One such man who arose was General George Brinton McClellan. He was thrust into a difficult position. After the Bull Run disaster, the armies of the North, as well as the citizens and the government itself, felt that trying to subdue the Southern states was well-nigh impossible. There was a peace party, well populated by those who clamored for peace at any cost. The newspapers that had once been screaming, On to Richmond, were now begging the government to turn to peace.
General McClellan, who before the war had been the president of a railroad, was summoned to Washington and rode sixty miles on horseback to the nearest railway station. When he arrived in Washington, he found the city almost in a condition unable to defend itself. To his shock, McClellan found himself looked up to from all sides as a deliverer.
He wrote to his wife that evening:
I find myself in a new and strange position here. President, cabinet, and General Scott are all deferring to me. By some strange operation of magic I seem to have become the power of the land.
When asked if he could help rescue the cause, McClellan replied proudly, “I can do it all.”
He set out at once to reconstruct the Army of the Potomac. Rigid discipline was the order of the day, and something new came into being. Little Mac, as the soldiers called this man, transformed the army from a whipped mob into a hot-blooded army that seemed to have never known the taste of defeat.
He was a young man, only thirty-four, his eyes were blue, his hair was dark auburn, parted on the left, and he was clean-shaven as a rule, except for a rather straggly mustache. He was of average height, robust and stockily built with a massive chest. The newspapers began to write about him, and the name “The Young Napoleon” became his journalistic title. And, indeed, he did have a Napoleonic touch. The soldiers liked him. They understood that he was firm, a strict disciplinarian, but he was fair.
Within ten days of his arrival in Washington, he could say proudly, “I have restored order completely.” The army seemed to be reborn. Reviews were staged, with massed columns swinging past reviewing stands. Equipment was polished new and gleaming, and there was a camaraderie in the Army of the Potomac that had been lacking from the beginning.
Yet in the small hours of the night, it seemed, McClellan had grave doubts. “I am here in a terrible place,” he wrote. “The enemy has from three to four times my force.” This was not guesswork. These numbers came from Allen Pinkerton, the railroad detective, who was supposedly a master spy. Later it would seem that he had invented numbers in his mind rather than sent spies.
In addition to feeling he was being overwhelmed with Southern forces, McClellan had to fight his way in Washington against Lieutenant General Winfield Scott, who had been a great man in his day. McClellan saw him merely as an old man who had not the strength nor the wisdom to fight a war. “He understands nothing, appreciates nothing.” McClellan spoke of General Scott. “I have to fight my way against him.” Later on he said, “General Scott is the most dangerous antagonist I have.”
Lincoln, desperate in the hope of finding a fighting general, did everything that McClellan requested. Finally General Scott retired, and McClellan was appointed to fill his place in command of the army. He spoke so positively that Lincoln wondered if McClellan was as aware of the the monstrous burden of responsibility as he himself was. “The vast labor weighs upon you, General,” he said, half chiding.
“I can do it all,” McClellan said confidently. Indeed, he had made a prediction: “I shall crush the Rebels in one campaign.” Still, his constant bickering with politicians bothered him.
He wrote to his wife:
The people think me all powerful….I can’t tell you how disgusted I’m becoming with these wretched politicians.
He did not include Abraham Lincoln, who showed a great deal of deference to General McClellan. But Lincoln, who had been boning up on the science of war, was chafing for action, and McClellan kept putting him off and putting the country off. When someone said that McClellan did not show him the proper respect, Lincoln responded, “I will hold McClellan’s horse if he will only bring us success.”
Little Mac finally made a decision. He had never enjoyed the concept of a full frontal battle on the plains, as McDowell had done at Bull Run. He came up with another plan of campaign. He would load his soldiers aboard transports, steam down the Potomac in the Chesapeake Bay, then south along the coast to the mouth of the Rappahannock. There he would be less than fifty miles from Richmond, his objective. Without loss of a man, he would have cut his marching distance in half and would be in the rear of the enemy, who would be forced to retreat and fight on grounds of McClellan’s choosing.
Unfortunately, he ignored the details, including the assembling of transports for the 150,000 men he planned to invade with. Then the rains came in the middle of his campaign, and the fields were turned to quagmires, and the roads were axle-deep in the mud. This gave him another excuse for not attacking.
Now Lincoln saw that he was looking at a general who was not the man to lead the Army of the Potomac. But what was done was done. No matter how Little Mac delayed, surely battle would come.
“I wish you didn’t have to go, Robert. I know that in many ways this is your dream, but I still wish you could just stay here with me.” Mary reached up and put her hand on her husband’s cheek. Anxiety was in her expression, and when he leaned forward and kissed her, she held on to him tightly. “I’m so afraid for you,” she whispered.
Mary Lee had finally wended her way to Richmond and was living in a rented house on East Franklin Street. Lee had come to bid farewell to her. McClellan was approaching at a rapid speed, and everyone knew that there was going to be a life-and-death struggle over the city of Richmond.
“I have to go, dearest,” Lee said, “but I won’t be the commanding general. I’ll be way back in the lines, so you needn’t worry. Just pray for me.”
“Of course I will. I always do that.”
“Then, Mary, you know that all will be well, no matter what happens. The Lord will protect you and me, always.”
Lee left the house, mounted Traveler, and rode to the outskirts of town. There he met with Joe Johnston, who was an old friend of Lee’s and was the commanding general of the Confederate forces in the east.
With him was President Jefferson Davis. Davis’s thin aristocratic features were tense. “You’re sadly outnumbered, General Johnston.”
“I think you are correct, but there is nothing we can do about that. We must all fight as best we can.”
Lee said nothing, but he stayed close to Jefferson Davis. In truth, he had been kept from a higher position in the army because he was the only man who could get along with Jeff Davis. Other generals were short with him or were egotistical, and since Davis fancied himself a fighting man, as he had been in the War of Mexico, instead of a political figure, the clash was inevitable.
Although he was not outwardly resentful toward his president or his old friend from both West Point and Mexico, Joe Johnston was rather arrogant, and he kept his council and plans much to himself. He only gave Davis and Lee the bare outlines of his strategy. Eventually Johnston politely suggested that General Lee ride out on the field and said that he hoped he could soon send some much-needed reinforcements. Of course, Jeff Davis could not bear to stay away from a battle, and so both he and Lee witnessed the Battle of Seven Pines.
The battle itself proved to be the worst-conducted large-scale conflict of the entire war. What it finally came to was a military nightmare. The Southern troops had little contact with each other, and therefore Johnston could not get them to move as he ordered. He was never able to position his divisions properly. Casualties were high, and the gain was small. But the most significant casualty was General Johnston himself. He was hit in the right shoulder by a bullet. As he reeled in the saddle, he was wounded a second time when a shell fragment struck him in the chest and unhorsed him.
They were trying to get the wounded general back behind the lines to an ambulance wh
en he bade them stop. Weakly he said, “Would someone go back and see if they can find my sword? I would not lose it for ten thousand dollars.”
A courier went back under fire, found the sword and his pistol, and returned. Finally the ambulance drove away toward Richmond. A courier hurried to President Davis and General Lee with the news that General Johnston had been wounded, perhaps fatally.
That night Davis and Lee rode around the field of battle, surveying it and talking to the senior officer on the field, General Gustavus W. Smith. He had been ill, and he was showing great battle strain.
They rode on in the darkness. The only account of their conversation was Jefferson Davis’s: “When riding from the field of battle with General Robert E. Lee…I informed him that he would be assigned to command of the army…and that he could make his preparations as soon as he reached his quarters, as I should send the order to him as soon as I arrived at mine.”
Lee tackled his monumental task. After he took charge, he immediately organized an offensive. It came to be called the Seven Days’ Battle, but it was really a series of battles: Gaines’ Mill, Savage’s Station, Frayser’s Farm, and Malvern Hill.
Lee did his best, but his troops were untrained, and he himself had not had an opportunity to teach his officers how to maneuver quickly and effectively and how to keep constant lines of communication open to the commanding general.
The last battle took place on Malvern Hill. The Union troops under McClellan were up at the crest of the hill, and Lee felt he had the Army of the Potomac on the run. He then made one of the most serious mistakes of his career. He ordered a charge, and as his troops swarmed up the hill, they were mowed down by the artillery and musketry entrenched there.
Thus, the Seven Days’ Battle ended, and McClellan’s grand Peninsular campaign was ended. It was, however, a great victory for Robert E. Lee. He had broken up the Union army, cowed them with his masterful offensive, and once again, the Northern troops fled back to Washington in defeat.
McClellan was promptly relieved of command. Lincoln simply could not understand how a man who had vast superiority in both troops and artillery could lose against a smaller, less well-armed force. Once again, he started searching for a capable commander.
But he did not have General Robert E. Lee.
“I have a present for you, Jolie.”
Jolie looked up from her book and saw Morgan beckoning her. Obediently she followed him out the back door. There she saw a new gleaming sidesaddle on the hitching post. “Oh, Mr. Tremayne! Thank you, thank you!” she said excitedly, running to it to feel the soft leather and studying the leg hook and single stirrup.
“That’s not all the present,” Morgan said, grinning. He gave a short sharp whistle, and Rosh came out of the stables, leading a three-year-old mare.
She was a beautiful horse, a deep chestnut that was almost a mahogany red, with black points. She was small but was the perfect size for a small lady like Jolie. Her head was neat, her eyes were soft and sweet, and she was proud and alert in her stance.
Jolie had seen the mare, but it had never occurred to her that Morgan would give her such a valuable gift. “You mean she’s mine?” Jolie whispered.
“All yours. One of the finest mares I’ve ever bred.”
Jolie threw her arms around Morgan crying, “How can I thank you, Mr. Tremayne? Oh, I can’t believe it!” She became aware then that he was slightly pushing her away, and Jolie realized that he was becoming more aware of her developing figure. She stepped back hurriedly and asked, “Can I go for a ride?”
“Of course you can. She’s your horse. You can go any time you want. Just be sure that somebody at the house knows.”
“I’ll saddle her all by myself. I know how,” Jolie said excitedly. She saddled the mare quickly. In a fast, agile motion she mounted, positioned her right leg in the leg hook, and caught the stirrup securely with her left foot. Primly she arranged her skirts.
“You look like you’ve done that a hundred times,” Morgan said admiringly. “When you first came, I didn’t think you’d ever be a rider. Especially such a good one.”
“That just shows that you don’t know everything,” Jolie said sassily.
“Guess I don’t,” Morgan said mildly. He had already saddled Vulcan, so now he mounted him, and the two cantered down the drive.
When they reached the river path, Morgan laughed when he saw Jolie gamely kick the mare into a gallop. Vulcan kept up with them easily, and Morgan watched her ride with a critical eye. He knew horses, and he knew riders. Some people had a natural affinity for riding, and Jolie was one of those. She kept a beautiful erect seat and instinctively knew just how to control the spirited mare.
After a good long run, they slowed down and walked along the path, skirting the river on one side and the Wilderness on the other. It was a delightful time for both of them.
Only the setting sun made Jolie want to return home. “I don’t want to be in the Wilderness after dark,” she said, casting a dire look at the thick forest. “I would be so afraid.”
“You promised me once that you’d never be afraid again,” Morgan said quietly. “And I promised you that you would never have any reason to be. Do you remember?”
“Oh yes, I’ll never forget that day, Mr. Tremayne,” she said in a low voice. “That was the day you came for me and brought me here. You brought me home.”
“I’m very glad I did, Jolie.”
“So am I, sir. So am I.”
When they returned, Morgan waved away Rosh and Santo. “We’ll see to the horses. Jolie needs to get used to taking care of her mare.” They unsaddled then started brushing down the horses. “You know we’ve just always called her Little Chestnut. What are you going to name her, Jolie?”
“I’m going to call her Rowena, after the beautiful princess.”
“Pretty name for a pretty horse.”
They finished up and took the horses into the stables. “I know you’re tired, Jolie. Your first ride is always the hardest. Let Rosh and Santo grain them. Let’s go on inside.”
“First, I want to thank you again, Mr. Tremayne,” she said, holding her hand out. “It’s the most wonderful present anyone has ever given me. You’re very, very good to me, and I’m grateful.”
Morgan caressed her hand, savoring the softness of her skin. He stared down at her, searching her face, her wide, clear forehead, her warm eyes, her tiny straight nose and perfect mouth. She really had grown up, he saw clearly for the first time. Still, she was very young.
Morgan knew when he was an old man he would still have this picture in his mind. The young girl with glossy black hair and enormous dark eyes, staring up at him, filled with gratitude. He knew that he had done the right thing. Not just in giving her the horse, but in everything. For the first time since that cold January day, he knew in his heart that he had done a good thing, a righteous, unselfish thing, and it was good.
For the first time in a long time, Morgan was at peace.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After the Seven Days’ Battle, the Army of Northern Virginia took the next six weeks to refit and reorganize.
Jolie received letters from Nash Southall when he had time to write. He wrote proudly how he had served with distinction during the constant battles and skirmishes of June and July and had received a promotion to second lieutenant. He said as soon as they returned to Richmond, he would get an extended leave and would return to his home outside of Fredericksburg. The first thing he promised her he would do was go to Rapidan Run to see her and show off his dashing new uniform.
Jolie was thrilled for Nash and his promotion. She was also excited about seeing him again, but when she tried to decide if she was excited to see a good friend or a charming suitor, she had no answers. She hoped seeing him would reveal her true feelings for Nash Southall.
When Nash rode up on a hot morning in the middle of July, Jolie met him at the door, smiling. “You’re getting earlier and earlier, Nash. I’m a lady of leisure, you k
now. You come much earlier, and I might not even be up yet.”
“I know that’s not true, especially since you got Rowena. You know, Jolie, you don’t have to muck out her stall every day,” he said as she led him into the study/sitting room. “That’s what servants are for.”
“I want to do it,” Jolie said with emphasis. “She’s my responsibility now, and I want to take care of her.”
“So many heavy burdens for one so young,” he teased.
“You don’t make fun of me, Nash Southall,” she said, sitting on the sofa beside him. “It wouldn’t hurt you to get those manicured hands dirty doing some real work for a change.”
“Nah, a gentleman of my station does not do manual labor,” he said lazily. “At least, that’s what my father’s always told me. Say, Jolie, do you think Evetta’s got any coffee? I have to admit that I’m still kinda groggy. I was in such a hurry to see you I got up at dawn’s crack and galloped off without breakfast.”
“I’m sure we can find something for you, you poor, starving, sleepy boy. C’mon. We’ve all had breakfast hours ago, but Evetta’s usually got some biscuits left over. Maybe you can get her to take pity on you and fry you some eggs.”
They went out to the kitchen, and although it was with much grumbling, Evetta fixed Nash a full breakfast and a fresh pot of coffee.
After he finished, he asked Jolie, “Would you go for a walk with me? Down to the river?”
“Of course, I know the breeze is much cooler down there.” Jolie got her pretty straw hat, and soon she and Nash were walking down the little hill that the farmhouse was perched on to the small landing on the Rapidan. She sat down, took her shoes off, and let her feet dangle in the cool water.
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