BATTLE OF MALVERN HILL.
Early Tuesday morning, the sixth day in the awful series, McClellan's
forces continued their retreat in a south-western direction toward
his gunboats in the James. No sooner was the movement discovered
than the Confederates began the pursuit. General Magruder was ordered
to march by the Quaker road, and take position on the right of
Jackson, but owing to a misunderstanding as to which was this road,
the wrong route was taken, and, by the necessary change, his troops
were formed on the right wing of Huger instead of that of Jackson, as
at first designed.
The Federal commander having learned from the rapid march of the
Confederates that he must fight again before he could reach the naval
force lying in Turkey Island bend of the James, took position on an
eminence known as Malvern Hill, upon the summit and declivities of
which he placed in position his batteries, supported by strong columns
of infantry. General Magruder advanced to the attack, shelling the
woods and swamps as he proceeded, and at 5 o'clock P. M., when he had
reached a point sufficiently near, he gave the order to charge and drive
the Federals from their position. The order was received with a shout,
and instantly the entire command were crossing the plain which lay at
the base of the hill at a full run. But now, had that hill been torn
asunder by some mighty volcanic force, the deep intonations could
scarce have been greater. One hundred pieces of artillery opened a
simultaneous fire and belched forth a murderous storm of grape and
canister which swept the charging columns with the most terrible effect.
Officers and men fell by the hundred; but yet unwavering, that charging
column rushed on until two-thirds of the distance across the field had
been passed. But wholesale carnage now prevailed on every hand. No
body of men could stand before so withering a fire, and the column
gave way and took refuge in the woods near by. Twice again those
charging squadrons presented a living wall to that deadly fire, and twice
again were they forced back. Around that hill was a steady flame,
and at sunset it quivered with the terrific concussion of artillery and
huge explosions. Shells were flying in every direction and bursting
into deadly iron hail. Columns of black smoke shot skyward and darkened
the air. But the day waned, the battle abated, and both armies
rested on their arms and upon the field. That night a sulphurous
smoke hung around the summit of Malvern Hill and settled away in
dense columns over the valley of the historic James. Soon dark,
ominous clouds covered the sky and the rain descended in torrents,
which washed the blood-stained slopes of the little hill, carrying the
sanguinary tide into the copses and woodlands which surrounded the
base below. As twilight began to streak the eastern sky, the Confederate
officers arose ready to renew the attack, but, upon turning
their eyes to the hill from which they had been repulsed, they were
filled with inexpressible astonishment. No enemy was there: the volcano
was still, and McClellan's army was already far away on its
