Shoulder-Straps: A Novel of New York and the Army, 1862

by Henry Morford

  CHAPTER XVII.

  LOOKING FOR JOHN CRAWFORD, OF DURYEA'S ZOUAVES--THE MORNING OF THE FIRSTOF JULY--MCCLELLAN AND HIS GENERALS--THE FIRST BATTLE OFMALVERN--VICTORY IN RETREAT.

  It will be remembered that Richard Crawford, lying helplessly on hissofa and murmuring over the bodily disability which at once entailedidleness and suffering, made it one of the grounds of comparisonsinjurious to himself, that his brother John was on service in Virginiawith the Advance Guard--better known, perhaps, as "Duryea'sZouaves"--that gallant corps designated by the rebels as the "red-leggeddevils," and spoken of by every European officer who has seen theiraction in battle, as the equals of any body of regulars of any servicein the world. The claims of business alone had prevented his being inthe ranks of that regiment, if in no higher position, when they marcheddown Broadway on their departure in the summer of 1861, receiving themerited compliment of being the finest-looking body of men, as tophysique and probable endurance, that had ever passed over thatprocession-trodden pavement, and headed by a gallant officer (Colonel,now General, Abram Duryea) who had been so largely instrumental inmaking the Seventh Regiment famous for drill, discipline and readinessfor any service.

  John Crawford, a younger brother of Richard (his _only_ brother, infact--the whole living family being comprised in Richard, Isabella andJohn) had left his lucrative employment as a confidential dry-goodsclerk, in one of the largest down-town establishments, and joined theAdvance Guard. He had participated in nearly or quite all the battlesshared in by that lucky corps, from Big Bethel, where they performed thewonderful feat of re-forming under fire in the space of four minutes,after having been thrown into complete disorder by the discharge from anambuscade of artillery,--to the severe conflicts of the Peninsula, inMcClellan's advance upon Richmond; and only once had he been wounded,even slightly. He seemed to bear a charmed life; and there wassomething in the rollick and dash of his letters home, always fullcharged with the very sense of bravery and physical enjoyment, wellcalculated to arouse the feeling, if not the envy, of a brother quite aspatriotic and probably quite as brave as himself, but kept back bycircumstances and afterwards by ill-health from participating in thesame glorious conflicts. No matter whether he described the carnage ofthe turning point in a day of battle; an hour beside a wounded soldierin the hospital, talking of home and friends; or one of thechicken-and-pig-foraging expeditions for which the Zouaves have beenalmost as famous as for their fighting,--through all these shone thespirit of the gay, rattling, contented soldier, who might have sat for aportrait, any day, of Paddy Murphy, in the "Happy Man," making hisbaggage-wagon, commissariat and camp-chest of a one-headed drum, readyto fall in love with the first neat pair of ankles that peeped frombeneath a well-kept petticoat, a little regardless of any proprietorshipin the same ankles, other than that vested in the actual owner, andsplendidly indifferent as to either the time or the mode of his death,whenever that death should become a matter of necessity.

  The letters of such soldiers as these are the best recruiting-sergeantsthat can be sent abroad among any people; just as the letters ofwhining, lugubrious or dissatisfied men, who have gone into war withoutexpecting any of its dangers or discomforts--who are satisfied with nofare less luxurious than that served up at Delmonico's or the MaisonDoree, and who protest against any sleeping which is not done uponspring-mattresses strown with rose-leaves,--cannot do otherwise thandiscourage and unnerve the whole immediate community in which they fall.Whether the growlers through the press and in general society, have donemost to discourage and demoralize the army, or whether the grumblers inthe army have wrought more effectually in discouraging enlistments andweakening the national cause, certain it is that the two evil influenceshave worked together, and that those who have displayed the contraryspirit are entitled to full credit from the whole loyal community.

  John Crawford, the Zouave, has not yet made his appearance upon thescene; but it will now become necessary to turn attention to events andincidents in which he was engaged, and to discover what influence hisaction may have produced on the after events of this story. In thischange of scene, too, we pass away for the time from the outside actionsand influences of the war--the examination of recruiting officers, theircamps and their Broadway parades, with the domestic and socialentanglements in which they were involved by the struggle,--to thetheatre of the war itself and the sights and sounds involved in one ofthe deadliest conflicts that ever shook the earth with the thundercreated by the blood-shedding descendants of Cain.

  It is with the battle of Malvern Hill that we have to do--a battle asyet misunderstood and underrated by many who think themselves thoroughlyconversant with the events of the war--one of those marvellous_victories in retreat_ which often more fully than successes in advanceillustrate the genius of those who achieve them. When the history of theWar for the Union comes to be written at a later day, and when the pettyjealousies and misunderstandings are discarded which now embarrass allcontemporary records,--it is scarcely to be doubted that the battle ofMalvern Hill will be set down as the most terrible conflict ever knownon this continent; the most splendid artillery duel of any country orany age; a crowning test of indomitable bravery on the part of bothloyalists and rebels; and a brilliant victory for the Union cause, whichsaved an army, crowned the reputation of its young General, and averteda series of evils which could not have failed to culminate in the fallof Washington and the virtual destruction of the last hope of therepublic.

  The events which had immediately preceded Malvern Hill are too fresh inthe minds of the people to need any extended recapitulation. McClellan,deprived of his last hope for the immediate capture of Richmond, by theunexpected strength shown by the Confederates in front and thewithdrawal of McDowell under the orders of the government, when withinten miles of effecting a junction with him;--McClellan, his forces sadlythinned by the labors and the diseases incident to the long delay amidthe swamps of the Chickahominy; McClellan, driven at last from thepossibility of even holding his position, by the arrival at Richmond ofa large proportion of the rebel army driven from Corinth by Halleck, andby the movement of Jackson with a body of forty thousand men to take hisright wing in flank;--McClellan had abandoned the White House on thePamunkey River, on Sunday the twenty-ninth of June, after the terrificconflict of the Friday previous, burning the White House itself andimmense quantities of stores and supplies that could not be transported,and was now falling back on the line of the James River, where he couldmeet the protection of the Union gun-boats and safely await the slowcoming of those reinforcements with the aid of which he yet made nodoubt of being able to take the rebel capital.

  To McClellan's army this movement, accompanied with so much haste andsuch extensive destruction of valuables, necessarily looked more like adisastrous retreat after defeat than it was in reality; and theconsequence was such a depression of spirits in many of the corps, ascould only have been prevented growing into demoralization by theconfidence that every officer and every soldier yet felt in the youngcommander. To the rebels, knowing the country better than the loyaltroops, the movement appeared nearer what it really was, a successfulescape from overwhelming difficulties, to a better and more secureposition, from which an offensive movement might again be made at anearly day, threatening their capital beyond a hope of defence. To them,a prize long watched and supposed to be securely entrapped, was afterall escaping to a place of safety; and every Confederate officer andsoldier seemed to feel that the Union army must not be allowed to gainthe line of the James as an army, if any series of desperate andcontinued attacks could suffice to destroy it. Never, perhaps, wasgreater bravery or more indefatigable energy shown in pursuing a beatenbut dangerous foe, than was shown on this occasion by Hill, Longstreetand Jackson; and never, certainly, was the doggedly dangerous defence ofthe tiger slowly retreating to his jungle, more splendidly shown than byMcClellan, Hooker, Sumner, Keyes, Heintzelman and the other Unioncommanders. The conflict of Monday the thirtieth June, at White OakSwamp, had brought no substantial
benefit to the Confederate arms, norhad it in any considerable degree weakened the Union forces; and on thenight of that day it became evident to the commanders of both armiesthat if Tuesday the first of July should pass without a substantialvictory gained by the Confederates, the Union troops would gain theshelter of the James and the gun-boats, and the rebel advance be checkedeffectually.

  It was upon the two armies in this position that the night of Mondayclosed down; and it was upon the two armies with their positions verylittle changed, that the morning broke on Tuesday, giving light for thedouble battle, of a whole day's duration, hereafter to be known as thatof Malvern Hill.[11]

  [Footnote 11: For the close and accurate description of this battle, thecorrectness of the technical terms employed, the ground occupied, andsome of the very language used,--the writer in this place begs to makehis acknowledgments to Mr William H. White, soldier and scholar, aLieutenant in the Ninth Infantry in the campaign against the city ofMexico, and author of the popular "Sketches of the Mexican War" whichhave supplied our literature with some of the finest battle-pieces inthe language.]

  Nature has no sympathy with bloodshed and but little with suffering; andit is only when a God puts off mortal existence that the earth is rackedwith the thunders and the earthquakes of Calvary. The birds sing assweetly and the sun shines as brightly as usual, on the day when we layin the earth all that was mortal of one dearer to us than sunshine orbird-music; and the moon does not turn red or veil her light, even inthe presence of midnight murder. If the skies weep rain upon Waterloo,it does not fall because the powers in heaven are making lamentationover the slaughter so soon to be accomplished, but because the crops ofthe Flemish farmers have called up to the skies for moisture.

  The sun peeps lovingly down even on many a battle-field, and it kissesthe tips of bayonets soon to be wet with the blood of brothers and theblades of swords that are to be hacked and hammered in deadly conflict,just as it might glint upon the polished barrel of the sportsman orflash from the diamond aigrette of the lady riding forth on her whitepalfrey to catch the breath of early morning. And how man, with thecapacity of thought, shrinks and shrivels within himself when he marksthe eternity of the course of nature and the very silent scorn bestowedupon him when he is committing crimes or displaying heroisms that makeall _his_ little world one overwhelming convulsion! It was the reply ofan officer of undaunted bravery, when asked what was the predominantfeeling in his mind when he headed the forlorn-hope in one of thedesperate assaults that preceded the taking of the City of Mexico: "Ithink I heard the singing of the birds in the trees, more distinctlythan anything else, and I felt a little vexed that they seemed to carenothing about the terrible scrape we were pitching into." And somethingof the same dissatisfaction, though more tinged with melancholy, hasbeen felt by many who stood beside the closing grave and heard the samebird-music making harsh discord with the rumbling of the clods fallingon the lid of the coffin, and who saw the pleasant sunshine tinging thevery sods that were in a few moments to form an impassable barrierbetween the beloved dead and the miserable living.

  Nature smiled upon the field of Malvern, on the morning of the First ofJuly, however the powers that wheel the courses of the sun may havefrowned behind their battlements at the sacrifice of life then beginningand the fearful passions then being called into more active exertion. Aslight mist lay over wood and river, in the very early morning, but thefirst beams of the sun dispelled it, and the picturesque Virginialandscape was exposed to full view, with its long stretches of hill andplain, its river glimmering in the distance, its patches of corn andtobacco, its scattered and unthrifty farm-houses flanked with theirnegro quarters, and its long lines of white and sun-baked roads.

  At that point on the direct road from Charles City to Richmond, andabout four miles from Malvern Hill in a North-west direction, such ascene was presented, half an hour after sunrise, as has seldom beenlooked upon by mortal eye. The increasing light brought more and moreplainly to view the retreating march of the Union forces--unmistakablya retreat and yet quite as unmistakably no panic. Interminable lines ofwagons, whose length and number no one can estimate who has not seen aformidable army on the march, rolled on slowly over the white roads,raising clouds of impalpable dust that rose no higher than the wheelsand then settled again without obscuring the view. Battery after batteryof rifled Parrots, smooth-bores, howitzers and monster siege-guns,rumbled leisurely along the uneven way. Long lines of jaded cavalrytramped wearily and stiffly, the horses with drooping heads and theriders with listless attitudes and loose seats in their saddles whichdenoted the very extremity of fatigue and exhaustion. Streams oflimping, footsore stragglers and slightly-wounded soldiers flanked theroads on either side, trudging along beside the ambulances in whichtheir worse-wounded companions were being carried forward. Mixed in withthese were unshorn Confederate prisoners; teamsters whose mules andwagons lay at various points between the Chickahominy and Turkey Bend;and ruined sutlers whose precious captured stores were now giving aidand comfort to the appreciative stomachs of the hungry rebels. TheProvost-Marshal's Guard and fatigue-party of Colonel Porter brought upthe rear--picking up stragglers; blowing up ammunition that had beenleft by the way; burning feed and forage; smashing barrels of liquids,of which the apparent wanton waste on the ground would at any other timehave almost produced a revolt in the ranks; bending the barrels andthrowing into the swamp, of muskets dropped by dead and exhaustedsoldiers; breaking up and burning abandoned wagons, and destroyingknapsacks, blankets, and all such other articles that could be of anypossible use to an enemy, as had been left behind by the regiments thathad passed on to the James River.

  The position at which our point of view is taken, and through whichthese streams of wagons, guns, horses and men were passing with theappearance of a retreat and yet with the steady regularity of anordinary march, formed the camping-ground of Genl. Fitz-John Porter'scommand, lately the right wing but now the rear of the army of thePotomac. The shattered remnants of the corps of that indomitableGeneral, who after services of the first bravery and importance, was sosoon afterwards to be placed in an ambiguous position before the countryand dismissed from a service which he had illustrated rather thandisgraced,--together with portions of those of Sumner, Heintzelman andKeyes, made up his present command and the rear-guard of the army,holding this point on the Richmond and Charles City road. And whatevermay have been the merits of other commands embraced in that still vastarmy, in that of General Porter was certainly included Borne of the bestregulars yet spared to the service, and some of the bravest and mostefficient volunteer regiments that were ever suddenly formed from theranks of civil life, to defend the honor of any country. To them theoften-misapplied phrase, "war-worn veterans," could now be appliedwithout mockery, for the men and their encampment furniture looked alikeworn and jaded, and it was only by their regularity and evidentdiscipline that they could be recognized for what they really were--themost reliable soldiers in the army, and men well worthy of the trustconfided to them, of defending the threatened rear and breaking anysudden assault of a foe flushed with success. Those men who stood uponguard at various points of the hasty encampment, may have been faded andragged in uniform, the arms they bore may have shown hard usage, andtheir discolored tents showed little of the "pomp and circumstance ofglorious war;" but they had full warrant for all this in past services,for not a storm in all the long campaign that they had not breasted, andnot a battle of all the long line on the Peninsula in which they had notsown the soil of freedom with sacred seed from their thinned ranks.

  A bloodless military pageant may be a splendid spectacle, and hearts maybeat high and eyes grow bright when the steady foot-fall of our"household troops" is heard on Broadway, and they file by with richmusic, flashing banners and the proud consciousness of a strength thatwould be terrible if asserted; but what are such feelings to those withwhich the truly patriotic look upon those who have lost all their glowand gilding in the "baptism of fire," and acquired that sacred squalorspring
ing from active and dangerous service? The faded, coat and cap andthe dingy accoutrements are badges of honor, worth a thousand of thosenew, bright, untried, and incapable of telling or suggesting any heroicstory. And if the ranks of a regiment of such men are thin, there is aglorious shadow standing in every vacant place once filled by a gallantsoldier; and a voice rings out which gives the same reply to the inquiryafter the absent ones, that was so long given in the armies ofNapoleon's time to the roll-call which pronounced the name of La Tourd'Auvergne, the "First Soldier of France"--"dead on the field of honor!"Think of it, lady of the agricultural and ornithological bonnet and theirreproachable silks, when the next time in a city railroad car two"soldiers" sit down beside you, and one is a spruce, natty-whiskered,good-looking member of a pet regiment of the N.G.S.N.Y. or the N.Y.S.M.,going down to an evening drill and a supper of oysters after it, and theother a hard-featured and weather-beaten discharged soldier from ourSouthern battle-fields, lame or otherwise, in faded uniform and a shirtnot too suggestive of plentiful washerwomen,--think of this, and if yousmile bewitchingly upon the one, as is your nature, when he apologizesfor accidentally creasing your dress,--do not father up your robes withtoo much contempt, from contact with the stained garments of the other,who has outraged your _amor propre_ by taking a place beside you; forthough you may be merely shunning contact with a vulgar ruffian or acoward who has deserted his colors in the hour of need--you _may_ beinsulting a _hero_.

  Outlying pickets had of course been thrown out from General Porter'sforce, now posted to keep the advancing rebels at bay until the stillimmense trains of stores and ammunition could be conveyed to Harrison'sLanding, and the siege-guns and field-batteries placed in position atMalvern Hill and other points guarding the new base. McClellan hadevidently calculated upon making the last and effectual stand at MalvernHill, and the rebels had quite as evidently calculated upon his doing soif allowed to reach it; and on the issue of the struggle in thatneighborhood was to depend the question whether the Union forces were tobe driven pell-mell into the James River, surrender or hold their ownand repulse their assailants. Sudden attacks and attempts at surprisewere naturally expected by the rear-guard at any moment; and againstthese usual and unusual precautions had been taken, which would havesatisfied old Frederick himself--that hard-headed old soldier whodreaded nothing in war but an attack by surprise.

  The nature of the country in the neighborhood as well as indeed alongthe whole line from the Chickahominy to the James, abounding as it didin woods and swamps, made it impossible to form extended lines of battleeven at the spot where successful defence and the holding of a certainposition appeared to be the most necessary. Many regiments had not evenroom to deploy more than half the length of their proper fronts; and thefull strength of the command could not possibly be brought to bearagainst an attacking foe, distributed as it was in knots for milesacross the country.

  These natural obstacles, meanwhile, were not disadvantageous to therebels. Their superior knowledge of the section, with its numerous minorswamp-roads, forest-paths and approaches necessarily unknown to theUnion forces, gave them immense advantages, such as they had not beenslow to improve, in corresponding circumstances, during the whole of thepreceding campaign. Aware of these facts, a night attack on Monday mighthave been expected by the Federal officers, and the men had slept ontheir arms in anticipation of it. But White Oak Swamp had been toosevere a trial of courage and energy; they were not disposed to attackagain before receiving more of the reinforcements steadily pouringonward from Richmond; and as a consequence the wearied troops had beenallowed to pass the night without disturbance, and they had evenoverhauled the remains of rations remaining in their haversacks and madetheir scanty and unsavory breakfasts, long before the expected hostilecloud burst upon them.

  It was nearly nine o'clock in the morning when some of the scouts ofSmith's brigade came in and announced the enemy advancing in force. In amoment after, the rattling rolls of drums and the brazen notes of buglesresounded among the bivouacs; and with the regimental and nationalcolors planted at prominent points before arranged, the regimentsformed upon them and took up the positions assigned. Some of thebrigades were hidden in the cornfields adjoining the encampment; somewere drawn up along the lines of fences, affording little protection,but obscuring knowledge of the field by an enemy attempting toreconnoitre from a distance; several regiments were thrown into thewoods right and left; and a considerable portion of the command awaitedthe attack on open ground, without other protection than God, thejustice of their cause, and their own valor. Kern's PennsylvaniaBattery, Martin's Massachusetts, and Carlisle's and Tidball's RegularBatteries, were on the ground. They moved up nearer the front than theyhad before been lying, the Regular Batteries in the main road and uponan eminence to the right. Kern took position near the edge of the swampon the left; and Martin found post in a wheat-field to the right.Several brigades of infantry were also thrown well in advance, thoughnot in range of the artillery; and so prepared, the Union troops awaitedwhat they felt was to be a decisive conflict.

  Gradually the "crack! crack! crack!" of a scattering fire of small-arms,which had been heard for a quarter of an hour to the westward, camenearer and nearer, as the pickets were driven in, contesting theirground stubbornly as they fell back. On came the Confederates, slowly atfirst and afterwards with more rapidity, throwing out clouds ofskirmishers, in the rear of which the main body marched in suchformations as the nature of the ground permitted. Whenever they deployedin line of battle, instead of the customary arrangement of a single lineof two ranks, they formed in three lines "closed _en masse_," thusmaking their front six ranks deep. This disposition of course wascalculated to give increased weight in a bayonet charge, and indeed tomake it well nigh irresistible; but besides the fact that the solidformation would render the execution of artillery among them much moredestructive, in the event of a repulse it would be almost impossible torally them, as the different regiments would necessarily lack space inwhich to manoeuvre, the lines inevitably mix up in an inextricable mass,and the whole body become a disorganized mob. Some of the rebeldivisions were formed in column, either of division or company, allclosed up at half distance.

  It was a matter of remark to the Union officers who saw the advance ofthe Confederate forces on that day--the most formidable advance,perhaps, that they have made during any battle of the war,--that therewere no flashing and showy uniforms, and that but few flags were seen.The same remark had before been made during other conflicts of thePeninsular campaign, and the contrast thus presented to the gaudy andcareless dressing of many of the Union troops, seemed one to reflectcredit on the Confederate prudence at the expense of that quality onwhich they had so prided themselves--their _chivalry_. Except as the sunshone on the sloping musket-barrels and bristling bayonets, there werefew brilliant objects in all that formidable array, on which thesharp-shooters of the Federal army could readily fix as targets. Fewbright buttons flashed on uniforms, even of officers, andshoulder-straps were so uncommon as to make it difficult to distinguishan officer (even a field or staff officer, if not on horseback) from aprivate. Our own forces, throughout the war, have probably beenneedlessly reckless in this regard; and there is no doubt that thebrilliant uniforms, particularly of the various Zouave corps, have oftenmade them more easily distinguishable and added to their losses whenfighting at long range. But the truly brave man is not apt to considerthe consequences to his own safety, of wearing a dress or carrying aninsignia which he would otherwise bear with propriety and with pride. Itwas an inviting mark which Henri of Navarre offered to the foe at Ivry,in the white plume with which he led on his followers; and Murat, whenhe made those desperate charges to which reference has before been madeduring the progress of this narration, must have known that his flashingsilks, his feathers and embroidery, put his life much more in dangerthan that of an officer less conspicuously clad; but neither the foe ofthe League nor the brother-in-law of Napoleon remembered the danger whenthe glory was to be won and the gr
eat object of the soldieraccomplished. Perhaps that duellist may be pardoned by those who lookon, when he carefully removes from his person every mark that couldfurnish a target to his enemy, but he is no more than pardoned; and ifthere is one redeeming trait in the detestable character of theduellist, it is to be found in that ready exposure of his life to thechances of _fate_ and _skill_, which does not stop to calculate a buttonor measure the narrowest line of aim which can be presented to anadversary. Straitened circumstances and the want of many of theappliances of luxury, may have had something to do with the lack ofpersonal display on the part of the Confederates, more especially theofficers, throughout the struggle; but a long time will elapse beforethe non-chivalrous "Yankees" whom they have despised, will cease tobelieve that commendable anxiety for personal safety has lain at thebottom of the self-denial.

  The fire of the rebel skirmishers, in this advance, was met promptly bythose of the Union army, and so sharply that the former were soon drivenback pell-mell on the main body. The Federal sharp-shooters, takingadvantage of every tree, rock or knoll, frequently overlapping theirflanks, kept up a continual and most destructive fire on the steadilyadvancing lines and columns. The Confederates came on in excellentorder, their dingy lines sometimes bulging to the front, thenoccasionally bending rearwards,--now the left wing curving forward, andthen the right swaying in an opposite direction. But these triflingdeviations from mathematical lines were always quickly corrected, andthe "dress" of their long fronts was really so good as to give evidenceof continued and careful drill on the part of the men and much abilityon that of the officers.

  A heavy gray-clad body of rebels advanced in soldierly style until theycame within two hundred yards of the position occupied by Couch'sdivision, which was lying down in the weeds and partially screened bythem. A blast of bugles--a roll of drums--a few sharp words of command;and up rose the before-dormant mass to their feet. A scorching,withering fire of small-arms, delivered by companies from left to right,and with the greatest deliberation, was sent directly into the faces ofthe advancing rebels--such a close and deadly fire as seems almost asimpossible to advance against as against the lightnings of heaven. Theyhalted, wavered, and gave signs of confusion; but they were soonrestored to order and again came on. Again one of those close andterrible volleys was poured into them, thinning the ranks andencumbering every step with dead; and again they halted and wavered.This time they deployed in line of battle and commenced a fierce fire onthe opposing divisions; accompanied by yells peculiar tothemselves--such as no other civilized troops in the world have everuttered--not a hurrah, a cheer, or even a roar, but a _shriek_ asdissonant as the Indian war-whoop, and more terrible.

  On the right and on the left the enemy came hurrying up, their columnsat a double quick. But they were met and brought to a stand at everypoint. Their artillery, ordered to the front, dashed up by batteries,took positions, unlimbered and opened savagely. The Union batteries,already posted, commenced their splendid practice. Sheet after sheet ofdeadly flame burst from one side and the other of the combatants; therattling crack of the volleys of firearms became blended with the heavymetallic ring and sullen boom of the artillery; and the first battle ofMalvern Hill--that which was to decide the approach to the mainposition--was now fairly begun.

  From various and hitherto unknown paths through the woods and marshes,the gray-clads came on in swarms, every moment adding to the formidablecharacter of the attack, the evident numbers of the assailants, and thecertainty that the struggle was to be a close and terrible one. But thegathering thousands were fiercely met by the blue-clad veterans of theUnion, and repeatedly driven back in confusion. Let this be recorded,from the personal knowledge of sharers in that combat--whateverafter-history may choose to consider authority on the subject,--that_the Federal troops never permanently yielded one foot of ground duringthe fight_, however worn-out with fatigue, embarrassed by a crampedposition, outnumbered and at one time half-surrounded.

  It has before been said that the Battle of Malvern Hill was one of themost magnificent artillery duels known to the history of war; and thoughthe most splendid effects of that terrible arm were shown at a laterperiod, when the whole range of McClellan's heavy pieces came into play,yet even now the effects were such as to have satisfied the very Molochof destructive war. The play of the Union regular batteries wasbeautiful, (if such a term can be applied to that which defaces thebeauty of God's handiwork, in however holy a cause.) Every shot could beseen to tear open the dense masses of the enemy in wide spaces, throughwhich the white background could be distinctly seen until they wereclosed again by almost superhuman efforts. The volunteer batteriesseemed little behind in their practice--their solid shot and burstingshell falling in a perpetual shower and making fearful havoc alternatelyin the solid masses of the rebels and among the gunners of theirartillery.

  When the Confederates opened with their batteries, General Porter,accompanied by a part of his staff, was occupying the upper slope of aneminence to the right, from which a tolerably good view of thebattle-ground could be obtained. It was not one of those points "fromwhich all the details of the fight could be taken in at a glance,"according to the phraseology of many of the graphic describers of modernbattles; for no such spot has ever been known, in the neighborhood ofany extensive conflict, since the use of artillery covered every fieldwith smoke and destroyed the romantic opportunities for observationwhich existed in the days of the lance and the cross-bow. But it was thevery best position for a general oversight of the field, attainableunder the circumstances; and that it was within easy range of theenemy's missiles was demonstrated by one of the very first shot, whichstruck a tree immediately behind the General, shattering it to piecesand severely wounding one of the aid-de-camps with the flying splinters.

  It is impossible to describe, in such form that it can be realized bythe reader, this fiercest of battle-fields for the two hours whichfollowed the first attack. Many men felt it, and of those who live totell the tale, all will remember it; but it may be said that no man sawit. The canvas best depicting it would be deprived of all the essentialsof a picture, and merely made a chaos of destruction, with here theglint of a gun and there the flash of a sabre; here a momentary view ofa black piece of heavy artillery, and there a head, an arm and a leg ofone of the combatants; here a puff of smoke, and there a volley ofbelching flame--but all indistinct, terrible and indescribable. Solidshot, conical shell and spherical case went humming, hurtling andhowling through the air, blotting out rebels and slaying loyalists. Theleaden messengers of the sharp-shooters went shrieking to their livingtargets, killing, crippling and intimidating; buck, ball and Miniebullets missed and made their marks; and the rattling volleys ofcompanies and platoons became at length blended in one general andirregular burst of all destructive sounds known to modern warfare.

  The Union ranks were of course sadly thinned by the murderous dischargesfrom those of the rebels, even if their own fire was so effective. Theodds in point of numbers and weight of fire was heavily against them,and they knew it. The prestige of success was not theirs, for though theenemy had been beaten in almost every trial of arms since the firstlanding on the Peninsula, yet the irresistible force of circumstances(and what the world will always believe _blunders_) had prevented theirreaping the fruits of those repeated victories, and the great object ofthe expedition--Richmond--had been daily receding and was now apparentlyout of reach. The brilliant flank movement which McClellan wasexecuting, seemed to them to be a simple retreat which was to take theremains of the Army of the Potomac to the James River for the purpose ofan immediate embarkation and abandonment of the campaign. Men lessheroic would have grown disheartened and struck feebly in the midst ofso many causes of discouragement; and the able review of the Campaign onthe Peninsula, by a true man and a soldier, the Prince de Joinville,shows that even with his past knowledge of their bravery and endurance_he_ would not have been surprised to see the spirit of the whole armysinking under sufferings, wrongs and disasters. Perhaps such w
ould havebeen the case, had they had less confidence in their leaders; but whilethat existed there could be nothing like demoralization; and if therehas ever been a day since that time, when the same noble body of menand the others who have been joined with or replaced them, havedisplayed that hopeless deterioration of efficiency as an army, thefault has lain in their being led by men in whom they lacked confidenceand men who lacked confidence in themselves! Up to this time no suchmisfortune had fallen upon them. They had learned to suffer and endure,but they had not yet learned to be permanently defeated. Sumner,Franklin, Kearney, Heintzelman, Keyes and Fitz-John Porter, but aboveall McClellan, possessed their undivided confidence; and whenever, atany point of the retreat towards the James, either of those great chiefshad appeared in their midst or ridden along their battle-thinnedranks--renewed hope and energy had been always evinced by the heartiestacclamations.

  Particularly, it has been said, was this the case with McClellan. Hisextraordinary popularity has been more than once incidentally advertedto, in the course of this narration; and if it has been so, the cause isnot to be found in either partisan spirit or man-worship on the part ofthe writer, but in the unavoidable necessity of echoing what "everybodysays." "Little Mac" was then, he is to-day,[12] the most popular soldierof the age, whether the country has or has not anything to show for theconfidence long reposed in him by the government and the immense bodiesof troops at one time placed at his disposal. No general since Napoleonhas ever so gained the love of his soldiers or so inspired them withconfidence in his will and ability to _take care of them and toaccomplish what he was set to do, if not interfered with_. Theirfavorite reply to any suspicion of danger to any corps, was: "Little Macwill take care of us!" and to any doubt of the success of the campaign:"Little Mac knows what he is about!" Blind confidence, perhaps!--butsuch confidence, or something approaching it, must be commanded bypersonal qualities, or great operations in war can never beaccomplished.

  [Footnote 12: February 16th, 1863.]

  At no time during the Peninsular campaign has the commanding General sofully commanded the confidence of the soldiers, as during all thosesevere battles afterwards to be known as the Seven Days. His calm andcollected action had been of the very character to inspire thatconfidence, and could not have wrought more effectually to that end hadit had no other purpose. Some men, jubilant and light-hearted when alltheir plans are progressing favorably, permit their words to become fewand their manner sombre and abstracted when difficulties thicken,creating fear and distrust in the minds of those around them, even whenthey themselves have not lost confidence and are only absorbed inthought. McClellan, always a silent man, displayed the very opposite.One of his staff officers said of him on that terrible Friday afternoonof the first conflict, when the result certainly seemed a mostthreatening one for the Union arms: "Little Mac seems to have woke up! Ihave not seen him look so happy before, since he received the news ofMcDowell's falling back on Washington." And there had not been wantingthose to circulate throughout the army his confident and self-possessedaction on the morning before--that of White Oak Swamp, when he sat onhorseback at the cross-roads, with aid-de-camps dashing up withunfavorable reports, and heads of divisions a little embarrassed if notdispirited around him. "Gentlemen, take it easy! Only obey me, and Iwill bring you out of all this without the loss of a man or a gun, Godwilling!"

  Such words had been like the pause of the Bruce to cut his armor-strapwhen flying before the English enemy--they had inspirited the wholecommand. He had remained, too, the whole of Monday, in the neighborhoodof the White Oak Swamp, personally superintending everything andhastening the passage of the immense trains onward towards the James.Nothing had seemed to discourage him, and no exposure in the terribleheat had seemed to fatigue him beyond endurance. All these facts hadcrept out to every division of the army, as they will do through thesubtle and unaccountable telegraphism of comrade-ry; and when regimentafter regiment heard of the incident since made memorable by DeJoinville, of his rising from his momentary rest on the piazza of ahouse near White Oak and going out with a smile to prevent his soldierspicking and eating the cherries belonging to his pretty hostess, theyhad burst out into laughs and cheers more complimentary to the youngGeneral's pluck than his devotion to Nelly Marcy, and fancied that hemight have been engaged in picking other cherries for himself, that grewon red lips instead of on the tree!

  Such were the influences which combatted those otherwise so unfavorable,kept up their spirits even when they could see nothing but defeat anddiscouragement in every movement, and made every blow they struck at theadvancing enemy more deadly than the last. Such were the influencespeculiarly active on this day when they were so much needed, and whichinspired the army-corps of Fitz-John Porter for the memorable blowstruck in the first battle of Malvern. The rebel South will long mournfor its lost children, perished in that sanguinary conflict and in thewider and more destructive but not fiercer one which was so soon tofollow at Malvern Hill itself.