiently
formidable. The city of Atlanta, which may be considered as the heart
of the Confederacy, was sixty days' march from the Potomac, the same
distance as Vienna from the English Channel, or Moscow from the
Niemen. New Orleans, the commercial metropolis, was thirty-six days'
march from the Ohio, the same distance as Berlin from the Moselle.
Thus space was all in favour of the South; even should the enemy
overrun her borders, her principal cities, few in number, were far
removed from the hostile bases, and the important railway junctions
were perfectly secure from sudden attack. And space, especially when
means of communication are scanty, and the country affords few
supplies, is the greatest of all obstacles. The hostile territory
must be subjugated piecemeal, state by state, province by province,
as was Asia by Alexander; and after each victory a new base of supply
must be provisioned and secured, no matter at what cost of time,
before a further advance can be attempted. Had Napoleon in the
campaign against Russia remained for the winter at Smolensko, and
firmly established himself in Poland, Moscow might have been captured
and held during the ensuing summer. But the occupation of Moscow
would not have ended the war. Russia in many respects was not unlike
the Confederacy. She had given no hostages to fortune in the shape of
rich commercial towns; she possessed no historic fortresses; and so
offered but few objectives to an invader. If defeated or retreating,
her armies could always find refuge in distant fastnesses. The
climate was severe; the internal trade inconsiderable; to bring the
burden of war home to the mass of the population was difficult, and
to hold the country by force impracticable. Such were the
difficulties which the genius of Napoleon was powerless to overcome,
and Napoleon invaded Russia with half a million of seasoned soldiers.

And yet with an army of 75,000 volunteers, and without the least
preparation, the Federal Government was about to attempt an
enterprise of even greater magnitude. The Northern States were not
bent merely on invasion, but on re-conquest; not merely on defeating
the hostile armies, on occupying their capital, and exacting
contributions, but on forcing a proud people to surrender their most
cherished principles, to give up their own government, and to submit
themselves, for good and all, to what was practically a foreign yoke.
And this was not all. It has been well said by a soldier of Napoleon,
writing of the war in Spain, that neither the government nor the army
are the real bulwarks against foreign aggression, but the national
character. The downfall of Austria and of Prussia was practically
decided by the first great battle. The nations yielded without
further struggle. Strangers to freedom, crushed by military
absolutism, the prostration of each and all to an irresponsible
despot had paralysed individual energy. Spain, on the other hand,
without an army and without a ruler, but deriving new strength from
each successive defeat, first taught Napoleon that he was not
invincible. And the same spirit of liberty which inspired the people
of the Peninsula inspired, to an even higher degree, the people of
the Confederate States.

(MAP. THE UNITED STATES. 1861.)

The Northern States, moreover, were about to make a new departure in
war. The manhood of a country has often been called upon to defend
its borders; but never before had it been proposed to invade a vast
territory with a civilian army, composed, it is true, of the best
blood in the Republic, but without the least tincture of military
experience. Nor did the senior officers, professionals though they
were, appear more fitted for the enterprise than the men they led.
The command of a company or squadron against the redskins was hardly
an adequate probation for the command of an army,* or even a brigade,
of raw troops against a well-armed foe. (* Even after the Peninsular
War had enlarged the experience of the British army, Sir Charles
Napier declared that he knew but one general who could handle 100,000
men, and that was the Duke of Wellington.) Had the volunteers been
associated with an equal number of trained and disciplined soldiers,
as had been the case in Mexico,* (* Grant's Memoirs volume 1 page
168.) they would have derived both confidence from their presence,
and stability from their example; had there been even an experienced
staff, capable of dealing with large forces, and an efficient
commissariat, capable of rapid expansion, they might have crushed all
organised opposition. But only 3000 regulars could be drawn from the
Western borders; the staff was as feeble as the commissariat; and so,
from a purely military point of view, the conquest of the South
appeared impossible. Her self-sustaining power was far greater than
has been usually imagined. On the broad prairies of Texas, Arkansas,
and Louisiana ranged innumerable herds. The area under cultivation
was almost equal to that north of the Potomac and the Ohio. The
pastoral districts--the beautiful Valley of Virginia, the great
plains of Georgia, the fertile bottoms of Alabama, were inexhaustible
granaries. The amount of live stock--horses, mules, oxen, and
sheep--was actually larger than in the North; and if the acreage
under wheat was less extensive, the deficiency was more than balanced
by the great harvests of rice and maize.* (* Cf. U.S. Census Returns
1860.) Men of high ability, but profoundly ignorant of the conditions
which govern military operations, prophesied that the South would be
brought back to the Union within ninety days; General Winfield Scott,
on the other hand, Commander-in-Chief of the Federal armies, declared
that its conquest might be achieved "in two or three years, by a
young and able general--a Wolfe, a Desaix, a Hoche--with 300,000
disciplined men kept up to that number."

Nevertheless, despite the extent of her territory and her scanty
means of communication, the South was peculiarly vulnerable. Few
factories or foundries had been established within her frontiers. She
manufactured nothing; and not only for all luxuries, but for almost
every necessary of life, she was dependent upon others. Her cotton
and tobacco brought leather and cloth in exchange from England.
Metals, machinery, rails, rolling stock, salt, and even medicines
came, for the most part, from the North. The weapons which she put
into her soldiers' hands during the first year of the war, her
cannon, powder, and ammunition, were of foreign make. More than all,
her mercantile marine was very small. Her foreign trade was in the
hands of Northern merchants. She had ship-yards, for Norfolk and
Pensacola, both national establishments, were within her boundaries;
but her seafaring population was inconsiderable, and shipbuilding was
almost an unknown industry. Strong on land, she was powerless at sea,
and yet it was on the sea that her prosperity depended. Cotton, the
principal staple of her wealth, demanded free access to the European
markets. But without a navy, and without the means of constructing
one, or of manning the vessels that she might easily have purchased,
she was unable to keep open her communications across the Atlantic.

Nor was it on the ocean alone that the South was at a disadvantage.
The Mississippi, the main artery of her commerce, which brought the
harvests of the plantations to New Orleans, and which divided her
territory into two distinct portions, was navigable throughout; while
other great rivers and many estuaries, leading into the heart of her
dominions, formed the easiest of highways for the advance of an
invading army. Very early had her fatal weakness been detected.
Immediately Fort Sumter fell, Lincoln had taken measures to isolate
the seceding States, to close every channel by which they could
receive either succour or supplies, and if need be to starve them
into submission. The maritime resources of the Union were so large
that the navy was rapidly expanded. Numbers of trained seamen,
recruited from the merchant service and the fisheries, were at once
available.

The Northern shipbuilders had long been famous; and both men and
vessels, if the necessity should arise, might be procured in Europe.
Judicious indeed was the policy which, at the very outset of the war,
brought the tremendous pressure of the sea-power to bear against the
South; and, had her statesmen possessed the knowledge of what that
pressure meant, they must have realised that Abraham Lincoln was no
ordinary foe. In forcing the Confederates to become the aggressors,
and to fire on the national ensign, he had created a united North; in
establishing a blockade of their coasts he brought into play a force,
which, like the mills of God, "grinds slowly, but grinds exceeding
small."

But for the present the Federal navy was far too small to watch three
thousand miles of littoral indented by spacious harbours and secluded
bays, protected in many cases by natural breakwaters, and
communicating by numerous channels with the open sea. Moreover, it
was still an even chance whether cotton became a source of weakness
to the Confederacy or a source of strength. If the markets of Europe
were closed to her by the hostile battle-ships, the credit of the
young Republic would undoubtedly be seriously impaired; but the
majority of the Southern politicians believed that the great powers
beyond the Atlantic would never allow the North to enforce her
restrictive policy. England and France, a large portion of whose
population depended for their livelihood on the harvests of the
South, were especially interested; and England and France, both great
maritime States, were not likely to brook interference with their
trade. Nor had the Southern people a high opinion of Northern
patriotism. They could hardly conceive that the maintenance of the
Union, which they themselves considered so light a bond, had been
exalted elsewhere to the height of a sacred principle. Least of all
did they believe that the great Democratic party, which embraced so
large a proportion of the Northern people, and which, for so many
years, had been in close sympathy with themselves, would support the
President in his coercive measures.

History, moreover, not always an infallible guide, supplied many
plausible arguments to those who sought to forecast the immediate
future. In the War of Independence, not only had the impracticable
nature of the country, especially of the South, baffled the armies of
Great Britain, but the European powers, actuated by old grudges and
commercial jealousy, had come to the aid of the insurgents. On a
theatre of war where trained and well-organised forces had failed, it
was hardly to be expected that raw levies would succeed; and if
England, opposed in 1782 by the fleets of France, Spain, and Holland,
had been compelled to let the colonies go, it was hardly likely that
the North, confronted by the naval strength of England and France,
would long maintain the struggle with the South. Trusting then to
foreign intervention, to the dissensions of their opponents, and to
their own hardihood and unanimity, the Southerners faced the future
with few misgivings.

At Richmond, finding himself without occupation, Major Jackson
volunteered to assist in the drilling of the new levies. The duty to
which he was first assigned was distasteful. He was an indifferent
draughtsman, and a post in the topographical department was one for
which he was hardly fitted. The appointment, fortunately, was not
confirmed. Some of his friends in the Confederate Congress proposed
that he should be sent to command at Harper's Ferry, an important
outpost on the northern frontier of Virginia. There was some
opposition, not personal to Jackson and of little moment, but it
called forth a remark that shows the estimation in which he was held
by men who knew him.

"Who is this Major Jackson?" it was asked.

"He is one," was the reply, "who, if you order him to hold a post,
will never leave it alive to be occupied by the enemy."

Harper's Ferry, the spot where the first collision might confidently
be expected, was a charge after Jackson's own heart.

April 26.

"Last Saturday," he writes to his wife, "the Governor handed me my
commission as Colonel of Virginia Volunteers, the post I prefer above
all others, and has given me an independent command. Little one, you
must not expect to hear from me very often, as I expect to have more
work than I ever had in the same length of time before; but don't be
concerned about your husband, for our kind Heavenly Father will give
every needful aid."

The garrison at Harper's Ferry consisted of a large number of
independent companies of infantry, a few light companies, as they
were called, of cavalry, and fifteen smooth-bore cannon of small
calibre. This force numbered 4500 officers and men, of whom all but
400 were Virginians. Jackson's appearance was not hailed with
acclamation. The officers of the State militia had hitherto exercised
the functions of command over the ill-knit concourse of enthusiastic
patriots. The militia, however, was hardly more than a force on
paper, and the camps swarmed with generals and field-officers who
were merely civilians in gaudy uniform. By order of the State
Legislature these gentlemen were now deprived of their fine feathers.
Every militia officer above the rank of captain was deposed; and the
Governor of Virginia was authorised to fill the vacancies. This
measure was by no means popular. Both by officers and men it was
denounced as an outrage on freemen and volunteers; and the companies
met in convention for the purpose of passing denunciatory resolutions.

Their new commander was a sorry substitute for the brilliant figures
he had superseded. The militia generals had surrounded themselves
with a numerous staff, and on fine afternoons, it was said, the
official display in Harper's Ferry would have done no discredit to
the Champs-Elysees. Jackson had but two assistants, who, like
himself, still wore the plain blue uniform of the Military Institute.
To eyes accustomed to the splendid trappings and prancing steeds of
his predecessors there seemed an almost painful want of pomp and
circumstance about the colonel of volunteers. There was not a
particle of gold lace about him. He rode a horse as quiet as himself.
His seat in the saddle was ungraceful. His well-worn cadet cap was
always tilted over his eyes; he was sparing of speech; his voice was
very quiet, and he seldom smiled. He made no orations, he held no
reviews, and his orders were remarkable for their brevity. Even with
his officers he had little intercourse. He confided his plans to no
one, and not a single item of information, useful or otherwise,
escaped his lips.

Some members of the Maryland Legislature, a body whom it was
important to conciliate, visited Harper's Ferry during his tenure of
command. They were received with the utmost politeness, and in return
plied the general with many questions. His answers were
unsatisfactory, and at length one more bold than the rest asked him
frankly how many men he had at his disposal. "Sir," was the reply, "I
should be glad if President Lincoln thought I had fifty thousand."
Nor was this reticence observed only towards those whose discretion
he mistrusted. He was silent on principle. In the campaign of 1814,
the distribution of the French troops at a most critical moment was
made known to the allies by the capture of a courier carrying a
letter from Napoleon to the Empress. There was little chance of a
letter to Mrs. Jackson, who was now in North Carolina, falling into
the hands of the Federals; but even in so small a matter Jackson was
consistent.

"You say," he wrote, "that your husband never writes you any news. I
suppose you mean military news, for I have written you a great deal
about your sposo and how much he loves you. What do you want with
military news? Don't you know that it is unmilitary and unlike an
officer to write news respecting one's post? You couldn't wish your
husband to do an unofficer-like thing, could you?"

And then, the claims of duty being thus clearly defined, he proceeds
to describe the roses which climbed round the window of his temporary
quarters, adding, with that lover-like devotion which every letter
betrays, "but my sweet little sunny face is what I want to see most
of all."

Careful as he was to keep the enemy in the dark, he was exceedingly
particular when he visited his distant posts on the Potomac that his
presence should be unobserved. Had it become known to the Federal
generals that the commander at Harper's Ferry had reconnoitred a
certain point of passage, a clue might have been given to his
designs. The Confederate officers, therefore, in charge of these
posts, were told that Colonel Jackson did not wish them to recognise
him. He rode out accompanied by a single staff officer, and the men
were seldom aware that the brigadier had been through their camps.

Never was a commander who fell so far short of the popular idea of a
dashing leader. This quiet gentleman, who came and went unnoticed,
who had nothing to say, and was so anxious to avoid observation, was
a type of soldier unfamiliar to the volunteers. He was duty
personified and nothing more.

But at the same time the troops instinctively felt that this absence
of ostentation meant hard work. They began to realise the magnitude
of the obligations they had assumed. Soldiering was evidently
something more than a series of brilliant spectacles and social
gatherings. Here was a man in earnest, who looked upon war as a
serious business, who was completely oblivious to what people said or
thought; and his example was not without effect. The conventions came
to nothing; and when the companies were organised in battalions, and
some of the deposed officers were reappointed to command, the men
went willingly to work. Their previous knowledge, even of drill, was
of the scantiest. Officers and men had to begin as recruits, and
Jackson was not the man to cut short essential preliminaries. Seven
hours' drill daily was a heavy tax upon enthusiasm; but it was
severely enforced, and the garrison of the frontier post soon learned
the elements of manoeuvre. Discipline was a lesson more difficult
than drill. The military code, in all its rigour, could not be at
once applied to a body of high-spirited and inexperienced civilians.
Undue severity might have produced the very worst results. The
observance, therefore, of those regulations which were not in
themselves essential to efficiency or health was not insisted on.
Lapses in military etiquette were suffered to pass unnoticed; no
attempt was made to draw a hard and fast line between officers and
men; and many things which in a regular army would be considered
grossly irregular were tacitly permitted. Jackson was well aware that
volunteers of the type he commanded needed most delicate and tactful
handling. The chief use of minute regulations and exacting routine is
the creation of the instinct of obedience. Time was wanting to instil
such instinct into the Confederate troops; and the intelligence and
patriotism of the men, largely of high class and good position, who
filled the ranks, might be relied upon to prevent serious misconduct.
Had they been burdened with the constant acknowledgment of superior
authority which becomes a second nature to the regular soldier,
disgust and discontent might have taken the place of high spirit and
good-will. But at the same time wilful misbehaviour was severely
checked. Neglect of duty and insubordination were crimes which
Jackson never forgave, and deliberate disobedience was in his eyes as
unmanly an offence as cowardice. He knew when to be firm as well as
when to relax, and it was not only in the administration of
discipline that he showed his tact. He was the most patient of
instructors. So long as those under him were trying to do their best,
no one could have been kinder or more forbearing; and he constantly
urged his officers to come to his tent when they required explanation
as to the details of their duty.

Besides discipline and instruction, Jackson had the entire
administration of his command upon his hands. Ammunition was
exceedingly scarce, and he had to provide for the manufacture of
ball-cartridges. Transport there was none, but the great waggons of
the Valley farmers supplied the deficiency. The equipment of the
artillery  much to be desired, and ammunition carts (or caissons)
were constructed by fixing roughly made chests on the running gear of
waggons. The supply and medical services were non-existent, and
everything had to be organised de novo. Thus the officer in command
at Harper's Ferry had his hands full; and in addition to his
administrative labours there was the enemy to be watched, information
to be obtained, and measures of defence to be considered. A glance at
the map will show the responsibilities of Jackson's position.

The Virginia of the Confederacy was cut in two by the Blue Ridge, a
chain of mountains three hundred and thirty miles in length, which,
rising in North Carolina, passes under different names through
Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York, and Vermont, and sinks to the level
on the Canadian frontier.

The Blue Ridge varies in height from 2000 to 6000 feet. Densely
wooded, it is traversed in Virginia only by the Gaps, through which
ran three railways and several roads. These Gaps were of great
strategic importance, for if they were once secured, a Northern army,
moving up the Valley of the Shenandoah, would find a covered line of
approach towards the Virginia and Tennessee railway, which connected
Richmond with the Mississippi. Nor was this the only advantage it
would gain. From Lexington at its head, to Harper's Ferry, where it
strikes the Potomac, throughout its whole length of one hundred and
forty miles, the Valley was rich in agricultural produce. Its average
width, for it is bounded on the west by the eastern ranges of the
Alleghanies, is not more than four-and-twenty miles; but there are
few districts of the earth's surface, of equal extent, more favoured
by Nature or more highly cultivated. It was the granary of Virginia;
and not Richmond only, but the frontier garrisons, depended largely
for subsistence on the farms of the Shenandoah.

Moreover, if the Valley were occupied by the Federals, North-western
Virginia would be cut off from the Confederacy; and Jackson's native
mountains, inhabited by a brave and hardy race, would be lost as a
recruiting ground.

In order, then, to secure the loyalty of the mountaineers, to supply
the armies, and to protect the railways, the retention of the Valley
was of the utmost importance to the Confederacy. The key of the
communication with the North-west was Winchester, the chief town of
the lower Valley, twenty-six miles, in an air-line, south-west of
Harper's Ferry. From Winchester two highways lead westward, by Romney
and Moorefield; four lead east and south-east, crossing the Blue
Ridge by Snicker's, Ashby's, Manassas, and Chester's Gaps; and the
first object of the Confederate force at Harper's Ferry was to cover
this nucleus of roads.

During the month of May the garrison of the frontier post was
undisturbed by the enemy. Lincoln's first call had been for 75,000
volunteers. On May 3 he asked for an additional 40,000; these when
trained, with 18,000 seamen and a detachment of regulars, would place
at his disposal 150,000 men. The greater part of this force had
assembled at Washington; but a contingent of 10,000 or 12,000 men
under General Patterson, a regular officer of many years' service,
was collecting in Pennsylvania, and an outpost of 3000 men was
established at Chambersburg, forty-five miles north of Harper's Ferry.

These troops, however, though formidable in numbers, were as
ill-prepared for war as the Confederates, and no immediate movement
was to be anticipated. Not only had the Federal authorities to equip
and organise their levies, but the position of Washington was the
cause of much embarrassment. The District of Columbia--the sixty
square miles set apart for the seat of the Federal Government--lies
on the Potomac, fifty miles south-east of Harper's Ferry, wedged in
between Virginia on the one side and Maryland on the other.

The loyalty of Maryland to the Union was more than doubtful. As a
slave-holding State, her sympathies were strongly Southern; and it
was only her geographical situation, north of the Potomac, and with
no strong frontier to protect her from invasion, which had held her
back from joining the Confederacy. As only a single line of railway
connected Washington with the North, passing through Baltimore, the
chief city of Maryland, a very hot-bed of secession sentiment, the
attitude of the State was a matter of the utmost anxiety to the
Federal Government. An attempt to send troops through Baltimore to
Washington had provoked a popular commotion and some bloodshed. Stern
measures had been necessary to keep the railway open. Baltimore was
placed under martial law, and strongly garrisoned. But despite these
precautions, for some weeks the feeling in Maryland was so hostile to
the Union that it was not considered safe for the Northern troops to
cross her territory except in large numbers; and the concentration at
Washington of a force sufficient to defend it was thus attended with
much difficulty.

A single railroad, too, the Baltimore and Ohio, connected Washington
with the West. Crossing the Potomac at Harper's Ferry, and following
the course of the river, it ran for one hundred and twenty miles
within the confines of Virginia. Thus the district commanded by
Jackson embraced an artery of supply and communication which was of
great importance to the enemy. The natural course would have been to
destroy the line at once; but the susceptibilities of both Maryland
and West Virginia had to be considered. The stoppage of all traffic
on their main trade route would have done much to alienate the people
from the South, and there was still hope that Maryland might throw in
her lot with her seceded sisters.

The line was therefore  intact, and the company was permitted to
maintain the regular service of trains, including the mails. For this
privilege, however, Jackson exacted toll. The Confederate railways
were deficient in rolling stock, and he determined to effect a large
transfer from the Baltimore and Ohio. From Point of Rocks, twelve
miles east of Harper's Ferry, to Martinsburg, fifteen miles west, the
line was double. "The coal traffic along it," says General Imboden,
"was immense, for the Washington Government was accumulating supplies
of coal on the seaboard. These coal trains passed Harper's Ferry at
all hours of the day and night, and thus furnished Jackson with a
pretext for arranging a brilliant capture. A detachment was posted at
Point of Rocks, and the 5th Virginia Infantry at Martinsburg. He then
complained to the President of the Baltimore and Ohio that the night
trains, eastward bound, disturbed the repose of his camp, and
requested a change of schedule that would pass all east-bound trains
by Harper's Ferry between eleven and one o'clock in the daytime. The
request was complied with, and thereafter for several days was heard
the constant roar of passing trains for an hour before and an hour
after noon. But since the "empties" were sent up the road at night,
Jackson again complained that the nuisance was as great as ever, and,
as the road had two tracks, said he must insist that the west-bound
trains should pass during the same hour as those going east. Again he
was obliged, and we then had, for two hours every day, the liveliest
railroad in America.

"One night, as soon as the schedule was working at its best, Jackson
instructed the officer commanding at Point of Rocks to take a force
of men across to the Maryland side of the river the next day at
eleven o'clock, and letting all west-bound trains pass till twelve
o'clock, to permit none to go east. He ordered the reverse to be done
at Martinsburg.

"Thus he caught all the trains that were going east or west between
these points, and ran them up to Winchester, thirty-two miles on the
branch line, whence they were removed by horse power to the railway
at Strasburg, eighteen miles further south."* (* Battles and Leaders
volume 1.)

May 24.

This capture was Jackson's only exploit whilst in command at Harper's
Ferry. On May 24 he was relieved by General Joseph E. Johnston, one
of the senior officers of the Confederate army. The transfer of
authority was not, however, at once effected. Johnston reached
Harper's Ferry in advance of his letter of appointment. Jackson had
not been instructed that he was to hand over his command, and,
strictly conforming to the regulations, he respectfully declined to
vacate his post. Fortunately a communication soon came from General
Lee, commanding the Virginia troops, in which he referred to Johnston
as in command at Harper's Ferry. Jackson at once recognised this
letter as official evidence that he was superseded, and from that
time forth rendered his superior the most faithful and zealous
support. He seems at first to have expected that he would be sent to
North-west Virginia, and his one ambition at this time was to be
selected as the instrument of saving his native mountains to the
South. But the Confederate Government had other views. At the
beginning of June a more compact organisation was given to the
regiments at Harper's Ferry, and Jackson was assigned to the command
of the First Brigade of the Army of the Shenandoah.* (* The Virginia
troops were merged in the army of the Confederate States on June 8,
1861. The total strength was 40,000 men and 115 guns. O.R. volume 2
page 928.)

Recruited in the Valley of the Shenandoah and the western mountains,
the brigade consisted of the following regiments:--

The 2nd Virginia, Colonel Allen.
The 4th Virginia, Colonel Preston.
The 5th Virginia, Colonel Harper.
The 27th Virginia, Lieutenant-Colonel Echols.
The 33rd Virginia, Colonel Cummings.

A battery of artillery, raised in Rockbridge County, was attached to
the brigade. Commanded by the Reverend Dr. Pendleton, the rector of
Lexington, an old West Point graduate, who was afterwards
distinguished as Lee's chief of artillery, and recruited largely from
theological colleges, it soon became peculiarly efficient.* (* When
the battery arrived at Harper's Ferry, it was quartered in a church,
already occupied by a company called the Grayson Dare-devils, who,
wishing to show their hospitality, assigned the pulpit to Captain
Pendleton as an appropriate lodging. The four guns were at once
christened Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.)
%
No better material for soldiers ever existed than the men of the
Valley. Most of them were of Scotch-Irish descent, but from the more
northern counties came many of English blood, and from those in the
centre of Swiss and German. But whatever their origin, they were
thoroughly well qualified for their new trade. All classes mingled in
the ranks, and all ages; the heirs of the oldest families, and the
humblest of the sons of toil; boys whom it was impossible to keep at
school, and men whose white beards hung below their cross-belts;
youths who had been reared in luxury, and rough hunters from their
lonely cabins. They were a mountain people, nurtured in a wholesome
climate, bred to manly sports, and hardened by the free life of the
field and forest. To social distinctions they gave little heed. They
were united for a common purpose; they had taken arms to defend
Virginia and to maintain her s; and their patriotism was proved
by the sacrifice of all personal consideration and individual
interest. Nor is the purity of their motives to be questioned. They
had implicit faith in the eousness of their cause. Slave-owners
were few in the Valley, and the farms were tilled mainly by free
labour. The abolition of negro servitude would have affected but
little the population west of the Blue Ridge. But, nevertheless, west
of the Blue Ridge the doctrine of State Rights was as firmly rooted
as in the Carolinas, the idea that a State could be coerced into
remaining within the Union as fiercely repudiated; and the men of the
Valley faced the gathering hosts of the North in the same spirit that
they would have faced the hosts of a foreign foe.

In the first weeks of June the military situation became more
threatening. The Union armies were taking shape. The levies of
volunteers seemed sufficiently trained to render reconquest
practicable, and the great wave of invasion had already mounted the
horizon. A force of 25,000 men, based on the Ohio, threatened
North-west Virginia. There had been collisions on the Atlantic
seaboard, where the Federals held Fortress Monroe, a strong citadel
within eighty miles of Richmond, and Richmond had become the capital
of the Confederacy. There had been fighting in Missouri, and the
partisans of the South in that State had already been badly worsted.
The vast power of the North was making itself felt on land, and on
the sea had asserted an ascendency which it never lost. The blue
waters of the Gulf of Mexico were patrolled by a fleet with which the
Confederates had no means of coping. From the sea-wall of Charleston,
the great Atlantic port of the South, the masts of the blockading
squadron were visible in the offing; and beyond the mouths of the
Mississippi, closing the approaches to New Orleans, the long black
hulls steamed slowly to and fro.

But it was about Manassas Junction--thirty miles south-west of
Washington and barring the road to Richmond--that all interest
centred during the first campaign. Here was posted the main army of
the Confederacy, 20,000 volunteers under General Beauregard, the
Manassas Gap Railway forming an easy means of communication with the
Army of the Shenandoah.

Johnston's force had been gradually increased to 10,000 officers and
men. But the general was by no means convinced of the desirability of
holding Harper's Ferry. The place itself was insignificant. It had
contained an arsenal, but this had been burnt by the Federals when
they evacuated the post; and it was absolutely untenable against
attack. To the east runs the Shenandoah; and immediately above the
river stands a spur of the Blue Ridge, the Loudoun Heights,
completely commanding the little town. Beyond the Potomac is a crest
of equal altitude, covered with forest trees and undergrowth, and
bearing the name of the Maryland Heights.

Jackson, without waiting for instructions, had taken on himself to
hold and fortify the Maryland Heights. "I am of opinion," he had
written to General Lee, "that this place should be defended with the
spirit which actuated the defenders of Thermopylae, and if  to
myself such is my determination. The fall of this place would, I
fear, result in the loss of the north-western part of the State, and
who can estimate the moral power thus gained to the enemy and lost to
ourselves?"* (* O.R. volume 2 page 814.)

Lee, also, was averse to evacuation. Such a measure, he said, would
be depressing to the cause of the South, and would leave Maryland
isolated. The post, it was true, could be easily turned. By crossing
the Potomac, at Williamsport and Shepherdstown, twenty and ten miles
north-west respectively, the Federals would threaten the
communications of the garrison with Winchester; in case they were
attacked, the Confederates would have to fight with their backs to
the Shenandoah, broad, deep, and unbridged; and the ground westward
of Harper's Ferry was ill adapted for defence. Attack, in Lee's
opinion, would have been best met by a resolute offensive.* (* Ibid
pages 881, 889, 897, 898, 901, 923.) Johnston, however, believed his
troops unfitted for active manoeuvres, and he was permitted to choose
his own course. The incident is of small importance, but it serves to
show an identity of opinion between Lee and Jackson, and a regard for
the moral aspect of the situation which was to make itself manifest,
with extraordinary results, at a later period.

June 14.

On June 14, Johnston destroyed the railway bridge over the Potomac,
removed the machinery that had been rescued from the arsenal, burned
the public buildings, and the next day retired on Winchester. His
immediate opponent, General Patterson, had crossed the Pennsylvania
border, and, moving through Maryland, had occupied Williamsport with
14,000 men. A detachment of Confederate militia had been driven from
Romney, thirty-five miles north-west of Winchester, and the general
forward movement of the enemy had become pronounced.

June 20.

On June 20 Jackson's brigade was ordered to destroy the workshops of
the Baltimore and Ohio Railway at Martinsburg, together with the
whole of the rolling stock that might there be found, and to support
the cavalry. The first of these tasks, although Martinsburg is no
more than ten miles distant from Williamsport, was easily
accomplished. Four locomotives were sent back to Winchester, drawn by
teams of horses; and several more, together with many waggons, were
given to the flames. The second task demanded no unusual exertions.
The Federals, as yet, manifested no intention of marching upon
Winchester, nor was the Confederate cavalry in need of immediate
assistance. The force numbered 300 sabres. The men were untrained;
but they were first-rate horsemen, they knew every inch of the
country, and they were exceedingly well commanded. Lieutenant-Colonel
J.E.B. Stuart, who had been a captain of dragoons in the United
States army, had already given token of those remarkable qualities
which were afterwards to make him famous. Of an old Virginia family,
he was the very type of the Cavalier, fearless and untiring,
"boisterous as March, yet fresh as May."

Educated at West Point, and trained in Indian fighting in the
prairies, he brought to the great struggle upon which he had now
entered a thorough knowledge of arms, a bold and fertile conception,
and a constitution of body which enabled him to bear up against
fatigues which would have prostrated the strength of other men. Those
who saw him at this time are eloquent in their description of the
energy and the habits of the man. They tell how he remained almost
constantly in the saddle; how he never failed to instruct personally
every squad which went out on picket; how he was everywhere present,
at all hours of the day and night, along the line which he guarded;
and how, by infusing into the raw cavalry his own activity and
watchfulness, he was enabled, in spite of the small force which he
commanded, to observe the whole part of the Potomac from Point of
Rocks to beyond Williamsport. His animal spirits were unconquerable,
his gaiety and humour unfailing; he had a ready jest for all, and
made the forests ring with his songs as he marched at the head of his
column. So great was his activity that General Johnston compared him
to that species of hornet called "a yellow jacket," and said that "he
was no sooner brushed off than he lit back again." When the general
was subsequently transferred to the West he wrote to Stuart: "How can
I eat, sleep, or rest in peace without you upon the outpost?"* (*
Cooke page 47.)

No officer in the Confederacy was more trusted by his superiors or
more popular with the men; and Jackson was no more proof than others
against the attractions of his sunny and noble nature. As a soldier,
Stuart was a colleague after his own heart; and, as a man, he was
hardly less congenial. The dashing horseman of eight-and-twenty, who
rivalled Murat in his fondness for gay colours, and to all appearance
looked upon war as a delightful frolic, held a rule of life as strict
as that of his Presbyterian comrade; and outwardly a sharp contrast,
inwardly they were in the closest sympathy. Stuart's fame as a leader
was to be won in larger fields than those west of the Blue Ridge,
and, although sprung from the same Scotch-Irish stock, he was in no
way connected with the Valley soldiers. But from the very outbreak of
the war he was intimately associated with Jackson and his men.
Fortune seemed to take a curious delight in bringing them together;
they were together in their first skirmish, and in their last great
victory; and now, on the banks of the Potomac, watching the hostile
masses that were assembling on the further shore, they first learned
to know each other's worth.

July 2.

On July 2 Patterson crossed the river. The movement was at once
reported by Stuart, and Jackson, with the 5th Virginia and a battery,
advanced to meet the enemy. His instructions from Johnston were to
ascertain the strength of the hostile force, and then to retire under
cover of the cavalry. Four regiments of his brigade were therefore
 in camp; the baggage was sent back, and when the 5th Virginia
had marched out a short distance, three of the four guns were halted.
Near Falling Waters, a country church some five miles south of the
Potomac, Patterson's advanced guard was discovered on the road. The
country on either hand, like the greater part of the Valley, was
open, undulating, and highly cultivated, view and movement being
obstructed only by rail fences and patches of high timber.

The Virginians were partially concealed by a strip of woodland, and
when the Federal skirmishers, deployed on either side of the highway,
moved forward to the attack, they were received by a heavy and
unexpected fire. As the enemy fell back, a portion of the Confederate
line was thrown forward, occupying a house and barn; and despite the
fire of two guns which the Federals had brought up, the men, with the
impetuous rashness of young troops, dashed out to the attack. But
Jackson intervened. The enemy, who had two brigades of infantry well
closed up, was deploying a heavy force; his skirmishers were again
advancing, and the 5th Virginia, in danger of being outflanked, was
ordered to retire to its first position. The movement was
misconstrued by the Federals, and down the high road, in solid
column, came the pursuing cavalry. A well-aimed shot from the single
field-piece sufficed to check their progress; a confused mass of
horsemen went flying to the rear; and the Confederate gunners turned
their attention to the hostile battery. Stuart, at the same time,
performed a notable feat. He had moved with fifty troopers to attack
the enemy's  flank, and in reconnoitring through the woods had
become detached for the moment from his command. As he rode along a
winding lane he saw resting in a field a company of Federal infantry.
He still wore the uniform of the United States army; the enemy
suspected nothing, taking him for one of their own cavalry, and he
determined to effect their capture. Riding up to the fence he bade
one of the men remove the bars. This was done with respectful
alacrity, and he then galloped among them, shouting "Throw down your
arms, or you are all dead men!" The stentorian order was at once
obeyed: the raw troops not only dropped their rifles but fell upon
their faces, and the Confederate troopers, coming to their leader's
aid, marched the whole company as prisoners to the rear.

So firm was the attitude of Jackson's command that General Patterson
was thoroughly imposed upon. Slowly and cautiously he pushed out
 and , and it was not till near noon that the Confederates
were finally ordered to retreat. Beyond desultory skirmishing there
was no further fighting. The 5th Virginia fell back on the main body;
Stuart came in with his string of captives, and leaving the cavalry
to watch the enemy, the First Brigade went into camp some two miles
south of Martinsburg. Patterson reported to his Government that he
had been opposed by 3500 men, exactly ten times Jackson's actual
number.* (* O.R. volume 2 page 157.) The losses on either side were
inconsiderable, a few men killed and 10 or 15 wounded; and if the
Confederates carried off 50 prisoners, the Federals had the
satisfaction of burning some tents which Jackson had been unable to
remove. The engagement, however, had the best effect on the morale of
the Southern troops, and they were not so ignorant as to overlook the
skill and coolness with which they had been manoeuvred. It is
possible that their commander appeared in an unexpected light, and
that they had watched his behaviour with some amount of curiosity.
They certainly discovered that a distaste for show and frippery is no
indication of an unwarlike spirit. In the midst of the action, while
he was writing a dispatch, a cannon ball had torn a tree above his
head to splinters. Not a muscle moved, and he wrote on as if he were
seated in his own tent.

July 3.

The day after Falling Waters, on Johnston's recommendation, Jackson
received from General Lee his commission as brigadier-general in the
Confederate army. "My promotion," he wrote to his wife, "was beyond
what I had anticipated, as I only expected it to be in the Volunteer
forces of the State. One of my greatest desires for advancement is
the gratification it will give my darling, and (the opportunity) of
serving my country more efficiently. I have had all that I ought to
desire in the line of promotion. I should be very ungrateful if I
were not contented, and exceedingly thankful to our kind Heavenly
Father."

Of Patterson's further movements it is unnecessary to speak at
length. The Federal army crawled on to Martinsburg. Halting seven
miles south-west Jackson was reinforced by Johnston's whole command;
and here, for four days, the Confederates, drawn up in line of
battle, awaited attack. But the Federals stood fast in Martinsburg;
and on the fourth day Johnston withdrew to Winchester. The Virginia
soldiers were bitterly dissatisfied. At first even Jackson chafed. He
was eager for further action. His experiences at Falling Waters had
given him no exalted notion of the enemy's prowess, and he was ready
to engage them single-handed. "I want my brigade," he said, "to feel
that it can itself whip Patterson's whole army, and I believe we can
do it." But Johnston's self-control was admirable. He was ready to
receive attack, believing that, in his selected position, he could
repulse superior numbers. But he was deaf to all who clamoured for an
offensive movement, to the murmurs of the men, and to the
remonstrances of the officers. The stone houses of Martinsburg and
its walled inclosures were proof against assault, and promised at
most a bloody victory. His stock of ammunition was scanty in the
extreme; the infantry had but fourteen cartridges apiece; and
although his patience was construed by his troops as a want of
enterprise, he had in truth displayed great daring in offering battle
south of Martinsburg.

The Federal army at Washington, commanded by General McDowell,
amounted to 50,000 men; a portion of this force was already south of
the Potomac, and Beauregard's 20,000 Confederates, at Manassas
Junction, were seriously threatened. In West Virginia the enemy had
advanced, moving, fortunately, in the direction of Staunton, at the
southern end of the Valley, and not on Winchester.

July 11.

On July 11, this force of 20,000 men defeated a Confederate
detachment at Rich Mountain, not far from Jackson's birthplace; and
although it was still in the heart of the Alleghanies, a few marches,
which there were practically no troops to oppose, would give it the
control of the Upper Valley.

Thus menaced by three columns of invasion, numbering together over
80,000 men, the chances of the Confederates, who mustered no more
than 32,000 all told, looked small indeed. But the three Federal
columns were widely separated, and it was possible, by means of the
Manassas Gap Railway, for Johnston and Beauregard to unite with
greater rapidity than their opponents.

President Davis, acting on the advice of General Lee, had therefore
determined to concentrate the whole available force at Manassas
Junction, and to meet at that point the column advancing from
Washington.* (* O.R. volume 2 page 515.) The difficulty was for the
Army of the Shenandoah to give Patterson the slip. This could easily
have been done while that officer stood fast at Martinsburg; but, in
Lee's opinion, if the enemy found that the whole force of the
Confederacy was concentrating at Manassas Junction, the Washington
column would remain within its intrenchments round the capital, and
the Confederates "would be put to the great disadvantage of achieving
nothing, and leaving the other points (Winchester and Staunton)
exposed." The concentration, therefore, was to be postponed until the
Washington column advanced.* (* O.R. volume 2 page 507.)

But by that time Patterson might be close to Winchester or
threatening the Manassas Railway. Johnston had thus a most delicate
task before him; and in view of the superior numbers which the
Federals could bring against Manassas, it was essential that not a
man should he wasted in minor enterprises. The defeat of Patterson,
even had it been practicable, would not have prevented the Washington
column from advancing; and every Confederate rifleman who fell in the
Valley would be one the less at Manassas.

July 15.

On July 15 Patterson  Martinsburg and moved in the direction of
Winchester. On the 16th he remained halted at Bunker's Hill, nine
miles north; and on the 17th, instead of continuing his advance,
moved to his  and occupied Charlestown. His indecision was
manifest. He, too, had no easy part to play. His instructions were to
hold Johnston in the Valley, while McDowell advanced against
Beauregard. But his instructions were either too definite or not
definite enough, and he himself was overcautious. He believed, and so
did General Scott, that Johnston might be retained at Winchester by
demonstrations--that is, by making a show of strength and by feigned
attacks. For more vigorous action Patterson was not in the least
inclined; and we can hardly wonder if he hesitated to trust his
ill-trained regiments to the confusion and chances of an attack. Even
in that day of raw soldiers and inexperienced leaders his troops had
an unenviable reputation. They had enlisted for three months, and
their term of service was nearly up. Their commander had no influence
with them; and, turning a deaf ear to his appeals, they stubbornly
refused to remain with the colours even for a few days over their
term of service. They were possibly disgusted with the treatment they
had received from the Government. The men had received no pay. Many
were without shoes, and others, according to their general, were
"without pants!" "They cannot march," he adds, "and, unless a
paymaster goes with them, they will be indecently clad and have just
cause of complaint."* (* O.R. volume 2 pages 169, 170.)

Nevertheless, the Federal authorities made a grievous mistake when
they allowed Patterson and his sans-culottes to move to Charlestown.
McDowell marched against Beauregard on the afternoon of the 16th, and
Patterson should have been instructed to attack Johnston at any cost.
Even had the latter been successful, he could hardly have reinforced
the main army in time to meet McDowell.

July 18.

At 1 A.M. on the morning of the 18th Johnston received a telegram
from the President to the effect that McDowell was advancing on
Manassas. Stuart was immediately directed to keep Patterson amused;
and leaving their sick, 1700 in number, to the care of Winchester,
the troops were ordered to strike tents and prepare to march. No man
knew the object of the movement, and when the regiments passed
through Winchester, marching southward, with their backs to the
enemy, the step was lagging and the men dispirited. A few miles out,
as they turned eastward, the brigades were halted and an order was
read to them. "Our gallant army under General Beauregard is now
attacked by overwhelming numbers. The Commanding General hopes that
his troops will step out like men, and make a forced march to save
the country." The effect of this stirring appeal was instantaneous.
"The soldiers," says Jackson, "rent the air with shouts of joy, and
all was eagerness and animation." The march was resumed, and as mile
after mile was passed, although there was much useless delay and the
pace was slow, the faint outlines of the Blue Ridge, rising high
above the Valley, changed imperceptibly to a mighty wall of rock and
forest. As the night came down a long reach of the Shenandoah crossed
the road. The ford was waist-deep, but the tall Virginians, plunging
without hesitation into the strong current, gained the opposite shore
with little loss of time. The guns and waggons followed in long
succession through the darkling waters, and still the heavy tramp of
the toiling column passed eastward through the quiet fields. The Blue
Ridge was crossed at Ashby's Gap; and at two o'clock in the morning,
near the little village of Paris, the First Brigade was halted on the
further slope. They had marched over twenty miles, and so great was
their exhaustion that the men sank prostrate on the ground beside
their muskets.* (* "The discouragements of that day's march," says
Johnston, "to one accustomed to the steady gait of regular soldiers,
is indescribable. The views of military obedience and command then
taken both by officers and men confined their duties and obligations
almost exclusively to the drill-ground and guards. In camps and
marches they were scarcely known. Consequently, frequent and
unreasonable delays caused so slow a rate of marching as to make me
despair of joining General Beauregard in time to aid him." Johnston's
Narrative.) They were already sleeping, when an officer reminded
Jackson that there were no pickets round the bivouac. "Let the poor
fellows sleep," was the reply; "I will guard the camp myself." And
so, through the watches of the summer night, the general himself
stood sentry over his unconscious troops.* (* Letter to Mrs. Jackson,
Memoirs page 176.)

(MAP. SITUATION NIGHT OF JULY 17TH, 1861. Showing West: Winchester,
North: Harper's Ferry, South: Warrenton and East: Washington.)

</section>
<section id="9" fatherid="1" title="THE FIRST BATTLE OF MANASSAS OR BULL RUN" lv="CHAPTER 1.6." priority="0" level="2">
July 19.

At the first streak of dawn, Jackson aroused his men and resumed the
march. Before the column gained the plain, Stuart's cavalry clattered
past, leaving Patterson at Charlestown, in ignorance of his
adversary's escape, and congratulating himself on the success of his
cautious strategy. At Piedmont, a station at the foot of the Blue
Ridge, trains were waiting for the conveyance of the troops; and at
four o'clock in the afternoon Jackson and his brigade had reached
Manassas Junction. The cavalry, artillery, and waggons moved by road;
and the remainder of Johnston's infantry was expected to follow the
First Brigade without delay. But in war, unless there has been ample
time for preparation, railways are not always an expeditious means of
travel. The line was single; so short notice had been given that it
was impossible to collect enough rolling-stock; the officials were
inexperienced; there was much mismanagement; and on the morning of
Sunday, July 21, only three brigades of the Army of the
Shenandoah--Jackson's, Bee's, and Bartow's--together with the cavalry
and artillery, had joined Beauregard. Kirby Smith's brigade, about
1900 strong, was still upon the railway.

The delay might easily have been disastrous. Happily, the Federal
movements were even more tardy. Had the invading army been well
organised, Beauregard would probably have been defeated before
Johnston could have reached him. McDowell had advanced from
Washington on the afternoon of the 16th with 35,000 men. On the
morning of the 18th, the greater part of his force was concentrated
at Centreville, twenty-two miles from Washington, and five and a half
north-east of Manassas Junction. Beauregard's outposts had already
fallen back to the banks of Bull Run, a stream made difficult by
wooded and precipitous banks, from two to three miles south, and of
much the same width as the Thames at Oxford.

It would have been possible to have attacked on the morning of the
19th, but the Federal commander was confronted by many obstacles. He
knew little of the country. Although it was almost within sight of
the capital, the maps were indifferent. Guides who could describe
roads and positions from a military point of view were not
forthcoming. All information had to be procured by personal
reconnaissance, and few of his officers had been trained to such
work. Moreover, the army was most unwieldy. 35,000 men, together with
ten batteries, and the requisite train of waggons, was a force far
larger than any American officer had yet set eyes upon; and the
movement of such a mass demanded precise arrangement on the part of
the staff, and on the part of the troops most careful attention to
order and punctuality; but of these both staff and troops were
incapable. The invading force might have done well in a defensive
position, which it would have had time to occupy, and where the
supply of food and forage, carried on from stationary magazines,
would have been comparatively easy; but directly it was put in
motion, inexperience and indiscipline stood like giants in the path.
The Federal troops were utterly unfitted for offensive movement, and
both Scott and McDowell had protested against an immediate advance.
The regiments had only been organised in brigades a week previously.
They had never been exercised in mass. Deployment for battle had not
yet been practised, and to deploy 10,000 or 20,000 men for attack is
a difficult operation, even with well-drilled troops and an
experienced staff. Nor were the supply arrangements yet completed.
The full complement of waggons had not arrived, and the drivers on
the spot were as ignorant as they were insubordinate. The troops had
received no instruction in musketry, and many of the regiments went
into action without having once fired their rifles. But the protests
of the generals were of no effect. The Federal Cabinet decided that
in face of the public impatience it was impossible to postpone the
movement. "On to Richmond" was the universal cry. The halls of
Congress resounded with the fervid eloquence of the politicians. The
press teemed with bombastic articles, in which the Northern troops
were favourably compared with the regular armies of Europe, and the
need of discipline and training for the fearless and intelligent
representatives of the sovereign people was scornfully repudiated.
Ignorance of war and contempt for the lessons of history were to cost
the nation dear.

The march from Washington was a brilliant spectacle. The roads south
of the Potomac were covered with masses of men, well armed and well
clothed, amply furnished with artillery, and led by regular officers.
To the sound of martial music they had defiled before the President.
They were accompanied by scores of carriages. Senators, members of
Congress, and even ladies swelled the long procession. A crowd of
reporters rode beside the columns; and the return of a victorious
army could hardly have been hailed with more enthusiasm than the
departure of these untrained and unblooded volunteers. Yet, pitiful
masquerade as the march must have appeared to a soldier's eye, the
majority of those who broke camp that summer morning were brave men
and good Americans. To restore the Union, to avenge the insult to
their country's flag, they had come forward with no other compulsion
than the love of their mother-land. If their self-confidence was
supreme and even arrogant, it was the self-confidence of a strong and
a fearless people, and their patriotism was of the loftiest kind. It
would have been easy for the North, with her enormous wealth, to have
organised a vast army of mercenaries wherewith to crush the South.
But no! her sons were not willing that their country's honour should
be committed to meaner hands.

As they advanced into Virginia, the men, animated by their
surroundings, stepped briskly forward, and the country-side was gay
with fantastic uniforms and gorgeous standards. But the heat was
oppressive, and the roads lay deep in dust. Knapsack, rifle, and
blankets became a grievous burden. The excitement died away, and
unbroken to the monotonous exertion of the march the three-months'
recruits lost all semblance of subordination. The compact array of
the columns was gradually lost, and a tail of laggards, rapidly
increasing, brought up the rear. Regiment mingled with regiment. By
each roadside brook the men fell out in numbers. Every blackberry
bush was surrounded by a knot of stragglers; and, heedless of the
orders of those officers who still attempted to keep them in the
ranks, scores of so-called soldiers sought the cool shade of the
surrounding woods.* (* Sherman's Memoirs volume 1 page 181.) When
darkness fell the army was but six miles from its morning bivouacs;
and it was not till late the next day that the stragglers rejoined
their regiments.

McDowell had intended to attack at once. "But I could not," he says,
"get the troops forward earlier than we did. I wished them to go to
Centreville the second day, but when I went to urge them forward, I
was told that it was impossible for the men to march further. They
had only come from Vienna, about six miles, and it was not more than
six and a half miles further to Centreville, in all a march of twelve
and a half miles; but the men were foot-weary--not so much, I was
told, by the distance marched, as by the time they had been on foot,
caused by the obstructions in the road, and the slow pace we had to
move to avoid ambuscades. The men were, moreover, unaccustomed to
marching, and not used to carrying even the load of "light marching
order..." The trains, hurriedly gotten together, with horses,
waggons, drivers, and waggon-masters all new and unused to each
other, moved with difficulty and disorder, and were the cause of a
day's delay in getting the provisions forward."* (* O.R. volume 2
page 324. McDowell's Report.)

On the morning of the 18th, in order to attract the enemy's attention
from his , a brigade was sent south, in the direction of Bull
Run. The Confederate outposts fell back over Blackburn's Ford. The
woods about the stream concealed the defenders' forces, and the
Federals pushed on, bringing artillery into action. Two Confederate
guns, after firing a few shots, were withdrawn under cover, and the
attacking troops reached the ford. Suddenly, from the high timber on
the further bank, volleys of musketry blazed out in their very faces,
and then came proof that some at least of the Federal regiments were
no more to be relied upon in action than on the march. A portion of
the force, despite the strong position of the enemy and the heavy
fire, showed a bold front, but at least one regiment turned and fled,
and was only rallied far in rear. The whole affair was a mistake on
the part of the commander. His troops had been heedlessly pushed
forward, and General Longstreet, commanding the opposing brigade, by
carefully concealing his infantry, had drawn him into an ambuscade.
The results of the action were not without importance. The Federals
fell back with a loss of 83 officers and men, and the Confederates
were much elated at their easy success. Among some of the
Northerners, on the other hand, the sudden check to the advance, and
the bold bearing of the enemy, turned confidence and enthusiasm into
irrational despondency. A regiment and a battery, which had enlisted
for three months and whose time was up, demanded their discharge, and
notwithstanding the appeals of the Secretary of War, "moved to the
rear to the sound of the enemy's cannon."* (* O.R. volume 2 page 324.
McDowell's Report.)

McDowell's plans were affected by the behaviour of his troops. He was
still ignorant, so skilfully had the march from the Valley been
carried out, that Johnston had escaped Patterson. He was well aware,
however, that such movement was within the bounds of possibility, yet
he found himself compelled to postpone attack until the 21st. The
19th and 20th were spent in reconnaissance, and in bringing up
supplies; and the lack of organisation made the issue of rations a
long process. But it was the general's want of confidence in his
soldiers that was the main cause of delay.

The Confederates were strongly posted. The bridges and fords across
Bull Run, with the exception of Sudley Ford, a long way up stream to
the Federal , were obstructed with felled trees, and covered by
rude intrenchments. Even with regular troops a direct attack on a
single point of passage would have been difficult. McDowell's first
idea was to pass across the front of the defences, and turn the 
at Wolf Run Shoals, five miles south-east of Union Mills. The
country, however, on this flank was found to be unfit for the
operations of large masses, and it was consequently determined to
turn the Confederate  by way of Sudley Springs.

The Federal army consisted of five divisions of infantry, forty-three
guns, and seven troops of regular cavalry. Nine batteries and eight
companies of infantry were supplied by the United States army, and
there was a small battalion of marines. The strength of the force
told off for the attack amounted to 30,000 all told.*

(* The rifles (muzzle-loaders) used throughout the war by both
Federals and Confederates compare as follows with more modern
weapons:--
                            Sighted to        Effective range
                            yards             yards
American                    1,000             250
Needle-gun (1866 and 1870)    660             250
Chassepot (1870)            1,320             350
Martini-Henry               2,100             400
Magazine                    3,200             600

By effective range is meant the distance where, under ordinary
conditions, the enemy's losses are sufficient to stop his advance.
The effective range of Brown Bess was about 60 yards. The American
rifled artillery was effective, in clear weather, at 2000 yards, the
12-pounder smooth-bore at 1600, the 6-pounder at 1200.)

The Confederates, along the banks of Bull Run, disposed of 26,000
infantry, 2500 cavalry, and 55 guns. Johnston, who had arrived on the
20th, had assumed command; but, ignorant of the country, he had
allowed Beauregard to make the dispositions for the expected battle.
The line occupied was extensive, six miles in length, stretching from
the Stone Bridge, where the Warrenton highroad crosses Bull Run, on
the , to the ford at Union Mills on the . Besides these two
points of passage there were no less than six fords, to each of which
ran a road from Centreville. The country to the north was undulating
and densely wooded, and it would have been possible for the Federals,
especially as the Southern cavalry was held back south of the stream,
to mass before any one of the fords, unobserved, in superior numbers.
Several of the fords, moreover, were weakly guarded, for Beauregard,
who had made up his mind to attack, had massed the greater part of
his army near the railroad. The Shenandoah troops were in reserve;
Bee's and Bartow's brigades between McLean's and Blackburn's fords,
Jackson's between Blackburn's and Mitchell's fords, in rear of the
 centre.

The position south of Bull Run, originally selected by General Lee,*
was better adapted for defence than for attack. (* O.R. volume 2 page
505.) The stream, with its high banks, ran like the ditch of a
fortress along the front; and to the south was the plateau on which
stands Manassas Junction. The plateau is intersected by several
creeks, running through deep depressions, and dividing the high
ground into a series of bold undulations, level on the top, and with
gentle slopes. The most important of the creeks is Young's Branch,
surrounding on two sides the commanding eminence crowned by the Henry
House, and joining Bull Run a short distance below the Stone Bridge.
That part of the field which borders on Flat Run, and lies
immediately north of Manassas Junction, is generally thickly wooded;
but shortly after passing New Market, the Manassas-Sudley road,
running north-west, emerges into more open country, and, from the
Henry House onward, passes over several parallel ridges, deep in
grass and corn, and studded between with groves of oak and pine. Here
the large fields, without hedges, and scantily fenced, formed an
admirable manoeuvre ground; the wide depressions of the creeks,
separating the crests of the ridges by a space of fifteen or sixteen
hundred yards, gave free play to the artillery; the long easy slopes
could be swept by fire, and the groves were no obstruction to the
view. The  flank of the Confederate position, facing north, on
either side of the Manassas-Sudley road, was thus an ideal
battle-field.

(MAP 2. Dispositions morning of July 21st, 1861. Showing West:
Groveton, North: Centreville, South: Manassas Junction and East:
Union Mills.)

July 21. 6.30 A.M.

Sunday morning, the 21st of July, broke clear and warm. Through a
miscarriage of orders, the Confederate offensive movement was
delayed; and soon after six o'clock the Federals opened with musketry
and artillery against the small brigade commanded by Colonel Evans,
which held the Stone Bridge on the extreme  of the Confederate
line. An hour later the Shenandoah brigades, Bee's, Bartow's, and
Jackson's, together with Bonham's, were ordered up in support.

8.30 A.M.

The attack was feebly pressed, and at 8.30 Evans, observing a heavy
cloud of dust rising above the woods to the north of the Warrenton
road, became satisfied that the movement to his front was but a
feint, and that a column of the enemy was meanwhile marching to turn
his flank by way of Sudley Springs, about two miles north-west.

9 A.M.

Sending back this information to the next brigade, he  four
companies to hold the bridge; and with six companies of riflemen, a
battalion called the Louisiana Tigers, and two six-pounder howitzers,
he moved across Young's Branch, and took post on the Matthews Hill, a
long ridge, which, at the same elevation, faces the Henry Hill.

Evans' soldierly instinct had penetrated the design of the Federal
commander, and his ready assumption of responsibility threw a strong
force across the path of the turning column, and gave time for his
superiors to alter their dispositions and bring up the reserves.

The Federal force opposite the Stone Bridge consisted of a whole
division; and its commander, General Tyler, had been instructed to
divert attention, by means of a vigorous demonstration, from the
march of Hunter's and Heintzleman's divisions to a ford near Sudley
Springs. Part of the Fifth Division was retained in reserve at
Centreville, and part threatened the fords over Bull Run below the
Stone Bridge. The Fourth Division had been  upon the railroad,
seven miles in rear of Centreville, in order to guard the
communications with Washington.

Already, in forming the line of march, there had been much confusion.
The divisions had bivouacked in loose order, without any regard for
the morrow's movements, and their concentration previous to the
advance was very tedious. The brigades crossed each other's route;
the march was slow; and the turning column, blocked by Tyler's
division on its way to the Stone Bridge, was delayed for nearly three
hours.

9.30 A.M.

At last, however, Hunter and Heintzleman crossed Sudley Ford; and
after marching a mile in the direction of Manassas Junction, the
leading brigade struck Evans' riflemen. The Confederates were
concealed by a fringe of woods, and the Federals were twice repulsed.
But supports came crowding up, and Evans sent back for
reinforcements. The fight had lasted for an hour. It was near eleven
o'clock, and the check to the enemy's advance had given time for the
Confederates to form a line of battle on the Henry Hill. Bee and
Bartow, accompanied by Imboden's battery, were in position; Hampton's
Legion, a regiment raised and commanded by an officer who was one of
the wealthiest planters in South Carolina, and who became one of the
finest soldiers in the Confederacy, was not far behind; and Jackson
was coming up.* (* Hunter and Heintzleman had 13,200 officers and
men; Tyler, 12,000. Bee and Barrow had 3200 officers and men;
Hampton, 630; Jackson, 3000.)

Again the situation was saved by the prompt initiative of a brigade
commander. Bee had been ordered to support the troops at the Stone
Bridge. Moving forward towards the Henry Hill, he had been informed
by a mounted orderly that the whole Federal army seemed to be moving
to the north-west. A signal officer on the plateau who had caught the
glint of the brass field-pieces which accompanied the hostile column,
still several miles distant, had sent the message. Bee waited for no
further instructions. Ordering Bartow to follow, he climbed the Henry
Hill. The wide and beautiful landscape lay spread before him; Evans'
small command was nearly a mile distant, on the Matthews Hill; and on
the ridges to the far north-west he saw the glitter of many bayonets.

11 A.M.

Rapidly placing his battery in position near the Henry House, Bee
formed a line of battle on the crest above Young's Branch; but very
shortly afterwards, acceding to an appeal for help from Evans, he
hurried his troops forward to the Matthews Hill. His new position
protected the rear of the companies which held the Stone Bridge; and
so long as the bridge was held the two wings of the Federal army were
unable to co-operate. But on the Matthews Hill, the enemy's strength,
especially in artillery, was overwhelming; and the Confederates were
soon compelled to fall back to the Henry Hill. McDowell had already
sent word to Tyler to force the Stone Bridge; and Sherman's brigade
of this division, passing the stream by a ford, threatened the flank
of Bee and Evans as they retreated across Young's Branch.

The Federals now swarmed over the Matthews Hill; but Imboden's
battery, which Bee had again posted on the Henry Hill, and Hampton's
Legion, occupying the Robinson House, a wooden tenement on the open
spur which projects towards the Stone Bridge, covered the retirement
of the discomfited brigades. They were not, however, suffered to fall
back unharassed.

A long line of guns, following fast upon their tracks, and crossing
the fields at a gallop, came into action on the opposite slope. In
vain Imboden's gunners, with their pieces well placed behind a swell
of ground, strove to divert their attention from the retreating
infantry, now climbing the slopes of the Henry Hill. The Federal
batteries, powerful in numbers, in discipline, and in materiel, plied
their fire fast. The shells fell in quick succession amongst the
disordered ranks of the Southern regiments, and not all the efforts
of their officers could stay their flight.

The day seemed lost. Strong masses of Northern infantry were moving
forward past the Stone House on the Warrenton turnpike. Hampton's
Legion was retiring on the . Imboden's battery, with but three
rounds remaining for each piece, galloped back across the Henry Hill,
and this commanding height, the key of the battle-ground, was
abandoned to the enemy. But help was at hand. Jackson, like Bee and
Bartow, had been ordered to the Stone Bridge. Hearing the heavy fire
to his  increasing in intensity, he had turned the head of his
column towards the most pressing danger, and had sent a messenger to
Bee to announce his coming. As he pushed rapidly forward, part of the
troops he intended to support swept by in disorder to the rear.
Imboden's battery came dashing back, and that officer, meeting
Jackson, expressed with a profanity which was evidently displeasing
to the general his disgust at being  without support. "I'll
support your battery," was the brief reply; "unlimber  here."

11.30 A.M.

At this moment appeared General Bee, approaching at full gallop, and
he and Jackson met face to face. The latter was cool and composed;
Bee covered with dust and sweat, his sword in his hand, and his horse
foaming. "General," he said, "they are beating us back!" "Then, sir,
we will give them the bayonet;" the thin lips closed like a vice, and
the First Brigade, pressing up the slope, formed into line on the
eastern edge of the Henry Hill.

Jackson's determined bearing inspired Bee with renewed confidence. He
turned bridle and galloped back to the ravine where his officers were
attempting to reform their broken companies. Riding into the midst of
the throng, he pointed with his sword to the Virginia regiments,
deployed in well-ordered array on the height above. "Look!" he
shouted, "there is Jackson standing like a stone wall! Rally behind
the Virginians!" The men took up the cry; and the happy augury of the
expression, applied at a time when defeat seemed imminent and hearts
were failing, was remembered when the danger had passed away.

The position which Jackson had occupied was the strongest that could
be found. He had not gone forward to the crest which looks down upon
Young's Branch, and commands the slopes by which the Federals were
advancing. From that crest extended a wide view, and a wide field of
fire; but both flanks would have been exposed. The Henry House was
nothing more than a cottage; neither here nor elsewhere was there
shelter for his riflemen, and they would have been exposed to the
full force of the Federal artillery without power of reply. But on
the eastern edge of the hill, where he had chosen to deploy, ran a
belt of young pines, affording excellent cover, which merged into a
dense oak wood near the Sudley road.

Along the edge of the pines Jackson placed his regiments, with six
guns to support them. Lying in rear of the guns were the 4th and 27th
Virginia; on the  was the 5th; on the  the 2nd and 33rd.
Both flanks were in the woods, and Stuart, whom Jackson had called
upon to secure his , was watching the ground beyond the road. To
the front, for a space of five hundred yards, stretched the level
crest of the hill; and the ground beyond the Henry House, dipping to
the valley of Young's Branch, where the Federals were now gathering,
was wholly unseen. But as the tactics of Wellington so often proved,
a position from which the view is limited, well in rear of a crest
line, may be exceedingly strong for defence, provided that troops who
hold it can use the bayonet. It would be difficult in the extreme for
the Federals to pave the way for their attack with artillery. From
the guns on the Matthews Hill the Virginia regiments were well
sheltered, and the range was long. To do effective work the hostile
batteries would have to cross Young's Branch, ascend the Henry Hill,
and come into action within five hundred yards of Jackson's line.
Even if they were able to hold their ground at so short a range, they
could make no accurate practice under the fire of the Confederate
marksmen.

12 noon.

In rear of Jackson's line, Bee, Bartow, and Evans were rallying their
men, when Johnston and Beauregard, compelled, by the unexpected
movement of the Federals, to abandon all idea of attack, appeared
upon the Henry Hill. They were accompanied by two batteries of
artillery, Pendleton's and Alburtis'. The colours of the broken
regiments were ordered to the front, and the men rallied, taking post
on Jackson's . The moment was critical. The blue masses of the
Federals, the dust rolling high above them, were already descending
the opposite slopes. The guns flashed fiercely through the yellow
cloud; and the Confederate force was but a handful. Three brigades
had been summoned from the fords; but the nearest was four miles
distant, and many of the troops upon the plateau were already
half-demoralised by retreat. The generals set themselves to revive
the courage of their soldiers. Beauregard galloped along the line,
cheering the regiments in every portion of the field, and then, with
the colour-bearers accompanying him, rode forward to the crest.
Johnston was equally conspicuous. The enemy's shells were bursting on
every side, and the shouts of the Confederates, recognising their
leaders as they dashed across the front, redoubled the uproar.
Meanwhile, before the centre of his line, with an unconcern which had
a marvellous effect on his untried command, Jackson rode slowly to
and fro. Except that his face was a little paler, and his eyes
ber, he looked exactly as his men had seen him so often on
parade; and as he passed along the crest above them they heard from
time to time the reassuring words, uttered in a tone which betrayed
no trace of excitement, "Steady, men! steady! all's well!"

It was at this juncture, while the confusion of taking up a new
position with shattered and ill-drilled troops was at the highest,
that the battle lulled. The Federal infantry, after defeating Bee and
Evans, had to cross the deep gully and marshy banks of Young's
Branch, to climb the slope of the Henry Hill, and to form for a fresh
attack. Even with trained soldiers a hot fight is so conducive of
disorder, that it is difficult to initiate a rapid pursuit, and the
Northern regiments were very slow in resuming their formations. At
the same time, too, the fire of their batteries became less heavy.
From their position beyond Young's Branch the rifled guns had been
able to ply the Confederate lines with shell, and their effective
practice had rendered the work of rallying the troops exceedingly
difficult. But when his infantry advanced, McDowell ordered one half
of his artillery, two fine batteries of regulars, made up principally
of rifled guns, to cross Young's Branch. This respite was of the
utmost value to the Confederates. The men, encouraged by the gallant
bearing of their leaders, fell in at once upon the colours, and when
Hunter's regiments appeared on the further rim of the plateau they
were received with a fire which for a moment drove them back. But the
regular batteries were close at hand, and as they came into action
the battle became general on the Henry Hill. The Federals had 16,000
infantry available; the Confederates no more than 6500. But the
latter were superior in artillery, 16 pieces confronting 12. The
Federal guns, however, were of heavier calibre; the gunners were old
soldiers, and both friend and foe testify to the accuracy of their
fire, their fine discipline, and staunch endurance. The infantry, on
the other hand, was not well handled. The attack was purely frontal.
No attempt whatever was made to turn the Confederate flanks, although
the Stone Bridge, except for the abattis, was now open, and
Johnston's line might easily have been taken in reverse. Nor does it
appear that the cavalry was employed to ascertain where the flanks
rested. Moreover, instead of massing the troops for a determined
onslaught, driven home by sheer weight of numbers, the attack was
made by successive brigades, those in rear waiting till those in
front had been defeated; and, in the same manner, the brigades
attacked by successive regiments. Such tactics were inexcusable. It
was certainly necessary to push the attack home before the
Confederate reinforcements could get up; and troops who had never
drilled in mass would have taken much time to assume the orthodox
formation of several lines of battle, closely supporting one another.
Yet there was no valid reason, beyond the inexperience of the
generals in dealing with large bodies, that brigades should have been
sent into action piecemeal, or that the flanks of the defence should
have been neglected. The fighting, nevertheless, was fierce. The
Federal regiments, inspirited by their success on the Matthews Hill,
advanced with confidence, and soon pushed forward past the Henry
House. "The contest that ensued," says General Imboden, "was
terrific. Jackson ordered me to go from battery to battery and see
that the guns were properly aimed and the fuses cut the  length.
This was the work of but a few minutes. On returning to the  of
the line of guns, I stopped to ask General Jackson's permission to
rejoin my battery. The fight was just then hot enough to make him
feel well. His eyes fairly blazed. He had a way of throwing up his
 hand with the open palm towards the person he was addressing.
And, as he told me to go, he made this gesture. The air was full of
flying missiles, and as he spoke he jerked down his hand, and I saw
that blood was streaming from it. I exclaimed, "General, you are
wounded." "Only a scratch--a mere scratch," he replied, and binding
it hastily with a handkerchief, he galloped away along his line."* (*
Battles and Leaders volume 1 page 236.)

1.30 P.M.

When the battle was at its height, and across that narrow space, not
more than five hundred yards in width, the cannon thundered, and the
long lines of infantry struggled for the mastery, the two Federal
batteries, protected by two regiments of infantry on their ,
advanced to a more effective position. The movement was fatal.
Stuart, still guarding the Confederate , was eagerly awaiting his
opportunity, and now, with 150 troopers, filing through the fences on
Bald Hill, he boldly charged the enemy's . The regiment thus
assailed, a body of Zouaves, in blue and scarlet, with white turbans,
was ridden down, and almost at the same moment the 33rd Virginia,
posted on Jackson's , charged forward from the copse in which
they had been hidden. The uniforms in the two armies at this time
were much alike, and from the direction of their approach it was
difficult at first for the officers in charge of the Federal
batteries to make sure that the advancing troops were not their own.
A moment more and the doubtful regiment proved its identity by a
deadly volley, delivered at a range of seventy yards. Every gunner
was shot down; the teams were almost annihilated, and several
officers fell killed or wounded. The Zouaves, already much shaken by
Stuart's well-timed charge, fled down the slopes, dragging with them
another regiment of infantry.

Three guns alone escaped the marksmen of the 33rd. The remainder
stood upon the field, silent and abandoned, surrounded by dying
horses, midway between the opposing lines.

This success, however, brought but short relief to the Confederates.
The enemy was not yet done with. Fresh regiments passed to the
attack. The 33rd was driven back, and the thin line upon the plateau
was hard put to it to retain its ground. The Southerners had lost
heavily. Bee and Bartow had been killed, and Hampton wounded. Few
reinforcements had reached the Henry Hill. Stragglers and skulkers
were streaming to the rear. The Federals were thronging forward, and
it seemed that the exhausted defenders must inevitably give way
before the successive blows of superior numbers. The troops were
losing confidence. Yet no thought of defeat crossed Jackson's mind.
"General," said an officer, riding hastily towards him, "the day is
going against us." "If you think so, sir," was the quiet reply, "you
had better not say anything about it." And although affairs seemed
desperate, in reality the crisis of the battle had already passed.
McDowell had but two brigades remaining in reserve, and one of
these--of Tyler's division--was still beyond Bull Run. His troops
were thoroughly exhausted; they had been marching and fighting since
midnight; the day was intensely hot; they had encountered fierce
resistance; their rifled batteries had been silenced, and the
Confederate reinforcements were coming up. Two of Bonham's regiments
had taken post on Jackson's , and a heavy force was approaching
on the . Kirby Smith's brigade, of the Army of the Shenandoah,
coming up by train, had reached Manassas Junction while the battle
was in progress. It was immediately ordered to the field, and had
been already instructed by Johnston to turn the enemy's .

But before the weight of Smith's 1900 bayonets could be thrown into
the scale, the Federals made a vigorous effort to carry the Henry
Hill. Those portions of the Confederate line which stood on the open
ground gave way before them. Some of the guns, ordered to take up a
position from which they could cover the retreat, were limbering up;
and with the exception of the belt of pines, the plateau was
abandoned to the hostile infantry, who were beginning to press
forward at every point. The Federal engineers were already clearing
away the abattis from the Stone Bridge, in order to give passage to
Tyler's third brigade and a battery of artillery; "and all were
certain," says McDowell, "that the day was ours."

2.45 P.M.

Jackson's men were lying beneath the crest of the plateau. Only one
of his regiments--the 33rd--had as yet been engaged in the open, and
his guns in front still held their own. Riding to the centre of his
line, where the 2nd and 4th Virginia were stationed, he gave orders
for a counterstroke. "Reserve your fire till they come within fifty
yards, then fire and give them the bayonet; and when you charge, yell
like furies!" Right well did the hot Virginian blood respond.
Inactive from the stroke of noon till three o'clock, with the crash
and cries of battle in their ears, and the shells ploughing gaps in
their recumbent ranks, the men were chafing under the stern
discipline which held them back from the conflict they longed to
join. The Federals swept on, extending from the  and ,
cheering as they came, and following the flying batteries in the
ardour of success. Suddenly, a long grey line sprang from the ground
in their very faces; a rolling volley threw them back in confusion;
and then, with their fierce shouts pealing high above the tumult, the
2nd and 4th Virginia, supported by the 5th, charged forward across
the hill. At the same moment that the enemy's centre was thus
unexpectedly assailed, Kirby Smith's fresh brigade bore down upon the
flank,* (* General Kirby Smith being severely wounded, the command of
this brigade devolved upon Colonel Elzey.) and Beauregard, with ready
judgment, dispatched his staff officers to order a general advance.
The broken remnants of Bee, Hampton, and Evans advanced upon
Jackson's , and victory, long wavering, crowned the standards of
the South. The Federals were driven past the guns, now finally
abandoned, past the Henry House, and down the slope. McDowell made
one desperate endeavour to stay the rout. Howard's brigade was
rapidly thrown in. But the centre had been completely broken by
Jackson's charge; the  was giving way, and the Confederates,
manning the captured guns, turned them on the masses which covered
the fields below.

Howard, although his men fought bravely, was easily repulsed; in a
few minutes not a single Federal soldier, save the dead and dying,
was to be seen upon the plateau.

(MAP. THE FIELD OF BULL RUN. Showing West: Sudley Springs, North:
Centreville, South: Manassas Junction and East: Old Ox Road.)

3.30 P.M.

A final stand was made by McDowell along Young's Branch; and there,
at half-past three, a line of battle was once more established, the
battalion of regular infantry forming a strong centre. But another
Confederate brigade, under General Early, had now arrived, and again
the enemy's  was overthrown, while Beauregard, leaving Jackson,
whose brigade had lost all order and many men in its swift advance,
to hold the plateau, swept forward towards the Matthews Hill. The
movement was decisive. McDowell's volunteers broke up in the utmost
confusion. The Confederate infantry was in no condition to pursue,
but the cavalry was let loose, and before long the retreat became a
panic. The regular battalion, composed of young soldiers, but led by
experienced officers, alone preserved its discipline, moving steadily
in close order through the throng of fugitives, and checking the
pursuing troopers by its firm and confident bearing. The remainder of
the army dissolved into a mob. It was not that the men were
completely demoralised, but simply that discipline had not become a
habit. They had marched as individuals, going just so far as they
pleased, and halting when they pleased; they had fought as
individuals, bravely enough, but with little combination; and when
they found that they were beaten, as individuals they retreated. "The
old soldier," wrote one of the regular officers a week later, "feels
safe in the ranks, unsafe out of the ranks, and the greater the
danger the more pertinaciously he clings to his place. The volunteer
of three months never attains this instinct of discipline. Under
danger, and even under mere excitement, he flies away from his ranks,
and hopes for safety in dispersion. At four o'clock in the afternoon
of the 21st there were more than 12,000 volunteers on the
battle-field of Bull Run who had entirely lost their regimental
organisation. They could no longer be handled as troops, for the
officers and men were not together. Men and officers mingled together
promiscuously; and it is worthy of remark that this disorganisation
did not result from defeat or fear, for up to four o'clock we had
been uniformly successful. The instinct of discipline which keeps
every man in his place had not been acquired. We cannot suppose that
the enemy had attained a higher degree of discipline than our own,
but they acted on the defensive, and were not equally exposed to
disorganisation."* (* Report of Captain Woodbury, U.S. Engineers,
O.R. volume 2 page 334.)

"Cohesion was lost," says one of McDowell's staff; "and the men
walked quietly off. There was no special excitement except that
arising from the frantic efforts of officers to stop men who paid
little or no attention to anything that was said; and there was no
panic, in the ordinary sense and meaning of the word, until the
retiring soldiers, guns, waggons, Congressmen and carriages, were
fired upon, on the road east of Bull Run."* (* General J.B. Fry,
Battles and Leaders volume 1 page 191.)

At Centreville the reserve division stood fast; and the fact that
these troops were proof against the infection of panic and the
exaggerated stories of the fugitives is in itself strong testimony to
the native courage of the soldiery.

A lack of competent Staff officers, which, earlier in the day, had
prevented an advance on Centreville by the Confederate , brought
Johnston's arrangements for pursuit to naught. The cavalry, weak in
numbers, was soon incumbered with squads of prisoners; darkness fell
upon the field, and the defeated army streamed over the roads to
Washington, followed only by its own fears.

Why the Confederate generals did not follow up their success on the
following day is a question round which controversy raged for many a
year. Deficiencies in commissariat and transport; the disorganisation
of the army after the victory; the difficulties of a direct attack
upon Washington, defended as it was by a river a mile broad, with but
a single bridge, and patrolled by gunboats; the determination of the
Government to limit its military operations to a passive defence of
Confederate territory, have all been pressed into service as excuses.
"Give me 10,000 fresh troops," said Jackson, as the surgeon dressed
his wound, "and I would be in Washington to-morrow." Before
twenty-four hours had passed reinforcements had increased the
strength of Johnston's army to 40,000. Want of organisation had
undoubtedly prevented McDowell from winning a victory on the 19th or
20th, but pursuit is a far less difficult business than attack. There
was nothing to interfere with a forward movement. There were supplies
along the railway, and if the mechanism for their distribution and
the means for their carriage were wanting, the counties adjoining the
Potomac were rich and fertile. Herds of bullocks were grazing in the
pastures, and the barns of the farmers were loaded with grain. It was
not a long supply train that was lacking, nor an experienced staff,
nor even well-disciplined battalions; but a general who grasped the
full meaning of victory, who understood how a defeated army, more
especially of new troops, yields at a touch, and who, above all, saw
the necessity of giving the North no leisure to develop her immense
resources. For three days Jackson impatiently awaited the order to
advance, and his men were held ready with three days' cooked rations
in their haversacks. But his superiors gave no sign, and he was
reluctantly compelled to abandon all hope of reaping the fruits of
victory.

It is true that the Confederates were no more fit for offensive
operations than McDowell's troops. "Our army," says General Johnston,
"was more disorganised by victory than that of the United States by
defeat." But it is to be remembered that if the Southerners had moved
into Maryland, crossing the Potomac by some of the numerous fords
near Harper's Ferry, they would have found no organised opposition,
save the debris of McDowell's army, between them and the Northern
capital. On July 26, five days after the battle, the general who was
to succeed McDowell arrived in Washington and rode round the city. "I
found," he wrote, "no preparations whatever for defence, not even to
the extent of putting the troops in military position. Not a regiment
was properly encamped, not a single avenue of approach guarded. All
was chaos, and the streets, hotels, and bar-rooms were filled with
drunken officers and men, absent from their regiments without leave,
a perfect pandemonium. Many had even gone to their homes, their
flight from Bull Run terminating in New York, or even in New
Hampshire and Maine. There was really nothing to prevent a small
cavalry force from riding into the city. A determined attack would
doubtless have carried Arlington Heights and placed the city at the
mercy of a battery of rifled guns. If the Secessionists attached any
value to the possession of Washington, they committed their greatest
error in not following up the victory of Bull Run." On the same date,
the Secretary of War, Mr. Stanton, wrote as follows: "The capture of
Washington seems now to be inevitable; during the whole of Monday and
Tuesday July 22 and 23 it might have been taken without resistance.
The rout, overthrow, and demoralisation of the whole army were
complete."* (* McClellan's Own Story pages 66 and 67.)

Of his own share in the battle, either at the time or afterwards,
Jackson said but little. A day or two after the battle an anxious
crowd was gathered round the post-office at Lexington, awaiting
intelligence from the front. A letter was handed to the Reverend Dr.
White, who, recognising the handwriting, exclaimed to the eager
groups about him, "Now we shall know all the facts." On opening it he
found the following, and no more:--

My dear Pastor,

In my tent last night, after a fatiguing day's service, I remembered
that I had failed to send you my contribution to our coloured Sunday
school. Enclosed you will find my check for that object, which please
acknowledge at your earliest convenience, and oblige yours faithfully,

T.J. Jackson.

To his wife, however, he was less reserved. "Yesterday," he wrote, we
"fought a great battle and gained a great victory, for which all the
glory is due to God alone...Whilst great credit is due to other parts
of our gallant army, God made my brigade more instrumental than any
other in repulsing the main attack. This is for your information
only--say nothing about it. Let others speak praise, not myself."

Again, on August 5: "And so you think the papers ought to say more
about your husband. My brigade is not a brigade of newspaper
correspondents. I know that the First Brigade was the first to meet
and pass our retreating forces--to push on with no other aid than the
smiles of God; to boldly take up its position with the artillery that
was under my command--to arrest the victorious foe in his onward
progress--to hold him in check until the reinforcements arrived--and
finally to charge bayonets, and, thus advancing, to pierce the
enemy's centre. I am well satisfied with what it did, and so are my
generals, Johnston and Beauregard. It is not to be expected that I
should receive the credit that Generals Johnston and Beauregard
would, because I was under them; but I am thankful to my ever-kind
Heavenly Father that He makes me content to await His own good time
and pleasure for commendation--knowing that all things work together
for my good. If my brigade can always play so important and useful a
part as it did in the last battle, I trust I shall ever be most
grateful. As you think the papers do not notice me enough, I send a
specimen, which you will see from the upper part of the paper is a
'leader.' My darling, never distrust our God, Who doeth all things
well. In due time He will make manifest all His pleasure, which is
all His people should desire. You must not be concerned at seeing
other parts of the army lauded, and my brigade not mentioned. Truth
is mighty and will prevail. When the official reports are published,
if not before, I expect to see justice done to this noble body of
patriots."* (* Both Johnston and Beauregard, in their official
reports, did full justice to Jackson and his brigade.)

These letters reveal a generous pride in the valour of his troops,
and a very human love of approbation struggles with the curb which
his religious principles had placed on his ambition. Like Nelson, he
felt perhaps that before long he would have "a Gazette of his own."
But still, of his own achievements, of his skilful tactics, of his
personal behaviour, of his well-timed orders, he spoke no word, and
the victory was ascribed to a higher power. "The charge of the 2nd
and 4th Virginia," he wrote in his modest report, "through the
blessing of God, Who gave us the victory, pierced the centre of the
enemy."* (* O.R. volume 2 page 482.)

And Jackson's attitude was that of the Southern people. When the news
of Bull Run reached Richmond, and through the crowds that thronged
the streets passed the tidings of the victory, there was neither wild
excitement nor uproarious joy. No bonfires lit the darkness of the
night; no cannon thundered out salutes; the steeples were silent till
the morrow, and then were heard only the solemn tones that called the
people to prayer. It was resolved, on the day following the battle,
by the Confederate Congress: "That we recognise the hand of the Most
High God, the King of kings and Lord of lords, in the glorious
victory with which He has crowned our arms at Manassas, and that the
people of these Confederate States are invited, by appropriate
services on the ensuing Sabbath, to offer up their united
thanksgivings and prayers for this mighty deliverance."

The spoils of Bull Run were large; 1500 prisoners, 25 guns, ten stand
of colours, several thousand rifles, a large quantity of ammunition
and hospital stores, twenty-six waggons, and several ambulances were
 in the victors' hands. The Federal losses were 460 killed and
1124 wounded; the Confederate, 387 killed, 1582 wounded, and 13
missing. The First Brigade suffered more severely than any other in
the Southern army. Of 3000 officers and men, 488 were killed or
wounded, nearly a fourth of the total loss.

A few days after the battle Johnston advanced to Centreville, and
from the heights above the broad Potomac his cavalry vedettes looked
upon the spires of Washington. But it was in vain that the
Confederate troopers rode to and fro on the river bank and watered
their horses within sight of the Capitol. The enemy was not to be
beguiled across the protecting stream. But it was not from fear.
Although the disaster had been as crushing as unexpected, it was
bravely met. The President's demand for another army was cheerfully
complied with. Volunteers poured in from every State. The men were no
longer asked to serve for three months, but for three years.
Washington became transformed into an enormous camp; great earthworks
rose on the surrounding heights; and the training of the new levies
went steadily forward. There was no cry for immediate action. Men
were not wanting who believed that the task of coercion was
impossible. Able statesmen and influential journalists advised the
President to abandon the attempt. But Lincoln, true to the trust
which had been committed to his keeping, never flinched from his
resolve that the Union should be restored. He, too, stood like a wall
between his defeated legions and the victorious foe. Nor was the
nation less determined. The dregs of humiliation had been drained,
and though the draught was bitter it was salutary. The President was
sustained with no half-hearted loyalty. His political opponents raved
and threatened; but under the storm of recrimination the work of
reorganising the army went steadily forward, and the people were
content that until the generals declared the army fit for action the
hour of vengeance should be postponed.

To the South, Bull Run was a Pyrrhic victory. It relieved Virginia of
the pressure of the invasion; it proved to the world that the
attitude of the Confederacy was something more than the reckless
revolt of a small section; but it led the Government to indulge vain
hopes of foreign intervention, and it increased the universal
contempt for the military qualities of the Northern soldiers. The
hasty judgment of the people construed a single victory as proof of
their superior capacity for war, and the defeat of McDowell's army
was attributed to the cowardice of his volunteers. The opinion was
absolutely erroneous. Some of the Federal regiments had misbehaved,
it is true; seized with sudden panic, to which all raw troops are
peculiarly susceptible, they had dispersed before the strong
counterstroke of the Confederates. But the majority had displayed a
sterling courage. There can be little question that the spirit of the
infantry depends greatly on the staunchness of the artillery. A
single battery, pushed boldly forward into the front of battle, has
often restored the vigour of a wavering line. Although the losses it
inflicts may not be large, the moral effect of its support is
undeniable. So long as the guns hold fast victory seems possible. But
when these useful auxiliaries are driven back or captured a general
depression becomes inevitable. The retreat of the artillery strikes a
chill into the fighting line which is ominous of defeat, and it is a
wise regulation that compels the batteries, even when their
ammunition is exhausted, to stand their ground. The Federal infantry
at Bull Run had seen their artillery overwhelmed, the teams
destroyed, the gunners shot down, and the enemy's riflemen swarming
amongst the abandoned pieces. But so vigorous had been their efforts
to restore the battle, that the front of the defence had been with
difficulty maintained; the guns, though they were eventually lost,
had been retaken; and without the assistance of their artillery, but
exposed to the fire, at closest range, of more than one battery, the
Northern regiments had boldly pushed forward across the Henry Hill.
The Confederates, during the greater part of the battle, were
certainly outnumbered; but at the close they were the stronger, and
the piecemeal attacks of the Federals neutralised the superiority
which the invading army originally possessed.

McDowell appears to have employed 18,000 troops in the attack;
Johnston and Beauregard about the same number.* (* For the strength
of divisions and brigades, see the Note at the end of the chapter.)

A comparison of the relative strength of the two armies, considering
that raw troops have a decided advantage on the defensive, detracts,
to a certain degree, from the credit of the victory; and it will
hardly be questioned that had the tactics of the Federals been better
the victory would have been theirs. The turning movement by Sudley
Springs was a skilful manoeuvre, and completely surprised both
Johnston and Beauregard. It was undoubtedly risky, but it was far
less dangerous than a direct attack on the strong position along Bull
Run.

The retention of the Fourth Division between Washington and
Centreville would seem to have been a blunder; another 5000 men on
the field of battle should certainly have turned the scale. But more
men were hardly wanted. The Federals during the first period of the
fight were strong enough to have seized the Henry Hill. Bee, Bartow,
Evans, and Hampton had been driven in, and Jackson alone stood fast.
A strong and sustained attack, supported by the fire of the regular
batteries, must have succeeded.* (* "Had an attack," said General
Johnston, "been made in force, with double line of battle, such as
any major-general in the United States service would now make, we
could not have held the position for half an hour, for they would
have enveloped us on both flanks." Campaigns of the Army of the
Potomac, W. Swinton page 58.) The Federal regiments, however, were
practically incapable of movement under fire. The least change of
position broke them into fragments; there was much wild firing; it
was impossible to manoeuvre; and the courage of individuals proved a
sorry substitute for order and cohesion. The Confederates owed their
victory simply and solely to the fact that their enemies had not yet
learned to use their strength.

The summer months went by without further fighting on the Potomac;
but the camps at Fairfax and at Centreville saw the army of Manassas
thinned by furloughs and by sickness. The Southern youth had come out
for battle, and the monotonous routine of the outpost line and the
parade-ground was little to their taste. The Government dared not
refuse the numberless applications for leave of absence, the more so
that in the crowded camps the sultry heat of the Virginia woodlands
bred disease of a virulent type. The First Brigade seems to have
escaped from all these evils. Its commander found his health improved
by his life in the open air. His wound had been painful. A finger was
broken, but the hand was saved, and some temporary inconvenience
alone resulted. As he claimed no furlough for himself, so he
permitted no absence from duty among his troops. "I can't be absent,"
he wrote to his wife, "as my attention is necessary in preparing my
troops for hard fighting, should it be required; and as my officers
and soldiers are not permitted to visit their wives and families, I
ought not to see mine. It might make the troops feel that they are
badly treated, and that I consult my own comfort, regardless of
theirs."

In September his wife joined him for a few days at Centreville, and
later came Dr. White, at his invitation, to preach to his command.
Beyond a few fruitless marches to support the cavalry on the
outposts, of active service there was none. But Jackson was not the
man to let the time pass uselessly. He had his whole brigade under
his hand, a force which wanted but one quality to make it an
instrument worthy of the hand that wielded it, and that quality was
discipline. Courage and enthusiasm it possessed in abundance; and
when both were untrained the Confederate was a more useful soldier
than the Northerner. In the South nearly every man was a hunter,
accustomed from boyhood to the use of firearms. Game was abundant,
and it was free to all. Sport in one form or another was the chief
recreation of the people, and their pastoral pursuits  them much
leisure for its indulgence. Every great plantation had its pack of
hounds, and fox-hunting, an heirloom from the English colonists,
still flourished. His stud was the pride of every Southern gentleman,
and the love of horse-flesh was inherent in the whole population. No
man walked when he could ride, and hundreds of fine horsemen, mounted
on steeds of famous lineage, recruited the Confederate squadrons.

But, despite their skill with the rifle, their hunter's craft, and
their dashing horsemanship, the first great battle had been hardly
won. The city-bred Northerners, unused to arms and uninured to
hardship, had fought with extraordinary determination; and the same
want of discipline that had driven them in rout to Washington had
dissolved the victorious Confederates into a tumultuous mob.* (*
Colonel Williams, of the 5th Virginia, writes that the Stonewall
Brigade was a notable exception to the general disintegration, and
that it was in good condition for immediate service on the morning
after the battle.) If Jackson knew the worth of his volunteers, he
was no stranger to their shortcomings. His thoughts might be
crystallised in the words of Wellington, words which should never be
forgotten by those nations which depend for their defence on the
services of their citizen soldiery.

"They want," said the great Duke, speaking of the Portuguese in 1809,
"the habits and the spirit of soldiers,--the habits of command on one
side, and of obedience on the other--mutual confidence between
officers and men."

In order that during the respite now offered he might instil these
habits into his brigade, Jackson neither took furlough himself nor
granted it to others. His regiments were constantly exercised on the
parade-ground. Shoulder to shoulder they advanced and retired,
marched and countermarched, massed in column, formed line to front or
flank, until they learned to move as a machine, until the limbs
obeyed before the order had passed from ear to brain, until obedience
became an instinct and cohesion a necessity of their nature. They
learned to listen for the word of the officer, to look to him before
they moved hand or foot; and, in that subjection of their own
individuality to the will of their superior, they acquired that
steadiness in battle, that energy on the march, that discipline in
quarters which made the First Brigade worthy of the name it had
already won. "Every officer and soldier," said their commander, "who
is able to do duty ought to be busily engaged in military preparation
by hard drilling, in order that, through the blessing of God, we may
be victorious in the battles which in His all-wise providence may
await us."

Jackson's tactical ideas, as regards the fire of infantry, expressed
at this time, are worth recording. "I rather think," he said, "that
fire by file independent firing is best on the whole, for it gives
the enemy an idea that the fire is heavier than if it was by company
or battalion (volley firing). Sometimes, however, one may be best,
sometimes the other, according to circumstances. But my opinion is
that there ought not to be much firing at all. My idea is that the
best mode of fighting is to reserve your fire till the enemy get--or
you get them--to close quarters. Then deliver one deadly, deliberate
fire--and charge!"

Although the newspapers did scant justice to the part played by the
brigade in the battle of Bull Run, Lee's epithet survived, and
Jackson became known as Stonewall throughout the army. To one of his
acquaintances the general revealed the source of his composure under
fire. "Three days after the battle, hearing that Jackson was
suffering from his wound, I rode," writes Imboden, "to his quarters
near Centreville. Of course the battle was the only topic discussed
during breakfast. "General," I remarked, "how is it that you can keep
so cool, and appear so utterly insensible to danger in such a storm
of shell and bullets as rained about you when your hand was hit?" He
instantly became grave and reverential in his manner, and answered,
in a low tone of great earnestness: "Captain, my religious belief
teaches me to feel as safe in battle as in bed. God has fixed the
time for my death. I do not concern myself about that, but to be
always ready, no matter when it may overtake me." He added, after a
pause, looking me full in the face: "That is the way all men should
live, and then all would be equally brave.""* (* Battles and Leaders,
volume 1 pages 122 and 123.)

Although the war upon the borders had not yet touched the cities of
the South, the patriotism of Virginia saw with uneasiness the inroads
of the enemy in that portion of the State which lies beyond the
Alleghanies, especially the north-west. The country was overrun with
Federal soldiers, and part of the population of the district had
declared openly for the Union. In that district was Jackson's
birth-place, the home of his childhood, and his mother's grave. His
interest and his affections were bound by many ties to the country
and the people, and in the autumn of 1861 he had not yet come to
believe that they were at heart disloyal to their native State. A
vigorous effort, he believed, might still restore to the Confederacy
a splendid recruiting-ground, and he made no secret of his desire for
employment in that region. The strategical advantages of this corner
of Virginia were clearly apparent, as will be seen hereafter, to his
perception. Along its western border runs the Ohio, a river navigable
to its junction with the Mississippi, and giving an easy line of
communication into the heart of Kentucky. Through its northern
counties passed the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, the main line of
communication between Washington and the West; and alongside the
railway ran the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, a second and most
important line of supply. Above all, projecting as it did towards the
great lakes of the North, the north-western angle, or Virginia
Panhandle, narrowed the passage between East and West to an isthmus
not more than a hundred miles in breadth. With this territory in the
possession of the Confederates, the Federal dominions would be
practically cut in two; and in North-western Virginia, traversed by
many ranges of well-nigh pathless mountains, with few towns and still
fewer roads, a small army might defy a large one with impunity.

November 4.

On November 4 Jackson's wish was partially granted. He was assigned
to the command of the Shenandoah Valley District, embracing the
northern part of the area between the Alleghanies and the Blue Ridge.
The order was received with gratitude, but dashed by the fact that he
had to depart alone. "Had this communication," he said to Dr. White,
"not come as an order, I should instantly have declined it, and
continued in command of my brave old brigade."

Whether he or his soldiers felt the parting most it is hard to say.
Certain it is that the men had a warm regard for their leader. There
was no more about him at Centreville to attract the popular fancy
than there had been at Harper's Ferry. When the troops passed in
review the eye of the spectator turned at once to the trim carriage
of Johnston and of Beauregard, to the glittering uniform of Stuart,
to the superb chargers and the martial bearing of young officers
fresh from the Indian frontier. The silent professor, absent and
unsmiling, who dressed as plainly as he lived, had little in common
with those dashing soldiers. The tent where every night the general
and his staff gathered together for their evening devotions, where
the conversation ran not on the merits of horse and hound, on
strategy and tactics, but on the power of faith and the mysteries of
the redemption, seemed out of place in an army of high-spirited
youths. But, while they smiled at his peculiarities, the Confederate
soldiers remembered the fierce counterstroke on the heights above
Bull Run. If the Presbyterian general was earnest in prayer, they
knew that he was prompt in battle and indefatigable in quarters. He
had the respect of all men, and from his own brigade he had something
more. Very early in their service, away by the rippling Shenandoah,
they had heard the stories of his daring in Mexico. They had
experienced his skill and coolness at Falling Waters; they had seen
at Bull Run, while the shells burst in never-ending succession among
the pines, the quiet figure riding slowly to and fro on the crest
above them; they had heard the stern command, "Wait till they come
within fifty yards and then give them the bayonet," and they had
followed him far in that victorious rush into the receding ranks of
their astonished foe.

Little wonder that these enthusiastic youths, new to the soldier's
trade, should have been captivated by a nature so strong and
fearless. The Stonewall Brigade had made Jackson a hero, and he had
won more from them than their admiration. His incessant watchfulness
for their comfort and well-being; the patient care with which he
instructed them; his courtesy to the youngest private; the tact and
thoughtfulness he showed in all his relations with them, had won
their affection. His very peculiarities endeared him to them. Old
Jack or Stonewall were his nicknames in the lines of his own command,
and stories went round the camp fire of how he had been seen walking
in the woods round Centreville absorbed in prayer, or lifting his
 hand with that peculiar gesture which the men believed was an
appeal to Heaven, but which, in reality, was made to relieve the pain
of his wounded finger. But while they discussed his oddities, not a
man in the brigade but acknowledged his ability, and when the time
came not a man but regretted his departure.

His farewell to his troops was a striking scene. The forest, already
donning its gorgeous autumnal robes, shut in the grassy clearing
where the troops were drawn up. There stood the grey columns of the
five regiments, with the colours, already tattered, waving in the
mild November air. The general rode up, their own general, and not a
sound was heard. Motionless and silent they stood, a veritable stone
wall, whilst his eye ran along the ranks and scanned the familiar
faces. "I am not here to make a speech," he said, "but simply to say
farewell. I first met you at Harper's Ferry, at the commencement of
the war, and I cannot take leave of you without giving expression to
my admiration of your conduct from that day to this, whether on the
march, in the bivouac, or on the bloody plains of Manassas, where you
gained the well-deserved reputation of having decided the fate of
battle.

"Throughout the broad extent of country through which you have
marched, by your respect for the s and property of citizens, you
have shown that you are soldiers not only to defend, but able and
willing both to defend and protect. You have already won a brilliant
reputation throughout the army of the whole Confederacy; and I trust,
in the future, by your deeds in the field, and by the assistance of
the same kind Providence who has hitherto favoured our cause, you
will win more victories and add lustre to the reputation you now
enjoy. You have already gained a proud position in the future history
of this our second War of Independence. I shall look with great
anxiety to your future movements, and I trust whenever I shall hear
of the First Brigade on the field of battle, it will be of still
nobler deeds achieved, and higher reputation won!" Then there was a
pause; general and soldiers looked upon each other, and the heart of
the leader went out to those who had followed him with such devotion.
He had spoken his words of formal praise, but both he and they knew
the bonds between them were too strong to be thus coldly severed. For
once he gave way to impulse; his eye kindled, and rising in his
stirrups and throwing the reins upon his horse's neck, he spoke in
tones which betrayed the proud memories that thronged upon him:

"In the Army of the Shenandoah you were the First Brigade! In the
Army of the Potomac you were the First Brigade! In the Second Corps
of the army you are the First Brigade! You are the First Brigade in
the affections of your general, and I hope by your future deeds and
bearing you will be handed down to posterity as the First Brigade in
this our second War of Independence. Farewell!"

For a moment there was silence; then the pent-up feeling found
expression, and cheer upon cheer burst forth from the ranks of the
Valley regiments. Waving his hand in token of farewell, Jackson
galloped from the field.


NOTE 6.1. THE TROOPS EMPLOYED ON THE HENRY HILL.

FEDERAL.

FIRST DIVISION: TYLER.

BRIGADES: 4500.
Keyes.
Sherman.
Schenck.

SECOND DIVISION: HUNTER.

BRIGADES: 6000.
Porter.
Burnside.

THIRD DIVISION: HEINTZLEMAN.

BRIGADES: 7500.
Franklin.
Wilcox.
Howard.

TOTAL 18,000, AND 30 GUNS.

CONFEDERATE.

ARMY OF THE SHENANDOAH JOHNSTON.

BRIGADES: 8700.
Jackson.
Bee.
Bartow.
Kirby Smith.

ARMY OF THE POTOMAC BEAUREGARD.

BRIGADES: 9300.
Bonham.
Cocke.
Early.
7th Louisiana Regiment.
8th Louisiana Regiment.
Hampton's Legion.
Cavalry.

TOTAL 18,000, AND 21 GUNS.


NOTE 6.2. THE COST 0F AN INADEQUATE ARMY.

Lord Wolseley has been somewhat severely criticised for asserting
that in the Civil War, "from first to last, the co-operation of even
one army corps (35,000 men) of regular troops would have given
complete victory to whichever side it fought on." Whatever may be
argued as to the latter period of the conflict, it is impossible for
anyone who understands the power of organisation, of discipline, of
training, and of a proper system of command, to dispute the accuracy
of this statement as regards the year 1861, that is, for the first
eight months.

It is far too often assumed that the number of able-bodied men is the
true criterion of national strength. In the Confederate States, for
instance, there were probably 750,000 citizens who were liable for
service in the militia, and yet had the United States possessed a
single regular army corps, with a trained staff, an efficient
commissariat, and a fully-organised system of transport, it is
difficult to see how these 750,000 Southerners could have done more
than wage a guerilla warfare. The army corps would have absorbed into
itself the best of the Northern militia and volunteers; the staff and
commissariat would have given them mobility, and 60,000 or 70,000
men, moving on Richmond directly Sumter fell, with the speed and
certainty which organisation gives, would have marched from victory
to victory. Their 750,000 enemies would never have had time to arm,
to assemble, to organise, to create an army, to train a staff, or to
arrange for their supplies. Each gathering of volunteers would have
been swept away before it had attained consistency, and Virginia, at
least, must have been conquered in the first few months.

And matters would have been no different if the army corps had been
directed against the Union. In the Northern States there were over
2,000,000 men who were liable for service; and yet the Union States,
notwithstanding their superior resources, were just as vulnerable as
the Confederacy. Numbers, even if they amount to millions, are
useless, and worse than useless, without training and organisation;
the more men that are collected on the battle-field, the more
crushing and far-reaching their defeat. Nor can the theory be
sustained that a small army, invading a rich and populous country,
would be "stung to death" by the numbers of its foes, even if they
dared not oppose it in the open field. Of what avail were the
stupendous efforts of the French Republic in 1870 and 1871? Enormous
armies were raised and equipped; the ranks were filled with brave
men; the generals were not unskilful; and yet time after time they
were defeated by the far inferior forces of their seasoned enemies.
Even in America itself, on two occasions, at Sharpsburg in 1862, and
at Gettysburg in 1863, it was admitted by the North that the
Southerners were "within a stone's throw of independence." And yet
hundreds of thousands of able-bodied men had not yet joined the
Federal armies. Nor can Spain be quoted as an instance of an
unconquerable nation. Throughout the war with Napoleon the English
armies, not only that under Wellington, but those at Cadiz, Tarifa,
and Gibraltar, afforded solid rallying-points for the defeated
Spaniards, and by a succession of victories inspired the whole
Peninsula with hope and courage.

The patriot with a rifle may be equal, or even superior, man for man,
to the professional soldier; but even patriots must be fed, and to
win victories they must be able to manoeuvre, and to manoeuvre they
must have leaders. If it could remain stationary, protected by
earthworks, and supplied by railways, with which the enemy did not
interfere, a host of hastily raised levies, if armed and equipped,
might hold its own against even a regular army. But against troops
which can manoeuvre earthworks are useless, as the history of
Sherman's brilliant operations in 1864 conclusively shows. To win
battles and to protect their country armies must be capable of
counter-manoeuvre, and it is when troops are set in motion that the
real difficulty of supplying them begins.

If it is nothing else, the War of Secession, with its awful
expenditure of blood and treasure, is a most startling object-lesson
in National Insurance.

</section>
<section id="10" fatherid="1" title="ROMNEY" lv="CHAPTER 1.7." priority="0" level="2">
1861 November.

While the Indian summer still held carnival in the forests of
Virginia, Jackson found himself once more on the Shenandoah. Some
regiments of militia, the greater part of which were armed with
flint-lock muskets, and a few squadrons of irregular cavalry formed
his sole command.

The autumn of 1861 was a comparatively quiet season. The North,
silent but determined, was preparing to put forth her stupendous
strength. Scott had resigned; McDowell had been superseded; but the
President had found a general who had caught the confidence of the
nation. In the same month that had witnessed McDowell's defeat, a
young officer had gained a cheap victory over a small Confederate
force in West Virginia, and his grandiloquent dispatches had
magnified the achievement in the eyes of the Northern people. He was
at once nicknamed the "Young Napoleon," and his accession to the
chief command of the Federal armies was enthusiastically approved.
General McClellan had been educated at West Point, and had graduated
first of the class in which Jackson was seventeenth. He had been
appointed to the engineers, had served on the staff in the war with
Mexico, and as United States Commissioner with the Allied armies in
the Crimea. In 1857 he resigned, to become president of a railway
company, and when the war broke out he was commissioned by the State
of Ohio as Major-General of Volunteers. His reputation at the
Military Academy and in the regular army had been high. His ability
and industry were unquestioned. His physique was powerful, and he was
a fine horseman. His influence over his troops was remarkable, and he
was emphatically a gentleman.

It was most fortunate for the Union at this juncture that caution and
method were his distinguishing characteristics. The States had placed
at Lincoln's disposal sufficient troops to form an army seven times
greater than that which had been defeated at Bull Run. McClellan,
however, had no thought of committing the new levies to an enterprise
for which they were unfitted. He had determined that the army should
make no move till it could do so with the certainty of success, and
the winter months were to be devoted to training and organisation.
Nor was there any cry for immediate action. The experiment of a
civilian army had proved a terrible failure. The nation that had been
so confident of capturing Richmond, was now anxious for the security
of Washington. The war had been in progress for nearly six months,
and yet the troops were manifestly unfit for offensive operations.
Even the crude strategists of the press had become alive to the
importance of drill and discipline.

October 21.

A reconnaissance in force, pushed (contrary to McClellan's orders)
across the Potomac, was repulsed by General Evans at Ball's Bluff
with heavy loss; and mismanagement and misconduct were so evident
that the defeat did much towards inculcating patience.

So the work went on, quietly but surely, the general supported by the
President, and the nation giving men and money without remonstrance.
The South, on the other hand, was still apathetic. The people,
deluded by their decisive victory, underrated the latent strength of
their mighty adversary. They appear to have believed that the
earthworks which had transformed Centreville into a formidable
fortress, manned by the Army of Northern Virginia, as the force under
Johnston was now designated, were sufficient in themselves to end the
war. They had not yet learned that there were many roads to Richmond,
and that a passive defence is no safeguard against a persevering foe.
The Government, expecting much from the intervention of the European
Powers, did nothing to press the advantage already gained. In vain
the generals urged the President to reinforce the army at Centreville
to 60,000 men, and to give it transport and supplies sufficient to
permit the passage of the Potomac above Washington.

In vain they pointed out, in answer to the reply that the Government
could furnish neither men nor arms, that large bodies of troops were
retained at points the occupation of which by the enemy would cause
only a local inconvenience. "Was it not possible," they asked the
President, "by stripping other points to the last they would bear,
and even risking defeat at all other places, to put the Virginian
army in condition for a forward movement? Success," they said, "in
the neighbourhood of Washington was success everywhere, and it was
upon the north-eastern frontier that all the available force of the
Confederacy should be concentrated."

Mr. Davis was immovable. Although Lee, who had been appointed to a
command in West Virginia almost immediately after Bull Run, was no
longer at hand to advise him, he probably saw the strategical
requirements of the situation. That a concentrated attack on a vital
point is a better measure of security than dissemination along a
frontier, that the counter-stroke is the soul of the defence, and
that the true policy of the State which is compelled to take up arms
against a superior foe is to allow that foe no breathing-space, are
truisms which it would be an insult to his ability to say that he did
not realise. But to have surrendered territory to the temporary
occupation of the enemy, in order to seek a problematical victory
elsewhere, would have probably provoked a storm of discontent. The
authority of the new Government was not yet firmly established; nor
was the patriotism of the Southern people so entirely unselfish as to
render them willing to endure minor evils in order to achieve a great
result. They were willing to fight, but they were unwilling that
their own States should be  unprotected. To apply Frederick the
Great's maxim* requires greater strength of will in the statesman
than in the soldier. (* "A defensive war is apt to betray us into too
frequent detachments. Those generals who have had but little
experience attempt to protect every point, while those who are better
acquainted with their profession, having only the capital object in
view, guard against a decisive blow, and acquiesce in smaller
misfortunes to avoid greater." Frederick the Great's Instructions to
his Generals.) The cries and complaints of those who find themselves
abandoned do not penetrate to the camp, but they may bring down an
administration. It is easy to contrive excuses for the inaction of
the President, and it is no new thing to find the demands of strategy
sacrificed to political expediency. Nor did the army which had
suffered so heavily on the banks of Bull Run evince any marked desire
to be led across the Potomac. Furloughs were liberally granted.
Officers and privates dispersed to look after their farms and their
plantations. The harvests had to be gathered, the negroes required
the master's eye, and even the counties of Virginia asked that part
of the contingents they had furnished might be permitted to return to
agricultural pursuits.

The senior generals of the Virginia army were not alone in believing
that the victory they had won would be barren of result unless it
were at once utilised as a basis for further action. Jackson,
engrossed as he was with the training of his command, found time to
reflect on the broader aspects of the war. Before he  for the
Shenandoah Valley he sought an interview with General G.W. Smith,
recently appointed to the command of his division. "Finding me lying
down in my tent," writes this officer, "he expressed regret that I
was sick, and said he had come to confer with me on a subject of
great importance, but would not then trouble me with it. I told him
that I wished to hear whatever he desired to say, and could rest
whilst he was talking. He immediately sat down on the ground, near
the head of the cot on which I was lying, and entered on the subject
of his visit.

"'McClellan,' he said, 'with his army of recruits, will not attempt
to come out against us this autumn. If we remain inactive they will
have greatly the advantage over us next spring. Their raw recruits
will have then become an organised army, vastly superior in numbers
to our own. We are ready at the present moment for active operations
in the field, while they are not. We ought to invade their country
now, and not wait for them to make the necessary preparations to
invade ours. If the President would reinforce this army by taking
troops from other points not threatened, and let us make an active
campaign of invasion before winter sets in, McClellan's raw recruits
could not stand against us in the field.

"'Crossing the Upper Potomac, occupying Baltimore, and taking
possession of Maryland, we could cut off the communications of
Washington, force the Federal Government to abandon the capital, beat
McClellan's army if it came out against us in the open country,
destroy industrial establishments wherever we found them, break up
the lines of interior commercial intercourse, close the coal-mines,
seize and, if necessary, destroy the manufactories and commerce of
Philadelphia, and of other large cities in our reach; take and hold
the narrow neck of country between Pittsburg and Lake Erie; subsist
mainly the country we traverse, and making unrelenting war amidst
their homes, force the people of the North to understand what it will
cost them to hold the South in the Union at the bayonet's point.'

"He then requested me to use my influence with Generals Johnston and
Beauregard in favour of immediate aggressive operations. I told him
that I was sure that an attempt on my part to exert any influence in
favour of his proposition would do no good. Not content with my
answer he repeated his arguments, dwelling more at length on the
advantages of such strategy to ourselves and its disadvantages to the
enemy, and again urged me to use my influence to secure its adoption.
I gave him the same reply I had already made.

"After a few minutes' thought he abruptly said: 'General, you have
not expressed any opinion in regard to the views I have laid before
you. But I feel assured that you favour them, and I think you ought
to do all in your power to have them carried into effect.'

"I then said, 'I will tell you a secret.'

"He replied, 'Please do not tell me any secret. I would prefer not to
hear it.' I answered, 'I must tell it to you, and I have no
hesitation in doing so, because I am certain that it will not be
divulged.' I then explained to him that these views had already been
laid before the Government, in a conference which had taken place at
Fairfax Court House, in the first days of October, between President
Davis, Generals Johnston, Beauregard, and myself, and told him the
result.

"When I had finished, he rose from the ground, on which he had been
seated, shook my hand warmly, and said, 'I am sorry, very sorry.'

"Without another word he went slowly out to his horse, a few feet in
front of my tent, mounted very deliberately, and rode sadly away. A
few days afterwards he was ordered to the Valley.* (* Letter of
General G.W. Smith to the author.)

November 5.

It was under such depressing circumstances that Jackson quitted the
army which, boldly used, might have ensured the existence of the
Confederacy. His headquarters were established at Winchester; and, in
communication with Centreville by road, rail, and telegraph, although
sixty miles distant, he was still subordinate to Johnston. The
Confederate front extended from Fredericksburg on the Rappahannock to
Winchester on the Opequon. Jackson's force, holding the Valley of the
Shenandoah and the line of the Potomac westward of Point of Rocks,
was the extreme outpost on the , and was connected with the main
body by a detachment at Leesburg, on the other side of the Blue
Ridge, under his brother-in-law, General D.H. Hill.

At Winchester his wife joined him, and of their first meeting she
tells a pretty story:

"It can readily be imagined with what delight General Jackson's
domestic plans for the winter were hailed by me, and without waiting
for the promised 'aide' to be sent on escort, I joined some friends
who were going to Richmond, where I spent a few days to shop, to
secure a passport, and to await an escort to Winchester. The latter
was soon found in a kind-hearted, absent-minded old clergyman. We
travelled by stage coach from Strasburg, and were told, before
reaching Winchester, that General Jackson was not there, having gone
with his command on an expedition. It was therefore with a feeling of
sad disappointment and loneliness that I alighted in front of
Taylor's hotel, at midnight, in the early part of dreary cold
December, and no husband to meet me with a glad welcome. By the dim
lamplight I noticed a small group of soldiers standing in the wide
hall, but they remained silent spectators, and my escort led me up
the big stairway, doubtless feeling disappointed that he still had me
on his hands. Just before reaching the landing I turned to look back,
for one figure among the group looked startlingly familiar, but as he
had not come forward, I felt that I must be mistaken. However, my
backward glance revealed an officer muffled up in a military
greatcoat, cap drawn down over his eyes, following us in rapid
pursuit, and by the time we were upon the top step a pair of strong
arms caught me; the captive's head was thrown back, and she was
kissed again and again by her husband before she could recover from
the delightful surprise he had given her. The good old minister
chuckled gleefully, and was no doubt a sincere sharer in the joy and
relief experienced by his charge. When I asked my husband why he did
not come forward when I got out of the coach, he said he wanted to
assure himself that it was his own wife, as he didn't want to commit
the blunder of kissing anybody else's esposa!"

The people amongst whom they found themselves were Virginian to the
core. In Winchester itself the feeling against the North was
exceptionally bitter. The town was no mushroom settlement; its
history stretched back to the old colonial days; the grass-grown
intrenchments on the surrounding hills had been raised by Washington
during the Indian wars, and the traditions of the first struggle for
independence were not yet forgotten. No single section of the South
was more conservative. Although the citizens had been strong
Unionists, nowhere were the principles which their fathers had
respected, the sovereignty of the individual State and the  of
secession, more strongly held, and nowhere had the hereditary spirit
of resistance to coercive legislation blazed up more fiercely. The
soldiers of Bull Run, who had driven the invader from the soil of
Virginia, were the heroes of the hour, and the leader of the
Stonewall Brigade had peculiar claims on the hospitality of the town.
It was to the people of the Valley that he owed his command. "With
one voice," wrote the Secretary of War, "have they made constant and
urgent appeals that to you, in whom they have confidence, their
defence should be assigned."

"The Winchester ladies," says Mrs. Jackson, "were amongst the most
famous of Virginia housekeepers, and lived in a good deal of
old-fashioned elegance and profusion. The old border town had not
then changed hands with the conflicting armies, as it was destined to
do so many times during the war. Under the rose-coloured light in
which I viewed everything that winter, it seemed to me that no people
could have been more cultivated, attractive, and noble-hearted.
Winchester was rich in happy homes and pleasant people; and the
extreme kindness and appreciation shown to General Jackson by all
bound us to them so closely and warmly that ever after that winter he
called the place our 'war home.'"

But amid congenial acquaintances and lovely surroundings, with the
tumult of war quiescent, and the domestic happiness so dear to him
restored, Jackson allowed no relaxation either to himself or to his
men. His first care was to train and organise his new regiments. The
ranks were filled with recruits, and to their instruction he devoted
himself with unwearied energy. His small force of cavalry, commanded
by Colonel Turner Ashby, a gentleman of Virginia, whose name was to
become famous in the annals of the Confederacy, he at once despatched
to patrol the frontier.

Prompt measures were taken to discipline the troops, and that this
last was a task of no little difficulty the following incident
suggests. In the middle of November, to Jackson's great delight, the
Stonewall Brigade had been sent to him from Manassas, and after its
arrival an order was issued which forbade all officers leaving the
camp except upon passes from headquarters. A protest was immediately
drawn up by the regimental commanders, and laid before the general.
They complained that the obnoxious order was "an unwarranted
assumption of authority, disparaged their dignity, and detracted from
that respect of the force under their command which was necessary to
maintain their authority and enforce obedience." Jackson's reply well
illustrates his own idea of discipline, and of the manner in which it
should be upheld. His adjutant-general wrote as follows to the
discontented officers:

"The Major-General Commanding desires me to say that the within
combined protest is in violation of army regulations and subversive
of military discipline. He claims the  to give his pickets such
instructions as in his opinion the interests of the service require.

"Colonels ---- and ---- on the day that their regiments arrived at
their present encampment, either from incompetency to control their
commands, or from neglect of duty, so permitted their commands to
become disorganised and their officers and men to enter Winchester
without permission, as to render several arrests of officers
necessary.

"If officers desire to have control over their commands, they must
remain habitually with them, industriously attend to their
instruction and comfort, and in battle lead them well, and in such a
manner as to command their admiration.

"Such officers need not apprehend loss of respect resulting from
inserting in a written pass the words 'on duty,' or 'on private
business,' should they have occasion to pass the pickets."

Even the Stonewall Brigade had yet much to learn.

At this time Jackson was besieged with numerous applications for
service on his staff. The majority of these were from persons without
experience, and they were made to the wrong man. "My desire," he
wrote, "is to get a staff specially qualified for their specific
duties. I know Mr. ---- personally, and was favourably impressed by
him. But if a person desires office in these times, the best thing
for him to do is to pitch into service somewhere, and work with such
energy, skill, and success as to impress those round him with the
conviction that such are his merits that he must be advanced, or the
interests of the service must suffer...My desire is to make merit the
basis of my recommendations."

Social claims had no weight with him whatever. He felt that the
interests at stake were too great to be sacrificed to favouritism or
friendship, and he had seen enough of war to know the importance of
staff work. Nor was he in the unfortunate position of being compelled
to accept the nominees of his superiors. The Confederate authorities
were wise enough to permit their generals to choose for themselves
the instruments on which they would have to rely for the execution of
their designs. Wellington, in 1815, had forced on him by the Horse
Guards, in the teeth of his indignant remonstrances, incompetent
officers whom he did not know and whom he could not trust. Jackson,
in a country which knew little of war, was allowed to please himself.
He need appoint no one without learning all about him, and his
inquiries were searching. Was he intelligent? Was he trustworthy? Was
he industrious? Did he get up early? If a man was wanting in any one
of these qualifications he would reject him, however highly
recommended. That his strict investigations and his insistence on the
possession of certain essential characteristics bore good fruit it is
impossible to gainsay. The absence of mishaps and errors in his often
complicated manoeuvres is sufficient proof that he was exceedingly
well served by his subordinates. The influence of a good staff is
seldom apparent except to the initiated. If a combination succeeds,
the general gets all the credit. If it fails, he gets all the blame;
and while no agents, however efficient, can compensate by their own
efforts for the weakness of a conception that is radically unsound,
many a brilliant plan has failed in execution through the
inefficiency of the staff. In his selection of such capable men as
his assistants must needs have been Jackson gave proof that he
possessed one at least of the attributes of a great leader. He was
not only a judge of character, but he could place men in the
positions to which they were best suited. His personal predilections
were never allowed to interfere. For some months his chief of the
staff was a Presbyterian clergyman, while his chief quartermaster was
one of the hardest swearers in Virginia. The fact that the former
could combine the duties of spiritual adviser with those of his
official position made him a congenial comrade; but it was his energy
and ability rather than this unusual qualification which attracted
Jackson; and although the profanity of the quartermaster offended his
susceptibilities, their relations were always cordial. It was to the
intelligence of his staff officers, their energy and their loyalty,
that he looked; for the business in hand these qualities were more
important than their morals.

That a civilian should be found serving as chief of the staff to a
general of division, one of the most important posts in the military
hierarchy, is a curious comment on the organisation of the
Confederate army. The regular officers who had thrown in their lot
with the South had, as a rule, been appointed to commands, and the
generals of lower rank had to seek their staff officers amongst the
volunteers. It may be noticed, however, that Jackson was by no means
bigoted in favour of his own cloth. He showed no anxiety to secure
their services on his staff. He thought many of them unfitted for
duties which brought them in immediate contact with the volunteers.
In dealing with such troops, tact and temper are of more importance
than where obedience has become mechanical, and the claims of rank
are instinctively reflected. In all his campaigns, too, Jackson was
practically his own chief of the staff. He consulted no one. He never
divulged his plans. He gave his orders, and his staff had only to see
that these orders were obeyed. His topographical engineer, his
medical director, his commissary and his quartermaster, were
selected, it is true, by reason of their special qualifications.
Captain Hotchkiss, who filled the first position, was a young man of
twenty-six, whose abilities as a surveyor were well known in the
Valley. Major Harman, his chief quartermaster, was one of the
proprietors of a line of stage coaches and a large farmer, and Major
Hawks, his commissary, was the owner of a carriage manufactory. But
the remainder of his assistants, with the exception of the chief of
artillery, owed their appointments rather to their character than to
their professional abilities. It is not to be understood, at the same
time, that Jackson underrated soldierly acquirements. He  no
complaints on record, like so many of his West Point comrades, of the
ignorance of the volunteer officers, and of the consequent
difficulties which attended every combination. But he was none the
less alive to their deficiencies. Early in 1862, when the military
system of the Confederacy was about to be reorganised, he urged upon
the Government, through the member of Congress for the district where
he commanded, that regimental promotion should not be obtained by
seniority, unless the applicant were approved by a board of
examination; and it was due to his representations that this
regulation, to the great benefit of the army, was shortly afterwards
adopted. With all his appreciation of natural aptitude for the
soldier's trade, so close a student of Napoleon could scarcely be
blind to the fact that the most heroic character, unsustained by
knowledge, is practically useless. If Napoleon himself, more highly
endowed by nature with every military attribute than any other
general of the Christian era, thought it essential to teach himself
his business by incessant study, how much more is such study
necessary for ordinary men?

But no man was less likely than Jackson to place an exaggerated value
on theoretical acquirements. No one realised more fully that
Napoleon's character won more victories than Napoleon's knowledge.
The qualities he demanded in his subordinates were those which were
conspicuous in Napoleon. Who was more industrious than the great
Corsican? Who displayed an intenser energy? Whose intelligence was
ber? Who understood human nature better, or handled men with
more consummate tact? These were the very attributes which
distinguished Jackson himself. They are the key-note to his success,
more so than his knowledge of strategy and tactics, of the mechanism
of march and battle, and of the principles of the military art. In
selecting his staff officers, therefore, he deemed character of more
importance than erudition.

The men of the Stonewall Brigade had a saying that Jackson always
marched at dawn, except when he started the night before, and it was
perhaps this habit, which his enemies found so unreasonable, that led
him to lay so much stress on early rising. It is certain that, like
Wellington, he preferred "three o'clock in the morning men." In a
letter to his wife he says:

"If you will vouch for your brother's being an early riser during the
remainder of the war, I will give him an aide-ship. I do not want to
make an appointment on my staff except of such as are early risers;
but if you will vouch for him to rise regularly at dawn, I will offer
him the position."

Another characteristic he looked for was reticence; and it was
undeniably of the utmost importance, especially in an army which
spoke the same language as the enemy, where desertion was not
uncommon, and spies could easily escape detection, that the men who
might become cognisant of the plans of the commander should be gifted
with discretion. Absolute concealment is generally impracticable in a
camp. Maps must be drawn, and reports furnished. Reconnoitring
parties must be sent out, roads examined, positions surveyed, and
shelter and supplies requisitioned in advance. Thus the movements of
staff officers are a clue to the projected movements of the army, and
the smallest hint may set a hundred brains to the work of surmise.
There will always be many who are just as anxious to discover the
general's intentions as he is to conceal them; and if, by any
possibility whatever, the gossip and guesses of the camp may come to
the enemy's ears, it is well that curiosity should be baulked. Nor is
it undesirable that the privacy of headquarters should be respected.
The vanity of a little brief authority has before now tempted
subordinate officers to hint at weaknesses on the part of their
superiors. Ignorance of war and of the situation has induced them to
criticise and to condemn; and idle words, greedily listened to, and
quickly exaggerated, may easily destroy the confidence of the
soldiery in the abilities of their leader.

By the middle of December Jackson's small army had become fairly
effective. Its duties were simple. To watch the enemy, to keep open
the communication with Manassas, so as to be ready to join the main
army should McClellan advance--such were Johnston's orders. The Upper
Potomac was held by the enemy in force. General Banks, a volunteer
officer, who was yet to learn more of Stonewall Jackson, was in
command. The headquarters of his division, 18,000 strong, were at
Frederick City in Maryland; but his charge extended seventy-five
miles further west, as far as Cumberland on the Potomac. In addition
to Banks, General Kelly with 5000 men was at Romney, on the South
Branch of the Potomac, thirty-five miles north-west of Winchester by
a good road. The Federal troops guarding the Chesapeake and Ohio
Canal and that portion of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad which was
still intact were necessarily much dispersed, for the Confederate
guerillas were active, and dam and aqueduct, tunnel and viaduct,
offered tempting objectives to Ashby's cavalry. Still the force which
confronted Jackson was far superior to his own; the Potomac was broad
and bridgeless, and his orders appeared to impose a defensive
attitude. But he was not the man to rest inactive, no matter what the
odds against him, or to watch the enemy's growing strength without an
endeavour to interfere. Within the limits of his own command he was
permitted every latitude; and he was determined to apply the
aggressive strategy which he was so firmly convinced should be
adopted by the whole army. The Secretary of War, Mr. Benjamin, in
detaching him to the Valley, had asked him to "forward suggestions as
to the means of rendering his measures of defence effectual."* (*
O.R. volume 5 page 909.)

The earliest information he had received on his arrival at Winchester
pointed to the conclusion that the enemy was meditating an advance by
way of Harper's Ferry. His first suggestion thereupon was that he
should be reinforced by a division under General Loring and a brigade
under Colonel Edward Johnson, which were stationed within the
Alleghanies on the great highways leading to the Ohio, covering
Staunton from the west.* (* Loring was at Huntersville, Johnson on
Alleghany Mountain, not far from Monterey. General Lee, unable with
an inferior force to drive the enemy from West Virginia, had been
transferred to South Carolina on November 1.) His next was to the
effect that he should be permitted to organise an expedition for the
recapture and occupation of Romney. If he could seize this village,
the junction of several roads, more decisive operations would at once
become feasible. It has been said that the force of old associations
urged Jackson to drive the invader from the soil which held his
mother's grave; but, even if we had not the evidence of his interview
with General G.W. Smith,* (* Ante page 174.) a glance at the map
would in itself be sufficient to assure us that strategy prevailed
with him rather than sentiment.

The plan of campaign which first suggested itself to him was
sufficiently comprehensive.

"While the Northern people and the Federal authorities were still a
prey to the demoralisation which had followed Bull Run, he proposed
to advance with 10,000 troops into north-west Virginia, where he
would reclaim the whole country, and summon the inhabitants of
Southern sentiment to join his army. His information was extensive
and reliable, and he did not doubt his ability to recruit between
15,000 and 20,000 men, enough for his designs. These were bold and
simple. While the enemy was under the impression that his only object
was to reclaim and occupy North-west Virginia, he would move his
whole force rapidly across to the Monongahela, march down upon
Pittsburg, destroy the United States arsenal, and then, in
conjunction with Johnston's army (which was to cross the Potomac at
Leesburg), advance upon Harrisburg, the capital of Pennsylvania. From
Harrisburg he proposed that the army should advance upon
Philadelphia."* (* Cooke page 87.)

These suggestions, however, went no further than his friends in the
Legislative Assembly. Although, for his conduct at Bull Run, he had
now been promoted to major-general, the Lexington professor had as
yet no voice in the councils of the young republic. Nevertheless, the
President read and approved the less ambitious proposal for an attack
on the Federal force at Romney.

Romney, the county seat of Hampshire, lies in a rich district watered
by the South Branch of the Potomac. For more than a hundred miles,
from source to mouth, the river is bordered by alluvial meadows of
extraordinary fertility. Their prodigal harvests, together with the
sweetness of the upland pastures, make them the paradise of the
grazier; the farms which rest beneath the hills are of manorial
proportions, and the valley of the beautiful South Branch is a land
of easy wealth and old-fashioned plenty. From Romney an excellent
road runs south-east to Winchester, and another south-west by
Moorefield and Franklin to Monterey, where it intersects the great
road, constructed by one of Napoleon's engineers, that leads from
Staunton in the Valley to Parkersburg on the Ohio.

When Jackson advocated the occupation of this important point the
whole of West Virginia, between the Alleghanies and the Ohio, was in
possession of the Federals. The army of occupation, under General
Rosecrans, amounted to 27,000 men and over 40 guns; but the troops
were dispersed in detachments from Romney to Gauley Bridge, a
distance of near two hundred miles, their communications were
exposed, and, owing to the mountains, co-operation was almost
impracticable.

(MAP. SKETCH OF WEST VIRGINIA IN 1861. Showing: West: Pt. Pleasant,
North: Pittsburg, South: Lewisburg and East: Winchester.)

5000 men, based on Grafton, occupied Romney.

18,700, based on Clarksburg, occupied the passes south-east of
Beverley.

9000, based on the Ohio, were stationed on the Great Kanawha, a river
which is navigable for small steamers to within a few miles of Gauley
Bridge.

4000 protected the lines of communication.

Jackson's letter to the Secretary of War was as follows:

November 20.

"Deeply impressed with the importance of absolute secrecy respecting
military operations, I have made it a point to say but little
respecting my proposed movements in the event of sufficient
reinforcements arriving, but since conversing with Lieutenant-Colonel
Preston his adjutant-general, upon his return from General Loring,
and ascertaining the disposition of the general's forces, I venture
to respectfully urge that after concentrating all his troops here, an
attempt should be made to capture the Federal forces at Romney. The
attack on Romney would probably induce McClellan to believe that
General Johnston's army had been so weakened as to justify him in
making an advance on Centreville; but should this not induce him to
advance, I do not believe anything will, during this winter.

"Should General Johnston be attacked, I would be at once prepared to
reinforce him with my present force, increased by General Loring's.
After repulsing the enemy at Manassas, let the troops that marched on
Romney return to the Valley, and move rapidly westward to the waters
of the Monongahela and Little Kanawha. I deem it of very great
importance that North-western Virginia be occupied by Confederate
troops this winter. At present it is to be presumed that the enemy
are not expecting an attack there, and the resources of that region,
necessary for the subsistence of our troops, are in greater abundance
than in almost any other season of the year. Postpone the occupation
of that section until spring, and we may expect to find the enemy
prepared for us, and the resources to which I have referred greatly
exhausted. I know that what I have proposed will be an arduous
undertaking and cannot be accomplished without the sacrifice of much
personal comfort; but I feel that the troops will be prepared to make
the sacrifice when animated by the prospects of important results to
our cause, and distinction to themselves. It may be urged against
this plan that the enemy will advance from Beverley and the Great
Kanawha on Staunton or Huntersville. I am well satisfied that such a
step would but make their destruction sure. When North-western
Virginia is occupied in force, the Kanawha Valley, unless it be the
lower part of it, must be evacuated by the Federal forces, or
otherwise their safety will be endangered by forcing a column across
from the Little Kanawha between them and the Ohio River.

"Admitting that the season is too far advanced, or that from other
causes all cannot be accomplished that has been named, yet through
the blessing of God, who has thus far wonderfully prospered our
cause, much more may be expected from General Loring's troops,
according to this programme, than can be expected from them where
they are."* (* O.R. volume 5 page 965.)

This scheme was endorsed by Johnston. "I submit," he wrote, "that the
troops under General Loring might render valuable services by taking
the field with General Jackson, instead of going into winter quarters
as now proposed."

In accordance with Jackson's suggestion, Loring was ordered to join
him. Edward Johnson, however, was withheld. The Confederate
authorities seem to have considered it injudicious to leave unguarded
the mountain roads which lead into the Valley from the west. Jackson,
with a wider grasp of war, held that concentration at Winchester was
a sounder measure of security. "Should the Federals" (at Beverley),
he said, "take advantage of the withdrawal of Johnson's troops, and
cross the mountains, so much the worse for them. While they were
marching eastwards, involving themselves amongst interminable
obstacles, he Jackson would place himself on their communications
and close in behind them, making their destruction the more certain
the further they advanced towards their imaginary prize."* (* Dabney
volume 1 page 298.)

While waiting for Loring, Jackson resolved to complete the education
of his new battalions in the field. The raw troops who garrisoned the
Northern border were not formidable enemies, and a sudden rush upon
some ill-defended post would give to the staff and soldiery that
first taste of success which gives heart and backbone to
inexperienced troops.

December 6 to 9.

The first enterprise, however, was only partially successful. The
destruction of a dam on the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, one of the
main arteries of communication between Washington and the West, by
which coal, hay, and forage reached the Union capital, was the result
of a few days' hard marching and hard work. Two companies of the
Stonewall Brigade volunteered to go down by night and cut the cribs.
Standing waist deep in the cold water, and under the constant fire of
the enemy, they effected a partial breach; but it was repaired by the
Federals within two days. Jackson's loss was one man killed. While
engaged in this expedition news reached him of the decisive repulse
by Colonel Edward Johnson of an attack on his position on Alleghany
Mountain. Jackson again asked that this brigade might be sent to his
support, but it was again refused, notwithstanding Johnston's
endorsement of his request.

Loring reached Winchester on Christmas Day. Once more the enemy
threatened to advance, and information had been received that he had
been largely strengthened. Jackson was of opinion that the true
policy of the Federals would be to concentrate at Martinsburg, midway
between Romney and Frederick, and "to march on Winchester over a road
that presented no very strong positions." To counteract such a
combination, he determined to anticipate their movements, and to
attack them before they received additional reinforcements.

1862. January 1.

On January 1, 1862, 9000 Confederates marched from Winchester towards
the Potomac. Jackson's first objectives were the villages of Bath and
Hancock, on the Baltimore and Ohio Railway, held by Federal
garrisons. By dispersing these detachments he would prevent support
being sent to Romney; by cutting the telegraph along the railroad he
would sever the communication between Banks at Frederick and
Rosecrans in West Virginia, and compel Kelly either to evacuate
Romney or fight him single-handed. To deal with his enemy in detail,
to crush his detachments in succession, and with superior force, such
was the essence of his plan.

The weather when the expedition started was b and pleasant, so
much so that the troops, with the improvidence of young soldiers,
 their coats and blankets in the waggons. That very afternoon,
however, the temperature underwent a sudden change. Under cold grey
skies the column scaled the mountain ridges, and on the winter wind
came a fierce storm of snow and hail. In order to conceal the march
as far as possible from the enemy's observations the brigades had
marched by country roads, and delayed by steep gradients and slippery
tracks, it was not till the next morning that the supply waggons came
up. The troops, hurried suddenly from comfortable winter quarters,
suffered much. The bivouac was as cheerless as the march. Without
rations and without covering, the men lay shivering round the camp
fires. The third day out, even the commander of the Stonewall Brigade
took it upon himself to halt his wearied men. Jackson became restive.
Riding along the column he found his old regiments halted by the
roadside, and asked the reason for the delay.

"I have halted to let the men cook their rations," was General
Garnett's reply. "There is no time for that." "But it is impossible
for the men to march further without them." "_I_ never found anything
impossible with this brigade!" and Jackson rode on. His plans
admitted of no delay. He intended to surprise the enemy. In this
expectation, however, he was disappointed.

January 3.

A few miles distant from Bath his advanced guard fell in with a
Federal reconnaissance, and at nightfall the Confederates had not yet
reached the outskirts of the town. Once more they had to bivouac in
the open, and rations, tents, and blankets were still behind. When
the day broke over the Shenandoah Mountains the country was white
with snow, and the sleeping soldiers were covered as with a
winding-sheet. After a hasty meal an attempt was made to surround the
village, and to cut off the retreat of the garrison. The outflanking
movements, made in a blinding storm, failed in combination. The roads
were too bad, the subordinate commanders too inexperienced; the three
hostile regiments escaped across the river in their boats, and only
16 prisoners were captured. Still, the advantages of their unexpected
movement were not altogether lost to the Confederates. The Federals,
ignorant as yet of the restless energy of the foe who held command at
Winchester, had settled themselves cosily in winter quarters. The
intelligence of Jackson's march had come too late to enable them to
remove the stores which had been collected at Bath, and on the night
of January 4 the Virginians revelled in warmth and luxury. The next
morning they moved forward to the river.

January 5.

On the opposite bank stood the village of Hancock, and after a demand
to surrender had been refused, Jackson ordered his batteries to open
fire.* (* The Federal commander was granted two hours in which to
remove the women and children.) Shepherdstown, a little Virginia town
south of the Potomac, had been repeatedly shelled, even when
unoccupied by Confederate troops. In order to intimate that such
outrages must cease a few shells were thrown into Hancock. The next
day the bombardment was resumed, but with little apparent effect; and
strong reinforcements having joined the enemy, Jackson ceased fire
and withdrew. A bridge was already in process of construction two
miles above the town, but to have crossed the river, a wide though
shallow stream, in face of a considerable force, would have been a
useless and a costly operation. The annihilation of the Federal
garrison would have scarcely repaid the Southerners for the loss of
life that must have been incurred. At the same time, while Jackson's
batteries had been at work, his infantry had done a good deal of
mischief. Two regiments had burned the bridge by which the Baltimore
and Ohio Railway crosses the Great Cacapon River, the canal dam was
breached, and many miles of track and telegraph were destroyed. The
enemy's communications between Frederick and Romney were thus
effectually severed, and a large amount of captured stores were sent
to Winchester. It was with the design of covering these operations
that the bombardment had been continued, and the summons to surrender
was probably no more than a ruse to attract the attention of the
Federal commander from the attack on the Cacapon Bridge. On the
morning of the 7th Jackson moved southward to Unger's Store. Here,
however, the expedition came to a standstill. The precaution of
rough-shoeing the horses before leaving Winchester had been
neglected, and it was found necessary to refit the teams and rest the
men.

January 13.

After halting for four days the Confederates, on January 13, renewed
their march. The outlook was unpromising. Although cavalry patrols
had been despatched in every direction, a detachment of militia,
which had acted as flank-guard in the direction of Romney while
Jackson was moving to Unger's Store, had been surprised and defeated,
with the loss of two guns, at Hanging Rock. The weather, too, grew
colder and colder, and the mountain roads were little more than
sheets of ice. The sleet beat fiercely down upon the crawling column.
The men stumbled and fell on the slippery tracks; many waggons were
overturned, and the bloody knees and muzzles of the horses bore
painful witness to the severity of the march. The bivouacs were more
comfortless than before. The provision train lagged far in rear. Axes
there were none; and had not the fence-rails afforded a supply of
firewood, the sufferings of the troops would have been intense. As it
was, despite the example of their commander, they pushed forward but
slowly through the bitter weather. Jackson was everywhere; here,
putting his shoulder to the wheel of a gun that the exhausted team
could no longer move; there, urging the wearied soldiers, or rebuking
the officers for want of energy. Attentive as he was to the health
and comfort of his men in quarters, on the line of march he looked
only to the success of the Confederate arms. The hardships of the
winter operations were to him but a necessary concomitant of his
designs, and it mattered but little if the weak and sickly should
succumb. Commanders who are over-chary of their soldiers' lives, who
forget that their men have voluntarily offered themselves as food for
powder, often miss great opportunities. To die doing his duty was to
Jackson the most desirable consummation of the soldier's existence,
and where duty was concerned or victory in doubt he was as careless
of life and suffering as Napoleon himself. The well-being of an
individual or even of an army were as nothing compared with the
interests of Virginia. And, in the end, his indomitable will
triumphed over every obstacle.

January 10.

Romney village came at length in sight, lonely and deserted amid the
mountain snows, for the Federal garrison had vanished, abandoning its
camp-equipment and its magazines.

No pursuit was attempted. Jackson had resolved on further operations.
It was now in his power to strike at the Federal communications,
marching along the Baltimore and Ohio Railway in the direction of
Grafton, seventy-five miles west of Romney. In order to leave all
safe behind him, he determined, as a first step, to destroy the
bridge by which the Baltimore and Ohio Railway crossed the Potomac in
the neighbourhood of Cumberland. The Federal forces at Williamstown
and Frederick drew the greater part of their supplies from the West;
and so serious an interruption in the line of communication would
compel them to give up all thought of offensive enterprises in the
Valley. But the sufferings that his green soldiers had undergone had
sapped their discipline. Loring's division, nearly two-thirds of the
command, was so discontented as to be untrustworthy. It was useless
with such troops to dream of further movements among the inhospitable
hills. Many had deserted during the march from Unger's Store; many
had succumbed to the exposure of the bivouacs; and, more than all,
the commander had been disloyal to his superior. Although a regular
officer of long service, he had permitted himself a license of speech
which was absolutely unjustifiable, and throughout the operations had
shown his unfitness for his position. Placed under the command of an
officer who had been his junior in the Army of the United States, his
sense of discipline was overborne by the slight to his vanity; and
not for the first time nor the last the resentment of a petty mind
ruined an enterprise which would have profited a nation. Compelled to
abandon his projected march against the enemy, Jackson determined to
leave a strong garrison in Romney and the surrounding district, while
the remainder of the force withdrew to Winchester. The two towns were
connected by a good high-road, and by establishing telegraphic
communication between them, he believed that despite the Federal
numbers he could maintain his hold on these important posts. Many
precautions were taken to secure Romney from surprise. Three militia
regiments, recruited in the country, and thus not only familiar with
every road, but able to procure ample information, were posted in the
neighbourhood of the town; and with the militia were  three
companies of cavalry, one of which had already been employed in this
region.

In detailing Loring's division as the garrison of Romney Jackson
seems to have made a grave mistake. He had much reason to be
dissatisfied with the commander, and the men were already
demoralised. Troops unfit to march against the enemy were not the men
to be trusted with the security of an important outpost, within
thirty miles of the Federal camps at Cumberland, far from their
supports, and surrounded by bleak and lonely mountains. A man of
wider sympathy with human weakness, and with less rigid ideas of
discipline, might possibly have arranged matters so that the
Stonewall Brigade might have remained at Romney, while Loring and his
division were transferred to less exacting duties and more
comfortable quarters. But Loring's division constituted two-thirds of
Jackson's force, and Romney, more exposed than Winchester, required
the stronger garrison. A general of Loring's temper and pretensions
would scarcely have submitted to the separation of his brigades, and
would probably have become even more discontented had Garnett, the
leader of the Stonewall Brigade, been  in command at Romney,
while he himself played a subordinate part at Winchester. It is only
too possible, however, that matters were past mending. The feeble
discipline of Loring's troops had broken down; their enthusiasm had
not been proof against the physical suffering of these winter
operations.

The Stonewall Brigade, on the other hand, was still staunch. "I am
well assured," wrote Jackson at this time, "that had an order been
issued for its march, even through the depth of winter and in any
direction, it would have sustained its reputation; for although it
was not under fire during the expedition at Romney, yet the alacrity
with which it responded to the call of duty and overcame obstacles
showed that it was still animated by the same spirit that
characterised it at Manassas." But Jackson's old regiments were now
tried soldiers, inspirited by the memories of the great victory they
had done so much to win, improved by association with Johnston's
army, and welded together by a discipline far stricter than that
which obtained in commands like Loring's.

January 24.

On January 24 Jackson returned to Winchester. His strategy had been
successful. He had driven the enemy across the Potomac. He had
destroyed for a time an important line of supply. He had captured a
few prisoners and many stores; and this with a loss of 4 men killed
and 28 wounded. The Federal forces along the border were far superior
to his own. The dispersion of these forces from Cumberland to
Frederick, a distance of eighty miles, had doubtless been much in his
favour. But when he marched from Winchester he had reason to believe
that 8000 men were posted at Frederick, 2000 at Hagerstown, 2000 at
Williamsport, 2000 at Hancock, and 12,000 at Cumberland and Romney.
The actual effective strength of these garrisons may possibly have
been smaller than had been reported, but such were the numbers which
he had to take into consideration when planning his operations. It
would appear from the map that while he was at Romney, 12,000
Federals might have moved out from Williamsport and Harper's Ferry
and have cut him off from Winchester. This danger had to be kept in
view. But the enemy had made no preparations for crossing the
Potomac; the river was a difficult obstacle; and Banks was not the
man to run risks.* (* "Any attempt," Banks reported to McClellan, "to
intercept the enemy would have been unsuccessful...It would have
resulted in almost certain failure to cut him off, and have brought
an exhausted force into his presence to fight him in his stronghold
at Winchester. In any case, it promised no positive prospect of
success, nor did it exclude large chances of disaster."
(O.R. volume 5 page 694.)

At the same time, while Jackson was in all probability perfectly
aware of the difficulties which Banks refused to face, and counted on
that commander's hesitation, it must be admitted that his manoeuvres
had been daring, and that the mere thought of the enemy's superior
numbers would have tied down a general of inferior ability to the
passive defence of Winchester. Moreover, the results attained were
out of all proportion to the trifling loss which had been incurred.
An important recruiting-ground had been secured. The development of
Union sentiment, which, since the occupation of Romney by the
Federals, had been gradually increasing along the Upper Potomac,
would be checked by the presence of Southern troops. A base for
further operations against the Federal detachments in West Virginia
had been established, and a fertile region opened to the operations
of the Confederate commissaries. These strategic advantages, however,
were by no means appreciated by the people of Virginia. The
sufferings of the troops appealed more forcibly to their imagination
than the prospective benefit to be derived by the Confederacy.
Jackson's secrecy, as absolute as that of the grave, had an ill
effect. Unable to comprehend his combinations, even his own officers
ascribed his manoeuvres to a restless craving for personal
distinction; while civilian wiseacres, with their ears full of the
exaggerated stories of Loring's stragglers, saw in the relentless
energy with which he had pressed the march on Romney not only the
evidence of a callous indifference to suffering, but the symptoms of
a diseased mind. They refused to consider that the general had shared
the hardships of the troops, faring as simply and roughly as any
private in the ranks. He was charged with partiality to the Stonewall
Brigade. "It was said that he kept it in the rear, while other troops
were constantly thrust into danger; and that now, while Loring's
command was  in midwinter in an alpine region, almost within the
jaws of a powerful enemy, these favoured regiments were brought back
to the comforts and hospitalities of the town; whereas in truth,
while the forces in Romney were ordered into huts, the brigade was
three miles below Winchester, in tents, and under the most rigid
discipline."* (* Dabney volume 1 page 320.)

It should not be forgotten, however, that Loring's troops were little
more as yet than a levy of armed civilians, ignorant of war; and this
was one reason the more that during those cruel marches the hand that
held the reins should have been a light one. A leader more genial and
less rigid would have found a means to sustain their courage.
Napoleon, with the captivating familiarity he used so well, would
have laughed the grumblers out of their ill-humour, and have nerved
the fainting by pointing to the glory to be won. Nelson would have
struck the chord of patriotism. Skobeleff, taking the very privates
into his confidence, would have enlisted their personal interest in
the success of the enterprise, and the eccentric speeches of "Father"
Suvoroff would have cheered them like a cordial. There are occasions
when both officers and men are the better for a little humouring, and
the march to Romney was one. A few words of hearty praise, a stirring
appeal to their nobler instincts, a touch of sympathy, might have
worked wonders. But whatever of personal magnetism existed in
Stonewall Jackson found no utterance in words. Whilst his soldiers
struggled painfully towards Romney in the teeth of the winter storm,
his lips were never opened save for sharp rebuke or peremptory order,
and Loring's men had some reason to complain of his fanatical regard
for the very letter of the law. On the most inclement of those
January nights the captain of a Virginia company, on whose property
they happened to have halted, had allowed them to use the fence-rails
for the camp fires. Jackson, ever careful of private s, had
issued an order that fences should not be burnt, and the generous
donor was suspended from duty on the charge of giving away his own
property without first asking leave! Well might the soldiers think
that their commander regarded them as mere machines.

His own men knew his worth. Bull Run had shown them the measure of
his courage and his ability; in a single battle he had won that
respect and confidence which go so far towards establishing
discipline. But over Loring's men his personal ascendency was not yet
established. They had not yet seen him under fire. The fighting in
the Romney campaign had been confined to skirmishing. Much spoil had
been gathered in, but there were no trophies to show in the shape of
guns or colours; no important victory had raised their self-respect.
It is not too much to say that the silent soldier who insisted on
such constant exertion and such unceasing vigilance was positively
hated.

"They were unaccustomed to a military regimen so energetic as his.
Personally the most modest of men, officially he was the most
exacting of commanders, and his purpose to enforce a thorough
performance of duty, and his stern disapprobation of remissness and
self-indulgence were veiled by no affectations of politeness. Those
who came to serve near his person, if they were not wholly
like-minded with himself, usually underwent, at first, a sort of
breaking in, accompanied with no little chafing to restless spirits.
The expedition to Romney was, to such officers, just such an
apprenticeship to Jackson's methods of making war. All this was fully
known to him; but while he keenly felt the injustice, he disdained to
resent it, or to condescend to any explanation."* (* Dabney volume 1
page 321.)

Jackson returned to Winchester with no anticipation that the darkest
days of his military life were close at hand. Little Sorrel, the
charger he had ridden at Bull Run, leaving the senior members of the
staff toiling far in rear, had covered forty miles of mountain roads
in one short winter day. "After going to an hotel and divesting
himself of the mud which had bespattered him in his rapid ride, he
proceeded to Dr. Graham's. In order to give his wife a surprise he
had not intimated when he would return. As soon as the first glad
greetings were over, before taking his seat, with a face all aglow
with delight, he glanced round the room, and was so impressed with
the cosy and cheerful aspect of the fireside, as we all sat round it
that winter evening, that he exclaimed: 'This is the very essence of
comfort.'"* (* Memoirs of Stonewall Jackson.)

He had already put aside the unpleasant memories of the expedition,
and had resigned himself to rest content with the measure of success
that had been attained. Romney at least was occupied, and operations
might be effectively resumed at a more propitious season.

Six days later, however, Jackson received a peremptory message from
the Secretary of War: "Our news indicates that a movement is making
to cut off General Loring's command; order him back immediately."* (*
O.R. volume 5 page 1053.)

This order had been issued without reference to General Johnston,
Jackson's immediate superior, and so marked a departure from ordinary
procedure could not possibly be construed except as a severe
reflection on Jackson's judgment. Nor could it have other than a most
fatal effect on the discipline of the Valley troops. It had been
brought about by most discreditable means. Loring's officers had sat
in judgment on their commander. Those who had been granted leave at
the close of the expedition had repaired to Richmond, and had filled
the ears of the Government and the columns of the newspapers with
complaints. Those who remained at Romney formulated their grievance
in an official remonstrance, which Loring was indiscreet enough to
approve and forward. A council of subordinate officers had the
effrontery to record their opinion that "Romney was a place of no
strategical importance," and to suggest that the division might be
"maintained much more comfortably, at much less expense, and with
every military advantage, at almost any other place."* (* Ibid pages
1046 to 1048.)

Discomfort was the burden of their complaint. They had been serving
continuously for eight months. Their present position imposed upon
them even greater vigilance and more constant exertion than had
hitherto been demanded of them, and their one thought was to escape
from a situation which they characterised as "one of the most
disagreeable and unfavourable that could well be imagined." Only a
single pertinent argument was brought forward. The Confederate
soldiers had enlisted only for twelve months, and the Government was
about to ask them to volunteer for the duration of the war. It was
urged by Loring's officers that with the present prospect before them
there was much doubt that a single man of the division would
re-enlist. "With some regard for its comfort," added the general, "a
large portion, if not the whole, may be prevailed upon to do so."

It does not seem to have occurred to these officers that soldiers in
the near vicinity of the enemy, wherever they may be placed, must
always be subject to privations, and that at any other point of the
Confederate frontier--at Winchester with Jackson, at Leesburg with
Hill, or at Centreville with Johnston--their troops would be exposed
to the same risks and the same discomforts as at Romney. That the
occupation of a dangerous outpost is in itself an honour never
entered their minds; and it would have been more honest, instead of
reviling the climate and the country, had they frankly declared that
they had had enough for the present of active service, and had no
mind to make further sacrifices in the cause for which they had taken
arms.

January 31.

With the Secretary's order Jackson at once complied. Loring was
recalled to Winchester, but before his command arrived Jackson's
resignation had gone in.

His letter, forwarded through Johnston, ran as follows:

Headquarters, Valley District, Winchester, Virginia: January 31, 1862.

Hon. J.P. Benjamin, Secretary of War,

Sir,

Your order, requiring me to direct General Loring to return with his
command to Winchester immediately, has been received and promptly
complied with.

With such interference in my command I cannot expect to be of much
service in the field, and, accordingly, respectfully request to be
ordered to report for duty to the Superintendent of the Virginia
Military Institute at Lexington, as has been done in the case of
other professors. Should this application not be granted, I
respectfully request that the President will accept my resignation
from the army.* (* O.R. volume 5 page 1053.)

The danger apprehended by the Secretary of War, that Loring's
division, if  at Romney, might be cut off, did not exist. General
Lander, an able and energetic officer, now in command of the Federal
force at Cumberland, had put forward proposals for an active campaign
in the Shenandoah Valley; but there was no possibility of such an
enterprise being immediately undertaken. The Potomac was still a
formidable obstacle; artillery and cavalry were both deficient; the
troops were scattered, and their discipline was indifferent. Lander's
command, according to his official despatches, was "more like an
armed mob than an army."* (* Ibid pages 702 and 703.) Romney,
therefore, was in little danger; and Jackson, who had so lately been
in contact with the Federal troops, whose cavalry patrolled the banks
of the Potomac, and who was in constant receipt of information of the
enemy's attitude and condition, was certainly a better judge of what
was probable than any official in the Confederate capital. There were
doubtless objections to the retention of Romney. An enormous army, in
the intrenched camp at Washington, threatened Centreville; and in the
event of that army advancing, Jackson would be called upon to
reinforce Johnston, just as Johnston had reinforced Beauregard before
Bull Run. With the greater part of his force at Romney such an
operation would be delayed by at least two days. Even Johnston
himself, although careful to leave his subordinate a free hand,
suggested that the occupation of Romney, and the consequent
dispersion of Jackson's force, might enable the enemy to cut in
effectively between the Valley troops and the main army. It is beyond
question, however, that Jackson had carefully studied the situation.
There was no danger of his forgetting that his was merely a detached
force, or of his overlooking, in the interests of his own projected
operations, the more important interests of the main army; and if his
judgment of the situation differed from that of his superior, it was
because he had been indefatigable in his search for information.

He had agents everywhere.* (* "I have taken special pains," he writes
on January 17, "to obtain information respecting General Banks, but I
have not been informed of his having gone east. I will see what can
be effected through the Catholic priests at Martinsburg." O.R. volume
5 page 1036.) His intelligence was more ample than that supplied by
the Confederate spies in Washington itself. No reinforcements could
reach the Federals on the Potomac without his knowledge. He was
always accurately informed of the strength and movements of their
detachments. Nor had he failed to take the precautions which minimise
the evils arising from dissemination. He had constructed a line of
telegraph from Charlestown, within seven miles of Harper's Ferry, to
Winchester, and another line was to have been constructed to Romney.
He had established relays of couriers through his district. By this
means he could communicate with Hill at Leesburg in three hours, and
by another line of posts with Johnston at Centreville.

But his chief reason for believing that Romney might be occupied
without risk to a junction between himself and Johnston lay in the
impassable condition of the Virginia roads. McClellan's huge army
could not drag its guns and waggons through the slough of mud which
lay between Washington and Centreville. Banks' command at Frederick
was in no condition for a rapid advance either upon Leesburg or on
Winchester; and it was evident that little was to be feared from
Lander until he had completed the work, on which he was now actively
engaged, of repairing the communications which Jackson's raid had
temporarily interrupted. With the information we have now before us,
it is clear that Jackson's view of the situation was absolutely
correct; that for the present Romney might be advantageously
retained, and recruiting pushed forward in this section of Virginia.
If, when McClellan advanced, the Confederates were to confine
themselves to the defensive, the post would undoubtedly have to be
abandoned. But if, instead of tamely surrendering the initiative, the
Government were to adopt the bolder strategy which Jackson had
already advocated, and Johnston's army, moving westward to the
Valley, were to utilise the natural line of invasion by way of
Harper's Ferry, the occupation of Romney would secure the flank, and
give the invading force a fertile district from which to draw
supplies.

It was not, however, on the Secretary's misconception of the
situation that Jackson's request for relief was based. Nor was it the
slur on his judgment that led him to resign. The injury that had been
inflicted by Mr. Benjamin's unfortunate letter was not personal to
himself. It affected the whole army. It was a direct blow to
discipline, and struck at the very heart of military efficiency. Not
only would Jackson himself be unable to enforce his authority over
troops who had so successfully defied his orders; but the whole
edifice of command, throughout the length and breadth of the
Confederacy, would, if he tamely submitted to the Secretary's
extraordinary action, be shaken to its foundations. Johnston, still
smarting under Mr. Davis's rejection of his strategical views, felt
this as acutely as did Jackson. "The discipline of the army," he
wrote to the Secretary of War, "cannot be maintained under such
circumstances. The direct tendency of such orders is to insulate the
commanding general from his troops, to diminish his moral as well as
his official control, and to harass him with the constant fear that
his most matured plans may be marred by orders from his Government
which it is impossible for him to anticipate."* (* O.R. volume 5
pages 1057 and 1058.)

To Jackson he wrote advising the withdrawal of his resignation:
"Under ordinary circumstances a due sense of one's own dignity, as
well as care for professional character and official s, would
demand such a course as yours, but the character of this war, the
great energy exhibited by the Government of the United States, the
danger in which our very existence as an independent people lies,
requires sacrifices from us all who have been educated as soldiers.

"I receive the information of the order of which you have such cause
to complain from your letter. Is not that as great an official wrong
to me as the order itself to you? Let us dispassionately reason with
the Government on this subject of command, and if we fail to
influence its practice, then ask to be relieved from positions the
authority of which is exercised by the War Department, while the
responsibilities are  to us.

"I have taken the liberty to detain your letter to make this appeal
to your patriotism, not merely from common feelings of personal
regard, but from the official opinion which makes me regard you as
necessary to the service of the country in your present position."*
(* O.R. volume 5 pages 1059 and 1060.)

But Johnston, when he wrote, was not aware of the remonstrance of
Loring's officers. His protest, in his letter to the Secretary of
War, deprecated the action of the department in ignoring the
authority of the military chiefs; it had no reference to the graver
evil of yielding to the representations of irresponsible
subordinates. Considering the circumstances, as he believed them to
exist, his advice was doubtless prudent. But it found Jackson in no
compromising mood.

"Sacrifices!" he exclaimed; "have I not made them? What is my life
here but a daily sacrifice? Nor shall I ever withhold sacrifices for
my country, where they will avail anything. I intend to serve here,
anywhere, in any way I can, even if it be as a private soldier. But
if this method of making war is to prevail, the country is ruined. My
duty to Virginia requires that I shall utter my protest against it in
the most energetic form in my power, and that is to resign. The
authorities at Richmond must be taught a lesson, or the next victims
of their meddling will be Johnston and Lee."

Fortunately for the Confederacy, the Virginia officers possessed a
staunch supporter in the Governor of the State. Mr. Letcher knew
Jackson's worth, and he knew the estimation in which he was already
held by the Virginia people. The battle of Manassas had attained the
dignity of a great historical event, and those whose share in the
victory had been conspicuous were regarded with the same respect as
the heroes of the Revolution. In the spring of 1862 Manassas stood
alone, the supreme incident of the war; its fame was not yet
overshadowed by mightier conflicts, and it had taken rank in the
popular mind with the decisive battles of the world.

Jackson, at the same time that he addressed Johnston, wrote to
Letcher. It is possible that he anticipated the course the Governor
would adopt. He certainly took care that if a protest were made it
should be backed with convincing argument.

"The order from the War Department," he wrote, "was given without
consulting me, and is abandoning to the enemy what has cost much
preparation, expense, and exposure to secure, is in direct conflict
with my military plans, implies a want of confidence in my capacity
to judge when General Loring's troops should fall back, and is an
attempt to control military operations in details from the
Secretary's desk at a distance...As a single order like that of the
Secretary's may destroy the entire fruits of a campaign, I cannot
reasonably expect, if my operations are thus to be interfered with,
to be of much service in the field...If I ever acquired, through the
blessing of Providence, any influence over troops, this undoing my
work by the Secretary may greatly diminish that influence. I regard
the recent expedition as a great success...I desire to say nothing
against the Secretary of War. I take it for granted that he has done
what he believes to be best, but I regard such policy as ruinous."*
(* Memoirs pages 232 and 233.)

This letter had the desired result. Not content with reminding
Jackson of the effect his resignation would have on the people of
Virginia, and begging him to withdraw it, Governor Letcher took the
Secretary of War to task. Mr. Benjamin, who had probably acted in
ignorance rather than in defiance of the military necessities, at
once gave way. Governor Letcher, assured that it was not the
intention of the Government to interfere with the plans of the
general, withdrew the resignation: Jackson had already yielded to his
representations.

"In this transaction," says his chief of the staff, "Jackson gained
one of his most important victories for the Confederate States. Had
the system of encouragement to the insubordination of inferiors, and
of interference with the responsibilities of commanders in the field,
which was initiated in his case, become established, military success
could only have been won by accident. By his firmness the evil usage
was arrested, and a lesson impressed both upon the Government and the
people of the South."* (* Dabney volume 1 page 327.)

That the soldier is but the servant of the statesman, as war is but
an instrument of diplomacy, no educated soldier will deny. Politics
must always exercise a supreme influence on strategy; yet it cannot
be gainsaid that interference with the commanders in the field is
fraught with the gravest danger. Mr. Benjamin's action was without
excuse. In listening to the malcontents he ignored the claims of
discipline. In cancelling Jackson's orders he struck a blow at the
confidence of the men in their commander. In directing that Romney
should not be held he decided on a question which was not only purely
military, but of which the man on the spot, actually in touch with
the situation and with the enemy, could alone be judge.* (* The
inexpediency of evacuating Romney was soon made apparent. The enemy
reoccupied the village, seized Moorefield, and, with the valley of
the South Branch in their possession, threatened the rear of Edward
Johnson's position on the Alleghany Mountain so closely that he was
compelled to retreat. Three fertile counties were thus abandoned to
the enemy, and the Confederate sympathisers in North-west Virginia
were proportionately discouraged.) Even Johnston, a most able and
experienced soldier, although he was evidently apprehensive that
Jackson's front was too extended, forbore to do more than warn. Nor
was his interference the crown of Mr. Benjamin's offence. The
omniscient lawyer asked no advice; but believing, as many still
believe, that neither special knowledge nor practical acquaintance
with the working of the military machine is necessary in order to
manoeuvre armies, he had acted entirely on his own initiative. It was
indeed time that he received a lesson.

Well would it have been for the Confederacy had the President himself
been wise enough to apply the warning to its full extent. We have
already seen that after the victory of Manassas, in his capacity of
Commander-in-Chief, he refused to denude the Southern coasts of their
garrisons in order to reinforce Johnston's army and strike a decisive
blow in Northern territory. Had he but once recognised that he too
was an amateur, that it was impossible for one man to combine
effectively in his own person the duties of Head of the Government
and of Commander-in-Chief, he would have handed over the management
of his huge armies, and the direction of all military movements, to
the most capable soldier the Confederacy could produce. Capable
soldiers were not wanting; and had the control of military operations
been frankly committed to a trained strategist, and the military
resources of the Southern States been placed unreservedly at the
disposal of either Lee or Johnston, combined operations would have
taken the place of disjointed enterprises, and the full strength of
the country have been concentrated at the decisive point. It can
hardly, however, be imputed as a fault to Mr. Davis that he did not
anticipate a system which achieved such astonishing success in
Prussia's campaigns of '66 and '70. It was not through vanity alone
that he retained in his own hands the supreme control of military
affairs. The Confederate system of government was but an imitation of
that which existed in the United States; and in Washington, as in
Richmond, the President was not only Commander-in-Chief in name, but
the arbiter on all questions of strategy and organisation; while, to
go still further back, the English Cabinet had exercised the same
power since Parliament became supreme. The American people may be
forgiven for their failure to recognise the deplorable results of the
system they had inherited from the mother-country. The English people
had been equally blind, and in their case there was no excuse. The
mismanagement of the national resources in the war with France was
condoned by the victories of Wellington. The vicious conceptions of
the Government, responsible for so many useless enterprises, for
waste of life, of treasure, of opportunity, were lost in the blaze of
triumph in which the struggle ended. Forty years later it had been
forgotten that the Cabinet of 1815 had done its best to lose the
battle of Waterloo; the lessons of the great war were disregarded,
and the Cabinet of 1853 to 1854 was allowed to work its will on the
army of the Crimea.

It is a significant fact that, during the War of Secession, for the
three years the control of the armies of the North remained in the
hands of the Cabinet the balance of success lay with the
Confederates. But in March 1864 Grant was appointed
Commander-in-Chief; Lincoln abdicated his military functions in his
favour, and the Secretary of War had nothing more to do than to
comply with his requisitions. Then, for the first time, the enormous
armies of the Union were manoeuvred in harmonious combination, and
the superior force was exerted to its full effect. Nor is it less
significant that during the most critical period of the 1862
campaign, the most glorious to the Confederacy, Lee was
Commander-in-Chief of the Southern armies. But when Lee  Richmond
for the Northern border, Davis once more assumed supreme control,
retaining it until it was too late to stave off ruin.

Yet the Southern soldiers had never to complain of such constant
interference on the part of the Cabinet as had the Northern; and to
Jackson it was due that each Confederate general, with few
exceptions, was henceforward  unhampered in his own theatre of
operations. His threat of resignation at least effected this, and,
although the President still managed or mismanaged the grand
operations, the Secretary of War was muzzled.

It might be objected that in this instance Jackson showed little
respect for the discipline he so rigidly enforced, and that in the
critical situation of the Confederacy his action was a breach of duty
which was almost disloyalty. Without doubt his resignation would have
seriously embarrassed the Government. To some degree at least the
confidence of both the people and the army in the Administration
would have become impaired. But Jackson was fighting for a principle
which was of even more importance than subordination. Foreseeing as
he did the certain results of civilian meddling, submission to the
Secretary's orders would have been no virtue. His presence with the
army would hardly have counterbalanced the untrammelled exercise of
Mr. Benjamin's military sagacity, and the inevitable decay of
discipline. It was not the course of a weak man, an apathetic man, or
a selfish man. We may imagine Jackson eating his heart out at
Lexington, while the war was raging on the frontier, and the
Stonewall Brigade was fighting manfully under another leader against
the hosts of the invader. The independence of his country was the
most intense of all his earthly desires; and to leave the forefront
of the fight before that desire had been achieved would have been
more to him than most. He would have sacrificed far more in resigning
than in remaining; and there was always the possibility that a
brilliant success and the rapid termination of the war would place
Mr. Benjamin apparently in the . How would Jackson look then?
What would be the reputation of the man who had quitted the army, on
what would have been considered a mere point of etiquette, in the
very heat of the campaign? No ordinary man would have faced the
alternative, and have risked his reputation in order to teach the
rulers of his country a lesson which might never reach them. It must
be remembered, too, that Jackson had not yet proved himself
indispensable. He had done good work at Manassas, but so had others.
His name was scarcely known beyond the confines of his own State, and
Virginia had several officers of higher reputation. His immediate
superiors knew his value, but the Confederate authorities, as their
action proved, placed little dependence on his judgment, and in all
probability set no special store upon his services. There was
undoubtedly every chance, had not Governor Letcher intervened, that
his resignation would have been accepted. His letter then to the
Secretary of War was no mere threat, the outcome of injured vanity,
but the earnest and deliberate protest of a man who was ready to
sacrifice even his own good name to benefit his country.

The negotiations which followed his application to resign occupied
some time. He remained at Winchester, and the pleasant home where he
and his wife had found such kindly welcome was the scene of much
discussion. Governor Letcher was not alone in his endeavours to alter
his decision. Many were the letters that poured in. From every class
of Virginians, from public men and private, came the same appeal. But
until he was convinced that Virginia would suffer by his action,
Jackson was deaf to argument. He had not yet realised the measure of
confidence which he had won. To those who sought to move him by
saying that his country could not spare his services, or by speaking
of his hold upon the troops, he replied that they greatly
overestimated his capacity for usefulness, and that his place would
readily be filled by a better man. That many of his friends were
deeply incensed with the Secretary of War was only natural, and his
conduct was bitterly denounced. But Jackson not only forbore to
criticise, but in his presence all criticism was forbidden. There can
be no doubt that he was deeply wounded. He could be angry when he
chose, and his anger was none the less fierce because it was
habitually controlled. He never forgave Davis for his want of wisdom
after Manassas; and indeed, in future campaigns, the President's
action was sufficient to exasperate the most patriotic of his
generals. But during this time of trouble not a word escaped Jackson
which showed those nearest him that his equanimity was disturbed.
Anticipating that he would be ordered to the Military Institute, he
was even delighted, says his wife, at the prospect of returning home.
The reason of his calmness is not far to seek. He had come to the
determination that it was his duty to resign, not, we may be certain,
without prayer and self-communing, and when Jackson saw what his duty
was, all other considerations were soon dismissed. He was content to
leave the future in higher hands. It had been so with him when the
question of secession was first broached. "It was soon after the
election of 1860," wrote one of his clerical friends, "when the
country was beginning to heave in the agony of dissolution. We had
just risen from morning prayers in his own house, where at that time
I was a guest. Filled with gloom, I was lamenting in strong language
the condition and prospect of our beloved country. 'Why,' said he,
'should Christians be disturbed about the dissolution of the Union?
It can only come by God's permission, and will only be permitted if
for His people's good. I cannot see why we should be distressed about
such things, whatever be their consequence.'"

For the next month the Stonewall Brigade and its commander enjoyed a
well-earned rest. The Federals, on Loring's withdrawal, contented
themselves with holding Romney and Moorefield, and on Johnston's
recommendation Loring and part of his troops were transferred
elsewhere. The enemy showed no intention of advancing. The season was
against them. The winter was abnormally wet; the Potomac was higher
than it had been for twenty years, and the Virginia roads had
disappeared in mud. In order to encourage re-enlistment amongst the
men, furloughs were liberally granted by the authorities at Richmond,
and for a short season the din of arms was unheard on the Shenandoah.

This peaceful time was one of unalloyed happiness to Jackson. The
country round Winchester--the gently rolling ridges, surmounted by
groves of forest trees, the great North Mountains to the westward,
rising sharply from the Valley, the cosy villages and comfortable
farms, and, in the clear blue distance to the south, the towering
peaks of the Massanuttons--is a picture not easily forgotten. And the
little town, quiet and old-fashioned, with its ample gardens and
red-brick pavements, is not unworthy of its surroundings. Up a narrow
street, shaded by silver maples, stood the manse, not far from the
headquarter offices; and here when his daily work was done Jackson
found the happiness of a home, bened by the winning ways and
attractive presence of his wife. With his host he had much in common.
They were members of the same church, and neither yielded to the
other in his high standard of morality. The great bookcases of the
manse were well stocked with appropriate literature, and the cultured
intellect of Dr. Graham met more than half-way the somewhat abstruse
problems with which Jackson's powerful brain delighted to wrestle.

But Jackson and his host, even had they been so inclined, were not
permitted to devote their whole leisure to theological discussion.
Children's laughter broke in upon their arguments. The young staff
officers, with the b eyes of the Winchester ladies as a lure,
found a welcome by that hospitable hearth, and the war was not so
absorbing a topic as to drive gaiety afield.

The sedate manse was like to lose its character. There were times
when the house overflowed with music and with merriment, and sounds
at which a Scotch elder would have shuddered were heard far out in
the street. And the fun and frolic were not confined to the more
youthful members of the household. The Stonewall Brigade would hardly
have been surprised had they seen their general surrounded by
ponderous volumes, gravely investigating the teaching of departed
commentators, or joining with quiet fervour in the family devotions.
But had they seen him running down the stairs with an urchin on his
shoulders, laughing like a schoolboy, they would have refused to
credit the evidence of their senses.

So the months wore on. "We spent," says Mrs. Jackson, "as happy a
winter as ever falls to the lot of mortals upon earth." But the
brigade was not forgotten, nor the enemy. Every day the Virginia
regiments improved in drill and discipline. The scouts were busy on
the border, and not a movement of the Federal forces was unobserved.
A vigilant watch was indeed necessary. The snows had melted and the
roads were slowly drying. The Army of the Potomac, McClellan's great
host, numbering over 200,000 men, encamped around Washington, hardly
more than a day's march distant from Centreville, threatened to
overwhelm the 82,000 Confederates who held the intrenchments at
Centreville and Manassas Junction. General Lander was dead, but
Shields, a veteran of the Mexican campaign, had succeeded him, and
the force at both Romney and Frederick had been increased. In the
West things were going badly for the new Republic. The Union troops
had overrun Kentucky, Missouri, and the greater part of Tennessee. A
Confederate army had been defeated; Confederate forts captured; and
"the amphibious power" of the North had already been effectively
exerted. Various towns on the Atlantic seaboard had been occupied.
Not one of the European Powers had evinced a decided intention of
espousing the Confederate cause, and the blockade still exercised its
relentless pressure.

It was not, however, until the end of February that the great host
beyond the Potomac showed symptoms of approaching movement. But it
had long been evident that both Winchester and Centreville must soon
be abandoned. Johnston was as powerless before McClellan as Jackson
before Banks. Even if by bringing fortification to their aid they
could hold their ground against the direct attack of far superior
numbers, they could not prevent their intrenchments being turned.
McClellan had at his disposal the naval resources of the North. It
would be no difficult task to transfer his army by the broad reaches
of the Potomac and the Chesapeake to some point on the Virginia
coast, and to intervene between Centreville and Richmond. At the same
time the army of Western Virginia, which was now under command of
General Fremont, might threaten Jackson in rear by moving on Staunton
from Beverley and the Great Kanawha, while Banks assailed him in
front.* (* Fortunately for the Confederates this army had been
reduced to 18,000 men, and the want of transport, together with the
condition of the mountain roads, kept it stationary until the weather
improved.)

Johnston was already preparing to retreat. Jackson, reluctant to
abandon a single acre of his beloved Valley to the enemy, was
nevertheless constrained to face the possibilities of such a course.
His wife was sent back to her father's home in the same train that
conveyed his sick to Staunton; baggage and stores were removed to
Mount Jackson, half-way up the Shenandoah Valley, and his little
army, which had now been increased to three brigades, or 4600 men all
told, was ordered to break up its camps. 38,000 Federals had
gradually assembled between Frederick and Romney. Banks, who
commanded the whole force, was preparing to advance, and his outposts
were already established on the south bank of the Potomac.

But when the Confederate column filed through the streets of
Winchester, it moved not south but north.

Such was Jackson's idea of a retreat. To march towards the enemy, not
away from him; to watch his every movement; to impose upon him with a
bold front; to delay him to the utmost; and to take advantage of
every opportunity that might offer for offensive action.

Shortly before their departure the troops received a reminder that
their leader brooked no trifling with orders. Intoxicating liquors
were forbidden in the Confederate lines. But the regulation was
systematically evaded, and the friends of the soldiers smuggled in
supplies. When this breach of discipline was discovered, Jackson put
a stop to the traffic by an order which put the punishment on the
 shoulders. "Every waggon that came into camp was to be
searched, and if any liquor were found it was to be spilled out, and
the waggon horses turned over to the quartermaster for the public
service." Nevertheless, when they  Winchester, so Jackson wrote
to his wife, the troops were in excellent spirits, and their somewhat
hypochondriacal general had never for years enjoyed more perfect
health--a blessing for which he had more reason to be thankful than
the Federals.

(MAP. THE VALLEY. Showing: West: Monterey, North: Hancock, South:
Charlottesville and East: Manassas Junction.)

NOTE.

THE EVILS OF CIVILIAN CONTROL.

It is well worth noticing that the interference of both the Union and
Confederate Cabinets was not confined to the movements and location
of the troops. The organisation of the armies was very largely the
work of the civilian authorities, and the advice of the soldiers was
very generally disregarded. The results, it need hardly be said, were
deplorable. The Northern wiseacres considered cavalry an encumbrance
and a staff a mere ornamental appendage. McClellan, in consequence,
was always in difficulties for the want of mounted regiments; and
while many regular officers were retained in the command of batteries
and companies, the important duties of the staff had sometimes to be
assigned to volunteers. The men too, at first, were asked to serve
for three months only; that is, they were permitted to take their
discharge directly they had learned the rudiments of their work.
Again, instead of the ranks of the old regiments being filled up as
casualties occurred, the armies, despite McClellan's protests, were
recruited by raw regiments, commanded by untrained officers. Mr.
Davis, knowing something of war, certainly showed more wisdom. The
organisation of the army of Northern Virginia was , in great
measure, to General Lee; so from the very first the Southerners had
sufficient cavalry and as good a staff as could be got together. The
soldiers, however, were only enlisted at first for twelve months; yet
"Lee," says Lord Wolseley, "pleaded in favour of the engagement being
for the duration of the war, but he pleaded in vain;" and it was not
for many months that the politicians could be induced to cancel the
regulation under which the men elected their officers. The President,
too, while the markets of Europe were still open, neglected to lay in
a store of munitions of war: it was not till May that an order was
sent across the seas, and then only for 10,000 muskets! The
commissariat department, moreover, was responsible to the President
and not to the commander of the armies; this, perhaps, was the worst
fault of all. It would seem impossible that such mistakes, in an
intelligent community, should be permitted to recur. Yet, in face of
the fact that only when the commanders have been given a free hand,
as was Marlborough in the Low Countries, or Wellington in the
Peninsula, has the English army been thoroughly efficient, the
opinion is not uncommon in England that members of Parliament and
journalists are far more capable of organising an army than even the
most experienced soldier.

Since the above was written the war with Spain has given further
proof of how readily even the most intelligent of nations can forget
the lessons of the past.

</section>
<section id="11" fatherid="1" title="KERNSTOWN" lv="CHAPTER 1.8." priority="0" level="2">
1862. February 27.

By the end of February a pontoon bridge had been thrown across the
Potomac at Harper's Ferry, and Banks had crossed to the Virginia
shore. An army of 38,000 men, including 2000 cavalry, and accompanied
by 80 pieces of artillery, threatened Winchester.

President Lincoln was anxious that the town should be occupied. Banks
believed that the opportunity was favourable. "The roads to
Winchester," he wrote, "are turnpikes and in tolerable condition. The
enemy is weak, demoralised, and depressed."

But McClellan, who held command of all the Federal forces, had no
mind to expose even a detachment to defeat. The main Confederate army
at Centreville could, at any moment, dispatch reinforcements by
railway to the Valley, reversing the strategic movement which had won
Bull Run; while the Army of the Potomac, held fast by the mud, could
do nothing to prevent it. Banks was therefore ordered to occupy the
line Charlestown to Martinsburg, some two-and-twenty miles from
Winchester, to cover the reconstruction of the Baltimore and Ohio
Railroad, and to accumulate supplies preparatory to a further
advance. The troops, however, did not approve such cautious strategy.
"Their appetite for work," according to their commander, "was very
sharp." Banks himself was not less eager. "If  to our own
discretion," he wrote to McClellan's chief of staff, "the general
desire will be to move early."

March 9.

On March 7 General D.H. Hill, acting under instructions, fell back
from Leesburg, and two days later Johnston, destroying the railways,
abandoned Centreville. The Confederate General-in-Chief had decided
to withdraw to near Orange Court House, trebling his distance from
Washington, and surrendering much territory, but securing, in return,
important strategical advantages. Protected by the Rapidan, a stream
unfordable in spring, he was well placed to meet a Federal advance,
and also, by a rapid march, to anticipate any force which might be
transported by water and landed close to Richmond.

Jackson was now  isolated in the Valley. The nearest Confederate
infantry were at Culpeper Court House, beyond the Blue Ridge, nearly
sixty miles south-east. In his front, within two easy marches, was an
army just seven times his strength, at Romney another detachment of
several thousand men, and a large force in the Alleghanies. He was in
no hurry, however, to abandon Winchester.

Johnston had intended that when the main army fell back towards
Richmond his detachments should follow suit. Jackson found a loophole
in his instructions which gave him full liberty of action.

"I greatly desire," he wrote to Johnston on March 8, "to hold this
place Winchester so far as may be consistent with your views and
plans, and am making arrangements, by constructing works, etc., to
make a stand. Though you desired me some time since to fall back in
the event of yourself and General Hill's doing so, yet in your letter
of the 5th inst. you say, "Delay the enemy as long as you can;" I
have felt justified in remaining here for the present.

"And now, General, that Hill has fallen back, can you not send him
over here? I greatly need such an officer; one who can be sent off as
occasion may offer against an exposed detachment of the enemy for the
purpose of capturing it...I believe that if you can spare Hill, and
let him move here at once, you will never have occasion to regret it.
The very idea of reinforcements coming to Winchester would, I think,
be a damper to the enemy, in addition to the fine effect that would
be produced on our own troops, already in fine spirits. But if you
cannot spare Hill, can you not send me some other troops? If we
cannot be successful in defeating the enemy should he advance, a kind
Providence may enable us to inflict a terrible wound and effect a
safe retreat in the event of having to fall back. I will keep myself
on the alert with respect to communications between us, so as to be
able to join you at the earliest possible moment, if such a movement
becomes necessary."* (* O.R. volume 5 page 1094.)

This letter is characteristic. When Jackson asked for reinforcements
the cause of the South seemed well-nigh hopeless. Her Western armies
were retiring, defeated and demoralised. Several of her Atlantic
towns had fallen to the Federal navy, assisted by strong landing
parties. The army on which she depended for the defence of Richmond,
yielding to the irresistible presence of far superior numbers, was
retreating into the interior of Virginia. There was not the faintest
sign of help from beyond the sea. The opportunity for a great
counterstroke had been suffered to escape. Her forces were too small
for aught but defensive action, and it was difficult to conceive that
she could hold her own against McClellan's magnificently appointed
host. "Events," said Davis at this time, "have cast on our arms and
hopes the gloomiest shadows." But from the Valley, the northern
outpost of the Confederate armies, where the danger was most
threatening and the means of defence the most inadequate, came not a
whisper of apprehension. The troops that held the border were but a
handful, but Jackson knew enough of war to be aware that victory does
not always side with the big battalions. Neither Johnston nor Davis
had yet recognised, as he did, the weak joint in the Federal harness.
Why should the appearance of Hill's brigade at Winchester discourage
Banks? Johnston had fallen back to the Rapidan, and there was now no
fear of the Confederates detaching troops suddenly from Manassas. Why
should the bare idea that reinforcements were coming up embarrass the
Federals?

The letter itself does not indeed supply a definite answer. Jackson
was always most guarded in his correspondence; and, if he could
possibly avoid it, he never made the slightest allusion to the
information on which his plans were based. His staff officers,
however, after the campaign was over, were generally enlightened as
to the motive of his actions, and we are thus enabled to fill the
gap.* (* Letter from Major Hotchkiss to the author.) Jackson demanded
reinforcements for the one reason that a blow struck near Winchester
would cause alarm in Washington. The communications of the Federal
capital with both the North and West passed through or close to
Harper's Ferry; and the passage over the Potomac, which Banks was now
covering, was thus the most sensitive point in the invader's front.
Well aware, as indeed was every statesman and every general in
Virginia, of the state of public feeling in the North, Jackson saw
with more insight than others the effect that was likely to be
produced should the Government, the press, and the people of the
Federal States have reason to apprehend that the capital of the Union
was in danger.

If the idea of playing on the fears of his opponents by means of the
weak detachment under Jackson ever suggested itself to Johnston, he
may be forgiven if he dismissed it as chimerical. For 7600 men* (*
Jackson, 4600; Hill, 3000.) to threaten with any useful result a
capital which was defended by 250,000 seemed hardly within the bounds
of practical strategy. Johnston had nevertheless determined to turn
the situation to account. In order to protect the passages of the
Upper Potomac, McClellan had been compelled to disseminate his army.
Between his main body south of Washington and his  wing under
Banks was a gap of fifty miles, and this separation Johnston was
determined should be maintained. The President, to whom he had
referred Jackson's letter, was unable to spare the reinforcements
therein requested, and the defence of the Valley was  to the 4600
men encamped at Winchester. Jackson was permitted to use his own
judgment as to his own position, but something more was required of
him than the mere protection of a tract of territory. "He was to
endeavour to employ the invaders in the Valley without exposing
himself to the danger of defeat, by keeping so near the enemy as to
prevent his making any considerable detachment to reinforce
McClellan, but not so near that he might be compelled to fight."* (*
Johnston's Narrative.)

To carry out these instructions Jackson had at his disposal 3600
infantry, 600 cavalry, and six batteries of 27 guns. Fortunately,
they were all Virginians, with the exception of one battalion, the
First, which was composed of Irish navvies.

This force, which had now received the title of the Army of the
Valley, was organised in three brigades:--

First Brigade (Stonewall): Brigadier-General Garnett. 2nd Virginia
Regiment. 4th Virginia Regiment.  5th Virginia Regiment. 27th
Virginia Regiment.  33rd Virginia Regiment.

Second Brigade: Colonel Burks.  21st Virginia Regiment.  42nd
Virginia Regiment.  48th Virginia Regiment.  1st Regular Battalion
(Irish).

Third Brigade: Colonel Fulkerson. 23rd Virginia Regiment. 27th
Virginia Regiment. McLaughlin's Battery           8 guns. Waters'
Battery                4 guns. Carpenter's Battery            4 guns.
Marye's Battery                4 guns. Shumaker's Battery
4 guns. Ashby's Regiment of Cavalry. Chew's Horse-Artillery Battery 3
guns.

The infantry were by this time fairly well armed and equipped, but
the field-pieces were mostly smoothbores of small calibre. Of the
quality of the troops Bull Run had been sufficient test. Side by side
with the sons of the old Virginia houses the hunters and yeomen of
the Valley had proved their worth. Their skill as marksmen had stood
them in good stead. Men who had been used from boyhood to shoot
squirrels in the woodland found the Federal soldier a target
difficult to miss. Skirmishing and patrolling came instinctively to
those who had stalked the deer and the bear in the mountain forests;
and the simple hardy life of an agricultural community was the best
probation for the trials of a campaign. The lack of discipline and of
competent regimental officers might have placed them at a
disadvantage had they been opposed to regulars; but they were already
half-broken to the soldier's trade before they joined the ranks. They
were no strangers to camp and bivouac, to peril and adventure; their
hands could guard their heads. Quick sight and steady nerve,
unfailing vigilance and instant resolve, the very qualities which
their devotion to field-sports fostered, were those which had so
often prevailed in the war of the Revolution over the mechanical
tactics of well-disciplined battalions; and on ground with which they
were perfectly familiar the men of the Shenandoah were formidable
indeed.

They were essentially rough and ready. Their appearance would hardly
have captivated a martinet. The eye that lingers lovingly on
glittering buttons and spotless belts would have turned away in
disdain from Jackson's soldiers. There was nothing b about them
but their rifles. They were as badly dressed, and with as little
regard for uniformity, as the defenders of Torres Vedras or the Army
of Italy in 1796. Like Wellington and Napoleon, the Confederate
generals cared very little what their soldiers wore so long as they
did their duty. Least of all can one imagine Stonewall Jackson
exercising his mind as to the cut of a tunic or the polish of a
buckle. The only standing order in the English army of the Peninsula
which referred to dress forbade the wearing of the enemy's uniform.
It was the same in the Army of the Valley, although at a later period
even this order was of necessity ignored. As their forefathers of the
Revolution took post in Washington's ranks clad in hunting shirts and
leggings, so the Confederate soldiers preferred the garments spun by
their own women to those supplied them by the State. Grey, of all
shades, from light blue to butter-nut, was the universal colour. The
coatee issued in the early days of the war had already given place to
a short-waisted and single-breasted jacket. The blue kepi held out
longer. The soft felt hat which experience soon proved the most
serviceable head-dress had not yet become universal. But the long
boots had gone; and strong brogans, with broad soles and low heels,
had been found more comfortable. Overcoats were soon discarded. "The
men came to the conclusion that the trouble of carrying them on hot
days outweighed their comfort when the cold day arrived. Besides,
they found that life in the open air hardened them to such an extent
that changes in temperature were hardly felt."* (* Soldier Life in
the Army of Northern Virginia chapter 2.) Nor did the knapsack long
survive. "It was found to gall the back and shoulders and weary the
man before half the march was accomplished. It did not pay to carry
around clean clothes while waiting for the time to use them."* (*
Ibid) But the men still clung to their blankets and waterproof
sheets, worn in a roll over the  shoulder, and the indispensable
haversack carried their whole kit. Tents--except the enemy's--were
rarely seen. The Army of the Valley generally bivouacked in the
woods, the men sleeping in pairs, rolled in their blankets and rubber
sheets. The cooking arrangements were primitive. A few frying-pans
and skillets formed the culinary apparatus of a company, with a
bucket or two in addition, and the frying-pans were generally carried
with their handles stuck in the rifle-barrels! The tooth-brush was a
button-hole ornament, and if, as was sometimes the case, three days'
rations were served out at a single issue, the men usually cooked and
ate them at once, so as to avoid the labour of carrying them.

Such was Jackson's infantry, a sorry contrast indeed to the soldierly
array of the Federals, with their complete appointments and trim blue
uniforms. But fine feathers, though they may have their use, are
hardly essential to efficiency in the field; and whilst it is
absolutely true that no soldiers ever marched with less to encumber
them than the Confederates, it is no empty boast that none ever
marched faster or held out longer.

If the artillery, with a most inferior equipment, was less efficient
than the infantry, the cavalry was an invaluable auxiliary. Ashby was
the beau-ideal of a captain of light-horse. His reckless daring, both
across-country and under fire, made him the idol of the army. Nor was
his reputation confined to the Confederate ranks. "I think even our
men," says a Federal officer, "had a kind of admiration for him, as
he sat unmoved upon his horse, and let them pepper away at him as if
he enjoyed it." His one shortcoming was his ignorance of drill and
discipline. But in the spring of 1862 these deficiencies were in a
fair way of being rectified. He had already learned something of
tactics. In command of a few hundred mounted riflemen and a section
of horse-artillery he was unsurpassed; and if his men were apt to get
out of hand in battle, his personal activity ensured their strict
attention on the outposts. He thought little of riding seventy or
eighty miles within the day along his picket line, and it is said
that he first recommended himself to Jackson by visiting the Federal
camps disguised as a horse doctor. Jackson placed much dependence on
his mounted troops. Immediately he arrived in the Valley he
established his cavalry outposts far to the front. While the infantry
were reposing in their camps near Winchester, the south bank of the
Potomac, forty miles northward, was closely and incessantly
patrolled. The squadrons never lacked recruits. With the horse-loving
Virginians the cavalry was the favourite arm, and the strength of the
regiments was only limited by the difficulty of obtaining horses. To
the sons of the Valley planters and farmers Ashby's ranks offered a
most attractive career. The discipline was easy, and there was no
time for drill. But of excitement and adventure there was enough and
to spare. Scarcely a day passed without shots being exchanged at one
point or another of the picket line. There were the enemy's outposts
to be harassed, prisoners to be taken, bridges to be burnt, and
convoys to be captured. Many were the opportunities for distinction.
Jackson demanded something more from his cavalry than merely guarding
the frontier. It was not sufficient for him to receive warning that
the enemy was advancing. He wanted information from which he could
deduce what he intended doing; information of the strength of his
garrisons, of the dispositions of his camps, of every movement which
took place beyond the river. The cavalry had other and more dangerous
duties than vedette and escort. To penetrate the enemy's lines, to
approach his camps, and observe his columns--these were the tasks of
Ashby's riders, and in these they were unrivalled. Many of them were
no more than boys; but their qualifications for such a life were
undeniable. A more gallant or high-spirited body of young soldiers
never welcomed the boot and saddle. Their horses were their own,
scions of good Virginian stock, with the blood of many a well-known
sire--Eclipse, Beyes, and Timoleon--in their veins, and they
knew how to care for them. They were acquainted with every country
lane and woodland track. They had friends in every village, and their
names were known to every farmer. The night was no hindrance to them,
even in the region of the mountain and the forest. The hunter's paths
were as familiar to them as the turnpike roads. They knew the depth
and direction of every ford, and could predict the effect of the
weather on stream and track. More admirable material for the service
of intelligence could not possibly have been found, and Ashby's
audacity in reconnaissance found ready imitators. A generous rivalry
in deeds of daring spread through the command. Bold enterprises were
succeeded by others yet more bold, and, to use the words of a
gentleman who, although he was a veteran of four years' service, was
but nineteen years of age when Richmond fell, "We thought no more of
riding through the enemy's bivouacs than of riding round our fathers'
farms." So congenial were the duties of the cavalry, so attractive
the life and the associations, that it was no rare thing for a
Virginia gentleman to resign a commission in another arm in order to
join his friends and kinsmen as a private in Ashby's ranks. And so
before the war had been in progress for many months the fame of the
Virginia cavalry rivalled that of their Revolutionary forbears under
Light-Horse Harry, the friend of Washington and the father of Lee.

But if the raw material of Jackson's army was all that could be
desired, no less so was the material of the force opposed to him. The
regiments of Banks' army corps were recruited as a rule in the
Western States; Ohio, Indiana, and West Virginia furnished the
majority. They too were hunters and farmers, accustomed to firearms,
and skilled in woodcraft. No hardier infantry marched beneath the
Stars and Stripes; the artillery, armed with a proportion of rifled
guns, was more efficient than that of the Confederates; and in
cavalry alone were the Federals overmatched. In numbers the latter
were far superior to Ashby's squadrons; in everything else they were
immeasurably inferior. Throughout the North horsemanship was
practically an unknown art. The gentlemen of New England had not
inherited the love of their Ironside ancestors for the saddle and the
chase. Even in the forests of the West men travelled by waggon and
hunted on foot. "As cavalry," says one of Banks' brigadiers, "Ashby's
men were greatly superior to ours. In reply to some orders I had
given, my cavalry commander replied, "I can't catch them, sir; they
leap fences and walls like deer; neither our men nor our horses are
so trained.""* (* Brook Farm to Cedar Mountain, General G.H. Gordon
page 136.)

It was easy enough to fill the ranks of the Northern squadrons. Men
volunteered freely for what they deemed the more dashing branch of
the service, ignorant that its duties were far harder both to learn
and to execute than those of the other arms, and expecting, says a
Federal officer, that the regiment would be accompanied by an
itinerant livery stable! Both horses and men were recruited without
the slightest reference to their fitness for cavalry work. No man was
rejected, no matter what his size or weight, no matter whether he had
ever had anything to do with horseflesh or not, and consequently the
proportion of sick horses was enormous. Moreover, while the Southern
troopers generally carried a firearm, either rifle or shot-gun, some
of the Northern squadrons had only the sabre, and in a wooded country
the firearm was master of the situation. During the first two years
of the war, therefore, the Federal cavalry, generally speaking, were
bad riders and worse horse-masters, unable to move except upon the
roads, and as inefficient on reconnaissance as in action. For an
invading army, information, ample and accurate, is the first
requisite. Operating in a country which, almost invariably, must be
better known to the defenders, bold scouting alone will secure it
from ambush and surprise. Bold scouting was impossible with such
mounted troops as Banks possessed, and throughout the Valley campaign
the Northern general was simply groping in the dark.

But even had his cavalry been more efficient, it is doubtful whether
Banks would have profited. His appointment was political. He was an
ardent Abolitionist, but he knew nothing whatever of soldiering. He
had begun life as a hand in a cotton factory. By dint of energy and
good brains his rise had been rapid; and although, when the war broke
out, he was still a young man, he had been Governor of Massachusetts
and Speaker of the House of Representatives. What the President
expected when he gave him an army corps it is difficult to divine;
what might have been expected any soldier could have told him. To
gratify an individual, or perhaps to conciliate a political faction,
the life of many a private soldier was sacrificed. Lincoln, it is
true, was by no means solitary in the unwisdom of his selections for
command. His rival in Richmond, it is said, had a fatal penchant for
his first wife's relations; his political supporters were constantly
rewarded by appointments in the field, and the worst disasters that
befell the Confederacy were due, in great part, to the blunders of
officers promoted for any other reason than efficiency. For Mr. Davis
there was little excuse. He had been educated at West Point. He had
served in the regular army of the United States, and had been
Secretary of War at Washington. Lincoln, on the other hand, knew
nothing of war, beyond what he had learned in a border skirmish, and
very little of general history. He had not yet got rid of the common
Anglo-Saxon idea that a man who has pluck and muscle is already a
good soldier, and that the same qualities which serve in a
street-brawl are all that is necessary to make a general. Nor were
historical precedents wanting for the mistakes of the American
statesmen. In both the Peninsula and the Crimea, lives, treasure, and
prestige were as recklessly wasted as in Virginia; and staff officers
who owed their positions to social influence alone, generals, useless
and ignorant, who succeeded to responsible command by virtue of
seniority and a long purse, were the standing curse of the English
army. At the same time, it may well be questioned whether some of the
regular officers would have done better than Banks. He was no fool,
and if he had not studied the art of war, there have been
barrack-square generals who have showed as much ignorance without
one-quarter his ability. Natural commonsense has often a better
chance of success than a rusty brain, and a mind narrowed by routine.
After serving in twenty campaigns Frederick the Great's mules were
still mules. On this very theatre of war, in the forests beyond
Romney, an English general had led a detachment of English soldiers
to a defeat as crushing as it was disgraceful, and Braddock was a
veteran of many wars. Here, too, Patterson, an officer of Volunteers
who had seen much service, had allowed Johnston to slip away and join
Beauregard on Bull Run. The Northern people, in good truth, had as
yet no reason to place implicit confidence in the leading of trained
soldiers. They had yet to learn that mere length of service is no
test whatever of capacity for command, and that character fortified
by knowledge is the only charm which attracts success.

Jackson had already some acquaintance with Banks. During the Romney
expedition the latter had been posted at Frederick with 16,000 men,
and a more enterprising commander would at least have endeavoured to
thwart the Confederate movements. Banks, supine in his camps, made
neither threat nor demonstration. Throughout the winter, Ashby's
troopers had ridden unmolested along the bank of the Potomac. Lander
alone had worried the Confederate outposts, driven in their advanced
detachments, and drawn supplies from the Virginian farms. Banks had
been over-cautious and inactive, and Jackson had not failed to note
his characteristics.

March 9.

Up to March 9 the Federal general, keeping his cavalry in rear, had
pushed forward no farther than Charlestown and Bunker Hill. On that
day the news reached McClellan that the Confederates were preparing
to abandon Centreville. He at once determined to push forward his
whole army.

March 12.

Banks was instructed to move on Winchester, and on the morning of the
12th his leading division occupied the town.

Jackson had withdrawn the previous evening. Twice, on March 7 and
again on the 11th, he had offered battle.* (* Major Harman, of
Jackson's staff, writing to his brother on March 6, says: "The
general told me last night that the Yankees had 17,000 men at the two
points, Charlestown and Bunker Hill." On March 8 he writes: "3000
effective men is about the number of General Jackson's force. The
sick, those on furlough, and the deserters from the militia, reduce
him to about that number." Manuscript.) His men had remained under
arms all day in the hope that the enemy's advanced guard might be
tempted to attack. But the activity of Ashby's cavalry, and the
boldness with which Jackson maintained his position, impressed his
adversary with the conviction that the Confederate force was much
greater than it really was. It was reported in the Federal camps that
the enemy's strength was from 7000 to 11,000 men, and that the town
was fortified. Jackson's force did not amount to half that number,
and, according to a Northern officer, "one could have jumped over his
intrenchments as easily as Remus over the walls of Rome."

Jackson abandoned Winchester with extreme reluctance. Besides being
the principal town in that section of the Valley, it was
strategically important to the enemy. Good roads led in every
direction, and communication was easy with Romney and Cumberland to
the north-west, and with Washington and Manassas to the south-east.
Placed at Winchester, Banks could support, or be supported by, the
troops in West Virginia or the army south of Washington. A large and
fertile district would thus be severed from the Confederacy, and the
line of invasion across the Upper Potomac completely blocked.
Overwhelming as was the strength of the Union force, exceeding his
own by more than eight to one, great as was the caution of the
Federal leader, it was only an unlucky accident that restrained
Jackson from a resolute endeavour to at least postpone the capture of
the town. He had failed to induce the enemy's advanced guard to
attack him in position. To attack himself, in broad daylight, with
such vast disproportion of numbers, was out of the question. His
resources, however, were not exhausted. After dark on the 12th, when
his troops had  the town, he called a council, consisting of
General Garnett and the regimental commanders of the Stonewall
Brigade, and proposed a night attack on the Federal advance. When the
troops had eaten their supper and rested for some hours, they were to
march to the neighbourhood of the enemy, some four miles north of
Winchester, and make the attack before daylight. The Federal troops
were raw and inexperienced. Prestige was on the side of the
Confederates, and their morale was high. The darkness, the suddenness
and energy of the attack, the lack of drill and discipline, would all
tend to throw the enemy into confusion; and "by the vigorous use of
the bayonet, and the blessing of divine Providence," Jackson believed
that he would win a signal victory. In the meantime, whilst the
council was assembling, he went off, booted and spurred, to make a
hasty call on Dr. Graham, whose family he found oppressed with the
gloom that overspread the whole town. "He was so buoyant and hopeful
himself that their drooping spirits were revived, and after engaging
with them in family worship, he retired, departing with a cheerful
"Good evening," merely saying that he intended to dine with them the
next day as usual."

When the council met, however, it was found that someone had
blundered. The staff had been at fault. The general had ordered his
trains to be parked immediately south of Winchester, but they had
been taken by those in charge to Kernstown and Newtown, from three to
eight miles distant, and the troops had been marched back to them to
get their rations.

Jackson learned for the first time, when he met his officers, that
his brigades, instead of being on the outskirts of Winchester, were
already five or six miles away. A march of ten miles would thus be
needed to bring them into contact with the enemy. This fact and the
disapproval of the council caused him to abandon his project.

Before following his troops he once more went back to Dr. Graham's.
His cheerful demeanour during his previous visit, although he had
been as reticent as ever as to his plans, had produced a false
impression, and this he thought it his duty to correct. He explained
his plans to his friend, and as he detailed the facts which had
induced him to change them, he repeatedly expressed his reluctance to
give up Winchester without a blow. "With slow and desperate
earnestness he said, 'Let me think--can I not yet carry my plan into
execution?' As he uttered these words he grasped the hilt of his
sword, and the fierce light that blazed in his eyes revealed to his
companion a new man. The next moment he dropped his head and released
his sword, with the words, No, I must not do it; it may cost the
lives of too many brave men. I must retreat and wait for a better
time.'" He had learned a lesson. "Late in the evening," says the
medical director of the Valley army, "we withdrew from Winchester. I
rode with the general as we  the place, and as we reached a high
point overlooking the town we both turned to look at Winchester, now
 to the mercy of the Federal soldiers. I think that a man may
sometimes yield to overwhelming emotion, and I was utterly overcome
by the fact that I was leaving all that I held dear on earth; but my
emotion was arrested by one look at Jackson. His face was fairly
blazing with the fire of wrath that was burning in him, and I felt
awed before him. Presently he cried out, in a tone almost savage,
'That is the last council of war I will ever hold!'"

On leaving Winchester Jackson fell back to Strasburg, eighteen miles
south. There was no immediate pursuit.

March 18.

Banks, in accordance with his instructions, occupied the town, and
awaited further orders. These came on the 18th,* (* O.R. volume 12
part 1 page 164.) and Shields' division of 11,000 men with 27 guns
was at once pushed on to Strasburg. Jackson had already withdrawn,
hoping to draw Banks up the Valley, and was now encamped near Mount
Jackson, a strong position twenty-five miles further south, the
indefatigable Ashby still skirmishing with the enemy. The unusual
audacity which prompted the Federal advance was probably due to the
fact that the exact strength of the Confederate force had been
ascertained in Winchester. At all events, all apprehension of attack
had vanished. Jackson's 4500 men were considered a quantite
negligeable, a mere corps of observation; and not only was Shields
sent forward without support, but a large portion of Banks' corps was
ordered to another field. Its role as an independent force had
ceased. Its movements were henceforward to be subordinate to those of
the main army, and McClellan designed to bring it into closer
connection with his advance on Richmond. How his design was
frustrated, how he struggled in vain to correct the original
dissemination of his forces, how his  wing was held in a vice by
Jackson, and how his initial errors eventually ruined his campaign,
is a strategical lesson of the highest import.

From the day McClellan took command the Army of the Potomac had done
practically nothing. Throughout the winter troops had poured into
Washington at the rate of 40,000 a month. At the end of December
there were 148,000 men fit for duty. On March 20 the grand aggregate
was 240,000.* (* O.R. volume 11 part 3 page 26.) But during the
winter no important enterprise had been undertaken. The colours of
the rebels were still flaunting within sight of the forts of
Washington, and the mouth of the Potomac was securely closed by
Confederate batteries. With a mighty army at their service it is
little wonder that the North became restive and reproached their
general. It is doubtless true that the first thing needful was
organisation. To discipline and consolidate the army so as to make
success assured was unquestionably the wiser policy. The impatience
of a sovereign people, ignorant of war, is not to be lightly yielded
to. At the same time, the desire of a nation cannot be altogether
disregarded. A general who obstinately refuses to place himself in
accord with the political situation forfeits the confidence of his
employers and the cordial support of the Administration. The cry
throughout the North was for action. The President took it upon
himself to issue a series of orders. The army was ordered to advance
on February 22, a date chosen because it was Washington's birthday,
just as the third and most disastrous assault on Plevna was delivered
on the "name-day" of the Czar. McClellan secured delay. His plans
were not yet ripe. The Virginia roads were still impassable. The
season was not yet sufficiently advanced for active operations, and
that his objections were well founded it is impossible to deny. The
prospect of success depended much upon the weather. Virginia, covered
in many places with dense forests, crossed by many rivers, and with
most indifferent communications, is a most difficult theatre of war,
and the amenities of the Virginian spring are not to be lightly
faced. Napoleon's fifth element, "mud," is a most disturbing factor
in military calculations. It is related that a Federal officer, sent
out to reconnoitre a road in a certain district of Virginia, reported
that the road was there, but that he guessed "the bottom had fallen
out." Moreover, McClellan had reason to believe that the Confederate
army at Manassas was more than double its actual strength. His
intelligence department, controlled, not by a trained staff officer,
but by a well-known detective, estimated Johnston's force at 115,000
men. In reality, including the detachment on the Shenandoah, it at no
time exceeded 50,000. But for all this there was no reason whatever
for absolute inactivity. The capture of the batteries which barred
the entrance to the Potomac, the defeat of the Confederate
detachments along the river, the occupation of Winchester or of
Leesburg, were all feasible operations. By such means the impatience
of the Northern people might have been assuaged. A few successes,
even on a small scale, would have raised the morale of the troops and
have trained them to offensive movements. The general would have
retained the confidence of the Administration, and have secured the
respect of his opponents. Jackson had set him the example. His winter
expeditions had borne fruit. The Federal generals opposed to him gave
him full credit for activity. "Much dissatisfaction was expressed by
the troops," says one of Banks' brigadiers, "that Jackson was
permitted to get away from Winchester without a fight, and but little
heed was paid to my assurances that this chieftain would be apt,
before the war closed, to give us an entertainment up to the utmost
of our aspirations."* (* General G.H. Gordon.)

It was not only of McClellan's inactivity that the Government
complained. At the end of February he submitted a plan of operations
to the President, and with that plan Mr. Lincoln totally disagreed.
McClellan, basing his project on the supposition that Johnston had
100,000 men behind formidable intrenchments at Manassas, blocking the
road to Richmond, proposed to transfer 150,000 men to the Virginia
coast by sea; and landing either at Urbanna on the Rappahannock, or
at Fortress Monroe on the Yorktown peninsula, to intervene between
the Confederate army and Richmond, and possibly to capture the
Southern capital before Johnston could get back to save it.

The plan at first sight seemed promising. But in Lincoln's eyes it
had this great defect: during the time McClellan was moving round by
water and disembarking his troops--and this, so few were the
transports, would take at least a month--Johnston might make a dash
at Washington. The city had been fortified. A cordon of detached
forts surrounded it on a circumference of thirty miles. The Potomac
formed an additional protection. But a cordon of isolated earthworks
does not appeal as an effective barrier to the civilian mind, and
above Point of Rocks the great river was easy of passage. Even if
Washington were absolutely safe from a coup de main, Lincoln had
still good reason for apprehension. The Union capital was merely the
seat of government. It had no commercial interests. With a population
of but 20,000, it was of no more practical importance than Windsor or
Versailles. Compared with New York, Pittsburg, or Philadelphia, it
was little more than a village. But, in the regard of the Northern
people, Washington was the centre of the Union, the keystone of the
national existence. The Capitol, the White House, the Treasury, were
symbols as sacred to the States as the colours to a regiment.* (* For
an interesting exposition of the views of the soldiers at Washington,
see evidence of General Hitchcock, U.S.A., acting as Military Adviser
to the President, O.R. volume 12 part 1 page 221.) If the nation was
set upon the fall of Richmond, it was at least as solicitous for the
security of its own chief city, and an administration that permitted
that security to be endangered would have been compelled to bow to
the popular clamour. The extraordinary taxation demanded by the war
already pressed heavily on the people. Stocks were falling rapidly,
and the financial situation was almost critical. It is probable, too,
that a blow at Washington would have done more than destroy all
confidence in the Government. England and France were chafing under
the effects of the blockade. The marts of Europe were hungry for
cotton. There was much sympathy beyond seas with the seceded States;
and, should Washington fall, the South, in all likelihood, would be
recognised as an independent nation. Even if the Great Powers were to
refuse her active aid in the shape of fleets and armies, she would at
least have access to the money markets of the world; and it was
possible that neither England nor France would endure the closing of
her ports. With the breaking of the blockade, money, munitions, and
perhaps recruits, would be poured into the Confederacy, and the
difficulty of reconquest would be trebled. The dread of foreign
interference was, therefore, very real; and Lincoln, foreseeing the
panic that would shake the nation should a Confederate army cross the
Potomac at Harper's Ferry or Point of Rocks, was quite justified in
insisting on the security of Washington being placed beyond a doubt.
He knew, as also did Jackson, that even a mere demonstration against
so vital a point might have the most deplorable effect. Whatever line
of invasion, he asked, might be adopted, let it be one that would
cover Washington.

Lincoln's remonstrances, however, had no great weight with McClellan.
The general paid little heed to the political situation. His chief
argument in favour of the expedition by sea had been the strength of
the fortifications at Manassas. Johnston's retreat on March 9 removed
this obstacle from his path; but although he immediately marched his
whole army in pursuit, he still remained constant to his favourite
idea. The road to Richmond from Washington involved a march of one
hundred miles, over a difficult country, with a single railway as the
line of supply. The route from the coast, although little shorter,
was certainly easier. Fortress Monroe had remained in Federal hands.
Landing under the shelter of its guns, he would push forward, aided
by the navy, to West Point, the terminus of the York River Railroad,
within thirty miles of Richmond, transporting his supplies by water.
Washington, with the garrison he would leave behind, would in his
opinion be quite secure. The Confederates would be compelled to
concentrate for the defence of their capital, and a resolute
endeavour on their part to cross the Potomac was forbidden by every
rule of strategy. Had not Johnston, in his retreat, burnt the railway
bridges? Could there be a surer indication that he had no intention
of returning?

Such was McClellan's reasoning, and, putting politics aside, it was
perfectly sound. Lincoln reluctantly yielded, and on March 17 the
Army of the Potomac, withdrawing by successive divisions from
Centreville to Alexandria, began its embarkation for the Peninsula,
the region, in McClellan's words, "of sandy roads and short land
transportation."* (* O.R. volume 11 part 3 page 7.) The vessels
assembled at Alexandria could only carry 10,000 men, thus involving
at least fifteen voyages to and fro. Yet the Commander-in-Chief was
full of confidence. To the little force in the Shenandoah Valley,
flying southward before Shields, he gave no thought. It would have
been nothing short of miraculous had he even suspected that 4500 men,
under a professor of the higher mathematics, might bring to naught
the operations of his gigantic host. Jackson was not even to be
followed. Of Banks' three divisions, Shields', Sedgwick's, and
Williams', that of Shields alone was considered sufficient to protect
Harper's Ferry, the Baltimore and Ohio Railway, and the Chesapeake
Canal.* (* Ibid page 11.) Banks, with the remainder of his army, was
to move at once to Manassas, and cover the approaches to Washington
east of the Blue Ridge. Sedgwick had already been detached to join
McClellan; and on March 20 Williams' division began its march towards
Manassas, while Shields fell back on Winchester.

March 21.

(MAP. SITUATION, NIGHT OF MARCH 21, 1862. Showing: West: McDowell,
North: Baltimore, South: Yorktown and East: Urbanna.)

On the evening of the 21st Ashby reported to Jackson that the enemy
was retreating, and information came to hand that a long train of
waggons, containing the baggage of 12,000 men, had  Winchester
for Castleman's Ferry on the Shenandoah. Further reports indicated
that Banks' whole force was moving eastward, and Jackson, in
accordance with his instructions to hold the enemy in the Valley, at
once pushed northward.* (* A large portion of the Army of the
Potomac, awaiting embarkation, still remained at Centreville. The
cavalry had pushed forward towards the Rapidan, and the Confederates,
unable to get information, did not suspect that McClellan was moving
to the Peninsula until March 25.)

March 22.

On the 22nd, Ashby, with 280 troopers and 3 horse-artillery guns,
struck Shields' pickets about a mile south of Winchester. A skirmish
ensued, and the presence of infantry, a battery, and some cavalry,
was ascertained. Shields, who was wounded during the engagement by a
shell, handled his troops ably. His whole division was in the near
neighbourhood, but carefully concealed, and Ashby reported to Jackson
that only four regiments of infantry, besides the guns and cavalry,
remained at Winchester. Information obtained from the townspeople
within the Federal lines confirmed the accuracy of his estimate. The
enemy's main body, he was told, had already marched, and the troops
which had opposed him were under orders to move to Harper's Ferry the
next morning.

March 23.

On receipt of this intelligence Jackson hurried forward from his camp
near Woodstock, and that night reached Strasburg. At dawn on the 23rd
four companies were despatched to reinforce Ashby; and under cover of
this advanced guard the whole force followed in the direction of
Kernstown, a tiny village, near which the Federal outposts were
established. At one o'clock the three brigades, wearied by a march of
fourteen miles succeeding one of twenty-two on the previous day,
arrived upon the field of action. The ranks, however, were sadly
weakened, for many of the men had succumbed to their unusual
exertions. Ashby still confronted the enemy; but the Federals had
developed a brigade of infantry, supported by two batteries and
several squadrons, and the Confederate cavalry were slowly giving
ground. On reaching the field Jackson ordered the troops to bivouac.
"Though it was very desirable," he wrote, "to prevent the enemy from
leaving the Valley, yet I deemed it best not to attack until
morning." An inspection of the ground, however, convinced him that
delay was impracticable. "Ascertaining," he continued, "that the
Federals had a position from which our forces could be seen, I
concluded that it would be dangerous to postpone the attack until
next day, as reinforcements might be brought up during the night."*
(* O.R. volume 12 part 1 page 381. The staff appears to have been at
fault. It was certainly of the first importance, whether battle was
intended or not, to select a halting-place concealed from the enemy's
observation.) Ashby was directed to detach half his cavalry* (* 140
sabres.) under Major Funsten in order to cover the  flank; and
Jackson, ascertaining that his men were in good spirits at the
prospect of meeting the enemy, made his preparations for fighting his
first battle.

The position occupied by the Federals was by no means ill-adapted for
defence. The country round Winchester, and indeed throughout the
Valley of the Shenandoah, resembles in many of its features an
English landscape. Low ridges, covered with open woods of oak and
pine, overlook green pastures and scattered copses; and the absence
of hedgerows and cottages gives a park-like aspect to the broad acres
of rich blue grass. But the deep lanes and hollow roads of England
find here no counterpart. The tracks are rough and rude, and even the
pikes, as the main thoroughfares are generally called, are flush with
the fields on either hand. The traffic has not yet worn them to a
lower level, and Virginia road-making despises such refinements as
cuttings or embankments. The highways, even the Valley pike itself,
the great road which is inseparably linked with the fame of Stonewall
Jackson and his brigade, are mere ribbons of metal laid on swell and
swale. Fences of the rudest description, zigzags of wooden rails, or
walls of loose stone, are the only boundaries, and the land is
parcelled out in more generous fashion than in an older and more
crowded country. More desirable ground for military operations it
would be difficult to find. There are few obstacles to the movement
of cavalry and artillery, while the woods and undulations, giving
ample cover, afford admirable opportunities for skilful manoeuvre. In
the spring, however, the condition of the soil would be a drawback.
At the date of the battle part of the country round Kernstown was
under plough, and the whole was saturated with moisture. Horses sank
fetlock-deep in the heavy meadows, and the rough roads, hardly seen
for mud, made marching difficult.

The Federal front extended on both sides of the Valley turnpike. To
the east was a broad expanse of rolling grassland, stretching away to
the horizon; to the west a low knoll, crowned by a few trees, which
goes by the name of Pritchard's Hill. Further north was a ridge,
covered with brown woods, behind which lies Winchester. This ridge,
nowhere more than 100 feet in height, runs somewhat obliquely to the
road in a south-westerly direction, and passing within a mile and a
half of Pritchard's Hill, sinks into the plain three miles south-west
of Kernstown. Some distance beyond this ridge, and separated from it
by the narrow valley of the Opequon, rise the towering bluffs of the
North Mountain, the western boundary of the Valley, sombre with
forest from base to brow.

On leaving Winchester, Williams' division had struck due east,
passing through the village of Berryville, and making for Snicker's
Gap in the Blue Ridge. The Berryville road had thus become of
importance to the garrison of Winchester, for it was from that
direction, if they should become necessary, that reinforcements would
arrive. General Kimball, commanding in Shields' absence the division
which confronted Ashby, had therefore posted the larger portion of
his troops eastward of the pike. A strong force of infantry, with
waving colours, was plainly visible to the Confederates, and it was
seen that the extreme  was protected by several guns. On the
 of the road was a line of skirmishers, deployed along the base
of Pritchard's Hill, and on the knoll itself stood two batteries. The
wooded ridge to westward was as yet unoccupied, except by scouting
parties.

Jackson at once determined to turn the enemy's . An attack upon
the Federal  would have to be pushed across the open fields and
decided by fair fighting, gun and rifle against gun and rifle, and on
that flank the enemy was prepared for battle. Could he seize the
wooded ridge on his , the initiative would be his. His opponent
would be compelled to conform to his movements. The advantages of a
carefully selected position would be lost. Instead of receiving
attack where he stood, the Federal general would have to change front
to meet it, to execute movements which he had possibly not foreseen,
to fight on ground with which he was unfamiliar; and, instead of
carrying out a plan which had been previously thought out, to
conceive a new one on the spur of the moment, and to issue immediate
orders for a difficult operation. Hesitation and confusion might
ensue; and in place of a strongly established line, confidently
awaiting the advance, isolated regiments, in all the haste and
excitement of rapid movement, or hurriedly posted in unfavourable
positions, would probably oppose the Confederate onset. Such are the
advantages which accrue to the force which delivers an attack where
it is not expected; and, to all appearance, Jackson's plan of battle
promised to bring them into play to the very fullest extent. The
whole force of the enemy, as reported by Ashby, was before him,
plainly visible. To seize the wooded ridge, while the cavalry held
the Federals fast in front; to pass beyond Pritchard's Hill, and to
cut the line of retreat on Winchester, seemed no difficult task. The
only danger was the possibility of a counterstroke while the
Confederates were executing their turning movement. But the enemy, so
far as Jackson's information went, was rapidly withdrawing from the
Valley. The force confronting him was no more than a rear-guard; and
it was improbable in the extreme that a mere rear-guard would involve
itself in a desperate engagement. The moment its line of retreat was
threatened it would probably fall back. To provide, however, against
all emergencies, Colonel Burks' brigade of three battalions was 
for the present in rear of Kernstown, and here, too, remained four of
the field batteries. With the remainder of his force, two brigades of
infantry and a battery, Jackson moved off to his . Two companies
of the 5th Virginia were recruited from Winchester. Early in the day
the general had asked the regiment for a guide familiar with the
locality; and, with the soldier showing the way, the 27th Virginia,
with two of Carpenter's guns as advanced guard, struck westward by a
waggon track across the meadows, while Ashby pressed the Federals in
front of Kernstown.

3.45 P.M.

The main body followed in two parallel columns, and the line of march
soon brought them within range of the commanding batteries on
Pritchard's Hill.* (* No hidden line of approach was available.
Movement to the south was limited by the course of the Opequon.
Fulkerson's brigade, with Carpenter's two guns, marched nearest to
the enemy; the Stonewall Brigade was on Fulkerson's .) At a range
of little more than a mile the enemy's gunners poured a heavy fire on
the serried ranks, and Carpenter, unlimbering near the Opequon
Church, sought to distract their aim.

The Confederate infantry, about 2000 all told, although moving in
mass, and delayed by fences and marshy ground, passed unscathed under
the storm of shell, and in twenty minutes the advanced guard had
seized the wooded ridge.

Finding a rocky clearing on the crest, about a mile distant from
Pritchard's Hill, Jackson sent back for the artillery. Three
batteries, escorted by two of Burke's battalions, the 21st Virginia
and the Irishmen, pushed across the level as rapidly as the wearied
teams could move. Two guns were dismounted by the Federal fire; but,
coming into action on the ridge, the remainder engaged the hostile
batteries with effect. Meanwhile, breaking their way through the
ragged undergrowth of the bare March woods, the infantry, in two
lines, was pressing forward along the ridge. On the  was the
27th Virginia, supported by the 21st; on the , Fulkerson's two
battalions, with the Stonewall Brigade in second line. The 5th
Virginia remained at the foot of the ridge near Macauley's cottage,
in order to connect with Ashby. Jackson's tactics appeared to be
succeeding perfectly. A body of cavalry and infantry, posted behind
Pritchard's Hill, was seen to be withdrawing, and the fire of the
Federal guns was visibly weakening.

4.30 P.M.

Suddenly, in the woods northward of the Confederate batteries, was
heard a roar of musketry, and the 27th Virginia came reeling back
before the onslaught of superior numbers. But the 21st was hurried to
their assistance; the broken ranks rallied from their surprise; and a
long line of Federal skirmishers, thronging through the thickets, was
twice repulsed by the Southern marksmen.*

(* The Confederate advance was made in the following order: ________
 ________            ________ 23rd Va.   37th Va.            27th Va.
                                               ________
                                 2lst Va.             _______
________    _______             4th Va.    33rd Va.    2nd Va.
                                        ____________
                              Irish Battn.)

Fulkerson, further to the , was more fortunate than the 27th.
Before he began his advance along the ridge he had deployed his two
battalions under cover, and when the musketry broke out on his 
front, they were moving forward over an open field. Half-way across
the field ran a stone wall or fence, and beyond the wall were seen
the tossing colours and b bayonets of a line of battle, just
emerging from the woods. Then came a race for the wall, and the
Confederates won. A heavy fire, at the closest range, blazed out in
the face of the charging Federals, and in a few moments the stubble
was strewn with dead and wounded. A Pennsylvania regiment, leaving a
colour on the field, gave way in panic, and the whole of the enemy's
force retreated to the shelter of the woods. An attempt to turn
Jackson's  was then easily frustrated; and although the Federals
maintained a heavy fire, Fulkerson's men held stubbornly to the wall.

In the centre of the field the Northern riflemen were sheltered by a
bank; their numbers continually increased, and here the struggle was
more severe. The 4th and 33rd Virginia occupied this portion of the
line, and they were without support, for the 2nd Virginia and the
Irish battalion, the last available reserves upon the ridge, had been
already sent forward to reinforce the .

The , too, was hardly pressed. The Confederate infantry had
everywhere to do with superior numbers, and the artillery, in that
wooded ground, could lend but small support. The batteries protected
the  flank, but they could take no share in the struggle to the
front; and yet, as the dusk came on, after two long hours of battle,
the white colours of the Virginia regiments, fixed fast amongst the
rocks, still waved defiant. The long grey line, "a ragged spray of
humanity," plied the ramrod with still fiercer energy, and pale women
on the hills round Winchester listened in terror to the crashing
echoes of the leafless woods. But the end could not be long delayed.
Ammunition was giving out. Every company which had reached the ridge
had joined the fighting line. The ranks were thinning. Many of the
bravest officers were down, and the Northern regiments, standing
staunchly to their work, had been strongly reinforced.

Ashby for once had been mistaken. It was no rearguard that barred the
road to Winchester, but Shields' entire division, numbering at least
9000 men. A prisoner captured the day before had admitted that the
Confederates were under the impression that Winchester had been
evacuated, and that Jackson had immediately moved forward. Shields,
an able officer, who had commanded a brigade in Mexico, saw his
opportunity. He knew something of his opponent, and anticipating that
he would be eager to attack, had ordered the greater part of his
division to remain concealed. Kimball's brigade and five batteries
were sent quietly, under cover of the night, to Pritchard's Hill.
Sullivan's brigade was posted in support, hidden from view behind a
wood. The cavalry and Tyler's brigade were held in reserve, north of
the town, at a distance where they were not likely to be observed by
the inhabitants. As soon as the Confederates came in sight, and
Kimball deployed across the pike, Tyler was brought through the town
and placed in rear of Sullivan, at a point where the road dips down
between two parallel ridges. Shields himself, wounded in the skirmish
of the preceding day, was not present at the action, although
responsible for these dispositions, and the command had devolved on
Kimball. That officer, when Jackson's design became apparent, ordered
Tyler to occupy the wooded ridge; and it was his five regiments, over
3000 strong, which had struck so strongly at the Confederate advance.
But although superior in numbers by a third, they were unable to make
headway. Kimball, however, rose to the situation before it was too
late. Recognising that Ashby's weak attack was nothing more than a
demonstration, he hurried nearly the whole of his own brigade,
followed by three battalions of Sullivan's, to Tyler's aid, leaving a
couple of battalions and the artillery to hold the pike.

"The struggle," says Shields, "had been for a short time doubtful,"*
(* O.R. volume 12 part 1 page 341.) but this reinforcement of 3000
bayonets turned the scale. Jackson had ordered the 5th and 42nd
Virginia to the ridge, and a messenger was sent back to hurry forward
the 48th. But it was too late. Before the 5th could reach the heights
the centre of the Confederate line was broken. Garnett, the commander
of the Stonewall Brigade, without referring to the general, who was
in another part of the field, had given the order to fall back.
Fulkerson, whose  was now uncovered, was obliged to conform to
the rearward movement, and moving across from Pritchard's Hill, two
Federal regiments, despite the fire of the Southern guns, made a
vigorous attack on Jackson's . The whole Confederate line, long
since dissolved into a crowd of skirmishers, and with the various
regiments much mixed up, fell back, still fighting, through the
woods. Across the clearing, through the clouds of smoke, came the
Northern masses in pursuit. On the extreme  a hot fire of
canister, at a range of two hundred and fifty yards, drove back the
troops that had come from Pritchard's Hill; but on the wooded ridge
above the artillery was unable to hold its own. The enemy's riflemen
swarmed in the thickets, and the batteries fell back. As they
limbered up one of the six-pounders was overturned. Under a hot fire,
delivered at not more than fifty paces distant, the sergeant in
charge cut loose the three remaining horses, but the gun was
abandoned to the enemy.

Jackson, before the Federal reinforcements had made their presence
felt, was watching the progress of the action on the . Suddenly,
to his astonishment and wrath, he saw the lines of his old brigade
falter and fall back. Galloping to the spot he imperatively ordered
Garnett to hold his ground, and then turned to restore the fight.
Seizing a drummer by the shoulder, he dragged him to a rise of
ground, in full view of the troops, and bade him in curt, quick
tones, to "Beat the rally!" The drum rolled at his order, and with
his hand on the fened boy's shoulder, amidst a storm of balls,
he tried to check the flight of his defeated troops. His efforts were
useless. His fighting-line was shattered into fragments; and
although, according to a Federal officer, "many of the brave
Virginians lingered in rear of their retreating comrades, loading as
they slowly retired, and rallying in squads in every ravine and
behind every hill--or hiding singly among the trees,"* (* Colonel
E.H.C. Cavins, 14th Indiana. Battles and Leaders volume 2 page 307.)
it was impossible to stay the rout. The enemy was pressing forward in
heavy force, and their shouts of triumph rang from end to end of the
field of battle. No doubt remained as to their overwhelming numbers,
and few generals but would have been glad enough to escape without
tempting fortune further.

It seemed almost too late to think of even organising a rear-guard.
But Jackson, so far from preparing for retreat, had not yet ceased to
think of victory. The 5th and 42nd Virginia were coming up, a compact
force of 600 bayonets, and a vigorous and sudden counterstroke might
yet change the issue of the day. The reinforcements, however, had not
yet come in sight, and galloping back to meet them he found that
instead of marching resolutely against the enemy, the two regiments
had taken post to the rear, on the crest of a wooded swell, in order
to cover the retreat. On his way to the front the colonel of the 5th
Virginia had received an order from Garnett instructing him to occupy
a position behind which the fighting-line might recover its
formation. Jackson was fain to acquiesce; but the fighting-line was
by this time scattered beyond all hope of rallying; the opportunity
for the counterstroke had passed away, and the battle was
irretrievably lost.

Arrangements were quickly made to enable the broken troops to get
away without further molestation. A battery was ordered to take post
at the foot of the hill, and Funsten's cavalry was called up from
westward of the ridge. The 42nd Virginia came into line on the 
of the 5th, and covered by a stone wall and thick timber, these two
small regiments, encouraged by the presence of their commander, held
stoutly to their ground. The attack was pressed with reckless
gallantry. In front of the 5th Virginia the colours of the 5th Ohio
changed hands no less than six times, and one of them was pierced by
no less than eight-and-forty bullets. The 84th Pennsylvania was twice
repulsed and twice rallied, but on the fall of its colonel retreated
in confusion. The  of the 14th Indiana broke; but the 13th
Indiana now came up, and "inch by inch," according to their
commanding officer, the Confederates were pushed back. The 5th
Virginia was compelled to give way before a flanking fire; but the
colonel retired the colours to a short distance, and ordered the
regiment to re-form on them. Again the heavy volleys blazed out in
the gathering twilight, and the sheaves of death grew thicker every
moment on the bare hillside. But still the Federals pressed on, and
swinging round both flanks, forced the Confederate rear-guard from
the field, while their cavalry, moving up the valley of the Opequon,
captured several ambulances and cut off some two or three hundred
fugitives.

As the night began to fall the 5th Virginia, retiring steadily
towards the pike, filed into a narrow lane, fenced by a stone wall,
nearly a mile distant from their last position, and there took post
for a final stand. Their  was commanded by the ridge, and on the
heights in the rear, coming up from the Opequon valley, appeared a
large mass of Northern cavalry. It was a situation sufficiently
uncomfortable. If the ground was too difficult for the horsemen to
charge over in the gathering darkness, a volley from their carbines
could scarcely have failed to clear the wall. "A single ramrod," it
was said in the Confederate ranks, "would have spitted the whole
battalion." But not a shot was fired. The pursuit of the Federal
infantry had been stayed in the pathless woods, the cavalry was held
in check by Funsten's squadrons, and the 5th was permitted to retire
unmolested.

(MAP. BATTLE OF KERNSTOWN. SUNDAY, MARCH 23RD. 1862. Showing: West:
Neal's Dam, North: Winchester, South: Opequon Creek, East: old Road
to Front Royal.)

The Confederates, with the exception of Ashby, who halted at
Bartonsville, a farm upon the pike, a mile and a half from the field
of battle, fell back to Newtown, three miles further south, where the
trains had been parked. The men were utterly worn out. Three hours of
fierce fighting against far superior numbers had brought them to the
limit of their endurance. "In the fence corners, under the trees, and
around the waggons they threw themselves down, many too weary to eat,
and forgot, in profound slumber, the trials, the dangers, and the
disappointments of the day."* (* Jackson's Valley Campaign, Colonel
William Allan, C.S.A. page 54.)

Jackson, when the last sounds of battle had died away, followed his
troops. Halting by a camp-fire, he stood and warmed himself for a
time, and then, remounting, rode back to Bartonsville. Only one staff
officer, his chief commissary, Major Hawks, accompanied him. The rest
had dropped away, overcome by exhaustion. "Turning from the road into
an orchard, he fastened up his horse, and asked his companion if he
could make a fire, adding, "We shall have to burn fence-rails
to-night." The major soon had a roaring fire, and was making a bed of
rails, when the general wished to know what he was doing. "Finding a
place to sleep," was the reply. "You seem determined to make yourself
and those around you comfortable," said Jackson. And knowing the
general had fasted all day, he soon obtained some bread and meat from
the nearest squad of soldiers, and after they had satisfied their
hunger, they slept soundly on the rail-bed in a fence-corner."

Such was the battle of Kernstown, in which over 1200 men were killed
and wounded, the half of them Confederates. Two or three hundred
prisoners fell into the hands of the Federals. Nearly one-fourth of
Jackson's infantry was hors de combat, and he had lost two guns. His
troops were undoubtedly depressed. They had anticipated an easy
victory; the overwhelming strength of the Federals had surprised
them, and their losses had been severe. But no regret disturbed the
slumbers of their leader. He had been defeated, it was true; but he
looked further than the immediate result of the engagement. "I feel
justified in saying," he wrote in his short report, "that, though the
battle-field is in the possession of the enemy, yet the most
essential fruits of the victory are ours." As he stood before the
camp-fire near Newtown, wrapped in his long cloak, his hands behind
his back, and stirring the embers with his foot, one of Ashby's
youngest troopers ventured to interrupt his reverie. "The Yankees
don't seem willing to quit Winchester, General!" "Winchester is a
very pleasant place to stay in, sir!" was the quick reply. Nothing
daunted, the boy went on: "It was reported that they were retreating,
but I guess they're retreating after us." With his eyes still fixed
on the blazing logs: "I think I may say I am satisfied, sir!" was
Jackson's answer; and with no further notice of the silent circle
round the fire, he stood gazing absently into the glowing flames.
After a few minutes the tall figure turned away, and without another
word strode off into the darkness.

That Jackson divined the full effect of his attack would be to assert
too much. That he realised that the battle, though a tactical defeat,
was strategically a victory is very evident. He knew something of
Banks, he knew more of McClellan, and the bearing of the Valley on
the defence of Washington had long been uppermost in his thoughts. He
had learned from Napoleon to throw himself into the spirit of his
enemy, and it is not improbable that when he stood before the fire
near Newtown he had already foreseen, in some degree at least, the
events that would follow the news of his attack at Kernstown.

The outcome of the battle was indeed far-reaching. "Though the battle
had been won," wrote Shields, "still I could not have believed that
Jackson would have hazarded a decisive engagement, so far from the
main body, without expecting reinforcements; so, to be prepared for
such a contingency, I set to work during the night to bring together
all the troops within my reach. I sent an express after Williams'
division, requesting the rear brigade, about twenty miles distant, to
march all night and join me in the morning. I swept the posts in rear
of almost all their guards, hurrying them forward by forced marches,
to be with me at daylight."* (* O.R. volume 12 part 1 page 341.)

General Banks, hearing of the engagement on his way to Washington,
halted at Harper's Ferry, and he also ordered Williams' division to
return at once to Winchester.

One brigade only,* (* Abercrombie's, 4500 men and a battery. The
brigade marched to Warrenton, where it remained until it was
transferred to McDowell's command.) which the order did not reach,
continued the march to Manassas. This counter-movement met with
McClellan's approval. He now recognised that Jackson's force,
commanded as it was, was something more than a mere corps of
observation, and that it was essential that it should be crushed.
"Your course was ," he telegraphed on receiving Banks' report.
"As soon as you are strong enough push Jackson hard and drive him
well beyond Strasburg...The very moment the thorough defeat of
Jackson will permit it, resume the movement on Manassas, always
leaving the whole of Shields' command at or near Strasburg and
Winchester until the Manassas Gap Railway is fully repaired.
Communicate fully and act vigorously."* (* O.R. volume 12 part 3 page
16.)

8000 men (Williams' division) were thus temporarily withdrawn from
the force that was to cover Washington from the south. But this was
only the first step. Jackson's action had forcibly attracted the
attention of the Federal Government to the Upper Potomac. The
President was already contemplating the transfer of Blenker's
division from McClellan to Fremont; the news of Kernstown decided the
question, and at the end of March these 9000 men were ordered to West
Virginia, halting at Strasburg, in case Banks should then need them,
on their way.* (* Blenker's division was at Hunter's Chapel, south of
Washington, when it received the order.) But even this measure did
not altogether allay Mr. Lincoln's apprehensions. McClellan had
assured him, on April 1, that 73,000 men would be  for the
defence of the capital and its approaches. But in the original
arrangement, with which the President had been satisfied, Williams
was to have been brought to Manassas, and Shields alone  in the
Shenandoah Valley. Under the new distribution the President found
that the force at Manassas would be decreased by two brigades; and,
at the same time, that while part of the troops McClellan had
promised were not forthcoming, a large portion of those actually
available were good for nothing. The officer  in command at
Washington reported that "nearly all his force was imperfectly
disciplined; that several of the regiments were in a very
disorganised condition; that efficient artillery regiments had been
removed from the forts, and that he had to relieve them with very new
infantry regiments, entirely unacquainted with the duties of that
arm."* (* Report of General Wadsworth; O.R. volume 12 part 3 page
225.) Lincoln submitted the question to six generals of the regular
army, then present in Washington; and these officers replied that, in
their opinion, "the requirement of the President that this city shall
be  entirely secure has not been fully complied with."* (* Letter
of Mr. Stanton; O.R. volume 19 part 2 page 726.)

On receiving this report, Lincoln ordered the First Army Corps,
37,000 strong, under General McDowell, to remain at Manassas in place
of embarking for the Peninsula; and thus McClellan, on the eve of his
advance on Richmond, found his original force of 150,000 reduced by
46,000 officers and men. Moreover, not content with detaching
McDowell for a time, Lincoln, the next day, assigned that general to
an independent command, covering the approaches to Washington; Banks,
also, was withdrawn from McClellan's control, and directed to defend
the Valley. The original dissemination of the Federal forces was thus
gravely accentuated, and the Confederates had now to deal with four
distinct armies, McClellan's, McDowell's, Banks', and Fremont's,
dependent for co-operation on the orders of two civilians, President
Lincoln and his Secretary of War. And this was not all. McDowell had
been assigned a most important part in McClellan's plan of invasion.
The road from Fortress Monroe was barred by the fortifications of
Yorktown. These works could be turned, however, by sending a force up
the York River. But the passage of the stream was debarred to the
Federal transports by a strong fort at Gloucester Point, on the 
bank, and the capture of this work was to be the task of the First
Army Corps. No wonder that McClellan, believing that Johnston
commanded 100,000 men, declared that in his deliberate judgment the
success of the Federal cause was imperilled by the order which
detached McDowell from his command. However inadequately the capital
might be defended, it was worse than folly to interfere with the
general's plans when he was on the eve of executing them. The best
way of defending Washington was for McClellan to march rapidly on
Richmond, and seize his adversary by the throat. By depriving him of
McDowell, Lincoln and his advisers made such a movement difficult,
and the grand army of invasion found itself in a most embarrassing
situation. Such was the effect of a blow struck at the  place
and the  time, though struck by no more than 3000 bayonets.

The battle of Kernstown was undoubtedly well fought. It is true that
Jackson believed that he had no more than four regiments of infantry,
a few batteries, and some cavalry before him. But it was a skilful
manoeuvre, which threw three brigades and three batteries, more than
two-thirds of his whole strength, on his opponent's flank. An
ordinary general would probably have employed only a small portion of
his force in the turning movement. Not so the student of Napoleon.
"In the general's haversack," says one of Jackson's staff, "were
always three books: the Bible, Napoleon's Maxims of War, and
Webster's Dictionary--for his spelling was uncertain--and these books
he constantly consulted." Whether the chronicles of the Jewish kings
threw any light on the tactical problem involved at Kernstown may be
 to the commentators; but there can be no question as to the
Maxims. To hurl overwhelming numbers at the point where the enemy
least expects attack is the whole burden of Napoleon's teaching, and
there can be no doubt but that the wooded ridge, unoccupied save by a
few scouts, was the weakest point of the defence.

The manoeuvre certainly surprised the Federals, and it very nearly
beat them. Tyler's brigade was unsupported for nearly an hour and a
half. Had his battalions been less staunch, the tardy reinforcements
would have been too late to save the day. Coming up as they did, not
in a mass so strong as to bear all before it by its own inherent
weight, but in successive battalions, at wide intervals of time, they
would themselves have become involved in a desperate engagement under
adverse circumstances. Nor is Kimball to be blamed that he did not
throw greater weight on Jackson's turning column at an earlier hour.
Like Shields and Banks, he was unable to believe that Jackson was
unsupported. He expected that the flank attack would be followed up
by one in superior numbers from the front. He could hardly credit
that an inferior force would deliberately move off to a flank,
leaving its line of retreat to be guarded by a few squadrons, weakly
supported by infantry; and the audacity of the assailant had the
usual effect of deceiving the defender.

Kernstown, moreover, will rank as an example of what determined men
can do against superior numbers. The Confederates on the ridge,
throughout the greater part of the fight, hardly exceeded 2000
muskets. They were assailed by 3000, and proved a match for them. The
3000 were then reinforced by at least 3000 more, whilst Jackson could
bring up only 600 muskets to support an already broken line.
Nevertheless, these 6000 Northerners were so roughly handled that
there was practically no pursuit. When the Confederates fell back
every one of the Federal regiments had been engaged, and there were
no fresh troops wherewith to follow them. Jackson was perfectly
justified in reporting that "Night and an indisposition of the enemy
to press further terminated the battle."* (* O.R. volume 12 part 1
page 382.)

But the action was attended by features more remarkable than the
stubborn resistance of the Virginia regiments. It is seldom that a
battle so insignificant as Kernstown has been followed by such
extraordinary results. Fortune indeed favoured the Confederates. At
the time of the battle a large portion of McClellan's army was at
sea, and the attack was delivered at the very moment when it was most
dreaded by the Northern Government. Nor was it to the disadvantage of
the Southerners that the real head of the Federal army was the
President, and that his strategical conceptions were necessarily
subservient to the attitude of the Northern people. These were
circumstances purely fortuitous, and it might seem, therefore, that
Jackson merely blundered into success. But he must be given full
credit for recognizing that a blow at Banks might be fraught with
most important consequences. It was with other ideas than defeating a
rear-guard or detaining Banks that he seized the Kernstown ridge. He
was not yet aware of McClellan's plan of invasion by sea; but he knew
well that any movement that would threaten Washington must prove
embarrassing to the Federal Government; that they could not afford to
leave the Upper Potomac ill secured; and that the knowledge that an
active and enterprising enemy, who had shown himself determined to
take instant advantage of every opportunity, was within the Valley,
would probably cause them to withdraw troops from McClellan in order
to guard the river. A fortnight after the battle, asking for
reinforcements, he wrote, "If Banks is defeated it may greatly retard
McClellan's movements."* (* Ibid part 3 page 844.)

Stubborn as had been the fighting of his brigades, Jackson himself
was not entirely satisfied with his officers. When Sullivan and
Kimball came to Tyler's aid, and a new line of battle threatened to
overwhelm the Stonewall regiments, Garnett, on his own
responsibility, had given the order to retire. Many of the men, their
ammunition exhausted, had fallen to the rear. The exertions of the
march had begun to tell. The enemy's attacks had been fiercely
pressed, and before the pressure of his fresh brigades the
Confederate power of resistance was strained to breaking-point.
Garnett had behaved with conspicuous gallantry. The officers of his
brigade declared that he was perfectly justified in ordering a
retreat. Jackson thought otherwise, and almost immediately after the
battle he relieved him of his command, placed him under arrest, and
framed charges for his trial by court-martial. He would not accept
the excuse that ammunition had given out. At the time the Stonewall
Brigade gave back the 5th and 42nd Virginia were at hand. The men had
still their bayonets, and he did not consider the means of victory
exhausted until the cold steel had been employed. "He insisted," says
Dabney, "that a more resolute struggle might have won the field."* (*
Dabney volume 2 page 46.)

Now, in the first place, it must be conceded that Garnett had not the
slightest  to abandon his position without a direct order.* (*
He was aware, moreover, that supports were coming up, for the order
to the 5th Virginia was sent through him. Report of Colonel W.H.
Harman, 5th Virginia, O.R. volume 12 part 1 pages 391 and 392.) In
the second, if we turn to the table of losses furnished by the
brigade commander, we find that in Garnett's four regiments,
numbering 1100 officers and men, there fell 153. In addition, 148
were reported missing, but, according to the official reports, the
majority of these were captured by the Federal cavalry and were
unwounded. At most, then, when he gave the order to retreat, Garnett
had lost 200, or rather less than 20 per cent.

Such loss was heavy, but by no means excessive. A few months later
hardly a brigade in either army would have given way because every
fifth man had fallen. A year later and the Stonewall regiments would
have considered an action in which they lost 200 men as nothing more
than a skirmish.* (* On March 5, 1811, in the battle fought on the
arid ridges of Barossa, the numbers were almost identical with those
engaged at Kernstown. Out of 4000 British soldiers there fell in an
hour over 1200, and of 9000 French more than 2000 were killed or
wounded; and yet, although the victors were twenty-four hours under
arms without food, the issue was never doubtful.) The truth would
seem to be that the Valley soldiers were not yet blooded. In peace
the individual is everything; material prosperity, self-indulgence,
and the preservation of existence are the general aim. In war the
individual is nothing, and men learn the lesson of self-sacrifice.
But it is only gradually, however high the enthusiasm which inspires
the troops, that the ideas of peace become effaced, and they must be
seasoned soldiers who will endure, without flinching, the losses of
Waterloo or Gettysburg. Discipline, which means the effacement of the
individual, does more than break the soldier to unhesitating
obedience; it trains him to die for duty's sake, and even the
Stonewall Brigade, in the spring of 1862, was not yet thoroughly
disciplined. "The lack of competent and energetic officers," writes
Jackson's chief of the staff, "was at this time the bane of the
service. In many there was neither an intelligent comprehension of
their duties nor zeal in their performance. Appointed by the votes of
their neighbours and friends, they would neither exercise that
rigidity in governing, nor that detailed care in providing for the
wants of their men, which are necessary to keep soldiers efficient.
The duties of the drill and the sentry-post were often negligently
performed; and the most profuse waste of ammunition and other
military stores was permitted. It was seldom that these officers were
guilty of cowardice upon the field of battle, but they were often in
the wrong place, fighting as common soldiers when they should have
been directing others. Above all was their inefficiency marked in
their inability to keep their men in the ranks. Absenteeism grew
under them to a monstrous evil, and every poltroon and laggard found
a way of escape. Hence the frequent phenomenon that regiments, which
on the books of the commissary appeared as consumers of 500 or 1000
rations, were reported as carrying into action 250 or 300 bayonets."*
(* Dabney volume 2 pages 18 and 19.) It is unlikely that this picture
is over-coloured, and it is certainly no reproach to the Virginia
soldiers that their discipline was indifferent. There had not yet
been time to transform a multitude of raw recruits into the semblance
of a regular army. Competent instructors and trained leaders were few
in the extreme, and the work had to be  in inexperienced hands.
One Stonewall Jackson was insufficient to leaven a division of 5000
men.

In the second place, Jackson probably remembered that the Stonewall
Brigade at Bull Run, dashing out with the bayonet on the advancing
Federals, had driven them back on their reserves. It seems hardly
probable, had Garnett at Kernstown held his ground a little longer,
that the three regiments still intact could have turned the tide of
battle. But it is not impossible. The Federals had been roughly
handled. Their losses had been heavier than those of the
Confederates. A resolute counterstroke has before now changed the
face of battle, and among unseasoned soldiers panic spreads with
extraordinary effect. So far as can be gathered from the reports,
there is no reason to suspect that the vigour of the Federal
battalions was as yet relaxed. But no one who was not actually
present can presume to judge of the temper of the troops. In every
well-contested battle there comes a moment when the combatants on
both sides become exhausted, and the general who at that moment finds
it in his heart to make one more effort will generally succeed. Such
was the experience of Grant, Virginia's stoutest enemy.* (* Grant's
Memoirs.) That moment, perhaps, had come at Kernstown; and Jackson,
than whom not Skobeleff himself had clearer vision or cooler brain in
the tumult of battle, may have observed it. It cannot be too often
repeated that numbers go for little on the battle-field. It is
possible that Jackson had in his mind, when he declared that the
victory might yet have been won, the decisive counterstroke at
Marengo, where 20,000 Austrians, pressing forward in pursuit of a
defeated enemy, were utterly overthrown by a fresh division of 6000
men supported by four squadrons.* (* The morning after the battle one
of the Confederate officers expressed the opinion that even if the
counterstroke had been successful, the Federal reserves would have
arrested it. Jackson answered, "No, if I had routed the men on the
ridge, they would all have gone off together.")

Tactical unity and morale are factors of far more importance in
battle than mere numerical strength. Troops that have been hotly
engaged, even with success, and whose nerves are wrought up to a high
state of tension, are peculiarly susceptible to surprise. If they
have lost their order, and the men find themselves under strange
officers, with unfamiliar faces beside them, the counterstroke falls
with even greater force. It is at such moments that cavalry still
finds its opportunity. It is at such moments that a resolute charge,
pushed home with drums beating and a loud cheer, may have
extraordinary results. On August 6, 1870, on the heights of Worth, a
German corps d'armee, emerging, after three hours' fierce fighting,
from the great wood on McMahon's flank, bore down upon the last
stronghold of the French. The troops were in the utmost confusion.
Divisions, brigades, regiments, and companies were mingled in one
motley mass. But the enemy was retreating; a heavy force of artillery
was close at hand, and the infantry must have numbered at least
10,000 rifles. Suddenly three battalions of Turcos, numbering no more
than 1500 bayonets, charged with wild cries, and without firing, down
the grassy slope. The Germans halted, fired a few harmless volleys,
and then, turning as one man, bolted to the shelter of the wood,
twelve hundred yards in rear.

According to an officer of the 14th Indiana, the Federals at
Kernstown were in much the same condition as the Germans at Worth.
"The Confederates fell back in great disorder, and we advanced in
disorder just as great. Over logs, through woods, over hills and
fields, the brigades, regiments, and companies advanced, in one
promiscuous, mixed, and uncontrollable mass. Officers shouted
themselves hoarse in trying to bring order out of confusion, but all
their efforts were unavailing along the front line, or rather what
ought to have been the front line."* (* Colonel E.H.C. Cavins,
Battles and Leaders volume 2 page 307.)

Garnett's conduct was not the only incident connected with Kernstown
that troubled Jackson. March 23 was a Sunday. "You appear much
concerned," he writes to his wife, "at my attacking on Sunday. I am
greatly concerned too; but I felt it my duty to do it, in
consideration of the ruinous effects that might result from
postponing the battle until the morning. So far as I can see, my
course was a wise one; the best that I could do under the
circumstances, though very distasteful to my feelings; and I hope and
pray to our Heavenly Father that I may never again be circumstanced
as on that day. I believed that, so far as our troops were concerned,
necessity and mercy both called for the battle. I do hope that the
war will soon be over, and that I shall never again be called upon to
take the field. Arms is a profession that, if its principles are
adhered to, requires an officer to do what he fears may be wrong, and
yet, according to military experience, must be done if success is to
be attained. And the fact of its being necessary to success, and
being accompanied with success, and that a departure from it is
accompanied with disaster, suggests that it must be . Had I
fought the battle on Monday instead of Sunday, I fear our cause would
have suffered, whereas, as things turned out, I consider our cause
gained much from the engagement."

We may wonder if his wife detected the unsoundness of the argument.
To do wrong--for wrong it was according to her creed--in order that
good may ensue is what it comes to. The literal interpretation of the
Scriptural rule seems to have led her husband into difficulties; but
the incident may serve to show with what earnestness, in every action
of his life, he strove to shape his conduct with what he believed to
be his duty.

It has already been observed that Jackson's reticence was remarkable.
No general could have been more careful that no inkling of his design
should reach the enemy. He had not the slightest hesitation in
withholding his plans from even his second in command; special
correspondents were rigorously excluded from his camps; and even with
his most confidential friends his reserve was absolutely
impenetrable. During his stay at Winchester, it was his custom
directly he rose to repair to headquarters and open his
correspondence. When he returned to breakfast at Dr. Graham's there
was much anxiety evinced to hear the news from the front. What the
enemy was doing across the Potomac, scarce thirty miles away, was
naturally of intense interest to the people of the border town. But
not the smallest detail of intelligence, however unimportant, escaped
his lips. To his wife he was as uncommunicative as to the rest.
Neither hint nor suggestion made the least impression, and direct
interrogations were put by with a quiet smile. Nor was he too shy to
suggest to his superiors that silence was golden. In a report to
Johnston, written four days after Kernstown, he administered what can
scarcely be considered other than a snub, delicately expressed but
unmistakable:--

"It is understood in the Federal army that you have instructed me to
keep the forces now in this district and not permit them to cross the
Blue Ridge, and that this must be done at every hazard, and that for
the purpose of effecting this I made my attack. I have never so much
as intimated such a thing to anyone."* (* O.R. volume 12 part 3 page
840.)

It cannot be said that Jackson's judgment in attacking Shields was at
once appreciated in the South. The defeat, at first, was ranked with
the disasters in the West. But as soon as the effects upon the enemy
were appreciated the tide of popular feeling turned. The gallantry of
the Valley regiments was fully recognised, and the thanks of Congress
were tendered to Jackson and his troops.

No battle was ever yet fought in exact accordance with the demands of
theory, and Kernstown, great in its results, gives openings to the
critics. Jackson, it is said, attacked with tired troops, on
insufficient information, and contrary to orders. As to the first, it
may be said that his decision to give the enemy no time to bring up
fresh troops was absolutely justified by events. On hearing of his
approach to Kernstown, Banks immediately countermarched a brigade of
Williams' division from Castleman's Ferry. A second brigade was
recalled from Snicker's Gap on the morning of the 24th, and reached
Winchester the same evening, after a march of six-and-twenty miles.
Had attack been deferred, Shields would have been strongly reinforced.

As to the second, Jackson had used every means in his power to get
accurate intelligence.* (* The truth is that in war, accurate
intelligence, especially when two armies are in close contact, is
exceedingly difficult to obtain. At Jena, even after the battle
ended, Napoleon believed that the Prussians had put 80,000 men in
line instead of 45,000. The night before Eylau, misled by the reports
of Murat's cavalry, he was convinced that the Russians were
retreating; and before Ligny he underestimated Blucher's strength by
40,000. The curious misconceptions under which the Germans commenced
the battles of Spicheren, Mars-la-Tour, and Gravelotte will also
occur to the military reader.) Ashby had done his best. Although the
Federals had 780 cavalry present, and every approach to Winchester
was strongly picketed, his scouts had pushed within the Federal
lines, and had communicated with the citizens of Winchester. Their
reports were confirmed, according to Jackson's despatch, "from a
source which had been remarkable for its reliability," and for the
last two days a retrograde movement towards Snicker's Gap had been
reported. The ground, it is true, favoured an ambush. But the
strategic situation demanded instant action. McClellan's advanced
guard was within fifty miles of Johnston's position on the Rapidan,
and a few days' march might bring the main armies into collision. If
Jackson was to bring Banks back to the Valley, and himself join
Johnston before the expected battle, he had no time to spare.
Moreover, the information to hand was quite sufficient to justify him
in trusting something to fortune. Even a defeat, if the attack were
resolutely pushed, might have the best effect.

The third reproach, that Jackson disobeyed orders, can hardly be
sustained. He was in command of a detached force operating at a
distance from the main army, and Johnston, with a wise discretion,
had given him not orders, but instructions; that is, the
general-in-chief had merely indicated the purpose for which Jackson's
force had been detached, and  to his judgment the manner in which
that purpose was to be achieved. Johnston had certainly suggested
that he should not expose himself to the danger of defeat. But when
it became clear that he could not retain the enemy in the Valley
unless he closed with him, to have refrained from attack would have
been to disobey the spirit of his instructions.

Again, when Jackson attacked he had good reason to believe that he
ran no risk of defeat whatever. The force before him was reported as
inferior to his own, and he might well have argued: "To confine
myself to observation will be to confess my weakness, and Banks is
not likely to arrest his march to Manassas because of the presence of
an enemy who dare not attack an insignificant rearguard."
Demonstrations, such as Johnston had advised, may undoubtedly serve a
temporary purpose, but if protracted the enemy sees through them. On
the 22nd, for instance, it was reported to Banks that the
Confederates were advancing. The rear brigade of Williams' division
was therefore countermarched from Snicker's Gap to Berryville; but
the other two were suffered to proceed. Had Jackson remained
quiescent in front of Shields, tacitly admitting his inferiority, the
rear brigade would in all probability have soon been ordered to
resume its march; and Lincoln, with no fear for Washington, would
have allowed Blenker and McDowell to join McClellan.

Johnston, at least, held that his subordinate was justified. In
publishing the thanks of the Confederate Congress tendered to Jackson
and his division, he expressed, at the same time, "his own sense of
their admirable conduct, by which they fully earned the high reward
bestowed."

During the evening of the 23rd the medical director of the Valley
army was ordered to collect vehicles, and send the wounded to the
rear before the troops continued their retreat. Some time after
midnight Dr. McGuire, finding that there were still a large number
awaiting removal, reported the circumstances to the general, adding
that he did not know where to get the means of transport, and that
unless some expedient were discovered the men must be abandoned.
Jackson ordered him to impress carriages in the neighbourhood. "But,"
said the surgeon, "that requires time; can you stay till it has been
done?" "Make yourself easy, sir," was the reply. "This army stays
here until the last man is removed. Before I leave them to the enemy
I will lose many men more." Fortunately, before daylight the work was
finished.

NOTE TO CHAPTER 1.8.

The exact losses at Kernstown were as follows:--

BY BRIGADE: COLUMN 1: BRIGADE.  COLUMN 2: KILLED. COLUMN 3: WOUNDED.
COLUMN 4: MISSING. COLUMN 5: TOTAL.

CONFEDERATES. Stonewall Brigade   : 40 : 151 : 152 : 343. Burke's
Brigade     : 24 : 114 :  39 : 177. Fulkerson's Brigade : 15 :  76 :
71 : 162. Cavalry             :  1 :  17 :   - :  18. Artillery
    :  - :  17 :   1 :  18.

BY REGIMENT. COLUMN 1: REGIMENT.  COLUMN 2: STRENGTH.  COLUMN 3:
KILLED. COLUMN 4: WOUNDED. COLUMN 5: MISSING. COLUMN 6: TOTAL.

2nd Virginia  : 320 N.C.O. and men   :  6 : 33 : 51 :  90 4th
Virginia  : 203 N.C.O. and men   :  5 : 23 : 48 :  76 5th Virginia  :
450 N.C.O. and men   :  9 : 48 :  4 :  61 27th Virginia : 170 N.C.O.
and men   :  2 : 20 : 35 :  57 33rd Virginia : 275 N.C.O. and men   :
18 : 27 : 14 :  59 21st Virginia : 270 officers and men :  7 : 44 :
9 :  60 42nd Virginia : 293 officers and men : 11 : 50 :  9 :  70 1st
Virginia  : 187 officers and men :  6 : 20 : 21 :  47 23rd Virginia :
177 officers and men :  3 : 14 : 32 :  49 27th Virginia : 897 N.C.O.
and men   : 12 : 62 : 39 : 113

Total casualties = 718: 80 killed including 5 officers.  375 wounded
including 22 officers. 263 missing including 10 officers. 13 per cent
killed and wounded. 20 per cent killed, wounded and missing.

FEDERALS.

Total casualties = 590: 118 killed including 6 officers.  450 wounded
including 27 officers. 22 missing. 6 per cent.

According to the reports of his regimental commanders, Jackson took
into battle (including 48th Virginia) 3087 N.C.O. and men of
infantry, 290 cavalry, and 27 guns. 2742 infantry, 290 cavalry, and
18 guns were engaged, and his total strength, including officers, was
probably about 3500. Shields, in his first report of the battle, put
down the strength of his own division as between 7000 and 8000 men.
Four days later he declared that it did not exceed 7000, namely 6000
infantry, 750 cavalry, and 24 guns. It is probable that only those
actually engaged are included in this estimate, for on March 17 he
reported the strength of the troops which were present at Kernstown
six days later as 8374 infantry, 608 artillerymen, and 780 cavalry;
total, 9752.* (* O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 4.)

</section>
<section id="12" fatherid="1" title="M'DOWELL" lv="CHAPTER 1.9." priority="0" level="2">
1862. March 23.

The stars were still shining when the Confederates began their
retreat from Kernstown. With the exception of seventy, all the
wounded had been brought in, and the army followed the ambulances as
far as Woodstock.

March 25.

There was little attempt on the part of the Federals to improve their
victory. The hard fighting of the Virginians had  its impress on
the generals. Jackson's numbers were estimated at 15,000, and Banks,
who arrived in time to take direction of the pursuit, preferred to
wait till Williams' two brigades came up before he moved. He encamped
that night at Cedar Creek, eight miles from Kernstown. The next day
he reached Strasburg. The cavalry pushed on to near Woodstock, and
there, for the time being, the pursuit terminated. Shields, who
remained at Winchester to nurse his wound, sent enthusiastic
telegrams announcing that the retreat was a flight, and that the
houses along the road were filled with Jackson's dead and dying; yet
the truth was that the Confederates were in nowise pressed, and only
the hopeless cases had been  behind.* (* Major Harman wrote on
March 26 that 150 wounded had been brought to Woodstock. Manuscript.)
Had the 2000 troopers at Banks' disposal been sent forward at
daybreak on the 24th, something might have been done. The squadrons,
however, incapable of moving across country, were practically useless
in pursuit; and to start even at daybreak was to start too late. If
the fruits of victory are to be secured, the work must be put in hand
whilst the enemy is still reeling under the shock. A few hours' delay
gives him time to recover his equilibrium, to organise a rear-guard,
and to gain many miles on his rearward march.

March 26.

On the night of the 26th, sixty hours after the battle ceased, the
Federal outposts were established along Tom's Brook, seventeen miles
from Kernstown. On the opposite bank were Ashby's cavalry, while
Burks' brigade lay at Woodstock, six miles further south. The
remainder of the Valley army had reached Mount Jackson.

These positions were occupied until April 1, and for six whole days
Banks, with 19,000 men, was content to observe a force one-sixth his
strength, which had been defeated by just half the numbers he had now
at his disposal. This was hardly the "vigorous action" which
McClellan had demanded. "As soon as you are strong enough," he had
telegraphed, "push Jackson hard, drive him well beyond Strasburg,
pursuing at least as far as Woodstock, if possible, with cavalry to
Mount Jackson."* (* O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 16. The telegrams and
letters quoted in this chapter, unless otherwise stated, are from
this volume.)

In vain he reiterated the message on the 27th: "Feel Jackson's
rear-guard smartly and push him well." Not a single Federal crossed
Tom's Brook. "The superb scenery of the Valley," writes General G.H.
Gordon, a comrade of Jackson's at West Point, and now commanding the
2nd Massachusetts, one of Banks' best regiments, "opened before
us--the sparkling waters of the Shenandoah, winding between the
parallel ranges, the groves of cedar and pine that lined its banks,
the rolling surfaces of the Valley, peacefully resting by the
mountain side, and occupied by rich fields and quiet farms. A mile
beyond I could see the rebel cavalry. Sometimes the enemy amused
himself by throwing shells at our pickets, when they were a little
too venturesome; but beyond a feeble show of strength and ugliness,
nothing transpired to disturb the dulness of the camp."* (* From
Brook Farm to Cedar Mountain page 133.)

Banks, far from all support, and with a cavalry unable to procure
information, was by no means free from apprehension. Johnston had
already fallen back into the interior of Virginia, and the Army of
the Potomac, instead of following him, was taking ship at Alexandria.
Information had reached Strasburg that the Confederates were behind
the Rapidan, with their  at Gordonsville. Now Gordonsville is
sixty-five miles, or four marches, from Mount Jackson, and there was
reason to believe that reinforcements had already been sent to
Jackson from that locality. On March 25 Banks telegraphed to Mr.
Stanton: "Reported by rebel Jackson's aide (a prisoner) that they
were assured of reinforcements to 30,000, but don't credit it." On
March 26: "The enemy is broken, but will rally. Their purpose is to
unite Jackson's and Longstreet's* (* Commanding a division under
Johnston.) forces, some 20,000, at New Market (seven miles south of
Mount Jackson) or Washington (east of Blue Ridge) in order to operate
on either side of the mountains, and will desire to prevent our
junction with the force at Manassas. At present they will not attack
here. It will relieve me greatly to know how far the enemy (i.e.
Johnston) will be pressed in front of Manassas." On the 27th his news
was less alarming: "Enemy is about four miles below Woodstock. No
reinforcement received yet. Jackson has constant communication with
Johnston, who is east of the mountains, probably at Gordonsville. His
pickets are very strong and vigilant, none of the country people
being allowed to pass the lines under any circumstances. The same
rule is applied to troops, stragglers from Winchester not being
permitted to enter their lines. We shall press them further and
quickly."

The pressure, however, was postponed; and on the 29th McClellan
desired Banks to ascertain the intentions of the enemy as soon as
possible, and if he were in force to drive him from the Valley of the
Shenandoah. Thus spurred, Banks at last resolved to cross the
Rubicon. "Deficiency," he replied, "in ammunition for Shields'
artillery detains us here; expect it hourly, when we shall push
Jackson sharply." It was not, however, till April 2, four days later,
that Mr. Lincoln's protege crossed Tom's Brook. His advanced guard,
after a brisk skirmish with Ashby, reached the village of Edenburg,
ten miles south, the same evening. The main body occupied Woodstock,
and McClellan telegraphed that he was "much pleased with the vigorous
pursuit!"

It is not impossible that Banks suspected that McClellan's
commendations were ironical. In any case, praise had no more effect
upon him than a peremptory order or the promise of reinforcements. He
was instructed to push forward as far as New Market; he was told that
he would be joined by two regiments of cavalry, and that two brigades
of Blenker's division were marching to Strasburg. But Jackson,
although Ashby had been driven in, still held obstinately to his
position, and from Woodstock and Edenburg Banks refused to move.

On April 4, becoming independent of McClellan,* (* On this date
McClellan ceased to be Commander-in-Chief.) he at once reported to
the Secretary of War that he hoped "immediately to strike Jackson an
effective blow." "Immediately," however, in Banks' opinion, was
capable of a very liberal interpretation, for it was not till April
17 that he once more broke up his camps. Well might Gordon write that
life at Edenburg became monotonous!

It is but fair to mention that during the whole of this time Banks
was much troubled about supply and transport. His magazines were at
Winchester, connected with Harper's Ferry and Washington by a line of
railway which had been rapidly repaired, and on April 12 this line
had become unserviceable through the spreading of the road-bed.* (*
The bridges over the railway between Strasburg and Manassas Gap,
which would have made a second line available, had not yet been
repaired.) His waggon train, moreover, had been diverted to Manassas
before the fight at Kernstown, and was several days late in reaching
Strasburg. The country in which he was operating was rich, and
requisitions were made upon the farmers; but in the absence of the
waggons, according to his own report, it was impossible to collect
sufficient supplies for a further advance.* (* On April 3 Jackson
wrote that the country around Banks was "very much drained of
forage.") The weather, too, had been unfavourable. The first days of
April were like summer. "But hardly," says Gordon, "had we begun to
feel in harmony with sunny days and blooming peach trees and warm
showers, before a chill came over us, bitter as the hatred of the
women of Virginia: the ground covered with snow, the air thick with
hail, and the mountains hidden in the chilly atmosphere. Our
shivering sentinels on the outer lines met at times the gaze of
half-frozen horsemen of the enemy, peering through the mist to see
what the Yankees had been doing within the last twenty-four hours. It
was hard to believe that we were in the 'sunny South.'"

All this, however, was hardly an excuse for absolute inaction. The
Confederate position on the open ridge called Rude's Hill, two and a
half miles south of Mount Jackson, was certainly strong. It was
defended in front by Mill Creek, swollen by the snows to a turbulent
and unfordable river; and by the North Fork of the Shenandoah. But
with all its natural strength Rude's Hill was but weakly held, and
Banks knew it. Moreover, it was most unlikely that Jackson would be
reinforced, for Johnston's army, with the exception of a detachment
under General Ewell, had  Orange Court House for Richmond on
April 5. "The enemy," Banks wrote to McClellan on April 6, "is
reduced to about 6000 men (sic), much demoralised by defeat,
desertion, and the general depression of spirits resting on the
Southern army. He is not in a condition to attack, neither to make a
strong resistance, and I do not believe he will make a determined
stand there. I do not believe Johnston will reinforce him." If Banks
had supplies enough to enable him to remain at Woodstock, there seems
to have been no valid reason why he should not have been able to
drive away a demoralised enemy, and to hold a position twelve miles
further south.

But the Federal commander, despite his brave words, had not yet got
rid of his misgivings. Jackson had lured him into a most
uncomfortable situation. Between the two branches of the Shenandoah,
in the very centre of the Valley, rises a gigantic mass of mountain
ridges, parallel throughout their length of fifty miles to the Blue
Ridge and the Alleghanies. These are the famous Massanuttons, the
glory of the Valley. The peaks which form their northern faces sink
as abruptly to the level near Strasburg as does the single hill which
looks down on Harrisonburg. Dense forests of oak and pine cover ridge
and ravine, and 2500 feet below, on either hand, parted by the mighty
barrier, are the dales watered by the Forks of the Shenandoah. That
to the east is the narrower and less open; the Blue Ridge is nowhere
more than ten miles distant from the Massanuttons, and the space
between them, the Luray or the South Fork Valley, through which a
single road leads northward, is clothed by continuous forest. West of
the great mountain, a broad expanse of green pasture and rich arable
extends to the foothills of the Alleghanies, dotted with woods and
homesteads, and here, in the Valley of the North Fork, is freer air
and more space for movement.

The separation of the two valleys is accentuated by the fact that
save at one point only the Massanuttons are practically impassable.
From New Market, in the western valley, a good road climbs the
heights, and crossing the lofty plateau, sinks sharply down to Luray,
the principal village on the South Fork. Elsewhere precipitous
gullies and sheer rock faces forbid all access to the mountain, and a
few hunters' paths alone wind tediously through the woods up the
steep hillside. Nor are signal stations to be found on the wide area
of unbroken forest which clothes the summit. Except from the peaks at
either end, or from one or two points on the New Market-Luray road,
the view is intercepted by the sea of foliage and the rolling spurs.

Striking eastward from Luray, two good roads cross the Blue Ridge;
one running to Culpeper Court House, through Thornton's Gap; the
other through Fisher's Gap to Gordonsville.

It was the Massanuttons that weighed on the mind of Banks. The Valley
of the South Fork gave the Confederates a covered approach against
his line of communications. Issuing from that strait c between
the mountains Ashby's squadrons might at any time sweep down upon his
trains of waggons, his hospitals, and his magazines; and should
Jackson be reinforced, Ashby might be supported by infantry and guns,
and both Strasburg and Winchester be endangered. It was not within
Banks' power to watch the defile. "His cavalry," he reported, "was
weak in numbers and spirit, much exhausted with night and day work."
Good cavalry, he declared, would help incalculably, and he admitted
that in this arm he was greatly inferior to the enemy.

Nor was he more happy as to the Alleghanies on his . Fremont was
meditating an advance on Lewisburg, Staunton, and the Virginia and
Tennessee Railway with 25,000 men.* (* See ante.) One column was to
start from Gauley Bridge, in the Kanawha Valley; the other from the
South Branch of the Potomac. Milroy's brigade, from Cheat Mountain,
had therefore occupied Monterey, and Schenck's brigade had marched
from Romney to Moorefield. But Moorefield was thirty miles west of
Woodstock, and between them rose a succession of rugged ridges,
within whose deep valleys the Confederate horsemen might find paths
by which to reach to Banks' rear.

It was essential, then, that his communications should be strongly
guarded, and as he advanced up the Valley his force had diminished at
every march. According to his own report he had, on April 6, 16,700
men fit for duty. Of these 4100 were detached along the road from
Woodstock to Harper's Ferry. His effective strength for battle was
thus reduced to 12,600, or, including the troops escorting convoys
and the garrison of Strasburg, to 14,500 men, with 40 pieces of
artillery.* (* O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 50.)

Such were the considerations that influenced the Federal commander.
Had he occupied New Market, as McClellan had desired, he would have
secured the Luray road, have opened the South Fork Valley to his
scouts, and have overcome half the difficulties presented by the
Massanuttons. A vigorous advance would have turned the attention of
the Confederates from his communications to their own; and to drive
Jackson from the Valley was the best method of protecting the trains
and the magazines. But Banks was not inclined to beard the lion in
his den, and on April 16 Jackson had been unmolested for more than
three weeks. Ashby's troopers were the only men who had even seen the
enemy. Daily that indefatigable soldier had called to arms the
Federal outposts. "Our stay at Edenburg," says Gordon, "was a
continuous season of artillery brawling and picket stalking. The
creek that separated the outposts was not more than ten yards wide.
About one-fourth of a mile away there was a thick wood, in which the
enemy concealed his batteries until he chose to stir us up, when he
would sneak up behind the cover, open upon us at an unexpected
moment, and retreat rapidly when we replied." It was doubtless by
such constant evidence of his vigilance that Ashby imposed caution on
the enemy's reconnoitring parties. The fact remains that Jackson's
camps, six miles to the rear, were never once alarmed, nor could
Banks obtain any reliable information.

This period of repose was spent by Jackson in reorganising his
regiments, in writing letters to his wife, and, like his old
class-mate, Gordon, in admiring the scenery. It is not to be supposed
that his enforced inaction was altogether to his taste. With an enemy
within sight of his outposts his bold and aggressive spirit must have
been sorely tried. But with his inferior numbers prudence cried
patience, and he had reason to be well content with the situation. He
had been instructed to prevent Banks from detaching troops to
reinforce McClellan. To attain an object in war the first
consideration is to make no mistakes yourself; the next, to take
instant advantage of those made by your opponent. But compliance with
this rule does not embrace the whole art of generalship. The enemy
may be too discreet to commit himself to risky manoeuvres. If the
campaigns of the great masters of war are examined, it will be found
that they but seldom adopted a quiescent attitude, but by one means
or another, by acting on their adversary's morale, or by creating
false impressions, they induced him to make a false step, and to
place himself in a position which made it easy for them to attain
their object. The greatest general has been defined as "he who makes
the fewest mistakes;" but "he who compels his adversary to make the
most mistakes" is a definition of equal force; and it may even be
questioned whether the general whose imagination is unequal to the
stratagems which bring mistakes about is worthy of the name. He may
be a trustworthy subordinate, but he can scarcely become a great
leader.

Johnston had advised, when, at the beginning of March, the retreat of
the Confederates from Winchester was determined on, that Jackson
should fall back on Front Royal, and thence, if necessary, up the
South Fork of the Shenandoah. His force would thus be in close
communication with the main army behind the Rapidan; and it was
contrary, in the General-in-Chief's opinion, to all sound discretion
to permit the enemy to attain a point, such as Front Royal, which
would render it possible for him to place himself between them.
Jackson, however, declared his preference for a retreat up the North
Fork, in the direction of Staunton. Why should Banks join McClellan
at all? McClellan, so Jackson calculated, had already more men with
him than he could feed; and he believed, therefore, that Staunton
would be Banks' objective, because, by seizing that town, he would
threaten Edward Johnson's rear, open the way for Fremont, and then,
crossing the Blue Ridge, place himself so near the communications of
the main army with Richmond that it would be compelled to fall back
to defend them. Nor, in any case, did he agree with Johnston that the
occupation of Front Royal would prevent Banks leaving the Valley and
marching to Manassas. Twenty miles due east of Winchester is
Snicker's Gap, where a good road crosses the Blue Ridge, and eight
miles south another turnpike leads over Ashby's Gap. By either of
these Banks could reach Manassas just as rapidly as Jackson could
join Johnston; and, while 4500 men could scarcely be expected to
detain 20,000, they might very easily be cut off by a portion of the
superior force.

If a junction with the main army were absolutely necessary, Jackson
was of opinion that the move ought to be made at once, and the Valley
abandoned. If, on the other hand, it was desirable to keep Banks and
McClellan separated, the best means of doing so was to draw the
former up the North Fork; and at Mount Jackson, covering the New
Market to Luray road, the Valley troops would be as near the Rapidan
as if they were at Front Royal.* (* Dabney volume 2 pages 22 and 23.
O.R. volume 5 page 1087.) The strategical advantages which such a
position would offer--the isolation of the troops pursuing him, the
chance of striking their communications from the South Fork Valley,
and, if reinforcements were granted, of cutting off their retreat by
a rapid movement from Luray to Winchester--were always present to
Jackson's mind.* (* Cf letters of April 5. O.R. volume 12 part 3
pages 843 and 844.)

An additional argument was that at the time when these alternatives
were discussed the road along South Fork was so bad as to make
marching difficult; and it was to this rather than to Jackson's
strategical conceptions that Johnston appears to have ultimately
yielded.

Be this as it may, the sum of Jackson's operations was satisfactory
in the extreme. On March 27 he had written to Johnston, "I will try
and draw the enemy on." On April 16 Banks was exactly where he wished
him, well up the North Fork of the Shenandoah, cut off by the
Massanuttons from Manassas, and by the Alleghanies from Fremont. The
two detachments which held the Valley, his own force at Mount
Jackson, and Edward Johnson's 2800 on the Shenandoah Mountain, were
in close communication, and could at any time, if permitted by the
higher authorities, combine against either of the columns which
threatened Staunton. "What I desire," he said to Mr. Boteler, a
friend in the Confederate Congress, "is to hold the country, as far
as practicable, until we are in a condition to advance; and then,
with God's blessing, let us make thorough work of it. But let us
start ."

On April 7 he wrote to his wife as follows:--

"Your sickness gives me great concern; but so live that it and all
your tribulations may be sanctified to you, remembering that our
'light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work out for us a far
more exceeding and eternal weight of glory!' I trust you and all I
have in the hands of a kind Providence, knowing that all things work
together for the good of His people. Yesterday was a lovely Sabbath
day. Although I had not the privilege of hearing the word of life,
yet it felt like a holy Sabbath day, beautiful, serene, and lovely.
All it wanted was the church-bell and God's services in the sanctuary
to make it complete. Our gallant little army is increasing in
numbers, and my prayer is that it may be an army of the living God as
well as of its country."

The troops, notwithstanding their defeat at Kernstown, were in high
spirits. The very slackness of the Federal pursuit had made them
aware that they had inflicted a heavy blow. They had been thanked by
Congress for their valour. The newspapers were full of their praises.
Their comrades were returning from hospital and furlough, and
recruits were rapidly coming in.* (* Congress, on April 16, passed a
Conscription Act, under which all able-bodied whites, between the
ages of eighteen and thirty-five, were compelled to serve. It was not
found necessary, however, except in the case of three religious
denominations, to enforce the Act in the Valley; and, in dealing with
these sectarians, Jackson found a means of reconciling their scruples
with their duty to their State. He organised them in companies as
teamsters, pledging himself to employ them, so far as practicable, in
other ways than fighting. O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 835.) The
mounted branch attracted the majority, and Ashby's regiment soon
numbered more than 2000 troopers. Their commander, however, knew
little of discipline. Besides himself there was but one field-officer
for one-and-twenty companies; nor had these companies any regimental
organisation. When Jackson attempted to reduce this curiously
constituted force to order, his path was once more crossed by the
Secretary of War. Mr. Benjamin, dazzled by Ashby's exploits, had
given him authority to raise and command a force of independent
cavalry. A reference to this authority and a threat of resignation
was Ashby's reply to Jackson's orders. "Knowing Ashby's ascendency
over his men, and finding himself thus deprived of legitimate power,
the general was constrained to pause, and the cavalry was 
unorganised and undisciplined. One half was rarely available for
duty. The remainder were roaming over the country, imposing upon the
generous hospitalities of the citizens, or lurking in their homes.
The exploits of their famous leader were all performed with a few
hundreds, or often scores, of men, who followed him from personal
devotion rather than force of discipline."* (* Dabney volume 2 page
49.)

By April 15 Jackson's force had increased to 6000 men.* (* On April 5
he had over 4000 infantry. O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 844. The
estimate in the text is from Colonel Allan's Valley Campaign page 64.
On April 9, however, he was so short of arms that 1000 pikes were
ordered from Richmond. "Under Divine blessing," he wrote, "we must
rely upon the bayonet when firearms cannot be furnished." O.R. volume
12 part 3 pages 842 and 845.) McClellan had now landed an army of
over 100,000 at Fortress Monroe, on the Yorktown Peninsula, and
Johnston had marched thither to oppose him. The weather had at last
cleared; although the mountain pines stood deep in snow the roads
were in good order; the rivers were once more fordable; the Manassas
Gap Railway had been restored as far as Strasburg, and Banks took
heart of grace.

April 17.

On the 17th his forces were put in motion. One of Ashby's companies
was surprised and captured. A brigade was sent to turn the
Confederate  by a ford of the North Fork; and when the
Virginians, burning the railway station at Mount Jackson, fell back
southwards, the Federal cavalry seized New Market.

For the moment the situation of the Valley army was somewhat
critical. When Johnston marched to the Peninsula he had  a force
of 8000 men, under General Ewell, on the Upper Rappahannock, and with
this force Jackson had been instructed to co-operate. But with the
road across the Massanuttons in his possession Banks could move into
the Luray Valley, and occupying Swift Run Gap with a detachment, cut
the communication between the two Confederate generals. It was
essential, then, that this important pass should be secured, and
Jackson's men were called on for a forced march.

April 18.

On the morning of the 18th they reached Harrisonburg, twenty-five
miles from Mount Jackson, and halted the same evening at Peale's,
about six miles east.

April 19.

On the 19th they crossed the Shenandoah at Conrad's store, and
leaving a detachment to hold the bridge, moved to the foot of Swift
Run Gap, and went into camp in Elk Run Valley. In three days they had
marched over fifty miles. Banks followed with his customary caution,
and when, on the 17th, his cavalry occupied New Market he was
congratulated by the Secretary of War on his "brilliant and
successful operations." On the 19th he led a detachment across the
Massanuttons, and seized the two bridges over the South Fork at
Luray, driving back a squadron which Jackson had sent to burn them.

April 22.

On the night of the 22nd his cavalry reached Harrisonburg, and he
reported that want of supplies alone prevented him from bringing the
Confederates to bay.

April 26.

On the 26th he sent two of his five brigades to Harrisonburg, the
remainder halting at New Market, and for the last few days, according
to his own dispatches, beef, flour, and forage had been abundant. Yet
it had taken him ten days to march five-and-thirty miles.

April 20.

On April 20 General Edward Johnson, menaced in rear by Banks'
advance, in flank by the brigade which Fremont had placed at
Moorefield, and in front by Milroy's brigade, which had advanced from
Monterey, had fallen back from the Shenandoah Mountain to West View,
seven miles west of Staunton; and to all appearance the Federal
prospects were exceedingly favourable.

Harrisonburg is five-and-twenty miles, or two short marches, north of
Staunton. The hamlet of M'Dowell, now occupied by Milroy, is
seven-and-twenty miles north-west. Proper concert between Banks and
Fremont should therefore have ensured the destruction or retreat of
Edward Johnson, and have placed Staunton, as well as the Virginia
Central Railroad, in their hands. But although not a single picket
stood between his outposts and Staunton, Banks dared not move. By
moving to Elk Run Valley Jackson had barred the way of the Federals
more effectively than if he had intrenched his troops across the
Staunton road.

South of Harrisonburg, where the Valley widens to five-and-twenty
miles, there was no strong position. And even had such existed, 6000
men, of which a third were cavalry, could scarcely have hoped to hold
it permanently against a far superior force. Moreover, cooped up
inside intrenchments, the Army of the Valley would have lost all
freedom of action; and Jackson would have been cut off both from
Ewell and from Richmond. But, although direct intervention was
impracticable, he was none the less resolved that Banks should never
set foot in Staunton. The Elk Run Valley was well adapted for his
purpose. Spurs of the Blue Ridge, steep, pathless, and densely
wooded, covered either flank. The front, protected by the Shenandoah,
was very strong. Communication with both Ewell and Richmond was
secure, and so long as he held the bridge at Conrad's store he
threatened the flank of the Federals should they advance on Staunton.
Strategically the position was by no means perfect. The Confederates,
to use an expression of General Grant's, applied to a similar
situation, were "in a bottle." A bold enemy would have seized the
bridge, "corking up" Jackson with a strong detachment, and have
marched on Staunton with his main body.

"Had Banks been more enterprising," says Dabney, "this objection
would have been decisive." But he was not enterprising, and Jackson
knew it.* (* "My own opinion," he wrote, when this movement was in
contemplation, "is that Banks will not follow me up to the Blue
Ridge. My desire is, as far as practicable, to hold the Valley, and I
hope that Banks will be deterred from advancing from New Market
much further toward Staunton by the apprehension of my returning to
New Market by Luray, and thus getting in his rear." O.R. volume 12
part 3 page 848.) He had had opportunities in plenty of judging his
opponent's character. The slow advance on Winchester, the long delay
at Woodstock, the cautious approach to New Market, had revealed
enough. It was a month since the battle of Kernstown, and yet the
Confederate infantry, although for the greater part of the time they
had been encamped within a few miles of the enemy's outposts, had not
fired a shot.

The tardy progress of the Federals from Woodstock to Harrisonburg had
been due rather to the perplexities of their commander than to the
difficulties of supply; and Banks had got clear of the Massanuttons
only to meet with fresh embarrassments. Jackson's move to Elk Run
Valley was a complete checkmate. His opponent felt that he was
dangerously exposed. McClellan had not yet begun his advance on
Richmond; and, so long as that city was secure from immediate attack,
the Confederates could spare men to reinforce Jackson. The railway
ran within easy reach of Swift Run Gap, and the troops need not be
long absent from the capital. Ewell, too, with a force of unknown
strength, was not far distant. Banks could expect no help from
Fremont. Both generals were anxious to work together, and plans had
been submitted to Washington which would probably have secured the
capture of Staunton and the control of the railway. But the Secretary
of War rejected all advice. Fremont was given to understand that
under no circumstances was he to count on Banks,* (* O.R. volume 12
page 104.) and the latter was told to halt at Harrisonburg. "It is
not the desire of the President," wrote Mr. Stanton on April 26,
"that you should prosecute a further advance towards the south. It is
possible that events may make it necessary to transfer the command of
General Shields to the department of the Rappahannock i.e. to the
First Army Corps, and you are desired to act accordingly." To crown
all, Blenker's division, which had reached Winchester, instead of
being sent to support Banks, forty-five miles distant by the Valley
turnpike, was ordered to join Fremont in the Alleghanies by way of
Romney, involving a march of one hundred and twenty miles, over bad
roads, before it could reinforce his advanced brigade.

Stanton, in writing to Banks, suggested that he should not let his
advanced guard get too far ahead of the main body; but be does not
appear to have seen that the separation of Banks, Fremont, and
Blenker, and the forward position of the two former, which he had
determined to maintain, was even more dangerous.* (* Jackson had
recognised all along the mistake the Federals had made in pushing
comparatively small forces up the Valley before McClellan closed in
on Richmond. On April 5, when Banks was at Woodstock, he wrote:
"Banks is very cautious. As he belongs to McClellan's army, I suppose
that McClellan is at the helm, and that he would not, even if Banks
so desired, permit him to advance much farther until other parts of
his army are farther advanced." (O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 843). He
did not know that at the date he wrote the President and Mr. Stanton
had relieved McClellan at the helm.) His lesson was to come, for
Jackson, by no means content with arresting Banks' march, was already
contemplating that general's destruction.

The situation demanded instant action, and in order that the import
of Jackson's movements may be fully realised it is necessary to turn
to the main theatre of war. McClellan, on April 5, with the 60,000
men already landed, had moved a few miles up the Peninsula. Near the
village of Yorktown, famous for the surrender of Lord Cornwallis and
his army in 1782, he found the road blocked by a line of earthworks
and numerous guns. Magruder, Jackson's captain in Mexico, was in
command; but Johnston was still on the Rapidan, one hundred and
thirty miles away, and the Confederates had no more than 15,000 men
in position. The flanks, however, were secured by the York and the
James rivers, which here expand to wide estuaries, and the works were
strong. Yorktown proved almost as fatal to the invaders as to their
English predecessors. Before the historic lines their march was
suddenly brought up. McClellan, although his army increased in
numbers every day, declined the swift process of a storm. Personal
reconnaissance convinced him that "instant assault would have been
simple folly," and he determined to besiege the intrenchments in due
form. On April 10 Johnston's army began to arrive at Yorktown, and
the lines, hitherto held by a slender garrison, were now manned by
53,000 men.

The Confederate position was by no means impregnable. The river James
to the south was held by the "Merrimac," an improvised ironclad of
novel design, which had already wrought terrible destruction amongst
the wooden frigates of the Federals. She was neutralised, however, by
her Northern counterpart, the "Monitor," and after an indecisive
action she had remained inactive for nearly a month. The York was
less securely guarded. The channel, nearly a mile wide, was barred
only by the fire of two forts; and that at Gloucester Point, on the
north bank, was open to assault from the land side. Had McClellan
disembarked a detachment and carried this work, which might easily
have been done, the river would have been opened to his gunboats, and
Johnston's lines have become untenable. He decided, however,
notwithstanding that his army was more than 100,000 strong, that he
had no men to spare for such an enterprise.

Magruder's bold stand was of infinite service to the Confederate
cause. To both parties time was of the utmost value. The Federals
were still over seventy miles from Richmond; and there was always a
possibility, if their advance were not rapidly pressed, that Johnston
might move on Washington and cause the recall of the army to protect
the capital. The Confederates, on the other hand, had been surprised
by the landing of McClellan's army. They had been long aware that the
flotilla had sailed, but they had not discovered its destination; the
detachments which first landed were supposed to be reinforcements for
the garrison of the fortress; and when McClellan advanced on
Yorktown, Johnston was far to the west of Richmond. The delay had
enabled him to reach the lines.* (* The first detachment of Federals
embarked at Alexandria on March 16, and the army was thereafter
transferred to the Peninsula by successive divisions. On March 25
Johnston was ordered to be ready to move to Richmond. On April 4 he
was ordered to move at once. On that date 50,000 Federals had
landed.) But at the time Jackson fell back to Elk Run Valley, April
17 to 19, fortune seemed inclining to the Federals.

Lincoln had been induced to relax his hold on the army corps which he
had held back at Manassas to protect the capital, and McDowell was
already moving on Fredericksburg, sixty miles north of Richmond. Here
he was to be joined by Shields, bringing his force for the field up
to 40,000 men; and the fall of Yorktown was to be the signal for his
advance on the Confederate capital. Johnston still held the lines,
but he was outnumbered by more than two to one, and the enemy was
disembarking heavy ordnance. It was evident that the end could not be
long delayed, and that in case of retreat every single Confederate
soldier, from the Valley and elsewhere, would have to be brought to
Richmond for the decisive battle. Jackson was thus bound to his
present position, close to the railway, and his orders from Johnston
confined him to a strictly defensive attitude. In case Banks advanced
eastward he was to combine with Ewell, and receive attack in the
passes of the Blue Ridge.

Such cautious strategy, to one so fully alive to the opportunity
offered by McClellan's retention before Yorktown, was by no means
acceptable. When his orders reached him, Jackson was already weaving
plans for the discomfiture of his immediate adversary, and it may be
imagined with what reluctance, although he gave no vent to his
chagrin, he accepted the passive role which had been assigned to him.

No sooner, however, had he reached Elk Run Valley than the telegraph
brought most welcome news. In a moment of unwonted wisdom the
Confederate President had charged General Lee with the control of all
military operations in Virginia, and on April 21 came a letter to
Jackson which foreshadowed the downfall of McClellan and the rout of
the invaders.

April 21.

McDowell's advance from Manassas had already become known to the
Confederates, and Lee had divined what this movement portended. "I
have no doubt," he wrote to Jackson, "that an attempt will be made to
occupy Fredericksburg and use it as a base of operations against
Richmond. Our present force there is very small, (2,500 men under
General Field), and cannot be reinforced except by weakening other
corps. If you can use General Ewell's division in an attack on Banks,
it will prove a great relief to the pressure on Fredericksburg."* (*
O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 859.)

This view of the situation was in exact agreement with Jackson's own
views. He had already made preparation for combined action with
Ewell. For some days they had been in active correspondence. The
exact route which Ewell should take to the Blue Ridge had been
decided on. The roads had been reconnoitred. Jackson had supplied a
map identical with his own, and had furnished an officer to act as
guide. A service of couriers had been established across the
mountains, and no precaution had been neglected. Ewell was instructed
to bring five days' rations. He was warned that there would be no
necessity for a forced march; he was to encamp at cross-roads, and he
was to rest on Sunday.* (* O.R. volume 12 part 3 pages 849, 854 and
857.)

April 23.

Jackson, replying to Lee, stated that he was only waiting a
favourable occasion to fall on Banks. "My object," he wrote, "has
been to get in his rear at New Market or Harrisonburg, if he gives me
an opportunity, and this would be the case should he advance on
Staunton with his main body. It appears to me that if I remain quiet
a few days more he will probably make a move in some direction, or
send a large force towards Harrisonburg, and thus enable me, with the
blessing of Providence, to successfully attack his advance. If I am
unsuccessful in driving back his entire force he may be induced to
move forward from New Market, and attempt to follow me through this
Gap, where our forces would have greatly the advantage...

"Under all the circumstances I will direct General Ewell to move to
Stanardsville. Should Banks remain in the position of yesterday
cavalry at Harrisonburg; infantry, etc., at New Market I will try
and seek an opportunity of attacking successfully some part of his
army, and if circumstances justify press forward. My instructions
from General Johnston were to unite with General Ewell near the top
of the Blue Ridge, and give battle. The course I propose would be
departing from General Johnston's instructions, but I do not believe
that Banks will follow me to the Blue Ridge unless I first engage
him, and I doubt whether he will then."

But although authorised to draw Ewell to himself, and to carry out
the project on which his heart was set, he still kept in view the
general situation. After he had dispatched the above letter, a report
came in which led him to believe that Ewell was more needed on the
Rappahannock than in the Valley. Lee had already informed him that
McDowell's advanced guard had occupied Falmouth, on the north bank of
the river, opposite Fredericksburg, on April 19, and that General
Field had fallen back.

Jackson, in consequence, permitted Ewell to remain near Gordonsville,
close to the railway; assuring Lee that "he would make arrangements
so as not to be disappointed should Ewell be ordered to
Fredericksburg."* (* O.R. volume 12 part 3 pages 863 and 864.)

Nor was this the only instance in which he demonstrated his breadth
of view. In planning co-operation with Ewell, that general had
suggested that he should take a different road to that which had been
recommended by General Johnston, should necessity for a combined
movement arise. Jackson protested against the route being altered.
"General Johnston," he wrote, "does not state why he desires you to
go (by this road), but it may be for the purpose of deceiving the
enemy with regard to your ultimate destination, to be more distant
from the enemy during the movement, and also to be in a more
favourable position for reinforcing some other points should it be
necessary." The interests of his own force, here as always, were
subordinated to those of the army which was defending Richmond.

April 25.

The next information received from General Lee was that the enemy was
collecting in strong force at Fredericksburg. "For this purpose," he
wrote, "they must weaken other points, and now is the time to
concentrate on any that may be exposed within our reach." He then
suggested that, if Banks was too strong in numbers and position,
Jackson and Ewell combined should move on Warrenton, where a Federal
force was reported; or that Ewell and Field should attack
Fredericksburg. "The blow," he added, "wherever struck, must, to be
successful, be sudden and heavy. The troops must be efficient and
light. I cannot pretend at this distance to direct operations
depending on circumstances unknown to me, and requiring the exercise
of discretion and judgment as to time and execution, but submit these
ideas for your consideration."* (* Jackson himself showed the same
wise self-restraint. In his communications with Ewell, after that
officer had been placed under his orders, but before they had joined
hands, he suggested certain movements as advisable, but invariably
 the ultimate decision to his subordinate's judgment.)

April 26.

On April 26, when Banks moved two brigades to Harrisonburg, Ewell was
at once called up to Stanardsville, twelve miles south-east of Swift
Run Gap. No opportunity as yet had offered for attack. "I have reason
to believe," wrote Jackson to Lee on the 28th, "that Banks has 21,000
men within a day's march of me.* (* On April 30 Banks and Shields,
who had been reinforced, numbered 20,000 effective officers and men,
of whom a portion must have been guarding the communications. Reports
of April 30 and May 31. O.R. volume 12 part 3.) He has moved his main
body from New Market to Harrisonburg, leaving probably a brigade at
New Market, and between that town and the Shenandoah (Luray Gap), to
guard against a force getting in his rear...On yesterday week there
were near 7000 men in the neighbourhood of Winchester, under Blenker;
as yet I have not heard of their having joined Banks...I propose to
attack Banks in front if you will send me 5000 more men...Now, as it
appears to me, is the golden opportunity for striking a blow. Until I
hear from you I will watch an opportunity for striking some exposed
point."* (* It is amusing to note how far, at this time, his staff
officers were from understanding their commander. On this very date
one of them wrote in a private letter: "As sure as you and I live,
Jackson is a cracked man, and the sequel will show it." A month later
he must have been sorry he had posed as a prophet.)

April 29.

The next day, April 29, Jackson suggested, if reinforcements could
not be spared, that one of three plans should be adopted. "Either to
leave Ewell here (Swift Run Gap) to threaten Banks' rear in the event
of his advancing on Staunton, and move with my command rapidly on the
force in front of General Edward Johnson; or else, co-operating with
Ewell, to attack the enemy's detached force between New Market and
the Shenandoah, and if successful in this, then to press forward and
get in Banks' rear at New Market, and thus induce him to fall back;
the third is to pass down the Shenandoah to Sperryvile (east of the
Blue Ridge), and thus threaten Winchester via Front Royal. To get in
Banks' rear with my present force would be rather a dangerous
undertaking, as I would have to cross the river and immediately cross
the Massanutton Mountains, during which the enemy would have the
advantage of position. Of the three plans I give the preference to
attacking the force west of Staunton Milroy, for, if successful, I
would afterward only have Banks to contend with, and in doing this
would be reinforced by General Edward Johnson, and by that time you
might be able to give me reinforcements, which, united with the
troops under my control, would enable me to defeat Banks. If he
should be routed and his command destroyed, nearly all our own forces
here could, if necessary, cross the Blue Ridge to Warrenton,
Fredericksburg, or any other threatened point."

Lee's reply was to the effect that no reinforcements could be spared,
but that he had carefully considered the three plans of operations
proposed, and that the selection was  to Jackson.

The Army of the Valley, when the Commander-in-Chief's letter was
received, had already been put in motion. Three roads lead from
Conrad's store in the Elk Run Valley to Johnson's position at West
View; one through Harrisonburg; the second by Port Republic, Cross
Keys, and Mount Sidney; the third, the river road, by Port Republic
and Staunton. The first of these was already occupied by the
Federals; the second was tortuous, and at places almost within view
of the enemy's camps; while the third, though it was nowhere less
than ten miles distant, ran obliquely across their front. In fact, to
all appearance, Banks with his superior force blocked Jackson's march
on Staunton more effectively than did Jackson his.

On the 29th, Ashby, continually watching Banks, made a demonstration
in force towards Harrisonburg.

April 30.

(MAP. SITUATION, APRIL 30, 1862. Showing: West: Franklin, North:
Harper's Ferry, South: Richmond, East: West Point.)

On the 30th he drove the Federal cavalry back upon their camps; and
the same afternoon Jackson, leaving Elk Run Valley, which was
immediately occupied by Ewell, with 8000 men, marched up the river to
Port Republic. The track, unmetalled and untended, had been turned
into a quagmire by the heavy rains of an ungenial spring, and the
troops marched only five miles, bivouacking by the roadside. May 1
was a day of continuous rain. The great mountains loomed dimly
through the dreary mist. The streams which rushed down the gorges to
the Shenandoah had swelled to brawling torrents, and in the hollows
of the fields the water stood in sheets. Men and horses floundered
through the mud. The guns sunk axle-deep in the treacherous soil; and
it was only by the help of large detachments of pioneers that the
heavy waggons of the train were able to proceed at all. It was in
vain that piles of stones and brushwood were strewn upon the roadway;
the quicksands dragged them down as fast as they were placed. The
utmost exertions carried the army no more than five miles forward,
and the troops bivouacked once more in the dripping woods.

May 2.

The next day, the third in succession, the struggle with the elements
continued. The whole command was called upon to move the guns and
waggons. The general and his staff were seen dismounted, urging on
the labourers; and Jackson, his uniform bespattered with mud, carried
stones and timbers on his own shoulders. But before nightfall the
last ambulance had been extricated from the slough, and the men,
drenched to the skin, and worn with toil, found a halting-place on
firmer ground. But this halting-place was not on the road to
Staunton. Before they reached Port Republic, instead of crossing the
Shenandoah and passing through the village, the troops had been
ordered to change the direction of their march. The spot selected for
their bivouac was at the foot of Brown's Gap, not more than twelve
miles south-west of the camp in Elk Run Valley.

May 3.

The next morning the clouds broke. The sun, shining with summer
warmth, ushered in a glorious May day, and the column, turning its
back upon the Valley, took the stony road that led over the Blue
Ridge. Upward and eastward the battalions passed, the great forest of
oak and pine rising high on either hand, until from the eyry of the
mountain-eagles they looked down upon the wide Virginia plains. Far
off, away to the south-east, the trails of white smoke from passing
trains marked the line of the Central Railroad, and the line of march
led directly to the station at Mechum's River. Both officers and men
were more than bewildered. Save to his adjutant-general, Jackson had
breathed not a whisper of his plan. The soldiers only knew that they
were leaving the Valley, and leaving it in the enemy's possession.
Winchester, Strasburg, Front Royal, New Market, Harrisonburg, were
full of Northern troops. Staunton alone was yet unoccupied. But
Staunton was closely threatened; and north of Harrisonburg the
blue-coated cavalry were riding far and wide. While the women and old
men looked impotently on, village and mill and farm were at the mercy
of the invaders. Already the Federal commissaries had laid hands on
herds and granaries. It is true that the Northerners waged war like
gentlemen; yet for all that the patriotism of the Valley soldiers was
sorely tried. They were ready to go to Richmond if the time had come;
but it was with heavy hearts that they saw the Blue Ridge rise behind
them, and the bivouac on Mechum's River was even more cheerless than
the sodden woods near Port Republic. The long lines of cars that
awaited them at the station but confirmed their anticipations. They
were evidently wanted at the capital, and the need was pressing.
Still not a word transpired as to their destination.

May 4.

The next day was Sunday, and Jackson had intended that the troops
should rest. But early in the morning came a message from Edward
Johnson. Fremont's advanced guard was pushing forward. "After hard
debate with himself," says Dabney, who accompanied him, "and with
sore reluctance," Jackson once more sacrificed his scruples and
ordered the command to march. The infantry was to move by rail, the
artillery and waggons by road. To their astonishment and delight the
troops then heard, for the first time, that their destination was not
Richmond but Staunton; and although they were far from understanding
the reason for their circuitous march, they began to suspect that it
had not been made without good purpose.

If the soldiers had been heavy hearted at the prospect of leaving the
Valley, the people of Staunton had been plunged in the direst grief.
For a long time past they had lived in a pitiable condition of
uncertainty. On April 19 the sick and convalescent of the Valley army
had been removed to Gordonsville. On the same day Jackson had moved
to Elk Run Valley, leaving the road from Harrisonburg completely
open; and Edward Johnson evacuated his position on the Shenandoah
Mountain. Letters from Jackson's officers, unacquainted with the
designs of their commander, had confirmed the apprehension that the
Federals were too strong to be resisted. On the Saturday of this
anxious week had come the news that the army was crossing the Blue
Ridge, and that the Valley had been abandoned to the enemy. Sunday
morning was full of rumours and excitement. 10,000 Federals, it was
reported, were advancing against Johnson at West View; Banks was
moving from Harrisonburg; his cavalry had been seen from the
neighbouring hills, and Staunton believed that it was to share the
fate of Winchester. Suddenly a train full of soldiers steamed into
the station; and as regiment after regiment, clad in their own
Confederate grey, swept through the crowded streets, confidence in
Stonewall Jackson began once more to revive.

Pickets were immediately posted on all the roads leading to
Harrisonburg, and beyond the line of sentries no one, whatever his
business might be, was allowed to pass. The following day the
remainder of the division arrived, and the junction with Johnson's
brigade was virtually effected. May 6 was spent in resting the
troops, in making the arrangements for the march, and in getting
information.

May 7.

The next morning brought a fresh surprise to both troops and
townsfolk. Banks, so the rumour went, was rapidly approaching; and it
was confidently expected that the twin hills which stand above the
town--christened by some early settler, after two similar heights in
faraway Tyrone, Betsy Bell and Mary Gray--would look down upon a
bloody battle. But instead of taking post to defend the town, the
Valley regiments filed away over the western hills, heading for the
Alleghanies; and Staunton was once more  unprotected. Jackson,
although informed by Ashby that Banks, so far from moving forward,
was actually retiring on New Market, was still determined to strike
first at Milroy, commanding Fremont's advanced guard; and there can
be little question but that his decision was correct. As we have
seen, he was under the impression that Banks' strength was 21,000, a
force exceeding the united strength of the Confederates by 4200 men.*
(* Jackson, 6000; Ewell, 8000; E. Johnson, 2800.) It was undoubtedly
sound strategy to crush the weaker and more exposed of the enemy's
detachments first; and then, having cleared his own rear and
prevented all chance of combination between Banks and Fremont, to
strike the larger.

There was nothing to be feared from Harrisonburg. Eight days had
elapsed since Jackson had marched from Elk Run; but Banks was still
in blissful ignorance of the blow that threatened Fremont's advanced
guard.

On April 28 he had telegraphed to Washington that he was "entirely
secure." Everything was satisfactory. "The enemy," he said, "is in no
condition for offensive movements. Our supplies have not been in so
good condition nor my command in so good spirits since we 
Winchester. General Hatch (commanding cavalry) made a reconnaissance
in force yesterday, which resulted in obtaining a complete view of
the enemy's position. A negro employed in Jackson's tent came in this
morning, and reports preparation for retreat of Jackson to-day. You
need have no apprehensions for our safety. I think we are just now in
a condition to do all you can desire of us in the Valley--clear the
enemy out permanently."

On the 30th, when Ashby repaid with interest Hatch's reconnaissance
in force, he reported: "All quiet. Some alarm excited by movement of
enemy's cavalry. It appears to-day that they were in pursuit of a
Union prisoner who escaped to our camp. The day he  Jackson was
to be reinforced by Johnson and attack via Luray. Another report says
Jackson is bound for Richmond. This is the fact, I have no doubt.
Jackson is on half-rations, his supplies having been cut off by our
advance. There is nothing to be done in this Valley this side of
Strasburg."

The same night, "after full consultation with all leading officers,"
he repeated that his troops were no longer required in the Valley,
and suggested to the Secretary of War that he should be permitted to
cross the Blue Ridge and clear the whole country north of
Gordonsville. "Enemy's force there is far less than represented in
newspapers--not more than 20,000 at the outside. Jackson's army is
reduced, demoralised, on half-rations. They are all concentrating for
Richmond...I am now satisfied that it is the most safe and effective
disposition for our corps. I pray your favourable consideration. Such
order will electrify our force." The force was certainly to be
electrified, but the impulse was not to come from Mr. Secretary
Stanton.

Banks, it may have been observed, whenever his superiors wanted him
to move, had invariably the best of reasons for halting. At one time
supplies were most difficult to arrange for. At another time the
enemy was being reinforced, and his own numbers were small. But when
he was told to halt, he immediately panted to be let loose. "The
enemy was not half so strong as had been reported;" "His men were
never in better condition;" "Supplies were plentiful." It is not
impossible that Mr. Stanton had by this time discovered, as was said
of a certain Confederate general, a protege of the President, that
Banks had a fine career before him until Lincoln "undertook to make
of him what the good Lord hadn't, a great general." To the daring
propositions of the late Governor and Speaker, the only reply
vouchsafed was an order to fall back on Strasburg, and to transfer
Shields' division to General McDowell at Fredericksburg.

But on May 3, the day Jackson disappeared behind the Blue Ridge,
Banks, to his evident discomfiture, found that his adversary had not
retreated to Richmond after all. The dashing commander, just now so
anxious for one thing or the other, either to clear the Valley or to
sweep the country north of Gordonsville, disappeared. "The reduced,
demoralised" enemy assumed alarming proportions. Nothing was said
about his half-rations; and as Ewell had reached Swift Run Gap with a
force estimated at 12,000 men, while Jackson, according to the
Federal scouts, was still near Port Republic, Banks thought it
impossible to divide his force with safety.

Stanton's reply is not on record, but it seems that he permitted
Banks to retain Shields until he arrived at Strasburg; and on May 5
the Federals fell back to New Market, their commander, misled both by
his cavalry and his spies, believing that Jackson had marched to
Harrisonburg.

On the 7th, the day that Jackson moved west from Staunton, Banks'
fears again revived. He was still anxious that Shields should remain
with him. "Our cavalry," he said, "from near Harrisonburg report
to-night that Jackson occupies that town, and that he has been
largely reinforced. Deserters confirm reports of Jackson's movements
in this direction."

Jackson's movements at this juncture are full of interest. Friend and
foe were both mystified. Even his own officers might well ask why, in
his march to Staunton, he deliberately adopted the terrible road to
Port Republic. From Elk Run Valley a metalled road passed over the
Blue Ridge to Gordonsville. Staunton by this route was twenty-four
miles further than by Port Republic; but there were no obstacles to
rapid marching. And the command would have arrived no later than it
actually did. Moreover, in moving to Port Republic, eleven miles only
from Harrisonburg, and within sight of the enemy's patrols, it would
seem that there was considerable risk. Had Banks attacked the bridge
whilst the Confederate artillery was dragging heavily through the
mire, the consequences would probably have been unpleasant. Even if
he had not carried the bridge, the road which Jackson had chosen ran
for several miles over the open plain which lies eastward of the
Shenandoah, and from the commanding bluffs on the western bank his
column could have been effectively shelled without the power of reply.

In moving to Staunton the Confederate commander had three objects in
view:--

1. To strengthen his own force by combining with Edward Johnson.

2. To prevent the Federals combining by keeping Banks stationary and
defeating Milroy.

3. To protect Staunton.

The real danger that he had to guard against was that Banks, taking
advantage of his absence from the Valley, should move on Staunton.
Knowing his adversary as well as he did, he had no reason to
apprehend attack during his march to Port Republic. But it was not
impossible that when he found out that Jackson had vanished from the
Valley, Banks might take heart and join hands with Milroy. It was
necessary, therefore, in order to prevent Banks moving, that
Jackson's absence from the Valley should be very short; also, in
order to prevent Milroy either joining Banks or taking Staunton, that
Edward Johnson should be reinforced as rapidly as possible.

These objects would be attained by making use of the road to Port
Republic. In the first place, Banks would not dare to move towards
Milroy so long as the flank of his line of march was threatened; and
in the second place, from Port Republic to Staunton, by Mechum's
River, was little more than two days' march. Within forty-eight
hours, therefore, using the railway, it would be possible to
strengthen Johnson in time to protect Staunton, and to prevent the
Federals uniting. It was unlikely that Banks, even if he heard at
once that his enemy had vanished, would immediately dash forward; and
even if he did he would still have five-and-twenty miles to march
before he reached Staunton. Every precaution had been taken, too,
that he should not hear of the movement across the Blue Ridge till it
was too late to take advantage of it; and, as we have already seen,
so late as May 5 he believed that Jackson was at Harrisonburg. Ashby
had done his work well.

It might be argued, however, that with an antagonist so supine as
Banks Jackson might have openly marched to Staunton by the most
direct route; in fact, that he need never have  the Valley at
all. But, had he taken the road across the Valley, he would have
advertised his purpose. Milroy would have received long warning of
his approach, and all chance of effecting a surprise would have been
lost.

On April 29, the day on which Jackson began his movement, Richmond
was still safe. The Yorktown lines were intact, held by the 53,000
Confederates under Johnston; but it was very evident that they could
not be long maintained.

A large siege train had been brought from Washington, and Johnston
had already learned that in a few days one hundred pieces of the
heaviest ordnance would open fire on his position. His own armament
was altogether inadequate to cope with such ponderous metal. His
strength was not half his adversary's, and he had determined to
retreat without waiting to have his works demolished.

But the mighty army in his front was not the only danger. McDowell,
with 35,000 men, had already concentrated near Falmouth. Johnston, in
falling back on Richmond, was in danger of being caught between two
fires, for to oppose McDowell on the Rappahannock Lee had been unable
to assemble more than 12,000 Confederates.

These facts were all known to Jackson. Whether the march to Mechum's
River was intended by him to have any further effect on the Federals
than surprising Milroy, and clearing the way for an attack on Banks,
it is impossible to say. It is indisputable, at the same time, that
his sudden disappearance from the Valley disturbed Mr. Stanton. The
Secretary of War had suspected that Jackson's occupation of Swift Run
Gap meant mischief. McDowell, who had been instructed to cross the
Rappahannock, was ordered in consequence to stand fast at Falmouth,
and was warned that the enemy, amusing McClellan at Yorktown, might
make a sudden dash on either himself or Banks.

A few days later McDowell reported that Jackson had passed
Gordonsville. The news came from deserters, "very intelligent men."
The next day he was informed that Shields was to be transferred to
his command, and that he was to bear in mind his instructions as to
the defence of Washington. Banks had already been ordered back to
Strasburg. Now, a few days previously, Stanton had been talking of
co-operation between McClellan and McDowell. Directly he learned that
Jackson was east of the Blue Ridge all thought of combination was
abandoned; McDowell was held back; Shields was sent to reinforce him;
and the possible danger to Washington overrode all other
considerations.

The weak point of McClellan's strategy was making itself felt. In
advancing on Richmond by way of the Peninsula he had deliberately
adopted what are called in strategy "the exterior lines." That is,
his forces were distributed on the arc of a circle, of which Richmond
and the Confederate army were the centre. If, landing on the
Peninsula, he had been able to advance at once upon Richmond, the
enemy must have concentrated for the defence of his capital, and
neither Banks nor Washington would have been disturbed. But the
moment his advance was checked, as it was at Yorktown, the enemy
could detach at his leisure in any direction that he pleased, and
McClellan was absolutely unable to support the threatened point. The
strategy of exterior lines demands, for success, a strong and
continuous pressure on the enemy's main army, depriving him of the
time and the space necessary for counterstroke. If this is
impossible, a skilful foe will at once make use of his central
position.

Lincoln appears to have had an instinctive apprehension that
McClellan might not be able to exert sufficient pressure to hold
Johnston fast, and it was for this reason that he had fought so
strongly against the Peninsula line of invasion. It was the
probability that the Confederates would use their opportunity with
which Stanton had now to deal, complicated by the fact that their
numbers were believed to be much greater than they really were. Still
the problem was not one of insurmountable difficulty. Banks and
Fremont united had 40,000 men, McDowell over 30,000. A few marches
would have brought these forces into combination. Banks and Fremont,
occupying Staunton, and moving on Gordonsville, would have soon taken
up communication with McDowell; an army 70,000 strong, far larger
than any force the Confederates could detach against it, would have
threatened Richmond from the north and west, and, at the same time,
would have covered Washington. This plan, though not without elements
of danger, offered some advantages. Nor were soldiers wanting to
advise it. Both Rosecrans and Shields had submitted schemes for such
a combination. Mr. Stanton, however, preferred to control the
chessboard by the light of unaided wisdom; and while McDowell was
unnecessarily strengthened, both Banks and Fremont were dangerously
weakened.

The only single point where the Secretary showed the slightest
sagacity was in apprehending that the Confederates would make use of
their opportunity, and overwhelm one of the detachments he had so
ingeniously isolated.

On April 29 Johnston proposed to Davis that his army should be
withdrawn from the Peninsula, and that the North should be invaded by
way of the Valley.* (* O.R. volume 11 part 3 page 477.) Lee, in the
name of the President, replied that some such scheme had been for
some time under consideration; and the burden of his letters, as we
have seen, both to Ewell and Jackson, was that a sudden and heavy
blow should be struck at some exposed portion of the invading armies.
Mr. Stanton was so far ; but where the blow was to be struck he
was absolutely unable to divine.

"It is believed," he writes to the Assistant Secretary on May 8,
"that a considerable force has been sent toward the Rappahannock and
Shenandoah to move on Washington. Jackson is reinforced strongly.
Telegraph McDowell, Banks, and Hartsuff (at Warrenton) to keep a
sharp look-out. Tell General Hitchcock to see that the force around
Washington is in proper condition."

It was indeed unfortunate for the North that at this juncture the
military affairs of the Confederacy should have been placed in the
hands of the clearest-sighted soldier in America. It was an unequal
match, Lincoln and Stanton against Lee; and the stroke that was to
prove the weakness of the Federal strategy was soon to fall. On May 7
Jackson westward marched in the following order: Edward Johnson's
regiments led the way, several miles in advance; the Third and Second
Brigades followed; the Stonewall, under General Winder, a young West
Point officer of exceptional promise, bringing up the rear. "The
corps of cadets of the Virginia Military Institute," says Dabney,
"was also attached to the expedition; and the spruce equipments and
exact drill of the youths, as they stepped out full of enthusiasm to
take their first actual look upon the horrid visage of war, under
their renowned professor, formed a strong contrast with the war-worn
and nonchalant veterans who composed the army."* (* Dabney volume 2
page 65.)

Eighteen miles west of Staunton a Federal picket was overrun, and in
the pass leading to the Shenandoah Mountain Johnson captured a camp
that had just been abandoned. The Federal rear-guard fired a few
shells, and the Confederates went into bivouac. Johnson had marched
fourteen and Jackson twenty miles.

That night Milroy concentrated his whole brigade of 3700 men at
M'Dowell, a little village at the foot of the Bull Pasture Mountain,
and sent back in haste for reinforcements. Fremont's command was much
strung out. When Milroy had moved from Cheat Mountain through
Monterey, twelve miles west of M'Dowell,* (* See ante, pages 185,
269, 275.) the remainder of the army had started up the South Branch
Valley to reinforce him. But snowstorms and heavy rains had much
delayed the march, and Schenck's brigade had not advanced beyond
Franklin, thirty-four miles north of M'Dowell. Fremont himself, with
a couple of battalions, was approaching Petersburg, thirty-five miles
from Franklin; and Blenker's division, still further to the rear, had
not yet quitted Romney.

May 8.

"On the following morning," to quote from Jackson's report, "the
march was resumed, General Johnson's brigade still in front. The head
of the column was halted near the top of Bull Pasture Mountain, and
General Johnson, accompanied by a party of thirty men and several
officers, with a view to a reconnaissance of the enemy's position,
ascended Sitlington's Hill, an isolated spur on the  of the
turnpike and commanding a full view of the village of M'Dowell. From
this point the position, and to some extent the strength, of the
enemy could be seen. In the valley in which M'Dowell is situated was
observed a considerable force of infantry. To the , on a height,
were two regiments, but too distant for an effective fire to that
point. Almost a mile in front was a battery supported by infantry.
The enemy, observing a reconnoitring party, sent a small body of
skirmishers, which was promptly met by the men with General Johnson
and driven back. For the purpose of securing the hill all of General
Johnson's regiments were sent to him."

Jackson had no intention of delivering a direct assault on the
Federal position. The ground was altogether unfavourable for attack.
The hill on which his advanced guard was now established was more
than two miles broad from east to west. But it was no plateau. Rugged
and precipitous ridges towered high above the level, and numerous
ravines, hidden by thick timber, seamed the surface of the spur. To
the front a slope of smooth unbroken greensward dropped sharply down;
and five hundred feet below, behind a screen of woods, the Bull
Pasture River ran swiftly through its narrow valley. On the river
banks were the Federals; and beyond the valley the wooded mountains,
a very labyrinth of hills, rose high and higher to the west. To the
 was a deep gorge, nearly half a mile across from cliff to
cliff, dividing Sitlington's Hill from the heights to northward; and
through this dangerous defile ran the turnpike, eventually debouching
on a bridge which was raked by the Federal guns. To the  the
country presented exactly the same features. Mountain after mountain,
ridge after ridge, c by shadowy crevasses, and clothed with great
tracts of forest, rolled back in tortuous masses to the backbone of
the Alleghanies; a narrow pass, leading due westward, marking the
route to Monterey and the Ohio River.

Although commanded by Sitlington's Hill, the Federal position was
difficult to reach. The river, swollen by rain, protected it in
front. The bridge could only be approached by a single road, with
inaccessible heights on either hand. The village of M'Dowell was
crowded with troops and guns. A low hill five hundred yards beyond
the bridge was occupied by infantry and artillery; long lines of
tents were ranged on the level valley, and the hum of many voices,
excited by the appearance of the enemy, was borne upwards to the
heights. Had the Confederate artillery been brought to the brow of
Sitlington's Hill, the valley would doubtless soon have become
untenable, and the enemy have been compelled to retire through the
mountains. It was by no means easy, however, to prevent them from
getting away unscathed. But Jackson was not the man to leave the task
untried, and to content himself with a mere cannonade. He had reason
to hope that Milroy was ignorant of his junction with General
Johnson, and that he would suppose he had only the six regiments of
the latter with which to deal. The day was far spent, and the Valley
brigades, toiling through the mountains, were still some miles
behind. He proposed, therefore, while his staff explored the
mountains for a track which might lead him the next day to the rear
of the Federal position, merely to hold his ground on Sitlington's
Hill.

His immediate opponent, however, was a general of more resource and
energy than Banks. Milroy was at least able to supply himself with
information. On May 7 he had been advised by his scouts and spies
that Jackson and Johnson had combined, and that they were advancing
to attack him at M'Dowell. At 10 A.M. the next day Schenck's brigade
arrived from Franklin, after a march of thirty-four miles in
twenty-three hours, and a little later the enemy's scouts were
observed on the lofty crest of Sitlington's Hill. The day wore on.
The Federal battery, with muzzles elevated and the trails thrust into
trenches, threw occasional shells upon the heights, and parties of
skirmishers were sent across the river to develop the Confederate
strength. Johnson, to whom Jackson had confided the defence of the
position, kept his troops carefully concealed, merely exposing
sufficient numbers to repel the Federal patrols. Late in the
afternoon a staff officer reported to Jackson that he had discovered
a rough mountain track, which, passing through the mountains to the
north-west, crossed the Bull Pasture River and came out upon the road
between M'Dowell and Franklin. Orders had just been issued to move a
strong detachment of artillery and infantry by this track during the
night, when the Federal infantry, who had crossed the bridge under
shelter of the woods, advanced in a strong line of battle up the
slopes. Their scouts had observed what they believed to be
preparations for establishing a battery on the heights, and Milroy
and Schenck, with a view of gaining time for retreat, had determined
on attack. Johnson had six regiments concealed behind the crest, in
all about 2800 men. Two regiments of the enemy, under 1000 strong,
advanced against his front; and shortly afterwards three regiments,
bringing the numbers of the attack up to 2500 rifles, assailed his
.

The Ohio and West Virginia Regiments, of which the Federal force was
composed, fought with the vigour which always characterised the
Western troops.* (* Jackson fully recognised the fine fighting
qualities of his compatriots. "As Shields' brigade (division)," he
wrote on April 5, "is composed principally of Western troops, who are
familiar with the use of arms, we must calculate on hard fighting to
oust Banks if attacked only in front, and may meet with obstinate
resistance, however the attack may be made.") The lofty heights held
by the Confederates were but an illusory advantage. So steep were the
slopes in front that the men, for the most part, had to stand on the
crest to deliver their fire, and their line stood out in bold relief
against the evening sky. "On the other hand," says Dabney, "though
the Federal troops had to scale the steep acclivity of the hill, they
reaped the usual advantage in such cases, resulting from the high
firing of the Confederates." The 12th Georgia, holding the centre of
Johnson's line, displayed more valour than judgment. Having been
advanced at first in front of the crest, they could not be persuaded
to retire to the reverse of the ridge, where other regiments found
partial protection without sacrificing the efficiency of their fire.
Their commander, perceiving their useless exposure, endeavoured again
and again to withdraw them; but amidst the roar of the musketry his
voice was lifted up in vain, and when by passing along the ranks he
persuaded one wing of the regiment to recede, they rushed again to
the front while he was gone to expostulate with the other. A tall
Georgia youth expressed the spirit of his comrades when he replied
the next day to the question why they did not retreat to the shelter
of the ridge: "We did not come all this way to Virginia to run before
Yankees."* (* Dabney volume 2 page 73.) Nor was the courage of the
other troops less ardent. The 44th Virginia was placed in reserve,
thirty paces in rear of the centre. "After the battle became
animated," says the brigadier, "and my attention was otherwise
directed, a large number of the 44th quit their position, and,
rushing forward, joined the 58th and engaged in the fight, while the
balance of the regiment joined some other brigade."* (* Report of
Colonel Scott, 44th Virginia Infantry. O.R. volume 12 part 1 page
486.)

The action gradually became so fierce that Jackson sent his Third
Brigade to support the advanced guard. These nine regiments now
engaged sufficed to hold the enemy in check; the Second Brigade,
which moved towards them as darkness fell, was not engaged, and the
Stonewall regiments were still in rear. No counterstroke was
delivered. Johnson himself was wounded, and had to hand over the
command; and after four hours' fighting the Federals fell back in
perfect order under cover of the night. Nor was there any endeavour
to pursue. The Confederate troops were superior in numbers, but there
was much confusion in their ranks; the cavalry could not act on the
steep and broken ground, and there were other reasons which rendered
a night attack undesirable.

The enemy had been repulsed at every point. The tale of casualties,
nevertheless, was by no means small. 498 Confederates, including 54
officers, had fallen. The 12th Georgia paid the penalty for its
useless display of valour with the loss of 156 men and 19 officers.
The Federals, on the other hand, favoured by the ground, had no more
than 256 killed, wounded, and missing. Only three pieces of artillery
took part in the engagement. These were Federal guns; but so great
was the angle of elevation that but one man on Sitlington's Hill was
struck by a piece of shell. Jackson, in order to conceal his actual
strength, had declined to order up his artillery. The approach to the
position, a narrow steep ravine, wooded, and filled with boulders,
forbade the use of horses, and the guns must have been dragged up by
hand with great exertion. Moreover, the artillery was destined to
form part of the turning column, and had a long night march before it.

(MAP. BATTLE OF McDOWELL, VIRGINIA. Thursday, May 8th, 1862. Showing
West: Crab Run, North: Hull's Ridge, South: Stuart's Run, East: Bull
Pasture Mountain.)

"By nine o'clock," says Dabney, "the roar of the struggle had passed
away, and the green battle-field reposed under the starlight as
calmly as when it had been occupied only by its peaceful herds.
Detachments of soldiers were silently exploring the ground for their
wounded comrades, while, the tired troops were slowly filing off to
their bivouac. At midnight the last sufferer had been removed and the
last picket posted; and then only did Jackson turn to seek a few
hours' repose in a neighbouring farmhouse. The valley of M'Dowell lay
in equal quiet. The camp-fires of the Federals blazed ostentatiously
in long and regular lines, and their troops seemed wrapped in sleep.
At one o'clock the general reached his quarters, and threw himself
upon a bed. When his mulatto servant, knowing that he had eaten
nothing since morning, came in with food, he said, 'I want none;
nothing but sleep,' and in a few minutes he was slumbering like a
healthy child."

It seems, however, that the march of the turning column had already
been countermanded. Putting himself in his enemy's place, Jackson had
foreseen Milroy's movements. If the one could move by night, so could
the other; and when he rode out at dawn, the Federals, as he
anticipated, had disappeared. The next day he sent a laconic despatch
to Richmond: "God blessed our arms with victory at M'Dowell
yesterday."

This announcement was doubtless received by the people of Virginia,
as Dabney declares, with peculiar delight. On May 4 Johnston had
evacuated Yorktown. On the 5th he had checked the pursuit at
Williamsburg, inflicting heavy losses, but had continued his retreat.
On the 9th Norfolk was abandoned; and on the 11th the "Merrimac,"
grounding in the James, was destroyed by her commander. "The victory
of M'Dowell was the one gleam of bness athwart all these
clouds." It must be admitted, however, that the victory was
insignificant. The repulse of 2500 men by 4000 was not a remarkable
feat; and it would even appear that M'Dowell might be ranked with the
battles of lost opportunities. A vigorous counterstroke would
probably have destroyed the whole of the attacking force. The
riflemen of the West, however, were not made of the stuff that yields
readily to superior force. The fight for the bridge would have been
fierce and bloody. Twilight had fallen before the Confederate
reinforcements arrived upon the scene; and under such conditions the
losses must have been very heavy. But to lose men was exactly what
Jackson wished to avoid. The object of his manoeuvres was the
destruction not of Fremont's advanced guard, but of Banks' army; and
if his numbers were seriously reduced it would be impossible to
attain that end. Fremont's brigades, moreover, protected no vital
point. A decisive victory at M'Dowell would have produced but little
effect at Washington. No great results were to be expected from
operations in so distant a section of the strategic theatre; and
Jackson aimed at nothing more than driving the enemy so far back as
to isolate him from Banks.

May 9.

The next morning the small force of cavalry crossed the bridge and
rode cautiously through the mountain passes. The infantry halted for
some hours in M'Dowell in order that rations might be issued, but the
Federals made three-and-twenty miles, and were already too far ahead
to be overtaken. On the 10th and the 11th the Confederates made
forced marches, but the enemy set fire to the forests on the
mountain-side, and this desperate measure proved eminently
successful. "The sky was overcast with volumes of smoke, which
wrapped every distant object in a veil, impenetrable alike to the
eyes and telescopes of the officers. Through this sultry canopy the
pursuing army felt its way cautiously, cannonaded by the enemy from
every advantageous position, while it was protected from ambuscades
only by detachments of skirmishers, who scoured the burning woods on
either side of the highway. The general, often far in advance of the
column in his eagerness to overtake the foe, declared that this was
the most adroit expedient to which a retreating army could resort,
and that it entailed upon him all the disadvantages of a night
attack. By slow approaches, and with constant skirmishing, the
Federals were driven back to Franklin village, and the double
darkness of the night and the smoke arrested the pursuit."* (* Dabney
volume 2 page 77.)

May 12.

On May 12 Jackson resolved to return to the Valley. Fremont, with
Blenker's division, was at hand. It was impossible to outflank the
enemy's position, and time was precious, "for he knew not how soon a
new emergency at Fredericksburg or at Richmond might occasion the
recall of Ewell, and deprive him of the power of striking an
effective blow at Banks."* (* Ibid page 78. On May 9, in anticipation
of a movement down the Valley, he had ordered thirty days' forage,
besides other supplies, to be accumulated at Staunton. Harman
Manuscript.) Half the day was granted to the soldiers as a day of
rest, to compensate for the Sunday spent in the pursuit, and the
following order was issued to the command:--

"I congratulate you on your recent victory at M'Dowell. I request you
to unite with me in thanksgiving to Almighty God for thus having
crowned your arms with success; and in praying that He will continue
to lead you on from victory to victory, until our independence shall
be established; and make us that people whose God is the Lord. The
chaplains will hold divine service at 10 A.M. on this day, in their
respective regiments."

Shortly after noon the march to M'Dowell was resumed.

May 15.

On the 15th the army  the mountains and encamped at Lebanon
Springs, on the road to Harrisonburg. The 16th was spent in camp, the
Confederate President having appointed a day of prayer and fasting.
On the 17th a halt was made at Mount Solon, and here Jackson was met
by Ewell, who had ridden over from Elk Run Valley. Banks had fallen
back to Strasburg, and he was now completely cut off from Fremont. On
the night of the engagement at M'Dowell Captain Hotchkiss had been
ordered back to the Valley, and, accompanied by a squadron of Ashby's
cavalry, had blocked the passes by which Fremont could cross the
mountains and support his colleague. "Bridges and culverts were
destroyed, rocks rolled down, and in one instance trees were felled
along the road for nearly a mile."* (* Fremont's Report, O.R. volume
12 part 1 page 11.) Jackson's object was thus thoroughly achieved.
All combination between the Federal columns, except by long and
devious routes, had now been rendered impracticable; and there was
little fear that in any operations down the Valley his own
communications would be endangered. The M'Dowell expedition had
neutralised, for the time being, Fremont's 20,000 men; and Banks was
now isolated, exposed to the combined attack of Jackson, Ewell, and
Edward Johnson.

One incident remains to be mentioned. During the march to Mount Solon
some companies of the 27th Virginia, who had volunteered for twelve
months, and whose time had expired, demanded their discharge. On this
being refused, as the Conscription Act was now in force, they threw
down their arms, and refused to serve another day. Colonel Grigsby
referred to the General for instructions. Jackson's face, when the
circumstances were explained, set hard as flint. "Why," he said,
"does Colonel Grigsby refer to me to learn how to deal with
mutineers? He should shoot them where they stand." The rest of the
regiment was ordered to parade with loaded muskets; the insubordinate
companies were offered the choice of instant death or instant
submission. The men knew their commander, and at once surrendered.
"This," says Dabney, "was the last attempt at organised disobedience
in the Valley army."

</section>
<section id="13" fatherid="1" title="WINCHESTER" lv="CHAPTER 1.10." priority="0" level="2">
1862. May.

That week in May when the Army of the Valley marched back to the
Shenandoah was almost the darkest in the Confederate annals. The
Northern armies, improving daily in discipline and in efficiency, had
attained an ascendency which it seemed impossible to withstand. In
every quarter of the theatre of war success inclined to the Stars and
Stripes. At the end of April New Orleans, the commercial metropolis
of the South, had fallen to the Federal navy. Earlier in the month a
great battle had been fought at Shiloh, in Tennessee; one of the most
trusted of the Confederate commanders had been killed;* (* General
A.S. Johnston.) his troops, after a gallant struggle, had been
repulsed with fearful losses; and the upper portion of the
Mississippi, from the source to Memphis, had fallen under the control
of the invader. The wave of conquest, vast and irresistible, swept up
every navigable river of the South; and if in the West only the
outskirts of her territory were threatened with destruction, in
Virginia the roar of the rising waters was heard at the very gates of
Richmond. McClellan, with 112,000 men, had occupied West Point at the
head of the York River; and on May 16 his advance reached the White
House, on the Pamunkey, twenty miles from the Confederate capital.
McDowell, with 40,000 men, although still north of the Rappahannock,
was but five short marches distant.* (* Directly McClellan closed in
on Richmond, McDowell was ordered, as soon as Shields should join
him, to march from Manassas to his assistance. Lincoln and Stanton
had recovered confidence when Jackson returned to the Valley from
Mechum's Station.) The Federal gunboats were steaming up the James;
and Johnston's army, encamped outside the city, was menaced by thrice
its numbers.

So black was the situation that military stores had already been
removed from the capital, the archives of the Confederacy had been
packed, and Mr. Davis had made arrangements for the departure of his
family. In spite of the protests of the Virginia people the
Government had decided to abandon Richmond. The General Assembly
addressed a resolution to the President requiring him to defend the
city, if necessary, "until not a stone was  upon another." The
City Council, enthusiastically supported by the citizens, seconded
the appeal. A deputation was sent to Mr. Davis; but while they
conferred together, a messenger rode in with the news that the
mastheads of the Federal fleet could be seen from the neighbouring
hills. Davis dismissed the committee, saying: "This manifestly
concludes the matter."

The gunboats, however, had still to feel their way up the winding
reaches of the James. Their progress was very slow; there was time to
obstruct the passage, and batteries were hastily improvised. The
people made a mighty effort; and on the commanding heights of
Drewry's Bluff, six miles below the city, might be seen senators and
merchants, bankers and clergymen, digging parapets and hauling
timber, in company with parties of soldiers and gangs of slaves.
Heavy guns were mounted. A great boom was constructed across the
stream. When the ships approached they were easily driven back, and
men once more breathed freely in the streets of Richmond. The example
of the "Unterrified Commonwealth," as Virginia has been proudly
named, inspired the Government, and it was determined, come what
might, that Richmond should be held. On the land side it was already
fortified. But Lee was unwilling to resign himself to a siege.
McClellan had still to cross the Chickahominy, a stream which oozes
by many channels through treacherous swamps and an unwholesome
jungle; and despite the overwhelming numbers of the invading armies,
it was still possible to strike an effective blow.

Few would have seen the opportunity, or, with a great army thundering
at the gates of Richmond, have dared to seize it; but it was not
McClellan and McDowell whom Lee was fighting, not the enormous hosts
which they commanded, nor the vast resources of the North. The power
which gave life and motion to the mighty mechanism of the attack lay
not within the camps that could be seen from the housetops of
Richmond and from the hills round Fredericksburg. Far away to the
north, beyond the Potomac, beneath the shadow of the Capitol at
Washington, was the mainspring of the invader's strength. The
multitudes of armed men that overran Virginia were no more the
inanimate pieces of the chess-board. The power which controlled them
was the Northern President. It was at Lincoln that Lee was about to
strike, at Lincoln and the Northern people, and an effective blow at
the point which people and President deemed vital might arrest the
progress of their armies as surely as if the Confederates had been
reinforced by a hundred thousand men.

May 16.

On May 16 Lee wrote to Jackson: "Whatever movement you make against
Banks, do it speedily, and if successful drive him back towards the
Potomac, and create the impression, as far as possible, that you
design threatening that line." For this purpose, in addition to Ewell
and Johnson's forces, the Army of the Valley was to be reinforced by
two brigades, Branch's and Mahone's, of which the former had already
reached Gordonsville.

In this letter the idea of playing on the fears of Lincoln for the
safety of his capital first sees the light, and it is undoubtedly to
be attributed to the brain of Lee. That the same idea had been
uppermost in Jackson's mind during the whole course of the campaign
is proved not only by the evidence of his chief of the staff, but by
his correspondence with headquarters. "If Banks is defeated," he had
written on April 5, "it may directly retard McClellan's movements."
It is true that nowhere in his correspondence is the idea of menacing
Washington directly mentioned, nor is there the slightest evidence
that he suggested it to Lee. But in his letters to his superiors he
confines himself strictly to the immediate subject, and on no single
occasion does he indulge in speculation on possible results. In the
ability of the Commander-in-Chief he had the most implicit
confidence. "Lee," he said, "is the only man I know whom I would
follow blindfold," and he was doubtless assured that the
embarrassments of the Federal Government were as apparent to Lee as
to himself. That the same idea should have suggested itself
independently to both is hardly strange. Both looked further than the
enemy's camps; both studied the situation in its broadest bearings;
both understood the importance of introducing a disturbing element
into the enemy's plans; and both were aware that the surest means of
winning battles is to upset the mental equilibrium of the opposing
leader.

Before he reached Mount Solon Jackson had instructed Ewell to call up
Branch's brigade from Gordonsville. He intended to follow Banks with
the whole force at his disposal, and in these dispositions Lee had
acquiesced. Johnston, however, now at Richmond, had once more resumed
charge of the detached forces, and a good deal of confusion ensued.
Lee, intent on threatening Washington, was of opinion that Banks
should be attacked. Johnston, although at first he favoured such a
movement, does not appear to have realised the effect that might be
produced by an advance to the Potomac. Information had been received
that Banks was constructing intrenchments at Strasburg, and Johnston
changed his mind. He thought the attack too hazardous, and Ewell was
directed to cross the Blue Ridge and march eastward, while Jackson
"observed" Banks.

These orders placed Ewell in a dilemma. Under instructions from Lee
he was to remain with Jackson. Under instructions from Jackson he was
already moving on Luray. Johnston's orders changed his destination.
Taking horse in haste he rode across the Valley from Swift Run Gap to
Jackson's camp at Mount Solon. Jackson at once telegraphed to Lee: "I
am of opinion that an attempt should be made to defeat Banks, but
under instructions from General Johnston I do not feel at liberty to
make an attack. Please answer by telegraph at once." To Ewell he gave
orders that he should suspend his movement until a reply was
received. "As you are in the Valley district," he wrote, "you
constitute part of my command...You will please move so as to encamp
between New Market and Mount Jackson on next Wednesday night, unless
you receive orders from a superior officer and of a date subsequent
to the 16th instant."

This order was written at Ewell's own suggestion. It was for this he
had ridden through the night to Jackson's camp.

(MAP. SITUATION, MAY 18, 1862. Showing West: McDowell, North:
Martinsburg, South: Richmond, East: West Point.)

May 18.

Lee's reply was satisfactory. Johnston had already summoned Branch to
Richmond, but Ewell was to remain; and the next morning, May 18, the
Confederates moved forward down the Valley. The two days' rest which
had been granted to Jackson's troops had fallen at a useful time.
They had marches to look back on which had tried their endurance to
the utmost. In three days, before and after Kernstown, they had
covered fifty-six miles, and had fought a severe engagement. The
struggle with the mud on the Port Republic was only surpassed by the
hardships of the march to Romney. From Elk Run to Franklin, and from
Franklin to Mount Solon, is just two hundred miles, and these they
had traversed in eighteen days. But the exertions which had been then
demanded from them were trifling in comparison with those which were
to come. From Mount Solon to Winchester is eighty miles by the Valley
pike; to Harper's Ferry one hundred and ten miles. And Jackson had
determined that before many days had passed the Confederate colours
should be carried in triumph through the streets of Winchester, and
that the gleam of his camp-fires should be reflected in the waters of
the Potomac.

Johnston believed that Banks, behind the earthworks at Strasburg, was
securely sheltered. Jackson saw that his enemy had made a fatal
mistake, and that his earthworks, skilfully and strongly constructed
as they were, were no more than a snare and a delusion.

Ashby had already moved to New Market; and a strong cordon of pickets
extended along Pugh's Run near Woodstock, within sight of the Federal
outposts, and cutting off all communication between Strasburg and the
Upper Valley. Ewell's cavalry regiments, the 2nd and 6th Virginia,
held the Luray Valley, with a detachment east of the Blue Ridge.

May 20.

On the 20th Jackson arrived at New Market, thirty miles from Mount
Solon. Ewell had meanwhile marched to Luray, and the two wings were
now on either side of the Massanuttons. On his way to New Market
Jackson had been joined by the Louisiana brigade of Ewell's division.
This detachment seems to have been made with the view of inducing
Banks to believe, should information filter through Ashby's pickets,
that the whole Confederate force was advancing direct on Strasburg.

The Army of the Valley numbered nearly 17,000 officers and men.* (*
This estimate is Colonel Allan's. Cf The Valley Campaign pages 92 and
93. Dabney gives 16,000 men.) Ewell's effective strength was 7500;
Johnson's 2500; Jackson's 6000; and there were eleven batteries.

The troops were now organised in two divisions:--

JACKSON'S DIVISION.

First (Stonewall) Brigade, General Winder: 2nd Virginia, 4th
Virginia, 5th Virginia, 27th Virginia, 33rd Virginia.

Second Brigade, Colonel Campbell: 21st Virginia, 42nd Virginia, 48th
Virginia, 1st Regulars (Irish).

Third Brigade, Colonel Taliaferro: 10th Virginia, 23rd Virginia, 37th
Virginia.

Cavalry, Colonel Ashby: 7th Virginia.

Artillery: 5 batteries (1 horse-artillery), 22 guns.

EWELL'S DIVISION.

Taylor's Brigade: 6th Louisiana, 7th Louisiana, 8th Louisiana, 9th
Louisiana, Wheat's Battalion (Louisiana Tigers).

Trimble's Brigade: 21st North Carolina, 21st Georgia, 15th Alabama,
16th Mississippi.

Elzey's Brigade and Scott's Brigade: 13th Virginia, 31st Virginia,
25th Virginia, 12th Georgia.
(late Johnson's), 44th Virginia, 52nd Virginia, 58th Virginia.

Maryland Line: 1st Maryland.

Cavalry, General G.H. Steuart: 2nd Virginia, Colonel Munford: 6th
Virginia, Colonel Flournoy.

Artillery: 6 batteries, 26 guns.

For the first time in his career Jackson found himself in command of
a considerable force. The greater part of the troops were Virginians,
and with these he was personally acquainted. The strange contingents
were Taylor's and Trimble's brigades, and Steuart's cavalry. These
had yet to be broken to his methods of war and discipline. There was
no reason, however, to fear that they would prove less efficient than
his own division. They had as yet seen little fighting, but they were
well commanded. Ewell was a most able soldier, full of dash and
daring, who had seen much service on the Indian frontier. He was an
admirable subordinate, ready to take responsibility if orders were
not forthcoming, and executing his instructions to the letter. His
character was original. His modesty was only equalled by his
eccentricity. "B, prominent eyes, a bomb-shaped bald head, and a
nose like that of Francis of Valois, gave him a striking resemblance
to a woodcock; and this was increased by a bird-like habit of putting
his head on one side to utter his quaint speeches. He fancied that he
had some mysterious internal malady, and would eat nothing but
frumenty, a preparation of wheat; and his plaintive way of talking of
his disease, as if he were someone else, was droll in the extreme.
"What do you suppose President Davis made me a major-general for?"
beginning with a sharp accent, ending with a gentle lisp, was a usual
question to his friends. Superbly mounted, he was the boldest of
horsemen, invariably leaving the roads to take timber and water; and
with all his oddities, perhaps in some measure because of them, he
was adored by officers and men."* (* Destruction and Reconstruction,
General R. Taylor pages 38 and 39.) To Jackson he must have been
peculiarly acceptable; not indeed as an intimate, for Ewell, at this
period of the war, was by no means regenerate, and swore like a
cowboy: but he knew the value of time, and rated celerity of movement
as high as did Napoleon. His instructions to Branch, when the march
against Banks was first projected, might have emanated from Jackson
himself: "You cannot bring tents; tent-flies without poles, or tents
cut down to that size, and only as few as are indispensable. No
mess-chests, trunks, etc. It is better to leave these things where
you are than to throw them away after starting. We can get along
without anything but food and ammunition. The road to glory cannot be
followed with much baggage."* (* O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 890.)

Trimble, too, was a good officer, an able tactician and a resolute
leader. He had hardly, however, realised as yet that the movements of
a brigade must be subordinated to those of the whole army, and he was
wont to grumble if his troops were held back, or were not allowed to
pursue some local success. Steuart was also a West Pointer, but with
much to learn. Taylor and his Louisianians played so important a part
in the ensuing operations that they deserve more detailed mention.
The command was a mixed one. One of the regiments had been recruited
from the roughs of New Orleans. The 7th and 9th were composed of
planters and sons of planters, the majority of them men of fortune.
"The 6th," writes the brigadier, "were Irishmen, stout, hardy
fellows, turbulent in camp and requiring a strong hand, but
responding to justice and kindness, and ready to follow their
officers to the death. The 8th were from the Attakapas--Acadians, the
race of whom Longfellow sings in "Evangeline"--a home-loving, simple
people; few spoke English, fewer still had ever moved ten miles from
their native cabanas; and the war to them was a liberal education.
They had all the light gaiety of the Gaul, and, after the manner of
their ancestors, were born cooks. A capital regimental band
accompanied them, and whenever weather and ground permitted, even
after long marches, they would waltz and polk in couples with as much
zest as if their arms encircled the supple waists of the Celestines
and Melazies of their native Teche. The Valley soldiers were largely
of the Presbyterian faith, and of a solemn, pious demeanour, and
looked askance at the caperings of my Creoles, holding them to be
"devices and snares.""* (* Destruction and Reconstruction pages 52
and 53.)

Taylor himself had been educated at West Point. He was a man of high
position, of unquestioned ability, an excellent disciplinarian, and a
delightful writer. More than other commanders he had paid great
attention to the marching of his men. He had an eye to those
practical details which a good regimental officer enforces with so
much effect. Boots were properly fitted; the troops were taught the
advantages of cold water, and how to heal abrasions; halts upon the
march were made at frequent intervals, and the men soon held that to
fall out on the march was a disgrace. Before a month "had passed," he
says, "the brigade had learned how to march, and in the Valley with
Jackson covered long distances without leaving a straggler behind."*
(* Ibid page 37.)

Jackson's first meeting with the Louisiana troops has been described
by their commander:--

"A mounted officer was dispatched to report our approach and select a
camp, which proved to be beyond Jackson's forces, then lying in the
fields on both sides of the Valley pike. Over 3000 strong, neat in
fresh clothing of grey with white gaiters, bands playing at the head
of their regiments--not a straggler, but every man in his place,
stepping jauntily as if on parade, though it had marched twenty miles
or more--in open column, with the rays of the declining sun flaming
on polished bayonets, the brigade moved down the hard smooth pike,
and wheeled on to the camping-ground. Jackson's men, by thousands,
had gathered on either side of the road to see us pass.

"After attending to necessary camp details, I sought Jackson, whom I
had never met. The mounted officer who had been sent on in advance
pointed out a figure perched on the topmost rail of a fence
overlooking the road and field, and said it was Jackson. Approaching,
I saluted and declared my name and rank, then waited for a response.
Before this came I had time to see a pair of cavalry boots covering
feet of gigantic size, a mangy cap with visor drawn low, a heavy dark
beard and weary eyes, eyes I afterwards saw filled with intense but
never brilliant light. A low gentle voice inquired the road and
distance marched that day. 'Keezleton road, six-and-twenty miles.'
'You seem to have no stragglers.' 'Never allow straggling.' 'You must
teach my people; they straggle badly.' A bow in reply. Just then my
Creoles started their band for a waltz. After a contemplative suck at
a lemon, 'Thoughtless fellows for serious work' came forth. I
expressed a hope that the work would not be less well done because of
the gaiety. A return to the lemon gave me the opportunity to retire.
Where Jackson got his lemons 'No fellow could find out,' but he was
rarely without one. To have lived twelve miles from that fruit would
have disturbed him as much as it did the witty dean."* (* Destruction
and Reconstruction pages 54 to 56.)

May 21.

The next day, marching in the grey of the morning, the force moved
north, the Louisianians in advance. Suddenly, after covering a short
distance, the head of the column was turned to the ; and the
troops, who had confidently expected that Strasburg would be the
scene of their next engagement, found themselves moving eastward and
crossing the Massanuttons. The men were utterly at sea as to the
intentions of their commander. Taylor's brigade had been encamped
near Conrad's Store, only a few miles distant, not many days before,
and they had now to solve the problem why they should have made three
long marches in order to return to their former position. No word
came from Jackson to enlighten them. From time to time a courier
would gallop up, report, and return to Luray, but the general,
absorbed in thought, rode silently across the mountain, perfectly
oblivious of inquiring glances.

At New Market the troops had been halted at crossroads, and they had
marched by that which they had least expected. The camp at Luray on
the 21st presented the same puzzle. One road ran east across the
mountains to Warrenton or Culpeper; a second north to Front Royal and
Winchester; and the men said that halting them in such a position was
an ingenious device of Jackson's to prevent them fathoming his
plans.* (* Compare instructions to Ewell, ante.)

May 22.

The next day, the 22nd, the army, with Ewell leading, moved quietly
down the Luray Valley, and the advanced guard, Taylor's Louisianians,
a six-pounder battery, and the 6th Virginia Cavalry, bivouacked that
night within ten miles of Front Royal, held by a strong detachment of
Banks' small army.

Since they had Left Mount Solon and Elk Run Valley on May 19 the
troops in four days had made just sixty miles. Such celerity of
movement was unfamiliar to both Banks and Stanton, and on the night
of the 22nd neither the Secretary nor the general had the faintest
suspicion that the enemy had as yet passed Harrisonburg. There was
serenity at Washington. On both sides of the Blue Ridge everything
was going well. The attack on Fremont had not been followed up; and
McClellan, though calling urgently for reinforcements, was sanguine
of success. Mr. Lincoln, reassured by Jackson's retreat from
Franklin, had permitted Shields to march to Falmouth; and McDowell,
with a portion of his troops, had already crossed the Rappahannock.
The President of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, an important
personage at Washington, appears to have been alone in his
apprehension that a storm was gathering in the summer sky. "The
aspect of affairs in the Valley of Virginia," he wrote to Stanton,
"is becoming very threatening...The enterprise and vigour of Jackson
are well known...Under the circumstances will it not be more
judicious to order back General Shields to co-operate with General
Banks? Such a movement might be accomplished in time to prevent
disaster."* (* O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 201.) The Secretary,
however, saw no reason for alarm. His strategical combinations were
apparently working without a hitch. Banks at Strasburg was in a
strong position; and McDowell was about to lend the aid which would
enable McClellan to storm the rebel capital. One of Fremont's
columns, under General Cox, a most able officer, which was making
good progress towards the Virginia and Tennessee Railroad, had
certainly been compelled to halt when Milroy was driven back to
Franklin. Yet the defeated troops were rapidly reorganising, and
Fremont would soon resume his movement. Milroy's defeat was
considered no more than an incident of la petite guerre. Washington
seemed so perfectly secure that the recruiting offices had been
closed, and the President and Secretary, anticipating the immediate
fall of Richmond,  for Fredericksburg the next day. McDowell was
to march on the 26th, and the departure of his fine army was to be
preceded by a grand review.

Even Banks, though Shields had marched to Fredericksburg, reducing
his force by a half, believed that there was no immediate reason to
fear attack. "I regard it as certain," he wrote, "that Jackson will
move north as far as New Market...a position which enables him to
cooperate with General Ewell, who is still at Swift Run Gap." Yet he
took occasion to remind Mr. Stanton of the "persistent adherence of
Jackson to the defence of the Valley, and his well-known purpose to
expel the Government troops. This," he added, "may be assumed as
certain. There is probably no one more fixed and determined purpose
in the whole circle of the enemy's plans." Banks had certainly
learned something of Jackson by this time, but he did not yet know
all.

So on this night of May 22 the President and his people were without
fear of what the morrow might bring forth. The end of the rebellion
seemed near at hand. Washington was full of the anticipated triumph.
The crowds passed to and fro in the broad avenues, exchanging
congratulations on the success of the Northern arms and the
approaching downfall of the slaveholders. The theatres were filled
with delighted audiences, who hailed every scoffing allusion to the
"Southern chivalry" with enthusiasm, and gaiety and confidence
reigned supreme. Little dreamt the light-hearted multitude that, in
the silent woods of the Luray Valley, a Confederate army lay asleep
beneath the stars. Little dreamt Lincoln, or Banks, or Stanton, that
not more than seventy miles from Washington, and less than thirty
from Strasburg, the most daring of their enemies, waiting for the
dawn to rise above the mountains, was pouring out his soul in prayer,

Appealing from his native sod
In forma pauperis to God:
"Lay bare Thine arm--stretch forth Thy rod.
Amen!" That's Stonewall's way.

It is not always joy that cometh in the morning, least of all to
generals as ignorant as Banks when they have to do with a skilful
foe. It was not altogether Banks' fault that his position was a bad
one. Stanton had given him a direct order to take post at Strasburg
or its vicinity, and to send two regiments to hold the bridges at
Front Royal. But Banks had made no remonstrance. He had either failed
to recognise, until it was too late, that the force at Front Royal
would be exposed to attack from the Luray Valley, and, if the post
fell, that his own communications with both Winchester and Washington
would be at once endangered; or he had lost favour with the
Secretary. For some time past Mr. Stanton's telegrams had been cold
and peremptory. There had been no more effusive praise of "cautious
vigour" and "interesting manoeuvres;" and Banks had gradually fallen
from the command of a large army corps to the charge of a single
division.

His 10,000 men were thus distributed. At Strasburg were 4500
infantry, 2900 cavalry, and 16 guns. At Winchester 850 infantry and
600 cavalry. Two companies of infantry held Buckton station on the
Manassas Gap Railway, midway between Strasburg and Front Royal.* (*
O.R. volume 12 part 1 pages 523 and 560.) At Rectortown, east of the
Blue Ridge, nineteen miles from Front Royal, was General Geary with
2000 infantry and cavalry; these troops, however, were independent of
Banks.

Front Royal, twelve miles east of Strasburg, was committed to the
charge of Colonel Kenly, of the 1st Maryland Regiment in the Federal
service, and 1000 rifles and 2 guns were placed at his disposal. The
post itself was indefensible. To the west and south-west, about three
miles distant, stand the green peaks of the Massanuttons, while to
the east the lofty spurs of the Blue Ridge look down into the village
streets. A mile and a half north the forks of the Shenandoah unite in
the broad river that runs to Harper's Ferry. The turnpike to
Winchester crosses both forks in succession, at a point where they
are divided by a stretch of meadows a mile in width. In addition to
these two bridges, a wooden viaduct carried the railway over the
South Fork, whence, passing between the North Fork and the
Massanuttons, it runs south of the stream to Strasburg. Kenly had
pitched his camp between the town and the river, covering the
bridges, and two companies were on picket beyond the houses.

In front were the dense forests which fill the Luray Valley and cover
the foothills of the mountains, and the view of the Federal sentries
was very limited. A strong patrol of 100 infantry and 30 troopers,
which had been sent out on the 20th, had marched eleven miles south,
had bivouacked in the woods, and had captured a Confederate
straggler. The officer in command had obtained information, by
questioning civilians, that Confederate infantry was expected, and
this was confirmed by his prisoner. Banks, however, notwithstanding
this report, could not bring himself to believe that an attack was
imminent, and the cavalry was called back to Strasburg. For this
reason Kenly had been unable to patrol to any distance on the 22nd,
and the security of his camp was practically dependent on the
vigilance of his sentries.

May 23.

On the morning of May 23 there was no token of the approaching storm.
The day was intensely hot, and the blue masses of the mountains
shimmered in the summer haze. In the Luray Valley to the south was no
sign of life, save the buzzards sailing lazily above the slumbrous
woods. Suddenly, and without the least warning, a long line of
skirmishers broke forward from the forest. The clear notes of the
Confederate bugles, succeeded by the crash of musketry, woke the
echoes of the Blue Ridge, and the Federal pickets were driven in
confusion through the village. The long roll of the drums beat the
startled camp to arms, and Kenly hastily drew up his slender force
upon a ridge in rear.

The ground in front of his position was fairly open, and with his two
pieces of artillery he was able to check the first rush of the
Confederate infantry. The guns which had accompanied their advanced
guard were only smooth-bores, and it was some time before a battery
capable of making effective reply to the Federal pieces was brought
up. As soon as it opened fire the Southern infantry was ordered to
attack; and while one regiment, working round through the woods on
the enemy's , endeavoured to outflank his guns, four others, in
successive lines, advanced across the plain against his front. The
Federals, undismayed by the disparity of numbers, were fighting
bravely, and had just been reinforced by a squadron of New York
regiment, when word was brought to their commander that a regiment of
Southern cavalry had appeared between the rivers to his  rear.
He at once gave the order to retire. The movement was carried out in
good order, under heavy musketry, and the tents and stores were given
to the flames; but an attempt to fire the bridges failed, for the
Louisiana infantry, rushing recklessly forward, darted into the
flames, and extinguished the burning brands. Sufficient damage was
done, however, to render the passage of the North Fork by the
Confederates slow and difficult; and Kenly took post on Guard Hill, a
commanding ridge beyond the stream. Again there was delay. The smoke
of the burning camp, rolling past in dense volumes, formed an
impenetrable screen; the river was deep and turbulent, with a strong
current; and the Federal guns commanded the single bridge. The
cavalry, however, were not long in discovering a practicable ford.
The river was soon alive with horsemen; and, forcing their way
through the swirling waters, four squadrons of the 6th Virginia,
accompanied by Jackson, gained the further bank, and formed up
rapidly for pursuit. The enemy had already retired, and the dust of
the retreating column warn receding fast down the road to Winchester.

Without waiting for reinforcements, and without artillery, Jackson
urged the 6th Virginia forward. The country through which the
turnpike runs is rolling and well-farmed, and the rail fences on
either hand made movement across the fields by no means easy. But the
Confederate advance was vigorous. The New York cavalry, pressed at
every point, were beginning to waver; and near the little hamlet of
Cedarville, some three miles from his last position, Kenly gave
orders for his infantry to check the pursuit.

The column had halted. Men were tearing down the fences, and the
companies were forming for battle in the fields, when there was a
sudden outcry, the rolling thunder of many hoofs, and the sharp
rattle of pistol-shots. A dense cloud of dust came whirling down the
turnpike, and emerging from the yellow canopy the New York troopers,
riding for their lives, dashed through the ranks of the startled
infantry, while the Confederate horsemen, extending far to  and
, came surging on their traces.

The leading squadron, keeping to the high road, was formed four
abreast, and the deep mass was wedged tightly between the fences. The
foremost files were mowed down by a volley at close range, and here,
for a moment, the attack was checked. But the Virginians meant riding
home. On either flank the supporting squadrons galloped swiftly
forward, and up the road and across the fields, while the earth shook
beneath their tread, swept their charging lines, the men yelling in
their excitement and horses as frenzied as their riders. In vain the
Federal officers tried to deploy their companies. Kenly, calling on
them to rally round the colours, was cut down with a dreadful wound.
The grey troopers fell on them before they could fix bayonets or form
a front, and sabre and revolver found an easy mark in the crowded
masses of panic-stricken infantry. One of the guns was surrounded,
and the gunners were cut to pieces; the other escaped for the moment,
but was soon abandoned; and with the appearance of a fresh
Confederate squadron on the scene Kenly's whole force dispersed in
flight. Through woods and orchards the chase went on. Escape was
impossible. Hundreds laid down their arms; and 250 Virginia horsemen,
resolutely handled and charging at exactly the  moment, had the
honour of bringing in as prisoners 600 Federals, including 20
officers and a complete section of artillery. The enemy lost in
addition 32 killed and 122 wounded. The Confederate casualties were
11 killed and 15 wounded, and so sudden and vigorous was their attack
that a Federal colonel estimated their numbers at 3000.

Colonel Flournoy, a most daring officer, led the squadrons to the
charge; but that the opportunity was so instantly utilised was due to
Jackson. "No sooner," says Dabney, "did he see the enemy than he gave
the order to charge with a voice and air whose peremptory
determination was communicated to the whole party. His quick eye
estimated a the discouragement of the Federals and their
wavering temper. Infusing his own spirit into his men, he struck the
hesitating foe at the decisive moment, and shattered them."* (*
Dabney volume 2 page 95.) Yet he took no credit to himself. He
declared afterwards to his staff that he had never, in all his
experience of warfare, seen so gallant and effective a charge of
cavalry, and such commendation, coming from his guarded lips, was the
highest honour that his troopers could have wished.

While these events were in progress the remainder of the Confederate
cavalry had also been busy. The 7th Virginia had moved to Buckton.
The railway was torn up, the telegraph line cut, and an urgent
message to Banks for reinforcements was intercepted. The two
companies of Pennsylvania infantry, on picket near the station,
occupied a log storehouse and the embankment. Dismounting his
command, Ashby, after a fierce fight, in which two of his best
officers were killed, stormed the building and drove out the
garrison. Two locomotives were standing on the rails with steam up,
and by this means the Federals attempted to escape. Twice they moved
out towards Strasburg, twice they were driven back by the Confederate
carbines, and eventually the two companies surrendered.

Jackson's measures had been carefully thought out. Kenly's patrols
had failed to discover his advance in the early morning, for at
Asbury Chapel, about three and a half miles south of the Federal
outpost line, he had turned to the  off the Luray road, and
plunging into the woods, had approached Front Royal by a circuitous
track, so rough that the enemy had thought it hardly worth while to
watch it. The main body of the cavalry  the Luray road at McCoy's
Ford, and crossing the South Fork of the Shenandoah, worked through
the forest at the foot of the Massanuttons. During the night Ashby
had withdrawn the 7th Virginia, with the exception of a few patrols,
from in front of Banks, and joining Jackson, by a rough track across
the mountains, before daybreak, had been directed to cut the
communication between Front Royal and Strasburg. The 6th Virginia had
accompanied Jackson, the 2nd, under Colonel Munford, destroyed the
railway bridges eastward of Front Royal. Had Kenly retreated on
Strasburg he would have found Ashby on his flank. Had reinforcements
been despatched from Strasburg they would have had to deal with Ashby
before they could reach Kenly. Had the Federals attempted to escape
by Manassas Gap they would have found Munford across their path.
Meanwhile another party of cavalry had cut the telegraph between
Front Royal and Washington; and a strong detachment, scouring the
country east of the Blue Ridge, checked Geary's patrols, and blocked
the entrance to the Gap from the direction of Manassas. Within an
hour after his pickets were surprised Kenly was completely isolated.*
(* The ingenuous report of a Federal officer engaged at Front Royal
is significant of the effect of the sudden attack of the
Confederates. He was sick at the time, but managed to escape. "By
considerable coaxing," he wrote, "I obtained an entrance to a house
near by. I was now completely broken down--so much so that the
gentleman prepared a liniment for me, and actually bound up some of
my bruises, while the female portion of the household actually
screamed for joy at our defeat! I was helped to bed, and next morning
was taken by Mr. Bitzer to Winchester in his carriage. He is a
gentleman in all particulars, but his family is the reverse (sic). On
reaching Winchester I found things decidedly squally, and concluded
to get out. I was carried to Martinsburg, and being offered by the
agent of a luggage train to take me to Baltimore, I concluded to
accept the offer, and took a sleeping bunk, arriving in Baltimore the
next afternoon." He then proceeded to Philadelphia, and sent for his
physician. Several of his officers whom he found in the town he
immediately sent back to the colours; but as he believed that "the
morale of his regiment was not as it should be" he remained himself
in Philadelphia.)

A failure in staff duties marred to some extent the Confederate
success. "A vicious usage," according to Dabney, "obtained at this
time in the Southern armies." This was the custom of temporarily
attaching to the staff of a general commanding a division or an army
a company of cavalry to do the work of orderlies. By this clumsy
contrivance the organisation of the cavalry regiments was broken up,
the men detached were deprived of all opportunity for drill, and the
general had no evidence whatever of their special fitness for the
responsible service confided to them. Nay, the colonel of cavalry
required to furnish them was most likely to select the least
serviceable company. At the time of the combat of Front Royal the
duty of orderlies was performed for General Jackson by a detachment
from one of Ashby's undisciplined companies, of whom many were raw
youths just recruited and never under fire. As soon as the Federal
pickets were driven in, orders were despatched to the rear brigades
to avoid the laborious route taken by the advance, and to pursue the
direct highway to the town, a level track of three miles, in place of
a steep byway of seven or eight. The panic-struck boy by whom the
orders were sent was seen no more. When Jackson sent orders to the
artillery and rear brigades to hurry the pursuit, instead of being
found near at hand, upon the direct road, they were at length
overtaken toiling over the hills of the useless circuit, spent with
the protracted march. Thus night overtook them by the time they
reached the village. This unfortunate incident taught the necessity
of a picked company of orderlies, selected for their intelligence and
courage, permanently attached to headquarters, and owing no
subordination to any other than the general and his staff. Such was
the usage that afterwards prevailed in the Confederate armies.* (*
Dabney volume 2 pages 93 and 94. It may be recalled that Wellington
found it necessary to form a corps of the same kind in the Peninsular
War; it is curious that no such organisation exists in regular
armies.)

General Gordon has described with much minuteness how the news of the
disaster was received at Strasburg. The attack had begun at one
o'clock, but it was not till four that Banks was made aware that his
detachment was in jeopardy. Believing that Jackson was at
Harrisonburg, sixty miles distant, he had certainly no cause for
immediate apprehension. The Valley towards Woodstock never looked
more peaceful than on that sleepy summer afternoon; the sentries
dawdled on their posts, and officers and men alike resigned
themselves to its restful influence. Suddenly a mounted orderly
dashed violently through the camp, and Strasburg was aroused. By the
road to Buckton Banks hastily despatched a regiment and two guns.
Then came a lull, and many anxious inquiries: "What is it? Is it
Stonewall Jackson, or only a cavalry raid?"

A few hours later reports came in from the field of battle, and Banks
telegraphed to Stanton that 5000 rebels had driven Kenly back on
Middletown. "The force," he added, "has been gathering in the
mountains, it is said, since Wednesday."

But still the Federal general showed no undue alarm.

"Nothing was done," says Gordon, "towards sending away to Winchester
any of the immense quantities of public stores collected at
Strasburg; no movement had been made to place our sick in safety. It
did not seem as if Banks interpreted the attack to signify aught of
future or further movement by the enemy, or that it betokened any
purpose to cut us off from Winchester. I was so fully impressed,
however, with Jackson's purpose, that as soon as night set in I
sought Banks at his headquarters. I laboured long to impress upon him
what I thought a duty, to wit, his immediate retreat upon Winchester,
carrying all his sick and all his supplies that he could transport,
and destroying the remainder. Notwithstanding all my solicitations
and entreaties, he persistently refused to move, ever repeating, "I
must develop the force of the enemy.""* (* From Brook Farm to Cedar
Mountain pages 191 and 192.)

The force that had been sent out on the Buckton road had been soon
recalled, without securing further information than that the
Confederate pickets were in possession of every road which led west
or north from Front Royal.

Again did Gordon, at the request of Banks' chief of the staff,
endeavour to persuade the general to abandon Strasburg. "'It is not a
retreat,' he urged, 'but a true military movement to escape from
being cut off; to prevent stores and sick from falling into the hands
of the enemy.' Moved with an unusual fire, General Banks, who had met
all my arguments with the single reply, 'I must develop the force of
the enemy,' rising excitedly from his seat, with much warmth and in
loud tones exclaimed, 'By God, sir, I will not retreat! We have more
to fear, sir, from the opinions of our friends than the bayonets of
our enemies!' The thought," continues the brigadier, "so long the
subject of his meditations was at last out. Banks was afraid of being
thought afraid. I rose to take my leave, replying, 'This, sir, is not
a military reason for occupying a false position.' It was eleven
o'clock at night when I  him. As I returned through the town I
could not perceive that anybody was troubled with anticipation for
the morrow. The antlers were driving sharp bargains with those who
had escaped from or those who were not amenable to military
discipline. The strolling players were moving crowds to noisy
laughter in their canvas booths, through which the lights gleamed and
the music sounded with startling shrillness. I thought as I turned
towards my camp, how unaware are all of the drama Jackson is
preparing for us, and what merriment the morning will reveal!"

Fortunately for his own battalions, the brigadier had his camp
equipage and baggage packed and sent off then and there to
Winchester, and though his men had to spend the night unsheltered
under persistent rain, they had reason to bless his foresight a few
nights later.

At midnight a report was received from one of the Front Royal
fugitives: "Kenly is killed. First Maryland cut to pieces. Cavalry
ditto. The enemy's forces are 15,000 or 20,000 strong, and on the
march to Strasburg."

In forwarding this despatch to Washington Banks remarked that he
thought it much exaggerated. At 7 A.M. on the 24th he told Stanton
that the enemy's force was from 6000 to 10,000; that it was probably
Ewell's division, and that Jackson was still in his front on the
Valley turnpike.

Three hours later he wrote to Gordon, informing him that the enemy
had fallen back to Front Royal during the night, that ample
reinforcements had been promised from Washington, and that the
division would remain in Strasburg until further orders.

Up to this time he had been convinced that the attack on Front Royal
was merely a raid, and that Jackson would never dare to insert his
whole force between himself and McDowell.* (* Article in Harper's
Weekly by Colonel Strother, aide-de-camp to General Banks.) Suddenly,
by what means we are not told, he was made aware that the
Confederates were in overwhelming numbers, and that Jackson was in
command.

Scarcely had General Gordon digested the previous communication when
an orderly, galloping furiously to his side, delivered a pencil note
from the chief of staff. "Orders have just been received for the
division to move at once to Middletown, taking such steps to oppose
the enemy, reported to be on the road between Front Royal and
Middletown, as may seem proper." Banks was electrified at last. Three
weeks previously, in writing to Mr. Stanton, he had expressed his
regret that he was "not to be included in active operations during
the summer." His regret was wasted. He was about to take part in
operations of which the activity, on his part at least, was more than
satisfying.

Such blindness as Banks had shown is difficult to explain. His latest
information, previous to the attack on Kenly, told him that Jackson's
trains were arriving at Harrisonburg on the 20th, and he should
certainly have inferred that Jackson was in advance of his waggons.
Now from Harrisonburg across the Massanuttons to Front Royal is
fifty-five miles; so it was well within the bounds of possibility
that the Confederates might reach the latter village at midday on the
23rd. Moreover, Banks himself had recognised that Strasburg was an
unfavourable position. It is true that it was fortified, but therein
lay the very reason that would induce the enemy to turn it by Front
Royal. Nor did the idea, which seems to have held possession of his
mind throughout the night, that Ewell alone had been sent to destroy
Kenly, and had afterwards fallen back, show much strategic insight.
Front Royal was the weak point in the Federal position. It was of all
things unlikely that a commander, energetic and skilful as Jackson
was well known to be, would, when he had once advertised his
presence, fail to follow up his first blow with his whole force and
the utmost vigour. It is only fair to add that the Federal
authorities were no wiser than their general. At two A.M. on the
morning of the 24th, although the news of Kenly's disaster had been
fully reported, they still thought that there was time to move fresh
troops to Strasburg from Baltimore and Washington. It seemed
incredible that Jackson could be at Front Royal. "Arrangements are
making," ran Stanton's telegram to Banks, "to send you ample
reinforcements. Do not give up the ship before succour can arrive."

We may now turn to Jackson.

Up to the present his operations had been perfectly successful. He
had captured over 700 of the enemy, with a loss of only 40 or 50 to
himself. He had seized stores to the value of three hundred thousand
dollars (60,000 pounds), and a large quantity had been burned by the
enemy. He had turned the intrenched position at Strasburg. He
threatened the Federal line of retreat. Banks was completely at his
mercy, and there seemed every prospect of inflicting on that
ill-starred commander a defeat so decisive as to spread panic in the
council chambers of the Northern capital.

But the problem was not so simple as it seemed. In the first place,
although the positions of the Federals had been thoroughly examined,
both by staff officers and scouts, the information as to their
numbers was somewhat vague. Banks had actually about 8000 effectives
at Strasburg; but so far as the Confederates knew it was quite
possible that he had from 12,000 to 15,000. There is nothing more
difficult in war than to get an accurate estimate of the enemy's
numbers, especially when civilians, ignorant of military affairs, are
the chief sources of information. The agents on whom Jackson depended
for intelligence from within the enemy's lines were not always
selected because of their military knowledge. "On the march to Front
Royal," says General Taylor, "we reached a wood extending from the
mountain to the river, when a mounted officer from the rear called
Jackson's attention, who rode back with him. A moment later there
rushed out of the wood a young, rather well-looking woman, afterwards
widely known as Belle Boyd. Breathless with speed and agitation, some
time elapsed before she found her voice. Then, with much volubility,
she said we were near Front Royal; that the town was filled with
Federals, whose camp was on the west side of the river, where they
had guns in position to cover the bridge; that they believed Jackson
to be west of the Massanuttons, near Harrisonburg; that General Banks
was at Winchester, where he was concentrating his widely scattered
forces to meet Jackson's advance, which was expected some days later.
All this she told with the precision of a staff officer making a
report, and it was true to the letter. Jackson was possessed of this
information before he  New Market, and based his movements on it;
but it was news to me."

In the second place, Banks had still the means of escape. He could
hardly prevent the Confederates from seizing Winchester, but he might
at least save his army from annihilation. Jackson's men were
exhausted and the horses jaded. Since the morning of the 19th the
whole army had marched over eighty, and Ewell's division over ninety
miles. And this average of seventeen miles a day had been maintained
on rough and muddy roads, crossed by many unbridged streams, and over
a high mountain. The day which had just passed had been especially
severe. Ewell, who was in bivouac at Cedarville, five miles north of
Front Royal on the Winchester turnpike, had marched more than twenty
miles; and Jackson's own division, which had made four-and-twenty,
was on foot from five in the morning till nine at night.

Banks' natural line of retreat led through Winchester, and the
Confederate advanced guard at Cedarville was two miles nearer that
town than were the Federals at Strasburg. But it was still possible
that Banks, warned by Kenly's overthrow, might withdraw by night; and
even if he deferred retreat until daylight he might, instead of
falling back on Winchester, strike boldly for Front Royal and escape
by Manassas Gap. Or, lastly, he might remain at Strasburg, at which
point he was in communication, although by a long and circuitous
road, with Fremont at Franklin.

Jackson had therefore three contingencies to provide against, and
during the night which followed the capture of Front Royal he evolved
a plan which promised to meet them all. Ashby, at daybreak, was to
move with the 7th Virginia cavalry in the direction of Strasburg; and
at the same hour a staff officer, with a small escort, supported by
Taylor's Louisianians, was to ride towards Middletown, a village five
miles north of Strasburg and thirteen from Winchester, and to report
frequently. The 2nd and 6th Virginia cavalry, under General Steuart,
were to advance to Newtown, also on the Valley turnpike, and eight
miles from Winchester; while Ewell, with Trimble's brigade and his
artillery, was to move to Nineveh, two miles north of Cedarville, and
there halt, awaiting orders. The remainder of the command was to
concentrate at Cedarville, preparatory to marching on Middletown; and
strong cavalry patrols were to keep close watch on the Strasburg to
Front Royal road.* (* Jackson's Report. O.R. volume 12 part 1 page
703.)

6 A.M.

From Cedarville to Middletown is no more than seven miles, and
Taylor's brigade is reported to have moved at six A.M., while Ashby
had presumably already marched. But notwithstanding the fact that
Banks' infantry did not leave Strasburg till ten A.M., and that it
had five miles to cover before reaching Middletown, when the
Confederates reached the turnpike at that village the Federal main
body had already passed, and only the rear-guard was encountered.

It seems evident, therefore, that it was not till near noon that
Jackson's patrols came in sight of Middletown, and that the
Confederate advanced guard had taken at least six hours to cover
seven miles. The country, however, between Cedarville and the Valley
turnpike was almost a continuous forest; and wood-fighting is very
slow fighting. The advance had met with strong resistance. General
Gordon had prudently sent the 29th Pennsylvania to Middletown at an
early hour, with orders to reconnoitre towards Front Royal, and to
cover Middletown until the army had passed through.

7 A.M.

Supported by a section of artillery, the regiment had moved eastward
till it struck the Confederate scouts some four miles out on the
Cedarville road. After a long skirmish it was withdrawn to
Middletown; but the 1st Maine cavalry, and a squadron of the 1st
Vermont, about 400 strong, which had been ordered by Banks to proceed
in the same direction, made a vigorous demonstration, and then fell
back slowly before the advanced guard, showing a bold front, using
their carbines freely, and taking advantage of the woods to impose
upon the enemy.

10.15 AM.

These manoeuvres succeeded in holding the Confederates in check till
after ten o'clock, for the heavy timber concealed the real strength
of the Federals, and although Ashby, with the 7th Virginia, had
marched to the scene of action, the infantry was not yet up. It is to
be remembered that at daybreak the Valley army was by no means
concentrated. Jackson had with him at Cedarville only Ewell's
division, his own division having halted near Front Royal. This last
division, it appears from the reports, did not leave Front Royal
until 8 A.M.; a sufficiently early hour, considering the condition of
the men and horses, the absence of the trains, and the fact that one
of the brigades had bivouacked four miles south of the village.* (*
The supply waggons were still eight miles south of Front Royal, in
the Luray Valley.) It was not, then, till between nine and ten that
the column cleared Cedarville, and Middletown was distant nearly
three hours' march, by an exceedingly bad road.

In all probability, if Jackson, at daybreak or soon afterwards, had
marched boldly on Middletown with Ewell's division, he would have
been able to hold Banks on the Valley turnpike until the rest of his
infantry and artillery arrived. But he had always to bear in mind
that the Federals, finding their retreat on Winchester compromised,
might make a dash for Manassas Gap. Now the road from Strasburg to
Manassas Gap was protected throughout its length by the North Fork of
the Shenandoah; and to attack the Federals on the march, should they
take this road, the Confederates would have to move through
Cedarville on Front Royal. This was the only road by which they could
reach the river, and the bridges at Front Royal were the only
available points of passage. Jackson, it appears, was therefore
reluctant to leave Cedarville, within easy reach of the bridges,
until he received information of his enemy's designs, and that
information, which had to be sought at a distance, was naturally long
in coming.

Criticism, after the event, is easy; but it certainly seems curious,
with his knowledge of Banks, that Jackson should have believed his
opponent capable of so bold a measure as retreat by way of Manassas
Gap. According to his own report, the feasibility of such a course
did cross Banks' mind; but it might seem that on this occasion
Jackson lost an opportunity through over-caution. Nevertheless, in
desperate situations even the most inert characters are sometimes
capable of desperate resolutions.

Although for the time being Banks was permitted to extricate his
infantry from the toils, the remainder of his command was less
fortunate. The general and his brigades reached Winchester in safety,
but the road between that town and Strasburg was a scene of dire
disaster.

11.30 A.M.

Steuart, with the 2nd and 6th Virginia, had struck Newton before
noon, and found a convoy of waggons strung out on the Valley
turnpike. A few shots threw everything into confusion. Many of the
teamsters deserted their posts, and fled towards Winchester or
Strasburg. Waggons were upset, several were captured, and others
plundered. But the triumph of the Confederates was short-lived. The
Federal infantry had already reached Middletown; and Banks sent
forward a regiment of cavalry and a brigade of infantry to clear the
way. Steuart was speedily driven back, and the Northerners resumed
their march.

12.15 P.M.

At some distance behind the infantry came the Federal cavalry, about
2000 strong, accompanied by a battery and a small party of Zouaves;
but by the time this force reached Middletown, Ashby, supported by
the Louisiana brigade, had driven in the regiment hitherto opposed to
him, and, emerging from the forest, with infantry and guns in close
support, was bearing down upon the village. The batteries opened upon
the solid columns of the Federal horse. The Louisiana regiments,
deploying at the double, dashed forward, and the Northern squadrons,
penned in the narrow streets, found themselves assailed by a heavy
fire. A desperate attempt was made to escape towards Winchester, and
a whirling cloud of dust through which the sabres gleamed swept
northward up the turnpike. But Ashby's horsemen, galloping across
country, headed off the fugitives; some of the Confederate infantry
drew an abandoned waggon across the road, and others ran forward to
the roadside fences. At such close quarters the effect of the
musketry was terrible. "In a few moments the turnpike, which had just
before teemed with life, presented a most appalling spectacle of
carnage and destruction. The road was literally obstructed with the
mingled and confused mass of struggling and dying horses and riders.
Amongst the survivors the wildest confusion ensued, and they
scattered in disorder in various directions, leaving some 200
prisoners in the hands of the Confederates."* (* Jackson's Report.
O.R. volume 12 part 1 page 704.) Part dashed back to Strasburg, where
the teeming magazines of the Federal commissaries were already
blazing; and part towards the mountains, flying in small parties by
every country track. The rear regiments, however, still held
together. Drawing off westward, in the hope of gaining the Middle
road, and of making his way to Winchester by a circuitous route,
General Hatch, commanding the cavalry brigade, brought his guns into
action on a commanding ridge, about a mile west of the highway, and
still showed a front with his remaining squadrons. Infantry were with
them; more horsemen came thronging up; their numbers were unknown,
and for a moment they looked threatening. The Confederate batteries
trotted forward, and Taylor's brigade, with the Stonewall and
Campbell's in support, was ordered to attack; whilst Ashby,
accompanied by the Louisiana Tigers and two batteries, pursued the
train of waggons that was flying over the hills towards Winchester.

3 P.M.

The question now to be solved was whether the cavalry was the
advanced or the rear guard of the Federal army. No message had
arrived from Steuart. But the people of Middletown supplied the
information. They reported that in addition to the convoy a long
column of infantry had passed through the village; and Jackson,
directing his infantry to follow Ashby, sent a message to Ewell to
march on Winchester. Some delay took place before the three brigades,
which had now driven back the Federal cavalry, could be brought back
to the turnpike and reformed; and it was well on in the afternoon
when, with the Stonewall regiments leading, the Confederate infantry
pushed forward down the pike.

The troops had been on their legs since dawn; some of them, who had
bivouacked south of Front Royal, had already marched sixteen miles,
the Federals had more than two hours' start, and Winchester was still
twelve miles distant. But the enemy's cavalry had been routed, and
such as remained of the waggons were practically without a guard.
Ashby and Steuart, with three fine regiments of Virginia cavalry,
supported by the horse-artillery and other batteries, were well to
the front, and "there was every reason to believe," to use Jackson's
own words, "that if Banks reached Winchester, it would be without a
train, if not without an army."

But the irregular organisation of the Valley forces proved a bar to
the fulfilment of Jackson's hopes. On approaching Newtown he found
that the pursuit had been arrested. Two pieces of artillery were
engaging a Federal battery posted beyond the village, but the
Confederate guns were almost wholly unsupported. Ashby had come up
with the convoy. A few rounds of shell had dispersed the escort. The
teamsters fled, and the supply waggons and sutlers' carts of the
Federal army, filled with luxuries, proved a temptation which the
half-starving Confederates were unable to resist. "Nearly the whole
of Ashby's cavalry and a part of the infantry under his command had
turned aside to pillage. Indeed the firing had not ceased, in the
first onset upon the Federal cavalry at Middletown, before some of
Ashby's men might have been seen, with a quickness more suitable to
horse-thieves than to soldiers, breaking from their ranks, seizing
each two or three of the captured horses and making off across the
fields. Nor did the men pause until they had carried their illegal
booty to their homes, which were, in some instances, at the distance
of one or two days' journey. That such extreme disorders could
occur," adds Dabney, "and that they could be passed over without a
bloody punishment, reveals the curious inefficiency of officers in
the Confederate army."* (* Dabney volume 2 pages 101 and 102. "The
difficulty," says General Taylor, speaking of the Confederate
cavalry, "of converting raw men into soldiers is enhanced manifold
when they are mounted. Both man and horse require training, and
facilities for rambling, with temptation to do so, are increased.
There was little time, and it may be said less disposition, to
establish camps of instruction. Living on horseback, fearless and
dashing, the men of the South afforded the best possible material for
cavalry. They had every quality but discipline, and resembled Prince
Charming, whose manifold gifts were rendered useless by the malignant
fairy. Assuredly our cavalry rendered much excellent service,
especially when dismounted; and such able officers as Stuart,
Hampton, and the younger Lees in the east, Forrest, Green, and
Wheeler in the West, developed much talent for war; but their
achievements, however distinguished, fell far below the standard that
would have been reached had not the want of discipline impaired their
efforts." Destruction and Reconstruction pages 70 to 71. It is only
fair to add, however, that the Confederate troopers had to supply
their own horses, receiving no compensation for their loss by disease
or capture. This in some measure excuses their anxiety to loot as
many chargers as they could lay hands on.)

Banks, when the pursuit had so suddenly ceased, had determined to
save the remnant of his train. Three regiments and a couple of
batteries were ordered back from Bartonsville, with Gordon in
command; and this rearguard had not only shown a formidable front,
but had actually driven the infantry that still remained with Ashby
out of Newtown, and into the woods beyond. General Hatch, who had
regained the turnpike with part of his brigade, had now come up; and
the addition of six squadrons of cavalry rendered Gordon's force
capable of stout resistance. The Federals held a strong position. The
Confederates had present but 50 cavalry, 150 infantry, and 5 guns.
Nor was there any hope of immediate support, for the remainder of the
troops were still several miles in rear, and Steuart's two regiments
appear to have rejoined General Ewell on the road for Nineveh.
$
Shortly before sunset the Confederate artillery was reinforced. The
Stonewall Brigade had also arrived upon the scene; and Gordon, firing
such waggons as he could not carry off, as well as the pontoons, fell
back on Winchester as the night closed in.

The Confederates had now marched from sixteen to twenty miles, and
the men had not eaten since the early morning. But Jackson had
determined to press the march till he was within striking distance of
the hills which stand round Winchester to the south. It was no time
for repose. The Federals had a garrison at Harper's Ferry, a garrison
at Romney, detachments along the Baltimore and Ohio Railway; and
Washington, within easy distance of Winchester by rail, was full of
troops.* (* Twenty regiments of infantry and two regiments of
cavalry. O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 313.) A few hours' delay, and
instead of Banks' solitary division, a large army might bar the way
to the Potomac. So, with the remnant of Ashby's cavalry in advance,
and the Stonewall Brigade in close support, the column toiled onward
through the darkness. But the Federal rear-guard was exceedingly well
handled. The 2nd Massachusetts regiment held the post of honour, and,
taking advantage of stream and ridge, the gallant New Englanders
disputed every mile of road. At Bartonsville, where the Opequon, a
broad and marshy creek, crosses the turnpike, they turned stubbornly
at bay. A heavy volley, suddenly delivered, drove the Confederate
cavalry back in confusion on the infantry supports. The 33rd Virginia
was completely broken by the rush of flying horsemen; the guns were
overridden; and Jackson and his staff were  alone upon the
turnpike. In the pitch darkness it was difficult to ascertain the
enemy's numbers, and the flashes of their rifles, dancing along the
top of the stone walls, were the only clue to their position. The
Confederate column was ordered to deploy, and the Stonewall Brigade,
pushing into the fields on either flank, moved slowly forward over
the swampy ground. The stream proved an impassable obstacle both
below and above the Federal position; but the 27th Virginia,
attacking the enemy in front, drove them back and crossed to the
further bank.

The pursuit, however, had been much delayed; and the Massachusetts
regiment, although ridden into by their own cavalry, fell back in
good order, protected by a strong line of skirmishers on either side
of the turnpike. The Confederate order of march was now changed.
Three companies, who were recruited from the district and knew the
ground, were ordered to the front. The 5th Virginia, four or five
hundred yards from the skirmish line, were to follow in support. The
cavalry and guns were  in rear; and the troops once more took up
the line of march.

For more than an hour they tramped slowly forward. The darkness grew
more intense, and the chaff and laughter--for the soldiers, elated by
success, had hitherto shown no sign of fatigue--died gradually away.
Nothing was to be heard but the clang of accoutrements, the long
rumble of the guns, and the shuffle of weary feet. Men fell in the
ranks, overpowered by sleep or faint with hunger, and the
skirmishers, wading through rank fields of wheat and clover,
stumbling into ditches, and climbing painfully over high stone walls,
made tardy progress. Again and again the enemy's volleys flashed
through the darkness; but still there was no halt, for at the head of
the regiments, peering eagerly into the darkness, their iron-willed
commander still rode forward, as regardless of the sufferings of his
men as of the bullets of the Federal rear-guard, with but one thought
present to his mind--to bring Banks to battle, and so prevent his
escape from Winchester. The student of Napoleon had not forgotten the
pregnant phrase: "Ask me for anything but time!" The indiscipline of
Ashby's cavalry had already given Banks a respite; and, undisturbed
by his reverses, the Union general had shown himself capable of
daring measures. Had the Confederates halted at Newtown or at
Bartonsville, the troops would doubtless have been fresher for the
next day's work, but the morning might have seen Banks far on his way
to the Potomac, or possibly strongly reinforced.

When the Confederate infantry had met and overthrown their enemy it
would be time enough to think of food and rest. So long as the men
could stand they were to follow on his traces. "I rode with Jackson,"
says General Taylor, "through the darkness. An officer, riding hard,
overtook us, who proved to be the chief quartermaster of the army. He
reported the waggon trains far behind, impeded by a bad road in the
Luray Valley. "The ammunition waggons?" sternly. "All , sir.
They were in advance, and I doubled teams on them and brought them
through." "Ah!" in a tone of relief.

"To give countenance to the quartermaster, if such can be given on a
dark night, I remarked jocosely, "Never mind the waggons. There are
quantities of stores in Winchester, and the general has invited one
to breakfast there tomorrow." Jackson took this seriously, and
reached out to touch me on the arm. Without physical wants himself,
he forgot that others were differently constituted, and paid little
heed to commissariat. But woe to the man who failed to bring up
ammunition. In advance his trains were  behind. In retreat he
would fight for a wheelbarrow."* (* Destruction and Reconstruction
page 65.)

May 25.

At Kernstown, behind Hogg Run, the Federal rear-guard halted for the
last time, but after a short engagement fell back on Winchester. It
was now three o'clock, an hour before dawn, and the Massachusetts men
became aware that the enemy had halted. Their skirmishers still
pressed slowly forward, and an occasional shot flashed out in the
darkness. But that noise which once heard on a still night is never
forgotten, the solid tramp of a heavy column on a hard road, like the
dull roar of a distant cataract, had suddenly died away. As the day
broke the Confederate advanced guard, passing Pritchard's Hill and
Kernstown battlefield, struck the Federal pickets on Parkin's Hill.
In front was a brook which goes by the name of Abraham's Creek;
beyond the brook rose the ridge which covers Winchester, and Jackson
at last permitted his men to rest. The coveted heights were within
easy grasp. The Federal army was still in Winchester, and nothing now
remained but to storm the hills, and drive the enemy in panic from
the town.

The Confederates, when the order was given to halt, had dropped where
they stood, and lay sleeping by the roadside. But their commander
permitted himself no repose. For more than an hour, without a cloak
to protect him from the chilling dews, listening to every sound that
came from the front, he stood like a sentinel over the prostrate
ranks. As the dawn rose, in a quiet undertone he gave the word to
march. The order was passed down the column, and, in the dim grey
light, the men, rising from their short slumbers, stiff, cold, and
hungry, advanced to battle.

Jackson had with him on the turnpike, for the most part south of
Kernstown, his own division, supported by the brigades of Scott and
Elzey and by nine batteries. About a mile eastward on the Front Royal
road was Ewell, with Trimble's brigade and ten guns. This detachment
had moved on Winchester the preceding evening, driving in the Federal
pickets, and had halted within three miles of the town. During the
night Jackson had sent a staff officer with instructions to Ewell.
The message, although the bearer had to ride nine-and-twenty miles,
by Newton and Nineveh, had reached its destination in good time; and
as the Stonewall Brigade moved silently past Pritchard's Hill,
Trimble's brigade advanced abreast of it beyond the intervening woods.

On both the Valley turnpike and the Front Royal road the Federals
were favoured by the ground, and their position, although the two
wings were widely separated, had been skilfully selected. On the
turnpike and west of it was Gordon's brigade of four regiments,
strengthened by eight guns, and by a strong force of cavalry in
reserve. Watching the Front Royal road was Donnelly's brigade, also
of four regiments, with eight guns and a few squadrons. The line of
defence ran along a broken ridge, lined in many places with stout
stone walls, and protected in front by the winding reaches of
Abraham's Creek.

Still, strong as was the Federal position, there was little chance of
holding it. Banks had been joined during the night by the larger
portion of his army, and by the garrison of Winchester, but he was
heavily outnumbered. At Front Royal and at Middletown he had lost
over 1500 men; part of his rear-guard had scattered in the mountains,
and it was doubtful if he could now muster more than 6500 effective
soldiers. In infantry and artillery the Confederates were more than
twice his strength; in cavalry alone were they inferior.

Jackson's plan of action was simple. His advanced guard was to hold
Gordon in position; and when Ewell fell on Donnelly, a heavy column
would move round Gordon's .

5 A.M.

The Stonewall regiments led the way. The line of heights, west of the
turnpike and commanding Abraham's Creek, was occupied by the Federal
outposts, and a general advance of the whole brigade, sweeping across
the brook and up the slopes, quickly drove in the pickets.

But the enemy, whether by skill or good fortune, had occupied with
his main line a position admirably adapted for an inferior force.
Four hundred yards beyond the ridge which the Confederates had seized
rose a second swell of ground; and eight rifled guns, supported by
the 2nd Massachusetts, swept the opposite height at effective range.

Jackson immediately ordered up three batteries, posting them behind
the crest; and as the sun rose, drawing up the mist from the little
stream, a fierce duel of artillery began the battle.

6.30 A.M.

The Confederate gunners, harassed by the enemy's skirmishers, and
overwhelmed with shells, suffered heavily; one battery was compelled
to retire with a loss of 17 men and 9 horses; a second lost all its
officers; and it was not till near seven o'clock that the enemy's
eight guns, with their infantry escort, were finally driven back.

Ewell, meanwhile, had come into action on the ; but the mist was
heavy, and his advanced guard, received with a heavy fire from behind
the stone walls, was driven back with a loss of 80 officers and men.
Then the fog rose heavily, and for nearly an hour the engagement on
this wing died away.

8 A.M.

About eight o'clock Ewell's batteries again came into action, and
Trimble moved round to take the enemy in flank. But Jackson,
meanwhile, was bringing matters to a crisis on the . The Federals
still held fast in front; but the Louisiana, Taliaferro's, and
Scott's brigades, retained hitherto with Elzey in reserve, were now
ordered to turn the enemy's flank. Moving to the  in rear of the
Stonewall Brigade, these eleven regiments, three forming a second
line, faced to the front and climbed the heights.

General Gordon, in anticipation of such a movement, had already
transferred two regiments to his . The fire of this force,
though delivered at close range, hardly checked the Confederate
onset. Closing the many gaps, and preserving an alignment that would
have been creditable on parade, Taylor and Taliaferro moved swiftly
forward over rocks and walls. The Federal infantry gave way in great
disorder. The cavalry in support essayed a charge, but the
Confederates, as the squadrons rode boldly towards them, halted where
they stood, and the rolling volleys of the line of battle drove back
the horsemen with many empty saddles. Then, as Taylor resumed his
advance, the Stonewall regiments, with Elzey in close support, rose
suddenly from their covert, and the whole line swept forward across
the ridges. The b sun of the May morning, dispersing the mists
which veiled the field, shone down upon 10,000 bayonets; and for the
first time in the Valley the rebel yell, that strange fierce cry
which heralded the Southern charge, rang high above the storm of
battle.

(MAP OF THE BATTLE OF WINCHESTER, VA. Sunday, May 25th, 1862.)

It was impossible, before so strong an onset, for the Federals to
hold their ground. Infantry, artillery, and cavalry gave way. From
east, west, and south the grey battalions converged on Winchester;
and as the enemy's columns, covered by the heavy smoke, disappeared
into the streets, Jackson, no longer the imperturbable tactician,
moving his troops like the pieces on a chess-board, but the very
personification of triumphant victory, dashed forward in advance of
his old brigade. Riding recklessly down a rocky slope he raised
himself in his stirrups, and waving his cap in the direction of the
retreating foe, shouted to his officers to "Press forward to the
Potomac!" Elzey's, the reserve brigade, was ordered to take up the
pursuit; and within the town, where the storehouses had been already
fired, the battle was renewed. The Federal regiments, with the
exception of the 2nd Massachusetts, lost all order in the narrow
streets.* (* Banks' aide-de-camp, Colonel Strother, says, "For
several minutes it looked like the commencement of a Bull Run panic.
The stragglers," he adds, "rapidly increased in numbers, and many
threw down their arms." Harper's Weekly. See also Jackson's Report,
O.R. volume 12 part 1 page 706.) The roar of battle followed close;
and with the rattle of musketry, the crash of shells, and the loud
cries of the victors speeding their rapid flight, the Northern
infantry dispersed across the fields. As the Confederates passed
through the town, the people of Winchester, frantic with triumph
after their two months of captivity, rushed out from every doorway to
meet the troops; and with weeping and with laughter, with the
blessings of women and the fierce shouts of men, the soldiers of the
Valley were urged forward in hot pursuit.

10 A.M.

As they emerged from the town, and looked down upon the open pastures
through which the Martinsburg turnpike runs, they saw the country
before them covered with crowds of fugitives. Jackson, still in
advance, turned round to seek his cavalry. From the head of every
street eager columns of infantry were pouring, and, deploying without
waiting orders, were pushing hastily across the fields. But not a
squadron was in sight. Ashby, with the handful of men that still
remained with him, had ridden to Berryville, expecting that the enemy
would attempt to escape by Snicker's Gap. Steuart, with the two
regiments that had done such service at Front Royal, was with Ewell
and Trimble; but although Donnelly's regiments could be seen retiring
in good order, they were not followed by a single sabre.

Despatching an aide-de-camp to order Steuart to the front, Jackson
called up his batteries. The infantry, too, was hurried forward, in
order to prevent the Federals rallying. But after a rapid march of
two hours the interval between the Confederates and the enemy was
still increasing; and it was evident that without cavalry it was
useless to continue the pursuit. Not only was the infantry utterly
exhausted, but the horses of the artillery were worn out; and about
five miles out of Winchester the troops were ordered to halt and
bivouac.* (* The greater part of the troops had marched over thirty
miles in thirty hours, during which time they had been almost
continuously engaged.) The Federals, relieved from the pressure of
the hostile fire, gradually reformed their ranks; and Jackson,
notwithstanding the extraordinary exertions he had demanded from his
troops, his own skilful manoeuvres, and the high spirit of his men,
saw his opportunity pass away. His impatience was almost
uncontrollable. His staff was dispatched in all directions to urge
forward the remainder of the batteries. "We must press them to the
Potomac!" "Forward to the Potomac!" Such was the tenor of every
order; and at length, as the Federals disappeared in the far
distance, he ordered the artillery teams to be unhitched, and the
gunners, thus mounted, to pursue the enemy. But before this strange
substitute for cavalry had moved out, the lagging squadrons arrived,
and with a few fiery words they were sent at speed down the Valley
turnpike. But it was too late. Banks, for the second time, was more
fortunate than he deserved.

To the misconduct of Ashby's troopers, and to the pedantic folly of
General Steuart, the escape of the Federal army must be attributed.

"Never have I seen an opportunity when it was in the power of cavalry
to reap a richer harvest of the fruits of victory. Had the cavalry
played its part in this pursuit as well as the four companies under
Colonel Flournoy two days before in the pursuit from Front Royal, but
a small portion of Banks' army would have made its escape to the
Potomac."

So runs Jackson's official report, and when the disorganised
condition of the Federal battalions, as they fled north from
Winchester, is recalled, it is difficult to question the opinion
therein expressed. The precipitate retreat from Strasburg,
accompanied by the loss of waggons and of stores; the concentrated
attack of overwhelming numbers, followed by the disorderly rush
through the streets of Winchester, had, for the time being, dissolved
the bonds of discipline. It is true that some of the Federal
regiments held together; but many men were missing; some fell into
the hands of the Confederates, others sought safety by devious roads,
and there can be little doubt but that those who fled to the Potomac
were for the time being utterly demoralised. Had they been resolutely
charged before they had reformed their ranks, their rifles would no
more have saved them from annihilation than they had saved Kenly's
command at Cedarville.

But where was the cavalry? Ashby's 50 men, all that he had been able
to collect, were far away upon the ; out of reach of orders, and
in any case too few for effective use. The two regiments under
Steuart, 600 or 700 strong, were the force on which Jackson had
depended, and Steuart had shown himself incapable of command. He had
received Jackson's message with the reply that he could obey no
orders unless they came through his immediate superior.* (* Jackson's
Report.) Before Ewell could be found, precious time was wasted, and
two hours elapsed before the cavalry took up the chase. But the
Federals had now established strong rear-guards. The whole of their
cavalry, supported by artillery, had been ordered to cover the
retreat; and Steuart, although he picked up numerous prisoners, and
followed as far as Martinsburg, twenty-two miles north of Winchester,
found no opportunity for attack.

Halting for two and a half hours at Martinsburg, the Federals
continued their retreat at sunset, abandoning the magazines in the
town to their pursuers. Before midnight 3000 or 4000 men had arrived
at Williamsport, and by the ford and ferry, supplemented by a few
pontoon boats, the remnant of Banks' army crossed the broad Potomac.

Although not a single Confederate squadron had followed him from
Martinsburg, the Northern general, elated by his unexpected escape,
spoke of this operation as if it had been carried out under heavy
fire. "It is seldom," he reported, "that a river-crossing of such
magnitude is achieved (sic) with greater success." But he added, with
more candour, "there were never more grateful hearts, in the same
number of men, than when at mid-day on the 26th we stood on the
opposite shore;" and then, with the loss of 2000 men, a hundred
waggons, the regimental transport of his cavalry, nearly 800 sick,
and a vast quantity of stores, to traverse his assertion, he stated
that his command "had not suffered an attack or rout, but had
accomplished a premeditated march of near sixty miles in the face of
the enemy, defeating his plans, and giving him battle wherever he was
found!"* (* Some of Banks' officers shared his opinion. The captain
of the Zouaves d'Afrique, the general's body-guard, who had been cut
off at Strasburg, but rejoined on the Potomac, reported that,
"incredible as it may appear, my men marched 141 miles in 47 hours,
as measured by Captain Abert," and concluded by congratulating Banks
upon the success of his "unparalleled retreat." The Zouaves, at all
events, could not complain that they had been excluded from "active
operations." Another officer declared that "we have great reason to
be grateful to kind Providence, and applaud the skill and energy of
our commanding officers for the miraculous escape of our men from
utter annihilation." O.R. volume 12 part 1 pages 573 and 611.)

But the Northern people were not to be deceived. The truth was but
too apparent; and long before Banks had found leisure to write his
report, terror had taken possession of the nation. While the soldiers
of the Valley lay round Winchester, reposing from their fatigues, and
regaling themselves on the captured stores, the Governors of thirteen
States were calling on their militia to march to the defence of
Washington. Jackson had struck a deadly blow. Lincoln and Stanton
were electrified even more effectually than Banks. They issued an
urgent call for more troops. "There is no doubt," wrote Stanton to
the Governor of Massachusetts, "that the enemy in great force are
marching on Washington." In the cities of the North the panic was
indescribable. As the people came out of church the newsboys were
crying, "Defeat of General Banks! Washington in danger!" The
newspaper offices were surrounded by anxious crowds. In the morning
edition of the New York Herald a leader had appeared which was headed
"Fall of Richmond." The same evening it was reported that the whole
of the rebel army was marching to the Potomac. Troops were hurried to
Harper's Ferry from Baltimore and Washington. The railways were
ordered to place their lines at the disposal of the Government.
McDowell, on the eve of starting to join McClellan, was ordered to
lay aside the movement, and to send half his army to the Valley.* (*
Shields' and Ord's divisions of infantry, and Bayard's brigade of
cavalry, numbering all told 21,200 officers and men.) Fremont, who
was about to join his column from the Great Kanawha, was called upon
to support Banks. McClellan was warned, by the President himself,
that the enemy was making a general movement northward, and that he
must either attack Richmond forthwith or come to the defence of
Washington. A reserve corps of 50,000 men was ordered to be organised
at once, and stationed permanently near the capital; and in one day
nearly half a million American citizens offered their services to
save the Union.

Jackson's success was as complete as it was sudden. The second
diversion against Washington was as effective as the first, and the
victory at Winchester even more prolific of results than the defeat
at Kernstown. Within four-and-twenty hours the storm-cloud which had
been gathering about Fredericksburg was dispersed. McDowell's army of
40,000 men and 100 guns was scattered beyond the hope of speedy
concentration. McClellan, who had pushed forward his  wing across
the Chickahominy, suddenly found himself deprived of the support on
which he counted to secure his ; and Johnston, who had
determined to attack his opponent before that support should arrive,
was able to postpone operations until the situation should become
more favourable.

Immediately after his victory Jackson had sent an officer to Richmond
with dispatches explaining his views, and asking for instructions.
Lee, in reply, requested him to press the enemy, to threaten an
invasion of Maryland, and an assault upon the Federal capital.

May 28.

Early on the 28th, the Stonewall Brigade advanced towards Harper's
Ferry. At that point, crowded with stores of every description, 7000
men and 18 guns, under General Saxton, had already been assembled. At
Charlestown, Winder's advanced guard struck a reconnoitring
detachment, composed of two regiments, a section of artillery, and a
cavalry regiment. Within twenty minutes the Federals, already
demoralised by the defeat of Banks, were retiring in disorder,
abandoning arms, blankets, and haversacks, along the road, and the
pursuit was continued until their reserves were descried in strong
force on the Bolivar Heights, a low ridge covering Harper's Ferry
from the south. The same evening Ewell advanced in support of Winder;
and, on the 29th, the Valley army was concentrated near Halltown,
with the exception of the Louisiana brigade, posted near Berryville,
the 12th Georgia, with 2 guns, in occupation of Front Royal, and
Ashby, on the road to Wardensville, watching Fremont.

During the afternoon the 2nd Virginia Infantry was sent across the
Shenandoah, and occupying the Loudoun Heights, threatened the enemy's
position on the ridge below. Saxton, in consequence, withdrew a part
of his troops the same night to the  bank of the Potomac; but
Jackson, although Harper's Ferry and its magazines might easily have
been taken, made no attempt to follow. His scouts, riding far to east
and west, had already informed him that McDowell and Fremont were in
motion to cut off his retreat. Shields' division, leading McDowell's
advance from Fredericksburg, was approaching Manassas Gap; while
Fremont, hurrying from Franklin through the passes of the North
Mountain, was ten miles east of Moorefield. Lee's instructions had
already been carried to the extreme point consistent with safety, and
Jackson determined to retreat by the Valley turnpike. Not only was it
the one road which was not yet closely threatened, but it was the one
road over which the enormous train of captured stores could be
rapidly withdrawn.* (* Jackson, although the harvest was in full
swing, had given orders that all waggons in the valley were to be
impressed and sent to Winchester and Martinsburg.)

May 29.

The next morning, therefore, the main body of the army marched back
to Winchester; Winder, with the Stonewall Brigade and two batteries,
remaining before Harper's Ferry to hold Saxton in check. Jackson
himself returned to Winchester by the railway, and on the way he was
met by untoward news. As the train neared Winchester a staff officer,
riding at a gallop across the fields, signalled it to stop, and the
general was informed that the 12th Georgia had been driven from Front
Royal, burning the stores, but not the bridges, at Front Royal, and
that Shields' division was in possession of the village.

The situation had suddenly become more than critical. Front Royal is
but twelve miles from Strasburg. Not a single Confederate battalion
was within five-and-twenty miles of that town, and Winder was just
twice as far away. The next morning might see the Valley turnpike
blocked by 10,000 Federals under Shields. Another 10,000, McDowell's
Second Division, under General Ord, were already near Front Royal;
Fremont, with 15,000, was pressing forward from the west; and Banks
and Saxton, with the same number, were moving south from the Potomac.
With resolute management it would seem that 35,000 Federals might
have been assembled round Strasburg by midday of the 31st, and that
this force might have been increased to 50,000 by the evening of June
1.* (* For the distribution of the different forces during this
period see Note at end of chapter.) Desperate indeed appeared the
Confederate chances. The waggons which conveyed the spoils of
Martinsburg and Charlestown were still at Winchester, and with them
were more than 2000 prisoners. With the utmost expedition it seemed
impossible that the Valley army, even if the waggons were abandoned,
could reach Strasburg before the evening of the 31st; and the
Stonewall Brigade, with fifty miles to march, would be
four-and-twenty hours later. Escape, at least by the Valley turnpike,
seemed absolutely impossible. Over Pharaoh and his chariots the
waters were already closing.

But there is a power in war more potent than mere numbers. The moral
difficulties of a situation may render the proudest display of
physical force of no avail. Uncertainty and apprehension engender
timidity and hesitation, and if the commander is ill at ease the
movements of his troops become slow and halting. And when several
armies, converging on a single point, are separated by distance or by
the enemy, when communication is tedious, and each general is
ignorant of his colleagues' movements, uncertainty and apprehension
are inevitable. More than ever is this the case when the enemy has a
character for swiftness and audacity, and some unfortunate detachment
is still reeling under the effects of a crushing and unexpected blow.

Regarding, then, like Napoleon, the difficulties rather than the
numbers of his enemies, Jackson held fast to his purpose, and the
capture of Front Royal disturbed him little. "What news?" he asked
briefly as the staff officer rode up to the carriage door. "Colonel
Connor has been driven back from Front Royal." Jackson smiled grimly,
but made no reply. His eyes fixed themselves apparently upon some
distant object. Then his preoccupation suddenly disappeared. He read
the dispatch which he held in his hand, tore it in pieces, after his
accustomed fashion, and, leaning forward, rested his head upon his
hands and apparently fell asleep. He soon roused himself, however,
and turning to Mr. Boteler, who tells the story, said: "I am going to
send you to Richmond for reinforcements. Banks has halted at
Williamsport, and is being reinforced from Pennsylvania. Dix (Saxton)
is in my front, and is being reinforced by the Baltimore and Ohio
Railway. I have just received a dispatch informing me of the advance
of the enemy upon Front Royal, which is captured, and Fremont is now
advancing towards Wardensville. Thus, you see, I am nearly surrounded
by a very large force."

"What is your own, General?" asked his friend.

"I will tell you, but you must not repeat what I say, except at
Richmond. To meet this attack I have only 15,000 effective men."

"What will you do if they cut you off, General?"

A moment's hesitation, and then the cool reply: "I will fall back
upon Maryland for reinforcements."

"Jackson," says Cooke, "was in earnest. If his retreat was cut off he
intended to advance into Maryland, and doubtless make his way
straight to Baltimore and Washington, depending on the Southern
sentiment in that portion of the State to bring him reinforcements."
That the Federal Government was apprehensive of some such movement is
certain. The wildest rumours were everywhere prevalent. Men
throughout the North wore anxious faces, and it is said that one
question, "Where is Jackson? Has he taken Washington?" was on every
lip. The best proof, however, that a movement on Washington was
actually anticipated by the Federals is the dispatch of the Secretary
of War to the Governors of the different States: "Send forward all
the troops that you can, immediately. Banks completely routed.
Intelligence from various quarters leaves no doubt that the enemy, in
great force, are advancing on Washington. You will please organise
and forward immediately all the volunteer and militia force in your
State." Further, on receiving the news of Banks' defeat, the
President had called King's division of McDowell's army corps to
defend the capital; and his telegram of May 25 to McClellan, already
alluded to, in which that general was warned that he might have to
return to Washington, is significant of what would have happened had
the Confederates entered Maryland.* (* O.R. volume 11 part 1 page 81.
King's division, when it was found that Jackson had halted near
Winchester, was ordered to Front Royal. The fourth division,
McCall's, was  to defend Fredericksburg.) McClellan's vast army,
in all human probability, would have been hurriedly re-embarked, and
Johnston have been free to follow Jackson.

May 31.

On the night of the 30th the whole Army of the Valley was ordered
back to Strasburg; and early next morning the prisoners, escorted by
the 21st Virginia, and followed by the convoy of waggons in double
column, covering seven miles of road, led the way. Captain Hotchkiss
was sent with orders to Winder to hasten back to Winchester, and not
to halt till he had made some distance between that place and
Strasburg. "I want you to go to Charlestown," were Jackson's
instructions to his staff officer, "and bring up the First Brigade. I
will stay in Winchester until you get here, if I can, but if I
cannot, and the enemy gets here first, you must conduct it around
through the mountains."

The march, however, as the general had expected, was made without
molestation, and during the afternoon the main body reached
Strasburg, and camped there for the night. The Stonewall Brigade,
meanwhile, had passed through Winchester, halting near Newtown; the
2nd Virginia Regiment having marched thirty-five miles, and all the
remainder twenty-eight. Little had been seen of the enemy. Fremont
had passed Wardensville, and, marching through heavy rain, had halted
after nightfall at Cedar Creek, six miles west of Strasburg. On the
road to Front Royal, only a few scouts had been encountered by the
Confederate patrols, for Shields, deceived by a demonstration which
the Louisiana Brigade had made from Winchester, had let the day pass
by without a decisive movement. The difficulties on which Jackson had
counted had weighted the feet of his adversaries with lead.* (* Up to
the time that they arrived within striking distance of Jackson they
had acted vigorously, Shields marching eighty miles in five days, and
Fremont seventy over a mountain road.) Fremont, with two-and-twenty
miles to march, had suffered Ashby to delay his progress; and
although he had promised Lincoln that he would be in Strasburg at
five o'clock that evening, he had halted on the mountains six miles
distant. Shields, far ahead of the next division, had done nothing
more than push a brigade towards Winchester, and place strong pickets
on every road by which the enemy might approach. Neither Federal
general could communicate with the other, for the country between
them was held by the enemy. Both had been informed of the other's
whereabouts, but both were uncertain as to the other's movements; and
the dread of encountering, unsupported, the terrible weight of
Jackson's onset had sapped their resolution. Both believed the enemy
far stronger than he really was. The fugitives from Winchester had
spread exaggerated reports of the Confederate numbers, and the
prisoners captured at Front Royal had by no means minimised them.* (*
According to the Official Records, 156 men were taken by General
Shields. It is said that when Colonel Connor, in command of the 12th
Georgia Regiment, reported to Jackson at Winchester, and gave rather
a sensational account of his defeat, the General looked up, and asked
in his abrupt manner: "Colonel, how many men had you killed?" "None,
I am glad to say, General." "How many wounded?" "Few or none, sir."
"Do you call that fighting, sir?" said Jackson, and immediately
placed him under arrest, from which he was not released for several
months.) Banks, impressed by the long array of bayonets that had
crowned the ridge at Winchester, rated them at 20,000 infantry, with
cavalry and artillery in addition. Geary, who had retired in hot
haste from Rectortown, burning his tents and stores, had learned, he
reported, from numerous sources that 10,000 cavalry were passing
through Manassas Gap. There were constant rumours that strong
reinforcements were coming up from Richmond, and even McDowell
believed that the army of invasion consisted of 25,000 to 30,000 men.
Fremont's scouts, as he approached Strasburg, represented the
Confederate force at 30,000 to 60,000. Shields, before he crossed
the Blue Ridge and found himself in the vicinity of his old opponent,
had condemned the panic that had seized his brother generals, and had
told McDowell that he would clear the Valley with his own division.
But when he reached Front Royal the force that he had scornfully
described as insignificant had swelled to 20,000 men. Troops from
Richmond, he telegraphed, were marching down the Luray Valley; and he
urged that he should be at once supported by two divisions. It cannot
be said that Lincoln and Stanton were to blame for the indecision of
the generals. They had urged Fremont forward to Strasburg, and
Shields to Front Royal. They had informed them, by the telegraph, of
each other's situation, and had passed on such intelligence of the
enemy's movements as had been acquired at Harper's Ferry; and yet,
although the information was sufficiently exact, both Shields and
Fremont, just as Jackson anticipated, held back at the decisive
moment. The waters had been held back, and the Confederates had
passed through them dry-shod. Such is the effect of uncertainty in
war; a mighty power in the hands of a general who understands its
scope.

June 1.

On the morning of June 1, Jackson's only remaining anxiety was to
bring Winder back, and to expedite the retreat of the convoy. Ewell
was therefore ordered to support Ashby, and to hold Fremont in check
until the Stonewall Brigade had passed through Strasburg. The task
was easily accomplished. At seven in the morning the Confederate
pickets were driven in. As they fell back on their supports, the
batteries on both sides came rapidly into action, and the Federal
infantry pressed forward. But musketry replied to musketry, and
finding the road blocked by a line of riflemen, Fremont ordered his
troops to occupy a defensive position on Cedar Creek. "I was entirely
ignorant," he says, "of what had taken place in the Valley beyond,
and it was now evident that Jackson, in superior force, was at or
near Strasburg." His men, also, appear to have caught the spirit of
irresolution, for a forward movement on the part of the Confederates
drove in Blenker's Germans with the greatest ease. "Sheep," says
General Taylor, "would have made as much resistance as we met. Men
decamped without firing, or threw down their arms and surrendered.
Our whole skirmish line was, advancing briskly. I sought Ewell and
reported. We had a fine game before us, and the temptation to play it
was great; but Jackson's orders were imperative and wise. He had his
stores to save, Shields to guard against, Lee's grand strategy to
promote. He could not waste time chasing Fremont."* (* Destruction
and Reconstruction page 78.)

Winder reached Strasburg about noon. The troops that had been facing
Fremont were then withdrawn; and the whole force, now reunited, fell
back on Woodstock; Ashby, with the cavalry, holding his old position
on Tom's Brook. The retreat was made in full view of the Federal
scouts. On the Confederates retiring from before him, Fremont had
pushed forward a reconnaissance, and Bayard's cavalry brigade, of
McDowell's army, came up in the evening on the other flank. But
attack was useless. The Confederate trains were disappearing in the
distance, and heavy masses of all arms were moving slowly south. The
Federal horsemen were unsupported save by a single battery. McDowell,
who had reached Front Royal with part of his Second Division in the
morning, had endeavoured to push Shields forward upon Strasburg. But
Shields, fearing attack, had dispersed his troops to guard the
various roads; and when at last they were assembled, misled by
erroneous information, he had directed them on Winchester. Before the
mistake was discovered the day had passed away. It was not until the
next morning that the Federal columns came into communication, and
then Jackson was already south of Woodstock.

On Friday morning, May 29, says Allan, "Jackson was in front of
Harper's Ferry, fifty miles from Strasburg. Fremont was at Fabius,
twenty miles from Strasburg; and Shields was not more than twenty
miles from Strasburg, for his advance entered Front Royal, which is
but twelve miles distant, before mid-day, while McDowell was
following with two divisions. Yet by Sunday night Jackson had marched
between fifty and sixty miles, though encumbered with prisoners and
captured stores, had reached Strasburg before either of his
adversaries, and had passed safely between their armies, while he
held Fremont at bay by a show of force, and blinded and bewildered
Shields by the rapidity of his movements."

From the morning of May 19 to the night of June 1, a period of
fourteen days, the Army of the Valley had marched one hundred and
seventy miles, had routed a force of 12,500 men, had threatened the
North with invasion, had drawn off McDowell from Fredericksburg, had
seized the hospitals and supply depots at Front Royal, Winchester,*
(* Quartermaster's stores, to the value of 25,000 pounds, were
captured at Winchester alone, and 9,354 small arms, besides two guns,
were carried back to Staunton.) and Martinsburg, and finally,
although surrounded on three sides by 60,000 men, had brought off a
huge convoy without losing a single waggon.

This remarkable achievement, moreover, had been comparatively
bloodless. The loss of 618 officers and men was a small price to pay
for such results.* (* 68 killed; 386 wounded; 3 missing; 156
captured.)

That Jackson's lucky star was in the ascendant there can be little
doubt. But fortune had far less to do with his success than skill and
insight; and in two instances--the misconduct of his cavalry, and the
surprise of the 12th Georgia--the blind goddess played him false. Not
that he trusted to her favours. "Every movement throughout the whole
period," says one of his staff officers, "was the result of profound
calculation. He knew what his men could do, and to whom he could
entrust the execution of important orders."* (* Letter from Major
Hotchkiss.) Nor was his danger of capture, on his retreat from
Harper's Ferry, so great as it appeared.

May 31 was the crisis of his operations. On that morning, when the
prisoners and the convoy marched out of Winchester, Shields was at
Front Royal. But Shields was unsupported; Ord's division was fifteen
miles in rear, and Bayard's cavalry still further east. Even had he
moved boldly on Strasburg he could hardly have seized the town. The
ground was in Jackson's favour. The only road available for the
Federals was that which runs south of the North Fork and the bridges
had been destroyed. At that point, three miles east of Strasburg, a
small flank-guard might have blocked the way until the main body of
the Confederates had got up. And had Fremont, instead of halting that
evening at Cedar Creek, swept Ashby aside and pushed forward to join
his colleague, the Valley army might easily have effected its
retreat. Winder alone would have been cut off, and Jackson had
provided for that emergency.

When the embarrassments under which the Federals laboured are laid
bare, the passage of the Confederates between the converging armies
loses something of its extraordinary character. Nevertheless, the
defeat of the Front Royal garrison and the loss of the bridges was
enough to have shaken the strongest nerves. Had Jackson then burnt
his convoy, and released his prisoners, few would have blamed him;
and the tenacity with which he held to his original purpose, the
skill with which he imposed on both Shields and Fremont, are no less
admirable than his perception of his opponents' difficulties. Well
has it been said: "What gross ignorance of human nature do those
declaimers display who assert that the employing of brute force is
the highest qualification of a general!"


NOTE

POSITION OF THE TROOPS, MAY 29 TO JUNE 1

Night of May 29

FEDERALS

McDowell (Shields, 10,200, Rectorstown.
         (Ord, 9000, Thoroughfare Gap.
         (Bayard, 2000. Catlett's Station.
Fremont, 15,000, Fabius.
Saxton, 7000, Harper's Ferry.
Banks, 7000, Williamsport.
Geary, 2000, Middleburg.

CONFEDERATES

Jackson's Division, 7200, Halltown.
Ewell's Division, 5000, Halltown
Ashby. 300, Wardensville road.
Taylor's Brigade, 8000, Berryville.
12th Georgia Regiment, 450, Front Royal.
2nd Virginia Regiment, 350, Loudoun Heights.

Night of May 30

FEDERALS

McDowell (Shields, 10,200, Front Royal.
         (Ord, 9000, Piedmont.
         (Bayard, 2000, Thoroughfare Gap.
         (King, 10,000, near Catlett's Station.
Saxton, 7000, Harper's Ferry.
Banks, 8,600, Williamsport.
Fremont, 15,000, Wardensville.
Geary, 2000, Upperville.

CONFEDERATES

Army of Valley, 13,850, Winchester.
Stonewall Brigade, 1600, Halltown.
2nd Virginia Regiment, 380, Loudoun Heights.
Ashby, 300, Wardensville Road.

Night of May 31

CONFEDERATES

McDowell (Shields, Front Royal.
         (Ord, Manassas Gap.
         (King, Catlett's Station.
         (Bayard, Manassas Gap.
Saxton, Harper's Ferry.
Banks, Williamsport.
Fremont, Cedar Creek.
Geary, Snicker's and Ashby's Gaps.

CONFEDERATES

Army of Valley, Strasburg.
Stonewall Brigade, Newtown.
Ashby, Cedar Creek,

Night of June 1

FEDERALS

McDowell (Shields, ten miles south of Front Royal.
         (Ord, Front Royal.
         (King, Haymarket.
         (Bayard, Buckton.
Saxton, Harper's Ferry.
Banks, Williamsport.
Fremont, Cedar Creek.
Geary, Snicker's and Ashby's Gaps.

CONFEDERATES

Army of Valley, Woodstock.
Ashby, Tom's Brook.

Total strength  Federal     62,000
                Confederate 16,000

</section>
<section id="14" fatherid="1" title="CROSS KEYS AND PORT REPUBLIC" lv="CHAPTER 1.11." priority="0" level="2">
By the ignorant and the envious success in war is easily explained
away. The dead military lion, and, for that matter, even the living,
is a fair mark for the heels of a baser animal. The greatest captains
have not escaped the critics. The genius of Napoleon has been
belittled on the ground that each one of his opponents, except
Wellington, was only second-rate. French historians have attributed
Wellington's victories to the mutual jealousy of the French marshals;
and it has been asserted that Moltke triumphed only because his
adversaries blundered. Judged by this rule few reputations would
survive. In war, however, it is as impossible to avoid error as it is
to avoid loss of life; but it is by no means simple either to detect
or to take advantage of mistakes. Before both Napoleon and Wellington
an unsound manoeuvre was dangerous in the extreme. None were so quick
to see the slip, none more prompt to profit by it. Herein, to a very
great extent, lay the secret of their success, and herein lies the
true measure of military genius. A general is not necessarily
incapable because he makes a false move; both Napoleon and
Wellington, in the long course of their campaigns, gave many openings
to a resolute foe, and both missed opportunities. Under ordinary
circumstances mistakes may easily escape notice altogether, or at all
events pass unpunished, and the reputation of the leader who commits
them will remain untarnished. But if he is pitted against a master of
war a single false step may lead to irretrievable ruin; and he will
be classed as beneath contempt for a fault which his successful
antagonist may have committed with impunity a hundred times over.

So Jackson's escape from Winchester was not due simply to the
inefficiency of the Federal generals, or to the ignorance of the
Federal President. Lincoln was wrong in dispatching McDowell to Front
Royal in order to cut off Jackson. When Shields, in execution of this
order,  Fredericksburg, the Confederates were only five miles
north of Winchester, and had they at once retreated McDowell must
have missed them by many miles. McDowell, hotly protesting, declared,
and ly, that the movement he had been ordered to execute was
strategically false. "It is impossible," he said, "that Jackson can
have been largely reinforced. He is merely creating a diversion, and
the surest way to bring him from the lower Valley is for me to move
rapidly on Richmond. In any case, it would be wiser to move on
Gordonsville."* (* O.R. volume 12 part 3 pages 220, 229 (letter of S.
P. Chase).) His arguments were unavailing. But when Jackson pressed
forward to the Potomac, it became possible to intercept him, and the
President did all he could to assist his generals. He kept them
constantly informed of the movements of the enemy and of each other.
He  them a free hand, and with an opponent less able his
instructions would have probably brought about complete success. Nor
were the generals to blame. They failed to accomplish the task that
had been set them, and they made mistakes. But the task was
difficult; and, if at the critical moment the hazard of their
situation proved too much for their resolution, it was exactly what
might have been expected. The initial error of the Federals was in
sending two detached forces, under men of no particular strength of
character, from opposite points of the compass, to converge upon an
enemy who was believed to be superior to either of them. Jackson at
once recognised the blunder, and foreseeing the consequences that
were certain to ensue, resolved to profit by them. His escape, then,
was the reward of his own sagacity.

When once the actual position of the Confederates had been
determined, and the dread that reinforcements were coming down the
Valley had passed away, the vigour of the Federal pursuit 
nothing to be desired.

June 1.

Directly it was found that the Confederates had gone south, on the
afternoon of June 1, Shields was directed on Luray, and that night
his advanced guard was ten miles beyond Front Royal; on the other
side of the Massanuttons, Fremont, with Bayard's cavalry heading his
advance, moved rapidly on Woodstock.

The Federal generals, however, had to do with a foe who never relaxed
his vigilance. Whilst Ashby and Ewell, on May 31, were engaged with
Fremont at Cedar Creek, Jackson had expected that Shields would
advance on Strasburg. But not a single infantry soldier was observed
on the Front Royal road throughout the day. Such inaction was
suspicious, and the probability to which it pointed had not escaped
the penetration of the Confederate leader. His line of retreat was
the familiar route by New Market and Harrisonburg to Port Republic,
and thence to the Gaps of the Blue Ridge. There he could secure an
unassailable position, within reach of the railway and of Richmond.
But, during the movement, danger threatened from the valley of the
South Fork. Should Shields adopt that line of advance the White House
and Columbia bridges would give him easy access to New Market; and
while Fremont was pressing the Confederates in rear, their flank
might be assailed by fresh foes from the Luray Gap. And even if the
retiring column should pass New Market in safety, Shields, holding
the bridges at Conrad's Store and Port Republic, might block the
passage to the Blue Ridge. Jackson, looking at the situation from his
enemy's point of view, came to the conclusion that a movement up the
valley of the South Fork was already in progress, and that the aim of
the Federal commander would be to secure the bridges. His conjectures
hit the mark.

Before leaving Front Royal Shields ordered his cavalry to march
rapidly up the valley of the South Fork, and seize the bridge at
Conrad's Store; the White House and Columbia bridges he intended to
secure himself. But Jackson was not to be so easily overreached.

June 2.

On the night of June 2 the Federal cavalry reached Luray, to find
that they had come too late. The White House and Columbia bridges had
both been burned by a detachment of Confederate horse, and Shields
was thus cut off from New Market. At dawn on the 4th, after a forced
night march, his advanced guard reached Conrad's Store to find that
bridge also gone,* (* Of the existence of the bridge at Port
Republic, held by a party of Confederate cavalry, the Federals do not
appear to have been aware.) and he was once more foiled. On his
arrival at Luray, the sound of cannon on the other side of the
Massanuttons was plainly heard. It seemed probable that Jackson and
Fremont were already in collision; but Shields, who had written a few
hours before to Mr. Stanton that with supplies and forage he could
"stampede the enemy to Richmond," was unable to stir a foot to assist
his colleague.

Once again Jackson had turned to account the strategic possibilities
of the Massanuttons and the Shenandoah; and, to increase General
Shields' embarrassment, the weather had broken. Heavy and incessant
rain-storms submerged the Virginia roads. He was ahead of his
supplies; much hampered by the mud; and the South Fork of the
Shenandoah, cutting him off from Fremont, rolled a volume of rushing
water which it was impossible to bridge without long delay.

Meanwhile, west of the great mountain, the tide of war, which had
swept with such violence to the Potomac, came surging back. Fremont,
by the rapidity of his pursuit, made full amends for his lack of
vigour at Cedar Creek. A cloud of horsemen filled the space between
the hostile columns. Day after day the quiet farms and sleepy
villages on the Valley turnpike heard the thunder of Ashby's guns.
Every stream that crossed the road was the scene of a fierce
skirmish; and the ripening corn was trampled under the hoofs of the
charging squadrons. On June 2, the first day of the pursuit, between
Strasburg and Woodstock the Federals, boldly led by Bayard, gained a
distinct advantage. A dashing attack drove in the Confederate
rear-guard, swept away the horse artillery, and sent Ashby's and
Steuart's regiments, exhausted by hunger and loss of sleep, flying up
the Valley. Many prisoners were taken, and the pursuit was only
checked by a party of infantry stragglers, whom Ashby had succeeded
in rallying across the road.

Next day, June 3, the skirmishing was continued; and the
Confederates, burning the bridges across the roads, retreated to
Mount Jackson.

June 4.

On the 4th the bridge over the North Fork was given to the flames,
Ashby, whose horse was shot under him, remaining to the last; and the
deep and turbulent river placed an impassable obstacle between the
armies. Under a deluge of rain the Federals attempted to launch their
pontoons; but the boats were swept away by the rising flood, and it
was not till the next morning that the bridge was made.

June 5.

The Confederates had thus gained twenty-four hours' respite, and
contact was not resumed until the 6th. Jackson, meanwhile,
constructing a ferry at Mount Crawford, had sent his sick and wounded
to Staunton, thus saving them the long detour by Port Republic; and
dispatching his stores and prisoners by the more circuitous route,
had passed through Harrisonburg to Cross Keys, a clump of buildings
on Mill Creek, where, on the night of the 5th, his infantry and
artillery, with the exception of a brigade supporting the cavalry,
went into bivouac.

June 6.

On the afternoon of the 6th the Federal cavalry followed Ashby. Some
three miles from Harrisonburg is a tract of forest, crowning a long
ridge; and within the timber the Confederate squadrons occupied a
strong position. The enemy, 800 strong, pursued without precaution,
charged up a gentle hill, and were repulsed by a heavy fire. Then
Ashby let loose his mounted men on the broken ranks, and the Federals
were driven back to within half a mile of Harrisonburg, losing 4
officers and 30 men.

Smarting under this defeat, Fremont threw forward a still stronger
force of cavalry, strengthened by two battalions of infantry. Ashby
had already called up a portion of the brigade which supported him,
and met the attack in a clearing of the forest. The fight was fierce.
The Confederates were roughly handled by the Northern riflemen, and
the ranks began to waver. Riding to the front, where the opposing
lines were already at close range, Ashby called upon his infantry to
charge.

As he gave the order his horse fell heavily to the ground. Leaping to
his feet in an instant, again he shouted, "Charge, men! for God's
sake, charge!" The regiments rallied, and inspired by his example
swept forward from the wood. But hardly had they  the covert when
their leader fell, shot through the heart. He was speedily avenged.
The men who followed him, despite the heavy fire, dashed at the enemy
in front and flank, and drove them from their ground. The cavalry,
meanwhile, had worked round in rear; the horse artillery found an
opportunity for action; and under cover of the night the Federals
fell back on Harrisonburg.

The losses of the Union troops were heavy; but the Confederate
victory was dearly purchased. The death of Ashby was a terrible blow
to the Army of the Valley. From the outbreak of the war he had been
employed on the Shenandoah, and from Staunton to the Potomac his was
the most familiar figure in the Confederate ranks. His daring rides
on his famous white charger were already the theme of song and story;
and if the tale of his exploits, as told in camp and farm, sometimes
bordered on the marvellous, the bare truth, stripped of all
exaggeration, was sufficient in itself to make a hero. His reckless
courage, his fine horsemanship, his skill in handling his command,
and his power of stimulating devotion, were not the only attributes
which incited admiration. "With such qualities," it is said, "were
united the utmost generosity and unselfishness, and a delicacy of
feeling equal to a woman's." His loss came home with especial force
to Jackson. After the unfortunate episode in the pursuit from
Middletown, he had rated his cavalry leader in no measured terms for
the indiscipline of his command; and for some days their intercourse,
usually most cordial, had been simply official. Sensitive in the
extreme to any reflection upon himself or his troops, Ashby held
aloof; and Jackson, always stern when a breach of duty was concerned,
made no overtures for a renewal of friendly intercourse. Fortunately,
before the fatal fight near Harrisonburg, they had been fully
reconciled; and with no shadow of remorse Jackson was able to offer
his tribute to the dead. Entering the room in Port Republic, whither
the body had been brought, he remained for a time alone with his old
comrade; and in sending an order to his cavalry, added, "Poor Ashby
is dead. He fell gloriously--one of the noblest men and soldiers in
the Confederate army." A more public testimony was to come. In his
official report he wrote: "The close relation General Ashby bore to
my command for most of the previous twelve months will justify me in
saying that as a partisan officer I never knew his superior. His
daring was proverbial, his powers of endurance almost incredible, his
character heroic, and his sagacity almost intuitive in divining the
purposes and movements of the enemy."

On the 6th and 7th the Confederate infantry rested on the banks of
Mill Creek, near Cross Keys. The cavalry, on either flank of the
Massanuttons, watched both Fremont's camps at Harrisonburg and the
slow advance of Shields; and on the southern peak of the mountains a
party of signallers, under a staff officer, looked down upon the
roads which converged on the Confederate position.

June 7.

June 7 was passed in unwonted quiet. For the first time for fifteen
days since the storming of Front Royal the boom of the guns was
silent. The glory of the summer brooded undisturbed on hill and
forest; and as the escort which followed Ashby to his grave passed
down the quiet country roads, the Valley lay still and peaceful in
the sunshine. Not a single Federal scout observed the melancholy
cortege. Fremont's pursuit had been roughly checked. He was uncertain
in which direction the main body of the Confederates had retreated;
and it was not till evening that a strong force of infantry,
reconnoitring through the woods, struck Jackson's outposts near the
hamlet of Cross Keys. Only a few shots were exchanged.

Shields, meanwhile, had concentrated his troops at Columbia Bridge on
the 6th, and presuming that Jackson was standing fast on the strong
position at Rude's Hill, was preparing to cross the river. Later in
the day a patrol, which had managed to communicate with Fremont,
informed him that Jackson was retreating, and the instructions he
thereupon dispatched to the officer commanding his advanced guard are
worthy of record:

"The enemy passed New Market on the 5th; Blenker's division on the
6th in pursuit. The enemy has flung away everything, and their
stragglers fill the mountain. They need only a movement on the flank
to panic-strike them, and break them into fragments. No man has had
such a chance since the war commenced. You are within thirty miles of
a broken, retreating enemy, who still hangs together. 10,000 Germans
are on his rear, who hang on like bull-dogs. You have only to throw
yourself down on Waynesborough before him, and your cavalry will
capture them by the thousands, seize his train and abundant
supplies."* (* O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 352.)

In anticipation, therefore, of an easy triumph, and, to use his own
words, of "thundering down on Jackson's rear," Shields, throwing
precaution to the winds, determined to move as rapidly as possible on
Port Republic. He had written to Fremont urging a combined attack on
"the demoralised rebels," and he thought that together they "would
finish Jackson." His only anxiety was that the enemy might escape,
and in his haste he neglected the warning of his Corps commander.
McDowell, on dispatching him in pursuit, had directed his attention
to the importance of keeping his division well closed up. Jackson's
predilection for dealing with exposed detachments had evidently been
noted. Shields' force, however, owing to the difficulties of the
road, the mud, the quick-sands, and the swollen streams, was already
divided into several distinct fractions. His advanced brigade was
south of Conrad's Store; a second was some miles in rear, and two
were at Luray, retained at that point in consequence of a report that
8000 Confederates were crossing the Blue Ridge by Thornton's Gap. To
correct this faulty formation before advancing he thought was not
worth while. On the night of June 7 he was sure of his prey.

The situation at this juncture was as follows: Shields was stretched
out over five-and-twenty miles of road in the valley of the South
Fork; Fremont was at Harrisonburg; Ewell's division was near Cross
Keys, and the main body of the Valley Army near Port Republic.

During his retreat Jackson had kept his attention fixed on Shields.
That ardent Irishman pictured his old enemy flying in confusion,
intent only on escape. He would have been much astonished had he
learned the truth. From the moment Jackson  Strasburg, during the
whole time he was retreating, with the "bull-dogs" at his heels, he
was meditating a counter-stroke, and his victim had already been
selected. When Shields rushed boldly up the valley of the South Fork
it seemed that an opportunity of avenging Kernstown was about to
offer. On June 4, the day that the enemy reached Luray, Ewell was
ordered to provide his men with two days' cooked rations and to
complete their ammunition "for active service." The next day,
however, it was found that Shields had halted. Ewell was ordered to
stand fast, and Jackson wrote despondently to Lee: "At present I do
not see that I can do much more than rest my command and devote its
time to drilling." On the 6th, however, he learned that Shields'
advanced guard had resumed its march; and, like a tiger crouching in
the jungle, he prepared to spring upon his prey. But Fremont was
close at hand, and Shields and Fremont between them mustered nearly
25,000 men. They were certainly divided by the Shenandoah; but they
were fast converging on Port Republic; and in a couple of marches, if
not actually within sight of each other's camps, they would come
within hearing of each other's guns. Yet, notwithstanding their
numbers, Jackson had determined to deal with them in detail.

A few miles from the camp at Port Republic was a hill honeycombed
with caverns, known as the Grottoes of the Shenandoah. In the heart
of the limestone Nature has built herself a palace of many chambers,
vast, silent, and magnificent. But far beyond the beauty of her
mysterious halls was the glorious prospect which lay before the eyes
of the Confederate sentries. Glimmering aisles and dark recesses,
where no sunbeam lurks nor summer wind whispers, compared but ill
with those fruitful valleys, watered by clear brown rivers, and
steeped in the glow of a Virginian June. To the north stood the
Massanuttons, with their forests sleeping in the noon-day; and to the
 of the Massanuttons, displaying, in that transparent
atmosphere, every shade of that royal colour from which it takes its
name, the Blue Ridge loomed large against the eastern sky. Summit
after summit, each more delicately pencilled than the last, receded
to the horizon, and beneath their feet, still, dark, and unbroken as
the primeval wilderness, broad leagues of woodland stretched far away
over a lonely land.

No battle-field boasts a fairer setting than Port Republic; but,
lover of Nature as he was, the region was attractive to Jackson for
reasons of a sterner sort. It was eminently adapted for the purpose
he had at heart.

1. The South Fork of the Shenandoah is formed by the junction of two
streams, the North and South Rivers; the village of Port Republic
lying on the peninsula between the two.

2. The bridge crosses the North River just above the junction,
carrying the Harrisonburg road into Port Republic; but the South
River, which cuts off Port Republic from the Luray Valley, is
passable only by two difficult fords.

3. North of the village, on the  bank of the Shenandoah, a line
of high bluffs, covered with scattered timber, completely commands
the tract of open country which lies between the river and the Blue
Ridge, and across this tract ran the road by which Shields was
marching.

4. Four miles north-west of Port Republic, near the village of Cross
Keys, the road to Harrisonburg crosses Mill Creek, a strong position
for defence.

By transferring his army across the Shenandoah, and burning the
bridge at Port Republic, Jackson could easily have escaped Fremont,
and have met Shields in the Luray Valley with superior force. But the
plain where the battle must be fought was commanded by the bluffs on
the  bank of the Shenandoah; and should Fremont advance while an
engagement was in progress, even though he could not cross the
stream, he might assail the Confederates in flank with his numerous
batteries. In order, then, to gain time in which to deal with
Shields, it was essential that Fremont should be held back, and this
could only be done on the  bank. Further, if Fremont could be
held back until Shields' force was annihilated, the former would be
isolated. If Jackson could hold the bridge at Port Republic, and also
prevent Fremont reaching the bluffs, he could recross when he had
done with Shields, and fight Fremont without fear of interruption.

To reverse the order, and to annihilate Fremont before falling upon
Shields, was out of the question. Whether he advanced against Fremont
or whether he stood still to receive his attack, Jackson's rear and
communications, threatened by Shields, must be protected by a strong
detachment. It would be thus impossible to meet Fremont with superior
or even equal numbers, and an army weaker on the battlefield could
not make certain of decisive victory.

Jackson had determined to check Fremont at Mill Creek. But the
situation was still uncertain. Fremont had halted at Harrisonburg,
and it was possible that he might advance no further. So the
Confederates were divided, ready to meet either adversary; Ewell
remaining at Cross Keys, and the Stonewall division encamping near
Port Republic.

June 8.

On the morning of June 8, however, it was found that Fremont was
moving. Ewell's division was already under arms. At 8.30 A.M. his
pickets, about two miles to the front, became engaged, and the
Confederate regiments moved leisurely into position.

The line ran along the crest of a narrow ridge, commanding an open
valley, through which Mill Creek, an insignificant brook, ran
parallel to the front. The further slopes, open and unobstructed
except for scattered trees and a few fences, rose gently to a lower
ridge, about a mile distant. The ground held by the Confederates was
only partially cleared, and from the Port Republic road in the
centre, at a distance of six hundred yards on either flank, were
woods of heavy timber, enclosing the valley, and jutting out towards
the enemy. The ridge beyond the valley was also thickly wooded; but
here, too, there were open spaces on which batteries might be
deployed; and the forest in rear, where Ashby had been killed,
standing on higher ground, completely concealed the Federal approach.
The pickets, however, had given ample warning of the coming attack;
and when, at 10 A.M., the hostile artillery appeared on the opposite
height, it was received with a heavy fire. "Eight and a half
batteries," says Fremont, "were brought into action within thirty
minutes." Against this long array of guns the Confederates massed
only five batteries; but these commanded the open ground, and were
all in action from the first.

Ewell had with him no more than three brigades. The Louisiana
regiments had bivouacked near Port Republic, and were not yet up. The
whole strength of the troops which held the ridge was no more than
6000 infantry, and perhaps 500 cavalry. Fremont had at least 10,000
infantry, twelve batteries, and 2000 cavalry.

It was then against overwhelming numbers that Ewell was asked to hold
his ground, and the remainder of the army was four miles in rear.
Jackson himself was still absent from the field. The arrangements for
carrying out his ambitious plans had met with an unexpected hitch. In
the Luray Valley, from Conrad's Store northwards, the space between
the Blue Ridge and the Shenandoah was covered for the most part with
dense forest, and through this forest ran the road. Moving beneath
the spreading foliage of oak and hickory, Shields' advanced brigade
was concealed from the observation of the Confederate cavalry; and
the signallers on the mountain, endangered by Fremont's movement, had
been withdrawn.

North of Port Republic, between the foot-hills of the Blue Ridge and
the Shenandoah, lies a level tract of arable and meadow, nearly a
mile wide, and extending for nearly three miles in a northerly
direction. On the plain were the Confederate pickets, furnished by
three companies of Ashby's regiment, with their patrols on the roads
towards Conrad's Store; and there seemed little chance that Shields
would be able to reach the fords over the South River, much less the
Port Republic bridge, without long notice being given of his
approach. The cavalry, however, as had been already proved, were not
entirely to be depended on. Jackson, whose headquarters were within
the village, had already mounted his horse to ride forward to Cross
Keys, when there was a distant fire, a sudden commotion in the
streets, and a breathless messenger from the outposts reported that
not only had the squadrons on picket been surprised and scattered,
but that the enemy was already fording the South River.

Between the two rivers, south-west of Port Republic, were the
Confederate trains, parked in the open fields. Here was Carrington's
battery, with a small escort; and now the cavalry had fled there were
no other troops, save a single company of the 2nd Virginia, on this
side the Shenandoah. The squadron which headed the Federal advanced
guard was accompanied by two guns. One piece was sent towards the
bridge; the other, unlimbering on the further bank, opened fire on
the church, and the horsemen trotted cautiously forward into the
village street. Jackson, warned of his danger, had already made for
the bridge, and crossing at a gallop escaped capture by the barest
margin of time. His chief of artillery, Colonel Crutchfield, was made
prisoner, with Dr. McGuire and Captain Willis,* (* All three of these
officers escaped from their captors.) and his whole staff was
dispersed, save Captain Pendleton, a sterling soldier, though hardly
more than a boy in years. And the danger was not over. With the
trains was the whole of the reserve ammunition, and it seemed that a
crushing disaster was near at hand. The sudden appearance of the
enemy caused the greatest consternation amongst the teamsters;
several of the waggons went off by the Staunton road; and, had the
Federal cavalry come on, the whole would have been stampeded. But
Carrington's battery was called to the front by Captain Moore,
commanding the company of infantry in the village. The picket,
promptly put into position, opened with a well-aimed volley, and a
few rounds checked the enemy's advance; the guns came rapidly and
effectively into action, and at this critical moment Jackson
intervened with his usual vigour.* (* According to General Shields'
account his cavalry had reported to him that the bridge at Port
Republic had been burned, and he had therefore ordered his advanced
guard to take up a defensive position and prevent the Confederates
crossing the Shenandoah River. It was the head of the detachment
which had dispersed the Confederate squadrons.) From the  bank of
the North River he saw a gun bearing on the bridge, the village
swarming with blue uniforms, and more artillery unlimbering across
the river. He had already sent orders for his infantry to fall in,
and a six-pounder was hurrying to the front. "I was surprised," said
the officer to whose battery this piece belonged, "to see a gun
posted on the opposite bank. Although I had met a cavalry man who
told me that the enemy were advancing up the river, still I did not
think it possible they could have brought any guns into the place in
so short a time. It thereupon occurred to me that the piece at the
bridge might be one of Carrington's, whose men had new uniforms
something like those we saw at the bridge. Upon suggesting this to
the general, he reflected a moment, and then riding a few paces to
the  and front, he called out, in a tone loud enough to be heard
by the enemy, "Bring that gun up here!" but getting no reply, he
raised himself in his stirrups, and in a most authoritative and
seemingly angry tone he shouted, "Bring that gun up here, I say!" At
this they began to move the trail of the gun so as to bring it to
bear on us, which, when the general perceived, he turned quickly to
the officer in charge of my gun, and said in his sharp, quick way,
"Let 'em have it!" The words had scarcely  his lips when
Lieutenant Brown, who had his piece charged and aimed, sent a shot
 among them, so disconcerting them that theirs in reply went far
above us."* (* Related by Colonel Poague, C.S.A.)

The Confederate battalions, some of which had been formed up for
inspection, or for the Sunday service, when the alarm was given, had
now come up, and the 87th Virginia was ordered to capture the gun,
and to clear the village. Without a moment's hesitation the regiment
charged with a yell across the bridge, and so sudden was the rush
that the Federal artillerymen were surprised. The gun was
double-shotted with canister, and the head of the column should have
been swept away. But the aim was high and the Confederates escaped.
Then, as the limber came forward, the horses, terrified by the heavy
fire and the yells of the charging infantry, became unmanageable; and
the gunners, abandoning the field-piece, fled through the streets of
Port Republic. The 87th rushed forward with a yell. The hostile
cavalry, following the gunners, sought safety by the fords; and as
the rout dashed through the shallow water, the Confederate batteries,
coming into action on the high bluffs west of the Shenandoah, swept
the plain below with shot and shell.

The hostile artillery beyond the stream was quickly overpowered;
horses were shot down wholesale; a second gun was abandoned on the
road; a third, which had only two horses and a driver , was
thrown into a swamp; and a fourth was found on the field without
either team or men.

The Federal infantry was not more fortunate. Carroll's brigade of
four regiments was close in rear of the artillery when the
Confederate batteries opened fire. Catching the contagion from the
flying cavalry, it retreated northward in confusion. A second brigade
(Tyler's) came up in support; but the bluffs beyond the river were
now occupied by Jackson's infantry; a stream of fire swept the plain;
and as Shields' advanced guard, followed by the Confederate cavalry,
fell back to the woods whence it had emerged, five miles away on the
other flank was heard the roar of the cannonade which opened the
battle of Cross Keys.

From the hurried flight of the Federals it was evident that Shields'
main body was not yet up; so, placing two brigades in position to
guard the bridge, Jackson sent the remainder to Ewell, and then rode
to the scene of action.

Fremont, under cover of his guns, had made his preparations for
attack; but the timidity which he had already displayed when face to
face with Jackson had once more taken possession of his faculties.
Vigorous in pursuit of a flying enemy, when that enemy turned at bay
his courage vanished. The Confederate position was undoubtedly
strong, but it was not impregnable. The woods on either flank gave
access under cover to the central ridge. The superior weight of his
artillery was sufficient to cover an advance across the open; and
although he was without maps or guide, the country was not so
intersected as to render manoeuvring impracticable.

In his official report Fremont lays great stress on the difficulties
of the ground; but reading between the lines it is easy to see that
it was the military situation which overburdened him. The vicious
strategy of converging columns, where intercommunication is tedious
and uncertain, once more exerted its paralysing influence. It was
some days since he had heard anything of Shields. That general's
dispatch, urging a combined attack, had not yet reached him: whether
he had passed Luray or whether he had been already beaten, Fremont
was altogether ignorant; and, in his opinion, it was quite possible
that the whole of the Confederate army was before him.

A more resolute commander would probably have decided that the
shortest way out of the dilemma was a vigorous attack. If Shields was
within hearing of the guns--and it was by no means improbable that he
was--such a course was the surest means of securing his co-operation;
and even if no help came, and the Confederates maintained their
position, they might be so crippled as to be unable to pursue. Defeat
would not have been an irreparable misfortune. Washington was secure.
Banks, Saxton, and McDowell held the approaches; and if Fremont
himself were beaten back, the strategic situation could be in no way
affected. In fact a defeat, if it had followed an attack so hotly
pressed as to paralyse Jackson for the time being, would have been
hardly less valuable than a victory.

"Fortune," it has been well said, "loves a daring suitor, and he who
throws down the gauntlet may always count upon his adversary to help
him." Fremont, however, was more afraid of losing the battle than
anxious to win it. "Taking counsel of his fears," he would run no
risks. But neither could he abstain from action altogether. An enemy
was in front of him who for seven days had fled before him, and his
own army anticipated an easy triumph.

So, like many another general who has shrunk from the nettle danger,
he sought refuge in half-measures, the most damning course of all. Of
twenty-four regiments present on the field of battle, five only, of
Blenker's Germans, were sent forward to the attack. Their onslaught
was directed against the Confederate ; and here, within the
woods, Trimble had posted his brigade in a most advantageous
position. A flat-topped ridge, covered with great oaks, looked down
upon a wide meadow, crossed by a stout fence; and beyond the hollow
lay the woods through which the Federals, already in contact with the
Confederate outposts, were rapidly advancing. The pickets soon gave
way, and crossing the meadow found cover within the thickets, where
Trimble's three regiments lay concealed. In hot pursuit came the
Federal skirmishers, with the solid lines of their brigade in close
support. Steadily moving forward, they climbed the fence and breasted
the gentle slope beyond. A few scattered shots, fired by the
retreating pickets, were the only indications of the enemy's
presence; the groves beyond were dark and silent. The skirmishers had
reached the crest of the declivity, and the long wave of bayonets,
following close upon their tracks, was within sixty paces of the
covert, when the thickets stirred suddenly with sound and movement.
The Southern riflemen rose swiftly to their feet. A sheet of fire ran
along their line, followed by a crash that resounded through the
woods; and the German regiments, after a vigorous effort to hold
their ground, fell back in disorder across the clearing. Here, on the
further edge, they rallied on their reserves, and the Confederates,
who had followed up no further than was sufficient to give impetus to
the retreat, were once more withdrawn.

A quarter of an hour passed, and as the enemy showed no inclination
to attempt a second advance across the meadow, where the dead and
wounded were lying thick, Trimble, sending word to Ewell of his
intention, determined to complete his victory. More skilful than his
enemies, he sent a regiment against their , to which a convenient
ravine gave easy access, while the troops among the oaks were held
back till the flank attack was fully developed. The unexpected
movement completely surprised the Federal brigadier. Again his troops
were driven in, and the Confederates, now reinforced by six regiments
which Ewell had sent up, forced them with heavy losses through the
woods, compelled two batteries, after a fierce fight, to limber up,
routed a brigade which had been sent by Fremont to support the
attack, and pressing slowly but continuously forward, threw the whole
of the enemy's  wing, consisting of Blenker's eleven regiments,
back to the shelter of his line of guns. Trimble had drawn the
"bulldog's" teeth.

The Confederates had reached the outskirts of the wood. They were a
mile in advance of the batteries in the centre; and the Federal
position, commanding a tract of open ground, was strong in itself and
strongly held. A general counterstroke was outside the scope of
Jackson's designs. He had still Shields to deal with. The Federal
 wing had been heavily repulsed, but only a portion of Fremont's
force had been engaged; to press the attack further would undoubtedly
have cost many lives, and even a partial reverse would have
interfered with his comprehensive plan.

In other quarters of the battle-field the fighting had been
unimportant. The Confederate guns, although heavily outnumbered, held
their ground gallantly for more than five hours; and when they
eventually retired it was from want of ammunition rather than from
loss of moral. The waggons which carried their reserve had taken a
wrong road, and at the critical moment there were no means of
replenishing the supply. But so timid were Fremont's tactics that the
blunder passed unpunished. While the battle on the  was raging
fiercely he had contented himself elsewhere with tapping feebly at
the enemy's lines. In the centre of the field his skirmishers moved
against Ewell's batteries, but were routed by a bayonet charge; on
the , Milroy and Schenck, the two generals who had withstood
Jackson so stubbornly at M'Dowell, advanced on their own initiative
through the woods. They had driven in the Confederate skirmishers,
and had induced Ewell to strengthen this portion of his line from his
reserve, when they were recalled by Fremont, alarmed by Trimble's
vigorous attack, to defend the main position.

The Southerners followed slowly. The day was late, and Ewell,
although his troops were eager to crown their victory, was too cool a
soldier to yield to their impatience; and, as at Cedar Creek, where
also he had driven back the "Dutch" division, so at Cross Keys he
rendered the most loyal support to his commander. Yet he was a
dashing fighter, chafing under the restraint of command, and
preferring the excitement of the foremost line. "On two occasions in
the Valley," says General Taylor, "during the temporary absence of
Jackson, he summoned me to his side, and immediately rushed forward
amongst the skirmishers, where sharp work was going on. Having
refreshed himself, he returned with the hope that "Old Jack would not
catch him at it.""* (*Destruction and Reconstruction, page 39.)

How thoroughly Jackson trusted his subordinate may be inferred from
the fact that, although present on the field, he  Ewell to fight
his own battle. The only instructions he gave showed that he had
fathomed the temper of Fremont's troops. "Let the Federals," he said,
"get very close before your infantry fire; they won't stand long." It
was to Ewell's dispositions, his wise use of his reserves, and to
Trimble's ready initiative, that Fremont's defeat was due. Beyond
sending up a couple of brigades from Port Republic, Jackson gave no
orders. His ambition was of too lofty a kind to appropriate the
honours which another might fairly claim; and, when once battle had
been joined, interference with the plan on which it was being fought
did not commend itself to him as sound generalship. He was not one of
those suspicious commanders who believe that no subordinate can act
intelligently. If he demanded the strictest compliance with his
instructions, he was always content to leave their execution to the
judgment of his generals; and with supreme confidence in his own
capacity, he was still sensible that his juniors in rank might be
just as able. His supervision was constant, but his interference
rare; and it was not till some palpable mistake had been committed
that he assumed direct control of his divisions or brigades. Nor was
any peculiar skill needed to beat back the attack of Fremont. Nothing
proves the Federal leader's want of confidence more clearly than the
tale of losses. The Confederate casualties amounted to 288, of which
nearly half occurred in Trimble's counterstroke. The Federal reports
show 684 killed, wounded, and missing, and of these Trimble's
riflemen accounted for nearly 500, one regiment, the 8th New York,
being almost annihilated; but such losses, although at one point
severe, were altogether insignificant when compared with the total
strength; and it was not the troops who were defeated but the
general.* (* The Confederates at Kernstown lost 20 per cent.; the
Federals at Port Republic 18 per cent. At Manassas the Stonewall
Brigade lost 16 per cent., at Cross Keys Ewell only lost 8 per cent.
and Fremont 5 per cent.)

Ewell's division bivouacked within sight of the enemy's watch-fires,
and within hearing of his outposts; and throughout the night the work
of removing the wounded, friend and foe alike, went on in the sombre
woods. There was work, too, at Port Republic. Jackson, while his men
slept, was all activity. His plans were succeeding admirably. From
Fremont, cowering on the defensive before inferior numbers, there was
little to be feared. It was unlikely that after his repulse he would
be found more enterprising on the morrow; a small force would be
sufficient to arrest his march until Shields had been crushed; and
then, swinging back across the Shenandoah, the soldiers of the Valley
would find ample compensation, in the rout of their most powerful
foe, for the enforced rapidity of their retreat from Winchester. But
to fight two battles in one day, to disappear completely from
Fremont's ken, and to recross the rivers before he had time to seize
the bridge, were manoeuvres of the utmost delicacy, and needed most
careful preparation.

It was Jackson's custom, whenever a subordinate was to be entrusted
with an independent mission, to explain the part that he was to play
in a personal interview. By such means he made certain, first, that
his instructions were thoroughly understood; and, second, that there
was no chance of their purport coming to the knowledge of the enemy.
Ewell was first summoned to headquarters, and then Patton, whose
brigade, together with that of Trimble, was to have the task of
checking Fremont the next day. "I found him at 2 A.M.," says Patton,
"actively engaged in making his dispositions for battle. He
immediately proceeded to give me particular instructions as to the
management of the men in covering the rear, saying: "I wish you to
throw out all your men, if necessary, as skirmishers, and to make a
great show, so as to cause the enemy to think the whole army are
behind you. Hold your position as well as you can, then fall back
when obliged; take a new position, hold it in the same way, and I
will be back to join you in the morning.""

Colonel Patton reminded him that his brigade was a small one, and
that the country between Cross Keys and the Shenandoah offered few
advantages for protracting such manoeuvres. He desired, therefore, to
know for how long he would be expected to hold the enemy in check.
Jackson replied, "By the blessing of Providence, I hope to be back by
ten o'clock."* (* Southern Historical Society Papers volume 9 page
372.)

These interviews were not the only business which occupied the
commanding general. He arranged for the feeding of his troops before
their march next day,* (* Rations appear to have been short, for
General Ewell reports that when he marched against Shields the next
day many of his men had been without food for four-and-twenty hours.)
for the dispositions of his trains and ammunition waggons; and at the
rising of the moon, which occurred about midnight, he was seen on the
banks of the South River, superintending the construction of a bridge
to carry his infantry dryshod across the stream.

An hour before daybreak he was roused from his short slumbers. Major
Imboden, who was in charge of a mule battery,* (* The mule battery
does not appear to have done much more than afford the Confederate
soldiers an opportunity of airing their wit. With the air of men
anxiously seeking for information they would ask the gunners whether
the mule or the gun was intended to go off first? and whether the gun
was to fire the mule or the mule the gun?) looking for one of the
staff, entered by mistake the general's room.

"I opened the door softly, and discovered Jackson lying on his face
across the bed, fully dressed, with sword, sash, and boots all on.
The low-burnt tallow-candle on the table shed a dim light, yet enough
by which to recognise him. I endeavoured to withdraw without waking
him. He turned over, sat upon the bed, and called out, "Who is that?"

"He checked my apology with, "That is all . It's time to be up.
I am glad to see you. Were the men all up as you came through camp?"

""Yes, General, and cooking."

""That's ; we move at daybreak. Sit down. I want to talk to you."

"I had learned never to ask him questions about his plans, for he
would never answer such to anyone. I therefore waited for him to
speak first. He referred very feelingly to Ashby's death, and spoke
of it as an irreparable loss. When he paused I said, "General, you
made a glorious winding-up of your four weeks with yesterday." He
replied, "Yes, God blessed our army again yesterday, and I hope with
His protection and blessing we shall do still better to-day.""* (*
Battles and Leaders volume 2 page 293.) Then followed instructions as
to the use of the mule battery in the forests through which lay
Shields' line of advance.

Before 5 A.M. the next morning the Stonewall Brigade had assembled in
Port Republic, and was immediately ordered to advance. On the plain
beyond, still dark in the shadow of the mountains, where the cavalry
formed the outposts, the fire of the pickets, which had been
incessant throughout the night, was increasing in intensity. The
Federals were making ready for battle.

Winder had with him four regiments, about 1200 strong, and two
batteries. In rear came Taylor with his Louisianians; and Jackson,
leaving Major Dabney to superintend the passage of the river, rode
with the leading brigade. The enemy's pickets were encountered about
a mile and a half down the river, beyond a strip of woods, on either
side of the Luray road. They were quickly driven in, and the Federal
position became revealed. From the foot-hills of the Blue Ridge,
clothed to their crests with under-growth and timber, the plain, over
a mile in breadth, extended to the Shenandoah. The ground was
terraced; the upper level, immediately beneath the mountain, was
densely wooded, and fifty or sixty feet above the open fields round
the Lewis House. Here was the hostile front. The Federal force was
composed of two brigades of infantry and sixteen guns, not more than
4000 all told, for Shields, with the remainder of the division, was
still far in rear. The  rested on the river; the  on a
ravine of the upper level, through which a shallow stream flowed down
from the heights above. On the northern shoulder of this ravine was
established a battery of seven guns, sweeping every yard of the
ground beneath, and a country road, which led directly to the
Shenandoah, running between stiff banks and strongly fenced, was
lined with riflemen. Part of the artillery was on the plain, near the
Lewis House, with a section near the river; on the hillside, beyond
the seven guns, two regiments were concealed within the forest, and
in rear of the battery was a third. The position was strong, and the
men who held it were of different calibre from Blenker's Germans, and
the leaders of stauncher stuff than Fremont. Six of the seven
battalions had fought at Kernstown. Tyler, who on that day had seen
the Confederates retreat before him, was in command; and neither
general nor soldiers had reason to dread the name of Stonewall
Jackson. In the sturdy battalions of Ohio and West Virginia the
Stonewall Brigade were face to face with foemen worthy of their
steel; and when Jackson, anxious to get back to Fremont, ordered
Winder to attack, he set him a formidable task.

It was first necessary to dislodge the hostile guns. Winder's two
batteries were insufficient for the work, and two of his four
regiments were ordered into the woods on the terrace, in order to
outflank the battery beyond the stream. This detachment, moving with
difficulty through the thickets, found a stronger force of infantry
within the forest; the guns opened with grape at a range of one
hundred yards, and the Confederates, threatened on either flank, fell
back in some confusion.

The remainder of Winder's line had meanwhile met with a decided
check. The enemy along the hollow road was strongly posted. Both guns
and skirmishers were hidden by the embankment; and as the mists of
the morning cleared away, and the sun, rising in splendour above the
mountains, flooded the valley with light, a long line of hostile
infantry, with colours flying and gleaming arms, was seen advancing
steadily into battle. The Federal Commander, observing his
opportunity, had, with rare good judgment, determined on a
counterstroke. The Louisiana brigade was moving up in support of
Winder, but it was still distant. The two regiments which supported
the Confederate batteries were suffering from the heavy artillery
fire, and the skirmishers were already falling back. "Below," says
General Taylor, "Ewell was hurrying his men over the bridge; but it
looked as if we should be doubled up on him ere he could cross and
develop much strength. Jackson was on the road, a little in advance
of his line, where the fire was hottest, with the reins on his
horse's neck. Summoning a young officer from his staff, be pointed up
the mountain. The head of my approaching column was turned short up
the slope, and within the forest came speedily to a path which came
upon the gorge opposite the battery.* (* Destruction and
Reconstruction page 90. Jackson's order to the staff officer (Major
Hotchkiss) was brief: "Sweeping with his hand to the eastward, and
then towards the Lewis House, where the Federal guns were raking the
advance, he said: "Take General Taylor around and take that
battery."')

But, as Taylor's regiments disappeared within the forest, Winder's
brigade was  for the moment isolated, bearing up with difficulty
against overwhelming numbers. Ewell's division had found great
difficulty in crossing the South River. The bridge, a construction of
planks laid on the running gear of waggons, had proved unserviceable.
At the deepest part there was a step of two feet between two
axletrees of different height; and the boards of the higher stage,
except one, had broken from their fastenings. As the men passed over,
several were thrown from their treacherous platform into the rushing
stream, until at length they refused to trust themselves except to
the centre plank. The column of fours was thus reduced to single
file; men, guns, and waggons were huddled in confusion on the river
banks; and the officers present neglected to secure the footway, and
refused, despite the order of Major Dabney, to force their men
through the breast-high ford.

So, while his subordinates were trifling with the time, which, if
Fremont was to be defeated as well as Shields, was of such extreme
importance, Jackson saw his old brigade assailed by superior numbers
in front and flank. The Federals, matching the rifles of the
Confederate marksmen with weapons no less deadly, crossed over the
road and bore down upon the guns. The 7th Louisiana, the rear
regiment of Taylor's column, was hastily called up, and dashed
forward in a vain attempt to stem the tide.

A most determined and stubborn conflict now took place, and, as at
Kernstown, at the closest range. The Ohio troops repelled every
effort to drive them back. Winder's line was thin. Every man was
engaged in the firing line. The flanks were scourged by bursting
shells. The deadly fire from the road held back the front. Men and
officers were falling fast. The stream of wounded was creeping to the
rear; and after thirty minutes of fierce fighting, the wavering line
of the Confederates, breaking in disorder, fell back upon the guns.
The artillery, firing a final salvo at a range of two hundred yards,
was ordered to limber up. One gun alone, standing solitary between
the opposing lines, essayed to cover the retreat; but the enemy was
within a hundred yards, men and horses were shot down; despite a
shower of grape, which rent great gaps in the crowded ranks, the long
blue wave swept on, and leaving the captured piece in rear, advanced
in triumph across the fields.

In vain two of Ewell's battalions, hurrying forward to the sound of
battle, were thrown against the flank of the attack. For an instant
the Federal  recoiled, and then, springing forward with still
fiercer energy, dashed back their new antagonists as they had done
the rest. In vain Jackson, galloping to the front, spurred his horse
into the tumult, and called upon his men to rally. Winder's line, for
the time being at least, had lost all strength and order; and
although another regiment had now come up, the enemy's fire was still
so heavy that it was impossible to reform the defeated troops, and
two fresh Federal regiments were now advancing to strengthen the
attack. Tyler had ordered his  wing to reinforce the centre and
it seemed that the Confederates would be defeated piecemeal. But at
this moment the lines of the assailant came to a sudden halt; and
along the slopes of the Blue Ridge a heavy crash of musketry, the
rapid discharges of the guns, and the charging yell of the Southern
infantry, told of a renewed attack upon the battery on the mountain
side.

The Louisianians had come up in the very nick of time. Pursuing his
march by the forest path, Taylor had heard the sounds of battle pass
beyond his flank, and the cheers of the Federals proved that Winder
was hard pressed. Rapidly deploying on his advanced guard, which, led
by Colonel Kelley, of the 8th Louisiana, was already in line, he led
his companies across the ravine. Down the broken slopes, covered with
great boulders and scattered trees, the men slipped and stumbled, and
then, splashing through the stream, swarmed up the face of the bank
on which the Federal artillery was in action. Breaking through the
undergrowth they threw themselves on the guns. The attention of the
enemy had been fixed upon the fight that raged over the plain below,
and the thick timber and heavy smoke concealed the approach of
Taylor's regiments. The surprise, however, was a failure. The trails
were swung round in the new direction, the canister crashed through
the laurels, the supporting infantry rushed forward, and the
Southerners were driven back. Again, as reinforcements crowded over
the ravine, they returned to the charge, and with bayonet and rammer
the fight surged to and fro within the battery. For the second time
the Federals cleared their front; but some of the Louisiana
companies, clambering up the mountain to the , appeared upon
their flank, and once more the stormers, rallying in the hollow,
rushed forward with the bayonet. The battery was carried, one gun
alone escaping, and the Federal commander saw the key of his position
abandoned to the enemy. Not a moment was to be lost. The bank was
nearly a mile in rear of his  and centre, and commanded his line
of retreat at effective range. Sending his reserves to retake the
battery, he directed his attacking line, already pressing heavily on
Winder, to fall back at once. But it was even then too late. The rest
of Ewell's division had reached the field. One of his brigades had
been ordered to sustain the Lousianians; and across the plain a long
column of infantry and artillery was hurrying northwards from Port
Republic.

The Stonewall Brigade, relieved of the pressure in front, had already
rallied; and when Tyler's reserves, with their backs to the river,
advanced to retake the battery, Jackson's artillery was once more
moving forward. The guns captured by Taylor were turned against the
Federals--Ewell, it is said, indulging to the full his passion for
hot work, serving as a gunner--and within a short space of time Tyler
was in full retreat, and the Confederate cavalry were thundering on
his traces.

It was half-past ten. For nearly five hours the Federals had held
their ground, and two of Jackson's best brigades had been severely
handled. Even if Trimble and Patton had been successful in holding
Fremont back, the Valley soldiers were in no condition for a rapid
march and a vigorous attack, and their commander had long since
recognised that he must rest content with a single victory.

(MAP of the Battle of Cross Keys and Port Republic, June 8th and 9th,
1862.)

Before nine o'clock, about the time of Winder's repulse, finding the
resistance of the enemy more formidable than be had anticipated, he
had recalled his brigades from the opposite bank of the Shenandoah,
and had ordered them to burn the bridge. Trimble and Patton abandoned
the battle-field of the previous day, and fell back to Port Republic.
Hardly a shot was fired during their retreat, and when they took up
their march only a single Federal battery had been seen. Fremont's
advance was cautious in the extreme. He was actually aware that
Shields had two brigades beyond the river, for a scout had reached
him, and from the ground about Mill Creek the sound of Tyler's battle
could be plainly heard. But he could get no direct information of
what was passing. The crest of the Massanuttons, although the sun
shone b on the cliffs below, was shrouded in haze, completely
forbidding all observation; and it was not till near noon, after a
march of seven miles, which began at dawn and was practically
unopposed, that Fremont reached the Shenandoah. There, in the charred
and smoking timbers of the bridge, the groups of Federal prisoners on
the plain, the Confederates gathering the wounded, and the faint
rattle of musketry far down the Luray Valley, he saw the result of
his timidity.

Massing his batteries on the western bluffs, and turning his guns in
impotent wrath upon the plain, he drove the ambulances and their
escort from the field. But the Confederate dead and wounded had
already been removed, and the only effect of his spiteful salvoes was
that his suffering comrades lay under a drenching rain until he
retired to Harrisonburg. By that time many, whom their enemies would
have rescued, had perished miserably, and "not a few of the dead,
with some perchance of the mangled living, were partially devoured by
swine before their burial."* (* Dabney volume 2.)

The pursuit of Tyler was pressed for nine miles down the river. The
Ohio regiments, dispersed at first by the Confederate artillery,
gathered gradually together, and held the cavalry in check. Near
Conrad's Store, where Shields, marching in desperate haste to the
sound of the cannonade, had put his two remaining brigades in
position across the road, the chase was stayed. The Federal commander
admits that he was only just in time. Jackson's horsemen, he says,
were enveloping the column; a crowd of fugitives was rushing to the
rear, and his own cavalry had dispersed. The Confederate army, of
which some of the brigades and nearly the whole artillery had been
halted far in rear, was now withdrawn; but, compelled to move by
circuitous paths in order to avoid the fire of Fremont's batteries,
it was after midnight before the whole had assembled in Brown's Gap.
More than one of the regiments had marched over twenty miles and had
been heavily engaged.

Port Republic was the battle most costly to the Army of the Valley
during the whole campaign. Out of 5900 Confederates engaged 804 were
disabled.*

(* The troops actually engaged were as follows:--

4 Regiments of Winder's Brigade 1200

The Louisiana Brigade, 5 regiments 2500

Scott's Brigade, 3 regiments 900

31st Virginia

40th Virginia } 600

Artillery (5 batteries) 300

Cavalry 400

5,900)

The Federal losses were heavier. The killed, wounded, and missing
(including 450 captured) amounted to 1001, or one-fourth of Tyler's
strength.

The success which the Confederates had achieved was undoubtedly
important. The Valley army, posted in Brown's Gap, was now in direct
communication with Richmond. Not only had its pursuers been roughly
checked, but the sudden and unexpected counterstroke, delivered by an
enemy whom they believed to be in full flight, had surprised Lincoln
and Stanton as effectively as Shields and Fremont. On June 6, the day
Jackson halted near Port Republic, McCall's division of McDowell's
Army Corps, which had been  at Fredericksburg, had been sent to
the Peninsula by water; and two days later McDowell himself, with the
remainder of his force, was directed to join McClellan as speedily as
possible overland. Fremont, on the same date, was instructed to halt
at Harrisonburg, and Shields to march to Fredericksburg. But before
Stanton's dispatches reached their destination both Fremont and
Shields had been defeated, and the plans of the Northern Cabinet were
once more upset.

Instead of moving at once on Fredericksburg, and in spite of
McDowell's remonstrances, Shields was detained at Luray, and
Ricketts, who had succeeded Ord, at Front Royal; while Fremont,
deeming himself too much exposed at Harrisonburg, fell back to Mount
Jackson. It was not till June 20 that Ricketts and Shields were
permitted to leave the Valley, ten days after the order had been
issued for McDowell to move on Richmond. For that space of time,
then, his departure was delayed; and there was worse to come. The
great strategist at Richmond had not yet done with Lincoln. There was
still more profit to be derived from the situation; and from the
subsidiary operations in the Valley we may now turn to the main
armies.

By Jackson's brilliant manoeuvres McDowell had been lured westward at
the very moment he was about to join McClellan. The gap between the
two Federal armies had been widened from five to fifteen marches,
while Jackson at Brown's Gap was no more than nine marches distant
from Richmond. McClellan, moreover, had been paralysed by the vigour
of Jackson's blows.

On May 16, as already related, he had reached White House on the
Pamunkey, twenty miles from the Confederate capital. Ten miles south,
and directly across his path, flowed the Chickahominy, a formidable
obstacle to the march of a large army.

On the 24th, having already been informed that he was to be
reinforced by McDowell, he was told that the movement of the latter
for Fredericksburg was postponed until the Valley had been cleared.
This change of plan placed him in a most awkward predicament. A
portion of his army, in order to lend a hand to McDowell, had already
crossed the Chickahominy, a river with but few points of passage, and
over which, by reason of the swamps, the construction of military
bridges was a difficult and tedious operation. On May 30, two army
corps were south of the Chickahominy, covering, in a partially
intrenched position, the building of the bridges, while three army
corps were still on the further bank.

McClellan's difficulties had not escaped the observation of his
watchful adversaries, and on the morning of May 31 the Federal lines
were heavily attacked by Johnston. The  of the position on the
south side of the Chickahominy was protected by the White Oak Swamp,
a broad and almost impassable morass; but the , thrown back to
the river, was unprotected by intrenchments, and thinly manned. The
defence of the first line had been assigned to one corps only; the
second was five miles in rear. The assailants should have won an easy
triumph. But if McClellan had shown but little skill in the
distribution of his troops on the defensive, the Confederate
arrangements for attack were even more at fault. The country between
Richmond and the Chickahominy is level and well wooded. It was
intersected by several roads, three of which led directly to the
enemy's position. But the roads were bad, and a tremendous
rain-storm, which broke on the night of the 30th, transformed the
fields into tracts of greasy mud, and rendered the passage of
artillery difficult. The natural obstacles, however, were not the
chief.

The force detailed for the attack amounted to 40,000 men, or
twenty-three brigades. The Federal works were but five miles from
Richmond, and the Confederates were ordered to advance at dawn. But
it was the first time that an offensive movement on so large a scale
had been attempted; the woods and swamps made supervision difficult,
and the staff proved unequal to the task of ensuring co-operation.
The orders for attack were badly framed. The subordinate generals did
not clearly comprehend what was expected from them. There were
misunderstandings as to the roads to be followed, and as to who was
to command the wings. The columns crossed, and half the day was
wasted in getting into position. It was not till 1 P.M. that the
first gun was fired, and not till 4 P.M. that the commanding general,
stationed with the  wing, was made acquainted with the progress
of his  and centre. When it was at last delivered, the attack
was piecemeal; and although successful in driving the enemy from his
intrenchments, it failed to drive him from the field. The Federals
fell back to a second line of earthworks, and were strongly
reinforced from beyond the river. During the battle Johnston himself
was severely wounded, and the command devolved on General G.W. Smith.
Orders were issued that the attack should be renewed next morning;
but for reasons which have never been satisfactorily explained, only
five of the twenty-three brigades were actively engaged, and the
battle of Seven Pines ended with the unmolested retreat of the
Confederates. Smith fell sick, and General Lee was ordered by the
President to take command of the army in the field.

McClellan, thanks to the bad work of the Confederate staff at the
battle of Seven Pines, had now succeeded in securing the passages
across the Chickahominy. But for the present he had given up all idea
of an immediate advance. Two of his army corps had suffered severely,
both in men and in moral; the roads were practically impassable for
artillery; the bridges over the Chickahominy had been much injured by
the floods; and it was imperative to re-establish the communications.
Such is his own explanation of his inactivity; but his official
correspondence with the Secretary of War leaves no doubt that his
hope of being reinforced by McDowell was a still more potent reason.
During the first three weeks in June he received repeated assurances
from Mr. Stanton that large bodies of troops were on their way to
join him, and it was for these that he was waiting. This expectant
attitude, due to McDowell's non-arrival, entailed on him a serious
disadvantage. If he transferred his whole army to the  bank of
the Chickahominy, his line of supply, the railway to West Point,
would be exposed; and, secondly, when McDowell approached from
Fredericksburg, it would be possible for Leo to drive that general
back before the Army of the Potomac could give him direct support, or
in any case to cut off all communication with him. McClellan was
consequently compelled to retain his  wing north of the river;
and indeed in so doing he was only obeying his instructions. On May
18 Stanton had telegraphed: "You are instructed to co-operate so as
to establish this communication with McDowell, by extending your
 wing north of Richmond."

The Federal army, then, whilst awaiting the promised reinforcements,
was divided into two parts by a stream which another storm might
render impassable. It will thus be seen that Jackson's operations not
only deprived McClellan of the immediate aid of 40,000 men and 100
guns, but placed him in a most embarrassing situation. "The faulty
location of the Union army," says General Porter, commanding the
Fifth Federal Army Corps, "was from the first realised by General
McClellan, and became daily an increasing cause of care and anxiety;
not the least disturbing element of which was the impossibility of
quickly reinforcing his  wing or promptly withdrawing it to the
south bank."* (*Battles and Leaders volume 2 page 324.)

Seeing that the Confederates were no more than 60,000 strong, while
the invading army mustered 100,000, it would seem that the knot
should have been cut by an immediate attack on the Richmond lines.
But McClellan, who had been United States Commissioner in the Crimea,
knew something of the strength of earthworks; and moreover, although
the comparatively feeble numbers developed by the Confederates at
Seven Pines should have enlightened him, he still believed that his
enemy's army was far larger than his own. So, notwithstanding his
danger, he preferred to postpone his advance till Jackson's defeat
should set M'Dowell free.

Fatal was the mistake which retained McDowell's divisions in the
Valley, and sent Shields in pursuit of Jackson. While the Federal
army, waiting for reinforcements, lay astride the noisome swamps of
the Chickahominy, Lee was preparing a counterstroke on the largest
scale.

The first thing to do was to reduce the disparity of numbers; and to
effect this troops were to be brought up from the south, Jackson was
to come to Richmond, and McDowell was to be kept away. This last was
of more importance than the rest, and, at the same time, more
difficult of attainment. Jackson was certainly nearer to Richmond
than was McDowell; but to defeat McClellan would take some time, and
it was essential that Jackson should have a long start, and not
arrive upon the battlefield with McDowell on his heels. It was
necessary, therefore, that the greater part of the latter's force
should be detained on the Shenandoah; and on June 8, while Cross Keys
was being fought, Lee wrote to Jackson: "Should there be nothing
requiring your attention in the Valley, so as to prevent you leaving
it in a few days, and you can make arrangements to deceive the enemy
and impress him with the idea of your presence, please let me know,
that you may unite at the decisive moment with the army near
Richmond. Make your arrangements accordingly; but should an
opportunity occur of striking the enemy a successful blow, do not let
it escape you."

June 11.

At the same time a detachment of 7000 infantry was ordered to the
Valley. "Your recent successes," wrote Lee on the 11th, when the news
of Cross Keys and Port Republic had been received, "have been the
cause of the liveliest joy in this army as well as in the country.
The admiration excited by your skill and boldness has been constantly
mingled with solicitude for your situation. The practicability of
reinforcing you has been the subject of gravest consideration. It has
been determined to do so at the expense of weakening this army.
Brigadier-General Lawton with six regiments from Georgia is on his
way to you, and Brigadier-General Whiting with eight veteran
regiments leaves here to-day. The object is to enable you to crush
the forces opposed to you. Leave your enfeebled troops to watch the
country and guard the passes covered by your cavalry and artillery,
and with your main body, including Ewell's division and Lawton's and
Whiting's commands, move rapidly to Ashland by rail or otherwise, as
you may find most advantageous, and sweep down between the
Chickahominy and the Pamunkey, cutting up the enemy's communications,
etc., while this army attacks McClellan in front. He will then, I
think, be forced to come out of his intrenchments, where he is
strongly posted on the Chickahominy, and apparently preparing to move
by gradual approaches on Richmond."* (* O.R. volume 12 part 3 page
910.)

Before the reinforcements reached the Valley both Fremont and Shields
were out of reach. To have followed them down the Valley would have
been injudicious. Another victory would have doubtless held M'Dowell
fast, but it would have drawn Jackson too far from Richmond. The
Confederate generals, therefore, in order to impose upon their
enemies, and to maintain the belief that Washington was threatened,
had recourse to stratagem. The departure of Whiting and Lawton for
the Valley was ostentatiously announced. Federal prisoners, about to
be dismissed upon parole, were allowed to see the trains full of
soldiers proceeding westward, to count the regiments. And learn their
destination. Thus Lee played his part in the game of deception, and
meanwhile Jackson had taken active measures to the same end.

Fremont had retired from Port Republic on the morning of the 10th. On
the 11th the Confederate cavalry, now under Colonel Munford, a worthy
successor of the indefatigable Ashby, crossed the Shenandoah, and
followed the retreating enemy. So active was the pursuit that Fremont
evacuated Harrisonburg, abandoning two hundred wounded in the
hospitals, besides medical and other stores.

June 14.

"Significant demonstrations of the enemy," to use his own words,
drove him next day from the strong position at Mount Jackson; and on
June 14 he fell back to Strasburg, Banks, who had advanced to
Middletown, being in close support.

On the 12th the Army of the Valley had once more moved westward, and,
crossing South River, had encamped in the woods near Mount Meridian.
Here for five days, by the sparkling waters of the Shenandoah, the
wearied soldiers rested, while their indefatigable leader employed
ruse after ruse to delude the enemy. The cavalry, though far from
support, was ordered to manoeuvre boldly to prevent all information
reaching the Federals, and to follow Fremont so long as he
retreated.* (* "The only true rule for cavalry is to follow as long
as the enemy retreats."--Jackson to Munford, June 13.) The bearers of
flags of truce were impressed with the idea that the Southerners were
advancing in great strength. The outpost line was made as close as
possible; no civilians were allowed to pass; and the troopers, so
that they should have nothing to tell it they were captured, were
kept in ignorance of the position of their own infantry. The
general's real intentions were concealed from everyone except Colonel
Munford. The officers of the staff fared worse than the remainder of
the army. Not only were they debarred from their commander's
confidence, but they became the unconscious instruments whereby false
intelligence was spread. "The engineers were directed to prepare a
series of maps of the Valley; and all who acquired a knowledge of
this carefully divulged order told their friends in confidence that
Jackson was going at once in pursuit of Fremont. As those friends
told their friends without loss of time, it was soon the well-settled
conviction of everybody that nothing was further from Jackson's
intention than an evacuation of the Valley."

June 17.

On June 17 arrived a last letter from Lee:--

"From your account of the position of the enemy I think it would be
difficult for you to engage him in time to unite with this army in
the battle for Richmond. Fremont and Shields are apparently
retrograding, their troops shaken and disorganised, and some time
will be required to set them again in the field. If this is so, the
sooner you unite with this army the better. McClellan is being
strengthened...There is much sickness in his ranks, but his
reinforcements by far exceed his losses. The present, therefore,
seems to be favourable for a junction of your army and this. If you
agree with me, the sooner you can make arrangements to do so the
better. In moving your troops you could let it be understood that it
was to pursue the enemy in your front. Dispose those to hold the
Valley, so as to deceive the enemy, keeping your cavalry well in
their front, and at the proper time suddenly descending upon the
Pamunkey. To be efficacious the movement must be secret. Let me know
the force you can bring, and be careful to guard from friends and
foes your purpose and your intention of personally leaving the
Valley. The country is full of spies, and our plans are immediately
carried to the enemy."* (* O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 913.)

The greater part of these instructions Jackson had already carried
out on his own initiative. There remained but to give final
directions to Colonel Munford, who was to hold the Valley, and to set
the army in motion. Munford was instructed to do his best to spread
false reports of an advance to the Potomac. Ewell's division was
ordered to Charlottesville. The rest of the Valley troops were to
follow Ewell; and Whiting and Lawton, who, in order to bewilder
Fremont, had been marched from Staunton to Mount Meridian, and then
back to Staunton, were to take train to Gordonsville. It was above
all things important that the march should be secret. Not only was it
essential that Lincoln should not be alarmed into reinforcing
McClellan, but it was of even more importance that McClellan should
not be alarmed into correcting the faulty distribution of his army.
So long as he remained with half his force on one bank of the
Chickahominy and half on the other, Lee had a fair chance of
concentrating superior numbers against one of the fractions. But if
McClellan, warned of Jackson's approach, were to mass his whole force
on one bank or the other, there would be little hope of success for
the Confederates.

The ultimate object of the movement was therefore revealed to no one,
and the most rigorous precautions were adopted to conceal it.
Jackson's letters from Richmond, in accordance with his own
instructions, bore no more explicit address than "Somewhere." A long
line of cavalry, occupying every road, covered the front, and
prevented anyone, soldier or civilian, preceding them toward
Richmond. Far out to either flank rode patrols of horsemen, and a
strong rear-guard swept before it campfollowers and stragglers. At
night, every road which approached the bivouacs was strongly
picketed, and the troops were prevented from communicating with the
country people. The men were forbidden to ask the names of the
villages through which they passed; and it was ordered that to all
questions they should make the one answer: "I don't know." "This was
just as much license as the men wanted," says an eye-witness, "and
they forthwith knew nothing of the past, present, or future." An
amusing incident, it is said, grew out of this order. One of General
Hood's* (* Whiting's division.) Texans  the ranks on the march,
and was climbing a fence to go to a cherry-tree near at hand, when
Jackson rode by and saw him.

"Where are you going?" asked the general.

"I don't know," replied the soldier.

"To what command do you belong?"

"I don't know."

"Well, what State are you from?"

"I don't know."

"What is the meaning of all this?" asked Jackson of another.

"Well," was the reply, "Old Stonewall and General Hood gave orders
yesterday that we were not to know anything until after the next
fight."

Jackson laughed and rode on.* (* Cooke page 205.)

The men themselves, intelligent as they were, were unable to
penetrate their general's design. When they reached Charlottesville
it was reported in the ranks that the next march would be northwards,
to check a movement of Banks across the Blue Ridge. At Gordonsville
it was supposed that they would move on Washington.

"I recollect," says one of the Valley soldiers, "that the pastor of
the Presbyterian church there, with whom Jackson spent the night,
told me, as a profound secret, not to be breathed to mortal man, that
we would move at daybreak on Culpeper Court House to intercept a
column of the enemy coming across the mountains. He said there could
be no mistake about this, for he had it from General Jackson himself.
We did move at daybreak, but instead of moving on Culpeper Court
House we marched in the opposite direction. At Hanover Junction we
expected to head towards Fredericksburg to meet McDowell, and the
whole movement was so secretly conducted that the troops were
uncertain of their destination until the evening of June 26, when
they heard A.P. Hill's guns at Mechanicsville, and made the woods
vibrate with their shouts of anticipated victory."* (* Communicated
by the Reverend J.W. Jones, D.D.)

At Gordonsville a rumour, which proved to be false, arrested the
march of the army for a whole day. On the 21st the leading division
arrived at Frederickshall, fifty miles from Richmond, and there
halted for the Sunday. They had already marched fifty miles, and the
main body, although the railway had been of much service, was still
distant. There was not sufficient rolling stock available to
transport all the infantry simultaneously, and, in any case, the
cavalry, artillery, and waggons must have proceeded by road. The
trains, therefore, moving backwards and forwards along the line, and
taking up the rear brigades in succession, forwarded them in a couple
of hours a whole day's march. Beyond Frederickshall the line had been
destroyed by the enemy's cavalry.

At 1 A.M. on Monday morning, Jackson, accompanied by a single
orderly, rode to confer with Lee, near Richmond.

June 28.

He was provided with a pass, which Major Dabney had been instructed
to procure from General Whiting, the next in command, authorising him
to impress horses; and he had resorted to other expedients to blind
his friends. The lady of the house which he had made his headquarters
at Frederickshall had sent to ask if the general would breakfast with
her next morning. He replied that he would be glad to do so if he
were there at breakfast time; and upon her inquiry as to the time
that would be most convenient, he said: "Have it at your usual time,
and send for me when it is ready." When Mrs. Harris sent for him,
Jim, his coloured servant, replied to the message: "Sh! you don't
'spec' to find the general here at this hour, do you? He  here
'bout midnight, and I 'spec' by this time he's whippin' Banks in the
Valley."

During the journey his determination to preserve his incognito was
the cause of some embarrassment. A few miles from his quarters he was
halted by a sentry. It was in vain that he represented that he was an
officer on duty, carrying dispatches. The sentry, one of the
Stonewall Brigade, was inexorable, and quoted Jackson's own orders.
The utmost that he would concede was that the commander of the picket
should be called. When this officer came he recognised his general.
Jackson bound them both to secrecy, and praising the soldier for his
obedience, continued his ride. Some hours later his horse broke down.
Proceeding to a plantation near the road, he told his orderly to
request that a couple of horses might be supplied for an officer on
important duty. It was still dark, and the indignant proprietor, so
unceremoniously disturbed by two unknown soldiers, who declined to
give their names, refused all aid. After some parley Jackson and his
orderly, finding argument wasted, proceeded to the stables, selected
the two best horses, shifted the saddles, and  their own chargers
as a temporary exchange.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, after passing rapidly through
Richmond, he reached the headquarters of the Commander-in-Chief. It
is unfortunate that no record of the meeting that took place has been
preserved. There were present, besides Lee and Jackson, the three
officers whose divisions were to be employed in the attack upon the
Federals, Longstreet, A.P. Hill, and D.H. Hill. The names of the two
former are associated with almost every Confederate victory won upon
the soil of Virginia. They were trusted by their great leader, and
they were idolised by their men. Like others, they made mistakes; the
one was sometimes slow, the other careless; neither gave the
slightest sign that they were capable of independent command, and
both were at times impatient of control. But, taking them all in all,
they were gallant soldiers, brave to a fault, vigorous in attack, and
undaunted by adverse fortune. Longstreet, sturdy and sedate, his "old
war-horse" as Lee affectionately called him, bore on his broad
shoulders the weight of twenty years' service in the old army. Hill's
slight figure and delicate features, instinct with life and energy,
were a marked contrast to the heavier frame and rugged lineaments of
his older colleague.

Already they were distinguished. In the hottest of the fight they had
won the respect that soldiers so readily accord to valour; yet it is
not on these stubborn fighters, not on their companion, less popular,
but hardly less capable, that the eye of imagination rests. Were some
great painter, gifted with the sense of historic fitness, to place on
his canvas the council in the Virginia homestead, two figures only
would occupy the foreground: the one weary with travel, white with
the dust of many leagues, and bearing on his frayed habiliments the
traces of rough bivouacs and mountain roads; the other, tall,
straight, and stately; still, for all his fifty years, remarkable for
his personal beauty, and endowed with all the simple dignity of a
noble character and commanding intellect. In that humble chamber,
where the only refreshment the Commander-in-Chief could offer was a
glass of milk, Lee and Jackson met for the first time since the war
had begun. Lee's hours of triumph had yet to come. The South was
aware that he was sage in council; he had yet to prove his mettle in
the field. But there was at least one Virginia soldier who knew his
worth. With the prescient sympathy of a kindred spirit Jackson had
divined his daring and his genius, and although he held always to his
own opinions, he had no will but that of his great commander. With
how absolute a trust his devotion was repaid one of the best
pages in the history of Virginia tells us; a year crowded with
victories bears witness to the strength begotten of their mutual
confidence. So long as Lee and Jackson led her armies hope shone on
the standards of the South. Great was the constancy of her people;
wonderful the fortitude of her soldiers; but on the shoulders of her
twin heroes rested the burden of the tremendous struggle.

To his four major-generals Lee explained his plan of attack, and
then, retiring to his office,  them to arrange the details. It
will be sufficient for the present to state that Jackson's troops
were to encamp on the night of the 25th east of Ashland, fifteen
miles north of Richmond, between the village and the Virginia Central
Railway. The day following the interview, the 24th, he returned to
his command, rejoining the column at Beaver Dam Station.

June 24.

His advanced guard were now within forty miles of Richmond, and, so
far from McDowell being on his heels, that general was still north of
Fredericksburg. No reinforcements could reach McClellan for several
days; the Confederates were concentrated round Richmond in full
strength; and Lee's strategy had been entirely successful. Moreover,
with such skill had Jackson's march been made that the Federal
generals were absolutely ignorant of his whereabouts. McClellan
indeed seems to have had some vague suspicion of his approach; but
Lincoln, McDowell, Banks, Fremont, together with the whole of the
Northern people and the Northern press, believed that he was still
west of Gordonsville. Neither scout, spy, nor patrol was able to
penetrate the cordon of Munford's outposts. Beyond his pickets,
strongly posted at New Market and Conrad's Store, all was dim and
dark. Had Jackson halted, awaiting reinforcements? Was he already in
motion, marching swiftly and secretly against some isolated garrison?
Was he planning another dash on Washington, this time with a larger
army at his back? Would his advance be east or west of the Blue
Ridge, across the sources of the Rappahannock, or through the
Alleghanies? Had he 15,000 men or 50,000?

Such were the questions which obtruded themselves on the Federal
generals, and not one could give a satisfactory reply. That a blow
was preparing, and that it would fall where it was least expected,
all men knew. "We have a determined and enterprising enemy to contend
with," wrote one of Lincoln's generals. "Jackson," said another,
"marches thirty miles a day." The successive surprises of the Valley
campaign had  their mark; and the correspondence preserved in the
Official Records is in itself the highest tribute to Jackson's skill.
He had gained something more than the respect of his enemies. He had
brought them to fear his name, and from the Potomac to the
Rappahannock uncertainty and apprehension reigned supreme. Not a
patrol was sent out which did not expect to meet the Confederate
columns, pressing swiftly northward; not a general along the whole
line, from Romney to Fredericksburg, who did not tremble for his own
security.

There was sore trouble on the Shenandoah. The disasters of M'Dowell
and Front Royal had taught the Federal officers that when the Valley
army was reported to be sixty miles distant, it was probably
deploying in the nearest forest; and with the rout of Winchester
still fresh in their memories they knew that pursuit would be as
vigorous as attack would be sudden. The air was full of rumours, each
more alarming than its predecessor, and all of them contradictory.
The reports of the cavalry, of spies, of prisoners, of deserters, of
escaped negroes, told each a different story.

Jackson, it was at first reported, had been reinforced to the number
of 35,000 men.* (* The telegrams and letters containing the reports
quoted on pages 399-400 are to be found in O.R. volume 11 part 3 and
volume 12 part 3.) A few days later his army had swelled to 60,000
with 70 guns, and he was rebuilding the bridge at Port Republic in
order to follow Fremont. On June 13 he was believed to be moving
through Charlottesville against one or other of McDowell's divisions.
"He was either going against Shields at Luray, or King at Catlett's,
or Doubleday at Fredericksburg, or going to Richmond." On the 16th it
was absolutely certain that he was within striking distance of Front
Royal. On the 18th he had gone to Richmond, but Ewell was still in
the Valley with 40,000 men. On the 19th Banks had no doubt but that
another immediate movement down the Valley was intended "with 80,000
or more." On the 20th Jackson was said to be moving on Warrenton,
east of the Blue Ridge. On the 22nd "reliable persons" at Harper's
Ferry had learned that he was about to attack Banks at Middletown;
and on the same day Ewell, who was actually near Frederickshall, was
discovered to be moving on Moorefield! On the 25th Fremont had been
informed that large reinforcements had reached Jackson from
Tennessee; and Banks was on the watch for a movement from the west.
Fremont heard that Ewell designed to attack Winchester in rear, and
the threat from so dangerous a quarter made Lincoln anxious.

"We have no definite information," wrote Stanton to McClellan, "as to
the numbers or position of Jackson's force. Within the last two days
the evidence is strong that for some purpose the enemy is circulating
rumours of Jackson's advance in various directions, with a view to
conceal the real point of attack. Neither McDowell nor Banks nor
Fremont appear to have any accurate knowledge of the subject."

This was on June 25, the day the Valley army halted at Ashland; but
the climax was reached on the 28th. For forty-eight hours Jackson had
been fighting McClellan, yet Banks, although "quite confident that he
was not within thirty miles, believed that he was preparing for an
attack on Middletown." To reach Middletown Jackson would have had to
march one hundred and fifty miles!

Under the influence of these rumours the movements of the Federal
troops were erratic in the extreme.

Fremont, who had originally been ordered to remain at Harrisonburg,
had fallen back on Banks at Middletown, although ordered to Front
Royal, was most reluctant to move so far south. Shields was first
ordered to stand fast at Luray, where he would be reinforced by
Ricketts, and was then ordered to fall back on Front Royal.
Reinforcements were ordered to Romney, to Harper's Ferry, and to
Winchester; and McDowell, who kept his head throughout, struggled in
vain to reunite his scattered divisions. Divining the true drift of
the Confederate strategy, he realised that to protect Washington, and
to rescue McClellan, the surest method was for his own army corps to
march as rapidly as possible to the Chickahominy. But his pleadings
were disregarded. Lincoln and Stanton had not yet discovered that the
best defence is generally a vigorous attack. They had learned nothing
from the Valley campaign, and they were infected with the fears of
Banks and Fremont. Jackson was well on his way to Richmond before
Shields and Ricketts were permitted to cross the Blue Ridge; and it
was not till the 25th that McDowell's corps was once more
concentrated at Fredericksburg. The Confederates had gained a start
of five marches, and the Northern Government was still ignorant that
they had  the Valley.

McClellan was equally in the dark. Faint rumours had preceded the
march of Jackson's army, but he had given them scant credit. On the
morning of the 26th, however, he was rudely enlightened. It was but
too clear that Jackson, strongly reinforced from Richmond, was
bearing down upon his most vulnerable point--his  wing, which,
in anticipation of McDowell's advance, remained exposed on the north
bank of the Chickahominy.

Nor was this the sum of his troubles. On this same day, when his
outposts were falling back before superior numbers, and the Valley
regiments were closing round their flank, he received a telegram from
Stanton, informing him that the forces commanded by McDowell, Banks,
and Fremont were to form one army under Major-General Pope; and that
this army was "to attack and overcome the rebel forces under Jackson
and Ewell, and threaten the enemy in the direction of
Charlottesville!" All hope of succour passed away, and the "Young
Napoleon" was  to extricate himself as best he could, from his
many difficulties; difficulties which were due in part to his own
political blindness, in part to the ignorance of Lincoln, but, in a
far larger degree, to the consummate strategy of Lee and Jackson.


NOTE

The Marches in the Valley Campaign, March 22 to June 25, 1862.

                                                     Miles
March 22 Mount Jackson-Strasburg                     28
March 23 Strasburg-Kernstown-Newtown                 18 Battle of
Kernstown
March 24-26 Newtown-Mt. Jackson                      35
April 17-19 Mt. Jackson-Elk Run Valley               50
April 30-May 8 Elk Run Valley-Mechum's River Station 60
May 7-8 Staunton-Shenandoah Mt.                      32 Battle of
M'Dowell
May 9-11 Bull Pasture Mount-Franklin                 30 Skirmishes
May 12-15 Franklin-Lebanon Springs                   40
May 17 Lebanon Springs-Bridgewater                   18
May 19-20 Bridgewater-New Market                     24
May 1 New Market-Luray                               12
May 22 Luray-Milford                                 12
May 23 Milford-Front Royal-Cedarville                22 Action at
Front Royal
May 24 Cedarville-Abraham's Creek                    22 Action at
Middletown and Newtown
May 25 Abraham's Creek-Stevenson's                    7 Battle of
Winchester
May 28 Stevenson's-Charlestown                       15 Skirmish
May 29 Charlestown-Halltown                           5 Skirmish
May 30 Halltown-Winchester                           25
May 31 Winchester-Strasburg                          18
June 1 Strasburg-Woodstock                           12 Skirmish
June 2 Woodstock-Mount Jackson                       12
June 3 Mount Jackson-New Market                       7
June 4-5 New Market-Port Republic                    30
June 8 Battle of Cross Keys
June 9 Cross Keys-Brown's Gap                        16 Battle of
Port Republic
June 12 Brown's Gap-Mount Meridian             10
June 17-25 Mount Meridian-Ashland Station
             (one rest day)                         120
                                                    ---
                                                    676 miles in 48
marching days
                                                        Average 14
miles per diem

</section>
<section id="15" fatherid="1" title="REVIEW OF THE VALLEY CAMPAIGN" lv="CHAPTER 1.12." priority="0" level="2">
In March, 1862, more than 200,000 Federals were prepared to invade
Virginia. McClellan, before McDowell was withheld, reckoned on
placing 150,000 men at West Point. Fremont, in West Virginia,
commanded 30,000, including the force in the Kanawha Valley; and
Banks had crossed the Potomac with over 30,000.

Less than 60,000 Confederate soldiers were available to oppose this
enormous host, and the numerical disproportion was increased by the
vast material resources of the North. The only advantages which the
Southerners possessed were that they were operating in their own
country, and that their cavalry was the more efficient. Their
leaders, therefore, could count on receiving more ample and more
accurate information than their adversaries.* (* "If I were mindful
only of my own glory, I would choose always to make war in my own
country, for there every man is a spy, and the enemy can make no
movement of which I am not informed." Frederick the Great's
Instructions to his Generals.) But, except in these respects,
everything was against them. In mettle and in discipline the troops
were fairly matched. On both sides the higher commands, with few
exceptions, were held by regular officers, who had received the same
training. On both sides the staff was inexperienced. If the
Confederate infantry were better marksmen than the majority of the
Federals, they were not so well armed; and the Federal artillery,
both in materiel and in handling, was the more efficient.

The odds against the South were great; and to those who believed that
Providence sides with the big battalions, that numbers, armament,
discipline, and tactical efficiency, are all that is required to
ensure success, the fall of Richmond must have seemed inevitable.

But within three months of the day that McClellan started for the
Peninsula the odds had been much reduced. The Confederates had won no
startling victories. Except in the Valley, and there only small
detachments were concerned, the fighting had been indecisive. The
North had no reason to believe that her soldiers, save only the
cavalry, were in any way inferior to their adversaries. And yet, on
June 26, where were the "big battalions?" 105,000 men were intrenched
within sight of the spires of Richmond; but where were the rest?
Where were the 70,000* (* At the date of the action at Front Royal,
May 23, the following was the strength of the detached forces: Banks,
10,000; Fremont, 25,000; McDowell (including Shields, but excluding
McCall), 35,000.) that should have aided McClellan, have encircled
the rebel capital on every side, cut the communications, closed the
sources of supply, and have overwhelmed the starving garrison? How
came it that Fremont and Banks were no further south than they were
in March? that the Shenandoah Valley still poured its produce into
Richmond? that McDowell had not yet crossed the Rappahannock? What
mysterious power had compelled Lincoln to retain a force larger than
the whole Confederate army "to protect the national capital from
danger and insult?"

It was not hard fighting. The Valley campaign, from Kernstown to Port
Republic, had not cost the Federals more than 7000 men; and, with the
exception of Cross Keys, the battles had been well contested. It was
not the difficulties of supply or movement. It was not absence of
information; for until Jackson vanished from the sight of both friend
and foe on June 17, spies and "contrabands"* (i.e. Fugitive slaves)
had done good work. (* The blacks, however, appear to have been as
unreliable as regards numbers as McClellan's detectives. "If a negro
were asked how many Confederates he had seen at a certain point, his
answer was very likely to be: "I dunno, Massa, but I guess about a
million.""--McClellan's Own Story page 254.) Nor was it want of will
on the part of the Northern Government. None were more anxious than
Lincoln and Stanton to capture Richmond, to disperse the rebels, and
to restore the Union. They had made stupendous efforts to organise a
sufficient army. To equip that army as no army had ever been equipped
before they had spared neither expense nor labour; and it can hardly
be denied that they had created a vast machine, perhaps in part
imperfect, but, considering the weakness of the enemy, not
ill-adapted for the work before it.

There was but one thing they had overlooked, and that was that their
host would require intelligent control. So complete was the
mechanism, so simple a matter it appeared to set the machine in
motion, and to keep it in the  course, that they believed that
their untutored hands, guided by common-sense and sound abilities,
were perfectly capable of guiding it, without mishap, to the
appointed goal. Men who, aware of their ignorance, would probably
have shrunk from assuming charge of a squad of infantry in action,
had no hesitation whatever in attempting to direct a mighty army, a
task which Napoleon has assured us requires profound study, incessant
application, and wide experience.* (* "In consequence of the
excessive growth of armies tactics have lost in weight, and the
strategical design, rather than the detail of the movements, has
become the decisive factor in the issue at a campaign. The
strategical design depends, as a rule, upon the decision of cabinets,
and upon the resources placed at the disposal of the commander.
Consequently, either the leading statesmen should have correct views
of the science of war, or should make up for their ignorance by
giving their entire confidence to the man to whom the supreme command
of the army is entrusted. Otherwise, the germs of defeat and national
ruin may be contained in the first preparations for war."--The
Archduke Charles of Austria.)

They were in fact ignorant--and how many statesmen, and even
soldiers, are in like case?--that strategy, the art of manoeuvring
armies, is an art in itself, an art which none may master by the
light of nature, but to which, if he is to attain success, a man must
serve a long apprenticeship.

The rules of strategy are few and simple. They may be learned in a
week. They may be taught by familiar illustrations or a dozen
diagrams. But such knowledge will no more teach a man to lead an army
like Napoleon than a knowledge of grammar will teach him to write
like Gibbon. Lincoln, when the army he had so zealously toiled to
organise, reeled back in confusion from Virginia, set himself to
learn the art of war. He collected, says his biographer, a great
library of military books; and, if it were not pathetic, it would be
almost ludicrous, to read of the great President, in the midst of his
absorbing labours and his ever-growing anxieties, poring night after
night, when his capital was asleep, over the pages of Jomini and
Clausewitz. And what was the result? In 1864, when Grant was
appointed to the command of the Union armies, he said: "I neither ask
nor desire to know anything of your plans. Take the responsibility
and act, and call on me for assistance." He had learned at last that
no man is a born strategist.

The mistakes of Lincoln and Stanton are not to be condoned by
pointing to McClellan.

McClellan designed the plan for the invasion of Virginia, and the
plan failed. But this is not to say that the plan was in itself a bad
one. Nine times out of ten it would have succeeded. In many respects
it was admirable. It did away with a long line of land
communications, passing through a hostile country. It brought the
naval power of the Federals into combination with the military. It
secured two great waterways, the York and the James, by which the
army could be easily supplied, which required no guards, and by which
heavy ordnance could be brought up to bombard the fortifications of
Richmond. But it had one flaw. It  Washington, in the opinion of
the President and of the nation, insecure; and this flaw, which would
have escaped the notice of an ordinary enemy, was at once detected by
Lee and Jackson. Moreover, had McClellan been  in control of the
whole theatre of war, Jackson's manoeuvres would probably have failed
to produce so decisive an effect. The fight at Kernstown would not
have induced McClellan to strike 40,000 men off the strength of the
invading army. He had not been deceived when Jackson threatened
Harper's Ferry at the end of May. The reinforcements sent from
Richmond after Port Republic had not blinded him, nor did he for a
moment believe that Washington was in actual danger. There is this,
however, to be said: had McClellan been in sole command, public
opinion, alarmed for Washington, would have possibly compelled him to
do exactly what Lincoln did, and to retain nearly half the army on
the Potomac.

So much for the leading of civilians. On the other hand, the failure
of the Federals to concentrate more than 105,000 men at the decisive
point, and even to establish those 105,000 in a favourable position,
was mainly due to the superior strategy of the Confederates. Those
were indeed skilful manoeuvres which prevented McDowell from marching
to the Chickahominy; and, at the critical moment, when Lee was on the
point of attacking McClellan, which drew McDowell, Banks, and Fremont
on a wild-goose chase towards Charlottesville. The weak joint in the
enemy's armour, the national anxiety for Washington, was early
recognised. Kernstown induced Lincoln, departing from the original
scheme of operations, to form four independent armies, each acting on
a different line. Two months later, when McClellan was near Richmond
it was of essential importance that the move of these armies should
be combined, Jackson once more intervened; Banks was driven across
the Potomac, and again the Federal concentration was postponed.
Lastly, the battles of Cross Keys and Port Republic, followed by the
dispatch of Whiting and Lawton to the Valley, led the Northern
President to commit his worst mistake. For the second time the plan
of campaign was changed, and McClellan was  isolated at the
moment he most needed help.

The brains of two great leaders had done more for the Confederacy
than 200,000 soldiers had done for the Union. Without quitting his
desk, and leaving the execution of his plans to Jackson, Lee had
relieved Richmond of the pressure of 70,000 Federals, and had lured
the remainder into the position he most wished to find them. The
Confederacy, notwithstanding the enormous disparity of force, had
once more gained the upper hand; and from this instance, as from a
score of others, it may be deduced that Providence is more inclined
to side with the big brains than with the big battalions.

It was not mere natural ability that had triumphed. Lee, in this
respect, was assuredly not more highly gifted than Lincoln, or
Jackson than McClellan. But, whether by accident or design, Davis had
selected for command of the Confederate army, and had retained in the
Valley, two past masters in the art of strategy. If it was accident
he was singularly favoured by fortune. He might have selected many
soldiers of high rank and long service, who would have been as
innocent of strategical skill as Lincoln himself. His choice might
have fallen on the most dashing leader, the strictest disciplinarian,
the best drill, in the Confederate army; and yet the man who united
all these qualities might have been altogether ignorant of the higher
art of war. Mr. Davis himself had been a soldier. He was a graduate
of West Point, and in the Mexican campaign he had commanded a
volunteer regiment with much distinction. But as a director of
military operations he was a greater marplot than even Stanton. It by
no means follows that because a man has lived his life in camp and
barrack, has long experience of command, and even long experience of
war, that he can apply the rules of strategy before the enemy. In the
first place he may lack the character, the inflexible resolution, the
broad grasp, the vivid imagination, the power of patient thought, the
cool head, and, above all, the moral courage. In the second place,
there are few schools where strategy may be learned, and, in any
case, a long and laborious course of study is the only means of
acquiring the capacity to handle armies and outwit an equal
adversary. The light of common-sense alone is insufficient; nor will
a few months' reading give more than a smattering of knowledge.

"Read and RE-READ," said Napoleon, "the eighty-eight campaigns of
Alexander, Hannibal, Caesar, Gustavus, Turenne, Eugene, and
Frederick. Take them as your models, for it is the only means of
becoming a great leader, and of mastering the secrets of the art of
war. Your intelligence, enlightened by such study, will then reject
methods contrary to those adopted by these great men."

In America, as elsewhere, it had not been recognised before the Civil
War, even by the military authorities, that if armies are to be
handled with success they must be directed by trained strategists. No
Kriegsakademie or its equivalent existed in the United States, and
the officers whom common-sense induced to follow the advice of
Napoleon had to pursue their studies by themselves. To these the
campaigns of the great Emperor offered an epitome of all that had
gone before; the campaigns of Washington explained how the principles
of the art might be best applied to their own country, and Mexico had
supplied them with practical experience. Of the West Point graduates
there were many who had acquired from these sources a wide knowledge
of the art of generalship, and among them were no more earnest
students than the three Virginians, Lee, Jackson, and Johnston.

When Jackson accepted an appointment for the Military Institute, it
was with the avowed intention of training his intellect for war. In
his retirement at Lexington he had kept before his eyes the
possibility that he might some day be recalled to the Army. He had
already acquired such practical knowledge of his profession as the
United States service could afford. He had become familiar with the
characteristics of the regular soldier. He knew how to command, to
maintain discipline, and the regulations were at his fingers' ends. A
few years had been sufficient to teach him all that could be learned
from the routine of a regiment, as they had been sufficient to teach
Napoleon, Frederick, and Lee. But there remained over and above the
intellectual part of war, and with characteristic thoroughness he had
set himself to master it. His reward came quickly. The Valley
campaign practically saved Richmond. In a few short months the quiet
gentleman of Lexington became, in the estimation of both friend and
foe, a very thunderbolt of war; and his name, which a year previous
had hardly been known beyond the Valley, was already famous.

It is, perhaps, true that Johnston and Lee had a larger share in
Jackson's success than has been generally recognised. It was due to
Johnston that Jackson was retained in the Valley when McClellan moved
to the Peninsula; and his, too, was the fundamental idea of the
campaign, that the Federals in the Valley were to be prevented from
reinforcing the army which threatened Richmond. To Lee belongs still
further credit. From the moment he assumed command we find the
Confederate operations directed on a definite and well-considered
plan; a defensive attitude round Richmond, a vigorous offensive in
the Valley, leading to the dispersion of the enemy, and a Confederate
concentration on the Chickahominy. His operations were very bold.
When McClellan, with far superior numbers, was already within twenty
miles of Richmond, he had permitted Jackson to retain Ewell's 8000 in
the Valley, and he would have given him the brigades of Branch and
Mahone. From Lee, too, came the suggestion that a blow should be
struck at Banks, that he should be driven back to the Potomac, and
that the North should be threatened with invasion. From him, too, at
a moment when McClellan's breastworks could be actually seen from
Richmond, came the 7000 men under Whiting and Lawton, the news of
whose arrival in the Valley had spread such consternation amongst the
Federals. But it is to be remembered that Jackson viewed the
situation in exactly the same light as his superiors. The
instructions he received were exactly the instructions he would have
given had he been in command at Richmond; and it may be questioned
whether even he would have carried them out with such whole-hearted
vigour if he had not thoroughly agreed with every detail.

Lee's strategy was indeed remarkable. He knew McClellan and he knew
Lincoln. He knew that the former was over-cautious; he knew that the
latter was over-anxious. No sudden assault on the Richmond lines,
weak as they were, was to be apprehended, and a threat against
Washington was certain to have great results. Hence the audacity
which, at a moment apparently most critical, sent 17,000 of the best
troops in the Confederacy as far northward as Harper's Ferry, and, a
fortnight later, weakened the garrison of Richmond by 7000 infantry.
He was surely a great leader who, in the face of an overwhelming
enemy, dared assume so vast a responsibility. But it is to be
remembered that Lee made no suggestion whatever as to the manner in
which his ideas were to be worked out. Everything was  to
Jackson. The swift manoeuvres which surprised in succession his
various enemies emanated from himself alone. It was his brain that
conceived the march by Mechum's Station to M'Dowell, the march that
surprised Fremont and bewildered Banks. It was his brain that
conceived the rapid transfer of the Valley army from the one side of
the Massanuttons to the other, the march that surprised Kenly and
drove Banks in panic to the Potomac. It was his brain that conceived
the double victory of Cross Keys and Port Republic; and if Lee's
strategy was brilliant, that displayed by Jackson on the minor
theatre of war was no less masterly. The instructions he received at
the end of April, before he moved against Milroy, were simply to the
effect that a successful blow at Banks might have the happiest
results. But such a blow was not easy. Banks was strongly posted and
numerically superior to Jackson, while Fremont, in equal strength,
was threatening Staunton. Taking instant advantage of the separation
of the hostile columns, Jackson struck at Milroy, and having checked
Fremont, returned to the Valley to find Banks retreating. At this
moment he received orders from Lee to threaten Washington. Without an
instant's hesitation he marched northward. By May 28, had the
Federals received warning of his advance, they might have
concentrated 80,000 men at Strasburg and Front Royal; or, while Banks
was reinforced, McDowell might have moved on Gordonsville, cutting
Jackson's line of retreat on Richmond.

But Jackson took as little count of numbers as did Cromwell.
Concealing his march with his usual skill he dashed with his 16,000
men into the midst of his enemies. Driving Banks before him, and well
aware that Fremont and McDowell were converging in his rear, he
advanced boldly on Harper's Ferry, routed Saxton's outposts, and
remained for two days on the Potomac, with 62,000 Federals within a
few days' march. Then, retreating rapidly up the Valley, beneath the
southern peaks of the Massanuttons he turned fiercely at bay; and the
pursuing columns, mustering together nearly twice his numbers, were
thrust back with heavy loss at the very moment they were combining to
crush him.* (* "An operation which stamps him as a military genius of
the highest order." Lord Wolseley, North American Review volume 149
No. 2 page 166.) A week later he had vanished, and when he appeared
on the Chickahominy, Banks, Fremont, and McDowell were still guarding
the roads to Washington, and McClellan was waiting for McDowell.
175,000 men absolutely paralysed by 16,000! Only Napoleon's campaign
of 1814 affords a parallel to this extraordinary spectacle.* (* "These
brilliant successes appear to me models of their kind, both in
conception and execution. They should be closely studied by all
officers who wish to learn the art and science of war."--Ibid.)

Jackson's task was undoubtedly facilitated by the ignorance of
Lincoln and the incapacity of his political generals. But in
estimating his achievements, this ignorance and incapacity are only
of secondary importance. The historians do not dwell upon the
mistakes of Colli, Beaulieu, and Wurmser in 1796, but on the
brilliant resolution with which Napoleon took advantage of them; and
the salient features, both of the Valley Campaign and of that of
1796, are the untiring vigilance with which opportunities were looked
for, the skill with which they were detected, and the daring rapidity
with which they were seized.

History often unconsciously injures the reputation of great soldiers.
The more detailed the narrative, the less brilliant seems success,
the less excusable defeat. When we are made fully acquainted with the
dispositions of both sides, the correct solution of the problem,
strategical or tactical, is generally so plain that we may easily be
led to believe that it must needs have spontaneously suggested itself
to the victorious leader; and, as a natural corollary, that success
is due rather to force of will than to force of intellect; to
vigilance, energy, and audacity, rather than to insight and
calculation. It is asserted, for instance, by superficial critics
that both Wellington and Napoleon, in the campaign of 1815, committed
unpardonable errors. Undoubtedly, at first sight, it is inconceivable
that the one should have disregarded the probability of the French
invading Belgium by the Charleroi road, or that the other, on the
morning of the great battle, should never have suspected that Blucher
was close at hand. But the critic's knowledge of the situation is far
more ample and accurate than that of either commander. Had either
Wellington before Quatre Bras, or Napoleon on the fateful June 18
known what we know now, matters would have turned out very
differently. "If," said Frederick the Great, "we had exact
information of our enemy's dispositions, we should beat him every
time;" but exact information is never forthcoming. A general in the
field literally walks in darkness, and his success will be in
proportion to the facility with which his mental vision can pierce
the veil. His manoeuvres, to a greater or less degree, must always be
based on probabilities, for his most recent reports almost invariably
relate to events which, at best, are several hours old; and,
meanwhile, what has the enemy been doing? This it is the most
essential part of his business to discover, and it is a matter of
hard thinking and sound judgment. From the indications furnished by
his reports, and from the consideration of many circumstances, with
some of which he is only imperfectly acquainted, he must divine the
intentions of his opponent. It is not pretended that even the widest
experience and the finest intellect confer infallibility. But
clearness of perception and the power of deduction, together with the
strength of purpose which they create, are the fount and origin of
great achievements; and when we find a campaign in which they played
a predominant part, we may fairly rate it as a masterpiece of war. It
can hardly be disputed that these qualities played such a part on the
Shenandoah. For instance; when Jackson  the Valley to march
against Milroy, many things might have happened which would have
brought about disaster:--

1. Banks, who was reported to have 21,000 men at Harrisonburg, might
have moved on Staunton, joined hands with Milroy, and crushed Edward
Johnson.

2. Banks might have attacked Ewell's 8000 with superior numbers.

3. Fremont, if he got warning of Jackson's purpose, might have
reinforced Milroy, occupied a strong position, and requested Banks to
threaten or attack the Confederates in rear.

4. Fremont might have withdrawn his advanced brigade, and have
reinforced Banks from Moorefield.

5. Banks might have been reinforced by Blenker, of whose whereabouts
Jackson was uncertain.

6. Banks might have marched to join McDowell at Fredericksburg.

7. McClellan might have pressed Johnston so closely that a decisive
battle could not have been long delayed.

8. McDowell might have marched on Richmond, intervening between the
Valley army and the capital.

Such an array of possibilities would have justified a passive
attitude on Elk Run. A calculation of the chances, however, showed
Jackson that the dangers of action were illusory. "Never take counsel
of your fears," was a maxim often on his lips. Unlike many others, he
first made up his mind what he wanted to do, and then, and not till
then, did he consider what his opponents might do to thwart him. To
seize the initiative was his chief preoccupation, and in this case it
did not seem difficult to do so. He knew that Banks was
unenterprising. It was improbable that McDowell would advance until
McClellan was near Richmond, and McClellan was very slow. To prevent
Fremont getting an inkling of his design in time to cross it was not
impossible, and Lincoln's anxiety for Washington might be relied on
to keep Banks in the Valley.

It is true that Jackson's force was very small. But the manifestation
of military genius is not affected by numbers. The handling of masses
is a mechanical art, of which knowledge and experience are the key;
but it is the manner in which the grand principles of war are applied
which marks the great leader, and these principles may be applied as
resolutely and effectively with 10,000 men as with 100,000.

"In meditation," says Bacon, "all dangers should be seen; in
execution none, unless they are very formidable." It was on this
precept that Jackson acted. Not a single one of his manoeuvres but
was based on a close and judicial survey of the situation. Every risk
was weighed. Nothing was  to chance. "There was never a
commander," says his chief of the staff, "whose foresight was more
complete. Nothing emerged which had not been considered before in his
mind; no possibility was overlooked; he was never surprised."* (*
Dabney volume 1 page 76.) The character of his opponent, the morale
of the hostile troops, the nature of the ground, and the manner in
which physical features could be turned to account, were all matters
of the most careful consideration. He was a constant student of the
map, and his topographical engineer was one of the most important
officers on his staff. "It could readily be seen," writes Major
Hotchkiss, "that in the preparations he made for securing success he
had fully in mind what Napoleon had done under similar circumstances;
resembling Napoleon especially in this, that he was very particular
in securing maps, and in acquiring topographical information. He
furnished me with every facility that I desired for securing
topographical information and for making maps, allowing me a complete
transportation outfit for my exclusive use and sending men into the
enemy's country to procure copies of local maps when I expressed a
desire to have them. I do not think he had an accurate knowledge of
the Valley previous to the war. When I first reported to him for
duty, at the beginning of March 1862, he told me that he wanted "a
complete map of the entire Shenandoah Valley from Harper's Ferry to
Lexington, one showing every point of offence and defence," and to
that task I immediately addressed myself. As a rule he did not refer
to maps in the field, making his study of them in advance. He
undoubtedly had the power of retaining the topography of the country
in his imagination. He had spent his youth among the mountains, where
there were but few waggon roads but many bridle and foot paths. His
early occupation made it necessary for him to become familiar with
such intricate ways; and I think this had a very important bearing on
his ability to promptly recognise the topographical features of the
country, and to recall them whenever it became necessary to make use
of them. He was quick in comprehending topographical features. I made
it a point, nevertheless, to be always ready to give him a graphic
representation of any particular point of the region where operations
were going on, making a rapid sketch of the topography in his
presence, and using different coloured pencils for greater clearness
in the definition of surface features. The carefully prepared map
generally had too many points of detail, and did not sufficiently
emphasise features apparently insignificant, but from a military
standpoint most important. I may add that Jackson not only studied
the general maps of the country, but made a particular study of those
of any district where he expected to march or fight, constantly using
sketch maps made upon the ground to inform him as to portions of the
field of operations that did not immediately come under his own
observation. I often made rough sketches for him when on the march,
or during engagements, in answer to his requests for information."*
(* Letter to the author.)

It is little wonder that it should have been said by his soldiers
that "he knew every hole and corner of the Valley as if he had made
it himself."

But to give attention to topography was not all that Jackson had
learned from Napoleon. "As a strategist," says Dabney, "the first
Napoleon was undoubtedly his model. He had studied his campaigns
diligently, and he was accustomed to remark with enthusiasm upon the
evidences of his genius. "Napoleon," he said, "was the first to show
what an army could be made to accomplish. He had shown what was the
value of time as an element of strategic combination, and that good
troops, if well cared for, could be made to march twenty-five miles
daily, and win battles besides." And he had learned more than this.
"We must make this campaign," he said at the beginning of 1868, "an
exceedingly active one. Only thus can a weaker country cope with a
stronger; it must make up in activity what it lacks in strength. A
defensive campaign can only be made successful by taking the
aggressive at the proper time. Napoleon never waited for his
adversary to become fully prepared, but struck him the first blow.""

It would perhaps be difficult, in the writings of Napoleon, to find a
passage which embodies his conception of war in terms as definite as
these; but no words could convey it more clearly. It is sometimes
forgotten that Napoleon was often outnumbered at the outset of a
campaign. It was not only in the campaigns of Italy, of Leipsic, of
1814, and of Waterloo, that the hostile armies were larger than his
own. In those of Ulm, Austerlitz, Eckmuhl, and Dresden, he was
numerically inferior on the whole theatre of war; but while the
French troops were concentrated under a single chief, the armies of
the Allies were scattered over a wide area, and unable to support
each other. Before they could come together, Napoleon, moving with
the utmost rapidity, struck the first blow, and they were defeated in
succession. The first principle of war is to concentrate superior
force at the decisive point, that is, upon the field of battle. But
it is exceedingly seldom that by standing still, and leaving the
initiative to the enemy, that this principle can be observed, for a
numerically inferior force, if it once permits its enemy to
concentrate, can hardly hope for success. True generalship is,
therefore, "to make up in activity for lack of strength; to strike
the enemy in detail, and overthrow his columns in succession. And the
highest art of all is to compel him to disperse his army, and then to
concentrate superior force against each fraction in turn."

It is such strategy as this that "gains the ends of States and makes
men heroes." Napoleon did not discover it. Every single general who
deserves to be entitled great has used it. Frederick, threatened by
Austria, France, Russia, Saxony, and Sweden, used it in self-defence,
and from the Seven Years' War the little kingdom of Prussia emerged
as a first-class Power. It was such strategy which won back the
Peninsula; not the lines of Torres Vedras, but the bold march
northwards to Vittoria.* (* "In six weeks, Wellington marched with
100,000 men six hundred miles, passed six great rivers, gained one
decisive battle, invested two fortresses, and drove 120,000 veteran
troops from Spain." The War in the Peninsula, Napier volume 5 page
132.) It was on the same lines that Lee and Jackson acted. Lee, in
compelling the Federals to keep their columns separated, manoeuvred
with a skill which has seldom been surpassed; Jackson, falling as it
were from the skies into the midst of his astonished foes, struck
 and  before they could combine, and defeated in detail
every detachment which crossed his path.

It is when regarded in connection with the operations of the main
armies that the Valley campaign stands out in its true colours; but,
at the same time, even as an isolated incident, it is in the highest
degree interesting. It has been compared, and not inaptly, with the
Italian campaign of 1796. And it may even be questioned whether, in
some respects, it was not more brilliant. The odds against the
Confederates were far greater than against the French. Jackson had to
deal with a homogeneous enemy, with generals anxious to render each
other loyal support, and not with the contingents of different
States. His marches were far longer than Napoleon's. The theatre of
war was not less difficult. His troops were not veterans, but, in
great part, the very rawest of recruits. The enemy's officers and
soldiers were not inferior to his own; their leaders were at least
equal in capacity to Colli, Beaulieu, and Alvinzi, and the statesmen
who directed them were not more purblind than the Aulic Council.
Moreover, Jackson was merely the commander of a detached force, which
might at any moment be required at Richmond. The risks which Napoleon
freely accepted he could not afford. He dared not deliver battle
unless he were certain of success, and his one preoccupation was to
lose as few men as possible. But be this as it may, in the secrecy of
the Confederate movements, the rapidity of the marches, and the
skilful use of topographical features, the Valley campaign bears
strong traces of the Napoleonic methods. Seldom has the value of
these methods been more forcibly illustrated. Three times was
McDowell to have marched to join McClellan: first, at the beginning
of April, when he was held back by Kernstown; second, on May 26, when
he was held back by Front Royal and Winchester; third, on June 25,
when he was held back by Jackson's disappearance after Port Republic.
Above all, the campaign reveals a most perfect appreciation of the
surest means of dealing with superior numbers. "In my personal
intercourse with Jackson," writes General Imboden, "in the early part
of the war, he often said that there were two things never to be lost
sight of by a military commander. "Always mystify, mislead, and
surprise the enemy, if possible; and when you strike and overcome
him, never give up the pursuit as long as your men have strength to
follow; for an army routed, if hotly pursued, becomes panic-stricken,
and can then be destroyed by half their number. The other rule is,
never fight against heavy odds, if by any possible manoeuvering you
can hurl your own force on only a part, and that the weakest part, of
your enemy and crush it. Such tactics will win every time, and a
small army may thus destroy a large one in detail, and repeated
victory will make it invincible."* (* Battles and Leaders volume 2
page 297.) And again: "To move swiftly, strike vigorously, and secure
all the fruits of victory, is the secret of successful war.""

These maxims were the outcome of his studies, "drawn absolutely and
merely," says Lord Wolseley, "from his knowledge of war, as learned
from the great leaders of former days; "* (* North American Review
volume 149 page 168.) and if he made war by rule, as he had regulated
his conduct as a cadet, it can hardly be denied that his rules were
of the soundest. They are a complete summary of the tactics which
wrought such havoc in the Valley. The order in which they are placed
is interesting. "To mystify, mislead, and surprise," is the first
precept. How thoroughly it was applied! The measures by which his
adversaries were to be deceived were as carefully thought out as the
maps had been closely studied. The troops moved almost as often by
country roads and farm tracks as by the turnpikes. The longer route,
even when time was of importance, was often preferred, if it was well
concealed, to the shorter. No precaution, however trivial, that might
prevent information reaching the enemy was neglected. In order that
he might give his final instructions to Colonel Munford before
marching to Richmond, he told that officer to meet him at ten o'clock
at night in Mount Sidney. "I will be on my horse," he wrote, "at the
north end of the town, so you need not inquire after me."* (* O.R.
volume 12 part 3 page 914.) "Le bon general ordinaire" would have
scoffed at the atmosphere of mystery which enveloped the Confederate
camp. The march from Elk Run Valley to Port Republic, with its
accompaniments of continuous quagmire and dreary bivouacs, he would
have ridiculed as a most useless stratagem. The infinite pains with
which Jackson sought to conceal, even from his most trusted staff
officers, his movements, his intentions, and his thoughts, a
commander less thorough would have pronounced useless. The long night
ride to Richmond, on June 22, with its untoward delays and provoking
contretemps, sounds like an excess of precaution which was absolutely
pedantic.* (* He instructed the orderly that accompanied him, and who
knew the roads, to call him "Colonel') But war, according to
Napoleon, is made up of accidents. The country was full of spies; the
Southern newspapers were sometimes indiscreet; and the simple fact
that Jackson had been seen near Richmond would have warned McClellan
that his  wing was in jeopardy. Few men would have taken such
infinite trouble to hide the departure from the Valley and the march
across Virginia to attack McClellan. But soldiers of experience,
alive to the full bearing of seemingly petty details, appreciate his
skill.* (* "The manner," says Lord Wolseley, "in which he thus
mystified his enemy regarding this most important movement is a
masterpiece." North American Review volume 149 pages 166 and 167.)
According to the dictum of Napoleon, "there are no such things as
trifles in war."

It was not, however, on such expedients that Jackson principally
relied to keep his enemy in the dark. The use he made of his cavalry
is perhaps the most brilliant tactical feature of the campaign.
Ashby's squadrons were the means whereby the Federals were mystified.
Not only was a screen established which perfectly concealed the
movements of the Valley army, but constant demonstrations, at far
distant points, alarmed and bewildered the Federal commanders. In his
employment of cavalry Jackson was in advance of his age. His patrols
were kept out two or three marches to front and flank; neither by day
nor by night were they permitted to lose touch of the enemy; and thus
no movement could take place without their knowledge. Such tactics
had not been seen since the days of Napoleon. The Confederate
horsemen in the Valley were far better handled than those of France
or Austria in 1859, of Prussia or Austria in 1866, of France in 1870,
of England, France, or Russia in the Crimea.

In the flank march on Sebastopol the hostile armies passed within a
few miles, in an open country, without either of them being aware of
the proximity of the other, and the English headquarter staff almost
rode into a Russian baggage-train. At Solferino and at Sadowa, armies
which were counted by hundreds of thousands encamped almost within
sight of each other's watch-fires, without the slightest suspicion
that the enemy lay over the next ridge. The practice of Napoleon had
been forgotten. The great cloud of horsemen which, riding sometimes a
hundred miles to the front, veiled the march of the Grand Army had
vanished from memory. The vast importance ascribed by the Emperor to
procuring early information of his enemy and hiding his own movements
had been overlooked; and it was  to an American soldier to revive
his methods.

The application of Jackson's second precept, "to hurl your own force
on the weakest part of the enemy's," was made possible by his
vigorous application of the first. The Federals, mystified and misled
by demonstrations of the cavalry, and unable to procure information,
never knew at what point they should concentrate, and support
invariably came too late. Jackson's tactical successes were achieved
over comparatively small forces. Except at Cross Keys, and there he
only intended to check Fremont for the moment, he never encountered
more than 10,000 men on any single field. No great victory, like
Austerlitz or Salamanca, was won over equal numbers. No
Chancellorsville, where a huge army was overthrown by one scarce half
the size, is reckoned amongst the triumphs of the Valley campaign.
But it is to be remembered that Jackson was always outnumbered, and
outnumbered heavily, on the theatre of war; and if he defeated his
enemies in detail, their overthrow was not less decisive than if it
had been brought about at one time and at one place. The fact that
they were unable to combine their superior numbers before the blow
fell is in itself the strongest testimony to his ability. "How
often," says Napier, "have we not heard the genius of Buonaparte
slighted, and his victories talked of as destitute of merit, because,
at the point of attack, he was superior in numbers to his enemies!
This very fact, which has been so often converted into a sort of
reproach, constitutes his greatest and truest praise. He so directed
his attack as at once to divide his enemy, and to fall with the mass
of his own forces upon a point where their division, or the
distribution of their army,  them unable to resist him. It is not
in man to defeat armies by the breath of his mouth; nor was
Buonaparte commissioned, like Gideon, to confound and destroy a host
with three hundred men. He knew that everything depended ultimately
upon physical superiority; and his genius was shown in this, that,
though outnumbered on the whole, he was always superior to his
enemies at the decisive point."*

(* The following table, of which the idea is borrowed from The
Principles of Strategy, by Captain Bigelow, U.S.A., may be found
interesting. Under the heading "Strategic" appear the numbers
available on the theatre of operations; under the heading "Tactical"
the numbers present on the field of battle. See also note at the end
of the volume.

                         STRATEGIC         TACTICAL
                        M'Dowell
Federal                  30,000              2,500
Confederate              17,000              6,000
                        Winchester
Federal                  60,000              7,500
Confederate              16,000             16,000
                        Cross Keys
Federal                  23,000             12,750
Confederate              13,000              8,000
                        Port Republic
Federal                  22,000              4,500
Confederate              12,700              6,000

The material results of the Valley campaign were by no means
inconsiderable. 8500 prisoners were either paroled or sent to
Richmond. 3500 Federals were killed or wounded. An immense quantity
of stores was captured, and probably as much destroyed. 9 guns were
taken and over 10,000 rifles, while the loss of the Confederates was
no more than 2500 killed and wounded, 600 prisoners, and 3 guns. It
may be added that the constant surprises, together with the
successive conflict with superior numbers, had the worst effect on
the morale of the Federal soldiers. The troops commanded by Fremont,
Shields, Banks, Saxton, and Geary were all infected. Officers
resigned and men deserted. On the least alarm there was a decided
tendency to "stampede." The generals thought only of retreat.
Fremont, after Cross Keys, did not think that his men would stand,
and many of his men declared that it was "only murder" to fight
without reinforcements.* (* O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 402.)

When to those results is added the strategical effect of the
campaign, it can hardly be denied that the success he achieved was
out of all proportion to Jackson's strength. Few generals have done
so much with means so small. Not only were the Valley troops
comparatively few in numbers, but they were volunteers, and
volunteers of a type that was altogether novel. Even in the War of
the Revolution many of the regimental officers, and indeed many of
the soldiers, were men who had served in the Indian and French wars
under the English flag. But there were not more than half a dozen
regular officers in the whole Army of the Valley. Except Jackson
himself, and his chief of artillery, not one of the staff had more
than a year's service. Twelve months previous several of the
brigadiers had been civilians. The regimental officers were as green
as the men; and although military offences were few, the bonds of
discipline were slight. When the march to M'Dowell was begun, which
was to end five weeks later at Port Republic, a considerable number
of the so-called "effectives" had only been drilled for a few hours.
The cavalry on parade was little better than a mob; on the line of
march they kept or  the ranks as the humour took them. It is true
that the Federals were hardly more efficient. But Jackson's
operations were essentially offensive, and offensive operations, as
was shown at Bull Run, are ill-suited to raw troops. Attack cannot be
carried to a triumphant issue unless every fraction of the force
co-operates with those on either hand; and co-operation is hardly to
be expected from inexperienced officers. Moreover, offensive
operations, especially when a small force is manoeuvring against the
fraction of a larger, depend for success on order, rapidity, and
endurance; and it is in these qualities, as a rule, that raw troops
are particularly deficient. Yet Jackson, like Napoleon at Ulm, might
have boasted with truth that he had "destroyed the enemy merely by
marches," and his men accomplished feats of which the hardiest
veterans might well be proud.

From April 29 to June 5, that is, in thirty-eight days, they marched
four hundred miles, fought three battles and numerous combats, and
were victorious in all. Several of the marches exceeded twenty-five
miles a day; and in retreat, from the Potomac to Port Republic, the
army made one hundred and four miles between the morning of May 30
and the night of June 5, that is, fifteen miles daily without a rest
day intervening. This record, if we take into consideration the
infamous roads, is remarkable; and it well may be asked by what means
these half-trained troops were enabled to accomplish such a feat?* (*
"Campaigning in France," says General Sheridan, who was with the
Prussian Headquarter Staff in 1870, "that is, the marching, camping,
and subsisting of an army, is an easy matter, very unlike anything we
had in the War of the Rebellion. To repeat: the country is rich,
beautiful, and densely populated, subsistence abundant, and the roads
all macadamised highways; thus the conditions are altogether
different from those existing with us...I can but leave to conjecture
how the Germans would have got along on bottomless roads--often none
at all--through the swamps and quicksands of Northern
Virginia."--Memoirs. volume 2 page 450.)

Jackson's rules for marching have been preserved. "He never broke
down his men by long-continued movement. He rested the whole column
very often, but only for a few minutes at a time. He liked to see the
men lie flat on the ground to rest, and would say, "A man rests all
over when he lies down.""* (* Battles and Leaders volume 2 pages 297,
298.) Nor did he often call upon his troops for extraordinary
exertions. In the period between his departure from Elk Run Mountain
to the battle of Port Republic there were only four series of forced
marches.* (* From April 17 to April 19, when he moved to Elk Run
Valley; May 6 to May 8, when he moved against Milroy; May 18 to May
25, when he moved against Banks; and May 29 to June 1, when he passed
south between Fremont and Shields.) "The hardships of forced
marches," he said, "are often more painful than the dangers of
battle." It was only, in short, when he intended a surprise, or when
a rapid retreat was imperative, that he sacrificed everything to
speed. The troops marched light, carrying only rifles, blankets,
haversacks, and ammunition. When long distances were to be covered,
those men who still retained their knapsacks were ordered to leave
them behind. No heavy trains accompanied the army. The ambulances and
ammunition waggons were always present; but the supply waggons were
often far in rear. In their haversacks the men carried several days'
rations; and when these were consumed they lived either on the
farmers, or on the stores they had captured from the enemy.

It is not to be supposed, however, that the ranks remained full. "I
had rather," said Jackson, "lose one man in marching than five in
fighting," and to this rule he rigorously adhered. He never gave the
enemy warning by a deliberate approach along the main roads; and if
there was a chance of effecting a surprise, or if the enemy was
already flying, it mattered little how many men fell out. And fall
out they did, in large numbers. Between May 17 and the battle of
Cross Keys the army was reduced from 16,500 men to 18,000. Not more
than 500 had been killed or wounded, so there were no less than 3000
absentees. Many were footsore and found no place in the ambulances.
Many were sick; others on detachment; but a large proportion had
absented themselves without asking leave. Two days after Winchester,
in a letter to Ewell, Jackson writes that "the evil of straggling has
become enormous."

Such severe exertion as the march against Kenly, the pursuit of
Banks, and the retreat from the Potomac, would have told their tale
upon the hardiest veterans. When the German armies, suddenly changing
direction from west to north, pushed on to Sedan by forced marches,
large numbers of the infantry succumbed to pure exhaustion. When the
Light Division, in 1818, pressing forward after Sauroren to intercept
the French retreat, marched nineteen consecutive hours in very sultry
weather, and over forty miles of mountain roads, "many men fell and
died convulsed and frothing at the mouth, while others, whose spirit
and strength had never before been quelled, leant on their muskets
and muttered in sullen tones that they yielded for the first time."*
(* The War in the Peninsula, Napier volume 5 page 244.)

But the men that fell out on the march to Sedan and in the passes of
the Pyrenees were physically incapable of further effort. They were
not stragglers in the true sense of the term; and in an army broken
to discipline straggling on the line of march is practically unknown.
The sickly and feeble may fall away, but every sound man may
confidently be relied upon to keep his place. The secret of full
ranks is good officers and strict discipline; and the most marked
difference between regular troops and those hastily organised is
this--with the former the waste of men will be small, with the latter
very great. In all armies, however constituted, there is a large
proportion of men whose hearts are not in the business.* (* General
Sheridan is said to have declared that 25 per cent of the Federal
soldiers lacked the military spirit.)

When hard marching and heavy fighting are in prospect the inclination
of such men is to make themselves scarce, and when discipline is
relaxed they will soon find the opportunity. But when their instincts
of obedience are strong, when the only home they know is with the
colours, when the credit of their regiment is at stake--and even the
most worthless have some feeling for their own corps--engrained habit
and familiar associations overcome their natural weakness. The
troop-horse bereft of his rider at once seeks his comrades, and
pushes his way, with empty saddle, into his place in the ranks. And
so the soldier by profession, faint-hearted as he may be, marches
shoulder to shoulder with his comrades, and acquires a fictitious,
but not unuseful, courage from his contact with braver men.

It is true that the want of good boots told heavily on the
Confederates. A pair already half-worn, such as many of the men
started with, was hardly calculated to last out a march of several
hundred miles over rocky tracks, and fresh supplies were seldom
forthcoming. There was a dearth both of shoe-leather and
shoe-factories in the South; and if Mr. Davis, before the blockade
was established, had indented on the shoemakers of Europe, he would
have added very largely to the efficiency of his armies. A few
cargoes of good boots would have been more useful than a shipload of
rifled guns.

Nevertheless, the absentees from the ranks were not all footsore. The
vice of straggling was by no means confined to Jackson's command. It
was the curse of both armies, Federal and Confederate. The Official
Records, as well as the memoirs of participants, teem with references
to it. It was an evil which the severest punishments seemed incapable
of checking. It was in vain that it was denounced in orders, that the
men were appealed to, warned, and threatened. Nor were the
faint-hearted alone at fault. The day after Jackson's victory at
M'Dowell, Johnston, falling back before McClellan, addressed General
Lee as follows:--

"Stragglers cover the country, and Richmond is no doubt filled with
the absent without leave...The men are full of spirit when near the
enemy, but at other times to avoid restraint leave their regiments in
crowds."* (* O.R. volume 11 part 3 page 503.) A letter from a
divisional general followed:--

"It is with deep mortification that I report that several thousand
soldiers and many individuals with commissions have fled to Richmond
under pretext of sickness. They have even thrown away their arms that
their flight might not be impeded. Cannot these miserable wretches be
arrested and returned to their regiments, where they can have their
heads shaved and be drummed out of the service?"* (* Ibid page 506.)

Jackson, then, had to contend with difficulties which a general in
command of regular troops would not have been called on to provide
against; and in other respects also he suffered from the constitution
of his army. The one thing lacking in the Valley campaign was a
decisive victory over a considerable detachment of the Federal army,
the annihilation of one of the converging forces, and large capture
of guns and prisoners. A victory as complete as Rivoli would have
completed its dramatic interest. But for this Jackson himself was
hardly to blame. The misconduct of the Confederate cavalry on May 24
and 25 permitted Banks to escape destruction; and the delay at the
temporary bridge near Port Republic, due, mainly, to the
disinclination of the troops to face the ford, and the want of
resolute obedience on the part of their commanders, saved Fremont
from the same fate. Had Shields' advanced brigades been driven back,
as Jackson designed, while the day was still young, the operations of
the Valley army would in all probability have been crowned by a
brilliant triumph over nearly equal forces. Fremont, already fearful
and irresolute, was hardly the man to withstand the vigour of
Jackson's onset; and that onset would assuredly have been made if
more careful arrangements had been made to secure the bridge. This
was not the only mistake committed by the staff. The needlessly long
march of the main body when approaching Front Royal on May 28 might
well have been obviated. But for this delay the troops might have
pushed on before nightfall to within easy reach of the Valley
turnpike, and Banks have been cut off from Winchester.

It is hardly necessary to say that, even with regular troops, the
same mistakes might have occurred. They are by no means without
parallel, and even those committed by the Federals have their exact
counterpart in European warfare. At the beginning of August, 1870,
the French army, like Banks' division on May 28, 1862, was in two
portions, divided by a range of mountains. The staff was aware that
the Germans were in superior strength, but their dispositions were
unknown. Like Banks, they neglected to reconnoitre; and when a weak
detachment beyond the mountains was suddenly overwhelmed, they still
refused to believe that attack was imminent. The crushing defeats of
Worth and Spicheren were the result.

The staff of a regular army is not always infallible. It would be
hard to match the extraordinary series of blunders made by the staffs
of the three armies--English, French, and Prussian--in the campaign
of Waterloo, and yet there was probably no senior officer present in
Belgium who had not seen several campaigns. But the art of war has
made vast strides since Waterloo, and even since 1870. Under Moltke's
system, which has been applied in a greater or less degree to nearly
all professional armies, the chance of mistakes has been much
reduced. The staff is no longer casually educated and selected
haphazard; the peace training of both officers and men is far more
thorough; and those essential details on which the most brilliant
conceptions, tactical and strategical, depend for success stand much
less chance of being overlooked than in 1815. It is by the standard
of a modern army, and not of those whose only school in peace was the
parade-ground, that the American armies must be judged.

That Jackson's tactical skill, and his quick eye for ground, had much
to do with his victories can hardly be questioned. At Kernstown and
Port Republic he seized the key of the position without a moment's
hesitation. At Winchester, when Ewell was checked upon the ,
three strong brigades, suddenly thrown forward on the opposite flank,
completely rolled up the Federal line. At Cross Keys the position
selected for Ewell proved too formidable for Fremont, despite his
superiority in guns. At Port Republic, Taylor's unexpected approach
through the tangled forest was at once decisive of the engagement.
The cavalry charge at Front Royal was admirably timed; and the manner
in which Ashby was employed throughout the campaign, not only to
screen the advance but to check pursuit, was a proof of the highest
tactical ability. Nor should the quick insight into the direction of
Shields' march on June 1, and the destruction of the bridges by which
he could communicate with Fremont, be omitted. It is true that the
operations in the Valley were not absolutely faultless. When Jackson
was bent on an effective blow his impatience to bring the enemy to
bay robbed him more than once of complete success. On the march to
M'Dowell Johnson's brigade, the advanced guard, had been permitted to
precede the main body by seven miles, and, consequently, when Milroy
attacked there was not sufficient force at hand for a decisive
counterstroke. Moreover, with an ill-trained staff a careful
supervision was most essential, and the waggon bridge at Port
Republic should have been inspected by a trustworthy staff officer
before Winder rushed across to fall on Tyler.

Errors of this nature, however instructive they may be to the student
of war, are but spots upon the sun; and in finding in his subordinate
such breadth of view and such vigour of execution, Lee was fortunate
indeed. Jackson was no less fortunate when Ashby came under his
command. That dashing captain of free-lances was undoubtedly a most
valuable colleague. It was something to have a cavalry leader who
could not only fight and reconnoitre, but who had sagacity enough to
divine the enemy's intentions. But the ideas that governed the
employment of the cavalry were Jackson's alone. He it was who placed
the squadrons across Fremont's road from Wardensville, who ordered
the demonstrations against Banks, before both M'Dowell and Front
Royal, and those which caused Fremont to retreat after Port Republic.
More admirable still was the quickness with which he recognised the
use that might be made of mounted riflemen. From the Potomac to Port
Republic his horsemen covered his retreat, dismounting behind every
stream and along the borders of every wood, checking the pursuers
with their fire, compelling them to deploy their infantry, and then
retreating rapidly to the next position. Day after day were the
Federal advanced guards held in check, their columns delayed, and the
generals irritated by their slippery foe. Meanwhile, the Confederate
infantry, falling back at their leisure, were relieved of all
annoyance. And if the cavalry was suddenly driven in, support was
invariably at hand, and a compact brigade of infantry, supported by
artillery, sent the pursuing horsemen to the -about. The retreat
of the Valley army was managed with the same skill as its advance,
and the rear-guard tactics of the campaign are no less remarkable
than those of the attack.

To judge from the Valley campaign, Jackson handled his horsemen with
more skill than any other commander, Confederate or Federal. A
cavalry that could defend itself on foot as well as charge in the
saddle was practically a new arm, of far greater efficiency than
cavalry of the old type, and Jackson at once recognised, not only its
value; but the manner in which it could be most effectively employed.
He was not led away by the specious advantages, so eagerly urged by
young and ambitious soldiers, of the so-called raids. Even Lee
himself, cool-headed as he was, appears to have been fascinated by
the idea of throwing a great body of horsemen across his enemy's
communications, spreading terror amongst his supply trains, cutting
his telegraphs, and destroying his magazines. In hardly a single
instance did such expeditions inflict more than temporary discomfort
on the enemy; and the armies were led more than once into false
manoeuvres, for want of the information which only the cavalry could
supply. Lee at Malvern Hill and Gettysburg, Hooker at
Chancellorsville, Grant at Spotsylvania, owed defeat, in great
measure, to the absence of their mounted troops. In the Valley, on
the contrary, success was made possible because the cavalry was kept
to its legitimate duty--that is, to procure information, to screen
all movements, to take part in battle at the decisive moment, and to
carry out the pursuit.

With all his regard for Napoleon's maxims, Jackson was no slave to
rule. In war, circumstances vary to such an extent that a manoeuvre,
which at one time is manifestly unsound, may at another be the most
judicious. The so-called rules are never binding; they merely point
out the risks which are generally entailed by some particular course
of action. There is no principle on which Napoleon lays more stress
than that a general should never divide his force, either on the
field of battle or the theatre of war. But when he marched to
M'Dowell and  Ewell at Swift Run Gap, Jackson deliberately
divided his forces and  Banks between them, knowing that the
apparent risk, with an opponent like Banks, was no risk at all. At
the battle of Winchester, too, there was a gap of a mile between the
brigades on the  of the Kernstown road and Ewell on the ;
and owing to the intervening hills, one wing was invisible to the
other. Here again, like Moltke at Koniggratz, Jackson realised that
the principle might be disregarded not only with impunity but with
effect. He was not like Lord Galway, "a man who was in war what
Moliere's doctors were in medicine, who thought it much more
honourable to fail according to rule than to succeed by innovation."*
(* Macaulay.)

But the triumphs of the Valley campaign were not due alone to the
orders issued by Lee and Jackson. The Confederate troops displayed
extraordinary endurance. When the stragglers were eliminated their
stauncher comrades proved themselves true as steel. In every
engagement the regiments fought with stubborn courage. They sometimes
failed to break the enemy's line at the first rush; but, except at
Kernstown, the Federals never drove them from their position, and
Taylor's advance at Winchester, Trimble's counterstroke at Cross
Keys, the storming of the battery at Port Republic, and the charge of
the cavalry at Cedarville, were the deeds of brave and resolute men.

A retreat is the most exhausting of military movements. It is costly
in men, "more so," says Napoleon, "than two battles," and it shakes
the faith of the soldiers in their general and in themselves.
Jackson's army retreated for seven days before Fremont, dwindling in
numbers at every step, and yet it never fought better than when it
turned at bay. From first to last it believed itself superior to its
enemies; from first to last it was equal to the tasks which its
exacting commander imposed upon it, and its spirit was indomitable
throughout. "One male a week and three foights a day," according to
one of Jackson's Irishmen, was the rule in the campaigns of 1862. The
forced marches were not made in luxury. Not seldom only half-rations
were issued, and more often none at all. The weather, for many days
in succession, was abominable, and the forest bivouacs were
comfortless in the extreme. On May 25 twenty per cent of Trimble's
brigade went into action barefoot; and had it not been for the stores
captured in Winchester, the march to the Potomac, and the subsequent
unmolested retreat to Woodstock, would have been hardly possible.

If the troops were volunteers, weak in discipline and prone to
straggling, they none the less bore themselves with conspicuous
gallantry. Their native characteristics came prominently to the
front. Patient under hardships, vigorous in attack, and stubborn in
defence, they showed themselves worthy of their commander. Their
enthusiastic patriotism was not without effect on their bearing
before the enemy. Every private in the ranks believed that he was
fighting in the sacred cause of liberty, and the spirit which nerved
the resolution of the Confederate soldier was the same which inspired
the resistance of their revolutionary forefathers. His hatred of the
Yankee, as he contemptuously styled the Northerner, was even more
bitter than the wrath which Washington's soldiers felt towards
England; and it was intensified by the fact that his detested foeman
had not only dared to invade the South, but had proclaimed his
intention, in no uncertain tones, of dealing with the Sovereign
States exactly as he pleased.

But it was something more than native courage and enthusiastic
patriotism which inspired the barefooted heroes of Winchester. It
would be difficult to prove that in other parts of the theatre of war
the Confederate troops were inferior to those that held the Valley.
Yet they were certainly less successful, and in very many instances
they had failed to put forth the same resolute energy as the men who
followed Jackson.

But it is hardly possible to discuss the spirit of an army apart from
that of its commander. If, in strategy wholly, and in tactics in
great part, success emanates from a single brain, the morale of the
troops is not less dependent on the influence of one man. "Better an
army of stags," runs the old proverb, "led by a lion, than an army of
lions led by a stag."

Their leader's character had already made a sensible impression on
the Valley soldiers. Jackson was as untheatrical as Wellington. He
was hardly to be distinguished, even by his dress, from the private
in the ranks. Soon after his arrival at Richmond he called on Mrs.
Pendleton, the wife of the reverend captain of the Rockbridge
battery. The negro servant  him standing in the hall, thinking
that this quiet soldier, clad in a faded and sunburnt uniform, need
not be treated with further ceremony.* (* Memoirs of W.N. Pendleton,
D.D., Brigadier-General, C.S.A. page 201.) Headquarters in camp were
an ordinary bell-tent, or a room in the nearest cottage, and they
were often without guard or sentry. In bivouac the general rolled
himself in his blankets, and lay down under a tree or in a fence
corner. He could sleep anywhere, in the saddle, under fire, or in
church; and he could compel sleep to come to him when and where he
pleased. He cared as little for good quarters as a mountain hunter,
and he was as abstemious as a Red Indian on the war-path. He lived as
plainly as the men, and often shared their rations. The majority of
the cavalry were better mounted, and many of his officers were better
dressed. He was not given to addressing his troops, either in mass or
as individuals. His praises he reserved for his official reports, and
then he was generous. In camp he was as silent as the Sphinx, and he
never posed, except in action, as the commander of an army. Off duty
he was the gentlest and most unpretentious of men, and the most
approachable of generals. He was always scrupulously polite; and the
private soldier who asked him a question might be sure of a most
courteous reply. But there was no man with whom it was less safe to
take liberties; and where duty was concerned he became a different
being. The gentle tones grew curt and peremptory, and the absent
demeanour gave place to a most purposeful energy. His vigilance was
marvellous: his eye was everywhere; he let nothing pass without his
personal scrutiny. The unfortunate officer accused of indolence or
neglect found the shy and quiet professor transformed into the most
implacable of masters. No matter how high the rank of the offender,
the crime met with the punishment it deserved. The scouts compared
him with Lee. The latter was so genial that it was a pleasure to
report to him. Jackson cross-questioned them on every detail,
treating them as a lawyer does a hostile witness, and his keen blue
eyes seemed to search their very souls.

"Nor did the men escape when they misbehaved. Ashby's cavalry were
reprimanded in general orders for their indiscipline at Middletown,
and again at Port Republic; and if either officer or regiment
displeased the general, it was duly mentioned in his published
reports." (1 It is worth remark that Jackson's methods of punishment
showed his deep knowledge of his soldiers. The sentence on the men
who were tempted from their duty, during Banks' retreat, by the
plunder on the Winchester road was that they should not be allowed to
serve with the advanced guard until further orders. It was considered
terribly severe. O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 902.)

But the troops knew that their grave leader, so uncommunicative in
camp, and so unrelenting to misconduct, was constantly occupied with
their well-being. They knew that he spared them, when opportunity
offered, as he never spared himself. His camaraderie was expressed in
something more than words. The hospitals constructed in the Valley
excited the admiration even of the Federals, and Jackson's wounded
were his first care. Whatever it might cost the army, the ambulances
must be got safely away, and the sick and disabled soldiers
transferred to their own people. But, at the same time, the troops
had long since learned that, as administered by Jackson, the military
code was a stern reality. They had seen men shot for striking their
officers, and they knew that for insubordination or disobedience it
was idle to plead excuse. They had thought their general harsh, and
even cruel; but as their experience increased they recognised the
wisdom of his severity, and when they looked upon that kindly face,
grave and determined as it was, they realised how closely his
firmness was allied to tenderness. They had learned how highly he
esteemed them. Once, in his twelve months of command, he had spoken
from his heart. When, on the heights near Centreville, he bade
farewell to his old brigade, his pride in their achievements had
broken through the barriers of his reserve, and his ringing words had
not yet been forgotten. If he was swift to blame, his general orders
and official dispatches gave full credit to every gallant action, and
each man felt himself a hero because his general so regarded him.

They had learned, too, that Jackson's commendation was worth having.
They had seen him in action, the coolest of them all, riding along
the line of battle with as much composure as if the hail of bullets
was no more than summer rain. They had seen him far in advance of the
charging lines, cheering them to the pursuit; and they knew the
tremendous vigour of his flank attacks.

But it was not only confidence in the skill of their commander that
inspired the troops. It was impossible not to admire the man who,
after a sleepless night, a long march, and hard fighting, would say
to his officers, "We must push on--we must push on!" as unconcernedly
as if his muscles were of steel and hunger an unknown sensation. Such
fortitude was contagious. The men caught something of his resolution,
of his untiring energy, and his unhesitating audacity. The regiments
which drove Banks to the Potomac were very different from those that
crawled to Romney through the blinding sleet, or that fell back with
the loss of one-sixth their number from the Kernstown Ridge. It has
been related of Jackson that when he had once made up his mind, "he
seemed to discard all idea of defeat, and to regard the issue as
assured. A man less open to the conviction that he was beaten could
not be imagined." To this frame of mind he brought his soldiers.
Jackson's brigade at Bull Run, Jackson's division in the Valley,
Jackson's army corps later in the war, were all imbued with the
characteristics of their leader. The exertions that he demanded of
them seemed beyond the powers of mortal men, but with Jackson leading
them the troops felt themselves able to accomplish impossibilities.
"I never saw one of Jackson's couriers approach," said Ewell,
"without expecting an order to assault the North Pole!" But had the
order been given neither Ewell nor the Valley troops would have
questioned it.

With the senior officers of his little army Jackson's relations were
in some instances less cordial than with the men. His staff was
devoted to him, for they had learned to know him. At the beginning of
the Valley campaign some of them thought him mad; before it was over
they believed him to be a genius. He lived with his military family
on the most intimate terms, and his unfailing courtesy, his utter
absence of self-assertion, his sweet temper, and his tactful
consideration for others, no matter how humble their rank, were
irresistible. On duty, indeed, his staff officers fared badly.
Tireless himself, regardless of all personal comforts, he seemed to
think that others were fashioned in the same mould. After a weary
day's marching or fighting, it was no unusual thing for him to send
them for a ride of thirty or forty miles through the night. And he
gave the order with no more thought than if he were sending them with
a message to the next tent. But off duty he was simply a personal
friend, bent on making all things pleasant. "Never," says Dr. Hunter
McGuire, "can I forget his kindness and gentleness to me when I was
in great sorrow and trouble. He came to my tent and spent hours with
me, comforting me in his simple, kindly, Christian way, showing a
depth of friendship and affection which can never be forgotten. There
is no measuring the intensity with which the very soul of Jackson
burned in battle. Out of it he was very gentle. Indeed, as I look
back on the two years that I was daily, indeed hourly, with him, his
gentleness as a man, his tenderness to those in trouble or
affliction--the tenderness indeed of a woman--impress me more than
his wonderful prowess as a warrior."

It was with his generals and colonels that there was sometimes a lack
of sympathy. Many of these were older than himself. Ewell and Whiting
were his seniors in point of service, and there can be little doubt
that it was sometimes a little hard to receive peremptory orders from
a younger man. Jackson's secrecy was often irritating. Men who were
over-sensitive thought it implied a want of confidence. Those
overburdened with dignity objected to being treated like the private
soldiers; and those over-conscious of superior wisdom were injured
because their advice was not asked. Before the march to Richmond
there was much discontent. General Whiting, on reaching Staunton with
his division, rode at once to Port Republic to report. "The
distance," says General Imboden, "was twenty miles, and Whiting
returned after midnight. He was in a towering passion, and declared
that Jackson had treated him outrageously. I asked, 'How is that
possible, General?--he is very polite to everyone.'

"'Oh, hang him! he was polite enough. But he didn't say one word about
his plans. I finally asked him for orders, telling him what troops I
had. He simply told me to go back to Staunton, and he would send me
orders to-morrow. I haven't the slightest idea what they will be. I
believe he has no more sense than my horse.'"* (* Battles and Leaders
page 297.)

The orders, when they came, simply directed him to take his troops by
railway to Gordonsville, through which they had passed two days
before, and gave no reason whatever for the movement.

General Whiting was not the only Confederate officer who was
mystified. When the troops  the Valley not a single soul in the
army, save Jackson alone, knew the object of their march. He had even
gone out of his way to blind his most trusted subordinates.

"During the preceding afternoon," says Major Hotchkiss, "he sent for
me to his tent, and asked me to bring maps of the country from Port
Republic to Lexington (at the head of the Valley), as he wished to
examine them. I took the map to his tent, and for about half an hour
we talked concerning the roads and streams, and points of offence and
defence of that region, just as though he had in mind a march in that
direction. After this interval had passed he thanked me and said that
that would do. About half an hour later he sent for me again, and
remarked that there had been some fighting down about Richmond,
referring, of course, to the battle of Seven Pines, and that he would
like to see the map of the field of the operations. I brought the
maps of the district round Richmond, and we spent nearly twice as
much time over those, talking about the streams, the roads, the
condition of the country, and so forth. On retiring to my tent I said
to myself, "Old Jack" is going to Richmond."* (* Letter to the
author.)

Even the faithful Dabney was  in the dark till the troops had
reached Mechum's Station. There, calling him into a room in the
hotel, the general locked the door and explained the object of his
march. But it was under seal of secrecy; and Ewell, the second in
command, complained to the chief of the staff that Jackson had gone
off by train, leaving him without orders, or even a hint of what was
in the wind. In fact, a few days after the battle of Port Republic,
Ewell had sent some of his staff on leave of absence, telling them
that large reinforcements were coming up, and that the next move
would be "to beat up Banks' quarters about Strasburg."

When Jackson was informed of the irritation of his generals he merely
smiled, and said, "If I can deceive my own friends I can make certain
of deceiving the enemy." Nothing shook his faith in Frederick the
Great's maxim, which he was fond of quoting: "If I thought my coat
knew my plans, I would take it off and burn it." An anecdote told by
one of his brigadiers illustrates his reluctance to say more than
necessary. Previous to the march to Richmond this officer met Jackson
riding through Staunton. "Colonel," said the general, "have you
received the order?" "No, sir." "Want you to march." "When, sir?"
"Now." "Which way?" "Get in the cars--go with Lawton." "How must I
send my train and the battery?" "By the road." "Well, General, I hate
to ask questions, but it is impossible to send my waggons off without
knowing which road to send them." "Oh!"--laughing--"send them by the
road the others go."

At last, when they saw how constant fortune was to their reticent
leader, his subordinates ceased to complain; but unfortunately there
was another source of trouble. Jackson had no regard whatever for
persons. Reversing the usual procedure, he held that the choleric
word of the soldier was rank blasphemy in the captain; the higher the
rank of the offender the more severe, in his opinion, should be the
punishment. Not only did he hold that he who would rule others must
himself set the example of punctiliousness, but that to whom much is
given, from him much is to be expected. Honour and promotion fall to
the lot of the officer. His name is associated in dispatches with the
valorous deeds of he command, while the private soldier fights on
unnoticed in the crowd. To his colonels, therefore, Jackson was a
strict master, and stricter to his generals. If he had reason to
believe that his subordinates were indolent or disobedient, he
visited their shortcomings with a heavy hand. No excuse availed.
Arrest and report followed immediately on detection, and if the cure
was rude, the plague of incompetency was radically dealt with.
Spirited young soldiers, proud of their high rank, and in no way
underrating their own capacity, rebelled against such discipline; and
the knowledge that they were closely watched, that their omissions
would be visited on their heads with unfaltering severity, sometimes
created a barrier between them and their commander.

But it was only wilful disobedience or actual insubordination that
roused Jackson's wrath. "If he found in an officer," says Dabney, "a
hearty and zealous purpose to do all his duty, he was the most
tolerant and gracious of superiors, overlooking blunders and mistakes
with unbounded patience, and repairing them through his own
exertions, without even a sign of vexation." The delay at the bridge
on the morning of Port Republic, so fatal to his design of crushing
Fremont, caused no outburst of wrath. He received his
adjutant-general's report with equanimity, regarding the accident as
due to the will of Providence, and therefore to be accepted without
complaint.* (* Dabney, Southern Historical Society Papers volume 11
page 152.)

Whether the nobler side of Jackson's character had a share in
creating the confidence which his soldiers already placed in him must
be matter of conjecture. It was well known in the ranks that he was
superior to the frailties of human nature; that he was as thorough a
Christian as he was a soldier; that he feared the world as little as
he did the enemy.* (* His devout habits were no secret in the camp.
Jim, most faithful of servants, declared that he could always tell
when there was going to be a battle. "The general," he said, "is a
great man for prayin'. He pray night and morning--all times. But when
I see him git up several times in the night, an' go off an' pray, den
I know there is goin' to be somethin' to pay, an' I go  away and
pack his haversack!") In all things he was consistent; his sincerity
was as clear as the noonday sun, and his faith as firmly rooted as
the Massanuttons. Publicly and privately, in official dispatches and
in ordinary conversation, the success of his army was ascribed to the
Almighty. Every victory, as soon as opportunity offered, was followed
by the order: "The chaplains will hold divine service in their
respective regiments." "The General Commanding," ran the order after
Winchester, "would warmly express to the officers and men under his
command his joy in their achievements, and his thanks for their
brilliant gallantry in action, and their patient obedience under the
hardships of forced marches, often more painful to the brave soldier
than the danger of battle. The explanation of the severe exertions to
which the commanding general called the army, which were endured by
them with such cheerful confidence in him, is now given in the
victory of yesterday. He receives this proof of their confidence in
the past with pride and gratitude, and asks only a similar confidence
in the future.

"But his chief duty of to-day and that of the army is to recognise
devoutly the hand of a protecting Providence in the brilliant
successes of the last three days (which have given us the results of
a great victory without great losses), and to make the oblation of
our thanks to God for His service to us and our country in heartfelt
acts of religious worship. For this purpose the troops will remain in
camp to-day, suspending, as far as possible, all military exercises;
and the chaplains of regiments will hold divine service in their
several charges at 4 o'clock P.M."* (* Dabney volume 2 pages 114-5.)

Whenever it was possible Sunday was always set apart for a day of
rest; and the claims of the day were seldom altogether disregarded.*
(* "Sometimes," says Major Hotchkiss, "Jackson would keep two or
three Sundays running, so as to make up arrears, and balance the
account!") On the morning of Cross Keys it is related that a large
portion of Elzey's brigade were at service, and that the crash of the
enemy's artillery interrupted the "thirdly" of the chaplain's sermon.

It has been sometimes asserted that Jackson was of the same type as
the saints militant who followed Cromwell, who, when they were not
slaughtering their enemies, would expound the harsh tenets of their
unlovely creed to the grim circle of belted Ironsides. He has been
described as taking the lead at religious meetings, as distributing
tracts from tent to tent, as acting as aide-de-camp to his chaplains,
and as consigning to perdition all those "whose doxy was not his
doxy."

Nothing is further from the truth. "His views of each denomination,"
says his wife, "had been obtained from itself, not from its
opponents. Hence he could see excellences in all. Even of the Roman
Catholic Church he had a much more favourable impression than most
Protestants, and he fraternised with all Evangelical denominations.
During a visit to New York, one Sabbath morning, we chanced to find
ourselves at the door of an Episcopal Church at the hour of worship.
He proposed that we should enter; and as it was a day for the
celebration of the Communion, he remained for that service, and it
was with the utmost reverence and solemnity that he walked up the
chancel and knelt to receive the elements."

Jackson, then, was by no means imbued with the belief that the
Presbyterian was the one true Church, and that all others were in
error. Nor did he attempt, in the very slightest degree, to usurp the
functions of his chaplains. Although he invariably went to sleep
during their sermons, he was deeply interested in their endeavours,
and gave them all the assistance in his power. But he no more thought
of taking their duties on himself than of interfering with the
treatment of the men in hospital. He spoke no "words in season," even
to his intimates. He had no "message" for them. Where religion was
concerned, so long as duly qualified instructors were available, he
conceived it his business to listen and not to teach. Morning and
evening prayers were the rule at his headquarters, but if any of his
staff chose to remain absent, the general made no remark. Yet all
suspicion of indifference to vice was effectually removed. Nothing
ungenerous or unclean was said in his presence without incurring his
displeasure, always unmistakably expressed, and although he made no
parade of his piety he was far too manly to hide it.

Yet he was never a prominent figure at the camp services. Rather than
occupy a conspicuous place he would seat himself amongst the
privates; and the only share he took in directing the proceedings was
to beckon men to the seats that respect had  empty beside him.
Those who picture him as an enthusiastic fanatic, invading, like the
Puritan dragoons, the pulpits of the chaplains, and leading the
devotions of his troops with the same fervour that he displayed in
battle, have utterly misread his character. The humblest soldier in
the Confederate army was not more modest and unassuming than
Stonewall Jackson.


NOTE

The Federal strength at M'Dowell.
Fremont's return of April 30 is as follows:--
   Milroy's Brigade                 4,807
   Schenck's Brigade                3,335

of May 10:--
   Milroy                           3,694
   Schenck                          3,335

of May 31:--
   Milroy                           2,914
   Schenck                          3,335

Schenck reports that the total force ENGAGED at M'Dowell was 1768 of
Milroy's brigade, and about 500 of his own, total 2268; and that he
himself brought to M'Dowell 1800 infantry, a battery, and 250
cavalry--say, 1600 men.

Milroy's command may fairly be estimated at 3500; Schenck brought
1600 men; there were therefore available for action at M'Dowell 5100
Federals.

Fremont's strength at Cross Keys.

The return of May 31 gives:--13,520 officers and men.

Fremont, in his report of the battle, says that on May 29 he had over
11,000 men, which, deducting guards, garrisons, working parties and
stragglers, were reduced to 10,500 combatants at Cross Keys.

But he does not include in this last estimate Bayard's cavalry, which
joined him at Strasburg.

On May 31 Bayard had 1844 officers and men; he had suffered some loss
in fighting Ashby, and his strength at the battle may be put down as
1750.

All garrisons, guards and working parties are included in the
Confederate numbers, so they should be added to the Federal estimate.
We may fairly say, then, that at Cross Keys the following troops were
available:--

   Fremont               11,000
   Bayard                 1,750
                         ------
                 Total   12,750
                         ------

Strength of the Federals, May 17-25.

On April 30 Banks' "effective" numbers were as follows:--

   Donnelly's Brigade                  2,747
   Gordon's Brigade                    3,005
   Artillery (26 guns)                   492
   Cavalry (General Hatch)             2,834
   Body-guard                             70
                                       -----
                                       9,148
                                       -----

On May 23 he had:--

   At Strasburg: Infantry              4,476
                 Cavalry               2,600
                 Artillery (18 guns)     350
   At Front Royal, Buckton, etc.       1,300
                 Bodyguard                70

From the Harper's Ferry Garrison:--

   At Strasburg: Cavalry                 800
   At Winchester: Infantry               856
                  Cavalry                600
                                      ------
                                      10,552
                                      ------

On May 31, after losing 2019 men at Front Royal and Winchester, he
had, the Harper's Ferry troops having been added to his command:--

   Infantry                            5,124
   Cavalry                             3,230
   Artillery (l6 guns)                   286
   Miscellaneous                          82
                                      ------
                                       8,722
                           Add         2,019
                                      ------
                                      10,741
                                      ------

10,500 effectives on May 23 is therefore a fair estimate.

Geary's 2000 at Rectortown, as they were acting under Mr. Stanton's
orders, have not been included.

</section>
</section>
<section id="16" fatherid="0" title="VOLUME 2" lv="" priority="0" level="1">
<section id="17" fatherid="16" title="THE SEVEN DAYS. GAINES' MILL" lv="CHAPTER 2.13." priority="0" level="2">
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 bness 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, 41/2 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  flank at New Bridge was covered
by the Chickahominy, the  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
7000 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.* (* "No one but McClellan would have hesitated to
attack." Johnston to Lee, April 22, 1862. O.R. volume 11 part 3 page
456.) The fort at Gloucester Point was the key of the Confederate
lines.* (* Narrative of Military Operations, General J.B. Johnston
pages 112 and 113.) McClellan, however, although a division was
actually under orders to move against it, appears to have been
unwilling to risk a failure.* (* 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. volume 11 part 1.) 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.* (* 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.)

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.* (* It must be admitted that his cavalry was
very weak in proportion to the other arms. On June 20 he had just
over 5000 sabres (O.R. volume 11 part 3 page 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.) 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  wing, north of the
Chickahominy, the point he had determined to attack.

June 12.

Early on June 12, with 1200 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 
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 detour 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  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."* (* Stuart's Report, O.R. volume 11 part 1.) Nor was
the influence of their achievement on the morale 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                9,000
A.P. Hill                14,000
Magruder                 18,000
Huger                     9,000
Holmes                    6,500
D.H. Hill                10,000
Jackson                  18,500
Cavalry                   3,000
Reserve Artillery         8,500
                         ------
                         88,500 *

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

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.* (* Return of June 20, O.R. volume
11 part 1 page 238.)

To attack this force, even after Jackson's arrival, was to court
disaster. The  was protected by the Chickahominy, the 
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,* (* The Fifth Army
Corps included McCall's division, which had but recently arrived by
water from Fredericksburg. Report of June 20, O.R. volume 11 part 1
page 238.) 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  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  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,* (* Magruder's division,
13,000; Huger's division, 9000; reserve artillery, 3000; 5 regiments
of cavalry, 2000. Holmes' division, 6500, was still retained on the
south bank of the James.) he might be relied upon to hold Richmond
until Porter had been disposed of. The remainder of the army, 2000 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 .

The initial operations, however, were of a somewhat complicated
nature. Four bridges* (* Lee's bridge, shown on the map, had either
been destroyed or was not yet built.) crossed the river on Lee's
. 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  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
. 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 ECHELON on separate roads if practicable; the  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 , 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  of General Jackson's line of march. The main body will be
held in reserve, with scouts well extended to the front and .
General Stuart will keep General Jackson informed of the movements of
the enemy on his , 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,"* (* 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. volume 11 part 1
page 490.) 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  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."* (* O.R.
volume 11 part 3 page 252.)

June 26. 3 A.M.

Lee's orders  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.* (* Letter
from Captain T.W. Sydnor, 4th Virginia Cavalry, who carried the
message.) There was no artillery preparation, and the troops, checked
unexpectedly by a wide abattis, were repulsed with terrible
slaughter, the casualties amounting to nearly 2000 men.* (* So
General Porter. Battles and Leaders volume 2 page 331.) The Union
loss was 360.* (* O.R. volume 11 part 1 pages 38, 39.)

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  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."* (* Battles and Leaders
volume 2 pages 389, 390.)

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.* (* 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.) 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  it to Jackson
to fix the date on which the operation against the Federal 
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.* (* "Lee's Attacks North of the
Chickahominy." By General D.H. Hill. Battles and Leaders volume 2
page 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.) 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 manoeuvres 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  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 manoeuvre. 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 detours; 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  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  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.* (* 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.") 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,* (* Branch's Report, O.R. volume 2 part 2 page 882.)
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 , "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."* (*
Jackson's Report, O.R. volume 11 part 1 page 553.) 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."* (* Whiting's Report, O.R. volume 11 part 1 page 562.)
General Trimble, marching with Ewell, heard both musketry and
artillery; and in his opinion the command should have moved forward;*
(* Trimble's Report, O.R. volume 11 part 1 page 614.) 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."* (* Letter to the author.)
It seems probable, then--and the Federal reports are to the same
effect* (* Porter's Report, O.R. volume 11 part 1 page 222. Battles
and Leaders volume 2 page 330.)--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.* (* 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.)

MAP OF THE ENVIRONS OF RICHMOND.

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 
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.

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.* (* 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' Brigade, Elzey's Brigade, Trimble's
Brigade, Taylor's Brigade.)

June 27, 5 A.M.

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 , moving on Gaines'
Mill, while Jackson, supported by D.H. Hill, and with Stuart covering
his , 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  flank the
valley of the Chickahominy was open ground, but it was swept by heavy
guns from the  bank of the river, and at this point the creek
became an almost impassable swamp.

Porter, who had been reinforced by 9000 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 morale
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  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.* (* The remainder
of the guns were in reserve.)

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
 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."* (* Battles and Leaders of the
Civil War volume 2 page 337.) 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 , 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 . 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 , 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  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* to draw up his
troops so as to meet such a contingency. (* 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. volume 11 part 1 page
492) Lee says: "The arrival of Jackson on our  was momentarily
expected; it was supposed that his approach would cause the enemy's
extension in that direction.") "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
 of the wood, so as to leave between him and the wood on the
 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.* (* 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 1000 men is a fair
estimate for an army operating in a barren country.) 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 manoeuvre.
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 
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 , 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 , 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 , 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  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 manoeuvre.

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 , moving through the tract of woodland; Lawton, Whiting,
and Winder, in the order named, were to fill the gap between Ewell's
 and the  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  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  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.*

(* 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 ECHELON from the . Each brigade is to follow as a guide the
 regiment of the brigade on the , 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.)

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  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  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.* (* 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.) "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."* (*Dabney, volume
2, page 194.) 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 , Lawton on
the  of Whiting, and Jackson's division on the  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.* (* Whiting's Report, O.R. volume 11 part 1 page
563.) The brigades of Law and of Hood were therefore diverted to the
, 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  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  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 , 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.*
(* 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
volume 2 pages 335 and 340.) 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 2000 strong.
Riding along the front, before they  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."* (* Battles and Leaders volume 2 page 363.) The
assault was met with a courage that was equally admirable.* (* "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 volume 2 page 363.) But the Confederate second line
reinforced the first at exactly the  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  and , and compelled them to fall back. Inspired
by his soldierly enthusiasm for a gallant deed, Jackson himself has
 us a vivid description of the successful charge. "On my extreme
," 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 . 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 1000 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."* (* Jackson's Report, O.R.
volume 11 part 1 pages 555, 556.)

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  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;"* (* Reports of Whiting, Trimble,
Rodes, Bradley T. Johnson, O.R. volume 11 part 1.) 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."* (* Report of Committee on the Conduct of the War.)

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 5000 or 6000 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  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 ; even a show of pressure must have been attended
with great result."* (* Battles and Leaders volume 2 page 357.) 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
2000 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 ly of the
enemy's morale, 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.
2830 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; 4000, moreover, had fallen on the field of
battle.* (* O.R. volume 11 part 1 pages 40 to 42.)

The Confederate casualties were even a clearer proof of the severity
of the fighting. So far as can be ascertained, 8000 officers and men
were killed or wounded.

               Longstreet      1850
               A.P. Hill       2450
               Jackson........ 8700

Jackson's losses were distributed as follows:--

               Jackson's own Division   600
               Ewell                    650
               Whiting                 1020
               D.H. Hill               1430

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.

(MAP OF THE BATTLE OF GAINES' MILL)

</section>
<section id="18" fatherid="16" title="THE SEVEN DAYS. FRAYSER'S FARM AND MALVERN HILL" lv="CHAPTER 2.14." priority="0" level="2">
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 morale 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* (*
General Reynolds.) 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."* (* Lee's Report, O.R. volume 11 part 1 pages
493 and 494.)

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, ly 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 manoeuvres. 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  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 , pursuing a large detachment
which had been observed on the road to the White House.* (* This
detachment, about 3500 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.)

McClellan had undoubtedly resolved on a most hazardous manoeuvre. 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.* (*
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 volume 2 page
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.") 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
manoeuvres 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.* (* 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.) 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 2500 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 , 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.

(MAP OF THE SEVEN DAYS: JUNE 26th to JULY 2nd, 1862.)

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 
flank and rear, was still north of the Chickahominy, returning from a
destructive but useless raid on the depot 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."* (* O.R. volume 11 part 1 pages 556, 557.)

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  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
, 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."* (* "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.")

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  of the road the slopes were clear and unobstructed, hut
the crest was within the forest; while to the  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
, 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  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  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 ,
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
-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; W'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 W, "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." (1 O.R. volume 11 part 1 pages 810, 811.)

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 W; and a
detached force of infantry and guns was posted at Brackett's Ford.*

(* General Heintzleman, commanding the Federal 3rd Corps, reports
that he had placed a force at Brackett's Ford (O.R. volume 11 part 2
page 100). General Slocum (6th Corps) sent infantry and a 12-pounder
howitzer (O.R. volume 11 part 2 page 435) to the same point; and
Seeley's battery of the 3rd Corps was also engaged here (O.R. volume
11 part 2 page 106). The force at White Oak Bridge was constituted as
follows:--

Smith's Division of the 6th Corps.

Richardson's Division....,, 2nd Corps.
Dana's Brigade }

Sully's Brigade Sedgwick's Division, 2nd Corps.

Naglee's Brigade, Peck's Division, 4th Corps.)

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
 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."* (* Battles and Leaders volume 2
page 381.) 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 W
reported the ford impassable; and in the third place, General
Franklin himself admits that directly W'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;* (* Letter from
Dr. Hunter McGuire to the author.) 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; "* (* Battles and Leaders volume 2 page 389.) 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."* (* From Manassas to Appomattox
page 150.)

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
 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  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."* (*
Letter to the author.) Such reasoning appears incontrovertible.
Jackson, be it remembered, had been directed to guard the  flank
of the army "until further orders." Had these words been omitted, and
he had been  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  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  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
 flank was partially protected by a long mill-dam. The ,
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 , and to report whether attack was feasible. Jackson was
opposed to a frontal attack, preferring to turn the enemy's .
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  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  batteries."* (* From Manassas to Appomattox page
143.)

4 P.M.

It was not till four o'clock that the line of battle was formed.
Jackson was on the , with Whiting to the  of the Quaker road,
and D.H. Hill to the ; Ewell's and Jackson's own divisions were
in reserve. Nearly half a mile beyond Jackson's  came two of
Huger's brigades, Armistead and W, and to Huger's  rear was
Magruder. Holmes, still on the river road, was to assail the enemy's
. 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  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  with my own and A.P. Hill's division, and turn the
Federal ." I issued my orders accordingly for the two divisions
to go around and turn the Federal , when in some way unknown to
me the battle was drawn on."* (* Battles and Leaders volume 2 page
403.)

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."* (* O.R. volume 11 part
1 page 677.) 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 W's,
in position. Armistead, who was well in advance of the Confederate
, 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.

(MAP OF THE BATTLE OF MALVERN HILL)

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  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 . 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 5000 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."* (* Trimble's Report, O.R. volume 11 part 1 page 619.)
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."* (*
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. volume 11 part 2 page
239.)) 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."* (* O.R. volume 11
part 3 page 282.)

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."*
(* Report on the Conduct of the War page 580. General Hooker's
evidence.) 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."* (* Report on the
Conduct of the War page 27.) 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."* (*
O.R. volume 11 part 1 pages 291, 292.)

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 manoeuvring 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
manoeuvring. He knew that his troops were disorganised, that
sleeplessness, fasting, bad weather, and disaster must have weakened
their morale. 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."* (* Letter to
the author. Dr. McGuire writes to the same effect.)

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.* (*
Evelington Heights are between Rawling's Mill Pond and Westover.) 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.* (* The military student will compare the battles of
Weissembourg, Vionville, and Gravelotte in 1870, all of which began
with a useless surprise.) 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  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.* (* O.R. volume 11 part 3 pages 291 to 292.)

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,* (*
Letter to the author.) "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 manoeuvred 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.* (* O.R. volume 11 part 3 page 299.)

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 manoeuvre was startling.

5000 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.* (*
The forces under Burnside and Hunter amounted to some 35,000 men.)
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.

</section>
<section id="19" fatherid="16" title="CEDAR RUN" lv="CHAPTER 2.15." priority="0" level="2">
The victories in the Valley, the retreat of Banks, Shields, and
Fremont, 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,* (* 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.) 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  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  in declining a hasty expression of his purpose to a
subordinate like me."* (* Dabney volume 2 pages 230, 231.)

Jackson was perfectly  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.* (* O.R.
volume 11 part 2 page 306.)

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  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.* (* Sigel, 13,000; Banks, 11,000; McDowell, 18,000;
Bayard's and Bulord's cavalry, 5000.) But the Federals were scattered
over a wide front. Sigel, a German who had succeeded Fremont, 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."* (* O.R. volume 11 part 3 page
334.) 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 depot 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."

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 ," 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."

(MAP OF THE ENVIRONS OF WARRENTON, VIRGINIA)

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."* (* O.R. volume
12 part 3 page 474.)

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.* (* "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.) 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 manoeuvre full of danger.* (* 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.) 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  wing at
Sperryville would march by Woodville and Griffinsburg. His centre had
already moved forward from Warrenton. His  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 manoeuvre 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.* (* Battles and Leaders volume 2 page 281.)

Jackson's force was composed as follows:--

Jackson's Own Division (commanded by Winder) 3000

Ewell 7550

A.P. Hill (The Light Division). 12,000

Cavalry 1200

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 morale 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 5000 or
6000 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 
flank, scouted west and in the direction of Madison Court House. Two
brigades of infantry, Gregg's and Lawton's, were  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  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.* (* 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.) Early's brigade, forming the advanced guard which had
halted in a wood by the roadside, was now ordered forward. Deploying
to the  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 , taking
post on the northern face of Slaughter Mountain; Winder was ordered
to the , 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
 of the advanced guard, near a clump of cedars, were eight guns,
and on Slaughter Mountain eight more. Along the high-road to the 
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 , at the base of the
mountain, threatening the enemy's flank. Winder had come up on the
, 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  of the line extended along a skirt of
woodland, which ran at  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 , and to ask his divisional commander
for reinforcements." The brigadier sent a staff officer and an
orderly to reconnoitre the forest to the , 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 9000 officers and men,* (*
3500 of Banks' army corps had been  at Winchester, and his sick
were numerous.) and Ricketts' division, in support, was four miles
distant, gave orders for a general attack.* (* 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 volume 3 page 45.) 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 , 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 , 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 , 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 1500
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 , 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  swung round, enveloping the Confederate line; and the 1st
Virginia, despite the entreaties of its officers, broke and
scattered.* (* O.R. volume 12 part 2 page 201.) Assailed in front
from the field and in flank from the forest, the men would stand no
longer, and flying back through the woodland,  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  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
melee, 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  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  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 melee
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 ; and Jackson, his front once more
established, turned his attention to the counterstroke he had already
initiated.

Ewell was ordered to attack the Federal . 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 , 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  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  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.

(MAP OF THE BATTLE OF CEDAR RUN, VIRGINIA, Saturday, August 9th,
1862.)


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  and , 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.* (* O.R. volume 12 part 2 page 141.)

6.30 P.M.

This brilliant but useless exploit brought no respite to the
Federals. Archer and Pender had turned their ; Ewell was
pressing forward against their , 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 3000 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  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,* (* Report. O.R. volume 12 part 2 page 184.) 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  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 5000 cavalry, had 22,000 fresh
troops in addition to those which had been defeated, and which he
estimated at 5000 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
manoeuvre 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."* (* O.R.
volume 12 part 2 page 135.) 9000 men, of which only 7000 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  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, 5000 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 2380. 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 1314, 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."* (* 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.) 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 manoeuvre
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 5000
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 1300 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,* (* So late as August 28, Pope reported that Banks' troops
were much demoralised. O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 653.) 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 9000 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 . 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
, 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."* (* O.R.
volume 12 part 2 page 201.) 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 manoeuvre which the situation
demanded. At the time it was ordered the Confederate  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 7000 or 8000 men, were ordered to
attack the enemy's , to outflank it, and to roll back his whole
line upon Ewell, who was instructed at the same moment to outflank
the . 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 manoeuvres, whether in advance or retreat, were invariably
actuated by some definite purpose, and what that purpose was he
explains in his dispatches.* (* O.R. volume 12 part 2 page 185.) "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  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.

</section>
<section id="20" fatherid="16" title="GROVETON AND THE SECOND MANASSAS" lv="CHAPTER 2.16." priority="0" level="2">
During the summer of 1862 the stirring events in the Western
hemisphere attracted universal attention. All eyes were fixed on
Richmond. The fierce fighting on the Chickahominy, and the defeat of
the invaders, excited Europe hardly less than it did the North. The
weekly mails were eagerly awaited. The newspapers devoted many
columns to narrative, criticism, and prediction. The strategy and
tactics of the rival armies were everywhere discussed, and the fact
that almost every single item of intelligence came from a Northern
source served only as a whet to curiosity. The vast territory
controlled by the Confederacy was so completely cut off from the
outer world that an atmosphere of mystery enveloped the efforts of
the defence. "The Southern States," it has been said, "stood in the
attitude of a beleaguered fortress. The war was in truth a great
siege; the fortress covered an area of more than 700,000 square
miles, and the lines of investment around it extended over more than
10,000 miles." Within the circle of Federal cannon and Federal
cruisers only the imagination could penetrate. At rare intervals some
daring blockade-runner brought a budget of Southern newspapers, or an
enterprising correspondent succeeded in transmitting a dispatch from
Richmond. But such glimpses of the situation within the cordon did
little more than tantalise. The news was generally belated, and had
often been long discounted by more recent events. Still, from
Northern sources alone, it was abundantly clear that the weaker of
the two belligerents was making a splendid struggle. Great names and
great achievements loomed large through the darkness. The war at the
outset, waged by ill-trained and ill-disciplined volunteers,
commanded by officers unknown to fame, had attracted small notice
from professional soldiers. After the Seven Days' battles it assumed
a new aspect. The men, despite their shortcomings, had displayed
undeniable courage, and the strategy which had relieved Richmond
recalled the master-strokes of Napoleon. It was evident that the
Southern army was led by men of brilliant ability, and the names of
Lee's lieutenants were on every tongue. Foremost amongst these was
Stonewall Jackson. Even the Northern newspapers made no scruple of
expressing their admiration, and the dispatches of their own generals
gave them constant opportunities of expatiating on his skill. During
the first weeks of August, the reports from the front, whether from
Winchester, from Fredericksburg, or from the Peninsula, betrayed the
fear and uneasiness he inspired. The overthrow of Pope's advanced
guard at Cedar Run, followed by the unaccountable disappearance of
the victorious army, was of a piece with the manoeuvres in the
Valley. What did this disappearance portend? Whither had the man of
mystery betaken himself? Where would the next blow fall? "I don't
like Jackson's movements," wrote McClellan to Halleck; "he will
suddenly appear when least expected." This misgiving found many
echoes. While Jackson was operating against Pope, McClellan had
successfully completed the evacuation of Harrison's Landing.
Embarking his sick, he marched his five army corps to Fortress
Monroe, observed by Lee's patrols, but otherwise unmolested. The
quiescence of the Confederates, however, brought no relief to the
North. Stocks fell fast, and the premium on gold rose to sixteen per
cent. For some days not a shot had been fired along the Rapidan.
Pope's army rested in its camps. Jackson had completely vanished. But
the silence at the front was not considered a reassuring symptom.

If the Confederates had allowed McClellan to escape, it was very
generally felt that they had done so only because they were preparing
to crush Pope before he could be reinforced. "It is the fear of this
operation," wrote the Times Special Correspondent in the Northern
States, "conducted by the redoubtable Stonewall Jackson, that has
filled New York with uneasy forebodings. Wall Street does not
ardently believe in the present good fortune or the future prospects
of the Republic."* (* The Times, September 4, 1862.)

Neither the knowledge which McClellan possessed of his old West Point
comrade, nor the instinct of the financiers, proved misleading.
Jackson had already made his plans. Even before he had lured Pope
forward to the Rapidan he had begun to plot his downfall. "When we
were marching back from Cedar Run," writes Major Hotchkiss, "and had
passed Orange Court House on our way to Gordonsville, the general,
who was riding in front of the staff, beckoned me to his aide. He at
once entered into conversation, and said that as soon as we got back
to camp he wished me to prepare maps of the whole country between
Gordonsville and Washington, adding that he required several
copies--I think five."

August 13.

This was about noon on Sunday, and as we were near camp I asked him
if the map was to be begun immediately, knowing his great antipathy
to doing anything on Sunday which was not a work of necessity. He
replied that it was important to "have it done at once."* (* Letter to
the author.)

August 14.

The next day, August 14, the exact position of the Federal army was
ascertained. The camps were north and east of Slaughter Mountain, and
Jackson instructed Captain Boswell, his chief engineer, who had lived
in the neighbourhood, to report on the best means of turning the
enemy's  flank and reaching Warrenton, thus intervening between
Pope and Washington, or between Pope and Aquia Creek. The line of
march recommended by Boswell led through Orange Court House to Pisgah
Church, and crossing the Rapidan at Somerville Ford, ran by Lime
Church and Stevensburg to Brandy Station.

August 15.

On the night of the 15th, after two days' rest, the three divisions
moved from Gordonsville to Pisgah Church, and there halted to await
reinforcements. These were already on their way. On the 13th General
Lee had learned that Burnside, who had already  the Peninsula for
Aquia Creek on the Potomac, was preparing to join Pope, and it was
reported by a deserter that part of McClellan's army had embarked on
the transports at Harrison's Landing. Inferring that the enemy had
relinquished all active operations in the Peninsula, and that Pope
would soon be reinforced by the Army of the Potomac, Lee resolved to
take the offensive without delay. The campaign which Jackson had
suggested more than a month before, when McClellan was still reeling
under the effects of his defeat, and Pope's army was not yet
organised, was now to be begun. The same evening the railway conveyed
Longstreet's advanced brigade to Gordonsville, and with the exception
of D.H. Hill's and McLaws' divisions, which remained to watch
McClellan, the whole army fled.

On the 15th Lee met his generals in council. The map drawn by Captain
Hotchkiss was produced, and the manoeuvre which had suggested itself
to Jackson was definitely ordered by the Commander-in-Chief. The
Valley army, at dawn on the 18th, was to cross the Rapidan at
Somerville Ford. Longstreet, preceded by Stuart, who was to cut the
Federal communications in rear of Culpeper Court House, was to make
the passage at Raccoon Ford. Jackson's cavalry was to cover the 
and front, and Anderson's division was to form a general reserve. The
movement was intended to be speedy. Only ambulances and ammunition
waggons were to follow the troops. Baggage and supply trains were to
be parked on the south side of the Rapidan, and the men were to carry
three days' cooked rations in their haversacks.

On Clark's Mountain, a high hill near Pisgah Church, Jackson had
established a signal station. The view from the summit embraced an
extensive landscape. The ravages of war had not yet effaced its
tranquil beauty, nor had the names of its b rivers and thriving
villages become household words. It was still unknown to history, a
peaceful and pastoral district, remote from the beaten tracks of
trade and travel, and inhabited by a quiet and industrious people.
To-day there are few regions which boast sterner or more heroic
memories. To the , rolling away in light and shadow for a score
of miles, is the great forest of Spotsylvania, within whose gloomy
depths lie the fields of Chancellorsville; where the breastworks of
the Wilderness can still be traced; and on the eastern verge of which
stand the grass-grown batteries of Fredericksburg. Northward, beyond
the woods which hide the Rapidan, the eye ranges over the wide and
fertile plains of Culpeper, with the green crest of Slaughter
Mountain overlooking Cedar Run, and the dim levels of Brandy Station,
the scene of the great cavalry battle,* (* June 9, 1863.) just
visible beyond. Far away to the north-east the faint outline of a
range of hills marks the source of Bull Run and the Manassas plateau,
and to the west, the long rampart of the Blue Ridge, softened by
distance, stands high above the Virginia plains.

August 17.

On the afternoon of August 17, Pope's forces seemed doomed to
inevitable destruction. The Confederate army, ready to advance the
next morning, was concentrated behind Clark's Mountain, and Lee and
Jackson, looking toward Culpeper, saw the promise of victory in the
careless attitude of the enemy. The day was hot and still. Round the
base of Slaughter Mountain, fifteen miles northward, clustered many
thousands of tents, and the blue smoke of the camp-fires rose
straight and thin in the sultry air. Regiments of infantry, just
discernible through the glare, were marching and countermarching in
various directions, and long waggon-trains were creeping slowly along
the dusty roads. Near at hand, rising above the tree-tops, the Union
colours showed that the outposts still held the river, and the flash
of steel at the end of some woodland vista betrayed the presence of
scouting party or vedette. But there were no symptoms of unusual
excitement, no sign of working parties, of reinforcements for the
advanced posts, of the construction of earthworks or abattis. Pope's
camps were scattered over a wide tract of country, his cavalry was
idle, and it seemed absolutely certain that he was unconscious of the
near neighbourhood of the Confederate army.

The inference was correct. The march to Pisgah Church had escaped
notice. The Federals were unaware that Lee had arrived at
Gordonsville, and they had as yet no reason to believe that there was
the smallest danger of attack.

Between Raccoon and Locustdale fords, and stretching back to Culpeper
Court House, 52,500 men--for Reno, with two divisions of Burnside's
army, 8000 strong, had arrived from Fredericksburg--were in camp and
bivouac. The front was protected by a river nearly a hundred yards
wide, of which every crossing was held by a detachment, and Pope had
reported that his position was so strong that it would be difficult
to drive him from it. But he had not made sufficient allowance for
the energy and ability of the Confederate leaders. His situation, in
reality, was one of extreme danger. In ordering Pope to the Rapidan,
and bidding him "fight like the devil'* (* O.R. volume 12 part 2 page
67. "It may have been fortunate for the Confederates," says
Longstreet, "that he was not instructed to fight like Jackson.")
until McClellan should come up, Halleck made the same fatal error as
Stanton, when he sent Shields up the Luray Valley in pursuit of
Jackson. He had put an inferior force within reach of an enemy who
held the interior lines, and had ordered two armies, separated by
several marches, to effect their concentration under the fire of the
enemy's guns. And if Pope's strategical position was bad, his
tactical position was even worse. His , covering Raccoon and
Somerville Fords, was very weak. The main body of his army was massed
on the opposite flank, several miles distant, astride the direct road
from Gordonsville to Culpeper Court House, and he remained without
the least idea, so late as the morning of the 18th, that the whole
Confederate army was concentrated behind Clark's Mountain, within six
miles of his most vulnerable point. Aware that Jackson was based on
Gordonsville, he seems to have been convinced that if he advanced at
all, he would advance directly on Culpeper Court House; and the move
to Pisgah Church, which  Gordonsville unprotected, never entered
into his calculations. A sudden attack against his  was the last
contingency that he anticipated; and had the Confederates moved as
Lee intended, there can be no question but that the Federal army,
deprived of all supplies, cut off from Washington, and forced to
fight on ground where it was unprepared, would have been disastrously
defeated.

But it was not to be. The design was thwarted by one of those petty
accidents which play so large a part in war. Stuart had been
instructed to lead the advance. The only brigade at his disposal had
not yet come up into line, but a message had been sent to appoint a
rendezvous, and it was expected to reach Verdiersville, five miles
from Raccoon Ford, on the night of the 17th. Stuart's message,
however, was not sufficiently explicit. Nothing was said of the
exigencies of the situation; and the brigadier, General Fitzhugh Lee,
not realising the importance of reaching Verdiersville on the 17th,
marched by a circuitous route in order to replenish his supplies. At
nightfall he was still absent, and the omission of a few words in a
simple order cost the Confederates dear. Moreover, Stuart himself,
who had ridden to Verdiersville with a small escort, narrowly escaped
capture. His plumed hat, with which the whole army was familiar, as
well as his adjutant-general and his dispatch-box, fell into the
hands of a Federal reconnoitring party; and among the papers brought
to Pope was found a letter from General Lee, disclosing the fact that
Jackson had been strongly reinforced.

In consequence of the absence of Fitzhugh Lee's brigade, the movement
was postponed until the morning of the 20th. The Commander-in-Chief
was of opinion that the horses, exhausted by their long march, would
require some rest before they were fit for the hard work he proposed
for them. Jackson, for once in opposition, urged that the movement
should go forward. His signal officer on Clark's Mountain reported
that the enemy was quiet, and even extending his  up stream. The
location of the Federal divisions had been already ascertained. The
cavalry was not required to get information. There was no need,
therefore, to wait till Fitzhugh Lee's brigade was fit for movement.
Jackson had, with his own command, a sufficient number of squadrons
to protect the front and flanks of the whole army; and the main
object was not to cut the enemy's communications, but to turn his
 and annihilate him. Pope was still isolated, still unconscious
of his danger, and the opportunity might never return.

The suggestion, however, was overruled, and "it was fortunate," says
one of Pope's generals, "that Jackson was not in command of the
Confederates on the night of August 17; for the superior force of the
enemy must have overwhelmed us, if we could not have escaped, and
escape on that night was impossible."* (* General George H. Gordon.
The Army of Virginia page 9.)

It is probable, however, that other causes induced General Lee to
hold his hand. There is good reason to believe that it was not only
the cavalry that was unprepared. The movement from Richmond had been
rapid, and both vehicles and supplies had been delayed. Nor were all
the generals so avaricious of time as Jackson. It was impossible, it
was urged, to move without some food in the waggons. Jackson replied
that the enemy had a large magazine at Brandy Station, which might
easily be captured, and that the intervening district promised an
abundance of ripening corn and green apples. It was decided, however,
that such fare, on which, it may be said, the Confederates learned
afterwards to subsist for many days in succession, was too meagre for
the work in hand. Jackson, runs the story, groaned so audibly when
Lee pronounced in favour of postponement, that Longstreet called the
attention of the Commander-in-Chief to his apparent disrespect.

August 18.

Be this as it may, had it been possible to adopt Jackson's advice,
the Federal army would have been caught in the execution of a
difficult manoeuvre. On the morning of the 18th, about the very hour
that the advance should have begun, Pope was informed by a spy that
the Confederate army was assembled behind Clark's Mountain and the
neighbouring hills; that the artillery horses were harnessed, and
that the troops were momentarily expecting orders to cross the river
and strike his rear. He at once made preparations for retreat. The
trains moved off to seek shelter behind the Rappahannock, and the
army followed, leaving the cavalry in position, and marching as
follows:--

Reno by Stevensburg to Kelly's Ford.
Banks and McDowell by Culpeper Court House and Brandy Station to the
Rappahannock railway bridge.
Sigel by Rixeyville to Sulphur Springs.

August 19.

The march was slow and halts were frequent. The long lines of waggons
blocked every road, and on the morning of August 19 the troops were
still at some distance from the Rappahannock, in neither condition
nor formation to resist a resolute attack.

August 20.

The movement, however, was not discovered by the Confederates until
it had been more than four-and-twenty hours in progress. General Lee,
on August 19, had taken his stand on Clark's Mountain, but the
weather was unfavourable for observation. Late in the afternoon the
haze lifted, and almost at the same moment the remaining tents of the
Federal army, fifteen miles away to the north-west, suddenly vanished
from the landscape, and great clouds of dust, rising high above the
woods,  it no longer doubtful that Pope had taken the alarm. It
was too late to interfere, and the sun set on an army baffled of its
prey. In the Confederate councils there was some dismay, among the
troops much heart-burning. Every hour that was wasted brought nearer
the junction of Pope and McClellan, and the soldiers were well aware
that a most promising opportunity, which it was worth while living on
green corn and apples to secure, had been allowed to slip.
Nevertheless, the pursuit was prompt. By the light of the rising moon
the advanced guards plunged thigh-deep into the clear waters of the
Rapidan, and the whole army crossed by Raccoon and Somerville Fords.
Stuart, with Robertson's and Fitzhugh Lee's brigades, pressed forward
on the traces of the retreating foe. Near Brandy Station the Federal
cavalry made a stubborn stand. The Confederates, covering a wide
front, had become separated. Robertson had marched through
Stevensburg, Fitzhugh Lee on Kelly's Ford, an interval of six miles
dividing the two brigades; and when Robertson was met by Bayard's
squadrons, holding a skirt of woods with dismounted men, it was
several hours before a sufficient force could be assembled to force
the road. Towards evening two of Fitzhugh Lee's regiments came up,
and the Confederates were now concentrated in superior numbers. A
series of vigorous charges, delivered by successive regiments on a
front of fours, for the horsemen were confined to the road, hurried
the retreating Federals across the Rappahannock; but the presence of
infantry and guns near the railway bridge placed an effective barrier
in the way of further pursuit. Before nightfall Jackson's advanced
guard reached Brandy Station, after a march of twenty miles, and
Longstreet bivouacked near Kelly's Ford.

The Rappahannock, a broad and rapid stream, with banks high and
well-timbered, now rolled between the hostile armies. Pope, by his
timely retreat, had gained a position where he could be readily
reinforced, and although the river, in consequence of the long
drought, had much dwindled from its usual volume, his front was
perfectly secure.

The situation with which the Confederate commander had now to deal
was beset by difficulties. The delay from August 18 to August 20 had
been most unfortunate. The Federals were actually nearer Richmond
than the Army of Northern Virginia, and if McClellan, landing as
Burnside had done at Aquia Creek, were to move due south through
Fredericksburg, he would find the capital but feebly garrisoned. It
was more probable, however, that he would reinforce Pope, and Lee
held fast to his idea of crushing his enemies in detail. Aquia Creek
was only thirty-five miles' march from the Rappahannock, but the
disembarkation with horses, trains, and artillery must needs be a
lengthy process, and it might still be possible, by skilful and swift
manoeuvres, to redeem the time which had been already lost. But the
Federal position was very strong.

August 21.

Early on the 21st it was ascertained that Pope's whole army was
massed on the  bank of the Rappahannock, extending from Kelly's
Ford to Hazel Run, and that a powerful artillery crowned the
commanding bluffs. To turn the line of the river from the south was
hardly practicable. The Federal cavalry was vigilant, and Pope would
have quietly fallen back on Washington. A turning movement from the
north was more promising, and during the day Stuart, supported by
Jackson, made vigorous efforts to find a passage across the river.
Covered by a heavy fire of artillery, the squadrons drove in a
regiment and a battery holding Beverley Ford, and spread their
patrols over the country on the  bank. It was soon evident,
however, that the ground was unsuitable for attack, and Stuart,
menaced by a strong force of infantry, withdrew his troopers across
the stream. Nothing further was attempted. Jackson went into bivouac
near St. James's Church, and Longstreet closed in upon his .

August 22.

The next morning, in accordance with Lee's orders to "seek a more
favourable place to cross higher up the river, and thus gain the
enemy's ," Jackson, still preceded by Stuart, and concealing his
march as far as possible in the woods, moved towards the fords near
Warrenton Springs. Longstreet, meanwhile, marched towards the bridge
at Rappahannock Station, where the enemy had established a
tete-de-pont, and bringing his guns into action at every opportunity,
made brisk demonstrations along the river.

Late in the afternoon, after an attack on his rear-guard at Welford's
Mill had been repulsed by Trimble, reinforced by Hood, Jackson, under
a lowering sky, reached the ruined bridge at the Sulphur Springs.
Only a few of the enemy's cavalry had been descried, and he at once
made preparations to effect the passage of the Rappahannock. The 13th
Georgia dashed through the ford, and occupied the cottages of the
little watering-place. Early's brigade and two batteries crossed by
an old mill-dam, a mile below, and took post on the ridge beyond. But
heavy rain had begun to fall; the night was closing in; and the
river, swollen by the storms in the mountains, was already rising.
The difficulties of the passage increased every moment, and the main
body of the Valley army was ordered into bivouac on the western bank.
It was not, however, the darkness of the ford or the precarious
footing of the mill-dam that held Jackson back from reinforcing his
advanced guard, but the knowledge that these dangerous roadways would
soon be submerged by a raging torrent. Early was, indeed, in peril,
but it was better that one brigade should take its chance of escape
than that one half the column should be cut off from the remainder.

August 23.

Next morning the pioneers were ordered to repair the bridge, while
Longstreet, feinting strongly against the tete-de-pont, gave Pope
occupation. Early's troops, under cover of the woods, moved northward
to the protection of a creek named Great Run, and although the
Federal cavalry kept close watch upon him, no attack was made till
nightfall. This was easily beaten back; and Jackson, anxious to keep
the attention of the enemy fixed on this point, sent over another
brigade.

August 24.

At dawn on the 24th, however, as the Federals were reported to be
advancing in force, the detachment was brought back to the
Confederate bank. The men had been for two days and a night without
food or shelter. It was in vain that Early, after the bridge had been
restored, had requested to be withdrawn. Jackson sent Lawton to
reinforce him with the curt message: "Tell General Early to hold his
position;" and although the generals grumbled at their isolation,
Pope was effectually deluded into the conviction that a serious
attack had been repulsed, and that no further attempt to turn his
 was to be immediately apprehended. The significance of
Jackson's action will be seen hereafter.

While Jackson was thus mystifying the enemy, both Longstreet and
Stuart had been hard at work. The former, after an artillery contest
of several hours' duration, had driven the enemy from his
tete-de-pont on the railway, and had burnt the bridge. The latter, on
the morning of the 22nd, had moved northward with the whole of the
cavalry, except two regiments, and had ridden round the Federal
. Crossing the Rappahannock at Waterloo Bridge and Hart's Mills,
he marched eastward without meeting a single hostile scout, and as
evening fell the column of 1500 men and two pieces of artillery
clattered into Warrenton. The troopers dismounted in the streets. The
horses were fed and watered, and while the officers amused themselves
by registering their names, embellished with fantastic titles, at the
hotel, Stuart's staff, questioning the throng of women and old men,
elicited important information. None of the enemy's cavalry had been
seen in the vicinity for some days, and Pope's supply trains were
parked at Catlett's Station, on the Orange and Alexandria Railway,
ten miles south-east. After an hour's rest the force moved on, and
passing through Auburn village was caught by the same storm that had
cut off Early. The narrow roads became running streams, and the
creeks which crossed the line of march soon rose to the horses'
withers. But this was the very condition of the elements most
favourable for the enterprise. The enemy's vedettes and patrols,
sheltering from the fury of the storm, were captured, one after
another, by the advanced guard, and the two brigades arrived at
Catlett's Station without the Federals receiving the least notice of
their approach.

A moment's halt, a short consultation, a silent movement forward, and
the astonished sentinels were overpowered. Beyond were the
encampments and the trains, guarded by 1500 infantry and 500
horsemen. The night was dark--the darkest, said Stuart, that he had
ever known. Without a guide concerted action seemed impossible. The
rain still fell in torrents, and the raiders, soaked to the skin,
could only grope aimlessly in the gloom. But just at this moment a
negro was captured who recognised Stuart, and who knew where Pope's
baggage and horses were to be found. He was told to lead the way, and
Colonel W. H. F. Lee, a son of the Commander-in-Chief, was ordered to
follow with his regiment. The guide led the column towards the
headquarter tents. "Then there mingled with the noise of the rain
upon the canvas and the roar of the wind in the forest the rushing
sound of many horsemen, of loud voices, and clashing sabres." One of
Pope's staff officers, together with the uniform and horses of the
Federal commander, his treasure chest, and his personal effects, fell
into the hands of the Confederates, and the greater part of the
enemy's troops, suddenly alarmed in the deep darkness, dispersed into
the woods. Another camp was quickly looted, and the 1st and 5th
Virginia Cavalry were sent across the railway, riding without
accident, notwithstanding the darkness, over a high embankment with
deep ditches on either side. But the Federal guards had now rallied
under cover, and the attack on the railway waggons had to be
abandoned. Another party had taken in hand the main object of the
expedition, the destruction of the railway bridge over Cedar Run. The
force which should have defended it was surprised and scattered. The
timbers, however, were by this time thoroughly saturated, and only a
few axes had been discovered. Some Federal skirmishers maintained a
heavy fire from the opposite bank, and it was impossible to complete
the work. The telegraph was more easily dealt with; and shortly
before daylight on the 23rd, carrying with him 300 prisoners,
including many officers, Stuart withdrew by the light of the blazing
camp, and after a march of sixty miles in six-and-twenty hours,
reached the Sulphur Springs before evening.

The most important result of this raid was the capture of Pope's
dispatch book, containing most detailed information as to his
strength, dispositions, and designs; referring to the reinforcements
he expected, and disclosing his belief that the line of the
Rappahannock was no longer tenable. But the enterprise had an
indirect it upon the enemy's calculations, which was not without
bearing on the campaign. Pope believed that Stuart's advance on
Catlett's Station had been made in connection with Jackson's attempt
to cross at Sulphur Springs; and the retreat of the cavalry, combined
with that of Early, seemed to indicate that the movement to turn his
 had been definitely abandoned.

The Federal commander was soon to be undeceived. Thrice had General
Lee been baulked. The enemy, who should have been annihilated on
August 19, had gained six days' respite. On the 20th he had placed
himself behind the Rappahannock. On the 22nd the rising waters
forbade Jackson's passage at the Sulphur Springs; and now, on the
afternoon of the 24th, the situation was still unchanged.
Disregarding Longstreet's demonstrations, Pope had marched northward,
keeping pace with Jackson, and his whole force was concentrated on
the great road which runs from the Sulphur Springs through Warrenton
and Gainesville to Washington and Alexandria. He had answered move by
countermove. Hitherto, except in permitting Early to recross the
river, he had made no mistake, and he had gained time. He had marched
over thirty miles, and executed complicated manoeuvres, without
offering the Confederates an opening. His position near the Sulphur
Springs was as strong as that which he had  on the lower reaches
near the railway bridge. Moreover, the correspondence in his dispatch
book disclosed the fact that a portion at least of McClellan's army
had landed at Aquia Creek, and was marching to Bealtown;* * Between
August 21 and 25 Pope received the following reinforcements for the
Army of the Potomac, raising his strength to over 80,000 men:
Third Corps: Heintzleman (Hooker's Division, Kearney's Division)
10,000
Fifth Corps: Porter (Morell's Division, Sykes' Division) 10,000
Pennsylvania Reserves: Reynolds 8000 that a strong force, drawn from
the Kanawha Valley and elsewhere, was assembling at Washington; and
that 150,000 men might be concentrated within a few days on the
Rappahannock. Lee, on learning McClellan's destination, immediately
asked that the troops which had been retained at Richmond should be
sent to join him. Mr. Davis assented, but it was not till the request
had been repeated and time lost that the divisions of D.H. Hill and
McLaws', two brigades of infantry, under J.G. Walker, and Hampton's
cavalry brigade were ordered up. Yet these reinforcements only raised
Lee's numbers to 75,000 men, and they were from eighty to a hundred
miles distant by an indifferent railroad.

Nor was it possible to await their arrival. Instant action was
imperative. But what action was possible? A defensive attitude could
only result in the Confederate army being forced back by superior
strength; and retreat on Richmond would be difficult, for the
Federals held the interior lines. The offensive seemed out of the
question. Pope's position was more favourable than before. His army
was massed, and reinforcements were close at hand. His  flank
was well secured. The ford at Sulphur Springs and the Waterloo Bridge
were both in his possession; north of the Springs rose the Bull Run
Mountains, a range covered with thick forest, and crossed by few
roads; and his  was protected by the march of McClellan's army
corps from Aquia Creek. Even the genius of a Napoleon might well have
been baffled by the difficulties in the way of attack. But there were
men in the Confederate army to whom overwhelming numbers and strong
positions were merely obstacles to be overcome.

On August 24 Lee removed his headquarters to Jefferson, where Jackson
was already encamped, and on the same evening, with Pope's captured
correspondence before them, the two generals discussed the problem.
What occurred at this council of war was never made public. To use
Lee's words: "A plan of operations was determined on;" but by whom it
was suggested there is none to tell us. "Jackson was so reticent,"
writes Dr. McGuire, "that it was only by accident that we ever found
out what he proposed to do, and there is no staff officer living
(1897) who could throw any light on this matter. The day before we
started to march round Pope's army I saw Lee and Jackson conferring
together. Jackson--for him--was very much excited, drawing with the
toe of his boot a map in the sand, and gesticulating in a much more
earnest way than he was in the habit of doing. General Lee was simply
listening, and after Jackson had got through, he nodded his head, as
if acceding to some proposal. I believe, from what occurred
afterwards, that Jackson suggested the movement as it was made, but I
have no further proof than the incident I have just mentioned."* (*
Letter to the author.) It is only certain that we have record of few
enterprises of greater daring than that which was then decided on;
and no matter from whose brain it emanated, on Lee fell the burden of
the responsibility; on his shoulders, and on his alone, rested the
honour of the Confederate arms, the fate of Richmond, the
independence of the South; and if we may suppose, so consonant was
the design proposed with the strategy which Jackson had already
practised, that it was to him its inception was due, it is still to
Lee that we must assign the higher merit. It is easy to conceive. It
is less easy to execute. But to risk cause and country, name and
reputation, on a single throw, and to abide the issue with
unflinching heart, is the supreme exhibition of the soldier's
fortitude.

Lee's decision was to divide his army. Jackson, marching northwards,
was to cross the Bull Run Mountains at Thoroughfare Gap, ten miles as
the crow flies from the enemy's , and strike the railway which
formed Pope's line of supply. The Federal commander, who would
meanwhile be held in play by Longstreet, would be compelled to fall
back in a north-easterly direction to save his communications, and
thus be drawn away from McClellan. Longstreet would then follow
Jackson, and it was hoped that the Federals, disconcerted by these
movements, might be attacked in detail or forced to fight at a
disadvantage. The risk, however, was very great.

An army of 55,000 men was about to march into a region occupied by
100,000,* (* Pope, 80,000; Washington and Aquia Creek, 20,000. Lee
was well aware, from the correspondence which Stuart had captured, if
indeed he had not already inferred it, that Pope had been strictly
enjoined to cover Washington, and that he was dependent on the
railway for supplies. There was not the slightest fear of his falling
back towards Aquia Creek to join McClellan.) who might easily be
reinforced to 150,000; and it was to march in two wings, separated
from each other by two days' march. If Pope were to receive early
warning of Jackson's march, he might hurl his whole force on one or
the other. Moreover, defeat, with both Pope and McClellan between the
Confederates and Richmond, spelt ruin and nothing less. But as Lee
said after the war, referring to the criticism evoked by manoeuvres,
in this as in other of his campaigns, which were daring even to
rashness, "Such criticism is obvious, but the disparity of force
between the contending forces rendered the risks unavoidable."* (*
The Army of Northern Virginia, Colonel Allan page 200.) In the
present case the only alternative was an immediate retreat; and
retreat, so long as the enemy was not fully concentrated, and there
was a chance of dealing with him in detail, was a measure which
neither Lee nor Jackson was ever willing to advise.

On the evening of the 24th Jackson began his preparations for the
most famous of his marches. His troops were quietly withdrawn from
before the Sulphur Springs, and Longstreet's division, unobserved by
the Federals, took their place. Captain Boswell was ordered to report
on the most direct and hidden route to Manassas Junction, and the
three divisions--Ewell's, Hill's, and the Stonewall, now commanded by
Taliaferro--assembled near Jefferson. Three days' cooked rations were
to be carried in the haversacks, and a herd of cattle, together with
the green corn standing in the fields, was relied upon for
subsistence until requisition could be made on the Federal magazines.
The troops marched light. Knapsacks were  behind. Tin cans and a
few frying-pans formed the only camp equipment, and many an officer's
outfit consisted of a few badly baked biscuits and a handful of salt.

August 26.

Long before dawn the divisions were afoot. The men were hungry, and
their rest had been short; but they were old acquaintances of the
morning star, and to march while the east was still grey had become a
matter of routine. But as their guides led northward, and the sound
of the guns, opening along the Rappahannock, grew fainter and
fainter, a certain excitement began to pervade the column. Something
mysterious was in the air. What their movement portended not the
shrewdest of the soldiers could divine; but they recalled their
marches in the Valley and their inevitable results, and they knew
instinctively that a surprise on a still larger scale was in
contemplation. The thought was enough. Asking no questions, and full
of enthusiasm, they followed with quick step the leader in whom their
confidence had become so absolute. The flood had subsided on the
Upper Rappahannock, and the divisions forded it at Hinson's Mill,
unmolested and apparently unobserved. Without halting it pressed on,
Boswell with a small escort of cavalry leading the way. The march led
first by Amissville, thence north to Orleans, beyond Hedgeman's
River, and thence to Salem, a village on the Manassas Gap Railroad.
Where the roads diverged from the shortest line the troops took to
the fields. Guides were stationed by the advanced guard at each gap
and gate which marked the route. Every precaution was taken to
conceal the movement. The roads in the direction of the enemy were
watched by cavalry, and so far as possible the column was directed
through woods and valleys. The men, although they knew nothing of
their destination, whether Winchester, or Harper's Ferry, or even
Washington itself, strode on mile after mile, through field and ford,
in the fierce heat of the August noon, without question or complaint.
"Old Jack" had asked them to do their best, and that was enough to
command their most strenuous efforts.

Near the end of the day Jackson rode to the head of the leading
brigade, and complimented the officers on the fine condition of the
troops and the regularity of the march. They had made more than
twenty miles, and were still moving briskly, well closed up, and
without stragglers. Then, standing by the wayside, he watched his
army pass. The sun was setting, and the rays struck full on his
familiar face, brown with exposure, and his dusty uniform. Ewell's
division led the way, and when the men saw their general, they
prepared to salute him with their usual greeting. But as they began
to cheer he raised his hand to stop them, and the word passed down
the column, "Don't shout, boys, the Yankees will hear us;" and the
soldiers contented themselves with swinging their caps in mute
acclamation. When the next division passed a deeper flush spread over
Jackson's face. Here were the men he had so often led to triumph, the
men he had trained himself, the men of the Valley, of the First
Manassas, of Kernstown, and M'Dowell. The Stonewall regiments were
before him, and he was unable to restrain them; devotion such as
theirs was not to be silenced at such a moment, and the wild
battle-yell of his own brigade set his pulses tingling. For once a
breach of discipline was condoned. "It is of no use," said Jackson,
turning to his staff, "you see I can't stop them;" and then, with a
sudden access of intense pride in his gallant veterans, he added,
half to himself, "Who could fail to win battles with such men as
these?"

It was midnight before the column halted near Salem village, and the
men, wearied out with their march of six-and-twenty miles, threw
themselves on the ground by the piles of muskets, without even
troubling to unroll their blankets. So far the movement had been
entirely successful. Not a Federal had been seen, and none appeared
during the warm midsummer night. Yet the soldiers were permitted
scant time for rest. Once more they were aroused while the stars were
b; and, half awake, snatching what food they could, they
stumbled forward through the darkness.

August 26.

As the cool breath of the morning rose about them, the dark forests
of the Bull Run Mountains became gradually visible in the faint light
of the eastern sky, and the men at last discovered whither their
general was leading them. With the knowledge, which spread quickly
through the ranks, that they were making for the communications of
the boaster Pope, the regiments stepped out with renewed energy.
"There was no need for speech, no breath to spare if there had
been--only the shuffling tramp of marching feet, the rumbling of
wheels, the creak and clank of harness and accoutrements, with an
occasional order, uttered under the breath, and always the same:
"Close up, men! Close up!""* (* "Battles and Leaders volume 2 page
533.)

Through Thoroughfare Gap, a narrow gorge in the Bull Run range, with
high cliffs, covered with creepers and crowned with pines on either
hand, the column wound steadily upwards; and, gaining the higher
level, the troops looked down on the open country to the eastward.
Over a vast area of alternate field and forest, bounded by distant
uplands, the shadows of the clouds were slowly sailing. Issuing from
the mouth of the pass, and trending a little to the south-east, ran
the broad high-road, passing through two tiny hamlets, Haymarket and
Gainesville, and climbing by gentle gradients to a great bare
plateau, familiar to the soldiers of Bull Run under the name of
Manassas Plains. At Gainesville this road was crossed by another,
which, lost in dense woods, appeared once more on the open heights to
the far north-east, where the white buildings of Centreville
glistened in the sunshine. The second road was the Warrenton and
Alexandria highway, the direct line of communication between Pope's
army and Washington, and it is not difficult to divine the anxiety
with which it was scrutinised by Jackson. If his march had been
detected, a far superior force might already be moving to intercept
him. At any moment the news might come in that the Federal army was
rapidly approaching; and even were that not the case, it seemed
hardly possible that the Confederate column, betrayed by the dust,
could escape the observation of passing patrols or orderlies. But not
a solitary scout was visible; no movement was reported from the
direction of Warrenton; and the troops pressed on, further and
further round the Federal rear, further and further from Lee and
Longstreet. The cooked rations which they carried had been consumed
or thrown away; there was no time for the slaughter and distribution
of the cattle; but the men took tribute from the fields and orchards,
and green corn and green apples were all the morning meal that many
of them enjoyed. At Gainesville the column was joined by Stuart, who
had maintained a fierce artillery fight at Waterloo Bridge the
previous day; and then, slipping quietly away under cover of the
darkness, had marched at two in the morning to cover Jackson's flank.
The sun was high in the heavens, and still the enemy made no sign.
Munford's horsemen, forming the advanced guard, had long since
reached the Alexandria turnpike, sweeping up all before them, and
neither patrols nor orderlies had escaped to carry the news to
Warrenton.

So the point of danger was safely passed, and thirteen miles in rear
of Pope's headquarters,  across the communications he had told
his troops to disregard, the long column swung swiftly forward in the
noonday heat. Not a sound, save the muffled roll of many wheels,
broke the stillness of the tranquil valley; only the great dust
cloud, rolling always eastward up the slopes of the Manassas plateau,
betrayed the presence of war.

Beyond Gainesville Jackson took the road which led to Bristoe
Station, some seven miles south of Manassas Junction. Neither the
success which had hitherto accompanied his movement, nor the
excitement incident on his situation, had overbalanced his judgment.
From Gainesville the Junction might have been reached in little more
than an hour's march; and prudence would have recommended a swift
dash at the supply depot, swift destruction, and swift escape. But it
was always possible that Pope might have been alarmed, and the
railroad from Warrenton Junction supplied him with the means of
throwing a strong force of infantry rapidly to his rear. In order to
obstruct such a movement Jackson had determined to seize Bristoe
Station. Here, breaking down the railway bridge over Broad Run, and
establishing his main body in an almost impregnable position behind
the stream, he could proceed at his leisure with the destruction of
the stores at Manassas Junction. The advantages promised by this
manoeuvre more than compensated for the increased length of the march.

The sun had not yet set when the advanced guard arrived within
striking distance of Bristoe Station. Munford's squadrons, still
leading the way, dashed upon the village. Ewell followed in hot
haste, and a large portion of the guard, consisting of two companies,
one of cavalry and one of infantry, was immediately captured. A train
returning empty from Warrenton Junction to Alexandria darted through
the station under a heavy fire.* (* The report received at Alexandria
from Manassas Junction ran as follows: "No. 6 train, engine
Secretary, was fired into at Bristoe by a party of cavalry, some 500
strong. They had piled ties on the track, but the engine threw them
off. Secretary is completely riddled by bullets.") The line was then
torn up, and two trains which followed in the same direction as the
first were thrown down a high embankment. A fourth, scenting danger
ahead, moved back before it reached the break in the road. The column
had now closed up, and it was already dark. The escape of the two
trains was most unfortunate. It would soon be known, both at
Alexandria and Warrenton, that Manassas Junction was in danger. The
troops had marched nearly five-and-twenty miles, but if the object of
the expedition was to be accomplished, further exertions were
absolutely necessary. Trimble, energetic as ever, volunteered with
two regiments, the 21st Georgia and 21st North Carolina, to move on
Manassas Junction. Stuart was placed in command, and without a
moment's delay the detachment moved northward through the woods. The
night was hot and moonless. The infantry moved in order of battle,
the skirmishers in advance; and pushing slowly forward over a broken
country, it was nearly midnight before they reached the Junction.
Half a mile from the depot their advance was greeted by a salvo of
shells. The Federal garrison, warned by the fugitives from Bristoe
Station, were on the alert; but so harmless was their fire that
Trimble's men swept on without a check. The two regiments, one on
either side of the railroad, halted within a hundred yards of the
Federal guns. The countersign was passed down the ranks, and the
bugles sounded the charge. The Northern gunners, without waiting for
the onset, fled through the darkness, and two batteries, each with
its full complement of guns and waggons, became the prize of the
Confederate infantry. Stuart, coming up on the flank, rode down the
fugitives. Over 300 prisoners were taken, and the remainder of the
garrison streamed northward through the deserted camps. The results
of this attack more than compensated for the exertions the troops had
undergone. Only 15 Confederates had been wounded, and the supplies on
which Pope's army, whether it was intended to move against Longstreet
or merely to hold the line of the Rappahannock, depended both for
food and ammunition were in Jackson's hands.

August 27.

The next morning Hill's and Taliaferro's divisions joined Trimble.
Ewell remained at Bristoe; cavalry patrols were sent out in every
direction, and Jackson, riding to Manassas, saw before him the reward
of his splendid march. Streets of warehouses, stored to overflowing,
had sprung up round the Junction. A line of freight cars, two miles
in length, stood upon the railway. Thousands of barrels, containing
flour, pork, and biscuit, covered the neighbouring fields. Brand-new
ambulances were packed in regular rows. Field-ovens, with the fires
still smouldering, and all the paraphernalia of a large bakery,
attracted the wondering gaze of the Confederate soldiery; while great
pyramids of shot and shell, piled with the symmetry of an arsenal,
testified to the profusion with which the enemy's artillery was
supplied.

It was a strange commentary on war. Washington was but a long day's
march to the north; Warrenton, Pope's headquarters, but twelve miles
distant to the south-west; and along the Rappahannock, between
Jackson and Lee, stood the tents of a host which outnumbered the
whole Confederate army. No thought of danger had entered the minds of
those who selected Manassas Junction as the depot of the Federal
forces. Pope had been content to leave a small guard as a protection
against raiding cavalry. Halleck, concerned only with massing the
whole army on the Rappahannock, had used every effort to fill the
storehouses. If, he thought, there was one place in Virginia where
the Stars and Stripes might be displayed in full security, that place
was Manassas Junction; and here, as nowhere else, the wealth of the
North had been poured out with a prodigality such as had never been
seen in war. To feed, clothe, and equip the Union armies no
expenditure was deemed extravagant. For the comfort and well-being of
the individual soldier the purse-strings of the nation were freely
loosed. No demand, however preposterous, was disregarded. The markets
of Europe were called upon to supply the deficiencies of the States;
and if money could have effected the re-establishment of the Union,
the war would have already reached a triumphant issue. But the
Northern Government had yet to learn that the accumulation of men,
materiel, and supplies is not in itself sufficient for success. Money
alone cannot provide good generals, a trained staff, or an efficient
cavalry; and so on this August morning 20,000 ragged Confederates,
the soldiers of a country which ranked as the poorest of nations, had
marched  round the rear of the Federal army, and were now halted
in undisturbed possession of all that made that army an effective
force.

Few generals have occupied a position so commanding as did Jackson on
the morning of August 27. His enemies would henceforward have to
dance while he piped. It was Jackson, and not Pope, who was to
dictate the movements of the Federal army. It was impossible that the
latter could now maintain its position on the Rappahannock, and Lee's
strategy had achieved its end. The capture of Manassas Junction,
however, was only the first step in the campaign. Pope, to restore
his communications with Alexandria, would be compelled to fall back;
but before he could be defeated the two Confederate wings must be
united, and the harder part of the work would devolve on Jackson. The
Federals, at Warrenton, were nearer by five miles to Thoroughfare
Gap, his shortest line of communication with Lee and Longstreet, than
he was himself. Washington held a large garrison, and the railway was
available for the transit of the troops. The fugitives from Manassas
must already have given the alarm, and at any moment the enemy might
appear.

If there were those in the Confederate ranks who considered the
manoeuvres of their leader overbold, their misgivings were soon
justified.

A train full of soldiers from Warrenton Junction put back on finding
Ewell in possession of Bristoe Station; but a more determined effort
was made from the direction of Alexandria. So early as seven o'clock
a brigade of infantry, accompanied by a battery, detrained on the
north bank of Bull Run, and advanced in battle order against the
Junction.* (* These troops were sent forward, without cavalry, by
order of General Halleck. O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 680. The Federal
Commander-in-Chief expected that the opposition would be slight. He
had evidently no suspicion of the length to which the daring of Lee
and Jackson might have carried them.) The Federals, unaware that the
depot was held in strength, expected to drive before them a few
squadrons of cavalry. But when several batteries opened a heavy fire,
and heavy columns advanced against their flanks, the men broke in
flight towards the bridge. The Confederate infantry followed rapidly,
and two Ohio regiments, which had just arrived from the Kanawha
Valley, were defeated with heavy loss. Fitzhugh Lee, who had fallen
back before the enemy's advance, was then ordered in pursuit. The
cars and railway bridge were destroyed; and during the day the
brigade followed the fugitives as far as Burke's Station, only twelve
miles from Alexandria.

This feeble attack appears to have convinced Jackson that his danger
was not pressing. It was evident that the enemy had as yet no idea of
his strength. Stuart's cavalry watched every road; Ewell held a
strong position on Broad Run, barring the direct approach from
Warrenton Junction, and it was determined to give the wearied
soldiers the remainder of the day for rest and pillage. It was
impossible to carry away even a tithe of the stores, and when an
issue of rations had been made, the bakery set working, and the
liquor placed under guard, the regiments were let loose on the
magazines. Such an opportunity occurs but seldom in the soldiers'
service, and the hungry Confederates were not the men to let it pass.
"Weak and haggard from their diet of green corn and apples, one can
well imagine," says Gordon, "with what surprise their eyes opened
upon the contents of the sutlers' stores, containing an amount and
variety of property such as they had never conceived. Then came a
storming charge of men rushing in a tumultuous mob over each other's
heads, under each other's feet, anywhere, everywhere, to satisfy a
craving stronger than a yearning for fame. There were no laggards in
that charge, and there was abundant evidence of the fruits of
victory. Men ragged and famished clutched tenaciously at whatever
came in their way, whether of clothing or food, of luxury or
necessity. Here a long yellow-haired, barefooted son of the South
claimed as prizes a toothbrush, a box of candles, a barrel of coffee;
while another, whose butternut homespun hung round him in tatters,
crammed himself with lobster salad, sardines, potted game and
sweetmeats, and washed them down with Rhenish wine. Nor was the outer
man neglected. From piles of new clothing the Southerners arrayed
themselves in the blue uniforms of the Federals. The naked were clad,
the barefooted were shod, and the sick provided with luxuries to
which they had long been strangers."* (* The Army of Virginia.
General George H. Gordon.)

The history of war records many extraordinary scenes, but there are
few more ludicrous than this wild revel at Manassas. Even the chagrin
of Northern writers gives way before the spectacle; and Jackson must
have smiled grimly when he thought of the maxim which Pope had
promulgated with such splendid confidence: "Let us study the probable
lines of retreat of our opponents, and leave our own to take care of
themselves!"

It was no time, however, to indulge in reflections on the irony of
fortune. All through the afternoon, while the sharp-set Confederates
were sweeping away the profits which the Northern sutlers had wrung
from Northern soldiers, Stuart's vigilant patrols sent in report on
report of the Federal movements. From Warrenton heavy columns were
hurrying over the great highroad to Gainesville, and from Warrenton
Junction a large force of all arms was marching direct on Bristoe.
There was news, too, from Lee. Despite the distance to be covered,
and the proximity of the enemy, a trooper of the Black Horse, a
regiment of young planters which now formed Jackson's Escort,
disguised as a countryman, made his way back from headquarters, and
Jackson learned that Longstreet, who had started the previous
evening, was following his own track by Orleans, Salem, and
Thoroughfare Gap.* (* "Up to the night of August 28 we received,"
says Longstreet, "reports from General Jackson at regular intervals,
assuring us of his successful operation, and of confidence in his
ability to baffle all efforts of the enemy, till we should reach
him." Battles and Leaders volume 2 page 517.) It was evident, then,
that the whole Federal army was in motion northwards, and that
Longstreet had crossed the Rappahannock. But Longstreet had many
miles to march and Thoroughfare Gap to pass before he could lend
assistance; and the movement of the enemy on Gainesville threatened
to intervene between the widely separated wings of the Confederate
army.

It was no difficult matter for Jackson to decide on the course to be
adopted. There was but one thing to do, to retreat at once; and only
one line of escape still open, the roads leading north and north-west
from Manassas Junction. To remain at Manassas and await Lee's arrival
would have been to sacrifice his command. 20,000 men, even with the
protection of intrenchments, could hardly hope to hold the whole
Federal army at bay for two days; and it was always possible that
Pope, blocking Thoroughfare Gap with a portion of his force, might
delay Lee for even longer than two days. Nor did it recommend itself
to Jackson as sound strategy to move south, attack the Federal column
approaching Bristoe, and driving it from his path to escape past the
rear of the column moving to Gainesville. The exact position of the
Federal troops was far from clear. Large forces might be encountered
near the Rappahannock, and part of McClellan's army was known to be
marching westward from Aquia Creek. Moreover, such a movement would
have accentuated the separation of the Confederate wings, and a local
success over a portion of the hostile army would have been but a poor
substitute for the decisive victory which Lee hoped to win when his
whole force was once more concentrated.

About three in the afternoon the thunder of artillery was heard from
the direction of Bristoe. Ewell had sent a brigade along the railroad
to support some cavalry on reconnaissance, and to destroy a bridge
over Kettle Run. Hardly had the latter task been accomplished when a
strong column of Federal infantry emerged from the forest and
deployed for action. Hooker's division of 5,500 men, belonging to
McClellan's army, had joined Pope on the same day that Jackson had
crossed the Rappahannock, and had been dispatched northwards from
Warrenton Junction as soon as the news came in that Manassas Junction
had been captured. Hooker had been instructed to ascertain the
strength of the enemy at Manassas, for Pope was still under the
impression that the attack on his rear was nothing more than a
repetition of the raid on Catlett's Station. Striking the Confederate
outposts at Kettle Run, he deployed his troops in three lines and
pushed briskly forward. The batteries on both sides opened, and after
a hot skirmish of an hour's duration Ewell, who had orders not to
risk an engagement with superior forces, found that his flanks were
threatened. In accordance with his instructions he directed his three
brigades to retire in succession across Broad Run. This difficult
manoeuvre was accomplished with trifling loss, and Hooker,
ascertaining that Jackson's whole corps, estimated at 30,000 men, was
near at hand, advanced no further than the stream. Ewell fell back
slowly to the Junction; and shortly after midnight the three
Confederate divisions had disappeared into the darkness. The torch
had already been set to the captured stores; warehouses, trains,
camps, and hospitals were burning fiercely, and the dark figures of
Stuart's troopers, still urging on the work, passed to and fro amid
the flames. Of the value of property destroyed it is difficult to
arrive at an estimate. Jackson, in his official report, enumerates
the various items with an unction which he must have inherited from
some moss-trooping ancestor. Yet the actual quantity mattered little,
for the stores could be readily replaced. But the effect of their
destruction on the Federal operations was for the time being
overwhelming. And of this destruction Pope himself was a witness. The
fight with Ewell had just ceased, and the troops were going into
bivouac, when the Commander-in-Chief, anxious to ascertain with his
own eyes the extent of the danger to which he was exposed, reached
Bristoe Station. There, while the explosion of the piles of shells
resembled the noise of a great battle, from the ridge above Broad Run
he saw the sky to the north-east lurid with the blaze of a vast
conflagration; and there he learned for the first time that it was no
mere raid of cavalry, but Stonewall Jackson, with his whole army
corps, who stood between himself and Washington.

For the best part of three days the Union general had been completely
mystified. Jackson had  Jefferson on the 25th. But although his
march had been seen by the Federal signaller on the hills near
Waterloo Bridge,* (* Five messages were sent in between 8.45 A.M. and
11 A.M., but evidently reached headquarters much later. O.R. volume
12 part 3 pages 654-5.) and the exact strength of his force had been
reported, his destination had been unsuspected. When the column was
last seen it was moving northward from Orleans, but the darkness had
covered it, and the measure of prolonging the march to midnight bore
good fruit. For the best part of two days Jackson had vanished from
his enemy's view, to be found by Pope himself at Manassas Junction.*
(* There is a curious undated report on page 671, O.R. volume 12 part
3 from Colonel Duffie, a French officer in the Federal service, which
speaks of a column passing through Thoroughfare Gap; but, although
the compilers of the Records have placed it under the date August 26,
it seems evident, as this officer (see page 670) was at Rappahannock
Station on the 26th and 27th (O.R. volume 12 part. 3 page 688), that
the report refers to Longstreet's and not Jackson's troops, and was
written on August 28.) Nevertheless, although working in the dark,
the Federal commander, up to the moment he reached Bristoe Station,
had acted with sound judgment. He had inferred from the reports of
his signalmen that Jackson was marching to Front Royal on the
Shenandoah; but in order to clear up the situation, on the 26th Sigel
and McDowell were ordered to force the passage of the Rappahannock at
Waterloo Bridge and the Sulphur Springs, and obtain information of
the enemy's movements. Reno, at the same time, was to cross below the
railway bridge and make for Culpeper. The manoeuvres, however, were
not carried out as contemplated. Only McDowell advanced; and as Lee
had replaced Longstreet, who marched to Orleans the same afternoon,
by Anderson, but little was discovered.

(MAP OF THE SITUATION AT SUNSET, AUGUST 27th, 1862.)

It was evident, however, that the Confederates were trending steadily
northwards, and on the night of the 26th Pope ordered his 80,000
Federals to concentrate in the neighbourhood of Warrenton. Reports
had come in that hostile troops had passed through Salem, White
Plains, and Thoroughfare Gap.* (* O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 672.
Pope to Porter page 675. Pope to Halleck page 684.) But it seemed
improbable, both to Pope and McDowell, the second in command, that
more was meant by this than a flank attack on Warrenton. McDowell
expressed his opinion that a movement round the  wing in the
direction of Alexandria was far too hazardous for the enemy to
attempt. Pope appears to have acquiesced, and a line of battle near
Warrenton, with a strong reserve at Greenwich, to the  rear, was
then decided on. Franklin's army corps from the Peninsula, instead of
proceeding to Aquia Creek, was disembarking at Alexandria, and
Halleck had been requested to push these 10,000 men forward with all
speed to Gainesville. The Kanawha regiments had also reached
Washington, and Pope was under the impression that these too would be
sent to join him. He had therefore but little apprehension for his
rear. The one error of judgment into which both Pope and McDowell had
been betrayed was in not giving Lee due credit for audacity or
Jackson for energy. That Lee would dare to divide his army they had
never conceived; that Jackson would march fifty miles in two days and
place his single corps astride their communications was an idea which
had they thought of they would have instantly dismissed. Like the
Austrian generals when they first confronted Napoleon, they might
well have complained that their enemy broke every rule of the
military art; and like all generals who believe that war is a mere
matter of precedent, they found themselves egregiously deceived.

The capture of Manassas, to use Pope's own words, rendered his
position at Warrenton no longer tenable, and early on the 27th, the
army, instead of concentrating on Warrenton, was ordered to move to
Gainesville (from Gainesville it was easy to block Thoroughfare Gap);
Buford's cavalry brigade was thrown out towards White Plains to
observe Longstreet, and Hooker was dispatched to clear up the
situation at Manassas. This move, which was completed before
nightfall, could hardly have been improved upon. The whole Federal
army was now established on the direct line of communication between
Jackson and Lee, and although Jackson might still escape, the
Confederates had as yet gained no advantage beyond the destruction of
Pope's supplies. It seemed impossible that the two wings could
combine east of the Bull Run Mountains. But on the evening of the
27th, after the conclusion of the engagement at Bristoe Station, Pope
lost his head. The view he now took of the situation was absolutely
erroneous. Ewell's retreat before Hooker he interpreted as an easy
victory, which fully compensated for the loss of his magazines. He
imagined that Jackson had been surprised, and that no other course
was open to him than to take refuge in the intrenchments of Manassas
Junction and await Lee's arrival. Orders were at once issued for a
manoeuvre which should ensure the defeat of the presumptuous foe. The
Federal army corps, marching in three columns, were called up to
Manassas, a movement which would leave Thoroughfare Gap unguarded
save by Buford's cavalry. Some were to move at midnight, others "at
the very earliest blush of dawn." "We shall bag the whole crowd, if
they are prompt and expeditious,"* (* O.R. volume 12 part 2 page 72.)
said Pope, with a sad lapse from the poetical phraseology he had just
employed.

August 28.

And so, on the morning of the 28th, a Federal army once more set out
with the expectation of surrounding Jackson, to find once more that
the task was beyond their powers.

The march was slow. Pope made no movement from Bristoe Station until
Hooker had been reinforced by Kearney and Reno; McDowell, before he
turned east from Gainesville, was delayed by Sigel's trains, which
crossed his line of march, and it was not till noon that Hooker's
advanced guard halted amid the still smouldering ruins on the
Manassas plateau. The march had been undisturbed. The redoubts were
untenanted. The woods to the north were silent. A few grey-coated
vedettes watched the operations from far-distant ridges; a few
stragglers, overcome perhaps by their Gargantuan meal of the previous
evening, were picked up in the copses, but Jackson's divisions had
vanished from the earth.

Then came order and counter-order. Pope was completely bewildered. By
four o'clock, however, the news arrived that the railway at Burke's
Station, within twelve miles of Alexandria, had been cut, and that
the enemy was in force between that point and Centreville. On
Centreville, therefore, the whole army was now directed; Hooker,
Kearney, and Reno, forming the  wing, marched by Blackburn's
Ford, and were to be followed by Porter and Banks; Sigel and
Reynolds, forming the centre, took the road by New Market and the
Stone Bridge; McDowell (King's and Ricketts' divisions), forming the
, was to pass through Gainesville and Groveton. But when the
 wing reached Centreville, Pope was still at fault. There were
traces of a marching column, but some small patrols of cavalry, who
retreated leisurely before the Federal advance, were the sole
evidence of the enemy's existence. Night was at hand, and as the
divisions he accompanied were directed to their bivouacs, Pope sought
in vain for the enemy he had believed so easy a prey.

Before his troops halted the knowledge came to him. Far away to the
south-west, where the great Groveton valley, backed by the wooded
mountains, lay green and beautiful, rose the dull booming of cannon,
swelling to a continuous roar; and as the weary soldiers, climbing
the slopes near Centreville, looked eagerly in the direction of the
sound, the rolling smoke of a fierce battle was distinctly visible
above the woods which bordered the Warrenton-Alexandria highway.
Across Bull Run, in the neighbourhood of Groveton, and still further
westward, where the c in the blue hills marked Thoroughfare Gap,
was seen the flash of distant guns. McDowell, marching northwards
through Gainesville, had evidently come into collision with the
enemy. Jackson was run to earth at last; and it was now clear that
while Pope had been moving northwards on Centreville, the
Confederates had been moving westward, and that they were once more
within reach of Lee. But by what means, Pope might well have asked,
had a whole army corps, with its batteries and waggons, passed
through the cordon which he had planned to throw around it, and
passed through as if gifted with the secret of invisibility?

The explanation was simple. While his enemies were watching the
midnight glare above Manassas, Jackson was moving north by three
roads; and before morning broke A.P. Hill was near Centreville, Ewell
had crossed Bull Run by Blackburn's Ford, and Taliaferro was north of
Bald Hill, with a brigade at Groveton, while Stuart's squadrons
formed a screen to front and flank. Then, as the Federals slowly
converged on Manassas, Hill and Ewell, marching unobserved along the
north bank of Bull Run, crossed the Stone Bridge; Taliaferro joined
them, and before Pope had found that his enemy had  the Junction,
the Confederates were in bivouac north of Groveton, hidden in the
woods, and recovering from the fatigue of their long night march.* (*
A.P. Hill had marched fourteen miles, Ewell fifteen, and Taliaferro,
with whom were the trains, from eight to ten.)

Jackson's arrangements for deceiving his enemy, for concealing his
line of retreat, and for drawing Pope northward on Centreville, had
been carefully thought out. The march from Manassas was no hasty
movement to the rear. Taliaferro, as soon as darkness fell, had moved
by New Market on Bald Hill. At 1 A.M. Ewell followed Hill to
Blackburn's Ford; but instead of continuing the march on Centrevile,
had crossed Bull Run, and moving up stream, had joined Taliaferro by
way of the Stone Bridge. Hill, leaving Centreville at 10 A.M.,
marched to the same rendezvous. Thus, while the attention of the
enemy was attracted to Centreville, Jackson's divisions were
concentrated in the woods beyond Bull Bun, some five or six miles
west. The position in which his troops were resting had been
skilfully selected. South of Sudley Springs, and north of the
Warrenton turnpike, it was within twelve miles of Thoroughfare Gap,
and a line of retreat, in case of emergency, as well as a line by
which Lee could join him, should Thoroughfare Gap be blocked, ran to
Aldie Gap, the northern pass of the Bull Run Mountains. Established
on his enemy's flank, he could avoid the full shock of his force
should Lee be delayed, or he could strike effectively himself; and it
was to retain the power of striking that he had not moved further
northward, and secured his front by camping beyond Catharpen Run. It
was essential that he should be prepared for offensive action. The
object with which he had marched upon Manassas had only been half
accomplished. Pope had been compelled to abandon the strong line of
the Rappahannock, but he had not yet been defeated; and if he were
not defeated, he would combine with McClellan, and advance in a few
days in overwhelming force. Lee looked for a battle with Pope before
he could be reinforced, and to achieve this end it was necessary that
the Federal commander should be prevented from retreating further;
that Jackson should hold him by the throat until Lee should come up
to administer the coup de grace.

It was with this purpose in his mind that Jackson had taken post near
Groveton, and he was now awaiting the information that should tell
him the time had come to strike. But, as already related, the march
of the Federals on Manassas was slow and toilsome. It was not till
the morning was well on that the brigade of Taliaferro's division
near Groveton, commanded by Colonel Bradley Johnson, was warned by
the cavalry that the enemy was moving through Gainesville in great
strength. A skirmish took place a mile or two north of that village,
and Johnson, finding himself menaced by far superior numbers, fell
back to the wood near the Douglass House. He was not followed. The
Union generals, Sigel and Reynolds, who had been ordered to Manassas
to "bag" Jackson, had received no word of his departure from the
Junction; and believing that Johnson's small force was composed only
of cavalry, they resumed the march which had been temporarily
interrupted.

The situation, however, was no clearer to the Confederates. The enemy
had disappeared in the great woods south-west of Groveton, and heavy
columns were still reported coming up from Gainesville. During the
afternoon, however, the cavalry captured a Federal courier, carrying
McDowell's orders for the movement of the  and centre, which had
been placed under his command, to Manassas Junction,* and this
important document was immediately forwarded to Jackson.

(* The order, dated 2 A.M., August 25, was to the following effect:--

1. Sigel's Corps to march from Gainesville to Manassas Junction, the
 resting on the Manassas railroad.

2. Reynolds to follow Sigel.

3. King to follow Reynolds.

4. Ricketts to follow King; but to halt at Thoroughfare Gap if the
enemy threatened the pass.

King was afterwards, while on the march, directed to Centreville by
the Warrenton-Alexandria road.)

"Johnson's messenger," says General Taliaferro, "found the
Confederate headquarters established on the shady side of an
old-fashioned worm-fence, in the corner of which General Jackson and
his division commanders were profoundly sleeping after the fatigues
of the preceding night, notwithstanding the intense heat of the
August day. There was not so much as an ambulance at headquarters.
The headquarters' train was back beyond the Rappahannock, at
Jefferson, with remounts, camp equipage, and all the arrangements for
cooking and serving food. All the property of the general, the staff,
and the headquarters' bureau was strapped to the pommels and cantels
of the saddles, and these formed the pillows of their weary owners.
The captured dispatch roused Jackson like an electric shock. He was
essentially a man of action. He rarely, if ever, hesitated. He never
asked advice. He called no council to discuss the situation disclosed
by this communication, although his ranking officers were almost at
his side. He asked no conference of opinion. He made no suggestion,
but simply, without a word, except to repeat the language of the
message, turned to me and said: "Move your division and attack the
enemy;" and to Ewell, "'Support the attack.'" The slumbering soldiers
sprang from the earth at the first murmur. They were sleeping almost
in ranks; and by the time the horses of their officers were saddled,
the long lines of infantry were moving to the anticipated
battle-field.

"The two divisions, after marching some distance to the north of the
turnpike, were halted and rested, and the prospect of an engagement
on that afternoon seemed to disappear with the lengthening shadows.
The enemy did not come. The Warrenton turnpike, along which it was
supposed he would march, was in view, but it was as free from Federal
soldiery as it had been two days before, when Jackson's men had
streamed along its highway."* (* Battles and Leaders volume 2 pages
507 and 508.)

(MAP OF THE SITUATION AT SUNSET, AUGUST 28TH, 1862.)

Jackson, however, was better informed than his subordinate. Troops
were still moving through Gainesville, and, instead of turning off to
Manassas, were marching up the turnpike on which so many eyes were
turned from the neighbouring woods. King's division, while on the
march to Manassas, had been instructed to countermarch and make for
Centrevile, by Groveton and the Stone Bridge. Ricketts, who had been
ordered by McDowell to hold Thoroughfare Gap, was already engaged
with Longstreet's advanced guard, and of this Jackson was aware; for
Stuart, in position at Haymarket, three miles north of Gainesville,
had been skirmishing all day with the enemy's cavalry, and had been
in full view of the conflict at the Gap.* (* Longstreet had been
unable to march with the same speed as Jackson. Leaving Jefferson on
the afternoon of August 26, he did not reach Thoroughfare Gap until
"just before night" on August 28. He had been delayed for an hour at
White Plains by the Federal cavalry, and the trains of the army, such
as they were, may also have retarded him. In two days he covered only
thirty miles.)

Jackson, however, knew not that one division was all that was before
him. The Federal movements had covered so wide an extent of country,
and had been so well concealed by the forests, that it was hardly
possible for Stuart's patrols, enterprising as they were, to obtain
accurate information. Unaccustomed to such disjointed marches as were
now in progress across his front, Jackson believed that King's column
was the flank-guard of McDowell's army corps. But, although he had
been compelled to leave Hill near the Stone Bridge, in order to
protect his line of retreat on Aldie, he had still determined to
attack. The main idea which absorbed his thoughts is clear enough.
The Federal army, instead of moving direct from Warrenton on
Alexandria, as he had anticipated, had apparently taken the more
circuitous route by Manassas, and if Pope was to be fought in the
open field before he could be reinforced by McClellan, he must be
induced to retrace his steps. To do this, the surest means was a
resolute attack on King's division, despite the probability that it
might be strongly reinforced; and it is by no means unlikely that
Jackson deferred his attack until near sunset in order that, if
confronted by superior numbers, he might still be able to hold on
till nightfall, and obtain time for Longstreet to come up.

Within the wood due north of the Dogan House, through which ran an
unfinished railroad, Ewell's and Taliaferro's divisions, awaiting the
propitious moment for attack, were drawn up in order of battle. Eight
brigades, and three small batteries, which had been brought across
country with great difficulty, were present, and the remainder of the
artillery was not far distant.* (* Twenty pieces had been ordered to
the front soon after the infantry moved forward. The dense woods,
however, proved impenetrable to all but three horse-artillery guns,
and one of these was unable to keep up.) Taliaferro, on the ,
had two brigades (A. G. Taliaferro's and the Stonewall) in first
line; Starke was in second line, and Bradley Johnson near Groveton
village. Ewell, on the , had placed Lawton and Trimble in front,
while Early and Forno formed a general reserve. This force numbered
in all about 8000 men, and even the skirmishers, thrown out well to
the front, were concealed by the undulations of the ground.

The Federal division commanded by General King, although unprovided
with cavalry and quite unsupported, was no unworthy enemy. It was
composed of four brigades of infantry, led by excellent officers, and
accompanied by four batteries. The total strength was 10,000 men. The
absence of horsemen, however, placed the Northerners at a
disadvantage from the outset.

The leading brigade was within a mile of Groveton, a hamlet of a few
houses at the foot of a long descent, and the advanced guard,
deployed as skirmishers, was searching the woods in front. On the
road in rear, with the batteries between the columns, came the three
remaining brigades--Gibbon's, Doubleday's, and Patrick's--in the
order named.

The wood in which the Confederates were drawn up was near a mile from
the highway, on a commanding ridge, overlooking a broad expanse of
open ground, which fell gently in successive undulations to the road.
The Federals were marching in absolute unconsciousness that the
enemy, whom the last reports had placed at Manassas, far away to the
, was close at hand. No flank-guards had been thrown out.
General King was at Gainesville, sick, and a regimental band had just
struck up a merry quickstep. On the open fields to the , bathed
in sunshine, there was not a sign of life. The whitewashed cottages,
surrounded by green orchards, which stood upon the slopes, were
lonely and untenanted, and on the edge of the distant wood, still and
drooping in the heat, was neither stir nor motion. The troops trudged
steadily forward through the dust; regiment after regiment
disappeared in the deep copse which stands west of Groveton, and far
to the rear the road was still crowded with men and guns. Jackson's
time had come.

Two Confederate batteries, trotting forward from the wood, deployed
upon the ridge. The range was soon found, and the effect was
instantaneous. But the confusion in the Northern ranks was soon
checked; the troops found cover inside the bank which lined the road,
and two batteries, one with the advanced guard and one from the
centre of the column, wheeling into the fields to the , came
quickly into action. About the same moment Bradley Johnson became
engaged with the skirmishers near Groveton.

The Confederate infantry, still hidden by the rolling ground, was
forming for attack, when a Federal brigade, led by General Gibbon,
rapidly deploying on the slopes, moved forward against the guns. It
was Stuart's horse-artillery, so the Northerners believed, which had
fired on the column, and a bold attack would soon drive back the
cavalry. But as Gibbon's regiments came forward the Southern
skirmishers, lying in front of the batteries, sprang to their feet
and opened with rapid volleys; and then the grey line of battle,
rising suddenly into view, bore down upon the astonished foe.
Taliaferro, on the , seized a small farmhouse near Gainesville,
and occupied the orchard; the Stonewall Brigade advanced upon his
, and Lawton and Trimble prolonged the front towards the Douglass
House. But the Western farmers of Gibbon's brigade were made of
stubborn stuff. The Wisconsin regiments held their ground with
unflinching courage. Both flanks were protected by artillery, and
strong reinforcements were coming up. The advanced guard was
gradually falling back from Groveton; the rear brigades were hurrying
forward up the road. The two Confederate batteries, overpowered by
superior metal, had been compelled to shift position; only a section
of Stuart's horse-artillery under Captain Pelham had come to their
assistance, and the battle was confined to a frontal attack at the
closest range. In many places the lines approached within a hundred
yards, the men standing in the open and blazing fiercely in each
other's faces. Here and there, as fresh regiments came up on either
side, the grey or the blue gave way for a few short paces; but the
gaps were quickly filled, and the wave once more surged forward over
the piles of dead. Men fell like leaves in autumn. Ewell was struck
down and Taliaferro, and many of their field officers, and still the
Federals held their ground. Night was settling on the field, and
although the gallant Pelham, the boy soldier, brought a gun into
action within seventy paces of Gibbon's line, yet the front of fire,
flashing redly through the gloom, neither receded nor advanced. A
flank attack on either side would have turned the scale, but the
fight was destined to end as it had begun. The Federal commander,
ignorant of the enemy's strength, and reaching the field when the
fight was hottest, was reluctant to engage his last reserves. Jackson
had ordered Early and Forno, moving through the wood west of the
Douglass House, to turn the enemy's ; but within the thickets
ran the deep cuttings and high embankments of the unfinished
railroad; and the regiments, bewildered in the darkness, were unable
to advance. Meanwhile the fight to the front had gradually died away.
The Federals, outflanked upon the , and far outnumbered, had
slowly retreated to the road. The Confederates had been too roughly
handled to pursue.

The reports of the engagement at Groveton are singularly meagre.
Preceded and followed by events of still greater moment, it never
attracted the attention it deserved. On the side of the Union 2800
men were engaged, on the side of the Southerners 4500, and for more
than an hour and a half the lines of infantry were engaged at the
very closest quarters. The rifled guns of the Federals undoubtedly
gave them a marked advantage. But the men who faced each other that
August evening fought with a gallantry that has seldom been
surpassed. The Federals, surprised and unsupported, bore away the
honours. The Western brigade, commanded by General Gibbon, displayed
a coolness and a steadfastness worthy of the soldiers of Albuera. Out
of 2000 men the four Wisconsin and Indiana regiments lost 750, and
were still unconquered. The three regiments which supported them,
although it was their first battle, lost nearly half their number,
and the casualties must have reached a total of 1100. The Confederate
losses were even greater. Ewell, who was shot down in the first line,
and lay long on the field, lost 725 out of 3000. The Stonewall
Brigade, which had by this time dwindled to 600 muskets, lost over
200, including five field officers; the 21st Georgia, of Trimble's
brigade, 178 men out of 242; and it is probable that the Valley army
on this day was diminished by more than 1200 stout soldiers. The fall
of Ewell was a terrible disaster. Zealous and indefatigable, a stern
fighter and beloved by his men, he was the most able and the most
loyal of Jackson's generals. Taliaferro, peculiarly acceptable to his
Virginia regiments as a Virginian himself, had risen from the rank of
colonel to the command of a division, and his spurs had been well
won. The battle of Groveton  gaps in Jackson's ranks which it was
hard to fill, and although the men might well feel proud of their
stubborn fight, they could hardly boast of a brilliant victory.

Strategically, however, the engagement was decisive. Jackson had
brought on the fight with the view of drawing the whole Federal army
on himself, and he was completely successful. The centre, marching on
the Stone Bridge from Manassas Junction, heard the thunder of the
cannon and turned westward; and before nightfall A.P. Hill's
artillery became engaged with Sigel's advanced guard. Pope himself,
who received the intelligence of the engagement at 9.20 P.M.,
immediately issued orders for an attack on Jackson the next morning,
in which the troops who had already reached Centreville were to take
part. "McDowell," ran the order, "has intercepted the retreat of the
enemy, Sigel is immediately in his front, and I see no possibility of
his escape."

But Pope, full of the idea that Jackson had been stopped in
attempting to retreat through Thoroughfare Gap, altogether
misunderstood the situation. He was badly informed. He did not know
even the position of his own troops. His divisions, scattered over a
wide extent of country, harassed by Stuart's cavalry, and ignorant of
the topography, had lost all touch with the Commander-in-Chief.
Important dispatches had been captured. Messages and orders were slow
in arriving, if they arrived at all. Even the generals were at a loss
to find either the Commander-in-Chief or the  road. McDowell had
ridden from Gainesville to Manassas in order to consult with Pope,
but Pope had gone to Centreville. McDowell thereupon set out to
rejoin his troops, but lost his way in the forest and went back to
Manassas. From Ricketts Pope received no information whatever.* (*
Ricketts' report would have been transmitted through McDowell, under
whose command he was, and as McDowell was not to be found, it
naturally went astray.) He was not aware that after a long skirmish
at Thoroughfare Gap, Longstreet had opened the pass by sending his
brigades over the mountains on either hand, threatening both flanks
of the Federals, and compelling them to retire. He was not aware that
King's division, so far from intercepting Jackson's retreat, had
abandoned the field of Groveton at 1 A.M., and, finding its position
untenable in face of superior numbers, had fallen back on Manassas;
or that Ricketts, who had by this time reached Gainesville, had in
consequence continued his retreat in the same direction.

Seldom have the baneful effects of dispersion been more strikingly
illustrated, and the difficulty, under such circumstances, of keeping
the troops in the hand of the Commander-in-Chief. On the morning of
the 28th Pope had ordered his army to march in three columns on
Manassas, one column starting from Warrenton Junction, one from
Greenwich, and one from Buckland Mills, the roads which they were to
follow being at their furthest point no more than seven miles apart.
And yet at dawn on the 29th he was absolutely ignorant of the
whereabouts of McDowell's army corps; he was but vaguely informed of
what had happened during the day; and while part of his army was at
Bald Hill, another part was at Centreville, seven miles north-east,
and a third at Manassas and at Bristoe, from seven to twelve miles
south-east. Nor could the staff be held to blame for the absence of
communication between the columns. In peace it is an easy matter to
assume that a message sent to a destination seven miles distant by a
highroad or even country lanes arrives in good time. Seven miles in
peace are very short. In war, in the neighbourhood of the enemy, they
are very long. In peace, roads are easy to find. In war, it is the
exception that they are found, even when messengers are provided with
good maps and the country is thickly populated; and it is from war
that the soldier's trade is to be learned.

Jackson's army corps bivouacked in the position they had held when
the fierce musketry of Groveton died away. It was not till long after
daybreak on the 29th that his cavalry patrols discovered that King's
troops had disappeared, and that Longstreet's advanced guard was
already through Thoroughfare Gap. Nor was it till the sun was high
that Lee learned the events of the previous evening, and these threw
only a faint light on the general situation. But had either the
Commander-in-Chief or his lieutenant, on the night of the 28th, known
the true state of affairs, they would have had reason to congratulate
themselves on the success of the plan which had been hatched on the
Rappahannock. They had anticipated that should Jackson's movement on
Manassas prove successful, Pope would not only fall back, but that he
would fall back in all the confusion which arises from a hastily
conceived plan and hastily executed manoeuvres. They had expected
that in his hurried retreat his army corps would lose touch and
cohesion; that divisions would become isolated; that the care of his
impedimenta, suddenly turned in a new direction, would embarrass
every movement; and that the general himself would become demoralised.

The orders and counter-orders, the marches and counter-marches of
August 28, and the consequent dispersion of the Federal army, are
sufficient in themselves to prove the deep insight into war possessed
by the Confederate leaders.

Nevertheless, the risk bred of separation which, in order to achieve
great results, they had deliberately accepted had not yet passed
away. Longstreet had indeed cleared the pass, and the Federals who
guarded it had retreated; but the main body of the Confederate army
had still twelve miles to march before it could reach Jackson, and
Jackson was confronted by superior numbers. On the plateau of Bull
Run, little more than two miles from the field of Groveton, were
encamped over 20,000 Federals, with the main number at Manassas. At
Centreville, a seven miles' march, were 18,000; and at Bristoe
Station, about the same distance, 11,000.

It was thus possible for Pope to hurl a superior force against
Jackson before Lee could intervene; and although it would have been
sounder strategy, on the part of the Federal commander, to have
concentrated towards Centreville, and have there awaited
reinforcements, now fast coming up, he had some reason for believing
that he might still, unaided, deal with the enemy in detail. The high
virtue of patience was not his. Ambition, anxiety to retrieve his
reputation, already blemished by his enforced retreat, the thought
that he might be superseded by McClellan, whose operations in the
Peninsula he had contemptuously criticised, all urged him forward. An
unsuccessful general who feels instinctively that his command is
slipping from him, and who sees in victory the only hope of retaining
it, seldom listens to the voice of prudence.

August 29.

So on the morning of the 29th Jackson had to do with an enemy who had
resolved to overwhelm him by weight of numbers. Nor could he expect
immediate help. The Federal cavalry still stood between Stuart and
Thoroughfare Gap, and not only was Jackson unaware that Longstreet
had broken through, but he was unaware whether he could break
through. In any case, it would be several hours before he could
receive support, and for that space of time his three divisions, worn
with long marching and the fierce fight of the previous evening,
would have to hold their own unaided. The outlook, to all appearance,
was anything but b. But on the opposite hills, where the
Federals were now forming in line of battle, the Valley soldiers had
already given proof of their stubborn qualities on the defensive. The
sight of their baptismal battle-field and the memories of Bull Run
must have gone far to nerve the hearts of the Stonewall regiments,
and in preparing once more to justify their proud title the troops
were aided by their leader's quick eye for a position. While it was
still dark the divisions which had been engaged at Groveton took
ground to their , and passing north of the hamlet, deployed on
the  of A.P. Hill. The long, flat-topped ridge, covered with
scattered copses and rough undergrowth, which stands north of the
Warrenton-Centreville road, commands the approaches from the south
and east, and some five hundred yards below the crest ran the
unfinished railroad.

Behind the deep cuttings and high embankments the Confederate
fighting-line was strongly placed. The , lightly thrown back,
rested on a rocky spur near Bull Run, commanding Sudley Springs Ford
and the road to Aldie Gap. The front extended for a mile and
three-quarters south-west. Early, with two brigades and a battery,
occupied a wooded knoll where the unfinished railroad crosses the
highroad, protecting the  rear, and stretching a hand to
Longstreet.
The infantry and artillery were thus disposed:--

INFANTRY.

Left.--A.P. Hill's Division. First and Second line: Three brigades.
(Field, Thomas, Gregg.) Third line: Three brigades. (Branch, Pender,
Archer.)

Centre.--Two brigades of Ewell's Division (now commanded by Lawton).
(Trimble's and Lawton's.)

Right.--Taliaferro's Division (now commanded by Stark). First and
Second line: Two brigades. Third line: Two brigades.

Force detached on the : Two brigades of Ewell's Division (Early
and Forno), and one battery.

ARTILLERY.

16 guns behind the , 24 guns behind the  centre: On the
ridge, five hundred yards in rear of the fighting-line.

The flanks were secured by Stuart. A portion of the cavalry was
placed at Haymarket to communicate as soon as possible with
Longstreet. A regiment was pushed out towards Manassas, and on the
 bank of Bull Run Fitzhugh Lee's brigade watched the approaches
from Centreville and the north. Jackson's strength, deducting the
losses of the previous day, and the numerous stragglers  behind
during his forced marches, can hardly have exceeded 18,000 muskets,
supported by 40 guns, all that there was room for, and some 2500
cavalry. These numbers, however, were ample for the defence of the
position which had been selected. Excluding the detached force on the
extreme , the line occupied was three thousand yards in length,
and to every yard of this line there were more than five muskets, so
that half the force could be retained in third line or reserve. The
position was thus strongly held and strong by nature. The embankments
formed stout parapets, the cuttings deep ditches.

Before the  and the  centre the green pastures, shorn for
thirteen hundred yards of all obstacles save a few solitary cottages,
sloped almost imperceptibly to the brook which is called Young's
Branch. The  centre and , however, were shut in by a belt of
timber, from four hundred to six hundred yards in width, which we may
call the Groveton wood. This belt closed in upon, and at one point
crossed, the railroad, and, as regards the field of fire, it was the
weakest point. In another respect, however, it was the strongest, for
the defenders were screened by the trees from the enemy's artillery.
The rocky hill on the , facing north-east, was a point of
vantage, for an open corn-field lay between it and Bull Run. Within
the position, behind the copses and undulations, there was ample
cover for all troops not employed on the fighting-line; and from the
ridge in rear the general could view the field from commanding ground.

5.15 A.M.

Shortly after 5 A.M., while the Confederates were still taking up
their positions, the Federal columns were seen moving down the
heights near the Henry House. Jackson had ridden round his lines, and
ordering Early to throw forward two regiments east of the turnpike,
had then moved to the great battery forming in rear of his 
centre. His orders had already been issued. The troops were merely to
hold their ground, no general counterstroke was intended, and the
divisional commanders were to confine themselves to repulsing the
attack. The time for a strong offensive return had not yet come.

The enemy advanced slowly in imposing masses. Shortly after seven
o'clock, hidden to some extent by the woods, four divisions of
infantry deployed in several lines at the foot of the Henry Hill, and
their skirmishers became engaged with the Confederate pickets. At the
same moment three batteries came into action on a rise north-east of
Groveton, opposite the Confederate centre, and Sigel, supported by
Reynolds, prepared to carry out his instructions, and hold Jackson
until the remainder of Pope's army should arrive upon the field. At
the end of July, Sigel's army corps had numbered 13,000 men. Allowing
for stragglers and for casualties on the Rappahannock, where it had
been several times engaged, it must still have mustered 11,000. It
was accompanied by ten batteries, and Reynolds' division was composed
of 8000 infantry and four batteries. The attack was thus no stronger
than the defence, and as the Federal artillery positions were
restricted by the woods, there could be little doubt of the result.
In other respects, moreover, the combatants were not evenly matched.
Reynolds' Pennsylvanians were fine troops, already seasoned in the
battles on the Peninsula, and commanded by such officers as Meade and
Seymour. But Sigel, who had been an officer in the Baden army, had
succeeded Fremont, and his corps was composed of those same Germans
whom Ewell had used so hardly at Cross Keys. Many of them were old
soldiers, who had borne arms in Europe; but the stern discipline and
trained officers of conscript armies were lacking in America, and the
Confederate volunteers had little respect for these foreign levies.
Nor were Sigel's dispositions a brilliant example of offensive
tactics. His three divisions, Schurz', Schenck's, and Steinwehr's,
supported by Milroy's independent brigade, advanced to the attack
along a wide front. Schurz, with two brigades, moving into the
Groveton wood, assailed the Confederate , while Milroy and
Schenck advanced over the open meadows which lay in front of the
. Steinwehr was in reserve, and Reynolds, somewhat to the rear,
moved forward on the extreme . The line was more than two miles
long; the artillery, hampered by the ground, could render but small
assistance; and at no single point were the troops disposed in
sufficient depth to break through the front of the defence. The
attack, too, was piecemeal. Advancing through the wood, Schurz'
division was at once met by a sharp counterstroke, delivered by the
 brigade (Gregg's South Carolina) of A.P. Hill's division, which
drove the two Federal brigades apart. Reinforcements were sent in by
Milroy, who had been checked on the open ground by the heavy fire of
Jackson's guns, and the Germans rallied; but, after some hard
fighting, a fresh counterstroke, in which Thomas' brigade took part,
drove them in disorder from the wood; and the South Carolinians,
following to the edge, poured heavy volleys into their retreating
masses. Schenck, meanwhile, deterred by the batteries on Jackson's
, had remained inactive; the Federal artillery, such as had been
brought into action, had produced no effect; Reynolds, who had a
difficult march, had not yet come into action; and in order to
support the broken troops Schenck was now ordered to close in upon
the . But the opportunity had already passed.

10.15 A.M.

It was now 10.30 A.M., and Jackson had long since learned that Lee
was near at hand. Longstreet's advanced guard had passed through
Gainesville, and the main body was closing up. Not only had time been
gained, but two brigades alone had proved sufficient to hold the
enemy at arm's length, and the rough counterstrokes had disconcerted
the order of attack. A fresh Federal force, however, was already
approaching. The troops from Centreville, comprising the divisions of
Hooker, Kearney, and Reno, 17,000 or 18,000 men, were hurrying over
the Stone Bridge; and a second and more vigorous attack was now to be
withstood. Sigel, too, was still capable of further effort. Bringing
up Steinwehr's division, and demanding reinforcements from Reno, he
threw his whole force against the Confederate front. Schenck,
however, still exposed to the fire of the massed artillery, was
unable to advance, and Milroy in the centre was hurled back. But
through the wood the attack was vigorously pressed, and the fight
raged fiercely at close quarters along the railway. Between Gregg's
and Thomas' brigades a gap of over a hundred yards, as the men closed
in upon the centre, had gradually opened. Opposite the gap was a deep
cutting, and the Federals, covered by the wood, massed here
unobserved in heavy force. Attack from this quarter was unexpected,
and for a moment Hill's first line was in jeopardy. Gregg, however,
had still a regiment in second line, and throwing it quickly forward
he drove the enemy across the railroad. Then Hill, bringing up Branch
from the third line, sent this fresh brigade to Gregg's support, and
cleared the front.

The Germans had now been finally disposed of. But although Longstreet
had arrived upon the ground, and was deploying in the woods on
Jackson's , thus relieving Early, who at once marched to support
the centre, Jackson's men had not yet finished with the enemy. Pope
had now taken over command; and besides the troops from Centreville,
who had already reached the field, McDowell and Porter, with 27,000
men, were coming up from Manassas, and Reynolds had not yet been
engaged. But it is one thing to assemble large numbers on the
battle-field, another to give them the  direction.

In the direction of Gainesville high woods and rolling ridges had
concealed Longstreet's approach, and the Federal patrols had been
everywhere held in check by Stuart's squadrons. In ignorance,
therefore, that the whole Confederate army was concentrated before
him, Pope, anticipating an easy victory, determined to sweep Jackson
from the field. But it was first necessary to relieve Sigel.
Kearney's division had already deployed on the extreme  of the
Federal line, resting on Bull Run. Hooker was on the  of Kearney
and a brigade of Reno's on the  of Hooker. While Sigel assembled
his shattered forces, these 10,000 fresh troops, led by some of the
best officers of the Army of the Potomac, were ordered to advance
against A.P. Hill. Reynolds, under the impression that he was
fighting Jackson, was already in collision with Longstreet's
advanced-guard; and McDowell and Porter, marching along the railway
from Manassas, might be expected to strike the Confederate  rear
at any moment. It was then with good hope of victory that Pope rode
along his line and explained the situation to his generals.

(MAP OF POSITIONS ON AUGUST 29th, 1862.)

1 P.M.

But the fresh attack was made with no better concert than those which
preceded it. Kearney, on the , near Bull Run, was held at bay by
Jackson's guns, and Hooker and Reno advanced alone.

As the Federals moved forward the grey skirmishers fell back through
the Groveton wood, and scarcely had they reached the railroad before
the long blue lines came crashing through the undergrowth. Hill's
riflemen, lying down to load, and rising only to fire, poured in
their deadly volleys at point-blank range. The storm of bullets,
shredding leaves and twigs, stripped the trees of their verdure, and
the long dry grass, ignited by the powder sparks, burst into flames
between the opposing lines. But neither flames nor musketry availed
to stop Hooker's onset. Bayonets flashed through the smoke, and a
gallant rush placed the stormers on the embankment. The Confederates
reeled back in confusion, and men crowded round the colours to
protect them. But assistance was at hand. A fierce yell and a heavy
volley, and the regiments of the second line surged forward, driving
back the intruders, and closing the breach. Yet the Federal ranks
reformed; the wood rang with cheers, and a fresh brigade advanced to
the assault. Again the parapet was carried; again the Southern
bayonets cleared the front. Hooker's leading brigade, abandoning the
edge of the wood, had already given ground. Reno's regiments,
suffering fearful slaughter, with difficulty maintained their place;
and Hill, calling once more upon his reserves, sent in Pender to the
counterstroke. Passing by the  of Thomas, who, with Field, had
borne the brunt of the last attack, Pender crossed the railroad, and
charged into the wood. Many of the men in the fighting-line joined in
the onward movement. The Federals were borne back; the brigades in
rear were swept away by the tide of fugitives; the wood was cleared,
and a battery near by was deserted by the gunners.

Then Pender, received with a heavy artillery fire from the opposite
heights, moved boldly forward across the open. But the counterstroke
had been pushed too far. The line faltered; hostile infantry appeared
on either flank, and as the Confederates fell back to the railroad,
the enemy came forward in pursuit. Grover's brigade of Hooker's
division had hitherto been held in reserve, sheltered by a roll of
the land opposite that portion of the front which was held by Thomas.

3 P.M.

It was now directed to attack. "Move slowly forward," were the orders
which Grover gave to his command, "until the enemy opens fire. Then
advance rapidly, give them one volley, and then the bayonet." The
five regiments moved steadily through the wood in a single line. When
they reached the edge they saw immediately before them the red earth
of the embankment, at this point ten feet high and lined with
riflemen. There was a crash of fire, a swift rush through the rolling
smoke, and the Federals, crossing the parapet, swept all before them.
Hill's second line received them with a scattered fire, turned in
confusion, and fled back upon the guns. Then beckoned victory to him
who had held his reserves in hand. Jackson had seen the charge, and
Forno's Louisianians, with a regiment of Lawton's, had already been
sent forward with the bayonet.

In close order the counterstroke came on. The thinned ranks of the
Federals could oppose no resolute resistance. Fighting they fell
back, first to the embankment, where for a few moments they held
their own, and then to the wood. But without supports it was
impossible to rally. Johnson's and Starke's brigades swept down upon
their flank, the Louisianians, supported by Field and Archer, against
their front, and in twenty minutes, with a loss of one-fourth his
numbers, Grover in his turn was driven beyond the Warrenton turnpike.

Four divisions, Schurz', Steinwehr's, Hooker's, and Reno's, had been
hurled in succession against Jackson's front. Their losses had been
enormous. Grover's brigade had lost 461 out of 2000, of which one
regiment, 288 strong, accounted for 6 officers and 106 men; three
regiments of Reno's lost 530; and it is probable that more than 4000
men had fallen in the wood which lay in front of Hill's brigades.

The fighting, however, had not been without effect on the
Confederates. The charges to which they had been exposed, impetuous
as they were, were doubtless less trying than a sustained attack,
pressed on by continuous waves of fresh troops, and allowing the
defence no breathing space. Such steady pressure, always increasing
in strength, saps the morale more rapidly than a series of fierce
assaults, delivered at wide intervals of time. But such pressure
implies on the part of the assailant an accumulation of superior
force, and this accumulation the enemy's generals had not attempted
to provide. In none of the four attacks which had shivered against
Hill's front had the strength of the assailants been greater than
that of his own division; and to the tremendous weight of such a
stroke as had won the battles of Gaines' Mill or Cedar Run, to the
closely combined advance of overwhelming numbers, Jackson's men had
not yet been subjected.

The battle, nevertheless, had been fiercely contested, and the strain
of constant vigilance and close-range fighting had told on the Light
Division. The Federal skirmishers, boldly advancing as Pender's men
fell back, had once more filled the wood, and their venomous fire
allowed the defenders no leisure for repose.* (* "The Federal
sharpshooters at this time," says Colonel McCrady, of the Light
Division, "held possession of the wood, and kept up a deadly fire of
single shots whenever any one of us was exposed. Every lieutenant who
had to change position did so at the risk of his life. What was my
horror, during an interval in the attack, to see General Jackson
himself walking quickly down the railroad cut, examining our
position, and calmly looking into the wood that concealed the enemy!
Strange to say, he was not molested." Southern Historical Society
Papers volume 13 page 27.) Ammunition had already given out; many of
the men had but two or three cartridges remaining, and the volunteers
who ran the gauntlet to procure fresh supplies were many of them shot
down. Moreover, nine hours' fighting, much of it at close range, had
piled the corpses thick upon the railroad, and the ranks of Hill's
brigades were terribly attenuated. The second line had already been
brought up to fill the gaps, and every brigade had been heavily
engaged.

4 P.M.

It was about four o'clock, and for a short space the pressure on the
Confederate lines relaxed. The continuous roar of the artillery
dwindled to a fitful cannonade; and along the edge of the wood,
drooping under the heat, where the foliage was white with the dust of
battle, the skirmishers let their rifles cool. But the Valley
soldiers knew that their respite would be short. The Federal masses
were still marching and counter-marching on the opposite hills; from
the forest beyond long columns streamed steadily to the front, and
near the Warrenton turnpike fresh batteries were coming into action.

Pope had ordered Kearney and Reno to make a fresh attack. The former,
one of the most dashing officers in the Federal army, disposed his
division in two lines. Reno, in the same formation, deployed upon
Kearney's , and with their flank resting on Bull Run the five
brigades went forward to the charge. The Confederate batteries,
posted on the ridge in rear, swept the open ground along the stream;
but, regardless of their fire, the Federals came rapidly to close
quarters, and seized the railroad.

4.30 P.M.

When Hill saw this formidable storm bursting on his lines he felt
that the supreme moment had arrived. Would Gregg, on whose front the
division of Reno was bearing down, be able to hold his own? That
gallant soldier, although more than one half of his command lay dead
or wounded, replied, in answer to his chief's enquiry, that his
ammunition was almost expended, but that he had still the bayonet.
Nevertheless, the pressure was too heavy for his wearied troops. Foot
by foot they were forced back, and, at the same moment, Thomas,
Field, and Branch, still fighting desperately, were compelled to
yield their ground. Hill, anxiously looking for succour, had already
called on Early. The enemy, swarming across the railroad, had
penetrated to a point three hundred yards within the Confederate
position. But the grey line was not yet shattered. The men of the
Light Division, though borne backwards by the rush, still faced
towards the foe; and Early's brigade, supported by two regiments of
Lawton's division, advanced with levelled bayonets, drove through the
tumult, and opposed a solid line to the crowd of Federals.

Once more the fresh reserve, thrown in at the propitious moment,
swept back numbers far superior to itself. Once more order prevailed
over disorder, and the cold steel asserted its supremacy. The
strength of the assailants was already spent. The wave receded more
swiftly than it had risen, and through the copses and across the
railroad the Confederates drove their exhausted foe. General Hill had
instructed Early that he was not to pass beyond the original front;
but it was impossible to restrain the troops, and not till they had
advanced several hundred yards was the brigade halted and brought
back.

5.15 P.M.

The counterstroke was as completely successful as those that had
preceded it. Early's losses were comparatively slight, those
inflicted on the enemy very heavy, and Hill's brigades were finally
relieved. Pope abandoned all further efforts to crush Jackson. Five
assaults had failed. 30,000 infantry had charged in vain through the
fatal wood; and of the 8000 Federal casualties reported on this day,
by far the larger proportion was due to the deadly fire and dashing
counterstrokes of Jackson's infantry.

While Pope was hurling division after division against the
Confederate , Lee, with Longstreet at his side, observed the
conflict from Stuart's Hill, the wooded eminence which stands
south-west of Groveton. On this wing, though a mile distant from
Jackson's battle, both Federals and Confederates were in force. At
least one half of Pope's army had gradually assembled on this flank.
Here were Reynolds and McDowell, and on the Manassas road stood two
divisions under Porter.

Within the woods on Stuart's Hill, with the cavalry on his flank,
Longstreet had deployed his whole force, with the exception of
Anderson, who had not yet passed Thoroughfare Gap. But although both
Pope and Lee were anxious to engage, neither could bring their
subordinates to the point. Pope had sent vague instructions to Porter
and McDowell, and when at Length he had substituted a definite order
it was not only late in arriving, but the generals found that it was
based on an absolutely incorrect view of the situation. The Federal
commander had no knowledge that Longstreet, with 25,000 men, was
already in position beyond his . So close lay the Confederates
that under the impression that Stuart's Hill was still untenanted, he
desired Porter to move across it and envelop Jackson's . Porter,
suspecting that the main body of the Southern army was before him,
declined to risk his 10,000 men until he had reported the true state
of affairs. A peremptory reply to attack at once was received at
6.30, but it was then too late to intervene.

Nor had Lee been more successful in developing a counterstroke.
Longstreet, with a complacency it is difficult to understand, has
related how he opposed the wishes of the Commander-in-Chief. Three
times Lee urged him forward. The first time he rode to the front to
reconnoitre, and found that the position, in his own words, was not
inviting. Again Lee insisted that the enemy's  might be turned.
While the question was under discussion, a heavy force (Porter and
McDowell) was reported advancing from Manassas Junction. No attack
followed, however, and Lee repeated his instructions. Longstreet was
still unwilling. A large portion of the Federal force on the Manassas
road now marched northward to join Pope, and Lee, for the last time,
bade Longstreet attack towards Groveton. "I suggested," says the
latter, "that the day being far spent, it might be as well to advance
before night on a forced reconnaissance, get our troops into the most
favourable positions, and have all things ready for battle the next
morning." To this General Lee reluctantly gave consent, and orders
were given for an advance to be pursued under cover of night, until
the main position could be carefully examined. It so happened that an
order to advance was issued on the other side at the same time, so
that the encounter was something of a surprise on both sides.* (*
Battles and Leaders volume 2 page 519.) Hood, with his two Texan
brigades, led the Confederates, and King's division, now commanded by
Hatch, met him on the slopes of Stuart's Hill. Although the Federals,
since 1 A.M. the same morning, had marched to Manassas and back
again, the fight was spirited. Hood, however, was strongly supported,
and the Texans pushed forward a mile and a half in front of the
position they had held since noon. Longstreet had now full leisure to
make his reconnaissance. The ground to which the enemy had retreated
was very strong. He believed it strongly manned, and an hour after
midnight Hood's brigades were ordered to withdraw.

The firing, even of the skirmishers, had long since died away on the
opposite flank. The battle was over, and the Valley army had been
once more victorious. But when Jackson's staff gathered round him in
the bivouac, "their triumph," says Dabney, "bore a solemn hue." Their
great task had been accomplished, and Pope's army, harassed,
starving, and bewildered, had been brought to bay. But their energies
were worn down. The incessant marching, by day and night, the
suspense of the past week, the fierce strife of the day that had just
closed, pressed heavily on the whole force. Many of the bravest were
gone. Trimble, that stout soldier, was severely wounded, Field and
Forno had fallen, and in Gregg's brigade alone 40 officers were dead
or wounded. Doctor McGuire, fresh from the ghastly spectacle of the
silent battle-field, said, "General, this day has been won by nothing
but stark and stern fighting." "No," replied Jackson, very quietly,
"it has been won by nothing but the blessing and protection of
Providence." And in this attitude of acknowledgment general and
soldiers were as one. When the pickets had been posted, and night had
fallen on the forest, officers and men, gathered together round their
chaplains, made such preparations for the morrow's battle as did the
host of King Harry on the eve of Agincourt.


NOTE

Students of war will note with interest the tactical details of the
passage of the Rappahannock by the Army of Northern Virginia.

August 21.

Federals.

In position behind the river from Kelly's Ford to Freeman's Ford.
Tete de pont covering the railway bridge, occupied by a brigade.

CONFEDERATES.

Longstreet to Kelly's Ford.
Jackson to Beverley Ford.
Stuart to above Beverley Ford.

Constant skirmishing and artillery fire.

August 22.

FEDERALS.

In position from Kelly's Ford to Freeman's Ford.
Bayard's cavalry brigade on  flank.
Buford's cavalry brigade at Rappahannock Station.

CONFEDERATES.

Jackson to Sulphur Springs. Early crosses the river.
Longstreet to Beverley Ford and railway.

Constant skirmishing and artillery fire.

August 23.

FEDERALS.

Pope abandons tete de pont and burns railway bridge.
Sigel moves against Early, but his advance is repulsed.
Army to a position about Warrenton, with detachments along the river,
and a strong force at Kelly's Ford.

CONFEDERATES.

Early moves north to Great Run, and is reinforced by Lawton.
Stuart to Catlett's Station.
Longstreet demonstrates against railway bridge.

August 24.

FEDERAL.

Buford's and Bayard's cavalry to Waterloo.
Army to Waterloo and Sulphur Springs.

CONFEDERATES.

Jackson in the evening retires to Jefferson, and is relieved after
dark opposite Sulphur Springs and Waterloo by Longstreet.
Anderson relieves Longstreet on the railway.

Constant skirmishing and artillery fire all along the line.

August 25.

FEDERALS.

Pope extends his  down the river to Kelly's Ford, determining to
receive attack at Warrenton should the Confederates cross.

CONFEDERATES.

Jackson moves north and crosses the river at Hinson's Mills.
Longstreet demonstrates at Waterloo, and Anderson at the Sulphur
Springs.

August 26.

FEDERALS.

A reconnaissance in force, owing to bad staff arrangements, comes to
nothing. At nightfall the whole army is ordered to concentrate at
Warrenton.

CONFEDERATES.

2 A.M. Stuart follows Jackson.
Late in the afternoon, Longstreet, having been relieved by Anderson,
marches to Hinson's Mills.
Jackson captures Manassas Junction.

Skirmishing all day along the Rappahannock.

August 27.

FEDERALS.

7 A.M. Hooker's division from Warrenton Junction to Bristoe Station.
8.30 A.M. Army ordered to concentrate at Gainesville, Buckland Mills,
and Greenwich. Porter and Banks at Warrenton Junction.
3 P.M. Action at Bristoe Station.
6.30 P.M. Pope arrives at Bristoe Station.
Army ordered to march to Manassas Junction at dawn.

CONFEDERATES.

Jackson at Manassas Junction.
Longstreet to White Plains.

</section>
<section id="21" fatherid="16" title="THE SECOND MANASSAS (CONTINUED)" lv="CHAPTER 2.17." priority="0" level="2">
During the night of August 30 the long line of camp-fires on the
heights above Bull Run, and the frequent skirmishes along the picket
line, told General Lee that his enemy had no intention of falling
back behind the stream. And when morning broke the Federal troops
were observed upon every ridge.

August 30.

The Confederate leader, eager as he had been to force the battle to
an issue on the previous afternoon, had now abandoned all idea of
attack. The respite which the enemy had gained might have altogether
changed the situation. It was possible that the Federals had been
largely reinforced. Pope and McClellan had been given time, and the
hours of the night might have been utilised to bring up the remainder
of the Army of the Potomac. Lee resolved, therefore, to await events.
The Federal position was strong; their masses were well concentrated;
there was ample space, on the ridges beyond Young's Branch, for the
deployment of their numerous artillery, and it would be difficult to
outflank them. Moreover, a contingent of fresh troops from Richmond,
the divisions of D.H. Hill, McLaws, and Walker, together with
Hampton's brigade of cavalry, and part of the reserve artillery,
20,350 men in all, had crossed the Rappahannock.*

(* D.H. Hill    7000
   McLaws       6850
   Walker       4000
   Hampton      1500
   Artillery    1000
               -----
   Total:     20,350

Until this force should join him he determined to postpone further
manoeuvres, and to rest his army. But he was not without hope that
Pope might assume the initiative and move down from the heights on
which his columns were already forming. Aware of the sanguine and
impatient temper of his adversary, confident in the morale of his
troops, and in the strength of his position, he foresaw that an
opportunity might offer for an overwhelming counterstroke.

(map.)

Meanwhile, the Confederate divisions, still hidden in the woods, lay
quietly on their arms. Few changes were made in the dispositions of
the previous day. Jackson, despite his losses, had made no demand for
reinforcements; and the only direct support afforded him was a
battery of eighteen guns, drawn from the battalion of Colonel S.D.
Lee, and established on the high ground west of the Douglass House,
at  angles to his line of battle. These guns, pointing
north-east, overlooked the wide tract of undulating meadow which lay
in front of the Stonewall and Lawton's divisions, and they commanded
a field of fire over a mile long. The  of the battery was not far
distant from the guns on Jackson's , and the whole of the open
space was thus exposed to the cross-fire of a formidable artillery.

To the  of the batteries, Stuart's Hill was strongly occupied by
Longstreet, with Anderson's division as general reserve; and this
wing of the Confederate army was gradually wheeled up, but always
under cover, until it was almost perpendicular to the line of the
unfinished railroad. The strength of Lee's army at the battle of
Manassas was hardly more than 50,000 of all arms. Jackson's command
had been reduced by battle and forced marches to 17,000 men.
Longstreet mustered 30,000, and the cavalry 2500.

(* Hood's Texans had a hymn which graphically expressed this truism:--

"The race is not to him that's got
The longest legs to run,
Nor the battle to those people
That shoot the biggest gun.")

But numbers are of less importance than the confidence of the men in
their ability to conquer,* and the spirit of the Confederates had
been raised to the highest pitch. The keen critics in Longstreet's
ranks, although they had taken no part in the Manassas raid, or in
the battles of August 28 and 29, fully appreciated the daring
strategy which had brought them within two short marches of
Washington. The junction of the two wings, in the very presence of
the enemy, after many days of separation, was a manoeuvre after their
own hearts. The passage of Thoroughfare Gap revealed the difficulties
which had attended the operations, and the manner in which the enemy
had been outwitted appealed with peculiar force to their quick
intelligence. Their trust in Lee was higher than ever; and the story
of Jackson's march, of the capture of Manassas, of the repulse of
Pope's army, if it increased their contempt for the enemy, inspired
them with an enthusiastic determination to emulate the achievements
of their comrades. The soldiers of the Valley army, who, unaided by a
single bayonet, had withstood the five successive assaults which had
been launched against their position, were supremely indifferent, now
Longstreet was in line, to whatever the enemy might attempt. It was
noticed that notwithstanding the heavy losses they had experienced
Jackson's troops were never more light-hearted than on the morning of
August 30. Cartridge-boxes had been replenished, rations had been
issued, and for several hours the men had been called on neither to
march nor fight. As they lay in the woods, and the pickets, firing on
the enemy's patrols, kept up a constant skirmish to the front, the
laugh and jest ran down the ranks, and the unfortunate Pope, who had
only seen "the backs of his enemies," served as whetstone for their
wit.

By the troops who had revelled in the spoils of Winchester Banks had
been dubbed "Old Jack's Commissary General." By universal
acclamation, after the Manassas foray, Pope was promoted to the same
distinction; and had it been possible to penetrate to the Federal
headquarters, the mirth of those ragged privates would hardly have
diminished. Pope was in an excellent humour, conversing affably with
his staff, and viewing with pride the martial aspect of his massed
divisions. Nearly his whole force was concentrated on the hills
around him, and Porter, who had been called up from the Manassas
road, was already marching northwards through the woods.

10.15 P.M.

Banks still was absent at Bristoe Station, in charge of the trains
and stores which had been removed from Warrenton; but, shortly after
ten o'clock, 65,000 men, with eight-and-twenty batteries, were at
Pope's disposal. He had determined to give battle, although Franklin
and Sumner, who had already reached Alexandria, had not yet joined
him; and he anticipated an easy triumph. He was labouring, however,
under an extraordinary delusion. The retreat of Hood's brigades the
preceding night, after their reconnaissance, had induced him to
believe that Jackson had been defeated, and he had reported to
Halleck at daybreak; "We fought a terrific battle here yesterday with
the combined forces of the enemy, which lasted with continuous fury
from daylight until dark, by which time the enemy was driven from the
field, which we now occupy. The enemy is still in our front, but
badly used up. We lost not less than 8000 men killed and wounded, but
from the appearance of the field the enemy lost at least two to one.
The news has just reached me from the front that the enemy is
retreating towards the mountains."

If, in these days of long-range weapons, Napoleon's dictum still
stands good, that the general who is ignorant of his enemy's strength
and dispositions is ignorant of his trade, then of all generals Pope
was surely the most incompetent. At ten o'clock on the morning of
August 30, and for many months afterwards, despite his statement that
he had fought "the combined forces of the enemy" on the previous day,
he was still under the impression, so skilfully were the Confederate
troops concealed, that Longstreet had not yet joined Jackson, and
that the latter was gradually falling back on Thoroughfare Gap. His
patrols had reported that the enemy's cavalry had been withdrawn from
the  bank of Bull Run. A small reconnaissance in force, sent to
test Jackson's strength, had ascertained that the extreme  was
not so far forward as it had been yesterday; while two of the Federal
generals, reconnoitring beyond the turnpike, observed only a few
skirmishers. On these negative reports Pope based his decision to
seize the ridge which was held by Jackson. Yet the woods along the
unfinished railroad had not been examined, and the information from
other sources was of a different colour and more positive. Buford's
cavalry had reported on the evening of the 29th that a large force
had passed through Thoroughfare Gap. Porter declared that the enemy
was in great strength on the Manassas road. Reynolds, who had been in
close contact with Longstreet since the previous afternoon, reported
that Stuart's Hill was strongly occupied. Ricketts, moreover, who had
fought Longstreet for many hours at Thoroughfare Gap, was actually
present on the field. But Pope, who had made up his mind that the
enemy ought to retreat, and that therefore he must retreat, refused
credence to any report whatever which ran counter to these
preconceived ideas.

12 noon.

Without making the slightest attempt to verify, by personal
observation, the conclusions at which his subordinates had arrived,
at midday, to the dismay of his best officers, his army being now in
position, he issued orders for his troops to be "immediately thrown
forward in pursuit of the enemy, and to press him vigorously."

Porter and Reynolds formed the  of the Federal army. These
generals, alive to the necessity of examining the woods, deployed a
strong skirmish line before them as they formed for action. Further
evidence of Pope's hallucination was at once forthcoming. The moment
Reynolds moved forward against Stuart's Hill he found his front
overlapped by long lines of infantry, and, riding back, he informed
Pope that in so doing he had had to run the gauntlet of skirmishers
who threatened his rear. Porter, too, pushing his reconnaissance
across the meadows west of Groveton, drew the fire of several
batteries. But at this juncture, unfortunately for the Federals, a
Union prisoner, recaptured from Jackson, declared that he had "heard
the rebel officers say that their army was retiring to unite with
Longstreet." So positively did the indications before him contradict
this statement, that Porter, on sending the man to Pope, wrote: "In
duty bound I send him, but I regard him as either a fool or
designedly released to give a wrong impression. No faith should be
put in what he says." If Jackson employed this man to delude his
enemy, the ruse was eminently successful. Porter received the reply:
"General Pope believes that soldier, and directs you to attack;"
Reynolds was dismissed with a message that cavalry would be sent to
verify his report; and McDowell was ordered to put in the divisions
of Hatch and Ricketts on Porter's .

During the whole morning the attention of the Confederates had been
directed to the Groveton wood. Beyond the timber rose the hill
north-east, and on this hill three or four Federal batteries had come
into action at an early hour, firing at intervals across the meadows.
The Confederate guns, save when the enemy's skirmishers approached
too close, hardly deigned to reply, reserving their ammunition for
warmer work. That such work was to come was hardly doubtful. Troops
had been constantly in motion near the hostile batteries, and the
thickets below were evidently full of men.

12.15 P.M.

Shortly after noon the enemy's skirmishers became aggressive,
swarming over the meadows, and into the wood which had seen such
heavy slaughter in the fight of yesterday. As Jackson's pickets,
extended over a wide front, gave slowly back, his guns opened in
earnest, and shell and shrapnel flew fast over the open space. The
strong force of skirmishers betrayed the presence of a line of battle
not far in rear, and ignoring the fire of the artillery, the
Confederate batteries concentrated on the covert behind which they
knew the enemy's masses were forming for attack. But, except the
pickets, not a single man of either the Stonewall or Lawton's
division was permitted to expose himself. A few companies held the
railroad, the remainder were carefully concealed. The storm was not
long in breaking. Jackson had just ridden along his lines, examining
with his own eyes the stir in the Groveton wood, when, in rear of the
skirmishers, advancing over the highroad, appeared the serried ranks
of the line of battle. 20,000 bayonets, on a front which extended
from Groveton to near Bull Run, swept forward against his front;
40,000, formed in dense masses on the slopes in rear, stood in
readiness to support them; and numerous batteries, coming into action
on every rising ground, covered the advance with a heavy fire.

Pope, standing on a knoll near the Stone House, saw victory within
his grasp. The Confederate guns had been pointed out to his troops as
the objective of the attack. Unsupported, as he believed, save by the
scattered groups of skirmishers who were already retreating to the
railroad, and assailed in front and flank, these batteries, he
expected, would soon be flying to the rear, and the Federal army, in
possession of the high ground, would then sweep down in heavy columns
towards Thoroughfare Gap. Suddenly his hopes fell. Porter's masses,
stretching far to  and , had already passed the Dogan House;
Hatch was entering the Groveton wood; Ricketts was moving forward
along Bull Run, and the way seemed clear before them; when loud and
clear above the roar of the artillery rang out the Confederate
bugles, and along the whole length of the ridge beyond the railroad
long lines of infantry, streaming forward from the woods, ran down to
the embankment. "The effect," said an officer who witnessed this
unexpected apparition, "was not unlike flushing a covey of quails."

Instead of the small rear-guard which Pope had thought to crush by
sheer force of overwhelming numbers, the whole of the Stonewall
division, with Lawton on the , stood across Porter's path.

Reynolds, south of the turnpike, and confronting Longstreet, was
immediately ordered to fall back and support the attack, and two
small brigades, Warren's and Alexander's, were  alone on the
Federal . Pope had committed his last and his worst blunder.
Sigel with two divisions was in rear of Porter, and for Sigel's
assistance Porter had already asked. But Pope, still under the
delusion that Longstreet was not yet up, preferred rather to weaken
his  than grant the request of a subordinate.

Under such a leader the courage of the troops, however vehement, was
of no avail, and in Porter's attack the soldiers displayed a courage
to which the Confederates paid a willing tribute. Morell's division,
with the two brigades abreast, arrayed in three lines, advanced
across the meadows. Hatch's division, in still deeper formation,
pushed through the wood on Morell's . Nearer Bull Run were two
brigades of Ricketts; and to Morell's  rear the division of
regulars moved forward under Sykes.

(MAP OF THE APPROXIMATE POSITIONS IN THE ATTACK ON JACKSON, AUGUST
30th, 1862.)

Morell's attack was directed against Jackson's . In the centre
of the Federal line a mounted officer, whose gallant bearing lived
long in the memories of the Stonewall division, rode out in front of
the column, and, drawing his sabre, led the advance over the rolling
grass-land. The Confederate batteries, with a terrible cross-fire,
swept the Northern ranks from end to end. The volley of the infantry,
lying behind their parapet, struck them full in face. But the horse
and his rider lived through it all. The men followed close, charging
swiftly up the slope, and then the leader, putting his horse straight
at the embankment, stood for a moment on the top. The daring feat was
seen by the whole Confederate line, and a yell went up from the men
along the railroad, "Don't kill him! don't kill him!" But while the
cry went up horse and rider fell in one limp mass across the
earthwork, and the gallant Northerner was dragged under shelter by
his generous foes.

With such men as this to show the way what soldiers would be
backward? As the Russians followed Skobeleff's grey up the bloody
slopes of Plevna, so the Federals followed the b chestnut of
this unknown hero, and not till the colours waved within thirty paces
of the parapet did the charge falter. But, despite the supports that
came thronging up, Jackson's soldiers, covered by the earthwork,
opposed a resistance which no mere frontal attack could break. Three
times, as the lines in rear merged with the first, the Federal
officers brought their men forward to the assault, and three times
were they hurled back, leaving hundreds of their number dead and
wounded on the blood-soaked turf. One regiment of the Stonewall
division, posted in a copse beyond the railroad, was driven in; but
others, when cartridges failed them, had recourse, like the Guards at
Inkermann, to the stones which lay along the railway-bed; and with
these strange weapons, backed up by the bayonet, more than one
desperate effort was repulsed. In arresting Garnett after Kernstown,
because when his ammunition was exhausted he had abandoned his
position, Jackson had lost a good general, but he had taught his
soldiers a useful lesson. So long as the cold steel was  to them,
and their flanks were safe, they knew that their indomitable leader
expected them to hold their ground, and  gallantly they
responded. For over thirty minutes the battle raged along the front
at the closest range. Opposite a deep cutting the colours of a
Federal regiment, for nearly half an hour, rose and fell, as bearer
after bearer was shot down, within ten yards of the muzzles of the
Confederate rifles, and after the fight a hundred dead Northerners
were found where the flag had been so gallantly upheld.

Hill, meanwhile, was heavily engaged with Hatch. Every brigade, with
the exception of Gregg's, had been thrown into the fighting-line; and
so hardly were they pressed, that Jackson, turning to his signallers,
demanded reinforcements from his colleague. Longstreet, in response
to the call, ordered two more batteries to join Colonel Stephen Lee;
and Morell's division, penned in that deadly cockpit between Stuart's
Hill and the Groveton wood, shattered by musketry in front and by
artillery at short range in flank, fell back across the meadows.
Hatch soon followed suit, and Jackson's artillery, which during the
fight at close quarters had turned its fire on the supports, launched
a storm of shell on the defeated Federals. Some batteries were
ordered to change position so as to rake their lines; and the
Stonewall Division, reinforced by a brigade of Hill's, was sent
forward to the counter-attack. At every step the losses of the
Federals increased, and the shattered divisions, passing through two
regiments of regulars, which had been sent forward to support them,
sought shelter in the woods. Then Porter and Hatch, under cover of
their artillery, withdrew their infantry. Ricketts had fallen back
before his troops arrived within decisive range. Under the impression
that he was about to pursue a retreating enemy, he had found on
advancing, instead of a thin screen of skirmishers, a line of battle,
strongly established, and backed by batteries to which he was unable
to reply. Against such odds attack would only have increased the
slaughter.

(MAP OF THE POSITIONS ON AUGUST 30th, 1862.)

It was after four o'clock. Three hours of daylight yet remained, time
enough still to secure a victory. But the Federal army was in no
condition to renew the attack. Worn with long marches, deprived of
their supplies, and oppressed by the consciousness that they were
ill-led, both officers and men had lost all confidence. Every single
division on the field had been engaged, and every single division had
been beaten back. For four days, according to General Pope, they had
been following a flying foe. "We were sent forward," reported a
regimental commander with quiet sarcasm, "to pursue the enemy, who
was said to be retreating; we found the enemy, but did not see them
retreat."

Nor, had there been a larger reserve in hand, would a further advance
have been permitted. The Stonewall division, although Porter's
regiments were breaking up before its onset, had been ordered to fall
back before it became exposed to the full sweep of the Federal guns.
But the woods to the south, where Longstreet's divisions had been
lying for so many hours, were already alive with bayonets. The grey
skirmishers, extending far beyond Pope's , were moving rapidly
down the slopes of Stuart's Hill, and the fire of the artillery,
massed on the ridge in rear, was increasing every moment in
intensity. The Federals, just now advancing in pursuit, were suddenly
thrown on the defensive; and the hand of a great captain snatched
control of the battle from the grasp of Pope.

As Porter reeled back from Jackson's front, Lee had seen his
opportunity. The whole army was ordered to advance to the attack.
Longstreet, prepared since dawn for the counterstroke, had moved
before the message reached him, and the exulting yells of his
soldiers were now resounding through the forest. Jackson was desired
to cover Longstreet's ; and sending Starke and Lawton across the
meadows, strewn with the bloody debris of Porter's onslaught, he
instructed Hill to advance en echelon with his  "refused."
Anticipating the order, the commander of the Light Division was
already sweeping through the Groveton wood.

The Federal gunners, striving valiantly to cover the retreat of their
shattered infantry, met the advance of the Southerners with a rapid
fire. Pope and McDowell exerted themselves to throw a strong force on
to the heights above Bull Run; and the two brigades upon the ,
Warren's and Alexander's, already overlapped, made a gallant effort
to gain time for the occupation of the new position.

But the counterstroke of Lee was not to be withstood by a few
regiments of infantry. The field of Bull Run had seen many examples
of the attack as executed by indifferent tacticians. At the first
battle isolated brigades had advanced at wide intervals of time. At
the second battle the Federals had assaulted by successive divisions.
Out of 50,000 infantry, no more than 20,000 had been simultaneously
engaged, and when a partial success had been achieved there were no
supports at hand to complete the victory. When the Confederates came
forward it was in other fashion; and those who had the wit to
understand were now to learn the difference between mediocrity and
genius, between the half-measures of the one and the resolution of
the other. Lee's order for the advance embraced his whole army. Every
regiment, every battery, and every squadron was employed. No reserves
save the artillery were retained upon the ridge, but wave after wave
of bayonets followed closely on the fighting-line. To drive the
attack forward by a quick succession of reinforcements, to push it
home by weight of numbers, to pile blow on blow, to keep the defender
occupied along his whole front, and to provide for retreat, should
retreat be necessary, not by throwing in fresh troops, but by leaving
the enemy so crippled that he would be powerless to pursue--such were
the tactics of the Confederate leader.

The field was still covered with Porter's and Hatch's disordered
masses when Lee's strong array advanced, and the sight was
magnificent. As far as the eye could reach the long grey lines of
infantry, with the crimson of the colours gleaming like blood in the
evening sun, swept with ordered ranks across the Groveton valley.
Batteries galloped furiously to the front; far away to the 
fluttered the guidons of Stuart's squadrons, and over all the massed
artillery maintained a tremendous fire. The men drew fresh vigour
from this powerful combination. The enthusiasm of the troops was as
intense as their excitement. With great difficulty, it is related,
were the gunners restrained from joining in the charge, and the
officers of the staff could scarcely resist the impulse to throw
themselves with their victorious comrades upon the retreating foe.

The advance was made in the following order:

Wilcox' division, north of the turnpike, connected with Jackson's
. Then came Evans, facing the two brigades which formed the
Federal , and extending across the turnpike. Behind Evans came
Anderson on the  and Kemper on the . Then, in prolongation
of Kemper's line, but at some interval, marched the division of D.R.
Jones, flanked by Stuart's cavalry, and on the further wing,
extending towards Bull Run, were Starke, Lawton, and A.P. Hill.
50,000 men, including the cavalry, were thus deployed over a front of
four miles; each division was formed in at least two lines; and in
the centre, where Anderson and Kemper supported Evans, were no less
than eight brigades one in rear of the other.

The Federal advanced line, behind which the troops which had been
engaged in the last attack were slowly rallying, extended from the
Groveton wood to a low hill, south of the turnpike and east of the
village. This hill was quickly carried by Hood's brigade of Evans's
division. The two regiments which defended it, rapidly outflanked,
and assailed by overwhelming numbers, were routed with the loss of
nearly half their muster. Jackson's attack through the Groveton wood
was equally successful, but on the ridge in rear were posted the
regulars under Sykes; and, further east, on Buck Hill, had assembled
the remnants of four divisions.

Outflanked by the capture of the hill upon their , and fiercely
assailed in front, Sykes's well-disciplined regiments, formed in
lines of columns and covered by a rear-guard of skirmishers, retired
steadily under the tremendous fire, preserving their formation, and
falling back slowly across Young's Branch. Then Jackson, reforming
his troops along the Sudley road, and swinging round to the ,
moved swiftly against Buck Hill. Here, in addition to the infantry,
were posted three Union batteries, and the artillery made a desperate
endeavour to stay the counterstroke.

But nothing could withstand the vehement charge of the Valley
soldiers. "They came on," says the correspondent of a Northern
journal, "like demons emerging from the earth." The crests of the
ridges blazed with musketry, and Hill's infantry, advancing in the
very teeth of the canister, captured six guns at the bayonet's point.
Once more Jackson reformed his lines; and, as twilight came down upon
the battle-field, from position after position, in the direction of
the Stone Bridge, the division of Stevens, Ricketts, Kearney, and
Hooker, were gradually pushed back.

On the Henry Hill, the key of the Federal position, a fierce conflict
was meanwhile raging. From the high ground to the south Longstreet
had driven back several brigades which, in support of the artillery,
Sigel and McDowell had massed upon Bald Hill. But this position had
not been occupied without a protracted struggle. Longstreet's first
line, advancing with over-impetuosity, had outstripped the second;
and before it could be supported was compelled to give ground under
the enemy's fire, one of the brigades losing 62 officers and 560 men.
Anderson and Kemper were then brought up; the flank of the defenders
was turned; a counterstroke was beaten back, ridge after ridge was
mastered, the edge of every wood was stormed; and as the sun set
behind the mountains Bald Hill was carried. During this fierce action
the division of D.R. Jones, leaving the Chinn House to the , had
advanced against the Henry Hill.

6 P.M.

On the very ground which Jackson had held in his first battle the
best troops of the Federal army were rapidly assembling. Here were
Sykes' regulars and Reynolds' Pennsylvanians; where the woods
permitted batteries had been established; and Porter's Fifth Army
Corps, who at Gaines' Mill and Malvern Hill had proved such stubborn
fighters, opposed a strong front once more to their persistent foes.

Despite the rapid fire of the artillery the Southerners swept forward
with unabated vigour. But as the attack was pressed the resistance of
the Federals grew more stubborn, and before long the Confederate
formation lost its strength. The lines in rear had been called up.
The assistance of the strong centre had been required to rout the
defenders of Bald Hill; and although Anderson and Wilcox pressed
forward on his , Jones had not sufficient strength to storm the
enemy's last position. Moreover, the Confederate artillery had been
unable to follow the infantry over the broken ground; the cavalry,
confronted by Buford's squadrons and embarrassed by the woods, could
lend no active aid, and the Federals, defeated as they were, had not
yet lost all heart. Whatever their guns could do, in so close a
country, to relieve the infantry had been accomplished; and the
infantry, though continually outflanked, held together with
unflinching courage. Stragglers there were, and stragglers in such
large numbers that Bayard's cavalry brigade had been ordered to the
rear to drive them back; but the majority of the men, hardened by
months of discipline and constant battle, remained staunch to the
colours. The conviction that the battle was lost was no longer a
signal for "the thinking bayonets" to make certain of their
individual safety; and the regulars, for the second time on the same
field, provided a strong nucleus of resistance.

Thrown into the woods along the Sudley-Manassas road, five battalions
of the United States army held the extreme , the most critical
point of the Federal line, until the second brigade relieved them. To
their  Meade and his Pennsylvanians held fast against Anderson
and Wilcox; and although six guns fell into the hands of the
Confederate infantry, and four of Longstreet's batteries, which had
accompanied the cavalry, were now raking their , Pope's soldiers,
as twilight descended upon the field, redeemed as far as soldiers
could the errors of their general. Stuart, on the  flank of the
Confederate line, charged down the opposing cavalry* and crossed Bull
Run at Lewis' Ford; (* This was one of the most brilliant cavalry
fights of the war. Colonel Munford, of the 2nd Virginia, finding the
enemy advancing, formed line and charged, the impetuosity of the
attack carrying his regiment through the enemy's first line, with
whom his men were thoroughly intermingled in hand-to-hand conflict.
The Federals, however, who had advanced at a trot, in four successive
lines, were far superior in numbers; but the 7th and 12th Virginia
rapidly came up, and the charge of the 12th, constituting as it were
a last reserve, drove the enemy from the field. The Confederates lost
5 killed and 40 wounded. Munford himself, and the commander of the
First Michigan (Union) cavalry were both wounded by sabre-cuts, the
latter mortally. 300 Federals were taken prisoners, 19 killed, and 80
wounded. Sabre, carbine, and revolver were freely used.) but the dark
masses on the Henry Hill, increased every moment by troops ascending
from the valley, still held fast, with no hope indeed of victory, but
with a stern determination to maintain their ground. Had the hill
been lost, nothing could have saved Pope's army. The crest commanded
the crossings of Bull Run. The Stone Bridge, the main point of
passage, was not more than a mile northward, within the range of
artillery, and Jackson was already in possession of the Matthew Hill,
not fourteen hundred yards from the road by which the troops must
pass in their retreat.

7.30 P.M.

The night, however, put an end to the battle. Even the Valley
soldiers were constrained to halt. It was impossible in the obscurity
to distinguish friend from foe. The Confederate lines presented a
broken front, here pushed forward, and here drawn back; divisions,
brigades, and regiments had intermingled; and the thick woods,
intervening at frequent intervals, rendered combination
impracticable. During the darkness, which was accompanied by heavy
rain, the Federals quietly withdrew, leaving thousands of wounded on
the field, and morning found them in position on the heights of
Centreville, four miles beyond Bull Run.

Pope, with an audacity which disaster was powerless to tame, reported
to Halleck that, on the whole, the results of the battle were
favourable to the Federal army. "The enemy," he wrote, "largely
reinforced, assailed our position early to-day. We held our ground
firmly until 6 o'clock P.M., when the enemy, massing very heavy
forces on our , forced that wing back about half a mile. At dark
we held that position. Under all the circumstances, with horses and
men having been two days without food, and the enemy greatly
outnumbering us, I thought it best to move back to this place at
dark. The movement has been made in perfect order and without loss.
The battle was most furious for hours without cessation, and the
losses on both sides very heavy. The enemy is badly whipped, and we
shall do well enough. Do not be uneasy. We will hold our own here."

Pope's actions, however, were invariably at variance with Pope's
words. At 6 P.M. he had ordered Franklin, who was approaching Bull
Run from Alexandria with 10,000 fresh troops, to occupy with his own
command and whatever other troops he could collect, the
fortifications round Centreville, and hold them "to the last
extremity." Banks, still at Bristoe Station, was told to destroy all
the supplies of which he was in charge, as well as the railway, and
to march on Centreville; while 30 guns and more than 2000 wounded
were  upon the field. Nor were Pope's anticipations as to the
future to be fulfilled. The position at Centrevile was strong. The
intrenchments constructed by the Confederates during the winter of
1861 were still standing. Halleck had forwarded supplies; there was
ammunition in abundance, and 20,000 infantry under Franklin and
Sumner--for the latter also had come up from Washington--more than
compensated for the casualties of the battle. But formidable
earthworks, against generals who dare manoeuvre, are often a mere
trap for the unwary.

August 31.

Before daylight Stuart and his troopers were in the saddle; and,
picking up many stragglers as they marched, came within range of the
guns at Centreville. Lee, accompanied by Jackson, having reconnoitred
the position, determined to move once more upon the Federal rear.
Longstreet remained on the battle-field to engage the attention of
the enemy and cover the removal of the wounded; while Jackson,
crossing not by the Stone Bridge, but by Sudley Ford, was entrusted
with the work of forcing Pope from his strong position.

The weather was inclement, the roads were quagmires, and the men were
in no condition to make forced marches. Yet before nightfall Jackson
had pushed ten miles through the mud, halting near Pleasant Valley,
on the Little River turnpike, five miles north-west of Centreville.
During the afternoon Longstreet, throwing a brigade across Bull Run
to keep the enemy on the qui vive, followed the same route. Of these
movements Pope received no warning, and Jackson's proclivity for
flank manoeuvres had evidently made no impression on him, for, in
blissful unconsciousness that his line of retreat was already
threatened, he ordered all waggons to be unloaded at Centreville, and
to return to Fairfax Station for forage and rations.

September 1.

But on the morning of September 1, although his whole army, including
Banks, was closely concentrated behind strong intrenchments, Pope had
conceived a suspicion that he would find it difficult to fulfil his
promise to Halleck that "he would hold on." The previous night Stuart
had been active towards his  and rear, capturing his
reconnoitring parties, and shelling his trains. Before noon suspicion
became certainty. Either stragglers or the country people reported
that Jackson was moving down the Little River turnpike, and
Centreville was at once evacuated, the troops marching to a new
position round Fairfax Court House.

Jackson, meanwhile, covered by the cavalry, was advancing to
Chantilly--a fine old mansion which the Federals had gutted--with the
intention of seizing a position whence he could command the road. The
day was sombre, and a tempest was gathering in the mountains. Late in
the afternoon, Stuart's patrols near Ox Hill were driven in by
hostile infantry, the thick woods preventing the scouts from
ascertaining the strength or dispositions of the Federal force.
Jackson at once ordered two brigades of Hill's to feel the enemy. The
remainder of the Light Division took ground to the , followed by
Lawton; Starke's division held the turnpike, and Stuart was sent
towards Fairfax Court House to ascertain whether the Federal main
body was retreating or advancing.

Reno, who had been ordered to protect Pope's flank, came briskly
forward, and Hill's advanced guard was soon brought to a standstill.
Three fresh brigades were rapidly deployed; as the enemy pressed the
attack a fourth was sent in, and the Northerners fell back with the
loss of a general and many men. Lawton's first line became engaged at
the same time, and Reno, now reinforced by Kearney, made a vigorous
effort to hold the Confederates in check. Hays' brigade of Lawton's
division, commanded by an inexperienced officer, was caught while
"clubbed" during a change of formation, and driven back in disorder;
and Trimble's brigade, now reduced to a handful, became involved in
the confusion. But a vigorous charge of the second line restored the
battle. The Federals were beginning to give way. General Kearney,
riding through the murky twilight into the Confederate lines, was
shot by a skirmisher. The hostile lines were within short range, and
the advent of a reserve on either side would have probably ended the
engagement. But the rain was now falling in torrents; heavy peals of
thunder, crashing through the forest, drowned the discharges of the
two guns which Jackson had brought up through the woods, and the red
flash of musketry paled before the vivid lightning. Much of the
ammunition was rendered useless, the men were unable to discharge
their pieces, and the fierce wind lashed the rain in the faces of the
Confederates. The night grew darker and the tempest fiercer; and as
if by mutual consent the opposing lines drew gradually apart.* (* It
was at this time, probably, that Jackson received a message from a
brigade commander, reporting that his cartridges were so wet that he
feared he could not maintain his position. "Tell him," was the quick
reply, "to hold his ground; if his guns will not go off, neither will
the enemy's.")

On the side of the Confederates only half the force had been engaged.
Starke's division never came into action, and of Hill's and Lawton's
there were still brigades in reserve. 500 men were killed or wounded;
but although the three Federal divisions are reported to have lost
1000, they had held their ground, and Jackson was thwarted in his
design. Pope's trains and his whole army reached Fairfax Court House
without further disaster. But the persistent attacks of his
indefatigable foe had broken down his resolution. He had intended, he
told Halleck, when Jackson's march down the Little River turnpike was
first announced, to attack the Confederates the next day, or
"certainly the day after."

September 2.

The action at Chantilly, however, induced a more prudent mood; and,
on the morning of the 2nd, he reported that "there was an intense
idea among the troops that they must get behind the intrenchments of
Alexandria; that there was an undoubted purpose, on the part of the
enemy, to keep on slowly turning his position so as to come in on the
, and that the forces under his command were unable to prevent
him doing so in the open field. Halleck must decide what was to be
done." The reply was prompt, Pope was to bring his forces, "as best
he could," under the shelter of the heavy guns.

Whatever might be the truth as regards the troops, there could be no
question but that the general was demoralised; and, preceded by
thousands of stragglers, the army fell back without further delay to
the Potomac. It was not followed except by Stuart. "It was found,"
says Lee, in his official dispatch, "that the enemy had conducted his
retreat so rapidly that the attempt to interfere with him was
abandoned. The proximity of the fortifications around Alexandria and
Washington rendered further pursuit useless."

On the same day General McClellan was entrusted with the defence of
Washington, and Pope, permitted to resign, was soon afterwards
relegated to an obscure command against the Indians of the
North-west. His errors had been flagrant. He can hardly be charged
with want of energy, but his energy was spasmodic; on the field of
battle he was strangely indolent, and yet he distrusted the reports
of others. But more fatal than his neglect of personal reconnaissance
was his power of self-deception. He was absolutely incapable of
putting himself in his enemy's place, and time after time he acted on
the supposition that Lee and Jackson would do exactly what he most
wished them to do. When his supplies were destroyed, he concentrated
at Manassas Junction, convinced that Jackson would remain to be
overwhelmed. When he found Jackson near Sudley Springs, and
Thoroughfare Gap open, he rushed forward to attack him, convinced
that Longstreet could not be up for eight-and-forty hours. When he
sought shelter at Centreville, he told Halleck not to be uneasy,
convinced that Lee would knock his head against his fortified
position. Before the engagement at Chantilly he had made up his mind
to attack the enemy the next morning. A few hours later he reported
that his troops were utterly untrustworthy, although 20,000 of them,
under Franklin and Sumner, had not yet seen the enemy. In other
respects his want of prudence had thwarted his best endeavours. His
cavalry at the beginning of the campaign was effectively employed.
But so extravagant were his demands on the mounted arm, that before
the battle of Manassas half his regiments were dismounted. It is true
that the troopers were still indifferent horsemen and bad
horse-masters, but it was the fault of the commander that the
unfortunate animals had no rest, that brigades were sent to do the
work of patrols, and that little heed was paid to the physical wants
of man and beast. As a tactician Pope was incapable. As a strategist
he lacked imagination, except in his dispatches. His horizon was
limited, and he measured the capacity of his adversaries by his own.
He was familiar with the campaign in the Valley, with the operations
in the Peninsula, and Cedar Run should have enlightened him as to
Jackson's daring. But he had no conception that his adversaries would
cheerfully accept great risks to achieve great ends; he had never
dreamt of a general who would deliberately divide his army, or of one
who would make fifty-six miles in two marches.

Lee, with his extraordinary insight into character, had played on
Pope as he had played on McClellan, and his strategy was justified by
success. In the space of three weeks he had carried the war from the
James to the Potomac. With an army that at no time exceeded 55,000
men he had driven 80,000 into the fortifications of Washington.* (*
Sumner and Franklin had become involved in Pope's retreat.) He had
captured 30 guns, 7000 prisoners, 20,000 rifles, and many stand of
colours; he had killed or wounded 13,500 Federals, destroyed supplies
and material of enormous value; and all this with a loss to the
Confederates of 10,000 officers and men.

So much had he done for the South; for his own reputation he had done
more. If, as Moltke avers, the junction of two armies on the field of
battle is the highest achievement of military genius,* (* Tried by
this test alone Lee stands out as one of the greatest soldiers of all
times. Not only against Pope, but against McClellan at Gaines' Mill,
against Burnside at Fredericksburg, and against Hooker at
Chancellorsville, he succeeded in carrying out the operations of
which Moltke speaks; and in each case with the same result of
surprising his adversary. None knew better how to apply that great
principle of strategy, "to march divided but to fight concentrated.")
the campaign against Pope has seldom been surpassed; and the great
counterstroke at Manassas is sufficient in itself to make Lee's
reputation as a tactician. Salamanca was perhaps a more brilliant
example of the same manoeuvre, for at Salamanca Wellington had no
reason to anticipate that Marmont would blunder, and the mighty
stroke which beat 40,000 French in forty minutes was conceived in a
few moments. Nor does Manassas equal Austerlitz. No such subtle
manoeuvres were employed as those by which Napoleon induced the
Allies to lay bare their centre, and drew them blindly to their doom.
It was not due to the skill of Lee that Pope weakened his  at the
crisis of the battle.* (* It may be noticed, however, that the care
with which Longstreet's troops were kept concealed for more than
four-and-twenty hours had much to do with Pope's false manoeuvres.)
But in the rapidity with which the opportunity was seized, in the
combination of the three arms, and in the vigour of the blow,
Manassas is in no way inferior to Austerlitz or Salamanca. That the
result was less decisive was due to the greater difficulties of the
battle-field, to the stubborn resistance of the enemy, to the
obstacles in the way of rapid and connected movement, and to the
inexperience of the troops. Manassas was not, like Austerlitz and
Salamanca, won by veteran soldiers, commanded by trained officers,
perfect in drill and inured to discipline.

Lee's strategic manoeuvres were undoubtedly hazardous. But that an
antagonist of different calibre would have met them with condign
punishment is short-sighted criticism. Against an antagonist of
different calibre, against such generals as he was afterwards to
encounter, they would never have been attempted. "He studied his
adversary," says his Military Secretary, "knew his peculiarities, and
adapted himself to them. His own methods no one could foresee-he
varied them with every change in the commanders opposed to him. He
had one method with McClellan, another with Pope, another with
Hooker, another with Meade, and yet another with Grant." Nor was the
dangerous period of the Manassas campaign so protracted as might be
thought. Jackson marched north from Jefferson on August 25. On the
26th he reached Bristoe Station. Pope, during these two days, might
have thrown himself either on Longstreet or on Jackson. He did
neither, and on the morning of the 27th, when Jackson reached Sudley
Springs, the crisis had passed. Had the Federals blocked Thoroughfare
Gap that day, and prevented Longstreet's passage, Lee was still able
to concentrate without incurring defeat. Jackson, retreating by Aldie
Gap, would have joined Longstreet west of the mountains; Pope would
have escaped defeat, but the Confederates would have lost nothing.

Moreover, it is well to remember that the Confederate cavalry was in
every single respect, in leading, horsemanship, training, and
knowledge of the country, superior to the Federal. The whole
population, too, was staunchly Southern. It was always probable,
therefore, that information would be scarce in the Federal camps, and
that if some items did get through the cavalry screen, they would be
so late in reaching Pope's headquarters as to be practically useless.
There can be no question that Lee, in these operations, relied much
on the skill of Stuart. Stuart was given a free hand. Unlike Pope,
Lee issued few orders as to the disposition of his horsemen. He
merely explained the manoeuvres he was about to undertake, pointed
out where he wished the main body of the cavalry should be found, and
 all else to their commander. He had no need to tell Stuart that
he required information of the enemy, or to lay down the method by
which it was to be obtained. That was Stuart's normal duty, and 
well was it performed. How admirably the young cavalry general
co-operated with Jackson has already been described. The latter
suggested, the former executed, and the combination of the three
arms, during the whole of Jackson's operations against Pope, was as
close as when Ashby led his squadrons in the Valley.

Yet it was not on Stuart that fell, next to Lee, the honours of the
campaign. Brilliant as was the handling of the cavalry, impenetrable
the screen it formed, and ample the information it procured, the
breakdown of the Federal horse made the task comparatively simple.
Against adversaries whose chargers were so leg-weary that they could
hardly raise a trot it was easy to be bold. One of Stuart's
brigadiers would have probably done the work as well as Stuart
himself. But the handling of the Valley army, from the time it 
Jefferson on the 25th until Longstreet reached Gainesville on the
29th, demanded higher qualities than vigilance and activity.
Throughout the operations Jackson's endurance was the wonder of his
staff. He hardly slept. He was untiring in reconnaissance, in
examination of the country and in observation of the enemy, and no
detail of the march escaped his personal scrutiny. Fet his muscles
were much less hardly used than his brain. The intellectual problem
was more difficult than the physical. To march his army fifty-six
miles in two days was far simpler than to maintain it on Pope's flank
until Longstreet came into line. The direction of his marches, the
position of his bivouacs, the distribution of his three divisions,
were the outcome of long premeditation. On the night of the 25th he
disappeared into the darkness on the road to Salem leaving the
Federals under the conviction that he was making for the Valley. On
the 26th he moved on Bristoe Station, rather than on Manassas
Junction, foreseeing that he might be interrupted from the south-west
in his destruction of the stores. On the 27th he postponed his
departure till night had fallen, moving in three columns, of which
the column marching on Centreville, whither he desired that the enemy
should follow, was the last to move. Concentrating at Sudley Springs
on the 28th, he placed himself in the best position to hold Pope
fast, to combine with Longstreet, or to escape by Aldie Gap; and on
the 29th the ground he had selected for battle enabled him to hold
out against superior numbers.

Neither strategically nor tactically did he make a single mistake.
His attack on King's division at Groveton, on the evening of the
28th, was purely frontal, and his troops lost heavily. But he
believed King to be the flank-guard of a larger force, and under such
circumstances turning movements were over-hazardous. The woods, too,
prevented the deployment of his artillery; and the attack, in its
wider aspect, was eminently successful, for the aim was not to defeat
King, but to bring Pope back to a position where Lee could crush him.
On the 29th his dispositions were admirable. The battle is a fine
example of defensive tactics. The position, to use a familiar
illustration, "fitted the troops like a glove." It was of such
strength that, while the front was adequately manned, ample reserves
remained in rear. The , the most dangerous flank, was secured by
Bull Run, and massed batteries gave protection to the . The
distribution of the troops, the orders, and the amount of latitude
accorded to subordinate leaders, followed the best models. The front
was so apportioned that each brigadier on the fighting-line had his
own reserve, and each divisional general half his force in third
line. The orders indicated that counterstrokes were not to be pushed
so far as to involve the troops in an engagement with the enemy's
reserves, and the subordinate generals were encouraged, without
waiting for orders, and thus losing the occasion, to seize all
favourable opportunities for counterstroke. The methods employed by
Jackson were singularly like those of Wellington. A position was
selected which gave cover and concealment to the troops, and against
which the powerful artillery of a more numerous enemy was practically
useless. These were the characteristics of Vimiera, Busaco, Talavera,
and Waterloo. Nor did Jackson's orders differ from those of the great
Englishman.

The Duke's subordinates, when placed in position, acted on a
well-established rule. Within that position they had unlimited power.
They could defend the first line, or they could meet the enemy with a
counter-attack from a position in rear, and in both cases they could
pursue. But the pursuit was never to be carried beyond certain
defined limits. Moreover, Wellington's views as to the efficacy of
the counterstroke were identical with those of Jackson, and he had
the same predilection for cold steel. "If they attempt this point
again, Hill," were his orders to that general at Busaco, "give them a
volley and charge bayonets; but don't let your people follow them too
far."

But it was neither wise strategy nor sound tactics which was the main
element in Pope's defeat; neither the strong effort of a powerful
brain, nor the judicious devolution of responsibility. A brilliant
military historian, more conversant perhaps with the War of Secession
than the wars of France, concludes his review of this campaign with a
reference to Jackson as "the Ney of the Confederate army."* (*
Swinton. Campaigns of the Army of the Potomac.) The allusion is
obvious. So long as the victories of Napoleon are remembered, the
name of his lieutenant will always be a synonym for heroic valour.
But the valour of Ney was of a different type from that of Jackson.
Ney's valour was animal, Jackson's was moral, and between the two
there is a vast distinction. Before the enemy, when his danger was
tangible, Ney had few rivals. But when the enemy was unseen and his
designs were doubtful, his resolution vanished. He was without
confidence in his own resources. He could not act without direct
orders, and he dreaded responsibility. At Bautzen his timidity ruined
Napoleon's combinations; in the campaign of Leipsic he showed himself
incapable of independent command; and he cannot be acquitted of
hesitation at Quatre Bras.

It was in the same circumstances that Ney's courage invariably gave
way that Jackson's courage shone with the best lustre. It might
appear that he had little cause for fear in the campaign of the
Second Manassas, that he had only to follow his instructions, and
that if he had failed his failure would have been visited upon Lee.
The instructions which he received, however, were not positive, but
contingent on events. If possible, he was to cut the railway, in
order to delay the reinforcements which Pope was expecting from
Alexandria; and then, should the enemy permit, he was to hold fast
east of the Bull Run Mountains until Lee came up. But he was to be
guided in everything by his own discretion. He was free to accept
battle or refuse it, to attack or to defend, to select his own line
of retreat, to move to any quarter of the compass that he pleased.
For three days, from the morning of August 26 to the morning of
August 29, he had complete control of the strategic situation; on his
movements were dependent the movements of the main army; the bringing
the enemy to bay and the choice of the field of battle were both in
his hands. And during those three days he was cut off from Lee and
Longstreet. The mountains, with their narrow passes, lay between;
and, surrounded by three times his number, he was abandoned entirely
to his own resources.

Throughout the operations he had been in unusually high spirits. The
peril and responsibility seemed to act as an elixir, and he threw off
much of his constraint. But as the day broke on August 29 he looked
long and earnestly in the direction of Thoroughfare Gap, and when a
messenger from Stuart brought the intelligence that Longstreet was
through the pass, he drew a long breath and uttered a sigh of
relief.* (* Letter from Dr. Hunter McGuire.) The period of suspense
was over, but even on that unyielding heart the weight of anxiety had
pressed with fearful force. For three days he had only received news
of the main army at long and uncertain intervals. For two of these
days his information of the enemy's movements was very small. While
he was marching to Bristoe Station, Pope, for all he knew, might have
been marching against Longstreet with his whole force. When he
attacked King on the 28th the Federals, in what strength he knew not,
still held Thoroughfare Gap; when he formed for action on the 29th he
was still ignorant of what had happened to the main body, and it was
on the bare chance that Longstreet would force the passage that he
accepted battle with far superior numbers.

It is not difficult to imagine how a general like Ney, placed in
Jackson's situation, would have trimmed and hesitated: how in his
march to Manassas, when he had crossed the mountains and  the Gap
behind him, he would have sent out reconnaissances in all directions,
halting his troops until he learned the coast was clear; how he would
have dashed at the Junction by the shortest route; how he would have
forced his weary troops northward when the enemy's approach was
reported; how, had he reached Sudley Springs, he would have hugged
the shelter of the woods and let King's division pass unmolested;
and, finally, when Pope's columns converged on his position, have
fallen back on Thoroughfare or Aldie. Nor would he have been greatly
to blame. Unless gifted with that moral fortitude which Napoleon
ranks higher than genius or experience, no general would have
succeeded in carrying Lee's design to a successful issue. In his
unhesitating march to Manassas Junction, in his deliberate sojourn
for four-and-twenty hours astride his enemy's communications, in his
daring challenge to Pope's whole army at Groveton, Jackson displayed
the indomitable courage characteristic of the greatest soldiers.

As suggested in the first volume, it is too often overlooked, by
those who study the history of campaign, that war is the province of
uncertainty. The reader has the whole theatre of war displayed before
him. He notes the exact disposition of the opposing forces at each
hour of the campaign, and with this in his mind's eye he condemns or
approves the action of the commanders. In the action of the defeated
general he usually often sees much to blame; in the action of the
successful general but little to admire. But his judgment is not
based on a true foundation. He has ignored the fact that the
information at his disposal was not at the disposal of those he
criticises; and until he realises that both generals, to a greater or
less degree, must have been groping in the dark, he will neither make
just allowance for the errors of the one, nor appreciate the genius
of the other.

It is true that it is difficult in the extreme to ascertain how much
or how little those generals whose campaigns have become historical
knew of their enemy at any particular moment. For instance, in the
campaign before us, we are nowhere told whether Lee, when he sent
Jackson to Manassas Junction, was aware that a portion of McClellan's
army had been shipped to Alexandria in place of Aquia; or whether he
knew, on the second day of the battle of Manassas, that Pope had been
reinforced by two army corps from the Peninsula. He had certainly
captured Pope's dispatch book, and no doubt it threw much light on
the Federal plans, but we are not aware how far into the future this
light projected. We do know, however, that, in addition to this
correspondence, such knowledge as he had was derived from reports.
But reports are never entirely to be relied on; they are seldom full,
they are often false, and they are generally exaggerated. However
active the cavalry, however patriotic the inhabitants, no general is
ever possessed of accurate information of his enemy's dispositions,
unless the forces are very small, or the precautions to elude
observation very feeble. On August 28 Stuart's patrols covered the
whole country round Jackson's army, and during the whole day the
Federal columns were converging on Manassas. Sigel and Reynolds' four
divisions passed through Gainesville, not five miles from Sudley
Springs, and for a time were actually in contact with Jackson's
outposts; and yet Sigel and Reynolds mistook Jackson's outposts for
reconnoitring cavalry. Again, when King's single division, the
rear-guard of Pope's army, appeared upon the turnpike, Jackson
attacked it with the idea that it was the flank-guard of a much
larger force. Nor was this want of accurate intelligence due to lack
of vigilance or to the dense woods. As a matter of fact the
Confederates were more amply provided with information than is
usually the case in war, even in an open country and with experienced
armies.

But if, in the most favourable circumstances, a general is surrounded
by an atmosphere which has been most aptly named the fog of war, his
embarrassments are intensified tenfold when he commands a portion of
a divided army. Under ordinary conditions a general is at least fully
informed of the dispositions of his own forces. But when between two
widely separated columns a powerful enemy, capable of crushing each
in turn, intervenes; when the movements of that enemy are veiled in
obscurity; when anxiety has taken possession of the troops, and the
soldiers of either column, striving hopelessly to penetrate the
gloom, reflect on the fate that may have overtaken their comrades, on
the obstacles that may delay them, on the misunderstandings that may
have occurred--it is at such a crisis that the courage of their
leader is put to the severest test.

His situation has been compared to a man entering a dark room full of
assailants, never knowing when or whence a blow may be struck against
him. The illustration is inadequate. Not only has he to contend with
the promptings of his own instincts, but he has to contend with the
instincts and to sustain the resolution of his whole army. It is not
from the enemy he has most to fear. A time comes in all protracted
operations when the nervous energy of the best troops becomes
exhausted, when the most daring shrink from further sacrifice, when
the desire of self-preservation infects the stoutest veterans, and
the will of the mass opposes a tacit resistance to all further
effort. "Then," says Clausewitz, "the spark in the breast of the
commander must rekindle hope in the hearts of his men, and so long as
he is equal to this he remains their master. When his influence
ceases, and his own spirit is no longer strong enough to revive the
spirit of others, the masses, drawing him with them, sink into that
lower region of animal nature which recoils from danger and knows not
shame. Such are the obstacles which the brain and courage of the
military commander must overcome if he is to make his name
illustrious." And the obstacles are never more formidable than when
his troops see no sign of the support they have expected. Then, if he
still moves forward, although his peril increase at every step, to
the point of junction; if he declines the temptation, although
overwhelming numbers threaten him, of a safe line of retreat; if, as
did Jackson, he deliberately confronts and challenges the hostile
masses, then indeed does the soldier rise to the highest level of
moral energy.

Strongly does Napoleon inveigh against operations which entail the
division of an army into two columns unable to communicate; and
especially does he reprobate the strategy which places the point of
junction under the very beard of a concentrated enemy. Both of these
maxims Lee violated. The last because he knew Pope, the first because
he knew Jackson. It is rare indeed that such strategy succeeds. When
all has depended on a swift and unhesitating advance, generals
renowned for their ardent courage have wavered and turned aside.
Hasdrubal, divided from Hannibal by many miles and a Consular army,
fell back to the Metaurus, and Rome was saved. Two thousand years
later, Prince Frederick Charles, divided by a few marches and two
Austrian army corps from the Crown Prince, lingered so long upon the
leer that the supremacy of Prussia trembled in the balance. But the
character of the Virginian soldier was of loftier type. It has been
remarked that after Jackson's death Lee never again attempted those
great turning movements which had achieved his most brilliant
victories. Never again did he divide his army to unite it again on
the field of battle. The reason is not far to seek. There was now no
general in the Confederate army to whom he dared confide the charge
of the detached wing, and in possessing one such general he had been
more fortunate than Napoleon.* (* It is noteworthy that Moltke once,
at Koniggratz, carried out the operation referred to; Wellington
twice, at Vittoria and Toulouse; Napoleon, although he several times
attempted it, and, against inferior numbers, never, except at Ulm,
with complete success.)

</section>
<section id="22" fatherid="16" title="HARPER'S FERRY" lv="CHAPTER 2.18." priority="0" level="2">
September 1862.

The Confederate operations in Virginia during the spring and summer
of 1862 had been successful beyond expectation and almost beyond
precedent. Within six months two great armies had been defeated;
McClellan had been driven from the Peninsula, and Pope from the
Rappahannock. The villages of Virginia no longer swarmed with foreign
bayonets. The hostile camps had vanished from her inland counties.
Richmond was free from menace; and in the Valley of the Shenandoah
the harvest was gathered in without let or hindrance. Except at
Winchester and Martinsburg, where the garrisons, alarmed by the news
of Pope's defeat, were already preparing to withdraw; in the vicinity
of Norfolk, and at Fortress Monroe, the invaders had no foothold
within the boundaries of the State they had just now overrun; and
their demoralised masses, lying exhausted behind the fortifications
of Washington and Alexandria, were in no condition to resume the
offensive. The North had opened the campaign in the early spring with
the confident hope of capturing the rebel capital; before the summer
was over it was questionable whether it would be able to save its
own. Had the rival armies been equally matched in numbers and
equipment this result would have hardly been remarkable. The Federals
had had great difficulties to contend with--an unknown country, bad
roads, a hostile population, natural obstacles of formidable
character, statesmen ignorant of war, and generals at loggerheads
with the Administration. Yet so superior were their numbers, so ample
their resources, that even these disadvantages might have been
overcome had the strategy of the Southern leaders been less
admirable. Lee, Jackson, and Johnston had played the role of the
defender to perfection. No attempt had been made to hold the
frontier. Mobility and not earthwork was the weapon on which they had
relied. Richmond, the only fortress, had been used as a pivot of
operations, and not merely as a shelter for the army. The specious
expedient of pushing forward advanced guards to harass or delay the
enemy had been avoided; and thus no opportunity had been offered to
the invaders of dealing with the defence in detail, or of raising
their own morale by victory over isolated detachments. The generals
had declined battle until their forces were concentrated and the
enemy was divided. Nor had they fought except on ground of their own
choice. Johnston had refused to be drawn into decisive action until
McClellan became involved in the swamps of the Chickahominy. Jackson,
imitating like his superior the defensive strategy of Wellington and
Napoleon, had fallen back to a zone of manoeuvre south of the
Massanuttons. By retreating to the inaccessible fastness of Elk Run
Valley he had drawn Banks and Fremont up the Shenandoah, their lines
of communication growing longer and more vulnerable at every march,
and requiring daily more men to guard them. Then, rushing from his
stronghold, he had dealt his blows, clearing the Valley from end to
end, destroying the Federal magazines, and threatening Washington
itself; and when the overwhelming masses he had drawn on himself
sought to cut him off, he had selected his own battle-field, and
crushed the converging columns which his skill had kept apart. The
hapless Pope, too, had been handled in the same fashion as McClellan,
Banks, Shields, and Fremont. Jackson had lured him forward to the
Rapidan; and although his retreat had been speedy, Lee had completed
his defeat before he could be efficiently supported. But,
notwithstanding all that had been done, much yet remained to do.

It was doubtless within the bounds of probability that a second
attempt to invade Virginia would succeed no better than the first.
But it was by no means certain that the resolution of the North was
not sufficient to withstand a long series of disasters so long as the
war was confined to Southern territory; and, at the same time, it
might well be questioned whether the South could sustain, without
foreign aid, the protracted and exhausting process of a purely
defensive warfare. If her tactics, as well as her strategy, could be
confined to the defensive; that is, if her generals could await the
invaders in selected and prepared positions, and if no task more
difficult should devolve upon her troops than shooting down their
foes as they moved across the open to the assault of strong
intrenchments, then the hope might reasonably be entertained that she
might tire out the North. But the campaign, so far as it had
progressed, had shown, if indeed history had not already made it
sufficiently clear, that opportunities for such tactics were not
likely to occur. The Federal generals had consistently refused to run
their heads against earthworks. Their overwhelming numbers would
enable them to turn any position, however formidable; and the only
chance of success lay in keeping these numbers apart and in
preventing them from combining.

It was by strategic and tactical counterstrokes that the recent
victories had been won. Although it had awaited attack within its own
frontier, the Army of Northern Virginia had but small experience of
defensive warfare. With the exception of the actions round Yorktown,
of Cross Keys, and of the Second Manassas, the battles had been
entirely aggressive. The idea that a small army, opposed to one
vastly superior, cannot afford to attack because the attack is
costly, and that it must trust for success to favourable ground, had
been effectually dispelled. Lee and Jackson had taught the
Southerners that the secret of success lies not in strong positions,
but in the concentration, by means of skilful strategy, of superior
numbers on the field of battle. Their tactics had been essentially
offensive, and it is noteworthy that their victories had not been
dearly purchased. If we compare them with those of the British in the
Peninsula, we shall find that with no greater loss than Wellington
incurred in the defensive engagements of three years, 1810, 1811,
1812, the Confederates had attacked and routed armies far larger in
proportion than those which Wellington had merely repulsed.* (*
Wellington's losses in the battles of these three years were 33,000.
The Confederates lost 23,000 in the Valley and the Seven Days and
10,000 in the campaign against Pope. It is not to be understood,
however, that the Duke's strategy was less skilful or less audacious
than Lee's and Jackson's. During these three years his army, largely
composed of Portuguese and Spaniards, was incapable of offensive
tactics against his veteran enemies, and he was biding his time. It
was the inefficiency of his allies and the miserable support he
received from the English Government that prevented him, until 1813,
from adopting a bolder policy.)

But if they had shown that the best defence lies in a vigorous
offensive, their offensive had not yet been applied at the decisive
point. To make victory complete it is the sounder policy to carry the
war into hostile territory. A nation endures with comparative
equanimity defeat beyond its own borders. Pride and prestige may
suffer, but a high-spirited people will seldom be brought to the
point of making terms unless its army is annihilated in the heart of
its own country, unless the capital is occupied and the hideous
sufferings of war are brought directly home to the mass of the
population. A single victory on Northern soil, within easy reach of
Washington, was far more likely to bring about the independence of
the South than even a succession of victories in Virginia. It was
time, then, for a strategic counterstroke on a larger scale than had
hitherto been attempted. The opportunity was ripe. No great risk
would be incurred by crossing the Potomac. There was no question of
meeting a more powerful enemy. "The Federals, recruited by fresh
levies; would undoubtedly be numerically the stronger; and the
Confederate equipment, despite the large captures of guns and rifles,
was still deficient. But for deficiencies in numbers and in materiel
the higher morale and the more skilful leading would make ample
compensation. It might safely be inferred that the Northern soldiers
would no longer display the cool confidence of Gaines' Mill or even
of Malvern Hill. The places of the brave and seasoned soldiers who
had fallen would be filled by recruits; and generals who had been
out-manoeuvred on so many battle-fields might fairly be expected,
when confronted once more with their dreaded opponents, to commit
even more egregious errors than those into which they had already
fallen.

September 2.

Such were the ideas entertained by Lee and accepted by the President,
and on the morning of September 2, as soon as it was found that the
Federals had sought shelter under the forts of Alexandria, Jackson
was instructed to cross the Potomac, and form the advanced guard of
the army of invasion. It may be imagined with what feelings he issued
his orders for the march on Leesburg, above which lay an easy ford.
For more than twelve months, since the very morrow of Bull Run, he
had persistently advocated an aggressive policy.* (* In Mrs.
Jackson's Memoirs of her husband a letter is quoted from her
brother-in-law, giving the substance of a conversation with General
Jackson on the conduct of the war. This letter I have not felt
justified in quoting. In the first place, it lacks corroboration; in
the second place, it contains a very incomplete statement of a large
strategical question; in the third place, the opinions put in
Jackson's mouth are not only contradictory, but altogether at
variance with his practice; and lastly, it attributes certain ideas
to the general--raising "the black flag." etc.--which his
confidential aid officers declare that he never for a moment
entertained.) The fierce battles round Richmond and Manassas he had
looked upon as merely the prelude to more resolute efforts. After he
had defeated Banks at Winchester he had urged his friend Colonel
Boteler to inform the authorities that, if they would reinforce him,
he would undertake to capture Washington. The message had been
conveyed to Lee. "Tell General Jackson," was the reply of the
Commander-in-Chief, "that he must first help me to drive these people
away from Richmond." This object had been now thoroughly
accomplished, and General Lee's decision to redeem his promise was by
none more heartily approved than by the leader of the Valley army.
And yet, though the risks of the venture were small, the prospects of
complete success were dubious. The opportunity had come, but the
means of seizing it were feeble. Lee himself was buoyed up by no
certain expectation of great results. In advocating invasion he
confessed to the President that his troops were hardly fit for
service beyond the frontier. "The army," he wrote, "is not properly
equipped for an invasion of the enemy's territory. It lacks much of
the material of war, is feeble in transportation, the animals being
much reduced, and the men are poorly provided with clothes. And in
thousands of instances are destitute of shoes...What concerns me most
is the fear of getting out of ammunition."* (* O.R. volume 19 part 2
pages 590, 591.)

This description was by no means over-coloured. As a record of
military activity the campaign of the spring and summer of 1862 has
few parallels. Jackson's division, since the evacuation of Winchester
at the end of February, that is, in six months, had taken part in no
less than eight battles and innumerable minor engagements; it had
marched nearly a thousand miles, and it had long ago discarded tents.
The remainder of the army had been hardly less severely tasked. The
demands of the outpost service in front of Richmond had been almost
as trying as the forced marches in the Valley, and the climate of the
Peninsula had told heavily on the troops. From the very first the
army had been indifferently equipped; the ill effects of hasty
organisation were still glaring; the regimental officers had not yet
learned to study the wants and comfort of their men; the troops were
harassed by the ignorance of a staff that was still half-trained, and
the commissariat officials were not abreast of their important
duties. More than all, the operations against Pope, just brought to a
successful issue, had been most arduous; and the strain on the
endurance of the troops, not yet recovered from their exertions in
the Peninsula, had been so great that a period of repose seemed
absolutely necessary. It was not only that battle and sickness had
thinned the ranks, but that those whose health had been proof against
continued hardships, and whose strength and spirit were still equal
to further efforts, were so badly shod that a few long marches over
indifferent roads were certain to be more productive of casualties
than a pitched battle. The want of boots had already been severely
felt.* (* "1000 pairs of shoes were obtained in Fredericktown, 250
pairs in Williamsport, and about 400 pairs in this city (Hagerstown).
They will not be sufficient to cover the bare feet of the army." Lee
to Davis, September 12, 1862. O.R. volume 19 part 2 page 605.) It has
been said that the route of the Confederate army from the
Rappahannock to Chantilly might have been traced by the stains of
bloody feet along the highways; and if the statement is more graphic
than exact, yet it does not fall far short of the truth. Many a stout
soldier, who had hobbled along on his bare feet until Pope was
encountered and defeated, found himself utterly incapable of marching
into Maryland. In rear of the army the roads were covered with
stragglers. Squads of infantry, banding together for protection,
toiled along painfully by easy stages, unable to keep pace with the
colours, but hoping to be up in time for the next fight; and amongst
these were not a few officers. But this was not the worst. Lax
discipline and the absence of soldierly habits asserted themselves
with the same pernicious effect as in the Valley. Not all the
stragglers had their faces turned towards the enemy, not all were
incapacitated by physical suffering. Many, without going through the
formality of asking leave, were making for their homes, and had no
idea that their conduct was in any way peculiar. They had done their
duty in more than one battle, they had been long absent from their
farms, their equipment was worn out, the enemy had been driven from
Virginia, and they considered that they were fully entitled to some
short repose. And amongst these, whose only fault was an imperfect
sense of their military obligations, was the residue of cowards and
malingerers shed by every great army engaged in protracted operations.

Lee had been joined by the divisions of D.H. Hill, McLaws, Walker,
and by Hampton's cavalry, and the strength of his force should have
been 65,000 effectives.* (* Calculated on the basis of the Field
Returns dated July 20, 1862, with the addition of Jackson's and
Ewell's divisions, and subtracting the losses (10,000) of the
campaign against Pope.) But it was evident that these numbers could
not be long maintained. The men were already accustomed to
half-rations of green corn, and they would be no worse off in
Maryland and Pennsylvania, untouched as yet by the ravages of war,
than in the wasted fields of Virginia. The most ample commissariat,
however, would not compensate for the want of boots and the want of
rest, and a campaign of invasion was certain to entail an amount of
hard marching to which the strength of the troops was hardly equal.
Not only had the South to provide from her seven millions of white
population an army larger than that of Imperial France, but from a
nation of agriculturists she had to provide another army of craftsmen
and mechanics to enable the soldiers to keep the field. For guns and
gun-carriages, powder and ammunition, clothing and harness, gunboats
and torpedoes, locomotives and railway plant, she was now dependent
on the hands of her own people and the resources of her own soil; the
organisation of those resources, scattered over a vast extent of
territory, was not to be accomplished in the course of a few months,
nor was the supply of skilled labour sufficient to fill the ranks of
her industrial army. By the autumn of 1862, although the strenuous
efforts of every Government department gave the lie to the idea, not
uncommon in the North, that the Southern character was shiftless and
the Southern intellect slow, so little real progress had been made
that if the troops had not been supplied from other sources they
could hardly have marched at all. The captures made in the Valley, in
the Peninsula, and in the Second Manassas campaign proved of
inestimable value. Old muskets were exchanged for new, smooth-bore
cannon for rifled guns, tattered blankets for good overcoats. "Mr.
Commissary Banks," his successor Pope, and McClellan himself, had
furnished their enemies with the material of war, with tents,
medicines, ambulances, and ammunition waggons. Even the vehicles at
Confederate headquarters bore on their tilts the initials U.S.A.;
many of Lee's soldiers were partially clothed in Federal uniforms,
and the bad quality of the boots supplied by the Northern contractors
was a very general subject of complaint in the Southern ranks. Nor
while the men were fighting were the women idle. The output of the
Government factories was supplemented by private enterprise.
Thousands of spinning-wheels, long silent in dusty lumber-rooms,
hummed busily in mansion and in farm; matrons and maids, from the
wife and daughters of the Commander-in-Chief to the mother of the
drummer-boy, became weavers and seamstresses; and in every household
of the Confederacy, although many of the necessities of life--salt,
coffee and sugar--had become expensive luxuries, the needs of the
army came before all else.

But notwithstanding the energy of the Government and the patriotism
of the women, the troops lacked everything but spirit. Nor, even with
more ample resources, could their wants have been readily supplied.
In any case this would have involved a long halt in a secure
position, and in a few weeks the Federal strength would be increased
by fresh levies, and the morale of their defeated troops restored.
But even had time been given the Government would have been powerless
to render substantial aid. Contingents of recruits were being drilled
into discipline at Richmond; yet they hardly exceeded 20,000 muskets;
and it was not on the Virginia frontier alone that the South was hard
pressed. The Valley of the Mississippi was beset by great armies;
Alabama was threatened, and Western Tennessee was strongly occupied;
it was already difficult to find a safe passage across the river for
the supplies furnished by the prairies of Texas and Louisiana, and
communication with Arkansas had become uncertain. If the Mississippi
were lost, not only would three of the most fertile States, as
prolific of hardy soldiers as of fat oxen, be cut off from the
remainder, but the enemy, using the river as a base, would push his
operations into the very heart of the Confederacy. To regain
possession of the great waterway seemed of more vital importance than
the defence of the Potomac or the secession of Maryland, and now that
Richmond had been relieved, the whole energy of the Government was
expended on the operations in Kentucky and Tennessee. It may well be
questioned whether a vigorous endeavour, supported by all the means
available, and even by troops drawn from the West, to defeat the Army
of the Potomac and to capture Washington, would not have been a more
efficacious means to the same end; but Davis and his Cabinet
consistently preferred dispersion to concentration, and, indeed, the
situation of the South was such as might well have disturbed the
strongest brains. The sea-power of the Union was telling with deadly
effect. Although the most important strategic points on the
Mississippi were still held by Confederate garrisons, nearly every
mile of the great river, from Cairo to New Orleans, was patrolled by
the Federal gunboats; and in deep water, from the ports of the
Atlantic to the roadsteads of the Gulf, the frigates maintained their
vigilant blockade.

Even on the northern border there was hardly a gleam of light across
the sky. The Federal forces were still formidable in numbers, and a
portion of the Army of the Potomac had not been involved in Pope's
defeat. It was possible, therefore, that more skilful generalship
than had yet been displayed by the Northern commanders might deprive
the Confederates of all chance of winning a decisive victory. Yet,
although the opportunity of meeting the enemy with a prospect of
success might never offer, an inroad into Northern territory promised
good results.

1. Maryland, still strong in sympathy with the South, might be
induced by the presence of a Southern army to rise against the Union.

2. The Federal army would be drawn off westward from its present
position; and so long as it was detained on the northern frontier of
Virginia nothing could be attempted against Richmond, while time
would be secured for improving the defences of the Confederate
capital.

3. The Shenandoah Valley would be most effectively protected, and its
produce transported without risk of interruption both to Lee's army
and to Richmond.

To obtain such advantages as these was worth an effort, and Lee,
after careful consideration, determined to cross the Potomac. The
movement was made with the same speed which had characterised the
operations against Pope. It was of the utmost importance that the
passage of the river should be accomplished before the enemy had time
to discover the design and to bar the way. Stuart's cavalry formed
the screen. On the morning after the battle of Chantilly, Fitzhugh
Lee's brigade followed the retreating Federals in the direction of
Alexandria. Hampton's brigade was pushed forward to Dranesville by
way of Hunter's Mill. Robertson's brigade made a strong demonstration
towards Washington, and Munford, with the 2nd Virginia, cleared out a
Federal detachment which occupied Leesburg. Behind the cavalry the
army marched unmolested and unobserved.1

September 6.

D.H. Hill's division was pushed forward as advanced guard; Jackson's
troops, who had been granted a day's rest, brought up the rear, and
on the morning of the 6th reached White's Ford on the Potomac.
Through the silver reaches of the great river the long columns of men
and waggons, preceded by Fitzhugh Lee's brigade, splashed and
stumbled, and passing through the groves of oaks which overhung the
water, wound steadily northward over the green fields of Maryland.

(1 The Army of Northern Virginia was thus organised during the
Maryland campaign:--

Longstreet's  McLaws' Division                   = 35,600
              R.H. Anderson's Division
              D.R. Jones' Division
              J.G. Walker's Division
              Evans' Brigade
              Washington Artillery
              S.D. Lee's Artillery battalion

Jackson's     Ewell's (Lawton) Division          = 16,800
              The Light (A.P. Hill) Division
              Jackson's own (J.R. Jones) Division

              D.H. Hill's Division               =  7,000

Pendleton's Reserve Artillery, 4 battalions      =  1,000

Stuart        Hampton's Brigade                  =  4,000
              Fitzhugh Lee's Brigade
              Robertson's Brigade
              3 H.A. Batteries, Captain Pelham

                                           Total   64,400

No allowance has been made for straggling. It is doubtful if more
than 55,000 men entered Maryland.)

September 7.

The next day Frederick was occupied by Jackson, who was once more in
advance; the cavalry at Urbanna watched the roads to Washington, and
every city in the North was roused by the tidings that the grey
jackets had crossed the border. But although the army had entered
Maryland without the slightest difficulty, the troops were not
received with the enthusiasm they had anticipated. The women, indeed,
emulating their Virginia sisters, gave a warm welcome to the heroes
of so many victories. But the men, whether terrorised by the stern
rule of the Federal Government, or mistrusting the power of the
Confederates to secure them from further punishment, showed little
disposition to join the ranks. It is possible that the appearance of
the Southern soldiery was not without effect. Lee's troops, after
five months' hard marching and hard fighting, were no delectable
objects. With torn and brimless hats, strands of rope for belts, and
raw-hide moccasins of their own manufacture in lieu of boots; covered
with vermin, and carrying their whole kit in Federal haversacks, the
ragged scarecrows who swarmed through the streets of Frederick
presented a pitiful contrast to the trim battalions which had
hitherto held the Potomac. Their conduct indeed was exemplary. They
had been warned that pillage and depredations would be severely dealt
with, and all requisitions, even of fence-rails, were paid for on the
spot. Still recruits were few. The warworn aspect and indifferent
equipment of the "dirty darlings," as more than one fair Marylander
spoke of Jackson's finest soldiers, failed to inspire confidence, and
it was soon evident that the western counties of Maryland had small
sympathy with the South.

There were certainly exceptions to the general absence of cordiality.
The troops fared well during their sojourn in Frederick. Supplies
were plentiful; food and clothing were gratuitously distributed, and
Jackson was presented with a fine but unbroken charger. The gift was
timely, for "Little Sorrel," the companion of so many marches, was
lost for some days after the passage of the Potomac; but the
Confederacy was near paying a heavy price for the "good grey mare."
When Jackson first mounted her a band struck up close by, and as she
reared the girth broke, throwing her rider to the ground.
Fortunately, though stunned and severely bruised, the general was
only temporarily disabled, and, if he appeared but little in public
during his stay in Frederick, his inaccessibility was not due to
broken bones. "Lee, Longstreet, and Jackson, and for a time Jeb
Stuart," writes a staff officer, "had their headquarters near one
another in Best's Grove. Hither in crowds came the good people of
Frederick, especially the ladies, as to a fair. General Jackson,
still suffering from his hurt, kept to his tent, busying himself with
maps and official papers, and declined to see visitors. Once,
however, when he had been called to General Lee's tent, two young
girls waylaid him, paralysed him with smiles and questions, and then
jumped into their carriage and drove off rapidly, leaving him there,
cap in hand, bowing, blushing, speechless. But once safe in his tent,
he was seen no more that day."* (* "Stonewall Jackson in Maryland."
Colonel H.K. Douglas. Battles and Leaders volume 2 page 621.) The
next evening (Sunday) he went with his staff to service in the town,
and slept soundly, as he admitted to his wife, through the sermon of
a minister of the German Reformed Church.* (* "The minister," says
Colonel Douglas, "was credited with much loyalty and courage, because
he had prayed for the President of the United States in the very
presence of Stonewall Jackson. Well, the general didn't hear the
prayer, and if he had he would doubtless have felt like replying as
General Ewell did, when asked at Carlisle, Pennsylvania, if he would
permit the usual prayer for President Lincoln--'Certainly; I'm sure
he needs it'")

But it was not for long that the Confederates were permitted to
repose in Frederick. The enemy had made no further reply to the
passage of the Potomac beyond concentrating to the west of
Washington. McClellan, who had superseded Pope, was powerless, owing
to the inefficiency of his cavalry, to penetrate the cordon of
Stuart's pickets, and to ascertain, even approximately, the
dispositions of the invading force. He was still in doubt if the
whole or only part of Lee's army had crossed into Maryland; and
whether his adversary intended to attack Washington by the  bank
of the Potomac, to move on Baltimore, or to invade Pennsylvania, were
questions which he had no means of determining. This uncertainty
compelled him to move cautiously, and on September 9 his advanced
guard was still twenty miles east of Frederick.

Nevertheless, the situation of the Confederates had become suddenly
complicated. When the march into Maryland was begun, three towns in
the Valley were held by the Federals. 3000 infantry and artillery
occupied Winchester. 3000 cavalry were at Martinsburg; and Harper's
Ferry, in process of conversion into an intrenched camp, had a
garrison of 8000 men. Lee was well aware of the presence of these
forces when he resolved to cross the Potomac, but he believed that
immediately his advance threatened to separate them from the main
army, and to leave them isolated, they would be ordered to insure
their safety by a timely retreat. Had it depended upon McClellan this
would have been done. Halleck, however, thought otherwise; and the
officer commanding at Harper's Ferry was ordered to hold his works
until McClellan should open communication with him.

On arrival at Frederick, therefore, the Confederates, contrary to
anticipation, found 14,000 Federals still established in their rear,
and although Winchester had been evacuated,* (* On the night of
September 2. Lee's Report, O.R. volume 19 part 1 page 139.) it was
clear that Harper's Ferry was to be defended. The existence of the
intrenched camp was a serious obstacle to the full development of
Lee's designs. His line of communication had hitherto run from
Rapidan Station to Manassas Junction, and thence by Leesburg and
Point of Rocks to Frederick. This line was within easy reach of
Washington, and liable to be cut at any moment by the enemy's
cavalry. Arrangements had therefore been already made to transfer the
line to the Valley. There, sheltered by the Blue Ridge, the convoys
of sick and wounded, of arms, clothing, and ammunition, could move in
security from Staunton to Shepherdstown, and the recruits which were
accumulating at Richmond be sent to join the army in Northern
territory. But so long as Harper's Ferry was strongly garrisoned this
new line would be liable to constant disturbance, and it was
necessary that the post should either be masked by a superior force,
or carried by a coup de main. The first of these alternatives was at
once rejected, for the Confederate numbers were too small to permit
any permanent detachment of a considerable force, and without
hesitation Lee determined to adopt the bolder course. 25,000 men, he
considered, would be no more than sufficient to effect his object.
But 25,000 men were practically half the army, and the plan, when
laid before the generals, was not accepted without remonstrance.
Longstreet, indeed, went so far as to refuse command of the
detachment. "I objected," he writes, "and urged that our troops were
worn with marching and were on short rations, and that it would be a
bad idea to divide our forces while we were in the enemy's country,
where he could get information, in six or eight hours, of any
movement we might make. The Federal army, though beaten at the Second
Manassas, was not disorganised, and it would certainly come out to
look for us, and we should guard against being caught in such a
condition. Our army consisted of a superior quality of soldiers, but
it was in no condition to divide in the enemy's country. I urged that
we should keep it in hand, recruit our strength, and get up supplies,
and then we could do anything we pleased. General Lee made no reply
to this, and I supposed the Harper's Ferry scheme was abandoned."* (*
Battles and Leaders volume 2 page 662.)

Jackson, too, would have preferred to fight McClellan first, and
consider the question of communicating afterwards;* (* Dabney volume
2 page 302.) but he accepted with alacrity the duty which his
colleague had declined. His own divisions, reinforced by those of
McLaws, R. H. Anderson,* (* Anderson was placed under McLaws'
command.) and Walker, were detailed for the expedition; Harper's
Ferry was to be invested on three sides, and the march was to begin
at daybreak on September 10. Meanwhile, the remainder of the army was
to move north-west to Hagerstown, five-and-twenty miles from
Frederick, where it would alarm Lincoln for the safety of
Pennsylvania, and be protected from McClellan by the parallel ranges
of the Catoctin and South Mountains.

Undoubtedly, in ordinary circumstances, General Longstreet would have
been fully justified in protesting against the dispersion of the army
in the presence of the enemy. Hagerstown and Harper's Ferry are
five-and-twenty miles apart, and the Potomac was between them.
McClellan's advanced guard, on the other hand, was thirty miles from
Harper's Ferry, and forty-five from Hagerstown. The Federals were
advancing, slowly and cautiously it is true, but still pushing
westward, and it was certainly possible, should they receive early
intelligence of the Confederate movements, that before Harper's Ferry
fell a rapid march might enable them to interpose between Lee and
Jackson. But both Lee and Jackson calculated the chances with a surer
grasp of the several factors. Had the general in command of the
Federal army been bold and enterprising, had the Federal cavalry been
more efficient, or Stuart less skilful, they would certainly have
hesitated before running the risk of defeat in detail. But so long as
McClellan controlled the movements of the enemy, rapid and decisive
action was not to be apprehended; and it was exceedingly improbable
that the scanty and unreliable information which he might obtain from
civilian sources would induce him to throw off his customary caution.
Moreover, only a fortnight previously the Federal army had been
heavily defeated.* (* "Are you acquainted with McClellan?" said Lee
to General Walker on September 8, 1862. "He is an able general but a
very cautious one. His enemies among his own people think him too
much so. His army is in a very demoralised and chaotic condition, and
will not be prepared for offensive operations--or he will not think
it so--for three or four weeks."--Battles and Leaders volume 2 pages
605 and 606.)

September 10.

Lee had resolved to woo fortune while she was in the mood. The
movement against Harper's Ferry once determined, it was essential
that it should be carried out with the utmost speed, and Jackson
marched with even more than ordinary haste, but without omitting his
usual precautions. Before starting he asked for a map of the
Pennsylvania frontier, and made many inquiries as to roads and
localities to the north of Frederick, whereas his route lay in the
opposite direction. "The cavalry, which preceded the column," says
Colonel Douglas, "had instructions to let no civilian go to the
front, and we entered each village we passed before the inhabitants
knew of our coming. In Middletown two very pretty girls, with ribbons
of red, white, and blue floating from their hair, and small Union
flags in their hands, rushed out of a house as we passed, came to the
kerbstone, and with much laughter waved their flags defiantly in the
face of the general. He bowed, raised his hat, and turning with his
quiet smile to the staff, said, 'We evidently have no friends in this
town.'"

September 11.

"Having crossed South Mountain at Turner's Gap, the command encamped
for the night within a mile of Boonsboro' (fourteen miles from
Frederick). Here General Jackson must determine whether he would go
to Williamsport or turn towards Shepherdstown. I at once rode into
the village with a cavalryman to make some inquiries, but we ran into
a Federal squadron, who without ceremony proceeded to make war upon
us. We retraced our steps, and although we did not stand upon the
order of our going, a squad of them escorted us out of the town with
great rapidity. Reaching the top of the hill, we discovered, just
over it, General Jackson, walking slowly towards us, leading his
horse. There was but one thing to do. Fortunately the chase had
become less vigorous, and with a cry of command to unseen troops, we
turned and charged the enemy. They, suspecting trouble, turned and
fled, while the general quickly galloped to the rear. As I returned
to camp I picked up the gloves which he had dropped in mounting, and
took them to him. Although he had sent a regiment of infantry to the
front as soon as he went back, the only allusion he made to the
incident was to express the opinion that I had a very fast horse.

The next morning, having learned that the Federal troops still
occupied Martinsburg, General Jackson took the direct road to
Williamsport. He then forded the Potomac, the troops singing, the
bands playing "Carry me back to ole Virginny!" We marched on
Martinsburg.

September 12.

General A.P. Hill took the direct turnpike, while Jackson, with the
rest of his command, followed a side road, so as to approach
Martinsburg from the west, and encamped four miles from the town. His
object was to drive General White, who occupied Martinsburg, towards
Harper's Ferry, and thus "corral" all the Federal troops in that
military pen. As the Comte de Paris puts it, he "organised a grand
hunting match through the lower Valley, driving all the Federal
detachments before him and forcing them to crowd into the blind alley
of Harper's Ferry."

"The next morning the Confederates entered Martinsburg. Here the
general was welcomed with enthusiasm, and a great crowd hastened to
the hotel to greet him. At first he shut himself up in a room to
write dispatches, but the demonstration became so persistent that he
ordered the door to be opened. The crowd, chiefly ladies, rushed in
and embarrassed the general with every possible outburst of
affection, to which he could only reply, "Thank you, you are very
kind." He gave them his autograph in books and on scraps of paper,
cut a button from his coat for a little girl, and then submitted
patiently to an attack by the others, who soon stripped the coat of
nearly all the remaining buttons. But when they looked beseechingly
at his hair, which was thin, he drew the line, and managed to close
the interview. These blandishments did not delay his movements,
however, for in the afternoon he was off again, and his troops
bivouacked on the banks of the Opequon."* (* Battles and Leaders
volume 2 pages 622 and 623. Major Hotchkiss relates that the ladies
of Martinsburg made such desperate assaults on the mane and tail of
the general's charger that he had at last to post a sentry over the
stable.)

September 13th.

On the 13th Jackson passed through Halltown and halted a mile north
of that village,* (* On September 10 he marched fourteen miles, on
September 11 twenty, on September 12 sixteen, and on September 13
twelve, arriving at Halltown at 11 A.M.) throwing out pickets to hold
the roads which lead south and west from Harper's Ferry. Meanwhile,
McLaws and Walker had taken possession of the heights to the north
and east, and the intrenched camp of the Federals, which, in addition
to the garrison, now held the troops who had fled from Martinsburg,
was surrounded on every side. The Federal officer in command had 
but one brigade and two batteries to hold the Maryland Heights, the
long ridge, 1000 feet high, on the north shore of the Potomac, which
looks down on the streets of the little town. This detachment,
although strongly posted, and covered by breastworks and abattis, was
driven off by General McLaws; while the Loudoun Heights, a portion of
the Blue Ridge, east of the Shenandoah, and almost equally
commanding, were occupied without opposition by General Walker.
Harper's Ferry was now completely surrounded. Lee's plans had been
admirably laid and precisely executed, and the surrender of the place
was merely a question of hours.

Nor had matters progressed less favourably elsewhere. In exact
accordance with the anticipations of Lee and Jackson, McClellan, up
till noon on the 13th, had received no inkling whatever of the
dangerous manoeuvres which Stuart so effectively concealed, and his
march was very slow. On the 12th, after a brisk skirmish with the
Confederate cavalry, his advanced guard had occupied Frederick, and
discovered that the enemy had marched off in two columns, one towards
Hagerstown, the other towards Harper's Ferry, but he was uncertain
whether Lee intended to recross the Potomac or to move northwards
into Pennsylvania. On the morning of the 13th, although General
Hooker, commanding the First Army Corps, took the liberty of
reporting that, in his opinion, "the rebels had no more intention of
going to Pennsylvania than they had of going to heaven," the Federal
Commander-in-Chief was still undecided, and on the Boonsboro' road
only his cavalry was pushed forward. In four days McClellan had
marched no more than five-and-twenty miles; he had been unable to
open communication with Harper's Ferry, and he had moved with even
more than his usual caution. But at noon on the 13th he was suddenly
put into possession of the most ample information. A copy of Lee's
order for the investment of Harper's Ferry, in which the exact
position of each separate division of the Confederate army was laid
down, was picked up in the streets of Frederick, and chance had
presented McClellan with an opportunity unique in history.* (*
General Longstreet, in his From Manassas to Appomattox, declares that
the lost order was sent by General Jackson to General D.H. Hill, "but
was not delivered. The order," he adds, "that was sent to General
Hill from general headquarters was carefully preserved." General
Hill, however, in Battles and Leaders volume 2 page 570 (note), says:
"It was proper that I should receive that order through Jackson, and
not through me. I have now before me (1888) the order received from
Jackson. My adjutant-general swore affidavit, twenty years ago, that
no order was received at our office from General Lee." Jackson was so
careful that no one should learn the contents of the order that the
copy he furnished to Hill was written by his own hand. The copy found
by the Federals was wrapped round three cigars, and was signed by
Lee's adjutant-general.) He was within twenty miles of Harper's
Ferry. The Confederates were more than that distance apart. The
intrenched camp still held out, for the sound of McLaws' battle on
the Maryland Heights was distinctly heard during the afternoon, and a
resolute advance would have either compelled the Confederates to
raise the siege, or have placed the Federal army between their widely
separated wings.

But, happily for the South, McClellan was not the man for the
opportunity. He still hesitated, and during the afternoon of the 13th
only one division was pushed forward. In front of him was the South
Mountain, the name given to the continuation of the Blue Ridge north
of the Potomac, and the two passes, Turner's and Crampton's Gaps,
were held by Stuart. No Confederate infantry, as Lee's order
indicated, with the exception, perhaps, of a rear-guard, were nearer
the passes than the Maryland Heights and Boonsboro'.* (* For the lost
order, see Note at end of chapter.) The roads were good and the
weather fine, and a night march of twelve miles would have placed the
Federal advanced guards at the foot of the mountains, ready to force
the Gaps at earliest dawn. McClellan, however, although his men had
made no unusual exertions during the past few days, preferred to wait
till daylight.

Nevertheless, on the night of the 13th disaster threatened the
Confederates. Harper's Ferry had not yet fallen, and, in addition to
the cavalry, D.H. Hill's division was alone available to defend the
passes. Lee, however, still relying on McClellan's irresolution,
determined to hold South Mountain, thus gaining time for the
reduction of Harper's Ferry, and Longstreet was ordered back from
Hagerstown, thirteen miles west of Boonsboro', to Hill's assistance.

September 14.

On the same night Jackson, at Halltown, opened communications with
McLaws and Walker, and on the next morning (Sunday) he made the
necessary arrangements to ensure combination in the attack. The
Federal lines, although commanded by the Maryland and Loudoun Heights
to the north and east, opposed a strong front to the south and west.
The Bolivar Heights, an open plateau, a mile and a quarter in length,
which has the Potomac on the one flank and the Shenandoah on the
other, was defended by several batteries and partially intrenched.
Moreover, it was so far from the summits occupied by McLaws and
Walker that their guns, although directed against the enemy's rear,
could hardly render effective aid; only the extremities of the
plateau were thoroughly exposed to fire from the heights.

In order to facilitate communication across the two great rivers
Jackson ordered a series of signal stations to be established, and
while his own batteries were taking up their ground to assail the
Bolivar Heights he issued his instructions to his colleagues. At ten
o'clock the flags on the Loudoun Heights signalled that Walker had
six rifled guns in position. He was ordered to wait until McLaws, who
was employed in cutting roads through the woods, should have done the
same, and the following message explained the method of attack:--

"General McLaws,--If you can, establish batteries to drive the enemy
from the hill west of Bolivar and on which Barbour's House is, and
from any other position where he may be damaged by your artillery.
Let me know when you are ready to open your batteries, and give me
any suggestions by which you can operate against the enemy. Cut the
telegraph line down the Potomac if it is not already done. Keep a
good look-out against a Federal advance from below. Similar
instructions will be sent to General Walker. I do not desire any of
the batteries to open until all are ready on both sides of the river,
except you should find it necessary, of which you must judge for
yourself. I will let you know when to open all the batteries.

"T.J. JACKSON,

"Major-General Commanding."* (* Report of Signal Officer, O.R. volume
19 part 1 page 958.)

About half-past two in the afternoon McLaws reported that his guns
were up, and a message "to fire at such positions of the enemy as
will be most effective," followed the formal orders for the
co-operation of the whole force.

"Headquarters, Valley District,

"September 14, 1862.

"1. To-day Major-General McLaws will attack so as to sweep with his
artillery the ground occupied by the enemy, take his batteries in
reverse, and otherwise operate against him as circumstances may
justify.

"2. Brigadier-General Walker will take in reverse the battery on the
turnpike, and sweep with his artillery the ground occupied by the
enemy, and silence the batteries on the island of the Shenandoah
should he find a battery (sic) there.

"3. Major-General A.P. Hill will move along the  bank of the
Shenandoah, and thus turn the enemy's  flank and enter Harper's
Ferry.

"4. Brigadier-General Lawton will move along the turnpike for the
purpose of supporting General Hill, and otherwise operating against
the enemy to the  of General Hill.

"5. Brigadier-General Jones will, with one of his brigades and a
battery of artillery, make a demonstration against the enemy's ;
the remaining part of his division will constitute the reserve and
move along the turnpike.

"By order of Major-General Jackson,

"WM. L. JACKSON,

"Acting Assistant Adjutant-General"* (* Report of Signal Officer,
O.R. volume 19 part 1 page 659.)

Jackson, it appears, was at first inclined to send a flag of truce,
for the purpose of giving the civilian population time to get away,
should the garrison refuse to surrender; but during the morning heavy
firing was heard to the northward, and McLaws reported that he had
been obliged to detach troops to guard his rear against McClellan.
The batteries were therefore ordered to open fire on the Federal
works without further delay.

According to General Walker, Jackson, although he was aware that
McClellan had occupied Frederick, not over twenty miles distant,
could not bring himself to believe that his old classmate had
overcome his prudential instincts, and attributed the sounds of
battle to a cavalry engagement. It is certain that he never for a
single moment anticipated a resolute attempt to force the passages of
the South Mountain, for, in reply to McLaws, he merely instructed him
to ask General P. H. Hill to protect his rear, and to communicate
with Lee at Hagerstown. Had he entertained the slightest suspicion
that McClellan was advancing with his whole force against the
passages of the South Mountain, he would hardly have suggested that
Hill would be asked to defend Crampton's as well as Turner's Gap.

(MAP OF HARPER'S FERRY)

With full confidence, therefore, that he would have time to enforce
the surrender of Harper's Ferry and to join Lee on the further bank
of the Potomac, the progress of his attack was cautious and
methodical. "The position in front of me," he wrote to McLaws, "is a
strong one, and I desire to remain quiet, and let you and Walker draw
attention from Furnace Hill (west of Bolivar Heights), so that I may
have an opportunity of getting possession of the hill without much
loss." It was not, then, till the artillery had been long in action,
and the fire of the enemy's guns had been in some degree subdued,
that the infantry was permitted to advance. Although the Federal
batteries opened vigorously on the lines of skirmishers, the
casualties were exceedingly few. The troops found cover in woods and
broken ground, and before nightfall Hill had driven in the enemy's
pickets, and had secured a knoll on their  flank which afforded
an admirable position for artillery. Lawton, in the centre, occupied
a ridge over which ran the Charlestown turnpike, brought his guns
into action, and formed his regiments for battle in the woods. Jones'
division held the Shepherdstown road on Lawton's , seized Furnace
Hill, and pushed two batteries forward.

No attempt was made during this Sunday evening to storm the Bolivar
Heights; and yet, although the Confederate infantry had been hardly
engaged, the enemy had been terribly shaken. From every point of the
compass, from the lofty crests which looked down upon the town, from
the woods towards Charlestown, from the hill to westward, a ceaseless
hail of shells had swept the narrow neck to which the garrison was
confined. Several guns had been dismounted. More than one regiment of
raw troops had dispersed in panic, and had been with difficulty
rallied. The roads were furrowed with iron splinters. Many buildings
had been demolished, and although the losses among the infantry,
covered by their parapets, had been insignificant, the batteries had
come almost to their last round.

During the night Jackson made preparations for an early assault. Two
of A.P. Hill's brigades, working their way along the bank of the
Shenandoah, over ground which the Federal commander had considered
impassable, established themselves to the  rear of the Bolivar
Heights. Guns were brought up to the knoll which Hill had seized
during the afternoon; and ten pieces, which Jackson had ordered to be
taken across the Shenandoah by Keyes' Ford, were placed in a position
whence they could enfilade the enemy's works at effective range.
Lawton and Jones pushed forward their lines until they could hear
voices in the intrenchments; and a girdle of bayonets, closely
supported by many batteries, encircled the hapless Federals. The
assault was to be preceded by a heavy bombardment, and the advance
was to be made as soon as Hill's guns ceased fire.

September 15.

All night long the Confederates slept upon their arms, waiting for
the dawn. When day broke, a soft silver mist, rising from the broad
Potomac, threw its protecting folds over Harper's Ferry. But the
Southern gunners knew the direction of their targets; the clouds were
rent by the passage of screaming shells, and as the sun, rising over
the Loudoun Heights, dispersed the vapour, the whole of Jackson's
artillery became engaged. The Federal batteries, worked with stubborn
courage, and showing a bold front to every fresh opponent, maintained
the contest for an hour; but, even if ammunition had not failed them,
they could not have long withstood the terrible fire which took them
in front, in flank, and in reverse.* (* The ten guns which had been
carried across the Shenandoah were specially effective. Report of
Colonel Crutchfield, Jackson's chief of artillery. O.R. volume 19
part 1 page 962.) Then, perceiving that the enemy's guns were
silenced, Hill ordered his batteries to cease fire, and threw forward
his brigades against the ridge. Staunch to the last, the Federal
artillerymen ran their pieces forward, and opened on the Confederate
infantry. Once more the long line of Jackson's guns crashed out in
answer, and two batteries, galloping up to within four hundred yards
of the ridge, poured in a destructive fire over the heads of their
own troops. Hill's brigades, when the artillery duel recommenced, had
halted at the foot of the slope. Beyond, over the bare fields, the
way was obstructed by felled timber, the lopped branches of which
were closely interlaced, and above the abattis rose the line of
breastworks. But before the charge was sounded the Confederate
gunners completed the work they had so well begun. At 7.30 A.M. the
white flag was hoisted, and with the loss of no more than 100 men
Jackson had captured Harper's Ferry with his artillery alone.

The general was near the church in the wood on the Charlestown road,
and Colonel Douglas was sent forward to ascertain the enemy's
purpose. "Near the top of the hill," he writes, "I met General White
(commanding the Federals), and told him my mission. Just then General
Hill came up from the direction of his line, and on his request I
conducted them to General Jackson, whom I found sitting on his horse
where I had  him. He was not, as the Comte de Paris says, leaning
against a tree asleep, but exceedingly wide-awake...The surrender was
unconditional, and then General Jackson turned the matter over to
General A.P. Hill, who allowed General White the same liberal terms
that Grant afterwards gave Lee at Appomattox. The fruits of the
surrender were 12,520 prisoners, 13,000 small arms, 73 pieces of
artillery, and several hundred waggons.

"General Jackson, after a brief dispatch to General Lee announcing
the capitulation, rode up to Bolivar and down into Harper's Ferry.
The curiosity in the Union army to see him was so great that the
soldiers lined the sides of the road. Many of them uncovered as he
passed, and he invariably returned the salute. One man had an echo of
response all about him when he said aloud:
"Boys, he's not much for looks, but if we'd had him we wouldn't have
been caught in this trap.""* (* Battles and Leaders volume 2 pages
625 to 627.)

The completeness of the victory was marred by the escape of the
Federal cavalry. Under cover of the night 1200 horsemen, crossing the
pontoon bridge, and passing swiftly up the towpath under the Maryland
Heights, had ridden boldly beneath the muzzles of McLaws' batteries,
and, moving north-west, had struck out for Pennsylvania. Yet the
capture of Harper's Ferry was a notable exploit, although Jackson
seems to have looked upon it as a mere matter of course.

"Through God's blessing," he reported to Lee at eight o'clock,
"Harper's Ferry and its garrison are to be surrendered. As Hill's
troops have borne the heaviest part of the engagement, he will be
 in command until the prisoners and public property shall be
disposed of, unless you direct otherwise. The other forces can move
off this evening so soon as they get their rations. To what point
shall they move? I write at this time in order that you may be
apprised of the condition of things. You may expect to hear from me
again to-day, after I get more information respecting the number of
prisoners, etc."* (* O.R. volume 19 part 1 page 951. General
Longstreet (From Manassas to Appomattox page 233) suggests that
Jackson, after the capitulation of Harper's Ferry, should have moved
east of South Mountain against McClellan's rear. Jackson, however,
was acquainted neither with McClellan's position nor with Lee's
intentions, and nothing could have justified such a movement except
the direct order of the Commander-in-Chief.)

Lee, with D.H. Hill, Longstreet, and Stuart, was already falling back
from the South Mountain to Sharpsburg, a little village on the 
bank of the Antietam Creek; and late in the afternoon Jackson,
Walker, and McLaws were ordered to rejoin without delay.* (* The
Invasion of Maryland, General Longstreet, Battles and Leaders volume
2 page 666.) September 14 had been an anxious day for the Confederate
Commander-in-Chief. During the morning D.H. Hill, with no more than
5000 men in his command, had seen the greater part of McClellan's
army deploy for action in the wide valley below and to the eastward
of Turner's Gap. Stuart held the woods below Crampton's Gap, six
miles south, with Robertson's brigade, now commanded by the gallant
Munford; and on the heights above McLaws had posted three brigades,
for against this important pass, the shortest route by which the
Federals could interpose between Lee and Jackson, McClellan's 
wing, consisting of 20,000 men under General Franklin, was steadily
advancing.

The positions at both Turner's and Crampton's Gaps were very strong.
The passes, at their highest points, are at least 600 feet above the
valley, and the slopes steep, rugged, and thickly wooded. The enemy's
artillery had little chance. Stone walls, running parallel to the
crest, gave much protection to the Southern infantry, and loose
boulders and rocky scarps increased the difficulties of the ascent.
But the numbers available for defence were very small; and had
McClellan marched during the night he would probably have been master
of the passes before midday. As it was, Crampton's Gap was not
attacked by Franklin until noon; and although at the same hour the
advanced guard of the Federal  wing had gained much ground, it
was not till four in the evening that a general attack was made on
Turner's Gap. By this time Longstreet, after a march of thirteen
miles, had reached the battle-field;* and despite the determination
with which the attack was pressed, Turner's Gap was still held when
darkness fell. (* The order for the march had been given the night
before (The Invasion of Maryland, General Longstreet, Battles and
Leaders volume 2 page 666), and there seems to have been no good
reason, even admitting the heat and dust, that Longstreet's command
should not have joined him at noon. The troops marched "at daylight"
(5 A.M.), and took ten hours to march thirteen miles. As it was, only
four of the brigades took part in the action, and did so, owing to
their late arrival, in very disjointed fashion. Not all the
Confederate generals appear to have possessed the same "driving
power" as Jackson.)

The defence of Crampton's Gap had been less successful. Franklin had
forced the pass before five o'clock, and driving McLaws' three
brigades before him, had firmly established himself astride the
summit. The Confederate losses were larger than those which they had
inflicted. McClellan reports 1791 casualties on the , Franklin
533 on the . McLaws' and Munford's loss was over 800, of whom 400
were captured. The number of killed and wounded in Hill's and
Longstreet's commands is unknown; it probably reached a total of
1500, and 1100 of their men were marched to Frederick as prisoners.
Thus the day's fighting had cost the South 3400 men. Moreover,
Longstreet's ammunition column, together with an escort of 600 men,
had been cut up by the cavalry which had escaped from Harper's Ferry,
and which had struck the Hagerstown road as it marched northward into
Pennsylvania. Yet, on the whole, Lee had no reason to be chagrined
with the result of his operations. McClellan had acted with
unexpected vigour. But neither in strategy nor in tactics had he
displayed improvement on his Peninsular methods. He should have
thrown the bulk of his army against Crampton's Gap, thus intervening
between Lee and Jackson; but instead of doing so he had directed
70,000 men against Turner's Gap. Nor had the attack on Hill and
Longstreet been characterised by resolution. The advanced guard was
 unsupported until 2 P.M., and not more than 30,000 men were
employed throughout the day. Against this number 8000 Confederates
had held the pass. Cobb, one of McLaws' brigadiers, who commanded the
defence at Crampton's Gap, though driven down the mountain, had
offered a stout resistance to superior forces; and twenty-four hours
had been gained for Jackson. On the other hand, in face of superior
numbers, the position at Turner's Gap had become untenable; and
during the night Hill and Longstreet marched to Sharpsburg.

September 15.

This enforced retreat was not without effect on the morale of either
army. McClellan was as exultant as he was credulous. "I have just
learned," he reported to Halleck at 8 A.M. on the 15th, "from General
Hooker, in advance, that the enemy is making for Shepherdstown in a
perfect panic; and that General Lee last night stated publicly that
he must admit they had been shockingly whipped. I am hurrying forward
to endeavour to press their retreat to the utmost." Then, two hours
later: "Information this moment received completely confirms the rout
and demoralisation of the rebel army. It is stated that Lee gives his
losses as 15,000. We are following as rapidly as the men can move."*
(* O.R. volume 19 pages 294, 295.) Nor can it be doubted that
McClellan's whole army, unaccustomed to see their antagonists give
ground before them, shared the general's mood.* (* "The morale of our
men is now restored." McClellan to Halleck after South Mountain. O.R.
volume 19 part 2 page 294.) Amongst the Confederates, on the other
hand, there was some depression. It could not be disguised that a
portion of the troops had shown symptoms of demoralisation. The
retreat to the Antietam, although effectively screened by Fitzhugh
Lee's brigade of cavalry, was not effected in the best of order. Many
of the regiments had been broken by the hard fighting on the
mountain; men had become lost in the forest, or had sought safety to
the rear; and the number of stragglers was very large. It was not,
then, with its usual confidence that the army moved into position on
the ridge above the Antietam Creek. General Longstreet, indeed, was
of opinion that the army should have recrossed the Potomac at once.
"The moral effect of our move into Maryland had been lost by our
discomfiture at South Mountain, and it was evident we could not hope
to concentrate in time to do more than make a respectable retreat,
whereas by retiring before the battle of Sharpsburg we could have
claimed a very successful campaign."* (* Battles and Leaders volume 2
pages 666, 667.) So spake the voice of prudence. Lee, however, so
soon as he was informed of the fall of Harper's Ferry, had ordered
Jackson to join him, resolving to hold his ground, and to bring
McClellan to a decisive battle on the north bank of the Potomac.

Although 45,000 men--for Lee at most could count on no more than this
number, so great had been the straggling--were about to receive the
attack of over 90,000, Jackson, when he reached Sharpsburg on the
morning of the 16th, heartily approved the Commander-in-Chief's
decision, and it is worth while to consider the reasons which led
them to disagree with Longstreet.

1. Under ordinary conditions, to expect an army of 45,000 to wrest
decisive victory from one of 90,000 well-armed enemies would be to
demand an impossibility. The defence, when two armies are equally
matched, is physically stronger than the attack, although we have
Napoleon's word for it that the defence has the harder task. But that
the inherent strength of the defence is so great as to enable the
smaller force to annihilate its enemy is contrary to all the teaching
of history. By making good use of favourable ground, or by
constructing substantial works, the smaller force may indeed stave
off defeat and gain time. But it can hope for nothing more. The
records of warfare contain no instance, when two armies were of much
the same quality, of the smaller army bringing the campaign to a
decisive issue by defensive tactics. Wellington and Lee both fought
many defensive battles with inferior forces. But neither of them,
under such conditions, ever achieved the destruction of their enemy.
They fought such battles to gain time, and their hopes soared no
higher. At Talavera, Busaco, Fuentes d'Onor, where the French were
superior to the allies, Wellington repulsed the attack, but he did
not prevent the defeated armies taking the field again in a few days.
At the Wilderness, Spotsylvania, the North Anna, and Cold Harbour,
the great battles of 1864, Lee maintained his ground, but he did not
prevent Grant moving round his flank in the direction of Richmond. At
the Second Manassas, Jackson stood fast for the greater part of two
days, but he would never have driven Pope across Bull Run without the
aid of Longstreet. Porter at Gaines' Mill held 55,000 men with 35,000
for more than seven hours, but even if he had maintained his
position, the Confederate army would not have become a mob of
fugitives. No; except on peculiarly favourable ground, or when
defending an intrenched camp, an army matched with one of equal
efficiency and numerically superior, can never hope for decisive
success. So circumstanced, a wise general will rather retreat than
fight, and thus save his men for a more favourable opportunity.* (*
Before Salamanca, for instance, because Marmont, whose strength was
equal to his own, was about to be reinforced by 4000 cavalry,
Wellington had determined to retreat. It is true, however, that when
weaker than Massena, whom he had already worsted, by 8000 infantry
and 3800 sabres, but somewhat stronger in artillery, he stood to
receive attack at Fuentes d'Onor. Yet Napier declares that it was a
very audacious resolution. The knowledge and experience of the great
historian told him that to pit 32,000 Infantry against 40,000 was to
trust too much to fortune.)

But Lee and Jackson had not to deal with ordinary conditions.
Whatever may have been the case in the Peninsula and in the Valley,
there can be no question but that the armies in Maryland were by no
means equal in quality. The Federals were far more accustomed to
retreat than advance. For several months, whether they were engaged
on the Shenandoah, on the Chickahominy, on the Rappahannock, or on
Bull Run, they had been invariably outmanoeuvered. Their losses had
been exceedingly severe, not only in battle, but from sickness and
straggling. Many of their bravest officers and men had fallen. With
the exception of the Second and Sixth Army Corps, commanded by Sumner
and by Franklin, by far the greater part of the troops had been
involved in Pope's defeat, and they had not that trust in their
leaders which promises a strong offensive. While at Washington the
army had been reinforced by twenty-four regiments of infantry, but
the majority of these troops had been but lately raised; they knew
little of drill; they were commanded by officers as ignorant as
themselves, and they had never fired a musket. Nor were the generals
equal in capacity to those opposing them. "If a student of history,"
says a Northern officer, "familiar with the characters who figured in
the War of Secession, but happening to be ignorant of the battle of
Antietam, should be told the names of the men who held high commands
there, he would say that with anything like equality of forces the
Confederates must have won, for their leaders were men who made great
names in the war, while the Federal leaders were, with few
exceptions, men who never became conspicuous, or became conspicuous
only through failure."* (* The Antietam and Fredericksburg. General
Palfrey page 53.) And the difference in military capacity extended to
the rank and file. When the two armies met on the Antietam, events
had been such as to confer a marked superiority on the Southerners.
They were the children of victory, and every man in the army had
participated in the successes of Lee and Jackson. They had much
experience of battle. They were supremely confident in their own
prowess, for the fall of Harper's Ferry had made more than amends for
the retreat from South Mountain, and they were supremely confident in
their leaders. No new regiments weakened the stability of their
array. Every brigade and every regiment could be depended on. The
artillery, which had been but lately reorganised in battalions, had,
under the fostering care of General Pendleton, become peculiarly
efficient, although the materiel was still indifferent; and against
Stuart's horsemen the Federal cavalry was practically useless.

In every military attribute, then, the Army of Northern Virginia was
so superior to the Army of the Potomac that Lee and Jackson believed
that they might fight a defensive battle, outnumbered as they were,
with the hope of annihilating their enemy. They were not especially
favoured by the ground, and time and means for intrenching were both
wanting; but they were assured that not only were their veterans
capable of holding the position, but, if favoured by fortune, of
delivering a counterstroke which should shiver the Army of the
Potomac into a thousand fragments.

2. By retreating across the Potomac, in accordance with General
Longstreet's suggestion, Lee would certainly have avoided all chances
of disaster. But, at the same time, he would have abandoned a good
hope of ending the war. The enemy would have been fully justified in
assuming that the retrograde movement had been made under the
compulsion of his advance, and the balance of morale have been
sensibly affected in favour of the Federals. If the Potomac had once
been placed between the opposing forces, McClellan would have had it
in his power to postpone an encounter until his army was strongly
reinforced, his raw regiments trained, and his troops rested. The
passage of the river, it is true, had been successfully forced by the
Confederates on September 5. But it by no means followed that it
could be forced for the second time in face of a concentrated enemy,
who would have had time to recover his morale and supply his losses.
McClellan, so long as the Confederates remained in Maryland, had
evidently made up his mind to attack. But if Maryland was evacuated
he would probably content himself with holding the line of the
Potomac; and, in view of the relative strength of the two armies, it
would be an extraordinary stroke of fortune which should lay him open
to assault. Lee and Jackson were firmly convinced that it was the
wiser policy to give the enemy no time to reorganise and recruit, but
to coerce him to battle before he had recovered from the defeat which
he had sustained on the heights above Bull Run. To recross the
Potomac would be to slight the favours of fortune, to abandon the
initiative, and to submit, in face of the vast numbers of fresh
troops which the North was already raising, to a defensive warfare, a
warfare which might protract the struggle, but which must end in the
exhaustion of the Confederacy. McClellan's own words are the
strongest justification of the views held by the Southern leaders:--

"The Army of the Potomac was thoroughly exhausted and depleted by the
desperate fighting and severe marching in the unhealthy regions of
the Chickahominy and afterwards, during the second Bull Run campaign;
its trains, administrative services and supplies were disorganised or
lacking in consequence of the rapidity and manner of its removal from
the Peninsula, as well as from the nature of its operations during
the second Bull Run campaign.

"Had General Lee remained in front of Washington (south of the
Potomac) it would have been the part of wisdom to hold our own army
quiet until its pressing wants were fully supplied, its organisation
was restored, and its ranks were filled with recruits--in brief,
until it was prepared for a campaign. But as the enemy maintained the
offensive, and crossed the Upper Potomac to threaten or invade
Pennsylvania, it became necessary to meet him at any cost,
notwithstanding the condition of the troops, to put a stop to the
invasion, to save Baltimore and Washington, and throw him back across
the Potomac. Nothing but sheer necessity justified the advance of the
Army of the Potomac to South Mountain and Antietam in its then
condition. The purpose of advancing from Washington was simply to
meet the necessities of the moment by frustrating Lee's invasion of
the Northern States, and when that was accomplished, to push with the
utmost rapidity the work of reorganisation and supply, so that a new
campaign might be promptly inaugurated with the army in condition to
prosecute it to a successful termination without intermission."* (*
Battles and Leaders volume 2 page 554.)

And in his official report, showing what the result of a Confederate
success might well have been, he says: "One battle lost and almost
all would have been lost. Lee's army might have marched as it pleased
on Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia, or New York. It could have
levied its supplies from a fertile and undevastated country, extorted
tribute from wealthy and populous cities, and nowhere east of the
Alleghanies was there another organised force to avert its march."*
(* O.R. volume 19 part 1 page 65.)

3. The situation in the West was such that even a victory in Maryland
was exceedingly desirable. Confederate movements in Tennessee and
Kentucky had won a measure of success which bade fair to open up a
brilliant opportunity. Should the Federals be defeated in both the
theatres of war, the blow would be felt throughout the length and
breadth of the Northern States; and, in any case, it was of the
utmost importance that all McClellan's troops should be retained in
the East.

So, when the tidings came of Jackson's victory at Harper's Ferry,
both armies braced themselves for the coming battle, the Confederates
in the hope that it would be decisive of the war, the Federals that
it would save the capital. But the Confederates had still a most
critical time before them, and Lee's daring was never more amply
illustrated than when he made up his mind to fight on the Antietam.
McClellan's great army was streaming through the passes of the South
Mountain. At Rohrersville, six miles east of the Confederate
bivouacs, where he had halted as soon as the cannonade at Harper's
Ferry ceased, Franklin was still posted with 20,000 men. From their
battle-field at Turner's Gap, ten miles from Sharpsburg, came the
70,000 which composed the  and centre; and on the banks of the
Antietam but 15,000 Southerners were in position. Jackson had to get
rid of his prisoners, to march seventeen miles, and to ford the
Potomac before he could reach the ground. Walker was twenty miles
distant, beyond the Shenandoah; and McLaws, who would be compelled by
Franklin's presence near Rohrersville to cross at Harper's Ferry and
follow Jackson, over five-and-twenty. Would they be up before
McClellan attacked? Lee, relying on McClellan's caution and Jackson's
energy, answered the question in the affirmative.

The September day wore on. The country between the South Mountain and
Sharpsburg, resembling in every characteristic the Valley of the
Shenandoah, is open and gently undulating. No leagues of woodland, as
in Eastern Virginia, block the view. The roads run through wide
cornfields and rolling pastures, and scattered copses are the only
relics of the forest. It was not yet noon when the Federal scouts
appeared among the trees which crown the  bank of the Antietam
Creek. "The number increased, and larger and larger grew the field of
blue until it seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see. It was
an awe-inspiring spectacle," adds Longstreet, "as this grand force
settled down in sight of the Confederates, shattered by battles and
scattered by long and tedious marches."* (* Battles and Leaders
volume 2 page 667.) But when night fell upon the field the only
interchange of hostilities had been a brief engagement of artillery.
McClellan's advance, owing to the difficulty of passing his great
army through the mountains, and to the scarcity of roads, had been
slow and tedious; in some of the divisions there had been unnecessary
delay; and Lee had so disposed his force that the Federal commander,
unenlightened as to the real strength of his adversary, believed that
he was opposed by 50,000 men.

September 16.

Nor was the next morning marked by any increase of activity.
McClellan, although he should have been well aware that a great part
of the Confederate army was still west of the Potomac, made no
attack. "It was discovered," he reports, "that the enemy had changed
the position of some of his batteries. The masses of his troops,
however, were still concealed behind the opposite heights. It was
afternoon before I could move the troops to their positions for
attack, being compelled to spend the morning in reconnoitring the new
position taken up by the enemy, examining the ground, and finding
fords, clearing the approaches, and hurrying up the ammunition and
supply trains."* (* O.R. volume 19 part 1 page 55.)

Considering that McClellan had been in possession of the  bank of
the Antietam since the forenoon of the previous day, all these
preliminaries might well have been completed before daylight on the
16th. That a change in the dispositions of a few batteries, a change
so unimportant as to pass unnoticed in the Confederate reports,
should have imposed a delay, when every moment was precious, of many
hours, proves that Lee's and Jackson's estimate of their opponent's
character was absolutely correct. While McClellan was reconnoitring,
and the guns were thundering across the Antietam, Jackson and Walker
crossed the Potomac, and reported to Lee in Sharpsburg.* (* According
to Jackson's staff officers he himself reported shortly after
daylight.) Walker had expected to find the Commander-in-Chief anxious
and careworn. "Anxious no doubt he was; but there was nothing in his
look or manner to indicate it. On the contrary, he was calm,
dignified, and even cheerful. If he had had a well-equipped army of a
hundred thousand veterans at his back, he could not have appeared
more composed and confident. On shaking hands with us, he simply
expressed his satisfaction with the result of our operations at
Harper's Ferry, and with our timely arrival at Sharpsburg; adding
that with our reinforcements he felt confident of being able to hold
his ground until the arrival of the divisions of R.H. Anderson,
McLaws, and A.P. Hill, which were still behind, and which did not
arrive till next day."* (* Battles and Leaders volume 2 page 675.)

Yet the reinforcements which Jackson and Walker had brought up were
no considerable addition to Lee's strength. Jones' division consisted
of no more than 1600 muskets, Lawton's of less than 3500. Including
officers and artillery, therefore, the effectives of these divisions
numbered about 5500. A.P. Hill's division appears to have mustered
5000 officers and men, and we may add 1000 for men sick or on
detached duties. The total should undoubtedly have been larger. After
the battle of Cedar Run, Jackson had 22,450 effectives in his ranks.
His losses in the operations against Pope, and the transfer of
Robertson's cavalry to Stuart, had brought his numbers down by 5787;
but on September 16, including 70 killed or wounded at Harper's
Ferry, they should have been not less than 16,800. In reality they
were only 11,500. We have not far to look for the cause of this
reduction. Many of the men had absented themselves before the army
crossed into Maryland; and if those who remained with the colours had
seen little fighting since Pope's defeat, they had had no reason to
complain of inactivity. The operations which resulted in the capture
of Harper's Ferry had been arduous in the extreme. Men who had taken
part in the forced marches of the Valley campaign declared that the
march from Frederick to Harper's Ferry surpassed all their former
experiences. In three-and-a-half days they had covered over sixty
miles, crossing two mountain ranges, and fording the Potomac. The
weather had been intensely hot, and the dust was terrible. Nor had
the investment of Harper's Ferry been a period of repose. They had
been under arms during the night which preceded the surrender,
awaiting the signal to assault within a few hundred yards of the
enemy's sentries. As soon as the terms of capitulation were arranged
they had been hurried back to the bivouac, had cooked two days'
rations, and shortly after midnight had marched to the Potomac,
seventeen miles away. This night march, coming on the top of their
previous exertions, had taxed the strength of many beyond endurance.
The majority were badly shod. Many were not shod at all. They were
ill-fed, and men ill-fed are on the highroad to hospital. There were
stragglers, then, from every company in the command. Even the
Stonewall Brigade, though it had still preserved its five regiments,
was reduced to 300 muskets; and the other brigades of Jackson's
division were but little stronger. Walker's division, too, although
less hardly used in the campaign than the Valley troops, had
diminished under the strain of the night march, and mustered no more
than 3500 officers and men at Sharpsburg. Thus the masses of troops
which McClellan conceived were hidden in rear of D.H. Hill and
Longstreet amounted in reality to some 10,000 effective soldiers.

It was fortunate, indeed, that in their exhausted condition there was
no immediate occasion for their services on September 16. The shadows
grew longer, but yet the Federals made no move; even the fire of the
artillery died away, and the men slept quietly in the woods to north
and west of the little town. Meanwhile, in an old house, one of the
few which had any pretensions to comfort in Sharpsburg, the generals
met in council. Staff officers strolled to and fro over the broad
brick pavement; the horses stood lazily under the trees which shaded
the dusty road; and within, Lee, Jackson, and Longstreet pored long
and earnestly over the map of Maryland during the b September
afternoon. But before the glow of a lovely sunset had faded from the
sky the artillery once more opened on the ridge above, and reports
came in that the Federals were crossing the Antietam near Pry's Mill.
Lee at once ordered Longstreet to meet this threat with Hood's
division, and Jackson was ordered into line on the  of Hood. No
serious collision, however, took place during the evening. The
Confederates made no attempt to oppose the passage of the Creek.
Hood's pickets were driven in, but a speedy reinforcement restored
the line, and except that the batteries on both sides took part the
fighting was little more than an affair of outposts. At eleven
o'clock Hood's brigades were withdrawn to cook and eat. Jackson's
division filled their place; and the night, although broken by
constant alarms, passed away without further conflict. The Federal
movements had clearly exposed their intention of attacking, and had
even revealed the point which they would first assail. McClellan had
thrown two army corps, the First under Hooker, and the Twelfth under
Mansfield, across the Antietam; and they were now posted, facing
southward, a mile and a half north of Sharpsburg, concealed by the
wood beyond Jackson's .

NOTE.

The essential paragraphs of the lost order ran as follows:--

"The army will resume its march to-morrow, taking the Hagerstown
road. General Jackson's command will form the advance, and after
passing Middletown, with such portions as he may select, take the
route towards Sharpsburg, cross the Potomac at the most convenient
point, and by Friday night (September 12) take possession of the
Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, capture such of the enemy as may be at
Martinsburg, and intercept such as may attempt to escape from
Harper's Ferry.

"General Longstreet's command will pursue the same road as far as
Boonsboro', where it will halt with the reserve, supply, and baggage
trains of the army.

"General McLaws, with his own division and that of General Anderson,
will follow General Longstreet; on reaching Middletown he will take
the route to Harper's Ferry, and by Friday morning (September 12)
possess himself of the Maryland Heights and endeavour to capture the
enemy at Harper's Ferry and vicinity.

"General Walker with his division...will take possession of the
Loudoun Heights, if practicable by Friday morning (September 12),
...He will as far as practicable co-operate with General McLaws and
General Jackson in intercepting the retreat of the enemy.

"General D.H. Hill's division will form the rear-guard of the army,
pursuing the road taken by the main body.

"General Stuart will detach a squadron of cavalry to accompany the
commands of Generals Longstreet, Jackson, and McLaws, and, with the
main body of the cavalry, will cover the route of the army and bring
up all stragglers.

"The commands of Generals Jackson, McLaws and Walker, after
accomplishing the objects for which they have been detached, will
join the main body at Boonsboro' or Hagerstown."

The second paragraph was afterwards modified by General Lee so as to
place Longstreet at Hagerstown.

</section>
<section id="23" fatherid="16" title="SHARPSBURG" lv="CHAPTER 2.19." priority="0" level="2">
1862. September 17.

It is a curious coincidence that not only were the number, of the
opposing armies at the battle of Sharpsburg almost identical with
those of the French and Germans at the battle of Worth, but that
there is no small resemblance between the natural features and
surrounding scenery of the two fields. Full in front of the
Confederate position rises the Red Hill, a spur of the South
Mountain, wooded, like the Vosges, to the very crest, and towering
high above the fields of Maryland, as the Hochwald towers above the
Rhineland. The Antietam, however, is a more difficult obstacle than
the Sauerbach, the brook which meanders through the open meadows of
the Alsatian valley. A deep channel of more than sixty feet in width
is overshadowed by forest trees; and the ground on either bank
ascends at a sharp gradient to the crests above. Along the ridge to
the west, which parts the Antietam from the Potomac, and about a mile
distant from the former stream, runs the Hagerstown turnpike, and in
front of this road there was a strong position. Sharpsburg, a village
of a few hundred inhabitants, lies on the reverse slope of the ridge,
extending in the direction of the Potomac, and only the church
steeples were visible to the Federals. Above the hamlet was the
Confederate centre. Here, near a limestone boulder, which stood in a
plot which is now included in the soldiers' cemetery, was Lee's
station during the long hours of September 17, and from this point he
overlooked the whole extent of his line of battle. A mile northward,
on the Hagerstown pike, his loft centre was marked by a square white
building, famous under the name of the Dunkard Church, and backed by
a long dark wood. To the , a mile southward, a bold spur,
covered with scattered trees, forces the Antietam westward, and on
this spur, overlooking the stream, he had placed his .

(MAP OF SHARPSBURG, MARYLAND)

Between the Hagerstown pike and the Antietam the open slopes,
although not always uniform, but broken, like those on the French
side of the Sauerbach, by long ravines, afforded an admirable field
of fire. The lanes which cross them are sunk in many places below the
surface: in front of Sharpsburg the fields were divided by low stone
walls; and these natural intrenchments added much to the strength of
the position. Nor were they the only advantages. The belt of oaks
beyond the Dunkard Church, the West Wood, was peculiarly adapted for
defence. Parallel ledges of outcropping limestone, both within the
thickets and along the Hagerstown road, rising as high as a man's
waist, gave good coyer from shot and shell; the trees were of old
growth, and there was little underwood. To the north-east, however,
and about five hundred yards distant across the fields, lay the East
Wood, covering the slopes to the Antietam, with Poffenberger's Wood
beyond; while further to the , the North Wood, extending across
the Hagerstown pike, approached the Confederate flank. The enemy, if
he advanced to the attack in this quarter of the field, would thus
find ample protection during his march and deployment; and in case of
reverse he would find a rallying-point in the North and
Poffenberger's Woods, of which Hooker was already in possession. In
the space between the woods were several small farms, surrounded by
orchards and stone fences; and on the slope east of the Dunkard
Church stood a few cottages and barns.

Access to the position was not easy. Only a single ford, near
Snaveley's house, exists across the Antietam, and this was commanded
by the bluff on the Confederate . The stone bridges, however,
for want of time and means to destroy them, had been  standing.
That nearest the confluence of the Antietam and the Potomac, at the
Antietam Iron-works, by which A. P Hill was expected, was defended by
rifle-pits and enfiladed by artillery. The next, known as the
Burnside Bridge, was completely overlooked by the heights above. That
opposite Lee's centre could be raked throughout its length; but the
fourth, at Pry's Mill, by which Hooker and Mansfield had already
crossed, was covered both from view and fire. Roads within the
position were numerous. The Hagerstown turnpike, concealed for some
distance on either side of Sharpsburg by the crest of the ridge, was
admirably adapted for the movement of reserves, and another broad
highway ran through Sharpsburg to the Potomac.

The position, then, in many respects, was well adapted to Lee's
purpose. The flanks were reasonably secure. The  rested on the
Antietam. The  was more open; but the West Wood formed a strong
point d'appui, and beyond the wood a low ridge, rising above
Nicodemus Run, gave room for several batteries; while the Potomac was
so close that the space available for attack on this flank was much
restricted. The ground could thus be held by a comparatively small
number of men, and a large reserve set free for the counterstroke.
The great drawback was that the ridge east of the Antietam, although
commanded by the crest which the Confederates occupied, would permit
McClellan to deploy the whole of his powerful artillery, and in no
place did the range exceed two thousand yards. In case of retreat,
moreover, the Potomac, two hundred yards from shore to shore, would
have to be crossed by a few deep fords,* (* Two fords, behind the
 and centre, were examined by Major Hotchkiss during the battle
by Jackson's order, and were reported practicable for infantry.) of
which only one was practicable for waggons. These disadvantages,
however, it was impossible to avoid; and if the counterstroke were
decisive, they would not be felt.

The  of the position was assigned to Jackson, with Hood in third
line. Next in order came D.H. Hill. Longstreet held the centre and
the , with Walker in reserve behind the flank. Stuart, with
Fitzhugh Lee's brigade and his four guns, was between the West Wood
and the Potomac. Munford's two regiments of cavalry, reinforced by a
battery, held the bridge at the Antietam Iron-works, and kept open
the communication with Harper's Ferry; and twenty-six rifled pieces
of the reserve artillery were with D.H. Hill. From the Nicodemus Run
to the bluff overhanging the Burnside Bridge is just three miles, and
for the occupation of this front the following troops were at Lee's
disposal:--

                                                 Men    Guns

Jackson:                                        5,500   16*
    Jones' Division..
    Ewell's Division (General Lawton)

(* The majority of Jackson's guns appear to have been  behind the
team. Having broken down, at Harper's Ferry.)

Longstreet:
    D.R. Jones' Division
    Hood's Division (detached to Jackson)
    Evans' Brigade.                              8,000   50

    D.H. Hill's Division.                        5,000   26
    Walker's Division.                           3,500   12

Stuart:
    Fitzhugh Lee's Brigade.
    Munford's Brigade.                           2,500    4

Reserve Artillery                                1,000   26
                                                ------  ---
                                                25,500  134

On the far side of the Potomac the Shepherdstown Ford was protected
by the remainder of the reserve artillery, with an infantry escort;
but so small was the force whose retreat was thus secured that nearly
every man was required in the fighting-line. Except the divisions of
Hood and Walker, 5500 men all told, there was no immediate reserve.

But at daybreak on the 17th the troops which had been  at
Harper's Ferry were rapidly coming up. McLaws and Anderson, who had
started before midnight, were already nearing the Potomac; Hampton's
cavalry brigade was not far behind, and orders had been dispatched to
A.P. Hill. But could these 13,000 bayonets be up in time-before
Hooker and Mansfield received strong support, or before the Burnside
Bridge was heavily attacked? The question was indeed momentous. If
the Federals were to put forth their whole strength without delay,
bring their numerous artillery into action, and press the battle at
every point, it seemed hardly possible that defeat could be averted.
McClellan, however, who had never yet ventured on a resolute
offensive, was not likely, in Lee's judgment, to assault so strong a
position as that held by the Confederates with whole-hearted energy,
and it was safe to calculate that his troops would be feebly handled.
Yet the odds were great. Even after the arrival of the absent
divisions' no more than 35,000 infantry, 4000 cavalry, and 194 guns
would be in line, and the enemy's numbers were far superior.

(*                                          Men   Guns
A.P. Hill's Division                       5,000   18
McLaws' Division                           4,500   24
B.H. Anderson's Division                   3,500   18
Hampton's Cavalry Brigade                  1,500   --
                                          ------   --
                                          14,500   60 )

McClellan had called in Franklin from Rohrersville, and his muster
roll was imposing.

                               Men   Guns

First Corps--Hooker          14,856   40
Second Corps--Sumner         18,813   42
Fifth Corps--Porter          12,930   70
Sixth Corps--Franklin        12,300   36
Ninth Corps--Burnside        13,819   35
Twelfth Corps--Mansfield     10,126   36
Cavalry--Pleasanton           4,320   16
                             ------  ---
                             87,164  275

In comparison with the masses arrayed between the Red Hill and the
Antietam, the Confederate army was but a handful.

5 A.M.

Notwithstanding McClellan's caution, the opening of the battle was
not long delayed. Before sunrise the desultory firing of the pickets
had deepened to the roar of battle. Hooker, who had been ordered to
begin the attack, forming his troops behind the North Wood, directed
them on the Dunkard Church, which, standing on rising ground,
appeared the key of the position. Jackson had already thrown back his
two divisions at nearly a  angle to the Confederate front. His
, which connected with the  of D.H. Hill, and resting on the
western edge of the East Wood extended as far as the Miller House,
was held by Lawton, with two brigades in front and one in second
line. West of the Hagerstown turnpike, and covering the ground as far
as the Nicodemus Farm, was Jones' division; the Stonewall and Jones'
brigades in front, Taliaferro's and Starke's along the edge of the
wood in rear. Three guns stood upon the turnpike; the remainder of
the artillery (thirteen) guns was with Stuart on the high ground
north of Nicodemus Run. Hood, in third line, stood near the Dunkard
Church; and on Hood's  were three of Longstreet's batteries
under Colonel Stephen Lee.

The ground which Jackson had been ordered to occupy was not
unfavourable for defence, although the troops had practically no
cover except the rail-fences and the rocky ledges. There was a wide
and open field of fire, and when the Federal skirmishers appeared
north of the Miller House the Confederate batteries, opening with
vigour at a range of eight hundred yards, struck down sixteen men at
the first salvo. This fire, and the stubborn resistance of the
pickets, held the enemy for some time in check; but Hooker deployed
six batteries in reply, and after a cannonade of nearly an hour his
infantry advanced. From the cover of the woods, still veiled by the
morning mist, the Federals came forward in strong force. Across the
dry ploughed land in Lawton's front the fight grew hot, and on the
far side of the turnpike the meadows round the Nicodemus Farm became
the scene of a desperate struggle. Hooker had sent in two divisions,
Meade on the  and Doubleday on the , while a third under
Ricketts acted in close support of Meade.* (* Doubleday's Division
consisted of Phelps', Wainw's, Patrick's, and Gibbon's brigades;
Rickett's Division of Duryea's, Lyle's, and Hartsuff's; and Meade's
Pennsylvania Division of Seymour's, Magilton's, and Anderson's.) The
attack was waged with the dash and energy which had earned for Hooker
the sobriquet of Fighting Joe, and the troops he commanded had
already proved their mettle on many murderous fields. Meade's
Pennsylvanians, together with the Indiana and Wisconsin regiments,
which had wrought such havoc in Jackson's ranks at Grovetown, were
once more bearing down upon his line. Nor were the tactics of the
leaders ill-calculated to second the valour of the troops. Hooker's
whole army corps of 12,500 men was manoeuvred in close combination.
The second line was so posted as to render quick support. No portion
of the front was without an adequate reserve in rear. The artillery
was used in mass, and the flanks were adequately guarded.

The conflict between soldiers so well matched was not less fierce
than when they had met on other fields. Hooker's troops had won a
large measure of success at South Mountain three days previously, and
their blood was up. Meade, Gibbon, and Ricketts were there to lead
them, and the battle opened with a resolution which, if it had
infected McClellan, would have carried the Sharpsburg ridge ere set
of sun. Stubborn was the resistance of Jackson's regiments, unerring
the aim of his seasoned riflemen; but the opposing infantry,
constantly reinforced, pressed irresistibly forward, and the heavy
guns beyond the Antietam, finding an opening between the woods, swept
the thin grey line from end to end. Jones' division, after fighting
for three-quarters of an hour on the meadows, fell back to the West
Wood; General Jones was carried wounded from the field, and the guns
on the turnpike were abandoned.

6.30 A.M.

So tremendous was the fire, that the corn, said Hooker, over thirty
acres was cut as close by the bullets as if it had been reaped with
the sickle, and the dead lay piled in regular ranks along the whole
Confederate front. Never, he added, had been seen a more bloody or
dismal battle-field. To the east of the turnpike Lawton's division,
strengthened at the critical moment by the brigade in second line,
held Meade in check, and with a sharp counterstroke drove the
Pennsylvanians back upon their guns. But Gibbon, fighting fiercely in
the centre by the Miller House, brought up a battery in close support
of his first line, and pressed heavily on the West Wood until the
Confederate skirmishers, creeping through the maize, shot down the
gunners and the teams;* (* This battery of regulars, 'B' 4th U.S.
Artillery, lost 40 officers and men killed and wounded, besides 33
horses. O.R. volume 19 part 1 page 229.) and Starke, who had
succeeded Jones, led the Valley regiments once more into the open
field. The battle swayed backwards and forwards under the clouds of
smoke; the crash of musketry, reverberating in the woods, drowned the
roar of the artillery; and though hundreds were shot down at the
shortest range neither Federal nor Confederate flinched from the
dreadful fray. Hooker sent in a fresh brigade, and Patrick,
reinforcing Gibbon with four regiments, passed swiftly to the front,
captured two colours, and made some headway. But again the Virginians
rallied, and Starke, observing that the enemy's  had become
exposed, led his regiments forward to the charge. Doubleday's
division, struck fiercely in front and flank, reeled back in
confusion past the Miller House, and although the gallant Starke fell
dead, the Confederates recovered the ground which they had lost.
Jackson's men had not been  unaided. Colonel Lee's guns had
themselves to look to, for along the whole course of the Antietam
McClellan's batteries were now in action, sweeping the Sharpsburg
ridge with a tremendous fire; but Stuart, west of the Nicodemus Farm,
had done much to embarrass Hooker's operations. Bringing his
artillery into action, for the ground was unsuited to cavalry, he had
distracted the aim of the Federal gunners, and, assailing their
infantry in flank, had compelled Doubleday to detach a portion of his
force against him. Jackson, with supreme confidence in the ability of
his men to hold their ground, had not hesitated to reinforce Stuart
with Early's brigade, the strongest in his command; but before
Doubleday was beaten back, Early had been recalled.

7.30 A.M.

It was now half-past seven. The battle had been in progress nearly
three hours, and Hooker's attack had been repulsed. But fresh troops
were coming into action from the north and north-east, and Lawton's
and Jones' divisions were in no condition to withstand a renewed
assault. No less than three officers in succession had led the
latter. Not one single brigade in either division was still commanded
by the officer who brought it into action, and but few regiments. Of
4200 infantry,* (* Early's brigade had not yet been engaged.) 1700
had already fallen. Never had Jackson's soldiers displayed a spirit
more akin to that of their intrepid leader, and their fierce courage
was not to be wasted. Reinforcements were close at hand. Early's
brigade, 1100 strong,* (* One small regiment was  with Stuart.)
was moving across from Nicodemus Run into the West Wood. Hood brought
his Texans, 1800 muskets, to the relief of Lawton; and on Hood's
, but facing eastward, for Ricketts was working round Jackson's
, three of D.H. Hill's brigades, hitherto hidden under cover,
came rapidly into line. Lawton's division, nearly half the command
being killed or wounded, was withdrawn to the Dunkard Church; but on
the skirt of the West Wood the heroic remnant of the Valley regiments
still held fast among the limestone ledges.

The 8,500 infantry which McClellan had sent to Hooker's assistance
formed the Twelfth Army Corps, commanded by Mansfield; and with those
men, too, Jackson's soldiers were well acquainted.* (* Mansfield's
corps consisted of two divisions, commanded by Crawford (two
brigades) and Greene (three brigades). The brigadiers were Knipe,
Gordon, Tynedale, Stainbrook, Goodrich.) They were the men who had
followed Banks and Shields from Kernstown to Winchester, from Port
Republic to Cedar Run; and the Valley army had not yet encountered
more determined foes. Their attack was delivered with their wonted
vigour. Several regiments, moving west of the turnpike, bore down on
the West Wood. But coming into action at considerable intervals, they
were roughly handled by Jones' division, now commanded by Colonel
Grigsby, and protected by the rocks; and Stuart's artillery taking
them in flank they were rapidly dispersed. East of the highroad the
battle raged with still greater violence. Hood and his Texans, as
Lawton's brigades passed to the rear, dashed across the corn-field
against Meade and Ricketts, driving back the infantry on the
batteries, and shooting down the gunners. But the Federal line
remained unbroken, and Mansfield's troops were already moving
forward. Crawford's brigade, and then Gordon's, struck the Texans in
front, while Greene, working round the East Wood, made a resolute
onslaught on D.H. Hill. The struggle was long and bloody. The men
stood like duelists, firing and receiving the fire at fifty or a
hundred paces. Crawford lost 1000 men without gaining a foot of
ground; but Gordon turned the scale, and Hood's brigades were
gradually forced back through the corn-field to the Dunkard Church. A
great gap had now opened in Jackson's line. Jones' division, its
flank uncovered by Hood's retreat, found itself compelled to seek a
new position. D.H. Hill's brigades, in the same plight, gave ground
towards Sharpsburg; and Greene, following in pursuit, actually
crossed the turnpike, and penetrated the West Wood; but neither
Hooker nor Mansfield were able to support him, and unassisted he
could make no progress.

(MAP of Approximate positions of the Troops during the attacks of
Hooker and Mansfield on the Confederate , at the Battle of
Sharpsburg.)

9 A.M.

At this moment, as if by common consent, the firing ceased on this
flank of the battle; and as McClellan's Second Army Corps, led by
Sumner, advanced to sustain the First and Twelfth, we may stand by
Jackson near the Dunkard Church, and survey the field after four
hours' fighting.

Assailed in front by superior numbers, and enfiladed by the batteries
beyond the Antietam, the Confederate  had everywhere given back.
The East Wood was in possession of the enemy. Their  occupied
the Miller House; their centre, supported by many batteries, stood
across the corn-field; while the , thrust forward, was actually
established on the edge of the West Wood, some five hundred yards to
northward of the church. But if Jackson had yielded ground, he had
exacted a fearful price. The space between the woods was a veritable
slaughter-pen, reeking under the hot September sun, where the blue
uniforms lay thicker than the grey. The First Army Corps had been cut
to pieces. It had been beaten in fair fight by Jackson's two
divisions, counting at the outset less than half its numbers, and
aided only by the cavalry. It had lost in killed and wounded over 100
officers and 2400 men. Hooker himself had been struck down, and as
far as the Antietam the field was covered with his stragglers. The
Twelfth Corps had suffered hardly less severely; and Mansfield
himself, an old man and a gallant soldier, was dying of his wounds.
His batteries indeed remained in action, pouring shot and shell on
the West Wood and the Dunkard Church; but his infantry, reduced by
more than 1500 rifles, could do no more than hold their ground.

Nor was the exhaustion of the enemy the only advantage which the
Confederates had gained by the slaughter of 4000 men. The position to
which Jackson had retired was more favourable than that from which he
had been driven. The line, no longer presenting a weak angle, was
almost straight, and no part of the front was open to enfilade.
Stuart and his artillery, withdrawn to a more favourable position,
secured the . D.H. Hill on the , though part of his force
had given way, still held the Roulette House and the sunken road, and
the troops in the West Wood were well protected from the Northern
batteries. The one weak point was the gap occupied by Greene's
Federals, which lay between Grigsby's regiments in the northern angle
of the West Wood and Hood's division at the Dunkard Church. The
enemy, however, showed no signs of making good his opportunity;
Early's brigade was close at hand, and Lee had promised further
reinforcements.

A glance southward showed that there was no reason for despair. Over
all the field lay the heavy smoke of a great artillery battle. From
near the Dunkard Church to the bluff overhanging the Antietam, a
distance of two miles, battery on battery was in line. Here were
Longstreet's artillery under Stephen Lee, together with the
six-and-twenty guns of Cutts' reserve battalion, forty-eight guns in
all; the divisional batteries of D.H. Hill, and the Washington
artillery of New Orleans,* (* Both D.H. Hill and the Washington
artillery had sixteen guns each.) and in addition to these eighty
guns others were in action above the Burnside Bridge. An array even
more formidable crowned the opposite crest; but although the
Confederate batteries, opposed by larger numbers and heavier metal,
had suffered terribly, both in men and in materiel, yet the infantry,
the main strength of the defence, was still intact.* (* "Our
artillery," says General D.H. Hill, "could not cope with the superior
weight, calibre, range, and number of the Yankee guns; hence it ought
only to have been used against masses of infantry. On the contrary,
our guns were made to reply to the Yankee guns, and were smashed up
or withdrawn before they could be effectually turned against massive
columns of attack." After Sharpsburg Lee gave orders that there were
to be no more 'artillery duels' so long as the Confederates fought
defensive battles.) The cliffs of the Red Hill, replying to the
rolling thunder of near 800 guns, gave back no echo to the sharper
crack of musketry. Save a few skirmishers, who had crossed the
Sharpsburg Bridge, not one company of McClellan's infantry had been
sent into action south of the Dunkard Church. Beyond the Antietam,
covering the whole space between the river and the hills, the blue
masses were plainly to be seen through the drifting smoke; some so
far in the distance that only the flash of steel in the b
sunshine distinguished them from the surrounding woods; others moving
in dense columns towards the battle:

Standards on standards, men on men;
In slow succession still.

But neither by the Sharpsburg nor yet by the Burnside Bridge had a
single Federal regiment crossed the stream; Lee's centre and 
were not even threatened, and it was evident his reserves might be
concentrated without risk at whatever point he pleased.

Walker's division was therefore withdrawn from the , and McLaws,
who had reached Sharpsburg shortly after sunrise, was ordered to the
front. G. T. Anderson's brigade was detached from D.H. Hill; and the
whole force was placed at Jackson's disposal. These fresh troops,
together with Early's regiments, not yet engaged, gave 10,000 muskets
for the counterstroke, and had Hooker and Mansfield been alone upon
the field the Federal  wing would have been annihilated. But as
the Confederate reserves approached the Dunkard Church, Sumner, whom
McClellan had ordered to cross Pry's Bridge with the Second Army
Corps, threw three divisions against the West Wood and the Roulette
House. In three lines, up the slope from the Antietam, at sixty yards
distance and covering a wide front, came Sedgwick on the ,
French on the , and Richardson to the  rear. So orderly was
the advance of those 18,000 Northerners, and so imposing their array,
that even the Confederate officers watched their march with
admiration, and terrible was the shock with which they renewed the
conflict.

Sedgwick, emerging from the East Wood, moved directly over the
corn-field, crossed the turnpike, and entering the West Wood to
northward of the point still held by Greene, swept through the
timber, and with a portion of his advanced brigade reached the
further edge. Greene, at the same moment, moved upon the Dunkard
Church, and Early, who with the fragments of Jones' division was
alone within the wood, marched rapidly in the same direction.
Attacked suddenly in flank from behind a ridge of rock Greene's
regiments were driven back; and then Early, observing Sedgwick's
third line pushing across the turnpike, reformed his troops for
further action. Greene, for the moment, had been disposed of, but a
more formidable attack was threatening. Sedgwick's 6000 muskets,
confronted only by some 600* (* Letter of Jackson's Adjutant-General.
Memoirs of W.N. Pendleton D.D. page 216.) of the Valley soldiers
under Grigsby, were thronging through the wood, and a change of front
southward would have sent them sweeping down the Confederate line.
Early could hardly have withstood their onset; Hood was incapable of
further effort, and D.H. Hill was heavily pressed by French. But
Jackson's hand still held the reins of battle. During the fierce
struggle of the morning he had remained on the edge of the West Wood,
leaving, as was his wont, the conduct of the divisions to his
subordinates, but watching his enemy with a glance that saw beyond
the numbers arrayed against him. He had already demanded
reinforcements from General Lee; and in anticipation of their speedy
arrival their orders had been already framed. They had not been
called for to sustain his front, or to occupy a new position. Despite
the thronging masses of the Federals, despite the fact that his line
was already broken, attack, and attack only, was in Jackson's mind,
and the reserves and the opportunity arrived together. A staff
officer was dispatched to direct Walker, on the , to sustain the
Texans, to clear the West Wood, and to place a detachment in the gap
between the Dunkard Church and the batteries of Colonel Lee;* (*
Sharpsburg. By Major-General J.G. Walker, C.S.A. Battles and Leaders
volume 2 pages 677 and 678.) while Jackson himself, riding to meet
McLaws, ordered him "to drive the enemy back and turn his ."
Anderson's brigade was sent to support McLaws, and Semmes' brigade of
McLaws' division was detached to strengthen Stuart.

Forming into line as they advanced, McLaws and Walker, leaving the
Dunkard Church on their , and moving swiftly through the wood,
fell suddenly on Sedgwick's flank. Early joined in the melee, and
"the result," says Palfrey, a Northern general who was present on the
field, "was not long doubtful. Sedgwick's fine division was at the
mercy of their enemy. Change of front was impossible. In less time
than it takes to tell it the ground was strewn with the bodies of the
dead and wounded, while the unwounded were moving off rapidly to the
north. Nearly 2000 men were disabled in a moment."* (* Memoirs page
572. The Antietam and Fredericksburg page 87.) And the impetus of the
counterstroke was not yet spent. Gordon's brigade of the Twelfth
Corps had been dispatched to Sedgwick's help, but McLaws had reformed
his troops, and after a short struggle the Confederates drove all
before them.

Confusion reigned supreme in the Federal ranks. In vain their
powerful artillery, firing case and canister with desperate energy,
strove to arrest the rush of the pursuing infantry. Out from the West
Wood and across the cornfield the grey lines of battle, preceded by
clouds of skirmishers, pressed forward without a check, and the light
batteries, plying whip and spur, galloped to the front in close
support. Hope rose high. The Southern yell, pealing from ten thousand
throats, rang with a wild note of anticipated triumph, and Jackson,
riding with McLaws, followed with kindling gaze the progress of his
counterstroke attack. "God," he said to his companion, as the shells
fell round them and the masses of the enemy melted away like the
morning mist, "has been very kind to us this day."

But the end was not yet. Sedgwick's brigades, flying to the
north-east, rallied under the fire of their batteries, and as the
Confederates advanced upon the East Wood, they found it already
occupied by a fresh brigade. Smith's division of the Sixth Corps had
been sent forward by McClellan to sustain the battle, and its arrival
saved his army from defeat. Once more the corn-field became the scene
of a furious struggle, the Southerners fighting for decisive victory,
the Federals for existence. So impetuous was McLaws' attack that the
regiments on his , although checked by the fences, drove in a
battery and dashed back the enemy's first line; but the weight of the
artillery in front of the North Wood, supported by a portion of
Smith's division, prevented further advance, and a Federal brigade,
handled with rare judgment, rushed forward to meet the assailants in
the open. Sharp was the conflict, for McLaws, a fine soldier, as
daring as he was skilful, strove fiercely to complete the victory;
but the fight within the woods and the swift pursuit had broken the
order of his division. Brigade had mingled with brigade, regiment
with regiment. There were no supports; and the broken ranks, scourged
by the terrible cross-fire of many batteries, were unable to
withstand the solid impact of the Federal reserve. Slowly and
sullenly the troops fell back from the deadly strife. The enemy, no
less exhausted, halted and lay down beyond the turnpike; and while
the musketry once more died away to northward of the Dunkard Church,
Jackson, rallying his brigades, re-established his line along the
edge of the West Wood.

Near the church was a portion of Walker's division. Further north
were two of McLaws' brigades; then Armistead, who had been sent
forward from Sharpsburg, and then Early. A brigade of McLaws'
division formed the second line, and Anderson was sent back to D.H.
Hill. Hood also was withdrawn, and the survivors of Jones' division,
many of whom had shared in the counterattack, were permitted to leave
the front.

10.30 A.M.

Their rifles were no longer needed, for from half-past ten onwards,
so far as the defence of the Confederate  was concerned, the work
was done. For many hours the West Wood was exposed to the
concentrated fire of the Federal artillery; but this fire, although
the range was close, varying from six to fifteen hundred yards, had
little effect. The shattered branches fell incessantly among the
recumbent ranks, and the shells, exploding in the foliage, sent their
hissing fragments far and wide; yet the losses, so more than one
general reported, were surprisingly small.

But although the enemy's infantry had been repulsed, no immediate
endeavour was made by the Confederates to initiate a fresh
counterstroke. When Lee sent McLaws and Walker to Jackson's aid, he
sent in his last reserve, for A.P. Hill had not yet reached the
field, and R. H. Anderson's division had already been taken to
support the centre. Thus no fresh troops were available, and the
Federal  was strong. At least fifteen batteries of artillery
were in position along the edge of the North Wood, and they were
powerfully supported by the heavy guns beyond the stream.

Yet the infantry so effectively protected was only formidable by
reason of its numbers. The First Corps and the Twelfth no longer
existed as organised bodies.* (* It was not until two o'clock that
even Meade's Pennsylvanians were reformed.) Sedgwick's division of
the Second Corps was still more shattered. Only Smith's division was
effective, and General McClellan, acting on the advice of Sumner,
forbade all further attack. Slocum's division of the Sixth Corps,
which reached the East Wood at twelve o'clock, was ordered to remain
in rear as support to Smith. The Confederate  wing, then, had
offered such strenuous resistance that eight divisions of infantry,
more than half of McClellan's army, lay paralysed before them for the
remainder of the day. 30,500 infantry, at the lowest calculation,(1)
and probably 100 guns, besides those across the Antietam, had been
massed by the Federals in this quarter of the field.

(1) Hooker                11,000
    Mansfield              8,500
    Sedgwick               6,000
    Smith                  5,000
                          ------
                          30,500

Jackson's numbers, even after he had been reinforced by McLaws and
Walker, at no time approached those arrayed against him, and 19,400
men, including Stuart and three brigades of Hill, and 40 guns, is a
liberal estimate of his strength.(2)

(2) Lawton                 3,600
    Jones                  1,800
    Hood                   2,000
    Stuart                 1,500
    G.T. Anderson          1,000
    Walker                 3,500
    McLaws                 4,500
    D.H. Hill (3 brigades) 1,500
                          ------
                          19,400

The losses on both sides had been exceedingly heavy. Nearly 13,000
men, 3 including no less than fifteen generals and brigadiers, had
fallen within six hours.

(3) The Federals engaged against Jackson lost in five and a half
hours 7000 officers and men. During the seven hours they were engaged
at Gravelotte the Prussian Guard and the Saxon Army Corps lost
10,349; but 50,000 infantry were in action. The percentage of loss
(20) was about the same in both cases. The Confederate losses up to
10.30 A.M. were as follows:
    Jones                    700
    Lawton                 1,334
    Hood                   1,002
    McLaws                 1,119
    Walker                 1,012
    Anderson                  87
    D.H. Hill (estimate)     500
                           -----
                           5,754 (29 p.c.)

But although the Confederate casualties were not greatly exceeded by
those of the enemy, and were much larger in proportion to their
strength, the Federals had lost more than mere numbers. The morale of
the troops had suffered, and still more the morale of the leaders.
Even Sumner, bravest of men, had been staggered by the fierce assault
which had driven Sedgwick's troops like sheep across the corn-field,
nor was McClellan disposed to push matters to extremity.

Over in the West Wood, on the other hand, discouragement had no
place. Jackson had not yet abandoned hope of sweeping the enemy from
the field. He was disappointed with the partial success of McLaws'
counterstroke. It had come too late. The fortuitous advance of
Smith's division, at the very crisis of the struggle, had, in all
human probability, rescued the Federal  from a terrible defeat.
Had McLaws been able to reach the East Wood he would have compelled
the hostile batteries to retreat; the Federal infantry, already
shattered and disorganised, could hardly have held on, and the line
would have been broken through. But although one opportunity had been
lost, and he was once more thrown on the defensive, Jackson's
determination to make the battle decisive of the war was still
unshaken. His judgment was never clearer. Shortly before eleven
o'clock his medical director, appalled by the number of wounded men
sent back from the front, and assured that the day was going badly,
rode to the West Wood in order to discuss the advisability of
transferring the field hospitals across the Potomac. Dr. McGuire
found Jackson sitting quietly on 'Little Sorrel' behind the line of
battle, and some peaches he had brought with him were gratefully
accepted. He then made his report, and his apprehensions were not
made less by the weakness of the line which held the wood. The men,
in many places, were lying at intervals of several yards; for support
there was but one small brigade, and over in the corn-fields the
overwhelming strength of the Federal masses was terribly apparent.
Yet his imperturbable commander, apparently paying more attention to
the peaches than to his subordinate's suggestions, replied by
pointing to the enemy and saying quietly, "Dr. McGuire, they have
done their worst."

Meanwhile, the tide of battle, leaving Jackson's front and setting
strongly southwards, threatened to submerge the Confederate centre.
French's division of Sumner's corps, two brigades of Franklin's, and
afterwards Richardson's division, made repeated efforts to seize the
Dunkard Church, the Roulette Farm, and the Piper House.

1 P.M.

From before ten until one o'clock the battle raged fiercely about the
sunken road which was held by D.H. Hill, and which witnessed on this
day such pre-eminence of slaughter that it has since been known by
the name of the "Bloody Lane." Here, inspired by the unyielding
courage of their leaders, fought the five brigades of D.H. Hill, with
B. H. Anderson's division and two of Walker's regiments; and here
Longstreet, confident as always, controlled the battle with his
accustomed skill. The Confederate artillery was by this time
overpowered, for on each battery in turn the enemy's heavy ordnance
had concentrated an overwhelming fire, and the infantry were
supported by no more than a dozen guns. The attack was strong, but
the sunken road, fortified by piles of fence-rails, remained
inviolable. Still the Confederate losses were enormous, and defeat
appeared a mere question of time; at one moment, the enemy under
French had actually seized the wood near the Dunkard Church, and was
only dispossessed by a desperate counterstroke. Richardson, who
advanced on French's , and at an appreciable interval of time,
was even more successful than his colleague. The 'Bloody Lane,'
already piled with dead, and enfiladed from a height to the
north-west, was carried by a brilliant charge; and when the Roulette
Farm, a strong defensive post, was stormed, Longstreet fell back to
the turnpike through the wreck of the artillery. But at this critical
juncture the Federals halted. They had not been supported by their
batteries. Richardson had received a mortal wound, and a succession
of rough counterstrokes had thinned their ranks. Here, too, the
musketry dwindled to a spattering fire, and the opposing forces, both
reduced to the defensive, lay watching each other through the long
hours of the afternoon. A threat of a Federal advance from the
Sharpsburg Bridge came to nothing. Four batteries of regulars,
preceded by a force of infantry, pushed across the stream and came
into action on either side of the Boonsboro' road; but on the slopes
above, strongly protected by the walls, Evans' brigade stood fast;
Lee sent up a small support, and the enemy confined his movements to
a demonstration.

Still further to the south, however, the battle blazed out at one
o'clock with unexpected fury. The Federal attack, recoiling first
from Jackson and then from Longstreet, swung round to the Confederate
; and it seemed as if McClellan's plan was to attempt each
section of Lee's line in succession. Burnside had been ordered to
force the passage of the bridge at nine o'clock, but either the
difficulty of the task, or his inexperience in handling troops on the
offensive, delayed his movements; and when the attack was made, it
was fiercely met by four Confederate brigades. At length, well on in
the afternoon, three Federal divisions crowned the spur, and, driving
Longstreet's  before them, made good their footing on the ridge.
Sharpsburg was below them; the Southern infantry, outflanked and
roughly handled, was falling back in confusion upon the town; and
although Lee had assembled a group of batteries in the centre, and
regiments were hurrying from the , disaster seemed imminent. But
strong assistance was at hand. A.P. Hill, who had forded the Potomac
and crossed the Antietam by the lower bridge, after a forced march of
seventeen miles in eight hours from Harper's Ferry,* (* Hill received
his orders at 6.30 A.M. and marched an hour later, reaching the
battle-field about 3.30 P.M.) attacked without waiting for orders,
and struck the Federals in flank with 3000 bayonets. By this
brilliant counterstroke Burnside was repulsed and the position saved.

Northern writers have laid much stress on this attack. Had Burnside
displayed more, or A.P. Hill less, energy, the Confederates, they
assert, could hardly have escaped defeat. It is certainly true that
Longstreet's four brigades had been  to bear the brunt of
Burnside's assault without further support than could be rendered by
the artillery. They were not so , however, because it was
impossible to aid them. Jackson's and Longstreet's troops, despite
the fiery ordeal through which they had passed, were not yet
powerless, and the Confederate leaders were prepared for offensive
tactics. A sufficient force to sustain the  might have been
withdrawn from the  and centre; but Hill's approach was known,
and it was considered inadvisable to abandon all hold of the means
for a decisive counterstroke on the opposite flank. Early in the
afternoon Longstreet had given orders for an advance. Hood's
division, with full cartridge-boxes, had reappeared upon the field.
Jones' and Lawton's divisions were close behind; the batteries had
replenished their ammunition, and if Longstreet was hardly warranted
in arranging a general counter-attack on his own responsibility, he
had at least full confidence in the ability of the troops to execute
it. "It seemed probable," he says, "that by concealing our movements
under cover of the (West) wood, we could draw our columns so near to
the enemy to the front that we would have but a few rods to march to
mingle our ranks with his; that our columns, massed in goodly
numbers, and pressing heavily upon a single point, would give the
enemy much trouble and might cut him in two, breaking up his battle
arrangements at Burnside Bridge."* (* From Manassas to Appomattox
pages 256, 257.)

The stroke against the centre was not, however, to be tried. Lee had
other views, and Jackson had been already ordered to turn the Federal
. Stuart, reinforced by a regiment of infantry and several light
batteries, was instructed to reconnoitre the enemy's position, and if
favourable ground were found, he was to be supported by all the
infantry available. "About half-past twelve," says General Walker, "I
sought Jackson to report that from the front of my position in the
wood I thought I had observed a movement of the enemy, as if to pass
through the gap where I had posted Colonel Cooke's two regiments. I
found Jackson in rear of Barksdale's brigade, under an apple tree,
sitting on his horse, with one leg thrown carelessly over the pommel
of his saddle, plucking and eating the fruit. Without making any
reply to my report, he asked me abruptly: "Can you spare me a
regiment and a battery?"...Adding that he wished to make up, from the
different commands on our , a force of four or five thousand men,
and give them to Stuart, with orders to turn the enemy's  and
attack him in the rear; that I must give orders to my division to
advance to the front, and attack the enemy as soon as I should hear
Stuart's guns, and that our whole  wing would move to the attack
at the same time. Then, replacing his foot in the stirrup, he said
with great emphasis, "We'll drive McClellan into the Potomac."

"Returning to my command, I repeated General Jackson's order to my
brigade commanders and directed them to listen to the sound of
Stuart's guns. We all confidently expected to hear the welcome sound
by two o'clock at least, and as that hour approached every ear was on
the alert. Napoleon at Waterloo did not listen more intently for the
sound of Grouchy's fire than did we for Stuart's. Two o'clock came,
but nothing was heard of Stuart. Half-past two, and then three, and
still Stuart made no sign.

"About half-past three a staff officer of General Longstreet's
brought me an order to advance and attack the enemy in my front. As
the execution of this order would have materially interfered with
Jackson's plans, I thought it my duty before beginning the movement
to communicate with General Longstreet personally. I found him in
rear of the position in which I had posted Cooke in the morning, and
upon informing him of Jackson's intentions, he withdrew his order.

"While we were discussing this subject, Jackson himself joined us
with the information of Stuart's failure to turn the Federal ,
for the reason that he found it securely posted on the Potomac. Upon
my expressing surprise at this statement, Jackson replied that he
also had been surprised, as he had supposed the Potomac much further
away; but he remarked that Stuart had an excellent eye for
topography, and it must be as he represented. "It is a great pity,"
he added; "we should have driven McClellan into the Potomac""* (*
Battles and Leaders. volume 2 pages 679 and 680.)

That a counterstroke which would have combined a frontal and flank
attack would have been the best chance of destroying the Federal army
can hardly be questioned. The front so bristled with field artillery,
and the ridge beyond the Antietam was so strong in heavier ordnance,
that a purely frontal attack, such as Longstreet suggested, was
hardly promising; but the dispositions which baffled Stuart were the
work of a sound tactician. Thirty rifled guns had been assembled in a
single battery a mile north of the West Wood, where the Hagerstown
turnpike ascends a commanding ridge, and the broad channel of the
Potomac is within nine hundred yards. Here had rallied such portions
of Hooker's army corps as had not dispersed, and here Mansfield's two
divisions had reformed; and although the infantry could hardly have
opposed a resolute resistance the guns were ready to repeat the
lesson of Malvern Hill. Against the rifled pieces the light
Confederate smooth-bores were practically useless. Stuart's caution
was fully justified, and the sun sank on an indecisive battle.

"The blessed night came, and brought with it sleep and forgetfulness
and refreshment to many; but the murmur of the night wind, breathing
over fields of wheat and clover, was mingled with the groans of the
countless sufferers of both armies. Who can tell, who can even
imagine, the horrors of such a night, while the unconscious stars
shone above, and the unconscious river went rippling by?"* (* General
Palfrey. The Antietam and Fredericksburg.) Out of 130,000 men upon
the ground, 21,000 had been killed or wounded, more than sixteen per
cent.; and 25,000 of the Federals can hardly be said to have been
engaged.

The losses of the Confederate  have already been enumerated.
Those of the centre and the , although A.P. Hill reported only
350 casualties, had hardly been less severe. In all 9,500 officers
and men, one-fourth of the total strength, had fallen, and many of
the regiments had almost disappeared.* (* "One does not look for
humour in a stern story like this, but the Charleston Courier account
of the battle contains the following statement: 'They the
Confederates fought until they were cut to pieces, and then
retreated only because they had fired their last round!'" General
Palfrey, The Antietam and Fredericksburg.) The 17th Virginia, for
instance, of Longstreet's command, took into battle 9 officers and 46
men; of these 7 officers and 24 men were killed or wounded, and 10
taken prisoners, leaving 2 officers and 12 men to represent a
regiment which was over 1000 strong at Bull Run. Yet as the men sank
down to rest on the line of battle, so exhausted that they could not
be awakened to eat their rations; as the blood cooled and the tension
on the nerves relaxed, and even the officers, faint with hunger and
sickened with the awful slaughter, looked forward with apprehension
to the morrow, from one indomitable heart the hope of victory had not
yet vanished. In the deep silence of the night, more oppressive than
the stunning roar of battle, Lee, still mounted, stood on the
highroad to the Potomac, and as general after general rode in wearily
from the front, he asked quietly of each, "How is it on your part of
the line?" Each told the same tale: their men were worn out; the
enemy's numbers were overwhelming; there was nothing  but to
retreat across the Potomac before daylight. Even Jackson had no other
counsel to offer. His report was not the less impressive for his
quiet and respectful tone. He had had to contend, he said, against
the heaviest odds he had ever met. Many of his divisional and brigade
commanders were dead or wounded, and his loss had been severe. Hood,
who came next, was quite unmanned. He exclaimed that he had no men
. "Great God!" cried Lee, with an excitement he had not yet
displayed, "where is the splendid division you had this morning?"
"They are lying on the field, where you sent them," was the reply,
"for few have straggled. My division has been almost wiped out."

After all had given their opinion, there was an appalling silence,
which seemed to last for several minutes, and then General Lee,
rising erect in his stirrups, said, "Gentlemen, we will not cross the
Potomac to-night. You will go to your respective commands, strengthen
your lines; send two officers from each brigade towards the ford to
collect your stragglers and get them up. Many have come in. I have
had the proper steps taken to collect all the men who are in the
rear. If McClellan wants to fight in the morning, I will give him
battle again. Go!" Without a word of remonstrance the group broke up,
leaving their great commander alone with his responsibility, and,
says an eyewitness, "if I read their faces a, there was not one
but considered that General Lee was taking a fearful risk."* (*
Communicated by General Stephen P. Lee, who was present at the
conference.) So the soldiers' sleep was undisturbed. Through the
September night they lay beside their arms, and from the dark spaces
beyond came the groans of the wounded and the nameless odours of the
battle-field. Not often has the night looked down upon a scene more
terrible. The moon, rising above the mountains, revealed the long
lines of men and guns, stretching far across hill and valley, waiting
for the dawn to shoot each other down, and between the armies their
dead lay in such numbers as civilised war has seldom seen. So fearful
had been the carnage, and comprised within such narrow limits, that a
Federal patrol, it is related, passing into the corn-field, where the
fighting had been fiercest, believed that they had surprised a whole
Confederate brigade. There, in the shadow of the woods, lay the
skirmishers, their muskets beside them, and there, in regular ranks,
lay the line of battle, sleeping, as it seemed, the profound sleep of
utter exhaustion. But the first man that was touched was cold and
lifeless, and the next, and the next; it was the bivouac of the dead.

September 18.

When the day dawned the Confederate divisions, reinforced by some
5000 or 6000 stragglers, held the same position as the previous
evening, and over against them, seen dimly through the mist, lay the
Federal lines. The skirmishers, crouching behind the shattered
fences, confronted each other at short range; the guns of both armies
were unlimbered, and the masses of infantry, further to the rear, lay
ready for instant conflict. But not a shot was fired. The sun rose
higher in the heavens; the warm breath of the autumn morning rustled
in the woods, but still the same strange silence prevailed. The men
spoke in undertones, watching intently the movements of staff
officers and orderlies; but the ranks lay as still as the inanimate
forms, half hidden by the trodden corn, which lay so thickly between
the lines; and as the hours passed on without stir or shot, the
Southern generals acknowledged that Lee's daring in offering battle
was fully justified. The enemy's aggressive strength was evidently
exhausted; and then arose the question, Could the Confederates
attack? It would seem that the possibility of a great counterstroke
had already been the subject of debate, and that Lee, despite the
failure of the previous evening, and Jackson's adverse report,
believed that the Federal  might be outflanked and overwhelmed.
"During the morning," writes General Stephen D. Lee, "a courier from
headquarters came to my battalion of artillery with a message that
the Commander-in-Chief wished to see me. I followed the courier, and
on meeting General Lee, he said, "Colonel Lee, I wish you to go with
this courier to General Jackson, and say that I sent you to report to
him." I replied, "General, shall I take my batteries with me?" He
said, "No, just say that I told you to report to him, and he will
tell you what he wants." I soon reached General Jackson. He was
dismounted, with but few persons round him. He said to me, "Colonel
Lee, I wish you to take a ride with me," and we rode to the  of
our lines with but one courier, I think. We soon reached a
considerable hill and dismounted. General Jackson then said, "Let us
go up this hill, and be careful not to expose yourself, for the
Federal sharpshooters are not far off." The hill bore evidence of
fierce fight the day before.* (* Evidently the ridge which had been
held by Stuart on the 17th.) A battery of artillery had been on it,
and there were wrecked caissons, broken wheels, dead bodies, and dead
horses around. General Jackson said: "Colonel, I wish you to take
your glasses and carefully examine the Federal line of battle." I did
so, and saw a remarkably strong line of battle, with more troops than
I knew General Lee had. After locating the different batteries,
unlimbered and ready for action, and noting the strong skirmish line,
in front of the dense masses of infantry, I said to him, "General,
that is a very strong position, and there is a large force there." He
said, "Yes. I wish you to take fifty pieces of artillery and crush
that force, which is the Federal . Can you do it?" I can
scarcely describe my feelings as I again took my glasses, and made an
even more careful examination. I at once saw such an attempt must
fail. More than fifty guns were unlimbered and ready for action,
strongly supported by dense lines of infantry and strong skirmish
lines, advantageously posted. The ground was unfavourable for the
location of artillery on the Confederate side, for, to be effective,
the guns would have to move up close to the Federal lines, and that,
too, under fire of both infantry and artillery. I could not bring
myself to say all that I felt and knew. I said, "Yes, General; where
will I get the fifty guns?" He said, "How many have you?" I replied,
"About twelve out of the thirty I carried into the action the day
before." (My losses had been very great in men, horses, and
carriages.) He said, "I can furnish you some, and General Lee says he
can furnish some." I replied, "Shall I go for the guns?" "No, not
yet," he replied. "Colonel Lee, can you crush the Federal  with
fifty guns?" I said, "General, I can try. I can do it if anyone can."
He replied, "That is not what I asked you, sir. If I give you fifty
guns, can you crush the Federal ?" I evaded the question again
and again, but he pressed it home. Finally I said, "General, you seem
to be more intent upon my giving you my technical opinion as an
artillery officer, than upon my going after the guns and making the
attempt." "Yes, sir," he replied, "and I want your positive opinion,
yes or no." I felt that a great crisis was upon me, and I could not
evade it. I again took my glasses and made another examination. I
waited a good while, with Jackson watching me intently.

"I said, "General, it cannot be done with fifty guns and the troops
you have near here." In an instant he said, "Let us ride back,
Colonel." I felt that I had positively shown a lack of nerve, and
with considerable emotion begged that I might be allowed to make the
attempt, saying, "General, you forced me to say what I did
unwillingly. If you give the fifty guns to any other artillery
officer, I am ruined for life. I promise you I will fight the guns to
the last extremity, if you will only let me command them." Jackson
was quiet, seemed sorry for me, and said, "It is all , Colonel.
Everybody knows you are a brave officer and would fight the guns
well," or words to that effect. We soon reached the spot from which
we started. He said, "Colonel, go to General Lee, and tell him what
has occurred since you reported to me. Describe our ride to the hill,
your examination of the Federal position, and my conversation about
your crushing the Federal  with fifty guns, and my forcing you
to give your opinion."

"With feelings such as I never had before, nor ever expect to have
again, I returned to General Lee, and gave a detailed account of my
visit to General Jackson, closing with the account of my being forced
to give my opinion as to the possibility of success. I saw a shade
come over General Lee's face, and he said, "Colonel, go and join your
command."

"For many years I never fully understood my mission that day, or why
I was sent to General Jackson. When Jackson's report was published of
the battle, I saw that he stated, that on the afternoon of September
17, General Lee had ordered him to move to the  with a view of
turning the Federal , but that he found the enemy's numerous
artillery so judiciously posted in their front, and so near the
river, as to render such an attempt too hazardous to undertake. I
afterwards saw General J.E.B. Stuart's report, in which he says that
it was determined, the enemy not attacking, to turn the enemy's 
on the 18th. It appears General Lee ordered General Jackson, on the
evening of the 17th, to turn the enemy's , and Jackson said that
it could not be done. It also appears from Stuart's report, and from
the incident I relate, that General Lee reiterated the order on the
18th, and told Jackson to take fifty guns, and crush the Federal
. Jackson having reported against such attempt on the 17th, no
doubt said that if an artillerist, in whom General Lee had
confidence, would say the Federal  could be crushed with fifty
guns, he would make the attempt.

"I now have the satisfaction of knowing that the opinion which I was
forced to give on September 18 had already been given by Jackson on
the evening of September 17, and that the same opinion was reiterated
by him on September 18, and confirmed by General J. E. B. Stuart on
the same day. I still believe that Jackson, Stuart, and myself were
, and that the attempt to turn the Federal  either on the
17th or on the 18th would have been unwise.

"The incident shows General Lee's decision and boldness in battle,
and General Jackson's delicate loyalty to his commanding general, in
convincing him of the inadvisability of a proposed movement, which he
felt it would be hazardous to undertake."* (* Communicated to the
author. The difficulties in the way of the attack, of which Jackson
was aware on the night of the 17th, probably led to his advising
retreat when Lee asked his opinion at the conference (ante pages 259,
260).)
The Federal , protected by the Antietam, was practically
inaccessible; and on receiving from the artillery officers' lips the
confirmation of Jackson's report, Lee was fain to relinquish all hope
of breaking McClellan's line. The troops, however, remained in line
of battle; but during the day information came in which made retreat
imperative. The Federals were being reinforced. Humphrey's division,
hitherto held back at Frederick by orders from Washington, had
marched over South Mountain; Couch's division, which McClellan had
 to observe Harper's Ferry, had been called in; and a large force
of militia was assembling on the Pennsylvania border. Before evening,
therefore, Lee determined to evacuate his position, and during the
night the Army of Northern Virginia, with all its trains and
artillery, recrossed the Potomac at Boteler's Ford.

Such was the respect which the hard fighting of the Confederates had
imposed upon the enemy, that although the rumbling of heavy vehicles,
and the tramp of the long columns, were so distinctly audible in the
Federal lines that they seemed to wakeful ears like the steady flow
of a river, not the slightest attempt was made to interfere. It was
not till the morning of the 19th that a Federal battalion,
reconnoitring towards Sharpsburg, found the ridge and the town
deserted; and although Jackson, who was one of the last, except the
cavalry scouts, to cross the river, did not reach the Virginia shore
till eight o'clock, not a shot was fired at him.

Nor were the trophies gathered by the Federals considerable. Several
hundred badly wounded men were found in Sharpsburg, and a number of
stragglers were picked up, but neither gun nor waggon had been 
upon the field. The retreat, despite many obstacles, was as
successfully as skilfully executed. The night was very dark, and a
fine rain, which had set in towards evening, soon turned the heavy
soil into tenacious mud; the ford was wide and beset with boulders,
and the only approach was a narrow lane. But the energetic
quartermaster of the Valley army, Major Harman, made light of all
difficulties, and under the immediate supervision of Lee and Jackson,
the crossing was effected without loss or misadventure.

September 19.

Just before nightfall, however, under cover of a heavy artillery
fire, the Federals pushed a force of infantry across the ford, drove
back the two brigades, which, with thirty pieces of artillery, formed
the Confederate rear-guard, and captured four guns. Emboldened by
this partial success, McClellan ordered Porter to put three brigades
of the Fifth Army Corps across the river the next morning, and
reconnoitre towards Winchester.

The news of the disaster to his rear-guard was long in reaching Lee's
headquarters. His army had not yet recovered from the confusion and
fatigue of the retreat. The bivouacs of the divisions were several
miles from the river, and were widely scattered. The generals were
ignorant of each other's dispositions. No arrangements had been made
to support the rear-guard in case of emergency. The greater part of
the cavalry had been sent off to Williamsport, fifteen miles up
stream, with instructions to cross the Potomac and delay the enemy's
advance by demonstration. The brigadiers had no orders; many of the
superior generals had not told their subordinates where they would be
found; and the commander of the rear-guard, General Pendleton, had
not been informed of the strength of the infantry placed at his
disposal. On the part of the staff, worn out by the toils and
anxieties of the past few days, there appears to have been a general
failure; and had McClellan, calculating on the chances invariably
offered by an enforced retreat, pushed resolutely forward in strong
force, success might possibly have followed.

September 20.

Lee, on receiving Pendleton's report, long after midnight, sent off
orders for Jackson to drive the enemy back. When the messenger
arrived, Jackson had already ridden to the front. He, too, had
received news of the capture of the guns; and ordering A.P. Hill and
Early,* (* Commanding Ewell's division, vice Lawton, wounded at
Sharpsburg.) who were in camp near Martinsburg, to march at once to
Shepherdstown, he had gone forward to reconnoitre the enemy's
movements. When Lee's courier found him he was on the Shepherdstown
road, awaiting the arrival of his divisions, and watching, unattended
by a single aide-de-camp, the advance of Porter's infantry. He had at
once grasped the situation. The Confederates were in no condition to
resist an attack in force. The army was not concentrated. The cavalry
was absent. No reconnaissance had been made either of lines of march
or of positions. The roads were still blocked by the trains. The men
were exhausted by their late exertions, and depressed by their
retreat, and the straggling was terrible. The only chance of safety
lay in driving back the enemy's advanced guard across the river
before it could be reinforced; and the chance was seized without an
instant's hesitation.

The Federals advanced leisurely, for the cavalry which should have
led the way had received its orders too late to reach the rendezvous
at the appointed hour, and the infantry, compelled to reconnoitre for
itself, made slow progress. Porter's leading brigade was consequently
not more than a mile and a half from the river when the Light
Division reported to Jackson. Hill was ordered to form his troops in
two lines, and with Early in close support to move at once to the
attack. The Federals, confronted by a large force, and with no
further object than to ascertain the whereabouts of the Confederate
army, made no attempt to hold their ground. Their  and centre,
composed mainly of regulars, withdrew in good order. The ,
hampered by broken country, was slow to move; and Hill's soldiers,
who had done much at Sharpsburg with but little loss, were confident
of victory. The Federal artillery beyond the river included many of
their heavy batteries, and when the long lines of the Southerners
appeared in the open, they were met by a storm of shells. But without
a check, even to close the gaps in the ranks, or to give time to the
batteries to reply to the enemy's fire, the Light Division pressed
forward to the charge. The conflict was short. The Northern regulars
had already passed the ford, and only a brigade of volunteers was
 on the southern bank. Bringing up his reserve regiment, the
Federal general made a vain effort to prolong his front. Hill
answered by calling up a brigade from his second line; and then,
outnumbered and outflanked, the enemy was driven down the bluffs and
across the river. The losses in this affair were comparatively small.
The Federals reported 340 killed and wounded, and of these a raw
regiment, armed with condemned Enfield rifles, accounted for no less
than 240. Hill's casualties were 271. Yet the engagement was not
without importance. Jackson's quick action and resolute advance
convinced the enemy that the Confederates were still dangerous; and
McClellan, disturbed by Stuart's threat against his rear, abandoned
all idea of crossing the Potomac in pursuit of Lee.

The losses at Sharpsburg may be here recorded.

          JONES' DIVISION--1,800
The Stonewall Brigade, 250 strong         88
Taliaferro's Brigade                     178
Starke's Brigade                         287
Jones' Brigade                           152
                                         ---
                                         700 (38 p.c.)

          EWELL'S (LAWTON) DIVISION--8,600.
Lawton's Brigade, 1,150 strong           567
Early's Brigade, 1,200 strong            194
Trimble's Brigade, 700 strong            237
Hays' Brigade, 550 strong                336
                                       -----
                                       1,334 (47 p.c.)

          THE LIGHT DIVISION--3,000
Branch's Brigade                         104
Gregg's Brigade                          165
Archer's Brigade                         105
Pender's Brigade                          30
Field's Brigade (not engaged)             --
Thomas' Brigade (at Harper's Ferry)       --
                                         ---
                                         404
Artillery (Estimated)                     50
                                 Total 2,488 (209 officers)

          D.H. HILL'S DIVISION--3,500
Rodes' Brigade                           203
Garland's Brigade (estimated)            300
Anderson's Brigade                       302
Ripley's Brigade (estimated)             300
Colquitt's Brigade (estimated)           300
                                       -----
                                       1,405

          McLAWS' DIVISION--4,500
Kershaw's Brigade                        355
Cobb's Brigade                           156
Semmes' Brigade                          314*
Barksdale's Brigade                      294
                                       -----
                                       1,119

(* Semmes' four regiments, engaged in Jackson's counterstroke,
reported the following percentage of loss. 53rd Georgia, 30 per
cent.; 32nd Virginia, 45 per cent.; 10th Georgia, 57 per cent.; 15th
Virginia, 58 per cent.)


         D.R. JONES' DIVISION--3,500
Toombs' Brigade (estimated)              125
Drayton's Brigade (estimated)            400
Anderson's Brigade                        87
Garnett's Brigade                         99
Jenkins' Brigade                         210
Kemper's Brigade (estimated)             120
                                       -----
                                       1,041

         WALKER'S DIVISION--3,500
Walker's Brigade                         825
Ransom's Brigade                         187
                                       -----
                                       1,012

         HOOD'S DIVISION--2,000.
Laws' Brigade                            454
Hood's Brigade                           548
                                       -----
                                       1,002
Evans' Brigade, 250 strong               200


         B.H. ANDERSON'S DIVISION--3,500
Featherston's Brigade                    304
Mahone's Brigade                          76
Pryor's Brigade                          182
Armistead's Brigade                       35
W's Brigade                         203
Wilcox' Brigade                          221
                                       -----
                                       1,021

         ARTILLERY.
Colonel S.D. Lee's Battalion              85
Washington Artillery                      34
Cavalry, etc. etc. (estimated)           143
                                         ---
                                         262
                         Grand total   9,550

         ARMY OF THE POTOMAC
First Corps--Hooker                    2,590
Second Corps--Sumner                   5,138
Fifth Corps--Porter                      109
Sixth Corps--Franklin                    439
Ninth Corps--Burnside                  2,349
Twelfth Corps--Mansfield               1,746
Cavalry Division, etc.                    39
                                      ------
                     (2,108 killed)   12,410*
(* For the losses in various great battles, see Note at end of
volume.)

With Porter's repulse the summer campaign of 1862 was closed. Begun
on the Chickahominy, within thirty miles of Richmond, it ended on the
Potomac, within seventy miles of Washington; and six months of
continuous fighting had brought both belligerents to the last stage
of exhaustion. Falling apart like two great battleships of the older
wars,

The smoke of battle drifting slow a-lee.

hulls rent by roundshot, and scuppers awash with blood, but with the
colours still flying over shattered spars and tangled shrouds, the
armies drew off from the tremendous struggle. Neither Confederates
nor Federals were capable of further effort. Lee, gathering in his
stragglers,  Stuart to cover his front, and fell back towards
Winchester. McClellan was content with seizing the Maryland Heights
at Harper's Ferry, and except the cavalry patrols, not a single
Federal soldier was sent across the river.

The organisation was absolutely imperative. The Army of the Potomac
was in no condition to undertake the invasion of Virginia. Not only
had the losses in battle been very large, but the supply train,
hurriedly got together after Pope's defeat, had broken down; in every
arm there was great deficiency of horses; the troops, especially
those who had been engaged in the Peninsula, were half-clad and badly
shod; and, above all, the army was very far from sharing McClellan's
conviction that Sharpsburg was a brilliant victory. The men in the
ranks were not so easily deceived as their commander. McClellan,
relying on a return drawn up by General Banks, now in command at
Washington, estimated the Confederate army at 97,000 men, and his
official reports made frequent mention of Lee's overwhelming
strength.* (* Mr. Lincoln had long before this recognised the
tendency of McClellan and others to exaggerate the enemy's strength.
As a deputation from New England was one day leaving the White House,
a delegate turned round and said: "Mr. President, I should much like
to know what you reckon to be the number the rebels have in arms
against us." Without a moment's hesitation Mr. Lincoln replied: "Sir,
I have the best possible reason for knowing the number to be one
million of men, for whenever one of our generals engages a rebel army
he reports that he has encountered a force twice his strength. Now I
know we have half a million soldiers, so I am bound to believe that
the rebels have twice that number.")

The soldiers knew better. They had been close enough to the enemy's
lines to learn for themselves how thin was the force which manned
them. They were perfectly well aware that they had been held in check
by inferior numbers, and that the battle on the Antietam, tactically
speaking, was no more of a victory for the North than Malvern Hill
had been for the South. From dawn to dark on September 18 they had
seen the tattered colours and b bayonets of the Confederates
still covering the Sharpsburg ridge; they had seen the grey line,
immovable and defiant, in undisputed possession of the battle-ground,
while their own guns were silent and their own generals reluctant to
renew the fight. Both the Government and the people expected
McClellan to complete his success by attacking Lee in Virginia. The
Confederates, it was said--and men based their opinions on
McClellan's reports--had been heavily defeated, not only at Antietam,
but also at South Mountain; and although the Army of the Potomac
might be unfit for protracted operations, the condition of the enemy
must necessarily be far worse.

Such arguments, however, were entirely inapplicable to the situation.
The Confederates had not been defeated at all, either at South
Mountain or Sharpsburg; and although they had eventually abandoned
their positions they had suffered less than their opponents. The
retreat, however, across the Potomac had undoubtedly shaken their
morale. "In a military point of view," wrote Lee to Davis on
September 25, "the best move, in my opinion, the army could make
would be to advance upon Hagerstown and endeavour to defeat the enemy
at that point. I would not hesitate to make it even with our
diminished numbers did the army exhibit its former temper and
condition, but, as far as I am able to judge, the hazard would be
great and reverse disastrous."* (* O.R. volume 19 part 2 page 627.)
But McClellan was not more cheerful. "The army," he said on the 27th,
"is not now in a condition to undertake another campaign nor to bring
on another battle, unless great advantages are offered by some
mistake of the enemy, or pressing military exigencies render it
necessary." So far from thinking of pursuit, he thought only of the
defence of the Potomac, apprehending a renewed attempt to enter
Maryland, and by no means over-confident that the two army corps
which he had at last sent to Harper's Ferry would be able to maintain
their position if attacked.* (* O.R. volume 19 part 1 page 70.) Nor
were the soldiers more eager than their commander to cross swords
with their formidable enemy. "It would be useless," says General G.H.
Gordon, who now commanded a Federal division, "to deny that at this
period there was a despondent feeling in the army," and the Special
Correspondents of the New York newspapers, the 'World' and 'Tribune,'
confirm the truth of this statement. But the clearest evidence as to
the condition of the troops is furnished in the numerous reports
which deal with straggling. The vice had reached a pitch which is
almost inconceivable. Thousands and tens of thousands, Federals as
well as Confederates, were absent from their commands.

"The States of the North," wrote McClellan, "are flooded with
deserters and absentees. One corps of this army has 18,000 men
present and 15,000 absent; of this 15,000, 8,000 probably are at work
at home."* (* Ibid part 2 page 365.) On September 28, General Meade,
who had succeeded to the command of Hooker's corps, reported that
over 8000 men, including 250 officers, had quitted the ranks either
before or during the battle of Antietam; adding that "this terrible
and serious evil seems to pervade the whole body."* (* Ibid page
348.) The Confederates, although the privations of the troops during
the forced marches, their indifferent equipment, and the deficiencies
of the commissariat were contributory causes, had almost as much
reason to complain. It is said that in the vicinity of Leesburg alone
over 10,000 men were living on the citizens. Jackson's own division,
which took into action 1600 effectives on September 17 and lost 700,
had 3900 present for duty on September 30; Lawton's division rose
from 2500 to 4450 during the same period; and the returns show that
the strength of Longstreet's and Jackson's corps was only 87, 992 on
September 22, but 52,019 on October 1.* (* O.R. volume 19 part 2
pages 621, 639.) It is thus evident that in eight days the army was
increased by more than 14,000 men, yet only a few conscripts had been
enrolled. Lee's official reports and correspondence allude in the
strongest terms to the indiscipline of his army. "The absent," he
wrote on September 23, "are scattered broadcast over the land;" and
in the dispatches of his subordinates are to be found many references
to the vagrant tendencies of their commands.* (* General orders,
September 4; Lee to Davis, September 7; Lee to Davis, September 13;
special orders, September 21; circular order, September 22; Lee to
Davis, September 23; Lee to Secretary of War, September 23; Lee to
Pendleton, September 24; Lee to Davis, September 24; Lee to Davis,
September 28; Lee to Davis October 2; O.R. volume 19 part 2. See also
Report of D.H. Hill, O.R. volume 19 part 1 page l026. Stuart to
Secretary of War, October 13. On September 21, Jackson's
adjutant-general wrote, "We should have gained a victory and routed
them, had it not been for the straggling. We were twenty-five
thousand short by this cause." Memoirs of W.N. Pendleton, D.D. page
217. It is but fair to say that on September 13 there was a camp of
900 barefooted men at Winchester, and "a great many more with the
army." Lee to Quarter-Master General, O.R. volume 19 part 2 page
614.) A strong provost guard was established at Winchester for the
purpose of collecting stragglers. Parties of cavalry were sent out to
protect the farms from pillage, and to bring in the marauders as
prisoners. The most stringent regulations were issued as to the
preservation of order on the march, the security of private property,
and the proper performance of their duties by regimental and
commissariat officers. On September 23, General Jones reported from
Winchester that the country was full of stragglers, that be had
already sent back 5000 or 6000, and that the numbers of officers
amongst them was astonishing.* (*3 O.R. volume 19 part 2 page 629.)
The most earnest representations were made to the President,
suggesting trial of the offenders by drumhead court-martial, and
ordinary police duties became the engrossing occupation of every
general officer.

It can hardly be said, then, that the Confederates had drawn much
profit from the invasion of Maryland. The capture of Harper's Ferry
made but small amends for the retreat into Virginia; and the stubborn
endurance of Sharpsburg, however remarkable in the annals of war, had
served no useful purpose beyond crippling for the time being the
Federal army. The battle must be classed with Aspern and Talavera;
Lee's soldiers saved their honour, but no more. The facts were not to
be disguised. The Confederates had missed their mark. Only a few
hundred recruits had been raised in Maryland, and there had been no
popular outbreak against the Union Government. The Union army had
escaped defeat; Lincoln had been able to announce to the Northern
people that Lee's victorious career had at length been checked; and
12,000 veteran soldiers, the flower of the Southern army, had fallen
in battle. Had General Longstreet's advice been taken, and the troops
withdrawn across the Potomac after the fall of Harper's Ferry, this
enormous loss, which the Confederacy could so ill afford, would
certainly have been avoided. Yet Lee was not ill-satisfied with the
results of the campaign, nor did Jackson doubt the wisdom of
accepting battle on the Antietam.

The hazard was great, but the stake was greater. To achieve decisive
success in war some risk must be run. "It is impossible," says
Moltke, "to forecast the result of a pitched battle;" but this is no
reason that pitched battles, if there is a fair prospect of success,
should be shirked. And in the Sharpsburg campaign the Confederates
had undoubtedly fair prospects of success. If the lost order had not
fallen into McClellan's hands, Lee in all probability would have had
ample time to select his battlefield and concentrate his army; there
would have been no need of forced marches, and consequently much less
straggling. Both Lee and Jackson counted on the caution of their
opponent. Both were surprised by the unwonted vigour be displayed,
especially at South Mountain and in the march to Sharpsburg. Such
resolution in action, they were aware, was foreign to his nature. "I
cannot understand this move of McClellan's," was Jackson's remark,
when it was reported that the Federal general had boldly advanced
against the strong position on South Mountain. But neither Lee nor
Jackson was aware that McClellan had exact information of their
dispositions, and that the carelessness of a Confederate staff
officer had done more for the Union than all the Northern scouts and
spies in Maryland. Jackson had been disposed to leave a larger margin
for accidents than his commander. He would have  Harper's Ferry
alone, and have fought the Federals in the mountains;* (* Dabney
volume 2 page 302.) and he was probably , for in the Gettysburg
campaign of the following year, when Lee again crossed the Potomac,
Harper's Ferry was ignored, although occupied by a strong garrison,
and neither in advance nor retreat were the Confederate
communications troubled. But as to the wisdom of giving battle on the
Antietam, after the fall of Harper's Ferry, there was no divergence
of opinion between Lee and his lieutenant. They had no reason to
respect the Union army as a weapon of offence, and very great reason
to believe that McClellan was incapable of wielding it. Their
anticipations were well founded. The Federal attack was badly
designed and badly executed. If it be compared with the German attack
at Worth, the defects of McClellan, the defects of his subordinates,
the want of sound training throughout the whole army, become at once
apparent. On August 6, 1870, there was certainly, early in the day,
much disjointed fighting, due in great part to the difficulties of
the country, the absence of the Crown Prince, and the anxiety of the
generals to render each other loyal support. But when once the
Commander-in-Chief appeared upon the field, and, assuming direction
of the battle, infused harmony into the operations, the strength and
unity of the attack could hardly have been surpassed. Almost at the
same moment 30,000 men were launched against McMahon's front, 25,000
against his , and 10,000 against his . Every battalion
within sound of the cannon participated in the forward movement; and
numerous batteries, crossing the stream which corresponds with the
Antietam, supported the infantry at the closest range. No general
hesitated to act on his own responsibility. Everywhere there was
co-operation, between infantry and artillery, between division and
division, between army corps and army corps; and such co-operation,
due to a sound system of command, is the characteristic mark of a
well-trained army and a wise leader. At Sharpsburg, on the other
hand, there was no combination whatever, and even the army corps
commanders dared not act without specific orders. There was nothing
like the close concert and the aggressive energy which had carried
the Southerners to victory at Gaines' Mill and the Second Manassas.
The principle of mutual support was utterly ignored. The army corps
attacked in succession and not simultaneously, and in succession they
were defeated. McClellan fought three separate battles, from dawn to
10 A.M. against Lee's ; from 10 A.M. to 1 P.M. against his
centre; from 1 to 4 P.M. against his . The subordinate generals,
although, with a few exceptions, they handled their commands
skilfully, showed no initiative, and waited for orders instead of
improving the opportunity. Only two-thirds of the army was engaged;
25,000 men hardly fired a shot, and from first to last there was not
the slightest attempt at co-operation. McClellan was made aware by
his signallers on the Red Hill of every movement that took place in
his opponent's lines, and yet he was unable to take advantage of
Lee's weakness. He had still to grasp the elementary rule that the
combination of superior numbers and of all arms against a single
point is necessary to win battles.

The Northern infantry, indeed, had not fought like troops who own
their opponents as the better men. Rather had they displayed an
elasticity of spirit unsuspected by their enemies; and the
Confederate soldiers, who knew with what fierce courage the attack
had been sustained, looked on the battle of Sharpsburg as the most
splendid of their achievements. No small share of the glory fell to
Jackson. Since the victory of Cedar Run, his fame, somewhat obscured
by Frayser's Farm and Malvern Hill, had increased by leaps and
bounds, and the defence of the West Wood was classed with the march
to Manassas Junction, the three days' battle about Groveton, and the
swift seizure of Harper's Ferry. On October 2, Lee proposed to the
President that the Army of Northern Virginia should be organised in
two army corps, for the command of which he recommended Longstreet
and Jackson. "My opinion," wrote Lee, "of General Jackson has been
greatly enhanced during this expedition. He is true, honest, and
brave; has a single eye to the good of the service, and spares no
exertion to accomplish his object."* (* O.R. volume 19 part 2 page
643.) On October 11, Jackson received his promotion as
Lieutenant-General, and was appointed to the Second Army Corps,
consisting at that date of his own division, the Light Division,
Ewell's, and D.H. Hill's, together with Colonel Brown's battalion of
artillery; a force of 1917 officers, 25,000 men, and 126 guns.

Jackson does not appear to have been unduly elated by his promotion,
for two days after his appointment he wrote to his wife that there
was no position in the world equal to that of a minister of the
Gospel, and his letter was principally concerned with the lessons he
had learned from the sermon of the previous Sunday.* (* About this
time he made a successful appearance in a new role. In September,
General Bradley T. Johnson was told off to accompany Colonel Garnet
Wolseley, the Hon. Francis Lawley, Special Correspondent to the
Times, and Mr. Vizetelly, Special Correspondent of the Illustrated
London News, round the Confederate camps. "By order of General Lee,"
he says, "I introduced the party to General Jackson. We were all
seated in front of General Jackson's tent, and he took up the
conversation. He had been to England, and had been greatly impressed
with the architecture of Durham Cathedral and with the history of the
bishopric. The Bishops had been Palatines from the date of the
Conquest, and exercised semi-royal authority over their bishopric.

"There is a fair history of the Palatinate of Durham in Blackstone
and Coke, but I can hardly think that General Jackson derived his
information from those two fountains of the law. Anyhow, he
cross-examined the Englishmen in detail about the cathedral and the
close and the s of the bishops, etc. etc. He gave them no chance
to talk, and kept them busy answering questions, for he knew more
about Durham than they did.

"As we rode away, I said: "Gentlemen, you have disclosed Jackson in a
new character to me, and I've been carefully observing him for a year
and a half. You have made him exhibit finesse, for he did all the
talking to keep you from asking too curious or embarrassing
questions. I never saw anything like it in him before.* We all
laughed, and agreed that the General had been too much for the
interviewers." (* Memoirs pages 580 and 581.)

The soldiers of the Second Army Corps, however, did not allow him to
forget his greatness. In their bivouacs by the clear waters of the
Opequon, with abundance of supplies and with ample leisure for
recuperation, the troops rapidly regained their strength and spirit.
The reaction found vent in the most extravagant gaiety. No
circumstance that promised entertainment was permitted to pass
without attention, and the jest started at the expense of some
unfortunate wight, conspicuous for peculiarity of dress or demeanour,
was taken up by a hundred voices. None were spared. A trim staff
officer was horrified at the irreverent reception of his nicely
twisted moustache, as he heard from behind innumerable trees: "Take
them mice out o' your mouth! take 'em out--no use to say they ain't
there, see their tails hanging out!" Another, sporting immense
whiskers, was urged "to come out o' that bunch of hair! I know you're
in there! I see your ears a-working!" So the soldiers chaffed the
dandies, and the camp rang with laughter; fun and frolic were always
in the air, and the fierce fighters of Sharpsburg behaved like
schoolboys on a holiday. But when the general rode by the men
remembered the victories they had won and to whom they owed them, the
hardships they had endured, and who had shared them; and the
appearance of 'Little Sorrel' was the sure precursor of a scene of
the wildest enthusiasm. The horse soon learned what the cheers
implied, and directly they began he would break into a gallop, as if
to carry his rider as quickly as possible through the embarrassing
ordeal. But the soldiers were not to be deterred by their commander's
modesty, and whenever he was compelled to pass through the bivouacs
the same tribute was so invariably offered that the sound of a
distant cheer, rolling down the lines of the Second Army Corps,
always evoked the exclamation: "Boys, look out! here comes old
Stonewall or an old hare!" "These being the only individuals," writes
one of Jackson's soldiers, "who never failed to bring down the whole
house."

Nothing could express more clearly the loyalty of the soldiers to
their general than this quaint estimate of his popularity. The
Anglo-Saxon is averse to the unrestrained display of personal
affection; and when his natural reluctance is overborne by
irrepressible emotion, he attempts to hide it by a jest. So Jackson's
veterans laughed at his peculiarities, at his dingy uniform, his
battered cap, his respect for clergymen, his punctilious courtesy,
and his blushes. They delighted in the phrase, when a distant yell
was heard, "Here's "Old Jack" or a rabbit!" They delighted more in
his confusion when he galloped through the shouting camp. "Here he
comes," they said, "we'll make him take his hat off." They invented
strange fables of which he was the hero. "Stonewall died," ran one of
the most popular, "and two angels came down from heaven to take him
back with them. They went to his tent. He was not there. They went to
the hospital. He was not there. They went to the outposts. He was not
there. They went to the prayer-meeting. He was not there. So they had
to return without him; but when they reported that he had
disappeared, they found that he had made a flank march and reached
heaven before them." Another was to the effect that whereas Moses
took forty years to get the children of Israel through the
wilderness, ""Old Jack" would have double-quicked them through in
three days on half rations!"

But, nevertheless, beneath this affectation of hilarity lay a deep
and passionate devotion; and two incidents which occurred at this
time show the extent of this feeling, and at least one reason for its
existence. "On October 8th," writes Major Heros von Borcke,
adjutant-general of the cavalry division, "I was honoured with the
pleasing mission of presenting to Stonewall, as a slight token of
Stuart's high regard, a new uniform coat, which had just arrived from
the hands of a Richmond tailor. Starting at once, I reached the
simple tent of our great general just in time for dinner. I found him
in his old weather-stained coat, from which all the buttons had been
clipped by the fair hands of patriotic ladies, and which, from
exposure to sun, rain, and powder-smoke, and by reason of many rents
and patches, was in a very unseemly condition. When I had dispatched
more important matters, I produced General Stuart's present in all
its magnificence of gilt buttons and sheeny facings and gold lace,
and I was heartily amused at the modest confusion with which the hero
of many battles regarded the fine uniform, scarcely daring to touch
it, and at the quiet way in which at last he folded it up carefully
and deposited it in his portmanteau, saying to me, "Give Stuart my
best thanks, Major; the coat is much too handsome for me, but I shall
take the best care of it, and shall prize it highly as a souvenir.
And now let us have some dinner." But I protested emphatically
against the summary disposition of the matter of the coat, deeming my
mission indeed but half executed, and remarked that Stuart would
certainly ask how the coat fitted, and that I should take it as a
personal favour if he would put it on. To this with a smile he
readily assented, and having donned the garment, he escorted me
outside the tent to the table where dinner had been served in the
open air. The whole of the staff were in a perfect ecstasy at their
chief's brilliant appearance, and the old negro servant, who was
bearing the roast turkey to the board, stopped in mid career with a
most bewildered expression, and gazed in such wonderment at his
master as if he had been transfigured before him. Meanwhile, the
rumour of the change ran like electricity through the neighbouring
camps, the soldiers came running by hundreds to the spot, desirous of
seeing their beloved Stonewall in his new attire; and the first
wearing of a new robe by Louis XIV, at whose morning toilette all the
world was accustomed to assemble, never created half the excitement
at Versailles that was roused in the woods of Virginia by the
investment of Jackson in the new regulation uniform."* (* Memoirs of
the Confederate War volume 1.)

The second incident is less amusing, but was not less appreciated by
the rank and file. Riding one morning near Front Royal, accompanied
by his staff, Jackson was stopped by a countrywoman, with a chubby
child on either side, who inquired anxiously for her son Johnnie,
serving, she said, "in Captain Jackson's company." The general, with
the deferential courtesy he never laid aside, introduced himself as
her son's commanding officer, but begged for further information as
to his regiment. The good dame, however, whose interest in the war
centred on one individual, appeared astonished that Captain Jackson
"did not know her particular Johnnie," and repeated her inquiries
with such tearful emphasis that the young staff officers began to
smile. Unfortunately for themselves, Jackson heard a titter, and
turning on them with a scathing rebuke for their want of manners, he
sent them off in different directions to discover Johnnie, giving
them no rest until mother and son were brought together.

But if the soldiers loved Jackson for his simplicity, and respected
him for his honesty, beyond and above was the sense of his strength
and power, of his indomitable will, of the inflexibility of his
justice, and of the unmeasured resources of his vigorous intellect.
It is curious even after the long lapse of years to hear his veterans
speak of their commander. Laughter mingles with tears; each has some
droll anecdote to relate, each some instance of thoughtful sympathy
or kindly deed; but it is still plain to be seen how they feared his
displeasure, how hard they found his discipline, how conscious they
were of their own mental inferiority. The mighty phantom of their
lost leader still dominates their thoughts; just as in the battles of
the Confederacy his earthly presentment dominated the will of the
Second Army Corps. In the campaign which had driven the invaders from
Virginia, and carried the Confederate colours to within sight of
Washington, his men had found their master. They had forgotten how to
criticise. His generals had learned to trust him. Success and
adulation had not indeed made him more expansive. He was as reticent
as ever, and his troops--the foot-cavalry as they were now
called--were still marched to and fro without knowing why or whither.
But men and officers, instead of grumbling when they were roused at
untimely hours, or when their marches were prolonged, without
apparent necessity, obeyed with alacrity, and amused themselves by
wondering what new surprise the general was preparing. "Where are you
going?" they were asked as they were turned out for an unexpected
march: "We don't know, but Old Jack does," was the laughing reply.
And they had learned something of his methods. They had discovered
the value of time, of activity, of mystery, of resolution. They
discussed his stratagems, gradually evolving, for they were by no
means apparent at the time, the object and aim of his manoeuvres; and
the stirring verses, sung round every camp-fire, show that the
soldiers not only grasped his principles of warfare, but that they
knew  well to whom their victories were to be attributed.

STONEWALL JACKSON'S WAY

Come, stack arms, men, pile on the rails;
Stir up the camp-fires b;
No matter if the canteen fails,
We'll make a roaring night.
Here Shenandoah brawls along,
There lofty Blue Ridge echoes strong,
To swell the Brigade's roaring song
Of Stonewall Jackson's way.

We see him now--the old slouched has,
Cocked o'er his eye askew;
The shrewd dry smile--the speech so pat,
So calm, so blunt, so true.
The "Blue-Light Elder" knows them well:
Says he, "That's Banks--he's fond of shell;
Lord save his soul! we'll give him ----" well,
That's Stonewall Jackson's way.

Silence! ground arms! kneel all! caps off!
Old Blue-Light's going to pray;
Strangle the fool that dares to scoff!
Attention! it's his way!
Appealing from his native sod,
In forma pauperis to God,
"Lay bare thine arm-stretch forth thy rod,
Amen!" That's Stonewall's way.

He's in the saddle now! Fall in,
Steady, the whole Brigade!
Hill's at the Ford, cut off!--we'll win
His way out, ball and blade.
What matter if our shoes are worn?
What matter if our feet are torn?
Quick step! we're with him before morn!
That's Stonewall Jackson's way.

The sun's b lances rout the mists
Of morning--and, by George!
There's Longstreet struggling in the lists,
Hemmed in an ugly gorge.
Pope and his columns whipped before--
"Bayonets and grape!" hear Stonewall roar,
"Charge, Stuart! pay off Ashby's score!"
That's Stonewall Jackson's way.

Ah! maiden, wait and watch and yearn
For news of Stonewall's band;
Ah! widow, read with eyes that burn
The ring upon thy hand.
Ah! wife, sew on, pray on, hope on
Thy life shall not be all forlorn;
The foe had better ne'er been born
That gets in Stonewall's way.


NOTE

Jackson's Strength and Losses, August-September 1882.
Strength at Cedar Run, August 9:
   Winder's (Jackson's own) Division (estimate)             3,000
   Ewell's Division.*                                       5,350
(* Report of July 31, O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 965.)
   Lawton's Brigade*2                                       2,200
(*2 Report of August 20, O.R. volume 12 part 3 page 966.
 Not engaged at Cedar Run.)
   A.P. Hill's (the Light) Division*3                      12,000
(*3 Report of July 20, O.R. volume 11 part 3 page 645. (3 1/2
regiments had been added.)
   Robertson's Cavalry Brigade*4 (estimate)                 1,200
(*4 Four regiments.)
                                                           ------
                                                           23,750
Losses at Cedar Run:
   Winder's Division                                 718
   Ewell's Division                                  195
   The Light Division                                381
   Cavalry, etc.                                      20    1,314
                                                           ------
                                                           22,436
Losses on the Rappahannock, August 20 to 24          100
Losses at Bristoe Station and Manassas Junction,
   August 26, 27                                     300
Losses at Groveton, August 28:
   Stonewall Division (estimate)             441
   Ewell's Division                           759  1,200
Stragglers and sick (estimate)                     1,200
Cavalry transferred to Stuart                      1,200    4,000
                                                           ------
Strength at Second Manassas, August 29 and 30              18,436

Losses:
   Taliaferro's Division                             416
   Ewell's Division                                  364
   The Light Division                              1,507    2,387
Loss at Chantilly, September 1                                500
                                                           ------
Should have marched into Maryland                          15,549

Strength at Sharpsburg:
   Jones' Division                                 2,000
   Ewell's Division                                4,000
   The Light Division                              5,000
   (1 Brigade  at Harper's Ferry)                800   11,800*
Loss at Harper's Ferry                                         62
Losses at Sharpsburg:
   Jones' Division                                   700
   Ewell's Division                                1,334
   The Light Division                                404    2,438
                                                           ------
Strength on September 19                                    9,300
 (* 3866 sick and straggling since August 28 = 21 per cent.)

The Report of September 22, O.R. volume 14 part 2 page 621, gives

Jackson's own Division       2,558
Ewell's Division             8,290
The Light Division           4,777
                            ------
                            10,620*
(* Over 1300 stragglers had rejoined.)

</section>
<section id="24" fatherid="16" title="FREDERICKSBURG" lv="CHAPTER 2.20." priority="0" level="2">
1862.
October.
While the Army of Northern Virginia was resting in the Valley,
McClellan was preparing for a winter campaign. He was unable,
however, to keep pace with the impatience of the Northern people. Not
only was he determined to postpone all movement until his army was
properly equipped, his ranks recruited, his cavalry remounted, and
his administrative services reorganised, but the military authorities
at Washington were very slow in meeting his demands. Notwithstanding,
then, the orders of the President, the remonstrances of Halleck, and
the clamour of the press, for more than five weeks after the battle
of Sharpsburg he remained inactive on the Potomac. It may be that in
the interests of the army he was perfectly  in resisting the
pressure brought to bear upon him. He was certainly the best judge of
the temper of his troops, and could estimate more exactly than either
Lincoln or Halleck the chances of success if he were to encounter
Lee's veterans on their native soil. However this may be, his
inaction was not in accordance with the demands of the political
situation. The President, immediately the Confederates retired from
Maryland, had taken a step which changed the character of the war.
Hitherto the Northerners had fought for the restoration of the Union
on the basis of the Constitution, as interpreted by themselves. Now,
after eighteen months of conflict, the Constitution was deliberately
violated. For the clause which forbade all interference with the
domestic institutions of the several States, a declaration that
slavery should no longer exist within the boundaries of the Republic
was substituted, and the armies of the Union were called upon to
fight for the freedom of the negro.

In the condition of political parties this measure Was daring. It was
not approved by the Democrats, and many of the soldiers were
Democrats; or by those--and they were not a few--who believed that
compromise was the surest means of restoring peace; or by those--and
they were numerous--who thought the dissolution of the Union a
smaller evil than the continuance of the war. The opposition was very
strong, and there was but one means of reconciling it--vigorous
action on the part of the army, the immediate invasion of Virginia,
and a decisive victory. Delay would expose the framers of the measure
to the imputation of having promised more than they could perform, of
wantonly tampering with the Constitution, and of widening the breach
between North and South beyond all hope of healing.

In consequence, therefore, of McClellan's refusal to move forward,
the friction between the Federal Government and their
general-in-chief, which, so long as Lee remained in Maryland, had
been allayed, once more asserted its baneful influence; and the
aggressive attitude of the Confederates did not serve to make matters
smoother. Although the greater part of October was for the Army of
Northern Virginia a period of unusual leisure, the troops were not
altogether idle. As soon as the stragglers had been brought in, and
the ranks of the divisions once more presented a respectable
appearance, various enterprises were undertaken. The Second Army
Corps was entrusted with the destruction of the Baltimore and Ohio
Railway, a duty carried out by Jackson with characteristic
thoroughness. The line from Harper's Ferry to Winchester, as well as
that from Manassas Junction to Strasburg, were also torn up; and the
spoils of the late campaign were sent south to Richmond and Staunton.
These preparations for defensive warfare were not, however, so
immediately embarrassing to the enemy as the action of the cavalry.
Stuart's three brigades, after the affair at Boteler's Ford, picketed
the line of the Potomac from the North Mountain to the Shenandoah, a
distance of forty miles: Hampton's brigade at Hedgesville, Fitzhugh
Lee's at Shepherdstown, Munford's at Charlestown, and headquarters
near Leetown.

On October 8 General Lee, suspecting that McClellan was meditating
some movement, ordered the cavalry to cross the Potomac and
reconnoitre.

October 9.

Selecting 600 men from each of his brigades, with General Hampton,
Colonels W. H. F. Lee and W. E. Jones in command, and accompanied by
four horse-artillery guns, Stuart rendezvoused on the night of the
9th at Darkesville. As the day dawned he crossed the Potomac at
McCoy's Ford, drove in the Federal pickets, and broke up a signal
station near Fairview.

October 10.

Marching due north, he reached Mercersburg at noon, and Chambersburg,
forty-six miles from Darkesville, at 7 P.M. on October 10.
Chambersburg, although a Federal supply depot of some importance, was
without a garrison, and here 275 sick and wounded were paroled, 500
horses requisitioned, the wires cut, and the railroad obstructed;
while the machine shops, several trains of loaded cars, and a large
quantity of small arms, ammunition, and clothing was destroyed.

October 11.

At nine the next morning the force marched in the direction of
Gettysburg, moving round the Federal rear.

October 12.

Then, crossing the mountains, it turned south through Emmittsburg,
passed the Monocacy near Frederick, and after a march of ninety miles
since leaving Chambersburg reached Hyattstown at daylight on the
12th. Here, on the road which formed McClellan's line of
communication with Washington, a few waggons were captured, and
information came to hand that 4000 or 5000 Federal troops were near
Poolesville, guarding the fords across the Potomac. Moving at a trot
through the woods, the column, leaving Poolesville two or three miles
to the , made for the mouth of the Monocacy. About a mile and a
half from that river an advanced guard of hostile cavalry, moving
eastward, was encountered and driven in. Colonel Lee's men were
dismounted, a gun was brought into action, and under cover of this
screen, posted on a high crest, the main body made a dash for White's
Ford. The point of passage, although guarded by about 100 Federal
riflemen, was quickly seized, and Stuart's whole force, together with
the captured horses, had completed the crossing before the enemy,
advancing in large force from the Monocacy, was in a position to
interfere.

This brilliantly conducted expedition was as fruitful of results as
the ride round McClellan's army in the previous June. The information
obtained was most important. Lee, besides being furnished with a
sufficiently full report of the Federal dispositions, learned that no
part of McClellan's army had been detached to Washington, but that it
was being reinforced from that quarter, and that therefore no
over-sea expedition against Richmond was to be apprehended. Several
hundred fine horses from the farms of Pennsylvania furnished
excellent remounts for the Confederate troopers. Prominent officials
were brought in as hostages for the safety of the Virginia citizens
who had been thrown into Northern prisons. Only a few scouts were
captured by the enemy, and not a man was killed. The distance marched
by Stuart, from Darkesville to White's Ford, was one hundred and
twenty-six miles, of which the last eighty were covered without a
halt. Crossing the Potomac at McCoy's Ford about 6 A.M. on October
10, he had recrossed it at White's Ford, between 1 and 2 P.M. on
October 12; he was thus for fifty-six hours inside the enemy's lines,
and during the greater part of his march within thirty miles of
McClellan's headquarters near Harper's Ferry.

It is often the case in war that a well-planned and boldly executed
enterprise has a far greater effect than could possibly have been
anticipated. Neither Lee nor Stuart looked for larger results from
this raid than a certain amount of plunder and a good deal of
intelligence. But skill and daring were crowned with a more ample
reward than the attainment of the immediate object.

In the first place, the expedition, although there was little
fighting, was most destructive to the Federal cavalry. McClellan had
done all in his power to arrest the raiders. Directly the news came
in that they had crossed the Potomac, troops were sent in every
direction to cut off their retreat. Yet so eminently judicious were
Stuart's precautions, so intelligent the Maryland soldiers who acted
as his guides, and so rapid his movements, that although constant
reports were received by the Federal generals as to the progress and
direction of his column, the information came always too late to
serve any practical purpose, and his pursuers were never in time to
bar his march. General Pleasanton, with such cavalry as could be
spared from the picket line, marched seventy-eight miles in
four-and-twenty hours, and General Averell's brigade, quartered on
the Upper Potomac, two hundred miles in four days. The severity of
the marches told heavily on these commands, already worn out by hard
work on the outposts; and so many of the horses broke down that a
period of repose was absolutely necessary to refit them for the
field. Until his cavalry should have recovered it was impossible for
McClellan to invade Virginia.

In the second place, neither the Northern Government nor the Northern
people could forget that this was the second time that McClellan had
allowed Stuart to ride at will round the Army of the Potomac. Public
confidence in the general-in-chief was greatly shaken; and a handle
was given to his opponents in the ranks of the abolitionists, who,
because he was a Democrat, and had much influence with the army, were
already clamouring for his removal.

October 26.

The respite which Stuart had gained for Virginia was not, however, of
long duration. On October 26, McClellan, having ascertained by means
of a strong reconnaissance in force that the Confederate army was
still in the vicinity of Winchester, commenced the passage of the
Potomac. The principal point of crossing was near Berlin, and so soon
as it became evident that the Federal line of operations lay east of
the Blue Ridge, Lee ordered Longstreet to Culpeper Court House.
Jackson, taking post on the road between Berryville and Charlestown,
was to remain in the Valley.

On November 7 the situation was as follows:--

ARMY OF THE POTOMAC.
First Corps       Warrenton.
Second Corps      Rectortown.
Third Corps       Between Manassas Junction and Warrenton.
Fifth Corps       White Plains.
Ninth Corps       Waterloo.
Eleventh Corps    New Baltimore.
Cavalry Division  Rappahannock Station and Sperryville.
Line of Supply    Orange and Alexandria and Manassas Railways.
Twelfth Corps     Harper's Ferry and Sharpsburg.

ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA.

First Corps       Culpeper Court House.
Second Corps      Headquarters, Millwood.
Cavalry Division  Hampton's and Fitzhugh Lee's Brigades on
                     the Rappahannock.
                  Munford's Brigade with Jackson.
Lines of Supply   Staunton--Strasburg.
                  Staunton--Culpeper Court House.
                  Richmond--Gordonsville.

November 7.

On this date the six corps of the Army of the Potomac which were
assembled between the Bull Run Mountains and the Blue Ridge numbered
125,000 officers and men present for duty, together with 320 guns.

The returns of the Army of Northern Virginia give the following
strength:--
First Army Corps    31,939  112 (54 short-range smooth-bores)
Second Army Corps   31,794  123 (53 short-range smooth-bores)
Cavalry Division     7,176    4
Reserve Artillery      900   36 (20 short-range smooth-bores)
                    ------  ---
                    71,809  275

The Confederates were not only heavily outnumbered by the force
immediately before them, but along the Potomac, from Washington
westward, was a second hostile army, not indeed so large as that
commanded by McClellan, but larger by several thousands than that
commanded by Lee. The Northern capital held a garrison of 80,000; at
Harper's Ferry were 10,000; in the neighbourhood of Sharpsburg over
4000; along the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad 8000. Thus the total
strength of the Federals exceeded 225,000 men. Yet in face of this
enormous host, and with Richmond only weakly garrisoned behind him,
Lee had actually separated his two wings by an interval of sixty
miles. He was evidently playing his old game, dividing his army with
a view to a junction on the field of battle.

Lincoln, in a letter of advice with which he had favoured McClellan a
few days previously, had urged the importance of making Lee's line of
supply the first objective of the invading army. "An advance east of
the Blue Ridge," he said, "would at once menace the enemy's line of
communications, and compel him to keep his forces together; and if
Lee, disregarding this menace, were to cut in between the Army of the
Potomac and Washington, McClellan would have nothing to do but to
attack him in rear." He suggested, moreover, that by hard marching it
might be possible for McClellan to reach Richmond first.

The Confederate line of communications, so the President believed,
ran from Richmond to Culpeper Court House, and McClellan's advanced
guards, on November 7, were within twenty miles of that point. Lee,
however, had altogether failed to respond to Mr. Lincoln's
strategical pronouncements. Instead of concentrating his forces he
had dispersed them; and instead of fearing for his own
communications, he had placed Jackson in a position to interfere very
seriously with those of his enemy.

Mr. Lincoln's letter to McClellan shows that the lessons of the war
had not been altogether lost upon him. Generals Banks and Pope, with
some stimulus from Stonewall Jackson, had taught him what an
important part is played by lines of supply. He had mastered the
strategical truism that an enemy's communications are his weakest
point. But there were other considerations which had not come home to
him. He had overlooked the possibility that Lee might threaten
McClellan's communications before McClellan could threaten his; and
he had yet to learn that an army operating in its own country, if
proper forethought be exercised, can establish an alternative line of
supply, and provide itself with a double base, thus gaining a freedom
of action of which an invader, bound, unless he has command of the
sea, to a single line, is generally deprived.

The President appears to have thought that, if Lee were cut off from
Richmond, the Army of Northern Virginia would be reduced to
starvation, and become absolutely powerless. It never entered his
head that the astute commander of that army had already, in
anticipation of the very movement which McClellan was now making,
established a second base at Staunton, and that his line of supply,
in case of necessity, would not run over the open country between
Richmond and Gordonsville, but from Staunton to Culpeper, behind the
ramparts of the Blue Ridge.

Lee, in fact, accepted with equanimity the possibility of the
Federals intervening between himself and Richmond. He had already, in
the campaign against Pope, extricated himself from such a situation
by a bold stroke against his enemy's communications; and the natural
fastness of the Valley, amply provided with food and forage, afforded
facilities for such a manoeuvre which had been altogether absent
before the Second Manassas. Nor was he of Mr. Lincoln's opinion, that
if the Army of Northern Virginia cut in between Washington and
McClellan it would be a simple operation for the latter to about face
and attack the Confederates in rear. He knew, and Mr. Lincoln, if he
had studied Pope's campaign, should have known it too, that the
operation of countermarching, if the line of communication has been
cut, is not only apt to produce great confusion and great suffering,
but has the very worst effect on the morale of the troops. But Lee
had that practical experience which Mr. Lincoln lacked, and without
which it is but waste of words to dogmatise on strategy. He was well
aware that a large army is a cumbrous machine, not readily deflected
from the original direction of the line of march;* (* On November 1
the Army of the Potomac (not including the Third Corps) was
accompanied by 4818 waggons and ambulances, 8,500 transport horses,
and 12,000 mules. O.R. volume 19 part 1 pages 97-8. The train of each
army corps and of the cavalry covered eight miles of road, or fifty
miles for the whole.) and, more than all, he had that intimate
acquaintance with the soldier in the ranks, that knowledge of the
human factor, without which no military problem, whether of strategy,
tactics, or organisation, can be satisfactorily solved. McClellan's
task, therefore, so long as he had to depend for his supplies on a
single line of railway, was not quite so simple as Mr. Lincoln
imagined.

Nevertheless, on November 7 Lee decided to unite his army. As soon as
the enemy advanced from Warrenton, Jackson was to ascend the Valley,
and crossing the Blue Ridge at Fisher's Gap, join hands with
Longstreet, who would retire from Madison Court House to the vicinity
of Gordonsville. The Confederates would then be concentrated on
McClellan's  flank should he march on Richmond, ready to take
advantage of any opportunity for attack; or, if attack were
considered too hazardous, to threaten his communications, and compel
him to fall back to the Potomac.

The proposed concentration, however, was not immediately carried out.
In the first place, the Federal advance came to a sudden standstill;
and, in the second place, Jackson was unwilling to abandon his post
of vantage behind the Blue Ridge. It need hardly be said that the
policy of manoeuvring instead of intrenching, of aiming at the
enemy's flank and rear instead of barring his advance directly, was
in full agreement with his views of war; and it appears that about
this date he had submitted proposals for a movement against the
Federal communications. It would be interesting indeed to have the
details of his design, but Jackson's letter-book for this period has
unfortunately disappeared, nor did he communicate his ideas to any of
his staff. Letters from General Lee, however, indicate that the
manoeuvre proposed was of the same character as that which brought
Pope in such hot haste from the Rappahannock to Bull Run, and that it
was Jackson's suggestion which caused the Commander-in-Chief to
reconsider his determination of uniting his army.

"As long as General Jackson," wrote Lee to the Secretary of War on
November 10, "can operate with safety, and secure his retirement west
of the Massanutton Mountains, I think it advantageous that he should
be in a position to threaten the enemy's flank and rear, and thus
prevent his advance southward on the east side of the Blue Ridge.
General Jackson has been directed accordingly, and should the enemy
descend into the Valley, General Longstreet will attack his rear, and
cut off his communications. The enemy apparently is so strong in
numbers that I think it preferable to baffle his designs by
manoeuvring, rather than resist his advance by main force, To
accomplish the latter without too great a risk and loss would require
more than double our present numbers."* (* O.R. volume 19 part 2 page
711.)

His letter to Jackson, dated November 9, ran as follows: "The enemy
seems to be massing his troops along the Manassas Railroad in the
vicinity of Piedmont, which gives him great facilities for bringing
up supplies from Alexandria. It has occurred to me that his object
may be to seize upon Strasburg with his main force, to intercept your
ascent of the Valley...This would oblige you to cross into the Lost
River Valley, or west of it, unless you could force a passage through
the Blue Ridge; hence my anxiety for your safety. If you can prevent
such a movement of the enemy, and operate strongly on his flank and
rear through the gaps of the Blue Ridge, you would certainly in my
opinion effect the object you propose. A demonstration of crossing
into Maryland would serve the same purpose, and might call him back
to the Potomac. As my object is to retard and baffle his designs, if
it can be accomplished by manoeuvring your corps as you propose, it
will serve my purpose as well as if effected in any other way. With
this understanding, you can use your discretion, which I know I can
rely upon, in remaining or advancing up the Valley. Keep me advised
of your movements and intentions; and you must keep always in view
the probability of an attack upon Richmond from either north or
south, when a concentration of force will become necessary."* (* O.R.
volume 19 part 2 page 705.)

Jackson's plan, however, was not destined to be tried. McClellan had
issued orders for the concentration of his army at Warrenton. His
troops had never been in better condition. They were in good spirits,
well supplied and admirably equipped. Owing to the activity of his
cavalry, coupled with the fact that the Confederate horses were at
this time attacked by a disease which affected both tongue and hoof,
his information was more accurate than usual. He knew that Longstreet
was at Culpeper, and Jackson in the Valley. He saw the possibility of
separating the two wings of the enemy's forces, and of either
defeating Longstreet or forcing him to fall back to Gordonsville, and
he had determined to make the attempt.

On the night of November 7, however, at the very moment when his army
was concentrating for an advance against Longstreet, McClellan was
ordered to hand over his command to General Burnside. Lincoln had
yielded to the insistence of McClellan's political opponents, to the
rancour of Stanton, and the jealousy of Halleck. But in sacrificing
the general who had saved the Union at Sharpsburg he sacrificed the
lives of many thousands of his soldiers. A darker day than even the
Second Manassas was in store for the Army of the Potomac. McClellan
was not a general of the first order. But he was the only officer in
the United States who had experience of handling large masses of
troops, and he was improving every day. Stuart had taught him the use
of cavalry, and Lee the value of the initiative. He was by no means
deficient in resolution, as his march with an army of recently
defeated men against Lee in Maryland conclusively proves; and
although he had never won a decisive victory, he possessed, to a
degree which was never attained by any of his successors, the
confidence and affection of his troops. But deplorable as was the
weakness which sanctioned his removal on the eve of a decisive
manoeuvre, the blunder which put Burnside in his place was even more
so. The latter appears to have been the protege of a small political
faction. He had many good qualities. He was a firm friend, modest,
generous, and energetic. But he was so far from being distinguished
for military ability that in the Army of the Potomac it was very
strongly questioned whether he was fit to command an army corps. His
conduct at Sharpsburg, where he had been entrusted with the attack on
the Confederate , had been the subject of the severest
criticism, and by not a few of his colleagues he was considered
directly responsible for the want of combination which had marred
McClellan's plan of attack. More than once Mr. Lincoln infringed his
own famous aphorism, "Never swap horses when crossing a stream," but
when he transferred the destinies of the Army of the Potomac from
McClellan to Burnside he did more--he selected the weakest of his
team of generals to bear the burden.

At the same time that McClellan was superseded, General FitzJohn
Porter, the gallant soldier of Gaines' Mill and Malvern Hill,
probably the best officer in the Army of the Potomac, was ordered to
resign command of the Fifth Army Corps, and to appear before a
court-martial on charges of incompetency and neglect of duty at the
Second Manassas. The fact that those charges were preferred by Pope,
and that Porter had been allowed to retain his command through the
campaign in Maryland, were hardly calculated to inspire the army with
confidence in either the wisdom or the justice of its rulers; and it
was the general opinion that his intimate friendship with McClellan
had more to say to his trial than his alleged incompetency.

Burnside commenced his career by renouncing the enterprise which
McClellan had contemplated. Longstreet was  unmolested at
Culpeper; and, in order to free the communications from Jackson, the
Federal army was marched eastward along the Rappahannock to Falmouth,
a new line of supply being established between that village and Aquia
Creek, the port on the Potomac, six hours' sail from Washington.

Lee had already foreseen that Jackson's presence in the Valley might
induce the Federals to change their line of operations.
Fredericksburg, on the south side of the Rappahannock, and the
terminus of the Richmond and Potomac Railroad, had consequently been
garrisoned by an infantry regiment and a battery, while three
regiments of cavalry patrolled the river. This force, however, was
not posted on the Rappahannock with a view of retarding the enemy's
advance, but merely for observation. Lee, at this date, had no
intention of concentrating at Fredericksburg. The Federals, if they
acted with resolution, could readily forestall him, and the line of
the North Anna, a small but difficult stream, thirty-six miles south,
offered peculiar advantages to the defence.

November 17.

The Federal march was rapid. On November 15 the Army of the Potomac
 Warrenton, and the advanced guard reached Falmouth on the
afternoon of the 17th. General Sumner, in command, observing the
weakness of the Confederate garrison, requested permission from
Burnside to cross the Rappahannock and establish himself on the
further bank. Although two army corps were at hand, and the remainder
were rapidly closing up, Burnside refused, for the bridges had been
broken, and he was unwilling to expose part of his forces on the
 bank with no means of retreat except a difficult and uncertain
ford. The same day, part of Longstreet's corps and a brigade of
cavalry were sent to Fredericksburg; and on the 19th, Lee, finding
that the Federals had  Warrenton, ordered Longstreet to
concentrate his whole force at Fredericksburg, and summoned Jackson
from the Valley to Orange Court House.

Jackson, meanwhile, had moved to Winchester, probably with the design
of threatening the enemy's garrisons on the Potomac, and this
unexpected movement had caused much perturbation in the North.
Pennsylvania and Maryland expected nothing less than instant
invasion. The merchant feared for his strong-box, the farmer for his
herds; plate was once more packed up; railway presidents demanded
further protection for their lines; generals begged for
reinforcements, and, according to the "Times" Correspondent, it was
"the universal belief that Stonewall Jackson was ready to pounce upon
Washington from the Shenandoah, and to capture President,
Secretaries, and all." But before apprehension increased to panic,
before Mr. Lincoln had become infected by the prevailing uneasiness,
the departure of the Confederates from the Valley brought relief to
the affed citizens.

On November 22 Jackson bade farewell to Winchester. His headquarters
were not more than a hundred yards from Dr. Graham's manse, and he
spent his last evening with his old friends. "He was in fine health
and fine spirits," wrote the minister's wife to Mrs. Jackson. "The
children begged to be permitted to sit up to see "General Jackson,"
and he really seemed overjoyed to see them, played with them and
fondled them, and they were equally pleased. I have no doubt it was a
great recreation to him. He seemed to be living over last winter
again, and talked a great deal about the hope of getting back to
spend this winter with us, in the old room, which I told him I was
keeping for you and him. He certainly has had adulation enough to
spoil him, but it seems not to affect or harm him at all. He is the
same humble, dependent Christian, desiring to give God all the glory,
looking to Him alone for a blessing, and not thinking of himself."

So it was with no presage that this was the last time he would look
upon the scenes he loved that Jackson moved southward by the Valley
turnpike. Past Kernstown his columns swept, past Middletown and
Strasburg, and all the well-remembered fields of former triumphs;
until the peaks of the Massanuttons threw their shadows across the
highway, and the mighty bulk of the noble mountains, draped in the
gold and crimson of the autumn, once more re-echoed to the tramp of
his swift-footed veterans. Turning east at New Market, he struck
upwards by the familiar road; and then, descending the narrow pass,
he forded the Shenandoah, and crossing the Luray valley vanished in
the forests of the Blue Ridge. Through the dark pines of Fisher's Gap
he led his soldiers down to the Virginia plains, and the rivers and
the mountains knew him no more until their dead returned to them.

On the 26th the Second Army Corps was at Madison Court House.

November 27.

The next day it was concentrated at Orange Court House,
six-and-thirty miles from Fredericksburg. In eight days, two being
given to rest, the troops had marched one hundred and twenty miles,
and with scarce a straggler, for the stern measures which had been
taken to put discipline on a firmer basis, and to make the regimental
officers do their duty, had already produced a salutary effect.

On Jackson's arrival at Orange Court House he found the situation
unchanged. Burnside, notwithstanding that heavy snow-storms and sharp
frosts betokened the approach of winter, the season of impassable
roads and swollen rivers, was still encamped near Falmouth. The
difficulty of establishing a new base of supplies at Aquia Creek, and
some delay on the part of the Washington authorities in furnishing
him with a pontoon train, had kept him idle; but he had not
relinquished his design of marching upon Richmond. His quiescence,
however, together with the wishes of the President, had induced
General Lee to change his plans. The Army of Northern Virginia,
78,500 strong, although, in order to induce the Federals to attack,
it was not yet closely concentrated, was ready to oppose in full
force the passage of the Rappahannock, and all thought of retiring to
the North Anna had been abandoned.

November 29.

On November 29, therefore, Jackson was ordered forward, and while the
First Army Corps occupied a strong position in rear of
Fredericksburg, with an advanced detachment in the town, the Second
was told off to protect the lower reaches of the Rappahannock.
Ewell's division, still commanded by Early, was posted at Skinker's
Neck, twelve miles south-east of Fredericksburg, a spot which
afforded many facilities for crossing; D.H. Hill's at Port Royal,
already menaced by Federal gunboats, six miles further down stream;
A.P. Hill's and Taliaferro's (Jackson's own) at Yerby's House and
Guiney's Station, five and nine miles respectively from Longstreet's
; and Stuart, whose division was now increased to four brigades,
watched both front and flanks.

The Rappahannock was undoubtedly a formidable obstacle. Navigable for
small vessels as far as Fredericksburg, the head of the tide water,
it is two hundred yards wide in the neighbourhood of the city, and it
increases in width and depth as it flows seaward. But above Falmouth
there are several easy fords; the river banks, except near
Fredericksburg, are clad with forest, hiding the movements of troops;
and from Falmouth downward, the  bank, under the name of the
Stafford Heights, so completely commands the  that it was
manifestly impossible for the Confederates to prevent the enemy,
furnished with a far superior artillery, from making good the passage
of the stream. A mile west of Fredericksburg, however, extending from
Beck's Island to the heights beyond the Massaponax Creek, runs a long
low ridge, broken by ravines and partially covered with timber, which
with some slight aid from axe and spade could be rendered an
exceedingly strong position. Longstreet, who occupied this ridge, had
been ordered to intrench himself; gun-pits had been dug on the bare
crest, named Marye's Hill, which immediately faces Fredericksburg; a
few shelter-trenches had been thrown up, natural defences improved,
and some slight breastworks and abattis constructed along the
outskirts of the woods. These works were at extreme range from the
Stafford Heights; and the field of fire, extending as far as the
river, a distance varying from fifteen hundred to three thousand
yards, needed no clearing. Over such ground a frontal attack, even if
made by superior numbers, had little chance of success.

But notwithstanding its manifest advantages the position found no
favour in the eyes of Jackson. It could be easily turned by the fords
above Falmouth--Banks', United States, Ely's, and Germanna. This,
however, was a minor disqualification compared with the restrictions
in the way of offensive action. If the enemy should cross at
Fredericksburg, both his flanks would be protected by the river,
while his numerous batteries, arrayed on the Stafford Heights, and
commanding the length and the breadth of the battle-field, would make
counterstroke difficult and pursuit impossible. To await attack,
moreover, was to allow the enemy to choose his own time and place,
and to surrender the advantages of the initiative. Burnside's
communications were protected by the Rappahannock, and it was thus
impracticable to manoeuvre against his most vulnerable point, to
inflict on him a surprise, to compel him to change front, and, in
case he were defeated, to cut him off from his base and deprive him
of his supplies. The line of the North Anna, in Jackson's opinion,
promised far greater results. The Federals, advancing from
Fredericksburg, would expose their  flank and their
communications for a distance of six-and-thirty miles; and if they
were compelled to retreat, the destruction of their whole army was
within the bounds of possibility. "I am opposed," he said to General
D.H. Hill, "to fighting on the Rappahannock. We will whip the enemy,
but gain no fruits of victory. I have advised the line of the North
Anna, but have been overruled."* (* Dabney volume 2 page 355. From
Manassas to Appomattox page 299.)

So the days passed on. The country was white with snow. The
temperature was near zero, and the troops, their blankets as
threadbare as their uniforms, without greatcoats, and in many
instances without boots, shivered beneath the rude shelters of their
forest bivouacs. Fortunately there was plenty of work. Roads were cut
through the woods, and existing tracks improved. The river banks were
incessantly patrolled. Fortifications were constructed at Port Royal
and Skinker's Neck, and the movements of the Federals, demonstrating
now here and now there, kept the whole army on the alert. Nor were
Jackson's men deprived of all excitement. He had the satisfaction of
reporting to General Lee that D.H. Hill, with the aid of Stuart's
horse-artillery, had frustrated two attempts of the Federal gunboats
to pass up the river at Port Royal; and that the vigilance of Early
at Skinker's Neck had caused the enemy to abandon the design which he
had apparently conceived of crossing at that point.

Dec. 11.

But more vigorous operations were not long postponed. On December 10,
General Burnside, urged by the impatience of the Northern press,
determined to advance, and the next morning, at 3 A.M., the signal
guns of the Confederates gave notice that the enemy was in motion.
One hundred and forty Federal guns, many of large calibre, placed in
epaulments on the Stafford Heights, frowned down upon Fredericksburg,
and before the sun rose the Federal bridge builders were at work on
the opposite shore. The little city, which had been deserted by the
inhabitants, was held by Barksdale's Mississippi brigade of McLaws'
division, about 1600 strong, and the conduct of this advanced
detachment must have done much to inspirit the troops who watched
their prowess from the ridge in rear. A heavy fog hung upon the
water, and not until the bridge was two-thirds completed, and shadowy
figures became visible in the mist, did the Mississippians open fire.
At such close quarters the effect was immediate, and the builders
fled. Twice, at intervals of half an hour, they ventured again upon
the deserted bridge, and twice were they driven back. Strong
detachments were now moved forward by the Federals to cover the
working parties, and artillery began to play upon the town. The
Southerners, however, securely posted in rifle-pits and cellars, were
not to be dislodged; and at ten o'clock Burnside ordered the heavy
batteries into action. Every gun which could be brought to bear on
Fredericksburg discharged fifty rounds of shot and shell. To this
bombardment, which lasted upwards of an hour, Longstreet's artillery
could make no reply. Yet though the effect on the buildings was
appalling, and flames broke out in many places, the defenders not
only suffered little loss, but at the very height of the cannonade
repelled another attempt to complete the bridge.

After a delay of several hours General Hooker, commanding the
advance, called for volunteers to cross the river in boats. Four
regiments came forward. The pontoons were manned, and though many
lives were lost during the transit, the gallant Federals pushed
quickly across; others followed, and Barksdale, who had no orders to
hold the place against superior strength, withdrew his men from the
river bank. About 4.30 P.M., three bridges being at last established,
the enemy pushed forward, and the Mississippians, retiring in good
order, evacuated Fredericksburg. A mile below, near the mouth of
Hazel Run, the Confederate outposts had been driven in, and three
more bridges had been thrown across. Thus on the night of the 11th
the Federals, who were now organised in three Grand Divisions, each
of two army corps, had established their advanced guards on the 
bank of the Rappahannock, and, under cover of the batteries on the
Stafford Heights, could rapidly and safely pass over their great host
of 120,000 men.* (* The three Grand Divisions were commanded by
Sumner, Hooker, and Franklin.)

Burnside had framed his plan of attack on the assumption that Lee's
army was dispersed along the Rappahannock. His balloon had reported
large Confederate bivouacs below Skinker's Neck, and he appears to
have believed that Lee, alarmed by his demonstrations near Port
Royal, had posted half his army in that neighbourhood. Utterly
unsuspicious that a trap had been laid for him, he had resolved to
take advantage of this apparently vicious distribution, and, crossing
rapidly at Fredericksburg, to defeat the Confederate  before the
 could lend support. Port Royal is but eighteen miles from
Fredericksburg, and in prompt action, therefore, lay his only hope of
success. Burnside, however, after the successful establishment, of
his six bridges, evinced the same want of resolution which had won
him so unenviable a reputation at Sharpsburg. The long hours of
darkness slipped peacefully away; no unusual sound broke the silence
of the night, and all was still along the Rappahannock.

Dec. 12.

It was not till the next morning, December 12, that the army began to
cross, and the movement, made difficult by a dense fog, was by no
means energetic. Four of the six army corps were transferred during
the day to the southern bank; but beyond a cavalry reconnaissance,
which was checked by Stuart, there was no fighting, and to every man
in the Federal ranks it was perfectly plain that the delay was fatal.

Lee, meanwhile, with ample time at his disposal and full confidence
in the wisdom of his dispositions, calmly awaited the development of
his adversary's plans. Jackson brought up A.P. Hill and Taliaferro at
noon, and posted them on Longstreet's ; but it was not till that
hour, when it had at last become certain that the whole Federal army
was crossing, that couriers were dispatched to call in Early and D.H.
Hill. Once more the Army of Northern Virginia was concentrated at
exactly the  moment on the field of battle.* (* Lord Wolseley
North American Review volume 149 page 282.)

Dec. 13.

Like its predecessor, December 13 broke dull and calm, and the mist
which shrouded river and plain hid from each other the rival hosts.
Long before daybreak the Federal divisions still beyond the stream
began to cross; and as the morning wore on, and the troops near Hazel
Run moved forward from their bivouacs, the rumbling of artillery on
the frozen roads, the loud words of command, and the sound of martial
music came, muffled by the fog, to the ears of the Confederates lying
expectant on the ridge. Now and again the curtain lifted for a
moment, and the Southern guns assailed the long dark columns of the
foe. Very early had the Confederates taken up their position. The
ravine of Deep Run, covered with tangled brushwood, was the line of
demarcation between Jackson and Longstreet. On the extreme  of
the Second Corps, and half a mile north of the marshy valley of the
Massaponax, where a spur called Prospect Hill juts down from the
wooded ridge, were fourteen guns under Colonel Walker. Supported by
two regiments of Field's brigade, these pieces were held back for the
present within the forest which here clothed the ridge. Below
Prospect Hill, and running thence along the front of the position,
the embankment of the Richmond and Potomac Railroad formed a tempting
breastwork. It was utilised, however, only by the skirmishers of the
defence. The edge of the forest, One hundred and fifty to two hundred
yards in rear, looked down upon an open and gentle slope, and along
the brow of this natural glacis, covered by the thick timber, Jackson
posted his fighting-line. To this position it was easy to move up his
supports and reserves without exposing them to the fire of artillery;
and if the assailants should seize the embankment, he relied upon the
deadly rifles of his infantry to bar their further advance up the
ascent beyond.

The Light Division supplied both the first and second lines of
Jackson's army corps. To the  of Walker's guns, posted in a
shelter-trench within the skirts of the wood, was Archer's brigade of
seven regiments, including two of Field's, the  resting on a
coppice that projected beyond the general line of forest. On the
further side of this coppice, but nearer the embankment, lay Lane's
brigade, an unoccupied space of six hundred yards intervening between
his  and Archer's . Between Lane's  and the edge of the
coppice was an open tract two hundred yards in breadth. Both of these
brigades had a strong skirmish line pushed forward along and beyond
the railroad. Five hundred yards in rear, along a road through the
woods which had been cut by Longstreet's troops, Gregg's South
Carolina brigade, in second line, covered the interval between Archer
and Lane. To Lane's  rear lay Pender's brigade, supporting twelve
guns posted in the open, on the far side of the embankment, and
twenty-one massed in a field to the north of a small house named
Bernard's Cabin. Four hundred yards in rear of Lane's  and
Pender's  was stationed Thomas's brigade of four regiments.*

(* The dispositions were as follows:--
          12 guns    Lane         Archer
          -------    ----         ------     14 guns
21 guns                                      -------
-------   -----        Thomas
          Pender       ------
                               ------
                               Gregg )

It is necessary to notice particularly the shape, size, and position
of the projecting tongue of woodland which broke the continuity of
Hill's line. A German officer on Stuart's staff had the day previous,
while riding along the position, remarked its existence, and
suggested the propriety of razing it; but, although Jackson himself
predicted that there would be the scene of the severest fighting, the
ground was so marshy within its depths, and the undergrowth so dense
and tangled, that it was judged impenetrable and  unoccupied--an
error of judgment which cost many lives. General Lane had also
recognised the danger of leaving so wide a gap between Archer and
himself, and had so reported, but without effect, to his divisional
commander.

(MAP. The Field of Fredericksburg.)

The coppice was triangular in shape, and extended nearly six hundred
yards beyond the embankment. The base, which faced the Federals, was
five hundred yards long. Beyond the apex the ground was swampy and
covered with scrub, and the ridge, depressed at this point to a level
with the plain, afforded no position from which artillery could
command the approach to or issue from this patch of jungle. A space
of seven hundred yards along the front was thus  undefended by
direct fire.

Early, who with D.H. Hill had marched in shortly after daybreak,
formed the  of the third line, Taliaferro the . The division
of D.H. Hill, with several batteries, formed the general reserve, and
a portion of Early's artillery was posted about half a mile in rear
of his division, in readiness, if necessary, to relieve the guns on
Prospect Hill.

Jackson's line was two thousand six hundred yards in length, and his
infantry 30,000 strong, giving eleven rifles to the yard; but nearly
three-fourths of the army corps, the divisions of Early, Taliaferro,
and D.H. Hill, were in third line and reserve. Of his one hundred and
twenty-three guns only forty-seven were in position, but the wooded
and broken character of the ground forbade a further deployment of
his favourite arm. His , near Deep Run, was in close touch with
Hood's division of Longstreet's army corps; and in advance of his
, already protected by the Massaponax, was Stuart with two
brigades and his horse-artillery. One Whitworth gun, a piece of great
range and large calibre, was posted on the wooded heights beyond the
Massaponax, north-east of Yerby's House.

Jackson's dispositions were almost identical with those which he had
adopted at the Second Manassas. His whole force was hidden in the
woods; every gun that could find room was ready for action, and the
batteries were deployed in two masses. Instead, however, of giving
each division a definite section of the line, he had handed over the
whole front to A.P. Hill. This arrangement, however, had been made
before D.H. Hill and Early came up, and with the battle imminent a
change was hazardous. In many respects, moreover, the ground he now
occupied resembled that which he had so successfully defended on
August 29 and 30. There was the wood opposite the centre, affording
the enemy a covered line of approach; the open fields, pasture and
stubble, on either hand; the stream, hidden by timber and difficult
of passage, on the one flank, and Longstreet on the other. But the
position at Fredericksburg was less strong for defence than that at
the Second Manassas, for not only was Jackson's line within three
thousand yards--a long range but not ineffective--of the heavy guns
on the Stafford Heights, but on the bare plain between the railway
and the river there was ample room for the deployment of the Federal
field-batteries. At the Second Manassas, on the other hand, the
advantages of the artillery position had been on the side of the
Confederates.

Nevertheless, with the soldiers of Sharpsburg, ragged indeed and
under-fed, but eager for battle and strong in numbers, there was no
reason to dread the powerful artillery of the foe; and Jackson's
confidence was never higher than when, accompanied by his staff, he
rode along his line of battle. He was not, however, received by his
soldiers with their usual demonstrations of enthusiastic devotion. In
honour of the day he had put on the uniform with which Stuart had
presented him; the old cadet cap, which had so often waved his men to
victory, was replaced by a head-dress resplendent with gold lace;
"Little Sorrel" had been deposed in favour of a more imposing
charger; and the veterans failed to recognise their commander until
he had galloped past them. A Confederate artillery-man has given a
graphic picture of his appearance when the fight was at its hottest:--

"A general officer, mounted upon a superb bay horse and followed by a
single courier, rode up through our guns. Looking neither to the
 nor the , he rode straight to the front, halted, and seemed
gazing intently on the enemy's line of battle. The outfit before me,
from top to toe, cap, coat, top-boots, horse and furniture, were all
of the new order of things. But there was something about the man
that did not look so new after all. He appeared to be an old-time
friend of all the turmoil around him. As he had done us the honour to
make an afternoon call on the artillery, I thought it becoming in
someone to say something on the occasion. No one did, however, so,
although a somewhat bashful and weak-kneed youngster, I plucked up
courage enough to venture to remark that those big guns over the
river had been knocking us about pretty considerably during the day.
He quickly turned his head, and I knew in an instant who it was
before me. The clear-cut, chiselled features; the thin, compressed
and determined lips; the calm, steadfast eye; the countenance to
command respect, and in time of war to give the soldier that
confidence he so much craves from a superior officer, were all there.
He turned his head quickly, and looking me all over, rode up the line
and away as quickly and silently as he came, his little courier hard
upon his heels; and this was my first sight of Stonewall Jackson."

From his own lines Jackson passed along the front, drawing the fire
of the Federal skirmishers, who were creeping forward, and proceeded
to the centre of the position, where, on the eminence which has since
borne the name of Lee's Hill, the Commander-in-Chief, surrounded by
his generals, was giving his last instructions. It was past nine
o'clock. The sun, shining out with almost September warmth, was
drawing up the mist which hid the opposing armies; and as the dense
white folds dissolved and rolled sway, the Confederates saw the broad
plain beneath them dark with more than 80,000 foes. Of these the 
wing, commanded by Franklin, and composed of 55,000 men and 116 guns,
were moving against the Second Corps; 30,000, under Sumner, were
forming for attack on Longstreet, and from the heights of Stafford,
where the reserves were posted in dense masses, a great storm of shot
and shell burst upon the Confederate lines. "For once," says Dabney,
"war unmasked its terrible proportions with a distinctness hitherto
unknown in the forest-clad landscapes of America, and the plain of
Fredericksburg presented a panorama that was dreadful in its
grandeur." It was then that Longstreet, to whose sturdy heart the
approach of battle seemed always welcome, said to Jackson, "General,
do not all those multitudes of Federals fen you?" "We shall very
soon see whether I shall not fen them;" and with this grim reply
the commander of the Second Corps rode back to meet Franklin's onset.

9 A.M.

The Federals were already advancing. From Deep Run southward, for
more than a mile and a half, three great lines of battle, accompanied
by numerous batteries, moved steadily forward, powerful enough, to
all appearance, to bear down all opposition by sheer weight of
numbers. "On they came," says an eye-witness, "in beautiful order, as
if on parade, their bayonets glistening in the b sunlight; on
they came, waving their hundreds of regimental flags, which relieved
with warm bits of colouring the dull blue of the columns and the
russet tinge of the wintry landscape, while their artillery beyond
the river continued the cannonade with unabated fury over their
heads, and gave a background of white fleecy smoke, like midsummer
clouds, to the animated picture."

And yet that vast array, so formidable of aspect, lacked that moral
force without which physical power, even in its most terrible form,
is but an idle show. Not only were the strength of the Confederate
position, the want of energy in the preliminary movements, the
insecurity of their own situation, but too apparent to the
intelligence of the regimental officers and men, but they mistrusted
their commander. Northern writers have recorded that the Army of the
Potomac never went down to battle with less alacrity than on this day
at Fredericksburg.

Nor was the order of attack of such a character as to revive the
confidence of the troops. Burnside, deluded by the skill with which
Jackson had hidden his troops into the belief that the Second Army
Corps was still at Port Royal, had instructed Franklin to seize the
ridge with a single division, and Meade's 4,500 Pennsylvanians were
sent forward alone, while the remainder of the Grand Division, over
50,000 strong, stood halted on the plain, awaiting the result of this
hopeless manoeuvre.* (* Franklin's Grand Division consisted of the
42,800 men, and 12,000 of Hooker's Grand Division had reinforced
him.) Meade advanced in three lines, each of a brigade, with
skirmishers in front and on the flank, and his progress was soon
checked. No sooner had his first line crossed the Richmond road than
the  was assailed by a well-directed and raking artillery fire.

Captain Pelham, commanding Stuart's horse-artillery, had galloped
forward by Jackson's orders with his two rifled guns, and, escorted
by a dismounted squadron, had come into action beyond a marshy stream
which ran through a tangled ravine on the Federal flank. So telling
was his fire that the leading brigade wavered and gave ground; and
though Meade quickly brought up his guns and placed his third brigade
en potence in support, he was unable to continue his forward movement
until he had brushed away his audacious antagonist. The four
Pennsylvania batteries were reinforced by two others; but rapidly
changing his position as often as the Federal gunners found his
range, for more than half an hour Pelham defied their efforts, and
for that space of time arrested the advance of Meade's 4,500
infantry. One of his pieces was soon disabled; but with the remaining
gun, captured from the enemy six months before, he maintained the
unequal fight until his limbers were empty, and he received
peremptory orders from Stuart to withdraw.

On Pelham's retirement, Franklin, bringing several batteries forward
to the Richmond road, for more than half an hour subjected the woods
before him to a heavy cannonade, in which the guns on the Stafford
Heights played a conspicuous part. Hidden, however, by the thick
timber, Jackson's regiments lay secure, unharmed by the tempest that
crashed above them through the leafless branches; and, reserving
their fire for the hostile infantry, his guns were silent. The
general, meanwhile, according to his custom, had walked far out into
the fields to reconnoitre for himself, and luck favoured the
Confederacy on this day of battle. Lieutenant Smith was his only
companion, and a Federal sharpshooter, suddenly rising from some tall
weeds two hundred paces distant, levelled his rifle and fired. The
bullet whistled between their heads, and Jackson, turning with a
smile to his aide-de-camp, said cheerfully: "Mr. Smith, had you not
better go to the rear? They may shoot you." Then, having deliberately
noted the enemy's arrangements, he returned to his station on
Prospect Hill.

11.15 A.M.

It was past eleven before Meade resumed his advance. Covered by the
fire of the artillery, his first line was within eight hundred yards
of Jackson's centre, when suddenly the silent woods awoke to life.
The Confederate batteries, pushing forward from the covert, came
rapidly into action, and the flash and thunder of more than fifty
guns revealed to the astonished Federals the magnitude of the task
they had undertaken. From front and flank came the scathing fire; the
skirmishers were quickly driven in, and on the closed ranks behind
burst the full fury of the storm. Dismayed and decimated by this
fierce and unexpected onslaught, Meade's brigades broke in disorder
and fell back to the Richmond road.

For the next hour and a half an artillery duel, in which over 400
guns took part, raged over the whole field, and the Confederate
batteries, their position at last revealed, engaged with spirit the
more numerous and powerful ordnance of the enemy. Then Franklin
brought up three divisions to Meade's support; and from the
smouldering ruins of Fredericksburg, three miles to the northward,
beyond the high trees of Hazel Run, the deep columns of Sumner's
Grand Division deployed under the fire of Longstreet's guns. Sumner's
attack had been for some time in progress before Franklin was in
readiness to co-operate. The battle was now fully developed, and the
morning mists had been succeeded by dense clouds of smoke, shrouding
bill and plain, through which the cannon flashed redly, and the
defiant yells of Longstreet's riflemen, mingled with their rattling
volleys, stirred the pulses of Jackson's veterans. As the familiar
sounds were borne to their ears, it was seen that the dark lines
beyond the Richmond road were moving forward, and the turn of the
Second Corps had come.

1 P.M.

It was one o'clock, and Jackson's guns had for the moment ceased
their fire. Meade's Pennsylvanians had rallied. Gibbon's division had
taken post on their ; Biney and Newton were in support; and
Doubleday, facing south, was engaged with Stuart's dismounted
troopers. Twenty-one guns on the , and thirty on the ,
stationed on the Richmond road, a thousand yards from the Confederate
position, formed a second tier to the heavier pieces on the heights,
and fired briskly on the woods. Preceded by clouds of skirmishers,
Meade and Gibbon advanced in column of brigades at three hundred
paces distance, the whole covering a front of a thousand yards; and
the supporting divisions moved up to the Richmond road.

When the Federals reached the scene of their former repulse,
Jackson's guns again opened; but without the same effect, for they
were now exposed to the fire of the enemy's batteries at close range.
Even Pelham could do but little; and the artillery beyond the
railroad on Hill's  was quickly driven in.

Meade's rear brigade was now brought up and deployed on the  of
the first, in the direction of the Massaponax, thus further extending
the front.

The leading brigade made straight for the tongue of woodland which
interposed between Lane and Archer. As they neared the Confederate
line, the Pennsylvanians, masked by the trees, found that they were
no longer exposed to fire, and that the coppice was unoccupied.
Quickly crossing the border, through swamp and undergrowth they
pushed their way, and, bursting from the covert to the , fell on
the exposed flank of Lane's brigade. The fight was fierce, but the
Southerners were compelled to give ground, for neither Archer nor
Gregg was able to lend assistance.

Meade's second brigade, though following close upon the first, had,
instead of conforming to the change of direction against Lane's
flank, rushed forward through the wood. Two hundred paces from the
embankment it came in contact with Archer's , which was resting
on the very edge of the coppice. The Confederates were taken by
surprise. Their front was secured by a strong skirmish line; but on
the flank, as the thickets appeared impenetrable, neither scouts nor
pickets had been thrown out, and the men were lying with arms piled.
Two regiments, leaping to their feet and attempting to form line to
the , were broken by a determined charge, and gave way in
disorder. The remainder, however, stood firm, for the Federals,
instead of following up their success in this direction,  Archer
to be dealt with by the third brigade of the division, which had now
reached the railroad, and swept on towards the military road, where
Gregg's brigade was drawn up within the forest. So thick was the
cover, and so limited the view, that General Gregg, taking the
advancing mass for part of Archer's line retiring, restrained the
fire of his men. The Federals broke upon his . He himself fell
mortally wounded. His flank regiment, a battalion of conscripts,
fled, except one company, without firing a shot. The two regiments on
the opposite flank, however, were with great readiness turned about,
and changing front inwards, arrested the movement of the enemy along
the rear.

The Federals had now been joined by a portion of the first brigade,
inspirited by their victory over Lane, and the moment, to all
appearance, seemed critical in the extreme for the Confederates. To
the  rear of the attacking column, Meade's third brigade was held
in check by Walker's batteries and the sturdy Archer, who,
notwithstanding that a strong force had passed beyond his flank, and
had routed two of his regiments, still resolutely held his ground,
and prevented his immediate opponents from joining the intruding
column. To the  rear, opposite Pender, Gibbon's division had
been checked by the fire of the great battery near Bernard's Cabin;
two of his brigades had been driven back, and the third had with
difficulty gained the shelter of the embankment. So from neither 
nor  was immediate support to be expected by Meade's victorious
regiments. But on the Richmond road were the divisions of Birney and
Newton, with Doubleday's and Sickles' not far in rear, and 20,000
bayonets might have been thrown rapidly into the gap which the
Pennsylvanians had so vigorously forced. Yet Jackson's equanimity was
undisturbed. The clouds of smoke and the thick timber hid the
fighting in the centre from his post of observation on Prospect Hill,
and the first intimation of the enemy's success was brought by an
aide-de-camp, galloping wildly up the slope. "General," he exclaimed
in breathless haste, "the enemy have broken through Archer's ,
and General Gregg says he must have help, or he and General Archer
will both lose their position." Jackson turned round quietly, and
without the least trace of excitement in either voice or manner, sent
orders to Early and Taliaferro, in third line, to advance with the
bayonet and clear the front. Then, with rare self-restraint, for the
fighting instinct was strong within him, and the danger was so
threatening as to have justified his personal interference, he raised
his field-glasses and resumed his scrutiny of the enemy's reserves on
the Richmond road.

1.45 P.M.

His confidence in his lieutenants was not misplaced. Early's
division, already deployed in line, came forward with a rush, and the
Stonewall Brigade, responding with alacrity to Jackson's summons, led
the advance of Taliaferro.

The counterstroke was vigorous. Meade's brigades had penetrated to
the heart of the Confederate position, but their numbers were reduced
to less than 2000 bayonets; in the fierce fighting and dense thickets
they had lost all semblance of cohesion, and not a single regiment
had supported them. The men looked round in vain for help, and the
forest around them resounded with the yells of the Confederate
reinforcements. Assailed in front and flank by a destructive fire,
the Pennsylvanians were rapidly borne back. Hill's second line joined
in Early's advance. Gibbon was strongly attacked. Six brigades,
sweeping forward from the forest, dashed down the slopes, and in a
few moments the broken remnants of the Federal divisions were
dispersing in panic across the plain. As the enemy fled the
Confederate gunners, disregarding the shells of Franklin's batteries,
poured a heavy fire into the receding mass; and although instructions
had been given that the counterstroke was not to pass the railroad,
Hoke's and Atkinson's brigades,* (* Of Early's Division.) carried
away by success and deaf to all orders, followed in swift pursuit.
Some of Birney's regiments, tardily coming forward to Meade's
support, were swept away, and the yelling line of grey infantry,
shooting down the fugitives and taking many prisoners, pressed on
towards the Richmond road. There the remainder of Birney's division
was drawn up, protected by the breast-high bank, and flanked by
artillery; yet it seemed for a moment as if the two Confederate
brigades would carry all before them.

The troops of Meade and Gibbon were streaming in confusion to the
rear. Two batteries had been abandoned, and before Hake's onset the
 of Birney's infantry gave ground for fifty yards. But the rash
advance had reached its climax. Unsupported, and with empty
cartridge-boxes, the Southerners were unable to face the fire from
the road; sixteen guns had opened on them with canister; and after
suffering heavy losses in killed, wounded, and prisoners, they
withdrew in disorder but unpursued.

The success of the Second Army Corps was greater than even Jackson
realised. Meade and Gibbon had lost 4000 officers and men; and it was
not till late in the afternoon that they were rallied on the river
bank. The casualties in Birney's division swelled the total to 5000,
and the Confederate counterstroke had inflicted a heavier blow than
the tale of losses indicates. Not only the troops which had been
engaged, but those who had witnessed their defeat, who had seen them
enter the enemy's position, and who knew they should have been
supported, were much disheartened.

2.30 P.M.

At 2.30 P.M., soon after the repulse of Hake and Atkinson, Burnside,
having just witnessed the signal failure of a fourth assault on
Longstreet, sent an urgent order to Franklin to renew his attack.
Franklin made no response. He had lost all confidence both in his
superior and his men, and he took upon himself to disobey.

On the Confederate side Taliaferro and Early, with part of the Light
Division, now held the railway embankment and the skirt of the woods.
D.H. Hill was brought up into third line, and the shattered brigades
of A.P. Hill were withdrawn to the rear. During the rest of the
afternoon the skirmishers were actively engaged, but although
Jackson's victorious soldiery long and eagerly expected a renewal of
the assault, the enemy refused to be again tempted to close quarters.

On the , meanwhile, where the battle still raged, the
Confederates were equally successful. Against an impregnable position
40,000 Northerners were madly hurled by the general of Mr. Lincoln's
choice. By those hapless and stout-hearted soldiers, sacrificed to
incompetency, a heroism was displayed which won the praise and the
pity of their opponents. The attack was insufficiently prepared, and
feebly supported, by the artillery. The troops were formed on a
narrow front. Marye's Hill, the strongest portion of the position,
where the Confederate infantry found shelter behind a stout stone
wall, and numerous batteries occupied the commanding ground in rear,
was selected for assault. Neither feint nor demonstration, the
ordinary expedients by which the attacker seeks to distract the
attention and confuse the efforts of the defence, was made use of;
and yet division after division, with no abatement of courage,
marched in good order over the naked plain, dashed forward with
ever-thinning ranks, and then, receding sullenly before the storm of
fire, , within a hundred yards of the stone wall, a long line of
writhing forms to mark the limit of their advance.

3 P.M.

Two army corps had been repulsed by Longstreet with fearful slaughter
when Meade and Gibbon gave way before Jackson's counterstroke, and by
three o'clock nearly one-half of the Federal army was broken and
demoralised. The time appeared to have come for a general advance of
the Confederates. Before Fredericksburg, the wreck of Sumner's Grand
Division was still clinging to such cover as the ground afforded. On
the Richmond road, in front of Jackson, Franklin had abandoned all
idea of the offensive, and was bringing up his last reserves to
defend his line. The Confederates, on the other hand, were in the
highest spirits, and had lost but few.

General Lee's arrangements, however, had not included preparation for
a great counterstroke, and such a movement is not easily improvised.
The position had been occupied for defensive purposes alone. There
was no general reserve, no large and intact force which could have
moved to the attack immediately the opportunity offered. "No skill,"
says Longstreet, "could have marshalled our troops for offensive
operations in time to meet the emergency. My line was long and over
broken country, so much so that the troops could not be promptly
handled in offensive operations. Jackson's corps was in mass, and
could he have anticipated the result of my battle, he would have been
justified in pressing Franklin to the river when the battle of the
latter was lost. Otherwise, pursuit would have been as unwise as the
attack he had just driven off. It is well known that after driving
off attacking forces, if immediate pursuit can be made, so that the
victors can go along with the retreating forces pell-mell, it is well
enough to do so; but the attack should be immediate. To follow a
success by counter-attack against the enemy in position is
problematical."* (* Battles and Leaders volume 3 pages 82-3.)

Moreover, so large was the battle-field, so limited the view by
reason of the woods, and with such ease had the Federal attacks been
repulsed, that General Lee was unaware of the extent of his success.
Ignorant, too, as he necessarily was, of the mistrust and want of
confidence in its leaders with which the Federal army was infected,
he was far from suspecting what a strong ally he had in the hearts of
his enemies; while, on the other hand, the inaccessible batteries on
the Stafford Heights were an outward and visible token of unabated
strength.

Jackson, however, although the short winter day was already closing
in, considered that the attempt was worth making. About 3 P.M. he had
seen a feeble attack on the Confederate centre repulsed by Hood and
Pender, and about the same time he received information of
Longstreet's success.

Franklin, meanwhile, was reforming his lines behind the high banks of
the Richmond road, and the approach of his reserves, plainly visible
from the Confederate position, seemed to presage a renewed attack. "I
waited some time," says Jackson, "to receive it, but he making no
forward movement, I determined, if prudent, to do so myself. The
artillery of the enemy was so judiciously posted as to make an
advance of our troops across the plain very hazardous; yet it was so
promising of good results, if successfully executed, as to induce me
to make preparations for the attempt. In order to guard against
disaster, the infantry was to be preceded by artillery, and the
movement postponed until late in the afternoon, so that if compelled
to retire, it would be under cover of the night."* (* Jackson's
Reports, O.R. volume 21 page 634.)

Jackson's decision was not a little influenced by Stuart, or rather
by the reports which Stuart, who had sent out staff officers to keep
the closest watch on the enemy's movements, had been able to furnish
of the demoralised condition of a great part of Franklin's force. The
cavalry general, as soon as he verified the truth of these reports in
person, galloped off to confer with Jackson on Prospect Hill, and a
message was at once sent to Lee, requesting permission for an
advance. A single cannon shot was to be the signal for a general
attack, which Stuart, striking the enemy in flank, was to initiate
with his two brigades and the lighter guns.

"Returning to our position," to quote Stuart's chief of staff, "we
awaited in anxious silence the desired signal; but minute after
minute passed by, and the dark veil of the winter night began to
envelop the valley, when Stuart, believing that the summons agreed
upon had been given, issued the order to advance. Off we went into
the gathering darkness, our sharpshooters driving their opponents
easily before them, and Pelham with his guns, pushing ahead at a
trot, giving them a few shots whenever the position seemed
favourable, and then again pressing forward. This lasted about twenty
minutes, when the fire of the enemy's infantry began to be more and
more destructive, and other fresh batteries opened upon us. Still all
remained silent upon our main line. Our situation had become, indeed,
a critical one, when a courier from General Jackson galloped up at
full speed, bringing the order for Stuart to retreat as quickly as he
could to his original position."

Under cover of the night this retrograde movement was effected
without loss; and the cavalry, as they marched back, saw the
camp-fires kindling on the skirts of the forest, and the infantry
digging intrenchments by the fitful glare.

The Second Corps had not come into action. Jackson had issued orders
that every gun, of whatever calibre or range, which was not disabled
should be brought to the front and open fire at sunset; and that as
soon as the enemy showed signs of wavering, the infantry should
charge with fixed bayonets, and sweep the invaders into the river.
Hood's division, which had been temporarily placed at his disposal,
was instructed to co-operate.* (* Advance and Retreat,
Lieutenant-General J.B. Hood page 50.) It appears, however, that it
had not been easy, in the short space of daylight still available, to
remedy the confusion into which the Confederates had been thrown by
Meade's attack and their own counterstroke. The divisions were to
some extent mixed up. Several regiments had been broken, and the
ammunition of both infantry and artillery needed replenishment.
Moreover, it was difficult in the extreme to bring the batteries
forward through the forest; and, when they eventually arrived, the
strength of the Federal position was at once revealed. Franklin's
line was defended by a hundred and sixteen field pieces, generally of
superior metal to those of the Confederates, and the guns on the
Stafford Heights, of which at least thirty bore upon Jackson's front,
were still in action. As the first Confederate battery advanced, this
great array of artillery, which had been for some time comparatively
quiet, reopened with vigour, and, to use Jackson's words, "so
completely swept our front as to satisfy me that the proposed
movement should be abandoned."

But he was not yet at the end of his resources. A strong position,
which cannot be turned, is not always impregnable. If the ground be
favourable, and few obstacles exist, a night attack with the bayonet,
especially if the enemy be exhausted or half-beaten, has many chances
of success; and during the evening Jackson made arrangements for such
a movement. "He asked me," says Dr. McGuire, "how many yards of
bandaging I had, and when I replied that I did not know the exact
number, but that I had enough for another fight, he seemed a little
worried at my lack of information and showed his annoyance. I
repeated rather shortly, "I have enough for another battle," meaning
to imply that this was all that it was necessary for him to know. I
then asked him: "Why do you want to know how much bandaging I have?"
He said: "I want a yard of bandaging to put on the arm of every
soldier in this night's attack, so that the men may know each other
from the enemy." I told him I had not enough cotton cloth for any
such purpose, and that he would have to take a piece of the shirt
tail of each soldier to supply the cloth, but, unfortunately, half of
them had no shirts! The expedient was never tried. General Lee
decided that the attack would be too hazardous."* (* Letter to the
author.)

That night both armies lay on their arms. Burnside, notwithstanding
that he spent several hours amongst the troops before Fredericksburg,
and found that both officers and men were opposed to further attack,
decided to renew the battle the next day. His arrangements became
known to Lee, an officer or orderly carrying dispatches having
strayed within the Confederate outposts,* (* From Manassas to
Appomattox page 316.) and the Southern generals looked forward, on
the morning of the 14th, to a fresh attack, a more crushing repulse,
and a general counterstroke.

Such cheerful anticipations, however, so often entertained by
generals holding a strong defensive position, are but seldom
realised, and Fredericksburg was no exception. The Confederates spent
the night in diligent preparation. Supplies of ammunition were
brought up and distributed, the existing defences were repaired,
abattis cut and laid, and fresh earthworks thrown up. Jackson, as
usual on the eve of battle, was still working while others rested.
Until near midnight he sat up writing and dispatching orders; then,
throwing himself, booted and spurred, on his camp bed, he slept for
two or three hours, when he again arose, lighted his candle, and
resumed his writing. Before four o'clock he sent to his medical
director to inquire as to the condition of General Gregg. Dr. McGuire
reported that his case was hopeless, and Jackson requested that he
would go over and see that he had everything he wished. Somewhat
against his will, for there were many wounded who required attention,
the medical officer rode off, but scarcely had he entered the
farmhouse where Gregg was lying, than he heard the tramp of horses,
and Jackson himself dismounted on the threshold. The brigadier, it
appears, had lately fallen under the ban of his displeasure; but from
the moment his condition was reported, Jackson forgot everything but
the splendid services he had rendered on so many hard-fought fields;
and in his anxiety that every memory should be effaced which might
embitter his last moments, he had followed Dr. McGuire to his bedside.

The interview was brief, and the dying soldier was the happier for
it; but the scene in that lonely Virginian homestead, where, in the
dark hours of the chill December morning, the life of a strong man,
of a gallant comrade, of an accomplished gentleman, and of an
unselfish patriot--for Gregg was all these--was slowly ebbing, made a
deeper impression on those who witnessed it than the accumulated
horrors of the battle-field. Sadly and silently the general and his
staff officer rode back through the forest, where the troops were
already stirring round the smouldering camp-fires. Their thoughts
were sombre. The Confederacy, with a relatively slender population,
could ill spare such men as Gregg. And yet Jackson, though yielding
to the depression of the moment, and deploring the awful sacrifices
which the defence of her liberties imposed upon the South, was in no
melting mood. Dr. McGuire, when they reached headquarters, put a
question as to the best means of coping with the overwhelming numbers
of the enemy. "Kill them, sir! kill every man!" was the reply of the
stern soldier who but just now, with words of tender sympathy and
Christian hope, had bade farewell to his dying comrade.

Dec. 14.

But on December 14, as on the morrow of Sharpsburg, the Confederates
were doomed to disappointment. "Darkness still prevailed," writes
Stuart's chief of the staff, "when we mounted our horses and again
hastened to Prospect Hill, the summit of which we reached just in
time to see the sun rising, and unveiling, as it dispersed the haze,
the long lines of the Federal army, which once more stood in full
line of battle between our own position and the river. I could not
withhold my admiration as I looked down upon the well-disciplined
ranks of our antagonists, astonished that these troops now offering
so bold a front should be the same whom not many hours since I had
seen in complete flight and disorder. The skirmishers of the two
armies were not much more than a hundred yards apart, concealed from
each other's view by the high grass in which they were lying, and
above which, from time to time, rose a small cloud of blue smoke,
telling that a shot had been fired. As the boom of artillery began to
sound from different parts of the line, and the attack might be
expected every minute, each hastened to his post."

But though the skirmishing at times grew hotter, and the fire of the
artillery more rapid, long intervals of silence succeeded, until it
at length became apparent to the Confederates that the enemy, though
well prepared to resist attack, was determined not to fight outside
his breastworks. Burnside, indeed, giving way to the remonstrances of
his subordinates, had abandoned all idea of further aggressive
action, and unless Lee should move forward, had determined to recross
the Potomac.

Dec. 15.

The next morning saw the armies in the same positions, and the
Federal wounded, many of whom had been struck down nearly forty-eight
hours before, still lying untended between the hostile lines. It was
not till now that Burnside admitted his defeat by sending a flag of
truce with a request that he might be allowed to bury his dead.*

(* "When the flag of truce," says Major Hotchkiss, "was received by
General Jackson, he asked me for paper and pencil, and began a letter
to be sent in reply; but after writing a few lines he handed the
paper back, and sent a personal message by Captain Smith."

Captain Smith writes: The general said to me, before I went out to
meet Colonel Sumner, representing the Federals: "If you are asked who
is in command of your , do not tell them I am, and be guarded in
your remarks." It so happened that Colonel Sumner was the
brother-in-law of Colonel Long, an officer on General Lee's staff.
While we were together, another Federal officer named Junkin rode up.
He was the brother or cousin of Jackson's first wife, and I had known
him before the war. After some conversation, Junkin asked me to give
his regards to General Jackson, and to deliver a message from the
Reverend Dr. Junkin, the father of his first wife. I replied, "I will
do so with pleasure when I meet General Jackson." Junkin smiled and
said: "It is not worth while for you to try to deceive us. We know
that General Jackson is in front of us."))

The same night a fierce storm swept the valley of the Rappahannock,
and the Army of the Potomac repassed the bridges, evading, under
cover of the elements, the observation of the Confederate patrols.

The retreat was effected with a skill which did much credit to the
Federal staff. Within fourteen hours 100,000 troops, with the whole
of their guns, ambulances, and ammunition waggons, were conveyed
across the Rappahannock; but there remained on the south bank
sufficient evidence to show that the Army of the Potomac had not
escaped unscathed. When the morning broke the dead lay thick upon the
field; arms and accoutrements, the debris of defeat, were strewed in
profusion on every hand, and the ruined houses of Fredericksburg were
filled with wounded. Burnside lost in the battle 12,647 men.

LEFT ATTACK-FRANKLIN.

               Meade's Division            1,858
First Corps.   Gibbon's Division           1,267
               Doubleday's Division          214

Sixth Corps    Birney's Division             950
               Sickles' Division             100
Sixth Corps    Newton's Division              63
                                           -----
                               Total       4,447


CENTRE.

               Brook's Division              197
               Howe's Division               186
                                             ---
                               Total         383

RIGHT ATTACK--SUMNER AND HOOKER

               Hancock's Division          2,032
Second Corps   Howard's Division             914
               French's Division           1,160

               Burns' Division                27
Ninth Corps    Sturgis' Division           1,007
               Getty's Division              296


Third Corps    Whipple's Division            129

               Griffin's Division            926
Fifth Corps    Sykes' Division               228
               Humphrey's Division         1,019
Engineers and Reserve Artillery, etc.         79
                                           -----
                               Total       7,817
Grand Total (including 877 officers)      12,647
                              (589 prisoners)


The Confederates showed 5309 casualties out of less than 30,000
actually engaged.

LEFT WING--LONGSTREET
               Ransom's Division             535
First Corps    McLaws' Division              858
               Anderson's Division           159
Artillery                                     37
                                           -----
(1,224 on December 12.)        Total       1,589

CENTRE
First Corps    Pickett's Division             54
               Hood's Division               251
                                            ----
                               Total         305

RIGHT WING--JACKSON
               Light Division              2,120
               Early's Division              932
               D.H. Hill's Division          173
               Taliaferro's Division         190
                                           -----
            Total (including 500 captured) 3,415

No attempt was made by the Confederates to follow the enemy across
the Rappahannock. The upper fords were open; but the river was rising
fast, and the Army of the Potomac, closely concentrated and within a
few miles of Aquia Creek, was too large to be attacked, and too close
to its base to permit effective manoeuvres, which might induce it to
divide, against its line of communications. The exultation of the
Southern soldiers in their easy victory was dashed by disappointment.
Burnside's escape had demonstrated the fallacy of one of the
so-called rules of war. The great river which lay behind him during
the battle of Fredericksburg had proved his salvation instead of--as
it theoretically should--his ruin. Over the six bridges his troops
had more lines of retreat than is usually the case when roads only
are available; and these lines of retreat were secure, protected from
the Confederate cavalry by the river, and from the infantry and
artillery by the batteries on the Stafford Heights. Had the battle
been fought on the North Anna, thirty-six miles from Fredericksburg,
the result might have been very different. A direct counterstroke
would possibly have been no more practicable than on the
Rappahannock, for the superior numbers of the enemy, and his powerful
artillery, could not have been disregarded. Nor would a direct
pursuit have been a certain means of making success decisive; the
rear of a retreating army, as the Confederates had found to their
cost at Malvern Hill, is usually its strongest part. But a pursuit
directed against the flanks, striking the line of retreat, cutting
off the supply and ammunition trains, and blocking the roads, a
pursuit such as Jackson had organised when he drove Banks from the
Valley, if conducted with vigour, seldom fails in its effect. And who
would have conducted such an operation with greater skill and energy
than Stuart, at the head of his 9000 horsemen? Who would have
supported Stuart more expeditiously than the "foot-cavalry" of the
Second Army Corps?

Lee's position at Fredericksburg, strong as it might appear, was
exceedingly disadvantageous. A position which an army occupies with a
view to decisive battle should fulfil four requirements:--

1. It should not be too strong, or the enemy will not attack it.

2. It should give cover to the troops both from view and fire from
artillery, and have a good field of fire.

3. It should afford facilities for counterstroke.

4. It should afford facilities for pursuit.

Of these Lee's battle-field fulfilled but the first and second. It
would have been an admirable selection if the sole object of the
Confederates had been to gain time, or to prevent the enemy
establishing himself south of the Rappahannock; but to encompass the
destruction of the enemy's whole army it was as ill adapted as
Wellington's position at Torres Vedras, at Busaco, or at Fuentes
d'Onor. But while Wellington in taking up these positions had no
further end in view than holding the French in check, the situation
of the Confederacy was such that a decisive victory was eminently
desirable. Nothing was to be gained by gaining time. The South could
furnish Lee with no further reinforcements. Every able-bodied man was
in the service of his country; and it was perfectly certain that the
Western armies, although they had been generally successful during
the past year, would never be permitted by Mr. Davis to leave the
valley of the Mississippi.

The Army of Northern Virginia was not likely to be stronger or more
efficient. Equipped with the spoils of many victories, it was more on
a level with the enemy than had hitherto been the case. The ranks
were full. The men were inured to hardships and swift marches; their
health was proof against inclement weather, and they knew their work
on the field of battle. The artillery had recently been reorganised.
During the Peninsular campaign the batteries had been attached to the
infantry brigades, and the indifferent service they had often
rendered had been attributed to the difficulty of collecting the
scattered units, and in handling them in combination. Formed into
battalions of four or six batteries a large number of guns was now
attached to each of the divisions, and each army corps had a strong
reserve; so that the concentration of a heavy force of artillery on
any part of a position became a feasible operation. The cavalry, so
admirably commanded by Stuart, Hampton, and the younger Lees, was not
less hardy or efficient than the infantry, and the morale of the
soldiers of every arm, founded on confidence in themselves not less
than on confidence in their leaders, was never higher.

"After the truce had been agreed upon," says Captain Smith,
"litter-bearers to bring away the dead and wounded were selected from
the command of General Rodes. When they had fallen in, General Rodes
said to them: "Now, boys, those Yankees are going to ask you
questions, and you must not tell them anything. Be very careful about
this." At this juncture one of the men spoke up, and said, "General,
can't we tell them that we whipped them yesterday?" Rodes replied,
laughing: "Yes, yes! you can tell them that." Immediately another man
spoke up: "General, can't we tell them that we can whip them tomorrow
and the day after?" Rodes again laughed, and sent those incorrigible
jokers off with: "Yes, yes! go on, go on! Tell them what you please.""

The Army of the Potomac, on the other hand, was not likely to become
weaker or less formidable if time were allowed it to recuperate. It
had behind it enormous reserves. 60,000 men had been killed, wounded,
or captured since the battle of Kernstown, and yet the ranks were as
full as when McClellan first marched on Richmond. Many generals had
disappeared; but those who remained were learning their trade; and
the soldiers, although more familiar with defeat than victory, showed
little diminution of martial ardour. Nor had the strain of the war
sapped the resources of the North. Her trade, instead of dwindling,
had actually increased; and the gaps made in the population by the
Confederate bullets were more than made good by a constant influx of
immigrants from Europe.

It was not by partial triumphs, not by the slaughter of a few
brigades, by defence without counterstroke, by victories without
pursuit, that a Power of such strength and vitality could be
compelled to confess her impotence. Whether some overwhelming
disaster, a Jena or a Waterloo, followed by instant invasion, would
have subdued her stubborn spirit is problematical. Rome survived
Cannae, Scotland Flodden, and France Sedan. But in some such crowning
mercy lay the only hope of the Confederacy, and had the Army of the
Potomac, ill-commanded as it was, been drawn forward to the North
Anna, it might have been utterly destroyed. Half-hearted strategy,
which aims only at repulsing the enemy's attack, is not the path to
king-making victory; it is not by such feeble means that States
secure or protect their independence. To occupy a position where
Stuart's cavalry was powerless, where the qualities which made Lee's
infantry so formidable--the impetuosity of their attack, the
swiftness of their marches--had no field for display, and where the
enemy had free scope for the employment of his artillery, his
strongest arm, was but to postpone the evil day. It had been well for
the Confederacy if Stonewall Jackson, whose resolute strategy had but
one aim, and that aim the annihilation of the enemy, had been the
supreme director of her councils. To paraphrase Mahan: "The strategic
mistake (in occupying a position for which pursuit was impracticable)
neutralised the tactical advantage gained, thus confirming the
military maxim that a strategic mistake is more serious and
far-reaching in its effects than an error in tactics."

Lee, however, was fettered by the orders of the Cabinet; and Mr.
Davis and his advisers, more concerned with the importance of
retaining an area of country which still furnished supplies than of
annihilating the Army of the Potomac, and relying on European
intervention rather than on the valour of the Southern soldier, were
responsible for the occupation of the Fredericksburg position. In
extenuation of their mistake it may, however, be admitted that the
advantages of concentration on the North Anna were not such as would
impress themselves on the civilian mind, while the surrender of
territory would undoubtedly have embarrassed both the Government and
the supply department. Moreover, at the end of November, it might
have been urged that if Burnside were permitted to possess himself of
Fredericksburg, it was by no means certain that he would advance on
Richmond; establishing himself in winter quarters, he might wait
until the weather improved, controlling, in the meantime, the
resources and population of that portion of Virginia which lay within
his reach.

Nevertheless, as events went far to prove, Mr. Davis would have done
wisely had he accepted the advice of the soldiers on the spot. His
strategical glance was less comprehensive than that of Lee and
Jackson. In the first place, they knew that if Burnside proposed
going into winter quarters, he would not deliberately place the
Rappahannock between himself and his base, nor halt with the great
forest of Spotsylvania on his flank. In the second place, there could
be no question but that the Northern Government and the Northern
people would impel him forward. The tone of the press was
unmistakable; and the very reason that Burnside had been appointed to
command was because McClellan was so slow to move. In the third
place, both Lee and Jackson saw the need of decisive victory. With
them questions of strategic dispositions, offering chances of such
victory, were of more importance than questions of supply or internal
politics. They knew with what rapidity the Federal soldiers recovered
their morale; and they realised but too keenly the stern
determination which inspired the North. They had seen the hosts of
invasion retire in swift succession, stricken and exhausted, before
their victorious bayonets. Thousands of prisoners had been marched to
Richmond; thousands of wounded, abandoned on the battle-field, had
been paroled; guns, waggons and small arms, enough to equip a great
army, had been captured; and general after general had been reduced
to the ignominy that awaits a defeated leader. Fremont and Shields
had disappeared; Banks was no longer in the field; Porter was waiting
trial; McDowell had gone; Pope had gone, and McClellan; and yet the
Army of the Potomac still held its ground, the great fleets still
kept their stations, the capture of Richmond was still the objective
of the Union Government, and not for a single moment had Lincoln
wavered from his purpose.

It will not be asserted that either Lee or Jackson fathomed the
source of this unconquerable tenacity, They had played with effect on
the fears of Lincoln; they had recognised in him the motive power of
the Federal hosts; but they had not yet learned, for the Northern
people themselves had not yet learned it, that they were opposed by
an adversary whose resolution was as unyielding as their own, who
loved the Union even as they loved Virginia, and who ruled the nation
with the same tact and skill that they ruled their soldiers.

In these pages Mr. Lincoln has not been spared. He made mistakes, and
he himself would have been the last to claim infallibility. He had
entered the White House with a rich endowment of common-sense, a high
sense of duty, and an extraordinary knowledge of the American
character; but his ignorance of statesmanship directing arms was
great, and his military errors were numerous. Putting these aside,
his tenure of office during the dark days of "61 and "62 had been
marked by the very highest political sagacity; his courage and his
patriotism had sustained the nation in its distress; and in spite of
every obstacle he was gradually bringing into being a unity of
sympathy and of purpose, which in the early days of the war had
seemed an impossible ideal. Not the least politic of his measures was
the edict of emancipation, published after the battle of Sharpsburg.
It was not a measure without flaw. It contained paragraphs which
might fairly be interpreted, and were so interpreted by the
Confederates, as inciting the negroes to rise against their masters,
thus exposing to all the horrors of a servile insurrection, with its
accompaniments of murder and outrage, the farms and plantations where
the women and children of the South lived lonely and unprotected. But
if the edict served only to embitter the Southerners, to bind the
whole country together in a still closer league of resistance, and to
make peace except by conquest impossible, it was worth the price. The
party in the North which fought for the re-establishment of the Union
had carried on the war with but small success. The tale of reverses
had told at last upon recruiting. Men were unwilling to come forward;
and those who were bribed by large bounties to join the armies were
of a different character to the original volunteer. Enthusiasm in the
cause was fast diminishing when Lincoln, purely on his own
initiative, proclaimed emancipation, and, investing the war with the
dignity of a crusade, inspired the soldier with a new incentive, and
appealed to a feeling which had not yet been stirred. Many
Northerners had not thought it worth while to fight for the
re-establishment of the Union on the basis of the Constitution. If
slavery was to be permitted to continue they preferred separation;
and these men were farmers and agriculturists, the class which
furnished the best soldiers, men of American birth, for the most part
abolitionists, and ready to fight for the principle they had so much
at heart. It is true that the effect of the edict was not at once
apparent. It was not received everywhere with acclamation. The army
had small sympathy with the coloured race, and the political
opponents of the President accused him vehemently of unconstitutional
action. Their denunciations, however, missed the mark. The letter of
the Constitution, as Mr. Lincoln clearly saw, had ceased to be
regarded, at least by the great bulk of the people, with
superstitious reverence.

They had learned to think more of great principles than of political
expedients; and if the defence of their hereditary s had welded
the South into a nation, the assertion of a still nobler principle,
the liberty of man, placed the North on a higher plane, enlisted the
sympathy of Europe, and completed the isolation of the Confederacy.

But although Lee and Jackson had not yet penetrated the political
genius of their great antagonist, they rated at its true value the
vigour displayed by his Administration, and they saw that something
more was wanting to wrest their freedom from the North than a mere
passive resistance to the invader's progress. Soon after the battle
of Fredericksburg, Lee went to Richmond and laid proposals for an
aggressive campaign before the President. "He was assured, however,"
says General Longstreet, "that the war was virtually over, and that
we need not harass our troops by marches and other hardships. Gold
had advanced in New York to two hundred premium, and we were told by
those in the Confederate capital that in thirty or forty days we
would be recognised (by the European Powers) and peace proclaimed.
General Lee did not share this belief."* (* Battles and Leaders.
volume 3 page 84.)

Dec. 18.

So Jackson, who had hoped to return to Winchester, was doomed to the
inaction of winter quarters on the Rappahannock, for with Burnside's
repulse operations practically ceased. The Confederate cavalry,
however, did not at once abandon hostilities. On December 18, Hampton
marched his brigade as far as the village of Occoquan, bringing off
150 prisoners and capturing a convoy.

Dec. 26.

And on December 26 Stuart closed his record for 1862 by leading 1800
troopers far to the Federal rear. After doing much damage in the
district about Occoquan and Dumfries, twenty miles from Burnside's
headquarters, he marched northward in the direction of Washington,
and penetrated as far as Burke's Station, fifteen miles from
Alexandria. Sending a telegraphic message to General Meigs,
Quartermaster-General at Washington, to the effect that the mules
furnished to Burnside's army were of such bad quality that he was
embarrassed in taking the waggons he had captured into the
Confederate lines, and requesting that a better class of animal might
be supplied in future, he returned by long marches through Warrenton
to Culpeper Court House, escaping pursuit, and bringing with him a
large amount of plunder and many prisoners. From the afternoon of
December 26 to nightfall on December 31 he rode one hundred and fifty
miles, losing 28 officers and men in skirmishes with detachments of
the Federal cavalry. He had contrived to throw a great part of the
troops sent to meet him into utter confusion by intercepting their
telegrams, and answering them himself in a manner that scattered his
pursuers and broke down their horses.

Near the end of January, Burnside made a futile attempt to march his
army round Lee's flank by way of Ely's and Germanna Fords. The
weather, however, was inclement; the roads were in a fearful
condition, and the troops experienced such difficulty in movement,
that the operation, which goes by the name of the Mud Campaign, was
soon abandoned.

1863. January 26.

On January 26, Burnside, in consequence of the strong representations
made by his lieutenants to the President, was superseded. General
Hooker, the dashing fighter of the Antietam, replaced him in command
of the Army of the Potomac, and the Federal troops went into winter
quarters about Falmouth, where, on the opposite shore of the
Rappahannock, within full view of the sentries, stood a row of
finger-posts, on which the Confederate soldiers had painted the
taunting legend, "This way to Richmond!"

</section>
<section id="25" fatherid="16" title="THE ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA" lv="CHAPTER 2.21." priority="0" level="2">
"In war men are nothing; it is the man who is everything. The general
is the head, the whole of an army. It was not the Roman army that
conquered Gaul, but Caesar; it was not the Carthaginian army that
made Rome tremble in her gates, but Hannibal; it was not the
Macedonian army that reached the Indus, but Alexander; it was not the
French army that carried the war to the Weser and the Inn, but
Turenne; it was not the Prussian army which, for seven years,
defended Prussia against the three greatest Powers of Europe, but
Frederick the Great." So spoke Napoleon, reiterating a truth
confirmed by the experience of successive ages, that a wise direction
is of more avail than overwhelming numbers, sound strategy than the
most perfect armament; a powerful will, invigorating all who come
within its sphere, than the spasmodic efforts of ill-regulated valour.

Even a professional army of long standing and old traditions is what
its commander makes it; its character sooner or later becomes the
reflex of his own; from him the officers take their tone; his energy
or his inactivity, his firmness or vacillation, are rapidly
communicated even to the lower ranks; and so far-reaching is the
influence of the leader, that those who record his campaigns concern
themselves but little as a rule with the men who followed him. The
history of famous armies is the history of great generals, for no
army has ever achieved great things unless it has been well
commanded. If the general be second-rate the army also will be
second-rate. Mutual confidence is the basis of success in war, and
unless the troops have implicit trust in the resolution and resources
of their chief, hesitation and half-heartedness are sure to mark
their actions. They may fight with their accustomed courage; but the
eagerness for the conflict, the alacrity to support, the
determination to conquer, will not be there. The indefinable quality
which is expressed by the word morale will to some degree be
affected. The history of the Army of the Potomac is a case in point.

Between the soldiers of the North and South there was little
difference. Neither could claim a superiority of martial qualities.
The Confederates, indeed, at the beginning of the war possessed a
larger measure of technical skill; they were the better shots and the
finer riders. But they were neither braver nor more enduring, and
while they probably derived some advantage from the fact that they
were defending their homes, the Federals, defending the integrity of
their native land, were fighting in the noblest of all causes. But
Northerner and Southerner were of the same race, a race proud,
resolute, independent; both were inspired by the same sentiments of
self-respect; noblesse oblige--the noblesse of a free people--was the
motto of the one as of the other. It has been asserted that the
Federal armies were very largely composed of foreigners, whose
motives for enlisting were purely mercenary. At no period of the war,
however, did the proportion of native Americans sink below seventy
per cent.,* (* See Note at end of chapter.) and at the beginning of
1863 it was much greater. As a matter of fact, the Union army was
composed of thoroughly staunch soldiers.* (* "Throughout New
England," wrote the Special Correspondent of an English newspaper,
"you can scarcely enter a door without being aware that you are in a
house of mourning. Whatever may be said of Irish and German
mercenaries, I must bear witness that the best classes of Americans
have bravely come forth for their country. I know of scarcely a
family more than one member of which has not been or is not in the
ranks of the army. The maimed and crippled youths I meet on the
highroad certainly do not for the most part belong to the immigrant
rabble of which the Northern regiments are said to consist; and even
the present conscription is now in many splendid instances most
promptly and cheerfully complied with by the wealthy people who could
easily purchase exemption, but who prefer to set a good example."
Letter from Rhode Island, the Times, August 8, 1863.) Nor was the
alien element at this time a source of weakness. Ireland and Germany
supplied the greater number of those who have been called "Lincoln's
hirelings;" and, judging from the official records, the Irish
regiments at least were not a whit less trustworthy than those purely
American. Moreover, even if the admixture of foreigners had been
greater, the Army of the Potomac, for the reason that it was always
superior in numbers, contained in its ranks many more men bred in the
United States than the Army of Northern Virginia.* (* John Mitchell,
the Irish Nationalist, said in a letter to the Dublin Nation that
there were 40,000 Irishmen in the Southern armies. The Times,
February 7, 1863.) For the consistent ill-success of the Federals the
superior marksmanship and finer horsemanship of the Confederates
cannot, therefore, be accepted as sufficient explanation.

In defence the balance of endurance inclined neither to one side nor
the other. Both Southerner and Northerner displayed that stubborn
resolve to maintain their ground which is the peculiar attribute of
the Anglo-Saxon. To claim for any one race a pre-eminence of valour
is repugnant alike to good taste and to sound sense. Courage and
endurance are widely distributed over the world's surface, and
political institutions, the national conception of duty, the
efficiency of the corps of officers, and love of country, are the
foundation of vigour and staunchness in the field. Yet it is a fact
which can hardly be ignored, that from Crecy to Inkermann there have
been exceedingly few instances where an English army, large or small,
has been driven from a position. In the great struggle with France,
neither Napoleon nor his marshals, although the armies of every other
European nation had fled before them, could boast of having broken
the English infantry; and no soldiers have ever received a prouder
tribute than the admission of a generous enemy, "They never know when
they are beaten." In America, the characteristics of the parent race
were as prominent in the Civil War as they had been in the
Revolution. In 1861-65, the side that stood on the defensive, unless
hopelessly outnumbered, was almost invariably successful, just as it
had been in 1776-82. "My men," said Jackson, "sometimes fail to drive
the enemy from his position, but to hold one, never!" The Federal
generals might have made the same assertion with almost equal truth.
Porter had indeed been defeated at Gaines' Mill, but he could only
set 35,000 in line against 55,000; Banks had been overwhelmed at
Winchester, but 6,500 men could hardly have hoped to resist more than
twice their strength; and Shields' advanced guard at Port Republic
was much inferior to the force which Jackson brought against it; yet
these were the only offensive victories of the '62 campaign. But if
in defence the armies were well matched, it must be conceded that the
Northern attack was not pressed with the same concentrated vigour as
the Southern. McClellan at Sharpsburg had more than twice as many men
as Lee; Pope, on the first day of the Second Manassas, twice as many
as Jackson; yet on both occasions the smaller force was victorious.
But, in the first place, the Federal tactics in attack were always
feeble. Lincoln, in appointing Hooker to command the Army of the
Potomac, warned him "to put in all his men." His sharp eye had
detected the great fault which had characterised the operations of
his generals. Their assaults had been piecemeal, like those of the
Confederates at Malvern Hill, and they had been defeated in detail by
the inferior numbers. The Northern soldiers were strangers to those
general and combined attacks, pressed with unyielding resolution,
which had won Winchester, Gaines' Mill, and the Second Manassas, and
which had nearly won Kernstown. The Northern generals invariably kept
large masses in reserve, and these masses were never used. They had
not yet learned, as had Lee, Jackson, and Longstreet, that superior
numbers are of no avail unless they are brought into action,
impelling the attack forward by sheer weight, at the decisive point.
In the second place, none of the Federal leaders possessed the entire
confidence either of their generals or their troops. With all its
affection for McClellan, it may strongly be questioned whether his
army gave him credit for dash or resolution. Pope was defeated in his
first action at Cedar Run. Banks at Winchester, Fremont west of
Staunton, had both been out-manoeuvred. Burnside had against him his
feeble conduct at Sharpsburg. Hence the Federal soldiers fought most
of their offensive battles under a terrible disadvantage. They were
led by men who had known defeat, and who owed their defeat, in great
measure, to the same fault--neglect to employ their whole force in
combination. Brave and unyielding as they were, the troops went into
battle mistrustful of their leader's skill, and fearful, from the
very outset, that their efforts would be unsupported; and when men
begin to look over their shoulders for reinforcements, demoralisation
is not far off. It would be untrue to say that a defeated general can
never regain the confidence of his soldiers; but unless he has
previous successes to set off against his failure, to permit him to
retain his position is dangerous in the extreme. Such was the opinion
of Jackson, always solicitous of the morale of his command. "To his
mind nothing ever fully excused failure, and it was rarely that he
gave an officer the opportunity of failing twice. 'The service,' he
said, 'cannot afford to keep a man who does not succeed.' Nor was he
ever restrained from a change by the fear of making matters worse.
His motto was, get rid of the unsuccessful man at once, and trust to
Providence for finding a better."

Nor was the presence of discredited generals the only evil which went
to neutralise the valour of the Federal soldiers. The system of
command was as rotten in the Army of the Potomac as in the Armies of
Northern Virginia and of the Valley it was sound; and the system of
command plays a most important part in war. The natural initiative of
the American, the general fearlessness of responsibility, were as
conspicuous among the soldiers as in the nation at large. To those
familiar with the Official Records, where the doings of regiments and
even companies are preserved, it is perfectly apparent that, so soon
as the officers gained experience, the smaller units were as boldly
and efficiently handled as in the army of Germany under Moltke. But
while Lee and Jackson, by every means in their power, fostered the
capacity for independent action, following therein the example of
Napoleon,* (* In the opinion of the author, the charge of
centralisation preferred against Napoleon can only be applied to his
leading in his later campaigns. In his earlier operations he gave his
generals every latitude, and be maintamed that loose but effective
system of tactics, in which much was  to the individual, adopted
by the French army just previous to the wars of the Revolution.) of
Washington, of Nelson, and of Wellington, and aware that their
strength would thus be doubled, McClellan and Pope did their best to
stifle it; and in the higher ranks they succeeded. In the one case
the generals were taught to wait for orders, in the other to
anticipate them. In the one case, whether troops were supported or
not depended on the word of the commanding general; in the other,
every officer was taught that to sustain his colleagues was his first
duty. It thus resulted that while the Confederate leaders were served
by scores of zealous assistants, actively engaged in furthering the
aim of their superiors, McClellan, Pope, and Fremont, jealous of
power reduced their subordinates, with few exceptions, to the
position of machines, content to obey the letter of their orders,
oblivious of opportunity, and incapable of co-operation. Lee and
Jackson appear to have realised the requirements of battle far more
fully than their opponents. They knew that the scope of the commander
is limited; that once his troops are committed to close action it is
impossible for him to exert further control, for his orders can no
longer reach them; that he cannot keep the whole field under
observation, much less observe every fleeting opportunity. Yet it is
by utilising opportunities that the enemy's strength is sapped. For
these reasons the Confederate generals were exceedingly careful not
to chill the spirit of enterprise. Errors of judgment were never
considered in the light of crimes; while the officer who, in default
of orders, remained inactive, or who, when his orders were manifestly
inapplicable to a suddenly changed situation, and there was no time
to have them altered, dared not act for himself, was not long
retained in responsible command. In the Army of the Potomac, on the
other hand, centralisation was the rule. McClellan expected blind
obedience from his corps commanders, and nothing more, and Pope
brought Porter to trial for using his own judgment, on occasions when
Pope himself was absent, during the campaign of the Second Manassas.
Thus the Federal soldiers, through no fault of their own, laboured
for the first two years of the war under a disadvantage from which
the wisdom of Lee and Jackson had relieved the Confederates. The Army
of the Potomac was an inert mass, the Army of Northern Virginia a
living organism, endowed with irresistible vigour.

It is to be noted, too, as tending to prove the equal courage of
North and South, that on the Western theatre of war the Federals were
the more successful. And yet the Western armies of the Confederacy
were neither less brave, less hardy, nor less disciplined than those
in Virginia. They were led, however, by inferior men, while, on the
other hand, many of the Northern generals opposed to them possessed
unquestionable ability, and understood the value of a good system of
command.

We may say, then, without detracting an iota from the high reputation
of the Confederate soldiers, that it was not the Army of Northern
Virginia that saved Richmond in 1862, but Lee; not the Army of the
Valley which won the Valley campaign, but Jackson.

It is related that a good priest, once a chaplain in Taylor's
Louisiana brigade, concluded his prayer at the unveiling of the
Jackson monument in New Orleans with these remarkable words: "When in
Thine inscrutable decree it was ordained that the Confederacy should
fail, it became necessary for Thee to remove Thy servant Stonewall
Jackson."* (* B Skies and Dark Shadows page 294. H. M. Field,
D.D.) It is unnecessary, perhaps, to lay much forcible emphasis on
the personal factor, but, at the same time, it is exceedingly
essential that it should never be overlooked.

The Government which, either in peace or war, commits the charge of
its armed forces to any other than the ablest and most experienced
soldier the country can produce is but laying the foundation of
national disaster. Had the importance of a careful selection for the
higher commands been understood in the North as it was understood in
the South, Lee and Jackson would have been opposed by foes more
formidable than Pope and Burnside, or Banks and Fremont. The Federal
Administration, confident in the courage and intelligence of their
great armies, considered that any ordinary general, trained to
command, and supported by an efficient staff, should be able to win
victories. Mr. Davis, on the other hand, himself a soldier, who, as
United States Secretary of War, had enjoyed peculiar opportunities of
estimating the character of the officers of the old army, made no
such mistake. He was not always, indeed, either wise or consistent;
but, with few exceptions, his appointments were the best that could
be made, and he was ready to accept the advice, as regarded
selections for command, of his most experienced generals.

But however far-reaching may be the influence of a great leader, in
estimating his capacity the temper of the weapon that he wielded can
hardly be overlooked. In the first place, that temper, to a greater
or less degree, must have been of his own forging, it is part of his
fame. "No man," says Napier, "can be justly called a great captain
who does not know how to organise and form the character of an army,
as well as to lead it when formed." In the second place, to do much
with feeble means is greater than to do more with large resources.
Difficulties are inherent in all military operations, and not the
least may be the constitution of the army. Nor would the story of
Stonewall Jackson be more than half told without large reference to
those tried soldiers, subalterns and private soldiers as they were,
whom he looked upon as his comrades, whose patriotism and endurance
he extolled so highly, and whose devotion to himself, next to the
approval of his own conscience, was the reward that most he valued.

He is blind indeed who fails to recognise the unselfish patriotism
displayed by the citizen-soldiers of America, the stern resolution
with which the war was waged; the tenacity of the Northerner,
ill-commanded and constantly defeated, fighting in a most difficult
country and foiled on every line of invasion; the tenacity of the
Southerner, confronting enormous odds, ill-fed, ill-armed, and
ill-provided, knowing that if wounded his sufferings would be
great--for drugs had been declared contraband of war, the hospitals
contained no anaesthetics to relieve the pain of amputation, and the
surgical instruments, which were only replaced when others were
captured, were worn out with constant usage; knowing too that his
women-folk and children were in want, and yet never yielding to
despair nor abandoning hope of ultimate victory. Neither Federal nor
Confederate deemed his life the most precious of his earthly
possessions. Neither New Englander nor Virginian ever for one moment
dreamt of surrendering, no matter what the struggle might cost, a
single acre of the territory, a single item of the civil s,
which had been handed down to him. "I do not profess," said Jackson,
"any romantic sentiments as to the vanity of life. Certainly no man
has more that should make life dear to him than I have, in the
affection of my home; but I do not desire to survive the independence
of my country." And Jackson's attitude was that of his
fellow-countrymen. The words of Naboth, "Jehovah forbid that I should
give to thee the inheritance of my forefathers," were graven on the
heart of both North and South; and the unknown and forgotten heroes
who fought in the ranks of either army, and who fought for a
principle, not on compulsion or for glory, are worthy of the highest
honours that history can bestow.

Nor can a soldier withhold his tribute of praise to the capacity for
making war which distinguished the American citizen. The intelligence
of the rank and file played an important role in every phase of a
campaign. As skirmishers,--and modern battles, to a very great
extent, are fought out by lines of skirmishers--their work was
admirable; and when the officers were struck down, or when command,
by reason of the din and excitement, became impossible, the
self-dependence of the individual asserted itself with the best
effect.* (* The historical student may profitably compare with the
American soldier the Armies of Revolutionary France, in which
education and intelligence were also conspicuous.) The same quality
which the German training had sought to foster, and which, according
to Moltke,* (* Official Account of the Franco-German War volume 2
page 168.) had much to do with the victories of 1870, was born in
both Northerner and Southerner. On outpost and on patrol, in seeking
information and in counteracting the ruses of the enemy, the keen
intelligence of the educated volunteer was of the utmost value.
History has hitherto overlooked the achievements of the scouts, whose
names so seldom occur in the Official Records, but whose daring was
unsurpassed, and whose services were of vast importance. In the Army
of Northern Virginia every commanding general had his own party of
scouts, whose business it was to penetrate the enemy's lines, to see
everything and to hear everything, to visit the base of operations,
to inspect the line of communications, and to note the condition and
the temper of the hostile troops. Attracted by a pure love of
adventure, these private soldiers did exactly the same work as did
the English Intelligence officers in the Peninsula, and did it with
the same thoroughness and acuteness. Wellington, deploring the
capture of Captain Colquhoun Grant, declared that the gallant
Highlander was worth as much to the army as a brigade of cavalry;
Jackson had scouts who were more useful to him than many of his
brigadiers. Again, in constructing hasty intrenchments, the soldiers
needed neither assistance nor impulsion. The rough cover thrown up by
the men when circumstances demanded it, on their own volition, was
always adapted to the ground, and generally fulfilled the main
principles of fortification. For bridge-building, for road-making,
for the destruction, the repair, and even the making, of railroads,
skilled labour was always forthcoming from the ranks; and the
soldiers stamped the impress of their individuality on the tactics of
the infantry. Modern formations, to a very large extent, had their
origin on American battle-fields. The men realised very quickly the
advantages of shelter; the advance by rushes from one cover to
another, and the gradually working up, by this method, of the
firing-line to effective range--the method which all experience shows
to be the true one--became the general rule.

That the troops had faults, however, due in great part to the fact
that their intelligence was not thoroughly trained, and to the
inexperience of their officers, it is impossible to deny.

"I agree with you," wrote Lee in 1868, "in believing that our army
would be invincible if it could be properly organised and officered.
There were never such men in an army before. They will go anywhere
and do anything if properly led. But there is the difficulty--proper
commanders. Where can they be obtained? But they are
improving--constantly improving. Rome was not built in a day, nor can
we expect miracles in our favour."* (* Lee to Hood, May 21, 1863;
Advance and Retreat page 58.) Yet, taking them all in all, the
American rank and file of 1863, with their native characteristics,
supplemented by a great knowledge of war, were in advance of any
soldiers of their time.

In the actual composition of the Confederate forces no marked change
had taken place since the beginning of the war. But the character of
the army, in many essential respects, had become sensibly modified.
The men encamped on the Rappahannock were no longer the raw recruits
who had blundered into victory at the First Manassas; nor were they
the unmanageable divisions of the Peninsula. They were still, for the
most part, volunteers, for conscripts in the Army of Northern
Virginia were not numerous, but they were volunteers of a very
different type from those who had fought at Kernstown or at Gaines'
Mill. Despite their protracted absence from their homes, the wealthy
and well-born privates still shouldered the musket. Though many had
been promoted to commissions, the majority were content to set an
example of self-sacrifice and sterling patriotism, and the regiments
were thus still leavened with a large admixture of educated and
intelligent men. It is a significant fact that during those months of
1863 which were spent in winter quarters Latin, Greek, mathematical,
and even Hebrew classes were instituted by the soldiers. But all
trace of social distinction had long since vanished. Between the rich
planter and the small farmer or mechanic there was no difference
either in aspect or habiliments. Tanned by the hot Virginia sun,
thin-visaged and b-eyed, gaunt of frame and spare of flesh, they
were neither more nor less than the rank and file of the Confederate
army; the product of discipline and hard service, moulded after the
same pattern, with the same hopes and fears, the same needs, the same
sympathies. They looked at life from a common standpoint, and that
standpoint was not always elevated. Human nature claimed its s.
When his hunger was satisfied and, to use his own expression, he was
full of hog and hominy, the Confederate soldier found time to discuss
the operations in which he was engaged. Pipe in mouth, he could pass
in review the strategy and tactics of both armies, the capacity of
his generals, and the bearing of his enemies, and on each one of
these questions, for he was the shrewdest of observers, his comments
were always to the point. He had studied his profession in a
practical school. The more delicate moves of the great game were
topics of absorbing interest. He cast a comprehensive glance over the
whole theatre; he would puzzle out the reasons for forced marches and
sudden changes of direction; his curiosity was great, but
intelligent, and the groups round the camp-fires often forecast with
surprising accuracy the manoeuvres that the generals were planning.
But far more often the subjects of conversation were of a more
immediate and personal character. The capacity of the company cook,
the quality of the last consignment of boots, the merits of different
bivouacs, the prospect of the supply train coming up to time, the
temper of the captain and subaltern--such were the topics which the
Confederate privates spent their leisure in discussing. They had long
since discovered that war is never romantic and seldom exciting, but
a monotonous round of tiresome duties, enlivened at rare intervals by
dangerous episodes. They had become familiar with its constant
accompaniment of privations--bad weather, wet bivouacs, and wretched
roads, wood that would not kindle, and rations that did not satisfy.
They had learned that a soldier's worst enemy may be his native soil,
in the form of dust or mud; that it is possible to march for months
without firing a shot or seeing a foe; that a battle is an interlude
which breaks in at rare intervals on the long round of digging,
marching, bridge-building, and road-making; and that the time of the
fiercest fire-eater is generally occupied in escorting mule-trains,
in mounting guard, in dragging waggons through the mud, and in
loading or unloading stores. Volunteering for perilous and onerous
duties, for which hundreds had eagerly offered themselves in the
early days, ere the glamour of the soldier's life had vanished, had
ceased to be popular. The men were now content to wait for orders;
and as discipline crystallised into habit, they became resigned to
the fact that they were no longer volunteers, masters of their own
actions, but the paid servants of the State, compelled to obey and
powerless to protest.

To all outward appearance, then, in the spring of 1863 the Army of
Northern Virginia bore an exceedingly close resemblance to an army of
professional soldiers. It is true that military etiquette was not
insisted on; that more license, both in quarters and on the march,
was permitted than would be the case in a regular army; that officers
were not treated with the same respect; and that tact, rather than
the strict enforcement of the regulations, was the key-note of
command. Nevertheless, taken as a whole, the Confederate soldiers
were exceedingly well-conducted. The good elements in the ranks were
too strong for those who were inclined to resist authority, and the
amount of misbehaviour was wonderfully small. There was little
neglect of duty. Whatever the intelligence of the men told them was
necessary for success, for safety, or for efficiency, was done
without reluctance. The outposts were seldom caught napping. Digging
and tree-felling--for the men had learned the value of making
fortifications and good roads--were taken as a matter of course. Nor
was the Southern soldier a grumbler. He accepted half-rations and
muddy camping-grounds without remonstrance; if his boots wore out he
made shift to march without them; and when his uniform fell to pieces
he waited for the next victory to supply himself with a new outfit.
He was enough of a philosopher to know that it is better to meet
misery with a smile than with a scowl. Mark Tapley had many
prototypes in the Confederate ranks, and the men were never more
facetious than when things were at their worst. "The very intensity
of their sufferings became a source of merriment. Instead of growling
and deserting, they laughed at their own bare feet, ragged clothes,
and pinched faces; and weak, hungry, cold, wet and dirty, with no
hope of reward or rest, they marched cheerfully to meet the warmly
clad and well-fed hosts of the enemy."* (* Soldier Life in the Army
of Northern Virginia.) Indomitable indeed were the hearts that beat
beneath the grey jackets, and a spirit rising superior to all
misfortune,

That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine,

was a marked characteristic of the Confederate soldier. Nor was it
only in camp or on the march that the temper of the troops betrayed
itself in reckless gaiety.* (* General Longstreet relates an amusing
story: "One of the soldiers, during the investment of Suffolk (April
1863), carefully constructed and equipped a full-sized man, dressed
in a new suit of improved "butternut" clothing; and christening him
Julius Caesar took him to a signal platform which overlooked the
works, adjusted him to a graceful position, and made him secure to
the framework by strong cords. A little after sunrise "Julius Caesar"
was discovered by some of the Federal battery officers, who prepared
for the target so inviting to skilful practice. The new soldier sat
under the hot fire with irritating indifference until the
Confederates, unable to restrain their hilarity, exposed the joke by
calling for "Three cheers for Julius Caesar!" The other side quickly
recognised the situation, and good-naturedly added to ours their
cheers for the old hero." From Manassas to Apomattox.) The stress of
battle might thin their ranks, but it was powerless to check their
laughter. The dry humour of the American found a fine field in the
incidents of a fierce engagement. Nothing escaped without remark: the
excitement of a general, the accelerated movements of the
non-combatants, the vagaries of the army mule, the bad practice of
the artillery--all afforded entertainment. And when the fight became
hotter and the Federals pressed resolutely to the attack, the flow of
badinage took a grim and peculiar turn. It has already been related
that the Confederate armies depended, to a large degree, for their
clothing and equipments on what they captured. So abundant was this
source of supply, that the soldier had come to look upon his enemy as
a movable magazine of creature comforts; and if he marched cheerfully
to battle, it was not so much because he loved fighting, but that he
hoped to renew his wardrobe. A victory was much, but the spoils of
victory were more. No sooner, then, did the Federals arrive within
close range, than the wild yells of the Southern infantry became
mingled with fierce laughter and derisive shouts. "Take off them
boots, Yank!" "Come out of them clothes; we're gwine to have them!"
"Come on, blue-bellies, we want them blankets!" "Bring them rations
along! You've got to leave them!"--such were the cries, like the
howls of half-famished wolves, that were heard along Jackson's lines
at Fredericksburg.* (* "During the truce on the second day of
Fredericksburg," says Captain Smith, "a tall, fine-looking Alabama
soldier, who was one of the litter-bearers, picked up a new Enfield
rifle on the neutral ground, examined it, tested the sights,
shouldered it, and was walking back to the Confederate lines, when a
young Federal officer, very handsomely dressed and mounted,
peremptorily ordered him to throw it down, telling him he had no
 to take it. The soldier, with the rifle on his shoulder, walked
very deliberately round the officer, scanning him from head to foot,
and then started again towards our lines. On this the Federal
Lieutenant, drawing his little sword, galloped after him, and ordered
him with an oath to throw down the rifle. The soldier halted, then
walked round the officer once again, very slowly, looking him up and
down, and at last said, pointing to his fine boots: "I shall shoot
you tomorrow, and get them boots;" then strode away to his command.
The Lieutenant made no attempt to follow.") And they were not raised
in mockery. The battle-field was the soldier's harvest, and as the
sheaves of writhing forms, under the muzzles of their deadly rifles,
increased in length and depth, the men listened with straining ears
for the word to charge. The counterstroke was their opportunity. The
rush with the bayonet was never so speedy but that deft fingers found
time to rifle the haversacks of the fallen, and such was the
eagerness for booty that it was with the greatest difficulty that the
troops were dragged off from the pursuit. It is said that at
Fredericksburg, some North Carolina regiments, which had repulsed and
followed up a Federal brigade, were hardly to be restrained from
dashing into the midst of the enemy's reserves, and when at length
they were turned back their complaints were bitter. The order to halt
and retire seemed to them nothing less than rank injustice.
Half-crying with disappointment, they accused their generals of
favouritism! "They don't want the North Car'linians to git anything,"
they whined. "They wouldn't hev' stopped Hood's Texicans--they'd hev'
let THEM go on!"

But if they relieved their own pressing wants at the expense of their
enemies, if they stripped the dead, and exchanged boots and clothing
with their prisoners, seldom getting the worst of the bargain, no
armies--to their lasting honour be it spoken, for no armies were so
destitute--were ever less formidable to peaceful citizens, within the
border or beyond it, than those of the Confederacy. It was
exceedingly seldom that wanton damage was laid to the soldier's
charge. The s of non-combatants were religiously respected, and
the farmers of Pennsylvania were treated with the same courtesy and
consideration as the planters of Virginia. A village was none the
worse for the vicinity of a Confederate bivouac, and neither man nor
woman had reason to dread the half-starved tatterdemalions who
followed Lee and Jackson. As the grey columns, in the march through
Maryland, swung through the streets of those towns where the Unionist
sentiment was strong, the women, standing in the porches, waved the
Stars and Stripes defiantly in their faces. But the only retort of
"the dust brown ranks" was a volley of jests, not always unmixed with
impudence. The personal attributes of their fair enemies did not
escape observation. The damsel whose locks were of conspicuous hue
was addressed as "bricktop" until she screamed with rage, and
threatened to fire into the ranks; while the maiden of sour visage
and uncertain years was saluted as "Ole Miss Vinegar" by a whole
division of infantry. But this was the limit of the soldier's
resentment. At the same time, when in the midst of plenty he was not
impeccable. For highway robbery and housebreaking he had no
inclination, but he was by no means above petty larceny. Pigs and
poultry, fruit, corn, vegetables and fence-rails, he looked upon as
his lawful perquisites.

He was the most cunning of foragers, and neither stringent orders nor
armed guards availed to protect a field of maize or a patch of
potatoes; the traditional negro was not more skilful in looting a
fowl-house;* (* Despite Lee's proclamations against indiscriminate
foraging, "the hens," he said, "had to roost mighty high when the
Texans were about.") he had an unerring scent for whisky or
"apple-jack;" and the address he displayed in compassing the
destruction of the unsuspecting porker was only equalled, when he was
caught flagrante delicto, by the ingenuity of his excuses. According
to the Confederate private, the most inoffensive animals, in the
districts through which the armies marched, developed a strange
pugnacity, and if bullet and bayonet were used against them, it was
solely in self-defence.

But such venial faults, common to every army, and almost justified by
the deficiencies of the Southern commissariat, were more than atoned
for when the enemy was met. Of the prowess of Lee's veterans
sufficient has been said. Their deeds speak for themselves. But it
was not the battle-field alone that bore witness to their fortitude.
German soldiers have told us that in the war of 1870, when their
armies, marching on Paris, found, to their astonishment, the great
city strongly garrisoned, and hosts gathering in every quarter for
its relief, a singular apathy took possession of the troops. The
explanation offered by a great military writer is that "after a
certain period even the victor becomes tired of war;" and "the more
civilised," he adds, "a people is, the more quickly will this
weakness become apparent."* (* The Conduct of War. Von der Goltz.)
Whether this explanation be adequate is not easy to decide. The fact
remains, however, that the Confederate volunteer was able to overcome
that longing for home which chilled the enthusiasm of the German
conscript. And this is the more remarkable, inasmuch as his career
was not one of unchequered victory. In the spring of 1863, the Army
of the Potomac, more numerous than ever, was still before him, firmly
established on Virginian soil; hope of foreign intervention, despite
the assurances of the politicians, was gradually fading, and it was
but too evident that the war was far from over. Yet at no time during
their two years of service had the soldiers shown the slightest sign
of that discouragement which seized the Germans after two months. And
who shall dare to say that the Southerner was less highly civilised
than the Prussian or the Bavarian? Political liberty, freedom of
speech and action, are the real elements of civilisation, and not
merely education. But let the difference in the constitution of the
two armies be borne in mind. The Confederates, with few exceptions,
were volunteers, who had become soldiers of their own choice, who had
assumed arms deliberately and without compulsion, and who by their
own votes were responsible that war had been declared. The Germans
were conscripts, a dumb, powerless, irresponsible multitude,
animated, no doubt, by hereditary hatred of the enemy, but without
that sense of moral obligation which exists in the volunteer. We may
be permitted, then, to believe that this sense of moral obligation
was one reason why the spirit of the Southerners rose superior to
human weakness, and that the old adage, which declares that one
volunteer is better than three pressed men, is not yet out of date.
Nor is it an unfair inference that the armies of the Confederacy,
allied by the "crimson thread of kinship" to those of Wellington, of
Raglan, and of Clyde, owed much of their enduring fortitude to "the
rock whence they were hewn."

And yet, with all their admirable qualities, the Southern soldiers
had not yet got rid of their original defects. Temperate, obedient,
and well-conducted, small as was the percentage of bad characters and
habitual misdoers, their discipline was still capable of improvement.
The assertion, at first sight, seems a contradiction in terms. How
could troops, it may be asked, who so seldom infringed the
regulations be other than well-disciplined? For the simple reason
that discipline in quarters is an absolutely different quality from
discipline in battle. No large body of intelligent men, assembled in
a just cause and of good character, is likely to break out into
excesses, or, if obedience is manifestly necessary, to rebel against
authority. Subordination to the law is the distinguishing mark of all
civilised society. But such subordination, however praiseworthy, is
not the discipline of the soldier, though it is often confounded with
it. A regiment of volunteers, billeted in some country town, would
probably show a smaller list of misdemeanours than a regiment of
regulars. Yet the latter might be exceedingly well-disciplined, and
the former have no real discipline whatever. Self-respect--for that
is the discipline of the volunteer--is not battle discipline, the
discipline of the cloth, of habit, of tradition, of constant
association and of mutual confidence. Self-respect, excellent in
itself, and by no means unknown amongst regular soldiers, does not
carry with it a mechanical obedience to command, nor does it merge
the individual in the mass, and give the tremendous power of unity to
the efforts of large numbers.

It will not be pretended that the discipline of regular troops always
rises superior to privation and defeat. It is a notorious fact that
the number of deserters from Wellington's army in Spain and Portugal,
men who wilfully absented themselves from the colours and wandered
over the country, was by no means inconsiderable; while the behaviour
of the French regulars in 1870, and even of the Germans, when they
rushed back in panic through the village of Gravelotte, deaf to the
threats and entreaties of their aged sovereign, was hardly in
accordance with military tradition. Nevertheless, it is not difficult
to show that the Southerners fell somewhat short of the highest
standard. They were certainly not incapable of keeping their ranks
under a hot fire, or of holding their ground to the last extremity.
Pickett's charge at Gettysburg is one of the most splendid examples
of disciplined valour in the annals of war, and the endurance of
Lee's army at Sharpsburg has seldom been surpassed. Nor was the
disorder into which the attacking lines were sooner or later thrown a
proof of inferior training. Even in the days of flint-lock muskets,
the admixture of not only companies and battalions, but even of
brigades and divisions, was a constant feature of fierce assaults
over broken ground. If, under such conditions, the troops still press
forward, and if, when success has been achieved, order is rapidly
restored, then discipline is good; and in neither respect did the
Confederates fail. But to be proof against disorder is not everything
in battle. It is not sufficient that the men should be capable of
fighting fiercely; to reap the full benefit of their weapons and
their training they must be obedient to command. The rifle is a far
less formidable weapon when every man uses it at his own discretion
than when the fire of a large body of troops is directed by a single
will. Precision of movement, too, is necessary for the quick
concentration of superior forces at the decisive point, for rapid
support, and for effective combination. But neither was the fire of
the Confederate infantry under the complete control of their
officers, nor were their movements always characterised by order and
regularity. It was seldom that the men could be induced to refrain
from answering shot with shot; there was an extraordinary waste of
ammunition, there was much unnecessary noise, and the regiments were
very apt to get out of hand. It is needless to bring forward specific
proof; the admissions of superior officers are quite sufficient.
General D.H. Hill, in an interesting description of the Southern
soldier, speaks very frankly of his shortcomings. "Self-reliant
always, obedient when he chose to be, impatient of drill and
discipline. He was unsurpassed as a scout or on the skirmish line. Of
the shoulder-to-shoulder courage, bred of drill and discipline, he
knew nothing and cared less. Hence, on the battle-field, he was more
of a free lance than a machine. Who ever saw a Confederate line
advancing that was not crooked as a ram's horn? Each ragged rebel
yelling on his own hook and aligning on himself! But there is as much
need of the machine-made soldier as of the self-reliant soldier, and
the concentrated blow is always the most effective blow. The erratic
effort of the Confederate, heroic though it was, yet failed to
achieve the maximum result just because it was erratic. Moreover, two
serious evils attended that excessive egotism and individuality which
came to the Confederate through his training, association, and
habits. He knew when a movement was false and a position untenable,
and he was too little of a machine to give in such cases the
wholehearted service which might have redeemed the blunder. The other
evil was an ever-growing one. His disregard of discipline and
independence of character made him often a straggler, and by
straggling the fruit of many a victory was lost."* (* Southern
Historical Society Papers volume 13 page 261.)

General Lee was not less outspoken. A circular issued to his troops
during the last months of the war is virtually a criticism on their
conduct. "Many opportunities," he wrote, "have been lost and hundreds
of valuable lives uselessly sacrificed for want of a strict
observance of discipline. Its object is to enable an army to bring
promptly into action the largest possible number of men in good
order, and under the control of their officers. Its effects are
visible in all military history, which records the triumph of
discipline and courage far more frequently than that of numbers and
resources. The importance and utility of thorough discipline should
be impressed on officers and men on all occasions by illustrations
taken from the experience of the instructor or from other sources of
information. They should be made to understand that discipline
contributes no less to their safety than to their efficiency.
Disastrous surprises and those sudden panics which lead to defeat and
the greatest loss of life are of rare occurrence among disciplined
troops. It is well known that the greatest number of casualties occur
when men become scattered, and especially when they retreat in
confusion, as the fire of the enemy is then more deliberate and
fatal. The experience of every officer shows that those troops suffer
least who attack most vigorously, and that a few men, retaining their
organisation and acting in concert, accomplish far more with smaller
loss than a larger number scattered and disorganised.

"The appearance of a steady, unbroken line is more formidable to the
enemy, and renders his aim less accurate and his fire less effective.
Orders can be readily transmitted, advantage can be promptly taken of
every opportunity, and all efforts being directed to a common end,
the combat will be briefer and success more certain.

"Let officers and men be made to feel that they will most effectually
secure their safety by remaining steadily at their posts, preserving
order, and fighting with coolness and vigour...Impress upon the
officers that discipline cannot be attained without constant
watchfulness on their part. They must attend to the smallest
particulars of detail. Men must be habituated to obey or they cannot
be controlled in battle, and the neglect of the least important order
impairs the proper influence of the officer."* (* Memoirs of General
Robert E. Lee. By A. L. Long, Military Secretary and
Brigadier-General pages 685-6.)

That such a circular was considered necessary after the troops had
been nearly four years under arms establishes beyond all question
that the discipline of the Confederate army was not that of the
regular troops with whom General Lee had served under the Stars and
Stripes; but it is not to be understood that he attributed the
deficiencies of his soldiers to any spirit of resistance on their
part to the demands of subordination. Elsewhere he says: "The
greatest difficulty I find is in causing orders and regulations to be
obeyed. This arises not from a spirit of disobedience, but from
ignorance."* (* Memoirs, etc. page 619. Letter dated March 21, 1863.)
And here, with his usual perspicacity, he goes straight to the root
of the evil. When the men in the ranks understand all that discipline
involves, safety, health, efficiency, victory, it is easily
maintained; and it is because experience and tradition have taught
them this that veteran armies are so amenable to control. "Soldiers,"
says Sir Charles Napier, "must obey in all things. They may and do
laugh at foolish orders, but they nevertheless obey, not because they
are blindly obedient, but because they know that to disobey is to
break the backbone of their profession."

Such knowledge, however, is long in coming, even to the regular, and
it may be questioned whether it ever really came home to the
Confederates.

In fact, the Southern soldier, ignorant, at the outset, of what may
be accomplished by discipline, never quite got rid of the belief that
the enthusiasm of the individual, his goodwill and his native
courage, was a more than sufficient substitute. "The spirit which
animates our soldiers," wrote Lee, "and the natural courage with
which they are so liberally endowed, have led to a reliance upon
those good qualities, to the neglect of measures which would increase
their efficiency and contribute to their safety."* (* Memoirs etc.
page 684. By A. L. Long.) Yet the soldier was hardly to blame.
Neither he nor his regimental officers had any previous knowledge of
war when they were suddenly launched against the enemy, and there was
no time to instil into them the habits of discipline. There was no
regular army to set them an example; no historic force whose
traditions they would unconsciously have adopted; the exigencies of
the service forbade the retention of the men in camps of instruction,
and trained instructors could not be spared from more important
duties.

Such ignorance, however, as that which prevailed in the Southern
ranks is not always excusable. It would be well if those who pose as
the friends of the private soldier, as his protectors from injustice,
realised the mischief they may do by injudicious sympathy. The
process of being broken to discipline is undoubtedly gaffing to the
instincts of free men, and it is beyond question that among a
multitude of superiors, some will be found who are neither just nor
considerate. Instances of hardship must inevitably occur. But men and
officers--for discipline presses as hardly on the officers as on the
men--must obey, no matter at what cost to their feelings, for
obedience to orders, instant and unhesitating, is not only the
life-blood of armies but the security of States; and the doctrine
that under any conditions whatever deliberate disobedience can be
justified is treason to the commonwealth. It is to be remembered that
the

end of the soldier's existence is not merely to conduct himself as a
respectable citizen and earn his wages, but to face peril and
privations, not of his own free will, but at the bidding of others;
and, in circumstances where his natural instincts assert themselves
most strongly, to make a complete surrender of mind and body. If he
has been in the habit of weighing the justice or the wisdom of orders
before obeying them, if he has been taught that disobedience may be a
pardonable crime, he will probably question the justice of the order
that apparently sends him to certain death; if he once begins to
think; if he once contemplates the possibility of disobedience; if he
permits a single idea to enter his head beyond the necessity of
instant compliance, it is unlikely that he will rise superior to the
promptings of his weaker nature. "MEN MUST BE HABITUATED TO OBEY OR
THEY CANNOT BE CONTROLLED IN BATTLE;" and the slightest interference
with the habit of subordination is fraught, therefore, with the very
greatest danger to the efficiency of an army.

It has been asserted, and it would appear that the idea is
widespread, that patriotism and intelligence are of vastly more
importance than the habit of obedience, and it was certainly a very
general opinion in America before the war. This idea should have been
effectually dissipated, at all events in the North, by the battle of
Bull Run. Nevertheless, throughout the conflict a predilection
existed in favour of what was called the "thinking bayonet;" and the
very term "machine-made soldier," employed by General D.H. Hill,
proves that the strict discipline of regular armies was not held in
high esteem.

It is certainly true that the "thinking bayonet" is by no means to be
decried. A man can no more be a good soldier without intelligence and
aptitude for his profession than he can be a successful poacher or a
skilful jockey. But it is possible, in considering the value of an
armed force, to rate too highly the natural qualities of the
individual in the ranks. In certain circumstances, especially in
irregular warfare, where each man fights for his own hand, they
doubtless play a conspicuous part. A thousand skilled riflemen,
familiar with the "moving accidents by flood and field," even if they
have no regular training and are incapable of precise manoeuvres, may
prove more than a match for the same number of professional soldiers.
But when large numbers are in question, when the concentration of
superior force at a single point, and the close co-operation of the
three arms, infantry, artillery, and cavalry, decide the issue, then
the force that can manoeuvre, that moves like a machine at the
mandate of a single will, has a marked advantage; and the power of
manoeuvring and of combination is conferred by discipline alone. "Two
Mamelukes," said Napoleon, "can defeat three French horsemen, because
they are better armed, better mounted, and more skilful. A hundred
French horse have nothing to fear from a hundred Mamelukes, three
hundred would defeat a similar number, and a thousand French would
defeat fifteen hundred Mamelukes. So great is the influence of
tactics, order, and the power of manoeuvring."

It may be said, moreover, that whatever may have been the case in
past times, the training of the regular soldier to-day neither aims
at producing mere machines nor has it that effect. As much attention
is given to the development of self-reliance in the rank and file as
to making them subordinate. It has long been recognised that there
are many occasions in war when even the private must use his wits; on
outpost, or patrol, as a scout, an orderly, or when his immediate
superiors have fallen, momentous issues may hang on his judgment and
initiative; and in a good army these qualities are sedulously
fostered by constant instruction in field duties. Nor is the fear
justified that the strict enforcement of exact obedience, whenever a
superior is present, impairs, under this system of training, the
capacity for independent action when such action becomes necessary.
In the old days, to drill and discipline the soldier into a machine
was undoubtedly the end of all his training. To-day his officers have
the more difficult task of stimulating his intelligence, while, at
the same time, they instil the habits of subordination; and that such
task may be successfully accomplished we have practical proof. The
regiments of the Light Brigade, trained by Sir John Moore nearly a
century ago on the system of to-day, proved their superiority in the
field over all others. As skirmishers, on the outpost, and in
independent fighting, they were exceedingly efficient; and yet, when
they marched shoulder to shoulder, no troops in Wellington's army
showed a more solid front, manoeuvred with greater precision, or were
more completely under the control of their officers.

Mechanical obedience, then, is perfectly compatible with the freest
exercise of the intelligence, provided that the men are so trained
that they know instinctively when to give the one and to use the
other; and the Confederates, had their officers and non-commissioned
officers been trained soldiers, might easily have acquired this
highest form of discipline. As it was, and as it always will be with
improvised troops, the discipline of battle was to a great degree
purely personal. The men followed those officers whom they knew, and
in whom they had confidence; but they did not always obey simply
because the officer had the  to command; and they were not
easily handled when the wisdom of an order or the necessity of a
movement was not apparent. The only way, it was said by an Englishman
in the Confederacy, in which an officer could acquire influence over
the Southern soldiers was by his personal conduct under fire. "Every
ounce of authority," was his expression, "had to be purchased by a
drop of my blood."* (* Three Months in the Southern States. General
Sir Arthur Fremantle, G.C.B.) Such being the case, it is manifest
that Jackson's methods of discipline were well adapted to the
peculiar constitution of the army in which he served. With the
officers he was exceedingly strict. He looked to them to set an
example of unhesitating obedience and the precise performance of
duty. He demanded, too--and in this respect his own conduct was a
model--that the rank and file should be treated with tact and
consideration. He remembered that his citizen soldiers were utterly
unfamiliar with the forms and customs of military life, that what to
the regular would be a mere matter of course, might seem a gross
outrage to the man who had never acknowledged a superior. In his
selection of officers, therefore, for posts upon his staff, and in
his recommendations for promotion, he considered personal
characteristics rather than professional ability. He preferred men
who would win the confidence of others--men not only strong, but
possessing warm sympathies and broad minds--to mere martinets, ruling
by regulation, and treating the soldier as a machine. But, at the
same time, he was by no means disposed to condone misconduct in the
volunteers. Never was there a more striking contrast than between
Jackson the general and Jackson off duty. During his sojourn at Moss
Neck, Mr. Corbin's little daughter, a child of six years old, became
a special favourite. "Her pretty face and winsome ways were so
charming that he requested her mother that she might visit him every
afternoon, when the day's labours were over. He had always some
little treat in store for her--an orange or an apple--but one
afternoon he found that his supply of good things was exhausted.
Glancing round the room he eye fell on a new uniform cap, ornamented
with a gold band. Taking his knife, he ripped off the braid, and
fastened it among the curls of his little playfellow." A little later
the child was taken ill, and after his removal from Moss Neck he
heard that she had died. "The general," writes his aide-de-camp,
"wept freely when I brought him the sad news." Yet in the
administration of discipline Jackson was far sterner than General
Lee, or indeed than any other of the generals in Virginia. "Once on
the march, fearing lest his men might stray from the ranks and commit
acts of pillage, he had issued an order that the soldiers should not
enter private dwellings. Disregarding the order, a soldier entered a
house, and even used insulting language to the women of the family.
This was reported to Jackson, who had the man arrested, tried by
drum-head court-martial, and shot in twenty minutes."* (* B
Skies and Dark Shadows. Reverend H.M. Field, D.D. page 286.) He never
failed to confirm the sentences of death passed by courts-martial on
deserters. It was in vain that his oldest

friends, or even the chaplains, appealed for a mitigation of the
extreme penalty. "While he was in command at Winchester, in December
1861, a soldier who was charged with striking his captain was tried
by court-martial and sentenced to be shot. Knowing that the breach of
discipline had been attended with many extenuating circumstances,
some of us endeavoured to secure his pardon. Possessing ourselves of
all the facts, we waited upon the general, who evinced the deepest
interest in the object of our visit, and listened with evident
sympathy to our plea. There was moisture in his eyes when we repeated
the poor fellow's pitiful appeal that he be allowed to die for his
country as a soldier on the field of battle, and not as a dog by the
muskets of his own comrades. Such solicitude for the success of our
efforts did he manifest that he even suggested some things to be done
which we had not thought of. At the same time he warned us not to be
too hopeful. He said: "It is unquestionably a case of great hardship,
but a pardon at this juncture might work greater hardship. Resistance
to lawful authority is a grave offence in a soldier. To pardon this
man would be to encourage insubordination throughout the army, and so
ruin our cause. Still," he added, "I will review the whole case, and
no man will be happier than myself if I can reach the same
conclusions as you have done." The soldier was shot."* (*
Communicated by the Reverend Dr. Graham.)

On another occasion four men were to be executed for desertion to the
enemy. The firing party had been ordered to parade at four o'clock in
the afternoon, and shortly before the hour a chaplain, not noted for
his tact, made his way to the general's tent, and petitioned
earnestly that the prisoners might even now be released. Jackson,
whom he found pacing backwards and forwards, in evident agitation,
watch in hand, listened courteously to his arguments, but made no
reply, until at length the worthy minister, in his most impressive
manner, said, "General, consider your responsibility before the Lord.
You are sending these men's souls to hell!" With a look of intense
disgust at such empty cant, Jackson made one stride forward, took the
astonished divine by his shoulders, and saying, in his severest
tones, "That, sir, is my business--do you do yours!" thrust him
forcibly from the tent.

His severity as regards the more serious offences did not, however,
alienate in the smallest degree the confidence and affection of his
soldiers. They had full faith in his justice. They were well aware
that to order the execution of some unfortunate wretch gave him
intense pain. But they recognised, as clearly as he did himself, that
it was sometimes expedient that individuals should suffer. They knew
that not all men, nor even the greater part, are heroes, and that if
the worthless element had once reason to believe that they might
escape the legitimate consequences of their crimes, desertion and
insubordination would destroy the army. By some of the senior
officers, however, his rigorous ideas of discipline were less
favourably considered. They were by no means disposed to quarrel with
the fact that the sentences of courts-martial in the Second Army
Corps were almost invariably confirmed; but they objected strongly to
the same measure which they meted out to the men being consistently
applied to themselves. They could not be brought to see that neglect
of duty, however trivial, on the part of a colonel or brigadier was
just as serious a fault as desertion or insubordination on the part
of the men; and the conflict of opinion, in certain cases, had
unfortunate results.

To those whose conduct he approved he was more than considerate.
General Lane, who was under him as a cadet at Lexington, writes as
follows:--

"When in camp at Bunker Hill, after the battle of Sharpsburg, where
the gallant Branch was killed, I, as colonel commanding the brigade,
was directed by General A.P. Hill to hold my command in readiness,
with three days' rations, for detached service, and to report to
General Jackson for further orders. That was all the information that
Hill could give me. I had been in Jackson's corps since the battles
round Richmond, and had been very derelict in not paying my respects
to my old professor. As I rode to his headquarters I wondered if he
would recognise me. I certainly expected to receive his orders in a
few terse sentences, and to be promptly dismissed with a military
salute. He knew me as soon as I entered his tent, though we had not
met for years. He rose quickly, with a smile on his face, took my
hand in both of his in the warmest manner, expressed his pleasure at
seeing me, chided me for not having been to see him, and bade me be
seated. His kind words, the tones of his voice, his familiarly
calling me Lane, whereas it had always been Mr. Lane at the
Institute, put me completely at my ease. Then, for the first time, I
began to love that reserved man whom I had always honoured and
respected as my professor, and whom I greatly admired as my general.

"After a very pleasant and somewhat protracted conversation, he
ordered me to move at once, and as rapidly as possible, to North
Mountain Depot, tear up the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, and put
myself in communication with General Hampton (commanding cavalry
brigade), who would cover my operations. While we were there General
Jackson sent a member of his staff to see how we were progressing.
That night I received orders to move at once and quickly to
Martinsburg, as there had been heavy skirmishing near Kerneysville.
Next morning, when I reported to General Jackson, he received me in
the same cordial, warm-hearted manner, complimented me on the
thoroughness of my work, told me that he had recommended me for
promotion to take permanent charge of Branch's brigade, and that as I
was the only person recommended through military channels, I would be
appointed in spite of the two aspirants who were trying to bring
political influence to bear in Richmond in their behalf. When I rose
to go he took my hand in both of his, looked me steadily in the face,
and in the words and tones of friendly warmth, which can never be
forgotten, again expressed his confidence in my promotion, and bade
me good-bye, with a 'God bless you, Lane!'" (1 Memoirs pages 536-7.)

On the other hand, Jackson's treatment of those who failed to obey
his orders was very different. No matter how high the rank of the
offender, Jackson never sought to screen the crime.* (* The five
regimental commanders of the Stonewall Brigade were once placed under
arrest at the same time for permitting their men to burn fence-rails;
they were not released until they had compensated the farmer.) No
thought that the public rebuke of his principal subordinates might
impair their authority or destroy their cordial relations with
himself ever stayed his hand; and it may well be questioned whether
his disregard of consequences was not too absolutely uncompromising.
Men who live in constant dread of their chief's anger are not likely
to render loyal and efficient service, and the least friction in the
higher ranks is felt throughout the whole command. When the troops
begin taking sides and unanimity disappears, the power of energetic
combination at once deteriorates. That Jackson was perfectly just is
not denied; the misconduct of his subordinates was sometimes
flagrant; but it may well be questioned whether to keep officers
under arrest for weeks, or even months, marching without their swords
in rear of the column, was wholly wise. There is but one public
punishment for a senior officer who is guilty of serious
misbehaviour, and that is instant dismissal. If he is suffered to
remain in the army his presence will always be a source of weakness.
But the question will arise, Is it possible to replace him? If he is
trusted by his men they will resent his removal, and give but
halfhearted support to his successor; so in dealing with those in
high places tact and consideration are essential. Even Dr. Dabney
admits that in this respect Jackson's conduct is open to criticism.

As already related, he looked on the blunders of his officers, if
those blunders were honest, and due simply to misconception of the
situation, with a tolerant eye. He knew too much of war and its
difficulties to expect that their judgment would be unerring. He
never made the mistake of reprehending the man who had done his best
to succeed, and contented himself with pointing out, quietly and
courteously, how failure might have been avoided. "But if he
believed," says his chief of the staff, "that his subordinates were
self-indulgent or contumacious, he became a stern and exacting
master; ...and during his career a causeless friction was produced in
the working of his government over several gallant and meritorious
officers who served under him. This was almost the sole fault of his
military character: that by this jealousy of intentional inefficiency
he diminished the sympathy between himself and the general officers
next his person by whom his orders were to be executed. Had he been
able to exercise the same energetic authority, through the medium of
a zealous personal affection, he would have been a more perfect
leader of armies."* (* Dabney volume 2 pages 519 to 520.)

This system of command was in all probability the outcome of
deliberate calculation. No officer, placed in permanent charge of a
considerable force, least of all a man who never acted except upon
reflection, and who had a wise regard for human nature, could fail to
lay down for himself certain principles of conduct towards both
officers and men. It may be, then, that Jackson considered the course
he pursued the best adapted to maintain discipline amongst a number
of ambitious young generals, some of whom had been senior to himself
in the old service, and all of whom had been raised suddenly, with
probably some disturbance to their self-possession, to high rank. It
is to be remembered, too, that during the campaigns of 1862 his
pre-eminent ability was only by degrees made clear. It was not
everyone who, like General Lee, discerned the great qualities of the
silent and unassuming instructor of cadets, and other leaders, of
more dashing exterior, with a well-deserved reputation for brilliant
courage, may well have doubted whether his capacity was superior to
their own.

Such soaring spirits possibly needed a tight hand; and, in any case,
Jackson had much cause for irritation. With Wolfe and Sherman he
shared the distinguished honour of being considered crazy by hundreds
of self-sufficient mediocrities. It was impossible that he should
have been ignorant, although not one word of complaint ever passed
his lips, how grossly he was misrepresented, how he was caricatured
in the press, and credited with the most extravagant and foolhardy
ideas of war. Nor did his subordinates, in very many instances, give
him that loyal and ungrudging support which he conceived was the due
of the commanding general. More than one of his enterprises fell
short of the full measure of success owing to the shortcomings of
others; and these shortcomings, such as Loring's insubordination at
Romney, Steuart's refusal to pursue Banks after Winchester, Garnett's
retreat at Kernstown, A.P. Hill's tardiness at Cedar Run, might all
be traced to the same cause--disdain of his capacity, and a
misconception of their own position. In such circumstances it is
hardly to be wondered at if his wrath blazed to a white heat. He was
not of a forgiving nature. Once roused, resentment took possession of
his whole being, and it may be questioned whether it was ever really
appeased. At the same time, the fact that Jackson lacked the
fascination which, allied to lofty intellect, wins the hearts of men
most readily, and is pre-eminently the characteristic of the very
greatest warriors, can hardly be denied. His influence with men was a
plant of slow growth. Yet the glamour of his great deeds, the gradual
recognition of his unfailing sympathy, his modesty and his truth,
produced in the end the same result as the personal charm of
Napoleon, of Nelson, and of Lee. His hold on the devotion of his
troops was very sure: "God knows," said his adjutant-general, weeping
the tears of a brave man, "I would have died for him!" and few
commanders have been followed with more implicit confidence or have
inspired a deeper and more abiding affection. Long years after the
war a bronze statue, in his habit as he lived, was erected on his
grave at Lexington. Thither, when the figure was unveiled, came the
survivors of the Second Army Corps, the men of Manassas and of
Sharpsburg, of Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville, and of many
another hard-fought field; and the younger generation looked on the
relics of an army whose peer the world has seldom seen. When the guns
had fired a salute, the wild rebel yell, the music which the great
Virginian had loved so well, rang loud above his grave, and as the
last reverberations died away across the hill, the grey-haired ranks
stood still and silent. "See how they loved him!" said one, and it
was spoken with deepest reverence. Two well-known officers, who had
served under Jackson, were sitting near each other on their horses.
Each remarked the silence of the other, and each saw that the other
was in tears. "I'm not ashamed of it, Snowden!" "Nor I, old boy,"
replied the other, as he tried to smile.

When, after the unveiling, the columns marched past the monument, the
old fellows looked up, and then bowed their uncovered heads and
passed on. But one tall, gaunt soldier of the Stonewall Brigade, as
he passed out of the cemetery, looked back for a moment at the
life-like figure of his general, and waving his old grey hat towards
it, cried out, "Good-bye, old man, good-bye; we've done all we could
for you; good-bye!"

It is not always easy to discern why one general is worshipped, even
by men who have never seen him, while another, of equal or even
superior capacity, fails to awaken the least spark of affection,
except in his chosen friends. Grant was undoubtedly a greater soldier
than McClellan, and the genius of Wellington was not less than that
of Nelson. And yet, while Nelson and McClellan won all hearts, not
one single private had either for Wellington or Grant any warmer
sentiment than respect. It would be as unfair, however, to attribute
selfishness or want of sympathy to either Wellington or Grant, as to
insinuate that Nelson and McClellan were deliberate bidders for
popularity. It may be that in the two former the very strength of
their patriotism was at fault. To them the State was everything, the
individual nothing. To fight for their country was merely a question
of duty, into which the idea of glory or recompense hardly entered,
and, indifferent themselves either to praise or blame, they
considered that the victory of the national arms was a sufficient
reward for the soldier's toils. Both were generous and open-handed,
exerting themselves incessantly to provide for the comfort and
well-being of their troops. Neither was insensible to suffering, and
both were just as capable of self-sacrifice as either Nelson or
McClellan. But the standpoint from which they looked at war was too
exalted. Nelson and McClellan, on the other hand, recognised that
they commanded men, not stoics. Sharing with Napoleon the rare
quality of captivating others, a quality which comes by nature or
comes not at all, they made allowance for human nature, and
identified themselves with those beneath them in the closest
camaraderie. And herein, to a great extent, lay the secret of the
enthusiastic devotion which they inspired.

If the pitiless dissectors of character are  we ought to see in
Napoleon the most selfish of tyrants, the coldest end most crafty of
charlatans. It is difficult, however, to believe that the hearts of a
generation of hardy warriors were conquered merely by ringing phrases
and skilful flattery. It should be remembered that from a mercenary
force, degraded and despised, he transformed the Grand Army into the
terror of Europe and the pride of France. During the years of his
glory, when the legions controlled the destinies of their country,
none was more honoured than the soldier. His interests were always
the first to be considered. The highest ranks in the peerage, the
highest offices of State, were held by men who had carried the
knapsack, and when thrones were going begging their claims were
preferred before all others. The Emperor, with all his greatness, was
always "the Little Corporal" to his grenadiers. His career was their
own. As they shared his glory, so they shared his reward. Every
upward step he made towards supreme power he took them with him, and
their relations were always of the most cordial and familiar
character. He was never happier than when, on the eve of some great
battle, he made his bivouac within a square of the Guard; never more
at ease than when exchanging rough compliments with the veterans of
Rivoli or Jena. He was the representative of the army rather than of
the nation. The men knew that no civilian would be preferred before
them; that their gallant deeds were certain of his recognition; that
their claims to the cross, to pension, and to promotion, would be as
carefully considered as the claims of their generals. They loved
Napoleon and they trusted him; and whatever may have been his faults,
he was "the Little Corporal," the friend and comrade of his soldiers,
to the end.

It was by the same hooks of steel that Stonewall Jackson grappled the
hearts of the Second Army Corps to his own. His men loved him, not
merely because he was the bravest man they had ever known, the
strongest, and the most resolute, not because he had given them
glory, and had made them heroes whose fame was known beyond the
confines of the South, but because he was one of themselves, with no
interests apart from their interests; because he raised them to his
own level, respecting them not merely as soldiers, but as comrades,
the tried comrades of many a hard fight and weary march. Although he
ruled them with a rod of iron, he made no secret, either officially
or privately, of his deep and abiding admiration for their
self-sacrificing valour. His very dispatches showed that he regarded
his own skill and courage as small indeed when compared with theirs.
Like Napoleon's, his congratulatory orders were conspicuous for the
absence of all reference to himself; it was always "we," not "I," and
he was among the first to recognise the worth of the rank and file.
"One day," says Dr. McGuire, "early in the war, when the Second
Virginia Regiment marched by, I said to General Johnston, "If these
men will not fight, you have no troops that will." He expressed the
prevalent opinion of the day in his reply, saying, "I would not give
one company of regulars for the whole regiment." When I returned to
Jackson I had occasion to quote General Johnston's opinion. "Did he
say that?" he asked, "and of those splendid men?" And then he added:
"The patriot volunteer, fighting for his country and his s,
makes the most reliable soldier upon earth." And his veterans knew
more than that their general believed them to be heroes. They knew
that thia great, valiant man, beside whom all others, save Lee
himself, seemed small and feeble, this mighty captain, who held the
hosts of the enemy in the hollow of his hand, was the kindest and the
most considerate of human beings. To them he was "Old Jack" in the
same affectionate sense as he had been "Old Jack" to his class-mates
at West Point. They followed him willingly, for they knew that the
path he trod was the way to victory; but they loved him as children
do their parents, because they were his first thought and his last.

"In season and out of season he laboured for their welfare. To his
transport and commissariat officers he was a hard master. The
unfortunate wight who had neglected to bring up supplies, or who
ventured to make difficulties, discovered, to his cost, that his
quiet commander could be very terrible; but those officers who did
their duty, in whatever branch of the service they might be serving,
found that their zeal was more than appreciated. For himself he asked
nothing; on behalf of his subordinates he was a constant and
persistent suitor. He was not only ready to support the claims to
promotion of those who deserved it, but in the case of those who
displayed special merit he took the initiative himself: and he was
not content with one refusal. His only difference with General Lee,
if difference it can be called, was on a question of this nature. The
Commander-in-Chief, it appears, soon after the battle of
Fredericksburg, had proposed to appoint officers to the Second Army
Corps who had served elsewhere. After some correspondence Jackson
wrote as follows:--"My rule has been to recommend such as were, in my
opinion, best qualified for filling vacancies. The application of
this rule has prevented me from even recommending for the command of
my old brigade one of its officers, because I did not regard any of
them as competent as another of whose qualifications I had a higher
opinion. This rule has led me to recommend Colonel Bradley T. Johnson
for the command of Taliaferro's brigade...I desire the interest of
the service, and no other interest, to determine who shall be
selected to fill the vacancies. Guided by this principle, I cannot go
outside of my command for persons to fill vacancies in it, unless by
so doing a more competent officer is secured. This same principle
leads me to oppose having officers who have never served with me, and
of whose qualifications I have no knowledge, forced upon me by
promoting them to fill vacancies in my command, and advancing them
over meritorious officers well qualified for the positions, and of
whose qualifications I have had ample opportunities of judging from
their having served with me.

"In my opinion, the interest of the service would be injured if I
should quietly consent to see officers with whose qualifications I am
not acquainted promoted into my command to fill vacancies, regardless
of the merits of my own officers who are well qualified for the
positions. The same principle leads me, when selections have to be
made outside of my command, to recommend those (if there be such)
whose former service with me proved them well qualified for filling
the vacancies. This induced me to recommend Captain Chew, who does
not belong to this army corps, but whose well-earned reputation when
with me has not been forgotten."

And as he studied the wishes of his officers, working quietly and
persistently for their advancement, so he studied the wishes of the
private soldiers. It is well known that artillerymen come, after a
time, to feel a personal affection for their guns, especially those
which they have used in battle. When in camp near Fredericksburg
Jackson was asked to transfer certain field-pieces, which had
belonged to his old division, to another portion of the command. The
men were exasperated, and the demand elicited the following letter:--

                                     "December 3, 1862.

"General R.E. LEE,

"Commanding Army of Northern Virginia.

"General,--Your letter of this date, recommending that I distribute
the rifle and Napoleon guns 'so as to give General D.H. Hill a fair
proportion' has been received. I respectfully request, if any such
distribution is to be made, that you will direct your chief of
artillery or some other officer to do it; but I hope that none of the
guns which belonged to the Army of the Valley before it became part
of the Army of Northern Virginia, after the battle of Cedar Run, will
be taken from it. If since that time any artillery has improperly
come into my command, I trust that it will be taken away, and the
person in whose possession it may be found punished, if his conduct
requires it. So careful was I to prevent an improper distribution of
the artillery and other public property captured at Harper's Ferry,
that I issued a written order directing my staff officers to turn
over to the proper chiefs of staff of the Army of Northern Virginia
all captured stores. A copy of the order is herewith enclosed.

"General D.H. Hill's artillery wants existed at the time he was
assigned to my command, and it is hoped that the artillery which
belonged to the Army of the Valley will not be taken to supply his
wants.

             "I am, General, your obedient servant,

                            "T.J. JACKSON, Lieutenant-General."

No further correspondence is to be found on the subject, so it may be
presumed that the protest was successful.

Jackson's relations with the rank and file have already been referred
to, and although he was now commander of an army corps, and
universally acknowledged as one of the foremost generals of the
Confederacy, his rise in rank and reputation had brought no increase
of dignity. He still treated the humblest privates with the same
courtesy that he treated the Commander-in-Chief. He never repelled
their advances, nor refused, if he could, to satisfy their curiosity;
and although he seldom went out of his way to speak to them, if any
soldier addressed him, especially if he belonged to a regiment
recruited from the Valley, he seldom omitted to make some inquiry
after those he had  at home. Never, it was said, was his tone
more gentle or his smile more winning than when he was speaking to
some ragged representative of his old brigade. How his heart went out
to them may be inferred from the following. Writing to a friend at
Richmond he said: "Though I have been relieved from command in the
Valley, and may never again be assigned to that important trust, yet
I feel deeply when I see the patriotic people of that region under
the heel of a hateful military despotism. There are all the hopes of
those who have been with me from the commencement of the war in
Virginia, who have repeatedly  their homes and families in the
hands of the enemy, to brave the dangers of battle and disease; and
there are those who have so devotedly laboured for the relief of our
suffering sick and wounded."


NOTE

Table showing the Nationality and Average Measurements of 346,744
Federal Soldiers examined for Military Service after March 6, 1863.
                                                 Chest at
                                       Height   Inspiration.
                             Number    ft.  in.     in.

United States                237,391    5  7.40    35.61
   (69 per cent.)
Germany                       35,935    5  5.54    35.88
Ireland                       32,473    5  5.54    35.24
Canada                        15,507    5  5.51    35.42
England                       11,479    5  6.02    35.41
France                         2,630    5  5.81    35.29
Scotland                       2,127    5  6.13    35.97
Other nationalities,
  including Wales and          9,202      --         --
  five British Colonies      -------
                             346,744


Report of the Provost Marshal General, 1866, page 698.

The Roll of the 35th Massachusetts, which may be taken as a typical
Northern regiment, shows clearly enough at what period the great
influx of foreigners took place. Of 104 officers the names of all but
four--and these four joined in 1864--are pure English. Of the 964
rank and file of which the regiment was originally composed, only 50
bore foreign names. In 1864, however, 495 recruits were received, and
of these over 400 were German immigrants.--History of the 35th
Regiment, Massachusetts Volunteers, 1862-65.

</section>
<section id="26" fatherid="16" title="WINTER QUARTERS" lv="CHAPTER 2.22." priority="0" level="2">
1863.

During the long interval which intervened between the battle of
Fredericksburg and the next campaign, Jackson employed himself in
preparing the reports of his battles, which had been called for by
the Commander-in-Chief. They were not compiled in their entirety by
his own hand. He was no novice at literary composition, and his pen,
as his letter-book shows, was not that of an unready writer. He had a
good command of language, and that power of clear and concise
expression which every officer in command of a large force, a
position naturally entailing a large amount of confidential
correspondence, must necessarily possess. But the task now set him
was one of no ordinary magnitude. Since the battle of Kernstown, the
report of which had been furnished in April 1862, the time had been
too fully occupied to admit of the crowded events being placed on
record, and more than one-half of the division, brigade, and
regimental commanders who had been engaged in the operations of the
period had been killed. Nor, even now, did his duties permit him the
necessary leisure to complete the work without assistance. On his
requisition, therefore, Colonel Charles Faulkner, who had been United
States Minister to France before the war, was attached to his staff
for the purpose of collecting the reports of the subordinate
commanders, and combining them in the proper form. The rough drafts
were carefully gone over by the general. Every sentence was weighed;
and everything that might possibly convey a wrong impression was at
once rejected; evidence was called to clear up disputed points; no
inferences or suppositions were allowed to stand; truth was never
permitted to be sacrificed to effect; superlatives were rigorously
excluded,* (* The report of Sharpsburg, which Jackson had not yet
revised at the time of his death, is not altogether free from
exaggeration.) and the narratives may be unquestionably accepted as
an accurate relation of the facts. Many stirring passages were added
by the general's own pen; and the praise bestowed upon the troops,
both officers and men, is couched in the warmest terms. Yet much was
omitted. Jackson had a rooted objection to represent the motives of
his actions, or to set forth the object of his movements. In reply to
a remonstrance that those who came after him would be embarrassed by
the absence of these explanations, and that his fame would suffer, he
said: "The men who come after me must act for themselves; and as to
the historians who speak of the movements of my command, I do not
concern myself greatly as to what they may say." To judge, then, from
the reports, Jackson himself had very little to do with his success;
indeed, were they the only evidence available, it would be difficult
to ascertain whether the more brilliant manoeuvres were ordered by
himself or executed on the initiative of others. But in this he was
perfectly consistent. When the publisher of an illustrated periodical
wrote to him, asking him for his portrait and some notes of his
battles as the basis of a sketch, he replied that he had no likeness
of himself, and had done nothing worthy of mention. It is not without
interest, in this connection, to note that the Old Testament supplied
him with a pattern for his reports, just as it supplied him, as he
often declared, with precepts and principles applicable to every
military emergency. After he was wounded, enlarging one morning on
his favourite topic of practical religion, he turned to the staff
officer in attendance, Lieutenant Smith, and asked him with a smile:
"Can you tell me where the Bible gives generals a model for their
official reports of battles?" The aide-de-camp answered, laughing,
that it never entered his mind to think of looking for such a thing
in the Scriptures. "Nevertheless," said the general, "there are such;
and excellent models, too. Look, for instance, at the narrative of
Joshua's battles with the Amalekites; there you have one. It has
clearness, brevity, modesty; and it traces the victory to its 
source, the blessing of God."

The early spring of 1863 was undoubtedly one of the happiest seasons
of a singularly happy life. Jackson's ambition, if the desire for
such rank that would enable him to put the powers within him to the
best use may be so termed, was fully gratified. The country lad who,
one-and-twenty years ago, on his way to West Point, had looked on the
green hills of Virginia from the Capitol at Washington, could hardly
have anticipated a higher destiny than that which had befallen him.
Over the hearts and wills of thirty thousand magnificent soldiers,
the very flower of Southern manhood, his empire was absolute; and
such dominion is neither the heritage of princes nor within the reach
of wealth. The most trusted lieutenant of his great commander, the
strong  arm with which he had executed his most brilliant
enterprises, he shared with him the esteem and admiration not only of
the army but of the whole people of the South. The name he had
determined, in his lonely boyhood, to bring back to honour already
ranked with those of the Revolutionary heroes. Even his enemies, for
the brave men at the front  rancour to the politicians, were not
proof against the attraction of his great achievements. A friendly
intercourse, not always confined to a trade of coffee for tobacco,
existed between the outposts; "Johnnies" and "Yanks" often exchanged
greetings across the Rappahannock; and it is related that one day
when Jackson rode along the river, and the Confederate troops ran
together, as was their custom, to greet him with a yell, the Federal
pickets, roused by the sudden clamour, crowded to the bank, and
shouted across to ask the cause. "General Stonewall Jackson," was the
proud reply of the grey-coated sentry. Immediately, to his
astonishment, the cry, "Hurrah for Stonewall Jackson!" rang out from
the Federal ranks, and the voices of North and South, prophetic of a
time to come, mingled in acclamation of a great American.

The situation of the army, although the winter was unusually severe,
was not without its compensations. The country was covered with snow,
and storms were frequent; rations were still scarce,* (* On January
23 the daily ration was a quarter of a pound of beef, and one-fifth
of a pound of sugar was ordered to be issued in addition, but there
was no sugar! Lee to Davis, O.R. volume 21 page 1110. In the Valley,
during the autumn, the ration had been one and one-eighth pound of
flour, and one and a quarter pounds of beef. On March 27 the ration
was eighteen ounces of flour, and four ounces of indifferent bacon,
with occasional issues of rice, sugar, or molasses. Symptoms of
scurvy were appearing, and to supply the place of vegetables each
regiment was directed to send men daily to gather sassafras buds,
wild onions, garlic, etc., etc. Still "the men are cheerful," writes
Lee, "and I receive no complaints." O.R. volume 25 part 2 page 687.
On April 17 the ration had been increased by ten pounds of rice to
every 100 men about every third day, with a few peas and dried fruits
occasionally. O.R. volume 25 part 2 page 730.) for the single line of
badly laid rails, subjected to the strain of an abnormal traffic,
formed a precarious means of transport; every spring and pond was
frozen; and the soldiers shivered beneath their scanty coverings.* (*
On January 19, 1200 pairs of shoes and 400 or 500 pairs of blankets
were forwarded for issue to men without either in D.H. Hill's
division, O.R. volume 21 page 1097. In the Louisiana brigade on the
same date, out of 1500 men, 400 had no covering for their feet
whatever. A large number had not a particle of underclothing, shirts,
socks, or drawers; overcoats were so rare as to be a curiosity; the
5th Regiment could not drill for want of shoes; the 8th was almost
unfit for duty from the same cause; the condition of the men's feet,
from long exposure, was horrible, and the troops were almost totally
unprovided with cooking utensils. O.R. volume 21 page 1098.) Huts,
however, were in process of erection, and the goodwill of the people
did something to supply the deficiencies of the commissariat.* (*
O.R. volume 21 page 1098.) The homes of Virginia were stripped, and
many--like Jackson himself, whose blankets had already been sent from
Lexington to his old brigade--ordered their carpets to be cut up into
rugs and distributed amongst the men. But neither cold nor hunger
could crush the spirit of the troops. The bivouacs were never merrier
than on the bare hills and in the dark pine-woods which looked down
on the ruins and the graves of Fredericksburg. Picket duty was light,
for the black waters of the great river formed a secure barrier
against attack; and if the men's stomachs were empty, they could
still feast their eyes on a charming landscape. "To the  and
 the wooded range extended towards Fredericksburg on the one
hand, and Port Royal on the other; in front, the far-stretching level
gave full sweep to the eye; and at the foot of its forest-clad
bluffs, or by the margin of undulating fields, the Rappahannock
flowed calmly to the sea. Old mansions dotted this beautiful
land--for beautiful it was in spite of the chill influences of
winter, with its fertile meadows, its picturesque woodlands, and its
old roads skirted by long lines of shadowy cedars."* (* Cooke page
389.)

The headquarters of the Second Army Corps were established at Moss
Neck, on the terrace above the Rappahannock, eleven miles below
Fredericksburg. After the retreat of the Federals to Falmouth, the
Confederate troops had reoccupied their former positions, and every
point of passage between Fredericksburg and Port Royal was strongly
intrenched and closely watched. At Moss Neck Jackson was not only
within easy reach of his divisions, but was more comfortably housed
than had usually been the case. A hunting-lodge which stood on the
lawn of an old and picturesque mansion-house, the property of a
gentleman named Corbin, was placed at his disposal--he had declined
the offer of rooms in the house itself lest he should trespass on the
convenience of its inmates; and to show the peculiar constitution of
the Confederate army, an anecdote recorded by his biographers is
worth quoting. After his first interview with Mrs. Corbin, he passed
out to the gate, where a cavalry orderly who had accompanied him was
holding his horse. "Do you approve of your accommodation, General?"
asked the courier. "Yes, sir, I have decided to make my quarters
here." "I am Mr. Corbin, sir," said the soldier, "and I am very
pleased."

The lower room of the lodge, hung with trophies of the chase, was
both his bedroom and his office; while a large tent, pitched on the
grass outside, served as a messroom for his military family; and here
for three long months, until near the end of March, he rested from
the labour of his campaigns. The Federal troops, on the snow-clad
heights across the river, remained idle in their camps, slowly
recovering from the effects of their defeat on the fields of
Fredericksburg; the pickets had ceased to bicker; the gunboats had
disappeared, and "all was quiet on the Rappahannock." Many of the
senior officers in the Confederate army took advantage of the lull in
operations to visit their homes; but, although his wife urged him to
do the same, Jackson steadfastly refused to absent himself even for a
few days from the front. In November, to his unbounded delight, a
daughter had been born to him. "To a man of his extreme domesticity,
and love for children," says his wife, "this was a crowning
happiness; and yet, with his great modesty and shrinking from
publicity, he requested that he should not receive the announcement
by telegraph, and when it came to him by letter he kept the glad
tidings to himself--leaving his staff and those around him in the
camp to hear of it from others. This was to him "a joy with which a
stranger could not intermeddle," and from which even his own hand
could not lift the veil of sanctity. His letters were full of longing
to see his little Julia; for by this name, which had been his
mother's, he had desired her to be christened, saying, "My mother was
mindful of me when I was a helpless, fatherless child, and I wish to
commemorate her now.""

"How thankful I am," he wrote, "to our kind Heavenly Father for
having spared my precious wife and given us a little daughter! I
cannot tell how gratified I am, nor how much I wish I could be with
you and see my two darlings. But while this pleasure is denied me, I
am thankful it is accorded to you to have the little pet, and I hope
it may be a great deal of company and comfort to its mother. Now,
don't exert yourself to write to me, for to know that you were
exerting yourself to write would give me more pain than the letter
would pleasure, SO YOU MUST NOT DO IT. But you must love your ESPOSO
in the mean time...I expect you are just now made up with that baby.
Don't you wish your husband wouldn't claim any part of it, but let
you have the sole ownership? Don't you regard it as the most precious
little creature in the world? Do not spoil it, and don't let anybody
tease it. Don't permit it to have a bad temper. How I would love to
see the darling little thing! Give her many kisses from her father.

"At present I am fifty miles from Richmond, and eight miles from
Guiney's Station, on the railroad from Richmond to Fredericksburg.
Should I remain here, I do hope you and baby can come to see me
before spring, as you can come on the railway. Wherever I go, God
gives me kind friends. The people here show me great kindness. I
receive invitation after invitation to dine out and spend the night,
and a great many provisions are sent me, including cakes, tea,
loaf-sugar, etc., and the socks and gloves and handkerchiefs still
come!

"I am so thankful to our ever-kind Heavenly Father for having so
improved my eyes as to enable me to write at night. He continually
showers blessings upon me; and that YOU should have been spared, and
our darling little daughter given us, fills my heart with overflowing
gratitude. If I know my unworthy self, my desire is to live entirely
and unreservedly to God's glory. Pray, my darling, that I may so
live."

Again to his sister-in-law: "I trust God will answer the prayers
offered for peace. Not much comfort is to be expected until this
cruel war terminates. I haven't seen my wife since last March, and
never having seen my child, you can imagine with what interest I look
to North Carolina."

But the tender promptings of his deep natural affection were stilled
by his profound faith that "duty is ours, consequences are God's."
The Confederate army, at this time as at all others, suffered
terribly from desertion; and one of his own brigades reported 1200
officers and men absent without leave.

"Last evening," he wrote to his wife on Christmas Day, "I received a
letter from Dr. Dabney, saying, "one of the highest gratifications
both Mrs. Dabney and I could enjoy would be another visit from Mrs.
Jackson," and he invites me to meet you there. He and Mrs. Dabney are
very kind, but it appears to me that it is better for me to remain
with my command so long as the war continues...If all our troops,
officers and men, were at their posts, we might, through God's
blessing, expect a more speedy termination of the war. The temporal
affairs of some are so deranged as to make a strong plea for their
returning home for a short time; but our God has greatly blessed me
and mine during my absence, and whilst it would be a great comfort to
see you and our darling little daughter, and others in whom I take a
special interest, yet duty appears to require me to remain with my
command. It is important that those at headquarters set an example by
remaining at the post of duty."

So business at headquarters went on in its accustomed course. There
were inspections to be made, the deficiencies of equipment to be made
good, correspondence to be conducted--and the control of 30,000 men
demanded much office-work--the enemy to be watched, information to be
sifted, topographical data to be collected, and the reports of the
battles to be written. Every morning, as was his invariable habit
during a campaign, the general had an interview with the chiefs of
the commissariat, transport, ordnance, and medical departments, and
he spent many hours in consultation with his topographical engineer.
The great purpose for which Virginia stood in arms was ever present
to his mind, and despite his reticence, his staff knew that he was
occupied, day and night, with the problems that the future might
unfold. Existence at headquarters to the young and high-spirited
officers who formed the military family was not altogether lively.
Outside there was abundance of gaiety. The Confederate army, even on
those lonely hills, managed to extract enjoyment from its
surroundings. The hospitality of the plantations was open to the
officers, and wherever Stuart and his brigadiers pitched their tents,
dances and music were the order of the day. Nor were the men
behindhand. Even the heavy snow afforded them entertainment. Whenever
a thaw took place they set themselves to making snow-balls; and great
battles, in which one division was arrayed against another, and which
were carried through with the pomp and circumstance of war, colours
flying, bugles sounding, and long lines charging elaborately planned
intrenchments, were a constant source of amusement, except to
unpopular officers. Theatrical and musical performances enlivened the
tedium of the long evenings; and when, by the glare of the
camp-fires, the band of the 5th Virginia broke into the rattling
quick-step of "Dixie's Land," not the least stirring of national
anthems, and the great concourse of grey-jackets took up the chorus,
closing it with a yell

That shivered to the tingling stars,

the Confederate soldier would not have changed places with the
President himself.

There was much social intercourse, too, between the different
headquarters. General Lee was no unfrequent visitor to Moss Neck, and
on Christmas Day Jackson's aides-de-camp provided a sumptuous
entertainment, at which turkeys and oysters figured, for the
Commander-in-Chief and the senior generals. Stuart, too, often
invaded the quarters of his old comrade, and Jackson looked forward
to the merriment that was certain to result just as much as the
youngest of his staff. "Stuart's exuberant cheerfulness and humour,"
says Dabney, "seemed to be the happy relief, as they were the
opposites, to Jackson's serious and diffident temper. While Stuart
poured out his 'quips and cranks,' not seldom at Jackson's expense,
the latter sat by, sometimes unprepared with any repartee, sometimes
blushing, but always enjoying the jest with a quiet and merry laugh.
The ornaments on the wall of the general's quarters gave Stuart many
a topic of badinage. Affecting to believe that they were of General
Jackson's selection, he pointed now to the portrait of some famous
race-horse, and now to the print of some celebrated rat-terrier, as
queer revelations of his private tastes, indicating a great decline
in his moral character, which would be a grief and disappointment to
the pious old ladies of the South. Jackson, with a quiet smile,
replied that perhaps he had had more to do with race-horses than his
friends suspected. It was in the midst of such a scene as this that
dinner was announced, and the two generals passed to the mess-table.
It so happened that Jackson had just received, as a present from a
patriotic lady, some butter, upon the adornment of which the fair
donor had exhausted her housewife's skill. The servants, in honour of
General Stuart's presence, had chosen this to grace the centre of the
board. As his eye fell upon it, he paused, and with mock gravity
pointed to it, saying, "There, gentlemen! If that is not the crowning
evidence of our host's sporting tastes. He even has his favourite
game-cock stamped on his butter!" The dinner, of course, began with
great laughter, in which Jackson joined, with as much enjoyment as
any."

Visitors, too, from Europe, attracted by the fame of the army and its
leaders, had made their way into the Confederate lines, and were
received with all the hospitality that the camps afforded. An English
officer has recorded his experiences at Moss Neck:--

"I brought from Nassau a box of goods (a present from England) for
General Stonewall Jackson, and he asked me when I was at Richmond to
come to his camp and see him. He  the city one morning about
seven o'clock, and about ten landed at a station distant some eight
or nine miles from Jackson's (or, as his men called him, Old Jack's)
camp. A heavy fall of snow had covered the country for some time
before to the depth of a foot, and formed a crust over the Virginian
mud, which is quite as villainous as that of Balaclava. The day
before had been mild and wet, and my journey was made in a drenching
shower, which soon cleared away the white mantle of snow. You cannot
imagine the slough of despond I had to pass through. Wet to the skin,
I stumbled through mud, I waded through creeks, I passed through
pine-woods, and at last got into camp about two o'clock. I then made
my way to a small house occupied by the general as his headquarters.
I wrote down my name, and gave it to the orderly, and I was
immediately told to walk in.

"The general rose and greeted me warmly. I expected to see an old,
untidy man, and was most agreeably surprised and pleased with his
appearance. He is tall, handsome, and powerfully built, but thin. He
has brown hair and a brown beard. His mouth expresses great
determination. The lips are thin and compressed firmly together; his
eyes are blue and dark, with keen and searching expression. I was
told that his age was thirty-eight, and he looks forty. The general,
who is indescribably simple and unaffected in all his ways, took off
my wet overcoat with his own hands, made up the fire, brought wood
for me to put my feet on to keep them warm while my boots were
drying, and then began to ask me questions on various subjects. At
the dinner hour we went out and joined the members of his staff. At
this meal the general said grace in a fervent, quiet manner, which
struck me very much. After dinner I returned to his room, and he
again talked for a long time. The servant came in and took his
mattress out of a cupboard and laid it on the floor.

"As I rose to retire, the general said, "Captain, there is plenty of
room on my bed, I hope you will share it with me?" I thanked him very
much for his courtesy, but said "Good-night," and slept in a tent,
sharing the blankets of one of his aides-de-camp. In the morning at
breakfast-time I noticed that the general said grace before the meal
with the same fervour I had remarked before. An hour or two
afterwards it was time for me to return to the station; on this
occasion, however, I had a horse, and I returned to the general's
headquarters to bid him adieu. His little room was vacant, so I
slipped in and stood before the fire. I then noticed my greatcoat
stretched before it on a chair. Shortly afterwards the general
entered the room. He said: "Captain, I have been trying to dry your
greatcoat, but I am afraid I have not succeeded very well." That
little act illustrates the man's character. With the care and
responsibilities of a vast army on his shoulders he finds time to do
little acts of kindness and thoughtfulness."

With each of his staff officers he was on most friendly terms; and
the visitors to his camp, such as the English officer quoted above,
found him a most delightful host, discussing with the ease of an
educated gentleman all manner of topics, and displaying not the
slightest trace of that awkwardness and extreme diffidence which have
been attributed to him. The range and accuracy of his information
surprised them. "Of military history," said another English soldier,
"he knew more than any other man I met in America; and he was so far
from displaying the somewhat grim characteristics that have been
associated with his name, that one would have thought his tastes lay
in the direction of art and literature." "His chief delight," wrote
the Hon. Francis Lawley, who knew him well, "was in the cathedrals of
England, notably in York Minster and Westminster Abbey. He was never
tired of talking about them, or listening to details about the
chapels and cloisters of Oxford."* (* The Times, June 11, 1863.)

"General Jackson," writes Lord Wolseley, "had certainly very little
to say about military operations, although he was intensely proud of
his soldiers, and enthusiastic in his devotion to General Lee; and it
was impossible to make him talk of his own achievements. Nor can I
say that his speech betrayed his intellectual powers. But his manner,
which was modesty itself, was most attractive. He put you at your
ease at once, listening with marked courtesy and attention to
whatever you might say; and when the subject of conversation was
congenial, he was a most interesting companion. I quite endorse the
statement as to his love for beautiful things. He told me that in all
his travels he had seen nothing so beautiful as the lancet windows in
York Minster."

In his daily intercourse with his staff, however, in his office or in
the mess-room, he showed to less advantage than in the society of
strangers. His gravity of demeanour seldom wholly disappeared, his
intense earnestness was in itself oppressive, and he was often absent
and preoccupied. "Life at headquarters," says one of his staff
officers, "was decidedly dull. Our meals were often very dreary. The
general had no time for light or trivial conversation, and he
sometimes felt it his duty to rebuke our thoughtless and perhaps
foolish remarks. Nor was it always quite safe to approach him.
Sometimes he had a tired look in his eyes, and although he never
breathed a word to one or another, we knew that he was dissatisfied
with what was being done with the army."* (* Letter from Dr. Hunter
McGuire.)

Intense concentration of thought and purpose, in itself an indication
of a powerful will, had distinguished Jackson from his very boyhood.
During his campaigns he would pace for hours outside his tent, his
hands clasped behind his back, absorbed in meditation; and when the
army was on the march, he would ride for hours without raising his
eyes or opening his lips. It was unquestionably at such moments that
he was working out his plans, step by step, forecasting the
counter-movements of the enemy, and providing for every emergency
that might occur. And here the habit of keeping his whole faculties
fixed on a single object, and of imprinting on his memory the
successive processes of complicated problems, fostered by the methods
of study which, both at West Point and Lexington, the weakness of his
eyes had made compulsory, must have been an inestimable advantage.
Brilliant strategical manoeuvres, it cannot be too often repeated,
are not a matter of inspiration and of decision on the spur of the
moment. The problems presented by a theatre of war, with their many
factors, are not to be solved except by a vigorous and sustained
intellectual effort. "If," said Napoleon, "I always appear prepared,
it is because, before entering on an undertaking, I have meditated
for long and have foreseen what may occur. It is not genius which
reveals to me suddenly and secretly what I should do in circumstances
unexpected by others; it is thought and meditation."

The proper objective, speaking in general terms, of all military
operations is the main army of the enemy, for a campaign can never be
brought to a successful conclusion until the hostile forces in the
field have become demoralised by defeat; but, to ensure success,
preponderance of numbers is usually essential, and it may be said,
therefore, that the proper objective is the enemy's main army when it
is in inferior strength.

Under ordinary conditions, the first step, then, towards victory must
be a movement, or a series of movements, which will compel the enemy
to divide his forces, and put it out of his power to assemble even
equal strength on the battle-field.

This entails a consideration of the strategic points upon the theatre
of war, for it is by occupying or threatening some point which the
enemy cannot afford to lose that he will be induced to disperse his
army, or to place himself in a position where he can be attacked at a
disadvantage. While his main army, therefore, is the ultimate
objective, certain strategic points become the initial objectives, to
be occupied or threatened either by the main body or detached forces.
It is seldom, however, that these initial objectives are readily
discovered; and it is very often the case that even the ultimate
objective may be obscured.

These principles are well illustrated by the operations in the Valley
of Virginia during the month of May and the first fortnight of June,
1862. After the event it is easy to see that Banks' army was
Jackson's proper objective--being the principal force in the
secondary theatre of war. But at the time, before the event, Lee and
Jackson alone realised the importance of overwhelming Banks and thus
threatening Washington. It was not realised by Johnston, a most able
soldier, for the whole of his correspondence goes to show that he
thought a purely defensive attitude the best policy for the Valley
Army. It was not realised by Jackson's subordinates, for it was not
till long after the battle of Winchester that the real purport of the
operations in which they had been engaged began to dawn on them. It
was not realised by Lincoln, by Stanton, or even by McClellan, for to
each of them the sudden attack on Front Royal was as much of a
surprise as to Banks himself; and we may be perfectly confident that
none but a trained strategist, after a prolonged study of the map and
the situation, would realise it now.

It is to be noted, too, that Jackson's initial objectives--the
strategical points in the Valley--were invariably well selected. The
Luray Gap, the single road which gives access across the Massanuttons
from one side of the Valley to the other, was the most important. The
flank position on Elk Run, the occupation of which so suddenly
brought up Banks, prevented him interposing between Jackson and
Edward Johnson, and saved Staunton from capture, was a second; Front
Royal, by seizing which he threatened Banks at Strasburg in flank and
rear, compelling him to a hasty retreat, and bringing him to battle
on ground which he had not prepared, a third; and the position at
Port Republic, controlling the only bridge across the Shenandoah, and
separating Shields from Fremont, a fourth. The bearing of all these
localities was overlooked by the Federals, and throughout the
campaign we cannot fail to notice a great confusion on their part as
regards objectives. They neither recognised what the aim of their
enemy would be, nor at what they should aim themselves. It was long
before they discovered that Lee's army, and not Richmond, was the
vital point of the Confederacy. Not a single attempt was made to
seize strategic points, and if we may judge from the orders and
dispatches in the Official Records, their existence was never
recognised. To this oversight the successive defeats of the Northern
forces were in great part due. From McClellan to Banks, each one of
their generals appears to have been blind to the advantages that may
be derived from a study of the theatre of war. Not one of them hit
upon a line of operations which embarrassed the Confederates, and all
possessed the unhappy knack of joining battle on the most
unfavourable terms. Moreover, when it at last became clear that the
surest means of conquering a country is to defeat its armies, the
true objective was but vaguely realised. The annihilation of the
enemy's troops seems to have been the last thing dreamt of.
Opportunities of crushing him in detail were neither sought for nor
created. As General Sheridan said afterwards: "The trouble with the
commanders of the Army of the Potomac was that they never marched out
to "lick" anybody; all they thought of was to escape being "licked"
themselves."

But it is not sufficient, in planning strategical combinations, to
arrive at a correct conclusion as regards the objective. Success
demands a most careful calculation of ways and means: of the numbers
at disposal; of food, forage, and ammunition; and of the forces to he
detached for secondary purposes. The different factors of the
problem--the strength and dispositions of the enemy, the roads,
railways, fortresses, weather, natural features, the morale of the
opposing armies, the character of the opposing general, the
facilities for supply have each and all of them to be considered,
their relative prominence assigned to them, and their conflicting
claims to be brought into adjustment.

For such mental exertion Jackson was well equipped. He had made his
own the experience of others. His knowledge of history made him
familiar with the principles which had guided Washington and Napoleon
in the selection of objectives, and with the means by which they
attained them. It is not always easy to determine the benefit, beyond
a theoretical acquaintance with the phenomena of the battle-field, to
be derived from studying the campaigns of the great masters of war.
It is true that no successful general, whatever may have been his
practical knowledge, has neglected such study; but while many have
borne witness to its efficacy, none have  a record of the manner
in which their knowledge of former campaigns influenced their own
conduct.

In the case of Stonewall Jackson, however, we have much evidence,
indirect, but unimpeachable, as to the value to a commander of the
knowledge thus acquired. The Maxims of Napoleon, carried in his
haversack, were constantly consulted throughout his campaigns, and
this little volume contains a fairly complete exposition, in
Napoleon's own words, of the grand principles of war. Moreover,
Jackson often quoted principles which are not to be found in the
Maxims, but on which Napoleon consistently acted. It is clear,
therefore, that he had studied the campaigns of the great Corsican in
order to discover the principles on which military success is based;
that having studied and reflected on those principles, and the effect
their application produced, in numerous concrete cases, they became
so firmly imbedded in his mind as to be ever present, guiding him
into the  path, or warning him against the wrong, whenever he
had to deal with a strategic or tactical situation.

It may be noted, moreover, that these principles, especially those
which he was accustomed to quote, were concerned far more with the
moral aspect of war than with the material. It is a fair inference,
therefore, that it was to the study of human nature as affected by
the conditions of war, by discipline, by fear, by the want of food,
by want of information, by want of confidence, by the weight of
responsibility, by political interests, and, above all, by surprise,
that his attention was principally directed. He found in the
campaigns of Jena and of Austerlitz not merely a record of marches
and manoeuvres, of the use of intrenchments, or of the general rules
for attack and defence; this is the mechanical and elementary part of
the science of command. What Jackson learned was the truth of the
famous maxim that the moral is to the physical--that is, to armament
and numbers--as three to one. He learned, too, to put himself into
his adversary's place and to realise his weakness. He learned, in a
word, that war is a struggle between two intellects rather than the
conflict of masses; and it was by reason of this knowledge that he
played on the hearts of his enemies with such extraordinary skill.

It is not to be asserted, however, that the study of military history
is an infallible means of becoming a great or even a good general.
The first qualification necessary for a leader of men is a strong
character, the second, a strong intellect. With both Providence had
endowed Jackson, and the strong intellect illuminates and explains
the page that to others is obscure and meaningless. With its innate
faculty for discerning what is essential and for discarding
unimportant details, it discovers most valuable lessons where
ordinary men see neither light nor leading. Endowed with the power of
analysis and assimilation, and accustomed to observe and to reflect
upon the relations between cause and effect, it will undoubtedly
penetrate far deeper into the actual significance and practical
bearing of historical facts than the mental vision which is less
acute.

Jackson, by reason of his antecedent training, was eminently capable
of the sustained intellectual efforts which strategical conceptions
involve. Such was his self-command that under the most adverse
conditions, the fatigues and anxieties of a campaign, the fierce
excitement of battle, his brain, to use the words of a great
Confederate general, "worked with the precision of the most perfect
machinery."* (* General G. B. Gordon. Introduction to Memoirs of
Stonewall Jackson page 14.) But it was not only in the field, when
the necessity for action was pressing, that he was accustomed to
seclude himself with his own thoughts. Nor was he content with
considering his immediate responsibilities. His interest in the
general conduct of the war was of a very thorough-going character.
While in camp on the Rappahannock, he followed with the closest
attention the movements of the armies operating in the Valley of the
Mississippi, and made himself acquainted, so far as was possible, not
only with the local conditions of the war, but also with the
character of the Federal leaders. It was said that, in the late
spring of 1862, it was the intention of Mr. Davis to transfer him to
the command of the Army of the Tennessee, and it is possible that
some inkling of this determination induced him to study the Western
theatre.* (* In April he wrote to his wife: "There is increasing
probability that I may be elsewhere as the season advances." That he
said no more is characteristic.) Be this as it may, the general
situation, military and political, was always in his mind, and
despite the victory of Fredericksburg, the future was dark and the
indications ominous.

According to the Official Records, the North, at the beginning of
April, had more than 900,000 soldiers under arms; the South, so far
as can be ascertained, not more than 600,000. The Army of the Potomac
was receiving constant reinforcements, and at the beginning of April,
130,000 men were encamped on the Stafford Heights. In the West, the
whole extent of the Mississippi, with the exception of the hundred
miles between Vicksburg and Port Hudson, was held by the Federals,
and those important fortresses were both threatened by large armies,
acting in concert with a formidable fleet of gunboats. A third army,
over 50,000 strong, was posted at Murfreesboro', in the heart of
Tennessee, and large detached forces were operating in Louisiana and
Arkansas. The inroads of the enemy in the West, greatly aided by the
waterways, were in fact far more serious than in the East; but even
in Virginia, although the Army of the Potomac had spent nearly two
years in advancing fifty miles, the Federals had a strong foothold.
Winchester had been reoccupied. Fortress Monroe was still garrisoned.
Suffolk, on the south bank of the James, seventy miles from Richmond,
was held by a force of 20,000 men; while another small army, of about
the same strength, occupied New Berne, on the North Carolina coast.

Slowly but surely, before the pressure of vastly superior numbers,
the frontiers of the Confederacy were contracting; and although in no
single direction had a Federal army moved more than a few miles from
the river which supplied it, yet the hostile occupation of these
rivers, so essential to internal traffic, was making the question of
subsistence more difficult every day. Louisiana, Texas and Arkansas,
the cattle-raising States, were practically cut off from the
remainder; and in a country where railways were few, distances long,
and roads indifferent, it was impossible, in default of communication
by water, to accumulate and distribute the produce of the farms.
Moreover, the dark menace of the blockade had assumed more formidable
proportions. The Federal navy, gradually increasing in numbers and
activity, held the highway of the ocean in an iron grip; and proudly
though the Confederacy bore her isolation, men looked across the
waters with dread foreboding, for the shadow of their doom was
already rising from the pitiless sea.

If, then, his staff officers had some reason to complain of their
chief's silence and abstraction, it was by no means unfortunate for
the South, so imminent was the danger, that the strong brain was
incessantly occupied in forecasting the emergencies that might occur.

But not for a single moment did Jackson despair of ultimate success.
His faith in the justice of the Southern cause was as profound as his
trust in God's good providence. He had long since realised that the
overwhelming strength of the Federals was more apparent than real. He
recognised their difficulties; he knew that the size of an army is
limited to the number that can be subsisted, and he relied much on
the superior morale and the superior leading of the Confederate
troops. After long and mature deliberation he had come to a
conclusion as to the policy to be pursued. "We must make this
campaign," he said, in a moment of unusual expansion, "an exceedingly
active one. Only thus can a weaker country cope with a stronger; it
must make up in activity what it lacks in strength. A defensive
campaign can only be made successful by taking the aggressive at the
proper time. Napoleon never waited for his adversary to become fully
prepared, but struck him the first blow."

On these principles Jackson had good reason to believe General Lee
had determined to act;* (* "There is no better way of defending a
long line than by moving into the enemy's country." Lee to General
Jones, March 21, 1863; O.R. volume 25 part 2 page 680.) of their
efficacy he was convinced, and when his wife came to visit him at the
end of April, she found him in good heart and the highest spirits. He
not only anticipated a decisive result from the forthcoming
operations, but he had seen with peculiar satisfaction that a more
manly tone was pervading the Confederate army. Taught by their
leaders, by Lee, Jackson, Stuart, and many others, of whose worth and
valour they had received convincing proof, the Southern soldiers had
begun to practise the clean and wholesome virtue of self-control.
They had discovered that purity and temperance are by no means
incompatible with military prowess, and that a practical piety,
faithful in small things as in great, detracts in no degree from
skill and resolution in the field. The Stonewall Brigade set the
example. As soon as their own huts were finished, the men, of their
own volition, built a log church, where both officers and men,
without distinction of rank, were accustomed to assemble during the
winter evenings; and those rude walls, illuminated by pine torches
cut from the neighbouring forest, witnessed such scenes as filled
Jackson's cup of content to overflowing. A chaplain writes: "The
devout listener, dressed in simple grey, ornamented only with three
stars, which any Confederate colonel was entitled to wear, is our
great commander, Robert Edward Lee. That dashing-looking cavalry-man,
with 'fighting jacket,' plumed hat, jingling spurs, and gay
decorations, but solemn, devout aspect during the service, is 'Jeb'
Stuart, the flower of cavaliers--and all through the vast crowd
wreaths and stars of rank mingle with the bars of the subordinate
officers and the rough garb of the private soldier. But perhaps the
most supremely happy of the gathered thousands is Stonewall Jackson."
"One could not," says another, "sit in that pulpit and meet the
concentrated gaze of those men without deep emotion. I remembered
that they were the veterans of many a bloody field. The eyes which
looked into mine, waiting for the Gospel of peace, had looked
steadfastly upon whatever is terrible in war. Their earnestness of
aspect constantly impressed me...They looked as if they had come on
business, and very important business, and the preacher could
scarcely do otherwise than feel that he, too, had business of moment
there!

At this time, largely owing to Jackson's exertions, chaplains were
appointed to regiments and brigades, and ministers from all parts of
the country were invited to visit the camps. The Chaplains'
Association, which did a good work in the army, was established at
his suggestion, and although he steadfastly declined to attend its
meetings, deeming them outside his functions, nothing was neglected,
so far as lay within his power, that might forward the moral welfare
of the troops.

But at the same time their military efficiency and material comforts
received his constant attention. Discipline was made stricter,
indolent and careless officers were summarily dismissed, and the
divisions were drilled at every favourable opportunity. Headquarters
had been transferred to a tent near to Hamilton's Crossing, the
general remarking, "It is rather a relief to get where there will be
less comfort than in a room, as I hope thereby persons will be
prevented from encroaching so much upon my time." On his wife's
arrival he moved to Mr. Yerby's plantation, near Hamilton's Crossing,
but "he did not permit," she writes, "the presence of his family to
interfere in any way with his military duties. The greater part of
each day he spent at his headquarters, but returned as early as he
could get off from his labours, and devoted all his leisure time to
ha visitors--little Julia having his chief attention and his care.
His devotion to his child was remarked upon by all who beheld the
happy pair together, for she soon learned to delight in his caresses
as much as he loved to play with her. An officer's wife, who saw him
often during this time, wrote to a friend in Richmond that "the
general spent all his leisure time in playing with the baby.""

April 29.

But these quiet and happy days were soon ended. On April 29 the roar
of cannon was heard once more at Gurney's Station, salvo after salvo
following in quick succession, until the house shook and the windows
rattled with the reverberations. The crash of musketry succeeded,
rapid and continuous, and before the sun was high wounded men were
brought in to the shelter of Mr. Yerby's outhouses. Very early in the
morning a message from the pickets had come in, and after making
arrangements for his wife and child to leave at once for Richmond,
the general, without waiting for breakfast, had hastened to the
front. The Federals were crossing the Rappahannock, and Stonewall
Jackson had gone to his last field.*

(* The Army of the Potomac was now constituted as follows:--

Engineer Brigade.
First Corps.     Reynolds.
Second Corps.    Couch.
Third Corps.     Sickles.

  Divisions.     Birney.
                 Berry.
                 Whipple.

Fifth Corps.     Meade.
Sixth Corps.     Sedgwiok.
Eleventh Corps.  Howard.

  Divisions.     McClean.
                 Von Steinwehr.
                 Schurz.

Twelfth Corps.   Slocum.

  Divisions.     Williams.
                 Geary.

Cavalry Corps.   Stoneman.

  Divisions.     Pleasonton.
                 Averell.
                 Gregg.


NOTE.

Headquarters, Second Corps, Army of N. Va.:

April 13, 1863.

General Orders, No. 26.

I. .......

II. Each division will move precisely at the time indicated in the
order of march, and if a division or brigade is not ready to move at
that time, the next will proceed and take its place, even if a
division should be separated thereby.

III. On the march the troops are to have a rest of ten minutes each
hour. The rate of march is not to exceed one mile in twenty-five
minutes, unless otherwise specially ordered. The time of each
division commander will be taken from that of the corps commander.
When the troops are halted for the purpose of resting, arms will be
stacked, ranks broken, and in no case during the march will the
troops be allowed to break ranks without previously stacking arms.

IV. When any part of a battery or train is disabled on a march, the
officer in charge must have it removed immediately from the road, so
that no part of the command be impeded upon its march.

Batteries or trains must not stop in the line of march to water; when
any part of a battery or train, from any cause, loses its place in
the column, it must not pass any part of the column in regaining its
place.

Company commanders will march at the rear of their respective
companies; officers must be habitually occupied in seeing that orders
are strictly enforced; a day's march should be with them a day of
labour; as much vigilance is required on the march as in camp.

Each division commander will, as soon as he arrive at his
camping-ground, have the company rolls called, and guard details
marched to the front of the regiment before breaking ranks; and
immediately afterwards establish his chain of sentinels, and post his
pickets so as to secure the safety of his command, and will soon
thereafter report to their headquarters the disposition made for the
security of his camp.

Division commanders will see that all orders respecting their
divisions are carried out strictly; each division commander before
leaving an encampment will have all damages occasioned by his command
settled for by payment or covered by proper certificates.

V. All ambulances in the same brigade will be receipted for by the
brigade quartermaster, they will be parked together, and habitually
kept together, not being separated unless the exigencies of the
service require, and on marches follow in rear of their respective
brigades.

Ample details will be made for taking care of the wounded; those
selected will wear the prescribed badge; and no other person
belonging to the army will be permitted to take part in this
important trust.

Any one leaving his appropriate duty, under pretext of taking care of
the wounded, will be promptly arrested, and as soon as charges can be
made out, they will be forwarded.

By command of Lieutenant-General Jackson,

A.S. PENDLETON,
Assistant Adjutant-General.

</section>
<section id="27" fatherid="16" title="CHANCELLORSVILLE" lv="CHAPTER 2.23." priority="0" level="2">
(map.)

IT has already been said that while the Army of Northern Virginia lay
in winter quarters the omens did not point to decisive success in the
forthcoming campaign. During the same period that Lincoln and
Stanton, taught by successive disasters, had ceased to interfere with
their generals, Jefferson Davis and Mr. Seddon, his new Secretary of
War, had taken into their own hands the complete control of military
operations. The results appeared in the usual form: on the Northern
side, unity of purpose and concentration; on the Southern,
uncertainty of aim and dispersion. In the West the Confederate
generals were fatally hampered by the orders of the President. In the
East the Army of Northern Virginia, confronted by a mass of more than
130,000 foes, was deprived of three of Longstreet's divisions; and
when, at the end of April, it was reported that Hooker was advancing,
it was absolutely impossible that this important detachment could
rejoin in time to assist in the defence of the Rappahannock.

A full discussion of the Chancellorsville campaign does not fall
within the scope of this biography, but in justice to the Southern
generals--to Lee who resolved to stand his ground, and to Jackson who
approved the resolution--it must be explained that they were in no
way responsible for the absence of 20,000 veterans. Undoubtedly the
situation on the Atlantic littoral was sufficiently embarrassing to
the Confederate authorities. The presence of a Federal force at New
Berne, in North Carolina, threatened the main line of railway by
which Wilmington and Charleston communicated with Richmond, and these
two ports were of the utmost importance to the Confederacy. So
enormous were the profits arising from the exchange of munitions of
war and medicines* (* Quinine sold in the South for one hundred
dollars (Confederate) the ounce. O.R. volume 25 part 2 page 79.) for
cotton and tobacco that English ship-owners embarked eagerly on a
lucrative if precarious traffic. Blockade-running became a recognised
business. Companies were organised which possessed large fleets of
swift steamers. The Bahamas and Bermuda became vast entrepots of
trade. English seamen were not to be deterred from a perilous
enterprise by fear of Northern broadsides or Northern prisons, and
despite the number and activity of the blockading squadrons the
cordon of cruisers and gunboats was constantly broken. Many vessels
were sunk, many captured, many wrecked on a treacherous coast, and
yet enormous quantities of supplies found their way to the arsenals
and magazines of Richmond and Atlanta. The railways, then, leading
from Wilmington and Charleston, the ports most accessible to the
blockade-runners, were almost essential to the existence of the
Confederacy. Soon after the battle of Fredericksburg, General D.H.
Hill was placed in command of the forces which protected them, and,
at the beginning of the New Year, Ransom's division* (* 3594 officers
and men. Report of December 1. O.R. volume 21 page 1082.) was drawn
from the Rappahannock to reinforce the local levies. A few weeks
later* (* Middle of February.) General Lee was induced by Mr. Seddon
to send Longstreet, with the divisions of Hood and Pickett,* (*
Pickett, 7,165; Hood, 7,956: 15,121 officers and men.) to cover
Richmond, which was menaced both from Fortress Monroe and Suffolk.*
(* Lee thought Pickett was sufficient. O.R. volume 21 page 623.)

The Commander-in-Chief, however, while submitting to this detachment
as a necessary evil, had warned General Longstreet so to dispose his
troops that they could return to the Rappahannock at the first alarm.
"The enemy's position," he wrote, "on the sea-coast had been probably
occupied merely for purposes of defence, it was likely that they were
strongly intrenched, and nothing would be gained by attacking them."

The warning, however, was disregarded; and that Mr. Seddon should
have yielded, in the first instance, to the influence of the
sea-power, exciting apprehensions of sudden attack along the whole
seaboard of the Confederacy, may be forgiven him. Important lines of
communication were certainly exposed. But when, in defiance of Lee's
advice that the divisions should be retained within easy reach of
Fredericksburg, he suggested to Longstreet the feasibility of an
attack on Suffolk, one hundred and twenty miles distant from the
Rappahannock, he committed an unpardonable blunder.

Had Jackson been in Longstreet's place, the Secretary's proposal,
however promising of personal renown, would unquestionably have been
rejected. The leader who had kept the main object so steadfastly in
view throughout the Valley campaign would never have overlooked the
expressed wishes of the Commander-in-Chief. Longstreet, however,
brilliant fighting soldier as he was, appears to have misconceived
the duties of a detached force. He was already prejudiced in favour
of a movement against Suffolk. Before he  for his new command, he
had suggested to Lee that one army corps only should remain on the
Rappahannock, while the other operated south of Richmond; and soon
after his arrival he urged upon his superior that, in case Hooker
moved, the Army of Northern Virginia should retire to the North Anna.
In short, to his mind the operations of the main body should be made
subservient to those of the detached force; Lee, with 30,000 men,
holding Hooker's 130,000 in check until Longstreet had won his
victory and could march north to join him. Such strategy was not
likely to find favour at headquarters. It was abundantly evident, in
the first place, that the Army of Northern Virginia must be the
principal objective of the Federals; and, in the second place, that
the defeat of the force of Suffolk, if it were practicable, would
have no effect whatever upon Hooker's action, except insomuch that
his knowledge of Longstreet's absence might quicken his resolution to
advance. Had Suffolk been a point vital to the North the question
would have assumed a different shape. As it was, the town merely
covered a tract of conquered territory, the Norfolk dockyard, and the
mouth of the James River. The Confederates would gain little by its
capture; the Federals would hardly feel its loss. It was most
improbable that a single man of Hooker's army would be detached to
defend a point of such comparative insignificance, and it was quite
possible that Longstreet would be unable to get back in time to meet
him, even on the North Anna. General Lee, however, anxious as ever to
defer to the opinions of the man on the spot, as well as to meet the
wishes of the Government, yielded to Longstreet's insistence that a
fine opportunity for an effective blow presented itself, and in the
first week of April the latter marched against Suffolk.

April 17.

His movement was swift and sudden. But, as Lee had anticipated, the
Federal position was strongly fortified, with the flanks secure, and
Longstreet had no mind to bring matters to a speedy conclusion. "He
could reduce the place," he wrote on April 17, "in two or three days,
but the expenditure of ammunition would be very large; or he could
take it by assault, but at a cost of 3000 men."

The Secretary of War agreed with him that the sacrifice would be too
great, and so, at a time when Hooker was becoming active on the
Rappahannock, Lee's lieutenant was quietly investing Suffolk, one
hundred and twenty miles away.

From that moment the Commander-in-Chief abandoned all hope that his
missing divisions would be with him when Hooker moved. Bitterly
indeed was he to suffer for his selection of a commander for his
detached force. The loss of 3000 men at Suffolk, had the works been
stormed, and Hood and Pickett marched instantly to the Rappahannock,
would have been more than repaid. The addition of 12,000 fine
soldiers, flushed with success, and led by two of the most brilliant
fighting generals in the Confederate armies, would have made the
victory of Chancellorsville a decisive triumph. Better still had
Longstreet adhered to his original orders. But both he and Mr. Seddon
forgot, as Jackson never did, the value of time, and the grand
principle of concentration at the decisive point.

Happily for the South, Hooker, although less flagrantly, was also
oblivious of the first axiom of war. As soon as the weather improved
he determined to move against Richmond. His task, however, was no
simple one. On the opposite bank of the Rappahannock, from Banks'
Ford to Port Royal, a distance of twenty miles, frowned line upon
line of fortifications, protected by abattis, manned by a numerous
artillery, against which it was difficult to find position for the
Federal guns, and occupied by the victors of Fredericksburg. A
frontal attack gave even less promise of success than in Burnside's
disastrous battle. But behind Lee's earthworks were his lines of
supply; the Richmond Railway, running due south, with the road to
Bowling Green alongside; and second, the plank road, which, running
at first due west, led past Chancellorsville, a large brick mansion,
standing in a dense forest, to Orange Court House and the depots on
the Virginia Central Railroad.

At these roads and railways Hooker determined to strike, expecting
that Lee would at once fall back, and give the Army of the Potomac
the opportunity of delivering a heavy blow.* (* Hooker to Lincoln,
April 12, O.R. volume 25 part 2 page 199.) To effect his object he
divided his 130,000 men into three distinct bodies. The cavalry,
which, with the exception of one small brigade, had moved under
General Stoneman to Warrenton Junction, was to march by way of
Rappahannock Station, and either capturing or passing Culpeper and
Gordonsville, to cut the Confederate communications, and should Lee
retreat, to hold him fast.* (* The cavalry was to take supplies for
six days, food and forage, depending on the country and on captures
for any further quantity that might be required.) General Sedgwick,
with two army corps, the First and Sixth, forming the  wing of
the army, was to cross the river below Fredericksburg, make a brisk
demonstration of attack, and if the enemy fell back follow him
rapidly down the Bowling Green and Telegraph roads. Then, while Lee's
attention was thus attracted, the  wing, composed of the Fifth,
Eleventh, and Twelfth Corps, with Pleasonton's brigade of cavalry,
under Hooker's own command, would move up the Rappahannock to Kelly's
Ford, push forward to the Rapidan, cross at Ely's and Germanna fords,
and march upon Chancellorsville. The Third Corps was to remain
concentrated on the Stafford Heights, ready to reinforce either wing
as circumstances might require. The Second Corps was to leave one
division on outpost at Falmouth, and to post two divisions on the
north bank of the Rappahannock opposite Banks' Ford.

It will be observed that this design would place a wide interval
between the two wings of the Federal army, thus giving the
Confederates, although much inferior in numbers, the advantage of the
interior lines.* (* From Franklin's Crossing below Fredericksburg,
where Sedgwick's bridges were thrown, to Kelly's Ford is 27 miles; to
Ely's Ford 19 miles, and to Chancellorsville 11 miles.) Hooker,
however, who knew the Confederate strength to a man, was confident
that Lee, directly he found his position turned, and Stoneman in his
rear, would at once retreat on Richmond. Yet he was not blind to the
possibility that his great adversary, always daring, might assume the
offensive, and attempt to crush the Federal wings in detail. Still
the danger appeared small. Either wing was practically equal to the
whole Confederate force. Sedgwick had 40,000, with the Third Corps,
19,000, and a division of the Second, 5,500, close at hand; Hooker
42,000, with two divisions of the Second Corps, 11,000, at Banks'
Ford; the Third Corps could reinforce him in less than
four-and-twenty hours; and Stoneman's 10,000 sabres, riding at will
amongst Lee's supply depots, would surely prevent him from attacking.
Still precaution was taken in case the attempt were made. Sedgwick,
if the enemy detached any considerable part of his force towards
Chancellorsville, was "to carry the works at all hazards, and
establish his force on the Telegraph road."* (* O.R. volume 25 page
268.) The  wing, "if not strongly resisted, was to advance at
all hazards, and secure a position uncovering Banks' Ford."* (* O.R.
volume 25 page 274.) Were the Confederates found in force near
Chancellorsville, it was to select a strong position and await attack
on its own ground, while Sedgwick, coming up from Fredericksburg,
would assail the enemy in flank and rear.

Such was the plan which, if resolutely carried out, bade fair to
crush Lee's army between the upper and the nether millstones, and it
seems that the size and condition of his forces led Hooker to
anticipate an easy victory. If the Army of the Potomac was not "the
finest on the planet," as in an order of the day he boastfully
proclaimed it, it possessed many elements of strength. Hooker was a
strict disciplinarian with a talent for organisation. He had not only
done much to improve the efficiency of his troops, but his vigorous
measures had gone far to restore their confidence. When he succeeded
Burnside a large proportion of the soldiers had lost heart and hope.
The generals who had hitherto commanded them, when compared with Lee
and Jackson, were mere pigmies, and the consciousness that this was
the case had affected the entire army. The Official Records contain
much justification of Jackson's anxiety that Burnside should be
fought on the North Anna, where, if defeated, he might have been
pursued. Although there had been no pursuit after the battle of
Fredericksburg, no harassing marches, no continued retreat, with lack
of supplies, abandoning of wounded, and constant alarms, the Federal
regiments had suffered terribly in morale.

"The winter rains set in," said Hooker, "and all operations were for
a while suspended, the army literally finding itself buried in mud,
from which there was no hope of extrication before spring.

"With this prospect before it, taken in connection with the gloom and
despondency which followed the disaster of Fredericksburg, the army
was in a forlorn, deplorable condition. Reference to the letters from
the army at this time, public and private, affords abundant evidence
of its demoralisation; and these, in their turn, had their effect
upon the friends and relatives of the soldiers at home. At the time
the army was turned over to me desertions were at the rate of about
two hundred a day. So anxious were parents, wives, brothers and
sisters, to relieve their kindred, that they filled the express
trains with packages of citizens' clothing to assist them in escaping
from service. At that time, perhaps, a majority of the officers,
especially those high in rank, were hostile to the policy of the
Government in the conduct of the war. The emancipation proclamation
had been published a short time before, and a large element of the
army had taken sides antagonistic to it, declaring that they would
never have embarked in the war had they anticipated the action of the
Government. When rest came to the army, the disaffected, from
whatever cause, began to show themselves, and make their influence
felt in and out of the camps. I may also state that at the moment I
was placed in command I caused a return to be made of the absentees
of the army, and found the number to be 2922 commissioned officers
and 81,964 non-commissioned officers and privates. They were
scattered all over, the country, and the majority were absent from
causes unknown."* (* Report of Committee on the Conduct of the War.)

In the face of this remarkable report it is curious to read, in the
pages of a brilliant military historian, that "armies composed of the
citizens of a free country, who have taken up arms from patriotic
motives...have constantly exhibited an astonishing endurance, and
possessing a bond of cohesion superior to discipline, have shown
their power to withstand shocks that would dislocate the structure of
other military organisations."* (* Campaigns of the Army of the
Potomac. By William Swinton page 267.) A force which had lost
twenty-five per cent of its strength by desertion, although it had
never been pursued after defeat, would not generally be suspected of
peculiar solidity. Nevertheless, the Northern soldiers must receive
their due. Want of discipline made fearful ravages in the ranks, but,
notwithstanding the defection of so many of their comrades, those
that remained faithful displayed the best characteristics of their
race. The heart of the army was still sound, and only the influence
of a strong and energetic commander was required to restore its
vitality. This influence was supplied by Hooker. The cumbrous
organisation of Grand Divisions was abolished. Disloyal and
unsuccessful generals were removed. Salutary changes were introduced
into the various departments of the staff. The cavalry, hitherto
formed in independent brigades, was consolidated into a corps of
three divisions and a brigade of regulars, and under a system of
careful and uniform inspection made rapid improvement. Strong
measures were taken to reduce the number of deserters. The ranks were
filled by the return of absentees. New regiments were added to the
army corps. The troops were constantly practised in field exercises,
and generals of well-deserved reputation were selected for the
different commands. "All were actuated," wrote Hooker, "by feelings
of confidence and devotion to the cause, and I felt that it was a
living army, and one well worthy of the Republic."

On April 27, after several demonstrations, undertaken with a view of
confusing the enemy, had been made at various points, the grand
movement began.

The Confederate army still held the lines it had occupied for the
past four months. Jackson's army corps extended from Hamilton's
Crossing to Port Royal. McLaws' and Anderson's divisions occupied
Lee's Hill and the ridge northward, and a brigade watched Banks'
Ford. Stuart was with his main body, some 2400 strong, at Culpeper,
observing the great mass of Federal horsemen at Warrenton Junction,
and the line of the Rappahannock was held by cavalry pickets.

The strength of the Army of Northern Virginia, so far as can be
ascertained, did not exceed 62,000 officers and men.

SECOND CORPS.

A.P. Hill's Division                  11,500
Rodes' Division                        9,500
Colston's (Jackson's own) Division,    6,600
Early's Division                       7,500
Artillery                              2,100

FIRST CORPS.
Anderson's Division                    8,100
McLaws' Division                       8,600
Artillery                              1,000

CAVALRY
Fitzhugh Lee's Brigade                 1,500
W.H.F. Lee's Brigade (two regiments)     900
Reserve Artillery                        700
Add for reinforcements received since
  March 1, date of last return         4,000
                                      ------
                        Total         62,000
                                and l70 guns.

Thus the road to Richmond, threatened by a host of 130,000 men and
428 guns, was to be defended by a force of less than half the size.
Ninety-nine generals out of a hundred would have considered the
situation hopeless. The Confederate lines at Fredericksburg were
certainly very strong, but it was clearly impossible to prevent the
Federals outflanking them. The disparity in strength was far greater
than at Sharpsburg, and it seemed that by sheer weight of numbers the
Southern army must inevitably be driven back. Nor did it appear, so
overwhelming were the Federal numbers, that counter-attack was
feasible. The usual resource of the defender, if his adversary
marches round his flank, is to strike boldly at his communications.
Here, however, Hooker's communications with Aquia Creek were securely
covered by the Rappahannock, and so great was his preponderance of
strength, that he could easily detach a sufficient force to check the
Confederates should they move against them.

Yet now, as on the Antietam, Lee and Jackson declined to take numbers
into consideration. They knew that Hooker was a brave and experienced
soldier, but they had no reason to anticipate that he would handle
his vast masses with more skill than McClellan. That the Northern
soldiers had suffered in morale they were well aware, and while they
divined that the position they themselves had fortified might readily
be made untenable, the fact that such was the case gave them small
concern. They were agreed that the best measures of defence, if an
opening offered, lay in a resolute offensive, and with Hooker in
command it was not likely that the opportunity would be long delayed.

No thought of a strategic retreat, from one position to another, was
entertained. Manoeuvre was to be met by manoeuvre, blow by
counterblow.* (* "The idea of securing the provisions, waggons, guns,
of the enemy is truly tempting, and the idea has haunted me since
December." Lee to Trimble, March 8, 1862. O.R. volume 25 part 2 page
658.) If Hooker had not moved Lee would have forestalled him. On
April 16 he had written to Mr. Davis: "My only anxiety arises from
the condition of our horses, and the scarcity of forage and
provisions. I think it is all important that we should assume the
aggressive by the 1st of May...If we could be placed in a condition
to make a vigorous advance at that time, I think the Valley could be
swept of Milroy (commanding the Federal forces at Winchester), and
the army opposite Hooker's be thrown north of the Potomac."* (*
O.R. vol 25 page 725.) Jackson, too, even after Hooker's plan was
developed, indignantly repudiated the suggestion that the forthcoming
campaign must be purely defensive. When some officer on his staff
expressed his fear that the army would be compelled to retreat, he
asked sharply, "Who said that? No, sir, we shall not fall back, we
shall attack them."

At the end of the month, however, Longstreet with his three divisions
was still absent; sufficient supplies for a forward movement had not
yet been accumulated;* (* "From the condition of our horses and the
amount of our supplies I am unable even to act on the defensive as
vigorously as circumstances might reguire." Lee to Davis, April 27,
O.R. volume 25 page 752.) two brigades of cavalry, Hampton's and
Jenkins', which had been sent respectively to South Carolina and the
Valley, had not rejoined,* (* On April 20 Lee had asked that the
cavalry regiments not needed in other districts might be sent to the
Army of Northern Virginia. The request was not compiled with until
too late. O.R. volume 25 pages 740, 741.) and Hooker had already
seized the initiative.

The first news which came to hand was that a strong force of all arms
was moving up the Rappahannock in the direction of Kelly's Ford.

April 28.

This was forwarded by Stuart on the evening of April 28. The next
morning the Federal movements, which might have been no more than a
demonstration, became pronounced.

April 29.

Under cover of a thick fog, pontoon bridges were laid at Deep Run
below Fredericksburg; Sedgwick's troops began to cross, and were soon
engaged with Jackson's outposts; while, at the same time, the report
came in that a force of unknown strength had made the passage at
Kelly's Ford.

Lee displayed no perturbation. Jackson, on receiving information of
Sedgwick's movement from his outposts, had sent an aide-de-camp to
acquaint the Commander-in-Chief. The latter was still in his tent,
and in reply to the message said: "Well, I heard firing, and I was
beginning to think that it was time some of your lazy young fellows
were coming to tell me what it was about. Tell your good general he
knows what to do with the enemy just as well as I do."* (* On March
12, before Hooker had even framed his plan of operations, Lee had
received information that the Federals, as soon as the state of the
roads permitted, would cross at United States, Falmouth, and some
point below; the attempt at Falmouth to be a feint. O.R. volume 25
part 2 page 664.)

The divisions of the Second Army Corps were at once called up to
their old battle-ground, and while they were on the march Jackson
occupied himself with watching Sedgwick's movements. The Federals
were busily intrenching on the river bank, and on the heights behind
frowned the long line of artillery that had proved at Fredericksburg
so formidable an obstacle to the Confederate attack. The enemy's
position was very strong, and the time for counterstroke had not yet
come. During the day the cavalry was actively engaged between the
Rappahannock and the Rapidan, testing the strength of the enemy's
columns. The country was wooded, the Federals active, and as usual in
war, accurate information was difficult to obtain and more difficult
to communicate. It was not till 6.30 P.M. that Lee received notice
that troops had crossed at Ely's and Germanna Fords at 2 P.M.
Anderson's division was at once dispatched to Chancellorsvile.

April 30.

The next message, which does not appear to have been received until
the morning of the 30th, threw more light on the situation. Stuart
had made prisoners from the Fifth, the Eleventh, and the Twelfth
Corps, and had ascertained that the corps commanders, Meade, Howard,
and Slocum, were present with the troops. Anderson, moreover, who had
been instructed to select and intrench a strong position, was falling
back from Chancellorsville before the enemy's advance, and two things
became clear:--

1. That it was Hooker's intention to turn the Confederate .

2. That he had divided his forces.

The question now to be decided was which wing should be attacked
first. There was much to be said in favour of crushing Sedgwick. His
numbers were estimated at 35,000 men, and the Confederates had over
60,000. Moreover, time is a most important consideration in the use
of interior lines. The army was already concentrated in front of
Sedgwick, whereas it would require a day's march to seek Hooker in
the forest round Chancellorsville. Sedgwick's, too, was the smaller
of the Federal wings, and his overthrow would certainly ruin Hooker's
combinations. "Jackson at first," said Lee, "preferred to attack
Sedgwick's force in the plain of Fredericksburg, but I told him I
feared it was as impracticable as it was at the first battle of
Fredericksburg. It was hard to get at the enemy, and harder to get
away if we drove him into the river, but if he thought it could be
done, I would give orders for it." Jackson asked to be allowed to
examine the ground, but soon came to the conclusion that the project
was too hazardous and that Lee was . Orders were then issued for
a concentration against Hooker, 10,000 men, under General Early,
remaining to confront Sedgwick on the heights of Fredericksburg.

We may now turn to the movements of the Federals.

Hooker's  wing had marched at a speed which had been hitherto
unknown in the Army of the Potomac. At nightfall, on April 30, the
three army corps, although they had been delayed by the Confederate
cavalry, were assembled at Chancellorsville. In three days they had
marched forty-six miles over bad roads, had forded breast-high two
difficult rivers, established several bridges, and captured over a
hundred prisoners.* (* The troops carried eight days' supplies: three
days' cooked rations with bread and groceries in the haversacks; five
days' bread and groceries in the knapsacks; five days' "beef on the
hoof." The total weight carried by each man, including sixty rounds
of ammunition, was 45 pounds.  The reserve ammunition was carried
principally by pack mules, and only a small number of waggons crossed
the Rappahannock. Four pontoon bridges were laid by the engineers.
One bridge took three-quarters of an hour to lay; the other three,
one and a half hour to lay, and an hour to take up. Each bridge was
from 100 to 140 yards long. O.R. volume 25 pages 215, 216.) Heavy
reinforcements were in rear. The two divisions of the Second Corps
had marched from Banks' Ford to United States Ford, six miles from
Chancellorsville; while the Third Corps, ordered up from the Stafford
Heights, was rapidly approaching the same point of passage. Thus,
70,000 men, in the highest spirits at the success of their
manoeuvres, were massed in rear of Lee's lines, and Hooker saw
victory within his grasp.

"It is with heartfelt satisfaction," ran his general order, "that the
commanding general announces to his army that the operations of the
last three days have determined that our enemy must either
ingloriously fly or come out from behind his defences, and give us
battle on our own ground, where certain destruction awaits him. The
operations of the Fifth, Eleventh, and Twelfth Corps have been a
succession of splendid achievements."

Hooker was skinning the lion while the beast yet lived, but he had
certainly much reason for congratulation. His manoeuvres had been
skilfully planned and energetically executed. The two rivers which
protected the Confederate position had been crossed without loss; the
Second and Third Corps had been brought into close touch with the
 wing; Lee's earthworks were completely turned, and Stoneman's
cavalry divisions, driving the enemy's patrols before them, were
already within reach of Orange Court House, and not more than twenty
miles from Gordonsville. Best of all, the interval between the two
wings--twenty-six miles on the night of the 28th--was now reduced to
eleven miles by the plank road.

Two things only were unsatisfactory:--

1. The absence of information.

2. The fact that the whole movement had been observed by the
Confederate cavalry.

Pleasonton's brigade of horse had proved too weak for the duty
assigned to it. It had been able to protect the front, but it was too
small to cover the flanks; and at the flanks Stuart had persistently
struck. Hooker appears to have believed that Stoneman's advance
against the Central Railroad would draw off the whole of the
Confederate horse. Stuart, however, was not to be beguiled from his
proper functions. Never were his squadrons more skilfully handled
than in this campaign. With fine tactical insight, as soon as the
great movement on Chancellorsville became pronounced, he had attacked
the  flank of the Federal columns with Fitzhugh Lee's brigade,
leaving only the two regiments under W.H.F. Lee to watch Stoneman's
10,000 sabres. Then, having obtained the information he required, he
moved across the Federal front, and routing one of Pleasonton's
regiments in a night affair near Spotsylvania Court House, he had
regained touch with his own army. The results of his manoeuvres were
of the utmost importance. Lee was fully informed as to his
adversary's strength; the Confederate cavalry was in superior
strength at the critical point, that is, along the front of the two
armies; and Hooker had no knowledge whatever of what was going on in
the space between Sedgwick and himself. He was only aware, on the
night of April 30, that the Confederate position before
Fredericksburg was still strongly occupied.

The want, however, of accurate information gave him no uneasiness.
The most careful arrangements had been made to note and report every
movement of the enemy the next day.

No less than three captive balloons, in charge of skilled observers,
looked down upon the Confederate earthworks.* (* Balloons, which had
been first used in the Peninsular campaign, were not much dreaded by
the Confederates. "The experience of twenty months' warfare has
taught them how little formidable such engines of war are." Special
Correspondent of the Times at Fredericksburg, January 1, 1863.)
Signal stations and observatories had been established on each
commanding height; a line of field telegraph had been laid from
Falmouth to United States Ford, and the chief of the staff, General
Butterfield, remained at the former village in communication with
General Sedgwick. If the weather were clear, and the telegraph did
not fail, it seemed impossible that either wing of the Federal army
could fail to be fully and instantly informed of the situation of the
other, or that a single Confederate battalion could change position
without both Hooker and Sedgwick being at once advised.

Moreover, the Federal Commander-in-Chief was so certain that Lee
would retreat that his deficiency in cavalry troubled him not at all.
He had determined to carry out his original design.

May 1.

The next morning--May 1--the  wing was to move by the plank road
and uncover Banks' Ford, thus still further shortening the line of
communication between the two wings; and as the chief of the staff
impressed on Sedgwick, it was "expected to be on the heights west of
Fredericksburg at noon or shortly after, or, if opposed strongly, at
night." Sedgwick, meanwhile, was "to observe the enemy's movements
with the utmost vigilance; should he expose a weak point, to attack
him in full force and destroy him; should he show any symptom of
falling back, to pursue him with the utmost vigour."* (* O.R. volume
25 page 306.)

But Hooker was to find that mere mechanical precautions are not an
infallible remedy for a dangerous situation. The Confederates had not
only learned long since the importance of concealment, and the
advantage of night marches, but in the early morning of May 1 the
river mists rendered both balloons and observatories useless. Long
before the sun broke through the fog, both McLaws and Jackson had
joined Anderson at Tabernacle Church, and a strong line of battle had
been established at the junction of the two roads, the pike and the
plank, which led east from Chancellorsville. The position was
favourable, running along a low ridge, partially covered with timber,
and with open fields in front. Beyond those fields, a few hundred
paces distant, rose the outskirts of a great forest, stretching far
away over a gently undulating country. This forest, twenty miles in
length from east to west, and fifteen in breadth from north to south,
has given to the region it covers the name of the Wilderness of
Spotsylvania, and in its midst the Federal army was now involved.
Never was ground more unfavourable for the manoeuvres of a large
army. The timber was unusually dense. The groves of pines were
immersed in a sea of scrub-oak and luxuriant undergrowth. The soil
was poor. Farms were rare, and the few clearings were seldom more
than a rifle shot in width. The woodland tracks were seldom
travelled; streams with marshy banks and tortuous courses were met at
frequent intervals, and the only debouchee towards Fredericksburg,
the pike, the plank road, an unfinished line of railway a mile south
of their junction, and the river road, about two miles north, were
commanded from the Confederate position.

8 A.M.

When Jackson arrived upon the scene, Anderson, with the help of Lee's
engineers, had strongly intrenched the whole front. A large force of
artillery had already taken post. The flanks of the line were
covered; the , which extended to near Duerson's Mill, by Mott's
Run and the Rappahannock; the , which rested on the unfinished
railroad not far from Tabernacle Church, by the Massaponax Creek. For
the defence of this position, three miles in length, there were
present 45,000 infantry, over 100 guns, and Fitzhugh Lee's brigade of
cavalry, a force ample for the purpose, and giving about nine men to
the yard. On the rolling ground eastward there was excellent cover
for the reserves, and from the breastworks to the front the defiles,
for such, owing to the density of the wood, were the four roads by
which the enemy must approach, might be so effectively swept as to
prevent him from deploying either artillery or infantry.

But Jackson was not disposed to await attack. Only 10,000 men
remained in the Fredericksburg lines to confront Sedgwick, and if
that officer acted vigorously, his guns would soon be heard in rear
of the lines at Tabernacle Church. Work on the intrenchments was at
once broken off, and the whole force was ordered to prepare for an
immediate advance on Chancellorsville.

10.45 A.M.

Before eleven o'clock the rear brigades had closed up; and marching
by the pike and the plank road, with a regiment of cavalry in
advance, and Fitzhugh Lee upon the , the Confederate army plunged
resolutely into the gloomy depths of the great forest. Anderson's
division led the way, one brigade on the pike, and two on the plank
road; a strong line of skirmishers covered his whole front, and his
five batteries brought up the rear. Next in order came McLaws,
together with the two remaining brigades of Anderson, moving by the
pike, while Jackson's three divisions were on the plank road. The
artillery followed the infantry.

About a mile towards Chancellorsville the Federal cavalry was found
in some force, and as the patrols gave way, a heavy force of infantry
was discovered in movement along the pike. General McLaws, who had
been placed in charge of the Confederate , immediately deployed
his four leading brigades, and after the Federal artillery,
unlimbering in an open field, had fired a few rounds, their infantry
advanced to the attack. The fight was spirited but short. The
Northern regulars of Sykes' division drove in the Confederate
skirmishers, but were unable to make ground against the line of
battle. Jackson, meanwhile, who had been at once informed of the
encounter, had ordered the troops on the plank road to push briskly
forward, and the Federals, finding their  in danger of being
enveloped, retired on Chancellorsvile. Another hostile column was
shortly afterwards met on the plank road, also marching eastward.
Again there was a skirmish, and again Jackson, ordering a brigade to
march rapidly along the unfinished railroad, had recourse to a
turning movement; but before the manoeuvre was completed, the
Federals began to yield, and all opposition gradually melted away.
The following order was then sent to McLaws:--

2.30 P.M.

Headquarters, Second Corps, Army of Northern Virginia,

May 1, 1863, 2.30 P.M. (received 4 P.M.).

General,

The Lieutenant-General commanding directs me to say that he is
pressing up the plank road; also, that you will press on up the
turnpike towards Chancellorsville, as the enemy is falling back.

Keep your skirmishers and flanking parties well out, to guard against
ambuscade.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

J.G. MORRISON,

Acting Assistant Adjutant-General.* (* O.R. volume 25 page 764.)

There was something mysterious in so easy a victory. The enemy was
evidently in great strength, for, on both roads, heavy columns had
been observed behind the lines of skirmishers. Several batteries had
been in action; cavalry was present; and the Confederate scouts
reported that a third column, of all arms, had marched by the river
road toward Banks' Ford, and had then, like the others, unaccountably
withdrawn. The pursuit, therefore, was slow and circumspect. Wilcox'
brigade, on the extreme , moved up the Mine road, in the
direction of Duerson's Mill; W's brigade, on the extreme ,
followed Fitzhugh Lee's cavalry on the unfinished railroad; while the
main body, well closed up, still kept to the main highways.

5 P.M.

At length, late in the afternoon, Hooker's tactics became clear. As
Jackson's advanced guards approached Chancellorsville, the resistance
of the Federal skirmishers, covering the retreat, became more
stubborn. From the low ridge, fringed by heavy timber, on which the
mansion stands, the fire of artillery, raking every avenue of
approach, grew more intense, and it was evident that the foe was
standing fast on the defensive.

The Confederate infantry, pushing forward through the undergrowth,
made but tardy progress; the cavalry patrols found that every road
and bridle-path was strongly held, and it was difficult in the
extreme to discover Hooker's exact position. Jackson himself, riding
to the front to reconnoitre, nearly fell a victim to the recklessness
he almost invariably displayed when in quest of information. The
cavalry had been checked at Catherine Furnace, and were waiting the
approach of the infantry. W's brigade was close at hand, and
swinging round northwards, drove back the enemy's skirmishers, until,
in its turn, it was brought up by the fire of artillery. Just at this
moment Jackson galloped up, and begged Stuart to ride forward with
him in order to find a point from which the enemy's guns might be
enfiladed. A bridle-path, branching off from the main road to the
, led to a hillock about half a mile distant, and the two
generals, accompanied by their staffs, and followed by a battery of
horse-artillery, made for this point of vantage. "On reaching the
spot," says Stuart's adjutant-general, "so dense was the undergrowth,
it was found impossible to find enough clear space to bring more than
one gun at a time into position; the others closed up immediately
behind, and the whole body of us completely blocked up the narrow
road. Scarcely had the smoke of our first shot cleared away, when a
couple of masked batteries suddenly opened on us at short range, and
enveloped us in a storm of shell and canister, which, concentrated on
so narrow a space, did fearful execution among our party, men and
horses falling  and , the animals kicking and plunging
wildly, and everybody eager to disentangle himself from the
confusion, and get out of harm's way. Jackson, as soon as he found
out his mistake, ordered the guns to retire; but the confined space
so protracted the operation of turning, that the enemy's cannon had
full time to continue their havoc, covering the road with dead and
wounded. That Jackson and Stuart with their staff officers escaped
was nothing short of miraculous."* (* Memoirs of the Confederate War.
Heros von Boreke.)

Other attempts at reconnaissance were more successful. Before
nightfall it was ascertained that Hooker was in strong force on the
Chancellorsville ridge, along the plank road, and on a bare plateau
to the southward called Hazel Grove. "Here," in the words of General
Lee, "he had assumed a position of great natural strength, surrounded
on all sides by a dense forest, filled with a tangled undergrowth, in
the midst of which breastworks of logs had been constructed, with
trees felled in front, so as to form an almost impenetrable abattis.
His artillery swept the few narrow roads, by which the position could
be approached from the front, and commanded the adjacent woods. The
 of his line extended from Chancellorsville towards the
Rappahannock, covering the Bark Mill (United States) Ford, which
communicated with the north bank of the river by a pontoon bridge.
His  stretched westward along the Germanna Ford road (the pike)
more than two miles. As the nature of the country rendered it
hazardous to attack by night, our troops were halted and formed in
line of battle in front of Chancellorsville at  angles to the
plank road, extending on the  to the Mine road, and to the 
in the direction of the Catherine Furnace."

As darkness falls upon the Wilderness, and the fire of the outposts,
provoked by every movement of the patrols, gradually dies away, we
may seek the explanation of the Federal movements. On finding that
his enemy, instead of "ingloriously flying," was advancing to meet
him, and advancing with confident and aggressive vigour, Hooker's
resolution had failed him. Waiting till his force was concentrated,
until the Second and Third Corps had crossed at United States Ford,
and were close to Chancellorsville, it was not till eleven o'clock on
the morning of May 1 that he had marched in three great columns
towards Fredericksburg. His intention was to pass rapidly through the
Wilderness, secure the open ground about Tabernacle Church, and
there, with ample space for deployment, to form for battle, and move
against the rear of Marye's Hill.* (* O.R. volume 25 page 324.) But
before his advanced guards got clear of the forest defiles they found
the Confederates across their path, displaying an unmistakable
purpose of pressing the attack. Hooker at once concluded that Lee was
marching against him with nearly his whole force, and of the strength
of that force, owing to the weakness of his cavalry, he was not
aware. The news from the Stafford Heights was disquieting. As soon as
the fog had lifted, about nine o'clock in the morning, the signal
officers and balloonists had descried long columns of troops and
trains marching rapidly towards Chancellorsville.* (* O.R. volume 25
pages 323, 336.) This was duly reported by the telegraph,* (* Ibid
page 326. The telegraph, however, appears to have worked badly, and
dispatches took several hours to pass from Falmouth to
Chancellorsville.) and it was correctly inferred to signify that Lee
was concentrating against the Federal . But at the same time
various movements were observed about Hamilton's Crossing; columns
appeared marching from the direction of Gurney's Station; there was
much traffic on the railway, and several deserters from Lee's army
declared, on being examined, that Hood's and Pickett's divisions had
arrived from Richmond.* (* Ibid page 327.) The statements of these
men--who we may suspect were not such traitors as they appeared--were
confirmed by the fact that Sedgwick, who was without cavalry, had
noticed no diminution in the force which held the ridge before him.

It is easy, then, to understand Hooker's decision to stand on the
defensive. With a prudent foresight which does him much credit,
before he marched in the morning he had ordered the position about
Chancellorsville, covering his lines of retreat to United States and
Ely's Fords, to be reconnoitred and intrenched, and his front, as Lee
said, was undoubtedly very strong. He would assuredly have done
better had he attacked vigorously when he found the Confederates
advancing. His sudden retrograde movement, especially as following
the swift and successful manoeuvres which had turned Lee's position,
could not fail to have a discouraging effect upon the troops; and if
Sedgwick had been ordered to storm the Fredericksburg lines, the
whole Federal force could have been employed, and the Confederates,
assailed in front and rear simultaneously, must, to say the least,
have been embarrassed. But in abandoning his design of crushing Lee
between his two wings, and in retiring to the stronghold he had
prepared, Hooker did what most ordinary generals would have done,
especially one who had served on the losing side at Fredericksburg.
He had there learned the value of intrenchments. He had seen division
after division shatter itself in vain against a stone wall and a few
gun-pits, and it is little wonder that he had imbibed a profound
respect for defensive tactics. He omitted, however, to take into
consideration two simple facts. First, that few districts contain two
such positions as those of the Confederates at Fredericksburg; and,
secondly, that the strength of a position is measured not by the
impregnability of the front, but by the security of the flanks. The
Fredericksburg lines, resting on the Rappahannock and the Massaponax,
had apparently safe flanks, and yet he himself had completely turned
them, rendering the whole series of works useless without firing a
shot. Were Lee and Jackson the men to knock their heads, like
Burnside, against stout breastworks strongly manned? Would they not
rather make a wide sweep, exactly as he himself had done, and force
him to come out of his works? Hooker, however, may have said that if
they marched across his front, he would attack them en route, as did
Napoleon at Austerlitz and Wellington at Salamanca, and cut their
army in two. But here he came face to face with the fatal defect of
the lines he had selected, and also of the disposition he had made of
his cavalry. The country near Chancellorsville was very unlike the
rolling plains of Austerlitz or the bare downs of Salamanca. From no
part of the Federal position did the view extend for more than a few
hundred yards. Wherever the eye turned rose the dark and impenetrable
screen of close-growing trees, interlaced with wild vines and matted
undergrowth, and seamed with rough roads, perfectly passable for
troops, with which his enemies were far better acquainted than
himself. Had Stoneman's cavalry been present, the squadrons, posted
far out upon the flanks, and watching every track, might have given
ample warning of any turning movement, exactly as Stuart's cavalry
had given Lee warning of Hooker's own movement upon Chancellorsville.
As it was, Pleasonton's brigade was too weak to make head against
Stuart's regiments; and Hooker could expect no early information of
his enemy's movements.

He thus found himself in the dilemma which a general on the
defensive, if he be weak in cavalry, has almost invariably to face,
especially in a close country. He was ignorant, and must necessarily
remain ignorant, of where the main attack would be made. Lee, on the
other hand, by means of his superior cavalry, could reconnoitre the
position at his leisure, and if he discovered a weak point could
suddenly throw the greater portion of his force against it. Hooker
could only hope that no weak point existed. Remembering that the
Confederates were on the pike and the plank road, there certainly
appeared no cause for apprehension. The Fifth Corps, with its flank
on the Rappahannock, held the , covering the river and the old
Mine roads. Next in succession came the Second Corps, blocking the
pike. In the centre the Twelfth Corps, under General Slocum, covered
Chancellorsville. The Third Corps, under Sickles, held Hazel Grove,
with Berry's division as general reserve; and on the extreme ,
his breastworks running along the plank road as far as Talley's
Clearing, was Howard with the Eleventh Corps, composed principally of
German regiments. Strong outposts of infantry had been thrown out
into the woods; the men were still working in the intrenchments;
batteries were disposed so as to sweep every approach from the south,
the south-east, or the south-west, and there were at least five men
to every yard of parapet. The line, however, six miles from flank to
flank, was somewhat extensive, and to make certain, so far as
possible, that sufficient numbers should be forthcoming to defend the
position, at 1.55 on the morning of May 2, Sedgwick was instructed to
send the First Army Corps to Chancellorsville. Before midnight,
moreover, thirty-four guns, principally horse. Artillery, together
with a brigade of infantry, were sent from Falmouth to Banks' Ford.

Sedgwick, meantime, below Fredericksburg, had contented himself with
engaging the outposts on the opposite ridge. An order to make a brisk
demonstration, which Hooker had dispatched at 11.30 A.M., did not
arrive, the telegraph having broken down, until 5.45 P.M., six hours
later; and it was then too late to effect any diversion in favour of
the main army.

Yet it can hardly be said that Sedgwick had risen to the height of
his responsibilities. He knew that a portion at least of the
Confederates had marched against Hooker, and the balloonists had
early reported that a battle was in progress near Tabernacle Church.
But instead of obeying Napoleon's maxim and marching to the sound of
the cannon, he had made no effort to send support to his commander.
Both he and General Reynolds* (* The following letter (O.R. volume 25
page 337) is interesting as showing the state of mind into which the
commanders of detached forces are liable to be thrown by the absence
of information:--

Headquarters, First Corps, May 1, 1863.

Major-General Sedgwick,

I think the proper view to take of affairs is this: If they have not
detached more than A.P. Hill's division from our front, they have
been keeping up appearances, showing weakness, with a view of
delaying Hooker, and tempting us to make an attack on their fortified
position, and hoping to destroy us and strike for our depot over our
bridges. We ought therefore, in my judgment, to know something of
what has transpired on our .

JOHN F. REYNOLDS, Major-General.) considered "that to have attacked
before Hooker had accomplished some success, in view of the strong
position and numbers in their front, might have failed to dislodge
the enemy, and have rendered them unserviceable at the proper time."*
(* Dispatch of Chief of the Staff to Hooker, dated 4 P.M., May 1.
O.R. volume 25 page 326.) That is, they were not inclined to risk
their own commands in order to assist Hooker, of whose movements they
were uncertain. Yet even if they had been defeated, Hooker would
still have had more men than Lee.

</section>
<section id="28" fatherid="16" title="CHANCELLORSVILLE (CONTINUED)" lv="CHAPTER 2.24." priority="0" level="2">
At a council of war held during the night at Chancellorville House,
the Federal generals were by no means unanimous as to the operations
of the morrow. Some of the generals advised an early assault. Others
favoured a strictly defensive attitude. Hooker himself wished to
contract his lines so as to strengthen them; but as the officers
commanding on the  were confident of the strength of their
intrenchments, it was at length determined that the army should await
attack in its present position.

Three miles down the plank road, under a grove of oak and pine, Lee
and Jackson, while their wearied soldiers slept around them, planned
for the fourth and the last time the overthrow of the great army with
which Lincoln still hoped to capture Richmond. At this council there
was no difference of opinion. If Hooker had not retreated before the
morning--and Jackson thought it possible he was already
demoralised--he was to be attacked. The situation admitted of no
other course. It was undoubtedly a hazardous operation for an
inferior force to assault an intrenched position; but the Federal
army was divided, the  wing involved in a difficult and
unexplored country, with which the Confederate generals and staff
were more or less familiar, and an opportunity so favourable might
never recur. "Fortune," says Napoleon, "is a woman, who must be wooed
while she is in the mood. If her favours are rejected, she does not
offer them again." The only question was where the attack should be
delivered. Lee himself had reconnoitred the enemy's . It was very
utrong, resting on the Rappahannock, and covered by a stream called
Mineral Spring Run. Two of Jackson's staff officers had reconnoitred
the front, and had pronounced it impregnable, except at a fearful
sacrifice of life. But while the generals were debating, Stuart rode
in with the reports of his cavalry officers, and the weak point of
the position was at once revealed. General Fitzhugh Lee, to whose
skill and activity the victory of Chancellorsville was in great part
due, had discovered that the Federal , on the plank road, was
completely in the air; that is, it was protected by no natural
obstacle, and the breastworks faced south, and south only. It was
evident that attack from the west or north-west was not anticipated,
and Lee at once seized upon the chance of effecting a surprise.

Yet the difficulties of the proposed operation were very great. To
transfer a turning column to a point from which the Federal 
might be effectively outflanked necessitated a long march by the
narrow and intricate roadways of the Wilderness, and a division of
the Confederate army into two parts, between which communication
would be most precarious. To take advantage of the opportunity the
first rule of war must be violated. But as it has already been said,
the rules of war only point out the dangers which are incurred by
breaking them; and, in this case, before an enemy on the defensive
from whom the separation might be concealed until it is too late for
him to intervene, the risks of dispersion were much reduced. The
chief danger lay in this, that the two wings, each  to its own
resources, might fail to act in combination, just as within the past
twenty-four hours Hooker and Sedgwick had failed. But Lee knew that
in Jackson he possessed a lieutenant whose resolution was invincible,
and that the turning column, if entrusted to his charge, would be
pushed forward without stop or stay until it had either joined hands
with the main body, or had been annihilated.

Moreover, the battle of Fredericksburg had taught both armies that
the elaborate constructions of the engineer are not the only or the
most useful resources of fortification. Hooker had ordered his
position to be intrenched in the hope that Lee and Jackson, following
Burnside's example, would dash their divisions into fragments against
them and thus become an easy prey. Lee, with a broader appreciation
of the true tactical bearing of ditch and parapet, determined to
employ them as a shelter for his own force until Jackson's movement
was completed, and the time had come for a general advance. Orders
were at once sent to General McLaws to cover his front, extending
across the pike and the plank roads, with a line of breastworks; and
long before daylight the soldiers of his division, with the scanty
means at their disposal, were busy as beavers amongst the timber.

It only remained, then, to determine the route and the strength of
the outflanking force; and here it may be observed that the
headquarters staff appears to have neglected certain precautions for
which there had been ample leisure. So long ago as March 19 a council
of war had decided that if Hooker attacked he would do so by the
upper fords, and yet the Wilderness, lying immediately south of the
points of passage, had not been adequately examined. Had Jackson been
on the  wing above Fredericksburg, instead of on the , near
Hamilton's Crossing, we may be certain that accurate surveys would
have been forthcoming. As it was, the charts furnished to the
Commander-in-Chief were untrustworthy, and information had to be
sought from the country-people.

May 2. 2.30 A.M.

"About daylight on May 2," says Major Hotchkiss, "General Jackson
awakened me, and requested that I would at once go down to Catherine
Furnace, which is quite near, and where a Colonel Welford lived, and
ascertain if there was any road by which we could secretly pass round
Chancellorsville to the vicinity of Old Wilderness Tavern. I had a
map, which our engineers had prepared from actual surveys, of the
surrounding country, showing all the public roads, but with few
details of the intermediate topography. Reaching Mr. Welford's, I
aroused him from his bed, and soon learned that he himself had
recently opened a road through the woods in that direction for the
purpose of hauling cord-wood and iron ore to his furnace. This I
located on the map, and having asked Mr. Welford if he would act as a
guide if it became necessary to march over that road, I returned to
head-quarters.

3.30 A.M.

"When I reached those I found Generals Lee and Jackson in conference,
each seated on a cracker box, from a pile which had been  there
by the Federals the day before. In response to General Jackson's
request for my report, I put another cracker box between the two
generals, on which I spread the map, showed them the road I had
ascertained, and indicated, so far as I knew it, the position of the
Federal army. General Lee then said, "General Jackson, what do you
propose to do?" He replied, "Go around here," moving his finger over
the road which I had located upon the map. General Lee said, "What do
you propose to make this movement with?" "With my whole corps," was
the answer. General Lee then asked, "What will you leave me?" "The
divisions of Anderson and McLaws," said Jackson. General Lee, after a
moment's reflection, remarked, "Well, go on," and then, pencil in
hand, gave his last instructions. Jackson, with an eager smile upon
his face, from time to time nodded assent, and when the
Commander-in-Chief ended with the words, "General Stuart will cover
your movement with his cavalry," he rose and saluted, saying, "My
troops will move at once, sir.""* (* Letter to the author. A letter
of General Lee to Mrs. Jackson, which contains a reference to this
council of war, appears as a Note at the end of the chapter.) The
necessary orders were forthwith dispatched. The trains, parked in
open fields to the rear, were to move to Todd's Tavern, and thence
westward by interior roads; the Second Army Corps was to march in one
column, Rodes' division in front, and A.P. Hill's in rear; the First
Virginia Cavalry, with whom was Fitzhugh Lee, covered the front;
squadrons of the 2nd, the 3rd, and the 5th were on the ;
Hotchkiss, accompanied by a squad of couriers, was to send back
constant reports to General Lee; the commanding officers were
impressed with the importance of celerity and secrecy; the ranks were
to be kept well closed up, and all stragglers were to be bayoneted.

4.5 A.M.

The day had broken without a cloud, and as the troops began their
march in the fresh May morning, the green vistas of the Wilderness,
grass under foot, and thick foliage overhead, were dappled with
sunshine. The men, comprehending intuitively that a daring and
decisive movement was in progress, pressed rapidly forward, and
General Lee, standing by the roadside to watch them pass, saw in
their confident bearing the presage of success. Soon after the first
regiments had gone by Jackson himself appeared at the head of his
staff. Opposite to the Commander-in-Chief he drew rein, and the two
conversed for a few moments. Then Jackson rode on, pointing in the
direction in which his troops were moving. "His face," says an
eyewitness, "was a little flushed, as it was turned to General Lee,
who nodded approval of what he said." Such was the last interview
between Lee and Jackson.

Then, during four long hours, for the column covered at least ten
miles, the flood of b rifles and tattered uniforms swept with
steady flow down the forest track. The artillery followed, the guns
drawn by lean and wiry horses, and the ammunition waggons and
ambulances brought up the rear. In front was a regiment of cavalry,
the 5th Virginia, accompanied by General Fitzhugh Lee; on the flanks
were some ten squadrons, moving by the tracks nearest the enemy's
outposts; a regiment of infantry, the 23rd Georgia, was posted at the
cross-roads near Catherine Furnace; and the plank road was well
guarded until Anderson's troops came up to relieve the rear brigades
of the Second Army Corps.

Meanwhile, acting under the immediate orders of General Lee, and most
skilfully handled by McLaws and Anderson, the 10,000 Confederates who
had been  in position opposite the Federal masses kept up a brisk
demonstration. Artillery was brought up to every point along the
front which offered space for action; skirmishers, covered by the
timber, engaged the enemy's pickets, and maintained a constant fire,
and both on the pike and the river road the lines of battle, disposed
so as to give an impression of great strength, threatened instant
assault. Despite all precautions, however, Jackson's movement did not
escape the notice of the Federals.

8 A.M.

A mile north of Catherine Furnace the eminence called Hazel Grove,
clear of timber, looked down the valley of the Lewis Creek, and as
early as 8 A.M. General Birney, commanding the Federal division at
this point, reported the passage of a long column across his front.

The indications, however, were deceptive. At first, it is probable,
the movement seemed merely a prolongation of the Confederate front;
but it soon received a different interpretation. The road at the
point where Jackson's column was observed turned due south; it was
noticed that the troops were followed by their waggons, and that they
were turning their backs on the Federal lines. Hooker, when he
received Birney's report, jumped to the conclusion that Lee, finding
the direct road to Richmond, through Bowling Green, threatened by
Sedgwick, was retreating on Gordonsville.

11 A.M.

About 11 A.M. a battery was ordered into action on the Hazel Grove
heights.

12.15 P.M.

The fire caused some confusion in the Confederate ranks; the trains
were forced on to another road; and shortly after noon, General
Sickles, commanding the Third Army Corps, was permitted by Hooker to
advance upon Catherine Furnace and to develop the situation. Birney's
division moved forward, and Whipple's soon followed. This attack,
which threatened to cut the Confederate army in two, was so
vigorously opposed by Anderson's division astride the plank road and
by the 23rd Georgia at the Furnace, that General Sickles was
constrained to call for reinforcements. Barlow's brigade, which had
hitherto formed the reserve of the Eleventh Corps, holding the
extreme  of the Federal line, the flank at which Jackson was
aiming, was sent to his assistance. Pleasonton's cavalry brigade
followed. Sickles' movement, even before the fresh troops arrived,
had met with some success. The 23rd Georgia, driven back to the
unfinished railroad and surrounded, lost 300 officers and men. But
word had been sent to Jackson's column, and Colonel Brown's artillery
battalion, together with the brigades of Archer and Thomas, rapidly
retracing their steps, checked the advance in front, while Anderson,
manoeuvring his troops with vigour, struck heavily against the flank.
Jackson's train, thus effectively protected, passed the dangerous
point in safety, and then Archer and Thomas, leaving Anderson to deal
with Sickles, drew off and pursued their march.

These operations, conducted for the most part in blind thickets,
consumed much time, and Jackson was already far in advance. Moving in
a south-westerly direction, he had struck the Brook road, a narrow
track which runs nearly due north, and crosses both the plank road
and the pike at a point about two miles west of the Federal 
flank. The Brock road, which, had Stoneman's three divisions of
cavalry been present with the Federal army, would have been strongly
held, was absolutely free and unobstructed. Since the previous
evening Fitzhugh Lee's patrols had remained in close touch with the
enemy's outposts, and no attempt had been made to drive them in. So
with no further obstacle than the heat the Second Army Corps pressed
on. Away to the , echoing faintly through the Wilderness, came
the sound of cannon and the roll of musketry; couriers from the rear,
galloping at top speed, reported that the trains had been attacked,
that the rear brigades had turned back to save them, and that the
enemy, in heavy strength, had already filled the gap which divided
the Confederate wings. But, though the army was cut in two, Jackson
cast no look behind him. The battle at the Furnace made no more
impression on him than if it was being waged on the Mississippi. He
had his orders to execute; and above all, he was moving at his best
speed towards the enemy's weak point. He knew--and none better--that
Hooker would not long retain the initiative; that every man detached
from the Federal centre made his own chances of success the more
certain; and trusting implicitly in Lee's ability to stave off
defeat, he rode northwards with redoubled assurance of decisive
victory. Forward was the cry, and though the heat was stifling, and
the dust, rising from the deep ruts on the unmetalled road, rose in
dense clouds beneath the trees, and men dropped fainting in the
ranks, the great column pushed on without a check.* (* There were
three halts during the march of fourteen miles. Letter from Major
Hotchkiss.)

2 P.M.

About 2 P.M., as the rear brigades, Archer and Thomas, after checking
Sickles, were just leaving Welford's House, some six miles distant,
Jackson himself had reached the plank road, the point where he
intended to turn eastward against the Federal flank. Here he was met
by Fitzhugh Lee, conveying most important and surprising information.

The cavalry regiment had halted when it arrived on the plank road;
all was reported quiet at the front; the patrols were moving
northward, and, attended by a staff officer, the young brigadier had
ridden towards the turnpike. The path they followed led to a wide
clearing at the summit of a hill, from which there was a view
eastward as far as Dowdall's Tavern. Below, and but a few hundred
yards distant, ran the Federal breastworks, with abattis in front and
long lines of stacked arms in rear; but untenanted by a single
company. Two cannon were seen upon the highroad, the horses grazing
quietly near at hand. The soldiers were scattered in small groups,
laughing, cooking, smoking, sleeping, and playing cards, while others
were butchering cattle and drawing rations. What followed is best
told in General Fitzhugh Lee's own words.

"I rode back and met Jackson. "General," said I, "if you will ride
with me, halting your columns here, out of sight, I will show you the
great advantage of attacking down the old turnpike instead of the
plank road, the enemy's lines being taken in reverse. Bring only one
courier, as you will be in view from the top of the hill." Jackson
assented. When we reached the eminence the picture below was still
unchanged, and I watched him closely as he gazed on Howard's troops.
His expression was one of intense interest. His eyes burnt with a
brilliant glow, and his face was slightly flushed, radiant at the
success of his flank movement. To the remarks made to him while the
unconscious line of blue was pointed out he made no reply, and yet
during the five minutes he was on the hill his lips were moving.
"Tell General Rodes," he said, suddenly turning his horse towards the
courier, "to move across the plank road, and halt when he gets to the
old turnpike. I will join him there." One more look at the Federal
lines, and he rode rapidly down the hill."

4 P.M.

The cavalry, supported by the Stonewall Brigade, was immediately
placed a short distance down the plank road, in order to mask the
march of the column. At 4 P.M. Rodes was on the turnpike. Passing
down it for about a mile, in the direction of the enemy's position,
the troops were ordered to halt and form for battle. Not a shot had
been fired. A few hostile patrols had been observed, but along the
line of breastworks, watched closely by the cavalry, the Federal
troops, still in the most careless security, were preparing their
evening meal. Jackson, meanwhile, seated on a stump near the Brock
road, had penned his last dispatch to General Lee.

"Near 3 P.M. May 2, 1863.

"General,--The enemy has made a stand at Chancellor's,* (* Melzi
Chancellor's house; otherwise Dowdall's Tavern.) which is about two
miles from Chancellorsville. I hope as soon as practicable to attack.
I trust that an ever-kind Providence will bless us with great success.

"Respectfully,

"T.J. JACKSON, Lieutenant-General.

"The leading division is up, and the next two appear to be well
closed.

"T.J.J.

"General B.E. Lee."

25,000 men were now deploying in the forest within a mile of the
Federal works, overlapping them both to north and south, and not a
single general in the Northern army appears to have suspected their
presence. The day had passed quietly at Chancellorsville. At a very
early hour in the morning Hooker, anticipating a vigorous attack, had
ordered the First Army Corps, which had hitherto been acting with
Sedgwick below Fredericksburg, to recross the Rappahannock and march
to Chancellorsville. Averell's division of cavalry, also, which had
been engaged near Orange Court House with W. H. F. Lee's two
regiments, was instructed about the same time to rejoin the army as
soon as possible, and was now marching by the  bank of the
Rapidan to Ely's Ford. Anticipating, therefore, that he would soon be
strongly reinforced, Hooker betrayed no uneasiness. Shortly after
dawn he had ridden round his lines. Expecting at that time to be
attacked in front only, he had no fault to find with their location
or construction. "As he looked over the barricades," says General
Howard, "while receiving the cheers and salutes of the men, he said
to me, 'How strong! how strong!' When the news came that a
Confederate column was marching westward past Catherine Furnace, his
attention, for the moment, was attracted to his . At 10 A.M. he
was still uncertain as to the meaning of Jackson's movement. As the
hours went by, however, and Jackson's column disappeared in the
forest, he again grew confident; the generals were informed that Lee
was in full retreat towards Gordonsville, and a little later Sedgwick
received the following:

"Chancellorsville, May 2, 1863, 4.10 P.M.

"General Butterfield,--The Major-General Commanding directs that
General Sedgwick cross the river (sic) as soon as indications will
permit,* (* Sedgwick had crossed the river on April 29 and 30.)
capture Fredericksburg with everything in it, and vigorously pursue
the enemy. We know that the enemy is fleeing, trying to save his
trains. Two of Sickles' divisions are among them.

"J.H. VAN ALEN,

"Brigadier-General and Aide-de-Camp.

"(Copy from Butterfield, at Falmouth, to Sedgwick, 5.50 P.M.)."

At 4 o'clock, therefore, the moment Jackson's vanguard reached the
old turnpike near Luckett's Farm, Hooker believed that all danger of
a flank attack had passed away. His  wing was under orders to
advance, as soon as a swamp to the front could be "corduroyed," and
strike Lee in flank; while to reinforce Sickles, "among the enemy's
trains," Williams' division of the Twelfth Corps was sent forward
from the centre, Howard's reserve brigade (Barlow's) from the ,
and Pleasonton's cavalry brigade from Hazel Grove.

The officers in charge of the Federal  appear to have been as
unsuspicious as their commander. During the morning some slight
preparations were made to defend the turnpike from the westward; a
shallow line of rifle-pits, with a few epaulements for artillery, had
been constructed on a low ridge, commanding open fields, which runs
north from Dowdall's Tavern, and the wood beyond had been partially
entangled. But this was all, and even when the only reserve of the
Eleventh Army Corps, Barlow's brigade, was sent to Sickles, it was
not considered necessary to make any change in the disposition of the
troops. The belief that Lee and Jackson were retreating had taken
firm hold of every mind. The pickets on the flank had indeed
reported, from time to time, that infantry was massing in the
thickets; and the Confederate cavalry, keeping just outside effective
range, occupied every road and every clearing. Yet no attempt was
made, by a strong reconnaissance in force, to ascertain what was
actually going on within the forest; and the reports of the scouts
were held to be exaggerated.

The neglect was the more marked in that the position of the Eleventh
Army Corps was very weak. Howard had with him twenty regiments of
infantry and six batteries; but his force was completely isolated.
His extreme , consisting of four German regiments, was posted in
the forest, with two guns facing westward on the pike, and a line of
intrenchments facing south. On the low hill eastward, where Talley's
Farm, a small wooden cottage, stood in the midst of a wide clearing,
were two more German regiments and two American. Then, near the
junction of the roads, intervened a patch of forest, which was
occupied by four regiments, with a brigade upon their ; and
beyond, nearly a mile wide from north to south, and five or six
hundred yards in breadth, were the open fields round the little
Wilderness Church, dipping at first to a shallow brook, and then
rising gradually to a house called Dowdall's Tavern. In these fields,
south of the turnpike, were the breastworks held by the second
division of the Eleventh Army Corps; and here were six regiments,
with several batteries in close support. The 60th New York and 26th
Wisconsin, near the Hawkins House at the north end of the fields,
faced to the west; the remainder all faced south. Beyond Dowdall's
Tavern rose the forest, dark and impenetrable to the view; but to the
south-east, nearly two miles from Talley's, the clearings of Hazel
Grove were plainly visible. This part of the line, originally
entrusted to General Sickles, was now unguarded, for two divisions of
the Third Corps were moving on the Furnace; and the nearest force
which could render support to Howard's was Berry's division, retained
in reserve north-east of Chancellorsville, three miles distant from
Talley's Farm and nearly two from Howard's .

The Confederates, meanwhile, were rapidly forming for attack.
Notwithstanding their fatigue, for many of the brigades had marched
over fifteen miles, the men were in the highest spirits. A young
staff-officer, who passed along the column, relates that he was
everywhere recognised with the usual greetings. "Say, here's one of
old Jack's little boys; let him by, boys!" "Have a good breakfast
this morning, sonny?" "Better hurry up, or you'll catch it for
gettin' behind." "Tell old Jack we're all a-comin'. Don't let him
begin the fuss till we get there!" But on reaching the turnpike
orders were given that all noise should cease, and the troops,
deploying for a mile or more on either side of the road, took up
their formation for attack. In front were the skirmishers of Rodes'
division, under Major Blackford; four hundred yards in rear came the
lines of battle, Rodes forming the first line;* Colston, at two
hundred yards distance, the second line; A.P. Hill, part in line and
part in column, the third.

*(Rodes' brigades were formed in the following order:--
    ....................................
     ||  _______  ______  _____  _______   ..........
         Iverson  O'Neal  Doles  Colquitt
                                           _______
                                           Ramseur  ||)

In little more than an hour-and-a-half, notwithstanding the dense
woods, the formation was completed, and the lines dressed at the
proper angle to the road.

5.45 P.M.

Notwithstanding that the enemy might at any moment awake to their
danger, not a single precaution was neglected. Jackson was determined
that the troops should move forward in good order, and that every
officer and man should know what was expected from him.
Staff-officers had been stationed at various points to maintain
communication between the divisions, and the divisional and brigade
commanders had received their instructions. The whole force was to
push resolutely forward through the forest. The open hill, about a
thousand yards eastward, on which stood Talley's Farm, was to be
carried at all hazard, for, so far as could be ascertained, it
commanded, over an intervening patch of forest, the ridge which ran
north from Dowdall's Tavern. After the capture of the heights at
Talley's, if the Federals showed a determined front on their second
line, Rodes was to halt under cover until the artillery could come up
and dislodge them. Under no other circumstances was there to be any
pause in the advance. A brigade of the first line was detailed to
guard the  flank, a regiment the ; and the second and third
lines were ordered to support the first, whenever it might be
necessary, without waiting for further instructions. The field
hospital was established at the Old Wilderness Tavern.

The men were in position, eagerly awaiting the signal; their quick
intelligence had already realised the situation, and all was life and
animation. Across the narrow clearing stretched the long grey lines,
penetrating far into the forest on either flank; in the centre, on
the road, were four Napoleon guns, the horses fretting with
excitement; far to the rear, their rifles glistening under the long
shafts of the setting sun, the heavy columns of A.P. Hill's division
were rapidly advancing, and the rumble of the artillery, closing to
the front, grew louder and louder. Jackson, watch in hand, sat silent
on "Little Sorrel," his slouched hat drawn low over his eyes, and his
lips tightly compressed. On his  was General Rodes, tall, lithe,
and soldierly, and on Rodes'  was Major Blackford.

"Are you ready, General Rodes?" said Jackson.

"Yes, sir," said Rodes, impatient as his men.

"You can go forward, sir," said Jackson.

6 P.M.

A nod from Rodes was a sufficient order to Blackford, and the woods
rang with the notes of a single bugle. Back came the responses from
bugles to  and , and the skirmishers, dashing through the
wild undergrowth, sprang eagerly to their work, followed by the quick
rush of the lines of battle. For a moment the troops seemed buried in
the thickets; then, as the enemy's sentries, completely taken by
surprise, fired a few scattered shots, and the guns on the turnpike
came quickly into action, the echoes waked; through the still air of
the summer evening rang the rebel yell, filling the forest far to
north and south, and the hearts of the astonished Federals, lying
idly behind their breastworks, stood still within them.

So rapid was the advance, so utterly unexpected the attack, that the
pickets were at once over-run; and, crashing through the timber,
driving before it the wild creatures of the forest, deer, and hares,
and foxes, the broad front of the mighty torrent bore down upon
Howard's flank. For a few moments the four regiments which formed his
, supported by two guns, held staunchly together, and even
checked for a brief space the advance of O'Neal's brigade. But from
the  and from the  the grey infantry swarmed round them; the
second line came surging forward to O'Neal's assistance; the gunners
were shot down and their pieces captured; and in ten minutes the
 brigade of the Federal army, submerged by numbers, was flying
in panic across the clearing, Here, near Talley's Farm, on the fields
south of the turnpike and in the forest to the north, another
brigade, hastily changing front, essayed to stay the rout. But
Jackson's horse-artillery, moving forward at a gallop, poured in
canister at short range; and three brigades, O'Neal's, Iverson's, and
Doles', attacked the Northerners fiercely in front and flank. No
troops, however brave, could have long withstood that overwhelming
rush. The slaughter was very great; every mounted officer was shot
down, and in ten or fifteen minutes the fragments of these hapless
regiments were retreating rapidly and tumultuously towards the
Wilderness Church.

The first position had been captured, but there was no pause in the
attack. As Jackson, following the artillery, rode past Talley's Farm,
and gazed across the clearing to the east, he saw a sight which
raised high his hopes of a decisive victory. Already, in the green
cornfields, the spoils of battle lay thick around him. Squads of
prisoners were being hurried to the rear. Abandoned guns, and waggons
overturned, the wounded horses still struggling in the traces, were
surrounded by the dead and dying of Howard's brigades. Knapsacks,
piled in regular order, arms, blankets, accoutrements, lay in
profusion near the breastworks; and beyond, under a rolling cloud of
smoke and dust, the bare fields, sloping down to the brook, were
covered with fugitives. Still further eastward, along the plank road,
speeding in wild confusion towards Chancellorsville, was a dense mass
of men and waggons; cattle, maddened with f, were rushing to and
fro, and on the ridge beyond the little church, pushing their way
through the terror-stricken throng like ships through a heavy sea, or
breaking into fragments before the pressure, the irregular lines of a
few small regiments were moving hastily to the front. At more than
one point on the edge of the distant woods guns were coming into
action; the hill near Talley's Farm was covered with projectiles; men
were falling, and the Confederate first line was already in some
confusion.

Galloping up the turnpike, and urging the artillery forward with
voice and gesture, Jackson passed through the ranks of his eager
infantry; and then Rodes's division, rushing down the wooded slopes,
burst from the covert, and, driving their flying foes before them,
advanced against the trenches on the opposite ridge. Here and there
the rush of the first line was checked by the bold resistance of the
German regiments. On the , especially, progress was slow, for
Colquitt's brigade, drawn off by the pressure of Federal outposts in
the woods to the south, had lost touch with the remainder of the
division; Ramseur's brigade in rear had been compelled to follow
suit, and on this flank the Federals were most effectively supported
by their artillery. But Iverson, O'Neal, and Doles, hardly halting to
reform as they Left the woods, and followed closely by the second
line, swept rapidly across the fields, dashed back the regiments
which sought to check them, and under a hot fire of grape and
canister pressed resolutely forward.

The rifle-pits on the ridge were occupied by the last brigade of
Howard's Army Corps. A battery was in rear, three more were on the
, near Dowdall's Tavern, and many of the fugitives from Talley's
Farm had rallied behind the breastwork. But a few guns and four or
five thousand rifles, although the ground to the front was clear and
open, were powerless to arrest the rush of Jackson's veterans. The
long lines of colours, tossing redly above the swiftly moving ranks,
never for a moment faltered; the men, running alternately to the
front, delivered their fire, stopped for a moment to load, and then
again ran on. Nearer and nearer they came, until the defenders of the
trenches, already half demoralised, could mark through the
smoke-drift the tanned faces, the fierce eyes, and the gleaming
bayonets of their terrible foes. The guns were already flying, and
the position was outflanked; yet along the whole length of the ridge
the parapets still blazed with fire; and while men fell headlong in
the Confederate ranks, for a moment there was a check. But it was the
check of a mighty wave, mounting slowly to full volume, ere it falls
in thunder on the shrinking sands. Running to the front with uplifted
swords, the officers gave the signal for the charge. The men answered
with a yell of triumph; the second line, closing rapidly on the
first, could no longer be restrained; and as the grey masses,
crowding together in their excitement, breasted the last slope, the
Federal infantry, in every quarter of the field, gave way before
them; the ridge was abandoned, and through the dark pines beyond
rolled the rout of the Eleventh Army Corps.

7 P.M.

It was seven o'clock. Twilight was falling on the woods; and Rodes'
and Colston's divisions had become so inextricably mingled that
officers could not find their men nor men their officers. But
Jackson, galloping into the disordered ranks, directed them to press
the pursuit. His face was aglow with the blaze of battle. His swift
gestures and curt orders, admitting of no question, betrayed the
fierce intensity of his resolution. Although the great tract of
forest, covering Chancellorsville on the west, had swallowed up the
fugitives, he had no need of vision to reveal to him the extent of
his success. 10,000 men had been utterly defeated. The enemy's 
wing was scattered to the winds. The Southerners were within a
mile-and-a-half of the Federals' centre and completely in rear of
their intrenchments; and the White House or Bullock road, only
half-a-mile to the front, led directly to Hooker's line of retreat by
the United States Ford. Until that road was in his possession Jackson
was determined to call no halt. The dense woods, the gathering
darkness, the fatigue and disorder of his troops, he regarded no more
than he did the enemy's overwhelming numbers. In spirit he was
standing at Hooker's side, and he saw, as clearly as though the
intervening woods had been swept away, the condition to which his
adversary had been reduced.

To the Federal headquarters confusion and dismay had come, indeed,
with appalling suddenness. Late in the afternoon Hooker was sitting
with two aides-de-camp in the verandah of the Chancellor House. There
were few troops in sight. The Third Corps and Pleasonton's cavalry
had long since disappeared in the forest. The Twelfth Army Corps,
with the exception of two brigades, was already advancing against
Anderson; and only the trains and some artillery remained within the
intrenchments at Hazel Grove. All was going well. A desultory firing
broke out at intervals to the eastward, but it was not sustained; and
three miles to the south, where, as Hooker believed, in pursuit of
Jackson, Sickles and Pleasonton were, the reports of their cannon,
growing fainter and fainter as they pushed further south, betokened
no more than a lively skirmish. The quiet of the Wilderness, save for
those distant sounds, was undisturbed, and men and animals, free from
every care, were enjoying the calm of the summer evening. It was
about half-past six. Suddenly the cannonade swelled to a heavier
roar, and the sound came from a new direction. All were listening
intently, speculating on what this might mean, when a staff-officer,
who had stepped out to the front of the house and was looking down
the plank road with his glass, exclaimed: "My God, here they come!"
Hooker sprang upon his horse; and riding rapidly down the road, met
the stragglers of the Eleventh Corps--men, waggons, and ambulances,
an ever-increasing crowd--rushing in blind terror from the forest,
flying they knew not whither. The whole of the  wing, they said,
overwhelmed by superior numbers, was falling back on
Chancellorsville, and Stonewall Jackson was in hot pursuit.

The situation had changed in the twinkling of an eye. Just now
congratulating himself on the complete success of his manoeuvres, on
the retreat of his enemies, on the flight of Jackson and the
helplessness of Lee, Hooker saw his strong intrenchments taken in
reverse, his army scattered, his reserves far distant, and the most
dreaded of his opponents, followed by his victorious veterans, within
a few hundred yards of his headquarters. His weak point had been
found, and there were no troops at hand wherewith to restore the
fight. The centre was held only by the two brigades of the Twelfth
Corps at the Fairview Cemetery. The works at Hazel Grove were
untenanted, save by a few batteries and a handful of infantry. The
Second and Fifth Corps on the  were fully occupied by McLaws, for
Lee, at the first sound of Jackson's guns, had ordered a vigorous
attack up the pike and the plank road. Sickles, with 20,000 men, was
far away, isolated and perhaps surrounded, and the line of retreat,
the road to United States Ford, was absolutely unprotected.

Messengers were dispatched in hot haste to recall Sickles and
Pleasonton to Hazel Grove. Berry's division, forming the reserve
north-east of the Chancellor House, was summoned to Fairview, and
Hays' brigade of the Second Corps ordered to support it. But what
could three small brigades, hurried into position and unprotected by
intrenchments, avail against 25,000 Southerners, led by Stonewall
Jackson, and animated by their easy victory? If Berry and Hays could
stand fast against the rush of fugitives, it was all that could be
expected; and as the uproar in the dark woods swelled to a deeper
volume, and the yells of the Confederates, mingled with the crash of
the musketry, were borne to his ears, Hooker must have felt that all
was lost. To make matters worse, as Pleasonton, hurrying back with
his cavalry, arrived at Hazel Grove, the trains of the Third Army
Corps, fired on by the Confederate skirmishers, dashed wildly across
the clearing, swept through the parked artillery, and, breaking
through the forest, increased the fearful tumult which reigned round
Chancellorsville.

The gunners, however, with a courage beyond all praise, stood
staunchly to their pieces; and soon a long line of artillery, for
which two regiments of the Third Army Corps, coming up rapidly from
the south, formed a sufficient escort, was established on this
commanding hill. Other batteries, hitherto held in reserve, took post
on the high ground at Fairview, a mile to the north-east, and,
although Berry's infantry were not yet in position, and the stream of
broken troops was still pouring past, a strong front of fifty guns
opposed the Confederate advance.

But it was not the artillery that saved Hooker from irretrievable
disaster.* (* Lieutenant-Colonel Hamlin, the latest historian of
Chancellorsville, has completely disposed of the legend that these
fifty guns repulsed a desperate attack on Hazel Grove.) As they
followed the remnants of the Eleventh Army Corps, the progress of
Rodes and Colston had been far less rapid than when they stormed
forward past the Wilderness Church. A regiment of Federal cavalry,
riding to Howard's aid by a track from Hazel Grove to the plank road,
was quickly swept aside; but the deep darkness of the forest, the
efforts of the officers to re-form the ranks, the barriers opposed by
the tangled undergrowth, the difficulty of keeping the direction,
brought a large portion of the troops to a standstill. At the
junction of the White House road the order to halt was given, and
although a number of men, pushing impetuously forward, seized a line
of log breastworks which ran north-west through the timber below the
Fairview heights, the pursuit was stayed in the midst of the dense
thickets.

8.15 P.M.

At this moment, shortly after eight o'clock, Jackson was at Dowdall's
Tavern. The reports from the front informed him that his first and
second lines had halted; General Rodes, who had galloped up the plank
road to reconnoitre, sent in word that there were no Federal troops
to be seen between his line and the Fairview heights; and Colonel
Cobb, of the 44th Virginia, brought the news that the strong
intrenchments, less than a mile from Chancellorsville, had been
occupied without resistance.

There was a lull in the battle; the firing had died away, and the
excited troops, with a clamour that was heard in the Federal lines,
sought their companies and regiments by the dim light of the rising
moon. But deeming that nothing was done while aught remained to do,
Jackson was already planning a further movement. Sending instructions
to A.P. Hill to relieve Rodes and Colston, and to prepare for a night
attack, he rode forward, almost unattended, amongst his rallying
troops, and lent his aid to the efforts of the regimental officers.
Intent on bringing up the two divisions in close support of Hill, he
passed from one regiment to another. Turning to Colonel Cobb, he said
to him; "Find General Rodes, and tell him to occupy the barricade* (*
In the woods west of the Fairview Heights.) at once," and then added:
"I need your help for a time; this disorder must be corrected. As you
go along the , tell the troops from me to get into line and
preserve their order."

It was long, however, before the men could be assembled, and the
delay was increased by an unfortunate incident. Jackson's chief of
artillery, pressing forward up the plank road to within a thousand
yards of Chancellorsville, opened fire with three guns upon the
enemy's position. This audacious proceeding evoked a quick reply.
Such Federal guns as could be brought to bear were at once turned
upon the road, and although the damage done was small, A.P. Hill's
brigades, just coming up into line, were for the moment checked;
under the hail of shell and canister the artillery horses became
unmanageable, the drivers lost their nerve, and as they rushed to the
rear some of the infantry joined them, and a stampede was only
prevented by the personal efforts of Jackson, Colston, and their
staff-officers. Colonel Crutchfield was then ordered to cease firing;
the Federals did the same; and A.P. Hill's brigades, that of General
Lane leading, advanced to the deserted breastworks, while two
brigades, one from Rodes' division and one from Colston's, were
ordered to guard the roads from Hazel Grove.

8.45 P.M.

These arrangements made, Jackson proceeded to join his advanced line.
At the point where the track to the White House and United States
ford strikes the plank road he met General Lane, seeking his
instructions for the attack. They were sufficiently brief: "Push
 ahead, Lane;  ahead!" As Lane galloped off to his command,
General Hill and some of his staff came up, and Jackson gave Hill his
orders. "Press them; cut them off from the United States Ford, Hill;
press them." General Hill replied that he was entirely unacquainted
with the topography of the country, and asked for an officer to act
as guide. Jackson directed Captain Boswell, his chief engineer, to
accompany General Hill, and then, turning to the front, rode up the
plank road, passing quickly through the ranks of the 18th North
Carolina of Lane's brigade. Two or three hundred yards eastward the
general halted, for the ringing of axes and the words of command were
distinctly audible in the enemy's lines.

While the Confederates were re-forming, Hooker's reserves had reached
the front, and Berry's regiments, on the Fairview heights, using
their bayonets and tin-plates for intrenching tools, piling up the
earth with their hands, and hacking down the brushwood with their
knives, were endeavouring in desperate haste to provide some shelter,
however slight, against the rush that they knew was about to come.

After a few minutes, becoming impatient for the advance of Hill's
division, Jackson turned and retraced his steps towards his own
lines. "General," said an officer who was with him, "you should not
expose yourself so much." "There is no danger, sir, the enemy is
routed. Go back and tell General Hill to press on."

Once more, when he was only sixty or eighty yards from where the 18th
North Carolina were standing in the trees, he drew rein and
listened--the whole party, generals, staff-officers, and couriers,
hidden in the deep shadows of the silent woods. At this moment a
single rifle-shot rang out with startling suddenness.

A detachment of Federal infantry, groping their way through the
thickets, had approached the Southern lines.

The skirmishers on both sides were now engaged, and the lines of
battle in rear became keenly on the alert. Some mounted officers
galloped hastily back to their commands. The sound startled the
Confederate soldiers, and an officer of the 18th North Carolina,
seeing a group of strange horsemen riding towards him through the
darkness--for Jackson, hearing the firing, had turned back to his own
lines--gave the order to fire.

The volley was fearfully effective. Men and horses fell dead and
dying on the narrow track. Jackson himself received three bullets,
one in the  hand, and two in the  arm, cutting the main
artery, and crushing the bone below the shoulder, and as the reins
dropped upon his neck, "Little Sorrel," frantic with terror, plunged
into the wood and rushed towards the Federal lines. An overhanging
bough struck his rider violently in the face, tore off his cap and
nearly unhorsed him; but recovering his seat, he managed to seize the
bridle with his bleeding hand, and turned into the road. Here Captain
Wilbourn, one of his staff-officers, succeeded in catching the reins;
and, as the horse stopped, Jackson leaned forward and fell into his
arms. Captain Hotchkiss, who had just returned from a reconnaissance,
rode off to find Dr. McGuire, while Captain Wilbourn, with a small
penknife, ripped up the sleeve of the wounded arm. As he was doing
so, General Hill, who had himself been exposed to the fire of the
North Carolinians, reached the scene, and, throwing himself from his
horse, pulled off Jackson's gauntlets, which were full of blood, and
bandaged the shattered arm with a handkerchief. "General," he said,
"are you much hurt?" "I think I am," was the reply, "and all my
wounds are from my own men. I believe my  arm is broken."

To all questions put to him he answered in a perfectly calm and
self-possessed tone, and, although he spoke no word of complaint, he
was manifestly growing weaker. It seemed impossible to move him, and
yet it was absolutely necessary that he should be carried to the
rear. He was still in front of his own lines, and, even as Hill was
speaking, two of the enemy's skirmishers, emerging from the thicket,
halted within a few paces of the little group. Hill, turning quietly
to his escort, said, "Take charge of those men," and two orderlies,
springing forward, seized the rifles of the astonished Federals.
Lieutenant Morrison, Jackson's aide-de-camp, who had gone down the
road to reconnoitre, now reported that he had seen a section of
artillery unlimbering close at hand. Hill gave orders that the
general should be at once removed, and that no one should tell the
men that he was wounded. Jackson, lying on Hill's breast, opened his
eyes, and said, "Tell them simply that you have a wounded Confederate
officer." Lieutenants Smith and Morrison, and Captain Leigh of Hill's
staff, now lifted him to his feet, and with their aid he walked a few
steps through the trees. But hardly had they gained the road when the
Federal batteries, along their whole front, opened a terrible fire of
grape and canister. The storm of bullets, tearing through the
foliage, was fortunately directed too high, and the three young
officers, laying the general down by the roadside, endeavoured to
shield him by lying between him and the deadly hail. The earth round
them was torn up by the shot, covering them with dust; boughs fell
from the trees, and fire flashed from the flints and gravel of the
roadway. Once Jackson attempted to rise; but Smith threw his arm over
him, holding him down, and saying, "General, you must be still--it
will cost you your life to rise."

After a few minutes, however, the enemy's gunners, changing from
canister to shell, mercifully increased their range; and again, as
the Confederate infantry came hurrying to the front, their wounded
leader, supported by strong arms, was lifted to his feet. Anxious
that the men should not recognise him, Jackson turned aside into the
wood, and slowly and painfully dragged himself through the
undergrowth. As he passed along, General Fender, whose brigade was
then pushing forward, asked Smith who it was that was wounded. "A
Confederate officer" was the reply; but as they came nearer Fender,
despite the darkness, saw that it was Jackson. Springing from his
horse, he hurriedly expressed his regret, and added that his lines
were so much disorganised by the enemy's artillery that he feared it
would be necessary to fall back. "At this moment," says an
eye-witness, "the scene was a fearful one. The air seemed to be alive
with the shriek of shells and the whistling of bullets; horses
riderless and mad with f dashed in every direction; hundreds
 the ranks and hurried to the rear, and the groans of the wounded
and dying mingled with the wild shouts of others to be led again to
the assault. Almost fainting as he was from loss of blood,
desperately wounded, and in the midst of this awful uproar, Jackson's
heart was unshaken. The words of Fender seemed to rouse him to life.
Pushing aside those who supported him, he raised himself to his full
height, and answered feebly, but distinctly enough to be heard above
the din, 'You must hold your ground, General Fender; you must hold
out to the last, sir.'"

His strength was now completely gone, and he asked to be allowed to
lie down. His staff-officers, however, refused assent. The shells
were still crashing through the forest, and a litter having been
brought up by Captain Leigh, he was carried slowly towards Dowdall's
Tavern. But before they were free of the tangled wood, one of the
stretcher-bearers, struck by a shot in the arm, let go the handle.
Jackson fell violently to the ground on his wounded side. His agony
must have been intense, and for the first time he was heard to groan.

Smith sprang to his side, and as he raised his head a b beam of
moonlight made its way through the thick foliage, and rested upon his
white and lacerated face. The aide-de-camp was startled by its great
pallor and stillness, and cried out, "General, are you seriously
hurt?" "No, Mr. Smith, don't trouble yourself about me," he replied
quietly, and added some words about winning the battle first, and
attending to the wounded afterwards. He was again placed upon the
litter, and carried a few hundred yards, still followed by the
Federal shells, to where his medical director was waiting with an
ambulance.

Dr. McGuire knelt down beside him and said, "I hope you are not badly
hurt, General?" He replied very calmly but feebly, "I am badly
injured, doctor, I fear I am dying." After a pause he went on, "I am
glad you have come. I think the wound in my shoulder is still
bleeding." The bandages were readjusted and he was lifted into the
ambulance, where Colonel Crutchfield, who had also been seriously
wounded, was already lying. Whisky and morphia were administered, and
by the light of pine torches, carried by a few soldiers, he was
slowly driven through the fields where Hooker's  had so lately
fled before his impetuous onset. All was done that could ease his
sufferings, but some jolting of the ambulance over the rough road was
unavoidable; "and yet," writes Dr. McGuire, "his uniform politeness
did not forsake him even in these most trying circumstances. His
complete control, too, over his mind, enfeebled as it was by loss of
blood and pain, was wonderful. His suffering was intense; his hands
were cold, his skin clammy. But not a groan escaped him--not a sign
of suffering, except the light corrugation of the brow, the fixed,
rigid face, the thin lips, so tightly compressed that the impression
of the teeth could be seen through them. Except these, he controlled
by his iron will all evidence of emotion, and, more difficult than
this even, he controlled that disposition to restlessness which many
of us have observed upon the battle-field as attending great loss of
blood. Nor was he forgetful of others. He expressed very feelingly
his sympathy for Crutchfield, and once, when the latter groaned
aloud, he directed the ambulance to stop, and requested me to see if
something could not be done for his relief.

"After reaching the hospital, he was carried to a tent, and placed in
bed, covered with blankets, and another drink of whisky and water
given him. Two hours and a half elapsed before sufficient reaction
took place to warrant an examination, and at two o'clock on Sunday
morning I informed him that chloroform would be given him; I told him
also that amputation would probably be required, and asked, if it was
found necessary, whether it should be done at once. He replied
promptly, "Yes, certainly, Dr. McGuire, do for me whatever you think
best."

"Chloroform was then administered, and the  arm amputated about
two inches below the shoulder. Throughout the whole of the operation,
and until all the dressings were applied, he continued insensible.
About half-past three, Colonel (then Major) Pendleton arrived at the
hospital. He stated that General Hill had been wounded, and that the
troops were in great disorder. General Stuart was in command, and had
sent him to see the general. At first I declined to permit an
interview, but Pendleton urged that the safety of the army and
success of the cause depended upon his seeing him. When he entered
the tent the general said, 'Well, Major, I am glad to see you; I
thought you were killed.' Pendleton briefly explained the position of
affairs, gave Stuart's message, and asked what should be done.
Jackson was at once interested, and asked in his quick way several
questions. When they were answered, he remained silent, evidently
trying to think; he contracted his brow, set his mouth, and for some
moments lay obviously endeavouring to concentrate his thoughts. For a
moment we believed he had succeeded, for his nostrils dilated, and
his eye flashed with its old fire, but it was only for a moment: his
face relaxed again, and presently he answered, very feebly and sadly:
'I don't know--I can't tell; say to General Stuart he must do what he
thinks best.' Soon after this he slept."

So, leaving behind him, struggling vainly against the oppression of
his mortal hurt, the one man who could have completed the Confederate
victory, Pendleton rode wearily through the night. Jackson's fall, at
so critical a moment, just as the final blow was to be delivered, had
proved a terrible disaster. Hill, who alone knew his intention of
moving to the White House, had been wounded by a fragment of shell as
he rode back to lead his troops. Boswell, who had been ordered to
point out the road, had been killed by the same volley which struck
down his chief, and the subordinate generals, without instructions
and without guides, with their men in disorder, and the enemy's
artillery playing fiercely on the forest, had hesitated to advance.
Hill, remaining in a litter near the line of battle, had sent for
Stuart. The cavalry commander, however, was at some distance from the
field. Late in the evening, finding it impossible to employ his
command at the front, he had been detached by Jackson, a regiment of
infantry supporting him, to take and hold Ely's Ford. He had already
arrived within view of a Federal camp established at that point, and
was preparing to charge the enemy, under cover of the night, when
Hill's messenger recalled him.

When Stuart reached the front he found the troops still halted, Rodes
and Colston reforming on the open fields near Dowdall's Tavern, the
Light Division deployed within the forest, and the generals anxious
for their own security.

So far the attack had been completely successful, but Lee's lack of
strength prevented the full accomplishment of his design. Had
Longstreet been present, with Pickett and Hood to lead his splendid
infantry, the Third Corps and the Twelfth would have been so hardly
pressed that Chancellorsville, Hazel Grove, and the White House would
have fallen an easy prize to Jackson's bayonets. Anderson, with four
small brigades, was powerless to hold the force confronting him, and
marching rapidly northwards, Sickles had reached Hazel Grove before
Jackson fell. Here Pleasonton, with his batteries, was still in
position, and Hooker had not yet lost his head. As soon as Birney's
and Whipple's divisions had come up, forming in columns of brigades
behind the guns, Sickles was ordered to assail the enemy's 
flank and check his advance. Just before midnight the attack was
made, in two lines of battle, supported by strong columns. The night
was very clear and still; the moon, nearly full, threw enough light
into the woods to facilitate the advance, and the tracks leading
north-west served as lines of direction.

The attack, however, although gallantly made, gained no material
advantage. The preliminary movements were plainly audible to the
Confederates, and Lane's brigade, most of which was now south of the
plank road, had made every preparation to receive it. Against troops
lying down in the woods the Federal artillery, although fifty or
sixty guns were in action, made but small impression; and the dangers
of a night attack, made upon troops who are expecting it, and whose
morale is unaffected, were forcibly illustrated. The confusion in the
forest was very great; a portion of the assailing force, losing
direction, fell foul of Berry's division at the foot of the Fairview
heights, which had not been informed of the movement, and at least
two regiments, fired into from front and rear, broke up in panic.
Some part of the log breastworks which Jackson's advanced line had
occupied were recaptured; but not a single one of the assailants,
except as prisoners, reached the plank road. And yet the attack was
an exceedingly well-timed stroke, and as such, although the losses
were heavy, had a very considerable effect on the issue of the day's
fighting. It showed, or seemed to show, that the Federals were still
in good heart, that they were rapidly concentrating, and that the
Confederates might be met by vigorous counter-strokes. "The fact,"
said Stuart in his official dispatch, "that the attack was made, and
at night, made me apprehensive of a repetition of it."

So, while Jackson slept through the hours of darkness that should
have seen the consummation of his enterprise, his soldiers lay beside
their arms; and the Federals, digging, felling, and building,
constructed a new line of parapet, protected by abattis, and
strengthened by a long array of guns, on the slopes of Fairview and
Hazel Grove. The respite which the fall of the Confederate leader had
brought them was not neglected; the fast-spreading panic was stayed;
the First Army Corps, rapidly crossing the Rappahannock, secured the
road to the White House, and Averell's division of cavalry reached
Ely's Ford.

May 3.

On the , between Chancellorsville and the river, where a young
Federal colonel, named Miles,* (* Commander-in-Chief, U.S. Army,
1898.) handled his troops with conspicuous skill, Lee's continuous
attacks had been successfully repulsed, and at dawn on the morning of
May 3 the situation of the Union army was far from unpromising. A gap
of nearly two miles intervened between the Confederate wings, and
within this gap, on the commanding heights of Hazel Grove and
Fairview, the Federals were strongly intrenched. An opportunity for
dealing a crushing counterblow--for holding one portion of Lee's army
in check while the other was overwhelmed--appeared to present itself.
The only question was whether the morale of the general and the men
could be depended upon.

In Stuart, however, Hooker had to deal with a soldier who was no
unworthy successor of Stonewall Jackson. Reluctantly abandoning the
idea of a night attack, the cavalry general, fully alive to the
exigencies of the situation, had determined to reduce the interval
between himself and Lee; and during the night the artillery was
brought up to the front, and the batteries deployed wherever they
could find room. Just before the darkness began to lift, orders were
received from Lee that the assault was to be made as early as
possible; and the  wing, swinging round in order to come abreast
of the centre,


became hotly engaged. Away to the south-east, across the hills held
by the Federals, came the responding thunder of Lee's guns; and
40,000 infantry, advancing through the woods against front and flank,
enveloped in a circle of fire a stronghold which was held by over
60,000 muskets.

It is unnecessary to describe minutely the events of the morning. The
Federal troops, such as were brought into action, fought well; but
Jackson's tremendous attack had already defeated Hooker. Before
Sickles made his night attack from Hazel Grove he had sent orders for
Sedgwick to move at once, occupy Fredericksburg, seize the heights,
and march westward by the plank road; and, at the same time, he had
instructed his engineers to select and fortify a position about a
mile in rear of Chancellorsville. So, when Stuart pressed forward,
not only had this new position been occupied by the First and Fifth
Army Corps, but the troops hitherto in possession of Hazel Grove were
already evacuating their intrenchments.

These dispositions sufficiently attest the demoralisation of the
Federal commander. As the historian of the Army of the Potomac puts
it: "The movement to be executed by Sedgwick was precisely one of
those movements which, according as they are wrought out, may be
either the height of wisdom or the height of folly. Its successful
accomplishment certainly promised very brilliant results. It is easy
to see how seriously Lee's safety would be compromised if, while
engaged with Hooker in front, he should suddenly find a powerful
force assailing his rear, and grasping already his direct line of
communication with Richmond. But if, on the other hand, Lee should be
able by any slackness on the part of his opponent to engage him in
front with a part of his force, while he should turn swiftly round to
assail the isolated moving column, it is obvious that he would be
able to repulse or destroy that column, and then by a vigorous
return, meet or attack his antagonist's main body. In the successful
execution of this plan not only was Sedgwick bound to the most
energetic action, but Hooker also was engaged by every consideration
of honour and duty to so act as to make the dangerous task he had
assigned to Sedgwick possible."* (1 Campaigns of the Army of the
Potomac, pages 241 to 242.)

But so far from aiding his subordinate by a heavy counter-attack on
Lee's front, Hooker deliberately abandoned the Hazel Grove salient,
which, keeping asunder the Confederate wings, strongly facilitated
such a manoeuvre; and more than this, he divided his own army into
two portions, of which the rear, occupying the new position, was
actually forbidden to reinforce the front.

It is possible that Hooker contemplated an early retreat of his whole
force to the second position. If so, Lee and Stuart were too quick
for him. The cavalry commander, as soon as it became light, and the
hills and undulations of the Wilderness emerged from the shadows,
immediately recognised the importance of Hazel Grove. The hill was
quickly seized; thirty pieces of artillery, established on the crest,
enfiladed the Federal batteries, facing west, on the heights of
Fairview; and the brigade on Stuart's extreme  was soon in touch
with the troops directed by General Lee. Then against the three sides
of the Federal position the battle raged. From the south and
south-east came Anderson and McLaws, the batteries unlimbering on
every eminence, and the infantry, hitherto held back, attacking with
the vigour which their gallant commanders knew so well how to
inspire. And from the west, formed in three lines, Hill's division to
the front, came the Second Army Corps. The men knew by this time that
the leader whom they trusted beyond all others had been struck down,
that he was lying wounded, helpless, far away in rear. Yet his spirit
was still with them. Stuart, galloping along the ranks, recalled him
with ringing words to their memories, and as the bugles sounded the
onset, it was with a cry of "Remember Jackson!" that his soldiers
rushed fiercely upon the Federal breastworks.

The advanced line, within the forest, was taken at the first rush;
the second, at the foot of the Fairview heights, protected by a
swampy stream, a broad belt of abattis, and with thirty guns on the
hill behind, proved far more formidable, and Hill's division was
forced back. But Rodes and Colston were in close support. The fight
was speedily renewed; and then came charge and counter-charge; the
storm of the parapets; the rally of the defenders; the rush with the
bayonet; and, mowing down men like grass, the fearful sweep of case
and canister. Twice the Confederates were repulsed. Twice they
reformed, brigade mingled with brigade, regiment with regiment, and
charged again in the teeth of the thirty guns.

On both sides ammunition began to fail; the brushwood took fire, the
ground became hot beneath the foot, and many wounded perished
miserably in the flames. Yet still, with the tangled abattis dividing
the opposing lines, the fight went on; both sides struggling
fiercely, the Federals with the advantage of position, the
Confederates of numbers, for Hooker refused to reinforce his gallant
troops. At length the guns which Stuart had established on Hazel
Grove, crossing their fire with those of McLaws and Anderson, gained
the upper hand over the Union batteries. The storm of shell, sweeping
the Fairview plateau, took the breastworks in reverse; the Northern
infantry, after five hours of such hot battle as few fields have
witnessed, began sullenly to yield, and as Stuart, leading the last
charge, leapt his horse over the parapet, the works were evacuated,
and the tattered colours of the Confederates waved in triumph on the
hill.

"The scene," says a staff-officer, "can never be effaced from the
minds of those that witnessed it. The troops were pressing forward
with all the ardour and enthusiasm of combat. The white smoke of
musketry fringed the front of battle, while the artillery on the
hills in rear shook the earth with its thunder and filled the air
with the wild shrieking of the shells that plunged into the masses of
the retreating foe. To add greater horror and sublimity to the scene,
the Chancellorsville House and the woods surrounding it were wrapped
in flames. It was then that General Lee rode to the front of his
advancing battalions. His presence was the signal for one of those
uncontrollable out-bursts of enthusiasm which none can appreciate who
have not witnessed them.

"The fierce soldiers, with their faces blackened with the smoke of
battle, the wounded, crawling with feeble limbs from the fury of the
devouring flames, all seemed possessed of a common impulse. One long,
unbroken cheer, in which the feeble cry of those who lay helpless on
the earth blended with the strong voices of those who still fought,
hailed the presence of the victorious chief.

"His first care was for the wounded of both armies, and he was among
the foremost at the burning mansion, where some of them lay. But at
that moment, when the transports of his troops were drowning the roar
of battle with acclamations, a note was brought to him from General
Jackson. It was handed to him as he sat on his horse near the
Chancellorsville House, and unable to open it with his gauntleted
hands, he passed it to me with directions to read it to him. I shall
never forget the look of pain and anguish that passed over his face
as he listened. In a voice broken with emotion he bade me say to
General Jackson that the victory was his. I do not know how others
may regard this incident, but for myself, as I gave expression to the
thoughts of his exalted mind, I forgot the genius that won the day in
my reverence for the generosity that refused its glory."

Lee's reply ran:--

"General,--I have just received your note, informing me that you were
wounded. I cannot express my regret at the occurrence. Could I have
directed events, I should have chosen for the good of the country to
be disabled in your stead.

"I congratulate you upon the victory, which is due to your skill and
energy.

"Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

"R. E. LEE, General."

Such was the tribute, not the less valued that it was couched in no
exaggerated terms, which was brought to the bedside in the quiet
hospital. Jackson was almost alone. As the sound of cannon and
musketry, borne across the forest, grew gradually louder, he had
ordered all those who had remained with him, except Mr. Smith, to
return to the battle-field and attend to their different duties.

His side, injured by his fall from the litter, gave him much pain,
but his thoughts were still clear, and his speech coherent. "General
Lee," he said, when his aide-de-camp read to him the
Commander-in-Chief's brief words, "is very kind, but he should give
the praise to God."

During the day the pain gradually ceased; the general grew ber,
and from those who visited the hospital he inquired minutely about
the battle and the troops engaged. When conspicuous instances of
courage were related his face lit up with enthusiasm, and he uttered
his usual "Good, good," with unwonted energy when the gallant
behaviour of his old command was alluded to. "Some day," he said,
"the men of that brigade will be proud to say to their children, "I
was one of the Stonewall Brigade." He disclaimed all  of his own
to the name Stonewall: "It belongs to the brigade and not to me.""
That night he slept well, and was free from pain.

Meanwhile the Confederate army, resting on the heights of
Chancellorsville, preparatory to an attack upon Hooker's second
stronghold, had received untoward news. Sedgwick, at eleven o'clock
in the morning, had carried Marye's Hill, and, driving Early before
him, was moving up the plank road. Wilcox' brigade of Anderson's
division, then at Banks' Ford, was ordered to retard the advance of
the hostile column. McLaws was detached to Salem Church. The Second
Army Corps and the rest of Anderson's division remained to hold
Hooker in check, and for the moment operations at Chancellorsville
were suspended.

McLaws, deploying his troops in the forest, two hundred and fifty
yards from a wide expanse of cleared ground, pushed his skirmishers
forward to the edge, and awaited the attack of a superior force.
Reserving his fire to close quarters, its effect was fearful. But the
Federals pushed forward; a school-house occupied as an advanced post
was captured, and at this point Sedgwick was within an ace of
breaking through. His second line, however, had not yet deployed, and
a vigorous counterstroke, delivered by two brigades, drove back the
whole of his leading division in great disorder. As night fell the
Confederates, careful not to expose themselves to the Union reserves,
retired to the forest, and Sedgwick, like Hooker, abandoned all
further idea of offensive action.

The next morning Lee himself, with the three remaining brigades of
Anderson, arrived upon the scene. Sedgwick, who had lost 5000 men the
preceding day, May had fortified a position covering Banks' Ford, and
occupied it with over 20,000 muskets. Lee, with the divisions of
McLaws, Anderson, and Early, was slightly stronger. The attack was
delayed, for the Federals held strong ground, difficult to
reconnoitre; but once begun the issue was soon decided. Assailed in
front and flanks, with no help coming from Hooker, and only a single
bridge at Banks' Ford in rear, the Federals rapidly gave ground.

Darkness, however, intensified by a thick fog, made pursuit
difficult, and Sedgwick re-crossed the river with many casualties but
in good order. During these operations, that is, from four o'clock on
Sunday afternoon until after midnight on Monday, Hooker had not moved
a single man to his subordinate's assistance.* (* It is but fair,
however, to state that Hooker, during the cannonade which preceded
the final assault at Chancellorsville, had been severely bruised by a
fall of masonry.) So extraordinary a situation has seldom been seen
in war: an army of 60,000 men, strongly fortified, was held in check
for six-and-thirty hours by 20,000; while not seven miles away raged
a battle on which the whole fate of the campaign depended.

Lee and Jackson had made no false estimate of Hooker's incapacity.
Sedgwick's army corps had suffered so severely in men and in moral
that it was not available for immediate service, even had it been
transferred to Chancellorsville; and Lee was now free to concentrate
his whole force against the main body of the Federal army. His men,
notwithstanding their extraordinary exertions, were confident of
victory.

May 5.

"As I sheltered myself," says an eye-witness, "in a little farmhouse
on the plank road the brigades of Anderson's division came splashing
through the mud, in wild tumultuous spirits, singing, shouting,
jesting, heedless of soaking rags, drenched to the skin, and burning
again to mingle in the mad revelry of battle."* (* Hon. Francis
Lawley, the Times, June 16, 1863.) But it was impossible to push
forward, for a violent rain-storm burst upon the Wilderness, and the
spongy soil, saturated with the deluge, absolutely precluded all
movement across country. Hooker, who had already made preparations
for retreat, took advantage of the weather, and as soon as darkness
set in put his army in motion for the bridges.

May 6.

By eight o'clock on the morning of the 6th the whole force had
crossed; and when the Confederate patrols pushed forward, Lee found
that his victim had escaped.

The Army of the Potomac returned to its old camp on the hills above
Fredericksburg, and Lee reoccupied his position on the opposite
ridge. Stoneman, who had scoured the whole country to within a few
miles of Richmond, returned to Kelly's Ford on May 8. The raid had
effected nothing. The damage done to the railroads and canals was
repaired by the time the raiders had regained the Rappahannock. Lee's
operations at Chancellorsville had not been affected in the very
slightest degree by their presence in his rear, while Stoneman's
absence had proved the ruin of the Federal army. Jackson, who had
been removed by the Commander-in-Chief's order to Mr. Chandler's
house, near Gurney's Station, on the morning of May 5, was asked what
he thought of Hooker's plan of campaign. His reply was: "It was in
the main a good conception, an excellent plan. But he should not have
sent away his cavalry; that was his great blunder. It was that which
enabled me to turn him without his being aware of it, and to take him
in the rear. Had he kept his cavalry with him, his plan would have
been a very good one." This was not his only comment on the great
battle. Among other things, he said that he intended to cut the
Federals off from the United States Ford, and, taking a position
between them and the river, oblige them to attack him, adding, with a
smile, "My men sometimes fail to drive the enemy from a position, but
they always fail to drive us away." He spoke of General Rodes, and
alluded in high terms to his splendid behaviour in the attack on
Howard. He hoped he would be promoted, and he said that promotion
should be made at once, upon the field, so as to act as an incentive
to gallantry in others. He spoke of Colonel Willis, who had commanded
the skirmishers, and praised him very highly, and referred most
feelingly to the death of Paxton, the commander of the Stonewall
Brigade, and of Captain Boswell, his chief engineer. In speaking of
his own share in the victory he said: "Our movement was a great
success; I think the most successful military movement of my life.
But I expect to receive far more credit for it than I deserve. Most
men will think I planned it all from the first; but it was not so. I
simply took advantage of circumstances as they were presented to me
in the providence of God. I feel that His hand led me--let us give
Him the glory."

It must always be an interesting matter of speculation what the
result would have been had Jackson accomplished his design, on the
night he fell, of moving a large part of his command up the White
House road, and barring the only line of retreat  open to the
Federals.

Hooker, it is argued, had two corps in position which had been hardly
engaged, the Second and the Fifth; and another, the First, under
Reynolds, was coming up. Of these, 25,000 men might possibly, could
they have been manoeuvred in the forest, have been sent to drive
Jackson back. And, undoubtedly, to those who think more of numbers
than of human nature, of the momentum of the mass rather than the
mental equilibrium of the general, the fact that a superior force of
comparatively fresh troops was at Hooker's disposal will be
sufficient to put the success of the Confederates out of court. Yet
the question will always suggest itself, would not the report that a
victorious enemy, of unknown strength, was pressing forward, in the
darkness of the night, towards the only line of retreat, have so
demoralised the Federal commander and the Federal soldiers, already
shaken by the overthrow of the Eleventh Army Corps, that they would
have thought only of securing their own safety? Would Hooker, whose
tactics the next day, after he had had the night given him in which
to recover his senses, were so inadequate, have done better if he had
received no respite? Would the soldiers of the three army corps not
yet engaged, who had been witnesses of the rout of Howard's
divisions, have fared better, when they heard the triumphant yells of
the advancing Confederates, than the hapless Germans? "The wounding
of Jackson," says a most careful historian of the battle, himself a
participator in the Union disaster, "was a most fortunate circumstance
for the Army of the Potomac. At nine o'clock the capture or
destruction of a large part of the army seemed inevitable. There was,
at the time, great uncertainty and a feeling akin to panic prevailing
among the Union forces round Chancellorsville; and when we consider
the position of the troops at this moment, and how many important
battles have been won by trivial flank attacks--how Richepanse
(attacking through the forest) with a single brigade ruined the
Austrians at Hohenlinden--we must admit that the Northern army was in
great peril when Jackson arrived within one thousand yards of its
vital point (the White House) with 20,000 men and 50 cannon."* (*
Chancellorsville, Lt.-Colonel A.C. Hamlin.) He must be a great leader
indeed who, when his flank is suddenly rolled up and his line of
retreat threatened, preserves sufficient coolness to devise a general
counterstroke. Jackson had proved himself equal to such a situation
at Cedar Run, but it is seldom in these circumstances that Providence
sides with the "big battalions."

The Federal losses in the six days' battles were heavy: over 12,000
at Chancellorsville, and 4700 at Fredericksburg, Salem Church, and
Banks' Ford; a total of 17,287. The army lost 13 guns, and nearly
6000 officers and men were reported either captured or missing.

The casualties were distributed as follows:--

First Army Corps.                 185
Second   ,,                     1,925
Third,   ,,                     4,119
Fifth    ,,                       700
Sixth    ,,                     4,590
Eleventh ,,                     2,412
Twelfth  ,,                     2,822
Pleasonton's Cavalry Brigade      141
                               ------
                               16,844

The Confederate losses were hardly less severe. The killed and
wounded were as under:--

SECOND ARMY CORPS.
A.P. Hill's Division            2,583
Rodes'         ,,               2,178
Colston's      ,,               1,868
Early's        ,,                 851
Anderson's     ,,               1,180
McLaws'        ,,               1,879
Artillery                         227
Cavalry                            11
Prisoners (estimated)           2,000
                               ------
                               12,277

But a mere statement of the casualties by no means represents the
comparative loss of the opposing forces. Victory does not consist in
merely killing and maiming a few thousand men. This is the visible
result; it is the invisible that tells. The Army of the Potomac, when
it retreated across the Rappahannock, was far stronger in mere
numbers than the Army of Northern Virginia; but in reality it was far
weaker, for the moral of the survivors, and of the general who led
them, was terribly affected. That of the Confederates, on the other
hand, had been sensibly elevated, and it is moral, not numbers, which
is the strength of armies. What, after all, was the loss of 12,200
soldiers to the Confederacy? In that first week of May there were
probably 20,000 conscripts in different camps of instruction, more
than enough to recruit the depleted regiments to full strength. Nor
did the slaughter of Chancellorsville diminish to any appreciable
degree the vast hosts of the Union.

And yet the Army of the Potomac had lost more than all the efforts of
the Government could replace. The Army of Virginia, on the other
hand, had acquired a superiority of spirit which was ample
compensation for the sacrifice which had been made. It is hardly too
much to say that Lee's force had gained from the victory an increase
of strength equivalent to a whole army corps of 80,000 men, while
that of his opponent had been proportionately diminished. Why, then,
was there no pursuit?

It has been asserted that Lee was so crippled by his losses at
Chancellorsville that he was unable to resume operations against
Hooker for a whole month. This explanation of his inactivity can
hardly be accepted.

On June 16 and 18, 1815, at Quatre-Bras and Waterloo, the Anglo-Dutch
army, little larger than that of Northern Virginia, lost 17,000 men;
and yet on the 19th Wellington was marching in pursuit of the French;
nor did he halt until he arrived within sight of Paris. And on August
28, 29, and 30, 1862, at Groveton and the Second Manassas, Stonewall
Jackson lost 4000 officers and men, one-fifth of his force, but he
was not  in rear when Lee invaded Maryland. Moreover, after he
had defeated Sedgwick, on the same night that Hooker was recrossing
the Rappahannock, Lee was planning a final attack on the Federal
intrenchments, and his disappointment was bitter when he learned that
his enemy had escaped. If his men were capable of further efforts on
the night of May 5, they were capable of them the next day; and it
was neither the ravages of battle nor the disorganisation of the army
that held the Confederates fast, but the deficiency of supplies, the
damage done to the railways by Stoneman's horsemen, the weakness of
the cavalry, and, principally, the hesitation of the Government.
After the victory of Chancellorsville, strong hopes of peace were
entertained in the South. Before Hooker advanced, a large section of
the Northern Democrats, despairing of ultimate success, had once more
raised the cry that immediate separation was better, than a hopeless
contest, involving such awful sacrifices, and it needed all Lincoln's
strength to stem the tide of disaffection.

The existence of this despondent feeling was well known to the
Southern statesmen; and to such an extent did they count upon its
growth and increase that they had overlooked altogether the
importance of improving a victory, should the army be successful; so
now, when the chance had come, they were neither ready to forward
such an enterprise, nor could they make up their minds to depart from
their passive attitude. But to postpone all idea of counterstroke
until some indefinite period is as fatal in strategy as in tactics.
By no means an uncommon policy, it has been responsible for the loss
of a thousand opportunities.

Had not politics intervened, a vigorous pursuit--not necessarily
involving an immediate attack, but drawing Hooker, as Pope had been
drawn in the preceding August, into an unfavourable situation, before
his army had had time to recover--would have probably been initiated.
It may be questioned, however, whether General Lee, even when
Longstreet and his divisions joined him, would have been so strong as
he had been at the end of April. None felt more deeply than the
Commander-in-Chief that the absence of Jackson was an irreparable
misfortune. "Give him my affectionate regards," he said to an
aide-de-camp who was riding to the hospital; "tell him to make haste
and get well, and come back to me as soon as he can. He has lost his
 arm, but I have lost my ." "Any victory," he wrote
privately, "would be dear at such a price. I know not how to replace
him."

His words were prophetic. Exactly two months after Chancellorsville
the armies met once more in the clash of battle. During the first two
days, on the rolling plain round Gettysburg, a village of
Pennsylvania, four Federal army corps were beaten in succession, but
ere the sun set on the third Lee had to admit defeat.

And yet his soldiers had displayed the same fiery courage and
stubborn persistence which had carried them victorious through the
Wilderness. But his " arm" had not yet been replaced. "If," he
said after the war, with unaccustomed emphasis, "I had had Jackson at
Gettysburg I should have won the battle, and a complete victory there
would have resulted in the establishment of Southern independence."

It was not to be. Chancellorsville, where 130,000 men were defeated
by 60,000, is up to a certain point as much the tactical masterpiece
of the nineteenth century as was Leuthen of the eighteenth. But,
splendid triumph as it was, the battle bore no abiding fruits, and
the reason seems very clear. The voice that would have urged pursuit
was silent. Jackson's fall  Lee alone, bereft of his alter ego;
with none, save Stuart, to whom he could entrust the execution of
those daring and delicate manoeuvres his inferior numbers rendered
necessary; with none on whose resource and energy he could implicitly
rely. Who shall say how far his own resolution had been animated and
confirmed at other crises by the prompting and presence of the
kindred spirit? "They supplemented each other," said Davis, "and
together, with any fair opportunity, they were absolutely invincible."

Many a fierce battle still lay before the Army of Northern Virginia;
marvellous was the skill and audacity with which Lee manoeuvred his
ragged regiments in the face of overwhelming odds; fierce and
unyielding were the soldiers, but with Stonewall Jackson's death the
impulse of victory died away.

May 7.

It is needless to linger over the closing scene at Gurney's Station.
For some days there was hope that the patient would recover;
pneumonia, attributed to his fall from the litter as he was borne
from the field, supervened, and he gradually began to sink. On the
Thursday his wife and child arrived from Richmond; but he was then
almost too weak for conversation, and on Sunday morning it was
evident that the end was near.

May 10.

As yet he had scarcely realised his condition.

If, he said, it was God's will, he was ready to go, but he believed
that there was still work for him to do, and that his life would be
preserved to do it. At eleven o'clock Mrs. Jackson knelt by his side,
and told him that he could not live beyond the evening. "You are
fened, my child," he replied, "death is not so near; I may yet
get well." She fell upon the bed, weeping bitterly, and told him
again that there was no hope. After a moment's pause, he asked her to
call Dr. McGuire. "Doctor," he said, "Anna tells me I am to die
to-day; is it so?" When he was answered, he remained silent for a
moment or two, as if in intense thought, and then quietly replied,
"Very good, very good; it is all ."

About noon, when Major Pendleton came into the room, he asked, "Who
is preaching at headquarters to-day?" He was told that Mr. Lacy was,
and that the whole army was praying for him. "Thank God," he said;
"they are very kind to me." Already his strength was fast ebbing, and
although his face bened when his baby was brought to him, his
mind had begun to wander. Now he was on the battle-field, giving
orders to his men; now at home in Lexington; now at prayers in the
camp, Occasionally his senses came back to him, and about half-past
one he was told that he had but two hours to live. Again he answered,
feebly but firmly, "Very good; it is all ." These were almost his
last coherent words. For some time he lay unconscious, and then
suddenly he cried out: "Order A.P. Hill to prepare for action! Pass
the infantry to the front! Tell Major Hawks--" then stopped, leaving
the sentence unfinished. Once more he was silent; but a little while
after he said very quietly and clearly, "Let us cross over the river,
and rest under the shade of the trees," and the soul of the great
captain passed into the peace of God.


NOTE 1.

From General Lee's letter-book.

Lexington, Virginia, 25th January, 1866.

MRS. T.J. JACKSON:--

MY DEAR MRS. JACKSON,

Dr. Brown handed me your note of the 9th, when in Richmond on
business connected with Washington College. I have delayed replying
since my return, hoping to have sufficient time to comply with your
request. Last night I received a note from Mrs. Brown, enclosing one
from Dr. Dabney, stating that the immediate return of his manuscript
was necessary. I have not been able to open it; and when I read it
when you were here, it was for the pleasure of the narrative, with no
view of remark or correction; and I took no memoranda of what seemed
to be errors. I have not thought of them since, and do not know that
I can now recall them; and certainly have no desire that my opinions
should be adopted in preference to Dr. Dabney's...I am, however,
unable at this time to specify the battles to which my remark
particularly refers. The opinion of General Jackson, in reference to
the propriety of attacking the Federal army under General McClellan
at Harrison's Landing, is not, I think, correctly stated. Upon my
arrival there, the day after General Longstreet and himself, I was
disappointed that no opportunity for striking General McClellan, on
the retreat, or in his then position, had occurred, and went forward
with General Jackson alone, on foot; and after a careful
reconnaissance of the whole line and position, he certainly stated to
me, at that time, the impropriety of attacking. I am misrepresented
at the battle of Chancellorsville in proposing an attack in front,
the first evening of our arrival. On the contrary, I decided against
it, and stated to General Jackson, we must attack on our  as soon
as practicable; and the necessary movement of the troops began
immediately. In consequence of a report received about that time,
from General Fitzhugh Lee, describing the position of the Federal
army, and the roads which he held with his cavalry leading to its
rear, General Jackson, after some inquiry concerning the roads
leading to the Furnace, undertook to throw his command entirely in
Hooker's rear, which he accomplished with equal skill and boldness;
the rest of the army being moved to the  flank to connect with
him as he advanced. I think there is some mistake, too, of a regiment
of infantry being sent by him to the ford on the Rapidan, as
described by Dr. Dabney. The cavalry was ordered to make such a
demonstration. General Stuart had proceeded to that part of the field
to co-operate in General Jackson's movement, and I always supposed it
was his dismounted cavalry. As well as I now recollect, something is
said by Dr. Dabney as to General Jackson's opinion as to the
propriety of delivering battle at Sharpsburg. When he came upon the
field, having preceded his troops, and learned my reasons for
offering battle, he emphatically concurred with me. When I determined
to withdraw across the Potomac, he also concurred; but said then, in
view of all the circumstances, it was better to have fought the
battle in Maryland than to have  it without a struggle. After
crossing the Potomac, General Jackson was charged with the command of
the rear, and he designated the brigades of infantry to support
Pendleton's batteries. I believed General McClellan had been so
crippled at Sharpsburg that he could not follow the Confederate army
into Virginia immediately; but General Stuart was ordered, after
crossing the Potomac, to recross at once at Williamsport, threaten
his  flank, and observe his movements. Near daylight the next,
morning, General Pendleton reported to me the occurrence at
Shepherdstown the previous evening, and stated that he had made a
similar report to General Jackson, who was lying near me on the same
field. From his statement, I thought it possible that the Federal
army might be attempting to follow us; and I sent at once to General
Jackson to say that, in that event, I would attack it; that he must
return with his whole command if necessary; that I had sent to
Longstreet to countermarch the rest of the army; and that upon his
joining me, unless I heard from him to the contrary, I should move
with it to his support. General Jackson went back with Hill's
division, General Pendleton accompanying him, and soon drove the
Federals into Maryland with loss. His report, which I received on my
way towards the river, relieved my anxiety, and the order of the
march of the troops was again resumed. I have endeavoured to be as
brief as possible in my statement, and with the single object of
calling Dr. Dabney's attention to the points referred to, that he may
satisfy himself as to the correctness of his own statements; and this
has been done solely in compliance with your request. Other points
may have attracted my attention in the perusal of the narrative; but
I cannot now recall them, and do not know that those which have
occurred to me are of importance. I wish I could do anything to give
real assistance, for I am very anxious that his work should be
perfect.

With feelings of great esteem and regard, I am,

Very truly yours,

(Signed) R. E. LEE.

The production of this letter is due to the kindness of Dr. Henry A.
White, and of R. E. Lee, Esquire, of Washington, youngest son of
General Lee.


NOTE 2.

The following details, communicated to the author by one of Lee's
generals, as to the formations of the Confederate infantry, will be
found interesting:--

"Our brigades were usually formed of four or five regiments, each
regiment composed of ten companies. Troops furnished by the same
State were, as far as possible, brigaded together, in order to
stimulate State pride, and a spirit of healthy emulation.

"The regiment was formed for attack in line two-deep, covered by
skirmishers.

"The number of skirmishers, and the intervals between the men on the
skirmish line, depended altogether on the situation. Sometimes two
companies were extended as skirmishers; sometimes one company;
sometimes a certain number of men from several companies. In rear of
the skirmishers, at a distance ranging from three hundred to one
hundred and fifty paces, came the remainder of the regiment.

"When a regiment or a brigade advanced through a heavily wooded
country, such as the Wilderness, the point of direction was
established, and the officers instructed to conform to the movements
of the 'guide company' or 'guide regiment' as the case might be, the
'guide' company or regiment governing both direction and alignment.

"The maintenance of direction under such circumstances was a very
difficult matter. Our officers, however, were greatly assisted by the
rank and file, as many of the latter were accomplished woodsmen, and
accustomed to hunt and shoot in the dense forests of the South. Each
regiment, moreover, was provided with a  and a  'general
guide,' men selected for their special aptitudes, being good judges
of distance, and noted for their steadiness and skill in maintaining
the direction.

"Then, again, the line of battle was greatly aided in maintaining the
direction by the fire of the skirmishers, and frequently the line
would be formed with a flank resting on a trail or woods-road, a
ravine or watercourse, the flank regiment in such cases acting as the
guide: (at Chancellorsville, Jackson's divisions kept direction by
the turnpike, both wings looking to the centre.) In advancing through
thick woods the skirmish line was almost invariably strengthened, and
while the 'line of battle,' covered by the skirmishers, advanced in
two-deep line, bodies in rear usually marched in columns of fours,
prepared to come, by a 'forward into line,' to the point where their
assistance might be desired. I never saw the compass used in
wood-fighting. In all movements to attack it was the universal custom
for the brigade commander to assemble both field and company officers
to the 'front and centre,' and instruct them particularly as to the
purpose of the movement, the method in which it was to be carried
out, the point of direction, the guide regiment, the position of
other brigades, etc., etc. Like action was also taken by the
regimental commander when a regiment was alone.

"This precaution, I venture to think, is absolutely indispensable to
an orderly and combined advance over any ground whatever, and, so far
as my knowledge goes, was seldom omitted, except when haste was
imperative, in the Army of Northern Virginia. Practical experience
taught us that no movement should be permitted until every officer
was acquainted with the object in view, and had received his
instructions. I may add that brigade and regimental commanders were
most particular to secure their flanks and to keep contact with other
troops by means of patrols; and, also, that in thick woods it was
found to be of very great advantage if a few trustworthy men were
detailed as orderlies to the regimental commander, for by this means
he could most easily control the advance of his skirmishers and of
his line of battle.

"N.H. HARRIS,
General, late Army of Northern Virginia."


NOTE 3.

Before the campaign of 1864, the theatre of which embraced the region
between the Rappahannock and Petersburg, including the Wilderness,
corps of sharp-shooters, each 180 strong, were organised in many of
the brigades of Lee's army. These "light" troops undertook the
outpost, advanced, flank, and rear guard duties. The men were
carefully selected; they were trained judges of distance, skilful and
enterprising on patrol, and first-rate marksmen, and their rifles
were often fitted with telescopic sights. In order to increase their
confidence in each other they were subdivided into groups of fours,
which messed and slept together, and were never separated in action.
These corps did excellent service during the campaign of 1864.

</section>
<section id="29" fatherid="16" title="THE SOLDIER AND THE MAN.* (* Copy 1898 by Longmans, Green, -anddocsymbol- Co.)" lv="CHAPTER 2.25." priority="0" level="2">
To the mourning of a sore-stricken nation Stonewall Jackson was
carried to his rest. As the hearse passed to the Capitol, and the
guns which had so lately proclaimed the victory of Chancellorsville
thundered forth their requiem to the hero of the fight, the streets
of Richmond were thronged with a silent and weeping multitude. In the
Hall of Representatives, surrounded by a guard of infantry, the body
lay in state; and thither, in their thousands, from the President to
the maimed soldier, from the generals of the Valley army to wondering
children, borne in their mothers' arms, the people came to look their
last upon the illustrious dead. The open coffin, placed before the
Speaker's chair, was draped in the Confederate standard; the State
colours were furled along, the galleries; and the expression on the
face, firm and resolute, as if the spirit of battle still lingered in
the lifeless clay, was that of a great conqueror, wise in council,
mighty in the strife. But as the evening drew on the darkened
chamber, hung with deep mourning, and resounding to the clash of
arms, lost its sombre and martial aspect. Garlands of soft spring
flowers, the tribute of the women of Virginia, rose high above the
bier, and white pyramids of lilies, the emblems of purity and
meekness, recalled the blameless life of the Christian soldier.

From Richmond the remains were conveyed to Lexington, and, under the
charge of the cadets, lay for the night in the lecture-room of the
Institute, which Jackson had quitted just two years before. The next
morning he was buried, as he himself had wished, in the little
cemetery above the town.

Many were the mourners that stood around the grave, but they were few
in number compared with those whose hearts were present on those
silent hills. From the cities of the Atlantic coast to the far-off
settlements of Texas the news that Stonewall Jackson had fallen came
as a stunning blow. The people sorrowed for him with no ordinary
grief, not as a great man and a good, who had done his duty and had
gone to his reward, but as the pillar of their hopes and the
sheet-anchor of the Confederate cause. Nor will those familiar with
the further history of the Civil War, from the disaster of Gettysburg
to the surrender at Appomattox, question the truth of this mournful
presage. The Army of Northern Virginia became a different and less
manageable instrument after Chancellorsville. Over and over again it
failed to respond to the conceptions of its leader, and the failure
was not due to the soldiers, but to the generals. Loyal and valiant
as they were, of not one of his lieutenants could Lee say, as he had
said of Jackson, "Such an executive officer the sun never shone on. I
have but to show him my design, and I know that if it can be done it
will be done. No need for me to send or watch him. Straight as the
needle to the pole he advances to the execution of my purpose."* (*
Hon. Francis Lawley, the Times, June 16, 1863.)

These words have been quoted as an epitome of Jackson's military
character. "He was essentially," says Swinton, "an executive officer,
and in that sphere he was incomparable; but he was devoid of high
mental parts, and destitute of that power of planning a combination,
and of that calm, broad, military intelligence which distinguished
General Lee."* (* Campaigns of the Army of the Potomac page 289.) And
this verdict, except in the South, has been generally accepted. Yet
it rests on a most unsubstantial basis. Because Jackson knew so well
how to obey it is asserted that he was not well fitted for
independent command. Because he could carry out orders to the letter
it is assumed that he was no master of strategy. Because his will was
of iron, and his purpose, once fixed, never for a moment wavered, we
are asked to believe that his mental scope was narrow. Because he was
silent in council, not eager in expressing his ideas, and averse to
argument, it is implied that his opinions on matters of great moment
were not worth the hearing. Because he was shy and unassuming;
because he betrayed neither in face nor bearing, save in the heat of
battle, any unusual power or consciousness of power, it is hastily
concluded that he was deficient in the initiative, the breadth, and
the penetration which are the distinguishing characteristics of great
generals.

In these pages, however, it has been made clear that Jackson's quiet
demeanour concealed a vivid imagination, a fertile brain, and an
extraordinary capacity for far-reaching combinations. After he had
once made up his mind when and where to strike, it is true that his
methods of war were very simple, and his blows those of a
sledgehammer. But simplicity of design and vigour of execution are
often marks of the very highest military ability. "Genius," says
Napier, "is not extravagant; it is ardent, and it conceives great
projects; but it knows beforehand how to attain the result, and it
uses the simplest means, because its faculties are essentially
calculating, industrious, and patient. It is creative, because its
knowledge is vast; it is quick and peremptory, not because it is
presumptuous, but because it is well-prepared." And Swinton's verdict
would have been approved by few of the soldiers of the Civil War. It
was not the verdict of Lee. Significant indeed was the cry of the
great Confederate, the soul of truth as of generosity, when Jackson
was wounded: "Could I have directed events, I should have chosen, for
the good of the country, to have been disabled in your stead." It was
not the verdict of the Southern people. "No man," it was said by one
who knew them well, "had so magnificent prospect before him as
General Jackson. Whether he desired it or not, he could not have
escaped being Governor of Virginia, and also, in the opinion of
competent judges, sooner or later President of the Confederacy."* (*
Hon. Francis Lawley, the Times June 11, 1863.) Nor was it the verdict
of the foe. "Stonewall Jackson," wrote General Howard, commanding the
Eleventh Corps at Chancellorsville, "was victorious. Even his enemies
praise him; but, providentially for us, it was the last battle he
waged against the American Union. For, in bold planning, in energy of
execution, which he had the power to diffuse, in indefatigable
activity and moral ascendency, he stood head and shoulders above his
confreres, and after his death General Lee could not replace him."*
(* Battles and Leaders volume 3 page 202.)

It can hardly be questioned that, at the time of his death, Jackson
was the leader most trusted by the Confederates and most dreaded by
the Federals. His own soldiers, and with them the whole population of
the South, believed him capable of any task, invincible except by
fate. It never, indeed, fell to Jackson's lot to lead a great army or
to plan a great campaign. The operations in the Valley, although
decisive in their results, were comparatively insignificant, in
respect both of the numbers employed and of the extent of the
theatre. Jackson was not wholly independent. His was but a secondary
role, and he had to weigh at every turn the orders and instructions
of his superiors. His hand was never absolutely free. His authority
did not reach beyond certain limits, and his operations were confined
to one locality. He was never permitted to cross the border, and
"carry the war into Africa." Nor when he joined Lee before Richmond
was the restraint removed. In the campaign against Pope, and in the
reduction of Harper's Ferry, he was certainly entrusted with tasks
which led to a complete severance from the main body, but the
severance was merely temporary. He was the most trusted of Lee's
lieutenants, but he was only a lieutenant. He had never the same
liberty of action as those of his contemporaries who rose to historic
fame--as Lee himself, as Johnston or Beauregard, as Grant, or
Sherman, or as Sheridan--and consequently he had never a real
opportunity for revealing the height and breadth of his military
genius.

The Civil War was prolific of great leaders. The young American
generals, inexperienced as they were in dealing with large armies,
and compelled to improvise their tactics as they improvised their
staff, displayed a talent for command such as soldiers more regularly
trained could hardly have surpassed. Neither the deficiencies of
their material nor the difficulties of the theatre of war were to be
lightly overcome; and yet their methods displayed a refreshing
originality. Not only in mechanical auxiliaries did the inventive
genius of their race find scope. The principles which govern
civilised warfare, the rules which control the employment of each
arm, the technical and mechanical arts, were rapidly modified to the
exigencies of the troops and of the country. Cavalry, intrenchments,
the railway, the telegraph, balloons, signalling, were all used in a
manner which had been hitherto unknown. Monitors and torpedoes were
for the first time seen, and even the formations of infantry were
made sufficiently elastic to meet the requirements of a modern
battle-field. Nor was the conduct of the operations fettered by an
adherence to conventional practice. From first to last the campaigns
were characterised by daring and often skilful manoeuvres; and if the
tactics of the battle-field were often less brilliant than the
preceding movements, not only are parallels to these tactics to be
found in almost every campaign of history, but they would probably
have escaped criticism had the opponent been less skilful. But among
the galaxy of leaders, Confederate and Federal, in none had the
soldiers such implicit confidence as in Stonewall Jackson, and than
the Southern soldiers, highly educated as many of them were, no
better judges of military capacity were ever known.

Nevertheless, the opinion of the soldiers is no convincing proof that
Jackson was equal to the command of a large army, or that he could
have carried through a great campaign. Had Lee been disabled, it
might be asked, would Jackson have proved a sufficient substitute?

It has already been explained that military genius shows itself first
in character, and, second, in the application of the grand principles
of warfare, not in the mere manipulation of armed masses. It cannot
well be denied that Jackson possessed every single attribute which
makes for success in war. Morally and physically he was absolutely
fearless. He accepted responsibility with the same equanimity that he
faced the bullets of the enemy. He permitted no obstacle to turn him
aside from his appointed path, and in seizing an opportunity or in
following up a victory he was the very incarnation of untiring
energy. He had no moments of weakness. He was not robust, and his
extraordinary exertions told upon his constitution. "My health," he
wrote to his wife in January 1863, "is essentially good, but I do not
think I shall be able in future to stand what I have already stood;"
and yet his will invariably rose superior to bodily exhaustion. A
supreme activity, both of brain and body, was a prominent
characteristic of his military life. His idea of strategy was to
secure the initiative, however inferior his force; to create
opportunities and to utilise them; to waste no time, and to give the
enemy no rest. "War," he said, "means fighting. The business of the
soldier is to fight. Armies are not called out to dig trenches, to
throw up breastworks, to live in camps, but to find the enemy and
strike him; to invade his country, and do him all possible damage in
the shortest possible time. This will involve great destruction of
life and property while it lasts; but such a war will of necessity be
of brief continuance, and so would be an economy of life and property
in the end. To move swiftly, strike vigorously, and secure all the
fruits of victory is the secret of successful war."

That he felt to the full the fascination of war's tremendous game we
can hardly doubt. Not only did he derive, as all true soldiers must,
an intense intellectual pleasure from handling his troops in battle
so as to outwit and defeat his adversary, but from the day he first
smelt powder in Mexico until he led that astonishing charge through
the dark depths of the Wilderness his spirits never rose higher than
when danger and death were rife about him. With all his gentleness
there was much of the old Berserker about Stonewall Jackson, not
indeed the lust for blood, but the longing to do doughtily and die
bravely, as best becomes a man. His nature was essentially
aggressive. He was never more to be feared than when he was
retreating, and where others thought only of strong defensive
positions he looked persistently for the opportunity to attack. He
was endowed, like Massena, "with that rare fortitude which seems to
increase as perils thicken. When conquered he was as ready to fight
again as if he had been conqueror." "L'audace, l'audace, et toujours
l'audace" was the mainspring of all his actions, and the very sights
and sounds of a stricken field were dear to his soul. Nothing had
such power to stir his pulses as the rebel yell. "I remember," says a
staff-officer, "one night, at tattoo, that this cry broke forth in
the camp of the Stonewall Brigade, and was taken up by brigades and
divisions until it rang out far over field and woods. The general
came hastily and bareheaded from his tent, and leaning on a fence
near by, listened in silence to the rise, the climax, and the fall of
that strange serenade, raising his head to catch the sound, as it
grew fainter and fainter and died away at last like an echo among the
mountains. Then, turning towards his tent, he muttered in half
soliloquy, "That was the sweetest music I ever heard.""

Yet least of all was Jackson a mere fighting soldier, trusting to his
lucky star and resolute blows to pull him through. He was not,
indeed, one of those generals who seek to win victories without
shedding blood. He never spared his men, either in marching or
fighting, when a great result was to be achieved, and he was content
with nothing less than the complete annihilation of the enemy. "Had
we taken ten sail," said Nelson, "and allowed the eleventh to escape,
when it had been possible to have got at her, I could never have
called it well done." Jackson was of the same mind. "With God's
blessing," he said before the Valley campaign, "let us make thorough
work of it." When once he had joined battle, no loss, no suffering
was permitted to stay his hand. He never dreamed of retreat until he
had put in his last reserve. Yet his victories were won rather by
sweat than blood, by skilful manoeuvring rather than sheer hard
fighting. Solicitous as he was of the comfort of his men, he had no
hesitation, when his opportunity was ripe, of taxing their powers of
endurance to the uttermost. But the marches which strewed the wayside
with the footsore and the weaklings won his battles. The enemy,
surprised and outnumbered, was practically beaten before a shot was
fired, and success was attained at a trifling cost.

Yet, despite his energy, Jackson was eminently patient. He knew when
to refuse battle, just as well as he knew when to deliver it. He was
never induced to fight except on his own terms, that is, on his own
ground, and at his own time, save at Kernstown only, and there the
strategical situation forced his hand. And he was eminently cautious.
Before he committed himself to movement he deliberated long, and he
never attacked until he had ample information. He ran risks, and
great ones, but in war the nettle danger must be boldly grasped, and
in Jackson's case the dangers were generally more apparent than real.
Under his orders the cavalry became an admirable instrument of
reconnaissance. He showed a marked sagacity for selecting scouts,
both officers and privates, and his system for obtaining intelligence
was well-nigh perfect. He had the rare faculty, which would appear
instinctive, but which is the fruit of concentrated thought allied to
a wide knowledge of war, of divining the intention of his adversary
and the state of his moral. His power of drawing inferences, often
from seemingly unimportant trifles, was akin to that of the hunter of
his native backwoods, to whom the rustle of a twig, the note of a
bird, a track upon the sand, speak more clearly than written
characters. His estimate of the demoralisation of the Federal army
after Bull Run, and of the ease with which Washington might have been
captured, was absolutely correct. In the middle of May, 1862, both
Lee and Johnston, notwithstanding Jackson's victory over Milroy,
anticipated that Banks would leave the Valley. Jackson thought
otherwise, and Jackson was . After the bloody repulse at Malvern
Hill, when his generals reported the terrible confusion in the
Confederate ranks, he simply stated his opinion that the enemy was
retreating, and went to sleep again. A week later he suggested that
the whole army should move against Pope, for McClellan, he said,
would never dare to march on Richmond. At Sharpsburg, as the shells
cut the trees to pieces in the West Wood, and the heavy masses of
Federal infantry filled the fields in front, he told his medical
director that McClellan had done his worst. At Fredericksburg, after
the first day's battle, he believed that the enemy was already
defeated, and, anticipating their escape under cover of the darkness,
he advised a night attack with the bayonet. His knowledge of his
adversary's character, derived, in great degree, from his close
observation of every movement, enabled him to predict with
astonishing accuracy exactly how he would act under given
circumstances.

Nor can he be charged in any single instance with neglect of
precautions by which the risks of war are diminished. He appears to
have thought out and to have foreseen--and here his imaginative power
aided him--every combination that could be made against him, and to
have provided for every possible emergency. He was never surprised,
never disconcerted, never betrayed into a false manoeuvre. Although
on some occasions his success fell short of his expectations, the
fault was not his; his strategy was always admirable, but fortune, in
one guise or another--the indiscipline of the cavalry, the
inefficiency of subordinates, the difficulties of the
country--interfered with the full accomplishment of his designs. But
whatever could be done to render fortune powerless that Jackson did.
By means of his cavalry, by forced marches, by the careful selection
of his line of march, of his camps, of his positions, of his
magazines, and lastly, by his consistent reticence, he effectually
concealed from the Federals both his troops and his designs. Never
surprised himself, he seldom failed to surprise his enemies, if not
tactically--that is, while they were resting in their camps--at least
strategically. Kernstown came as a surprise to Banks, McDowell to
Fremont. Banks believed Jackson to be at Harrisonburg when he had
already defeated the detachment at Front Royal. At Cross Keys and
Port Republic neither Fremont nor Shields expected that their flying
foe would suddenly turn at bay. Pope was unable to support Banks at
Cedar Run till the battle had been decided. When McClellan on the
Chickahominy was informed that the Valley army had joined Lee it was
too late to alter his dispositions, and no surprise was ever more
complete than Chancellorsville.

And the mystery that always involved Jackson's movements was
undoubtedly the result of calculation, He knew the effect his sudden
appearances and disappearances would have on the morale of the
Federal generals, and he relied as much on upsetting the mental
equilibrium of his opponents as on concentrating against them
superior numbers. Nor was his view confined to the field of battle
and his immediate adversary. It embraced the whole theatre of war.
The motive power which ruled the enemy's politics as well as his
armies was always his real objective. From the very first he
recognised the weakness of the Federal position--the anxiety with
which the President and the people regarded Washington--and on this
anxiety he traded. Every blow struck in the Valley campaign, from
Kernstown to Cross Keys, was struck at Lincoln and his Cabinet; every
movement, including the advance against Pope on Cedar Run, was
calculated with reference to the effect it would produce in the
Federal councils; and if he consistently advocated invasion, it was
not because Virginia would be relieved of the enemy's presence, but
because treaties of peace are only signed within sight of the hostile
capital.

It has been urged that the generals whom Jackson defeated were men of
inferior stamp, and that his capacity for command was consequently
never fairly tested. Had Grant or Sheridan, it is said, been pitted
against him in the Valley, or Sherman or Thomas on the Rappahannock,
his laurels would never have been won. The contention is fair.
Generals of such calibre as Banks and Fremont, Shields and Pope,
committed blunders which the more skilful leaders would undoubtedly
have avoided; and again, had he been pitted against a worthy
antagonist, Jackson would probably have acted with less audacity and
greater caution. It is difficult to conceive, however, that the fact
would either have disturbed his brain or weakened his resolution. Few
generals, apparently, have been caught in worse predicaments than he
was; first, when his army was near Harper's Ferry, and Fremont and
Shields were converging on his rear; second, when he lay in the woods
near Groveton, with no news from Longstreet, and Pope's army all
around him; third, when he was marching by the Brock road to strike
Hooker's , and Sickles' column struck in between himself and
Lee. But it was at such junctures as these that his self-possession
was most complete and his skill most marked. The greater the peril,
the more fixed became his purpose. The capacity of the opponent,
moreover, cannot be accepted as the true touchstone of generalship.
"The greatest general," said Napoleon, "is he who makes the fewest
mistakes," i.e. he who neither neglects an opportunity nor offers one.

Thus tested Jackson has few superiors. During the whole of the two
years he held command he never committed a single error. At
Mechanicsville, and again at Frayser's Farm, the failure to establish
some method of intercommunication  his column isolated; this,
however, was a failure in staff duties, for which the Confederate
headquarters was more to blame than himself. And further, how sure
and swift was the retribution which followed a mistake committed
within his sphere of action! What opportunity did Jackson miss? His
penetration was unerring; and when, after he had marked his prey, did
he ever hesitate to swoop? "What seemed reckless audacity," it has
been well said by one of the greatest of Southern soldiers, "was the
essence of prudence. His eye had caught at a glance the entire
situation, and his genius, with marvellous celerity and accuracy, had
weighed all the chances of success or failure. While, therefore,
others were slowly feeling their way, or employing in detail
insufficient forces, Jackson, without for one moment doubting his
success, hurled his army like a thunderbolt against the opposing
lines, and thus ended the battle at a single blow."* (* General J.B.
Gordon, Commanding 2nd Army Corps, Army of Northern Virginia.
"Jackson," says one of his staff, "never changed an order on the
battlefield when he had once given it. I have seen Ewell, Early, A.P.
Hill, and even Lee send an aide with an order, and in a few minutes
send another messenger to recall or alter it." Letter to the author.)

But if Jackson never failed to take advantage of his opponent's
blunders, it might be said that he sometimes laid himself open to
defeat. Grant and Sheridan, had they been in place of Shields and
Fremont, would hardly have suffered him to escape from Harper's
Ferry; Sherman would probably have crushed him at the Second
Manassas; Thomas would not have been surprised at Chancellorsville.
But Jackson only pushed daring to its limits when it was safe to do
so. He knew the men he had to deal with. And in whatever situation he
might find himself he invariably reserved more than one means of
escape.

On the field of battle his manoeuvres were always sound and often
brilliant. He never failed to detect the key-point of a position, or
to make the best use of the ground. On the defensive his flanks were
always strong and his troops concealed both from view and fire; on
the offensive he invariably attacked where he was least expected. He
handled the three arms, infantry, cavalry, and artillery, in the
closest combination and with the maximum of effect. Except at
Kernstown, where Garnett interfered, his reserve was invariably put
in at exactly the  moment, and he so manipulated his command
that he was always strongest at the decisive point. Nor did he forget
that a battle is only half won where there is no pursuit, and
whenever he held command upon the field, his troops, especially the
cavalry, were so disposed that from the very outset the enemy's
retreat was menaced. The soldiers, sharers in his achievements,
compared his tactical leading with that of others, and gave the palm
to Jackson. An officer of his staff, who served continuously with the
Army of Northern Virginia, says: "I was engaged in no great battle
subsequent to Jackson's death in which I did not see the opportunity
which, in my opinion, he would have seized, and have routed our
opponents; "* (* Major Hotchkiss, C.S.A.) and General Lane writes
that on many a hard-fought field, subsequent to Chancellorsville, he
heard his veterans exclaim: "Oh for another Jackson!"

Until Jackson fell the Army of Northern Virginia, except when his
advice was overruled, had never missed an opening. Afterwards it
missed many. Gettysburg, which should have been decisive of the war,
was pre-eminently a battle of lost opportunities, and there are
others which fall into the same category. It is a perfectly fair
assumption, then, that Jackson, so unerring was his insight, would
not only have proved an efficient substitute for Lee, but that he
would have won such fame as would have placed him, as it placed his
great commander, among the most illustrious soldiers of all ages.
With any of his contemporaries, not even excepting Lee, he compares
more than favourably. Most obedient of subordinates as he was, his
strategical views were not always in accordance with those of his
Commander-in-Chief. If Jackson had been in charge of the operations,
the disastrous battle of Malvern Hill would never have been fought;
Pope would have been cut off from the Rappahannock; McClellan would
have found the whole Confederate army arrayed against him at South
Mountain, or would have been attacked near Frederick; and Burnside
would have been encountered on the North Anna, where defeat would
probably have proved his ruin. It is difficult to compare him with
Lee. A true estimate of Lee's genius is impossible, for it can never
be known to what extent his designs were thwarted by the Confederate
Government. Lee served Mr. Davis; Jackson served Lee, wisest and most
helpful of masters. It would seem, however, that Jackson in one
respect was Lee's superior. His courage, physical and moral, was not
more brilliant or more steadfast; his tactical skill no greater; but
he was made of sterner stuff. His self-confidence was supreme. He
never doubted his ability, with God's help, to carry out any task his
judgment approved. Lee, on the other hand, was oppressed by a
consciousness of his own shortcomings. Jackson never held but one
council of war. Lee seldom made an important movement without
consulting his corps commanders. Jackson kept his subordinates in
their place, exacting from his generals the same implicit obedience
he exacted from his corporals. Lee lost the battle of Gettysburg
because he allowed his second in command to argue instead of
marching. Nor was that political courage, which Nelson declared is as
necessary for a commander as military courage, a component part of
Lee's character.* (* Lord Wolseley, Macmillan's Magazine, March,
1887.) On assuming command of the Army of Northern Virginia, in spite
of Mr. Davis' protestations, he resigned the control of the whole
forces of the Confederacy, and he submitted without complaint to
interference. Jackson's action when Loring's regiments were ordered
back by the Secretary of War is sufficient proof that he would have
brooked no meddling with his designs when once they had received the
sanction of the Cabinet. At the same time, it must remain
undetermined whether Jackson was equal to the vast responsibilities
which Lee bore with such steadfast courage; whether he could have
administered a great army, under the most untoward circumstances,
with the same success; whether he could have assuaged the jealousies
of the different States, and have dealt so tactfully with both
officers and men that there should have been no friction between
Virginians and Georgians, Texans and Carolinians.

It is probable that Jackson's temper was more akin to Grant's than
Lee's. Grant had the same whole-hearted regard for the cause; the
same disregard for the individual. He was just as ready as Jackson to
place a recalcitrant subordinate, no matter how high his rank, under
instant arrest, and towards the incompetent and unsuccessful he was
just as pitiless. Jackson, however, had the finer intellect. The
Federal Commander-in-Chief was unquestionably a great soldier,
greater than those who overlook his difficulties in the '64 campaign
are disposed to admit. As a strategist he ranks high. But Grant was
no master of stratagem. There was no mystery about his operations.
His manoeuvres were strong and straightforward, but he had no skill
in deceiving his adversary, and his tactics were not always of a high
order. It may be questioned whether on the field of battle his
ability was equal to that of Sherman, or of Sherman's great
antagonist, Johnston. Elsewhere he was their superior. Both Sherman
and Johnston were methodical rather than brilliant; patient,
confident, and far-seeing as they were, strictly observant of the
established principles of war, they were without a


touch of that aggressive genius which distinguished Lee, Grant, and
Jackson.

Nevertheless, to put Jackson above Grant is to place him high on the
list of illustrious captains. Yet the claim is not extravagant. If
his military characteristics are compared with those of so great a
soldier as Wellington, it will be seen that in many respects they run
on parallel lines. Both had perfect confidence in their own capacity.
"I can do," said Jackson, "whatever I will to do; "while the Duke,
when a young general in India, congratulated himself that he had
learned not to be deterred by apparent impossibilities. Both were
patient, fighting on their own terms, or fighting not at all. Both
were prudent, and yet, when audacity was justified by the character
of their opponent and the condition of his troops, they took no
counsel of their fears. They were not enamoured of the defensive, for
they knew the value of the initiative, and that offensive strategy is
the strategy which annihilates. Yet, when their enemy remained
concentrated, they were content to wait till they could induce him to
disperse. Both were masters of ruse and stratagem, and the Virginian
was as industrious as the Englishman. And in yet another respect they
were alike. "In issuing orders or giving verbal instruction,
Jackson's words were few and simple; but they were so clear, so
comprehensive and direct, that no officer could possibly
misunderstand, and none dared disobey."* (* General J.B. Gordon.)
Exactly the same terms might be applied to Wellington. Again,
although naturally impetuous, glorying in war, they had no belief in
a lucky star; their imagination was always controlled by
common-sense, and, unlike Napoleon, their ambition to succeed was
always subordinate to their judgment. Yet both, when circumstances
were imperative, were greatly daring. The attacks at Groveton and at
Chancellorsville were enterprises instinct with the same intensity of
resolution as the storm of Badajos and Ciudad Rodrigo, the passage of
the Douro, the great counterstroke of Salamanca. On the field of
battle the one was not more vigilant nor imperturbable than the
other, and both possessed a due sense of proportion. They knew
exactly how much they could effect themselves, and how much must be
 to others. Recognising that when once the action had opened the
sphere in which their authority could be exercised was very limited,
they gave their subordinates a free hand, issuing few orders, and
encouraging their men rather by example than by words. Both, too, had
that "most rare faculty of coming to prompt and sure conclusions in
sudden exigencies--the certain mark of a master-spirit in war."* (*
Napier.) At Bull Run, Jackson was ordered to support Evans at the
Stone Bridge. Learning that the  was compromised, without a
moment's hesitation he turned aside, and placed his brigade in the
only position where it could have held its ground. At Groveton, when
he received the news that the Federal  wing was retreating on
Centreville across his front, the order for attack was issued almost
before he had read the dispatch. At Chancellorsville, when General
Fitzhugh Lee showed him the enemy's  wing dispersed and
unsuspecting, he simply turned to his courier and said, "Let the
column cross the road," and his plan of battle was designed with the
same rapidity as Wellington's at Salamanca or Assaye.

It has been already pointed out that Jackson's dispositions for
defence differed in no degree from those of the great Duke. His visit
to Waterloo, perhaps, taught the American soldier the value and
importance of concealing his troops on the defensive. It was not,
however, from Wellington that he learned to keep his plans to himself
and to use every effort to mislead his adversary. Yet no general, not
even Napoleon himself, brought about so many startling surprises as
Wellington. The passage of the Douro, the storm of the frontier
fortresses, the flank attack at Vittoria, the passage of the Adour,
the passage of the Bidassoa--were each and all of them utterly
unexpected by the French marshals; and those were by no means the
only, or the most conspicuous, instances. Was ever general more
surprised than Massena, when pursuing his retreating foe through
Portugal, in full anticipation of "driving the leopards into the
sea," he suddenly saw before him the frowning lines of Torres Vedras,
the great fortress which had sprung from earth, as it were, at the
touch of a magician's wand?

The dispatches and correspondence of the generals who were opposed to
Wellington are the clearest evidence of his extraordinary skill.
Despite their long experience, their system of spies, their excellent
cavalry, superior, during the first years of the Peninsular War, both
in numbers and training, to the English, it was seldom indeed that
the French had more than the vaguest knowledge of his movements, his
intentions, or his strength. On no other theatre of war--and they
were familiar with many--had they encountered so mysterious an enemy.
And what was the result? Constantly surprised themselves, they at
length hesitated to attack even isolated detachments. At Guinaldo, in
1812, Marmont, with 30,000 soldiers, refused to assault a ridge
occupied by no more than 13,000. The morning of Quatre-Bras, when
that important position was but thinly held, even Ney was reluctant
to engage. In the judgment of himself and his subordinates, who had
met Wellington before, the fact that there were but few red jackets
to be seen was no proof whatever that the whole allied army was not
close at hand, and the opportunity was suffered to escape. Other
generals have been content with surprising the enemy when they
advanced against him; Wellington and Jackson sought to do so even
when they were confined to the defensive.

And in still another respect may a likeness be found. Jackson's
regard for truth was not more scrupulous than Wellington's. Neither
declined to employ every legitimate means of deceiving their enemies,
but both were absolutely incapable of self-deception. And this
characteristic was not without effect on their military conduct.
Although never deterred by difficulties, they distinguished clearly
between the possible and the impossible. To gain great ends they were
willing to run risks, but if their plans are carefully considered, it
will be seen that the margin  to chance was small. The odds were
invariably in their favour. In conception as in execution obstacles
were resolutely faced, and they were constitutionally unable to close
their eyes to contingencies that might prove ruinous. The promise of
great results was never suffered to cajole them into ignoring the
perils that might beset their path. Imagination might display in
vivid colours the success that might accrue from some audacious
venture, but if one step was obscure the idea was unhesitatingly
rejected. Undazzled by the prospect of personal glory, they formed "a
true, not an untrue, picture of the business to be done," and their
plans, consequently, were without a flaw. Brilliant, indeed, were the
campaigns of Napoleon, and astonishing his successes, but he who had
so often deceived others in the end deceived himself. Accustomed to
the dark dealings of intrigue and chicanery, his judgment, once so
penetrating, became blunted. He believed what he wished to believe,
and not that which was fact. More than once in his later campaigns he
persuaded himself that the chances were with him when in reality they
were terribly against him. He trusted to the star that had befriended
him at Marengo and at Aspern; that is, he would not admit the truth,
even to himself, that he had been overdaring, that it was fortune,
and fortune alone, that had saved him from destruction, and Moscow
and Vittoria, Leipsic and Waterloo, were the result.

But although there was a signal resemblance, both in their military
characters as in their methods of war, between Wellington and
Jackson, the parallel cannot be pushed beyond certain well-defined
limits. It is impossible to compare their intellectual capacity.
Wellington was called to an ampler field and far heavier
responsibilities. Not as a soldier alone, but as financier,
diplomatist, statesman, he had his part to play. While Napoleon
languished on his lonely island, his great conqueror, the
plenipotentiary of his own Government, the most trusted counsellor of
many sovereigns, the adviser of foreign Administrations, was
universally acknowledged as the mastermind of Europe. Nor was the
mark which Wellington  on history insignificant. The results of
his victories were lasting. The freedom of the nations was restored
to them, and land and sea became the thoroughfares of peace. America,
on the other hand, owes no single material benefit to Stonewall
Jackson. In the cause of progress or of peace he accomplished
nothing. The principle he fought for, the  of secession, lives
no longer, even in the South. He won battles. He enhanced the
reputation of American soldiers. He proved in his own person that the
manhood of Virginia had suffered no decay. And this was all. But the
fruits of a man's work are not to be measured by a mere utilitarian
standard. In the minds of his own countrymen the memory of Wellington
is hallowed not so much by his victories, as by his unfaltering
honesty and his steadfast regard for duty, and the life of Stonewall
Jackson is fraught with lessons of still deeper import.

Not only with the army, but with the people of the South, his
influence while he lived was very great. From him thousands and ten
thousands of Confederate soldiers learned the self-denial which is
the root of all religion, the self-control which is the root of all
manliness.* (* See Note at end of volume.) Beyond the confines of the
camps he was personally unknown. In the social and political circles
of Richmond his figure was unfamiliar. When his body lay in state the
majority of those who passed through the Hall of Representatives
looked upon his features for the first time. He had never been called
to council by the President, and the members of the Legislature, with
but few exceptions, had no acquaintance with the man who acted while
they deliberated. But his fame had spread far and wide, and not
merely the fame of his victories, but of his Christian character. The
rare union of strength and simplicity, of child-like faith and the
most fiery energy, had attracted the sympathy of the whole country,
of the North as well as of the South; and beyond the Atlantic, where
with breathless interest the parent islands were watching the issue
of the mighty conflict, it seemed that another Cromwell without
Cromwell's ambition, or that another Wolfe with more than Wolfe's
ability, had arisen among the soldiers of the youngest of nations.
And this interest was intensified by his untimely end. When it was
reported that Jackson had fallen, men murmured in their dismay
against the fiat of the Almighty. "Why," they asked, "had one so pure
and so up been suddenly cut down?" Yet a sufficient answer was
not far to seek. To the English race, in whatever quarter of the
globe it holds dominion, to the race of Alfred and De Montfort, of
Bruce and Hampden, of Washington and Gordon, the ideal of manhood has
ever been a high one. Self-sacrifice and the single heart are the
attributes which it most delights to honour; and chief amongst its
accepted heroes are those soldier-saints who, sealing their devotion
with their lives, have won

Death's royal purple in the foeman's lines.

So, from his narrow grave on the green hillside at Lexington, Jackson
speaks with voice more powerful than if, passing peacefully away, in
the fulness of years and honours, he had found a resting-place in
some proud sepulchre, erected by a victorious and grateful
commonwealth. And who is there who can refuse to listen? His creed
may not be ours; but in whom shall we find a firmer faith, a mind
more humble, a sincerity more absolute? He had his temptations like
the rest of us. His passions were strong; his temper was hot;
forgiveness never came easily to him, and he loved power. He dreaded
strong liquor because he liked it; and if in his nature there were
great capacities for good, there were none the less, had it been once
perverted, great capacities for evil. Fearless and strong,
self-dependent and ambitious, he had within him the making of a
Napoleon, and yet his name is without spot or blemish. From his
boyhood onward, until he died on the Rappahannock, he was the very
model of a Christian gentleman:--

E'en as he trod that day to God, so walked he from his birth,
In simpleness, and gentleness, and honour, and clean mirth.

Paradox as it may sound, the great rebel was the most loyal of men.
His devotion to Virginia was hardly surpassed by his devotion to his
wife. And he made no secret of his absolute dependence on a higher
power. Every action was a prayer, for every action was begun and
ended in the name of the Almighty. Consciously and unconsciously, in
deed as in word, in the quiet of his home and in the tumult of
battle, he fastened to his soul those golden chains "that bind the
whole round earth about the feet of God." Nor was their burden heavy.
"He was the happiest man," says one of his friends, "I ever knew,"
and he was wont to express his surprise that others were less happy
than himself.

But there are few with Jackson's power of concentration. He fought
evil with the same untiring energy that he fought the North. His
relations to his moral duties were governed by the same strong
purpose, the same clear perception of the aim to be achieved, and of
the means whereby it was to be achieved, as his manoeuvres on the
field of battle. He was always thorough. And it was because he was
thorough--true, steadfast, and consistent, that he reached the heroic
standard. His attainments were not varied. His interests, so far as
his life's work was concerned, were few and narrow. Beyond his
religion and the army he seldom permitted his thoughts to stray. His
acquaintance with art was small. He meddled little with politics. His
scholarship was not profound, and he was neither sportsman nor
naturalist. Compared with many of the prominent figures of history
the range of his capacity was limited.

And yet Jackson's success in his own sphere was phenomenal, while
others, perhaps of more pronounced ability, seeking success in many
different directions, have failed to find it in a single one. Even
when we contrast his recorded words with the sayings of those whom
the world calls great--statesmen, orators, authors--his inferiority
is hardly apparent. He saw into the heart of things, both human and
divine, far deeper than most men. He had an extraordinary facility
for grasping the essential and discarding the extraneous. His
language was simple and direct, without elegance or embellishment,
and yet no one has excelled him in crystallising great principles in
a single phrase. The few maxims which fell from his lips are almost a
complete summary of the art of war. Neither Frederick, nor
Wellington, nor Napoleon realised more deeply the simple truths which
ever since men first took up arms have been the elements of success;
and not Hampden himself beheld with clearer insight the duties and
obligations which devolve on those who love their country well, but
freedom more.

It is possible that the conflicts of the South are not yet ended. In
America men pray for peace, but dark and mysterious forces,
threatening the very foundations of civic liberty, are stirring even
now beneath their feet. The War of Secession may be the precursor of
a fiercer and a mightier struggle, and the volunteers of the
Confederacy, enduring all things and sacrificing all things, the
prototype and model of a new army, in which North and South shall
march to battle side by side. ABSIT OMEN! But in whatever fashion his
own countrymen may deal with the problems of the future, the story of
Stonewall Jackson will tell them in what spirit they should be faced.
Nor has that story a message for America alone. The hero who lies
buried at Lexington, in the Valley of Virginia, belongs to a race
that is not confined to a single continent; and to those who speak
the same tongue, and in whose veins the same blood flows, his words
come home like an echo of all that is noblest in their history: "What
is life without honour? Degradation is worse than death. We must
think of the living and of those who are to come after us, and see
that by God's blessing we transmit to them the freedom we have
ourselves inherited."


NOTE 1.

Mr. W.P. St. John, President of the Mercantile Bank of New York,
relates the following incident:--A year or two ago he was in the
Shenandoah Valley with General Thomas Jordan, C.S.A., and at the
close of the day they found themselves at the foot of the mountains
in a wild and lonely place; there was no village, and no house, save
a rough shanty for the use of the "track-walker" on the railroad. It
was not an attractive place for rest, yet here they were forced to
pass the night, and to sit down to such supper as might be provided
in so desolate a spot. The unprepossessing look of everything was
completed when the host came in and took his seat at the head of the
table. A bear out of the woods could hardly have been rougher, with
his unshaven hair and unkempt beard. He answered to the type of
border ruffian, and his appearance suggested the dark deeds that
might be done here in secret, and hidden in the forest gloom. Imagine
the astonishment of the travellers when this rough backwoodsman
rapped on the table and bowed his head. And such a prayer! "Never,"
says Mr. St. John, "did I hear a petition that more evidently came
from the heart. It was so simple, so reverent, so tender, so full of
humility and penitence, as well as of thankfulness. We sat in
silence, and as soon as we recovered ourselves I whispered to General
Jordan, 'Who can he be?' To which he answered, 'I don't know, but he
must be one of Stonewall Jackson's old soldiers.' And he was. As we
walked out in the open air, I accosted our new acquaintance, and
after a few questions about the country, asked, 'Were you in the
war?' 'Oh, yes,' he said with a smile, 'I was out with Old
Stonewall.'" Southern Historical Society Papers volume 19 page 871.


NOTE 2.

LIST OF KILLED AND WOUNDED (EXCLUDING PRISONERS) IN GREAt BATTLES
(The victorious side is given first)

(Column headings: 1, Name of battle; 2, Number of troops; 3, Killed and wounded; 4, Total; 5, Total percentage; 6, Percentage of victor.)

Blenheim, 1704       Allies, 56,000        11,000
                     French, 60,000        20,000   31,000   26   19
Ramilies, 1706       Allies, 60,000         3,600
                     French, 62,000         8,000   11,600    9    6
Oudenarde, 1708      Allies, 85,000        10,000
                     French, 85,000        10,000   20,000   11   11
Malplaquet, 1709     Allies, 100,000       14,000
                     French, 100,000       20,000   34,000   17   14
Dettingen, 1743      Allies, 37,000         2,350
                     French, 60,000         7,000    9,350    9    6
Fontenoy, 1745       French, 50,000         6,000
                     Allies, 40,000         7,300   13,300   14   12
Prague, 1757         Prussians, 64,000     12,000
                     Austrians, 60,000     10,000   22,000   17   18
Kollin, 1757         Austrians, 53,000      8,000
                     Prussians, 34,000     11,000   19,000   21   15
Rosbach, 1757        Prussians, 22,000        541
                     Allies, 46,000         4,000    4,541    6    2
Leuthen, 1757        Prussians, 30,000      6,000
                     Austrians, 80,000     10,000   16,000   14   20
Breslau, 1757        Austrians, 80,000      5,700
                     Prussians, 30,000      6,000   11,700   10    7
Zorndort, 1758       Prussians, 32,760     12,000
                     Russians, 52,000      20,000   32,000   38   37
Hochkirch, 1758      Austrians, 90,000      6,000
                     Prussians, 42,000      8,000   14,000   10    8
Crefeld, 1758        Allies, 33,000         1,700
                     French, 47,000         4,000    5,700    7    5
Zullichau, 1759      Russians, 72,000       4,800
                     Prussians, 27,500      6,000   10,800   10    6
Kunnersdorf, 1759    Allies, 70,000        14,000
                     Prussians, 43,000     17,000   31,000   27   20
Minden, 1759         Allies, 37,000         2,800
                     French and
                       Saxons, 52,000       7,000    9,800   11    7

Torgau, 1760         Prussians, 46,000     12,000
                     Austrians, 60,000     12,000   24,000   22   26
Leignitz, 1760       Prussians, 30,000      3,000
                     Austrians, 35,000      5,000    8,000   12   10
Lonato and           French, 44,000         7,000
  Castiglione, 1796  Austrians, 46,000     10,000   17,000   18   15
Rivoli, 1797         French, 18,000         4,500
                     Austrians, 28,000     10,000   14,500   30   25
Marengo, 1800        French, 28,000         5,000
                     Austrians, 30,000      8,000   13,000   22   17
Hohenlinden, 1800    French, 56,000         2,500
                     Austrians, 50,000     12,000   14,500   13    4
Austerlitz, 1805     French, 65,000         9,000
                     Allies, 83,000        16,000   25,000   16   13
Jena, 1806           French, 58,000         5,000
                     Prussians, 40,000     12,000   17,000   17    8
Auerstadt, 1806      French, 28,000         9,500
                     Prussians, 45,000      6,000   15,500   22   33
Eylau, 1807          French, 70,000        20,000
                     Russians, 63,500      22,000   42,000   33   28
Heilsberg, 1807      Russians, 84,000      10,000
                     French, 85,000        12,000   22,000   13   11
Friedland, 1807      French, 75,000        10,000
                     Russians, 67,000      24,000   34,000   23   18
Vimiero, 1808        English, 18,000          720
                     French, 14,000         2,000    2,720    8    4
Eckmuhl, 1809        French, 65,000         7,000
                     Austrians, 80,000      8,000   15,000   10   10
Aspern, 1809         Austrians, 75,000     20,000
                     French, 95,000        25,000   45,000   26   26
Wagram, 1809         French, 220,000       22,000
                     Austrians, 15,000     22,000   44,000   11   10
Talavera, 1809       English and
                       Spanish, 53,000      7,200
                     French, 56,000         8,300   15,500   14   13
Albuera, 1811        Allies, 32,000         6,750
                     French, 22,500         7,000   13,750   25   20
Salamanca, 1812      Allies, 44,000         5,000
                     French, 47,000        10,000   15,000   16   11
Borodino, 1812       French, 125,000       30,000
                     Russians, 138,000     45,000   75,000   28   24
Bautzen, 1813        French, 190,000       12,000
                     Allies, 83,000        12,000   24,000    8    6
Vittoria, 1813       Allies, 83,000         5,000
                     French, 60,000         5,000   10,000    7    6
Leipsic, 1813        Allies, 290,000       42,000
                     French, 150,000       50,000   92,000   20   14

Orthez, 1814         Allies, 37,000         2,250
                     French, 40,000         3,800    6,050    7    6
Toulouse, 1814       Allies, 52,000         4,650
                     French, 38,000         5,900   10,550   11    9
La Rothiere, 1814    Allies, 80,000         6,500
                     French, 40,000         6,000   12,500   10    8
Montmirail, 1814     French, 25,000         2,000
                     Allies, 39,000         3,000    5,000    7    8
Laon, 1814           Allies, 60,000         2,000
                     French, 52,000         7,000    9,000    8    3
Ligny, 1815          French, 73,000        12,000
                     Prussians, 86,000     12,000   24,000   15   16
Quatre-Bras, 1815    Allies, 31,000         4,500
                     French, 21,500         4,200    8,700   16   14
Waterloo, 1815       Allies, 100,000       20,000
                     French, 70,000        22,000   42,000   24   20
Alma, 1854           Allies, 51,000         3,400
                     Russians, 35,000       5,700    9,100   10    6
Inkermann, 1854      Allies, 15,700         2,287
                     Russians, 68,000      10,500   13,787   15   21
Magenta, 1859        Allies, 48,000         4,500
                     Austrians, 60,000      6,500   11,000   10    9
Solferino, 1859      Allies, 135,000       16,500
                     Austrians, 160,000    15,000   31,500   10   11
Bull Run, 1861       Confederates, 18,000   1,969
                     Federals, 18,000       1,584    3,553    9   10
Perryville, 1862     Federals, 27,000       3,700
                     Confederates, 16,000   3,200    6,900   16   --
Shiloh, 1862         Federals, 58,000      12,000
                     Confederates, 40,000   9,000   21,000   20   20
Seven Pines, 1862    Federals, 51,000       5,031
                     Confederates, 39,000   6,134   11,165   12    9
Gaines' Mill, 1862   Confederates, 54,000   8,000
                     Federals, 36,000       5,000   13,000   14   14
Malvern Hill, 1862   Federals, 80,000       2,800
                     Confederates, 70,000   5,500    8,300    5    3
Cedar Run, 1862      Confederates, 21,000   1,314
                     Federals, 12,000       2,380    3,694   11    6
Second Manassas,     Confederates, 54,000   9,000
  1862               Federals, 73,000      13,000   22,000   17   16
Sharpsburg, 1862     Confederates, 41,000   9,500
                     Federals, 87,000      12,410   21,910   17   23
Fredericksburg, 1862 Confederates, 70,000   4,224
                     Federals, 120,000     12,747   16,971    8    6
Chickamauga, 1863    Confederates, 71,000  18,000
                     Federals, 57,000      17,100   35,100   12   17
Chancellorsville,    Confederates, 62,000  10,000
  1863               Federals, 130,000     14,000   24,000   12   17



Gettysburg, 1863     Federals, 93,000      19,000
                     Confederates, 70,000  18,000   37,000   24   20
Chattanooga, 1863    Federals, 60,000       5,500
                     Confederates, 33,000   3,000    8,500    8    9
Stone's River, 1863  Federals, 43,000       9,000
                     Confederates, 37,712   9,500   18,500   24   20
The Wilderness,      Confederates, 61,000  11,000
  1864               Federals, 118,000     15,000   26,000   14   18
Spotsylvania Court   Confederates, 50,000   8,000
  House, 1864        Federals, 100,000     17,000   25,000   16   16
Cold Harbour, 1864   Confederates, 58,000   1,700
                     Federals, 110,000     10,000   11,700    6    3
Nashville, 1864      Federals, 55,000       3,000
                     Confederates, 39,000   3,500    6,500    6    5
Koeniggraetz, 1866     Prussians, 211,000     8,894
                     Austrians, 206,000    18,000   26,894    6    4
Woerth, 1870          Germans, 90,000       10,642
                     French, 45,000         8,000   18,642   13   11
Spicheren, 1870      Germans, 37,000        4,871
                     French, 29,000         4,000    8,871   13   13
Colombey, 1870       Germans, 34,000        5,000
                     French, 54,000         3,700    8,700    9   14
Vionville, 1870      Germans, 70,000       15,800
                     French, 98,000        17,000   32,800   19   22
Gravelotte, 1870     Germans, 200,000      20,000
                     French, 120,000       10,000   30,000    9   10
Noisseville, 1870    Germans, 52,000        3,078
                     French, 100,000        3,542    6,620    4    5
Plevna, July 20,     Turks, 20,000          1,000
  1877               Russians, 7,000        2,850    3,850   13    5
Plevna, July 30,     Turks, 20,000          4,000
  1877               Russians, 30,000       7,300   11,300   22   20
Pelishat, Aug. 31,   Russians, 20,000       1,350
  1877               Turks, 15,000          1,000    2,350    7    6
Lovtcha, 1877        Russians, 20,000       1,500
                     Turks, 5,000           2,000    3,500   14    7
Plevna, Sep. 11,     Turks, 35,000          3,000
  1877               Russians, 80,000      16,000   19,000   16    8
Plevna, Dec. 10,     Russians, 24,000       2,000
  1877               Turks, 20,000          6,000    8,000   17    8
Aladja Dagh, 1877    Russians, 60,000       1,450
                     Turks, 35,000          4,500    5,950    6    2
Shipka, 1878         Russians, 25,000       5,500
                     Turks, 80,000             --       --   --   --
Tel-el-Kebir, 1882   English, 17,000          439
                     Egyptians, 25,000      3,000    3,439    9    2

Although this return has been compiled from the most trustworthy sources,
it can only be taken as approximately accurate.

BRITISH LOSSES
                                   Killed and
                         Strength   wounded    Percentage
 *Dettingen, 1743         12,000       821          6
 *Fontenoy, 1745          16,600     4,002         24
  Alexandria, 1801        12,000     1,521         12
*?Assaye, 1803             4,500     1,566         34
  Coruna, 1809            14,500     1,000          6
 *Talavera, 1809          20,500     6,250         30
 *Albuera, 1811            8,200     3,990         48
  Barossa, 1811            4,400     1,210         27
 *Salamanca, 1812         26,000     3,386         13
 *Quatre-Bras, 1815       12,000     2,504         20
 *Waterloo, 1815          23,991     6,932         29
 ?Maharajpore, 1843        6,000       790         13
 ?Moodkee, 1845            9,000       874          9
 ?Ferozeshah, 1845        16,000     2,415         15
 ?Aliwal, 1846            10,500       580          5
 ?Sobraon, 1846           15,500     2,063         13
 ?Chillianwalla, 1849     15,000     2,388         15
 *Alma, 1854              21,500     2,002          9
 *Inkermann, 1854          7,464     2,357         31


* In those marked by an asterisk the force formed part of an allied army.
? In these battles Indian troops took part.

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