Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War
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,[3] 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, 8,000 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’[4] 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 left, 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 left Gordonsville
unprotected, never entered into his calculations. A sudden attack
against his left 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 right 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 left 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.”[5]
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 manœuvre. 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, left 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,