Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War
prepare a defensive position; a ridge to the north, which commanded the
whole camp, was unoccupied; and, according to the Committee of Congress
which took evidence on the conduct of the war, “nothing but a heavy
rain, thereby preventing the enemy from bringing up their artillery,
saved the army from destruction.”[22] McClellan’s own testimony is even
more convincing. “The army,” he wrote on July 8, the second day after
the battle, “is thoroughly worn out and requires rest and very heavy
reinforcements. . . . I am in hopes that the enemy is as completely
worn out as we are. . . . The roads are now very bad; for these reasons
I hope we shall have enough breathing space to reorganise and rest the
men, and get them into position before the enemy can attack again. . .
. It is of course impossible to estimate as yet our losses, but I doubt
whether there are to-day more than 50,000 men with the colours.”[23]
As his army of 105,000 men, during the whole of the Seven Days, lost
only 16,000, the last admission, if accurate, is most significant.
Nearly half the men must either have been sick or straggling.
It was not because the Confederates were also worn out that the
Federals were given time to reorganise and to establish themselves in a
strong position. Jackson, the moment it was light, rode through the
rain to the front. Learning that the enemy had evacuated their
position, he ordered his chief of staff to get the troops under arms,
to form the infantry in three lines of battle, and then to allow the
men to build fires, cook their rations, and dry their clothes. By 11
o’clock the ammunition had been
replenished, and his four divisions were formed up. Longstreet’s
brigades had pushed forward a couple of miles, but no orders had
reached the Valley troops, and Major Dabney rode off to find his
general. “I was told,” he writes, “that he was in the Poindexter House,
a large mansion near Willis’ Church. Lee, Jackson, Dr. McGuire, and
Major Taylor of Lee’s staff, and perhaps others, were in the
dining-room. Asking leave to report to General Jackson that his orders
had been fulfilled, I was introduced to General Lee, who, with his
usual kindness, begged me to sit by the fire and dry myself. Here I
stayed much of the day, and witnessed some strange things. Longstreet,
wet and muddy, was the first to enter. He had ridden round most of the
battle-field, and his report was not particularly cheerful. Jackson was
very quiet, never volunteering any counsel or suggestion, but answering
when questioned in a brief, deferential tone. His countenance was very
serious, and soon became very troubled. After a time the clatter of
horses’ hoofs was heard, and two gentlemen came in, dripping. They were
the President and his nephew. Davis and Lee then drew to the table, and
entered into an animated military discussion. Lee told the President
the news which the scouts were bringing in, of horrible mud, and of
abandoned arms and baggage waggons. They then debated at length what
was to be done next. McClellan was certainly retiring, but whether as
beaten or as only manœuvring was not apparent, nor was the direction of
his retreat at all clear. Was he aiming for some point on the lower
James where he might embark and get away? or at some point on the upper
James—say Shirley, or Bermuda Hundred—where he could cross the river
(he had pontoons and gunboats) and advance on Richmond from the south?
Such were the questions which came up, and at length it was decided
that the army should make no movement until further information had
been received. The enemy was not to be pursued until Stuart’s cavalry,
which had arrived the previous evening at Nance’s Shop, should obtain
reliable information.
“Jackson, meanwhile, sat silent in his corner. I
watched his face. The expression, changing from surprise to dissent,
and lastly to intense mortification, showed clearly the tenor of his
thoughts. He knew that McClellan was defeated, that he was retreating
and not manœuvring. He knew that his troops were disorganised, that
sleeplessness, fasting, bad weather, and disaster must have weakened
their _moral_. He heard it said by General Lee that the scouts reported
the roads so deep in mud that the artillery could not move, that our
men were wet and wearied. But Jackson’s mind reasoned that where the
Federals could march the Confederates could follow, and that a decisive
victory was well worth a great effort.”[24]
July 3 The decision of the council of war was that the army should move
the next morning in the direction of Harrison’s Landing. Longstreet,
whose troops had not been engaged at Malvern Hill, was to lead the way.
But the operations of this day were without result. The line of march
was by Carter’s Mill and the river road. But after the troops had been
set in motion, it was found that the river road had been obstructed by
the enemy, and Lee directed Longstreet to countermarch to the Charles
City cross roads and move on Evelington Heights.[25] But ignorance of
the country and inefficient guides once more played into the enemy’s
hands, and when night closed the troops were still some distance from
the Federal outposts.
The delay had been exceedingly unfortunate. At 9 a.m. Stuart’s cavalry
had occupied the Evelington Heights, and, believing that Longstreet was
close at hand, had opened fire with a single howitzer on the camps
below. The consternation caused by this unlooked-for attack was great.
But the Federals soon recovered from their surprise, and, warned as to
the danger of their situation, sent out infantry and artillery to drive
back the enemy and secure the heights. Stuart, dismounting his
troopers, held on for some time; but at two o’clock, finding that the
Confederate infantry was still six or seven miles distant,
and that his ammunition was failing, he gave up the Heights, which were
immediately fortified by the enemy. Had the cavalry commander resisted
the temptation of spreading panic in the enemy’s ranks, and kept his
troops under cover, infantry and artillery might possibly have been
brought up to the Heights before they were occupied by the Federals. In
any case, it was utterly useless to engage a whole army with one gun
and a few regiments of cavalry, and in war, especially in advanced
guard operations, silence is often golden.[26] It was not till they
were warned by the fire of Stuart’s howitzer that the Federals realised
the necessity of securing and intrenching the Evelington Heights, and
it is within the bounds of possibility, had they been left undisturbed,
that they might have neglected them altogether. McClellan, according to
his letters already quoted, believed that the condition of the roads
would retard the advance of the enemy; and, as is evident from a letter
he wrote the same morning, before the incident took place, he was of
opinion that there was no immediate need for the occupation of a
defensive position.[27]
During this day the Valley divisions, crawling in rear of Longstreet,
had marched only three miles; and such sluggish progress, at so
critical a moment, put the climax to Jackson’s discontent. His wrath
blazed forth with unwonted vehemence. “That night,” says Dabney,[28]
“he was quartered in a farmhouse a mile or two east of Willis’ Church.
The soldier assigned to him as a guide made a most stupid report, and
admitted that he knew nothing of the road. Jackson turned on him in
fierce anger, and ordered him from his presence with threats of the
severest punishment. On retiring, he said to his staff, ‘Now,
gentlemen, Jim will have breakfast for you punctually at dawn. I expect
you to be up, to eat immediately, and be in the saddle without delay.
We must burn no more daylight.’ About daybreak I heard him tramping
down the stairs. I alone went out to meet him. All the rest were
asleep. He addressed me in
stern tones: ‘Major, how is it that this staff never will be punctual?’
I replied: ‘I am in time; I cannot control the others.’ Jackson turned
in a rage to the servant: ‘Put back that food into the chest, have that
chest in the waggon, and that waggon moving in two minutes.’ I
suggested, very humbly, that he had better at least take some food
himself. But he was too angry to eat, and repeating his orders, flung
himself into the saddle, and galloped off. Jim gave a low whistle,
saying: ‘My stars, but de general is just mad dis time; most like
lightnin’ strike him!’”
July 4 With the engagement on the Evelington Heights the fighting round
Richmond came to an end. When Lee came up with his advanced divisions
on the morning of the 4th, he found the pickets already engaged, and
the troops formed up in readiness for action. He immediately rode
forward with Jackson, and the two, dismounting, proceeded without staff
or escort to make a careful reconnaissance of the enemy’s position.
Their inspection showed them that it was practically impregnable. The
front, facing westward, was flanked from end to end by the fire of the
gunboats, and the Evelington Heights, already fortified, and approached
by a single road, were stronger ground than even Malvern Hill. The
troops were therefore withdrawn to the forest, and for the next three
days, with the exception of those employed in collecting the arms and
stores which the Federals had abandoned, they remained inactive.
July 8 On July 8, directing Stuart to watch McClellan, General Lee fell
back to Richmond.
The battles of the Seven Days cost the Confederates 20,000 men. The
Federals, although defeated, lost no more than 16,000, of whom 10,000,
nearly half of them wounded, were prisoners. In addition, however, 52
guns and 35,000 rifles became the prize of the Southerners; and vast as
was the quantity of captured stores, far greater was the amount
destroyed.
But the defeat of McClellan’s army is not to be measured by a mere
estimate of the loss in men and in materiel. The discomfited general
sought to cover his failure by a lavish employment of strategic
phrases. The
retreat to the James, he declared, had been planned before the battle
of Mechanicsville. He had merely manœuvred to get quit of an
inconvenient line of supply, and to place his army in a more favourable
position for attacking Richmond. He congratulated his troops on their
success in changing the line of operations, always regarded as the most
hazardous of military expedients. Their conduct, he said, ranked them
among the most celebrated armies of history. Under every disadvantage
of numbers, and necessarily of position also, they had in every
conflict beaten back their foes with enormous slaughter. They had
reached the new base complete in organisation and unimpaired in
spirit.[29]
It is possible that this address soothed the pride of his troops. It
certainly deluded neither his own people nor the South. The immediate
effect of his strategic manœuvre was startling.
5,000 men, the effective remnant of Shields’ division, besides several
new regiments, were sent to the Peninsula from the army protecting
Washington. General Burnside, who had mastered a portion of the North
Carolina coast, was ordered to suspend operations, to leave a garrison
in New Berne, and to bring the remainder of his army to Fortress
Monroe. Troops were demanded from General Hunter, who had taken the
last fort which defended Savannah, the port of Georgia.[30] The Western
army of the Union was asked to reinforce McClellan, and Lincoln called
on the Northern States for a fresh levy. But although 300,000 men were
promised him, the discouragement of the Northern people was so great
that recruits showed no alacrity in coming forward. The South, on the
other hand, ringing with the brilliant deeds of Lee and Jackson, turned
with renewed vigour to the task of resisting the invader. Richmond, the