This Site:
Civil War
Civil War Overview
Civil War 1861
Civil War 1862
Civil War 1863
Civil War 1864
Civil War 1865
Civil War Battles
Confederate Generals
Union Generals
Confederate History
Robert E. Lee
Civil War Medicine
Lincoln Assassination
Slavery
Site Search
Civil War Links
Civil War Art
Revolutionary War
Mexican War
Republic of Texas
Indians
Winslow Homer
Thomas Nast
Mathew Brady
Western Art
Civil War Gifts
Robert E. Lee Portrait
|
Stonewall Jackson Free Online Books |
Stonewall Jackson in Civil War |
Stonewall Jackson Biography |
Stonewall Jackson Obituary |
Stonewall Jackson's Last Words |
Stonewall Jackson Birthday |
Stonewall Jackson Quotes
STONEWALL JACKSON Chapter X The Army of Northern Virginia
“In war men are nothing; it is the man who is everything. The
general is the head, the whole of an army. It was not the Roman army
that conquered Gaul, but Cæsar; it was not the Carthaginian army
that made Rome tremble in her gates, but Hannibal; it was not the
Macedonian army that reached the Indus, but Alexander; it was not
the French army that carried the war to the Weser and the Inn, but
Turenne; it was not the Prussian army which, for seven years,
defended Prussia against the three greatest Powers of Europe, but
Frederick the Great.” So spoke Napoleon, reiterating a truth
confirmed by the experience of successive ages, that a wise
direction is of more avail than overwhelming numbers, sound strategy
than the most perfect armament; a powerful will, invigorating all
who come within its sphere, than the spasmodic efforts of
ill-regulated valour. Even a
professional army of long standing and old traditions is what its
commander makes it; its character sooner or later becomes the reflex
of his own; from him the officers take their tone; his energy or his
inactivity, his firmness or vacillation, are rapidly communicated
even to the lower ranks; and so far-reaching is the influence of the
leader, that those who record his campaigns concern themselves but
little as a rule with the men who followed him. The history of
famous armies is the history of great generals, for no army has ever
achieved great things unless it has been well commanded. If the
general be second-rate the army also will be second-rate. Mutual
confidence is the basis of
THE AMERICAN SOLDIER 339
success in war, and unless the troops have implicit trust in the
resolution and resources of their chief, hesitation and
half-heartedness are sure to mark their actions. They may fight with
their accustomed courage; but the eagerness for the conflict, the
alacrity to support, the determination to conquer, will not be
there. The indefinable quality which is expressed by the word
moral will to some degree be affected. The history of the
Army of the Potomac is
a case in point. Between the
soldiers of the North and South there was little difference. Neither
could claim a superiority of martial qualities. The Confederates,
indeed, at the beginning of the war possessed a larger measure of
technical skill; they were the better shots and the finer riders.
But they were neither braver nor more enduring, and while they
probably derived some advantage from the fact that they were
defending their homes, the Federals, defending the integrity of
their native land, were fighting in the noblest of all causes. But
Northerner and Southerner were of the same race, a race proud,
resolute, independent; both were inspired by the same sentiments of
self-respect; noblesse oblige—the noblesse of a free
people—was the motto of the one as of the other. It has been
asserted that the Federal armies were very largely composed of
foreigners, whose motives for enlisting were purely mercenary. At no
period of the war, however, did the proportion of native Americans
sink below seventy per cent.,1 and at the beginning of
1863 it was much greater. As a matter of fact, the Union army was
composed of thoroughly staunch soldiers.2
1 See Note at end of chapter. 2 “Throughout New
England,” wrote the Special Correspondent of an English newspaper,
“you can scarcely enter a door without being aware that you are in a
house of mourning. Whatever may be said of Irish and German
mercenaries, I must bear witness that the best classes of Americans
have bravely come forth for their country. I know of scarcely a
family more than one member of which has not been or is not in the
ranks of the army. The maimed and crippled youths I meet on the
highroad certainly do not for the most part belong to the immigrant
rabble of which the Northern regiments are said to consist; and even
the present conscription is now in many splendid instances most
promptly and cheerfully complied with by the wealthy people who
could easily purchase exemption, but who prefer to set a good
example.” Letter from Rhode Island, the Times, August 8,
1863. NORTHERN AND
SOUTHERN SOLDIERS COMPARED 340
Nor was the alien element at this time a source of weakness. Ireland
and Germany supplied the greater number of those who have been
called “Lincoln’s hirelings;” and, judging from the official
records, the Irish regiments at least were not a whit less
trustworthy than those purely American. Moreover, even if the
admixture of foreigners had been greater, the Army of the Potomac,
for the reason that it was always superior in numbers, contained in
its ranks many more men bred in the United States than the Army of
Northern Virginia.1 For the consistent ill-success of the
Federals the superior marksmanship and finer horsemanship of the
Confederates cannot, therefore, be accepted as sufficient
explanation. In defence the
balance of endurance inclined neither to one side nor the other.
Both Southerner and Northerner displayed that stubborn resolve to
maintain their ground which is the peculiar attribute of the
Anglo-Saxon. To claim for any one race a pre-eminence of valour is
repugnant alike to good taste and to sound sense. Courage and
endurance are widely distributed over the world’s surface, and
political institutions, the national conception of duty, the
efficiency of the corps of officers, and love of country, are the
foundation of vigour and staunchness in the field. Yet it is a fact
which can hardly be ignored, that from Creçy to Inkermann there have
been exceedingly few instances where an English army, large or
small, has been driven from a position. In the great struggle with
France, neither Napoleon nor his marshals, although the armies of
every other European nation had fled before them, could boast of
having broken the English infantry; and no soldiers have ever
received a prouder tribute than the admission of a generous enemy,
“They never know when they are beaten.” In America, the
characteristics of the parent race were as prominent in the Civil
War as they had been in the Revolution. In
1861–65, the side that stood on the
defensive, unless hopelessly outnumbered, was almost
1 John Mitchell, the Irish Nationalist, said in a letter to
the Dublin Nation that there were 40,000 Irishmen in the Southern
armies. The Times, February 7, 1863.
NORTHERN AND SOUTHERN SOLDIERS COMPARED 341
invariably successful, just as it had been in 1776–82. “My men,”
said Jackson, “sometimes fail to drive the enemy from his position,
but to hold one, never!” The Federal generals might have made the
same assertion with almost equal truth.
Porter had indeed been defeated
at Gaines’ Mill, but he could only set 35,000 in line against
55,000;
Banks had been
overwhelmed at
Winchester, but
6,500 men could hardly have hoped to resist more than twice their
strength; and
Shields’
advanced guard at Port Republic was much inferior to the force which
Jackson brought against it; yet these were the only offensive
victories of the ’62 campaign. But if in defence the armies were
well matched, it must be conceded that the Northern attack was not
pressed with the same concentrated vigour as the Southern.
McClellan at
Sharpsburg had more than twice as
many men as Lee;
Pope, on the first day of
the Second Manassas, twice as many as Jackson; yet on both occasions
the smaller force was victorious. But, in the first place, the
Federal tactics in attack were always feeble.
Lincoln,
in appointing
Hooker to command the
Army of the Potomac, warned him “to put in all his men.” His sharp
eye had detected the great fault which had characterised the
operations of his generals. Their assaults had been piecemeal, like
those of the Confederates at Malvern Hill, and they had been
defeated in detail by the inferior numbers. The Northern soldiers
were strangers to those general and combined attacks, pressed with
unyielding resolution, which had won Winchester, Gaines’ Mill, and
the Second Manassas, and which had nearly won Kernstown. The
Northern generals invariably kept large masses in reserve, and these
masses were never used. They had not yet learned, as had Lee,
Jackson, and Longstreet, that superior numbers are of no avail
unless they are brought into action, impelling the attack forward by
sheer weight, at the decisive point. In the second place, none of
the Federal leaders possessed the entire confidence either of their
generals or their troops. With all its affection for McClellan, it
may strongly be questioned whether his army gave him credit for dash
or resolution. Pope was
THE SYSTEM OF COMMAND 342
defeated in his first action at Cedar Run.
Banks at Winchester,
Frémont west of Staunton, had both been out-manœuvred.
Burnside had
against him his feeble conduct at Sharpsburg. Hence the Federal
soldiers fought most of their offensive battles under a terrible
disadvantage. They were led by men who had known defeat, and who
owed their defeat, in great measure, to the same fault—neglect to
employ their whole force in combination. Brave and unyielding as
they were, the troops went into battle mistrustful of their leader’s
skill, and fearful, from the very outset, that their efforts would
be unsupported; and when men begin to look over their shoulders for
reinforcements, demoralisation is not far off. It would be untrue to
say that a defeated general can never regain the confidence of his
soldiers; but unless he has previous successes to set off against
his failure, to permit him to retain his position is dangerous in
the extreme. Such was the opinion of Jackson, always solicitous of
the moral of his command. “To his mind nothing ever fully
excused failure, and it was rarely that he gave an officer the
opportunity of failing twice. ‘The service,’ he said, ‘cannot afford
to keep a man who does not succeed.’ Nor was he ever restrained from
a change by the fear of making matters worse. His motto was, get rid
of the unsuccessful man at once, and trust to Providence for finding
a better.” Nor was the presence of
discredited generals the only evil which went to neutralise the
valour of the Federal soldiers. The system of command was as rotten
in the Army of the Potomac as in the Armies of Northern Virginia and
of the Valley it was sound; and the system of command plays a most
important part in war. The natural initiative of the American, the
general fearlessness of responsibility, were as conspicuous among
the soldiers as in the nation at large. To those familiar with the
Official Records, where the doings of regiments and even companies
are preserved, it is perfectly apparent that, so soon as the
officers gained experience, the smaller units were as boldly and
efficiently handled as in the army of Germany under Moltke. But
while Lee and Jackson, by every means in
THE SYSTEM OF COMMAND 343
their power, fostered the capacity for independent action, following
therein the example of Napoleon,1 of Washington, of
Nelson, and of Wellington, and aware that their strength would thus
be doubled, McClellan and Pope did their best to stifle it; and in
the higher ranks they succeeded. In the one case the generals were
taught to wait for orders, in the other to anticipate them. In the
one case, whether troops were supported or not depended on the word
of the commanding general; in the other, every officer was taught
that to sustain his colleagues was his first duty. It thus resulted
that while the Confederate leaders were served by scores of zealous
assistants, actively engaged in furthering the aim of their
superiors, McClellan, Pope, and Frémont, jealous of power reduced
their subordinates, with few exceptions, to the position of
machines, content to obey the letter of their orders, oblivious of
opportunity, and incapable of co-operation. Lee and Jackson appear
to have realised the requirements of battle far more fully than
their opponents. They knew that the scope of the commander is
limited; that once his troops are committed to close action it is
impossible for him to exert further control, for his orders can no
longer reach them; that he cannot keep the whole field under
observation, much less observe every fleeting opportunity. Yet it is
by utilising opportunities that the enemy’s strength is sapped. For
these reasons the Confederate generals were exceedingly careful not
to chill the spirit of enterprise. Errors of judgment were never
considered in the light of crimes; while the officer who, in default
of orders, remained inactive, or who, when his orders were
manifestly inapplicable to a suddenly changed situation, and there
was no time to have them altered, dared not act for himself, was not
long retained in responsible command. In the Army of the Potomac, on
the other hand, centralisation was the rule. McClellan
1 In the opinion of the author, the charge of centralisation
preferred against Napoleon can only be applied to his leading in his
later campaigns. In his earlier operations he gave his generals
every latitude, and be maintamed that loose but effective system of
tactics, in which much was left to the individual, adopted by the
French army just previous to the wars of the Revolution.
THE SYSTEM OF COMMAND 344
expected blind obedience from his corps commanders, and nothing
more, and Pope brought Porter to trial for using his own judgment,
on occasions when Pope himself was absent, during the campaign of
the Second Manassas. Thus the Federal soldiers, through no fault of
their own, laboured for the first two years of the war under a
disadvantage from which the wisdom of Lee and Jackson had relieved
the Confederates. The Army of the Potomac was an inert mass, the
Army of Northern Virginia a living organism, endowed with
irresistible vigour. It is to be
noted, too, as tending to prove the equal courage of North and
South, that on the Western theatre of war the Federals were the more
successful. And yet the Western armies of the Confederacy were
neither less brave, less hardy, nor less disciplined than those in
Virginia. They were led, however, by inferior men, while, on the
other hand, many of the Northern generals opposed to them possessed
unquestionable ability, and understood the value of a good system of
command. We may say, then, without
detracting an iota from the high reputation of the
Confederate soldiers,
that it was not the Army of Northern Virginia that saved
Richmond in 1862, but
Lee; not the Army of the Valley which won the Valley campaign, but
Jackson. It is related that a good
priest, once a chaplain in Taylor’s Louisiana brigade, concluded his
prayer at the unveiling of the Jackson monument in
New Orleans with these
remarkable words: “When in Thine inscrutable decree it was ordained
that the Confederacy should fail, it became necessary for Thee to
remove Thy servant Stonewall Jackson.”1 It is
unnecessary, perhaps, to lay much forcible emphasis on the personal
factor, but, at the same time, it is exceedingly essential that it
should never be overlooked. The
Government which, either in peace or war, commits the charge of its
armed forces to any other than the ablest and most experienced
soldier the country can produce is but laying the foundation of
national disaster. Had the
1 Bright Skies and Dark Shadows, p. 294. H. M. Field,
D.D. THE AMERICAN
SOLDIER 345
importance of a careful selection for the higher commands been
understood in the North as it was understood in the South, Lee and
Jackson would have been opposed by foes more formidable than Pope
and Burnside, or
Banks and Frémont.
The Federal Administration, confident in the courage and
intelligence of their great armies, considered that any ordinary
general, trained to command, and supported by an efficient staff,
should be able to win victories. Mr. Davis, on the other hand,
himself a soldier, who, as United States Secretary of War, had
enjoyed peculiar opportunities of estimating the character of the
officers of the old army, made no such mistake. He was not always,
indeed, either wise or consistent; but, with few exceptions, his
appointments were the best that could be made, and he was ready to
accept the advice, as regarded selections for command, of his most
experienced generals. But however
far-reaching may be the influence of a great leader, in estimating
his capacity the temper of the weapon that he wielded can hardly be
overlooked. In the first place, that temper, to a greater or less
degree, must have been of his own forging, it is part of his fame.
“No man,” says Napier, “can be justly called a great captain who
does not know how to organise and form the character of an army, as
well as to lead it when formed.” In the second place, to do much
with feeble means is greater than to do more with large resources.
Difficulties are inherent in all military operations, and not the
least may be the constitution of the army. Nor would the story of
Stonewall Jackson be more than half told without large reference to
those tried soldiers, subalterns and private soldiers as they were,
whom he looked upon as his comrades, whose patriotism and endurance
he extolled so highly, and whose devotion to himself, next to the
approval of his own conscience, was the reward that most he valued.
He is blind indeed who fails to recognise the unselfish patriotism
displayed by the citizen-soldiers of America, the stern resolution
with which the war was waged; the tenacity of the Northerner,
ill-commanded and
THE AMERICAN SOLDIER 346
constantly defeated, fighting in a most difficult country and foiled
on every line of invasion; the tenacity of the Southerner,
confronting enormous odds, ill-fed, ill-armed, and ill-provided,
knowing that if wounded his sufferings would be great—for drugs had
been declared contraband of war, the hospitals contained no
anæsthetics to relieve the pain of
amputation, and the surgical instruments, which
were only replaced when others were captured, were worn out with
constant usage; knowing too that his women-folk and children were in
want, and yet never yielding to despair nor abandoning hope of
ultimate victory. Neither Federal nor Confederate deemed his life
the most precious of his earthly possessions. Neither New Englander
nor Virginian ever for one moment dreamt of surrendering, no matter
what the struggle might cost, a single acre of the territory, a
single item of the civil rights, which had been handed down to him.
“I do not profess,” said Jackson, “any romantic sentiments as to the
vanity of life. Certainly no man has more that should make life dear
to him than I have, in the affection of my home; but I do not desire
to survive the independence of my country.” And Jackson’s attitude
was that of his fellow-countrymen. The words of Naboth, “Jehovah
forbid that I should give to thee the inheritance of my
forefathers,” were graven on the heart of both North and South; and
the unknown and forgotten heroes who fought in the ranks of either
army, and who fought for a principle, not on compulsion or for
glory, are worthy of the highest honours that history can bestow.
Nor can a soldier withhold his tribute of praise to the capacity for
making war which distinguished the American citizen. The
intelligence of the rank and file played an important rôle in
every phase of a campaign. As skirmishers,—and modern battles, to a
very great extent, are fought out by lines of skirmishers—their work
was admirable; and when the officers were struck down, or when
command, by reason of the din and excitement, became impossible, the
self-dependence of the individual asserted itself with the best
effect.1 The same quality which the German
1 The historical student may profitably compare with the
American soldier the Armies of Revolutionary France, in which
education and intelligence were also conspicuous.
THE SCOUTS 347
training had sought to foster, and which, according to Moltke,1
had much to do with the victories of 1870, was born in both
Northerner and Southerner. On outpost and on patrol, in seeking
information and in counteracting the ruses of the enemy, the keen
intelligence of the educated volunteer was of the utmost value.
History has hitherto overlooked the achievements of the scouts,
whose names so seldom occur in the Official Records, but whose
daring was unsurpassed, and whose services were of vast importance.
In the Army of Northern Virginia every commanding general had his
own party of scouts, whose business it was to penetrate the enemy’s
lines, to see everything and to hear everything, to visit the base
of operations, to inspect the line of communications, and to note
the condition and the temper of the hostile troops. Attracted by a
pure love of adventure, these private soldiers did exactly the same
work as did the English Intelligence officers in the Peninsula, and
did it with the same thoroughness and acuteness. Wellington,
deploring the capture of Captain Colquhoun Grant, declared that the
gallant Highlander was worth as much to the army as a brigade of
cavalry; Jackson had scouts who were more useful to him than many of
his brigadiers. Again, in constructing hasty intrenchments, the
soldiers needed neither assistance nor impulsion. The rough cover
thrown up by the men when circumstances demanded it, on their own
volition, was always adapted to the ground, and generally fulfilled
the main principles of fortification. For bridge-building, for
road-making, for the destruction, the repair, and even the making,
of railroads, skilled labour was always forthcoming from the ranks;
and the soldiers stamped the impress of their individuality on the
tactics of the infantry. Modern formations, to a very large extent,
had their origin on American battle-fields. The men realised very
quickly the advantages of shelter; the advance by rushes from one
cover to another, and the gradually working up, by this method, of
the firing-line to effective range—
1 Official Account of the Franco-German War, vol. ii,
p. 168. THE MEN OF
1863 348
the method which all experience shows to be the true one—became the
general rule. That the troops had
faults, however, due in great part to the fact that their
intelligence was not thoroughly trained, and to the inexperience of
their officers, it is impossible to deny.
“I agree with you,” wrote Lee in 1868, “in believing that our army
would be invincible if it could be properly organised and officered.
There were never such men in an army before. They will go anywhere
and do anything if properly led. But there is the difficulty—proper
commanders. Where can they be obtained? But they are
improving—constantly improving. Rome was not built in a day, nor can
we expect miracles in our favour.”1 Yet, taking them all
in all, the American rank and file of 1863, with their native
characteristics, supplemented by a great knowledge of war, were in
advance of any soldiers of their time.
In the actual composition of the Confederate forces no marked change
had taken place since the beginning of the war. But the character of
the army, in many essential respects, had become sensibly modified.
The men encamped on the Rappahannock were no longer the raw recruits
who had blundered into victory at the First Manassas; nor were they
the unmanageable divisions of the Peninsula. They were still, for
the most part, volunteers, for conscripts in the Army of Northern
Virginia were not numerous, but they were volunteers of a very
different type from those who had fought at Kernstown or at Gaines’
Mill. Despite their protracted absence from their homes, the wealthy
and well-born privates still shouldered the musket. Though many had
been promoted to commissions, the majority were content to set an
example of self-sacrifice and sterling patriotism, and the regiments
were thus still leavened with a large admixture of educated and
intelligent men. It is a significant fact that during those months
of 1863 which were spent in winter quarters Latin, Greek,
mathematical, and even Hebrew classes were instituted by the
soldiers. But all trace of social distinction had long since
vanished. Between the rich planter
1 Lee to Hood, May 21, 1863; Advance and Retreat, p.
58. THE MEN OF
1863 349
and the small farmer or mechanic there was no difference either in
aspect or habiliments. Tanned by the hot Virginia sun, thin-visaged
and bright-eyed, gaunt of frame and spare of flesh, they were
neither more nor less than the rank and file of the Confederate
army; the product of discipline and hard service, moulded after the
same pattern, with the same hopes and fears, the same needs, the
same sympathies. They looked at life from a common standpoint, and
that standpoint was not always elevated. Human nature claimed its
rights. When his hunger was satisfied and, to use his own
expression, he was full of hog and hominy, the Confederate soldier
found time to discuss the operations in which he was engaged. Pipe
in mouth, he could pass in review the strategy and tactics of both
armies, the capacity of his generals, and the bearing of his
enemies, and on each one of these questions, for he was the
shrewdest of observers, his comments were always to the point. He
had studied his profession in a practical school. The more delicate
moves of the great game were topics of absorbing interest. He cast a
comprehensive glance over the whole theatre; he would puzzle out the
reasons for forced marches and sudden changes of direction; his
curiosity was great, but intelligent, and the groups round the
camp-fires often forecast with surprising accuracy the manœuvres
that the generals were planning. But far more often the subjects of
conversation were of a more immediate and personal character. The
capacity of the company cook, the quality of the last consignment of
boots, the merits of different bivouacs, the prospect of the supply
train coming up to time, the temper of the captain and
subaltern—such were the topics which the Confederate privates spent
their leisure in discussing. They had long since discovered that war
is never romantic and seldom exciting, but a monotonous round of
tiresome duties, enlivened at rare intervals by dangerous episodes.
They had become familiar with its constant accompaniment of
privations—bad weather, wet bivouacs, and wretched roads, wood that
would not kindle, and rations that did not satisfy. They had learned
that a soldier’s worst enemy
THE MEN OF 1863 350
may be his native soil, in the form of dust or mud; that it is
possible to march for months without firing a shot or seeing a foe;
that a battle is an interlude which breaks in at rare intervals on
the long round of digging, marching, bridge-building, and
road-making; and that the time of the fiercest fire-eater is
generally occupied in escorting mule-trains, in mounting guard, in
dragging waggons through the mud, and in loading or unloading
stores. Volunteering for perilous and onerous duties, for which
hundreds had eagerly offered themselves in the early days, ere the
glamour of the soldier’s life had vanished, had ceased to be
popular. The men were now content to wait for orders; and as
discipline crystallised into habit, they became resigned to the fact
that they were no longer volunteers, masters of their own actions,
but the paid servants of the State, compelled to obey and powerless
to protest. To all outward
appearance, then, in the spring of 1863 the Army of Northern
Virginia bore an exceedingly close resemblance to an army of
professional soldiers. It is true that military etiquette was not
insisted on; that more license, both in quarters and on the march,
was permitted than would be the case in a regular army; that
officers were not treated with the same respect; and that tact,
rather than the strict enforcement of the regulations, was the
key-note of command. Nevertheless, taken as a whole, the Confederate
soldiers were exceedingly well-conducted. The good elements in the
ranks were too strong for those who were inclined to resist
authority, and the amount of misbehaviour was wonderfully small.
There was little neglect of duty. Whatever the intelligence of the
men told them was necessary for success, for safety, or for
efficiency, was done without reluctance. The outposts were seldom
caught napping. Digging and tree-felling—for the men had learned the
value of making fortifications and good roads—were taken as a matter
of course. Nor was the Southern soldier a grumbler. He accepted
half-rations and muddy camping-grounds without remonstrance; if his
boots wore out he made shift to march without
THE CONFEDERATE SOLDIER 351
them; and when his uniform fell to pieces he waited for the next
victory to supply himself with a new outfit. He was enough of a
philosopher to know that it is better to meet misery with a smile
than with a scowl. Mark Tapley had many prototypes in the
Confederate ranks, and the men were never more facetious than when
things were at their worst. “The very intensity of their sufferings
became a source of merriment. Instead of growling and deserting,
they laughed at their own bare feet, ragged clothes, and pinched
faces; and weak, hungry, cold, wet and dirty, with no hope of reward
or rest, they marched cheerfully to meet the warmly clad and
well-fed hosts of the enemy.”1 Indomitable indeed were
the hearts that beat beneath the grey jackets, and a spirit rising
superior to all misfortune,
That ever with a frolic welcome took The thunder and the
sunshine, was a marked
characteristic of the Confederate soldier. Nor was it only in camp
or on the march that the temper of the troops betrayed itself in
reckless gaiety.2 The stress of battle might thin their
ranks, but it was powerless to check their laughter. The dry humour
of the American found a fine field in the incidents of a fierce
engagement. Nothing escaped without remark: the excitement of a
general, the accelerated movements of the non-combatants, the
vagaries of the army mule, the bad practice of the artillery—all
afforded entertainment. And when the fight became hotter and the
Federals pressed 1
Soldier Life in the Army of Northern Virginia. 2
General Longstreet relates an amusing story: “One of the soldiers,
during the investment of Suffolk (April 1863), carefully constructed
and equipped a full-sized man, dressed in a new suit of improved
‘butternut’ clothing; and christening him Julius Cæsar took him to a
signal platform which overlooked the works, adjusted him to a
graceful position, and made him secure to the framework by strong
cords. A little after sunrise ‘Julius Cæsar’ was discovered by some
of the Federal battery officers, who prepared for the target so
inviting to skilful practice. The new soldier sat under the hot fire
with irritating indifference until the Confederates, unable to
restrain their hilarity, exposed the joke by calling for ‘Three
cheers for Julius Cæsar!’ The other side quickly recognised the
situation, and good-naturedly added to ours their cheers for the old
hero.” From Manassas to Apomattox.
THE CONFEDERATE SOLDIER 352
resolutely to the attack, the flow of badinage took a grim and
peculiar turn. It has already been related that the Confederate
armies depended, to a large degree, for their clothing and
equipments on what they captured. So abundant was this source of
supply, that the soldier had come to look upon his enemy as a
movable magazine of creature comforts; and if he marched cheerfully
to battle, it was not so much because he loved fighting, but that he
hoped to renew his wardrobe. A victory was much, but the spoils of
victory were more. No sooner, then, did the Federals arrive within
close range, than the wild yells of the Southern infantry became
mingled with fierce laughter and derisive shouts. “Take off them
boots, Yank!” “Come out of them clothes; we’re gwine to have them!”
“Come on, blue-bellies, we want them blankets!” “Bring them rations
along! You’ve got to leave them!”—such were the cries, like the
howls of half-famished wolves, that were heard along Jackson’s lines
at
Fredericksburg.1
And they were not raised in mockery. The battle-field was the
soldier’s harvest, and as the sheaves of writhing forms, under the
muzzles of their deadly rifles, increased in length and depth, the
men listened with straining ears for the word to charge. The
counterstroke was their opportunity. The rush with the bayonet was
never so speedy but that deft fingers found time to rifle the
haversacks of the fallen, and such was the eagerness for booty that
it was with the greatest difficulty that the troops were dragged off
from the pursuit. It is said that at Fredericksburg, some North
Carolina regiments, which had
1 “During the truce on the second day of Fredericksburg,” says
Captain Smith, “a tall, fine-looking Alabama soldier, who was one of
the litter-bearers, picked up a new Enfield rifle on the neutral
ground, examined it, tested the sights, shouldered it, and was
walking back to the Confederate lines, when a young Federal officer,
very handsomely dressed and mounted, peremptorily ordered him to
throw it down, telling him he had no right to take it. The soldier,
with the rifle on his shoulder, walked very deliberately round the
officer, scanning him from head to foot, and then started again
towards our lines. On this the Federal Lieutenant, drawing his
little sword, galloped after him, and ordered him with an oath to
throw down the rifle. The soldier halted, then walked round the
officer once again, very slowly, looking him up and down, and at
last said, pointing to his fine boots: ‘I shall shoot you tomorrow,
and get them boots;’ then strode away to his command. The Lieutenant
made no attempt to follow.”
THE CONFEDERATE SOLDIER 353
repulsed and followed up a Federal brigade, were hardly to be
restrained from dashing into the midst of the enemy’s reserves, and
when at length they were turned back their complaints were bitter.
The order to halt and retire seemed to them nothing less than rank
injustice. Half-crying with disappointment, they accused their
generals of favouritism! “They don’t want the North Car’linians to
git anything,” they whined. “They wouldn’t hev’ stopped Hood’s
Texicans—they’d hev’ let them go on!”
But if they relieved their own pressing wants at the expense of
their enemies, if they stripped the dead, and exchanged boots and
clothing with their prisoners, seldom getting the worst of the
bargain, no armies—to their lasting honour be it spoken, for no
armies were so destitute—were ever less formidable to peaceful
citizens, within the border or beyond it, than those of the
Confederacy. It was exceedingly seldom that wanton damage was laid
to the soldier’s charge. The rights of non-combatants were
religiously respected, and the farmers of Pennsylvania were treated
with the same courtesy and consideration as the planters of
Virginia. A village was none the worse for the vicinity of a
Confederate bivouac, and neither man nor woman had reason to dread
the half-starved tatterdemalions who followed Lee and Jackson. As
the grey columns, in the march through Maryland, swung through the
streets of those towns where the Unionist sentiment was strong, the
women, standing in the porches, waved the
Stars and Stripes defiantly in their faces. But the only retort
of “the dust brown ranks” was a volley of jests, not always unmixed
with impudence. The personal attributes of their fair enemies did
not escape observation. The damsel whose locks were of conspicuous
hue was addressed as “bricktop” until she screamed with rage, and
threatened to fire into the ranks; while the maiden of sour visage
and uncertain years was saluted as “Ole Miss Vinegar” by a whole
division of infantry. But this was the limit of the soldier’s
resentment. At the same time, when in the midst of plenty he was not
impeccable. For highway robbery and housebreaking he had no
inclination, but he was by
THE CONFEDERATE SOLDIER 354
no means above petty larceny. Pigs and poultry, fruit, corn,
vegetables and fence-rails, he looked upon as his lawful
perquisites. He was the most
cunning of foragers, and neither stringent orders nor armed guards
availed to protect a field of maize or a patch of potatoes; the
traditional negro was not more skilful in looting a fowl-house;1
he had an unerring scent for whisky or “apple-jack;” and the address
he displayed in compassing the destruction of the unsuspecting
porker was only equalled, when he was caught flagrante delicto,
by the ingenuity of his excuses. According to the Confederate
private, the most inoffensive animals, in the districts through
which the armies marched, developed a strange pugnacity, and if
bullet and bayonet were used against them, it was solely in
self-defence. But such venial
faults, common to every army, and almost justified by the
deficiencies of the Southern commissariat, were more than atoned for
when the enemy was met. Of the prowess of Lee’s veterans sufficient
has been said. Their deeds speak for themselves. But it was not the
battle-field alone that bore witness to their fortitude. German
soldiers have told us that in the war of 1870, when their armies,
marching on Paris, found, to their astonishment, the great city
strongly garrisoned, and hosts gathering in every quarter for its
relief, a singular apathy took possession of the troops. The
explanation offered by a great military writer is that “after a
certain period even the victor becomes tired of war;” and “the more
civilised,” he adds, “a people is, the more quickly will this
weakness become apparent.”2 Whether this explanation be
adequate is not easy to decide. The fact remains, however, that the
Confederate volunteer was able to overcome that longing for home
which chilled the enthusiasm of the German conscript. And this is
the more remarkable, inasmuch as his career was not one of
unchequered victory. In the spring of 1863, the Army of the Potomac,
more numerous than ever, was still before
1 Despite Lee’s proclamations against indiscriminate foraging,
“the hens,” he said, “had to roost mighty high when the Texans were
about.” 2 The Conduct of War. Von der Goltz.
THE CONFEDERATE SOLDIER 355
him, firmly established on Virginian soil; hope of foreign
intervention, despite the assurances of the politicians, was
gradually fading, and it was but too evident that the war was far
from over. Yet at no time during their two years of service had the
soldiers shown the slightest sign of that discouragement which
seized the Germans after two months. And who shall dare to say that
the Southerner was less highly civilised than the Prussian or the
Bavarian? Political liberty, freedom of speech and action, are the
real elements of civilisation, and not merely education. But let the
difference in the constitution of the two armies be borne in mind.
The Confederates, with few exceptions, were volunteers, who had
become soldiers of their own choice, who had assumed arms
deliberately and without compulsion, and who by their own votes were
responsible that war had been declared. The Germans were conscripts,
a dumb, powerless, irresponsible multitude, animated, no doubt, by
hereditary hatred of the enemy, but without that sense of moral
obligation which exists in the volunteer. We may be permitted, then,
to believe that this sense of moral obligation was one reason why
the spirit of the Southerners rose superior to human weakness, and
that the old adage, which declares that one volunteer is better than
three pressed men, is not yet out of date. Nor is it an unfair
inference that the armies of the Confederacy, allied by the “crimson
thread of kinship” to those of Wellington, of Raglan, and of Clyde,
owed much of their enduring fortitude to “the rock whence they were
hewn.” And yet, with all their
admirable qualities, the Southern soldiers had not yet got rid of
their original defects. Temperate, obedient, and well-conducted,
small as was the percentage of bad characters and habitual misdoers,
their discipline was still capable of improvement. The assertion, at
first sight, seems a contradiction in terms. How could troops, it
may be asked, who so seldom infringed the regulations be other than
well-disciplined? For the simple reason that discipline in quarters
is an absolutely different quality from discipline in battle. No
large body of THE
CONFEDERATE DISCIPLINE 356
intelligent men, assembled in a just cause and of good character, is
likely to break out into excesses, or, if obedience is manifestly
necessary, to rebel against authority. Subordination to the law is
the distinguishing mark of all civilised society. But such
subordination, however praiseworthy, is not the discipline of the
soldier, though it is often confounded with it. A regiment of
volunteers, billeted in some country town, would probably show a
smaller list of misdemeanours than a regiment of regulars. Yet the
latter might be exceedingly well-disciplined, and the former have no
real discipline whatever. Self-respect—for that is the discipline of
the volunteer—is not battle discipline, the discipline of the cloth,
of habit, of tradition, of constant association and of mutual
confidence. Self-respect, excellent in itself, and by no means
unknown amongst regular soldiers, does not carry with it a
mechanical obedience to command, nor does it merge the individual in
the mass, and give the tremendous power of unity to the efforts of
large numbers. It will not be
pretended that the discipline of regular troops always rises
superior to privation and defeat. It is a notorious fact that the
number of deserters from Wellington’s army in Spain and Portugal,
men who wilfully absented themselves from the colours and wandered
over the country, was by no means inconsiderable; while the
behaviour of the French regulars in 1870, and even of the Germans,
when they rushed back in panic through the village of Gravelotte,
deaf to the threats and entreaties of their aged sovereign, was
hardly in accordance with military tradition. Nevertheless, it is
not difficult to show that the Southerners fell somewhat short of
the highest standard. They were certainly not incapable of keeping
their ranks under a hot fire, or of holding their ground to the last
extremity. Pickett’s charge at Gettysburg is one of the most
splendid examples of disciplined valour in the annals of war, and
the endurance of Lee’s army at Sharpsburg has seldom been surpassed.
Nor was the disorder into which the attacking lines were sooner or
later thrown a proof of inferior training. Even in the
THE CONFEDERATE DISCIPLINE 357
days of flint-lock
muskets, the admixture of
not only companies and battalions, but even of brigades and
divisions, was a constant feature of fierce assaults over broken
ground. If, under such conditions, the troops still press forward,
and if, when success has been achieved, order is rapidly restored,
then discipline is good; and in neither respect did the Confederates
fail. But to be proof against disorder is not everything in battle.
It is not sufficient that the men should be capable of fighting
fiercely; to reap the full benefit of their weapons and their
training they must be obedient to command. The rifle is a far less
formidable weapon when every man uses it at his own discretion than
when the fire of a large body of troops is directed by a single
will. Precision of movement, too, is necessary for the quick
concentration of superior forces at the decisive point, for rapid
support, and for effective combination. But neither was the fire of
the Confederate infantry under the complete control of their
officers, nor were their movements always characterised by order and
regularity. It was seldom that the men could be induced to refrain
from answering shot with shot; there was an extraordinary waste of
ammunition, there was much unnecessary noise, and the regiments were
very apt to get out of hand. It is needless to bring forward
specific proof; the admissions of superior officers are quite
sufficient. General D. H. Hill, in an interesting description of the
Southern soldier, speaks very frankly of his shortcomings.
“Self-reliant always, obedient when he chose to be, impatient of
drill and discipline. He was unsurpassed as a scout or on the
skirmish line. Of the shoulder-to-shoulder courage, bred of drill
and discipline, he knew nothing and cared less. Hence, on the
battle-field, he was more of a free lance than a machine. Who ever
saw a Confederate line advancing that was not crooked as a ram’s
horn? Each ragged rebel yelling on his own hook and aligning on
himself! But there is as much need of the machine-made soldier as of
the self-reliant soldier, and the concentrated blow is always the
most effective blow. The erratic effort of the Confederate, heroic
though it was, yet failed to
THE CONFEDERATE DISCIPLINE 358
achieve the maximum result just because it was erratic. Moreover,
two serious evils attended that excessive egotism and individuality
which came to the Confederate through his training, association, and
habits. He knew when a movement was false and a position untenable,
and he was too little of a machine to give in such cases the
wholehearted service which might have redeemed the blunder. The
other evil was an ever-growing one. His disregard of discipline and
independence of character made him often a straggler, and by
straggling the fruit of many a victory was lost.1
General Lee was not less outspoken. A circular issued to his troops
during the last months of the war is virtually a criticism on their
conduct. “Many opportunities,” he wrote, “have been lost and
hundreds of valuable lives uselessly sacrificed for want of a strict
observance of discipline. Its object is to enable an army to bring
promptly into action the largest possible number of men in good
order, and under the control of their officers. Its effects are
visible in all military history, which records the triumph of
discipline and courage far more frequently than that of numbers and
resources. The importance and utility of thorough discipline should
be impressed on officers and men on all occasions by illustrations
taken from the experience of the instructor or from other sources of
information. They should be made to understand that discipline
contributes no less to their safety than to their efficiency.
Disastrous surprises and those sudden panics which lead to defeat
and the greatest loss of life are of rare occurrence among
disciplined troops. It is well known that the greatest number of
casualties occur when men become scattered, and especially when they
retreat in confusion, as the fire of the enemy is then more
deliberate and fatal. The experience of every officer shows that
those troops suffer least who attack most vigorously, and that a few
men, retaining their organisation and acting in concert, accomplish
far more with smaller loss than a larger number scattered and
disorganised. 1
Southern Historical Society Papers, vol. xiii, p. 261.
THE CONFEDERATE DISCIPLINE 359
“The appearance of a steady, unbroken line is more formidable to the
enemy, and renders his aim less accurate and his fire less
effective. Orders can be readily transmitted, advantage can be
promptly taken of every opportunity, and all efforts being directed
to a common end, the combat will be briefer and success more
certain. “Let officers and men be
made to feel that they will most effectually secure their safety by
remaining steadily at their posts, preserving order, and fighting
with coolness and vigour. . . . Impress upon the officers that
discipline cannot be attained without constant watchfulness on their
part. They must attend to the smallest particulars of detail. Men
must be habituated to obey or they cannot be controlled in battle,
and the neglect of the least important order impairs the proper
influence of the officer.”1
That such a circular was considered necessary after the troops had
been nearly four years under arms establishes beyond all question
that the discipline of the Confederate army was not that of the
regular troops with whom General Lee had served under the Stars and
Stripes; but it is not to be understood that he attributed the
deficiencies of his soldiers to any spirit of resistance on their
part to the demands of subordination. Elsewhere he says: “The
greatest difficulty I find is in causing orders and regulations to
be obeyed. This arises not from a spirit of disobedience, but from
ignorance.”2 And here, with his usual perspicacity, he
goes straight to the root of the evil. When the men in the ranks
understand all that discipline involves, safety, health, efficiency,
victory, it is easily maintained; and it is because experience and
tradition have taught them this that veteran armies are so amenable
to control. “Soldiers,” says Sir Charles Napier, “must obey in all
things. They may and do laugh at foolish orders, but they
nevertheless obey, not because they are blindly obedient, but
because they know that to disobey is to break the backbone of their
profession.” 1
Memoirs of General Robert E. Lee. By A. L. Long, Military
Secretary and Brigadier-General, pp. 685–6. 2 Memoirs,
etc., p. 619. Letter dated March 21, 1863.
THE CONFEDERATE DISCIPLINE 360
Such knowledge, however, is long in coming, even to the regular, and
it may be questioned whether it ever really came home to the
Confederates. In fact, the
Southern soldier, ignorant, at the outset, of what may be
accomplished by discipline, never quite got rid of the belief that
the enthusiasm of the individual, his goodwill and his native
courage, was a more than sufficient substitute. “The spirit which
animates our soldiers,” wrote Lee, “and the natural courage with
which they are so liberally endowed, have led to a reliance upon
those good qualities, to the neglect of measures which would
increase their efficiency and contribute to their safety.”1
Yet the soldier was hardly to blame. Neither he nor his regimental
officers had any previous knowledge of war when they were suddenly
launched against the enemy, and there was no time to instil into
them the habits of discipline. There was no regular army to set them
an example; no historic force whose traditions they would
unconsciously have adopted; the exigencies of the service forbade
the retention of the men in camps of instruction, and trained
instructors could not be spared from more important duties.
Such ignorance, however, as that which prevailed in the Southern
ranks is not always excusable. It would be well if those who pose as
the friends of the private soldier, as his protectors from
injustice, realised the mischief they may do by injudicious
sympathy. The process of being broken to discipline is undoubtedly
gaffing to the instincts of free men, and it is beyond question that
among a multitude of superiors, some will be found who are neither
just nor considerate. Instances of hardship must inevitably occur.
But men and officers—for discipline presses as hardly on the
officers as on the men—must obey, no matter at what cost to their
feelings, for obedience to orders, instant and unhesitating, is not
only the life-blood of armies but the security of States; and the
doctrine that under any conditions whatever deliberate disobedience
can be justified is treason to the commonwealth. It is to be
remembered that the
1 Memoirs, etc., p. 684. By A. L. Long.
THE “THINKING BAYONET” 361
end of the soldier’s existence is not merely to conduct himself as a
respectable citizen and earn his wages, but to face peril and
privations, not of his own free will, but at the bidding of others;
and, in circumstances where his natural instincts assert themselves
most strongly, to make a complete surrender of mind and body. If he
has been in the habit of weighing the justice or the wisdom of
orders before obeying them, if he has been taught that disobedience
may be a pardonable crime, he will probably question the justice of
the order that apparently sends him to certain death; if he once
begins to think; if he once contemplates the possibility of
disobedience; if he permits a single idea to enter his head beyond
the necessity of instant compliance, it is unlikely that he will
rise superior to the promptings of his weaker nature. “Men must
be habituated to obey or they cannot be controlled in battle;”
and the slightest interference with the habit of subordination is
fraught, therefore, with the very greatest danger to the efficiency
of an army. It has been asserted,
and it would appear that the idea is widespread, that patriotism and
intelligence are of vastly more importance than the habit of
obedience, and it was certainly a very general opinion in America
before the war. This idea should have been effectually dissipated,
at all events in the North, by
the battle of Bull Run.
Nevertheless, throughout the conflict a predilection existed in
favour of what was called the “thinking bayonet;” and the very term
“machine-made soldier,” employed by General D. H. Hill, proves that
the strict discipline of regular armies was not held in high esteem.
It is certainly true that the “thinking bayonet” is by no means to
be decried. A man can no more be a good soldier without intelligence
and aptitude for his profession than he can be a successful poacher
or a skilful jockey. But it is possible, in considering the value of
an armed force, to rate too highly the natural qualities of the
individual in the ranks. In certain circumstances, especially in
irregular warfare, where each man fights for his own hand, they
doubtless play a
BATTLE DISCIPLINE 362
conspicuous part. A thousand skilled riflemen, familiar with the
“moving accidents by flood and field,” even if they have no regular
training and are incapable of precise manœuvres, may prove more than
a match for the same number of professional soldiers. But when large
numbers are in question, when the concentration of superior force at
a single point, and the close co-operation of the three arms,
infantry, artillery, and cavalry, decide the issue, then the force
that can manœuvre, that moves like a machine at the mandate of a
single will, has a marked advantage; and the power of manœuvring and
of combination is conferred by discipline alone. “Two Mamelukes,”
said Napoleon, “can defeat three French horsemen, because they are
better armed, better mounted, and more skilful. A hundred French
horse have nothing to fear from a hundred Mamelukes, three hundred
would defeat a similar number, and a thousand French would defeat
fifteen hundred Mamelukes. So great is the influence of tactics,
order, and the power of manœuvring.”
It may be said, moreover, that whatever may have been the case in
past times, the training of the regular soldier to-day neither aims
at producing mere machines nor has it that effect. As much attention
is given to the development of self-reliance in the rank and file as
to making them subordinate. It has long been recognised that there
are many occasions in war when even the private must use his wits;
on outpost, or patrol, as a scout, an orderly, or when his immediate
superiors have fallen, momentous issues may hang on his judgment and
initiative; and in a good army these qualities are sedulously
fostered by constant instruction in field duties. Nor is the fear
justified that the strict enforcement of exact obedience, whenever a
superior is present, impairs, under this system of training, the
capacity for independent action when such action becomes necessary.
In the old days, to drill and discipline the soldier into a machine
was undoubtedly the end of all his training. To-day his officers
have the more difficult task of stimulating his intelligence, while,
at the same time, they instil the habits of subordination; and that
such task BATTLE
DISCIPLINE 363
may be successfully accomplished we have practical proof. The
regiments of the Light Brigade, trained by Sir John Moore nearly a
century ago on the system of to-day, proved their superiority in the
field over all others. As skirmishers, on the outpost, and in
independent fighting, they were exceedingly efficient; and yet, when
they marched shoulder to shoulder, no troops in Wellington’s army
showed a more solid front, manœuvred with greater precision, or were
more completely under the control of their officers.
Mechanical obedience, then, is perfectly compatible with the freest
exercise of the intelligence, provided that the men are so trained
that they know instinctively when to give the one and to use the
other; and the Confederates, had their officers and non-commissioned
officers been trained soldiers, might easily have acquired this
highest form of discipline. As it was, and as it always will be with
improvised troops, the discipline of battle was to a great degree
purely personal. The men followed those officers whom they knew, and
in whom they had confidence; but they did not always obey simply
because the officer had the right to command; and they were not
easily handled when the wisdom of an order or the necessity of a
movement was not apparent. The only way, it was said by an
Englishman in the Confederacy, in which an officer could acquire
influence over the Southern soldiers was by his personal conduct
under fire. “Every ounce of authority,” was his expression, “had to
be purchased by a drop of my blood.”1 Such being the
case, it is manifest that Jackson’s methods of discipline were well
adapted to the peculiar constitution of the army in which he served.
With the officers he was exceedingly strict. He looked to them to
set an example of unhesitating obedience and the precise performance
of duty. He demanded, too—and in this respect his own conduct was a
model—that the rank and file should be treated with tact and
consideration. He remembered that his citizen soldiers were utterly
unfamiliar with the forms and customs of military life, that what to
the regular would 1
Three Months in the Southern States. General Sir Arthur
Fremantle, G.C.B.
DISCIPLINE 364
be a mere matter of course, might seem a gross outrage to the man
who had never acknowledged a superior. In his selection of officers,
therefore, for posts upon his staff, and in his recommendations for
promotion, he considered personal characteristics rather than
professional ability. He preferred men who would win the confidence
of others—men not only strong, but possessing warm sympathies and
broad minds—to mere martinets, ruling by regulation, and treating
the soldier as a machine. But, at the same time, he was by no means
disposed to condone misconduct in the volunteers. Never was there a
more striking contrast than between Jackson the general and Jackson
off duty. During his sojourn at Moss Neck, Mr. Corbin’s little
daughter, a child of six years old, became a special favourite. “Her
pretty face and winsome ways were so charming that he requested her
mother that she might visit him every afternoon, when the day’s
labours were over. He had always some little treat in store for
her—an orange or an apple—but one afternoon he found that his supply
of good things was exhausted. Glancing round the room he eye fell on
a new uniform cap, ornamented with a gold band. Taking his knife, he
ripped off the braid, and fastened it among the curls of his little
playfellow.” A little later the child was taken ill, and after his
removal from Moss Neck he heard that she had died. “The general,”
writes his aide-de-camp, “wept freely when I brought him the sad
news.” Yet in the administration of discipline Jackson was far
sterner than General Lee, or indeed than any other of the generals
in Virginia. “Once on the march, fearing lest his men might stray
from the ranks and commit acts of pillage, he had issued an order
that the soldiers should not enter private dwellings. Disregarding
the order, a soldier entered a house, and even used insulting
language to the women of the family. This was reported to Jackson,
who had the man arrested, tried by drum-head court-martial, and shot
in twenty minutes.”1 He never failed to confirm the
sentences of death passed by courts-martial on deserters. It was in
vain that his oldest
1 Bright Skies and Dark Shadows. Rev. H. M. Field,
D.D., p. 286.
DISCIPLINE 365
friends, or even the chaplains, appealed for a mitigation of the
extreme penalty. “While he was in command at Winchester, in December
1861, a soldier who was charged with striking his captain was tried
by court-martial and sentenced to be shot. Knowing that the breach
of discipline had been attended with many extenuating circumstances,
some of us endeavoured to secure his pardon. Possessing ourselves of
all the facts, we waited upon the general, who evinced the deepest
interest in the object of our visit, and listened with evident
sympathy to our plea. There was moisture in his eyes when we
repeated the poor fellow’s pitiful appeal that he be allowed to die
for his country as a soldier on the field of battle, and not as a
dog by the muskets of his own comrades. Such solicitude for the
success of our efforts did he manifest that he even suggested some
things to be done which we had not thought of. At the same time he
warned us not to be too hopeful. He said: ‘It is unquestionably a
case of great hardship, but a pardon at this juncture might work
greater hardship. Resistance to lawful authority is a grave offence
in a soldier. To pardon this man would be to encourage
insubordination throughout the army, and so ruin our cause. Still,’
he added, ‘I will review the whole case, and no man will be happier
than myself if I can reach the same conclusions as you have done.’
The soldier was shot.”1
On another occasion four men were to be executed for desertion to
the enemy. The firing party had been ordered to parade at four
o’clock in the afternoon, and shortly before the hour a chaplain,
not noted for his tact, made his way to the general’s tent, and
petitioned earnestly that the prisoners might even now be released.
Jackson, whom he found pacing backwards and forwards, in evident
agitation, watch in hand, listened courteously to his arguments, but
made no reply, until at length the worthy minister, in his most
impressive manner, said, “General, consider your responsibility
before the Lord. You are sending these men’s souls to hell!” With a
look of intense 1
Communicated by the Rev. Dr. Graham.
DISCIPLINE 366
disgust at such empty cant, Jackson made one stride forward, took
the astonished divine by his shoulders, and saying, in his severest
tones, “That, sir, is my business—do you do yours!” thrust him
forcibly from the tent. His
severity as regards the more serious offences did not, however,
alienate in the smallest degree the confidence and affection of his
soldiers. They had full faith in his justice. They were well aware
that to order the execution of some unfortunate wretch gave him
intense pain. But they recognised, as clearly as he did himself,
that it was sometimes expedient that individuals should suffer. They
knew that not all men, nor even the greater part, are heroes, and
that if the worthless element had once reason to believe that they
might escape the legitimate consequences of their crimes, desertion
and insubordination would destroy the army. By some of the senior
officers, however, his rigorous ideas of discipline were less
favourably considered. They were by no means disposed to quarrel
with the fact that the sentences of courts-martial in the Second
Army Corps were almost invariably confirmed; but they objected
strongly to the same measure which they meted out to the men being
consistently applied to themselves. They could not be brought to see
that neglect of duty, however trivial, on the part of a colonel or
brigadier was just as serious a fault as desertion or
insubordination on the part of the men; and the conflict of opinion,
in certain cases, had unfortunate results.
To those whose conduct he approved he was more than considerate.
General Lane, who was under him as a cadet at Lexington, writes as
follows:— “When in camp at Bunker
Hill, after the battle of Sharpsburg, where the gallant Branch was
killed, I, as colonel commanding the brigade, was directed by
General A. P. Hill to hold my command in readiness, with three days’
rations, for detached service, and to report to General Jackson for
further orders. That was all the information that Hill could give
me. I had been in Jackson’s corps since the battles round Richmond,
and had been very derelict in not paying my respects to my old
professor.
DISCIPLINE 367
As I rode to his headquarters I wondered if he would recognise me. I
certainly expected to receive his orders in a few terse sentences,
and to be promptly dismissed with a military salute. He knew me as
soon as I entered his tent, though we had not met for years. He rose
quickly, with a smile on his face, took my hand in both of his in
the warmest manner, expressed his pleasure at seeing me, chided me
for not having been to see him, and bade me be seated. His kind
words, the tones of his voice, his familiarly calling me Lane,
whereas it had always been Mr. Lane at the Institute, put me
completely at my ease. Then, for the first time, I began to love
that reserved man whom I had always honoured and respected as my
professor, and whom I greatly admired as my general.
“After a very pleasant and somewhat protracted conversation, he
ordered me to move at once, and as rapidly as possible, to North
Mountain Depôt, tear up the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, and put
myself in communication with General Hampton (commanding cavalry
brigade), who would cover my operations. While we were there General
Jackson sent a member of his staff to see how we were progressing.
That night I received orders to move at once and quickly to
Martinsburg, as
there had been heavy skirmishing near Kerneysville. Next morning,
when I reported to General Jackson, he received me in the same
cordial, warm-hearted manner, complimented me on the thoroughness of
my work, told me that he had recommended me for promotion to take
permanent charge of Branch’s brigade, and that as I was the only
person recommended through military channels, I would be appointed
in spite of the two aspirants who were trying to bring political
influence to bear in Richmond in their behalf. When I rose to go he
took my hand in both of his, looked me steadily in the face, and in
the words and tones of friendly warmth, which can never be
forgotten, again expressed his confidence in my promotion, and bade
me good-bye, with a ‘God bless you, Lane!’ ”1
On the other hand, Jackson’s treatment of those who
1 Memoirs, pp. 536–7.
DISCIPLINE 368
failed to obey his orders was very different. No matter how high the
rank of the offender, Jackson never sought to screen the crime.1
No thought that the public rebuke of his principal subordinates
might impair their authority or destroy their cordial relations with
himself ever stayed his hand; and it may well be questioned whether
his disregard of consequences was not too absolutely uncompromising.
Men who live in constant dread of their chief’s anger are not likely
to render loyal and efficient service, and the least friction in the
higher ranks is felt throughout the whole command. When the troops
begin taking sides and unanimity disappears, the power of energetic
combination at once deteriorates. That Jackson was perfectly just is
not denied; the misconduct of his subordinates was sometimes
flagrant; but it may well be questioned whether to keep officers
under arrest for weeks, or even months, marching without their
swords in rear of the column, was wholly wise. There is but one
public punishment for a senior officer who is guilty of serious
misbehaviour, and that is instant dismissal. If he is suffered to
remain in the army his presence will always be a source of weakness.
But the question will arise, Is it possible to replace him? If he is
trusted by his men they will resent his removal, and give but
halfhearted support to his successor; so in dealing with those in
high places tact and consideration are essential. Even Dr. Dabney
admits that in this respect Jackson’s conduct is open to criticism.
As already related, he looked on the blunders of his officers, if
those blunders were honest, and due simply to misconception of the
situation, with a tolerant eye. He knew too much of war and its
difficulties to expect that their judgment would be unerring. He
never made the mistake of reprehending the man who had done his best
to succeed, and contented himself with pointing out, quietly and
courteously, how failure might have been avoided. “But if he
believed,” says his chief of the
1 The five regimental commanders of the Stonewall Brigade were
once placed under arrest at the same time for permitting their men
to burn fence-rails; they were not released until they had
compensated the farmer.
DISCIPLINE 369
staff, “that his subordinates were self-indulgent or contumacious,
he became a stern and exacting master; . . . and during his career a
causeless friction was produced in the working of his government
over several gallant and meritorious officers who served under him.
This was almost the sole fault of his military character: that by
this jealousy of intentional inefficiency he diminished the sympathy
between himself and the general officers next his person by whom his
orders were to be executed. Had he been able to exercise the same
energetic authority, through the medium of a zealous personal
affection, he would have been a more perfect leader of armies.”1
This system of command was in all probability the outcome of
deliberate calculation. No officer, placed in permanent charge of a
considerable force, least of all a man who never acted except upon
reflection, and who had a wise regard for human nature, could fail
to lay down for himself certain principles of conduct towards both
officers and men. It may be, then, that Jackson considered the
course he pursued the best adapted to maintain discipline amongst a
number of ambitious young generals, some of whom had been senior to
himself in the old service, and all of whom had been raised
suddenly, with probably some disturbance to their self-possession,
to high rank. It is to be remembered, too, that during the campaigns
of 1862 his pre-eminent ability was only by degrees made clear. It
was not everyone who, like General Lee, discerned the great
qualities of the silent and unassuming instructor of cadets, and
other leaders, of more dashing exterior, with a well-deserved
reputation for brilliant courage, may well have doubted whether his
capacity was superior to their own.
Such soaring spirits possibly needed a tight hand; and, in any case,
Jackson had much cause for irritation. With Wolfe and
Sherman he
shared the distinguished honour of being considered crazy by
hundreds of self-sufficient mediocrities. It was impossible that he
should have been ignorant, although not one word of complaint ever
passed 1
Dabney, vol. II, pp. 519–520.
THE DEVOTION OF HIS SOLDIERS 370
his lips, how grossly he was misrepresented, how he was caricatured
in the press, and credited with the most extravagant and foolhardy
ideas of war. Nor did his subordinates, in very many instances, give
him that loyal and ungrudging support which he conceived was the due
of the commanding general. More than one of his enterprises fell
short of the full measure of success owing to the shortcomings of
others; and these shortcomings, such as Loring’s insubordination at
Romney, Steuart’s refusal
to pursue Banks after Winchester, Garnett’s retreat at Kernstown, A.
P. Hill’s tardiness at Cedar Run, might all be traced to the same
cause—disdain of his capacity, and a misconception of their own
position. In such circumstances it is hardly to be wondered at if
his wrath blazed to a white heat. He was not of a forgiving nature.
Once roused, resentment took possession of his whole being, and it
may be questioned whether it was ever really appeased. At the same
time, the fact that Jackson lacked the fascination which, allied to
lofty intellect, wins the hearts of men most readily, and is
pre-eminently the characteristic of the very greatest warriors, can
hardly be denied. His influence with men was a plant of slow growth.
Yet the glamour of his great deeds, the gradual recognition of his
unfailing sympathy, his modesty and his truth, produced in the end
the same result as the personal charm of Napoleon, of Nelson, and of
Lee. His hold on the devotion of his troops was very sure: “God
knows,” said his adjutant-general, weeping the tears of a brave man,
“I would have died for him!” and few commanders have been followed
with more implicit confidence or have inspired a deeper and more
abiding affection. Long years after the war a bronze statue, in his
habit as he lived, was erected on his grave at Lexington. Thither,
when the figure was unveiled, came the survivors of the Second Army
Corps, the men of Manassas and of Sharpsburg, of Fredericksburg and
Chancellorsville, and of many another hard-fought field; and the
younger generation looked on the relics of an army whose peer the
world has seldom seen. When the guns had fired a salute, the wild
rebel yell, the music which the great Virginian had
THE DEVOTION OF HIS SOLDIERS 371
loved so well, rang loud above his grave, and as the last
reverberations died away across the hill, the grey-haired ranks
stood still and silent. “See how they loved him!” said one, and it
was spoken with deepest reverence. Two well-known officers, who had
served under Jackson, were sitting near each other on their horses.
Each remarked the silence of the other, and each saw that the other
was in tears. “I’m not ashamed of it, Snowden!” “Nor I, old boy,”
replied the other, as he tried to smile.
When, after the unveiling, the columns marched past the monument,
the old fellows looked up, and then bowed their uncovered heads and
passed on. But one tall, gaunt soldier of the Stonewall Brigade, as
he passed out of the cemetery, looked back for a moment at the
life-like figure of his general, and waving his old grey hat towards
it, cried out, “Good-bye, old man, good-bye; we’ve done all we could
for you; good-bye!” It is not
always easy to discern why one general is worshipped, even by men
who have never seen him, while another, of equal or even superior
capacity, fails to awaken the least spark of affection, except in
his chosen friends. Grant was undoubtedly a greater soldier than
McClellan, and the genius of Wellington was not less than that of
Nelson. And yet, while Nelson and McClellan won all hearts, not one
single private had either for Wellington or Grant any warmer
sentiment than respect. It would be as unfair, however, to attribute
selfishness or want of sympathy to either Wellington or Grant, as to
insinuate that Nelson and McClellan were deliberate bidders for
popularity. It may be that in the two former the very strength of
their patriotism was at fault. To them the State was everything, the
individual nothing. To fight for their country was merely a question
of duty, into which the idea of glory or recompense hardly entered,
and, indifferent themselves either to praise or blame, they
considered that the victory of the national arms was a sufficient
reward for the soldier’s toils. Both were generous and open-handed,
exerting themselves incessantly to provide for the comfort and
well-being of their troops.
NAPOLEON 372
Neither was insensible to suffering, and both were just as capable
of self-sacrifice as either Nelson or McClellan. But the standpoint
from which they looked at war was too exalted. Nelson and McClellan,
on the other hand, recognised that they commanded men, not stoics.
Sharing with Napoleon the rare quality of captivating others, a
quality which comes by nature or comes not at all, they made
allowance for human nature, and identified themselves with those
beneath them in the closest camaraderie. And herein, to a
great extent, lay the secret of the enthusiastic devotion which they
inspired. If the pitiless
dissectors of character are right we ought to see in Napoleon the
most selfish of tyrants, the coldest end most crafty of charlatans.
It is difficult, however, to believe that the hearts of a generation
of hardy warriors were conquered merely by ringing phrases and
skilful flattery. It should be remembered that from a mercenary
force, degraded and despised, he transformed the Grand Army into the
terror of Europe and the pride of France. During the years of his
glory, when the legions controlled the destinies of their country,
none was more honoured than the soldier. His interests were always
the first to be considered. The highest ranks in the peerage, the
highest offices of State, were held by men who had carried the
knapsack, and when thrones were going begging their claims were
preferred before all others. The Emperor, with all his greatness,
was always “the Little Corporal” to his grenadiers. His career was
their own. As they shared his glory, so they shared his reward.
Every upward step he made towards supreme power he took them with
him, and their relations were always of the most cordial and
familiar character. He was never happier than when, on the eve of
some great battle, he made his bivouac within a square of the Guard;
never more at ease than when exchanging rough compliments with the
veterans of Rivoli or Jena. He was the representative of the army
rather than of the nation. The men knew that no civilian would be
preferred before them; that their gallant deeds were certain of his
recognition; that their claims to the cross, to
NAPOLEON 373
pension, and to promotion, would be as carefully considered as the
claims of their generals. They loved Napoleon and they trusted him;
and whatever may have been his faults, he was “the Little Corporal,”
the friend and comrade of his soldiers, to the end. It was by the
same hooks of steel that Stonewall Jackson grappled the hearts of
the Second Army Corps to his own. His men loved him, not merely
because he was the bravest man they had ever known, the strongest,
and the most resolute, not because he had given them glory, and had
made them heroes whose fame was known beyond the confines of the
South, but because he was one of themselves, with no interests apart
from their interests; because he raised them to his own level,
respecting them not merely as soldiers, but as comrades, the tried
comrades of many a hard fight and weary march. Although he ruled
them with a rod of iron, he made no secret, either officially or
privately, of his deep and abiding admiration for their
self-sacrificing valour. His very dispatches showed that he regarded
his own skill and courage as small indeed when compared with theirs.
Like Napoleon’s, his congratulatory orders were conspicuous for the
absence of all reference to himself; it was always “we, ” not “I, ”
and he was among the first to recognise the worth of the rank and
file. “One day, ” says Dr. McGuire, “early in the war, when the
Second Virginia Regiment marched by, I said to General Johnston, “If
these men will not fight, you have no troops that will. ” He
expressed the prevalent opinion of the day in his reply, saying, “I
would not give one company of regulars for the whole regiment. ”
When I returned to Jackson I had occasion to quote General
Johnston’s opinion. “Did he say that? ” he asked, “and of those
splendid men? ” And then he added: “The patriot volunteer, fighting
for his country and his rights, makes the most reliable soldier upon
earth. ” And his veterans knew more than that their general believed
them to be heroes. They knew that thia great, valiant man, beside
whom all others, save Lee himself, seemed small and feeble, this
mighty captain, who held the hosts of the enemy in the hollow of his
hand, was the
JACKSON SUPPORTS HIS OFFICERS AND MEN 374
kindest and the most considerate of human beings. To them he was
“Old Jack” in the same affectionate sense as he had been “Old Jack”
to his class-mates at West Point. They followed him willingly, for
they knew that the path he trod was the way to victory; but they
loved him as children do their parents, because they were his first
thought and his last. In season
and out of season he laboured for their welfare. To his transport
and commissariat officers he was a hard master. The unfortunate
wight who had neglected to bring up supplies, or who ventured to
make difficulties, discovered, to his cost, that his quiet commander
could be very terrible; but those officers who did their duty, in
whatever branch of the service they might be serving, found that
their zeal was more than appreciated. For himself he asked nothing;
on behalf of his subordinates he was a constant and persistent
suitor. He was not only ready to support the claims to promotion of
those who deserved it, but in the case of those who displayed
special merit he took the initiative himself: and he was not content
with one refusal. His only difference with General Lee, if
difference it can be called, was on a question of this nature. The
Commander-in-Chief, it appears, soon after the battle of
Fredericksburg, had proposed to appoint officers to the Second Army
Corps who had served elsewhere. After some correspondence Jackson
wrote as follows:—“My rule has been to recommend such as were, in my
opinion, best qualified for filling vacancies. The application of
this rule has prevented me from even recommending for the command of
my old brigade one of its officers, because I did not regard any of
them as competent as another of whose qualifications I had a higher
opinion. This rule has led me to recommend Colonel Bradley T.
Johnson for the command of Taliaferro’s brigade. . . . I desire the
interest of the service, and no other interest, to determine who
shall be selected to fill the vacancies. Guided by this principle, I
cannot go outside of my command for persons to fill vacancies in it,
unless by so doing a more competent officer is secured. This same
principle leads me to oppose
JACKSON SUPPORTS HIS OFFICERS AND MEN 375
having officers who have never served with me, and of whose
qualifications I have no knowledge, forced upon me by promoting them
to fill vacancies in my command, and advancing them over meritorious
officers well qualified for the positions, and of whose
qualifications I have had ample opportunities of judging from their
having served with me. “In my
opinion, the interest of the service would be injured if I should
quietly consent to see officers with whose qualifications I am not
acquainted promoted into my command to fill vacancies, regardless of
the merits of my own officers who are well qualified for the
positions. The same principle leads me, when selections have to be
made outside of my command, to recommend those (if there be such)
whose former service with me proved them well qualified for filling
the vacancies. This induced me to recommend Captain Chew, who does
not belong to this army corps, but whose well-earned reputation when
with me has not been forgotten.”
And as he studied the wishes of his officers, working quietly and
persistently for their advancement, so he studied the wishes of the
private soldiers. It is well known that artillerymen come, after a
time, to feel a personal affection for their guns, especially those
which they have used in battle. When in camp near Fredericksburg
Jackson was asked to transfer certain field-pieces, which had
belonged to his old division, to another portion of the command. The
men were exasperated, and the demand elicited the following letter:—
“December 3, 1862. “General R. E.
LEE, “Commanding Army of Northern Virginia.
“General,—Your letter of this date, recommending that I distribute
the rifle and Napoleon guns ‘so as to give General D. H. Hill a fair
proportion’ has been received. I respectfully request, if any such
distribution is to be made, that you will direct your chief of
artillery or some other officer to do it; but I hope that none of
the guns which belonged to the Army of the Valley before it became
part of the Army of Northern Virginia, after the battle of Cedar
Run, THE PEOPLE OF
THE VALLEY 376
will be taken from it. If since that time any artillery has
improperly come into my command, I trust that it will be taken away,
and the person in whose possession it may be found punished, if his
conduct requires it. So careful was I to prevent an improper
distribution of the artillery and other public property captured at
Harper’s Ferry, that I issued a written order directing my staff
officers to turn over to the proper chiefs of staff of the Army of
Northern Virginia all captured stores. A copy of the order is
herewith enclosed. “General D. H.
Hill’s artillery wants existed at the time he was assigned to my
command, and it is hoped that the artillery which belonged to the
Army of the Valley will not be taken to supply his wants.
“I am, General, your obedient servant,
“T. J. JACKSON, Lieutenant-General.”
No further correspondence is to be found on the subject, so it may
be presumed that the protest was successful.
Jackson’s relations with the rank and file have already been
referred to, and although he was now commander of an army corps, and
universally acknowledged as one of the foremost generals of the
Confederacy, his rise in rank and reputation had brought no increase
of dignity. He still treated the humblest privates with the same
courtesy that he treated the Commander-in-Chief. He never repelled
their advances, nor refused, if he could, to satisfy their
curiosity; and although he seldom went out of his way to speak to
them, if any soldier addressed him, especially if he belonged to a
regiment recruited from the Valley, he seldom omitted to make some
inquiry after those he had left at home. Never, it was said, was his
tone more gentle or his smile more winning than when he was speaking
to some ragged representative of his old brigade. How his heart went
out to them may be inferred from the following. Writing to a friend
at Richmond he said: “Though I have been relieved from command in
the Valley, and may never again be assigned to that important trust,
yet I feel deeply when I see the patriotic people of that region
under the heel of a
THE PEOPLE OF THE VALLEY 377
hateful military despotism. There are all the hopes of those who
have been with me from the commencement of the war in Virginia, who
have repeatedly left their homes and families in the hands of the
enemy, to brave the dangers of battle and disease; and there are
those who have so devotedly laboured for the relief of our suffering
sick and wounded.”
378
NOTE
Table showing the Nationality and Average Measurements of 346,744
Federal Soldiers examined for Military Service after March 6, 1863. |
Number | |
Height ft. in. |
Chest at Inspiration in. |
United States (69 per cent.) Germany Ireland
Candada England France Scotland Other
nationalities including Wales and five British
Colonies |
237, 391
35,935 32,473 15,507 11,479
2,630 2,127
9,202 ———— |
|
5 7.40
5 5.54 5 5.54 5 5.51
5 6.02 5 5.81 5 6.13
— |
35.61
35.88 35.24 35.42 35.41 35.29
35.97
— | |
346,744 |
Report of the Provost Marshal General, 1866, p. 698.
The Roll of the 35th Massachusetts, which may be taken as a typical
Northern regiment, shows clearly enough at what period the great
influx of foreigners took place. Of 104 officers the names of all
but four—and these four joined in 1864—are pure English. Of the 964
rank and file of which the regiment was originally composed, only 50
bore foreign names. In 1864, however, 495 recruits were received,
and of these over 400 were German immigrants.—History of the 35th
Regiment,
Massachusetts
Volunteers, 1862–65. |