University of Virginia Library

V.
LEE'S LAST BATTLES.

1. I.

General Lee's retreat from Petersburg will rank among the
most remarkable events of history. As every circumstance
connected with it will prove interesting hereafter, when the
full history of this period comes to be written, I propose to
record some particulars which came under my observation;
and especially to describe the bearing of the illustrious Commander-in-Chief
of the Confederate forces while passing through
this tremendous ordeal.

An adequate record of this brief and fiery drama—played
from the first to the last scene in a few April days—would
involve the question of General Lee's soldiership. This question
I have neither time nor space to discuss; but I am much
mistaken if a simple statement will not set at rest for ever
those imputations which have been cast, since the surrender,
upon Lee's military judgment, by ignorant or stupid persons
throughout the country. The facts ought to be placed on
record. If General Lee continued, of his own choice, to occupy
a position at Petersburg from which, as events soon showed,
he could not extricate his army, it will go far to rob him of
that renown which he had previously won; and if General
Grant out-manœuvred and caught his great adversary by simple
superiority of soldiership, he is the greater general of the two.
The truth of the whole matter is that Lee was not surprised;
that he foresaw clearly what was coming; and acted from

first to last under orders against which his military judgment
revolted.

Orders were given by General Lee for the evacuation of
Petersburg, and, consequently, of the State of Virginia, at
least six weeks before General Grant broke through the Confederate
lines. The military necessity for this movement was
perfectly plain to all well-informed and intelligent persons, in
the army and out of it. It was only the ignorant or the hopelessly
stupid who cherished the hallucination that Lee could
continue to hold his works around Petersburg against Grant's
enormous force. Nevertheless there were a plenty who did
think so, and who looked upon things there as a sort of
“permanent arrangement.” Lee, in the estimation of these
persons, was the spoiled child of good fortune, greater than
fate, and the Army of Northern Virginia could not be whipped.
The Southern lines were to be held en permanence, and Grant
was to “keep pegging away” until the crack of doom. Such
was the fond delusion of all the “outside” class; those who
were accurately informed, and took the “inside” view, knew
better; and especially did General Lee know that unless he
was speedily reinforced, he could not continue to hold his
lines against the large and steady reinforcements sent to
General Grant. “More men; give me more men!” was the
burden of his despatches to the government. He had nearly
fifty miles of earthworks to defend against three or four times
his own numbers; and a child might have understood that if
Grant continued to receive heavy reinforcements, and Lee
none, while his army continued to diminish from casualties,
the time would soon come when retreat or surrender would be
the only alternatives. The reinforcements did not come,
however. The Army of Northern Virginia went on dwindling,
and Grant continued to increase his strength, until at the end
of winter the result of the coming campaign no longer admitted
of a doubt. The crisis had evidently come, and it was
perfectly plain that Lee must evacuate Virginia. All his
prominent Generals shared his views. One of them said: “If
Grant once breaks through our lines, we might as well go

back to Father Abraham, and say, `Father, we have sinned.' ”
If anything was plain it was this: that if the immense line of
Lee's works was broken anywhere, he was lost.

It is certainly nothing very remarkable that under these circumstances
General Lee should make an attempt to save his
army—the only hope of the Confederacy. There was only one
way to do it, and the opportunity of embracing that sole means
was rapidly slipping away. General Lee must move, if he
moved at all, on the line of the Southside Railroad toward
Danville, and he must move at once; for General Grant, who
knew perfectly well the necessities of his adversary, was pouring
heavy columns toward Hatcher's Run, to intercept him if he
made the attempt. The Federal army was kept ready day
and night, with rations cooked and in haversacks, for instant
pursuit; and each of the great opponents understood completely
his adversary's design. General Grant knew that General Lee
ought to retreat, and he had learned the important maxim that
it is always best to give your enemy credit for intending to do
what he ought to do. If Lee moved promptly toward Danville,
every effort would be made to come up with and destroy him;
if he did not retreat, time would be allowed the Federal army
to gradually fight its way to the Southside road. Once lodged
upon that great artery of the Southern army, Grant had checkmated
his opponent.

Upon this obvious view of the situation, General Lee, in
February, issued orders for the removal of all the stores of the
army to Amelia Court-House, on the road to Danville. A
movement of this sort is, of course, impossible of concealment,
and the whole army soon knew that something was “in the
wind.” Government cotton and tobacco was hauled away from
Petersburg; hundreds of the inhabitants left the place; all the
surplus artillery was sent to Amelia Court-House, and even the
reserve ordnance train of the army was ordered to the same
point. Then suddenly, in the midst of all, the movement
stopped. The authorities at Richmond had said, “Hold your
position.” Lee countermanded his orders and awaited his fate.

I say awaited his fate, because I am perfectly well convinced

that from that moment he regarded the event as a mere question
of time. No reinforcements reached him, while Grant grew
stronger every day by reinforcements from Washington and
Sherman's army—two corps from the latter—and soon he had
at his command Sheridan's excellent force of 12,000 or 15,000
cavalry. He was pushing heavy columns, one after another,
toward the Southside road, and at any moment a general attack
might be expected all along the lines, while the élite of the
Federal force was thrown against Lee's right. Such an assault,
in his enfeebled condition, was more than General Lee could
sustain, unless he stripped his works elsewhere of all their
defenders; but a brave effort was made to prepare for the coming
storm, and Lee evidently determined to stand at bay and
fight to the last. The expected attack soon came. Grant
rapidly concentrated his army (amounting, General Meade
stated at Appomattox Court-House, to about 140,000 men) on
Lee's right, near Burgess' Mill; his most efficient corps of infantry
and cavalry were thrown forward, and a desperate attack
was made upon the Confederate works on the White-oak road.
A bloody repulse awaited the first assault, but the second was
successful. At the same time the lines near Petersburg were
broken by a great force, and the affair was decided. The Confederate
army was cut in two; the enemy held the Southside
Railroad, intercepting the line of retreat; and what Lee's clear
military judgment had foreseen had come to pass. Between
his 40,000 men and Danville were the 140,000 men of Grant.

2. II.

I should think it impossible even for his worst enemy to
regard the situation of this truly great man at the moment in
question without a certain sympathy and respect. He was not
Commander-in-Chief only, but the whole Southern Confederacy
himself—carrying upon his shoulders the heavy weight of the
public care. Every confidence was felt in the patriotism and
sincere devotion of President Davis to the Southern cause—but

there was a very general distrust of his judgment, and his
administration had not made him popular. Lee, on the contrary,
was the idol almost of the people; and it was to him that the
South looked in this dark hour, calling on him for deliverance.

Up to this moment he had been in a condition to meet his
great responsibility. In a campaign of unexampled fury, dragging
its bloody steps from the Rappahannock to the Appomattox,
he had held his lines against almost overwhelming
assaults, foiling an adversary of acknowledged genius, commanding
a superb army. Against this army, constantly reinforced,
he had continued to hold the works around Petersburg,
and protect the capital; and to him, amid the gloom and depression,
all had looked as to their sole hope. There was no possibility
of General Lee himself escaping a knowledge of this
fact. It was in the faces and the words of men; in the columns
of the newspapers; in the very air that was breathed. Good
men wrote to him not to expose himself, for if he fell all was
over. In brief words, the whole country agreed that in this man
and his army lay the only hope of the Southern Confederacy.

If the reader realizes what I have thus tried to express, he
may form some idea of the crushing ordeal through which
General Lee was, on the 2d of April, called upon to pass.

The brief particulars about to be set down may furnish the
candid historian of the future with material to form an unbiassed
judgment of General Lee and his retreat. I am mistaken if
the narrative, however brief and incomplete, does not show the
great proportions and noble character of the individual—his
constancy under heavy trials, and his majestic equanimity in
face of a misfortune the most cruel, perhaps, which a soldier
can be called on to bear.

Soon after sunrise on the 2d of April the Federal columns,
in heavy mass, advanced from the outer line of works, which
they had carried at daybreak, to attack General Lee in his
inner intrenchments near Petersburg. When the present writer
reached the vicinity of army headquarters, on the Cox road,
west of the city, a Federal column was rapidly advancing to
charge a battery posted in the open field to the right of the

house, and at that time firing rapidly. General Lee was in
the lawn in front of his Headquarters, looking through his
glasses at the column as it moved at a double quick across the
fields; and knowing the terrible significance of the advantage
which the Federal troops had gained, I looked at the General
to ascertain, if possible, what he thought of it. He never appeared
more calm; and if the affair had been a review, he
could not have exhibited less emotion of any description. In
full uniform, with his gold-hilted sword, and perfectly quiet
look, he appeared to be witnessing, with simple curiosity, some
military parade. But this “dress” costume was assumed, it is
said, with another view. He had dressed himself that morning,
I afterwards heard, with scrupulous care, and buckled on
his finest sword, declaring that if he was captured he would be
taken in full harness.

The movement of the Federal column became more rapid,
and the battery was soon charged; but it succeeded in galloping
off under a heavy fire of musketry. The column then
pressed on, and the Federal artillery opened a heavy fire on
the hill, before which the Southern guns—there was no infantry
—withdrew, General Lee retired slowly with his artillery, riding
his well-known iron gray; and one person, at least, in the
company forgot the shell and sharpshooters, looking at the superb
old cavalier, erect as an arrow, and as calm as a May
morning. When he said to an officer near, “This is a bad business,
Colonel,” there was no excitement in his voice, or indeed
any change whatsoever in its grave and courteous tones. A
slight flush came to his face, however, a moment afterwards.
A shell from the Federal batteries, fired at the group, burst
almost upon him, killing a horse near by, and cutting bridle-reins.
This brought a decided expression of “fight” to the
old soldier's face, and he probably felt as he did in Culpeper
when the disaster of Rappahannock bridge occurred—when he
muttered, General Stuart told me, “I should now like to go into
a charge!”

These details may appear trivial. But the demeanour of
public men on great occasions is legitimate, and not uninteresting

matter for history. General Lee's personal bearing
upon this critical occasion, when he saw himself about to be
subjected to the greatest humiliation to the pride of a soldier—
capture—was admirably noble and serene. It was impossible
not to be struck with the grandeur of his appearance—no other
phrase describes it: or to refrain from admiring the princely
air with which the old cavalry officer sat his horse. With his
calm and thoughtful eye, and perfect repose of manner visible
in spite of the restive movements of his horse, frightened by
the firing, it was hard to believe that he saw there was no hope,
—and for himself, would have cared little if one of the bullets
singing around had found its mark in his breast.

3. III.

In ten minutes the Federal troops had formed line of battle
in front of the Headquarters, and a thin line of Confederate
infantry manned the badly-constructed works on the Cox road.
If the Federal line of battle—now visible in huge mass—had
advanced at once, they would have found opposed to them only
two small brigades, which would not have been a good mouthful.
The amusing thing was to hear the “ragged rebels”—
and they were very ragged—laughing as they looked at the
heavy line apparently about to charge them, and crying: “Let
'em come on! we'll give 'em—!” Gordon was mean while
thundering on the left of Petersburg, and holding his lines with
difficulty, and at night one point at least was gained. The
surrender would not take place there. Where it would be was
not yet decided.

Before morning the army had been moved to the northern
bank of the Appomattox; the glare and roar of the blown-up
magazines succeeded; and accompanied by the unwieldy trains,
loaded with the miserable rubbish of winter quarters, the
troops commenced their march up the Appomattox, toward the
upper bridges.

General Lee was on his gray horse, leading his army in person;

there were no longer any lines to defend, any earthworks
to hold; the army was afloat, and instead of being depressed,
they seemed in excellent spirits. But the drama had only commenced.

The great game of chess between Grant and Lee commenced
on the morning of the 3d of April; the one aiming if possible
to extricate his army, the other to cut off and capture, or destroy
it.

The relative numbers of the opposing forces can only be
stated in round numbers. I understood afterwards that General
Meade stated the Federal force to amount to about one hundred
and forty thousand men. That of General Lee did not exceed,
if it reached, forty thousand. So great had been the drain
upon this historic army from the casualties of the past year,
from absence with and without leave, and other causes, that
—deprived of all reinforcements—it was now weaker than it
had probably ever been before. General Meade, it is said, expressed
extreme astonishment to General Lee when informed
of his small numbers, declaring that if General Grant had suspected
this weakness, he would have long before broken through
the Confederate lines. The statement was natural, and General
Meade doubtless believed in the ability of the Federal army
to have done so; but it is certain that General Grant made persistent
and desperate attempts to accomplish this very object,
in which his adversary, by rapid movements of his small force
from point to point, and obstinate fighting, had invariably
foiled him.

To return to the retreat. The Southern army had been so
long cooped up in its hovels and casemates—moving only by
stealth along “covered-ways”—that any movement anywhere
was a relief. In addition to this, the troops had not yet had
time to reflect. The sensation of being driven from their earthworks—now
like home to them—was stunning: and the men
did not at once realize the tremendous change which had all at
once taken place in the aspect of affairs. No man seemed yet
to have persuaded himself of the fact that “General Lee's
Army,” which only yesterday had held the long lines, in defiance

of all comers, was to-day in full retreat, and bent first of
all upon escaping from the enemy they had so often defeated.

Gradually, however, the unhappy condition of affairs began
to dawn upon the troops; and all at once they looked the terrible
fact in the face. General Lee was retreating from Virginia—most
depressing of events!—and it was even a matter
of very extreme doubt whether he could accomplish even that
much. No troops were ever better informed upon military
affairs than those of the South; and the private soldier discussed
the chances with a topographical knowledge which could
not have been surpassed by a general officer with a map before
him. I heard one brave tatterdemalion, evidently from the
backwoods, say, “Grant is trying to cut off old Uncle Robert
at Burkesville Junction;” and another replied, “Grant can
get there first.” There, in a few words, was the essence of the
“situation.”

General Grant held the Southside Railroad, and was pouring
forward troops under Sheridan toward the Danville Railroad,
to which he had a straight cut without a particle of obstruction,
except a small force of cavalry—less than two thousand effective
men—under General Fitz Lee. General Lee, on the contrary,
was moving by a circuitous route on the north bank of the Appomattox,
encumbered by a huge wagon-train, and having in
front of him a swollen river, which proved a terrible delay to
him at the moment when every instant counted. So great were
the obstacles, that General Grant could have intercepted the
Southern column, had he made extraordinary exertions, even at
Amelia Court-House. General Lee did not succeed in reaching
that point until Wednesday, the 5th—the bridges over the
Appomattox being swept away or rendered useless by the
freshet which had covered the low grounds and prevented
access to them. The troops finally crossed on pontoons at
two or three places; and, although suffering seriously from
want of rations, pushed forward in good spirits to Amelia Court-House.

Up to this time there had been very few stragglers, the Virginia
troops turning their backs upon their homes without

complaint, and satisfied to follow “Old Uncle Robert”
wherever he led them. The statement that desertions of Virginians
had taken place is untrue. They marched with their
brethren from the Gulf States cheerfully; and it was only
afterward, when broken down by starvation, that they dropped
out of the ranks. That some, seeing the sure fate before them
—surrender, and, as they supposed, long incarceration in a
Northern prison—left their ranks during the last hours of the
retreat, is also true; but, a few hours after they thus left their
colours, it was the general officers who looked out for avenues
of exit through the Federal cordon closing around, to avoid
the inevitable surrender; and who said to their men, “Save
yourselves in any way you can.”

The scene at Amelia Court-House on Wednesday was a
curious one. The huge army trains were encamped in the
suburbs of the pretty little village, and the travel-worn troops
bivouacked in the fields. They were still in good spirits, and
plainly had an abiding confidence in their great commander.
The brigades, though thinned by their heavy losses at Petersburg,
still presented a defiant front; and the long lines of veterans
with bristling bayonets, led by Longstreet, Gordon, and
Mahone, advanced as proudly as they had done in the hard
conflicts of the past. The troops were still in excellent morale,
and had never been readier for desperate fighting than at that
moment. Men and officers were tired and hungry, but laughing;
and nowhere could be seen a particle of gloom, or shrinking,
or ill-humour—sure symptoms in the human animal of a
want of “heart of hope.” I will add that I saw little of it to
the end.

The unavoidable delay in crossing the Appomattox had given
General Grant time to mass a heavy force—as General Meade's
report shows—at Burkesville Junction; and if it was General
Lee's intention to advance on the east side of the Danville road,
he gave it up. I believe, however, that such was never his
design. His trains were directed to move through Cumberland,
Prince Edward, and Campbell, toward Pittsylvania; and
the army would naturally keep near enough to protect them,

moving southward between the Junction and Framville. While
the troops were resting at Amelia Court-House, and waiting
for the rear to come up, the Federal commander must have
pushed forward with great rapidity. His cavalry was already
scouring the country far in advance of the Confederate column,
and the numbers and excellence of this branch of their service
gave them a fatal advantage. The reserve train, containing
nearly all the ammunition of the Southern army, was attacked
and burned near Paynesville, and the fate awaiting other portions
of the army train was foreseen. Its unwieldy size and
slow movement made it an easy prey; and it was incessantly
attacked, and large sections carried off or destroyed. So numerous
were these captures, that nearly the whole subsistence
of the army was lost; and from this time commenced the really
distressing scenes of the march. The men were without rations,
and had marched almost day and night since leaving Petersburg;
their strength was slowly drained from them; and despondency,
like a black and poisonous mist, began to invade
the hearts before so tough and buoyant.

The tendency of military life is to make man an animal, and
to subject his mind in a great measure to his body. Feed a
soldier well, and let him sleep sufficiently, and he will fight
gaily. Starve him, and break him down with want of sleep
and fatigue, and he will despond. He will fight still, but not
gaily; and unless thorough discipline is preserved, he will
“straggle” off to houses by the road for food and sleep. Desertion
is not in his mind, but the result is the same. The man
who lags or sleeps while his column is retreating, close pressed
by the enemy, never rejoins it. Such is the explanation of the
phenomena exhibited on this retreat; and now why were the
troops thus left without rations, and compelled to scatter over
the country in search of enough food to preserve them from
starvation?

The reply to that question is, that rations for his army were
ordered to be sent to Amelia Court-House by General Lee;
that trains containing the supplies were dispatched from Danville;
and that these trains were ordered, by telegraph from

Richmond, to come on to Richmond, and did so, when the
bread and meat was thrown in the gutter, to make way for the
rubbish of the Departments. The rubbish was preserved for
subsequent capture, and the Army of Northern Virginia staggered
on, and starved, and surrendered.

If any one demands the proof of this assertion, I will give it.

4. IV.

General Lee left Amelia Court-House on the evening of the
5th, and from this time the army was incessantly engaged, particularly
with the Federal cavalry. On the 6th the enemy was
encountered in force; and line of battle was formed to repulse
them, if they advanced upon the trains then moving towards
High Bridge. It was on this evening that Generals Ewell and
Anderson were suddenly attacked and their commands thrown
into great confusion, in the rear of the wagon-trains. These
officers and others—including General Custis Lee, son of the
General—were captured, and the drama seemed about to end
here; but it did not.

To the hostile fate which seemed to be pressing him to his
destruction, General Lee opposed a will as unconquerable as the
Greek Necessity with her iron wedge. The terrible results of
this disorganization of Ewell and Anderson were averted by a
movement of infantry as rapid and unexpected as that of the
Federal cavalry. From the flanking column of Confederate
infantry a brigade was pushed across at a double-quick; and
between the disorganized troops of Ewell and the victorious
enemy rose a wall of bayonets, flanked by cannon. From this
human rock the wave went back; and though the lurid glare
of the signals along the Federal lines in the gathering darkness
seemed the prelude to another attack, none was made.

I have spoken briefly of this scene. It was one of gloomy
picturesqueness and tragic interest. On a plateau, raised above
the forest from which they had emerged, were the disorganized
troops of Ewell and Anderson, gathered in groups, unofficered,

and uttering tumultuous exclamations of rage or defiance.
Rising above the weary groups which had thrown themselves
upon the ground, were the grim barrels of cannon, in battery,
to fire as soon as the enemy appeared. In front of all was the
still line of battle just placed by Lee, and waiting calmly.
General Lee had rushed his infantry over just at sunset, leading
it in person, his face animated, and his eye brilliant with
the soldier's spirit of “fight,” but his bearing unflurried as
before. An artist desiring to paint his picture ought to have
seen the old cavalier at this moment, sweeping on upon his
large iron gray, whose mane and tail floated in the wind; carryling
his field-glass half raised in his right hand; with head
erect, gestures animated, and in the whole face and form the
expression of the hunter close upon his game. The line once
interposed, he rode in the twilight among the disordered
groups above mentioned, and the sight of him raised a
tumult. Fierce cries resounded on all sides; and with hands
clenched violently and raised aloft, the men called on him to
lead them against the enemy. “It's General Lee!” “Uncle
Robert!” “Where's the man who won't follow Uncle Robert?”
I heard on all sides; the swarthy faces, full of dirt and
courage, lit up every instant by the glare of the burning wagons.
Altogether, the scene was indescribable.

This took place on the evening of the 6th of April. The
main body of the Federal army was now closing round Lee,
and it was only by obstinate and persistent fighting that he
was able to continue his retreat. Everywhere the Federal
forces were confronted by his excellently served artillery; and
the thin lines of infantry, marching on the flanks of the trains,
met and repulsed every attack with the old spirit of the Army
of Northern Virginia. In hunger, and thirst, and weariness,
and retreat, these veteran troops stood by their colours without
a murmur, and fought as admirably as when carrying all before
them, and flushed with victory. Others, however, were less
constant; rather, let us say, less physically competent. They
fell out of the ranks by hundreds, overcome by hunger and
exhaustion; or, what was equally bad, they dropped their heavy

guns and cartridge-boxes, and straggled along, a useless, cumbrous
mob. On the morning of the 7th, beyond Farmville, the
Federal cavalry made continuous and desperate onslaughts on
the train, throwing everything into confusion. The teamsters,
always the least soldierly portion of an army, became panic-stricken,
and the terrible roads increased a thousand-fold the
difficulties of the march. Wagons were captured or abandoned
all along, in spite of hard fighting, and from this time
the retreat became a scene of disorder which no longer left any
ground for hope. I intended to describe it, but the subject is
too disagreeable. Let some other eye-witness place upon record
these last scenes of a great tragedy.

On the 7th, General Grant opened his correspondence with
General Lee, stating that the result of the march, so far, must
have convinced him of “the hopelessness of further resistance;”
and this correspondence continued until the morning of the
9th, General Lee refusing to surrender the army. But his condition
was hopeless. The Confederate forces were reduced to
7,800 muskets, and Grant had in General Lee's front 80,000
men, with a reserve of 40,000 or 50,000, which would arrive
in twenty-four hours. These odds were too great; and although
General Gordon drove them a mile with his thin line half an
hour before the surrender, the Federal forces continued to close
in and extend their cordon of infantry, cavalry, and artillery,
until the Southern army was almost completely surrounded.
Lee's line slowly fell back before this overwhelming force, and
the moment seemed to have come when the “Old Guard” of
the Army of Northern Virginia would be called upon to crown
its historic fame by a last charge and a glorious death. These
men would have died with Lee without a murmur, fighting to
the last; but any such wanton sacrifice of human life, without
any imaginable use, was far from the thoughts of the great
soldier. He had fought as long as he could, and done all in his
power to extricate his army from a position in which it had been
placed by no fault of his. Now he did not hesitate in his
course. At first he had recoiled from the idea of surrender
when it was suggested to him by, I think, General Pendleton.

This officer had informed him that his corps commanders were
unanimously of opinion that surrender was inevitable; but he
had exclaimed, greatly shocked, “Surrender! I have too many
good fighting men for that!” Now the current had set too
strongly against him, and he was forced to yield. The army,
with less than eight thousand muskets, a very short supply of
ammunition, and almost nothing to eat, was at Appomattox
Court-House, in the bend of the James—wholly impassable
without pontoons—and on every side the great force of General
Grant was contracting and closing in. A Federal force had
seized considerable supplies of rations, sent down by railroad
from Lynchburg; and this force now took its position in front
of the Confederate army, slowly moving by the left flank toward
James river. General Custer, who seemed to be greatly elated
on this occasion, and to enjoy the result keenly, stated to Confederate
officers that Grant's force amounted to eighty thousand
men, and that a heavy reserve was coming up.

Under these circumstances General Lee determined to surrender
his army, and did so, on condition that the officers and
men should be paroled, to go to their homes and remain undisturbed
by “United States authorities” as long as they remained
quiet and peaceable citizens. Officers and men were to retain
their private property, and the former their side-arms.

Such was the Convention between Lee and Grant.

5. V.