Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War Part 66

And yet his soldiers had displayed the same fiery courage and stubborn persistence which had carried them victorious through the Wilderness. But his "right arm" had not yet been replaced. "If," he said after the war, with unaccustomed emphasis, "I had had Jackson at Gettysburg I should have won the battle, and a complete victory there would have resulted in the establishment of Southern independence."

It was not to be. Chancellorsville, where 130,000 men were defeated by 60,000, is up to a certain point as much the tactical masterpiece of the nineteenth century as was Leuthen of the eighteenth. But, splendid triumph as it was, the battle bore no abiding fruits, and the reason seems very clear. The voice that would have urged pursuit was silent. Jackson's fall left Lee alone, bereft of his alter ego; with none, save Stuart, to whom he could entrust the execution of those daring and delicate manoeuvres his inferior numbers rendered necessary; with none on whose resource and energy he could implicitly rely. Who shall say how far his own resolution had been animated and confirmed at other crises by the prompting and presence of the kindred spirit? "They supplemented each other," said Davis, "and together, with any fair opportunity, they were absolutely invincible."

Many a fierce battle still lay before the Army of Northern Virginia; marvellous was the skill and audacity with which Lee manoeuvred his ragged regiments in the face of overwhelming odds; fierce and unyielding were the soldiers, but with Stonewall Jackson's death the impulse of victory died away.

May 7.

It is needless to linger over the closing scene at Gurney's Station.

For some days there was hope that the patient would recover; pneumonia, attributed to his fall from the litter as he was borne from the field, supervened, and he gradually began to sink. On the Thursday his wife and child arrived from Richmond; but he was then almost too weak for conversation, and on Sunday morning it was evident that the end was near.

May 10.

As yet he had scarcely realised his condition.

If, he said, it was G.o.d's will, he was ready to go, but he believed that there was still work for him to do, and that his life would be preserved to do it. At eleven o'clock Mrs. Jackson knelt by his side, and told him that he could not live beyond the evening. "You are frightened, my child," he replied, "death is not so near; I may yet get well." She fell upon the bed, weeping bitterly, and told him again that there was no hope. After a moment's pause, he asked her to call Dr. McGuire. "Doctor," he said, "Anna tells me I am to die to-day; is it so?" When he was answered, he remained silent for a moment or two, as if in intense thought, and then quietly replied, "Very good, very good; it is all right."

About noon, when Major Pendleton came into the room, he asked, "Who is preaching at headquarters to-day?" He was told that Mr. Lacy was, and that the whole army was praying for him. "Thank G.o.d," he said; "they are very kind to me." Already his strength was fast ebbing, and although his face brightened when his baby was brought to him, his mind had begun to wander. Now he was on the battle-field, giving orders to his men; now at home in Lexington; now at prayers in the camp, Occasionally his senses came back to him, and about half-past one he was told that he had but two hours to live. Again he answered, feebly but firmly, "Very good; it is all right." These were almost his last coherent words. For some time he lay unconscious, and then suddenly he cried out: "Order A.P. Hill to prepare for action! Pa.s.s the infantry to the front! Tell Major Hawks--" then stopped, leaving the sentence unfinished. Once more he was silent; but a little while after he said very quietly and clearly, "Let us cross over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees," and the soul of the great captain pa.s.sed into the peace of G.o.d.

NOTE 1.

[From General Lee's letter-book.]

Lexington, Virginia, 25th January, 1866.

MRS. T.J. JACKSON:--

MY DEAR MRS. JACKSON,

Dr. Brown handed me your note of the 9th, when in Richmond on business connected with Washington College. I have delayed replying since my return, hoping to have sufficient time to comply with your request. Last night I received a note from Mrs. Brown, enclosing one from Dr. Dabney, stating that the immediate return of his ma.n.u.script was necessary. I have not been able to open it; and when I read it when you were here, it was for the pleasure of the narrative, with no view of remark or correction; and I took no memoranda of what seemed to be errors. I have not thought of them since, and do not know that I can now recall them; and certainly have no desire that my opinions should be adopted in preference to Dr. Dabney's...I am, however, unable at this time to specify the battles to which my remark particularly refers. The opinion of General Jackson, in reference to the propriety of attacking the Federal army under General McClellan at Harrison's Landing, is not, I think, correctly stated. Upon my arrival there, the day after General Longstreet and himself, I was disappointed that no opportunity for striking General McClellan, on the retreat, or in his then position, had occurred, and went forward with General Jackson alone, on foot; and after a careful reconnaissance of the whole line and position, he certainly stated to me, at that time, the impropriety of attacking. I am misrepresented at the battle of Chancellorsville in proposing an attack in front, the first evening of our arrival. On the contrary, I decided against it, and stated to General Jackson, we must attack on our left as soon as practicable; and the necessary movement of the troops began immediately. In consequence of a report received about that time, from General Fitzhugh Lee, describing the position of the Federal army, and the roads which he held with his cavalry leading to its rear, General Jackson, after some inquiry concerning the roads leading to the Furnace, undertook to throw his command entirely in Hooker's rear, which he accomplished with equal skill and boldness; the rest of the army being moved to the left flank to connect with him as he advanced. I think there is some mistake, too, of a regiment of infantry being sent by him to the ford on the Rapidan, as described by Dr. Dabney. The cavalry was ordered to make such a demonstration. General Stuart had proceeded to that part of the field to co-operate in General Jackson's movement, and I always supposed it was his dismounted cavalry. As well as I now recollect, something is said by Dr. Dabney as to General Jackson's opinion as to the propriety of delivering battle at Sharpsburg. When he came upon the field, having preceded his troops, and learned my reasons for offering battle, he emphatically concurred with me. When I determined to withdraw across the Potomac, he also concurred; but said then, in view of all the circ.u.mstances, it was better to have fought the battle in Maryland than to have left it without a struggle. After crossing the Potomac, General Jackson was charged with the command of the rear, and he designated the brigades of infantry to support Pendleton's batteries. I believed General McClellan had been so crippled at Sharpsburg that he could not follow the Confederate army into Virginia immediately; but General Stuart was ordered, after crossing the Potomac, to recross at once at Williamsport, threaten his right flank, and observe his movements. Near daylight the next, morning, General Pendleton reported to me the occurrence at Shepherdstown the previous evening, and stated that he had made a similar report to General Jackson, who was lying near me on the same field. From his statement, I thought it possible that the Federal army might be attempting to follow us; and I sent at once to General Jackson to say that, in that event, I would attack it; that he must return with his whole command if necessary; that I had sent to Longstreet to countermarch the rest of the army; and that upon his joining me, unless I heard from him to the contrary, I should move with it to his support. General Jackson went back with Hill's division, General Pendleton accompanying him, and soon drove the Federals into Maryland with loss. His report, which I received on my way towards the river, relieved my anxiety, and the order of the march of the troops was again resumed. I have endeavoured to be as brief as possible in my statement, and with the single object of calling Dr. Dabney's attention to the points referred to, that he may satisfy himself as to the correctness of his own statements; and this has been done solely in compliance with your request. Other points may have attracted my attention in the perusal of the narrative; but I cannot now recall them, and do not know that those which have occurred to me are of importance. I wish I could do anything to give real a.s.sistance, for I am very anxious that his work should be perfect.

With feelings of great esteem and regard, I am,

Very truly yours,

(Signed) R. E. LEE.

The production of this letter is due to the kindness of Dr. Henry A.

White, and of R. E. Lee, Esquire, of Washington, youngest son of General Lee.

NOTE 2.

The following details, communicated to the author by one of Lee's generals, as to the formations of the Confederate infantry, will be found interesting:--

"Our brigades were usually formed of four or five regiments, each regiment composed of ten companies. Troops furnished by the same State were, as far as possible, brigaded together, in order to stimulate State pride, and a spirit of healthy emulation.

"The regiment was formed for attack in line two-deep, covered by skirmishers.

"The number of skirmishers, and the intervals between the men on the skirmish line, depended altogether on the situation. Sometimes two companies were extended as skirmishers; sometimes one company; sometimes a certain number of men from several companies. In rear of the skirmishers, at a distance ranging from three hundred to one hundred and fifty paces, came the remainder of the regiment.

"When a regiment or a brigade advanced through a heavily wooded country, such as the Wilderness, the point of direction was established, and the officers instructed to conform to the movements of the 'guide company' or 'guide regiment' as the case might be, the 'guide' company or regiment governing both direction and alignment.

"The maintenance of direction under such circ.u.mstances was a very difficult matter. Our officers, however, were greatly a.s.sisted by the rank and file, as many of the latter were accomplished woodsmen, and accustomed to hunt and shoot in the dense forests of the South. Each regiment, moreover, was provided with a right and a left 'general guide,' men selected for their special apt.i.tudes, being good judges of distance, and noted for their steadiness and skill in maintaining the direction.

"Then, again, the line of battle was greatly aided in maintaining the direction by the fire of the skirmishers, and frequently the line would be formed with a flank resting on a trail or woods-road, a ravine or watercourse, the flank regiment in such cases acting as the guide: (at Chancellorsville, Jackson's divisions kept direction by the turnpike, both wings looking to the centre.) In advancing through thick woods the skirmish line was almost invariably strengthened, and while the 'line of battle,' covered by the skirmishers, advanced in two-deep line, bodies in rear usually marched in columns of fours, prepared to come, by a 'forward into line,' to the point where their a.s.sistance might be desired. I never saw the compa.s.s used in wood-fighting. In all movements to attack it was the universal custom for the brigade commander to a.s.semble both field and company officers to the 'front and centre,' and instruct them particularly as to the purpose of the movement, the method in which it was to be carried out, the point of direction, the guide regiment, the position of other brigades, etc., etc. Like action was also taken by the regimental commander when a regiment was alone.

"This precaution, I venture to think, is absolutely indispensable to an orderly and combined advance over any ground whatever, and, so far as my knowledge goes, was seldom omitted, except when haste was imperative, in the Army of Northern Virginia. Practical experience taught us that no movement should be permitted until every officer was acquainted with the object in view, and had received his instructions. I may add that brigade and regimental commanders were most particular to secure their flanks and to keep contact with other troops by means of patrols; and, also, that in thick woods it was found to be of very great advantage if a few trustworthy men were detailed as orderlies to the regimental commander, for by this means he could most easily control the advance of his skirmishers and of his line of battle.

"N.H. HARRIS, General, late Army of Northern Virginia."

NOTE 3.

Before the campaign of 1864, the theatre of which embraced the region between the Rappahannock and Petersburg, including the Wilderness, corps of sharp-shooters, each 180 strong, were organised in many of the brigades of Lee's army. These "light" troops undertook the outpost, advanced, flank, and rear guard duties. The men were carefully selected; they were trained judges of distance, skilful and enterprising on patrol, and first-rate marksmen, and their rifles were often fitted with telescopic sights. In order to increase their confidence in each other they were subdivided into groups of fours, which messed and slept together, and were never separated in action.

These corps did excellent service during the campaign of 1864.

CHAPTER 2.25. THE SOLDIER AND THE MAN.* (* Copyright 1898 by Longmans, Green, & Co.)

To the mourning of a sore-stricken nation Stonewall Jackson was carried to his rest. As the hea.r.s.e pa.s.sed to the Capitol, and the guns which had so lately proclaimed the victory of Chancellorsville thundered forth their requiem to the hero of the fight, the streets of Richmond were thronged with a silent and weeping mult.i.tude. In the Hall of Representatives, surrounded by a guard of infantry, the body lay in state; and thither, in their thousands, from the President to the maimed soldier, from the generals of the Valley army to wondering children, borne in their mothers' arms, the people came to look their last upon the ill.u.s.trious dead. The open coffin, placed before the Speaker's chair, was draped in the Confederate standard; the State colours were furled along, the galleries; and the expression on the face, firm and resolute, as if the spirit of battle still lingered in the lifeless clay, was that of a great conqueror, wise in council, mighty in the strife. But as the evening drew on the darkened chamber, hung with deep mourning, and resounding to the clash of arms, lost its sombre and martial aspect. Garlands of soft spring flowers, the tribute of the women of Virginia, rose high above the bier, and white pyramids of lilies, the emblems of purity and meekness, recalled the blameless life of the Christian soldier.

From Richmond the remains were conveyed to Lexington, and, under the charge of the cadets, lay for the night in the lecture-room of the Inst.i.tute, which Jackson had quitted just two years before. The next morning he was buried, as he himself had wished, in the little cemetery above the town.

Many were the mourners that stood around the grave, but they were few in number compared with those whose hearts were present on those silent hills. From the cities of the Atlantic coast to the far-off settlements of Texas the news that Stonewall Jackson had fallen came as a stunning blow. The people sorrowed for him with no ordinary grief, not as a great man and a good, who had done his duty and had gone to his reward, but as the pillar of their hopes and the sheet-anchor of the Confederate cause. Nor will those familiar with the further history of the Civil War, from the disaster of Gettysburg to the surrender at Appomattox, question the truth of this mournful presage. The Army of Northern Virginia became a different and less manageable instrument after Chancellorsville. Over and over again it failed to respond to the conceptions of its leader, and the failure was not due to the soldiers, but to the generals. Loyal and valiant as they were, of not one of his lieutenants could Lee say, as he had said of Jackson, "Such an executive officer the sun never shone on. I have but to show him my design, and I know that if it can be done it will be done. No need for me to send or watch him. Straight as the needle to the pole he advances to the execution of my purpose."* (*

Hon. Francis Lawley, the Times, June 16, 1863.)

These words have been quoted as an epitome of Jackson's military character. "He was essentially," says Swinton, "an executive officer, and in that sphere he was incomparable; but he was devoid of high mental parts, and dest.i.tute of that power of planning a combination, and of that calm, broad, military intelligence which distinguished General Lee."* (* Campaigns of the Army of the Potomac page 289.) And this verdict, except in the South, has been generally accepted. Yet it rests on a most unsubstantial basis. Because Jackson knew so well how to obey it is a.s.serted that he was not well fitted for independent command. Because he could carry out orders to the letter it is a.s.sumed that he was no master of strategy. Because his will was of iron, and his purpose, once fixed, never for a moment wavered, we are asked to believe that his mental scope was narrow. Because he was silent in council, not eager in expressing his ideas, and averse to argument, it is implied that his opinions on matters of great moment were not worth the hearing. Because he was shy and una.s.suming; because he betrayed neither in face nor bearing, save in the heat of battle, any unusual power or consciousness of power, it is hastily concluded that he was deficient in the initiative, the breadth, and the penetration which are the distinguishing characteristics of great generals.

In these pages, however, it has been made clear that Jackson's quiet demeanour concealed a vivid imagination, a fertile brain, and an extraordinary capacity for far-reaching combinations. After he had once made up his mind when and where to strike, it is true that his methods of war were very simple, and his blows those of a sledgehammer. But simplicity of design and vigour of execution are often marks of the very highest military ability. "Genius," says Napier, "is not extravagant; it is ardent, and it conceives great projects; but it knows beforehand how to attain the result, and it uses the simplest means, because its faculties are essentially calculating, industrious, and patient. It is creative, because its knowledge is vast; it is quick and peremptory, not because it is presumptuous, but because it is well-prepared." And Swinton's verdict would have been approved by few of the soldiers of the Civil War. It was not the verdict of Lee. Significant indeed was the cry of the great Confederate, the soul of truth as of generosity, when Jackson was wounded: "Could I have directed events, I should have chosen, for the good of the country, to have been disabled in your stead." It was not the verdict of the Southern people. "No man," it was said by one who knew them well, "had so magnificent prospect before him as General Jackson. Whether he desired it or not, he could not have escaped being Governor of Virginia, and also, in the opinion of competent judges, sooner or later President of the Confederacy."* (*

Hon. Francis Lawley, the Times June 11, 1863.) Nor was it the verdict of the foe. "Stonewall Jackson," wrote General Howard, commanding the Eleventh Corps at Chancellorsville, "was victorious. Even his enemies praise him; but, providentially for us, it was the last battle he waged against the American Union. For, in bold planning, in energy of execution, which he had the power to diffuse, in indefatigable activity and moral ascendency, he stood head and shoulders above his confreres, and after his death General Lee could not replace him."*

(* Battles and Leaders volume 3 page 202.)

It can hardly be questioned that, at the time of his death, Jackson was the leader most trusted by the Confederates and most dreaded by the Federals. His own soldiers, and with them the whole population of the South, believed him capable of any task, invincible except by fate. It never, indeed, fell to Jackson's lot to lead a great army or to plan a great campaign. The operations in the Valley, although decisive in their results, were comparatively insignificant, in respect both of the numbers employed and of the extent of the theatre. Jackson was not wholly independent. His was but a secondary role, and he had to weigh at every turn the orders and instructions of his superiors. His hand was never absolutely free. His authority did not reach beyond certain limits, and his operations were confined to one locality. He was never permitted to cross the border, and "carry the war into Africa." Nor when he joined Lee before Richmond was the restraint removed. In the campaign against Pope, and in the reduction of Harper's Ferry, he was certainly entrusted with tasks which led to a complete severance from the main body, but the severance was merely temporary. He was the most trusted of Lee's lieutenants, but he was only a lieutenant. He had never the same liberty of action as those of his contemporaries who rose to historic fame--as Lee himself, as Johnston or Beauregard, as Grant, or Sherman, or as Sheridan--and consequently he had never a real opportunity for revealing the height and breadth of his military genius.

The Civil War was prolific of great leaders. The young American generals, inexperienced as they were in dealing with large armies, and compelled to improvise their tactics as they improvised their staff, displayed a talent for command such as soldiers more regularly trained could hardly have surpa.s.sed. Neither the deficiencies of their material nor the difficulties of the theatre of war were to be lightly overcome; and yet their methods displayed a refreshing originality. Not only in mechanical auxiliaries did the inventive genius of their race find scope. The principles which govern civilised warfare, the rules which control the employment of each arm, the technical and mechanical arts, were rapidly modified to the exigencies of the troops and of the country. Cavalry, intrenchments, the railway, the telegraph, balloons, signalling, were all used in a manner which had been hitherto unknown. Monitors and torpedoes were for the first time seen, and even the formations of infantry were made sufficiently elastic to meet the requirements of a modern battle-field. Nor was the conduct of the operations fettered by an adherence to conventional practice. From first to last the campaigns were characterised by daring and often skilful manoeuvres; and if the tactics of the battle-field were often less brilliant than the preceding movements, not only are parallels to these tactics to be found in almost every campaign of history, but they would probably have escaped criticism had the opponent been less skilful. But among the galaxy of leaders, Confederate and Federal, in none had the soldiers such implicit confidence as in Stonewall Jackson, and than the Southern soldiers, highly educated as many of them were, no better judges of military capacity were ever known.

Nevertheless, the opinion of the soldiers is no convincing proof that Jackson was equal to the command of a large army, or that he could have carried through a great campaign. Had Lee been disabled, it might be asked, would Jackson have proved a sufficient subst.i.tute?

It has already been explained that military genius shows itself first in character, and, second, in the application of the grand principles of warfare, not in the mere manipulation of armed ma.s.ses. It cannot well be denied that Jackson possessed every single attribute which makes for success in war. Morally and physically he was absolutely fearless. He accepted responsibility with the same equanimity that he faced the bullets of the enemy. He permitted no obstacle to turn him aside from his appointed path, and in seizing an opportunity or in following up a victory he was the very incarnation of untiring energy. He had no moments of weakness. He was not robust, and his extraordinary exertions told upon his const.i.tution. "My health," he wrote to his wife in January 1863, "is essentially good, but I do not think I shall be able in future to stand what I have already stood;"

and yet his will invariably rose superior to bodily exhaustion. A supreme activity, both of brain and body, was a prominent characteristic of his military life. His idea of strategy was to secure the initiative, however inferior his force; to create opportunities and to utilise them; to waste no time, and to give the enemy no rest. "War," he said, "means fighting. The business of the soldier is to fight. Armies are not called out to dig trenches, to throw up breastworks, to live in camps, but to find the enemy and strike him; to invade his country, and do him all possible damage in the shortest possible time. This will involve great destruction of life and property while it lasts; but such a war will of necessity be of brief continuance, and so would be an economy of life and property in the end. To move swiftly, strike vigorously, and secure all the fruits of victory is the secret of successful war."

That he felt to the full the fascination of war's tremendous game we can hardly doubt. Not only did he derive, as all true soldiers must, an intense intellectual pleasure from handling his troops in battle so as to outwit and defeat his adversary, but from the day he first smelt powder in Mexico until he led that astonishing charge through the dark depths of the Wilderness his spirits never rose higher than when danger and death were rife about him. With all his gentleness there was much of the old Berserker about Stonewall Jackson, not indeed the l.u.s.t for blood, but the longing to do doughtily and die bravely, as best becomes a man. His nature was essentially aggressive. He was never more to be feared than when he was retreating, and where others thought only of strong defensive positions he looked persistently for the opportunity to attack. He was endowed, like Ma.s.sena, "with that rare fort.i.tude which seems to increase as perils thicken. When conquered he was as ready to fight again as if he had been conqueror." "L'audace, l'audace, et toujours l'audace" was the mainspring of all his actions, and the very sights and sounds of a stricken field were dear to his soul. Nothing had such power to stir his pulses as the rebel yell. "I remember," says a staff-officer, "one night, at tattoo, that this cry broke forth in the camp of the Stonewall Brigade, and was taken up by brigades and divisions until it rang out far over field and woods. The general came hastily and bareheaded from his tent, and leaning on a fence near by, listened in silence to the rise, the climax, and the fall of that strange serenade, raising his head to catch the sound, as it grew fainter and fainter and died away at last like an echo among the mountains. Then, turning towards his tent, he muttered in half soliloquy, "That was the sweetest music I ever heard.""

Yet least of all was Jackson a mere fighting soldier, trusting to his lucky star and resolute blows to pull him through. He was not, indeed, one of those generals who seek to win victories without shedding blood. He never spared his men, either in marching or fighting, when a great result was to be achieved, and he was content with nothing less than the complete annihilation of the enemy. "Had we taken ten sail," said Nelson, "and allowed the eleventh to escape, when it had been possible to have got at her, I could never have called it well done." Jackson was of the same mind. "With G.o.d's blessing," he said before the Valley campaign, "let us make thorough work of it." When once he had joined battle, no loss, no suffering was permitted to stay his hand. He never dreamed of retreat until he had put in his last reserve. Yet his victories were won rather by sweat than blood, by skilful manoeuvring rather than sheer hard fighting. Solicitous as he was of the comfort of his men, he had no hesitation, when his opportunity was ripe, of taxing their powers of endurance to the uttermost. But the marches which strewed the wayside with the footsore and the weaklings won his battles. The enemy, surprised and outnumbered, was practically beaten before a shot was fired, and success was attained at a trifling cost.

Yet, despite his energy, Jackson was eminently patient. He knew when to refuse battle, just as well as he knew when to deliver it. He was never induced to fight except on his own terms, that is, on his own ground, and at his own time, save at Kernstown only, and there the strategical situation forced his hand. And he was eminently cautious.

Before he committed himself to movement he deliberated long, and he never attacked until he had ample information. He ran risks, and great ones, but in war the nettle danger must be boldly grasped, and in Jackson's case the dangers were generally more apparent than real.

Under his orders the cavalry became an admirable instrument of reconnaissance. He showed a marked sagacity for selecting scouts, both officers and privates, and his system for obtaining intelligence was well-nigh perfect. He had the rare faculty, which would appear instinctive, but which is the fruit of concentrated thought allied to a wide knowledge of war, of divining the intention of his adversary and the state of his moral. His power of drawing inferences, often from seemingly unimportant trifles, was akin to that of the hunter of his native backwoods, to whom the rustle of a twig, the note of a bird, a track upon the sand, speak more clearly than written characters. His estimate of the demoralisation of the Federal army after Bull Run, and of the ease with which Washington might have been captured, was absolutely correct. In the middle of May, 1862, both Lee and Johnston, notwithstanding Jackson's victory over Milroy, antic.i.p.ated that Banks would leave the Valley. Jackson thought otherwise, and Jackson was right. After the b.l.o.o.d.y repulse at Malvern Hill, when his generals reported the terrible confusion in the Confederate ranks, he simply stated his opinion that the enemy was retreating, and went to sleep again. A week later he suggested that the whole army should move against Pope, for McClellan, he said, would never dare to march on Richmond. At Sharpsburg, as the sh.e.l.ls cut the trees to pieces in the West Wood, and the heavy ma.s.ses of Federal infantry filled the fields in front, he told his medical director that McClellan had done his worst. At Fredericksburg, after the first day's battle, he believed that the enemy was already defeated, and, antic.i.p.ating their escape under cover of the darkness, he advised a night attack with the bayonet. His knowledge of his adversary's character, derived, in great degree, from his close observation of every movement, enabled him to predict with astonishing accuracy exactly how he would act under given circ.u.mstances.