<h2><SPAN name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></SPAN>XXVI</h2>
<br/>
<p><i>Burnside—Fredericksburg—A Tangle of
Cross-Purposes—Hooker Succeeds Burnside—Lincoln to
Hooker—Chancellorsville—Lee's Second
Invasion—Lincoln's Criticisms of Hooker's Plans—Hooker
Relieved—Meade—Gettysburg—Lee's
Retreat—Lincoln's Letter to Meade—Lincoln's Gettysburg
Address—Autumn Strategy—The Armies go into Winter
Quarters</i></p>
<br/>
<br/>
<p>It was not without well-meditated reasons that Mr. Lincoln had
so long kept McClellan in command of the Army of the Potomac. He
perfectly understood that general's defects, his want of
initiative, his hesitations, his delays, his never-ending
complaints. But he had long foreseen the difficulty which would and
did immediately arise when, on November 5, 1862, he removed him
from command. Whom should he appoint as McClellan's successor? What
officer would be willing and competent to play a better part? That
important question had also long been considered; several promising
generals had been consulted, who, as gracefully as they could,
shrank from the responsibility even before it was formally offered
them.</p>
<p>The President finally appointed General Ambrose E. Burnside to
the command. He was a West Point graduate, thirty-eight years old,
of handsome presence, brave and generous to a fault, and
McClellan's intimate friend. He had won a favorable reputation in
leading the expedition against Roanoke Island and the North
Carolina coast; and, called to reinforce<SPAN name="page364" id="page364"></SPAN>McClellan
after the Peninsula disaster, commanded the left wing of the Army
of the Potomac at Antietam. He was not covetous of the honor now
given him. He had already twice declined it, and only now accepted
the command as a duty under the urgent advice of members of his
staff. His instincts were better than the judgment of his friends.
A few brief weeks sufficed to demonstrate what he had told
them—that he "was not competent to command such a large
army."</p>
<p>The very beginning of his work proved the truth of his
self-criticism. Rejecting all the plans of campaign which were
suggested to him, he found himself incapable of forming any very
plausible or consistent one of his own. As a first move he
concentrated his army opposite the town of Fredericksburg on the
lower Rappahannock, but with such delays that General Lee had time
to seize and strongly fortify the town and the important adjacent
heights on the south bank; and when Burnside's army crossed on
December 11, and made its main and direct attack on the formidable
and practically impregnable Confederate intrenchments on the
thirteenth, a crushing repulse and defeat of the Union forces, with
a loss of over ten thousand killed and wounded, was the quick and
direful result.</p>
<p>It was in a spirit of stubborn determination rather than clear,
calculating courage that he renewed his orders for an attack on the
fourteenth; but, dissuaded by his division and corps commanders
from the rash experiment, succeeded without further damage in
withdrawing his forces on the night of the fifteenth to their old
camps north of the river. In manly words his report of the
unfortunate battle gave generous praise to his officers and men,
and assumed for himself all the responsibility for the attack and
its failure. But its secondary consequences soon became
<SPAN name="page365" id="page365"></SPAN> irremediable. By that gloomy disaster Burnside
almost completely lost the confidence of his officers and men, and
rumors soon came to the President that a spirit akin to mutiny
pervaded the army. When information came that, on the day after
Christmas, Burnside was preparing for a new campaign, the President
telegraphed him:</p>
<p>"I have good reason for saying you must not make a general
movement of the army without letting me know."</p>
<p>This, naturally, brought Burnside to the President for
explanation, and, after a frank and full discussion between them,
Mr. Lincoln, on New Year's day, wrote the following letter to
General Halleck:</p>
<p>"General Burnside wishes to cross the Rappahannock with his
army, but his grand division commanders all oppose the movement. If
in such a difficulty as this you do not help, you fail me precisely
in the point for which I sought your assistance. You know what
General Burnside's plan is, and it is my wish that you go with him
to the ground, examine it as far as practicable, confer with the
officers, getting their judgment and ascertaining their temper; in
a word, gather all the elements for forming a judgment of your own,
and then tell General Burnside that you do approve, or that you do
not approve, his plan. Your military skill is useless to me if you
will not do this."</p>
<p>Halleck's moral and official courage, however, failed the
President in this emergency. He declined to give his military
opinion, and asked to be relieved from further duties as
general-in-chief. This left Mr. Lincoln no option, and still having
need of the advice of his general-in-chief on other questions, he
indorsed on his own letter, "withdrawn because considered harsh by
General Halleck." The complication, however, <SPAN name="page366" id="page366"></SPAN>continued
to grow worse, and the correspondence more strained. Burnside
declared that the country had lost confidence in both the Secretary
of War and the general-in-chief; also, that his own generals were
unanimously opposed to again crossing the Rappahannock. Halleck, on
the contrary, urged another crossing, but that it must be made on
Burnside's own decision, plan, and responsibility. Upon this the
President, on January 8, 1863, again wrote Burnside:</p>
<p>"I understand General Halleck has sent you a letter of which
this is a copy. I approve this letter. I deplore the want of
concurrence with you in opinion by your general officers, but I do
not see the remedy. Be cautious, and do not understand that the
government or country is driving you. I do not yet see how I could
profit by changing the command of the Army of the Potomac; and if I
did, I should not wish to do it by accepting the resignation of
your commission."</p>
<p>Once more Burnside issued orders against which his generals
protested, and which a storm turned into the fruitless and
impossible "mud march" before he reached the intended crossings of
the Rappahannock. Finally, on January 23, Burnside presented to the
President the alternative of either approving an order dismissing
about a dozen generals, or accepting his own resignation, and Mr.
Lincoln once more had before him the difficult task of finding a
new commander for the Army of the Potomac. On January 25, 1863, the
President relieved Burnside and assigned Major-General Joseph
Hooker to duty as his successor; and in explanation of his action
wrote him the following characteristic letter:</p>
<p>"I have placed you at the head of the Army of the Potomac. Of
course I have done this upon what appear to me to be sufficient
reasons, and yet I think it <SPAN name="page367" id="page367"></SPAN>best for you to know that there are
some things in regard to which I am not quite satisfied with you. I
believe you to be a brave and skilful soldier, which, of course, I
like. I also believe you do not mix politics with your profession,
in which you are right. You have confidence in yourself, which is a
valuable, if not an indispensable quality. You are ambitious,
which, within reasonable bounds, does good rather than harm; but I
think that during General Burnside's command of the army you have
taken counsel of your ambition and thwarted him as much as you
could, in which you did a great wrong to the country, and to a most
meritorious and honorable brother officer. I have heard, in such a
way as to believe it, of your recently saying that both the army
and the government needed a dictator. Of course it was not for
this, but in spite of it, that I have given you the command. Only
those generals who gain successes can set up dictators. What I now
ask of you is military success, and I will risk the dictatorship.
The government will support you to the utmost of its ability, which
is neither more nor less than it has done and will do for all
commanders. I much fear that the spirit which you have aided to
infuse into the army, of criticizing their commander and
withholding confidence from him, will now turn upon you. I shall
assist you as far as I can to put it down. Neither you nor
Napoleon, if he were alive again, could get any good out of an army
while such a spirit prevails in it; and now beware of rashness.
Beware of rashness, but with energy and sleepless vigilance go
forward and give us victories."</p>
<p>Perhaps the most remarkable thing in this letter is the evidence
it gives how completely the genius of President Lincoln had by
this, the middle of his presidential <SPAN name="page368" id="page368"></SPAN>term, risen to the full
height of his great national duties and responsibilities. From
beginning to end it speaks the language and breathes the spirit of
the great ruler, secure in popular confidence and official
authority, equal to the great emergencies that successively rose
before him. Upon General Hooker its courteous praise and frank
rebuke, its generous trust and distinct note of fatherly warning,
made a profound impression. He strove worthily to redeem his past
indiscretions by devoting himself with great zeal and energy to
improving the discipline and morale of his army, recalling its
absentees, and restoring its spirit by increased drill and renewed
activity. He kept the President well informed of what he was doing,
and early in April submitted a plan of campaign on which Mr.
Lincoln indorsed, on the eleventh of that month:</p>
<p>"My opinion is that just now, with the enemy directly ahead of
us, there is no eligible route for us into Richmond; and
consequently a question of preference between the Rappahannock
route and the James River route is a contest about nothing. Hence,
our prime object is the enemy's army in front of us, and is not
with or about Richmond at all, unless it be incidental to the main
object."</p>
<p>Having raised his effective force to about one hundred and
thirty thousand men, and learning that Lee's army was weakened by
detachments to perhaps half that number, Hooker, near the end of
the month, prepared and executed a bold movement which for a while
was attended with encouraging progress. Sending General Sedgwick
with three army corps to make a strong demonstration and crossing
below Fredericksburg, Hooker with his remaining four corps made a
somewhat long and circuitous march by which he crossed both the
Rappahannock and the Rapidan above <SPAN name="page369" id="page369"></SPAN>the town without serious
opposition, and on the evening of April 30 had his four corps at
Chancellorsville, south of the Rappahannock, from whence he could
advance against the rear of the enemy. But his advantage of
position was neutralized by the difficulties of the ground. He was
in the dense and tangled forest known as the Wilderness, and the
decision and energy of his brilliant and successful advance were
suddenly succeeded by a spirit of hesitation and delay in which the
evident and acknowledged chances of victory were gradually lost.
The enemy found time to rally from his surprise and astonishment,
to gather a strong line of defense, and finally, to organize a
counter flank movement under Stonewall Jackson, which fell upon the
rear of the Union right and created a panic in the Eleventh Corps.
Sedgwick's force had crossed below and taken Fredericksburg; but
the divided Union army could not effect a junction; and the
fighting from May 1 to May 4 finally ended by the withdrawal of
both sections of the Union army north of the Rappahannock. The
losses suffered by the Union and the Confederate forces were about
equal, but the prestige of another brilliant victory fell to
General Lee, seriously balanced, however, by the death of Stonewall
Jackson, who was accidentally killed by the fire of his own
men.</p>
<p>In addition to his evident very unusual diminution of vigor and
will, Hooker had received a personal injury on the third, which for
some hours rendered him incapable of command; and he said in his
testimony before the Committee on the Conduct of the War:</p>
<p>"When I returned from Chancellorsville I felt that I had fought
no battle; in fact, I had more men than I could use, and I fought
no general battle for the reason that I could not get my men in
position to do so <SPAN name="page370" id="page370"></SPAN>probably not more than three or three
and a half corps on the right were engaged in the fight."</p>
<p>Hooker's defeat at Chancellorsville had not been so great a
disaster as that of Burnside at Fredericksburg; and while his
influence was greatly impaired, his usefulness did not immediately
cease. The President and the Secretary of War still had faith in
him. The average opinion of his qualities has been tersely
expressed by one of his critics, who wrote: "As an inferior he
planned badly and fought well; as a chief he planned well and
fought badly." The course of war soon changed, so that he was
obliged to follow rather than permitted to lead the developments of
a new campaign.</p>
<p>The brilliant victories gained by Lee inspired the Confederate
authorities and leaders with a greatly exaggerated hope of the
ultimate success of the rebellion. It was during the summer of 1863
that the Confederate armies reached, perhaps, their highest
numerical strength and greatest degree of efficiency. Both the long
dreamed of possibility of achieving Southern independence and the
newly flushed military ardor of officers and men, elated by what
seemed to them an unbroken record of successes on the Virginia
battle-fields moved General Lee to the bold hazard of a second
invasion of the North. Early in June, Hooker gave it as his opinion
that Lee intended to move against Washington, and asked whether in
that case he should attack the Confederate rear. To this Lincoln
answered on the fifth of that month:</p>
<p>"In case you find Lee coming to the north of the Rappahannock, I
would by no means cross to the south of it. If he should leave a
rear force at Fredericksburg tempting you to fall upon it, it would
fight in intrenchments and have you at disadvantage, and so, man
for man, worst you at that point, while his main <SPAN name="page371" id="page371"></SPAN>force
would in some way be getting an advantage of you northward. In one
word, I would not take any risk of being entangled upon the river,
like an ox jumped half over a fence and liable to be torn by dogs
front and rear, without a fair chance to gore one way or kick the
other."</p>
<p>Five days later, Hooker, having become convinced that a large
part of Lee's army was in motion toward the Shenandoah valley,
proposed the daring plan of a quick and direct march to capture
Richmond. But the President immediately telegraphed him a
convincing objection:</p>
<p>"If left to me, I would not go south of the Rappahannock upon
Lee's moving north of it. If you had Richmond invested to-day, you
would not be able to take it in twenty days; meanwhile, your
communications, and with them your army, would be ruined. I think
Lee's army, and not Richmond, is your true objective point. If he
comes toward the upper Potomac, follow on his flank and on his
inside track, shortening your lines while he lengthens his. Fight
him, too, when opportunity offers. If he stays where he is, fret
him and fret him."</p>
<p>The movement northward of Lee's army, effectually masked for
some days by frequent cavalry skirmishes, now became evident to the
Washington authorities. On June 14, Lincoln telegraphed Hooker:</p>
<p>"So far as we can make out here, the enemy have Milroy
surrounded at Winchester, and Tyler at Martinsburg If they could
hold out a few days, could you help them? If the head of Lee's army
is at Martinsburg, and the tail of it on the plank road between
Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville, the animal must be very slim
somewhere. Could you not break him?"</p>
<p>While Lee, without halting, crossed the Potomac <SPAN name="page372" id="page372"></SPAN>above
Harper's Ferry, and continued his northward march into Maryland and
Pennsylvania, Hooker prudently followed on the "inside track" as
Mr. Lincoln had suggested, interposing the Union army effectually
to guard Washington and Baltimore. But at this point a
long-standing irritation and jealousy between Hooker and Halleck
became so acute that on the general-in-chief's refusing a
comparatively minor request, Hooker asked to be relieved from
command. The President, deeming divided counsel at so critical a
juncture more hazardous than a change of command, took Hooker at
his word, and appointed General George G. Meade as his
successor.</p>
<p>Meade had, since Chancellorsville, been as caustic a critic of
Hooker as Hooker was of Burnside at and after Fredericksburg. But
all spirit of insubordination vanished in the exciting stress of a
pursuing campaign and the new and retiring leaders of the Army of
the Potomac exchanged compliments in General Orders with high
chivalric courtesy, while the army continued its northward march
with undiminished ardor and unbroken step. When Meade crossed the
Pennsylvania line, Lee was already far ahead, threatening
Harrisburg. The Confederate invasion spread terror and loss among
farms and villages, and created almost a panic in the great cities.
Under the President's call for one hundred thousand six months'
militia six of the adjoining States were sending hurried and
improvised forces to the banks of the Susquehanna, under the
command of General Couch. Lee, finding that stream too well
guarded, turned his course directly east, which, with Meade
marching to the north, brought the opposing armies into inevitable
contact and collision at the town of Gettysburg.</p>
<p>Meade had both expected and carefully prepared <SPAN name="page373" id="page373"></SPAN>to
receive the attack and fight a defensive battle on the line of Pipe
Creek. But when, on the afternoon of July 1, 1863, the advance
detachments of each army met and engaged in a fierce conflict for
the possession of the town, Meade, on learning the nature of the
fight, and the situation of the ground, instantly decided to accept
it, and ordering forward his whole force, made it the principal and
most decisive battle-field of the whole war.</p>
<p>The Union troops made a violent and stubborn effort to hold the
town of Gettysburg; but the early Confederate arrivals, taking
position in a half-circle on the west, north, and east, drove them
through and out of it. The seeming reverse proved an advantage.
Half a mile to the south it enabled the Union detachments to seize
and establish themselves on Cemetery Ridge and Hill. This, with
several rocky elevations, and a crest of boulders making a curve to
the east at the northern end, was in itself almost a natural
fortress, and with the intrenchments thrown up by the expert
veterans, soon became nearly impregnable. Beyond a wide valley to
the west, and parallel with it, lay Seminary Ridge, on which the
Confederate army established itself with equal rapidity. Lee had
also hoped to fight a defensive battle; but thus suddenly arrested
in his eastward march in a hostile country, could not afford to
stand still and wait.</p>
<p>On the morning of July 2, both commanding generals were in the
field. After careful studies and consultations Lee ordered an
attack on both the extreme right and extreme left of the Union
position, meeting some success in the former, but a complete
repulse in the latter. That night, Meade's council of war,
coinciding with his own judgment, resolved to stand and fight it
out; while Lee, against the advice of <SPAN name="page374" id="page374"></SPAN>Longstreet,
his ablest general, with equal decision determined to risk the
chance of a final and determined attack.</p>
<p>It was Meade who began the conflict at dawn on the morning of
July 3, but only long enough to retake and hold the intrenchments
on his extreme right, which he had lost the evening before; then
for some hours an ominous lull and silence fell over the whole
battle-field. But these were hours of stern preparation At midday a
furious cannonade began from one hundred and thirty Confederate
guns on Seminary Ridge, which was answered with promptness and
spirit by about seventy Union guns from the crests and among the
boulders of Cemetery Ridge; and the deafening roar of artillery
lasted for about an hour, at the end of which time the Union guns
ceased firing and were allowed to cool, and to be made ready to
meet the assault that was sure to come. There followed a period of
waiting almost painful to officers and men, in its intense
expectancy; and then across the broad, undulating, and highly
cultivated valley swept the long attacking line of seventeen
thousand rebel infantry, the very flower of the Confederate army.
But it was a hopeless charge. Thinned, almost mowed down by the
grape-shot of the Union batteries and the deadly aim of the Union
riflemen behind their rocks and intrenchments the Confederate
assault wavered, hesitated, struggled on, and finally melted away
before the destructive fire. A few rebel battle-flags reached the
crest, only, however, to fall, and their bearers and supporters to
be made prisoners. The Confederate dream of taking Philadelphia and
dictating peace and separation in Independence Hall was over
forever.</p>
<p>It is doubtful whether Lee immediately realized the full measure
of his defeat, or Meade the magnitude of <SPAN name="page375" id="page375"></SPAN>his
victory. The terrible losses of the battle of Gettysburg—over
three thousand killed, fourteen thousand wounded, and five thousand
captured or missing of the Union army; and twenty-six hundred
killed, twelve thousand wounded, and five thousand missing of the
Confederates—largely occupied the thoughts and labors of both
sides during the national holiday which followed. It was a surprise
to Meade that on the morning of July 5 the Confederate army had
disappeared, retreating as rapidly as might be to the neighborhood
of Harper's Ferry. Unable immediately to cross because the Potomac
was swollen by heavy rains, and Meade having followed and arrived
in Lee's front on July 10, President Lincoln had the liveliest
hopes that Meade would again attack and capture or destroy the
Confederate army. Generous praise for his victory, and repeated and
urgent suggestions to renew his attack and end the rebellion, had
gone to Meade from the President and General Halleck. But Meade
hesitated, and his council of war objected; and on the night of
July 13 Lee recrossed the Potomac in retreat. When he heard the
news, Mr. Lincoln sat down and wrote a letter of criticism and
disappointment which reflects the intensity of his feeling at the
escape of Lee:</p>
<p>"The case, summarily stated, is this: You fought and beat the
enemy at Gettysburg, and, of course, to say the least, his loss was
as great as yours. He retreated and you did not, as it seemed to
me, pressingly pursue him; but a flood in the river detained him
till, by slow degrees, you were again upon him. You had at least
twenty thousand veteran troops directly with you, and as many more
raw ones within supporting distance, all in addition to those who
fought with you at Gettysburg, while it was not possible that he
had received a single recruit, and yet you stood and let the
<SPAN name="page376" id="page376"></SPAN> flood run down, bridges be built, and
the enemy move away at his leisure, without attacking him....
Again, my dear general, I do not believe you appreciate the
magnitude of the misfortune involved in Lee's escape. He was within
your easy grasp, and to have closed upon him would, in connection
with our other late successes, have ended the war. As it is, the
war will be prolonged indefinitely. If you could not safely attack
Lee last Monday, how can you possibly do so south of the river,
when you can take with you very few more than two thirds of the
force you then had in hand? It would be unreasonable to expect, and
I do not expect [that] you can now effect much. Your golden
opportunity is gone, and I am distressed immeasurably because of
it."</p>
<p>Clearly as Mr. Lincoln had sketched and deeply as he felt
Meade's fault of omission, so quick was the President's spirit of
forgiveness, and so thankful was he for the measure of success
which had been gained, that he never signed or sent the letter.</p>
<p>Two memorable events are forever linked with the Gettysburg
victory: the surrender of Vicksburg to Grant on the same fourth of
July, described in the next chapter, and the dedication of the
Gettysburg battle-field as a national cemetery for Union soldiers,
on November 19, 1863, on which occasion President Lincoln crowned
that imposing ceremonial with an address of such literary force,
brevity, and beauty, that critics have assigned it a high rank
among the world's historic orations. He said:</p>
<p>"Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this
continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the
proposition that all men are created equal.</p>
<p>"Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing <SPAN name="page377" id="page377"></SPAN>whether
that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long
endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have
come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place
for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It
is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.</p>
<p>"But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate—we cannot
consecrate—we cannot hallow—this ground. The brave men,
living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it far above
our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note nor
long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they
did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to
the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so
nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the
great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead
we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the
last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that
these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation, under
God, shall have a new birth of freedom; and that government of the
people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the
earth."</p>
<p>Having safely crossed the Potomac, the Confederate army
continued its retreat without halting to the familiar camps in
central Virginia it had so long and valiantly defended. Meade
followed with alert but prudent vigilance, but did not again find
such chances as he lost on the fourth of July, or while the swollen
waters of the Potomac held his enemy as in a trap. During the
ensuing autumn months there went on between the opposing generals
an unceasing game of strategy, a succession of moves and
counter-moves in which the opposing commanders handled their great
armies with <SPAN name="page378" id="page378"></SPAN>the same consumate skill with which the
expert fencing-master uses his foil, but in which neither could
break through the other's guard. Repeated minor encounters took
place which, in other wars, would have rated as heavy battles; but
the weeks lengthened into months without decisive results, and when
the opposing armies finally went into winter quarters in December,
1863, they again confronted each other across the Rapidan in
Virginia, not very far south of where they lay in the winter of
1861.</p>
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