Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War
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 manœuvre full
of danger.[8] 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 right wing
at Sperryville would march by Woodville and Griffinsburg. His centre
had already moved forward from Warrenton. His left 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 manœuvre 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.[9]
Jackson’s force was composed as follows:—
Jackson’s Own Division (commanded by Winder)
Ewell
A. P. Hill (The Light Division)
Cavalry 3,000 7,550 12,000 1,200 ——— 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 _moral_ 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 5,000
or 6,000 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