That night both armies lay on their arms. Burnside, notwithstanding that he spent several hours amongst the troops before Fredericksburg, and found that both officers and men were opposed to further attack, decided to renew the battle the next day. His arrangements became known to Lee, an officer or orderly carrying dispatches having strayed within the Confederate outposts,[14] and the Southern generals looked forward, on the morning of the 14th, to a fresh attack, a more crushing repulse, and a general counterstroke.
Such cheerful anticipations, however, so often entertained by generals holding a strong defensive position, are but seldom realised, and Fredericksburg was no exception. The Confederates spent the night in diligent preparation. Supplies of ammunition were brought up and distributed, the existing defences were repaired, abattis cut and laid, and fresh earthworks thrown up. Jackson, as usual on the eve of battle, was still working while others rested. Until near midnight he sat up writing and dispatching orders; then, throwing himself, booted and spurred, on his camp bed, he slept for two or three hours, when he again arose, lighted his candle, and resumed his writing. Before four o’clock he sent to his medical director to inquire as to the condition of General Gregg. Dr. McGuire reported that his case was hopeless, and Jackson requested that he would go over and see that he had everything he wished. Somewhat against his will, for there were many wounded who required attention, the medical officer rode off, but scarcely had he entered the farmhouse where Gregg was lying, than he heard the tramp of horses, and Jackson himself dismounted on the threshold. The brigadier, it appears, had lately fallen under the ban of his displeasure; but from the moment his condition was reported, Jackson forgot everything but the splendid services he had rendered on so many hard-fought fields; and in his anxiety that every memory should be effaced which might embitter his last moments, he had followed Dr. McGuire to his bedside.
The interview was brief, and the dying soldier was the happier for it; but the scene in that lonely Virginian homestead, where, in the dark hours of the chill December morning, the life of a strong man, of a gallant comrade, of an accomplished gentleman, and of an unselfish patriot—for Gregg was all these—was slowly ebbing, made a deeper impression on those who witnessed it than the accumulated horrors of the battle-field. Sadly and silently the general and his staff officer rode back through the forest, where the troops were already stirring round the smouldering camp-fires. Their thoughts were sombre. The Confederacy, with a relatively slender population, could ill spare such men as Gregg. And yet Jackson, though yielding to the depression of the moment, and deploring the awful sacrifices which the defence of her liberties imposed upon the South, was in no melting mood. Dr. McGuire, when they reached headquarters, put a question as to the best means of coping with the overwhelming numbers of the enemy. “Kill them, sir! kill every man!” was the reply of the stern soldier who but just now, with words of tender sympathy and Christian hope, had bade farewell to his dying comrade.
Dec. 14 But on December 14, as on the morrow of Sharpsburg, the Confederates were doomed to disappointment. “Darkness still prevailed,” writes Stuart’s chief of the staff, “when we mounted our horses and again hastened to Prospect Hill, the summit of which we reached just in time to see the sun rising, and unveiling, as it dispersed the haze, the long lines of the Federal army, which once more stood in full line of battle between our own position and the river. I could not withhold my admiration as I looked down upon the well-disciplined ranks of our antagonists, astonished that these troops now offering so bold a front should be the same whom not many hours since I had seen in complete flight and disorder. The skirmishers of the two armies were not much more than a hundred yards apart, concealed from each other’s view by the high grass in which they were lying, and above which, from time to time, rose a small cloud of blue smoke, telling that a shot had been fired. As the boom of artillery began to sound from different parts of the line, and the attack might be expected every minute, each hastened to his post.”
But though the skirmishing at times grew hotter, and the fire of the artillery more rapid, long intervals of silence succeeded, until it at length became apparent to the Confederates that the enemy, though well prepared to resist attack, was determined not to fight outside his breastworks. Burnside, indeed, giving way to the remonstrances of his subordinates, had abandoned all idea of further aggressive action, and unless Lee should move forward, had determined to recross the Potomac.
Dec. 15 The next morning saw the armies in the same positions, and the Federal wounded, many of whom had been struck down nearly forty-eight hours before, still lying untended between the hostile lines. It was not till now that Burnside admitted his defeat by sending a flag of truce with a request that he might be allowed to bury his dead.[15]
The same night a fierce storm swept the valley of the Rappahannock, and the Army of the Potomac repassed the bridges, evading, under cover of the elements, the observation of the Confederate patrols.
The retreat was effected with a skill which did much credit to the Federal staff. Within fourteen hours 100,000 troops, with the whole of their guns, ambulances, and ammunition waggons, were conveyed across the Rappahannock; but there remained on the south bank sufficient evidence to show that the Army of the Potomac had not escaped unscathed. When the morning broke the dead lay thick upon the field; arms and accoutrements, the débris of defeat, were strewed in profusion on every hand, and the ruined houses of Fredericksburg were filled with wounded. Burnside lost in the battle 12,647 men.
LEFT ATTACK—FRANKLIN
| First Corps | Meade’s Division Gibbon’s Division Doubleday’s Division |
1,853 1,267 214 |
| Third Corps | Birney’s Division Sickles’ Division |
950 100 |
| Sixth Corps | Newton’s Division | 63 |
| Total | ——— 4,447 |
CENTRE
| Brook’s Division Howe’s Division |
197 186 |
|
| Total | ——— 383 |
RIGHT ATTACK—SUMNER AND HOOKER
| Second Corps | Hancock’s Division Howard’s Division French’s Division |
2,032 914 1,160 |
| Ninth Corps | Burns’ Division Sturgis’ Division Getty’s Division |
27 1,007 296 |
| Third Corps | Whipple’s Division | 129 |
| Fifth Corps | Griffin’ Division Sykes’ Division Humphrey’s Division |
926 228 1,019 |
| Engineers and Reserve Artillery, etc. | 79 | |
| Total | ——— 7,817 |
|
Grand Total (including 877 officers)
12,647
(589 prisoners)
The Confederates showed 5,309 casualties out of less than
30,000 actually engaged.
| First Corps | Ransom’s Division McLaws’ Division Anderson’s Division |
535 858 159 |
| Artillery | 37 | |
| Total | ——— 1,589 |
|
(1,224 on December 12.)
CENTRE
| First Corps | Pickett’s Division Hood’s Division |
54 251 |
| Total | ——— 305 |
RIGHT WING—JACKSON
| Light Division Early’s Division D. H. Hill’s Division Taliaferro’s Division |
2,120 932 173 190 |
|
| Total (including 500 captured) | ——— 3,415 |
No attempt was made by the Confederates to follow the enemy across the Rappahannock. The upper fords were open; but the river was rising fast, and the Army of the Potomac, closely concentrated and within a few miles of Aquia Creek, was too large to be attacked, and too close to its base to permit effective manœuvres, which might induce it to divide, against its line of communications. The exultation of the Southern soldiers in their easy victory was dashed by disappointment. Burnside’s escape had demonstrated the fallacy of one of the so-called rules of war. The great river which lay behind him during the battle of Fredericksburg had proved his salvation instead of—as it theoretically should—his ruin. Over the six bridges his troops had more lines of retreat than is usually the case when roads only are available; and these lines of retreat were secure, protected from the Confederate cavalry by the river, and from the infantry and artillery by the batteries on the Stafford Heights. Had the battle been fought on the North Anna, thirty-six miles from Fredericksburg, the result might have been very different. A direct counterstroke would possibly have been no more practicable than on the Rappahannock, for the superior numbers of the enemy, and his powerful artillery, could not have been disregarded. Nor would a direct pursuit have been a certain means of making success decisive; the rear of a retreating army, as the Confederates had found to their cost at Malvern Hill, is usually its strongest part. But a pursuit directed against the flanks, striking the line of retreat, cutting off the supply and ammunition trains, and blocking the roads, a pursuit such as Jackson had organised when he drove Banks from the Valley, if conducted with vigour, seldom fails in its effect. And who would have conducted such an operation with greater skill and energy than Stuart, at the head of his 9,000 horsemen? Who would have supported Stuart more expeditiously than the “foot-cavalry” of the Second Army Corps?
Lee’s position at Fredericksburg, strong as it might appear, was exceedingly disadvantageous. A position which an army occupies with a view to decisive battle should fulfil four requirements:—
1. It should not be too strong, or the enemy will not attack it.
2. It should give cover to the troops both from view and fire from artillery, and have a good field of fire.
3. It should afford facilities for counterstroke.
4. It should afford facilities for pursuit.
Of these Lee’s battle-field fulfilled but the first and second. It would have been an admirable selection if the sole object of the Confederates had been to gain time, or to prevent the enemy establishing himself south of the Rappahannock; but to encompass the destruction of the enemy’s whole army it was as ill adapted as Wellington’s position at Torres Vedras, at Busaco, or at Fuentes d’Onor. But while Wellington in taking up these positions had no further end in view than holding the French in check, the situation of the Confederacy was such that a decisive victory was eminently desirable. Nothing was to be gained by gaining time. The South could furnish Lee with no further reinforcements. Every able-bodied man was in the service of his country; and it was perfectly certain that the Western armies, although they had been generally successful during the past year, would never be permitted by Mr. Davis to leave the valley of the Mississippi.
The Army of Northern Virginia was not likely to be stronger or more efficient. Equipped with the spoils of many victories, it was more on a level with the enemy than had hitherto been the case. The ranks were full. The men were inured to hardships and swift marches; their health was proof against inclement weather, and they knew their work on the field of battle. The artillery had recently been reorganised. During the Peninsular campaign the batteries had been attached to the infantry brigades, and the indifferent service they had often rendered had been attributed to the difficulty of collecting the scattered units, and in handling them in combination. Formed into battalions of four or six batteries a large number of guns was now attached to each of the divisions, and each army corps had a strong reserve; so that the concentration of a heavy force of artillery on any part of a position became a feasible operation. The cavalry, so admirably commanded by Stuart, Hampton, and the younger Lees, was not less hardy or efficient than the infantry, and the moral of the soldiers of every arm, founded on confidence in themselves not less than on confidence in their leaders, was never higher.
“After the truce had been agreed upon,” says Captain Smith, “litter-bearers to bring away the dead and wounded were selected from the command of General Bodes. When they had fallen in, General Bodes said to them: ‘Now, boys, those Yankees are going to ask you questions, and you must not tell them anything. Be very careful about this.’ At this juncture one of the men spoke up, and said, ‘General, can’t we tell them that we whipped them yesterday?’ Bodes replied, laughing: ‘Yes, yes! you can tell them that.’ Immediately another man spoke up: ‘General, can’t we tell them that we can whip them tomorrow and the day after?’ Bodes again laughed, and sent those incorrigible jokers off with: ‘Yes, yes! go on, go on! Tell them what you please.’”
The Army of the Potomac, on the other hand, was not likely to become weaker or less formidable if time were allowed it to recuperate. It had behind it enormous reserves. 60,000 men had been killed, wounded, or captured since the battle of Kernstown, and yet the ranks were as full as when McClellan first marched on Richmond. Many generals had disappeared; but those who remained were learning their trade; and the soldiers, although more familiar with defeat than victory, showed little diminution of martial ardour. Nor had the strain of the war sapped the resources of the North. Her trade, instead of dwindling, had actually increased; and the gaps made in the population by the Confederate bullets were more than made good by a constant influx of immigrants from Europe.
It was not by partial triumphs, not by the slaughter of a few brigades, by defence without counterstroke, by victories without pursuit, that a Power of such strength and vitality could be compelled to confess her impotence. Whether some overwhelming disaster, a Jena or a Waterloo, followed by instant invasion, would have subdued her stubborn spirit is problematical. Rome survived Cannæ, Scotland Flodden, and France Sedan. But in some such crowning mercy lay the only hope of the Confederacy, and had the Army of the Potomac, ill-commanded as it was, been drawn forward to the North Anna, it might have been utterly destroyed. Half-hearted strategy, which aims only at repulsing the enemy’s attack, is not the path to king-making victory; it is not by such feeble means that States secure or protect their independence. To occupy a position where Stuart’s cavalry was powerless, where the qualities which made Lee’s infantry so formidable—the impetuosity of their attack, the swiftness of their marches—had no field for display, and where the enemy had free scope for the employment of his artillery, his strongest arm, was but to postpone the evil day. It had been well for the Confederacy if Stonewall Jackson, whose resolute strategy had but one aim, and that aim the annihilation of the enemy, had been the supreme director of her councils. To paraphrase Mahan: “The strategic mistake (in occupying a position for which pursuit was impracticable) neutralised the tactical advantage gained, thus confirming the military maxim that a strategic mistake is more serious and far-reaching in its effects than an error in tactics.”
Lee, however, was fettered by the orders of the Cabinet; and Mr. Davis and his advisers, more concerned with the importance of retaining an area of country which still furnished supplies than of annihilating the Army of the Potomac, and relying on European intervention rather than on the valour of the Southern soldier, were responsible for the occupation of the Fredericksburg position. In extenuation of their mistake it may, however, be admitted that the advantages of concentration on the North Anna were not such as would impress themselves on the civilian mind, while the surrender of territory would undoubtedly have embarrassed both the Government and the supply department. Moreover, at the end of November, it might have been urged that if Burnside were permitted to possess himself of Fredericksburg, it was by no means certain that he would advance on Richmond; establishing himself in winter quarters, he might wait until the weather improved, controlling, in the meantime, the resources and population of that portion of Virginia which lay within his reach.
Nevertheless, as events went far to prove, Mr. Davis would have done wisely had he accepted the advice of the soldiers on the spot. His strategical glance was less comprehensive than that of Lee and Jackson. In the first place, they knew that if Burnside proposed going into winter quarters, he would not deliberately place the Rappahannock between himself and his base, nor halt with the great forest of Spotsylvania on his flank. In the second place, there could be no question but that the Northern Government and the Northern people would impel him forward. The tone of the press was unmistakable; and the very reason that Burnside had been appointed to command was because McClellan was so slow to move. In the third place, both Lee and Jackson saw the need of decisive victory. With them questions of strategic dispositions, offering chances of such victory, were of more importance than questions of supply or internal politics. They knew with what rapidity the Federal soldiers recovered their moral; and they realised but too keenly the stern determination which inspired the North. They had seen the hosts of invasion retire in swift succession, stricken and exhausted, before their victorious bayonets. Thousands of prisoners had been marched to Richmond; thousands of wounded, abandoned on the battle-field, had been paroled; guns, waggons and small arms, enough to equip a great army, had been captured; and general after general had been reduced to the ignominy that awaits a defeated leader. Frémont and Shields had disappeared; Banks was no longer in the field; Porter was waiting trial; McDowell had gone; Pope had gone, and McClellan; and yet the Army of the Potomac still held its ground, the great fleets still kept their stations, the capture of Richmond was still the objective of the Union Government, and not for a single moment had Lincoln wavered from his purpose.
It will not be asserted that either Lee or Jackson fathomed the source of this unconquerable tenacity, They had played with effect on the fears of Lincoln; they had recognised in him the motive power of the Federal hosts; but they had not yet learned, for the Northern people themselves had not yet learned it, that they were opposed by an adversary whose resolution was as unyielding as their own, who loved the Union even as they loved Virginia, and who ruled the nation with the same tact and skill that they ruled their soldiers.
In these pages Mr. Lincoln has not been spared. He made mistakes, and he himself would have been the last to claim infallibility. He had entered the White House with a rich endowment of common-sense, a high sense of duty, and an extraordinary knowledge of the American character; but his ignorance of statesmanship directing arms was great, and his military errors were numerous. Putting these aside, his tenure of office during the dark days of ’61 and ’62 had been marked by the very highest political sagacity; his courage and his patriotism had sustained the nation in its distress; and in spite of every obstacle he was gradually bringing into being a unity of sympathy and of purpose, which in the early days of the war had seemed an impossible ideal. Not the least politic of his measures was the edict of emancipation, published after the battle of Sharpsburg. It was not a measure without flaw. It contained paragraphs which might fairly be interpreted, and were so interpreted by the Confederates, as inciting the negroes to rise against their masters, thus exposing to all the horrors of a servile insurrection, with its accompaniments of murder and outrage, the farms and plantations where the women and children of the South lived lonely and unprotected. But if the edict served only to embitter the Southerners, to bind the whole country together in a still closer league of resistance, and to make peace except by conquest impossible, it was worth the price. The party in the North which fought for the re-establishment of the Union had carried on the war with but small success. The tale of reverses had told at last upon recruiting. Men were unwilling to come forward; and those who were bribed by large bounties to join the armies were of a different character to the original volunteer. Enthusiasm in the cause was fast diminishing when Lincoln, purely on his own initiative, proclaimed emancipation, and, investing the war with the dignity of a crusade, inspired the soldier with a new incentive, and appealed to a feeling which had not yet been stirred. Many Northerners had not thought it worth while to fight for the re-establishment of the Union on the basis of the Constitution. If slavery was to be permitted to continue they preferred separation; and these men were farmers and agriculturists, the class which furnished the best soldiers, men of American birth, for the most part abolitionists, and ready to fight for the principle they had so much at heart. It is true that the effect of the edict was not at once apparent. It was not received everywhere with acclamation. The army had small sympathy with the coloured race, and the political opponents of the President accused him vehemently of unconstitutional action. Their denunciations, however, missed the mark. The letter of the Constitution, as Mr. Lincoln clearly saw, had ceased to be regarded, at least by the great bulk of the people, with superstitious reverence.
They had learned to think more of great principles than of political expedients; and if the defence of their hereditary rights had welded the South into a nation, the assertion of a still nobler principle, the liberty of man, placed the North on a higher plane, enlisted the sympathy of Europe, and completed the isolation of the Confederacy.
But although Lee and Jackson had not yet penetrated the political genius of their great antagonist, they rated at its true value the vigour displayed by his Administration, and they saw that something more was wanting to wrest their freedom from the North than a mere passive resistance to the invader’s progress. Soon after the battle of Fredericksburg, Lee went to Richmond and laid proposals for an aggressive campaign before the President. “He was assured, however,” says General Longstreet, “that the war was virtually over, and that we need not harass our troops by marches and other hardships. Gold had advanced in New York to two hundred premium, and we were told by those in the Confederate capital that in thirty or forty days we would be recognised (by the European Powers) and peace proclaimed. General Lee did not share this belief.”[16]
Dec. 18 So Jackson, who had hoped to return to Winchester, was doomed to the inaction of winter quarters on the Rappahannock, for with Burnside’s repulse operations practically ceased. The Confederate cavalry, however, did not at once abandon hostilities. On December 18, Hampton marched his brigade as far as the village of Occoquan, bringing off 150 prisoners and capturing a convoy.
Dec. 26 And on December 26 Stuart closed his record for 1862 by leading 1,800 troopers far to the Federal rear. After doing much damage in the district about Occoquan and Dumfries, twenty miles from Burnside’s headquarters, he marched northward in the direction of Washington, and penetrated as far as Burke’s Station, fifteen miles from Alexandria. Sending a telegraphic message to General Meigs, Quartermaster-General at Washington, to the effect that the mules furnished to Burnside’s army were of such bad quality that he was embarrassed in taking the waggons he had captured into the Confederate lines, and requesting that a better class of animal might be supplied in future, he returned by long marches through Warrenton to Culpeper Court House, escaping pursuit, and bringing with him a large amount of plunder and many prisoners. From the afternoon of December 26 to nightfall on December 31 he rode one hundred and fifty miles, losing 28 officers and men in skirmishes with detachments of the Federal cavalry. He had contrived to throw a great part of the troops sent to meet him into utter confusion by intercepting their telegrams, and answering them himself in a manner that scattered his pursuers and broke down their horses.
Near the end of January, Burnside made a futile attempt to march his army round Lee’s flank by way of Ely’s and Germanna Fords. The weather, however, was inclement; the roads were in a fearful condition, and the troops experienced such difficulty in movement, that the operation, which goes by the name of the Mud Campaign, was soon abandoned.
1863. Jan. 26 On January 26, Burnside, in consequence of the strong representations made by his lieutenants to the President, was superseded. General Hooker, the dashing fighter of the Antietam, replaced him in command of the Army of the Potomac, and the Federal troops went into winter quarters about Falmouth, where, on the opposite shore of the Rappahannock, within full view of the sentries, stood a row of finger-posts, on which the Confederate soldiers had painted the taunting legend, “This way to Richmond!”
[1] On November 1 the Army of the Potomac (not including the Third Corps) was accompanied by 4,818 waggons and ambulances, 8,500 transport horses, and 12,000 mules. O.R., vol. xix, part i, pp. 97–8. The train of each army corps and of the cavalry covered eight miles of road, or fifty miles for the whole.
[2] O.R., vol. xix, part ii, p. 711.
[3] O.R., vol. xix, part ii, p. 705.
[4] Dabney, vol. ii, p. 355. From Manassas to Appomattox, p. 299.
[5] The three Grand Divisions were commanded by Sumner, Hooker, and Franklin.
[6] Lord Wolseley. North American Review, vol. 149, p. 282.
[7] The dispositions were as follows:—
[8] Franklin’s Grand Division consisted of the 42,800 men, and 12,000 of Hooker’s Grand Division had reinforced him.
[9] Of Early’s Division.
[10] Battles and Leaders, vol. iii, pp. 82–3.
[11] Jackson’s Reports, O.R., vol. xxi, p. 634.
[12] Advance and Retreat, Lieutenant-General J. B. Hood, p. 50.
[13] Letter to the author.
[14] From Manassas to Appomattox, p. 316.
[15]
“When the flag of truce,” says Major Hotchkiss, “was received
by General Jackson, he asked me for paper and pencil, and began a letter to be
sent in reply; but after writing a few lines he handed the paper back, and sent
a personal message by Captain Smith.”
Captain Smith writes: “The general said to me, before I went out to
meet Colonel Sumner, representing the Federals: ‘If you are asked who is
in command of your right, do not tell them I am, and be guarded in your
remarks.’ It so happened that Colonel Sumner was the brother-in-law of
Colonel Long, an officer on General Lee’s staff. While we were together,
another Federal officer named Junkin rode up. He was the brother or cousin of
Jackson’s first wife, and I had known him before the war. After some
conversation, Junkin asked me to give his regards to General Jackson, and to
deliver a message from the Reverend Dr. Junkin, the father of his first wife. I
replied, ‘I will do so with pleasure when I meet General Jackson.’
Junkin smiled and said: ‘It is not worth while for you to try to deceive
us. We know that General Jackson is in front of us.’”
[16] Battles and Leaders, vol. iii, p. 84.