Four Years in Rebel Capitals Part 29

With a renewed, and splendidly appointed, army, Burnside moved in November toward Fredericksburg; thinking that this time he had really gotten between Lee and Richmond.

What was his disgust to find, when he reached the Rappahannock, that the Confederate army was not all at Winchester, but was before him to dispute his crossing. After some unavailing manoeuvers for position, the Federals sat down on the heights of Stafford, opposite Fredericksburg; made works at their leisure; and spread a perfect city of tents and booths over a line of some five miles. Outnumbered as he was, General Lee could do nothing but watch and wait for the crossing that must come, sooner or later; and meantime he chose his line of battle.

Just back of Fredericksburg, stretching some two miles southward, is a semi-circular plain bordered by a range of hills. These stretch from Hamilton's crossing beyond Mayre's Hill on the left; and are covered with dense oak growth and a straggling fringe of pines. On these hills, Lee ma.s.sed his artillery, to sweep the whole plain where the enemy must form, after his crossing; and arranged his line of battle with A. P.

Hill holding the right and Longstreet the left. On the night of December 10th, Stafford Heights opened a furious bombardment of the town, tearing great gaps through the thickest populated quarters.

Into the bitter winter night tender women and young children were driven, s.h.i.+vering with fright and cold, half clad; seeking safety from the screaming sh.e.l.ls that chased them everywhere. Under this bombardment, the pioneers commenced their pontoons at three points. The storm of grape and canister was too great to contest the landing, which was effected next day.

As the heavy fog that had obscured the sun cleared away, the regular lines of the Federals advanced to the attack, raked and torn by batteries. Broken, they were formed again, only to be mowed down afresh; while the scream of a thousand sh.e.l.ls from Stafford filled the air with a continuous _whoo_, amid which the rattle of southern musketry sang ever fiercer and swifter. Then dark ma.s.ses of blue came out of the town and formed for the charge, under a terrific fire from the Was.h.i.+ngton Artillery on Mayre's Hill. Steadily and fearlessly did Meagher's First Brigade move to the attack. Crowded into the narrow road, swept by the accurate fire of the Louisianians and McLaws'

veterans--the head of the column went down, only to be filled by the gallant fellows behind. Into the jaws of death they came, up to the very works--then, with half their number dead and dying about their feet, they broke, the left gave way--and the b.l.o.o.d.y field was won at all points. The victory was terrible and complete.

But it had cost dear, and the rejoicing in Richmond was tempered with sorrow for the loss of such as Maxcy Gregg, Cobb, and many others, lying cold upon the field of victory.

And with the first feeling of triumph the news brought, came the thought that this time _surely_ the enemy would be pushed--this time he was indeed a prey! Broken and demoralized, with a deep river in his rear that he _must cross in pontoons_, the people felt that he could surely be destroyed before reaching his Stafford stronghold. But once again, as ever, the shattered and broken legions of Burnside were allowed two days to recover from their demoralization; to pa.s.s at leisure, over the trap behind them.

Great was the amaze, bitter the disappointment of the people; and the inquiry how and why this had been done, became universal. But the southern people above every other feeling had now come to cherish a perfect and unquestioning faith in General Lee; and even while they wondered at a policy that invariably left a beaten enemy to recover, and only become stronger--still they questioned with a firm reliance that there _must_ be some reason, invisible to them but good and potent still.

There were no active operations immediately succeeding Fredericksburg.

Picket fighting; cavalry skirmishes, severe but fruitless; and temporary raids of the enemy to devastate the country around the rear of their army, and to penetrate into that beyond their lines, occupying the winter and early spring. But there was full leisure for the people to look upon the ugliest features of the war. Fredericksburg was a ruin, riddled with shot and sh.e.l.l, tenanted only by the poorest cla.s.ses. Her once cheerful and elegant population were ruined and starving refugees in Richmond; the smiling tracts stretching back to the Potomac were one broad, houseless waste--browned by fire, and cut with the winding wagon-roads of the enemy. Constant incursions of his cavalry--for "raiding" had now become a feature of the war--hara.s.sed the people, everywhere removed from the immediate army lines. These slaughtered and drove off their cattle, stole and consumed their supplies, burned their barns, _and destroyed their farming utensils!_--a refinement of barbarity to non-combatants, never before practiced by a civilized race.

Then, too, the news from the West, heretofore sketched, reacted on Richmond; and the gloom in the Capital grew deep and universal.

Burnside had, meantime, been dismissed in disgrace for his shameful failure. The inevitable howl had again gone up in the North; then the inevitable result had come. Joseph Hooker was now the coming man--the war-gong was sounded more loudly than ever; the army was re-enforced to greater size than ever; and so equipped that its general proclaimed it the "finest army on the planet." Agog with preparation, and stuffed full with promises of certain success this time, the North forgot the many slips between its lips and the coveted cup of triumph, and waited in secure impatience for the moment when the roads would permit Hooker to advance.

And the South waited, too--not hopefully, nor with the buoyant antic.i.p.ation of the past, but still with a confidence in its cause and its defenders nowise diminished; with even more fixed determination never to yield, while there were muskets left and hands to grasp them.

At last the movement came. Late in April, Hooker divided his immense army into two columns, one menacing right crossing below Fredericksburg, to hold the troops at that point; the other crossing above, to flank and pa.s.s to their rear, combining with the other wing and cutting communication with Richmond. Taking command in person of his right wing--while the left was confided to General Sloc.u.m--Hooker rapidly crossed the river, concentrating not less than 60,000 men on the Chancellorsville road, eleven miles above Fredericksburg. Grasping the situation at once, Lee ordered the small force there back to Mine Run, until re-enforced; and then, on the 2d of May, Stonewall Jackson completed that wonderful and painful circuit of the enemy--so brilliant in conception, so successful in result. Late in the afternoon he reached their extreme right and rear, secure and unsuspecting. Never stopping to rest, the Eldest Son of War hurled himself like a thunderbolt on the confident and intrenched enemy--scattering the eleventh corps (Sigel's) like chaff, and hurling them, broken and demoralized, upon their supports. The very key of the enemy's campaign was driven out; and the "one hour more of daylight!" the hero-general prayed for--or the merciful sparing of his priceless life by the G.o.d of Battles--would have shown complete defeat, even annihilation, of Hooker's right.

But it was not so written in the Book of Life! A wise dispensation, whose object we may see, removed the best and greatest soldier of the war--sorely stricken by the hands of his own devoted men, in the darkness; the routed enemy was given, by this unequaled misfortune, and by fast falling night, opportunity for partial reorganization.

Hooker's right was turned and doubled upon his center; but he was still strong in numbers, and had the advantage of position and heavy works, abatis and rifle-pits.

Next morning General Lee a.s.saulted in force, all along the line; and after heavy and b.l.o.o.d.y fighting, drove him from his position at all points. Sedgwick, however, had crossed the river at Fredericksburg, driving the Confederates from the town and carrying Mayre's Hill by a.s.sault. This acted as a check to Lee, who was forced to detach McLaws' division to drive Sedgwick back from his own rear. This he successfully accomplished, and--Anderson reaching McLaws just in time--on the 4th of May, the last of the series of the battles of the Rappahannock resulted in complete defeat of Sedgwick.

Still, Hooker was permitted to withdraw his army across the river; but the campaign of the week had been successful in utterly breaking his plans and clearly defeating him in every engagement.

CHAPTER XXIX.

OVER AGAIN, TO GETTYSBURG.

The campaign of the Rappahannock had shown brilliant flashes of strategy and valor. It had proved that a badly-provided army of less than 50,000 Confederates--barefooted, blanketless and half-fed, but properly led--could, even when surrounded and out-flanked, defeat and set at naught 120,000 of the best-appointed troops ever sent against them. It revived, in some degree, the drooping spirits of the people; but a sorrow that rose to agony wrung the heart of the South, when what was earth of her peerless, pure and idolized Jackson was laid in the Capitol, wrapped in the flag he had made immortal.

Shattered and emaciated veterans, n.o.ble-browed matrons and pale, delicate maidens gathered around that sacred bier, in the awed hush of a common sorrow, too deep for words. Tears coursed over cheeks that had been bronzed in the fire of battle; sobs rose from hearts that had lost their dearest and nearest without a murmur, save--_Thy will be done!_ And little children were lifted up to look upon what was left of him who would ever be the greatest one of earth to them. And through the coffin-lid, that calm, still face seemed hourly to grow more holy and more radiant; the light of battle faded out from its softening lines and the seal of the G.o.d of Peace rested in plain token upon the glorified brow.

Truly did every one who looked upon it feel:

"O, gracious G.o.d! not gainless is the loss!

A glorious sunbeam gilds thy sternest frown-- For, while his country staggers 'neath the Cross, He rises with the Crown!"

And when the funeral procession pa.s.sed the streets of the Capital, the whole people stood bareheaded and mute. Following the wailing notes of the dirge with unsteady feet, moved the escort of ragged and war-worn soldiers--their tattered banners furled--and every torn dress and dented gun-carriage speaking eloquently of the right they had earned to sorrow for him. It was no mocking pageant. No holiday soldiery, spruce and gay, followed that precious bier--no chattering crowds pointed out the beauties of the sight. Solemn and mourning the escort pa.s.sed; sad and almost voiceless the people turned away and, going to their homes, sat with their sorrow.

After the Rappahannock fights came a lull of several weeks; and it was early in June when General Lee advanced to force the enemy out of the state. His army had been reorganized and strengthened as much as possible; General R. S. Ewell was chosen successor to Jackson; and to him, Longstreet and A. P. Hill--raised now to a full lieutenant-general--was given command of the three corps.

Diverging from the main line, after some little coquetting for position, Ewell charged Jackson's "foot cavalry" upon Winchester, capturing the town with its heavy depots of stores and munitions; while Hill kept Hooker amused, and Longstreet slowly forged his way toward the river.

Great was the joy of the poor town when it once more welcomed the gray-jackets. From the beginning it had been battle-ground and billet of both armies a dozen times. Tossed from Federal to Confederate possession--a very shuttlec.o.c.k of war--it had been hara.s.sed, robbed and pillaged by the one; drained of the very dregs by free gifts to the other. But the people of Winchester never faltered in their faith; and to-day her n.o.ble women go down the roll of heroism and steadfast truth, hand in hand with the n.o.blest ones of our history.

And the joy in Winchester was somewhat reflected at the hara.s.sed and eager-watching Capital. Undiminished by the sorrows of the last fall, undimmed by its reverses, still burned the southern desire to plant its victorious flag on hostile soil. It was neither a thirst for vengeance nor an empty boast; rather a yearning for relief--a craving for the rest from blood and battle-shocks that such a campaign would give.

It was with deep satisfaction, then, that Richmond heard that Ewell had crossed the Potomac at Williamsport, pushed on through Hagerstown and, leaving Early at York, had pa.s.sed to Carlisle; that Longstreet had followed him at Williamsport; and that A. P. Hill had crossed at Shepherdstown and pushed for Chambersburg, reaching there on the 27th of June.

Hooker, falling rapidly back upon Was.h.i.+ngton--at which point he believed the movement aimed--had been sacrificed, and with more justice than usual, to popular clamor. General Geo. G. Meade replaced him in command, and strained every nerve to collect numbers of men, irrespective of quality--seeming to desire to crush the invasion by weight alone.

Wild was the alarm in the North when the rebel advance had penetrated the heart of Pennsylvania; when York was held by Early and laid under contribution and Harrisburg was threatened by Ewell. The whole North rose in its might. Governors Seymour, of New York, Andrew, of Ma.s.sachusetts, and Curtin, of Pennsylvania, put their whole militia at the service of the President; the energy at Was.h.i.+ngton, momentarily paralyzed, soon recovered; and by the last day of the month, Meade had collected an army of near 200,000 men. Many of these were, of course, new levies and raw militia; but near one-half were the veterans of the armies of McClellan, Burnside and Hooker; men who had fought gallantly on southern soil and might be expected to do so on their own.

It seems that Lee's intention was to flank Meade; and leaving him in Maryland, to pa.s.s into Pennsylvania, occupy Harrisburg, destroy communications between Was.h.i.+ngton and the North and reduce Philadelphia.

Such, at least, was the universal belief of the southern people; and so rapidly did their mercurial temperament rise under it, and so great was their reliance in the army that was to accomplish the brilliant campaign, that they looked upon it already as a fixed fact. Now, at last, they felt, we will teach the Yankees what invasion really means.

With their Capital leaguered, their President and Cabinet fugitives by water, and their great thoroughfare and second city in our hands, we will dictate our own terms, and end the war.

Such _might_ have been the case, had Gettysburg been won, or had that battle never been fought.

If Lee's intention was to flank Meade and avoid a fight at the outset of the campaign, it was thwarted by the rapid concentration of troops in his front, near Gettysburg. To prevent being struck in detail and secure his communications, Lee was forced to recall Ewell and to concentrate his army. Hill and Longstreet were ordered up from Chambersburg; and by July 1st the opposing armies faced each other; each feeling its way cautiously and knowing that the result of this grapple of the giants must in a great measure decide the war. Meade's defeat would lose Was.h.i.+ngton, leave the heart of the North open, and demoralize the only army in that section. Lee's defeat, on the other hand, would jeopardy his very existence and probably leave Richmond an easy prey to fresh advance.

But in Richmond none of this was felt; for all that was known of the army was its victorious entry into Pennsylvania; and absurdly exaggerated stories of the dire panic and demoralization of the enemy received perfect credence.

Then the shock came.

On the 1st of July, Hill's advance encountered the enemy under Reynolds; and--after a fierce struggle, in which their general was killed--drove them back into and through the town. Here they were reformed on a semi-circular crest of hills; ma.s.sing their artillery and holding their position until dark. Their loss was heavier far than Hill's, and the men not in as good fighting trim; but it was very late, and General Lee feared pressing their reserve. Had he known that it was only the advance of Meade, broken and demoralized, that held the crest, he could undoubtedly have carried and occupied it. The fearful battles of the next two days, with their terrific loss of life, doubtless hung on this lost opportunity.

By next morning the enemy had ma.s.sed the remainder of his army behind these hills, now frowning with two hundred guns and blue with one dense line of soldiery. Under a fearful cannonade, through a hail of bullets that nothing living might stand, Stewart works his way slowly and steadily forward on the enemy's left; driving him from line after line of works and holding every inch gained, by dogged valor and perseverance. Hays and Hoke (of Early's) advance into the ploughing fire of the rifled guns--march steadily on and charge over their own dead and dying, straight for Cemetery Heights. This is the key of the enemy's position. That once gained the day is won; and on the brave fellows go, great gaps tearing through their ranks--answering every fresh shock with a savage yell. Line after line of the enemy gives way before that terrible charge. The breastwork is occupied--they are driven out! Melting under the horrid fire, unfaltering still--the gray-jackets reach the very hill!

Nothing mortal can stand the enfilading fire. They give way--again they charge--they are at the very works! But the fire is too heavy for their thinned ranks to stand; and night falls over the field, illumined by the red flash of cannon--drenched with blood and horrid with carnage of friend and foe. But there is no advantage gained, save a slight advance of Stewart's position on their left.

With the morning of the third day came the conviction that the vital struggle must be made for Cemetery Heights. Lee _must_ win them--and then for victory!

All the artillery was ma.s.sed upon this point. Then awoke the infernal echoes of such an artillery duel as the war was never to see again. The air was black with flying shot and sh.e.l.l, and their wild _whoo!_ made one continuous song through the sultry noon. Forth from the canopy of smoke and their screen of trees, comes the chosen storming party--Pickett's division of Virginians; supported on the right by Wilc.o.x and on the left by Heth's division under Pettigrew, its own general having been wounded in the head the day before.

Unmindful of the fire-sheeted storm into which they march--down into the Valley of the Shadow of Death stride that devoted band. Now, they emerge into the Emmetsburg road, straight on for the coveted heights.

On! never blenching, never faltering--with great gaps cras.h.i.+ng through them--filling the places of the dead with the living next to die--On!

into the jaws of death goes the forlorn hope! They are at the rise--they reach the crest; and then _their batteries are suddenly silent_!

Behind them is the ghastly road, furrowed and ploughed by ceaseless shot, slippery with blood and dotted thick with their writhing, bleeding brothers. Behind them is death--defeat! Before them a hundred belching cannon--a dense, dark ma.s.s of blue, relieved only by the volleying flash that shakes and rolls along their shattered line! Still up they go! on--ever on! That small Virginia division, shattered, bleeding--_and alone_ reaches the works--fights for one moment and then--_has won them_!

But there are no supports--Pettigrew has not come up; and the decimated Virginians are literally overwhelmed by the fresh ma.s.ses poured upon them. Broken, torn, exhausted, they fall back--scattered into terrible death-dealing knots, that fight their way sullenly and terribly home to their own lines!