University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER I

THE WAR OF SECESSION

The firing on Fort Sumter, at four-thirty in the morning
of Friday, April 12, 1861, was the signal for the beginning of
four long years of war, and many more years of readjustment,
more bitter than war itself. The Richmond Dispatch of Saturday,
April 13, carried the headline, "The War Commenced—
Firing on Fort Sumter Begun." Among the troops of South
Carolina was a "grey-haired volunteer from Virginia,"
Edmund Ruffin. Another distinguished Virginian, Roger A.
Pryor, had offered his services to South Carolina. In a speech
to a throng of serenaders who, one night, surrounded the
Charleston Hotel, where he was staying, he said, "As sure as
tomorrow's sun will rise upon us, just so sure will Old Virginia
be a member of the Southern Confederation. And I will tell
you, Gentlemen, what will put her in the Southern Confederation
in less than an hour by Shrewsbury's clock. Strike a blow!
* * * The very moment that blood is shed, Old Virginia will
make common cause with her sisters of the South. It is
impossible she should do otherwise."[1]

The news of the surrender of Fort Sumter occasioned great
excitement throughout Virginia. A news item of a Richmond[2]

Edmund Ruffin

paper states that, in the capital city, "Saturday night,
April 14, the offices of the Dispatch, Enquirer, and Examiner,
the banking house of Enders, Sutton and Co., the Edgmont
House, and sundry other public and private places, testified
to the general joy by brilliant illuminations. Hardy less than
10,000 persons were on Main Street, between Eighth and Fourteenth,
at one time. Speeches were delivered at the Spottswood
House, at the Dispatch corner, in front of the Enquirer office,
at the Exchange Hotel, and at other places. Bonfires were
lighted at nearly every corner of every principal street in the
city, and the light of beacon fires could be seen burning on
Union and Church Hills."

The bands played "Dixie" and "La Marseillaise." There
were similar demonstrations throughout the chief cities of the
state.

On that day, William Ballard Preston, Alexander H. H.
Stuart and George W. Randolph, who had been sent on
April 8 by the Virginia Convention as commissioners to
Lincoln to ascertain his policy in regard to the seceded states,
returned with the report that the President had said that, if it
were true that Fort Sumter had been fired upon, he would
meet force with force.[3]

On the same day, April 15, upon which these commissioners
gave their report, the convention received the news of the
President's proclamation calling on the states of the Union
for troops. It was this call for Virginia soldiers to coerce
the Southern States that threw Virginia into the Confederacy.
Virginia did not leave the Union because South Carolina struck
the blow at Sumter. There were still enough cool-headed men
in Virginia to have prevented secession had she not been called
upon to coerce her sister states. In answer to the Secretary
of War, through whom the proclamation had come, Governor
Letcher wrote to Secretary Cameron April 16, 1861:

"In reply to this communication, I have only to say, that
the militia of Virginia will not be furnished to the powers at

John Letcher

Governor 1860-1864

Washington for any such use or purpose as they have in view.
Your object is to subjugate the Southern States; and a requisition
made upon me for such an object—an object, in my
judgment, not within the purview of the Constitution, or the
Act of 1795—will not be complied with. You have chosen to
inaugurate civil war, and having done so, we will meet it in a
spirit as determined as the Administration has exhibited
towards the South."[4]

On the day after the dispatch of this letter, Governor
Letcher issued a proclamation instructing all armed volunteer
regiments or companies within the State to hold themselves
in readiness for immediate orders. He was preparing to
resist coercion by the Federal Government. The Virginia
Convention had been in session nearly two months earnestly
considering the state of the Union and the question of secession.
After the formation of the Southern Confederacy, the
border states were isolated. Virginia had hoped that her position
between the two hostile groups would enable her to act
as a mediator. After President Lincoln's call for troops
Virginia was forced to abandon this position and to join her
forces with one side or the other. There could be but one
choice. The people felt that the Union had already been dissolved
by the seceding states, and that Lincoln had now made
all hope of reconstructing the Union impossible. Would
Virginia remain in the Northern Confederation or join the
Southern Confederation? They were bound to the people of
the Southern States not only by economic and social ties but
also by ties of kinship. One has only to look at the family
histories of Virginians to see what a steady stream of emigrants
went south and southwest from Virginia during the
half century before 1860. They must either throw in their
lot with their neighbors and kinsmen or fight them in company
with a government controlled by "black republicans" and
abolitionists who had lost no opportunity to abuse them and
injure them.

There was no surprise, therefore, at the secession of
Virginia. The convention, late in the night of April 17,
passed the Ordinance of Secession—Virginia's second Declaration
of Independence:

"The people of Virginia recognize the American principle,
that government is founded on the consent of the governed,
and the right of the people of the several states of this Union,
for just cause, to withdraw from their association under the
Federal Government with the people of the other states, and
to erect new governments for their better security; and they
never will consent that the Federal power, which is, in part,
their power, shall be exerted for the purpose of subjecting the
people of such states to the Federal authority."

The ordinance was adopted by a vote of one hundred and
three to forty-six. It was to be valid if ratified by a vote of
the people on the fourth Thursday in May. On May 23, it
was ratified by a vote of 125,950 to 20,373. Of the votes cast
against it, the majority came from the northwestern counties.

The people of the State, like their ancestors who had fought
under Washington, desired independence from a government
under which they could no longer feel secure or happy. With
them the spirit of '61 was a revival of the spirit of '76.

The Ordinance of Secession ended the long period of
suspense which had followed Lincoln's election on November 6,
1860. During that period, the desire for secession had only
become stronger when it was realized that there could be no
middle ground in the approaching conflict. The reaction that
came with the knowledge that at last a decision had been
reached brought great joy. The news of the action of the convention
appeared in the morning papers and was received with
jubilation throughout the State. The night of April 19 was
set aside by the people of Richmond for a great illumination
in honor of independence. The scene described below by an
eye-witness of those days, is typical of others in both sections
of the country. It was a gala night. There was no thought of
war; only of independence.

"As far as the eye could reach down the line of Franklin
Street, over the hill, more than a mile distant, glared the
torches; and the dim transparencies shone like illuminated
squares of vapor, or gigantic fire-flies; the sounds of musical
instruments growing fainter and fainter, until they were lost
upon the ear, or drowned in the hum of the multitude, which
now and then burst forth into the wildest hurrahs. It was
impossible to mistake the sentiment which possessed the soul
of the assemblage. It was not the result of a sudden ebullition
of excitement, but a real emotion, long cherished."[5]

Those who participated in this outburst of feeling did not
know that President Lincoln on that very day had issued an
order for the blockading of Southern ports—the beginning of
the slow strangling of the South. On the same day a crowd
of secessionists disputed the passage of Federal troops
through Baltimore. It resulted in several casualties.

The days of preparation for war were full of excitement.
People seldom count the cost of war until the days of reckoning
which follow. It is a sad commentary on human nature
that wars are usually begun with a light heart.

The state authorities did not await the result of the popular
vote on the ratification of the Ordinance of Secession, but
assuming for good reasons that the vote would be in the affirmative,
hastened to join the Southern Confederacy. Upon
receiving a telegram from Governor Letcher asking for an
alliance with the Confederacy, President Davis sent Vice
President Alexander H. Stephens to Richmond. A military
alliance was negotiated. Virginia was admitted into the Confederacy
on May 7, and on May 21 the capital of the Confederate
States was moved from Montgomery, Alabama, to
Richmond.[6]

Recruits assembled from Virginia and from all parts of the

Confederacy, and a city of tents appeared in the fields outside
of Richmond. The raw recruits were put through the school
of the soldier by young cadets under supervision of older
officers. All hands turned to preparation for war. The women
organized sewing societies. They cut bandages and prepared
lint for the wounded. They not only made lighter articles,
such as socks and shirts, but also heavier stuff, jackets and
overcoats, and tents from sail-cloth. Many stiff and swollen
fingers testified to their determination and industry. These
busy fingers made up in large part for the lack of manufacturers
of clothing in the South. The first flurry of excitement
over the approach of the enemy occurred on Sunday, the 21st
of April. Notice had been given that a bell in Capitol Square
would be rung should there be any emergency requiring the
services of the soldiers who might be attending the churches
throughout the city. On that morning while the churches were
filled with worshippers the bell rang and the men hastened to
their respective posts. The report that the Federal gunboat
Pawnee was threatening the city had caused the sudden excitement.
Troops and guns were hurried down the river; and as
twilight began to settle the sound of cannon was heard. The
alarm was false, however, and the cannon fire was not directed
at a Federal ship, but at some object in the river with the
purpose of fixing the range. This day was long remembered
in Richmond as the "Pawnee Sunday."

The first invasion of Virginia by Federal troops was the
occupation of Alexandria on May 24, 1861. It was done
secretly and at night and some Confederate cavalry troops
were surprised and taken captive. At early dawn a Federal
officer saw above the Marshall House a large Confederate flag.
With four companions he climbed a ladder, took down the flag
and was returning through the house when he met Mr. Jackson,
the keeper of the hotel. "This is my trophy," said the
officer, pointing to the flag. "And you are mine," answered
Jackson as he shot him dead. Jackson, in turn, was instantly

killed. This was the first bloodshed on Virginia soil in defense
of the flag.

Governor Letcher's call for volunteers met with a ready
response. In less than two months after secession, Virginia
had at least 40,000 troops in the field.[7] They were coming to
the camps faster than they could be armed. A state navy was
organized. By the 16th of November, 1861, Virginia had
expended more than $6,000,000 for war purposes. Prices had
already begun to rise. In June, 1861, the Confederate Government
took over the military forces of the several states.
Governor Letcher protested vigorously against this usurpation
of the rights of the sovereign states as unconstitutional;
but he counseled his people to obey the order for the period of
the emergency and to settle such questions later.[8]

A few days after Virginia had left the Union, many of her
sons who were in the service of the United States army and
navy returned to the State. Of the five generals in the Federal
army, four were from the South. Two of these were from
Virginia. The commander-in-chief of the army was a Virginian.
From the same state came the three commanders in
command of the forces in Texas, New Mexico, and Utah; the
Surgeon General, the Judge Advocate General, the Assistant
Judge Advocate General, the acting Commissary General, and
the Quartermaster General.[9]

As war became imminent the command of the armies of
the United States was offered to another Virginian, Colonel
Robert E. Lee, who had distinguished himself for his bravery
and ability as an officer of engineers in General Scott's army
during the Mexican war, and who had been conspicuous for
his skill as an engineer in the service of the War Department
since that time. Colonel Lee loved the Union and had no illusions
as to the future of the South in a war of secession. He

realized that, in leaving the Federal army, he was giving up
the opportunity of attaining the highest honor that he could
receive in his profession. He dedicated his services to his
native state in this hour of crisis out of a spirit of loyalty to
that state. He was moved by a fine sense of honor and of
duty. It was to him a war to repel invasion and to win independence.
To him the cause was as deserving of success as
that to which Washington had dedicated his life. The Virginians
who fought under his command shared these lofty motives.

"I can contemplate," he said, "no greater calamity for the
country than a dissolution of the Union—and I am willing to
sacrifice everything but honor for its preservation. However,
a union that can only be maintained by swords and bayonets,
and in which strife and civil war are to take the place of
brotherly love and kindness, has no charm for me. I shall
mourn for my country and the progress of mankind. If the
Union is dissolved, and the government is disrupted, I shall
return to my native state and share the misery of my people,
and save in their defense will draw my sword no more."

In these words Robert E. Lee expressed the feeling of his
fellow Virginians, except that they were doubtless more
optimistic.

When Colonel Lee arrived at the Capital City on April 22,
1861, he was met and escorted to the Spottswood Hotel by the
state adjutant-general and others. A large crowd awaited him
and called upon him for a speech. With his usual reluctance
in making public speeches he responded in a few words that
he was there to do his duty for his state. Upon hearing that
Lee had resigned his commission in the Federal army, Governor
Letcher had placed him in command of the Virginia troops.
He had come to enter upon his new duties.

On the day after his arrival in Richmond, he was called
before the Virginia Convention and received his commission
as commander-in-chief of the forces of Virginia, from the
hands of its aged president, John Janney.

Lee set to work at once with great energy to organize the

General Lee on His Horse Traveller

raw recruits into an army and to make the State secure against
invasion. Firearms and other weapons of every available kind
were gathered. Among the military supplies were some which
have now become extinct—many flint lock rifles, some gallons
of whiskey, etc. Harper's Ferry and Gosport Navy Yard,
with their supplies, were seized, and the numerous rivers which
reach far into the State were fortified against Federal
gunboats.

When the Confederate Government assumed control of the
troops of Virginia in June, 1861, Lee was one of the five
generals appointed by the Confederate Congress, and was
chosen as military adviser to President Davis. In this capacity,
he made plans which brought victory to the Confederate
army at Manassas.

The first battle of the war between organized forces had
already taken place in Western Virginia. This region, cut off
by mountains from ready communication with Eastern
Virginia, fell an easy prey to the Federal arms.[10]

The Confederates were defeated in several small battles.
After the battle of Carricks Ford (July 14, 1861), in which
the Confederate general, Robert S. Garnett, was killed and his
army defeated, General McClellan, who commanded the Federal
troops, telegraphed to Washington, "Our success is
complete and secession is killed in this country." The triumph
of the Federal armies in Western Virginia made possible the
organization of the revolutionary "Restored Government" of
Virginia, which brought into the Union the state of West
Virginia.

On June 10, 1861, a Federal army, under General Price,
attacked a much smaller Confederate force of Virginia and
North Carolina troops, under General J. B. Magruder, at
Bethel Church, a few miles from Hampton, Virginia. The
assault was repulsed. It was an insignificant victory, but it

gave the Confederates some encouragement after their defeats
in Western Virginia.

After Richmond became the capital of the Confederate
States of America the cry of the North of "On to Richmond"
became increasingly persistent. From the very first of the
war, the Federals had held two doors opening into Virginia.
McDowell had taken Alexandria, and Butler was holding
Fortress Monroe, which was too strongly fortified to be seized
by Virginia troops at the outbreak of the war.

Virginia's position as the chief border state, in threatening
proximity to the Federal Government, and defending the Confederate
capital, made her the pathway and the battlefield of
opposing armies throughout the war. Dr. Philip Alexander
Bruce calls attention to the fact that the Confederacy blundered
in establishing its capital at Richmond, a place close
to the chief Federal base and open to attacks from almost
every side. By the transfer of the seat of government to
Richmond, General Lee's military career was destined to
become associated with the eastern theatre of warfare alone,
instead of with the western, where the successes of the army
of Northern Virginia, unhampered by the vulnerableness of
Richmond and the necessity of holding it, would, in all probability,
have secured the independence of the southern states.[11]

During July Federal armies were threatening Virginia
from the passes of the northwestern mountains; down the
Shenandoah from Harper's Ferry, which the Confederates
had abandoned; along the Alexandria and Orange Railroad
from Alexandria; and up the Peninsula from Fortress Monroe.
Four Confederate armies containing a total of 65,000
men were placed to resist these invasions—Johnston with
15,000 men in the Valley; Beauregard at Manassas with
20,000; Huger at Norfolk, and Magruder at Yorktown with a
combined force of 17,000; Holmes, with 8,000, at Aquia Creek;
and Garnett, with 5,000, in Western Virginia.[12]

These armies stood on the defensive. It soon became evident
that the Federals had decided to attack first at Manassas,
where General Beauregard's army was guarding the junction
of the Alexandria and Orange Railroad with the Manassas
Gap Railroad, which formed his line of communication with
Johnston in the Valley near Winchester.[13]

General McDowell, the Union leader south of the Potomac,
was ordered to attack Beauregard, while General Patterson,
with about 22,000 men, would defeat Johnston or hold him in
check in order to prevent his union with Beauregard.
McDowell was an officer of ability and experience, who had
served as a staff officer during the Mexican war. His "Grand
Army" of 30,000, like the army opposed to him, was composed
almost entirely of raw recruits. By Saturday, July 20, this
army had covered the interval of twenty-seven miles and faced
Beauregard's troops across the little river of Bull Run. Johnston's
army, which was ordered to Manassas, successfully
eluded Patterson. By July 20, Johnston, with 6,000 of his
troops, joined Beauregard. On the next day, Sunday, July 21,
McDowell attacked. He surprised and turned the Confederates'
left wing and rolled it back to a small plateau. Here
the retreating forces under General Bee saw Thomas J. Jackson's
brigade quietly awaiting attack. "There," cried Generel
Bee, "is Jackson standing like a stone-wall." Thus was
Jackson baptized with a new name which was hardly characteristic
of the brilliant offensive qualities which he displayed
in later battles and campaigns.

The Federal troops drove the Confederates from the plateau.
General Beauregard then rallied his soldiers and gave
the Federals the bayonet. Once more they occupied the plateau.
But the Federals also rallied, and again the Confederates
were driven back. McDowell was sure of victory, and
Jefferson Davis, arriving at Manassas on the train from Richmond,
was told that Beauregard's army had been defeated.
The conductor refused to take the train any further. But

General Robert E. Lee

upon the insistence of President Davis the locomotive was
detached and he was conveyed to headquarters, where he found
horses and guides to carry him to the field of battle. Stragglers
told him that he would go forward only at the risk of his
safety. Upon reaching the battlefield, Johnston gave him the
cheerful news of victory. The Federals had driven the Confederates
from the Henry plateau into the woods beyond for
the second time, and felt confident of victory. Beauregard,
however, gathered up all his strength and reformed his line
for a final attempt to reconquer the plateau. At this moment
cheers were heard from a distance and news came that Johnston
had brought up the remainder of his army. Word was
also passed down the line of the exhausted Federal troops that
Johnston's troops had come. As the Confederates moved
forward, the Federals, who had been fighting bravely enough
through the heat of a July day, were seized with a panic and
fled from the battlefield. Although the Confederates followed
only a short distance, the Federal soldiers did not cease their
headlong flight until they had reached the shelter of their fortifications
at Washington.

News of this victory greatly encouraged the people of the
State. But there were no bonfires, processions, firing of guns
and speech-making, such as had greeted the news of Sumter
and secession. War had come with its tragedies, and the whole
people were fighting with a sober realization of the suffering
ahead of them.

Unfortunately, the Confederates did not follow up their
victory, and McClellan, who had assumed command of the
Federal army, began to build up a large, well-equipped and
well-trained force.

In the early summer of 1861, General Lee was given the
task of driving the Federal army out of Western Virginia.
But his campaign there ended in failure. The Federal hold
was strong, and the difficulties in the way of the Confederates
proved unsurmountable even to the genius of Lee. A rugged
country, occupied by a people, many of whom were hostile or

indifferent to the Confederate cause, and already in the hands
of the enemy; lack of facilities of communcation with Eastern
Virginia; heavy rains and muddy roads; sickness and insufficient
food among the men and the draught animals; jealousies
between the officers and lack of morale among the soldiers,
these obstacles prevented General Lee from regaining possession
of Western Virginia.

From July, 1861, when the Battle of Manassas was fought,
to March, 1862, nothing of importance occurred in the eastern
theatre of the war. Federal troops were left in control of the
Western Virginia counties. General Lee was building coast
defenses south of Virginia, which were so skillfully constructed
that they were only captured when attacked from the rear by
General Sherman's army marching up the coast; McClellan
was drilling 150,000 men at Washington; while Frémont was
stationed in Western Virginia with 30,000 men, and Banks, in
the Shenandoah Valley with about 30,000 more. The Confederate
government could only muster 60,000 poorly armed
troops to meet these forces which hung like storm clouds on
the horizon.

While the tempest was gathering the first conflict between
ironclad war ships occurred in Hampton Roads. When Norfolk
and Portsmouth were evacuated in April, 1861, the navy
yard, and the vessels which could not be taken away, were
destroyed. One of these vessels, which had been dismantled
and burned to the water-line, was the Merrimac, a steam
frigate commissioned in 1855. She was said to represent
"the best type of warship then known." The Confederate
navy department built upon the hull of the Merrimac an
iron-clad floating battery and rechristened her the Virginia.
It was covered with a roof placed at an angle of forty-five
degrees. This roof was 170 feet long, and was built of twenty-inch
heart pine timbers covered with four inches of oak.
Upon this were bolted two layers of iron plates, each two
inches thick, giving an armor plate four inches thick. These
plates were bolted through the two feet of wood beneath them.

There was an iron prow, six feet long, below the water-line,
which served as a ram. She carried ten guns. Commodore
Franklin Buchanan of Maryland was in command, with Lieutenant
Catesby R. Jones of Virginia second in command. The
crew consisted of 350 men, most of whom had volunteered
from the army.

Saturday, March 8, 1862, was beautifully clear and calm.
About noon of that day the Virginia left the wharf at the
navy yard and steamed slowly down the Elizabeth River. She
was saluted by the batteries and cheered by soldiers and
civilians along the shore. Passing into Hampton Roads, she
directed her course straight towards Newport News, where,
blockading the James, lay anchored the Federal ships, the
Cumberland and the Congress.

As the Virginia approached, several ships, anchored near
Fortress Monroe at Old Point Comfort, started to the aid of
their sister ships. One of these, the steam frigate Minnesota,
grounded near Newport News Point. As the Virginia
drew near, the Congress opend fire with a broadside upon
her. This was followed by a broadside from the Cumberland,
which slightly damaged the Virginia, killing one man and
injuring several others. The Virginia reserved her fire until
within easy range and used her bow rifle with terrible effect
upon the Cumberland. When about fifty yards away, the Virginia
slowed her engines and drove her ram into the side of
the Cumberland, which sank with her colors flying and fighting
to the end. The Virginia then moved up the James River,
turned around, and steamed towards the Congress, which
had run aground.

Running through a hail of shots, which bounded from her
iron sides, the Virginia opened fire on this ship at two hundred
yards. After a few shots the Congress became disabled
and hoisted the white flag. The firing ceased. Officers of the
Virginia boarded the Congress, and preparations were under
way for the removing of the dead and wounded. While many
of the Virginia's men were on the open deck of the ship, the

Federal shore batteries opened fire on the Virginia, through
some error, wounding many, among whom was Commodore
Buchanan. The command of the ship was now given to Lieutenant
Jones, with instructions to clear the Congress and set
her on fire with hot shot. This was done.

As darkness was approaching, the Virginia transferred
her wounded to the naval hospital and anchored at Sewell's
Point, hoping to finish the destruction of the grounded Minnesota
the next day. But in the night another iron-clad, the
Monitor, had come into Hampton Roads to confront the Virginia.
The two strange crafts met the next morning, Sunday,
March 9. The battle lasted for about two hours. At one time
the Virginia, which was very hard to manœuver in shallow
water, went aground for fifteen minutes. During this time
she received the combined fire of the Minnesota and the Monitor.
At times the two vessels were firing into each other at
close range, but the heavy shells bounded from their iron sides
with little effect. As a last resort, the Virginia attempted
to run down the Monitor. The blow was a glancing one, however,
and unsuccessful. In a short while, a shot from the Virginia
blinded the captain of the Monitor, and that vessel withdrew
to shallow water out of reach of the Virginia.

The exploits of the Virginia had been remarkable, but her
days were numbered. After remaining in dry-dock for about
a month, she made two more excursions into Hampton Roads,
but was not attacked. She was finally blown up to prevent
capture when the Confederates retreated up the Peninsula
before McClellan in 1862.

This short cruise of the Virginia put an end to the wooden
battleships of the world. They are now as much out of date in
warfare as bows and arrows have been since the advent of
firearms.

The early part of 1862 was a gloomy period in the history
of the Confederacy. Aid from abroad seemed more distant
than ever since the settlement of the Mason and Slidell affair
in the previous autumn. In the West, Grant took Fort Henry

General J. E. Johnston

and Fort Donelson—the beginning of the separation of the
western part of the Confederacy from the eastern. In Virginia,
Joseph E. Johnston was ordered to fall back across the
Rappahannock and there to await the advance of the mighty
army of McClellan, the "young Napoleon." It was at this
time (March, 1862) that General Lee became once more President
Davis's military adviser, having control over all battle
areas.

During April, McClellan with 100,000 men was besieging
Yorktown, which Johnston held with an army of about half
that number. It was a long wait for the Confederates. They
built for themselves comfortable huts, fortified their position,
and settled down for a month's siege. Thousands of sandbags
used in the fortifications had been made by the wives,
daughters and sisters of these soldiers. The delay seemed
still longer for the patient Lincoln, who wrote his general:
"I think you had better break the enemy's line at once."
McDowell's army of 35,000 men was moving south from Washington
still more cautiously for fear of an attack on the Federal
capital. It was his plan to unite with McClellan near
Richmond. Banks was in the Valley, and Frémont in Western
Virginia.

On May 3, Johnston evacuated Yorktown and retreated
slowly up the Peninsula between the James and the York.
McClellan followed cautiously. On May 5, a battle took
place at Williamsburg, where the Union army pressed upon
the retreating Confederates and was defeated. The battle
lasted throughout the day and filled the churches and the
college buildings with wounded. On May 24, the day on
which Farragut fought his way through the forts guarding
New Orleans and seized that city, McClellan's army of
105,000 men was encamped upon the Chickahominy River
within about seven miles of Richmond. A few days earlier,
May 15, Federal gunboats, including the celebrated Monitor,
were defeated by the Confederate batteries at Drewry's Bluff
eight miles below Richmond. Richmond was saved the fate of

New Orleans by the lack of aggressiveness on the part of
McClellan, by the strategy of Lee and Jackson, and by the
good generalship of Johnston.

Early in the campaign Lee determined that the Federal
armies of 200,000 men should be prevented from combining
under McClellan. He had urged Jackson to create a diversion
as early as April 21.[14] On May 16 he wrote to Jackson,
"Whatever movement you make against Banks, do it
speedily, and if successful, drive him back toward the Potomac
and create the impression as far as possible that you design
to threaten that line."

Lee was sending these orders to one thoroughly competent
to carry them out. Jackson had already begun his famous
Valley campaign. On May 8 he struck a part of Frémont's
army at McDowell, and his dispatch to Richmond was: "God
blessed our arms with victory at McDowell yesterday." He
then rejoined Ewell, whom he had left at Swift Run Gap with
the remainder of the Confederate troops to watch Banks.

In writing of Jackson, an English officer, Lieutenant-Colonel
G. F. R. Henderson, said that his soldiers "had seen
him in action, the coolest of them all, riding along the line of
battle with as much composure as if the hail of bullets was
no more than summer rain. They had seen him far in advance
of the charging lines cheering them to the pursuit. . . . He
lived with his military family on the most intimate terms, and
his unfailing courtesy, his utter absence of self-assertion, and
his sweet temper were irresistible."

On May 23 Jackson suddenly fell upon a detachment of
Banks's force at Front Royal, captured a large part of it, and
put the remainder to flight. Banks, who was nearby at Strasburg,
fearing that his retreat would be blocked, fell back in
great haste towards Winchester, with Jackson at his heels.
During the two days while these events were taking place,
panic reigned at Washington. Lincoln ordered reinforcements
to Banks at Winchester, sent Frémont to advance up

General Stonewall Jackson

the Valley and to strike Jackson in the rear, and ordered
McDowell, who had been instructed to join McClellan, to give
aid to Frémont. Lincoln was now more anxious to protect
Washington than to capture Richmond.

But Jackson was just beginning to fight. On Sunday, May
25, he completely routed Banks at Winchester, captured a
large amount of supplies, and drove the panic-stricken Federal
army behind the shelter of the Potomac.

The force and rapidity of Jackson's attacks had convinced
Secretary Stanton that large bodies of Confederate troops
were marching on the capital. Regiments were hurried southward;
in many of the states the militia and the home guards
were called out; Lincoln took over the control of all the
railroads in the country for military purposes; and he suggested
to McClellan that it was about time for him to attack
Richmond or come to the defense of Washington.

After accomplishing his purpose in drawing off reinforcements
from McClellan, Jackson found himself threatened by
Federal armies, which were hastening to cut off his retreat,
and to crush him with superior forces. But he again outwitted
and outmarched his enemies. On May 30 he fell
back rapidly. Soon afterwards he was able to write: "I
passed Strasburg before the Federal armies effected the
contemplated junction in my rear." The Union troops continued
to follow him until he turned, and, in two battles, he
defeated them. With good strategy, he caused his enemies to
believe that he was once more threatening Washington. Then
he slipped out of the Valley to join the Confederate forces
before Richmond.

During the forty-eight days of the campaign Jackson's
army of 17,000 men had marched 676 miles; fought five
arduous battles with successful results; had secured large
quantities of military supplies; had mystified and defeated
three Federal armies—a combined force of 50,000 men; had
brought terror to the North; and had held back 40,000 troops
from McClellan. "He now stood with army diminished,

indeed, but trained, seasoned, superb in morale, and eager
for new efforts, while his own reputation was forever fixed as
one of the world's great captains."[15]

Instead of taking advantage of the separation of Confederate
forces during Jackson's diversion in the Valley, McClellan
marked time before Richmond and sent urgent messages
to Washington for reinforcements. His army was placed on
both sides of the Chickahominy, a swampy river in a heavily
forested region and crossed by only a few bridges. Two
corps were on the south bank, and three on the north. On the
night of May 30, a heavy rain turned the Chickahominy
and its swamps into an impassable flood. Johnston, who had
already planned to strike the divided Union army, hastened
to attack the Federal troops under Keyes at Seven Pines, but
the main assault was delayed by Longstreet until the afternoon.
The Federal forces were routed and driven back to
Fair Oaks, where they were reinforced by Heintzelman. There
they made a new stand and held their ground until night ended
the fighting. In the meantime Johnston directed in person
the attack on the Federal left. But Sumner had by this time
succeeded in crossing the Chickahominy and his arrival saved
the Federal army. Johnston was severely wounded during
the battle, and was forced to turn over the command to Gen.
G. W. Smith. On the next day, June 1, General Smith continued
the battle. Once more Longstreet delayed, and the
Federal troops repulsed the Confederate attack.

On the afternoon of that day, General Lee arrived on the
battlefield and took command of the disheartened army.
Instead of continuing the attack on McClellan, he withdrew
his army to the position occupied before the battle of Seven
Pines. He next made his position secure by throwing up
strong fortifications from Drewry's Bluff on the James River
to New Bridge on the Chickahominy, and along the south
bank of that river to Meadow Bridge. His skill as an engineer
and as a master of men won the confidence and the affection

of his soldiers, which he held in success and in defeat alike
throughout the whole war.

During the next three weeks McClellan's army remained
encamped along the Chickahominy. It had been reinforced
by about 20,000 men. By the middle of June McClellan had
removed all his army but one corps south of the Chickahominy.
The time seemed ripe for his long promised attack
on Richmond. The Federal pickets were within six miles of
the city. The Union army could see the church spires and
hear the church bells in the Confederate capital.

Lee, with his usual aggressiveness, did not wait for the
attack. But he realized the hopelessness of assaulting the
larger and well fortified army in front of him. He, therefore,
laid his plans for attacking Fitz-John Porter's corps, which
had been left north of the Chickahominy to protect the Federal
line of communication along the York River Railroad, with
their base on the York River. An assault here would allow
the Confederates to strike the Federal army in detail and
would break the Federal line of communications. In order to
mislead his adversary, Lee had already sent two brigades to
Jackson in the Valley. They conveyed to him the command
to bring his army southward and to strike Porter's flank
before McDowell could arrive. Stuart was sent with his cavalry
to find out the exact position of McClellan's army. This
gallant leader rode entirely around the Federal army, and
reported to Lee that Porter's right flank was unprotected.
Jackson was ordered to attack this flank secretly and suddenly.
Lee, with the larger part of his forces, moved north of the
Chickahominy, leaving Magruder with only 28,000 men
between Richmond and the main lines of McClellan. It was
a bold movement and ably executed.

At dawn on Thursday, June 26, the people of Richmond
heard the sound of artillery. Fighting had begun only a few
miles from the city. It continued throughout the day. This
was the battle of Mechanicsville, the beginning of the Seven
Days' Battle before Richmond. Porter had been forced to

fall back to Gaines' Mill. Early the next morning the booming
of artillery could again be heard in Richmond. All that
day the anxious inhabitants could catch to the east the noise
of battle. In the late afternoon the noise grew fainter and
that night those who waited received the welcome news that
Porter's army, after a brave stand, had been forced beyond
the Chickahominy. With the report of victory, however,
there came long lines of dead and wounded that continued to
arrive throughout this week of battles. During July, Richmond
grew into a great hospital and burying ground.

The Federal army continued its retreat in the direction
of Harrison's Landing on the James River. Had Lee's plans
been successfully executed, the Federal army might have
been crushed as it passed through White Oak Swamp.
McClellan fought two rear guard actions with the Confederates
at Savage's Station and at Frazer's Farm. On July
1 he occupied a strongly fortified position on Malvern Hill
near the James River. Lee had planned a frontal attack upon
this point with his full strength, and he had issued orders very
reluctantly for the advance. Jackson, however, advised him
to make a flank assault instead. Lee accepted the advice. But
the order to advance was by some error not rescinded. The
change of plans was not known in time to prevent 10,500 men
from attacking without aid the whole power of the Union
army. They fought with magnificent courage, but were forced
back, with a loss of about 5,000 men, half their number.[16]

McClellan did not follow up this victory, but withdrew
after dark to Harrison's Landing. This ended the Seven
Days' Battle, which had lasted from June 25 to July 1.
McClellan had managed to save his army, largely through
Confederate errors, but he had lost to his opponent fifty-two
pieces of artillery and large quantities of rifles and other war
material. The campaign which he had planned and upon which
great expectations had been built, had failed. He was now
about twenty-five miles away from an objective which had

Facsimile of Jackson's Last Message to Lee at Chancellorsville

been almost within his grasp. He stood on the defensive,
under shelter of his gunboats, with an army of splendid
fighters vastly superior in number and equipment to that of
his enemy. War is a battle of skill as well as of equipment
and courage; and in skill McClellan was no match for Lee
and Jackson.

After the failure of the Peninsula campaign, Halleck was
made commander-in-chief of the Union forces, and Pope was
placed at the head of the Army of Virginia, which was created
out of the combined forces of McDowell, Frémont, and Banks.

Pope moved his army on to Gordonsville in order to cut
the railroad leading from Richmond into the Valley, and to
compel Lee to weaken his forces in front of McClellan. Lee's
army was now between Federal forces numbering 80,000 and
50,000, respectively. He could not change his position while
McClellan was still within a few miles of Richmond. In order
to hasten action on the latter's part, Lee sent Jackson northward
to strike detachments of Pope's army which were centering
on Culpeper. Jackson advanced rapidly northward,
pushing Banks aside at Cedar Mountain (August 9, 1862).
Further advance was blocked by superior Union forces, and
Jackson fell back upon Gordonsville to await Lee, who was
now hastening to join him. In the meantime McClellan had
been ordered to transfer his army to Aquia Creek, and Lee
hoped to make an attack on Pope with his combined troops
before McClellan could push forward overwhelming reinforcements.

As Lee, now united with Jackson, rapidly approached
Culpeper, the unsuspecting Pope was warned by a spy that
the Confederates were near. Much to Lee's disappointment
that general, who boasted that he had only seen the backs of
his enemy, and that his policy was always to attack, fell back
rapidly across the Rappahannock. His position was now too
well fortified for a frontal assault by Lee. If Lee were to try
to turn his flank, Pope could detect the movement and withdraw
still closer to Aquia Creek and reinforcements. The

opportunity of striking Pope's army before such reinforcements
would arrive seemed hopeless. It would have been so
if the Federal commander had been confronted by less skillful
and daring commanders than Lee and Jackson. These leaders
now decided to divide their army, leaving half in front of
Pope's army and sending the other half in a swift and stealthy
march through Thoroughfare Gap to the rear of the enemy.
The latter half under Jackson would then hold Pope's army
until Lee should arrive. In the early morning of August
25 Jackson's army began its march. The next day, passing
through Thoroughfare Gap and around Pope's flank, it cut
the Federal line of communication, seized or destroyed large
quantities of supplies, and then withdrew to within twelve
miles of Thoroughfare Gap, through which Lee's army was
advancing. By skillful movements of his troops, Jackson
succeeded in keeping Pope mystified as to his purposes,
strength and location until Lee arrived.

The fight began July 29 on the old battle ground of Bull
Run or Manassas. Pope deliberately walked into the trap
set by Lee. His men fought valiantly but were cut to pieces
by the Confederate cannon and rifle fire, which they were made
to face. For two days Pope threw his men into one attack
after another against Lee's breastworks. After the Federal
forces had been weakened and disheartened by these futile
assaults, Lee struck back with his whole army and drove his
enemy in confusion from the field. Pope withdrew to Centreville,
and finally to Alexandria. The prompt arrival of reinforcements
most probably saved his army from destruction.
This victory gave renewed evidence of the great offensive
strategy of Lee when he had Jackson to aid him in its execution.

After Pope's defeat, he was relieved of command at his
own request and his army was added to that of McClellan.
Lee realized the futility of continually attacking vastly superior
forces, and he, therefore, decided to carry the war into
the enemy's country. He hoped in this way to draw the Federal

forces out of Virginia; to receive fresh supplies of provisions
and recruits for his army in Maryland; and to shorten
the war by the moral effect of invasion of the North.

On September 3, Lee led his army northward and was
soon in Maryland.[17]

Two days later McClellan left Washington to confront the
invaders. Lee was compelled to divide his forces and send
troops under Jackson to capture Harper's Ferry in order
to open his line of communication into the Valley of Virginia.
McClellan had found Lee's orders telling of the division of
the Confederate army, and of the exact position of the several
corps. His delay in taking advantage of this information
allowed Lee time to bring his forces together on the banks
of the Antietam at Sharpsburg, and Jackson was enabled to
capture Harper's Ferry, with 12,520 prisoners, 13,000 small
arms, and seventy-three pieces of artillery. He then hastened
to join his chief at Sharpsburg. Here, with his back to the
Potomac, Lee, with 35,000 infantry, 4,000 cavalry and 194
pieces of artillery, faced McClellan's force of 87,164 men, with
276 guns.[18]

The battle started at sunrise on September 17, and continued
with great fury throughout the day. The immediate
victory was Lee's. He had been attacked and had repulsed
his opponents. It was the bloodiest day of the Civil war.
Lee remained on the battlefield the next day awaiting attack.
Then hearing that McClellan was being heavily reinforced,
he withdrew across the Potomac into Virginia, with no loss
of men or material. McClellan had failed to make good his
boast on finding Lee's order, "I have all the plans of the
rebels and will catch them in their own trap." Like McClellan
at Malvern Hill, Lee had saved his army in repulsing his
enemy's assault; but his campaign had produced no important
results. It was from the latter point of view a Federal victory.

While McClellan was reorganizing his forces north of
the Potomac, Stuart took his cavalry entirely around the Federal
army to find out if any portion of it was about to be sent
against Richmond. There seemed to be no plan of that kind
contemplated. By the end of October, McClellan had led his
army across the Potomac to the vicinity of Warrenton, whence
he planned to advance on Richmond. When Lee saw the
direction in which his opponent was moving, he kept Jackson
in the Valley, where he could menace McClellan's line of communication
or threaten Washington; and he sent Longstreet
to block the Federal advance at Culpeper, sixty miles from
Jackson. By thus dividing his corps, he hoped to keep his
opponents from combining all the Federal troops around
Washington into an army of overwhelming power. Lee had
arranged his own troops in such a way as to allow them to
concentrate at Gordonsville with very little delay.

While McClellan was still at Warrenton, he was removed
from command and Burnside was given his place. The new
commander decided to make Aquia Creek his base of supplies
and advance on Richmond from Fredericksburg. On December
13 he crossed the Rappahannock and attacked. The Confederate
army was well entrenched, and the Federal troops
—who advanced with great bravery in the face of Confederate
batteries—were thrown back with heavy losses. Lee did not
have a sufficient number of men to follow up his victory, and
the two armies faced each other across the Rappahannock
during the remainder of the winter.

In the spring of 1863, General Hooker, who had succeeded
Burnside, boasted to the President: "I have under my command
the finest army on the planet." He had a reputation
as a fighter, and the prospect of a vigorous offensive increased
the morale of his troops. With his army of 130,000 men he
felt confident that he could crush Lee's force of 57,000, less
than half his own. Preparations were now made to trap
the Confederates. Hooker sent Stoneman with 10,000 cavalry
to cut the railroad lines in Lee's rear, a movement which

failed. Sedgwick, with about 40,000 men, marched down the
Rappahannock to strike the right wing of the Confederates.
Hooker planned to cross the Rappahannock and fall upon
Lee's left and rear, while that leader was fighting Sedgwick.
Large reserves were to be held where they could aid either
Hooker or Sedgwick. Even after Hooker had divided his
forces, the army under his personal command was larger than
that of his adversary. Lee would be driven from behind his
breastworks and caught in a trap.

By April 30, Hooker had crossed the river and was at
Chancellorsville, a farmhouse about ten miles west of Fredericksburg,
where several roads through the Wilderness intersected.
This region was a deserted mining area from which
the original timber had been cut to supply fuel for neighboring
iron furnaces. It was now a lonely country of dense
underbrush and ragged trees, extending fifteen miles in one
direction and twenty in another. Lee left a part of his army
to check or delay Sedgwick before Fredericksburg and went
to meet Hooker in the Wilderness. On May 1, Hooker
attacked, and when Lee counter-attacked, Hooker drew back
and fortified his position.

Lee was informed by his alert cavalry chief, Stuart, that
Hooker's extreme right was unprotected. On the night of
May 1, Lee and his great lieutenant, Jackson, laid their
plans for attack. At four o'clock the next morning Jackson
started on his last great flanking movement. Lee had given
him two-thirds of his infantry and four-fifths of his artillery.
All day long Jackson eagerly pushed forward. Late that
afternoon he had reached his objective, opposite Lee in
Hooker's rear, and wrote his last note to his chief, "I hope,
so soon as practicable, to attack. I trust that an ever kind
Providence will bless us with success."

Jackson formed his lines in silence and just before six
o'clock he directed his whole army against the unsuspecting
and unprepared Federal troops. The Union flank was driven
in upon the center, and when night came the Confederates had

Recumbent Lee at Lexington

advanced to within a mile and a half of Chancellorsville in the
rear of the Federal army, and had nearly cut across its line
of communication. Jackson now reorganized his troops, who
were confused by their rapid advance through the Wilderness.
While this was being done, he and several members of his
staff rode beyond his line to reconnoiter. Upon returning
through the darkness they were mistaken for Federal skirmishers
and fired upon by their own troops. Jackson was
mortally wounded. The wounding of Jackson prevented the
full success of the flanking movement, and Hooker was
enabled to hold the fords at his back, across which reinforcements
came.

Lee now found his army divided and in great peril. While
preparing to assault Hooker, Lee heard that Sedgwick had
taken Fredericksburg and was advancing to attack him in
the rear. Leaving 20,000 men to hold Hooker's army of
60,000 in check, he struck Sedgwick at Salem Church and
forced him back across the Rappahannock. He then turned
and again faced Hooker. A rain prevented him from attacking
at once, and before he had another opportunity to strike,
Hooker had retreated across the Rappahannock during the
night. Jackson died a few days later. It was a grievous
loss to the Confederacy, for there was no one else who had
the qualities he possessed which enabled him to execute the
bold strategy of his chief or to act with rare judgment on his
own initiative.

After his two great victories in Virginia, Lee decided to
carry the war into the North once more to obtain provisions,
to draw off troops from Vicksburg, if possible, and to dishearten
the enemy by a victory on Northern soil. He, therefore,
began sending his forces northward on June 3, 1863. He
moved cautiously at first until he found out that Hooker's chief
concern was to stand between him and Washington.

On June 8, the Confederate cavalry, in making a reconnoissance
near Culpeper, came into conflict with the Federal
cavalry at Brandy Station. The battle which followed was

doubtless the greatest cavalry battle of the war. The Confederates
were victorious. Stuart now began one of his spectacular
rides completely around the Federal army. In doing
this he went within three miles of Washington and then as far
north as Carlisle, Pennsylvania, before joining Lee at Gettysburg.
This ride was glorious but unfortunate, since it
deprived Lee of his services at a time when he was much
needed. By the end of June, Lee's whole army was in Pennsylvania.
York was captured and Confederate troops came
within four miles of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania's capital. On
July 1, detachments of the army of General Meade, who
had succeeded Hooker, came into conflict with a part of the
Confederate forces at Gettysburg. This was the beginning
of the great battle there on July 1, 2 and 3, 1863. The Confederate
forces numbered 70,000; the Federal, 93,000. Lee
did not have the advantage of his cavalry at the beginning
of the fight, and was, therefore, largely in the dark in regard
to Meade's movements. He was also unfortunate in having
to depend mainly on Longstreet to execute his plans, which
called for audacity and rapidity of action. Lee had no more
brave corps commander than Longstreet, but at more than one
critical moment this lieutenant had insisted on having his own
way either by direct influence upon his commanding officer, or
by delay in carrying out his orders. The Confederate defeat
at Gettysburg was due in part to these causes, and in part to
the fact that Meade lacked the overconfidence possessed by his
boastful predecessors, Hooker and Pope. His modesty led to
respect for his adversary. In spite of the blunder which
sent Pickett's men without adequate support on their glorious
charge, Lee might have won, had Meade shown less forethought
and courage.

The battle of Gettysburg, except in its ultimate consequences,
was not a great Federal victory. Lee's army had
suffered on the third day when only a part had attacked. He
remained on the battlefield that night and the next day awaited
an assault in his turn. He was forced to withdraw on the night

of July 4 because he found it difficult to obtain supplies and
because his line of communication with the Shenandoah valley
was threatened. He did not cross the Potomac into Virginia,
however, until the night of the thirteenth. In its final consequences
it was a Federal victory of far-reaching results. Not
only was Lee's invasion of the North foiled, but the victory of
Meade coincided with Grant's great victory at Vicksburg.
The Confederacy was thereafter doomed.

After much maneuvering, which extended over Northern
Virginia until Lee's army was almost in sight of Washington,
the two antagonists finally went into winter quarters, the
Army of the Potomac at Culpeper Court House, and the Army
of Northern Virginia along a line from Orange Court House
to Gordonsville.

In the spring of 1864 the Confederate army of 60,000 was
opposed by a Union army of exactly twice that size. Furthermore,
the army of the Potomac was under the immediate control
of General Grant, now commander-in-chief of the Federal
forces. Grant, the hero of Donelson and Vicksburg, had
just added the great victory of Missionary Ridge to his record.
He not only had more genius for strategy than those who had
preceded him, but he had unlimited courage and a bulldog
tenacity which brought him back against Lee after every
defeat which he received. Since he realized the hopelessness
of out-generaling his opponent, he set about with determination
and energy to destroy that opponent's army by attrition.
He admitted his purpose with admirable frankness. His
unlimited resources enabled him to win, but not until he had
subjected his army to terrible punishment for a whole year.

May 4 found Grant across the Rapidan encamped in the
Wilderness, where Hooker had met Lee the year before. Lee
allowed Grant to come into the Wilderness without molestation;
but he was determined to strike him before his army
could emerge into the open country, where his superior artillery
and cavalry could be used to advantage. On May 5,
the opposing forces, each eager for the offensive, met in the

General J. E. B. Stuart

dense tangle of the Wilderness. The battle lasted two days.
First one side and then the other seemed to have the upper
hand. A forest fire added to the horrors of the fight. Neither
side gave way. Grant lost about 17,666 men, while the Confederates
lost about 10,000. A less resolute leader than Grant
would have fallen back towards Washington, but his men felt
cheered when they found themselves going southward once
more. Grant was attempting to thrust his army between
Lee's flank and Richmond, but Lee anticipated this movement
and blocked his way at Spotsylvania. On May 11, Grant
sent to Halleck the following dispatch: "We have now ended
the sixth day of very heavy fighting. I propose to fight it out
on this line if it takes all summer." On the next day he
hurled his men in attack after attack against Lee's well chosen
and strongly fortified positions. At one time during the fighting
in a salient of Lee's line, the famous "Bloody Angle," the
ground was covered with heaps of dead bodies and large trees
were gnawed in two by the bullets. The battles around Spotsylvania
lasted until May 21. Grant was repulsed in his
attempt both to break Lee's line and to turn his flank.

During this campaign the Confederacy suffered a severe
loss in the death of General J. E. B. Stuart. He fell on May
11, 1864, in a severe engagement with Sheridan's cavalry at
Yellow Tavern, about six miles north of Richmond.

On May 20, Grant received 40,000 new troops. He now
left the battlefield and moved to the southeast in order to
turn Lee's flank or to force him to abandon his position. He
might then be able to strike Lee before he could again adequately
fortify his position. Lee followed along interior lines,
and drew his army behind the North Anna River. Here he
received his first reinforcements—only 9,000 men. Lee's army
was stationed back from the river but parallel to it. Grant
sent troops across the river at several points. Lee, who was
at the time confined to his tent by sickness and had been prevented
from checking Grant's movement, now pivoted his
lines on the stream and drew back both flanks, his manœuvre

resembling the closing of an umbrella. This manœuvre left
one Federal corps on the right of Lee's united army and two
on the left. In order to send aid from one side to the other,
troops would be compelled to cross the river twice, an operation
which would have consumed three hours. Lee saw the
opportunity of striking the enemy in detail, but his illness
prevented his taking advantage of it. Grant withdrew across
the North Anna, and again shifted his army to the left; but
once more Lee stood skillfully entrenched in front of him. Lee
had chosen a strong position at Cold Harbor and had fortified
it. He was within six miles of the outer fortifications of Richmond,
near the battleground of Gaines' Mill. Grant now recklessly
abandoned his flanking movement and ordered a direct
assault on his opponent's fortifications. At 4:30 on the morning
of June 3 the Federal troops charged the Confederate
line. It was a hopeless, and, therefore, a useless attack. The
flower of the Federal army went down under the terrible fire
of the Confederates. In one corps alone, 3,000 fell within
twenty-two minutes. In less than an hour, 13,000 Federal
troops were dead or wounded.

Grant's determination to fight it out "on this line" had
cost his army dearly in men and in morale. In about a month,
from May 4 to June 12 Grant had lost 54,926 men between
the Rapidan and the James, a number about equal to the whole
Confederate army which he was trying to crush. One soldier
in almost every three in Grant's army fell dead or wounded
before Lee's lines. These figures bear eloquent testimony to
the skill and fighting qualities of Lee and his men and also to
the reckless determination and courage of Grant and his army.
"I think," wrote Meade, with some unconscious satisfaction,
perhaps, "Grant has had his eyes opened and is willing to
admit now that Virginia and Lee's army is not Tennessee and
Bragg's."

In pursuing his policy of attrition, Grant had received more
than his just portion of wear and tear. It is no wonder then
that, although summer had just begun, he altered his strategy.

He now turned his attention from hammering on Lee's army
to the siege of Richmond. This was a wise change of plan on
his part, and was so recognized by Lee. "We must destroy
the Federal army before they get to the James River," Lee
said to Early. "If they get there, it will become a siege, and
then it will be a mere question of time."

Had the Confederate government been willing to place the
safety of Lee's army above that of the capital city, he could
have fallen back to the west and could have continued to fight
it out along his own line as he had been doing. But this was
not to be. Grant was able to plant himself in a strongly fortified
position before Richmond, and by bringing in an endless
stream of reinforcements, make the capture of the opposing,
dwindling army "a mere question of time."

The natural road to Richmond lay through the railroad
center, Petersburg. From June 12 to June 16 Grant
transferred his army across the James, and on June 16,
17 and 18 he vainly assaulted the Confederate lines before
Petersburg with a loss of about 10,000 men. Then began his
long siege of Petersburg, which lasted until the spring of
1865.

After Grant had failed both to take the Confederate position
by assault and to outflank Lee's army, he planned to
break the center of his lines by exploding a mine under the
Confederate breastworks. A gallery 510.8 feet long was dug
ending under the Confederate fortifications, with two lateral
branches of thirty-seven feet and thirty-eight feet long, respectively.
In these lateral branches there were placed 8,000
pounds of powder. Troops and artillery were massed at the
point opposite the mine. The plan was carefully conceived but
poorly executed. The mine exploded at dawn on July 30, 1864,
and the Federal charge met a well prepared resistance. "The
Crater" became a Federal burying ground and the Confederate
lines were restored.

While the campaign from the Wilderness to Cold Harbor
was in progress, the Federal General Hunter was raiding the

Valley, bringing fire as well as the sword to one of the finest
sections of his native state. Even private homes were burned
by his order. On June 11 he entered Lexington and burned
Governor Letcher's home[19] and the buildings of the Virginia
Military Institute. General Lee now dispatched Gen. Jubal
A. Early to the Valley to strike Hunter and to advance on
Washington.

After driving Hunter back from Lynchburg, Early
marched down the Valley, defeated Federal troops at Frederick,
Maryland, and on July 11 stood with his 20,000 veterans
before the fortifications on the Seventh Street road
north of Washington. The dome of the Capitol was in sight
of the Confederate army. While Richmond was secure, Washington
was in imminent danger of being captured. Communications
with the North had been cut, and the city was in a
state of panic. The historian Rhodes affirms that, if Early
had acted promptly before Federal reinforcements arrived,
he could have taken the capital. But the opportunity soon
passed. In September, Grant sent Sheridan into the Valley
with orders to drive out Early and to lay waste the country.
"If the war is to last another year," he said, "we want the
Shenandoah Valley to remain a barren waste."[20]

After defeating Early's small force at Opequan near Winchester
in a bloody battle, which lasted all day (September
19), and again at Fisher's Hill (September 21), Sheridan
laid waste the Valley. On October 7 he reported to Grant
from Woodstock: "In moving back to this point the whole
country from the Blue Ridge to the North Mountains has been
made untenable for a rebel army. I have destroyed over
2,000 barns filled with wheat, hay and farming implements;
over 70 mills filled with flour and wheat; have driven in front

of the army over 4,000 head of stock, and have killed and issued
to the troops not less than 3,000 sheep. This destruction
embraces the Luray Valley and Little Fort Valley, as well
as the main Valley. A large number of horses has been
obtained, a proper estimate of which I cannot now make.
Tomorrow I will continue the destruction of wheat, forage,
etc., down to Fisher's Hill. When this is completed the
Valley from Winchester up to Staunton, ninety-two miles, will
have but little in it for man or beast."[21]

On October 19, Early surprised and defeated Sheridan's
army at Cedar Creek, but while some of his men were plundering
the Federal camp, his own army was routed by Sheridan's
forces which had been reorganized. Sheridan then continued
his destruction of the Valley, and later joined Grant before
Petersburg. Early's little army was completely dispersed at
Waynesboro on March 2, 1865. On March 3, General Custer
advanced on Charlottesville. Upon his arrival he was met by
the mayor and other prominent citizens, who surrendered the
town to him.[22]

It will not be out of place here to mention that, shortly
after the Valley of Virginia was devastated, Sherman began
his famous march through Georgia. He had taken Atlanta,
which had been evacuated by the Confederates on September
2. The exploits of Sheridan and Sherman had greatly
encouraged the people of the North and brought gloom to the
Confederates. According to E. A. Pollard, "The effect of
Sherman's march to the sea on the morale of the Confederacy
dates the first chapter of its subjugation."[23]

A great many Southerners disliked and distrusted President
Davis and his cabinet. Congress and the President were
mutually hostile. Early in 1865, Congress forced Davis to
appoint Lee commander-in-chief of the armies—a measure
which came too late to be of service. In January a delegation

of the House of Representatives, led by its speaker, Mr.
Bocock, addressed to Mr. Davis a paper stating that Congress
did not have confidence in the ability of his cabinet. Mr. Seddon,
of Virginia, the secretary of war, resigned in spite of
President Davis' protest. Congress also forced Davis to
restore Johnston to the army that had been shattered through
Hood's recklessness and incompetency. During the long
debate in Congress on the Johnston-Davis controversy, Mr.
Wigfall, of Texas, characterized the Confederate President
as "An amalgam of malice and mediocrity." Much of the
suffering of General Lee's army from lack of proper food
was attributed to the inefficiency of the commissary department.
The army lived from hand to mouth. Lee stated to
the governor that his men were deserting because of short
rations; and on December 14 he telegraphed President
Davis that his troops were without meat.[24]

The suffering of the families at home, due to the raids of
the Federal cavalry through Virginia, and to destructive
raids in other states, caused the men much uneasiness about
those whom they loved. Letters from home, even when brave
and as cheerful as possible, reflected the dread of raiding parties
and the weariness and anguish brought by four years of
separation from loved ones, during which time there had been
deaths in almost every family. In the course of those years
the brave women of the Confederacy, with the old men and
the children, met the infrequent mails and scanned with beating
hearts the latest lists of casualties. Their life was lonely
and was wanting in the comradeship and excitement of the
camp and the battlefield. Conditions at home accounted largely
for the frequent desertions. Pollard estimates that Lee lost
nearly one-half of his army in this way alone during this
winter of 1864-1865.[25]

Rumors of peace did not add to the martial spirit of the
soldiers. On January 30, 1865, President Lincoln and his

secretary of state, Mr. Seward, met three Confederate commissioners,
Vice-President A. H. Stephens, Senator R. M. T.
Hunter and Judge J. A. Campbell, on board a steamer on
Hampton Roads. The conference lasted for four hours, but
the Confederates were unable to secure any terms that would
recognize the existence of their government. The President
of the United States could only negotiate on the basis of complete
submission and subject to the will of Congress.

The failure of this conference was a very potent factor in
silencing the peace advocates in the South. They were forced
to the conclusion that independence could only be gained by
the sword.

Shortly after the failure of the conference to arrange a
peace through diplomacy, strong efforts were made to revive
the enthusiasm of the Confederate army. Pickett's Division,
which had been reorganized, was marched in review before
President Davis and General Lee, in the presence of a large
part of the Army of Northern Virginia. At this time, two
great mass meetings were held in Richmond, one on February
6, 1865, and a larger one at the African Church, February 9.
At the latter meeting Hon. R. M. T. Hunter presided. Among
those who were present were President Davis, Judah P. Benjamin,
Joseph Mayo, mayor of Richmond, Governor Smith,
Captain Semmes of the Navy, J. Randolph Tucker, John B.
Baldwin, John Goode and other men of note.[26] Many eloquent
speeches were made and according to contemporary accounts,
"Never before had the war spirit burned to fiercely and so
steadily." Similar meetings were held among the soldiers in
the field. General Henry A. Wise rendered excellent service
in encouraging the men in the trenches with his happy gift of
speech.

The soldiers in the trenches before Petersburg had already
grown more hopeful and cheerful when the winter weather
became warm and mild like that of spring. The feeling of
many soldiers at the front is no doubt expressed in the following

extracts from letters written by a sergeant in the
artillery,[27] dated January 25, 1865:

"I write cheerfully always because I feel so—our reverses
haven't discouraged me, haven't made me feel that our cause
is lost—it makes me feel sad though to think that every reverse
will lengthen this cruel war and increase the sufferings of our
people—and it makes me mad to know that so many at home,
who were at first red hot for the war and willing to make any
and every sacrifice, are now talking about `being whipped' and
reconstruction and emancipation, and all such treason and
tom-foolery. This only tends to encourage the enemy, to dishearten
our soldiers, to lengthen out the war, and to make
matters worse. In my opinion, Jeff Davis ought to have hung
old Blair and Singleton."

"To give you some idea," he wrote on February 2, 1865,
"of the quiet on our lines, ladies now frequently ride out from
Petersburg to visit the trenches; and this evening I noticed a
good number standing up on our breastworks, where it would
have been instant death to have stood for a moment a few
weeks since. Some of them also went down to the picket line,
not more than forty yards from, and in full view of, the blue-coated
rascals. The Yankees brought out a brass band to play
for them." On February 4 he wrote: "I have no faith in
the peace commissioners effecting any good—fear they may do
much harm, hope for the best. Lieut. Dick Wise (old Gen'l's
son) told me this morning he had just been to meet a flag of
truce from the enemy, bringing the information that our commissioners
will return through our lines this morning. I don't
think they have been gone long enough to do much good or
harm. * * * We are still very quiet—though Gen'l Anderson
ordered that sharp-shooting be resumed last night. The
pickets were very much opposed to it on both sides, and fired
a few shots all along through the night, taking good care to
fire very high or very low. There is still no firing through the

A Confederate Private

day, and we walk about wherever we choose with perfect
impunity. Frank W. came up to my tent and spent the morning
yesterday,—he was as fat and as funny as ever,—says the
gloom which has been hanging over the country was rapidly
disappearing, and everybody thought our affairs were brightening.
I think it is disappearing, as far as I can see, from our
army;—desertions have almost stopped entirely,—but still you
can meet with a few croakers even among our officers, who say
we are whipped. I understand there is one such in our Rgt.
and if I ever hear him say so I shall report him to the Col. and
try to have him cashiered. If an officer thinks so even to
himself, he ought to be broken and put in the ranks—I may
send this by Johnny—also by him a bundle of your old letters
which I cannot make up my mind to burn."

These and other letters from the front give us interesting
glimpses into the Confederate soldier's life and thoughts at
this time. It shows that the men of the army of Northern
Virginia and the people at home had been severely shaken in
their morale. The men in the ranks knew the situation, but
were regaining their former spirits. It was a democratic army
which kept in close touch with the political as well as with the
military situation.

Since the beginning of the siege of Richmond and Petersburg,
Lee had defended a line thirty-five miles long with his
small forces. Until the battle of Five Forks, on April 1, 1865,
he had repulsed Grant's attempts to outflank and to break the
center of his army, in spite of the fact that his men suffered
from want of proper food and clothing and were greatly disheartened
by the numerous reverses which their cause had
suffered. Many were in rags and barefooted. Grant had not
been able to surround Lee's troops. The railroads to the
south and west were still bringing in supplies and offered the
army a means of retreat.

On March 31, Sheridan, who was menacing the Confederate
line of retreat, was pushed back to Dinwiddie CourtHouse
and was in grave danger when night fell, but he was

reinforced, and the next morning (April 1, 1865) he struck the
Confederate forces which had established themselves about
four miles ahead of their main position, at Five Forks. The
Confederate line was broken and Grant was enabled to seize
the Southside (now Norfolk and Western) Railroad. This
made the evacuation of Petersburg inevitable and sealed the
doom of Richmond. Grant followed up this victory the next
day by a determined assault all along Lee's front; and the
Confederate army, pierced in three places, fell back to the
inner fortifications of Petersburg. That night Lee led his
men, who did not number more than 30,000,[28] out of Petersburg.
As the soldiers turned their faces towards Richmond,
they saw reflected against the sky a red glow. The Confederate
capital city was burning.

On Sunday morning, April 2, 1865, when the Confederate
army was falling back to Petersburg, the inhabitants of Richmond
were enjoying the calm beauty and freshness of a spring
morning. Few had knowledge of the battles that had been in
progress for three days only a few miles away; and none knew
that the Confederate line was stretched to the breaking point.[29]

The first intimation of the approaching calamity was
received in the churches of the city. As President Davis sat
in his pew at St. Paul's Church that morning a messenger from
General Lee handed him a dispatch. The message told of the
army's defeat before Petersburg and advised the government
to prepare to evacuate Richmond that night. The Confederate
president read the message in silence and left the church. He
alone knew the dread contents of that dispatch; "but," as a
contemporary wrote, "an uneasy whisper ran through the
congregation, and as they were hastily dismissed, the rumor
was caught up in the streets that Richmond was to be evacuated,
and it was soon carried to the ends of the city." When
Doctor Hoge, of the Presbyterian Church, brought his sermon

to a close, and before the last hymn was sung, he told his congregation
the sad news that the army had "met with a
reverse."

That afternoon evacuation began in earnest and Richmond
was the scene of the wildest confusion. The city council
ordered the destruction of all the liquor in the city. About
midnight committees of citizens began the work. "Hundreds
of barrels of liquor were rolled into the street and the heads
knocked in. The gutters ran with a liquor freshet, and the
fumes filled and impregnated the air." Inflamed with spirits
and relieved of the restraining influence of civil and military
rule, which had broken down, ruffians began pillaging the
stores. Late in the night the unfortunate order came from
General Ewell's headquarters to burn the four principal warehouses
of the city in spite of the protest of the mayor and the
citizens. These warehouses were the center of the business
section. For example, the Shockoe warehouse was adjoining
the famous Galligo flour mills. The order was executed. In
addition, the ships in the James were blown up and the chief
bridges over that river were burned—the Danville railroad
bridge, the Petersburg railroad bridge, and Mayo's bridge to
Manchester (South Richmond). By the end of the day, the
entire business portion of the city, an area of about twenty
blocks, was a mass of smoking ruins.

At daybreak a small cavalry detachment of General
Weitzel's troops entered Richmond and placed the United
States flag over the Capitol. "As the day advanced, Weitzel's
troops poured through the streets of the city. Long lines of
negro cavalry swept by the Exchange Hotel, brandishing their
swords and uttering savage shouts. These shouts, the roar of
devouring flames, the endless processions of plunderers passing
from street to street, tugging away the prizes they had
drawn from the hellish circle of the fire, made up an indescribable
horror. Here were the garish Yankee troops sweeping
up towards the Capitol Square, with music and wild cheers;
everywhere, almost, the pandemonium of fire and pillage; and

in the midst of all the wild agony, the distress of women and
children rushing towards the open square for a breath of pure
air, all that was now left them in heaven's great hollowness.
And even that was not to be obtained there. The air, even in
the square of the Capitol, was almost choking; and one
traversed it blinded by cinders and struggling for breath."[30]

Here beneath the trees were family groups — women,
children and old men—huddled around their few remaining
earthly possessions, which they had dragged from their burning
homes. General Weitzel aided in stopping the flames and
restored order to the distracted city.

While the capital city was suffering this agony, President
Davis removed the seat of government to Danville, which was
put in a state of defense. The brave Admiral Raphael Semmes
was made a brigadier-general and placed in charge of the
defenses, having under his command a naval brigade and two
battalions of infantry.[31]

After leaving Petersburg, Lee attempted to fall back southward
along the Danville Railroad, but the supplies for his
army which should have been collected at Amelia Court-House
(thirty-six miles from Richmond) were lacking and a day was
lost in securing food. On April 5, part of Grant's army had
moved up the Southside Railroad along interior lines and
occupied Burkeville, the junction of the Southside with the
Danville Railroad. Sheridan had reached Jetersville on the
Danville road, forty-three miles from Richmond. On April 6
General Meade, with a large part of his force, stood in Lee's
way at Burkeville, and Sheridan blocked his advance toward
Danville. Lee now led his army across the country towards
Farmville, where he planned to follow the Southside Railroad
and join forces with Johnston. The army marched slowly
over the muddy roads and through swollen streams, feeding
on parched corn, and fighting the Federal troops, which

harassed their flank and rear. At Farmville the Confederate
troops had their first proper food after leaving Petersburg.

For the first time in four years, Lee's army of Northern
Virginia had lost hope. The retreat from Petersburg, the
fall of Richmond, and the increasing difficulties with which
they were beset, indicated to them that the end was near.
Many veterans of long and honorable service left the army
and turned their faces homeward to avoid surrender. They
did not think of themselves as deserters.[32]

On Sunday, April 9, General Lee arranged a truce with
Grant in order to discuss surrender. The two leaders met at
Mr. McLean's house in the little village of Appomattox CourtHouse.
Here they signed liberal terms of surrender. Grant
stopped demonstrations of joy among his troops with the
words, "The war is over; the rebels are our countrymen
again; and the best sign of rejoicing after the victory will be
to abstain from all demonstrations in the field." He afterwards
wrote that, upon meeting Lee in person, he "felt like
anything rather than rejoicing at the downfall of a foe who
had fought so long and valiantly." After the terms of surrender
had been made, Lee rode slowly back to the veterans of his
army who had followed him through many victorious battlefields,
and who had never ceased to give him their love and
confidence even in this last defeat. As they greeted their
defeated chieftain with cheers and crowded about him to show
him their affection, he said, "We have fought through the war
together. I have done the best I could for you. My heart is
too full to say more."