CHAPTER TWELVE
LEE AND MCCLELLAN
GENERAL POPE REACHED THE FRONT ON AUGUST 1, 1862.
THE NEW commander’s task was plainly to gain as much ground as he
could without being seriously engaged until McClellan’s army could
return from the James River and join him. Aquia Creek, not far
south of the capital, was appointed for the landing of this army,
and further large reinforcements were moving from Washington,
through Alexandria, and along the railroad. Pope had already forty
thousand men; in six weeks he would have a hundred and fifty
thousand. He was full of energy, and very sanguine. He hoped to
capture both Gordonsville and Charlottesville even before his main
force arrived, and then finish off Richmond.
As soon as Lee saw that McClellan had no further
bite he sent Jackson, in the middle of July, with two divisions
(eleven thousand men) to Gordonsville, and raised him by the end of
the month to twenty-four thousand. This was a lot for Jackson, who
had barely two to one to face. He found Pope’s army moving
hopefully towards him by the three roads which joined at Culpeper.
On August 9 he fell upon General Banks, commanding Pope’s leading
corps, seven miles south of Culpeper, at Cedar Mountain. He used
twenty thousand men against Banks’ nine thousand, drove them from
the field with the loss of a quarter of their number, and left the
rest in no condition to do more than guard the baggage. But before
Culpeper he found himself confronted with the other two corps of
Pope’s army, and in harmony with Lee’s conceptions he fell back to
Gordonsville.
On August 13 Lee learnt that McClellan’s army was
being re-embarked at Fortress Monroe. This was the signal for which
he was waiting. Before this splendid army could make its weight
tell with Pope in Northern Virginia, a period of a month at the
outside, he must win a great battle there. He at once ordered
General James Longstreet with twelve brigades, the bulk of the
Richmond forces, to join Jackson at Gordonsville, and by the
17th he had fifty-five thousand men concentrated in the
woods behind Clark’s Mountain, within striking distance of
Culpeper, where Pope was now established. Pope was unaware of his
peril, and might well have been destroyed. But Lee waited a day to
bring up his cavalry, and in the meantime a Confederate officer was
captured with papers which opened Pope’s eyes. Favoured by the
morning mist, he retreated forthwith behind the Rappahannock. Lee’s
first right-handed clutch had failed. He now scooped with the left
hand. Jackson crossed the Upper Rappahannock by Sulphur Springs.
But the river rose after his first brigade was over, and a second
time Pope was saved.
Lee now knew that his brief period of superiority
had passed, and that he must expect, in a week or ten days,
overwhelming forces to be massed against him. He knew that the
leading divisions of McClellan’s former army were already ashore at
Aquia Creek. How could the Army of Northern Virginia cope with a
hundred and fifty thousand men, once they were concentrated? He
therefore resolved with Jackson upon a daring and, since it was
successful, brilliant manœuvre. In the face of a superior and
rapidly growing enemy he divided his army. Before dawn on August 25
Jackson began another of his famous marches. With twenty thousand
men, after covering twenty-six miles, he reached Salem, far behind
Pope’s right flank, and the next day by another twenty-five-mile
march through Thoroughfare Gap in the hills he cut the
Alexandria-Orange railway, upon which Pope depended for his
supplies, a few miles south of Manassas Junction. On the
27th he seized the junction. Here the whole supply of
Pope’s army was heaped. Food, equipment, stores of every kind,
dazzling to the pinched Confederates, fell into his hands. He set
guards upon the liquor and let his men take what they could carry.
Most of them reclothed themselves. But this booty might be bought
at a fatal price. On every side superior Federal forces lay or were
approaching. The cutting of Pope’s communications was an incident
and not the aim of Jackson and his chief. Nothing short of a great
battle won was of any use to them. He therefore delivered the
junction and its depot to the flames. Looking northwards, Pope
perceived the night sky reddened by the immense conflagration. It
was Jackson’s part to keep him puzzled and occupied till Lee could
come round with Longstreet and the main army and join him.
There was now no danger of Pope marching on towards
Richmond. He was hamstrung. He must retreat. But with the great
forces arriving by every road to join him he would still have a
large preponderance. He might even close Thoroughfare Gap to Lee
and the rest of the Confederate Army. It was a dire hazard of war.
Jackson withdrew from Manassas Junction northward into the woods by
Sudley Springs. Pope, believing that he had him in his grip at the
Junction, marched upon it from every quarter. The Junction was
found in ashes and empty. During the 28th neither side
knew all that was happening; but Jackson was aware that Longstreet
was thrusting through Thoroughfare Gap with Lee and the main
Confederate Army. Pope’s orders to his disjointed army were to
annihilate Jackson, now located south of Sudley Springs, and for
this purpose he set seventy thousand men in motion. He thought only
of Jackson. He seemed to have forgotten Longstreet and Lee, who
were already massing into line on Jackson’s right.
On August 30 began the Second Battle of Bull Run,
or Manassas. With great bravery fifty-three thousand Federals in
five successive assaults grappled in the open field with Jackson’s
twenty thousand. To and fro the struggle swayed, with equal
slaughter. Longstreet, already in line, but still unperceived, was
painfully slow in coming into action. He always wished to look
before he leapt; and this sound maxim was far below the level of
the event. He was a great war-horse, and Lee would not press him
beyond a certain point. On the first day of the Second Manassas
Jackson bore the whole brunt alone. As evening came, when his last
reserves had delivered their counter-attack, a clergyman with whom
he was friendly expressed his fears for the thin-worn Confederate
left. “Stonewall,” measuring the struggle from minute to minute,
took one long look at the field and said, “They have done their
worst.”

Battle was renewed at dawn on the 31st.
Pope had received the support of two new corps, marching up from
Aquia. Still unconscious of Longstreet’s presence, he ordered the
ill-starred General, Porter, to turn Jackson’s right, and Porter’s
troops responded loyally. But now Longstreet, massive once he was
in action, threw in the main weight of the Confederate Army. Pope’s
array was ruptured. On a four-mile front the new, unexpected
Confederate Army debouched magnificently from the woods. The two
corps of Pope’s left, outnumbered and outflanked, retreated.
Porter, enveloped, was overwhelmed, and subsequently victimised by
court-martial. Although even at the end of the day Pope commanded
70,000 faithful men, he had no thought but to seek shelter behind
the Washington entrenchments, into which he also carried with him a
final reinforcement of 10,000 men which reached him during the
night. Lee had captured thirty guns, 20,000 precious rifles, and
7,000 prisoners, and had killed and wounded 13,500 Federals, at a
total cost to the Confederacy of 10,000 men. He had utterly
defeated 75,000 Union troops with less than 55,000 in his own hand.
It was exactly four months since President Davis had given him
command. Then McClellan was within five miles of Richmond. Now
Lee’s outposts were within twenty miles of Washington. In this
decisive manner the tables were turned.

Ill-treatment was meted out to General McClellan
by the Washington politicians and Cabinet, with the cautious,
pliant General Halleck as their tool. For this Lincoln cannot
escape blame. He wanted an aggressive General who would
energetically seek out Lee and beat him. McClellan for all his
qualities of leadership lacked the final ounces of fighting spirit.
Lincoln with his shrewd judgment of men knew this. But he also knew
that McClellan was probably the ablest commander available to him.
His instinct had been to stand by his chosen General. Instead he
had yielded to political outcry. He had swapped horses in
mid-stream. He found he had got a poorer mount. As the different
corps of McClellan’s army were landed at Aquia they were hurried
off to join Pope, until McClellan had not even his own personal
escort with him. Yet he was never removed from the command of the
Army of Virginia, which had been renamed the Army of the Potomac.
He made voluble and justified complaints, to which no attention was
paid. But on September 2, when Pope and his beaten army seemed
about to collapse upon Washington, and panic lapped around the
President, a different attitude was shown. While McClellan was
breakfasting that morning he was visited by the President and the
General-in-Chief. Halleck declared that Washington was lost, and
offered McClellan the command of all the forces. The flouted
commander at once undertook to save the city. As he had never been
dismissed officially, he was never reappointed. He had been
deprived of all his troops; they were now restored. History has
never allowed McClellan to rise above the level of competent and
courageous mediocrity; but it must not be forgotten that when he
rode out to meet the retreating army they received him with frantic
enthusiasm. The long, jaded, humiliated columns of brave men who
had been so shamefully mishandled broke their ranks and almost
dragged their restored commander from the saddle. The soldiers
embraced and kissed his horse’s legs. Thus fortified, McClellan
restored order to the army and turned its face again to the
foe.
Lee, after the second Confederate victory at
Manassas, did what ought to have been done after the first. He
invaded Maryland to give that state a chance to come over, if it
still would or could. Always seeking the decisive and final battle
which he knew could alone save the Confederacy, he marched north by
Leesburg, crossed the Potomac, and arrived in the neighbourhood of
Frederick, abreast of Baltimore. He knew he had never the slightest
chance of taking Washington; but there were prizes to be won in the
open field. Three Federal garrisons occupied Martinsburg,
Winchester, and Harpers Ferry, in the Shenandoah valley. At Harpers
Ferry there was a great Union depot of supply. In the three places
there were over fifteen thousand men. Halleck had refused to
withdraw them while time remained. They became a substantial
objective to Lee, and his design was to capture Harpers Ferry, into
which the two smaller garrisons withdrew. Accordingly he marched
west from Frederick through the range of hills called the South
Mountains, sent Jackson looping out by Martinsburg, and on
September 13 closed down on Harpers Ferry from all sides.
The Washington politicians, in their hour of panic,
had clung to McClellan. They did not mean to sink with him. He was
originally given orders only to defend the Washington
fortifications. However, on his own responsibility, or, so he later
claimed, “with a rope round his neck,” he took charge of his old
army, quitted “the Washington defences,” and set out after Lee,
whom he outnumbered by two to one. McClellan’s account of this
episode is widely contested, for in fact Lincoln discussed with him
the Army’s movement into Maryland and verbally gave him “command of
the forces in the field” as well as around the capital. McClellan’s
political prejudices may well have coloured his memory. He had
reason to feel aggrieved. His innumerable critics in high places
never ceased to harry him. Their attitude to the commander in the
field at this juncture was dishonouring to them.
McClellan, hoping to save Harpers Ferry, now
started after Lee with nearly ninety thousand men, including two
fine corps that had not yet suffered at all. By a stroke of luck a
Northern private soldier picked up three cigars wrapped in a piece
of paper which was in fact a copy of Lee’s most secret orders.
McClellan learned on the 13th that Lee had divided his
army and that the bulk of it was closing on Harpers Ferry. He
therefore advanced with very good assurance to attack him.
Everything now became a matter of hours. Could Jackson, Walner, and
McLaws capture Harpers Ferry before Lee was beaten in the passes of
the South Mountains?
McClellan wasted many of these precious hours. But
considering that members of the Government behind him could only
gape and gibber and that his political foes were avid of a chance
to bring him to ruin it is not surprising that he acted with a
double dose of his habitual caution. By overwhelming forces Lee was
beaten back from the two gaps in the South Mountain range on the
14th. He now had to take a great decision. At first he
thought to gather his spoils and laurels and re-cross the Potomac
into Virginia. But later, feeling that nothing but victory would
suffice, he resolved to give battle behind the Antietam stream,
with his back to the Potomac, believing that Jackson would capture
Harpers Ferry in the meanwhile and rejoin him in time.
Harpers Ferry surrendered early on the
15th. Seventy-three guns, thirteen thousand rifles, and
twelve thousand five hundred prisoners were gathered by Jackson’s
officers. He was himself already marching all through the afternoon
and night to join Lee, who stood with but twenty thousand men
against the vast approaching mass of McClellan. This worthy general
was unable to free himself from the Washington obsession. Had he
been as great a soldier or as great a man as Lee he would have
staked all on the battle. But he could not free his mind from the
cowardly and personally malignant political forces behind him. To
make sure of not running undue risks, he lost a day, and failed to
win the battle.
It was not till the 17th that he
attacked. By this time Jackson had arrived and was posted on Lee’s
left, and the rest of the Confederate divisions, having cleaned up
Harpers Ferry, were striding along to the new encounter. Lee fought
with his back to the Potomac, and could scarcely, if defeated, have
escaped across its single bridge by Sharpsburg. This horrible
battle was the acme of Federal mismanagement. McClellan, after
riding down the line, fought it from his headquarters on what was
called “the Commander-in-Chief idea.” This meant that he made his
dispositions and left the battle to fight itself. But Jackson stood
in the line, and Lee rode his horse about the field controlling the
storm, as Marlborough, Frederick the Great, and Napoleon were wont
to do. The Confederate left, under Jackson, was practically
destroyed, but only after ruining double their numbers, two whole
corps of the Federal Army. All here came to a standstill, till
Jackson was reinforced by Lee from his hard-pressed right and
centre. The Union centre then attacked piecemeal, and their leading
division was torn to pieces, half falling smitten. Burnside, who
with the Union left was to cross the Antietam and cut Lee’s line of
retreat, would have succeeded but for the arrival of Lee’s last
division, under A. P. Hill, from Harpers Ferry. Striking the right
flank of the assailants from an unexpected direction, he ended this
menace; and night fell upon a drawn battle, in which the Federals
had lost thirteen thousand men, a fourth of the troops they engaged
and one-sixth of those they had on the field, and the Confederacy
nine thousand, which was about a quarter.
When darkness fell Lee faced his great lieutenants.
Without exception they advised immediate retreat across the
Potomac. Even Jackson, unconquerable in action, thought this would
be wise. But Lee, who still hoped to gain his indisputable,
decisive battle, after hearing all opinions, declared his resolve
to stand his ground. Therefore the shattered Confederates faced the
morning light and the huge array of valiant soldiers who seemed
about to overwhelm them. But McClellan had had enough. He lay
still. Before the slightest reproach can fall on him the shabby War
Department behind him must shoulder their share. There was no
fighting on the 18th. Lee put it hard across Jackson to
take the offensive; but when Jackson, after personal reconnaissance
with the artillery commander, declared it impossible Lee accepted
this sagacious judgment, and his first invasion of Maryland came to
an end.
War had never reached such an intensity of moral
and physical forces focused upon decisive points as in this
campaign of 1862. The number of battles that were fought and their
desperate, bloody character far surpassed any events in which
Napoleon ever moved. From June 1, when Lee was given the command,
the Army of Northern Virginia fought seven ferocious battles—the
Seven Days, Cedar Run, the Second Manassas, South Mountain, Harpers
Ferry, the Antietam, and later Fredericksburg—in as many months.
Lee very rarely had three-quarters, and several times only half,
the strength of his opponents. These brave Northerners were
certainly hampered by a woeful political direction, but, on the
other side, the Confederates were short of weapons, ammunition,
food, equipment, clothes, and boots. It was even said that their
line of march could be traced by the bloodstained footprints of
unshod men. But the Army of Northern Virginia “carried the
Confederacy on its bayonets” and made a struggle unsurpassed in
history.

Lincoln had hoped for a signal victory. McClellan
at the Antietam presented him with a partial though important
success. But the President’s faith in the Union cause was never
dimmed by disappointments. He was much beset by anxieties, which
led him to cross-examine his commanders as if he were still a
prosecuting attorney. The Generals did not relish it. But Lincoln’s
popularity with the troops stood high. They put their trust in him.
They could have no knowledge of the relentless political pressures
in Washington to which he was subjected. They had a sense however
of his natural resolution and generosity of character. He had to
draw deeply on these qualities in his work at the White House.
Through his office flowed a stream of politicians, newspaper
editors, and other men of influence. Most of them clamoured for
quick victory, with no conception of the hazards of war. Many of
them cherished their own amateur plans of operation which they
confidently urged upon their leader. Many of them too had favourite
Generals for whom they canvassed. Lincoln treated all his visitors
with patience and firmness. His homely humour stood him in good
stead. A sense of irony helped to lighten his burdens. In tense
moments a dry joke relieved his feelings. At the same time his
spirit was sustained by a deepening belief in Providence. When the
toll of war rose steeply and plans went wrong he appealed for
strength in his inmost thoughts to a power higher than man’s.
Strength was certainly given him. It is sometimes necessary at the
summit of authority to bear with the intrigues of disloyal
colleagues, to remain calm when others panic, and to withstand
misguided popular outcries. All this Lincoln did. Personal troubles
also befell him. One of his beloved sons died in the White House.
Mrs Lincoln, though devoted to her husband, had a taste for
extravagance and for politics which sometimes gave rise to wounding
comment. As the war drew on Lincoln became more and more gaunt and
the furrows on his cheeks and brow bit deep. Fortitude was written
on his countenance.
The Antietam and the withdrawal of Lee into
Virginia gave the President an opportunity to take a momentous
step. He proclaimed the emancipation of all the slaves in the
insurgent states. The impression produced in France and Britain by
Lee’s spirited and resolute operations, with their successive great
battles, either victorious or drawn, made the Washington Cabinet
fearful of mediation, to be followed, if rejected, by recognition
of the Confederacy. The North was discouraged by disastrous and
futile losses and by the sense of being out-generalled. Recruitment
fell off and desertion was rife. Many urged peace, and others asked
whether the Union was worthy of this slaughter, if slavery was to
be maintained. By casting down this final challenge and raising the
war to the level of a moral crusade Lincoln hoped to rally British
public opinion to the Union cause and raise a new enthusiasm among
his own fellow-countrymen.
It was a move he had long considered. Even since
the beginning of the war the Radicals had been pressing for the
total abolition of slavery. Lincoln had misgivings about the
effects on the slave-owning states of the border which had remained
loyal. He insisted that the sole object of the war was to preserve
the Union. As he wrote to the New York publisher, Horace Greeley,
“My paramount object is to save the Union, and is not either to
save or to destroy slavery. . . . What I do about slavery and the
coloured race, I do because it helps to save the Union; and what I
forbear, I forbear because I do not believe it would help to save
the Union.” Meanwhile he was meditating on the timing of his
Proclamation and on the constitutional difficulties that stood in
the way. He believed he had no power to interfere with slavery in
the border states. He felt his Proclamation could be legally
justified only as a military measure, issued in virtue of his
office as Commander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy. Its intention
was to deprive the Confederacy of a source of its strength. When
the Proclamation was published, with effect from January
1st, 1863, it therefore applied only to the rebel
states. Slavery in the rest of the Union was not finally abolished
until the passing of the Thirteenth Amendment in December 1865. In
the South the Proclamation only came into force as the Federal
armies advanced. Nor were the broader results all that Lincoln had
hoped. In Britain it was not understood why he had not declared
Abolition outright. A political manœuvre on his part was suspected.
In America itself the war assumed an implacable character, offering
to the South no alternative but subjugation. The Democratic Party
in the North was wholly opposed to the Emancipation Edict. In the
Federal armies it was unpopular, and General McClellan, who might
be expected to become the Democratic candidate for the Presidency,
had two months earlier sent Lincoln a solemn warning against such
an action. At the Congressional elections in the autumn of 1862 the
Republicans lost ground. Many Northerners thought that the
President had gone too far, others that he had not gone far enough.
Great, judicious, and well-considered steps are thus sometimes at
first received with public incomprehension.
The relations between the Washington Government and
its General remained deplorable. McClellan might fairly claim to
have rendered them an immense service after the panic at Manassas.
He had revived the Army, led it to the field, and cleared Maryland.
For all the Government knew, he had saved the capital. In fact he
had done more. Lord Palmerston in England had decided that summer
on mediation. News of the Antietam made him hesitate. This averted
the danger to the North that the Confederacy would be recognised by
the Powers of Europe. But it was not immediately apparent in the
Union. Gladstone, Chancellor of the Exchequer in Palmerston’s
Government, delivered a speech at Newcastle in the autumn which
enraged Northern opinion. He said: “We know quite well that the
people of the Northern states have not yet drunk of the cup—they
are still trying to hold it from their lips—which all the world
sees they nevertheless must drink of. We may have our own opinions
about slavery, we may be for or against the South, but there is no
doubt that Jefferson Davis and other leaders of the South have made
an Army; they are making, it appears, a Navy; and they have made
what is more than either, they have made a Nation.” Gladstone had
not been informed that Palmerston had changed his mind.
Meanwhile between the politicians and the
Commander-in-Chief upon the Potomac there was hatred and scorn on
both sides. Bitter party politics aggravated military divergence.
The President desired a prompt and vigorous advance. McClellan, as
usual, magnified Confederate numbers and underrated their grievous
losses. He was determined to run no unmilitary risks for a
Government which he knew was eager to stab him in the back. Five
weeks passed after the battle before he began to cross the Potomac
in leisurely fashion and move forward from Harpers Ferry to
Warrenton.
Lee withdrew by easy marches up the Shenandoah
valley. He had sent “Jeb” Stuart on his second romantic ride round
McClellan in mid-October, had harried the Federal communications
and acquired much valuable information. He now did not hesitate to
divide his army in the face of McClellan’s great hosts. He left
Jackson in the valley to keep Washington on tenterhooks, and rested
himself with Longstreet, near Culpeper Court House. If pressed he
could fall back to Gordonsville, where he judged Jackson could join
him in time. McClellan however had now at length prepared his blow.
He planned to strike Lee with overwhelming strength before Jackson
could return. At this moment he was himself taken in rear by
President Lincoln. On the night of November 7, 1862, he was ordered
to hand over his command to General Burnside, and at the same time
Porter, his most competent subordinate, was placed under arrest.
The Government had used these men in their desperation. They now
felt strong enough to strike them down. McClellan was against the
abolition of slavery, and he never changed his view. The dominant
Radical wing of the Republican Party was out for his blood. They
were convinced that McClellan would never set himself to gain a
crushing victory. They suspected him of tender feelings for the
South and a desire for a negotiated peace. They also feared that
the General would prove to be a potent Democratic candidate for the
Presidency. Lincoln allowed himself to be persuaded by the Radical
Republicans that McClellan had become a liability to his
Government. He had long stood up for his commander against the
attacks and whisperings of the politicians. Now he felt he must
give way. But it was without animosity, for that viper was never
harboured in Lincoln’s breast.
There was almost a mutiny in the Union Army when
McClellan’s dismissal was known. He himself acted with perfect
propriety, and used all his influence to place his successor in the
saddle. He was never employed again. Thus the General who, as Lee
after the war told his youngest son, was by far the best of his
opponents disappeared from command. No one can be blind to
McClellan’s limitations, but he was learning continually from his
collisions with Lee and Jackson. His removal was a wrong done to
the Union Army, which never gave its love to any other leader.
There remained for McClellan a vivid political struggle where
numbers, which alone count in such affairs, were found upon the
other side. General Porter, although he had rendered good service
in the intervening Maryland campaign, was tried by court-martial
for his conduct at the Second Manassas, condemned, and dismissed
from the United States Army. This injustice was repaired after the
lapse of years. A re-trial was ordered and he received honourable
acquittal.
We have seen several times in this obstinate war
President Lincoln pressing for battle and for frontal attack. “On
to Richmond” was his mood; and now at last in Burnside he had found
a General who would butt straight at the barrier. Burnside, a
charming personality, but a thoroughly bad General, was, to his
honour, most reluctant to take command. Once in charge he followed
a simple plan. He chose the shortest road which led on the map to
Richmond, and concentrated his army along it upon the crossing of
the Rappahannock at Fredericksburg.
He took a fortnight in order to do this as well as
possible. Meanwhile Lee brought in Jackson and other
reinforcements. Hitherto Lee had always fought in the open field;
even against the heavy odds of the Antietam he had not used the
spade. He now applied the fortnight accorded him to fortify his
position above Fredericksburg with every then-known device.
Breastworks revetted with logs and stone walls covered by solid
earth were prepared. Nearly a hundred and fifty cannon were
comfortably sited. Rifle-pits abounded, and good lateral roads were
cut through the scrubby forest behind the line. On December 11
Burnside occupied Fredericksburg, crossed the river with a large
part of his army, and deployed for battle. He had a hundred and
eighteen thousand men, against Lee’s eighty thousand. On the
13th he delivered his assault. He attacked both the
Confederate left wing and its right piecemeal. Then he attacked in
the centre. The Northern soldiers showed an intense devotion.
Brigade after brigade, division after division, they charged up the
slopes under a murderous fire. As evening fell the Union army
recoiled with a loss of nearly thirteen thousand men. The
Confederate casualties, mostly in Jackson’s command, were under six
thousand. Burnside, who now thought chiefly of dying at the head of
his troops, wished to renew the battle next day. He was restrained
by universal opinion at the front and at the capital; and soon
after was superseded in chief command by one of his lieutenants,
General Joseph Hooker.
Lee had not wished to fight at Fredericksburg at
all. The Federal Army was so near its salt-water base at Aquia
Creek that no counter-stroke was possible. He had advised President
Davis to let him meet Burnside thirty miles back on the North Anna
River, where there was room for him to use Jackson and Stuart in
terrible revenge upon the communications of a repulsed army. But
although Davis’ relations with the Confederate Generals were on a
high plane he had hampered his champion most sadly, cramping him
down to a strict defensive, and thus the shattering blow of
Fredericksburg had no lasting consequences. If these two Presidents
had let McClellan and Lee fight the quarrel out between them as
they thought best the end would have been the same, but the war
would have been less muddled, much shorter, and less bloody.

In the West nothing decisive had happened up till
the end of 1862. By November General Joseph E. Johnston, having
recovered from the wounds he got at Seven Pines, was appointed to
the chief Confederate command in this theatre, but with only a
partial authority over its various armies. In Tennessee General
Bragg, with forty-four thousand men in the neighbourhood of
Murfreesboro, faced the Federal General William S. Rosecrans, who
had forty-seven thousand. General J. C. Pemberton, who commanded
the department of the Mississippi, had a field army of about thirty
thousand men, apart from the garrisons of Vicksburg and Port
Hudson. Lastly, still farther west, in Arkansas, the Confederate
General Holmes was encamped near Little Rock with an army raised in
that state of fifty thousand men, against whom there were now no
active Federal forces. When it was evident that Grant was preparing
for the invasion of Mississippi and an attack upon Vicksburg
Johnston urged that the Arkansas army should cross the Mississippi
and join Pemberton. This would have secured a Confederate
superiority. Jefferson Davis vetoed this desirable, and indeed
imperative, measure. He knew the violent hostility which an order
to the Arkansas forces to serve east of the Mississippi would
excite throughout the Western states. No doubt this objection was
substantial; but the alternative was disastrous. The President
insisted instead that Bragg should send ten thousand men from
Chattanooga to strengthen Pemberton in defending Vicksburg. This
was accordingly done.
Early in December Grant made a renewed attempt
against Vicksburg, sending General Sherman from Memphis, with about
thirty thousand men, and Admiral Porter’s Naval Squadron, to enter
the Yazoo River and occupy the heights to the north of the city.
Sherman assaulted the Confederate defences at Chickasaw Bluff on
December 29, and in less than an hour was repulsed with the loss of
nearly two thousand men, the Confederates losing only a hundred and
fifty. He consoled himself with ascending the Arkansas River and
capturing a garrison of five thousand Confederates at Arkansas
Post. Meanwhile the weakening of Bragg’s army in Tennessee brought
about, on the last day of the year, a severe battle at
Murfreesboro, in which the greatest bravery was displayed by both
sides. The Federals, under Rosecrans, lost over nine thousand
killed and wounded, as well as nearly four thousand prisoners and
twenty-eight guns. But for this Bragg paid over ten thousand men.
The Federal hold on Tennessee and its capital Nashville was
unshaken. Bragg withdrew his disappointed troops into winter
quarters covering Chattanooga.
The armies in the different states still confronted
each other on fairly equal terms, and although the Union Navy
declared its ability to run the gauntlet of the Confederate
batteries when required the great riverway remained barred to
Federal transports and traffic. Murfreesboro gave the impression of
a drawn battle, and Chickasaw Bluff was an undoubted Confederate
success. But now there was to be a profound change in the
balance.