Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War
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 right; Biney and Newton were in support; and
Doubleday, facing south, was engaged with Stuart’s dismounted troopers.
Twenty-one guns on the right, and thirty on the left, 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 left was quickly driven in.
Meade’s rear brigade was now brought up and deployed on the left 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 right, 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 left, 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 left, 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, left 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
right. 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
left 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 right 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 left nor right 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 left, 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 2,000 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,[9]
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 left 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 4,000 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 5,000,
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 left, 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, left, 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