Comte de Paris, History of the Civil War in America. Vol. 1.
Henry Coppee , LL.D., Ed.

[473]

Book V:—the first winter.

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Chapter 1:

The first winter.—Donelson and Pea Ridge.

THE new Southern Confederacy, notwithstanding the false impressions its first victory had created, found itself at the beginning of the year 1862 strongly organized for the defence of a territory which comprised nearly all the slave States. The South persuaded herself, as she had persuaded Europe, that all the efforts of her adversaries could not prevail against her resistance.

In fact, the North had only been able to wrest from her an insignificant portion of territory compared with the entire extent of her domain. Of the whole slave territory, the North only occupied Maryland, Western Virginia, some parts of Kentucky, the greater portion of Missouri, and certain positions along the coast. But time had enabled her to display her resources, and the war was about to assume new proportions. The volunteers, flocking from all parts, were being organized on the borders of the Potomac, the Ohio, and the Mississippi into large armies.

We shall deal first with those which were about to operate west of the Alleghanies. As we have seen, these were divided into three distinct corps. One, under General Curtis, in Missouri, had drawn close to the Arkansas frontier, towards the end of the year. The second, under General Grant, guarded the Mississippi and the mouth of the Tennessee at Cairo and Paducah. The third, under General Buell, operated in Kentucky, with its centre near Elizabethtown. The first two were under the chief command of General Halleck a wise officer, with fine organizing abilities, but who was accused of too frequently thwarting the designs of his subordinates, and of leaving them afterwards to carry out in presence of the enemy the plans of campaign he had elaborated in his office.

These armies were to find a new auxiliary, whose power was beginning to be appreciated, in the fleet which was being fitted out on the Ohio and the Upper Mississippi. Two remarkable [474] men, both of whom were to succumb under the effect of the wounds received while leading that fleet against the enemy, Commodore Foote and Colonel Ellet, had superintended its formation with all the ardor of their patriotism and all the resources of their inventive minds. We shall relate elsewhere how they gathered this fleet upon the hitherto peaceful waters of the Mississippi; the services it rendered to the Federal armies will appear in every line of this narrative. That fleet was divided into three categories: 1st. The gun-boats, some of them being old ships more or less adapted for military service, and most of them, thinly plated; the others were of new construction; they all carried powerful guns; were manned by sailors, and commanded by the brave Foote. 2d. The rams, the creation of Colonel Ellet, formed a separate division, organized by the War Department, and manned by land-troops. 3d. The transport-ships, which were large Mississippi passenger-boats bought or hired by the quartermaster for the conveyance of troops.

The facilities afforded by this fleet for the movement of armies naturally indicated the West, and in the West the courses of the Mississippi and the Tennessee, as destined to be the theatre of the first military operations of 1862. This calculation had formed the basis of the general plan drawn up by General McClellan for the beginning of the year. It was, however, in Eastern Kentucky that the struggle was renewed at first; and the successes which the Federals achieved there would have caused them to modify their plan if the force of events had not obliged them to adhere to it.

We have stated that the Confederate line of defences in Kentucky rested upon Columbus at the west, upon Bowling Green in the centre, and at the east upon the group of mountains from which the Cumberland springs to enter the plain. The first two points had become important military posts; another was established to cover the third. The position of Mill Springs, south of Somerset, had been selected for that purpose, because it was near the river at the place where it begins to be navigable. The unsuccessful attempts of the Federals at Pikeville, and in the direction of Cumberland Gap, had taught their adversaries that they had nothing to fear on that side, and that any expedition directed [475] upon East Tennessee would have to bear more to the westward, to follow the open country and avoid the defiles of the Cumberland Mountains. It would be obliged, after crossing the river, to take either the Jacksborough road through Williamsburg, or that of Jamestown (Tennessee) by way of Monticello. The entrenched camp at Mill Spring, near this last town, covered them both.

The first battle was to be fought more to the east, among the gorges of the chain which separates Kentucky from Virginia. Since the month of November, one of the small Confederate corps which occupied that chain had returned to Piketon, of which place, as we have seen, Nelson had for a while taken possession. This corps was commanded by Colonel Humphrey Marshall, whose name, celebrated in Kentucky since the Mexican war, had drawn a large number of ardent and adventurous young men to his standard. But unwieldy from excessive obesity, Humphrey Marshall in 1862 was no longer the brilliant colonel of cavalry whom we saw fighting at Buena Vista by the side of his friend Jefferson Davis. His troops, numbering two thousand five hundred men, were stationed at Prestonburg, and stretched as far as Paintsville, in the valley of the West Big Sandy River.

Notwithstanding the season, so rigorous in the mountains, a Federal brigade, under Colonel Garfield, was sent to dislodge him. Garfield occupied George Creek, on the West Big Sandy, where he could obtain his supplies by water. He started, on the 7th of January, with two thousand infantry, four hundred horses, and a few field-pieces, and carrying three days provisions. On being informed of his approach, Humphrey Marshall abandoned Paintsville and fell back upon Prestonburg, leaving a few hundred men to cover his retreat upon Tenny's Creek, which could be easily defended. The Federal cavalry, and a few companies of infantry that accompanied it, encountered this rear-guard of the enemy on the 7th of January, and attacked it without waiting for the remainder of the troops; the Confederates were put to flight after losing a few of their men. Being obliged to replenish his supplytrain before going farther, Garfield took the Prestonburg road on the 9th of January with about one thousand five hundred men. On the following morning he encountered all the forces of Marshall posted along the right bank of a little tributary of the Big [476] Sandy called Middle Creek, which the recent rains had swollen. The Confederates occupied a semicircular hill, the two extremities of which rested upon the stream. They had posted their four field-pieces on the left, and concealed their centre, in order to draw the Federals towards that point and take them between two fires. Garfield did not fall into that snare. Sending out a swarm of skirmishers, he compelled the enemy to discover himself, and as soon as he had reconnoitred his positions he sent a few hundred men to turn his left by crossing the stream near its mouth. After a brisk engagement the Federal detachment took possession of a height which commanded the positions of the Confederates. Garfield then gave the signal of attack to his right. The Confederates, being caught in their turn between two fires, began to fall back. A timely reinforcement made success certain for the Federals, and night alone prevented them from dislodging Marshall from all the heights he had endeavored to defend. The Confederate general took advantage of the darkness to retire in great haste, abandoning his depots of provisions, his wounded, and the little town of Prestonburg. The battle of Middle Creek cost him about sixty killed and one hundred wounded; the Federals had only twenty-seven men disabled. Their success was complete but barren, because, not being able to subsist at Prestonburg, they were soon compelled to return to Paintsville. No decisive operations were possible in that region.

It was some time after the check he had experienced at Wild Cat camp, that Zollicoffer, leaving Barboursville, had proceeded to occupy the important position of Mill Spring. Mr. Davis, although displeased with him, had not dared to dismiss him from the service on account of the popularity he enjoyed in Kentucky, but he had been placed under the command of General Crittenden. The latter presented a sad example of the domestic convulsions which followed the outbreak of the civil war. His father, an old gentleman justly respected throughout America, was a member of the House of Representatives at Washington, and his brother held the rank of general in the Federal army. The command which had been conferred upon Crittenden at the end of December gave him about ten thousand men; he had conveyed part of his forces to the right bank of the Cumberland and [477] fortified the position of Beach Grove, in front of Mill Springs, but the nature of the ground had obliged him to extend his works in such a manner that the troops at his disposal were not sufficient to defend them. Beach Grove could nevertheless be made the base of operations of a Confederate army which might penetrate into the heart of Kentucky by avoiding the formidable positions of Wild Cat camp. Buell, therefore, had ordered General Schopf to occupy the small town of Somerset, whence he could watch the Confederates and oppose their march. In the beginning of January he determined to prevent that march, and sent General Thomas from Louisville with one of the four divisions of the army of Kentucky to join Schopf and dislodge the Confederates from their positions on the Cumberland River. Thomas left his cantonments at Lebanon, where he formed the left wing of the army assembled on the road from Louisville to Bowling Green, and the heads of his column arrived on the 17th of January at Logan Cross-roads, an intersection only sixteen kilometres distant from Beach Grove. The road which leads from Somerset to Monticello becomes separated at this point from those running in a westerly direction towards Columbia and Jamestown (Kentucky). Thomas thus threatened to occupy the borders of the Cumberland below Mill Springs. It was by this river that Crittenden received part of his supplies, for the Cumberland Gap road was too long and too difficult to bring him the necessary provisions for his nine or ten thousand men from East Tennessee. Fearing lest he should be cut off on that side, or be attacked in a position too extended for the number of his soldiers, Crittenden resolved to forestall the movements of his adversary. He started for Logan Cross-roads with the two brigades of Zollicoffer and Carroll and a battery of artillery, forming all together an effective force of from five to six thousand. He was in hopes of surprising Thomas before the latter had been able to effect a junction with Schopf, and collect all his forces, which had been delayed by the bad condition of the roads. But the Federal general had been joined on the 18th by a portion of his troops, and had been apprised of the movements of the enemy in the course of the following night. He was, therefore, on his guard and prepared at all points to receive his [478] attack. He occupied Logan Cross-roads with four regiments, the Ninth Ohio, Second Minnesota, Tenth Indiana, Fourth Kentucky, and a battery of artillery; the brigade of Carter was only a short distance off, ready to support him, thus swelling the total amount of his forces to five or six thousand men, about equal in number to those of the enemy.

The latter began the fight at an early hour on the morning of the 19th of January. The Federal line, formed in haste, fell back under the first fire of the Confederates; its left rested upon a hill whose summit was opened and exposed, and towards which Zollicoffer, who led his brigade valiantly, directed all his efforts. It was on the point of being carried; but the brigade of Carter having come to the assistance of the Federal centre, Thomas detached Colonel Fry with the Fourth Kentucky from that portion of the line, and sent him to the left to support the Tenth Indiana, which the enemy was driving before him. His timely arrival changed the aspect of the fight; the belligerents came to close quarters, and in the midst of the melee Fry met General Zollicoffer, whom he shot dead on the spot with his pistol. On seeing their commander fall the Confederates became disconcerted; and the Ninth Ohio, which formed the Federal right, seizing the favorable moment, drove them back in disorder upon their second brigade. Crittenden, who had displayed great courage, tried in vain to bring back once more the chances of victory; his line, which had been for an instant re-formed, was again broken by the brigade of Carter. The volunteers from East Tennessee, who composed this brigade, displayed extraordinary ardor. The Federals pressed their adversaries on every side; they had the impetus which a first success imparts, and nothing could resist their onward course. Two cannon, ninety prisoners, arms and equipments of every kind, remained in their hands; the Confederates, leaving one hundred dead and sixty wounded on the battle-field, fled in disorder towards their entrenchments. The battle of Logan Cross-roads, improperly called Mill Springs, only lasted a few hours, and cost the Federals thirty-eight killed and one hundred and ninety-four wounded in all. Their victory was complete. On the same evening, Thomas, after receiving an important reinforcement from Schopf, appeared before the works of Beach Grove; but darkness [479] having supervened, and his soldiers having eaten nothing since the day previous, he contented himself with firing a few cannonshots into the positions of the enemy. The Confederates, being entirely disorganized, were unable to defend them; they crossed to the other side of the Cumberland during the night, destroying the boats which carried them over, and afterwards dispersing among the mountains in order to procure food and to escape from all pursuit. On the morning of the 20th the Federals occupied their works and the camps adjoining them; they took possession of ten field-pieces and more than one thousand five hundred wagons. The Confederate army was annihilated.

During this short campaign Thomas displayed some of those military qualities which at a later period made him conspicuous among the foremost leaders. But he had to rest contented with this success; the condition of the roads and the inclemency of the weather rendered all pursuit impossible. Crittenden had retired by way of Monticello in the direction of Nashville, and part of his troops had gone towards Cumberland Gap. But to undertake to rescue East Tennessee from Confederate rule, to wrest from them the salt-works and the coal-fields which they possessed in the Cumberland Mountains, would have required an army sufficiently strong and well provisioned to advance alone through a difficult country without fear of being cut off or surrounded. Agents of the War Department, who had been sent on special missions into Kentucky, testified to the impracticability of such an enterprise, and the efforts of the Federals had to be directed elsewhere.

We have stated that Columbus, on the Mississippi, and Bowling Green, in the centre of Kentucky, were the two points upon which the Confederate line of defence rested. Polk's army, occupying Columbus, closed the great river against the Federals. That of Sidney Johnston, at Bowling Green, controlled the whole network of railways. Between these two points two large watercourses, the Tennessee and the Cumberland, ran parallel from south to north, the former to the left, the latter to the right, and finally emptied into the Ohio, one at Paducah, the other at Smithland, a little higher up. It was a road with two tracks, open in the most vulnerable part of the Confederate line. In order to [480] command its entrance they had erected two forts, called Henry and Donelson. The first, of comparatively small dimensions, was situated on the right bank of the Tennessee. The other, about twenty kilometres south-south-eastward of that point, rested upon the left bank of the Cumberland, near the village of Dover, an important station of the great railway line which leads from Bowling Green to Columbus and Memphis; it was much larger and better constructed than Fort Henry. They were so placed as to command the two rivers and the narrow strip of land which separates them. They were connected by a good road and a telegraph line, which enabled their garrisons to give each other mutual support.

These positions presented a powerful line of defence, but they were too much extended for the forces which had to guard them. It is difficult, among so many contradictory statements, to form a correct estimate of the number of those forces. According to Confederate historians, the total number could not have exceeded thirty thousand men, all included; the War Department at Richmond rated them at more than sixty thousand men. Mr. Stevenson, an impartial writer, whom we have already quoted, and who was employed in the administrative branches of that army, states that in the month of January they received one hundred and twenty thousand rations. Taking all deficiencies into consideration, and making ample allowance, even, for the greatest want of order in the distribution of those rations, such a figure would denote at least the presence of seventy thousand able-bodied men. The numerous reports of Confederate generals gave very imperfect indications as to the total number of their troops. Such differences, however, should be attributed to the fact that the irregular corps, such as the militia and guerillas, were sometimes included as part of the total effective force of the army. Deducting these corps, the army commanded by Sidney Johnston must have numbered more than fifty thousand and less than sixty thousand men. This was a small force with which to exercise a surveillance at once over the Alleghanies and the Mississippi. Alarmed by the defeat of Crittenden at Mill Springs, Johnston had detached several regiments from Bowling Green and sent them into Eastern Tennessee, thus raising the number of troops posted en echelon [481] on his right to nearly ten thousand men. In order to hold in check the army of Buell, who had pushed his outposts as far as Green River, he had massed about thirty thousand men in the large fortifications of Bowling Green; Forts Henry and Donelson were occupied by four or five thousand men, and nearly the same number were stationed among the small posts and in the city of Nashville. His left, commanded by Polk, and subsequently by Beauregard, who guarded Columbus and the Mississippi, numbered scarcely ten thousand men. The Richmond government had turned a deaf ear to the representations of Johnston, who kept asking for reinforcements. He had not even been allowed to carry into Kentucky the twelve months volunteers raised by the State of Tennessee. Seeing the number of his opponents increase daily, the Confederate general understood at last that the time was approaching when his line would be pierced, and that, in order to avoid that danger, it was necessary for him to assume the offensive. His plan of campaign, arranged with Beauregard, was to be carried out in the early part of February, but the Federals did not give him time. Grant's command had been extended and his forces increased by large additions of recruits. General Halleck, who thought he had found in him a modest subordinate without ambition, favored him in every way, while Commodore Foote was ready to afford him the powerful co-operation of his flotilla.

Towards the latter end of January a column of a few thousand men had proceeded as far as within sight of Columbus, and, following the line of the Tennessee in returning, had reconnoitred all the intervening space between that river and the Mississippi. About the same time Foote and General C. F. Smith appeared in front of Fort Henry on board a gun-boat, and examined its approaches. Seated upon low and marshy ground, its sides protected by two streams, that work presented the appearance of an irregular bastioned pentagon. It had an armament of seventeen guns placed en barbette, twelve of which pointed towards the river; so that, although it had neither masonry nor shelters, it was able to make a long resistance on the land side. But the choice of its position proved that the Confederate engineers had not understood the true principles of river defence in America. [482] In placing it close to the water's edge they exposed it to be demolished, like the forts of Hilton Head, by the large Dahlgren shells, while its guns could only strike the sides of vessels protected by iron armor. Experience soon taught the Confederates to appreciate the superiority of works constructed on elevated positions, such as are to be met with at long intervals along the line of American rivers. Indeed, whenever such works were attacked by Federal vessels, the latter suffered cruelly from the plunging fire, which easily pierced their decks, while they could not raise their guns to a sufficient elevation to reach the interior of the enemy's defences at good range. Finally, on the opposite side of Fort Henry there stood an unfinished work, the fire of which, when completed, would have crossed its own. Three thousand Confederates occupied the fort, under General Tilghman.

Towards the middle of January, Grant and Foote proposed to Halleck to undertake the reduction of Forts Henry and Donelson by land and water at once. But after having approved their plan, this general postponed its execution from day to day. It required the most urgent solicitations to obtain his permission to commence the campaign. At last, on the 2d of February, Grant embarked with the two divisions of McClernand and C. F. Smith on several of those large steamers resembling floating houses which furrow the rivers of America. The first division and one brigade of the second were to land on the right bank of the Tennessee, for the purpose of investing Fort Henry and cutting off the retreat of its garrison. The other two brigades were ordered to land on the left bank, to occupy the unfinished works to be found there, and to assist with their artillery in the general attack. Foote's fleet was to co-operate energetically. The ironclad vessels, which were to be put on trial, recalled to mind from their construction the floating-batteries used in bombarding Kinburn. They were very broad, with flat bottoms, and their sheathing, sloping inwards at an angle of nearly forty-four degrees, was covered with plates of iron of six to seven centimetres in thickness; the deck, razeed fore and aft, presented, above the water-line, surfaces sloping in the same way and sheathed, carrying two or three guns. They were, in one word, redoubts in the shape of rectangular pyramids placed on low hulls, the whole [483] being moved by high-pressure steam-engines. The mortar-boats were mere barges intended to be towed, the deck of which, surrounded by an iron wall, was occupied by a single mortar of large size, measuring eleven, and sometimes thirteen, inches of interior diameter. The ships collected to form the flotilla comprised eight mortar-boats, a certain number of transports, carrying a few guns, and several iron-clad vessels; but among the latter there were only four ready for use at the end of January. They formed, including three steamers not iron clad, the naval division which left Cairo on the 2d of February, under the command of Commodore Foote, at the same time as the vessels with Grant's troops.

On the following day the Federal commodore passed from the Ohio into the Tennessee, and leisurely ascended the latter river, fishing up the torpedoes which the enemy had scattered over his course. On the 5th of February the whole of Grant's troops were landed six or seven kilometres below the fort; the positions of the enemy had been carefully reconnoitred, and the fleet was ready. The attack was fixed for the day following, at noon. Grant had intended to appear before the fort with the land forces at the same time as the fleet; but not anticipating the difficulties of the road, he had fixed the hour of departure for eleven o'clock in the morning, and thus missed the opportunity of taking part in the battle. General Tilghman, on his side, was aware of the danger which threatened him. The troops under his command were inexperienced and restless, and inspired him with no confidence. He would not shut them up in the fort, which the inundation had nearly isolated from land; exposed to useless losses, they would only have embarrassed the defence. He placed them on a height adjoining the fort, and then shut himself inside of the entrenchments with sixty cannoneers determined like himself to do their duty. Grant's soldiers had been delayed on their march for several hours by the unpropitious weather and the condition of the roads. Foote, who had vainly asked their commander to give them an earlier start, did not wait for them to open his fire. He thought that in all probability this cannonading would occupy and detain Tilghman's troops until Grant could cut off their retreat. But the four iron-clads having approached within six hundred [484] metres of the fort, they soon obtained a manifest superiority over its fire. Its best guns exploded, while others were dismounted. At the first news of Grant's march, the Confederate infantry left the place of the conflict, of which they had remained spectators, and fled in disorder towards Dover without firing a single shot. The brave Tilghman still tried to maintain a struggle so unequal; but the shells from the fleet crushed him as they had crushed the defenders of Hatteras and Port Royal. He was at last obliged to surrender to an enemy who admired his valor. The battle only lasted one hour and a quarter.

This was a brilliant success for Foote's improvised gunboats, and an earnest of the important part they would play in the future. Their armor had protected them against most of the enemy's shot. One among them, however, the Essex, had its boiler pierced by a ball, and the explosion killed and wounded twenty-nine men upon that vessel alone.

Grant only arrived in time to take possession of the works which had been captured by the fleet. The garrison had escaped, it is true, but it was to be found a little later among the vanquished of Fort Donelson; and apart from that, a few prisoners the less could not detract from the great result which had just been obtained—the opening of the Tennessee to the Federal fleet.

The latter took advantage of it without delay. On that same evening it destroyed the large bridge of the Bowling Green and Memphis Railway; and ascending the river as far as the depth of water allowed, it proceeded to display the Federal flag in the midst of the Alabama plantations without encountering the least opposition on its route.

This first success, however, was only a beginning, and would lose all its importance if Fort Donelson remained in the hands of the enemy. The Confederates might at any moment return thence to the banks of the Tennessee for the purpose of occupying and fortifying some new position, which would again close that river against the Federals. The importance of Fort Donelson was equally appreciated by both Federals and Confederates. At the very time when Sidney Johnston was arranging the plan for an offensive movement with Beauregard, he was making preparations for evacuating Bowling Green. Indeed, it was well to [485] have foreseen the check of that hazardous movement, as the position of Bowling Green could not long be defended against Buell's army after it had lost the point d'appui which the position of Mill Springs afforded it on the extreme right. The Federals, being masters of the Upper Cumberland, could take Bowling Green completely in the rear. It was, therefore, along the Cumberland that Johnston had to look for a new line of defence whose centre should be at Nashville; but in that case the possession of Fort Donelson became the much more important, since that fort alone was able to stop Federal vessels on the Cumberland and protect the capital of Tennessee. Consequently, when Grant had broken at Fort Henry one link in the chain upon which all the system of his adversary's defences rested, the latter hastened to repair the want of foresight which had caused this weak portion of his line to be neglected. While his materiel, followed by the bulk of his army, was gradually proceeding from Bowling Green towards Nashville, he concentrated all his available forces at Fort Donelson. General Pillow, the same who as division commander in Mexico had caused so much trouble to General Scott, had joined with his division on the 9th of February the garrison of Fort Henry, which had taken refuge in Fort Donelson since the rout of the 5th. Buckner with his division from Bowling Green had arrived on the 11th. He was followed on the 12th and the 13th by General Floyd, at the head of a strong brigade of Virginians from Russellville and Cumberland City, whither those troops had retired and reorganized after their defeat in West Virginia a few months previously. The Confederates did wrong to reward the criminal services Mr. Floyd had rendered them whilst Secretary of War in Washington by entrusting him with important military commands; they paid dear for this error. Floyd took command of the little army, numbering from fifteen to sixteen thousand men, whose mission was to keep Grant in check. After having determined to place it at some distance above Dover, so as to harass the Federals if they should besiege Fort Donelson, he decided at the last moment to keep the whole of it inside of the exterior works which had been roughly constructed on the surrounding positions. The Federals on their side collected all their forces in order to strike a decisive blow. All the available [486] troops to be found at Cairo, Paducah, and St. Louis were hurried on transports for the purpose of joining Grant, while several regiments from the far West——from Iowa, and from Nebraska —descended the Missouri to form a junction with them. Buell's army also sent reinforcements, which, after amusing the Confederates at Russellville, not far from Bowling Green, embarked on Green River, a tributary of the Ohio, and came down this latter river as far as Smithland, at the confluence of the Cumberland, where they joined the large convoy of transports. Some of the troops who had appeared before Fort Henry also re-embarked to reach Fort Donelson by water. There remained fifteen thousand men at Fort Henry, who were re-formed into two divisions under McClernand and C. F. Smith, and with these Grant started for the purpose of investing by land the positions occupied by Pillow. Although the distance was only about twenty kilometres, it was a bold movement, for Grant's army was scarcely organized; it had no means of transporting its provisions and ammunition, and many regiments were without the necessary equipments for a winter campaign. In this condition the Federals were about to attack an enemy equal to them in number, posted inside of works carefully constructed, and controlling the river which secured his communications. But Grant knew what he could expect from the hardy men of the West who composed his army. The success at Fort Henry had inspired them with great confidence in the fleet, and with a desire not to allow themselves any longer to be surpassed by it. On the other hand, it was important not to allow the enemy time to recover himself and to concentrate all his forces around Fort Donelson. It was necessary to strike quickly in order to threaten Johnston's communications on the side of Nashville, and not to permit him to cover that only line of retreat by the erection of new works. In short, the utter inaction of the garrison of Fort Donelson, which had not even sent a single horseman to watch his movements, caused the Federal commander-in-chief to anticipate the military blunders his adversaries were about to commit; it may be, also, that, being aware that the latter were commanded by Pillow, he relied upon the incapacity of that individual, proverbial among his companions in arms of the Mexican war. On the 12th of [487] February the steamers, which had remained in front of Fort Henry, rapidly descended the Tennessee, with instructions to turn back whatever reinforcements they might meet on their way and direct them to rendezvous at Smithland. On the same day Grant started with his two divisions; and easily driving before him Forrest's cavalry, which had at last come to watch him, he presented himself in front of Fort Donelson during the afternoon at the moment when Floyd's first troops were landing.

The works occupied by the enemy consisted of the fort proper, a redoubt situated a little higher up, and a strong line of breastworks and abattis, which had been hastily constructed since the fall of Fort Henry, and were still unfinished at certain points. Differing widely from Fort Henry, Donelson was much better defended on the river than on the land side. A few redoubts had been erected close to the water's edge, but they were commanded by a steep acclivity in the shape of a semicircular hill, on the summit of which rose powerful batteries, which, owing to a curve in the river, commanded its course to a great distance, and could direct a plunging fire upon any vessels that should venture too near them. But on the land side the same works, resting upon certain undulations of ground which did not permit them to cross their fires, were commanded by other heights, more remote from the river. Consequently, the real point of defence of this portion of the line lay, not in the fort, notwithstanding its numerous and powerful guns, but in the exterior works. These works described a large semicircle of more than four kilometres in radius, resting their two extremities upon the river. Covered at the north by an impassable creek, they were, for the most part, laid out across woods which were only cleared by the abattis. They were redans and demi-lunes constructed of earth and wood, partly isolated, and partly connected by breastworks or simple trous de loup. They formed an excellent line of defence for a small army; but this line is sometimes liable to the objection of being traced half-way up the hillsides, thus exposing the reserves placed in the rear along their flanks. The little town of Dover was comprised within this enceinte.

On the 12th, before the close of a short winter day, Grant's soldiers had invested these entrenchments, which bristled on [488] every side with the bayonets of the enemy. This investment on the part of the Federal chief was a new act of daring; for as he was obliged to envelop the enemy's positions, his fifteen thousand men presented a very slender line, while his adversary, who knew the country, with forces equal to his own, and who could partially strip most of his works of their soldiers, was free to concentrate his troops upon a single point, to pierce that line by a vigorous effort. But Grant knew how to conceal his weakness skilfully from an enemy whose courage was already shaken. On the day following, after replying for some time to the artillery of the enemy with his cannon, he ordered the entrenchments within which it was posted to be attacked, with a view of ascertaining its strength, if he could not succeed in carrying them. No breach could be effected in the Confederate works. But on the extreme right—that is to say, on the side of Dover and above—the vigorous attack of the Federals secured to them at least positions closely adjoining those of the enemy, whence they could constantly threaten him.

In the mean time, the condition of Grant's army gave its chief considerable anxiety. The ammunition and provisions were becoming scarce, for no distribution had been made to replace what the soldiers had brought in their haversacks, and the means of transportation scarcely yet existed in that army. The enemy, master of the other side of the river, could neither be blockaded nor deprived of the reinforcements he was certainly expecting. The attack which had just been made proved that the idea of carrying whose works by main force was not to be entertained, and that the enemy might at any moment ascertain the numerical weakness of the adversary in whose presence he had remained inactive behind his parapets. The fleet, which was expected to bring reinforcements and provisions, was not in sight, and all these difficulties were still further increased by the inclemency of a rigorous climate. A heavy fall of snow, accompanied by extreme cold, proved a terrible ordeal for those soldiers, most of whom were poorly clad, with only a few days' experience in the field. Among those who had provided themselves with blankets, a large number, bending under the weight of an unwonted burden, and deceived by the mildness of the first day, had left them [489] behind at Fort Henry or thrown them away on the road. It was a night of suffering in the two camps, but especially on the battleground, where many of the wounded, lying between the two hostile camps, had not been removed before night. On the following morning nothing but frozen corpses were found.

But on that morning (February 14th) the sound of cannon upon the river made the soldier forget the sufferings of that terrible night, for it brought the certain news of the presence of the fleet, which had arrived the evening previous. In fact, while Foote with one of his gun-boats was drawing the fire of the Confederate batteries to show their strength, as he had been directed to do, the transports were landing, out of reach of the enemy's guns, the first reinforcements and the provisions so impatiently looked for. The provisions were soon distributed by the army wagons, which hastened to the river-side to obtain them. The reinforcements, consisting of eleven regiments, or about five thousand men, were hastily formed into a third division, the command of which was conferred upon General L. Wallace, who had arrived at the same time from Fort Henry with his brigade. This division, placed between McClernand, who held the right, and Smith, commanding the left, enabled the Federals to present a stronger line of investment to the enemy. While these movements, always difficult in the presence of an enemy, were taking place in Grant's army, and rations and cartridges were being distributed, Foote diverted the attention of the Confederates by an attack upon the batteries which commanded the course of the Cumberland. He could not hope to renew the brilliant success of Fort Henry, for his gun-boats, which had been considerably damaged in that first affair, had not had time to undergo any repairs, and it was with four small vessels in bad condition that he now exposed himself to the concentric fire of batteries armed with powerful guns, the range of which had been carefully studied beforehand by their gunners. But it was important to engage the enemy's attention during the day of the 14th at all hazards. Foote drew up his fleet within three hundred metres of the Confederate works, and for the space of one hour and a quarter he sustained an unequal contest against them. There was even a moment when his daring seemed about to be crowned with success. [490] Several of the batteries near the water had been abandoned, while only a few out of the twenty guns which commanded the river were still served; and if Foote had been able to avail himself of this momentary silence to reascend the river, he could have reached a place whence, by enfilading the positions of the enemy, he would have rendered them untenable. But at this critical moment his two best gun-boats were disabled by two successful shots, which shattered the rudder of one and one of the wheels of the other, and both were soon carried far away from the scene of action by the force of the current. The other two, not being able to sustain the contest alone, were drawn off by Foote. The Federal navy was taught to appreciate the difficulties it would encounter on the large rivers wherever the enemy should be skilful enough to take advantage with his fire of the nature of the ground.

The fruitless attacks of the 13th and 14th by land and sea had shown that if the enemy knew how to defend the positions he occupied, it would be necessary to resort to regular operations. As soon as Grant saw the gun-boats disabled by the fire of the Confederate batteries, he determined to lay siege to the place, thinking that the very slowness of the operation would render success more certain by giving time for the arrival of the numerous reinforcements which had been promised him.

In the mean time, notwithstanding the double check experienced by the Federals, there was nothing but trouble and confusion in the Confederate camp, especially in the councils of their leaders. They had suffered less from cold than their adversaries, inasmuch as the troops who were not doing guard-duty in the works were quartered in well-sheltered barracks. But the Federal artillery kept up, day and night, a regular fire of shells, which, without doing them much damage, worried them extremely. The fugitive garrison of Fort Henry, far from gathering courage on finding itself near the fresh troops assembled at Fort Donelson, had, on the contrary, shaken the confidence of the latter by exaggerating the number of the Federal forces. In short, the soldiers, with that instinct which governs them everywhere, had soon felt that they were not properly handled, and [491] had discovered the incapacity of those in command, in spite of pretentious appearances.

These generals had committed a great error in shutting up an army of fifteen thousand men inside of works where they could be surrounded, but they committed a still more grievous blunder when they resolved, on the 14th, to open a passage for themselves through Grant's lines by main force. Such a hopeless attempt should have been made before the arrival of the fleet and the Federal reinforcements. The investment was not then complete; the other bank of the river was still free; steamers could have been brought from Nashville to transport the army to the other side of the Cumberland; and Grant's attitude was a sufficient guarantee that he would not renew the assault. Floyd did not even take the trouble of informing his commander, Johnston, of his position, nor of asking for instructions. It was decided that Pillow should come out of his entrenchments and attack the extreme right of the Federals in front of Dover, while Buckner should make strong demonstrations upon the rest of the enemy's line. As soon as Pillow had opened a passage, Buckner was to follow him, after evacuating the fort and bringing along with him as much materiel as possible, and then he was to form the rear-guard to cover the march of the army towards Nashville.

On the 14th, at the moment when this plan was to be carried out, after the fight on the river, an unaccountable caprice prompted Pillow to defer that movement till the following day. This was a wilful sacrifice of the few good chances which yet remained to the Confederates, for each hour added strength to the positions which Grant occupied around them. Yet these positions, taken at first somewhat at random, were not all well selected, and the Federals, not yet possessing the experience which they subsequently acquired, had neglected to protect themselves by means of abattis and wooden breastworks; in short, being exhausted by fatigue and cold, they neglected all necessary precautions. Consequently, McClernand's division had barely time to get under arms, when, at early dawn on the 15th, Pillow's eight thousand men rushed in close column upon his right. This portion of his line, formed by the brigade of McArthur, had not been able to extend to the river. While it was vigorously resisting the first attack, Colonel [492] Baldwin, who commanded the first of Pillow's brigades, had one of those inspirations which sometimes decide the fate of a battle. He caused part of his troops to file off on his left along the river: thanks to a deep ravine, the enemy reached McArthur's flank unperceived, and threw confusion into the ranks of Oglesby's brigade, which formed the centre of McClernand's division, and which the Confederates were already vigorously pressing in front. Being in turn attacked in flank, it fell back like its neighbor. It reformed for an instant near the third brigade, commanded by W. H. Wallace. But notwithstanding the efforts of their officers and their own persistency, the Federal soldiers did not succeed in rallying until many men and much ground had been lost. At this hour Grant had not yet made his appearance on the field of battle. Being desirous to have an understanding with Foote regarding the operations of the siege he intended to undertake, he had gone to the gun-boat to visit the brave commodore, who had been seriously wounded in the battle of the day previous. But L. Wallace, who was encamped on the left of McClernand, and whom the noise of the battle had already roused, hastened to send his right brigade, commanded by Cruft, to the aid of the latter. This brigade arrived on the field of battle at the moment when the Confederates were bringing new forces into line. Adhering to the plan agreed upon the evening before, Buckner had only left in the entrenchments he occupied, in front of Smith, such troops as were strictly required for their occupancy, and had followed Pillow with the rest of his division. As soon as Pillow had deployed his forces he took position on his right; and when McArthur's and Oglesby's soldiers began to lose ground, he threw a portion of his men upon the brigades of W. Wallace, which formed the left of McClernand, and of Cruft, who had come to his assistance. The Confederates had thus far succeeded in throwing their entire army upon the flank of that commanded by Grant, and in concentrating the efforts of more than twelve thousand men upon the positions defended by scarcely seven or eight thousand. Pillow, who had followed the inspiration of Baldwin, outnumbered the right of the Federals more and more; he brought his regiments into action one after another, and attacked his enemies in flank as fast as they re-formed to face the fire which was [493] beginning to envelop them. He was already master of all the positions which had been occupied at first by McClernand in the morning. He had opened a breach which was to be the salvation of his army, and he felt so sure of victory that he hastened to communicate the news to Johnston by telegraph. He had nothing more to do than to push his troops forward to gather the fruits of his first success.

A portion of McClernand's division was in disorder; a few regiments had kept their ranks, but they could not resist the onset of superior forces, and they had, moreover, exhausted all their ammunition. The brigade of Cruft, pressed on all sides, was falling back slowly. L. Wallace found himself in turn overpowered on his right, and the fugitives who were already crowding in his rear threatened to throw his ranks into confusion. What had been left of his division was rapidly formed en-potence; a portion faced to the right and rallied the remnants of McClernand's division; the other part was drawn in front of the enemy's entrenchments, where Buckner was massing all his troops for the purpose of attacking in turn and widening the passage which had been opened by Pillow. At this junction the Confederate leaders committed an error which was irreparable. Carried away by their first success, they desired to complete the victory; and forgetting that their object should have been to escape from a siege, they only thought of driving back the right and centre of the Federals upon their left wing. Full of mistaken confidence, they already foresaw the moment when, driving the whole of Grant's army upon Smith's division, they should re-enter their entrenchments to force their adversaries back upon the river north of Donelson. These fatal illusions, after having caused them to lose much precious time in trying to force their way through the gap they had opened, were quickly dispelled. Indeed, Pillow had exhausted his strength in the fortunate attack he had just made; and when, following up his success, he encountered the line of L. Wallace, he broke down before the resistance of a single regiment, the First Nebraska, composed of the hardy hunters of that territory, hardly yet reclaimed. A few moments after, Buckner came out of the entrenchments with his reserves; but his soldiers, fatigued and discouraged by the efforts of the preceding days, did [494] not go into the conflict with alacrity, while their officers, knowing that they were destined for the rough work appertaining to the rearguard of the army, were desirous, they said, of sparing their men. Consequently, the attack was faintly made. After the first unsuccessful assault, the Confederates fled in disorder, and sought shelter behind the breastworks, whence no exhortations on the part of their chiefs could drag them. This was the decisive moment. Buckner was repulsed, and Pillow, being no longer sustained, found it impossible to advance farther with men exhausted by six hours fighting. He had brought his last reserves into action, and was obliged to stop. The Federals were thus allowed time to form again; connecting their various positions in an uneven line, they were soon enabled to present a new line of battle alongside of the road, the possession of which had been the object of all the enemy's efforts. The passage was yet open for the Confederates, but it became more and more difficult for them to avail themselves of it to push their whole army through in the presence of an adversary who had had a breathing-spell.

In the mean time, Grant had repaired to the field of battle. He had seen his line driven in, but he thought, nevertheless, that if he could for an instant check the impetus which the Confederates had acquired by their first success he might yet snatch the victory from them. As to the besieged, who fought with the energy of despair, a half triumph was to them an overwhelming defeat, and their first effort had exhausted their energies; so that when, at two o'clock, after a conflict of eight hours, he saw Pillow's soldiers pause on the ground they had conquered, and those of Buckner fall back at the first fire of L. Wallace's division, he judged that the moment had arrived to assume the offensive, and to derive a great success from the battle which had nearly upset all his plans. In proportion as the prolonging of the conflict had shaken their confidence and dispelled their first illusions, trouble and uncertainty had anew taken possession of the Confederate leaders. While Buckner was vainly endeavoring to lead his men once more into the fight, the evacuation of the fort, just commenced, was suspended; and Pillow, seeing the Federals forming again to recover the ground lost in the morning, fell back to take position upon an elevated hill situated a few hundred metres [495] in advance of his entrenchments. It was at this moment that Grant ordered the fresh troops of Smith on the left and L. Wallace's division in the centre to make a general attack upon the enemy's works, before the latter could have time to look about him. While McClernand's regiments were forming again, those of Wallace bravely marched up to the assault of the height occupied by Pillow, and carried it after a bloody engagement. But they were not equally successful in capturing the entrenchments behind which they had just driven the enemy.

On the left, Smith, after making several feints in the direction of the works, where Buckner had left part of his division, placed himself at the head of Lauman's brigade, which he electrified by his words and by his example. The Confederates were unable to resist that shock, and Smith, with the aid of his artillery, which took position in the entrenchments from which they had just been dislodged, easily repelled all their efforts to retake them.

Night at last put an end to that sanguinary conflict, which cost each army more than two thousand men. It found the Federals masters of all the positions they had lost in the morning on the right, and firmly established on the left among the enemy's entrenchments. From these they commanded the greatest portion of the ground where the Confederate soldiers were encamped pell-mell, as well as the works of Fort Donelson. The dawn of day, which they impatiently awaited under arms, now cheerfully bearing cold and hunger, would enable them to complete their victory and gather its fruits.

But, on the contrary, trouble and discouragement prevailed in the Confederate camp. After fighting a whole day to force a passage through the enemy's lines they found themselves again shut up within the same enclosure they had vainly attempted to leave; and furthermore, they beheld the enemy posted in the very centre of their line of defence. From the general-in-chief down to the last soldier all felt that the game was lost beyond hope of recovery, and no one seriously thought of prolonging the struggle. Amid the darkness, which alone afforded protection to the vanquished army, scenes were then witnessed which presented a shameful contrast to the valor and energy of which the Confederates [496] have given proof on so many other occasions. The commander-in-chief, Floyd, having summoned a council of war, declared that the army had nothing to do but surrender, for the two small steamers at their disposal could not convey it to the other side of the river during the night, and at daybreak, not a battle, but a massacre, might be expected. In the mean time, as he was aware that the Yankees particularly desired to seize his person, he announced his intention of effecting his escape; and to that effect he resigned the command of which he made such miserable use. Pillow, who succeeded him by right of seniority, insisted that Grant could yet be resisted; but when he found himself invested with authority, he changed his mind, and after declaring that he shared the personal views of his superior, he followed the example of his defection. He hastened, in his turn, to transfer the command to Buckner, who, alone actuated by a sense of military honor, accepted the painful task of capitulating at the head of those soldiers whom their unworthy commander so basely forsook. Through a whimsical scruple, prompted perhaps by the favorite theory of the Confederates regarding the independence of States, Floyd requested and obtained permission from his late subordinate to take with him in his flight the regiment of Virginians he had brought with him from his native State. During this painful comedy the rumor of an impending capitulation spread like lightning among those soldiers who were already crushed by the weight of their defeat. All the bonds of discipline were broken at once; and following the example of his leaders, each man thought only of himself. The disorder reached its culminating point when that bewildered crowd witnessed through the darkness of the night the preparations for flight on the part of a few privileged individuals. Men rushed to the wharves, where the two small steamers were receiving those persons who, profiting by their defection, were to be spared the sad fate of being made prisoners of war. Floyd, Pillow, and a large number of staff-officers had already crossed over to the other side of the river with about three thousand men, when the two steamers, instead of returning to take another load of fugitives, who were waiting for them as their last chance of safety, steamed rapidly up the Cumberland. Day was beginning to break; and the pale [497] glimmer of that winter morning announced to Buckner that the time had arrived for proposing a capitulation to Grant. From that moment he could no longer authorize the flight of a single man. While the Federals were preparing for the attack they saw the enemy displaying the white flag on every side. A few hours after, Buckner accepted, with bad grace and without dignity, Grant's propositions. He constituted himself a prisoner of war, with the remnants of the army which had been beaten the day before. The Confederate colonel Forrest, whose mission during the battle had been to clear the road, had taken advantage of the night to draw off with his cavalry, across swamps impracticable for the army, by following a narrow path running along the steep banks of the river. He made his escape, leaving his rearguard in the hands of McClernand.

The capture of Donelson was a great and glorious success for the Federals. The material results were considerable. The capitulation delivered into the hands of Grant fourteen thousand six hundred and twenty-three prisoners, sixty-five cannons, seventeen thousand muskets—that is to say, an entire army, with all its materiel. His entire losses amounted to two thousand and forty-one men, of whom four hundred and twenty-five were killed; the Confederates had about the same number of men disabled.

The moral effect was immense. The remembrance of Bull Run was blotted out by a victory much more hotly contested, and the results of which were otherwise of importance. In short, after the scenes which had just been witnessed in Floyd's tent and on the banks of the Cumberland, the Confederates could no longer taunt their enemies with the panic of the 21st of July: the game was henceforth even between them.

This defeat was a terrible blow for the South. It caused great surprise to the Richmond government as well as to the public, who had too long been lulled by dangerous illusions. From the impression produced by this reverse we may already remark the difference of character in the two peoples who were struggling on the soil of America. The South bore the disaster without being discouraged, but no indication could be perceived of that patriotic impulse which had armed so many volunteers in the [498] North to repair the disaster of Bull Run. The belligerent ardor of the South had reached its height at the outset of the war, and after having then filled the ranks of the Confederate armies, it was already on the decline. The confidence felt during the early stages of the rebellion had disappeared; people fought because they had entered upon a path from which they could see no possible issue but victory. Whatever sacrifices might be deemed necessary to secure the success of an enterprise so imprudently begun they were ready to make without a murmur, but also without enthusiasm. The conduct of all the Confederate authorities was for a time severely commented upon. But like all absolute power, dreading discussion even when likely to be favorable to its measures, Mr. Davis's government, on the one hand, relieved both Floyd and Pillow from their duties, and on the other, it imposed silence upon those who presumed to criticise the management of military affairs.

The capitulation of Fort Donelson greatly embarrassed all the operations of the Confederate armies. During the battle of the 15th, Floyd had announced a certain victory by telegraph to Sidney Johnston, who was assembling his army in front of Nashville to defend the line of the Cumberland. In the evening the general-in-chief learned the full extent of the disaster. The confusion caused by this news was such that a brigade of one thousand five hundred men, which had been sent as a reinforcement to Donelson, was not countermanded. Having quietly entered the entrenchments near Dover, these troops found themselves, to their great surprise, surrounded by Federals and obliged to lay down their arms. In the mean time, the Confederate generals felt that it was necessary to look out, without loss of time, for a new line and other defensive positions in those parts of the Confederacy which yet remained intact. Bowling Green had already been abandoned. Johnston, while sending part of his army to Donelson, following close upon his materiel, had fallen back upon the Cumberland, thus delivering the whole of Kentucky into the hands of the Federals. As soon as he heard of the defeat of Floyd, he understood that it would be impossible for him to maintain himself upon that river, which he had once thought of making his line of defence. The evacuation of Nashville and [499] Columbus was instantly determined upon. These were the first fruits of Grant's victory.

It was above all essential to abandon Nashville, for the magnificent suspension bridge across the Cumberland was the only line of retreat for Johnston's army, and Foote's gun-boats might at any time come to destroy it. There was no longer any fortification along the course of the river that could stop them. The city itself, situated on the south bank, was everywhere commanded, and incapable of defence. This city, containing seventeen thousand souls, had played a part far above its real importance in the last revolution. Inhabited by a rich aristocracy of slaveholders, it had distinguished itself by its zeal in favor of the secession movement, and had even once aspired to the honor of becoming the capital of the Confederate States. The entire State government of Tennessee had remained there in spite of Grant's invasion, and both houses of the legislature daily passed resolutions of the most violent character, and indulged in bitter invectives against the Yankees. Carried away by a deceiving confidence, they always said they would die rather than withdraw or surrender. But when, at the sight of Johnston's regiments, which passed through the city on the morning of the 16th without stopping, the rumor went round that Nashville was about to be abandoned to the invaders, the excitement was greater, says the historian Pollard, than if an earthquake had levelled every building. Very soon the departure of all the State authorities with the archives and public funds, and in such haste as their former speeches had not foreshadowed, confirmed this news. An unheard — of panic then seized the inhabitants of Nashville. One would have said that they were flying before a deluge which threatened to swallow up everything. Nothing was thought of but to save what each possessed of any value. Horses and carriages of every description, hired at fabulous prices, set out en masse on the roads leading south, laden with everything susceptible of transportation. But it was even worse when, on the 18th, Floyd, arriving with his brigade from Fort Donelson, was ordered to close up on Johnston. The burning of the great suspension bridge and the construction docks along the Cumberland was the signal of disorder which defies description. It having [500] been found impossible to remove the goods from the military depots of provisions, they were thrown open and plundered by the populace. The last Confederate soldiers had disappeared amid the imprecations of those who had not been able to follow them. Anarchy reigned supreme. At last the mayor and a few citizens succeeded in restoring some degree of order while waiting for the arrival of the Federals.

The latter appeared on the 23d. They were a portion of Buell's forces, consisting of a regiment of cavalry, the Fourth Ohio, of Mitchell's division. This division had been sent by the commander of the army of Kentucky to watch Johnston's movements as soon as he had heard of Grant's march upon Fort Donelson. Having started on the 13th in full haste, it reached Bowling Green on the 14th just in time to see the last Confederate troops evacuate that place, set fire to their storehouses, and quickly disappear, destroying all the railroad bridges behind them. It required no less than nine days for Mitchell's soldiers, who had been delayed for want of provisions, to reach Nashville. They got there, however, in advance of the Federal gun-boats and the conquerors of Donelson.

On the 20th the indefatigable Foote had taken possession of Clarksville, an important position situated on the river, below Nashville, and was preparing to take four thousand of Grant's soldiers on board for the purpose of occupying the capital of Tennessee without delay. But this operation was forbidden by orders from General Halleck. Grant's army, worn out by that trying campaign, and still more by the climate than by battle, counted many on the sick-list, and needed rest. Consequently, it was only on the 27th that one of his divisions was able to reach Nashville by land. And this movement came near costing Grant his command. He was accused of having overstepped the imaginary line which, in the departments at Washington, divided all the Southern States among the various Federal proconsuls. They set up against him the brilliant conduct of Smith at the assault of Donelson; a feeling of old regimental fellowship was seeking to attribute to the latter all the merit of the victory; and Grant found himself for a while detained at the depot of Fort Henry by orders from headquarters, while most of his soldiers continued to penetrate [501] into the enemy's country. But this disgrace was not of long duration.

On leaving Nashville, Johnston had followed the Chattanooga Railroad. He was thus moving away from the two rivers, of which the Federals were already masters, and could easily make connection with the troops which had evacuated Eastern Kentucky under Crittenden. His army was still numerous, but it had lost all confidence, and Johnston did not think he would be able to make it face the enemy. In choosing this line of retreat he obliged the Federals either to allow him time enough to reorganize his army or to come to attack him, after a fatiguing march, in positions which were very strong and with only a portion of their troops. The retreat of the Confederates had been troublesome, for the weather was frightful and the roads extremely broken up. But the very obstacles they encountered rendered pursuit impossible for their adversaries. Johnston stopped at Murfreesborough, about fifty-two kilometres from Nashville, where he was joined by Crittenden, and found himself at the head of an army able to make head against the Federals.¹ The latter took good care not to go in search of him.

In the mean while, the Confederates, in pursuance of Johnston's instructions, had abandoned Columbus a few days after the evacuation of Nashville, thus giving up the whole State of Kentucky. The fate of the garrison of Fort Donelson was a warning to Polk's army not to allow itself to be shut up in Columbus. Beauregard, who had been appointed commander-in-chief of the defences of the Mississippi, had selected, in order to bar the river against the Federals, a point situated about seventy kilometres lower down. The great river, in its thousand bends, describes at this point two angles, turning first to the west, then to the north, to sweep again to the west, and finally to the south, so that between the two it runs in a direction opposite to its general course. In the centre of the upper elbow stands one of those numerous islands, formed by the alluvial accretions of the river, which navigators [502] have merely laid down in the chart by number; it is called No. 10. At the second angle, which, although situated below, lies more to the north than the first, stands the village of New Madrid, on the right bank of the Mississippi.

The evacuation of Columbus began on the 25th of February, and was completed by the 3d of March. The next day a party of Federal cavalry from Paducah penetrated into its abandoned entrenchments with its spiked guns and still burning magazines. A few hours afterwards, Foote's fleet, which Halleck had recalled from Donelson, landed at the foot of the deserted works a recently formed division, the command of which had been given to W. T. Sherman. The latter thus reappeared on the military stage, which he was not to leave again, and on which the part he was to play increased in importance from day to day.

Polk, with a portion of his troops, fell back as far as Corinth, the centre of the approaching operations against Grant's army. The remainder, about four or five thousand men, occupied Island No.10 and the batteries which completed the system of defence on the left bank of the river. Commodore Hollins had brought a few iron-clad vessels from New Orleans to support them, but the armor of most of them was quite inadequate. The Confederate government made every effort to convince the public that Island No.10 would definitively check the progress of the Federals on the Mississippi; but notwithstanding these assurances, the military leaders were fully aware that this position was too advanced and too isolated to be able to hold out long. Their only object in occupying it was to cover the left extremity of their line during the time required for massing the forces destined to fight Grant's army in the centre of that line. It was on that side, in fact, that the two parties were preparing for a conflict the proportions of which were to exceed all that this war had up to that time displayed.

Before describing this conflict we must cast a glance along the west bank of the Mississippi, where the adversaries, who had remained in sight of each other, were about to meet again in battle. Upon that remote theatre, as we have already stated, military events could not possess a decided importance, and the movements of the armies which met there were subordinate to the [503] issues of battles fought on the other side of the river. Nevertheless, as with all secondary operations, neither of the two parties could neglect them without being exposed to serious dangers.

We left the two enemies widely separated from each other in Missouri at the close of the year 1861. The greatest part of that State was in the hands of the Federals. But in order to subsist their troops with greater facility during the winter, they had brought them back into the neighborhood of rivers and railways. These railroads were but the forerunners of the lines destined at some future day to connect New Mexico, Colorado, Texas, and Lower California with the borders of the Mississippi. They stretch towards the deserts of the far West like the arms of a giant striving to grasp the immense spaces that still rebel against civilization. The village of Rolla, thus named by some transatlantic admirer of Alfred de Musset, was the terminus, as we have said before, of that branch among those groups of railways which run to the south-west. The road which Lyon had followed before the battle of Wilson's Creek, of great importance in those primitive regions, although in a wretched condition, was in prolongation of the railway. It passed through Springfield, descended into Arkansas, and after crossing the Ozark Mountains near Bentonville, reached Fort Smith, on the great Arkansas River. Beyond this last station the habitations and cultivated lands which the facilities of communication had developed along the road became more and more rare; at last, on leaving Fort Belknap, in Texas, the mail-carrier had no other guide than a small compass to direct him in finding out the stages marked by the whitened bones of the Anglo-Saxon emigrant or the Mexican adventurer. The two adversaries, one resting upon St. Louis, the other on the State of Arkansas, had to meet on this road whenever the aim of their campaigns was the possession of Missouri.

Hostilities commenced west of the Mississippi about the same time as on the banks of the Tennessee. Hunter, after superseding Fremont, had left the army of the Missouri and taken command of the troops assembled in the State of Kansas. His mission was simply to hunt the guerillas, to protect the Unionists, and to secure them some measure of safety. He succeeded to a [504] considerable extent, and restored some degree of order in that State, which, since its birth, had never been aught but a battlefield.

In that part of Missouri situated north of the river of that name the Confederates still counted a large number of partisans; but they had given up the idea of disputing its possession with the Federals, who, under Pope, occupied all the principal points in the country. They confined themselves to the task of recruiting volunteers, who afterwards crossed the river to join Price's army, while, on the contrary, all the efforts of the Federals were intended to disperse or to intercept those recruits. In this war of detail we have only a single serious engagement to record, that of Silver Creek, where, on the 8th of January, a party of Federal cavalry routed a small body of Confederate partisans, who had just met there and were in the act of organizing.

In the mean while, Curtis, who had retired with the army of the Missouri as far as Rolla, was preparing to go in search of Price in the southern part of the State. The Confederate general, whose troops were daily increasing in number, occupied a threatening position at Springfield, from which it was important to dislodge him. Curtis had collected twelve thousand men, forming four small corps, improperly called divisions, for they possessed only the numerical strength of weak brigades. On the 11th of February he started for Springfield, following the post-road. Frightful weather rendered that march extremely painful, and seemed to promise Price an easy success. His ten thousand men were well entrenched, and encamped in good quarters. But the Confederate general felt isolated; and since the forces assembled in Arkansas had refused to join him the preceding year, he had become less daring. Without waiting for his adversary, he fell back towards the south with his Missouri militia, and only used his cavalry on the 12th of February in covering his retreat.

The Federals crossed the Arkansas frontier in his tracks, still following, like him, the post-road. On the 17th of February they had a slight engagement with the rear-guard of the enemy near Sugar Creek; and soon after, they reached the Ozark Mountains.

The nature of the country imparted an altogether peculiar character to that war. The post-road afforded Curtis great [505] facilities for moving his supply-trains and his artillery, and for receiving reinforcements, ammunition, and all the materials of war which were to be forwarded to him from the arsenals of the North, but it did not give him the means of drawing provisions from his distant depots, as a line of railway or a navigable river would have done; thousands of wagons would not have sufficed to perform that service between Rolla and Bentonville. In those regions of the far West, therefore, armies were always obliged to subsist upon the country through which they passed; and that country being scarcely under cultivation, on the one hand, those armies had to be limited as to number, and on the other hand it was necessary to scatter them over a vast extent of territory, in order to collect the meagre resources of the country in sufficient quantities. Hence in the early part of March we find Curtis's troops divided into small detachments encamped at great distances from each other along the Ozark Mountains. After advancing as far as Fayetteville, the Federal general, fearing that he had ventured too far into the enemy's country, fell back upon the valley of Sugar Creek, whence he could if necessary easily regain the State of Missouri. This water-course, in the vicinity of which the last engagement had taken place, afforded him positions easy to defend, the natural strength of which he further increased by means of entrenchments, in which he expected to rally his scattered troops in the event of the enemy's coming to attack him from the south. Part of the infantry took possession of the mills bordering on Sugar Creek, and set to work to make flour, while the cavalry and draft animals went in search of forage, wandering about from one pasture-ground to another. A few parties proceeded as far as the valley of the Arkansas. The Federal general took up his quarters along the post-road, a little to the south of Sugar Creek, at a place called Cross Hollows. Carr's division was encamped near him. Sigel, with the nucleus of two small divisions, neither of which was larger than a French regiment, was at Bentonville, about fifteen kilometres from Sugar Creek. But the positions selected by Curtis, for the purpose of checking any enemy coming from the south, were in rear of that stream, which runs from east to west before pursuing a northerly direction. A ravine watered by this stream separates two of the [506] hills forming the chain of Ozark Mountains, which both alike slope down in gentle declivities towards the north and very abruptly to the south. The one commanding the ravine at the north is known by the name of Pea Ridge. It is separated from another steep acclivity, which rises still more to the north, by another wooded ravine, called Cross-Timber Hollows, running from east to west, the waters of which, having reached the plain, finally mingle with those of Sugar Creek. These breaks in the ground were generally covered with small copsewood, intersected here and there by cultivated clearings and tall trees shooting up from the watery bottoms. Communicating by cross-roads with Bentonville, which it leaves on its right, the post-road descends into the ravine of Sugar Creek at the eastern extremity of the crest of Pea Ridge. Before reaching that point, midway of the gentle declivities which slope down towards the north and which the road easily ascends, it encounters a small solitary building called Elkhorn Tavern. Here branches off a road which leads to Bentonville through the hamlet of Leetown, situated in the centre of the ridge. Such is the ground upon which the first battle that drenched Arkansas with blood was about to be fought.

The Southern generals, having received reinforcements, prepared to resume the offensive. Price, who had retired south-west into the Indian territory among the Boston Mountains, had again been joined by Generals McCulloch and McIntosh, at the head of two divisions of Confederate troops, and by a half-breed adventurer named Pike,² who had collected together a considerable body of Indians. The latter, while they adopted the exterior of our civilization and borrowed from it the use of the rifle, had not forgotten the traditions of their race; they eagerly seized the unlooked — for opportunity offered them to assist the whites, their old enemies, in destroying each other. Van Dorn, that captain of cavalry whom we saw in Texas at the outset of the rebellion [507] in vain exciting his own soldiers to desert their colors and making them prisoners afterwards—Van Dorn, who had become one of the important personages of the new Confederacy, had assumed the chief command of that army. He had more than sixteen thousand men under him, which gave him a great numerical superiority over his opponent. Consequently, he went forth to meet the small Federal army in the hope of destroying it altogether, and of not allowing a single one of those abolition soldiers to re-enter Missouri who had ventured so far from all possible succor.

On the 5th of March Curtis had been warned of his approach by parties of his own cavalry scattered far into the country, and he ordered all his troops to concentrate upon Sugar Creek. That position was well selected, for the steep acclivity of the ridge, covered as it was by the strong current of the stream, presented a formidable front to an enemy coming from the south. But the latter was aware of this, and resolved to strike elsewhere. He had brought with him provisions to last for several days, and was, therefore, free in his movements in a country where the population was generally friendly to him, and where he could move his supply-trains in every direction without escort. Curtis, on the contrary, was, by the very circumstances of his position, tied to the post-road, which he had followed from Rolla. He had undoubtedly given up the idea of keeping it always open, being well aware that the advantage of that route as a line of retreat depended entirely upon the strength of his army; he could not, however, abandon it for any length of time without the risk of becoming short of ammunition and provisions, and without seeing his army gradually weakened for want of the necessary means to keep up his personnel and materiel. Consequently, he had been obliged to establish small posts en echelon along the most important points of his line.

It was by this line that Van Dorn desired to attack and take the Federal positions in rear, thus reversing the order of the two armies and placing them in the position of two combatants in the lists who had changed places. He calculated that his numerical superiority would enable him to remain longer in that difficult position than his adversary. Consequently, after leaving Boston [508] Mountains on the 4th; and having occupied on the 6th the village of Cross Hollows, which the Federals had just evacuated in great haste, he suddenly changed his route, and marched to the northwest, upon Bentonville, on the same day. One of his columns met there the rear-guard of the small corps of Sigel, which, having been called back by Curtis, was retiring towards Pea Ridge. A brisk engagement immediately took place. The Confederates eagerly attacked the Federal general, who had only six hundred men with him. Surrounded nearly on every side, the latter, with the aid of a few field-pieces, nevertheless repulsed all the assaults of the enemy, and succeeded in joining the rest of his troops. Then, drawing up his battalions en echelon, he fell back in good order, crossed Sugar Creek, and, reaching Pea Ridge in the evening, took position west of the rest of the army.

Instead of following him, Van Dorn continued his flank movement, crossed Sugar Creek below the Federal camps, and bivouacked before night on the right bank of that stream, at the extremity of the long slopes which terminate on that side the plateau of Pea Ridge. The Federals were thus taken in rear, and Van Dorn had already obtained an important advantage before the battle had commenced.

But Curtis had got wind of this manoeuvre. During the night he changed all his plans, and prepared to receive the attack of the enemy on the side of the positions to which Sigel had retired the day before. The early part of the day, however, passed without any sign of battle; the Confederates were completing their manoeuvre, as they wished to be in possession of the post-road before making the attack. They reached it at last, near the place where it crosses the ravine of Cross-Timber Hollows, and the firing of musketry from the posts which alone covered the rear of the Federal positions on that side soon made Curtis aware that the enemy was carrying out his plan of attack. He immediately made his small army face to the rear in line of battle. Sigel, who had begun this movement in the morning, and had already sent a few regiments, with Colonel Osterhaus, to occupy a position on the side of Leetown, in order to forestall the enemy by a counterattack, thus found himself forming the left of the Federal line. Asboth's division, which had been placed under his command, [509] formed the extremity of his line, and rested upon the crest of the Pea Ridge plateau, above Sugar Creek. Osterhaus's troops stretched out a little beyond the Bentonville road, towards the Elkhorn Tavern, and faced north-west. The right of the Federal army was composed of Carr's division, which, at the first indication of the enemy's presence on the post-road, hastened to contest with him the important position of Elkhorn. A little beyond, and at a certain distance from his front, wound the ravine of Cross-Timber Hollows, which, by an abrupt turning, covered his right flank. The attack of the enemy forced Carr to face northward, and thus gave to the Federal army the form of a broken line. In the centre the action had not yet commenced.

Indeed, the attack of the Confederates was divided into two distinct engagements. The divisions of McIntosh and McCulloch had been left by Van Dorn near the place where they had bivouacked during the night, with orders to march upon Leetown as soon as his left wing had become engaged. They formed the Confederate right, and those were the troops that Osterhaus encountered before Leetown.

In the mean time, Price and his seven or eight thousand Missourians, under the personal lead of Van Dorn, had made the great flank movement which brought them, by way of the postroad, in sight of Elkhorn Tavern, at the moment when Carr was preparing to dispute that position with them. They constituted the left wing. But their flank manoeuvre had completely separated them from McCulloch and McIntosh. The Confederate army was thus divided into two parts, with inadequate connections between them, and utterly unable to afford each other mutual support, while the two Federal wings could hold easy communications by means of interior lines.

In proportion, however, as the battle progressed, the chances seemed to turn in favor of the Confederates. Encouraged by the success of their first manoeuvre, they attacked their adversaries with great impetuosity. The thickness of the woods favoring their approach, they made great havoc in the Federal ranks: they put buckshot into their guns on top of the balls.

On the left, the small division of Asboth, which had been ordered by Sigel to guard the extreme flank of the line, was not in [510] action; but that of Osterhaus, which had gone forward to meet McIntosh and McCulloch, found it difficult to resist them. An unfortunate cavalry charge against an enemy concealed in the woods had cost him the loss of several guns at the outset of the battle.

On the right, Carr was being more and more closely pressed and Price was gaining ground. His adversaries left many wounded and a few cannon in his hands. On both sides of the post-road, beyond the Elkhorn Tavern, of which the Confederates had taken possession, the fight was carried on furiously. The latter had the advantage on the two flanks. The Federals saw the enemy upon their line of retreat—a bad state of things for young soldiers to fight under. This was the opportunity of which McIntosh and McCulloch availed themselves to make an important move. They outflanked Osterhaus's right, which had been shaken by the unequal struggle, and pushed forward to the assistance of Price, who was already almost victorious; but here they were met by a new adversary. Curtis had brought his last division, commanded by Colonel Jefferson Davis,³ upon the field of battle, and placed it in the centre of his line, between Leetown and Elkhorn, within the space separating the right of Sigel's divisions from Carr's left. Davis received the attack of McIntosh and McCulloch on his left with a portion of his troops, while the remainder, placed en potence upon the right, took them in flank. This violent shock staggered a few of the Federal regiments, but the others resisted. An almost hand-to-hand fight now took place in a thick and low coppice-wood. While the action was at its height the two Confederate leaders fell mortally wounded, both, as it were, at the same instant. Their soldiers, over whom they had an immense control, became discouraged at this sight, and were finally repulsed.

It was time for the Federals to obtain this partial success, for along the post-road their right was still retiring before the vigorous attacks of Price. Carr, aided only by a few regiments detached from Davis's division, was no longer able to maintain such an unequal fight, when Sigel sent Asboth to his assistance, with a portion of his troops which had been freed by the check of the [511] Confederate right. This timely reinforcement put a stop to Price's progress. Van Dorn tried in vain to make a last effort to reunite his two wings; but the lieutenants to whom he had entrusted his right were no longer there to execute his orders, and their soldiers, discouraged and depressed, no longer possessed the required energy to seize the victory which was slipping away from them.

Night, moreover, soon came to put an end to the struggle—a night full of uneasiness and anxiety to both armies. The Federals saw an enemy superior in numbers firmly established along their only line of retreat. After having fought him a whole day, they had not been able to prevent his taking part of the field of battle from them, and a certain number of cannon. How were they to hope that the morrow would secure to their diminished forces a victory which was so far from their reach, and that they would then recover what they had not been able to preserve the day before? Yet this victory must be achieved at any price; for if the Federals were not conquerors, they would be prisoners. Accordingly, they availed themselves of the darkness of the night to prepare their forces for the decisive battle of the next day. Being at ease so far as his left and left centre were concerned, where Davis's and Sigel's divisions had hardly any enemy left in front of them, Curtis brought those troops back to the right, upon the ground where Carr had struggled all day and lost one-third of his effective force. It was there that he concentrated all his available forces, for it was there that he was chiefly menaced; it was the post-road which it was essential above all to wrest from the enemy. While Price, who occupied it, should be attacked on the right by Asboth, in front by Carr, and on the left by Davis, Osterhaus, deploying still farther to the left, would prevent Van Dorn from renewing the attack on the side of Leetown. If, as it was supposed, the latter should find no enemy before him, he was to wheel to the right, take the Confederates along the post-road in flank, and drive them into the deep gorges of Cross-Timber Hollows. The success of this manoeuvre was uncertain, but the attempt must be made, for the fate of the army depended upon it.

The Federals would have felt less anxiety if they had judged the situation of their adversaries, not by the results obtained, but [512] by the sacrifices they had cost them. The Confederate soldiers, accustomed to a rough and adventurous life, had exhibited great courage and dash, but they did not possess those military qualities which discipline imparts. The battle had thrown a certain amount of disorder into their ranks; McCulloch and McIntosh were killed, and Price seriously wounded; they had been in the habit of following those leaders, and did not care to obey commanders whose voices were new to them. Finally, the corps of Indians, from whom such prodigies of valor were expected, had been rather an encumbrance than a support to the Confederates. Those savages possessed the bravery which a contempt for death inspires, but not the courage engendered by the sense of duty. Excellent marksmen, but of a temperament too easily excited, they completely lost their presence of mind amid the tumult of a pitched battle and the roar of cannon. The fatigue and the reduction of rations, which, according to the practice of young troops, had been wasted during the first day's march, were additional causes calculated to damp the ardor of the Confederates. Nevertheless, they prepared themselves for the conflict. Feeling, like their adversaries, that the position of Elkhorn Tavern, which they had conquered the day before, was the key of the battle-ground, they had also gathered all their forces; the remnants of McIntosh's and McCulloch's corps had been rallied and massed there by Van Dorn. At the same time, Sigel, on the side of the Federals, made an analogous movement. The struggle was, therefore, concentrated within a narrow arena.

The day broke and the Confederates remained inactive, thus allowing their enemy time to prepare himself. The latter took at last the offensive, and opened fire against Elkhorn and the positions situated on both sides of the post-road. Van Dorn defended himself with great obstinacy, and repulsed the Federals several times. But Sigel soon deployed on the left of Davis's division, and thus took the Confederates in flank, while Asboth threatened them on the right. It was their turn to be surrounded. After continuing to defend themselves for some time, they recrossed the ravine of Cross-Timber Hollow and abandoned that long-contested battle-field, upon which they left more than one thousand men in killed and wounded. [513]

The losses of the Federal army were nearly equal, amounting to two hundred and three killed, nine hundred and seventy-two wounded, and one hundred and seventy-six prisoners. These numbers included no less than sixty-nine officers disabled; but it had achieved a victory. The enemy, who, a few hours before, appeared ready to capture that entire army, was in full retreat and fast disappearing among those vast spaces whence he had suddenly emerged for the purpose of attacking it. It was not destined to meet him again for a long time to come. Indeed, so far from intending to go in pursuit of that enemy, it was also about to fall back. The battle of Pea Ridge had greatly weakened the small army of Curtis; and having no expectation of receiving the necessary reinforcements to maintain himself so far within an enemy's country, that general withdrew into the southern counties of Missouri; he established himself there without having to fight any more battles but a trifling engagement at Salem, on the Arkansas frontier, where, on the 18th of March, his cavalry obtained some advantage over a party of Confederates. This new campaign, although more bloody, terminated like those which had preceded it, and could exercise no decisive influence over the ensemble of military operations collectively. It may be said that there is just as much difference between the modes of waging war in countries already civilized, and these campaigns of which the far West was the theatre, as there is between a duel with swords and with pistols. In the first the two adversaries follow each other, watch each other, close upon one another by crossing sword with sword, and the conqueror is the one who knows how to profit by the errors of his antagonist. On the contrary, when they have pistols in their hands, the combatants, being placed at a certain distance from each other, fire successively balls which either hit or miss, while the skill of the individual who serves as target has nothing to do in the matter; thus in that war across the prairies it frequently happened that two hostile armies would lose sight of each other, each marching on its own side, and only meeting again suddenly on the day of battle, to part as quickly after a passage-at-arms, and each resuming its march without taking thought of the other.

Van Dorn, however, had profited by this kind of warfare to [514] find the weak side of his adversary. His flank movement was well conceived. But having fallen into the error which lost the battle of Wilson's Creek to the Federals, he divided his army too much; and in order to completely surround the enemy, he so extended his left, that on the first check experienced by his right he was unable to support it effectually. This error, together with the want of discipline of his soldiers, was the principal cause of his failure.

The most important result of his defeat was to relieve the Federals of all anxiety regarding the possession of Missouri. They were thus able to concentrate in Tennessee all their available forces, the labors of which we are about to narrate.

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[515]

Chapter 2:

Shiloh.

BEFORE resuming the narrative of the campaign undertaken by Grant, and of which the victory of Donelson had formed such a brilliant beginning, we must transport ourselves for a brief period to one of the most remote sections of the Union, which, after having long escaped the horrors of civil war, became at the commencement of 1862 the theatre of bloody conflicts.

In an early chapter of this work we gave a description of New Mexico, which occupies the elevated table-lands comprised between two spurs of the great chain of the Rocky Mountains. Protected as much by vast deserts as by the dangerous passes of those mountains, this territory presents formidable obstacles to the smallest bodies of troops that might venture there. We have related the sufferings of the small army of Sterling Price, which conquered that territory in 1846. The Rio Grande del Norte, fed by the snows from the mountains where it takes its rise, waters the only fertile valley to be found in those regions, where it seldom rains. After passing not far from the city of Santa Fe, it leaves New Mexico at the gorges of El Paso, and from this point to its mouth, at Matamoras, it separates Mexico from Texas. The Federal government had established a line of fortified posts along this river for the purpose of defending its lower course against the Mexicans, and the upper portion against the incursions of Indians. The detachments of the regular army which occupied New Mexico at the breaking out of the rebellion were scattered among these forts, and had their depots and victualling stations at Santa Fe. The most important of these posts were Fort Fillmore, near El Paso, then Fort Craig and the town of Albuquerque, higher up, and to the east, in the mountains, Forts Union and Staunton. Since the capitulation of Major Lynde's troops, near Fort Fillmore, in [516] July, 1861, the Confederates had been masters of the course of the Rio Grande, in the southern portion of New Mexico, from El Paso to above Fort Thorn, also situated on that river. But they had refrained from disturbing the Federals in their possession of the rest of that territory, and had contented themselves with drawing them into two unimportant engagements in the vicinity of Fort Craig. Being sustained by their governor, the population of New Mexico, among whom were many emigrants from the North, had remained loyal to the Union, and some volunteers, raised in the neighboring territory of Colorado, had come to reinforce the small garrisons which protected that vast region. At the end of 1861 the government had sent to Santa Fe General Canby, an officer of great energy, who set immediately to work to multiply the means of defence. He had, in fact, to sustain with inadequate force the attack which the Confederates had long meditated against New Mexico. The Confederates were commanded by General Sibley, lately an officer in the regular army, who must not be confounded with his namesake, made prisoner by Van Dorn the year previous, who had remained loyal to the Union.

The Confederate general assembled on the frontier at Fort Bliss all lovers of war and plunder who, under the name of settlers, occupied Texas. When, in the early part of February, he had thus collected a small army of two thousand three hundred men — a considerable force for those regions-he took up his line of march, passed Fort Thorn, and proceeded in the direction of Fort Craig, where Canby, apprised of his movements, had repaired with all the troops at his disposal, about four thousand men, to await his coming. This position, well fortified, and defended by a few guns of heavy calibre, was the key of the valley of the Rio Grande and of the Santa Fe road. But Canby's troops, although numerically superior, were far inferior in quality, to the Texans, who had long been inured to the hardships of war by their incessant struggles with the Indians and the Mexicans. The two batteries which constituted his whole artillery were in excellent condition; a regiment of volunteers, commanded by Kit Carson, that hold trapper who had already played an important part in the conquest of New Mexico, was composed of good material; but [517] his three battalions of regulars were filled with recruits, and the rest of his troops consisted only of inexperienced soldiers hastily levied.

Ascending the right or western bank, upon which Fort Craig stands, Sibley made his appearance in front of the Federal positions on the 16th of February. He saw at once that he could not reduce that work, in which Canby was quietly awaiting him, with his field-pieces. In order to compel this adversary, whom he could neither attack nor leave behind him with impunity, to come out, Sibley tried, by a bold manoeuvre, to menace his communications with Albuquerque and Santa Fe. On the right bank of the Rio Grande, facing Fort Craig, there is a succession of sand-banks extending from the margin of the river into the interior. These were thought to be inaccessible to wagons, and this obstacle compelled all the trains coming from the south to pass under the guns of Fort Craig. Sibley, better informed by his scouts, was not afraid of venturing into the wilderness. On the morning of the 19th of February, while the Federals were under the impression that he was about to retreat, he was crossing the Rio Grande, which is almost everywhere fordable, about ten kilometres below the fort. He then proceeded with all his army, his artillery, and his baggage across the heavy sands which the Federals had erroneously considered as a sufficient protection. Canby, astonished at such high daring, determined at once to occupy, with three battalions of regulars, some hills situated in front of the fort, whence he could watch the movements of his adversaries. The march of the Texans, however, had been toilsome in the extreme. In order to drag their wagons through the sand, where they sank up to the hubs, it had been found necessary to double, and even triple, the teams. The mules, exhausted by fatigue, had no water to slacken their thirst; this was also wanting to the men, and a night of great suffering was the consequence. Next morning the Federal regulars, supported by two regiments of volunteers, tried to bar the passage of the Texans. But the latter, rather stimulated by their privations to open for themselves a passage to the river above Fort Craig, were not intimidated by this demonstration. Cannonshots were exchanged at a long distance; and before losing a single man the greater part of the Union troops fell back in disorder, [518] and sought shelter among the recesses of the hills adjacent to the river. Among the volunteers Kit Carson's regiment was the only one not affected by the panic; the regulars themselves showed no firmness during this first trial. Such conduct was a bad omen for the future; and General Canby found himself obliged to take his soldiers back into the fort to reorganize their ranks and restore them to some degree of equanimity.

On the evening of that conflict, however, the Texans had not yet reached the borders of the river, because, not being able to approach it under the guns of the fort, they were obliged to proceed about twelve kilometres higher up to find, in the vicinity of the hamlet of Valverde, a point where the inaccessible acclivities which surrounded it might give place to an easier ascent. Consequently, that second night was even more trying than the preceding one. The mules, crazy with thirst after two days of incessant work, broke all their fastenings to rush towards the river, whose vapors were wafted by the evening breeze as far as the desert. The Federal scouts picked up more than one hundred of them; and when, on the morning of the 21st, the Texans resumed their march, they were obliged to burn a number of their wagons thus deprived of teams. The loss of these means of transportation would have been fatal to them if Canby had been able to face them with troops inured to war. In spite of the previous day's experience, he resolved to dispute the possession of Valverde, and not to allow them to establish themselves upon his line of communication without a fight. Sibley thus far succeeded in drawing him off from the protection of his fortifications.

While the vanguard of the Confederates was at last approaching the river at Valverde, and hastening towards its waters to slacken their thirst, the Federals, who had ascended the river by the right bank, appeared upon the opposite shore and opened fire upon the head of their column. Canby had pushed forward the three battalions of regulars, his two batteries, two squadrons of cavalry, and Carson's regiment. He followed them closely with that of Colonel Pino, thus bringing all his available troops into line—about one thousand five hundred men—after having secured the safety of the fort. The Federal artillery, well served, obliged the Confederates to retire from the borders of the river, which the [519] small Union army immediately forded in order to take position on the left bank, in front of them. Canby drew up his soldiers on the open spaces of ground constituting the Valverde farm, with the river at his back, and facing some woods and brush, behind which Sibley had halted his men. Being fully aware that in order to impart strength to his line he could only rely upon his artillery, Canby had posted Captain McRae's battery on the left, and Lieutenant Hall's two guns on the right, assigning no other task to the infantry than that of supporting them.

Up to two o'clock the fighting was confined to a cannonade, in which the artillery of the Federals, being better served than that of their adversaries, had a manifest advantage. Conscious of this superiority, and seeing the enemy take shelter in the woods instead of coming forward to dispute the possession of the river, Canby felt already certain of victory, and was about to order a forward movement for the purpose of driving the Texans back into the desert which they had just crossed, when the latter suddenly took the offensive. Their rear-guard had been brought into line, and Colonel Green, of the Fifth Texas, which was in front, had received the command of the whole army from Sibley, who was sick. He immediately made arrangements to throw his intrepid soldiers upon the Federal artillery, the galling fire of which was beginning to affect them. On the left his cavalry was preparing to charge Hall's guns, while a portion of his infantry advanced in the centre as far as the skirt of the wood, to occupy the attention of the Federals. In the mean while, he massed two regiments on the right, his own, upon which he particularly relied, being one of them, and directed them against McRae's battery.

The attack of the cavalry was easily repulsed, but not so that of the infantry. The Texans, numbering about one thousand, rushed, with their customary cries, into the space of a few hundred metres which separated them from the Federal guns. They flung the carbine over their shoulders to grasp the two weapons which in their eyes represent the two different civilizations of the United States and Mexico, between which they are placed—the revolver and the bowie-knife. As soon as McRae perceives them he directs his guns, loaded with grape-shot, upon their compact mass. The first discharge has full effect, without, however, staggering [520] them for an instant. The Federal gunners have time to reload their pieces and to make another bloody breach in the Confederate column, which is as promptly closed up. The space of ground already overrun by the Texans is strewed with the dead and the dying, but the projectiles only check the career of those they have struck. The grape-shot of a few guns cannot reach them all, and those whom death spares, confident of success, still pursue their onward course without stopping to fire a single musket. At their approach the Federal infantry desert the guns which they were to defend. Regulars and volunteers, equally deaf to the exhortations of their officers, take to flight before an enemy less numerous than themselves. It is in vain that the Federal gunners set them an example of indomitable courage. When the irresistible tide of Texans reaches them at last, they rally round their pieces; and encouraged by the voice of McRae, who, pistol in hand, has mounted astride on one of the guns, they suffer themselves to be hacked to pieces rather than abandon them. In an instant they are all killed or wounded. The Texans turn the guns they have captured upon the Federal centre, and rush in pursuit of the troops who have not had the courage to contend for those trophies. It is enough for them to show themselves armed with the revolver to put these new adversaries also to flight. The whole Federal line, in the midst of the utmost confusion, rushes headlong towards the Rio Grande, which it recrosses in breathless haste. It never stops until it reaches the breastworks of Fort Craig, leaving in the hands of the conqueror the balance of its artillery, with a large quantity of other arms. The rout of the Unionists was too sudden and rapid to leave many prisoners in the hands of the enemy. They had sixty killed and one hundred and forty wounded. The losses of the Texans were nearly equal, a few of their bravest officers having paid with their lives for the victory which was due to their example.

Timidly shut up in the fort, the Federals were no longer in a condition to molest their adversaries. Sibley felt that there was no necessity for him to take any further notice of them; and ascending the Rio Grande, he boldly advanced with his little army, whose strength had been greatly increased by success, into the interior of New Mexico. He no longer met with any serious resistance. [521] He left his wounded and sick at Socorro, reached Albuquerque, where he found abundant provisions, and proceeded thence to Santa Fe, bearing to the right by the Apache Pass defile, near which stands Fort Union, situated at a distance of about twentyfive kilometres from the capital. Anticipating no resistance, he allowed a detachment of about one thousand men to proceed in advance under Colonel Scurry. On the 24th of March the latter found the Apache Pass occupied by a few hundred regulars and about one thousand volunteers, who had come from Colorado by forced marches. After dispersing the Federal scouts, the Texans arrived in front of the enemy's position, which was defended by a battery of artillery. They renewed, without hesitation, the bold attack which had proved so successful at Valverde. The Federal artillery, still well served, inflicted upon them some terrible losses. As to the infantry, it made a somewhat better resistance than that of Canby, and held them sufficiently long in check to secure the safety of the guns. The Texans themselves came near being surrounded by a few companies, which, passing behind them, had fallen upon their train. But the rest of the line being weakened, that detachment was obliged to beat a speedy retreat. The Federals, whose losses amounted to twenty-three killed, fifty wounded, and about sixty prisoners, fell back in the direction of Colorado. This new success cost Sibley thirty-six killed and sixty wounded, together with the lives of some of his best officers. It delivered a great part of New Mexico into the hands of the Confederates; but they were not able to hold that region which had been conquered in such a brilliant manner for any length of time. The people of Santa Fe did not conceal their hostility. They found but few resources in that city, whose entire intercourse was confined to Colorado and Missouri, and their communications with Texas became very difficult. Finally, Canby, taking advantage of the respite granted him, was preparing to harass their rear. In less than a fortnight after his entrance into Santa Fe, Sibley found himself under the necessity of evacuating that city to concentrate his forces at Albuquerque, where his depots were already menaced. He had scarcely reached that post when he realized the impossibility of remaining in New Mexico, and on the 12th of April he retraced his steps towards Texas. He soon found himself [522] in the presence of Canby, who was waiting for him with a superior force on the left bank of the Rio Grande. But he dreaded to bring on a fight the issue of which might prove fatal to his troops, already reduced and fatigued; and in order to avoid it, he concentrated his troops upon the right bank; then, abandoning all his wagons, and loading his provisions upon the mules which had been used in drawing them, he struck out for the open desert, dragging his artillery behind him with extraordinary effort. This time it was deemed necessary to make a circuit across those terrible solitudes, which consumed, not three, but more than ten, days. Finally, after a painful march, the Confederates reached a point on the river bank where they could not be disturbed. While they were resting in the vicinity of Fort Bliss, Canby, who had not even thought of pursuing them, was quietly taking permanent possession of New Mexico.

We must now return to the consideration of more important events, which were taking place in the State of Tennessee at the same period, and which were destined to exercise so great an influence over the entire course of the war. On the 11th of March the President had relieved General McClellan of the supreme control of military affairs, and had reserved to himself that task, so onerous for a man without experience. But he had not yet aggravated this error of judgment by those lamentable attempts at strategy which a few months later caused so many disasters to the Federal arms. He had, on the contrary, extenuated his fault by investing Halleck with the command of all the armies situated west of the Alleghanies.

The co-operation of the armies of Buell and Grant, which had hitherto been subservient to direct orders from Washington, was thus better assured. Grant resumed once more the command, of which he had been temporarily deprived, and received considerable reinforcements, which enabled him to continue an offensive campaign. To the three divisions whose movements we have followed in front of Donelson there were added three others, under Generals Hurlbut, Prentiss, and Sherman. That of the latter was brought back from Columbus, where it had been sent after the evacuation of that post by the Confederates. All three were composed of new men, who had never marched nor fought, [523] and were as yet ignorant of the very first principles of discipline. The fleet of transports assembled at Fort Henry, and convoyed by two wooden gun-boats, the others being in the Mississippi, was again employed in enabling the army of invasion to make a great step forward. The course of the Tennessee has been described elsewhere. After running for a long distance from northeast to south-west, along the foot of the Alleghanies, it pursues a course almost due west for nearly one hundred and eighty kilometres. Towards the middle of this part of its course it is intersected, near Florence, by shallows, called Muscle Shoals, which do not allow large vessels to proceed higher up, and which at times even completely interrupt its navigation. Finally, at Eastport it again resumes its original course to run directly north as far as Paducah. The distance in a straight line between those two points is about two hundred and sixty kilometres. Fort Henry is situated on the lower part of the river, about two hundred kilometres below Eastport. This path, opened by the battles of February into the heart of the rebel States, was the one to be followed by Grant. It had been reconnoitred during the early part of March by C. F. Smith, who, after making a feint against Eastport, had landed his division upon the left bank of the river at an almost desert place called Pittsburg Landing. A few log huts alone marked the spot, where a rough road terminated at the river bank, and where, before the war, steamers stopped to land provisions and load with cotton. The small city of Savannah, situated on the right bank, eleven or twelve kilometres lower down, was selected as a depot for the army, the entire supplies of which were naturally obtained by water. It was between this city and Eastport that, on the 17th of March, Grant joined his troops, scattered along both sides of the river. Leaving his headquarters at Savannah, he assembled five divisions in the neighborhood of Pittsburg Landing, and stationed the sixth. under Lewis Wallace, at Crump's Landing, a few kilometres lower down, on the same side of the river. These two points had been selected by the Federal general as a base of operations for the new campaign, which was to bring him face to face with the Confederates upon the frontier of Mississippi; but he was not yet in a condition to undertake it. As we shall find him again in the [524] same positions three weeks later, we shall take advantage of his inaction to indicate the movements which were being made at the same time at the two extremities of the line of which he occupied the centre.

Buell had met with no resistance during his march from the borders of Green River to those of the Cumberland. Johnston had not stopped even once for the purpose of holding him in check, and had left no trophies in his hands. After the evacuation of Nashville, the Confederate general had to choose between two lines of retreat: he could either follow the Tennessee and Alabama Railroad, in order to keep himself in communication with the Mississippi valley, or the Nashville and Chattanooga Railroad, so as to rest upon the mountains. He preferred this latter route, either because he was afraid of seeing the former intercepted at Eastport, as it actually was, or because he wished to draw Buell far away from the large rivers, and to separate him as much as possible from Grant's army. He halted, as we have said, at Murfreesborough, a station situated about eighty kilometres south-east of Nashville, which will play a conspicuous part throughout the history of the war. Buell, after taking up his quarters at Nashville, and placing himself in communication with Grant's army, contented himself with observing him without seriously molesting him. It was at this time that Grant's troops, transported by way of the Tennessee, landed in the neighborhood of Savannah; they thus found themselves about three hundred kilometres south-west of Nashville, and the two hostile armies were entirely separated. But Johnston, far from taking advantage of this to attempt to recover a part of the ground he had lost in the east, took yet another step backward, and led his army, exhausted by so many fruitless marches, as far as Bridgeport and Chattanooga, on the Upper Tennessee. This retreat was no doubt rendered necessary by the difficulty of subsisting his soldiers at Murfreesborough, so near to an enemy who had the advantage of numbers, but it was also necessary for the execution of the plan of campaign which he had formed. As Buell did not come to look for him in the east, he had resolved to proceed rapidly to the west to dispute the valley of the Mississippi with Grant; to accomplish [525] this object, it was necessary to post himself at Chattanooga, which was the nucleus of the various railways he was to use. There were hardly any musket-shots fired by the scouts of either army during the month of March.

On the extreme left of Buell, Garfield had remained in the mountains of Kentucky which adjoin West Virginia; and in order to be able to pursue the Confederate bands that overran them more effectually, he had taken up his quarters at Piketon, in the heart of those mountains. On the 16th of March, by a bold and difficult advance, with one thousand men, he surprised a small Confederate brigade upon the elevated defile of Pound Gap, and dispersed them after a slight engagement.

On the same day, at a distance of more than six hundred and fifty kilometres from this point, the Confederate partisan Morgan pushed a bold raid as far as Gallatin, on the right bank of the Cumberland, where he gathered some booty. But he was immediately after obliged to fall back as far as Shelbyville, while a detachment of Federal cavalry, which in turn entered McMinnville, south-east of Murfreesborough, on the 26th of March put to flight the troops who had come to dispute the possession of that place.

The victory of Donelson was bearing its fruits, and the Federals were masters of the largest portion of the State of Tennessee. Having full confidence in the power of their fleet when supported by an army, they prepared to renew the tactics which had already proved so successful against the new defences of the Confederates on the Mississippi. Foote, as we have stated, had found the position of Columbus evacuated in the early part of March. He had immediately descended the Mississippi as far as Island No.10, the cannon of which informed him that the enemy was at work. While Sherman was embarking for Columbus, the troops which had been fighting for some time in Eastern Missouri, after being consolidated into one division of three strong brigades, under command of General Pope, landed on the 28th of February at Commerce, on the right bank of the Mississippi. On the 2d of March they dispersed the small force of J. Thompson, capturing six guns, and on the following day they appeared before New Madrid; they found that village surrounded by considerable [526] works, occupied by a numerous garrison, and supplied with a powerful artillery.

On the Confederate side, the defence of the Mississippi had been entrusted to Beauregard. Taking advantage of the inactivity which the rigors of the season imposed upon McClellan, he had left Manassas with about fifteen thousand men; but he only reached Columbus to learn of the capture of Donelson, and his first act in the exercise of his new authority was to order the evacuation of the fort which had been too hastily called the Gibraltar of the West. He had with him, however, well-trained troops, who took with them the prestige of the Bull Run victory, and were to inspire new ardor in the army of the Mississippi, of which they were destined to form the nucleus. He hastened to reorganize Polk's regiments, which had just left Columbus, and addressed an urgent appeal to his friend General Braxton Bragg. This stern and resolute officer, who was commanding at Mobile, and had already imparted a certain military education to the troops he had assembled there, immediately started for the North with all the forces at his disposal.

Beauregard was fully aware that the fall of Donelson and of Nashville rendered all the defences of the Mississippi above Memphis powerless. It was, therefore, near that city that he prepared a system of works capable of definitely checking the Federals. But to retard their progress, and gain time to finish those works, he had fortified New Madrid and Island No.10. After making what resistance he could, he intended to fall back upon his true line of defence, with the determination to attack the enemy in an open country rather than allow himself to be shut up like Floyd in entrenchments. The six gun-boats of Commodore Hollins, which had arrived from New Orleans to support the army of Beauregard, and to dispute the mastery of the Mississippi with Foote, had taken position between New Madrid and Island No.10.

It is known that the first of these two points lies both below and north-west of the second. The Federals, therefore, in order to take possession of it, could land at a short distance without passing under the fire of the second; and once masters of it, it would be easy for them to riddle any vessel with balls that should [527] attempt to go up the river for the purpose of revictualling Island No.10. Consequently, the Confederates had concentrated all their available forces for the defence of New Madrid. They had erected two large earthworks, which, besides the field artillery, were armed with sixteen guns of large calibre. Hollins's gunboats, anchored in an elbow of the river, had complete command of the low and marshy grounds which surrounded them. Pope saw at once that he would not be able to reduce these forts with the cannon at his disposal, and found himself under the necessity of undertaking a regular siege. While waiting for the heavy guns which he had ordered from Cairo, and which were to be landed above Island No.10, he sent a portion of his troops, with his field-batteries, to occupy Point Pleasant, about fifteen kilometres lower down, on the right bank of the river. From that place they were to intercept any reinforcements coming up the Mississippi, which could pass through a narrow isthmus to reach Island No.10 directly. This operation was successfully conducted, despite the fire of the enemy's gun-boats. In the mean time, the Confederates continued to reinforce New Madrid; and the troops assembled there, under General McCown, numbered nine thousand men, when at last three twenty-four-pounders and one mortar, dragged across a marshy country with great difficulty, arrived in the trenches of the besiegers. These guns were placed in position on the 12th of March, not without losses from the fire of the Confederates, at eight hundred metres from their works. They immediately opened a brisk cannonade against the latter. Hollins's gun-boats came down from Island No.10 to participate in a fight which seemed to continue the whole day with equal chances on both sides. Pope had one of his guns dismounted and about fifty men disabled; but the Confederates were discouraged by the unexpected appearance of that siege artillery, and took advantage of a frightful storm which prevailed during the night to conceal their precipitate embarkation. They left in the hands of the Federals, who were astonished at their easy success, well-stored magazines, and on the parapets sixteen guns ineffectually spiked. These guns were immediately ranged along the borders of the river, forming at Point Pleasant a powerful battery, which effectually blockaded the course of the Mississippi. From that moment [528] the garrison of Island No.10 found it impossible to obtain supplies, except by carting on land the provisions landed on the left side of the river below the last of the Federal batteries.

But in order to thoroughly invest that island, Pope should have been able to cross to the other bank of the river, opposite New Madrid, which was in the enemy's hands. It is true that a small body of cavalry was operating below Columbus, which, on the 12th of March, had captured from the Confederates an insignificant post at Paris, in Tennessee; but it was too weak to undertake such a task, and Pope had not even a barge to convey his soldiers to the other side of that immense sheet of water which was spread out before him. In fact, Foote's fleet, after taking possession of the little town of Hickman, which was the terminus of a line of railway, and which had served as his depot, was held in check by the batteries of Island No.10. It was now the beginning of April; and for the last fortnight this fleet, armed with mortars and Parrott guns, as well as the land-batteries erected by Pope, had been vainly exchanging shots with the heavy guns placed by Beauregard on all the points which commanded the sinuous current-valley (thalweg) of the Mississippi. This regular bombardment ceased at last to produce any impression. It, however, diverted the attention of the Confederates from the gigantic work which their patient and laborious adversaries had just undertaken behind the wooded screen bordering the margin of the river. Unable to force a passage in front of the Confederate batteries, they had determined to avoid the elbow of the Mississippi by cutting a canal across the peninsula formed by it, through which the fleet should debouch into the river in the vicinity of New Madrid. This peninsula is more than fifteen miles in width at the most accessible point. It was for the most part covered with old trees, the feet of which were bathed to the depth of more than one metre by stagnant water, proceeding from the infiltrations of the river. A volunteer regiment, called a regiment of engineers, dug a channel across this isthmus fifteen metres in width, and accessible to all flat-bottomed vessels. Although onehalf of its course ran across the forest, where the trunks had to be sawed below the surface of the water, the passage was opened in nineteen days. This work, boldly conceived and cleverly executed, [529] presented a striking proof of the industrious character of the American army, and, surviving the circumstances which caused it to be undertaken, will long remain, no doubt, a monument to remind the peaceful traveller on the Mississippi of the troublous epoch we are narrating. The fleet, however, was not satisfied to occupy the enemy with a fruitless bombardment. On the 1st of April the crews, assisted by a few volunteers from Pope's army, had landed on the left bank of the river, and taking one of the principal Confederate batteries by surprise had spiked six of its guns. Finally, when the channel was nearly completed, one of the gun-boats, which until then had not dared to attempt a passage under the fire of Island No.10, made that dangerous experiment. The Carondelet reached New Madrid during the night of the 4th-5th of April without being struck by a single ball. On the morning of the 6th another vessel, the Pittsburg, cast anchor near her, after performing that perilous feat with the same good fortune. The Confederates, who were not prepared for the display of so much daring, were still more astonished when, a few days later, they saw a whole fleet of transports loaded with troops and several floatingbatteries debouch from a creek near New Madrid which served as the head of the canal. Notwithstanding the reports of their spies, they had been unwilling to believe in the accomplishment of such an enterprise. The astonishment of the soldiers was the greater because their position had been represented to them as impregnable.

Beauregard had left Island No.10 during the month of March; it had been in vain for him to keep at bay the soldiers of Pope and the gun-boats of Foote; the presence of Grant almost close upon his rear, at Pittsburg Landing, did not allow him to remain with his army in a position which was thus turned on the land side. He had gathered together his best troops under Polk, and had taken them to Corinth, an important railroad junction, situated near Pittsburg Landing; this corps was to serve as a nucleus for the new army, with which he calculated to reconquer all the ground lost since the 1st of January. But on leaving them he had taken care to say a few words of encouragement to the six or seven thousand men he left at Island No.10. Moreover, General [530] McCown, to whom he had entrusted the command, had taken advantage of the time employed by the Federals in the construction of the canal to cover the left bank of the Mississippi with batteries. He thus preserved open communications between the island and the main land, while, on the other hand, his troops, which were sufficiently numerous to oppose the crossing of such a river, could, with the support of a powerful artillery, hold those of Pope in check. But the remembrance of Donelson exercised a fatal influence upon men who had already been obliged to evacuate the position of Columbus without a fight, after having been taught to believe it impregnable; and a change of commander at the last hour increased their trouble. General McCown, having been relieved on the 5th of April by the Secretary of War, was succeeded by General Mackall.

At the sight of Foote's vessels assembled before New Madrid, Mackall posted all his available troops so as to repulse a landing. But the fire of the two gun-boats of the enemy sufficed to keep them at a distance; all his batteries were silenced; and on the evening of the 7th the first Federal soldiers who set foot on land, on the left bank of the river, found no one to oppose them. Abandoning the feeble garrison of artillery soldiers which had been left at Island No.10, Mackall's corps had retired with so much speed that its flight soon became a perfect rout. An uninterrupted chain of lakes and swamps, formed at several kilometres from the left bank by a rise in the bed of the Mississippi, stretched out in a line parallel with its flow; this impenetrable barrier cut off all retreat towards the interior, and compelled the Confederates to follow a strip of land along the river side at times very narrow. More than two thousand of them (some reports say seven thousand) were stopped in their flight and made prisoners in small parties; the remainder scattered in every direction; some wandered about in the swamps, and many perished there; others returned to their homes. Scarcely two hundred reached Memphis to tell the story of their disaster.

In the mean while, Island No.10 was occupied without resistance. The Federals found considerable materiel, with a strong artillery yet uninjured; seventy guns of large calibre, some of which were rifled, constituted the armament of the seven forts [531] which the bombardment had not damaged. Hollins, being in turn blockaded by the occupancy of New Madrid, endeavored to destroy the fleet he had uselessly brought so far, to prevent its falling into the hands of the enemy. But he had no time to complete that operation. His principal floating-battery, carrying sixteen guns, instead of sinking, got adrift, and was found stranded upon one of the sand-banks of the Mississippi; the Federals took possession of the four steamers which were still afloat, and the other three were easily raised.

A complete success had crowned their ingenious efforts and their perseverance; the Mississippi was open for more than eighty miles in a straight line, and for nearly twice that distance, following its sinuosities, across the low and marshy grounds, where no fortified works could be erected, as far as the first bluffs, like those of Columbus, which are found a little above the city of Memphis. These bluffs were covered with several works of considerable importance—Forts Wright, Randolph, Harris, and Pillow—which had been erected under the superintendence of Beauregard at the very time when Island No.10 was being evacuated. These forts protected not only the approaches of Memphis, but were intended to cover the left wing of the army assembled at Corinth; and their fate was inseparably connected with that of this position, as Columbus had been before with that of Bowling Green.

The intersection of the two principal Southern railways had designated Corinth as the point of concentration of all the forces that the Confederates could dispose of for resisting Grant. Beauregard, as we have stated, had been the first to take up his quarters there with Polk's corps. Braxton Bragg had rejoined him towards the latter part of March with the troops he had brought over from Pensacola. Finally, after the battle of Pea Ridge, Van Dorn had taken advantage of Curtis's retreat to abandon Eastern Arkansas. Having turned his back upon his late adversary, he was marching eastward, with all the forces he could muster, to reinforce Beauregard with more than 20,000 well-trained soldiers for the great struggle which was impending.

In the mean while, a similar concentration of Federal troops was taking place on the Tennessee. While the steamers were [532] rapidly conveying Grant's soldiers to Pittsburg Landing, Buell's troops were undertaking a long march by land to join them. This general, being satisfied that Johnston, who had fallen back beyond Murfreesborough, would not be able to make any demonstration against Nashville, had left that city with the whole of his army, and was slowly advancing towards Savannah. Once united, it was the intention of the Federal generals to march with all their forces against the enemy's army, to attack it on the right, so as to cut off its communications with the east, and to drive it back upon the Mississippi to the great city of Memphis. Being invested in that place, before which Foote would soon appear with his gun-boats, it would have to experience the same fate as the garrison of Donelson. If, on the contrary, it should abandon Memphis, one-third of the course of the great river, and a new network of railways, would fall into the hands of the Unionists.

At the end of March, Chattanooga was no longer menaced, even from a distance, and Johnston was no longer obliged to cover that important centre. Nor was he, on the other hand, sufficiently strong to take advantage of Buell's march, either to fall upon his rear or to recapture Nashville. He could only, therefore, try to reach the borders of the Tennessee before him. In order to accomplish this movement, he had to make a great detour, but the distance was very considerably shortened by a railroad. Consequently, when Beauregard asked him for some reinforcements, he replied by putting all his troops in march to join him. A portion of them were forwarded by railway, the rest on foot. But when they arrived at Corinth, they no longer presented the appearance of that fine army which had evacuated Kentucky six weeks before. Sickness, long marches, and above all desertion, had reduced them to about seventeen thousand men. Such a long retreat, during which they had not even once seen the enemy, incessant marches through the mud, and bivouacking in torrents of rain, had exhausted both the moral and physical strength of those young soldiers. A large number of them, natives of Kentucky and Tennessee, on seeing their homes deserted, left the ranks to return to them. Those, however, who reached Corinth soon recovered their spirits by contact with their comrades. The [533] combined army, of which Johnston had assumed command, numbered on the 2d of April a little over forty thousand men; it was encamped upon the different lines of railway which meet at Corinth, and which could thus easily bring the necessary provisions to the quarters of each corps. The position of Corinth was the key of all that region. An important line of railway leaves the Mississippi at Memphis, pursuing an easterly direction. It crosses the Tennessee above Muscle Shoals, and consequently cannot be interfered with by large vessels, and it continues in a north-easterly direction as far as Chattanooga. It was the great artery which connected the east of the Confederacy with the west. It was intersected at Corinth by a long line, called the Mobile and Ohio Railway, which extended directly from the north to the Gulf of Mexico, placing the Confederate army in communication with the States adjoining that sea. Pittsburg Landing is only about twenty-six miles from Corinth, and the concentration of the Federals on the right bank of the Tennessee clearly demonstrated to Beauregard that this junction was the point they intended to strike to disorganize the network of his railroads. It was, therefore, on that spot that this network had to be defended.

The position occupied by the Federals at Pittsburg Landing was also extremely well chosen. Grant was blamed for not having posted his troops on the right bank of the Tennessee, sheltered from the attacks of the Confederates; this criticism was unjust, because, in order to prevent them from obstructing the course of the river by the batteries, and to be able to take the offensive against adversaries whom it was his mission to conquer, he could not do otherwise than take position on the same bank with themselves, and this he could do without imprudence, inasmuch as his forces were equal to their own. In this position he had not the river at his back, but on one of his flanks, which was protected by the gun-boats; and in the event of his being beaten, he could fall back as far as he desired along the left bank. The ground about Pittsburg Landing was easy to defend; it consisted of undulations intersected by numerous streams, and almost entirely covered with woods, partly brushwood and partly tall forest trees. It is bounded by two watercourses, Lick Creek, to the south, which debouches obliquely into the Tennessee, Owl [534] Creek, to the north, which, after taking its rise near the former, separates from it and unites with a third, Snake Creek, running from the north-west, and forms impassable swamps to the bank of the Tennessee, into which it empties very near to Pittsburg Landing. This country is traversed by several roads, which meet at the latter point; that of Hamburg, to the south, runs along the left bank of Lick Creek; that of Crump's Landing, to the north, crosses the swamps below the confluence of Owl Creek and Snake Creek. In the centre a third road leads towards the north-west to the town of Purdy, and two others in a south-westerly direction to Corinth.

The two streams of Owl Creek and Lick Creek, separated at their mouths by a space of little more than four kilometres, formed an excellent protection for the flanks of the Federal army. But the latter, at the time when the Confederates were preparing to attack it, had not yet learned to avail itself of the natural advantages of the position it had occupied for three weeks. The divisions were scarcely landed when they were posted at hazard, and from that time their positions had never been altered. They were not disposed so as to enable them to support each other mutually, and there were intervals between them through which the enemy might penetrate. Sherman formed the right with three of his brigades; he occupied one of the Corinth roads, that of Purdy, and a prominent point adjoining the first of these roads, where stands the plain wooden chapel known by the name of Shiloh. This little church—or, to use the expression more generally applied by the sect to which it belonged, this meetinghouse— resembling those primitive religious edifices erected in the New World by the Puritan colonists, was to give its name to the bloodiest battle that had yet been fought on the American continent. At a considerable distance on the left, and a little in the rear of Shiloh, were encamped the two brigades comprising the division of Prentiss. Still farther back, and entirely isolated on the borders of Lick Creek, was the fourth brigade of Sherman, commanded by General Stewart. The division of McClernand was placed one kilometre in the rear of Sherman and Prentiss, or rather fronting the large interval which separated them. This broken and irregular line formed a kind of arc, the centre of [535] which was at Pittsburg Landing, which rested at the left on Lick Creek near its mouth, and at the right on Owl Creek, and which had a radius of from four to six kilometres. Upon a second line of heights, in advance of the last elevations which command Pittsburg Landing, were posted the divisions of Hurlbut on the left and of W. H. Wallace on the right. But the fault of these arrangements was a small matter compared with the neglect of all the precautions with which the Federal army should have surrounded itself. Not a shovelful of earth had been thrown up in those three weeks to fortify either the Federal camps or the approaches to the depot of Pittsburg Landing. The tall trees of the forest, in the midst of which the army was established, had not even been cut down to construct abatis and guard against an unforeseen attack. The very position of the camps exposed them to all kind of surprises. In short, the surrounding country had not been reconnoitred. The cavalry, still greatly inexperienced, instead of moving about and constantly searching the thick forest which separated the Federals from their adversaries, was assembled near the river, and for three weeks had only made a single reconnaissance, of no consequence whatever. Each general would send out his pickets at random without connecting them with those of his neighbors; and the divisions of Sherman and Prentiss, which had charge of the matter, being the newest in the army, this service was very poorly performed. The men had the bad habit of firing their muskets in the air on being relieved, so that it was impossible to be warned in time of the approach of the enemy.

Generals and soldiers were alike novices. Grant was not accustomed to handling a large army. He was ignorant of the importance of entrenchments, of which he was afterwards to make such great use. Sherman, who displayed so much foresight in his subsequent campaigns, did not appear to possess as yet that vigilance which became one of his prominent military qualities. Notwithstanding the reports of deserters and fugitive negroes, no one had been able to form an idea of the movements by which seventy thousand of the enemy were being massed at Corinth. Even Halleck, in his central office at St. Louis, was indulging in the same illusions as his subordinates, and, thinking himself able to [536] plan at leisure the offensive campaign of which the arrival of Buell was to be the signal, had not even thought proper to urge the union of the armies of the Ohio and the Tennessee.

Before being placed under his command, Buell had already proposed to him to march upon Savannah. He only received orders to undertake this movement on the 12th of March. But on the 17th his progress was checked at Columbia by Duck River, which the rains had greatly swollen, and which was then more than thirteen metres in depth. It was found necessary to reconstruct the great railway bridge, without which the army could not have been victualled, and to wait until the 31st of March for the completion of that work to enable him to resume his march. His army then advanced rapidly towards Savannah, where it arrived on the 5th of April. In the mean while, Halleck so little suspected the movements of the enemy that he sent an order to Buell to make a diversion to the north to occupy Waynesborough—an order which, by a providential chance, did not reach him in time; while Grant, who was as badly informed as his superior, wrote on the 4th of April to Nelson, who commanded the advance guard of Buell's army, not to hurry, because the vessels which were to convey him to Pittsburg Landing would not be ready before the 8th. Fortunately, Nelson continued his march without heeding this advice.

The Confederates were preparing a terrible awakening for their imprudent adversaries. The army of the Mississippi, reconstructed and reorganized, had been divided into four corps of unequal proportions. The first two, under Polk and Bragg, each consisting of two divisions, numbered, one, nine thousand, the other, thirteen thousand five hundred men. The third, under Hardee, composed of part of Johnston's old army, and the reserve corps, commanded by Breckenridge, presented each an effective force of from six to seven thousand men, and were divided into three brigades each. The cavalry formed a division of four thousand four hundred horses. Johnston was commander-in-chief, Beauregard second in command. Many persons thought they saw in the one the arm, in the other the head, of that army. There is nothing to justify this opinion. Johnston, before deserting his flag, had acquired a well-deserved reputation in his difficult expedition [537] against the Mormons. He had had an experience which Beauregard did not possess. So that while the latter, by means of a glibness of speech, dazzled the vulgar with the glitter of a renown which his military career was far from sustaining, professional men—that is to say, nearly all the generals of the army of the Mississippi—paid much greater deference to the moral authority of Sidney Johnston.

The latter had at first determined to wait before attacking Grant for the arrival of Van Dorn, who was expected to join him on the 5th or 6th of April. The troops which that general was bringing over with him, increased in number by those he had picked up on his march through Arkansas, would have swelled their combined forces to nearly seventy thousand men. But having been apprised of Buell's march towards Savannah, Johnston anticipated the date which had been fixed for his offensive movement, in order to prevent the junction of the two Federal corps. Therefore, while the two hostile armies, each about forty thousand strong, were going to meet near Pittsburg Landing, two other armies, that of Van Dorn and that of Buell, were hastening on, one from Arkansas and the other from Nashville, each hoping to arrive first in order to throw a decisive weight into the scale.

On the 3d of April news reached the headquarters at Corinth that Buell had left Columbia. It was important to anticipate his arrival at all risks, and all the marching orders were issued on the same day. The Confederate army was to be put in motion on the following day, Friday, preceded by the cavalry, and in the following order: the third, second, and first corps, and lastly the reserve. It carried five days rations, with as much ammunition as possible. The scarcity of roads, together with their narrowness, could not but stretch out the columns, which were obliged to march by the flank, and only four abreast. But when they had once reached the space between Lick Creek and Owl Creek, where they knew the enemy to be posted, the battalions were ordered to take position in the forest, on the same line and at proper distance from each other, massed in double column on the centre, so as to be able to deploy promptly in line of battle. According to this arrangement, each corps thus deployed was to form a line [538] which, with the aid of cavalry, should occupy all the space comprised between the two streams. An interval of a thousand metres was to be preserved between the lines; and in order that they might present a front nearly equal, the second corps supplied the third with a few brigades.

Johnston was in hopes of making his army perform the greatest part of the distance of from twenty-six to twenty-eight kilometres, which separated him from the Federal outposts, during the 4th, so as to be thus able to fight the battle on Saturday, the 5th. But night overtook the soldiers, little accustomed to marching, before they had reached the points determined upon. The next morning the roads were soon crowded; some corps remained eight hours under arms before they could be started, and all that could be done was to go into bivouac almost in sight of the enemy's outposts on the evening of the 5th.

A cavalry reconnaissance had been made the day before along the whole Federal line, and towards the close of that very day some patrols of Hardee's corps exchanged shots with Sherman's outposts; but they had immediately fallen back, and the Federal generals attached no importance to such trifling skirmishes. In the mean time, an army of forty thousand men, lying in ambush within reach of the guns of its camps, was waiting, under the cover of darkness and the thick foliage of the virgin forest, for the break of day, which was to be the signal for the attack. A warm spring night gave assurance that a burning sun would shine over the bloody morrow; but there were no camp-fires to enliven the long hours of that night for the soldiers of the army of the Mississippi. They were surrounded by a line of outposts carefully stationed; the sentinels had been doubled, and they were instructed to allow no one to cross their line—an indispensable precaution, in view of the fact that a single deserter might put the enemy on his guard, especially in an army which, having been levied for a civil war, counted more than one resident of the North in its ranks who had been enlisted by compulsion. It would have required a keen eye to discover at the bottom of a ravine the only fire which had been kindled in that camp, where every one was preparing in silence, and without light, for the conflict of the next day. Its flickering flame projected on the surrounding trees [539] the shadows of a few officers wrapped up in cavalry cloaks. These were the leaders of the Confederate army, assembled to discuss the chances of the battle which was to restore to them the whole valley of the Mississippi;—Johnston, who seemed already to bear upon his gloomy brow the presentiment of his approaching death; Beauregard, full of ardor and of confidence, which he was endeavoring to impart to the others; Hardee, the practiced officer, whose European military education invested him with a peculiar authority; Braxton Bragg, as stiff, and even haughty, towards his equals as he was stern to his inferiors; Bishop Polk, who only remembered the early years of his youth passed at the West Point Academy; finally, Breckenridge, the politician, very lately Vice-President of the United States, an improvised general, who was learning his profession in this great and rough school. Their deliberations were long. At last the soldiers, who were watching them at a distance, saw them separate and each direct his steps towards his own Headquarters. ‘Gentlemen,’ said Beauregard, ‘to-morrow we shall sleep in the enemy's camps.’ The plan determined upon between the leaders was explained by each of them to all his subordinates, for it was easy to foresee that in a battle fought in the extensive forest it would be impossible to direct the movements of troops from a central point. This plan was simple; its object was to attack the enemy constantly by the right, so as to dislodge him from Pittsburg Landing and drive him into the angle comprised between the Tennessee and the marshes of Snake Creek.

On Sunday, the 6th, Hardee started before break of day. The first Confederate line, to avoid the deep ravines which run into Lick Creek and Owl Creek on the right and left of the Corinth roads, followed the plateau upon which these roads run, and which separates the valleys of those two streams, and over which those roads pass. It was precisely at this central point that the Federal line was left open between the left of Sherman, which did not extend beyond the church of Shiloh, and the right of Prentiss, whose front on that day was formed by a single brigade. Colonel Peabody, who commanded it, had sent five companies to reconnoitre the ground beyond Shiloh, where some vague indications had caused him to suspect a hidden danger. When day was beginning [540] to break, this reconnoitring party was saluted, not by isolated discharges of musketry from a few skirmishers, but by a well-sustained fire of two ranks; these were the Confederate battalions, which, deployed under shelter of the woods, were now advancing in a compact line, despite the obstacles of the forest, and were fully determined to drive everything they met before them. An instant after the battle commences in the very camp of Peabody's brigade; for the Federals, accustomed to hear every morning the pickets fire their muskets in the air, have paid no attention to the discharges of musketry, which should have been a warning to them. They cannot even offer any resistance; their ranks are broken before they are formed, and the camps are strewn with the killed and wounded, whom the balls of the enemy have struck down before they had time to seize their arms. The victorious Confederates chase the remnants of Peabody's brigade, and drive them vigorously before them. The Federals rally at last upon the second brigade, posted at some distance in the rear, and hastening to their assistance.

The surprise of the Federals was complete and unquestionable, and their commanders sought in vain to excuse themselves. Their apologists vainly tried to make it appear that the Federals were aware of the movements of the enemy, and had prepared themselves to receive him. If they could have believed that an army of forty thousand men was near enough to attack them, they would not have contented themselves with sending a few insignificant reconnoitring parties some hundreds of metres only from their camps; they would not have allowed their soldiers to lie down in those camps as quietly as if they had been near St. Louis. Grant himself would have hurried to the centre of his army, instead of remaining at his headquarters in Savannah. He would have hastened the march of Buell's heads of column, which had just reached that town. He would have ordered Lewis Wallace to Pittsburg Landing, instead of leaving him with seven thousand men at Crump's Landing, separated by a distance of nearly twelve kilometres from the rest of the army. In short, if he had foreseen the danger which threatened him, the forces he could have arrayed against the forty thousand Confederates massed between [541] Owl Creek and Lick Creek would not have thus been reduced to the figure of thirty-three thousand men.

While the right wing of Hardee was achieving this first success, his left centre encountered the extremity of Sherman's line. The latter had left Stewart's brigade at the extreme left, near Lick Creek, which he had posted there when he was guarding Pittsburg Landing alone. He had three left: the one on the right was guarding the bridge over Owl Creek, the other two were posted on each side of Shiloh church and across the Corinth road. The brigade posted on the right of that road, and, consequently, in the centre of the division, occupied a commanding position over a ravine which covered its front. The other had nothing before it but the plateau upon which the Confederates were debouching. It was upon this brigade that their first effort was directed. Warned by the firing of his outposts, Sherman had time to place his division under arms, and to send a message to McClernand, who was encamped in his rear, requesting him to fill up, without delay, the gap which separated him from Prentiss. His soldiers, encouraged by his example, resisted the first shock. It is true that a few regiments on his extreme left, near a battery which covered his flank, were scattered, but a reinforcement sent by McClernand arrived in time to take their place.

In the mean time, the attack of the Confederates redoubles in vigor. Bragg, who forms their second line with five brigades, has brought them successively into action, where he sees that Hardee needs support. Three of these brigades, composing the division of Ruggles, have crossed the ravine which covers Sherman's front, and press upon the whole of his line. On the left, Withers, with the remainder of the second corps, resumes the fight against the remnants of the two brigades of Prentiss, and thus enables Hardee to re-form his troops. The latter takes advantage of this to penetrate into the interval which has remained open between the two divisions of the first Federal line, and separate them irreparably. This movement is decisive. The Confederates reach the positions occupied by McClernand in the rear of this interval. While some charge this new adversary in front, others rush, on the left, upon Sherman, striking him on the flank and taking him almost in the rear. The latter sees his [542] brigade on the left, which is the most exposed, give way under such pressure. It disperses at last, leaving many guns in the hands of the enemy. But the others, sustained by the heroic conduct of their leader, hold their ground; and for another hour, Sherman, surrounded almost on every side, gallantly defends the position of Shiloh, the importance of which he thoroughly appreciates. But towards ten o'clock he is obliged to abandon it, in consequence of the repeated assaults of Hardee. He tries in vain to make a stand behind the first screen of trees, where his decimated soldiers again lose several guns. At last he succeeds in occupying a good position on the left of McClernand, who is beginning to be sorely pressed in his turn.

Sherman's division was considerably reduced. He had eventually lost important positions and left part of his artillery in the hands of the assailants; but through his sagacity and courage he had gained time—precious time—which might save the Federals from an irreparable disaster. His truly warlike instinct made him discover at a glance the points most easy to defend, and his indomitable courage rallied once more the dismayed soldiers, who would no longer listen to the voice of any other leader. Those who knew this officer best, generally so chary of his words and sharp in discussion, looked upon him as a new man. Danger had revealed the qualities of the great general, quick in his decisions, clear in his orders, imparting to all, by a word, a gesture, or a look, the ardor which fired his own breast. In the midst of this hand-to-hand conflict, the most terrible he said himself to the author that he has witnessed during his whole career, he soon became the soul of resistance. Wherever he passed along, his tall form overshadowing all disordered groups, the ranks were reformed and the fighting was renewed. McClernand himself, who, a few days before, had quarrelled with him regarding the command of the army during Grant's absence, felt the power of his influence at this trying moment, and deferentially followed all the counsels of his colleague.

In the mean time, the battle was extending and becoming fiercer. On the part of the Confederates, nearly the whole of their army was engaged. A portion of Polk's corps which had deployed to the left supported Ruggles and Hardee in their attack against [543] Sherman and McClernand. Breckenridge's reserves, extending on the right along Lick Creek, finally met the brigade of Stewart, the 4th of Sherman's division, which had not yet participated in the fight, and which for a brief period made a strenuous resistance. On the part of the Federals, the two divisions of W. H. Wallace and Hurlbut, which formed a kind of second line, became engaged in their turn. The first of these two generals had sent the brigade of McArthur to Stewart's assistance, but it had not reached this general, and, while looking for him, it had met the enemy's brigade of Withers, near the positions where Prentiss was endeavoring to rally the remnant of his troops. It was joined by Hurlbut's division, before which the Confederates halted a while. Unfortunately for him, Prentiss persisted in defending a clearing situated in front of Stewart's and Hurlbut's line, and he found himself at last surrounded by the constantly advancing tide of the triumphant enemy. Assailed on all sides, without hope of assistance, he was made prisoner with three regiments, like himself the victims of their determination and tenacity.

Encouraged by this new success, the Confederates make one great effort on their right to secure the victory; for it is on this side that they desire to strike the decisive blow, and their left has, according to their plan, gained too much ground. Sidney Johnston at the point of greatest danger directs in person the concentration of all his forces upon this wing, and carries his men along by his example. At this moment he falls mortally wounded by the bursting of a schrapnell; but the martial ardor which he has communicated to his soldiers survives him. Hurlbut, who occupies alone the left centre of the Federals since Prentiss's division has been captured or dispersed, receives their violent shock, and is unable to resist it. The brigade of Stewart is likewise driven back on the extreme left. W. H. Wallace had hastened in time with his three brigades to fill up the space which separated those two generals. He brings with him soldiers proved in the Donelson campaign, who sustain the assault of the enemy without flinching. But isolated in their turn, they are compelled to take a new position, under a cross-fire which decimates them and causes the loss of their general. The shock given to the line is communicated from left to right. It is now three [544] o'clock. McClernand's left, somewhat exposed by the disorderly retreat of Hurlbut, is again violently attacked, and the assault of the Confederates, spreading more and more, once more strikes Sherman's division, already so terribly reduced by seven hours of incessant fighting. The right wing of the Federals is again driven in; but Sherman and McClernand, who are still united, yield their ground but slowly, and they stop upon two small hills separated by a small ravine, which cover the road from Crump's Landing as well as the bridge across the Snake Creek marshes. It is of the highest importance to keep this passage open; for it is through this that Lewis Wallace's division, so impatiently looked for by the Federal commanders, must make its appearance.

While the Confederates are thus once more directing their efforts upon the Federal right, which, after the first shock, finally keeps them in check, they allow the left one moment's respite. The latter, although considerably disorganized, succeeds nevertheless in re-forming along the last chain of hills, which still alone protects the wharves at Pittsburg Landing. At this critical moment they receive valuable assistance from two gunboats, whose large shells, fired against the flank and the rear of the Confederate columns, create astonishment and confusion in their ranks.

The strength of both parties is becoming exhausted, and general disorder is beginning to appear. The Confederates have lost their leader and several other generals. The more impetuous their first attacks, the more dearly has their success been bought. The weakness of some of the troops has been in striking contrast with the courage of the rest. The number of stragglers and plunderers increases the more rapidly that the camps captured from the Federals offer them a rich prize. The Confederates, improvident, like all young soldiers, have consumed their five days rations in forty-eight hours; they have moreover left their knapsacks behind them before going into battle, and they cannot resist the sight of the provisions abandoned by their adversaries. Finally, the divisions brought into action, regiment by regiment, along a front of considerable extent, are so disconnected that no bond exists between their different parts, and each fraction fights on its own account without any common direction. [545]

But on the other hand, the situation of the Federals is alarming in the extreme. They have lost all their positions and four kilometres of ground. The enemy is master of their camps, even of those occupied by the second line. Five or six thousand men have been killed or wounded and three thousand taken prisoners. Two divisions are completely disorganized, the other three greatly reduced, and about thirty pieces of artillery have fallen into the hands of the enemy. Only one line remains to be defended, and in its immediate vicinity, along the banks of the river, a frantic crowd of fugitives is pressing, whose appearance alone would be enough to disconcert much better trained soldiers than those of Grant. Their number is rapidly increasing as the sound of the enemy's cannon approaches the wharves, until it reaches the figure of seven or eight thousand men. The hours pass by without any sign of Lewis Wallace's division on the battle-field, which should make its appearance by way of the Crump's Landing road. This road, which Sherman is defending with great pertinacity, is the only one remaining open in case of a retreat, which has become almost inevitable, for behind all the other Federal positions are the impassable swamps of Snake Creek, and the army cannot go back another step without falling into them. Wallace, apprised of the situation by his commander, has been under arms since morning. The instructions of Grant, however, who feared an attack on that side, have detained him until half-past 11 at Crump's Landing. At last he is ordered to cross Snake Creek to take position on the right of the Federal line, and his soldiers march forward with alacrity, stimulated by the sound of cannon, which increases as they advance. But Grant's despatch did not indicate the road he was to follow, nor did it inform him that, the Federal right having been repulsed, he had to look for it near the mouth of Snake Creek. He therefore followed the road leading to the church of Shiloh, which would have taken him into the midst of the enemy's battalions. It was only when he came near the stream that he found out his mistake and the danger into which he was running. He was placed on the right road by two of Grant's aides-de-camp, Captain Rawlins, the faithful companion of the latter throughout the war, and McPherson, the young and brilliant officer, who, after attaining the highest rank, perished in the [546] very hour of triumph, and whose untimely end is still deplored by the American army. Much precious time was wasted by these countermarches. The first division of Buell, commanded by Nelson, should also be already on the field of battle, for it had reached Savannah the evening before. Grant, on leaving his headquarters in the morning, had ordered it to make all possible haste to join him. But Buell, not believing that any serious engagement was taking place, detained it until one o'clock to wait for the vessels which were to transport it. Since the commencement of the battle Nelson has been listening anxiously to the sound of cannon, which is becoming more and more distinct; he was soon convinced that the enemy was gaining ground, and he finally obtained permission to march forward by the right bank of the river, until he found himself in front of Pittsburg Landing. He started at once, leaving behind him his artillery, which cannot follow him along the miry roads through which he pushes his columns. But despite his ardor, it will take him yet many hours before he can reach the scene of conflict.

In the mean time, Grant, who had hastened by ten o'clock into the hottest of the action, is not discouraged. He has passed along his lines during the whole day, trying to preserve some connection between the movements of his divisions in the midst of that wooded country, and has been able to appreciate how dearly the enemy has paid for his success. He knows that Nelson is approaching, that Buell's army will soon follow him, that the gun-boats command the shores of the river; and relying upon his ability to hold out till night, he already issues orders for the offensive movement of the following day. His line, naturally contracted in proportion to the extent of ground lost, is easier to defend. On the right the two small brigades which Sherman has kept about him cover the Crump's Landing road; on his left extend the divisions of McClernand and Hurlbut, yet compact, though much weakened. The divisions of Prentiss and W. H. Wallace have been disorganized, but their remnants are again forming around the others. While along the borders of the river a portion of the fugitives present the sad spectacle of a rabble crazy with fright, the rest are spontaneously forming again into regiments and provisional brigades under the very fire of the enemy. Scattered among [547] the woods, constantly separated from their leaders, the soldiers who desire to continue the fight—and these constitute the immense majority—meet again within the narrow space in which the army has been contracted, and hasten to fill the intervals of the line already engaged. This line, however, is too short to cover all the space comprised between the Crump's Landing road and the banks of the Tennessee. Two fortunate circumstances enable Grant to prolong this line on the left, along the last hills which terminate above the river, and to raise a formidable obstacle upon that point, the loss of which would involve that of his whole army. On one hand, a deep ravine filled with thick brushwood covers the whole front of those hills on the side where the right of the Confederates, which, according to their plan, always advances first, is to approach; and on the other hand, an unexpected piece of good fortune has caused the park of siege artillery recently landed to be placed in that position, when nobody supposed that a battle would have to be fought so near the depots of the army. The heavy guns of which it was composed were entrusted to a simple guard incapable of serving them; but an officer of Grant's staff, Colonel Webster, conceives the happy idea of hastily collecting together all the cannoneers he can find who have lost their guns, and puts them in charge of this new park of artillery, which he places in battery together with a few field-pieces that have escaped the disaster. The fate of the day depends upon the preservation of these heights, whence the enemy could have commanded Pittsburg Landing. Webster has not acted one moment too soon, for the Confederates are about to make a desperate effort against the positions he defends.

But the death of Johnston has already produced its effect among them. Their three lines are confused into one, and in this amalgamation of all the corps their several chiefs command, each on his own responsibility, the troops they meet, without any concert of action. They have divided the field of battle among themselves, Polk taking the left, Hardee the centre, and Bragg the right; but this improvised arrangement cannot remedy the disorder which has been introduced into their ranks. Bragg, who has found at the right wing three generals each acting according to his own inspirations, can only unite two brigades from his own [548] corps, commanded respectively by Chalmers and Jackson, with which to attack the great Federal battery. At the sound of the well-known voice of their chief these troops bravely march up to the assault. They are received by a terrible fire from the whole Federal battery, which is supported by the gun-boats stationed at the mouth of Lick Creek. Nevertheless, at the sight of the enemy's battalions advancing in good order, the soldiers that have been grouped together in haste to give an air of support to Webster's battery become frightened and scatter. It is about to be carried, when a new body of troops, deploying in the rear of the guns with as much regularity as if they were on parade-ground, receives the Confederates with a fire that drives them back in disorder into the ravine. This was the brigade of Ammen, belonging to Nelson's division, that rushed forward so opportunely. Having succeeded, by dint of perseverance, in making his way through swamps almost impassable, Nelson had arrived with his infantry in front of Pittsburg Landing, and had found steamers, which immediately conveyed his soldiers from one side of the river to the other. Not disturbed by seeing the frightened mass that was crowding around the wharves, he had hastened to where the noise of battle called them. It was near sunset, there being just enough daylight left to enable the Confederates to try a last attack. It might have proved more successful than the previous one if it had been made along the whole line at once. Many of the generals, Bragg among the rest, were preparing for it, when an order from Beauregard, who had assumed command, caused a suspension of the battle. This was the debut of the new general-in-chief. Deceived by reports that made him believe Buell's army to be still far away, more impressed by the disorganization of his own army, which he had under his eyes, than of that of the enemy, which he should have been able to discover, he postponed the continuation of the battle to the next day, which, as he thought, was to witness the complete destruction of Grant's army. That next day had some terrible surprises and bitter deceptions in store for him.

In going into bivouac for the night, no order was observed on the part of the Confederates. Each brigade or regiment selected its position at its own will; some corps retired to a great distance [549] from the Federal lines; others, on the contrary, remained within musket-shot of the enemy; but on finding themselves isolated, they also removed farther off, so that during the night the Confederates abandoned many of the positions they had conquered with so much trouble the day before. In the rear of their lines were the Federal camps, filled with a greedy multitude of stragglers and plunderers, who loaded themselves with spoils under cover of the darkness. More than ten thousand wounded were lying on the field of battle. They probably found some mitigation to their sufferings in the copious rain which was sent to refresh them, and which, extinguishing the fires in the brushwood, the inevitable consequence of a battle, preserved them at least from a frightful death. This storm, however, contributed still more to the prostration of the soldiers, deprived as they were of their knapsacks, their provisions, and their overcoats. During the entire night the two Federal gun-boats fired shells in the direction of the Confederate camps every ten minutes. These enormous projectiles, bursting among the trees and breaking the branches with a dismal noise, did scarcely any harm; but they caused considerable uneasiness to the troops, who were so greatly in need of rest. Those explosions, regular as the tolling of a funeral-bell, alone interrupted the silence, which, with nightfall, had succeeded the tumult of the day.

Grant's army was beaten, but not destroyed; and its stubborn resistance during the long struggle it had sustained with only thirty-three thousand men assured the large reinforcements that had just been added to it an easy victory for the next day over an exhausted foe. L. Wallace had arrived about sunset with seven thousand men, all fresh troops. Buell, on his side, before repairing in person to Pittsburg Landing, where he was present with Grant in all the latter part of the battle, had sent orders from Savannah to all his divisions to quicken their steps. Transports were in readiness, on board of which those reinforcements embarked the same evening, and the greater portion of them disembarked at Pittsburg Landing during the night, with the artillery of Nelson, whose last brigade was landing at the same time on the left bank of the Tennessee.

Before sunrise the divisions of Nelson and Crittenden, deployed [550] one in rear of the other, and led by Buell in person, had passed as a front line on the left. They occupied, without striking a blow, part of the positions which had been lost the evening before, and subsequently abandoned by the Confederates. The third division of this army, under General McCook, at last arrived at Pittsburg Landing. As soon as it was sufficiently light to attack the enemy Crittenden was to take position on Nelson's right. McCook, who followed them with his first brigade, Rousseau's, the only one yet landed, was ordered to make a similar movement immediately after. He would thus connect Buell's line with L. Wallace's division, which was to extend the extreme Federal right as far as the borders of Snake Creek. Three regular batteries of artillery were ready to support this movement. From half-past 5 in the morning the army of the Ohio was advancing slowly through the woods, which were partially lighted by the first faint glimmer of a rainy morning. The traces of the previous day's struggle were visible everywhere—the dead and the wounded of both parties lying in confused heaps, carcasses of horses, dismounted cannon and broken weapons, accoutrements scattered over the ground, trunks of trees blackened by fire or torn by cannon balls. The condition of the soil, softened by the rain, and the fear of breaking their line, delayed the progress of the Federals.

The Confederates, on their side, were in no hurry to renew the fight. The commanders, taking no thought for that rest they had so well deserved, had spent the night in looking up the scattered fragments of their respective commands, and in endeavors to restore order in their lines. They had not been entirely successful; but the return of day enabled them to form again to some extent, and to prepare for a new attack, which to them was an imperative necessity. Being in want of everything, they could not afford to remain inactive a single day. They believed, moreover, that they were certain of their prey, and counted upon gathering, by an easy success, all the fruits of the bloody struggle of the day before. Were they not, in fact, lying in the camps of the enemy, as their new commander had promised them before the battle?

Bragg had gone to the left to get his corps together, the greater [551] part of which was on that side. Polk and Hardee commanded the centre upon the two roads from Corinth, Breckenridge the right on the Hamburg road. But Buell's movement did not allow them time to take the offensive. At six o'clock in the morning Nelson met them on the plateaux which separate the valley of Lick Creek from that of Owl Creek. This unlooked — for attack, together with the regularity in the fire of the new assailants, left no doubt in Beauregard's mind as to their character. He understood at once that he had before him another army than that he had beaten the day before. How greatly must he then have regretted both his delay of two days in leaving Corinth, and his hesitancy to strike on the evening of the 6th a last blow which might have proved decisive!

In the mean while, the Confederates, warned by their skirmishers, quickly form in line, and sustain with the assurance of an army yet victorious the first shock of Nelson's attack. The latter, being alone in line, finds himself suddenly checked, and waits before renewing the charge for Crittenden and McCook, who are close at hand, to deploy on his right. While this movement is being made, the Confederates have recovered from their first surprise and reconstructed their lines. In accordance with their customary tactics, they are preparing to resume the offensive by a sudden attack upon one of the most vulnerable points in the positions occupied by Nelson. At seven o'clock the two adversaries renew the fight by advancing against each other. Buell, deploying his three divisions, orders a movement of his whole line, while Beauregard, who has concentrated all his available forces upon his right, puts his columns in motion at the same time. The latter attack Nelson with extraordinary vigor for fatigued troops, and the combat soon becomes general. It was long and bloody. Beauregard meets with a resistance he had not anticipated, for he was still in hopes that he had only a single division of Buell's army before him. Consequently, he had gradually stripped the whole of his line to sustain the attack on his right. At eight o'clock in the morning the division of Cheatham, ordered back from the neighborhood of Shiloh, brings him important assistance. These gallant soldiers forget their fatigues of the previous day, and show themselves as strong and as resolute as the new adversaries [552] who have arrived during the night. The Federal left is driven in more than once by their repeated attacks; but Buell always succeeds, with the aid of his excellent regular batteries, in retrieving the fortunes of the battle, and each time he recaptures,. together with the lost ground, some guns which had been momentarily abandoned.

Nevertheless, at nine o'clock, it would seem that victory, bent upon rewarding the unflinching valor of the Confederates, is about to declare once more in their favor, and that the defeat of Buell is to add new glory to that which they won the day before. The left flank of Nelson, the nearest to the river, not being protected by artillery, has at last been turned. The brigade of Ammen is attacked, and resists with difficulty. The battery of Terrill, just landed, comes up at full gallop, and takes position alongside of it, but is soon charged by the enemy, and barely escapes by a speedy retreat. During this time the efforts of Crittenden and Rousseau to break the enemy's centre have been frustrated by a wood from which they have been unable to dislodge it.

In pursuance of the plan agreed upon between the two Federal commanders, Buell was to commence the attack on the left with his fresh troops. Grant's divisions, so greatly tried on the previous day, were waiting for the din of battle to announce to them the first success of their comrades to put themselves in motion. But as we have seen, the army of the Ohio had not achieved the easy victory it had counted upon. However, while the Confederates appeared already certain of success on the right, they were unable to gain ground in the centre, and confined themselves to the energetic defence of that which they occupied. At last, cut up on that side by the concentric fire of three regular batteries, they lose several guns, together with the position which these pieces defended. The division of Cheatham is obliged to make a second countermarch to restore the battle at this point. His departure paralyzes the decisive effort of the Confederates against Nelson's left; but his presence does not assure to the centre any permanent success. In fact, they cannot continue for any length of time a struggle in which they are doomed to remain stationary. Little by little their attenuated lines fall back and give way, sometimes at one point, sometimes at another. The last brigades [553] of McCook's division, which have just landed, arrive during the battle, and take position between the right of Rousseau, who commands the first brigade, and the left of L. Wallace; but they cannot entirely fill up the space which remains open between the latter division and the army of the Ohio. This gap is filled by detachments composed of troops who have been in action the day before, and who are stationed a little in the rear of the first line, under the command of Hurlbut, McClernand, and Sherman. The moment has arrived for the Federals to make a vigorous effort. At a signal given by Buell, his three divisions under Nelson, Crittenden, and McCook, put themselves in motion at the same time. The soldiers of the army of the Ohio, constantly drilled for the year past by a rigid disciplinarian, and trained by their long marches across two entire States, are distinguished by their discipline and their fine bearing. The steadiness with which they march against the enemy wins the admiration of generals who, like Sherman, have had to fight a whole day at the head of raw and inexperienced troops. The Federal left makes one great stride forward. Grant, who, while leaving great freedom of action to Buell, has reserved to himself the chief direction of the order of battle, seizes this moment to substitute a vigorous attack for the slack firing of musketry which the skirmishers have been keeping up since morning on his right. Hurlbut, McClernand, and Sherman reanimate their worn-out troops by promising them a victory which shall compensate them for the defeat of the previous day, and lead them against Beauregard's left centre. Wallace, near Owl Creek, finds at last an opportunity to measure strength with that enemy whom an unlucky chance has not allowed him to meet sooner. At this moment the entire line of both armies becomes engaged. It is ten o'clock. Fortune on this second day has not yet pronounced in favor of either party; but everybody feels that her favors are already changing places. The Confederates no longer fight with the hope of driving their enemies into the river: the presence of a new army has made itself too clearly manifest for them to cherish that illusion any longer. Their leaders henceforth think only of covering their retreat and avoiding a rout. The attack of the Federal right menaces directly that line of retreat; for Sherman, who has not [554] forgotten the little church of Shiloh, around which he has so gallantly defended himself the day before, directs all his forces against that position, which commands the principal road to Corinth: he must be stopped at all hazards. Beauregard declines to take the offensive on his right, already much weakened, and speedily brings back to the centre all the troops he can gather. True to their tactics of attacking the enemy suddenly, even when they do not intend to pursue their success, the Confederates strike at once both the centre and the left of Grant's line, which has been broken by the irregularities of the ground. Whole regiments, and even brigades, have lost their places. Sherman receives the first shock, and is staggered by it; McClernand experiences a similar fate, almost at the same time. McCook comes up in time to re-establish the battle on that side; but this movement leaves an empty space between his division and that of Crittenden, into which the enemy rushes instantly. The confusion thrown into this part of the Federal line is soon remedied by a few batteries of regular artillery, which, as usual, are always in the thickest of the fight. The Confederates, despite their courage and their obstinacy, cannot follow up this momentary success. Sherman attacks the Shiloh church with great vigor, and this sanctuary, scarcely known before except to a few poor Methodists, becomes for the second time a scene of carnage. Finally, the whole Federal line, which has again been formed by the constant efforts of its commanders, advances against the enemy. Beauregard has not waited for this movement to order a retreat. The Confederate columns, exhausted and decimated by two days fighting, disappear in the density of the forest; they turn their backs in sadness upon that battle-field which they have vainly drenched with their blood, and covered with their dead and wounded, for the glory they have so dearly bought is henceforth a barren glory.

The order for retreat was given at two o'clock. At four o'clock the sound of the last musket-shots was dying away in the forest, and the Federals halted on the reconquered ground. The battle of the 7th was won; they had repaired the defeat of the preceding day. But these two days fighting had cost them very dear; their collective losses amounted to more than thirteen thousand [555] men, nearly eleven thousand of whom were from Grant's army of forty thousand men. The Confederates had suffered no less; they acknowledged one thousand seven hundred and twenty-eight killed, eight thousand and twelve wounded, and nine hundred and fifty-nine prisoners. Among the killed there were two generals and the rebel governor of Kentucky, and among the wounded five generals, two of whom were generals of division—proof of the courage with which the leaders had exposed themselves. Modern history mentions, we believe, few instances of a general-in-chief being killed, like Johnston, at the head of his troops in the height of a great battle and in the midst of his success. The total losses of the Confederate army amounted to ten thousand six hundred and ninety-nine men—that is to say, more than one-fourth of its entire force⁴—but on the evening of the battle its strength was much more reduced by the scattering of individuals and the disorganization of cadres than by the number of men disabled. According to the reports of the Confederate generals themselves, they had no more than twenty thousand men answering the rolls, all of them exhausted by fatigue and hunger, discouraged by so many failures, and around whom was hovering a crowd of soldiers, scattered among the woods and along the roads, always ready to be carried away like a whirlwind by the least symptom of a panic, and threatening to communicate its contagion to those around them.

The retreat towards Corinth was painful and full of suffering. Along the road, huts, houses, churches, everything, had been [556] turned into hospitals. The wounded whom the army left behind it, huddled together in miserable hovels, presented a spectacle of every variety of human suffering to their retreating comrades. The army equipage, the ambulances, and the artillery, confused with the debris of so many different regiments, proceeded with difficulty along roads broken up by the storm of the preceding day. The care of covering this delicate operation was entrusted to Breckenridge, whose reserve corps had been the least engaged.

But the Federals made no serious attempt to embarrass the retreat. Buell, thinking that his soldiers, after having been for two consecutive days on the march, were too tired for him to take advantage of the two hours of daylight which yet remained when the battle was brought to a close, halted them on the field of battle. On the following day, the 8th, Sherman made a simple demonstration, during which one of his regiments was furiously charged and driven in by the enemy's cavalry, a novel feature in this war. His troops were also too much exhausted to engage in a serious pursuit. It seems that this task might have been entrusted to the army of the Ohio, which had suffered much less, and which by harassing the Confederates would have greatly aggravated their disaster. . This was not done. Such inaction, it appears, must be attributed to the want of harmony between the two generals-in-chief, each of whom was invested with an independent command.

The battle of Shiloh was to mark an epoch in the history of the war we are relating. It is the first of those desperate though undecisive conflicts which during three years drenched the American continent in blood. Its duration, as well as the enormous losses experienced on both sides, bear sufficient evidence to the stubbornness of the combatants. Like nearly all those battles, its scene of action was a forest interspersed with but few clearings— a circumstance which should never be lost sight of in the study of this war. On such ground the generals-in-chief cannot be expected to combine great concerted movements, and to handle their armies as on a drill-ground. Grant, having come from Savannah at the first booming of cannon, spent the day in running from one end of his line to the other, trying to re-form and rally his soldiers, without sparing himself; he could do no more. On their [557] own side, Johnston and Beauregard, after having conceived a simple plan and explained it to their subordinates, found themselves almost constantly obliged to direct the operations over the limited space of ground they could embrace at a glance; they both displayed great personal bravery.

The errors committed on both sides are easily discernible. Notwithstanding Halleck's instructions, Grant and his generals had neglected to fortify their positions. They aggravated this fault by the carelessness with which they guarded their lines; consequently, the attack was a perfect surprise to them. Moreover, in placing L. Wallace's division so far away as Crump's Landing, Grant neglected to secure easy communications with it, which would have enabled him to bring it upon the field of battle towards the middle of the first day. Buell had marched from Nashville to Columbia with a degree of tardiness that could hardly have been accounted for by those even who knew how much time he required to put a division in motion on the drillfield, if there had not been a cause and an excuse for such tardiness in Halleck's and Grant's despatches. Once beyond Duck River, he accelerated his pace, and one might unhesitatingly praise his promptitude in forwarding part of his army from Savannah to Pittsburg by water if he had not at the same time compelled Nelson to wait four hours, which prevented the latter from reaching the field of battle before evening; by this delay his colleague came near being crushed. Let us add also that if the honor of the victory of the 7th falls mostly upon him, one has good reason to be astonished that he did not follow up that success with more vigor when he clearly saw the design of the enemy to retreat.

The Confederates were unfortunate in the choice of the day for their attack. If they had fought the battle twenty-four hours sooner, they would only have had Grant to cope with; if they had waited a few days longer, the arrival of Van Dorn in their camp would have largely neutralized that of Buell at Pittsburg Landing. They had only themselves to blame for that misfortune; they had hesitated at first, had delayed from day to day, then determined too suddenly to act. It is difficult to conceive why, on the field of battle, they wanted to push their right wing forward. In doing this they brought it closer to the Tennessee, and exposed [558] it to the fire of the Federal gunboats, and they were obliged to cross, near their mouths, all the little streams which fell perpendicularly into the river, instead of turning their sources. By attacking with the left wing, on the contrary, they would have driven the Federals back to the river bank, always preserving over them the advantage of dominant positions. We are also of opinion that they committed a grave mistake in deploying the different corps in successive lines along the whole front of the army, instead of entrusting a part of that front to each corps, itself formed on several lines. In fact, from the outset of the battle, the second line came to the assistance of the first, to support it where it was falling back, and to occupy the intervals opened by the fire of the enemy. Before noon the third line became in its turn engaged in the same manner, here forming a reserve, there going to the relief of some exhausted and disorganized corps; so that during the height of the engagement the three lines found themselves completely entangled with one another. Divisions, brigades, and even regiments being broken up and mingled, the generals could no longer get their commands together, and that system, the real sinew of armies, which is called the hierarchical organization, being destroyed, all command of the whole became impossible. In short, among the Confederate officers there were many who accused Beauregard of having been in too great a hurry to give up the chances on the evening of the first day of gathering all the fruits of his success, and of having thus lost the only opportunity of driving the invading army far off.

After the battle of Shiloh both sides claimed the victory, but both parties also indulged in serious reflections upon that bloody fight. Notwithstanding the pompous despatches of Beauregard,⁵ the Confederates felt that such a victory exacted new sacrifices on [559] their part. The army of the Mississippi, after the cruel retreat from Shiloh to Corinth, could not indulge in any self-deception concerning the struggle it had just undergone; but it could boast of having fought gallantly, and washed out, in its own blood, the humiliating remembrance of Fort Donelson.

The Federals had received a great and wholesome lesson: it could not be lost upon men of such sterling worth as Grant and Sherman. Henceforth both officers and men felt the necessity of constant vigilance, for they were all learning their trade at once in this great and severe school. The nation, enlightened by that universal publicity which has become so deeply grafted upon its customs, was perfectly aware that the success of the second day had been preceded by a bloody defeat; and far from being carried away by the cries of victory, it set itself earnestly to work to sustain the struggle, the terrible magnitude of which it was at last beginning to appreciate. Up to the present time, in fact, the general impression had been that one or two battles would suffice to decide the fate of the continent; and Grant himself had been led astray by this popular delusion. When the Confederate army was seen to recover so speedily from the disaster of Donelson, and to strike such a terrible blow at the conquerors, who were already flattering themselves that they had nothing but easy successes before them, people at last began to understand that, in asking for 200,000 men to conquer the West, Sherman had been right, against all the world. To use another expression of this remarkable man—as profound a thinker as he was just and intrepid in action—‘It was necessary that a combat fierce and bitter, to test the manhood of the two armies, should come off, and for such a struggle the battle-field of Pittsburg was as good as any other.’ It was, in fact, from the date of this battle that the two armies learned to know and to respect each other. Taught by the experience thus gained, their generals felt that so long as such armies continued in the field the struggle between the North and the South would not come to an end. Hitherto their object on both sides had been to capture or defend certain positions, rivers, and territories. Beauregard, in the East, had thought of nothing but the defence of Manassas. In the West everything had been sacrificed by the Confederates in order to preserve the countless fortifications [560] upon which they thought depended the possession of the central States—Mill Springs, Bowling Green, Donelson, Fort Henry, Columbus, and Island No.10; the main object of all the efforts of the Federals had been to wrest these positions, rivers, and territories from their opponents. Johnston and Beauregard, whatever may have been their individual share in this new idea, put into practice at Shiloh an entirely new plan, and their efforts were solely directed to the destruction of the enemy's army. If this well-conceived plan had not been frustrated by the arrival of Buell, the results of their victory would have demonstrated the correctness of their calculations. Grant, having only his own forces to depend upon on the 7th, would have been crushed; Van Dorn, arriving a few days later, would have enabled the Confederate army to make Buell pay dear for his hazardous march from Nashville to Savannah. The armies of invasion once dispersed, ten new fortifications as strong as Donelson or Columbus might have been erected along the line of the rivers, which would have closed their navigation against the Federal gun-boats; the positions conquered by the North after so many efforts would have fallen of themselves, and the war would have been carried back to the borders of the Ohio and the Missouri.

During these hours of anxiety, when he saw his army driven back to the river which was to engulf it, Grant no doubt made all these reflections; and from that time he never ceased to repeat that the main object of war should be the destruction of the enemy's armies rather than the conquest of such or such portions of territory. He saw nothing in such territory except the resources in men, provisions, and materiel which the armies could derive from it; he only disputed it with his adversaries so long as it was necessary to deprive them of those resources, deeming it more important to cut railways, to destroy depots, and to prevent all possible concentration of provisions than to occupy a vast extent of country.

The battle of Shiloh might therefore have proved fatal to the Federals. Notwithstanding its undecided issue, and although the Confederates retired with the honors of war, it was destined to be productive of fatal consequences to them, for it again compelled them to assume a strictly defensive attitude, while it enabled [561] their adversaries to mass at leisure all the forces required to break the new line of which Corinth was the principal centre.

The shock, however, had been so severe that both parties felt an imperative need of rest and reorganization. We shall take advantage of it to return with the reader to the east of the Alleghanies; for since the battle of Pea Ridge no military event deserving of mention has occurred in the far West. The conflicts at Independence, in Missouri, where the Confederate Quantrell was routed on the 22d of March, and those of Neosho, near the Arkansas frontier, where the Federal cavalry dispersed a few Confederate guerillas, were of no importance, even for those uninhabited regions. Price, who remained alone to watch Curtis from a long distance, while Van Dorn was marching upon Memphis, was assembling, east of the Ozark Mountains, all the Missourians whom the prestige of his name always collected around him, and was preparing to lead them, as soon as he had gathered a sufficient number, to the great rendezvous at Corinth. When at last, towards the beginning of April, he took up his line of march, following the course of White River, to approach the Mississippi, the cavalry of Curtis followed him at a distance, reconnoitring the country, and occasionally engaging his rear-guard in some slight skirmishes.

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[562]

Chapter 3:

Roanoke.

THE terrible battle of Shiloh, as we have just stated, was full of useful lessons for both North and South. In order to continue the desperate struggle of which it, so to speak, marked but the beginning, and to keep up the full complement of armies which lost one-fourth of their effective force in a single day, it required the mustering of a large number of men into the service at any cost. The Richmond government already felt this, but thus far it had only succeeded in deceiving itself. We have seen under what delusion Sidney Johnston and Beauregard had labored, by comparing the actual forces placed under their command with the fictitious total of troops furnished them by the Secretary of War. The Confederate government made a new and powerful effort to fill up the cadres of its armies during the month of April, 1862. This affords us a favorable opportunity for casting a rapid glance at all the measures of this kind that were adopted from the day when it unfurled the standard of civil war, up to the period when the machinery it had called into existence to secure all the able-bodied men of the country was in fill operation — that is to say, down to the fall of 1862. The history. of a war, and especially a war like this, in which armies were improvised in all their parts, would not be complete without some details regarding the administrative processes which supplied those armies, and sometimes exercised a decisive influence upon the issue of the struggle. We have related elsewhere how the first volunteers were obtained in the insurgent States for the purpose of resisting the Federal authority. When Mr. Davis sought to give them a general organization, and to centralize the resources of the slave States, he met with but little success. The number of troops raised by local initiative was considerable; but each [563] State, adhering strictly to the principle of State sovereignty, wished to keep those troops for the exclusive defence of its own soil. A struggle for power and influence began between the States which, being threatened with invasion, did not want to sacrifice themselves for their neighbors and for the Confederate government, which, while directing general operations, took no notice of those particular interests. Mr. Davis and the central power, pleading the stern necessities of war, finally got the better of those earnest and plain-spoken men who had placed a literal construction upon the programme of secession. But this was not done without trouble, and the most despotic measures had to be resorted to to conquer all resistance. Thus, about the time of which we have just been speaking, Beauregard received information that one of the best divisions in the army of the Mississippi— that of Hindman, composed of soldiers from Arkansas—was striking camp and preparing to leave for home. It had been summoned by the governor of its own State to repel the invasion of Curtis. Beauregard hastened to the spot. This occurred shortly before the battle of Shiloh, and the Confederate army would have been lost by this kind of desertion; but Hindman had received positive instructions from his own State, whose authority he considered paramount to all others, and in spite of every argument he was preparing to obey them, when Beauregard, assuming a defiant attitude, treated this desertion as a mutiny, and threatened to kill with his own hand the first officer or soldier who should leave the camp. Sustained by the rest of the army, which saw its own ruin in this departure, he succeeded in intimidating Hindman's soldiers, and in shaking the resolution of their leaders. They remained; and from that time the orders of particular States no longer prevailed against those of the Richmond cabinet. But it required more than a year to secure the supremacy of the latter; and this occurrence, which took place in 1862, will convey some idea of the difficulties which the delegates of that government had to encounter at the outset of the war. In the month of April, 1861, although six weeks had already elapsed since the call for one hundred thousand men, of which mention has been made, although the popular enthusiasm had caused a large number of volunteers to assemble at every point of the slave territory, Mr. [564] Davis had only been able to get thirty-five thousand men among them to enlist in the service of the central government. This was a very small number; but the people of the South, who, in an unguarded moment, had overthrown the mild authority of the Federal government, manifested but little zeal in behalf of the despotism which succeeded it. They still indulged in some illusions; but it was too late to draw back. Having irrevocably plunged into the fatal paths of rebellion, they were obliged to accept all the consequences, and to pass through extreme conditions which they had been far from anticipating.

Every time that a new event occurred to enlighten the North as to the gravity of the situation and to call for greater sacrifices, the rebound was immediately felt in the South, who responded on her part by some new effort.

We have seen that, on hearing of the capture of Fort Sumter, the North had responded with enthusiasm to the call of the President for three hundred thousand volunteers. This national movement proved to the majority of the Southern people that the armed peace, the maintenance of which their leaders still promised them, was a chimera. The reconciliation which the North proposed to them wounded their angry spirits as a humiliation. They freely accepted the war. Volunteer regiments were immediately offered en masse to President Davis. A new law of the Congress authorized him, on the 9th of May, to organize regiments himself, by accepting such companies as might be raised in the different States; and on the 16th of May the definitive organization of the Confederate army was decreed.

But, after all, this organization was nothing but a confirmation of the rules which had governed the formation of the provisional army, and did not differ in any material point from that of the Federal volunteers. The only difference was that it instituted a higher grade, that of general, which was conferred upon a few officers appointed to the principal commands, and which they were to retain in the regular army after the disbanding of the volunteers. At a later period there was added yet another intermediate grade, that of lieutenant-general, so that there were four grades of general officers-brigadier-generals, major-generals, lieutenant-generals, and generals. This variety of ranks and [565] distinctions pleased the Southern people, who fancied that they were thereby giving themselves an aristocratic polish.

As we have stated, the third levy of volunteers in the North was ordered on the day following the battle of Bull Run, and it was the excitement caused by that defeat which chiefly stimulated them to enlist. This new effort on the part of an adversary who rose up at the moment he was believed to be crushed excited a similar ardor in the South; it was the occasion of a third call for troops by the government of the Confederacy, and the cause of the alacrity with which this call was responded to. On the 22d of July Mr. Lincoln was authorized to raise five hundred thousand volunteers to serve for three years at the utmost. On the 8th of August Mr. Davis received similar authority from his own Congress to raise four hundred thousand volunteers, enlisted for the same period of three years at most, one year at least. The Confederate government had then about two hundred and ten thousand soldiers under arms; it had, therefore, of the four hundred thousand called for, one hundred and ninety thousand men yet to enlist. In the course of that year it succeeded in raising one hundred and forty thousand men, fifty thousand of whom came from those States which, while acknowledging more or less the Federal authority, contained nevertheless a large number of inhabitants who sympathized with the cause of the South. Most of them voluntarily came forward to serve her; a large number, however, were carried off by cavalry raids razzias) in the disputed districts of Kentucky and Missouri, and forcibly incorporated into the Confederate army. By this means the total of three hundred and fifty thousand volunteers, above mentioned, was reached by the end of 1861.

It was with these forces that the Confederate government resisted, during the year 1861, the ill-directed efforts of its adversaries; but when the war had attained its true proportions, at the beginning of 1862, these forces were no longer sufficient. We have shown how, after the battle of Bull Run, the Federals, who were faintly prosecuting a campaign which they had not the means of rendering decisive, employed the autumn in organizing numerous armies which were subsequently to form into line under McClellan, Buell, and Grant. The Confederate government, appreciating [566] the danger which threatened it, was making analogous efforts. But it soon discovered their inefficiency, and was obliged to resort to other means. During the great operations of 1862 the Federal armies continued to be recruited in the same manner as before; it was far otherwise with the armies of the Confederacy. The former were constantly supplied with volunteers whom the bounties, high pay, and other nobler motives induced to rally around the flag, while the draft which was resorted to at a somewhat later period was productive of utterly insignificant results. This mode of recruiting was, on the contrary, since 1862 the principal resource of the Confederate armies, which before long were entirely composed of conscripts. The three hundred and fifty thousand men who had gradually filled their ranks within the space of one year, and had arrived in time to keep the constantly increasing forces of the Federals in check along an extensive frontier, had suffered greatly for the important service rendered to their cause. In the absence of bloody battles, sickness had already cruelly tried these improvised armies; then they were discouraged by the disasters they had sustained in the West at the outset of the campaign of 1862. Desertion, under the influence of physical and moral prostration, assumed frightful proportions—so much so, indeed, that in February they were already materially reduced. The first moments of enthusiasm had passed away. On one hand, the volunteers whom that enthusiasm had prompted to join the ranks were impatiently waiting for the day when the expiration of their year's term of service should restore them their freedom; on the other hand, those who the preceding year had resisted the pressure of public opinion cared still less to put on the uniform now, when they had a better understanding of the privations and dangers of a soldier's life. Consequently, at the time when every preparation was being made in the North for striking a truly effective blow, the Confederate armies were on the eve of dissolution.

It was a trying hour. It would probably have marked the downfall of the Confederacy if the central government had not boldly thrown aside the mask of pretended respect for the autonomy of the States, which it had worn until then. It turned a deaf ear to the tardy remonstrances of those who, having essayed [567] the dangerous game of revolution against a national and popular government, were now complaining of the consequences. The danger was imminent, and the government met it by resorting to extreme measures. The strong hand of Mr. Davis set all the engines in motion which had been prepared in anticipation of this crisis. The enlistments were suspended, and the country was beginning to feel exhausted. It was important to find some means to retain, at any expense, the soldiers who were in the service, and to fill the gaps which the enemy and disease made daily in their ranks. Such was the double purpose the Confederate government had in view. In order to comprise all the laws concerning enlistments into the same chapter, we propose to speak of them in detail after having disposed of the year 1862, and shall confine ourselves at present to a summary view.

The government began by addressing the volunteers whose term of service was about to expire, and in order to induce them to re-enlist for another year offered them two months leave of absence. Some time after, when its authority was felt to rest on a firmer foundation, it did not keep its mild promise. The leave of absence which had been proffered threatened to bring about a desertion en masse at a singularly critical moment. The volunteers were allowed to re-enlist for the duration of the war, or for not less than two years, on condition that they should not leave their ranks; and as a kind of compensation, they were allowed the privilege of changing their officers and of electing new ones. This permission was, in fact, an order, for the rule of political euphemisms was now established. So, when some regiments hesitated to avail themselves of this permission, they were treated as seditious, and the most refractory soldiers, on the point of being shot, only saved their lives by the prompt signature of their comrades to the compact of a new enlistment. Finally, in order not to lose the services of any one of those volunteers who were beginning to regret their first enthusiasm, the term of service of those who, when once set legally free, would be placed by their age beyond the reach of conscription, was lengthened for periods of three months repeated. It was ordered that they should not, under any circumstances, leave the service until the effective force of the regiment to which they belonged was complete. All these violent measures, however, [568] were insufficient; they prevented the immediate dissolution of the armies, but they could not repair the losses to any great extent.

It was necessary to reach all that able-bodied portion of the population that had remained at home when the organization of volunteers took place. Consequently, from the 15th of April, 1862, the conscription was established in all its rigor. The law regulating its operations, which we propose to analyze hereafter, continued in force until the last days of the Confederacy, and soon entirely replaced voluntary enlistments. Able-bodied men over eighteen years of age and under thirty-five were placed as a class at the disposal of the executive power, which was finally able to dispense with all formalities, such as drawing lots or dividing into classes, which in other countries tend to lighten the burden of this blood-tax. It applied the simple processes and expedients practiced in France during the first empire. All who desired to avoid the conscription were allowed one month's time to enlist voluntarily. Men over thirty-five years of age, who were thereby exempted from serving in the Confederate army, were enrolled into the militia up to the age of fifty-five. It is true that such troops were not obliged to fight except upon the soil of the State to which they belonged; but as the war had been carried more or less into the territory of all the rebel States, the militia had no more chance of escaping the hardships of active service than the conscripts. Indeed, their duties were the same as those performed by the other contingents.

After having once determined upon such a measure, it was important to carry it out as thoroughly as possible, in order to turn all the resources of the Confederacy to account. The more those resources became exhausted, the greater the necessity for a rigorous application of the conscription law. All able-bodied men who, without special exemption, remained away from the army were evidently deserters or recusants. In seizing them, therefore, wherever found, and sending them to join the army without any other formality, there could be no trespassing the limits of the law. A fanatical portion of the population, eagerly adopting the calling of informers, assisted the agents of the central power in hunting conscripts; and these agents carried their despotism to [569] the remotest corners of the Confederacy. Everything conspired, moreover, to strengthen and confirm this despotism; the very forms of liberty were rejected, and Congress, holding only secret sessions, became the blind instrument of the executive power.

After this rapid glance at the mode by which the secession leaders had raised their army, no one need be astonished at the severe discipline introduced into their ranks from the outset. They had been accustomed to enforce it upon their slaves. It would be more correct to say, however, that the soldiers were at times turbulent, but that the want of discipline was corrected by means almost always violent. Most of their officers had been taught to entertain but little regard for the lives of others; and from the first gathering of volunteers, bloody punishments, summary or judicial, were inflicted, without exciting any of that opposition which would have been encountered in the North. Numerous executions were the means of quelling the attempts at revolt which the conflicts between the State authorities and the central power, or the irregularity of pay, frequently gave rise to at the commencement; and the least suspicion of desertion, even to the interior, was mercilessly punished with death.

We have stated that the want of depots had been a constant source of weakness to the Federal army, that regiments had been reduced to skeletons for want of recruits, and that the bounties had failed to keep up their effective force; the consolidation, which was only introduced at the close of the war, had no other effect than to unite the old regiments, whereas it should have merged the new regiments into the old ones. When conscription was resorted to, the number of men furnished by that process was so insignificant that it would not have sufficed to form depots capable of supplying the regiments in the field. In fact, this local conscription, which was only brought into operation for the purpose of completing the figure required for those contingents which had not been filled up by voluntary enlistments, differed entirely from that which prevailed in the Confederate States in 1862. In the South, all able-bodied men being enlisted, there was no longer any fixed limit for the contingent due from each State; consequently, the States had no longer any interest to encourage voluntary enlistments as in the North, where, the quota [570] of each State having once been furnished, no further demands could be made upon it. The result, as we have said, was that the recruiting of the army was soon exclusively carried on by conscription. The central government was constantly obliged to intervene in order to enforce its application; and leaving the control of the militia to the special authorities of the States, it finally substituted its own action for theirs in the organization of other troops. It thus found itself freed from all the embarrassments which the rights of the States and the enlistment contract entered into with the volunteer imposed upon the authorities of Washington. It could dispose, as freely as any European government, of the soldiers whom the law had authorized it to raise. It made use of this power without any reservation whatever. Camps of instruction were formed during the early part of the war for the purpose of assembling and organizing the volunteers; these camps were further extended, and became permanent depots for drilling recruits and for maintaining the effective strength of the regiments in the field. As the conscripts of the South had no choice of regiment when once taken by the recruiting officers, they were promiscuously forwarded to one of these depots. There they remained, simply divided by States, until the day when they were put on the march to join one of the armies in the field, and to be incorporated into those regiments of their own State which most needed reinforcements. This proceeding was certainly much at variance with Southern theories regarding the sovereignty of States, but it rendered the armies of the Confederacy more homogeneous, and thus assured them, for a time, a decided superiority over their adversaries.

Both parties, it is seen, were eagerly preparing for the struggle. If the conflict did not commence as soon in the East as on the great rivers of the West, it was the absence of those ever-open highways, together with the importance of the game about to be played, and not the want of military resources, which kept the combatants apart.

We left the army of the Potomac in its quarters around Washington at the close of 1861, organizing for the great campaign which was to open-at least it was so hoped — the gates of Richmond to the Federal troops in the spring. Nothing had been [571] spared in the preparation of this campaign. The nation had been prodigal of men and money; the government had placed all its resources at the disposal of the new commander-in-chief, and he was applying himself with indefatigable zeal to turn them to account. A few mistakes, some trivial errors and imprudences committed by the civil and military authorities, were unfortunately destined to compromise the results of so many efforts, even before the season permitted the army to take the field.

We have seen what a fatal influence political considerations had exercised over military operations in Virginia since the beginning of the war, owing to the situation of Washington. The army of the Potomac, having its headquarters in the Federal capital, was therefore in the President's hands and under the eyes of Congress, and was doomed to see the civil authority, controlled by a wild ardor or miserable intrigues, constantly interfering with its management. Moreover, being entrusted with the defence of this capital, it could not move one step away from it without causing inquietude to those even who were loudest in denouncing its inaction. Consequently, during the four years of its collective existence, it had to struggle against unjust impatience and puerile alarms, which frequently lost it the fruits of long labors and painful sacrifices.

After the severe lesson of Bull Run, however, the good sense of the public silenced the clamors of criticism. General McClellan knew how to make excellent use of this respite; but he deceived himself as to its duration. Shortly after the disaster of Ball's Bluff, his elevation to the supreme command of the army entailed upon him the most overwhelming cares; the reorganization of all the armies of the republic, and the plans for combined action he had conceived, no longer allowed him to think of putting the troops, the command of which he had especially reserved for himself, immediately in the field. The people, who placed at first entire confidence in the young general, and properly mistrusted their own judgment, had easily become reconciled to a long inaction during those months when the season might yet have admitted of military operations. But their patience began to give out when the opportunity had passed, just as the coming of winter doomed the army of the Potomac to several months of inactivity. [572] The soldiers, fascinated by the attractions of a life which was new to them; the lower officers, stimulated by the hope of some distinction—all were anxious to take their revenge without delay, and it required all the authority their general had established among them to make them bear this long inaction without a murmur. The leaders, on the contrary, deeply impressed with a sense of their responsibility, with sufficient experience to see all that was wanting in their men, and forgetting at times that their adversaries were in a similar condition, were nearly all desirous of postponing the opening of the campaign until spring.

This delay certainly involved some serious military and political disappointments; but its most fatal consequences must be attributed to the spirit of party, which sought to employ it for its own purposes. President Lincoln and General McClellan, although differing widely in character and disposition, might easily have come to an understanding, for they were actuated by a patriotism equally disinterested. But the latter belonged to the Democratic party, which had opposed the election of the former. In America, where everybody entertains an opinion, and must adhere to it not to lose influence, the party which attains to power is very exclusive in the distribution of places and favors. Consequently, the nomination of General McClellan, and several other officers of the same party, to important commands, was regarded as a significant fact. It was construed as a pledge of patriotic harmony among all those who remained loyal to the national cause. But this kind of reconciliation could not extinguish party jealousies and personal animosities. The most intolerant among those who had carried Mr. Lincoln into power could not forgive the young Democratic general for the high position he had achieved, and both in Congressional committees and in the bureaux of the War Department the interests of the army were more than once sacrificed to their unjust prejudices against him. On the other hand, the late opponents of Mr. Lincoln, although they had rallied around him in defence of the Union when menaced, were nevertheless convinced that his election was the cause of all the public misfortunes. Attached to General McClellan by old personal and political ties, they delighted in beholding in him the future chief of their party and the representative of all their [573] ideas. They replied to the attacks of their adversaries with threats. Their language, always imprudent, and even reprehensible, although spoken in low tones, was at last heard by a people noted for their scrupulous observance of the formalities of law, and always mistrustful of military chieftains. Too much absorbed by other cares, General McClellan was unable to silence his dangerous friends, and thus more than once his own acts were distorted in a manner which his conscience loudly repudiated. On one occasion, as he was paying a just tribute of respect to the qualities of his adversaries, in language full of dignity and propriety, there happened to be by his side some old political allies of the South, who ventured to express a hope that they might soon find auxiliaries in them against the ‘accursed abolitionists.’ They wished to convey the impression that the first victory of the army of the Potomac would enable its chief to play the part of a mediator, to impose a peace of their own choosing upon both the government of Washington and that of Richmond, pretending that they saw a deep political combination in the inaction to which McClellan was condemned by the difficulties of his task. His loyalty, his patriotism, and the character of the American people fortunately rendered all such dreams perfectly chimerical; but they afforded a plausible pretext to his enemies, and the honest soul of President Lincoln was more than once troubled by it. These seeds of mistrust brought forth fruits fatal to the Federal cause. In representing General McClellan to Mr. Lincoln as an ambitious politician, he was persuaded to interfere personally in military affairs. The practical good sense and innate uprightness which had won the latter the appellation of ‘Honest Abraham’ failed him on this occasion. He brought his legal habitudes to questions the solution of which admitted of no compromise. While leaving the responsibility of command to McClellan, he thought he could withdraw from him a portion of that confidence he had manifested in him until then. He thought himself skilful in allaying the prejudices of some, and the ambition of others, by creating military commands for politicians, and giving them divisions, as we bestow diplomatic or administrative posts. In short, being surrounded by cabinet strategists, he ended in believing himself capable of directing military operations. We [574] shall presently see what frightful disasters he thus brought upon the Federal armies. But he prepared their reverses even before they had taken the field, for he never would either frankly reject or accept the plans which the commander-in-chief submitted for his approbation.

The day had gone by when Mr. Lincoln, unexpected, alone, and on foot, would make an evening visit to the little house which served as the headquarters of the army of the Potomac, take an interest in all the details of the work undertaken by General McClellan, and have them explained to him, aiding and encouraging the general with all his power; when at other times, while waiting for McClellan, he would take a seat in a corner by the fire, among some officers, to listen to the stories of old soldiers of the Mexican war, or to repeat to the youngest among them, with his habitual good nature, one of his favorite anecdotes.

General McClellan, overburdened with work, had been seized with typhoid fever, which was then raging in Washington, and seemed about to succumb on his bed of suffering. At the time we have now reached, the army, shut up in its quarters by the mud, no longer possessed even the distraction of manoeuvres and drills. Their chiefs naturally came to spend their hours of forced leisure in the capital, and it was difficult for them to escape from the thousands of intrigues so easily carried on in a small city in which a great government resides. A committee appointed by both houses of Congress in the month of December, for the purpose of inquiring into the conduct of the war, had become the instrument of all the prejudices excited against McClellan and a certain number of his subordinates. So long as this committee confined itself, in the exercise of that vigilance which appertains to the supreme councils of the nation, to matters connected with the general conduct of the war, its influence was salutary. In requiring generals and civil functionaries to appear at its bar; in examining their past conduct, compelling their evidence, and thus collecting valuable documents both for the present and for future history,—it enlightened the country and placed a wholesome restraint upon men discharging public functions. But we have only to look into one of the seven volumes in which its labors are recorded to see that the committee did not confine itself to this task. Being [575] composed of men utterly unacquainted with military matters and the rules of discipline, this secret tribunal proceeded to interrogate subordinate officers regarding the campaign plans of their chiefs, encouraged their criticisms, addressed to them the strangest questions to gratify a childish curiosity, and meddled with everything without being responsible for anything. For several months this committee did nothing else but try General McClellan and the officers who had the misfortune to displease the extreme radicals. The President himself, being obliged to act with this committee, too frequently followed its baneful suggestions, to the injury of the Federal armies.

The patience of the people reached at last those bounds which General McClellan had not foreseen. The pressure of public opinion upon Mr. Lincoln became too strong for him to resist it: he would have liked, he said, ‘to have borrowed the army for a few days, on condition,’ as he quaintly added, ‘of knowing what to do with it.’ This is precisely where the difficulty lay. What, in fact, was the army of the Potomac to do in response to the cry which was urging it on to Richmond? On what ground was it to seek revenge for Bull Run from Johnston's soldiers?

Winter had found the latter still occupying the battle-field of the 21st of July. Bad weather had converted the few leagues of country which separated them from the Federal cantonments into an impassable barrier, and their number was much reduced. It was difficult to subsist at Manassas during that season the great army that had been waiting for McClellan's attack until the end of the year, and which then had numbered nearly one hundred thousand men. A portion of those troops, perfectly useless in Virginia, might have been of great service in the West, where the fitting out of Foote's fleet indicated the approach of military operations. Consequently, during the first two months of the year a detachment of about fourteen thousand men was sent from Johnston's army to that of Beauregard, who, as we have said, was earnestly calling for some of his old soldiers of Bull Run. We have seen at the battle of Shiloh that he had good cause to rely upon them. Manassas Junction was the central point of the long Confederate line, extending from the foot of the Blue Ridge, at Leesburg, as far as the confluence of the Occoquan and the Potomac. [576] A great portion of it was covered by the course of Bull Run. Johnston had the tact to magnify the number of his forces in the North as well as in the South; but it was well known to the general staff of the Federals that in the beginning of 1862 he had only fifty-three or fifty-five thousand men of all arms on that line; that on the right the lower course of the Potomac was guarded by about ten thousand men; and that Jackson, on the left, occupied the valley of the Shenandoah with twelve or fifteen thousand, many of whom were militia and guerillas; this, at the utmost, figured up seventy-five thousand men. A winter the extreme rigor of which was new to most of the Confederate soldiers had developed diseases which greatly diminished the number of combatants in the army of Northern Virginia. The following figures have been obtained from Confederate official sources, where the truth is more likely to have been underrated than overdrawn. They convey an idea of the powerful influence exercised by the season and by ennui in reducing the strength of the Southern armies, without the aid of battles. On the 31st of October, 1861, the army of Northern Virginia, out of sixty-six thousand two hundred and forty-three men, counted forty-four thousand one hundred and thirty-one present, and twenty-two thousand one hundred and twelve absent. On the 31st of December, out of ninety-eight thousand and eighty-eight men there were sixty-two thousand one hundred and twelve present and thirty-five thousand nine hundred and seventy-six absent. Finally, when reduced, on the 28th of February, 1862, by the detachment sent to Beauregard, to an effective total of eighty-four thousand two hundred and twenty-five, it no longer counted more than forty-seven thousand six hundred and seventeen present, against thirty-six thousand six hundred and eight absent. The data are wanting to enable us to fix the exact proportion of the sick and deserters in this number of absentees, which, as it increased at a frightful rate, had at last brought the representative figure down to three-sevenths of the nominal total of the army; but it is easy to show that the information obtained by the Federal staff, through the reports of deserters and fugitive negroes, which were shortly after confirmed at the time of the evacuation of Manassas, was not far from the truth. Indeed, if we bear in mind that out of [577] Jackson's twelve or fifteen thousand men there were only five or six thousand troops in the pay of the central government and borne upon the rolls of the army, the total force of that army in men, either present in the ranks or scattered among the division hospitals, is reduced to about seventy thousand men, out of whom it is no exaggeration to reckon twelve thousand sick, and consequently forty-eight thousand able-bodied men, which is the official figure given above. But under the same date, the secret service of the army of the Potomac, credulous as the police force almost invariably is, represented the Confederate army as one hundred and fifteen thousand strong, with three hundred cannon. The exaggerations emanating from this source contributed to a great extent, perhaps, in rendering General McClellan excessively cautious.

The Confederates had constructed a considerable number of fortifications along the line of Bull Run and the Manassas plateau, but they had not armed them with heavy cannon, which proved that the leaders contemplated their abandonment. But on the right bank of the Lower Potomac, from the mouth of the Occoquan to Acquia Creek, they had erected batteries, which were mounted with the most powerful guns at their disposal. The navigation of the Potomac, therefore, as we have stated, had been interrupted by these batteries, and the injurious effects of this interruption were beginning to be sensibly felt in Washington. This blockade soon became the principal complaint against General McClellan, and its removal formed a conspicuous feature in all the programmes of operations devised at that period.

The chiefs of the army of the Potomac had several plans of campaign to select from. Between Johnston's army, encamped at Manassas, and Richmond, which was their objective point, there lay a tract of wooded and broken country greatly adapted to defensive warfare, intersected by several rivers and numerous watercourses, all running perpendicularly to the direction of march which the Federals would have had to follow. Was the unfortunate experiment of the previous year to be repeated, and without taking into consideration the moral effect of the memories it had left behind? should they go and attack the Confederates in front in their newly-fortified positions of Manassas? This would have [578] been taking the bull by the horns. But to storm such entrenched positions with an army that had never yet been under fire would have been to expose it to probable defeat. In short, even if this army should be successful, it could not gather the fruits of victory, because, having no rivers whereby to obtain its supplies, it would not have been able to pursue the enemy as he disappeared in the forest after having destroyed the railways behind him.

Should an attempt be made to turn the Confederate positions on either flank;—in order to flank them on the west, it would have been necessary to take the main portion of the army to Harper's Ferry and proceed by following the line of the Shenandoah. This large and fertile valley afforded great facilities for subsisting and marching, but its direction would have taken the Federals too far from Richmond, exposed their own line of communication, and unnecessarily uncovered Washington. Notwithstanding these drawbacks, this plan was commenced, as we shall presently see.

To the east the courses of the Potomac and the Occoquan did not admit of manoeuvring for the purpose of turning the Confederate right. But the batteries which blockaded the approaches of the capital had to be got rid of at any cost. The navy had declared that it could not undertake that task alone. The chief of the Federal corps of engineers, after reconnoitring the enemy's positions, had asked for three divisions to carry them. Yet even this force was too small; for it was evident that to destroy them effectually it was essential to occupy them permanently, and to be prepared, therefore, to withstand the shock of all the enemy's forces. Accordingly, it was proposed to employ the entire army massed around Washington in this operation. While a portion of it, crossing the Lower Potomac, should engage the batteries, the rest were to attack the Confederates in front, and join hands with the troops that should have landed. This was risking a great deal for the sake of a trifling result; for the batteries that blockaded the Potomac were merely an accessory destined to fall whenever the Confederates should lose Manassas. It was to divide the Federal troops and place the enemy between the two fractions. In short, it was to attempt a landing, under the most unfavorable circumstances, in the presence of the enemy at a point where the latter could easily concentrate all his forces. [579]

So that, whether the attack was made upon the centre, the left, or the right of the Confederates, it was still an extremely hazardous enterprise. But could they not find, in seeking to reach Richmond, the capture of which was the sole aim of the campaign, a more vulnerable point than Manassas? Since the Federals had control of the sea, could not this advantage be turned to account to transfer the theatre of war elsewhere, and strike the enemy far from a battle-field of his own choosing and haunted by sad memories? Such, from the end of 1861, were the reflections of General McClellan. His attention had been directed to the facilities afforded by the numerous steamers which ploughed the large American rivers for the transportation of troops for a short time, and by the peculiar conformation of the Virginia coast for the debarkation of an army. We have already mentioned that south of the Potomac three deep bays, known by the names of Rappahannock, York, and James River, empty into the Chesapeake, a vast inland sea, which runs parallel with the Atlantic to a distance of nearly two hundred and fifty miles. These estuaries are separated by long peninsulas very favorable for landing: the army which makes one of those peninsulas the base of operations can rest its two flanks upon arms of the sea which ensure for it the protection of the navy. General McClellan conceived the idea of embarking all the available portion of the army of the Potomac at Annapolis, at the extremity of the Chesapeake, to convey it to the borders of one of these estuaries, and thence to march upon Richmond, availing himself as much as possible of the watercourses. This plan was in conformity with the military, rule which counsels that the enemy should be sought where he does not expect to be attacked. It lessened to a considerable extent the distance to be marched in order to reach Richmond; the rivers, instead of being formidable obstacles, became powerful auxiliaries; while the difference of climate would enable the commander-in-chief to begin the campaign fifteen days sooner than in the neighborhood of Washington. Owing to the maritime resources at the disposal of the army, the enemy could be forestalled along the coast, and several days' march be accomplished before meeting with any serious resistance; in short, by menacing Richmond directly, without exposing their own communications, [580] whose base rested on the sea, the Federals would compel their adversaries to evacuate Manassas without a fight, that they might hasten to the assistance of their capital.

Fort Monroe, situated at a point which divides the James from the York River, seemed to be the most natural landing-place for the Federals, who were already masters of it. Nevertheless, General McClellan had various reasons for preferring the village of Urbanna, on the right side of the Rappahannock; it was nearer both to Annapolis and to Richmond; the landing could be effected with more speed, and the campaign by land occupy less time. The Confederates had made preparations for resistance along the peninsula at the extremity of which stands Fort Monroe; but there were no fortifications between Richmond and Urbanna. The landing at the latter place, however, also presented some difficulties. The approaches were not so easy as those of Fortress Monroe; once landed, the army must turn its back upon the Rappahannock and proceed in the direction of York River or its tributaries; during this march a river very difficult of access, called the Dragon Swamp, must be crossed; it was also necessary to find a new revictualling point on York River, and this estuary was closed to navigation by the famous stronghold of Yorktown, which could not be taken except by investing it on the side of Fort Monroe. Consequently, whatever was done, the possession of Yorktown, which commanded both York River and the peninsula—called by pre-eminence the Peninsula of Virginia—was essential in any campaign undertaken by resting on the Chesapeake. From that moment the most rational course was to begin by laying siege to that place.

Such were the various combinations which offered themselves to the choice of General McClellan in the month of February. It will be seen in the following chapter how his plans were frustrated by the vacillations of the executive power.

But while he was waiting for the opportune moment to take the field, he had prepared an expedition which was brilliantly carried out by one of his lieutenants, and caused a fortunate diversion in the public mind by showing for the third time what results the Federals might obtain by combining their land and naval forces. [581]

The successes obtained at Hatteras and Hilton Head had secured to them the possession of two important points on the enemy's coast, and had greatly facilitated for the blockading squadron the accomplishment of their task. The intention was to turn these first successes to greater account, and to make Hatteras the base of operations for a new expedition more powerful than the preceding ones. The object was not merely to occupy one of the passes leading into the inland sea of North Carolina, which we have already compared with the lagoons of Venice, but to establish the Federal authority in all those waters and in the small towns situated along their borders. A twofold advantage was anticipated from this expedition; on one hand, it would be the means of destroying root and branch the contraband trade, which, owing to the numerous channels and sinuosities of the coast, was kept up in spite of the blockading fleet and the occupation of the Hatteras passes; on the other hand, it would keep the partisans of the Union in countenance, who were believed to be very numerous in North Carolina, and detach at least a portion of that State from the rebel Confederacy.

Annapolis was again the point of rendezvous for this expedition, which was fitted out with the utmost care during the early part of January, 1862. It was composed of three strong brigades of infantry, forming a division of sixteen thousand men, under command of General Burnside, and a fleet of twenty-nine gunboats or merchant steamers fitted out for war purposes, commanded by Commodore Goldsborough. More than fifty transport-ships had been assembled for the embarkation of the land forces and their materiel. The fleet, after descending the Chesapeake, sailed from Hampton Roads on the 12th of January. It was a great risk to send such a fleet to sail along those inhospitable coasts in the depth of winter, for it was suffering from the effects of a too hasty preparation; many of the vessels were in a bad condition; some of the transport-ships were mere river boats, most of them overloaded and all of light draught, an indispensable quality for getting through the inlets of Hatteras, but dangerous on the open sea. Consequently, when this numerous squadron was struck by one of those terrible south-easterly storms so common on the American coasts at that season, it was thought that the fleet was [582] about to meet the fate of the great Armada. It got through, however, with considerable damage, and only lost two small vessels, which were driven ashore on the coast. All the rest of the fleet rallied in a few days in sight of the Hatteras lighthouse, the point designated as their rendezvous. But there were fresh dangers in store: the storm prevented the large transport-ships from venturing among the difficult passes of Hatteras, and for more than a week they were exposed, with their precious human cargo, to all the violence of the wind and sea. Thanks to the untiring zeal of the navy, the disaster which had seemed imminent was avoided, and on the 24th of January the whole fleet, favored by an extraordinary tide, raised by the end of the gale entered the calmer waters of Pamlico Sound. The first object of the expedition was to take possession of Roanoke Island, situated at sixty kilometres to the north, which, as we have already mentioned, commands the entrance of Albemarle Sound. It required some time, however, for the fleet to repair its damages, and it was not until the 5th of February that it was enabled to put itself in motion. The sixty-five vessels of all kinds of which it was composed formed a column of more than two miles in length, which, as it followed the devious course of the only practicable channel, described some curious gyrations upon the glassy surface of the waters. Nothing could be seen from the low and humid beach of North Carolina but the large forests of pine which produce turpentine, whose trunks, enveloped by the mirage, seemed to be looming up from the sea.

An altogether novel experiment on this continent was about to be tried—the use of modern improvements for landing the whole of a small army in the presence of the enemy; for on this occasion it was not intended that the naval forces should bear all the brunt of the battle, as they had done at Hatteras and Hilton Head. Nothing had been neglected to secure the prompt execution of this delicate operation.

The troops are embarked with their materiel, partly upon steamers of light draught, partly upon lighters towed by them. The transports preserve the order of march of the troops they carry. They follow each other by brigades; each brigade divided into three columns, which pursue a parallel course, or follow [583] each other according to the nature of the ground, is led by the vessel that has hoisted the flag of its general at the mizzenmast, whence that officer directs the movements of the train. The gunboats take the lead; the smaller vessels of war, carrying one or two guns, guard the flanks; and when night compels the fleet to cast anchor, they perform the duties of outposts. Burnside and Goldsborough, stationed on board a light steamer of great speed, pass along the whole line. Particular instructions have been issued regarding the manner of manning and loading the launches and the position that each is to occupy when the signal for landing shall be given.

But if the Federals were well prepared, they could not flatter themselves with the idea of taking the enemy by surprise. In fact, since the arrival of the fleet in the vicinity of the Hatteras lighthouse, the Confederates had had more than three weeks to prepare for the defence of the island of Roanoke, which was the evident aim of the expedition. The Croatan channel, west of the island, which is the only practicable one, had been obstructed by the submersion of old hulls fastened together with piles. Strong batteries, constructed of earth and sand, occupied the extremities of this stockade on both sides. Advantage had been taken of a winding formed by a re-entering in the island shore to erect other batteries in the rear for cannonading any vessel that should attempt to pass through the channel. Abreast of the stockade, the island, long and narrow, was shut in between two swampy bays, which rendered its defence easy; for the Union troops, after landing on the southern part of the island, which the Confederates had no intention of disputing, were obliged to pass between these two bays in order to reach the forts which commanded the Croatan channel. A fortification, surrounded by abatis, had been erected on the only road that ran across this isthmus, and the three guns with which it was mounted commanded all its approaches at short range. These positions were guarded by five or six thousand men, part of whom were quartered on the island. Wise's Virginia Legion was encamped on a sand-bank which separates the inland sea from the Atlantic. A small fleet of seven gunboats, that had been merchant steamers, the armament of which [584] had been hastily improvised, was assembled behind the stockade, under the command of Commodore Lynch.

On the 4th of February the whole expedition entered the narrow passes of the Croatan channel; and Goldsborough, leaving behind him the transport-ships, ready to effect a landing on some quiet spot, advanced against the enemy's batteries at the head of his gun-boats. An engagement at once commenced with Lynch's fleet and a fortified work called Fort Bartow, situated on Roanoke Island, at the point where the extremity of the stockade rested. The other redoubts had been constructed to cover the middle of the channel; but their embrasures being too narrow, Goldsborough was able to avoid an enfilading fire by hugging the Roanoke coast. The cannonading was brisk, but the losses were but few on either side. The fleet, however, had a decided advantage, and accomplished the double object it had proposed to itself. The strongest of the Confederate ships, the Curlew, was sunk by one of those large hundred-pound shells which were so destructive to wooden vessels. Another was disabled; and Lynch, fearing to lose the rest, disappeared during the night, leaving the defenders of Roanoke to their own resources. The latter had been entirely absorbed by the bombardment of the fleet. Fort Bartow, enveloped in the burning of its barracks, had kept up the fight with difficulty; while some ten thousand men, favored by this diversion, landed during the night in a solitary creek of Roanoke Island. The operation had been conducted with great method and speed, demonstrating the special fitness of the Americans for this kind of enterprises.

The next morning, February 8th, the troops started for the redoubt situated in the centre of the narrowest part of the island. Burnside's three brigades, although without their full complement, were all represented in the body of troops just landed. Having reached, by the only practicable road in the place, the edge of a clearing which widens to the right and left, and is bounded on both sides by deep swamps, the Federals perceive at the other extremity the enemy's battery, which immediately opens fire upon them. Some howitzers, served by sailors, reply to it, while Foster's brigade deploys along the skirt of the wood near the road. The other two brigades form also, Reno to the left [585] and Parke to the right, but the character of the ground does not allow them to place more than their heads of column in line. The firing of musketry commences. The Federals, huddled together within a narrow and exposed space, suffer greatly. They return the fire, but in doing so they shelter themselves behind the trees or among some breaks in the ground, instead of charging the enemy. The latter, believing his flanks well protected by the swamps, concentrates all his fire upon the clearing, into which nobody dares to venture.

In the mean while, Reno and Parke, unable to charge the enemy in front, try a double flank movement across these swamps, where they hope to find a passage. On the right, Parke is stopped by an impenetrable thicket, but his soldiers, once in motion, precipitate themselves into the clearing and continue to advance against the enemy. The Ninth New York, being the most exposed, as it forms the left of the brigade, rushes to the charge in obedience to the call of its officers, and approaches the enemy's guns. At the same instant, Reno's column, having overcome the obstacle the enemy had relied upon as a protection, bursts suddenly upon the right flank of the Confederates. A few volleys then suffice to put the defenders of the work to flight. This combat cost the Federals thirty-five killed and two hundred wounded. Among the former there were many superior officers, who had exposed themselves personally to encourage their soldiers, as yet unused to the ordeal of fire—among them a Frenchman, Colonel V. de Monteil. He was present in the fight as a volunteer, his regiment not having been engaged; hanging his coat upon a tree, he had seized a rifle, which he used as a common soldier. When the Ninth New York charged the enemy's works, he joined that regiment, and was killed at its head, worthily sustaining the honor of his country.

The Confederate forces held in reserve in the rear of the redoubt numbered about two thousand or two thousand five hundred men, including a portion of Wise's legion. Seeing that this work had been turned, they fled and ran across the woods towards the shore, in hopes of being able to get on board some vessel; but only a small number of fugitives succeeded in doing so. Although scarcely one-third of these soldiers had been under fire, [586] the whole force surrendered without the slightest attempt at resistance. The island of Roanoke, the key of the inland sea, with all its works, together with about twenty cannon and more than two thousand prisoners, fell into the hands of Burnside. The fruits of this victory were promptly and easily gathered. Two days after, Elizabeth City, the most important town in that part of the country, with the abandoned hulls of Lynch's fleet, fell into the power of the Federal navy after a brief engagement. In a few days the latter acquired absolute control of the whole coast of Albemarle Sound and the mouth of the principal rivers which empty into it.

Burnside then directed his attention to the city of Newberne, seated on the borders of the Neuse, toward the south of the inland sea. Following the course of this navigable river is a railway which runs from Raleigh and Goldsborough to Newberne, touching the Atlantic at Beaufort, near one of the passes which fall into the ocean from the inland sea. This double line of communication gave considerable importance to Newberne, and it was then thought that it might be made the base of operations in a campaign directed against the network of railways in North Carolina. This campaign was in fact undertaken, and Newberne played an important part in it; but the first attempt was only made the following year, to be again renewed three years later, during the closing hours of the war.

The Federal fleet left Hatteras on the 12th of March, and on the day following, the transport-ships landed Burnside's three brigades in one of the creeks of the estuary of the Neuse, situated near the Newberne and Beaufort road, about twenty-eight kilometres from each of those towns. A battery of naval howitzers, served and drawn by sailors, still accompanied the little army. The spongy ground on that alluvial coast greatly impeded the progress of the Federals, who, as soon as landed, proceeded towards Newberne, following the right bank of the Neuse. The artillery was dragged along with the utmost difficulty, the superior officers, almost all on foot, with the mud up to their knees, setting an example to their soldiers.

Night obliged them to bivouac before they had met the enemy. They had travelled about sixteen miles and crossed many lines [587] of entrenchments, abandoned on their approach. The Confederates, numbering about five or six thousand, were waiting for them nearer Newberne, inside of better constructed works, mounting a large number of heavy guns, which, placed across the railway, rested on the right bank of the river; these works extended to a distance of more than four kilometres, but could only be approached at certain points, in consequence of impassable swamps. The principal defences of this line were along the edge of the river—a hexagonal, covered work mounting thirteen guns, and a large redoubt of an irregular form, partly constructed in the railroad embankment, with a strong redan between the two,—the whole being connected by breastworks built of wood and earth, protected by strong abattis. To the right of the railroad, the line, running back across a country full of ravines, was continued by a succession of thirteen small redans, placed along the ridges which intersected it perpendicularly. To the left of the covered work it was prolonged by a kind of stockade, intended to block the passage of the Neuse to the Federal fleet. This obstacle consisted of schooners sunk in the river, with the masts projecting obliquely, according to the current of the water, the tops of which were either pointed with iron or surmounted by a shell ready to explode as soon as brought into contact with any hard substance. The Confederate artillery at this point consisted of forty-six guns of large calibre and a great number of field-pieces.

The Federals appeared before these works on the morning of the 14th of March, when, deploying along the edge of the woods which had concealed them until then from the enemy, the fighting at once commenced along the whole line. The firing thus continued for more than two hours without results. The assailants, being obliged to uncover themselves, and exposed to the fire of a numerous artillery, sustained more loss than their adversaries. The naval howitzers kept up the unequal fight with difficulty, and those who served them had to be constantly replaced, while the Confederates fought from behind their parapets with scarcely any risk. But the recollection of the victory of Roanoke imparted to the Federals that assurance which is a great element of success; they knew that a battery could be taken by storm.; they had already seen the Carolinians abandon works which [588] seemed formidable, and experience was beginning to teach them that it is less dangerous to rush upon the enemy than to remain immovable under his fire; consequently, they did not wait for a signal from their chiefs to charge the Confederate works. One regiment gets over the parapet first; it is not well supported, and is soon repulsed; but immediately after, the Fourth Rhode Island penetrates into the railroad redoubt, followed by the whole of Parke's brigade. On the right, Foster's brigade, taking advantage of the enemy's confusion, carries the central redan, and soon after, being supported by the rest of the army, takes possession of the small works which covered the right of the Confederates. The latter fled in disorder towards Newberne, leaving two hundred prisoners and sixty-four guns (eighteen of which were fieldpieces) in the works they had so poorly defended. This brilliant and decisive success cost the Federals ninety-one killed and four hundred and sixty-six wounded. Their losses would probably have been less if they had determined sooner to make a vigorous attack.

Burnside arrived in time to stop the fire which the Confederates had lighted in Newberne on retreating towards Goldsborough. At Newberne he joined the fleet, which had so skilfully and successfully overcome the obstacles placed on its route, and took possession of large depots which the Confederate army found it difficult to replace.

Commanding the mouths of the Neuse, he was able to menace the most important railway lines of North Carolina, cutting off, at the same time, all communication with the port of Beaufort this place, which was of great use to the contraband trade the Southern States were carrying on with England, was occupied on the 25th of March. Moorehead City, situated opposite, and Washington, on Tar River, had already been similarly occupied a few days before.

But the Beaufort inlets were commanded by an old Federal fort contemporary with Fort Warren, Fort Monroe, and all the casemated works constructed on the American coast on the plans of General Bernard; this was Fort Macon, situated at the extremity of a long sand-bank similar to that of Hatteras. It was occupied by rebel troops, and could only be reduced by a regular [589] siege. More than fifteen days were consumed in preparing for this operation, which did not commence until the 11th of April. Besides, owing to the nature of the ground, a few regiments were sufficient to invest it. The rest of the troops were occupied, for the most part, in serving as garrisons, small but numerous. Reno's brigade, being available, was sent by Burnside to land at Elizabeth City, on the north, whence it was to make a demonstration against Norforlk which should prevent the enemy from attempting a diversion to save Fort Macon. On the 19th of April Reno met a small body of Confederate troops, accompanied by a few guns, at South Mills. He attacked it, and after a brisk engagement, during which he lost fifteen killed and ninety-eight wounded, compelled it to retreat. He himself re-embarked on the following day.

Washed on three sides by the sea, Fort Macon was only approachable by the narrow strip of land the extremity of which it occupied. It was a polygonal work of masonry, surrounded by a ditch and a glacis, having one casemated battery and one en barbette. When the government of North Carolina took possession of it at the breaking out of the rebellion, it was only occupied by a single non-commissioned officer of the regular army. The Confederates had entrusted its defence to five companies, numbering about four hundred and fifty men.

On the 25th of April, in spite of the fire of the fort, which did them but little harm, the besiegers had erected their batteries at a distance of a few hundred metres from the walls; eight ten-inch mortars and three Parrott guns (hundred-pounders) opened fire; and in ten hours seventeen of the enemy's guns were dismounted, including all those that were serviceable. Out of eleven hundred projectiles, five hundred and sixty had reached the fort; the embrasures were destroyed and the magazines riddled. The garrison capitulated the next day; it had eight men killed and twenty wounded.

The capture of Fort Macon gave the Federals the best access to the inland sea, and completed the land blockade of all that part of the coast. Fort Pulaski, in Georgia, had been reduced a fortnight before; and as the operations which caused its fall were on a much larger scale, we propose to relate them in detail [590] hereafter, in order to show the first efforts of the Americans in sieges.

The object of Burnside's expedition was accomplished. The results achieved, in a military point of view, were considerable; those of a political character did not answer the expectations of the Federal government. Not that North Carolina was as ardently devoted to the Confederate cause as her southern sister, for in reality she did not care much for either party, but that, while a large number of her inhabitants would have liked to wait for the issue of the struggle to declare their preferences, those even who at heart had remained loyal to the flag of the Union were too much afraid of a turn of fortune to avow their sentiments openly. To go in search of new successes it would have been necessary to penetrate into the interior of the land. A large army, and not a single division, would be necessary for such a task. But on the other hand, the fifteen thousand or sixteen thousand men composing Burnside's division were not required to guard this new conquest. In leaving those troops as garrisons of the inland sea the Washington government committed a serious mistake, for, scattered along those sterile coasts, they were useless to their cause at a time when they might have rendered valuable services in the campaign of which the peninsula of Virginia was about to become the theatre. One might even criticise the plan of the expedition, which had deprived the army of the Potomac of a strong division on the eve of a decisive struggle; the diversion, however, was justified by the success that attended it; but this success should at least have been taken advantage of to bring Burnside back promptly to other battle-fields. Having once obtained the most considerable results, his protracted absence was a fatal and inexcusable error.

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[591]

Chapter 4:

Hampton roads.

BURNSIDE's expedition was but an episode quite secondary as compared with the great struggle that was about to take place between the army of the Potomac and that of Northern Virginia in the early part of April. This struggle opens the second year of the war, counting from the 14th of April, 1862, the first anniversary of the bombardment of Fort Sumter. Before closing the narrative of the first year with this volume, we must show what had been the preparations for this campaign, and go back to the beginning of 1862 to speak of the different events that occurred during this period of comparative rest to both armies, which had such an important bearing on their destinies.

Among these events there is one which it behooves us to mention in this place, as being intimately connected with the history of the army of the Potomac, although, from its peculiar importance, it is proper to separate it in our recital from the simple military incidents that filled up the first months of that year. It was indeed productive of much more lasting effects, and caused in Europe as well as in America a far greater sensation than a bloody battle. We allude to the naval combat of which the harbor of Hampton Roads was the theatre on the 8th and 9th of March, 1862, and which marks the greatest and most sudden of all the revolutions that have been effected in the science of maritime warfare.

It is not necessary for us to enumerate all the studies that had been made within the last few years by naval constructors of different nations to protect war-vessels by means of iron armor from the terrible effects of hollow projectiles fired horizontally. As we have before stated, these studies had not as yet produced, up to 1861, any experiment which could be considered decisive. [592] The floating-batteries which had been used in the attack upon Kilburn were condemned as incapable of exact steering. Thanks to M. Dupuy de Lome, France had the honor of possessing the first real war-vessel with iron-plated sides; but the Gloire, in 1861, had not accomplished anything beyond simple efforts at navigation. In England the Warrior was not launched until the close of that same year. Among the inventions of all kinds elicited by the new problem proposed to naval architecture, there was one which, although still confined to the sphere of models, nevertheless already attracted the attention of the most competent men. The honor of this invention is shared between Captain Cowper Coles, a man of fertile resources and daring enterprise, who was doomed to perish in so unfortunate a manner with the vessel he had looked upon as his master-piece, and the Swede Ericsson, who had long been a naturalized citizen of the United States, where he had already become celebrated for his construction of the Princeton, the first war-ship provided with a screw-propeller, and by important improvements in steam machinery. This invention, now familiar to everybody, is that of vessels with revolving turrets, which Ericsson had submitted to the French government as early as 1854, during the siege of Sebastopol. He was aware that, in order to solve so novel a problem, it would be necessary to discard all traditions regarding naval architecture, to abandon the system of high-decked ships, as the engineers of the sixteenth century had given up the castellated forts of the Middle Ages for the low profiles of modern fortifications; then the necessity of encasing the sides of vessels with heavy iron armor introduced a complete change in the conditions of the equilibrium which establish their water-line. This armor, in order to afford efficient protection, had to be of such thickness that it greatly overweighted vessels of moderate size; and in order to reduce the proportional relations between the weight of the armor and that of the volume of water displaced by the hull to a figure compatible with the essential conditions of navigation, it was necessary to build vessels of enormous tonnage. The Warrior was then the type of such vessels, to which European navies have persistently adhered, notwithstanding the fact that the increasing thickness which it has been found indispensable to impart to their sheathing no [593] longer admits of protecting every part effectively. Ericsson, on the contrary, sought to solve the problem by reducing, so far as it could be done, the surfaces exposed to the fire of the enemy, and presenting them under an angle which gave them the greatest possible capacity of resistance. He discarded the system of vertical sides, concentrated the guns upon the axis of the ship, and placed them inside of one or more turrets. He was thus enabled to increase both the calibre of the guns and the thickness of the sheathing which sheltered them, without overloading the hull. While the curved faces of the turrets presented but one mathematical line where a cannon ball could strike them normal to the surface, the deck, lowered nearly to a level with the water, could not be reached by projectiles except under an extremely sharp angle. The turret, supported at once upon rollers placed under the base and by a central axis put in motion by a cog-wheel, turned easily with the two guns it contained. They could thus point in every direction, and a prismatic glass permitted this to be done without opening the port-holes. Thus the ship projected by Ericsson could easily be constructed, and at a moderate expense; in case of a reverse, but few lives were exposed, as it only presented a small number of surfaces to the enemy; with the whole horizon as the range of shot for each of the guns she carried; in short, this vessel combined the double advantage of being encased in a thicker armor and of carrying more powerful guns than the largest high-decked vessels. It is true that her flat bottom and slight elevation would not permit her to make long voyages on the high sea; and Captain Coles had intended to remedy this difficulty by proposing a ship with a keel, whose inclined sides should be surmounted by the turrets. But we believe that Ericsson was right in designing iron-clad vessels exclusively for the coast service. He saw, what experience will demonstrate more and more conclusively, that a mixed vessel, built to carry an armor and at the same time to undertake long voyages, will always be less powerful in a fight than the coasting-vessels she will find at the entrance of the enemy's ports, and less buoyant on the waters than the wooden or plated vessels that will elude her to scour the seas.

When the civil war broke out, it was as easy for both parties [594] to foresee the great part reserved for iron-clad vessels as it was difficult to make a definite choice among the opposite systems, none of which had as yet received the sanction of experience. It was important, in the first place, that their construction should be rapid and easy. There were no American establishments at that time able to build vessels that could compare with those of France and England. Workmen and materials were wanting in the dock-yards of the South, time was lacking in those of the North, occupied with more pressing labors. Consequently, the first rudelyconstructed iron-clads which figured in the war before the end of 1861 met with but little success. We have seen how Hollins could attempt nothing serious with the Manassas at New Orleans, and that Foote's gun-boats were not protected by their armor against the plunging fire of Fort Donelson.

In the mean while, more formidable adversaries were preparing on both sides to enter the lists. As early as the month of July, 1861, the Federal Secretary of War had appointed a committee to examine all the plans that had been submitted to him for building iron-clads. A few months after, this committee recommended the construction of three vessels, expressing, at the same time, very serious doubts as to the advantage to be derived from them. The first two, with bulwarks, named respectively the Galena and Ironsides, played but an insignificant part during the war; the third was Mr. Ericsson's. The Swedish engineer engaged to construct, in less than four months, and at a cost of two hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars, a vessel of nine hundred tons, forty metres in length, eleven in width, whose deck, covered with iron plates of fourteen centimetres in thickness, should jut out beyond the hull to protect it, drawing three metres twenty centimetres of water, and carrying a single turret, three metres in height and six metres fifty centimetres interior diameter, formed of plates laid upon each other, the entire thickness being eighteen centimetres. This vessel was to carry two Dahlgren guns of thirty centimetres calibre. Entrusting the execution of his work to three different private establishments, Ericsson set to work to superintend the details with ardent solicitude, foreseeing the services his invention might render to his adopted country. The prospect of a war with England arising out of the Trent [595] affair contributed to hasten the completion of the Monitor. It was by this name that Ericsson's vessel became famous. At the time it seemed especially intended for the protection of the port of New York against British squadrons. On the 30th of January, after three months work, she was launched in the presence of a curious and incredulous crowd, that flocked to see if the strange machine would not sink in the water under the weight of her armor. It required four weeks more to complete her interior arrangements.

The Confederate government did not lag behind its adversaries. Even if it had been able to command the services of an Ericsson, it did not possess, as we have stated, the necessary workshops for building a Monitor, and it saw at once that it must limit itself to making the most of the vessels in its possession. A distinguished officer, late of the Federal navy, Captain Brooke, had proposed to the government the construction of a vessel with inclined sides. He borrowed one-half of Cowper Coles's plan, while the Federals made use of the other half. At the end of June, 1861, he was directed to modify the hull of the Merrimac in accordance with this plan. The reader will recollect that this fine frigate, which was partially burned, had been sunk in the port of Norfolk at the moment the Confederates took possession of it. After many efforts she was finally raised, and her machinery put in order. The lower part of the hull was uninjured, and was razeed one metre below the water-line; she measured sixty metres in length and nineteen in width. A kind of large casemate was constructed upon her new deck, which was of great strength, in the form of a roof with a fiat top, presenting at both stern and bow two inclined faces, each sheltering two heavy guns. Eight port-holes were opened in the sides of the casemate, which formed an angle of only thirty-five degrees with the decks. Railroad iron, passed through the plate-rolls at the Tredegar ironworks, near Richmond, were formed into long plates sixteen centimetres broad, some forty and some sixty-eight millimetres in thickness. Her bow was armed with a steel beak, the government being unable to procure the construction of such a machine in iron. The sides were strengthened by large beams to protect them against any concussion. Vast compartments had been introduced at both ends, where it was sufficient to let in the water to [596] submerge the vessel up to the line of the casemates. Finally, the armament of the side batteries was composed of eight Dahlgren howitzers of twenty-four centimetres calibre; and four rifled guns of nineteen centimetres calibre were placed at both stern and prow. These pieces, constructed by Captain Brooke, as we have said elsewhere, on the Parrott plan, carried a ball of nearly fifty kilogrammes in weight.

We shall be excused for having entered into these details regarding the construction of two vessels destined to make the first trial of two systems so entirely new, and in so singular a combat. By an extraordinary coincidence, they were both ready on the same day; their armament was completed on the 5th of March, one at Norfolk, the other in New York.

Both were manned by crews who were going to take them under fire without having had time to learn how to manoeuvre them; but the courage and intelligence of their commanders were to make up for their want of experience. The Monitor was commanded by Lieutenant Worden; the Merrimac, which had just been named the Virginia, by Captain Buchanan, a former officer of the Federal navy.

On quitting the mouth of the James River with Burnside, Commodore Goldsborough had left there, under Captain Marston, the largest ships of his squadron, whose draught of water prevented them from steering through the Hatteras passes. This division, which was very strong, from the number of its guns, but not on account of their calibre, and which was moreover unable to perform any evolution, consisted of two old sailing frigates, the Congress and St. Lawrence, the sailing sloop of war Cumberland, and the two steam frigates Roanoke and Minnesota, sisters of the Merrimac. But the Roanoke, which carried Captain Marston's pennant, was deprived, by the breaking of her horizontal shaft, of the use of her machinery. The last three vessels alone were well armed with Dahlgren howitzers of twenty-four centimetres calibre.

For some time past the Federals had been apprised of the work undertaken on the Merrimac, but they believed themselves able to cope with that vessel, and her forthcoming had so frequently been announced in vain that they had ended in not believing [597] in it. Accordingly, the 8th of March found them in perfect security. The Congress and the Cumberland, riding at anchor near the tall pines of Newport News, had not even a solitary tug to enable them to move about, while the commander of the latter vessel had gone to attend a court-martial on board the Roanoke. The other three frigates were anchored several miles from there, in sight of the sandy shore of Fortress Monroe, in the rear of muddy banks which are only ploughed by narrow and difficult channels.

In the mean while, during the calm of a beautiful spring morning, the Confederates were making active preparations for battle. Five steamers, formerly employed as packets on the Chesapeake, had been armed, the Patrick Henry with six guns, the Jamestown with two, and each of the other three with one. This flotilla had descended the James River, and passing off Newport News during the night stood in for the Virginia, which, on the morning of the 8th, was coming out of the port of Norfolk, near Nansemond River, under the command of Captain Buchanan.

At one o'clock in the afternoon the lookout on the Congress discovered the Confederate steamers descending with the tide towards Newport News; in their midst the armored hull of the Virginia was perceived. The enemy so long expected was easily recognized, and orders were immediately given to clear the decks for action. But the Cumberland and the Congress were out of reach of all assistance and unable to manoeuvre by themselves. Buchanan took advantage of the opportunity offered, without losing a moment, and steered direct for the Congress, which was nearest to him.

The latter vessel has commenced firing upon the strange craft, which is only within three hundred metres of her, without producing the slightest perceptible effect. At this moment the Virginia opens her two forward portholes, fires two shells, which burst between-decks of the Congress; then, turning away from the frigate, she heads straight for the Cumberland, whose large missiles are beginning to fall upon her roof. Her first object is to silence the more powerful artillery of this second adversary. The crew of the Cumberland see the danger, but cannot avoid it, for it is too late to put the vessel under sail. All her fire is concentrated [598] upon the Virginia, and the small steamers which follow Buchanan's flag have not even the honor of attracting a Federal shot.

Everybody feels that the few minutes during which the ironclad vessel will be exposed at short range to the balls of the Cumberland's guns of twenty-four centimetres must decide one of the most important questions of the war; if these guns do not succeed in penetrating the armor of the Virginia at such a distance, she will secure the mastery of the James River and the Chesapeake, and wooden vessels will be definitively condemned. By some unaccountable neglect, the Cumberland, it is true, was only supplied with shells, being without a single solid ball in her magazines; but the weight of the former was already such that the trial could be considered as sufficient. It was indeed decisive; the large round projectiles of the Cumberland rebounded from the inclined sides of the Virginia ‘like india rubber balls,’ as the official reports said. Thousands of spectators witnessed this strange and unequal duel between the graceful but powerless champion of sailing-vessels, and the mastless monster whose iron scales alone were visible above the surface of the water — a combat resembling a conflict between a swan and an alligator. On the part of the Confederates, the garrison of Norfolk, the inhabitants of the city and the suburbs, as soon as they saw the Virginia in motion, rushed in crowds to the beach, whence they could see the Federal fleet in the distance, and anxiously waited for the issue of the struggle. On the other side, the news of the appearance of the Virginia was quickly spread. While the Roanoke, the St. Lawrence, and the Minnesota were proceeding towards Newport News, and the tugs were hastening to proffer their valuable assistance to the sailing-vessels already engaged in the action, an extraordinary excitement prevailed on land; everybody wanted to see the famous Virginia. At last the troops encamped in the vicinity of Newport News came to range themselves along the shore with some field artillery, in the hope of being able to salute the Confederate vessel with a few shots. The latter, in the mean while, continued to advance slowly and regularly towards the Cumberland, for the condition of her machinery, which was somewhat out of repair, did not allow her to proceed at a faster rate than three knots. But this very slowness rendered her attack [599] still more terrible; from time to time her port-holes would open and a few shells be discharged against the sides of the Cumberland. During the manoeuvre one of her guns was broken, and many of those serving them, by a shot in the embrasure, were wounded. This accident did not stop her progress. Having at last arrived within a few metres of the Cumberland, Buchanan ordered all the port-holes to be closed, and steered right for the enemy's vessel. A moment after, the beak of the Virginia penetrated slowly but surely into the hull of the Federal sloop; then, immediately reversing her engines, she withdrew, leaving an enormous gash in the side of her adversary, into which the water rushed with great violence. On her part, the Virginia had sustained some serious injuries; the point of her steel beak was broken, and the engines, which had not been stopped in time before the encounter took place, received such a concussion as to render their management extremely difficult. But these accidents did not at first attract any notice. As soon as he had drawn off, Buchanan, placing his vessel at a distance of a few metres from the Cumberland, and presenting her broadside toward the latter, poured a volley from his four large howitzers into her. This was more than enough to destroy that unfortunate vessel, which the water was already filling, while the enemy's shot carried death and destruction into every part of her hull that still floated above the waves. Braving this twofold danger, her valiant crew worked at the pumps, in order to keep the vessel, which was pitching heavily and ready to sink, at least a little while longer afloat. Without allowing themselves to be discouraged by the uselessness of their fire, which could not pierce the armor of the Virginia, the gunners suffered themselves to be killed one after another by the side of their guns; the dead were immediately replaced. In the mean time, the water was gaining; it had filled the powder magazine, drowning several cannoneers who would not abandon their posts; the space between decks was submerged, and all the wounded who happened to be there met with a frightful death. Shortly after, the battery placed on deck was submerged; a single gun still rose above the water; it was fired by the last surviving gunner, and the ball, skimming the surface of the sea, had scarcely struck the sides of the Virginia, when the Cumberland, with one hundred [600] and twenty of her heroic defenders, went down in eighteen metres of water. The rest reached the shore by swimming. The top of the mainmast alone remained above water; and the flag of the United States, which had been nailed to it during the height of the battle, floated for several years a mournful and glorious emblem, marking the spot of the submerged hull which had served as the grave of so many brave men.

On perceiving the disaster of the Cumberland, the Congress took advantage of the respite granted her to weigh anchor and run upon the muddy banks adjoining the beach of Newport News. She was thus sure to avoid being sunk; but the same act also doomed her to remain motionless, and the Virginia could henceforth cannonade her at leisure. This is what Buchanan did as soon as he saw the Cumberland disappear. It was half-past 2; while the small Confederate steamers were exchanging shots with the Congress from a considerable distance, the Virginia, approaching within two hundred metres of that vessel, took a position so as to enfilade the whole of her battery without being herself exposed to the fire of more than three or four guns. Her first discharge produced a terrible effect on board the Congress, most of the gunners being entirely disabled by it. Although the Federals had already sufficient proof of the inefficiency of their guns against the iron plates of the Virginia, they continued the fight with that self-devotion and determination of purpose which esprit de corps imparts to select troops. The field-artillery massed on the shore tried in vain to take part in the combat; but the fire of the infantry was more effective. The Virginia having approached the shore, a few well-directed bullets penetrated through the open port-holes, and among the persons struck by them was the brave Buchanan, who was severely wounded in the thigh.

For an hour and a half the Congress kept up the fight, the issue of which could no longer be doubtful; she had lost all hope of assistance on seeing the Minnesota stranded in the distance upon a sand-bank, as she was coming from Fortress Monroe to take part in the conflict. Nevertheless, amid the dead and wounded who encumbered the decks, her gunners continued to fire upon such of the enemy's steamers as happened to be within reach of their guns. Resistance, however, could be prolonged no further; [601] the commander had been killed, about one hundred men were disabled, and, according to eye-witnesses, ‘the deck was slippery with the blood that had been shed.’ The Congress struck her colors, and several boats came alongside to take possession of her. But while these boats were taking a portion of the frigate's crew as prisoners of war on board the Confederate steamers, the troops stationed along the shore poured a volley of musketry into the Virginia, which wounded some of the men who had ventured out of the casemate. Suspecting treachery, Buchanan immediately began to cannonade the Congress again; and the Federal sailors who were still on board took advantage of this attack to jump into the sea and save themselves by swimming. The vessel, being thus abandoned, was fired by the Confederates, who proceeded at once in search of another adversary. The Minnesota seemed to offer them a new and easy success. On her way to Newport News she had run into a channel which was only navigable for her at high water, but through which she hoped, by the combined aid of sail and steam, to be yet able to open herself a passage. She did not succeed; and the receding tide left her completely stranded three miles below the Congress. Near her lay the St. Lawrence, which, having tried to follow her under sail, had also run aground. The Roanoke also had run upon a bank, but had floated off again and had retired towards Fort Monroe. The Virginia, having been delayed in consequence of her injuries, arrived at last within reach of cannon-shot of the two motionless vessels waiting for her in the mud. Their destruction seemed inevitable; but fortunately the state of the tide at that moment did not allow the Virginia to approach them nearer than sixteen hundred metres. Buchanan opened fire at that distance, while at the same time the Patrick Henry and the Jamestown, favored by their light draught of water, took position nearer to the Minnesota, and commenced cannonading her with their rifled pieces. Many people on board this vessel were killed and wounded; but the game between them was equal, and the Dahlgren howitzers of the Federals soon compelled the two rebel steamers to seek their safety in retreat. The Virginia could render them no assistance; either through the fault of her gunners, or some defect in her guns or rather because she could not elevate her pieces sufficiently [602] high, her fire was extremely uncertain. Only one missile reached the Minnesota; another struck the St. Lawrence: it was the last shot fired on that memorable day. It was seven o'clock in the evening; the Confederate squadron retired for the night to the vicinity of Norfolk, to prepare for a renewal of the work of destruction as soon as daylight should appear.

It seemed as if no human precaution could snatch the prey from the grasp of the Virginia, and spare from the fate of the Cumberland and the Congress the three frigates which night alone had saved from her attack. The high tide would, in fact, enable her to approach them much nearer the following morning than she had done the day previous. The Federal fleet once annihilated, Buchanan could proceed to bombard Fort Monroe, drive all the enemy's transports from Old Point Comfort, thus obliging the troops to evacuate the peninsula, and, after freeing the James River, himself blockade the whole of the Chesapeake. The Virginia was not enough of a sea vessel and carried too little coal to venture upon the high sea, and, as it was then thought, to carry dismay even into the port of New York; but she could take advantage of a calm to go and recapture Pamlico Sound from Goldsborough's fleet; or, better still, she could ascend the Potomac as far as in front of Washington and throw bomb-shells into the capital of the Union. The parts would then have been reversed; it would no longer have been the part of the Federals to attack Richmond by resting on the sea, but the turn of the Confederates, who, once masters of the inland waters, would have had the powerful co-operation of naval forces in resuming the offensive. All the previsions of the Federals, founded upon the superiority of their magnificent fleet of wooden vessels, would have disappeared with the Cumberland and the Congress. The war would have changed front, and the Confederate flag, opening a new era in maritime warfare, would easily have raised the blockade which prevented the slave States from freely procuring supplies in Europe. This was enough to excite the lively imaginations of Southern people. The Federals, on the contrary, were filled with consternation and dismay. The Congress was burning slowly, casting a lurid glare upon the tranquil waters of Newport News, while her guns, which were still loaded, went off in [603] proportion as the flames reached them; their fire, which no gunner had directed, resounded like a funeral knell amid the silence of the night. At midnight she blew up with a terrific crash, and everything was again enveloped in darkness. But this mournful sight did not for an instant divert the Federals from their work of restoring the glacis of Fort Monroe to a proper condition; for old General Wool, who commanded that place, was of the opinion, and not without reason, that the Federal fleet would henceforth be unable to protect it.

While the telegraph was spreading throughout the Union a degree of anxiety which it would be impossible to conceive without having witnessed it, day had dawned upon the waters that had been the scene of the previous day's battle, and at six o'clock the Virginia left her anchorage at Craney Island. Her sides had been greased in order to facilitate the ricochet of the enemy's projectiles, and she was accompanied by five transports loaded with troops destined to take possession of the Minnesota as soon as the guns of that vessel should have been silenced. The realization of this hope could not long be delayed; indeed, all the efforts of her crew and the tugs that surrounded her had not been able to set the stranded frigate afloat, while the recoil of her heavy guns, by throwing her on one side, had driven her deeper and deeper into the mud, where she was completely imbedded. Fearing lest she should also run aground, and wishing at the same time to cut off her retreat, the Virginia, instead of attacking her directly, ran into the deep waters which surround the Rip Raps in the harbor of Old Point Comfort; thence the Confederate ram entered the channel in which the Minnesota was stranded, to come upon her by following the same direction she had herself taken the day before.

But as the Confederate gunners were about to open their portholes at the prow to reply to the fire of the pivot gun placed at the stern of the Federal frigate, a strange diminutive machine was seen to move off from her side and insolently place herself between the Virginia and the victim she already felt sure of having. ‘It was like a cheese-box,’ observed the Confederate sailors afterwards, ‘placed on a raft.’ This machine, however, moved about like a real vessel; she had hoisted the Federal flag; and if the [604] sailors who brought her into the fight were not crazy, they must certainly have been courageous adversaries. The interloper who had thus come to meddle with the conflict must be got rid of without delay. Two empty shells, each weighing fifty kilogrammes, were sent after the intruder from a distance of a few hundred metres. What was the general astonishment when these shells were seen to rebound and fall harmless into the sea. ‘The cheese-box is an iron tower,’ they exclaimed on board the Virginia.

It was, in fact, the Monitor, which, having been completed on the same day as the latter vessel, had, by a second chance, not less strange, just reached the battle-field of Hampton Roads at the moment when her presence alone could change the aspect of the fight.

It was not for the purpose of holding the Virginia in check that she had been brought into the waters of the Chesapeake. As we shall show hereafter, the Washington government had prepared a plan of attack against the batteries which blockaded the Potomac, and the Secretary of the Navy had promised the cooperation of the Monitor in carrying out this project. The latter vessel was scarcely finished when she left the port of New York in tow of a steamer, and after encountering a gale of wind, during which she behaved well, she had entered the waters of the Chesapeake on the 8th of March. She had strict orders to touch only at Fort Monroe, and to ascend the Potomac at once, where she was anxiously looked for. But as she was approaching the entrance of the James, the booming of cannon at Newport News apprised her commander, Lieutenant Worden, that a naval battle was being fought in those waters. Suspecting the danger, he increased the speed of the vessel, whose capacities he had not even yet tested, when he was boarded by a pilot, who informed him of the disaster that had just occurred. For all answer Worden quietly requested him to take his vessel straight against the Virginia. The unfortunate pilot, seized with terror, preferred leaving him rather than execute an order which seemed so preposterous. In the mean time, night had come. As soon as he had cast anchor, Worden, taking upon himself the responsibility of violating the letter of his instructions, made up his mind to take a hand [605] in the battle of the next day, and went to hide himself behind the large hull of the Minnesota, in order to fall suddenly upon the Virginia as soon as the latter should reappear. The system of revolving turrets had never been tried, and all was as new to the gunners as to the engineers of the Monitor. For his two guns of twenty-nine centimetres calibre Worden had shells weighing seventy-two kilogrammes, cast-iron balls weighing eighty-four, and wrought-iron balls weighing ninety-two. He decided to use projectiles of the second class, as the shells would certainly break against the iron plates of the Virginia, while his wrought-iron balls seemed too heavy for his cast-iron guns, which might burst and damage every part of his vessel. At a later period these same guns, loaded with wrought-iron balls and a charge of powder weighing fifteen kilogrammes, were fired without accident, but in this first trial the decision of the Federal captain was the wisest.

The Confederate officers understood that a foeman worthy of their steel had come to play with them, double or quits, in the game which the star-spangled banner had lost the day before. Letting alone the large Federal frigate, which, unable to defend herself, was to be the prize of the contest, their present thought was only to fight the Monitor. Being both impatient to achieve a victory, and each confiding in the powerful armor of his vessel, the two iron-clads rapidly approach each other and exchange shots from their tremendous guns at a few metres distance. The confidence felt on both sides was fully justified. The crew of the Minnesota beheld with admiring wonder the enormous balls which their own vessel could not have withstood glancing off or breaking against the armor of the two combatants. The fight, which began at eight o'clock, was long continued without either of them having been able to effect a breach in the armor of his antagonist. At last, Captain Jones, who succeeded Buchanan in the command of the Virginia, after the latter had been wounded, determines to apply the same tactics against the Monitor which have proved so fatal to the Cumberland. She steers with direct aim toward her in order to strike her with the beak, but the point of this weapon was broken the day previous; and a clever shifting of the helm causing the Monitor to sheer off at the critical moment, the prow of the Virginia only touched the edge of her deck, and turned [606] her around without inflicting any damage. Once apprised of this new danger, the Federal vessel, which is swifter and more skilfully handled than her heavier adversary, continues to manoeuvre so as to avoid coming in contact with her, and keeps turning round, firing through the embrasures, in hope of disabling her. The two vessels are only ten metres apart. The balls, failing to penetrate their armor, fly in every direction; some of them strike the Minnesota; another bursts the boiler of a steam-tug fastened to her sides; the little Confederate steamers have deemed it prudent to withdraw from this dangerous locality. At last, after four hours fighting, a shot from the Monitor strikes the Virginia near the water-line, and opens a dangerous leak in her. Almost at the same moment one of the enemy's balls strikes against the small observatory within shelter of which Worden is directing his vessel. This was a square box composed of iron ingots thirtytwo centimetres in thickness, with small crevices between them, through which the captain could observe all that was going on outside, for the whole interior of the ship, with the exception of the turret, lighted from above, was enveloped in utter darkness. The shock detached some splinters, which severely wounded the brave Worden in the eyes. He was struck at the moment of his triumph. The Virginia, being in danger from the leak, paralyzed by the condition of her engines, which were working worse and worse, despairing, in short, of getting the upper hand of her invulnerable antagonist, gave up the game and slowly retired in the direction of Norfolk.

The Monitor remained on the battle-field near the ships she had just saved; but the service she had rendered them was but a small matter compared with the other results of her victory. All the fears that had sprung up in consequence of the previous day's battle were dissipated. The Virginia was not able to come out of the James River. The Chesapeake, the Potomac, the high sea, in short, were under the control of the Federals; and if the latter had been taught to feel that their wooden fleet could not withstand a single iron-clad vessel of the enemy, they had also found an engine of destruction superior in every respect to that which the Confederates had just put on trial against them.

The battle of Hampton Roads will continue to be one of the [607] most memorable events in modern warfare; never were so many new inventions exposed at once to the practical ordeal of battle. Wooden vessels of every class, together with iron-clads, some with batteries, others with turrets, were all put upon trial at the same time. It was the first time that, besides such vessels, screwpropellers—which, however, had been in existence for twenty years—had been seen to figure in a naval combat. The propellers were found to be as powerless in this kind of warfare as the old sailing-vessels. The iron-clads, on the contrary, showed themselves to be invulnerable to shells; the deep indentations made upon the armor of the Monitor and the Virginia, however, proved that they might be penetrated by heavy cannon-balls fired from land-batteries, where the weight of the gun is not subservient to the exigencies of the floating surface. Finally, the destruction of the Cumberland demonstrated the power of the sharp beak, forgotten since the days of the Romans, this last and formidable resource of resolute sailors, the use of which the two greatest naval commanders of our own times, Farragut and Tegethoff, as well as Buchanan, have again taught us.

The Virginia had suffered from the engagement, but her injuries were of such a character as to admit of being promptly repaired. If she should succeed in acquiring a rate of speed equal to that of the Monitor, which was an easy matter, with an engine as powerful as hers, might she not reappear in Hampton Roads, and, taking no notice of the adversary whose attack had probably occupied her too exclusively, renew her work of destruction upon the wooden vessels? In that case, the Monitor, having no beak, would be reduced to the use of her guns, the effect of which the Virginia had already borne without much damage. The Federal naval authorities fully appreciated all the drawbacks to the success of March the 9th; and in order to avert the danger of another attack from the enemy's iron-clad, they hastened to station several large vessels at the mouth of the James, which were to board the Virginia and sink her as soon as she should appear. But the latter vessel did not avail herself of the chances she still possessed on the 10th of March. Were her injuries more serious than had at first been supposed? Was much precious time lost in reconstructing her beak, or in increasing the calibre of her artillery? [608] Was her inaction to be attributed to the timidity of the Richmond government, unwilling to jeopardize a vessel whose presence alone closed to the Federals the maritime approaches to their capital? It is difficult to say. It may be that the Virginia lost all her efficiency with the loss of the brave commander who had so skilfully handled her on the first day, and who would doubtless not have accepted the combat of the day following as a final defeat.

Before proceeding any further, we must go back to the period when we left General McClellan planning the operations upon which the battle of Hampton Roads was to have such an important bearing. We have indicated the combinations among which he could make a choice, and the difficulties that each of them presented. His plan was determined upon by the end of January. He only took into his confidence the President, a few cabinet ministers, and his principal generals; and while the construction of his bridge equipages was being completed, he devoted all his time to devising the necessary means of transportation in order to carry out with precision and promptitude the bold movement he had conceived. Unfortunately for his army, a violent sickness, as we have already stated, came to interrupt these labors, and for a time to paralyze his faculties at the moment when they would have been of the utmost value. The fever had seized him before he had time to transfer the command to one of his lieutenants. Seniority would have designated McDowell. The staff did not deem it proper to recommend the vanquished soldier of the 21st of July for so important an interim, and they continued to exercise the command in the name of the sick chief. The President, on his part, did not dare to strike at the power of a general whose convalescence was announced to him from day to day; but at last, on the 10th of January, having become impatient at not being able to confer with him, he sent for two generals of the army of the Potomac and bluntly requested them to furnish him with a plan of campaign which could be carried out with the least possible delay. The next day, the 11th, these generals proceeded to institute inquiries into the condition of the army, through the administrative bureaux, and requested the Secretary of the Treasury to confide to them all the plans of [609] General McClellan, which were immediately revealed, and examined before a council in which there sat, besides themselves, the President, the Secretaries of State and Treasury, the Postmaster-General and an Assistant Secretary of War.

On the 13th, after a few more conferences, this same council, increased in numbers, met at the house of General McClellan, who was scarcely convalescent. He refused to discuss his plans in the presence of an assemblage the composition of which seemed to him somewhat whimsical, and the President sustained his objection by breaking up the meeting.

Fifteen days elapsed, during which the severity of the weather rendered it impossible to put the troops in motion, and which General McClellan employed in re-examining the plan he had to submit to the President; but suddenly the latter decided to exercise the supreme command, which the Constitution conferred upon him, in person. Without even consulting the man whom he had appointed commander-in-chief of his armies, he published, on the 27th of January, under the title of ‘First general orders of the President,’ a document which will ever be regarded as one of the strangest monuments of that epoch. This order directs all the land and naval forces of the Republic to attack the enemy on the same day, and to this effect he designates the 22d of February, the anniversary of Washington's birth-day. Generals, heads of departments, and their employes, are each to be held responsible for the non-execution of this order, although none of them have been consulted, and although the date of this simultaneous movement has been fixed without any regard to the differences of climate, the positions of the enemy, and the peculiar circumstances under which each army may happen to be placed. Soon after this General McClellan submits to the President, in detail, his plan for landing the troops at Urbanna. But on the 31st of January the latter refuses to endorse it. Penetrated by the necessity to begin the campaign at once, unwilling to belie the order by which he had directed a general movement on the 22d of February, and dreading the delays which a naval operation would occasion, Mr. Lincoln substituted another plan for that which had been proposed to him. Leaving to General McClellan the responsibility of carrying out this new plan, he directed him to attack [610] the enemy by menacing Manassas on the west—that is to say, on the side of the Shenandoah valley.

On the 3d of February, after a verbal discussion, the President propounded to him a series of questions in writing upon the relative merits of the two plans, and the general replied on the same day, in the shape of a memorial addressed to the Secretary of War, wherein the advantages of his project were clearly and irrefutably set forth. Mr. Lincoln, without being convinced, felt nevertheless that it would be dangerous to compel the general to execute an operation he had pronounced impracticable, and suspended the order he had given him to attack Manassas. But he insisted that the army of the Potomac should, before moving away, completely ensure the communications of Washington with the Western and Northern States; to accomplish this the army had to reopen the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, which had been interrupted at Harper's Ferry since the beginning of the war, and to destroy the batteries which blockaded the Lower Potomac.

This preliminary task was not easy to accomplish; nevertheless, as soon as the weather permitted, General McClellan set himself to work. On the 24th of February Banks's division, encamped on the left borders of the Upper Potomac, and that of Sedgwick, the same which, under Stone, had experienced the reverse of Ball's Bluff, made a demonstration against Harper's Ferry. A few companies crossed the river in boats; they found no enemy among the desolate ruins of that charming little town, and they occupied the surrounding heights. A bridge equipage, forwarded from Annapolis by rail during the night of the 25th-26th, was unloaded at ten o'clock in the morning. Four hours later the last boat was fastened to the Virginia shore, and the general-in-chief was the first to cross from one side to the other, with the heads of column of several divisions concentrated in haste on the left bank. At this place the river was three hundred metres wide, seven metres deep, with a rapid current, a rocky bottom, and scarped banks. Nevertheless, this delicate operation, so entirely new to an American army, was accomplished with great celerity and success. Encouraged by such a beginning, General McClellan thought for a moment of turning the simple demonstration he had just made into a decisive operation, of which the valley of [611] Virginia would have been the theatre. He had already issued orders, directing the greatest portion of his army to proceed towards Harper's Ferry, when one of those incidents which make so hazardous a game of war compelled him, in spite of himself, to adopt once more the project which had so long had his preference. The bridge of boats thrown, on the 26th, over a river so wide and so subject to sudden risings as the Potomac could not suffice for the communications of a large army. Accordingly, in order to establish a more solid crossing, a large number of barges, which were to debouch into the river through a lock situated in front of Harper's Ferry, were assembled in the Ohio Canal. But when everything was ready, and an attempt made to bring down these barges into the waters of the Potomac, above the rapids which obstruct its course, it was found that they were too broad for the lock, the latter being especially intended to allow the entrance into the canal of the small boats which ply on the Shenandoah. It would have required several days to widen the passage; the army would have lost all the advantages that a rapid movement might have secured, and would have found itself in a perilous position. General McClellan gave up the plan he had just formed, but did not return to Washington until he had secured the restoration of the railway, which Mr. Lincoln considered so important.

The latter at last decided to furnish the commander of the army of the Potomac the means for undertaking his maritime expedition. On the 27th of February the first orders for chartering numerous vessels to transport the army were received at the War Department. The government, notwithstanding its impatience to act, had thus wasted six weeks, during which all the necessary preparations might easily have been completed. In the mean while, before taking the field, General McClellan was obliged, in compliance with the orders of the President, to raise the Potomac blockade. Any attempt at disembarkation or movement of his army on that side might have brought on a general engagement under the most unfavorable circumstances. The naval force, being otherwise engaged, had not the means to attempt such a difficult enterprise. It could only promise him for the 10th or 12th of March, an auxiliary which might prove useful, but upon which [612] it would have been imprudent to rely absolutely. This was the Monitor. We have seen how from her entrance into the Chesapeake she found a better opportunity for making a successful trial of her qualities as a man-of-war. The battle of the 8th of March deranged all the plans that had been formed for the future campaign of the army of the Potomac; and by a new coincidence, as strange as the meeting of the two iron-clads at the mouth of the James, it was precisely on the 8th of March that these plans had been definitely determined upon.

In fact, after having ordered the preparations which McClellan had so long solicited, Mr. Lincoln relapsed into hesitancy, and insisted that the general-in-chief should submit his project to the examination of a council of war. Twelve generals⁶ assembled on the 8th of March, not to receive the instructions of their chief, but to constitute a tribunal for passing judgment on his plans; these were approved by a majority of eight to four.

Bound by a decision he had himself courted, the President accepted it with a bad grace; and being still under some fatal influence, he published two orders which indirectly interfered with its execution. The first of these orders divided the army of the Potomac into five army corps; and regardless of McClellan's opinion as to the qualifications of his subordinates, it gave the command of these army corps to five of the oldest generals of division. Among these officers there were three who had just condemned the plan of their chief in a council of war. This was to substitute oligarchy for that despotism which Washington considered indispensable in an army. McClellan might have prevented this fatal decision by forming the army corps himself, but he had preferred to wait for the trial of the first campaign, in order to bestow the distinction upon those most worthy of it.

The second order directed him to leave such a number of troops in Washington as the majority of his corps commanders should deem necessary to secure the safety of the capital; not to transport more than fifty thousand men, and to wait for a new order from [613] the President to embark the remainder; to begin the movement not later than the 18th of March, and finally to make an effort, with the co-operation of the navy, to put an end to that blockade of the Potomac which was the source of so much alarm to the inhabitants of the capital.

This was to divide the army into three parts: one to embark at Annapolis, the second to attack the batteries on the Lower Potomac, the third to keep guard over Washington; it was, in short, to fix a specified date for an operation which did not depend alone upon General McClellan, as he could not embark on the 18th of March unless the War and Navy Departments should furnish him in time with transports, the chartering and equipment of which had been taken from his control.

The news of the destruction of the Congress and the Cumberland, which was received on the morning of the 9th, caused all these preparations to be suspended, for it was no longer Richmond but Washington that was menaced. On the same evening, however, a despatch from Mr. Fox, who had gone to meet the Monitor, announced the success of that vessel and the retreat of the Virginia. The immediate result of this second day's fight was to render the navigation of the Chesapeake once more safe. If the James River remained closed by the presence of the Virginia at Norfolk, Urbanna and Fortress Monroe were both accessible, and could yet afford a solid base for the great operation which the army of the Potomac was about to undertake. But the plans of McClellan, already so frequently frustrated, as if by a kind of fatality connected with the dates of the 8th and 9th of March, were again seriously compromised by an event which was almost as unexpected as the battle between the iron-clads; we allude to the evacuation of Manassas by the Confederates. Was this evacuation, which had long since been contemplated and in active preparation for more than a week, hastened by some criminal indiscretions? There are many indications which would seem to justify such a conclusion, although not affording positive proof of the fact. Whatever the case may be, on the very day following that when the maritime expedition was determined upon by a council of war, the Confederates, by a rapid retreat, escaped the most serious dangers they would have [614] encountered from this expedition. Now they had time to reach Richmond even before the Federal army could embark upon the transports, whose arrival was delayed from day to day. The long-debated question, however, relative to the raising of the Potomac blockade was solved by the abandonment of the enemy's batteries. Instead of going to Annapolis in search of the vessels which were to convey his soldiers to the coasts of the Chesapeake, McClellan would see them arrive in front of his encampments at Alexandria. The famous redoubts at Manassas were invaded by a crowd of curious persons who could without danger underrate their importance and criticise the general whose prudence did not allow him to sacrifice the élite of his young army for the sake of carrying them. But the moral effect which the retreat of the Confederates would have produced a few days later was wanting. If so much time had not been wasted in indecision, the evacuation of Manassas would have coincided with the disembarkation of the first Federal soldiers at Urbanna or Newport News, and everybody would have attributed it to the bold movement of McClellan.

The army of the Potomac left its quarters to take possession of the enemy's works. On the 10th of March it occupied Centreville; on the 11th Manassas Junction. Large quantities of stores, burnt or scattered in the mud, storehouses still in flames, the smoking debris of numerous trains, traces of destruction everywhere, imparted a lugubrious and sinister aspect to the celebrated plateau. Although the Federal army was to encounter no adversary, this movement was useful to the soldiers as a marching exercise. It was, moreover, necessary in order to occupy the positions which were to cover Washington during the future campaign. It was at Manassas that the garrison of the capital ought to be placed, for it could thence command the whole surrounding country; but this was the extreme scope of the aggressive movement so suddenly undertaken. The enemy had disappeared; and although the smoke of burning bridges behind him still rose above the forest which greets the eye at Manassas Junction, all serious pursuit was impossible. The troops had no means of obtaining supplies; the roads were broken up, and the water courses, swollen by the rains, were no longer practicable.

General Joseph Johnston, who, since the battle of Bull Run, [615] had commanded all the Confederate forces at Manassas in the valley of Virginia and on the Lower Potomac, had conducted the delicate operation which transferred the greatest portion of his army to the new battle-field selected by his adversary with equal ability and success. His own soldiers only learned on the 7th of March, on receiving marching orders, that the evacuation of Manassas had been secretly going on for several weeks. Not a single cannon nor gun-carriage nor projectile had been left in the vast depots the Confederates had established at the intersection of the two railways. With regard to the batteries which blockaded the Potomac, the difficulties were much greater, owing to the distance of the Acquia Creek station; stores, ammunition, and even a few pieces of artillery had to be left behind. In order to keep these objects from falling into the hands of the enemy, the Confederates buried them in the ditches, to which they gave the appearance of newly-dug graves by means of crosses and other devices; but they carried the joke a little too far. The inscriptions which adorned the false graves, invoking, with much affectation, respect for the dead, excited the suspicion of the Yankees, who were not long in discovering the trick.

Leaving Jackson in the valley of Virginia, free to act in accordance with his judgment, Johnston fell back upon the Rappahannock with little less than fifty thousand able-bodied men. Resting his right on Fredericksburg, and taking his left to the rear of the Rapidan, he waited in these positions, destined to become so celebrated at a later day, for McClellan to define his movement either by land or water.

The choice of the Federals had long since been made; and a reconnaissance undertaken by General Stoneman with a brigade of cavalry and a regiment of infantry only served to demonstrate the impossibility of pursuit. Stoneman followed the enemy across a country absolutely destitute of resources, from Manassas to Cedar Creek, exchanging a few musket-shots with the Confederate rear-guard. Menaced by the rapidly swelling streams behind him, he hastened to retrace his steps; and although perfectly unmolested, he had much trouble in bringing back his soldiers, whose provisions were exhausted, to the vicinity of the Federal depots. [616]

In the mean while, politics continued to interfere in military affairs. On the 12th of March a Washington journal published an order of Mr. Lincoln depriving General McClellan of the supreme command of the armies, and limiting his authority to the army of the Potomac. The other armies were to form independent commands, under the immediate control of the President, who claimed the right of directing their collective operations in future. It was through this journal that General McClellan was informed of his removal from the command-in-chief. Mr. Lincoln had not the courage to notify him of the fact, and only signed the order after he had seen him leave Washington to take the field. The general bore this insult with patriotic resignation.

The evacuation of Manassas had changed the relative position of the two armies. On the 13th, McClellan submitted the plan for disembarking on the shore of Fortress Monroe to a council composed of four of his corps commanders, who, on this occasion, adopted it unanimously, provided that there should be nothing to fear from the Virginia, that the transportation should be effected rapidly, that the naval force should co-operate in the attack upon the batteries of York River, and that the garrison of Washington should be sufficiently strong to secure the entire safety of that city. The President confirmed this decision; and the War Department, until then paralyzed by so much indecision, applied at last all its energy to collect the immense materiel requisite for the transportation of the army.

Positive orders were forwarded to Baltimore, Philadelphia, and especially to New York; and the Potomac was soon seen swarming with steamers of every description, from the Transatlantic packets down to flat-bottomed boats intended exclusively for river service. The latter could carry as many as one thousand four hundred men in a single trip, navigation on the tranquil waters of the Chesapeake occupying only from twelve to fifteen hours. They had large barges and tenders in tow for conveying horses and artillery. It was expected that fifty thousand men, with their materiel, could be transported in a single trip; but the flotilla assembled below Washington could scarcely accommodate one-half of that number, which was a new cause of delay in the opening of the campaign. Nevertheless, on the 16th of March, [617] the whole army was massed in the neighborhood of Alexandria, where the embarkation was to take place. Near this city eighteen wooden piers jut out into the waters of the Potomac, many of which have wharf accommodations for three large steamers. The transports come alongside, and the quartermaster on duty immediately telegraphs to headquarters the number of men, horses, and materiel that can be embarked at each wharf. In accordance with this information, General McClellan also transmits orders by telegraph to such and such corps, directing them to repair to the piers whose number he specifies, and in a few hours a whole division is thus embarked without confusion or accident. The steamers are immediately unmoored, actually swarming with human ants, and with scarcely a revolution of their immense wheels suffer themselves to drift down the current like a swimmer who is afraid of fatiguing himself. In their midst may be seen several diminutive steam-tugs, broad and short, constantly in motion, going by twos and threes to give a shoulder lift as it were to some large craft that has run aground, or descending the river with a long string of barges and schooners in tow. At last, on the 18th and 19th, the first division of the army of the Potomac disembarks at Fortress Monroe, the operation having been retarded in consequence of the small number of landing-places to be found about this locality. The second division left Alexandria on the 22d. A little later two divisions could be conveyed at once.

While the army of the Potomac was thus temporarily turning its back upon the enemy, in order to go and attack him on a different ground, the latter, in falling back upon the Rappahannock, entirely destroyed all the lines of railway which separate this river from Washington, thereby debarring himself from every chance of making an aggressive retrograde movement. But the valley of Virginia was occupied by an intrepid soldier, T. J. Jackson, who, since the battle of Bull Run, was only known by the name of Stonewall Jackson. The military genius of this man made ample amends for the eccentricity of his character; his humanity tempered the zeal of his religious enthusiasm, which at times partook of the fanaticism of the old Puritans, while his strict sense of justice and equitable dealings made the most reckless [618] tamely submit to his unbending severity. He had accordingly acquired a prodigious influence over his soldiers, and from the first day he led them into battle, the old professor of chemistry in the military college of Virginia displayed that quickness of perception, that decision, that energy in the execution of his plans, which constitute the true man of war.

Since the battles of which West Virginia had been the theatre at the close of 1861, the Confederates, weakened and discouraged, had made no attempt to recover the ground they had lost in that part of the country. All their forces were concentrated in the Alleghanies; and Lee, having been summoned to Richmond, had been succeeded, in December, in the Shenandoah valley, by Jackson, who was appointed to the command of the so-called army of the Monongahela. Soon after, General Garnett came to join this army with Jackson's old brigade, from which the latter had separated with great reluctance, thus increasing the number of his forces to about ten thousand men. The Confederate general determined to assume the offensive at once. He left Winchester on the 1st of January with Garnett's troops and two brigades commanded by General Loring. The weather was beautiful and mild, and Jackson's soldiers crossed the gorges of the Alleghanies with a firm step, in the hope of surprising the Federal garrison of Bath, a small town situated near the Potomac, on the line of the Ohio Railway. But the next day they were overtaken by a snow-storm; winter, after having long held back, had at last arrived in all its rigor, and surprised them in the midst of a difficult march. They suffered terribly, and only reached Bath to see the Federals, who had received timely warning of their approach, stationed on the other side of the river. Jackson, inflexible of purpose, would not yield to the cold. After destroying the railroad-track, he led his soldiers to Romney, which General Kelly evacuated without waiting for him; and leaving a portion of Loring's troops in this town, he returned to Winchester with the remainder of his army. The soldiers he brought back were exhausted, discouraged, and discontented. The effects of the severe cold had reduced his effective force one-half. The volunteers whose term of service was about to expire no longer obeyed their commanders; those who re-enlisted claimed the right to [619] elect new officers; and as the merits of the candidates were freely discussed, drunkenness and want of discipline prevailed everywhere. Finally, the officers who served under Jackson, encouraged by Loring's example, no longer hesitated to criticise his acts openly. So loud were their complaints that Mr. Davis, imitating the government of Washington, ordered Loring to evacuate Romney without even apprising Jackson of his intention. The latter had need of all his patriotism to continue in the service of those who so poorly appreciated the difficulties of the task they had laid upon him when they entrusted him with the defence of that important section of country.

General McClellan, being desirous to protect the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad from any further attack, had, during the short campaign of Jackson, united all the small bodies of troops scattered along that line, between Hancock and Cheat River, in a single command. These troops, to which were added a few reinforcements, were formed into a division under the orders of General Lander, his personal friend and an extremely brave officer, who had been wounded in a skirmish at Edwards's Ferry a few days after the battle of Ball's Bluff. Lander did not remain inactive. The portion of the railroad most exposed to the enemy was that which follows the right bank of the Potomac between Hancock and Cumberland. It never had been entirely reopened, the section between Hancock and Harper's Ferry being still in the hands of the Confederates. Lander undertook to reconstruct the Cacapon bridge near Bath, and to open the railroad between Cumberland and Hancock, in order to establish a line of communication between the latter point and the borders of the Ohio. With a view of protecting the laborers, he determined to dislodge the Confederate brigade of Carson from the Blooming Gap passes, above the Cacapon valley, whence they could come down at any time and interrupt their work. He arrived on the 14th of February, at daybreak, with five hundred horsemen, at a little village situated at the foot of the passes, where he hoped to surprise a detachment of the enemy. The latter, being warned in time, had retired towards the mountain. Lander followed them; but when he sought to attack the position occupied by the Confederates, his troopers refused to follow him. Then the brave Lander, charging upon [620] the enemy, followed only by his staff, made a rebel colonel prisoner with his own hand. Fortunately for him, he had only a small detachment of Carson's brigade to deal with, the brigade itself having fallen back towards Winchester; and the approach of two regiments of Federal infantry was sufficient to put the Confederates to flight, who, without the arrival of this reinforcement, having fully recovered from their first surprise, would have made Lander pay dear for his audacity. They left in his hands seventy-five prisoners, seventeen of whom were officers. In the mean time, a small body of troops had hoisted the Federal flag at Moorefield, above Romney, among the gorges of the Upper Potomac, and this last town, having been evacuated by Loring, was at once occupied by Lander. Jackson, who attached the greatest importance to its possession, was contemplating its recapture, when his attention was diverted by other duties. Indeed, the arrival of two Federal divisions at Harper's Ferry on the 26th looked like the prelude to a great campaign in the valley of Virginia. McClellan was at Charlestown in person. Jackson brought back his troops to Winchester in great haste. He lingered there for the purpose of watching the movements of the Federals; but at the same time he was preparing to go up the Shenandoah as soon as Johnston should give him the signal; for the evacuation of Manassas, which was then in course of execution, once accomplished, would necessarily involve that of Winchester.

In the mean while, Lander had died; he was succeeded by General Shields, an old regular officer,⁷ who had already distinguished himself in the Mexican campaign, and his division, united to that of Banks, formed the fifth army corps, under command of the latter general. When Johnston evacuated Manassas, Jackson, leaving Winchester, proceeded to Strasburg, thence to Woodstock, and only stopped at Mount Jackson, the terminus of the Manassas Gap Railway, situated on the north branch of the Shenandoah. This movement towards the south was followed by all the small bands operating among the Alleghanies; and the railroad between Cumberland and Hancock being entirely open, Shields proceeded [621] to Winchester with his division, to join the first division of Banks, of which General Williams had assumed the command. Spurred on by his ardor, and encouraged by his chief, who did not much relish the defensive role allotted to him in McClellan's programme, Shields, on the 18th of March, pushed forward in the track of Jackson as far as beyond Strasburg, pressing close upon his rearguard. But he could neither continue this eccentric movement nor remain in the isolated position in which he found himself. Indeed, the army of the Potomac, when it embarked, had left all the care of covering the line of the Potomac, against any demonstration on the part of the enemy, to Banks's corps. The two fine divisions of which it was composed were amply sufficient for this purpose, provided they were exclusively devoted to such service. The division of Williams was to leave Winchester on the 21st for Centreville and Manassas, to replace the troops about to embark at Alexandria. Shields, left alone in the valley of Virginia, was obliged to shut himself up in the lower part of this valley, and on the 20th of March, early in the morning, he left Strasburg, with all his forces, to return the same day to Winchester, which Banks had directed him to hold. Shields knew the ardent temperament of his adversary; and since he could not come up with him in order to attack him, he determined to lay a trap for him, so as to induce him to follow in pursuit, by giving to his retreat the appearance of a precipitate flight. His pickets were suddenly withdrawn; and when, after a long march, his worn-out troops reached Winchester, he hurried them through the town and made them encamp a few kilometres to the north, on the Martinsburg road. On the morning of the 22d Williams's division left Winchester, where there only remained a few companies, and took up its line of march through Berryville, towards the Snicker Gap pass, in the chain of the Blue Ridge. The inhabitants of Winchester, nearly all secessionists, hastened to send word to Ashby's cavalry, which had followed in the wake of the Federals, to let them know that their town was evacuated. This information was immediately forwarded to Jackson by means of signal-fires kindled on the mountain-tops. When Shields saw thick columns of smoke rising above the woods, he understood that his manoeuvre had succeeded, and prepared to receive the enemy on the ground he had [622] selected. Ashby, expecting to find an easy prey in Winchester, did not wait for Jackson, but vigorously attacked the Federal outposts a few kilometres south of the town. In order to hold them in check, without, however, revealing his strength, Shields sent the brigade of Kimball to take position near the village of Kernstown, but only brought two regiments into action, with which Ashby kept skirmishing until night, believing that he had all the available forces of the Federals before him. In placing these two regiments in position, Shields had an arm shattered by a splinter from a shell, but he continued to give his orders without even allowing his wound to be dressed, and on the following day, despite his sufferings, he directed all the movements of his division from his bed.

Jackson had reluctantly abandoned a portion of the Virginia valley and slowly fallen back before an enemy greatly superior in number. As soon as he was apprised of the retreat of the Federals towards Winchester he could not resist the desire to retrace his steps. In the course of a single day, March 2d, he travelled, with his small army, the distance of forty kilometres, which separates Mount Jackson from the borders of Cedar Creek, where he encamped for the night. He had with him the three brigades of Garnett, Burks, and Fulkerstone; Ashby's brigade of cavalry, together with a light battery, was already near Winchester; his artillery consisted of twenty-seven field-pieces; but the infantry was so much reduced that his forces did not amount to more than four thousand two hundred, or four thousand three hundred at the utmost. On the morning of the 23d he resumed his march, having yet nearly forty kilometres to travel before he could reach Winchester.

On the same morning the three brigades of Shields's division took position five kilometres in advance of this town. The turnpike road leading southward divides into three branches on the summit of a hill situated this side of Kernstown village, and sloping down gradually to the edge of a ravine running from west to east. The left branch leads to Front Royal, the right to a ford of Cedar Creek at the foot of North Mountain; the principal road in the centre runs to Strasburg. The country, highly cultivated and intersected with wall fences and small woods, is one of [623] the richest in the valley of Virginia. In the absence of Shields, who was kept in Winchester by his wound, Colonel Kimball had assumed command of the three brigades. His own was drawn up in front across the turnpike road, his right wing extending opposite a wooded hill among the recesses of which the ravine buried itself; still more to the right there were several large stubble-fields. The brigade of Sullivan was drawn up on the left, a little in rear, and Tyler's was massed on the Winchester road. A reconnaissance made in the morning had demonstrated to the Federals that they had only some cavalry and a few pieces of artillery before them; and Banks, convinced that Jackson, when better informed, would not dare to attack his seven or eight thousand men, had just left for Washington when Ashby's artillery opened the fight along the Strasburg road. The latter, having been informed of the near approach of Jackson, and wishing to test the strength of his adversaries, began the attack upon the left wing of the Federals, and soon compelled them to bring a portion of Sullivan's brigade into line. But the remainder of their forces being concealed by a rise in the ground, Ashby still believed that there were only four or five regiments before him, and forwarded this false information to Jackson when the latter reached the village of Kernstown, about two o'clock in the afternoon. The Confederate foot-soldiers were worn out by their long and rapid march, but their commander was in the habit of not considering their fatigue. Believing he has a chance of crushing a detachment of fifteen hundred or two thousand of the enemy's troops, he allows his soldiers but a few moments' rest, and immediately after leads them into action. Fulkerstone, on the left, Garnett, in the centre, and Burks, on the right, are all deployed in a single line of battle, which Jackson leads against the position occupied by Kimball's brigade, leaving to Ashby the care of holding the left wing of the Federals in check. His batteries occupy the wooded hill we have mentioned, and open a murderous fire, to which the Federal artillery, being more exposed, replies with difficulty. Fulkerstone stretches out into the fields which open on his left, and threatens to flank the extremity of the Union line. It is four o'clock. Kimball, in order to parry this danger, summons Tyler's brigade, some of whose regiments take position [624] on his right. The battle rages along the whole line. Garnett, with the celebrated brigade he has the honor of commanding, emerges from the wood along the edge of which the Confederate artillery is posted. Kimball causes his brigade to make an analogous movement, and these two forces, both uncovered, obstinately fire at each other at a distance of two hundred metres. On the right of the Federals, Tyler has not only checked the movement of Fulkerstone's brigade, but outflanks it in his turn; on the left, Sullivan easily keeps Ashby in check, although compelled to send two regiments to support the centre, which is closely pressed.

At this place the two lines are separated by a large stone wall. Each party is endeavoring to take possession of this sheltering parapet; but Garnett, with his Virginians, is the first to reach it. The Eighty-fourth Pennsylvania, led by the brave Colonel Murray, tries to take it from him, and rushes to the charge despite a terrific fire; it arrives within twenty metres of the prize; but Murray is shot dead; his soldiers reel, fall back, and scatter, leaving the ground covered with the dead and wounded.

Jackson has at last discovered his error; but still retaining full confidence in his soldiers, he hopes to be yet able to wrest the victory from an enemy vastly superior in number. But while he brings his last reserves into action, Sullivan's troops and the remainder of Tyler's brigade come into line. Kimball makes one more effort to carry the position occupied by Garnett. His artillery covers the Confederate line with shells, and the second charge succeeds better than the first. The Stonewall brigade, being out of cartridges, abandons the wall it has so well defended. The Federals take possession of it, rush past it, and penetrating the enemy's line threaten to entirely cut off Fulkerstone, who is becoming more and more compromised. It is in vain that Jackson leads his soldiers back to the charge, accustomed as they are to follow him through every danger; he cannot recover the ground lost. A piece of artillery has remained in the enemy's hands, and Fulkerstone, who is falling back in his turn, is also obliged to abandon one; finally, at the extremity of the line, the Federals under Sullivan have assumed the offensive, and are driving Ashby before them, whose guns, falling back farther and farther, [625] announce to Jackson that the turnpike will soon be cut off from him. It is near six o'clock; night comes on, and the Confederates have lost the battle. Jackson lingers among the last combatants, but cannot prevent his soldiers from giving way in every direction before the efforts of the Federals. They fall back while still preserving their ranks, and often facing about to fire, then soon disappear in the darkness, leaving the battle-field covered with their wounded.

The bloody battle of Kernstown, which did honor to the two small armies, cost both parties dear. The Federals had one hundred and three men killed and four hundred and forty-one wounded; the Confederates lost four hundred and seventy-five men in all.

Jackson bivouacked not far from the field of battle. His courage had raised him still higher in the estimation of his troops; but he was inconsolable on account of his reverse and the error that had caused it. He was not, however, in a condition to resume the fight, and on the following day he reached once more the borders of Cedar Creek. On the same day Banks returned to Winchester with a portion of Williams's division, but had no idea of pursuing Jackson. The vigor displayed by the Confederates led him to believe that he had about ten thousand men in front of him. He could not believe that his adversary would have ventured so far without some reinforcement within his reach; and after following him for a few kilometres, he brought back his troops to Winchester, beyond which his instructions did not permit him to go.

Notwithstanding this reverse, Jackson's movement was not without results. It compelled Banks to concentrate once more his two divisions in the valley of the Shenandoah, and to leave the care of defending Manassas to other troops. The Confederate general was thus preluding the operations in which a few months after, and on the same ground, he was to distinguish himself. It was, in fact, by a series of bold moves in the valley of Virginia that Jackson first, and others after him, menaced the Federals and filled the government of Washington with alarms that invariably betrayed it into the adoption of unfortunate measures.

These alarms, as we have observed before, were exhibited at [626] the bare idea of the army of the Potomac contemplating a departure for a theatre of action remote from the capital. General McClellan, although determined to guarantee the safety of Washington as fully as possible, could never come to an understanding with the strategists of the cabinet, whose advice controlled Mr. Lincoln, as to the manner of defending the capital. From the moment that the army of the Potomac concentrated all its available forces upon any given point for the purpose of undertaking some great offensive movement, its detachments and accessory corps had to confine themselves to the strictest defensive everywhere else. When, therefore, this army embarked for Fortress Monroe, all that the home troops had to do was to prevent any aggressive movement of the enemy against Washington or the Maryland frontier. West Virginia, being impracticable for large armies, could take care of herself. In order to close the Virginia valley, to protect the crossings of the Potomac at Harper's Ferry and Williamsport, and to cover the Ohio Railway, it was sufficient to occupy strongly the central position of Winchester. In short, in order to afford entire security to the capital, it was necessary, without counting depots and non-combatants, to establish two strong garrisons, one in the powerful works on the right bank of the Potomac, and the other in the Manassas lines of defences, reconstructed and turned round, so as to cover the approaches to Washington. But no personal or party considerations should have been allowed to interfere with what ought to be the sole and paramount object of war, the destruction of the enemy. There should have been no desire for compromise between men or their different plans of campaign. The satisfaction of occupying the whole country south of Washington should have been foregone for a while longer, and the Confederate guerillas allowed to remain in possession of it.

The President, who, six months before, had suddenly taken away the command of the great department of the Missouri from General Fremont, had just created a new one in West Virginia expressly for him, called ‘the Mountain Department.’ This department had been so curiously marked out that Fremont was unable to find an enemy within its prescribed limits, and yet the President could not withstand the representations of those who [627] were urging him to dismember the army of the Potomac for the purpose of adding unnecessary strength to this new army. Blenker's strong division, composed exclusively of German soldiers or men of German origin, was, for no other reason, taken away from General McClellan on the eve of his departure for Fort Monroe, and transferred to Fremont. General Banks, with his twenty-five thousand men of the fifth corps, was kept in the valley of Virginia by the fears which Jackson and his eight thousand soldiers created in Washington, and the authorities only waited for the departure of McClellan to convert this corps into another independent army. And yet neither Fremont's troops, with no enemy in front of them, nor Blenker's tell thousand men, sent in search of the former, nor Banks's twenty-five thousand, to whom Jackson could only oppose eight thousand soldiers shaken and demoralized by unsuccessful fighting, were considered by the President as forming part of the defenders of Washington. He regarded them as separate armies, destined to wage war on their own account, and desired to provide for the protection of the capital from forces outside their organization.

General McClellan had not foreseen these new military combinations. He thought that, at a time when the entire nation was giving so many proofs of patriotism, those who governed it would be able to resist the influence of idle fears and intriguing ambition. The troops he left behind him on the day of his embarkation, within reach of and ready to defend Washington, amounted to seventy-three thousand four hundred and fifty-six men and one hundred and nine pieces of field-artillery, including Banks's corps and Blenker's division. It is true that out of this number were to be deducted the non-combatants, who always detract from the real strength of a large army. There were nearly three thousand five hundred recruits from New York and Pennsylvania who had not yet left their respective States; and about five thousand men were engaged in keeping guard over the railways. The twenty-two thousand men comprising the garrison of Washington had nearly all recently enlisted, and were quite inexperienced. In short, out of the twenty-nine thousand or thirty thousand men constituting the active forces of Banks and Blenker, from fifteen thousand to eighteen thousand had to be left in the valley of Virginia. [628] Nevertheless, after making all these deductions, it was easy to mass a corps of from twenty thousand to twenty-five thousand well-trained soldiers at Manassas, and to place in second line, in the fortifications of Washington, twenty-five thousand or thirty thousand soldiers, raw, no doubt, but quite able to make a good figure behind a parapet. These were more than were needed to protect the capital until the day when, like an electric cloud which attracts another of an opposite character, the army of the Potomac should have drawn the Confederate army to itself, when all danger to the Federal capital would have ceased. This moment once arrived, Blenker's division could have been removed without inconvenience from Washington, and sent as a reinforcement to Fremont's army.

General McClellan was obliged to submit to the new requirements of the government. On leaving Alexandria the 1st of April for Fortress Monroe, he left eighteen thousand five hundred men as a corps of observation between Manassas and Warrenton, and one thousand five hundred on the Lower Potomac; the garrison of Washington was soon to be raised to eighteen thousand men, with twenty-two pieces of field-artillery. He had not dared to strip the valley of the Shenandoah, where thirty-five thousand men, comprising the reserves, were massed; but these troops, already organized and partly trained, could, at the slightest intimation of danger, be summoned to Washington if the inexperienced soldiers forming its garrison were not deemed sufficient by the military authorities.

The government decided otherwise. The President again committed the wrong of allowing McClellan to depart with assurances which he immediately falsified. While the army of the Potomac was embarking, full of confidence and hope, and happy at being delivered from a long-protracted inaction, many people in Washington still felt, or pretended to feel, seriously alarmed on seeing the capital of the Union thus stripped. It was an easy matter to revive the old objections of the President against the plan which was at last being executed by his orders. There happened to be two generals in whom he reposed the utmost confidence, who declared that, in case of an attack, the garrison of Washington would not be sufficient; and although they had added that the [629] capital was not menaced, Mr. Lincoln determined to ward off this imaginary danger by an act of authority.

On the 3d of April the great operation of transporting the army of the Potomac was considerably advanced, and promised entire success. With the exception of a few belated regiments, no troops remained in the neighborhood of Alexandria but McDowell's corps; but this corps was the finest in the army; it presented an effective force of thirty-eight thousand four hundred and fifty-four soldiers of all arms, well drilled, thoroughly equipped, admirably commanded, divided into three divisions of infantry, four regiments of cavalry, and twelve batteries of artillery. Embarked entire and at once upon transports which had at last been collected in sufficient number, while the remainder of the army was advancing through the peninsula, between the James and the York Rivers, it was to land on the north bank of that arm of the sea, so as to cause the fall of all the defences erected for the purpose of closing its entrance. The fulfilment of the task assigned to this corps was, in the judgment of General Mc-Clellan, indispensable to secure the success of a rapid campaign. Yet just as he was about to embark, McDowell received an order from the President directing him to remain, with all his forces, in the neighborhood of Washington; while a laconic despatch informed McClellan that these troops, for whose arrival he had been waiting so impatiently, were taken from his command. Since the operations had commenced he had thus been deprived of nearly one-third of that army he had formed with so much care, and for the perfect organization of which he had even sacrificed a portion of his popularity.

The government of Washington, by its want of skill, from the outset compromised the success of the decisive campaign for which the patriotic people of the North had begrudged it neither men nor money.

In the next volume the reader will see how dearly this error cost. [630]