Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War
beleaguered capital, although the enemy was in position not more than
twenty miles away, knew that her agony was over. The city was one vast
hospital. Many of the best and bravest of the Confederacy had fallen in
the Seven Days, and the voice of mourning hushed all sound
of triumph. But the long columns of prisoners, the captured cannon, the
great trains of waggons, piled high with spoil, were irrefragable proof
of the complete defeat of the invader.
When the army once more encamped within sight of the city it was
received as it deserved. Lee and Jackson were the special objects of
admiration. All recognised the strategic skill which had wrought the
overthrow of McClellan’s host; and the hard marches and sudden blows of
the campaign on the Shenandoah, crowned by the swift transfer of the
Valley army from the Blue Ridge to the Chickahominy, took fast hold of
the popular imagination. The mystery in which Jackson’s operations were
involved, the dread he inspired in the enemy, his reticence, his piety,
his contempt of comfort, his fiery energy, his fearlessness, and his
simplicity aroused the interest and enthusiasm of the whole community.
Whether Lee or his lieutenant was the more averse to posing before the
crowd it is difficult to say. Both succeeded in escaping all public
manifestation of popular favour; both went about their business with an
absolute absence of ostentation, and if the handsome features of the
Commander-in-Chief were familiar to the majority of the citizens, few
recognised in the plainly dressed soldier, riding alone through
Richmond, the great leader of the Valley, with whose praises not the
South only, but the whole civilised world, was already ringing.
[1] General Reynolds.
[2] Lee’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i, pp. 493, 494.
[3] This detachment, about 3,500 strong, consisted of the outposts
that had been established north and north-east of Beaver Dam Creek on
June 27, of the garrison of the White House, and of troops recently
disembarked.
[4] Strange to say, while the Confederates possessed no maps whatever,
McClellan was well supplied in this respect. “Two or three weeks
before this,” says General Averell (_Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p.
431), “three officers of the 3rd Pennsylvania Cavalry, and others,
penetrated the region between the Chickahominy and the James, taking
bearings and making notes. Their fragmentary sketches, when put
together, made a map which exhibited all the roadways, fields,
forests, bridges, the streams, and houses, so that our commander knew
the country to be traversed far better than any Confederate
commander.”
[5] Jackson had with him a gang of negroes who, under the
superintendence of Captain Mason, a railroad contractor of long
experience, performed the duties which in regular armies appertain to
the corps of engineers. They had already done useful service in the
Valley.
[6] O.R., vol. xi, part i, pp. 556, 557.
[7] “Jackson himself,” writes Dr. McGuire, “accompanied by three or
four members of his staff, of whom I was one, followed the cavalry
across the Swamp. The ford was miry and deep, and impracticable for
either artillery or infantry.”
[8] O.R., vol. xi, part i, pp. 810, 811.
[9] General Heintzleman, commanding the Federal 3rd Corps, reports
that he had placed a force at Brackett’s Ford (O.R., vol. xi, part ii,
p. 100). General Slocum (6th Corps) sent infantry and a 12-pounder
howitzer (O.R., volume xi, part ii, p. 435) to the same point; and
Seeley’s battery of the 3rd Corps was also engaged here (O.R., vol.
xi, part ii, p. 106). The force at White Oak Bridge was constituted as
follows:—
Smith’s Division
Richardson’s Division
Sedgwick’s Division (Dana’s and Sully’s Brigades)
Peck’s Division (Naglee’s Brigade) of the 6th Corps.
of the 2nd Corps.
of the 2nd Corps.
of the 4th Corps.
[10] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 381.
[11] Letter from Dr. Hunter McGuire to the author.
[12] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 389.
[13] _From Manassas to Appomattox,_ p. 150.
[14] Letter to the author.
[15] _From Manassas to Appomattox,_ p. 143.
[16] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 403.
[17] O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 677.
[18] Trimble’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 619.
[19] Three horse-batteries and eight 32-pr. howitzers were “brought up
to the decisive point at the close of the day, thus bringing every gun
of this large artillery force (the artillery reserve) into the most
active and decisive use. Not a gun remained unemployed: not one could
have been safely spared.—Hunt’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part ii, p.
239.
[20] O.R., vol. xi, part iii, p. 282.
[21] Report on the Conduct of the War, p. 580. General Hooker’s
evidence.
[22] Report on the Conduct of the War, p. 27.
[23] O.R., vol. xi, part i, pp. 291, 292.
[24] Letter to the author. Dr. McGuire writes to the same effect.
[25] Evelington Heights are between Rawling’s Mill Pond and Westover.
[26] The military student will compare the battles of Weissembourg,
Vionville, and Gravelotte in 1870, all of which began with a useless
surprise.
[27] O.R., vol. xi, part iii, pp. 291–2.
[28] Letter to the author.
[29] O.R., vol. xi, part iii, p. 299.
[30] The forces under Burnside and Hunter amounted to some 35,000 men.
Chapter XV
CEDAR RUN
The victories in the Valley, the retreat of Banks, Shields, and
Frémont, followed by the victory of Gaines’ Mill, had raised the hopes
of the South to the highest pitch.
When McClellan fell back to the James the capture or destruction of his
army seemed a mere matter of time, and it was confidently expected that
a disaster of such magnitude would assuredly bring the North to terms.
But the slaughter of the Confederates at Malvern Hill, the unmolested
retreat of the enemy to Harrison’s Landing, the fortification of that
strong position, induced a more sober mood. The Northern soldiers had
displayed a courage for which the South had not yet given them credit.
On the last of the Seven Days they had fought almost as stubbornly as
on the first. Their losses had been heavy, but they had taught their
adversaries that they were no longer the unmanageable levies of Bull
Run, scattered by the first touch of disaster to the four winds. It was
no frail barrier which stood now between the South and her
independence, but a great army of trained soldiers, seasoned by
experience, bound together by discipline, and capable of withstanding a
long series of reverses. And when it became clear that McClellan,
backed by the fleet, had no intention of losing his grip on Richmond;
when the news came that Lincoln had asked for 300,000 fresh troops; and
that the Federal Army of the West, undisturbed by Lee’s victories, was
still advancing through Tennessee,[1] the power and persistency of the
North were revealed in all their huge proportions.
But the disappointment of the Southern people in no way abated their
gratitude. The troops drank their fill of praise. The deeds of the
Valley regiments were on every tongue. The Stonewall Brigade was the
most famous organisation in the Confederacy. To have marched with
Jackson was a sure passport to the good graces of every citizen. Envied
by their comrades, regarded as heroes by the admiring crowds that
thronged the camps, the ragged soldiers of the Shenandoah found ample
compensation for their labour. They had indeed earned the rest which
was now given them. For more than two months they had been marching and
fighting without cessation. Since they left Elk Run, on April 29, until
they fell back to the capital on July 8, their camps had never stood in
the same spot for more than four days in succession.
But neither they nor their general looked forward to a long sojourn
within the works round Richmond. The men pined for the fresh breezes of
their native highlands. The tainted atmosphere of a district which was
one vast battle-ground told upon their health, and the people of
Richmond, despite their kindness, were strangers after all. Nor was
Jackson less anxious to leave the capital. The heavy rain which had
deluged the bivouac on the Chickahominy had chilled him to the bone.
During the whole of the pursuit, from White Oak Swamp to Westover, he
had suffered from fever. But his longing for a move westward was
dictated by other motives than the restoration of his health. No sooner
had it become evident that McClellan’s position was impregnable than he
turned his thoughts to some more vulnerable point. He would allow the
enemy no respite. In his opinion there should be no “letting up” in the
attack. The North should be given no leisure to reorganise the armies
or to train recruits. A swift succession of fierce blows, delivered at
a vital point, was the only means of bringing the colossus to its
knees, and that vital point was far from Richmond.
Before the Confederate troops marched back to Richmond
he laid his views before the member of Congress for the Winchester
district, and begged Mr. Boteler to impress them on the Government.
“McClellan’s army,” he said, “was manifestly thoroughly beaten,
incapable of moving until it had been reorganised and reinforced. There
was danger,” he foresaw, “that the fruits of victory would be lost, as
they had been lost after Bull Run. The Confederate army should at once
leave the malarious district round Richmond, and moving northwards,
carry the horrors of invasion across the border. This,” he said, “was
the only way to bring the North to its senses, and to end the war. And
it was within the power of the Confederates, if they were to
concentrate their resources, to make a successful bid for victory.
60,000 men might march into Maryland and threaten Washington. But while
he was anxious that these views should be laid before the President, he
would earnestly disclaim the charge of self-seeking. He wished to
follow, and not to lead. He was willing to follow anyone—Lee, or Ewell,
or anyone who would fight.” “Why do you not urge your views,” asked Mr.
Boteler, “on General Lee?” “I have done so,” replied Jackson. “And what
does he say to them?” “He says nothing,” was the answer; “but do not
understand that I complain of this silence; it is proper that General
Lee should observe it. He is wise and prudent. He feels that he bears a
fearful responsibility, and he is right in declining a hasty expression
of his purpose to a subordinate like me.”[2]
Jackson was perfectly right in his estimate of the Federal army.
McClellan had 90,000 men, but 16,000 were sick, and he was still under
the delusion that he had been defeated by more than twice his numbers.
His letters to the President, it is true, betrayed no misgiving. He was
far from admitting that he had been defeated. His army, he wrote, was
now so favourably placed that an advance on Richmond was easy. He was
full of confidence. He was watching carefully for any fault committed
by the enemy, and would take advantage of it. The spirit of his
army, he declared, was such that he felt unable to restrain it from
speedily assuming the offensive. He had determined not to fall back
unless he was absolutely forced to do so. He was ready for a rapid and
heavy blow at Richmond. But to strike that blow he required heavy
reinforcements, and while waiting their arrival he was unwilling to
leave his strong position.[3]
Jackson’s views were considered by Mr. Davis. For the present, however,
they were disregarded. The situation, in the opinion of the Government,
was still critical. McClellan might be reinforced by sea. He might be
superseded by a more energetic commander, and the Federals might then
cross to the right bank of the James, cut the railways which connected
Richmond with the South, and turn the line of fortifications. The