I was a good deal agitated, for though there was more or less of current talk about disloyal influences at work, I had been sceptical as to the fact, and to be brought face to face with that sort of thing was a surprise. I was a stranger to most of those who were there, and walked a little aside, watching the man who had left me. I soon saw him talking with General Fitz-John Porter, on the opposite side of the room, evidently calling attention to me as if asking who I was. I made inquiries as to who the civilian was, and later came to know him by sight very well. He was John W. Garrett, President of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad Company.

Mr. Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation was published on the 24th of September, and within a very few days I was invited to meet General Burnside and General John Cochrane of New York at a camp dinner in McClellan's tent. General Cochrane was a "War Democrat" in politics, and had been active as a politician in his State. He was also the son-in-law of Gerrit Smith, the well-known abolitionist, and had advocated arming the slaves as early as November, 1861. McClellan told us frankly that he had brought us there for the purpose of asking our opinions and advice with regard to the course he should pursue respecting the Proclamation. He said that he was urged to put himself in open opposition to it by politicians not only, but by army officers who were near to him. He named no names, but intimated that they were of rank and influence which gave weight to their advice. He knew that we were all friends of the administration, and his object seemed to be to learn whether we thought he should say anything or should maintain silence on the subject; for he assumed that we would oppose any hostile demonstration on his part.

This naturally led to inquiries as to his actual attitude to the slavery question, and he expressed himself in substance as I have before indicated; repeating with even stronger emphasis his belief that the war would work out the manumission of the slaves gradually and ultimately, and that as to those who came within our lines as we advanced the liberation would be complete and immediate. He thought, however, that the Proclamation was premature, and that it indicated a change in the President's attitude which he attributed to radical influences at Washington.

There had been no previous understanding between us who were his guests. For my part, I then met General Cochrane for the first time, and had conversed with McClellan himself more freely on political subjects than I had with Burnside. We found ourselves, however, in entire accord in advising him that any declaration on his part against the Proclamation would be a fatal error. We could easily understand that he should differ from us in his way of viewing the question of public policy, but we pointed out very clearly that any public utterance by him in his official character criticising the civil policy of the administration would be properly regarded as a usurpation. He intimated that this was his own opinion, but, by way of showing how the matter was thrust at him by others, said that people had assured him that the army was so devoted to him that they would as one man enforce any decision he should make as to any part of the war policy.

I had so recently gone through the little experience on this subject which I have narrated above, that I here spoke out with some emphasis. I said that those who made such assurances were his worst enemies, and in my judgment knew much less of the army than they pretended; that our volunteer soldiers were citizens as well as soldiers, and were citizens more than soldiers; and that greatly as I knew them to be attached to him, I believed not a corporal's guard would stand by his side if he were to depart from the strict subordination of the military to the civil authority. Burnside and Cochrane both emphatically assented to this, and McClellan added that he heartily believed both that it was true and that it ought to be so. But this still left the question open whether the very fact that there was an agitation in camp on the subject, and intrigues of the sort I have mentioned, did not make it wise for him to say something which would show, at least, that he gave no countenance to any would-be revolutionists. We debated this at some length, with the general conclusion that it might be well for him to remind the army in general orders that whatever might be their rights as citizens, they must as soldiers beware of any organized effort to meddle with the functions of the civil government.

I left the Army of the Potomac before McClellan's general order on this subject, dated October 7, was published, but when I read it in the light of the conference in his tent, I regarded it as an honest effort on his part to break through the toils which intriguers had spread for him, and regretted that what seemed to me one of his most laudable actions should have been one of the most misrepresented and misunderstood.

[Footnote: The order is found in Official Records, vol. xix. pt. ii. p. 395, and is as follows:—

General Orders. No. 163. HEAD-QUARTERS ARMY OF THE POTOMAC, CAMP NEAR SHARPSBURG, MD., October 7, 1862.

The attention of the officers and soldiers of the army of the Potomac is called to General Orders No, 139, War Department, September 24, 1862, publishing to the army the President's proclamation of September 22.

A proclamation of such grave moment to the nation, officially communicated to the army, affords to the general commanding an opportunity of defining specifically to the officers and soldiers under his command the relation borne by all persons in the military service of the United States toward the civil authorities of the Government. The Constitution confides to the civil authorities—legislative, judicial, and executive—the power and duty of making, expounding, and executing the Federal laws. Armed forces are raised and supported simply to sustain the civil authorities, and are to be held in strict subordination thereto in all respects. This fundamental rule of our political system is essential to the security of our republican institutions, and should be thoroughly understood and observed by every soldier. The principle upon which and the object for which armies shall be employed in suppressing rebellion, must be determined and declared by the civil authorities, and the Chief Executive, who is charged with the administration of the national affairs, is the proper and only source through which the needs and orders of the Government can be made known to the armies of the nation.

Discussions by officers and soldiers concerning public measures determined upon and declared by the Government, when carried at all beyond temperate and respectful expressions of opinion, tend greatly to impair and destroy the discipline and efficiency of troops, by substituting the spirit of political faction for that firm, steady, and earnest support of the authorities of the Government, which is the highest duty of the American soldier. The remedy for political errors, if any are committed, is to be found only in the action of the people at the polls.

In thus calling the attention of this army to the true relation between the soldier and the government, the general commanding merely adverts to an evil against which it has been thought advisable during our whole history to guard the armies of the Republic, and in so doing he will not be considered by any right-minded person as casting any reflection upon that loyalty and good conduct which has been so fully illustrated upon so many battle-fields.

In carrying out all measures of public policy, this army will of course be guided by the same rules of mercy and Christianity that have ever controlled its conduct toward the defenceless.

By Command of Major-General McClellan, JAS. A. HARDIE, Lieutenant-Colonel, Aide-de-camp, and Act'g Ass't Adj't Gen'l."]

I have always understood that the order was drafted by Colonel Key, who afterward expressed in very strong terms his confidence in the high motives and progressive tendencies of McClellan at the time he issued it.

General Cochrane, some time after the close of the war, in a pamphlet outlining his own military history, made reference to the visit to McClellan which I have narrated, and states that he was so greatly impressed by the anti-slavery sentiments avowed by the general, that he made use of them in a subsequent effort to bring him and Secretary Chase into more cordial relations. [Footnote: The War for the Union, Memoir by General John Cochrane, pp. 29-31.] It is possible that, in a friendly comparison of views in which we were trying to find how nearly we could come together, the general may have put his opinions with a liberality which outran his ordinary statements of belief; but I am very sure that he gave every evidence of sincerity, and that none of us entertained a doubt of his being entirely transparent with us. He has since, in his "Own Story," referred to his taking counsel of Mr. Aspinwall of New York at about the same time, and there is evidence that General W. F. Smith also threw his influence against any opposition by McClellan to the Emancipation Proclamation. [Footnote: Nicolay and Hay's Lincoln, vol. vi. p. 180.] McClellan's letters show that his first impulse was to antagonism; but there is no fair reason to doubt that his action at last was prompted by the reasons which he avowed in our conversation, and by the honorable motives he professed. He immediately sent a copy of his order to Mr. Lincoln personally, and this indicates that he believed the President would be pleased with it.

The reference which he made to suggestions that the army would follow him in a coup d'e'tat is supported by what he formally declared in his memoirs. He there tells us that in 1861 he was often approached in regard to a "dictatorship," and that when he was finally removed many in the army were in favor of his marching upon Washington to take possession of the government. [Footnote: Own Story, pp. 85, 652.] It would seem that treasonable notions were rife about him to an extent that was never suspected, unless he was made the dupe of pretenders who saw some profit in what might be regarded as a gross form of adulation. He must be condemned for the weakness which made such approaches to him possible; but we are obliged to take the fact as he gives it, and to accept as one of the strange elements of the situation a constant stream of treasonable suggestions from professed friends in the army and out of it. An anecdote which came to me in a way to make it more than ordinarily trustworthy was that in the summer of 1861 McClellan was riding with an older officer of the regular army, [Footnote: General McCall.] and said to him, "I understand there is a good deal of talk of making a dictatorship." "Ah!" said the other, "Mr. Lincoln, I suppose." "Oh, no," replied McClellan, "it's me they're talking of." Bits of evidence from many sources prove that there had been from the first too much such talk about Washington, and whilst McClellan cannot be held responsible for it, there is no proof that he rebuked it as he should have done. It was part of the fermenting political and military intrigue which is found at the seat of government in such a time, if anywhere, and I take satisfaction in testifying that away from that neighborhood I never even heard the thing mentioned or referred to, that I can recollect. Washington would be spoken of in a general way as a place of intrigues, but I never knew this to have a wider meaning given to it than the ordinary one of political schemes within lawful limits and personal ambitions of no criminal character.

Mr. Lincoln visited our camp on the 1st of October, and remained two or three days. I was with the party of officers invited by McClellan to accompany the President in a ride over the route which Sumner had followed in the battle. We crossed the Antietam in front of Keedysville, followed the hollows and byways to the East Wood, and passed through this and the cornfields which had been the scene of Hooker's and Mansfield's fierce fighting. We visited the Dunker Church and then returned to camp by Bloody Lane and the central stone bridge. The President was observant and keenly interested in the field of battle, but made no display of sentiment. On another day he reviewed the troops which were most accessible from headquarters. As my own corps was among the first on the list, I did not join the escort of the President at the general's quarters, but was with the troops attending to the details of the parade. We were ordered to be under arms at eight o'clock, but it was more than two hours after that when the reviewing cortege came on the ground. The officers were very hilarious over some grotesque story with which Mr. Lincoln had seasoned the conversation, and which seemed to have caused some forgetfulness of the appointment with the troops. We were reviewed by divisions, and I met the party with my staff, riding down the lines with them, and answering the inquiries of the President and the general as to the history and the experience of the different organizations as we passed them. The usual march in review was omitted for lack of time, the President contenting himself with riding along the lines formed in parade. I had missed seeing the President in Washington when I paid my respects at the White House, and this was my first meeting with him after his inauguration. His unpretending cordiality was what first impressed one, but you soon saw with what sharp intelligence and keen humor he dealt with every subject which came up. He referred very pleasantly to his knowledge of me through Secretary Chase, showing the kindly instinct to find some compliment or evidence of recognition for all who approached him.

This geniality in Mr. Lincoln made him avoid personal criticism of the campaign, and gave an air of earnest satisfaction to what he said of the work done by McClellan. There was enough to praise, and he praised it heartily. He was also thankful that the threatened invasion of the North had been defeated, and showed his sense of great relief. He had adopted the rule for himself to limit his direct influence upon his generals to the presentation of his ideas of what was desirable, often taking pains even in his written communications to say that he made no order, and left the definite direction to General Halleck. McClellan gave the most favorable interpretation to all that the President said, but could not ignore the anxiety Mr. Lincoln showed that an energetic campaign should be continued. He wrote home: "I incline to think that the real purpose of his visit is to push me into a premature advance into Virginia." [Footnote: O. S., p. 654.]

The President had coupled his earliest telegraphic congratulations with the question, "Can't you beat them some more before they get off?" and McClellan's private correspondence shows that he, on his part, chafed at every suggestion of haste. As early as the 22d of September, the general had written that he looked upon the campaign as substantially ended, and intended to give some time to the reorganization of the army before beginning a new one. The vicinity of Harper's Ferry or Frederick seemed to him the proper place for the camp meanwhile, and he wished for a rise in the Potomac River which should make it impracticable for Lee to ford it again. He delayed in the neighborhood of Sharpsburg, waiting for this. To those of us with whom he talked freely, he spoke of the necessity of incorporating into the Army of the Potomac at least a hundred thousand of the new levies to make it really fit for an aggressive campaign, and argued that it would save time in the end to use some of it now in the work of reorganizing.

Mr. Lincoln was plainly troubled with the apprehension that the delays of 1861 were to be repeated, and that the fine October weather of that region would be again wasted and nothing done till the next spring. There were men enough about him at Washington to remind him of this in irritating ways, and to make him realize that as he had personally restored McClellan to the command he would be personally responsible for keeping him moving. McClellan rightly understood Mr. Lincoln's visit as meaning this. He did not refuse to move; on the other hand, he professed to be anxious to do so at the earliest moment when it should be really practicable. His obstinacy was of a feminine sort. He avoided open antagonism which would have been a challenge of strength, but found constantly fresh obstacles in the way of doing what he was determined from the first not to do. The need of clothing for the men and of horses for the cavalry was a fruitful subject for debate, and the debate, if sufficiently prolonged, would itself accomplish the delay that was desired.

The official correspondence shows that the President went back to Washington determined to cut the knot in a peremptory way, if he was forced to do so. McClellan could not have been blind to this. His private letters show that he thought it not improbable that he would be relieved from command. His desire for military success was a ruling one with him on both public and private grounds. We are forced, therefore, to conclude that he actually lacked faith in success, and regarded the crossing of the Potomac as too perilous until he should reorganize the army with the additional hundred thousand recruits. In this we see the ever-recurring effect of his exaggeration of the enemy's force. We now know that this over-estimate was inexcusable, but we cannot deny that he made it, nor, altogether, that he believed in it. It constituted a disqualification for such a command, and led to what must be regarded as the inevitable result,—his removal. The political questions connected with the matter cut no important figure in it. If he had had faith in his ability to conquer Lee's army, we should never have heard of them.

Whilst I mean what I say in speaking of McClellan's exaggeration of his enemy as constituting incompetence for such a command, it has reference to the necessity in which we were that our army should be aggressively handled. Few men could excel him in strictly defensive operations. He did not lack personal courage, nor did his intellectual powers become obscured in the excitement of actual war. He showed the ordinary evidences of presence of mind and coolness of judgment under fire. His tendency to see his enemy doubled in force was, however, a constitutional one, and no amount of experience seemed to cure it. Had it not been so he would have devised checks upon the reports of his secret-service agents, and corrected their estimates by those more reliable methods which I have already spoken of. McClellan was, even in those days, often compared to Marshal Daun, whose fair ability but studiously defensive policy was so in contrast with the daring strategy of the great Frederick. The comparison was a fair one. The trouble was that we had need of a Frederick.

It may seem strange that his subordinates so generally accepted his view and supported him in his conduct; but it was a natural result of forces always at work in an army. The old maxim that "Councils of war never fight" is only another way of saying that an army is never bolder than its leader. It is the same as the old Greek proverb, "Better an army of deer with a lion for leader, than an army of lions with a deer for leader." The body of men thus organized relies upon its chief for the knowledge of the enemy and for the plan by which the enemy is to be taken at a disadvantage. It will courageously carry out his plans so long as he has faith in them himself and has good fortune in their execution. Let doubt arise as to either of these things and his troops raise the cry "We are sacrificed," "We are slaughtered uselessly." McClellan's arts of military popularity were such that his army accepted his estimate of the enemy, and believed (in the main) that he had shown great ability in saving them from destruction in a contest at such odds. They were inclined, therefore, to hold the government at Washington responsible for sacrificing them by demanding the impossible. Under such circumstances nothing but a cautious defensive policy could be popular with officers or men. If McClellan's data were true, he and they were right. It would have been folly to cross the Potomac and, with their backs to the river, fight a greatly superior enemy. Because the data were not true there was no solution for the problem but to give the army another commander, and painfully to undo the military education it had for a year been receiving. The process of disillusion was a slow one. The disasters to Burnside and Hooker strengthened the error. Meade's standstill after Gettysburg was very like McClellan's after Antietam, and Mr. Lincoln had to deal with it in a very similar way. When Grant took command the army expected him to have a similar fate, and his reputation was treated as of little worth because he had not yet "met Bobby Lee." His terrible method of "attrition" was a fearfully costly one, and the flower of that army was transferred from the active roster to the casualty lists before the prestige of its enemy was broken. But it was broken, and Appomattox came at last.

It will not do to say that the Confederate army in Virginia was in any sense superior to their army in the West. When the superior force of the National army was systematically applied, General Lee was reduced to as cautious a defensive in Virginia as was General Johnston in Georgia. Longstreet and Hood had no better success when transferred to the West than the men who had never belonged to the Army of Virginia. In fact, it was with Joseph E. Johnston as his opponent that McClellan's career was chiefly run. Yet the Confederate army in the West was broken at Donelson and at Vicksburg. It was driven from Stone's River to Chattanooga, and from Missionary Ridge to Atlanta. Its remnant was destroyed at Franklin and Nashville, and Sherman's March to the Sea nearly completed the traverse of the whole Confederacy. His victorious army was close in rear of Petersburg when Richmond was finally won. Now that we have got rid of the fiction that the Confederate government gave to Lee an enormously larger army than it gave to Bragg or to Joseph Johnston, we have to account for the fact that with much less odds in their favor our Western army accomplished so much more. As a military objective Richmond was in easier reach from the Potomac than Nashville from the Ohio. From Nashville to Chattanooga was fully as difficult a task. The vulnerable lines of communication multiplied in length as we went southward, and made the campaign of Atlanta more difficult still. Vicksburg was a harder nut to crack than Richmond. We must put away our esprit de corps, and squarely face the problem as one of military art with the Official Records and returns before us. Our Western army was of essentially the same material as the Eastern. Regiments from nearly all the States were mingled in both. Wisconsin men fought beside those from Maine in the Army of the Potomac, as men who had fought at Antietam and at Gettysburg followed Sherman through the Carolinas. The difference was not in the rank and file, it was not in the subordinates. It was the difference in leadership and in the education of the armies under their leaders during their first campaigns. That mysterious thing, the morale of an army, grows out of its belief as to what it can do. If it is systematically taught that it is hopelessly inferior to its adversary, it will be held in check by a fraction of its own force. The general who indoctrinates his army with the belief that it is required by its government to do the impossible, may preserve his popularity with the troops and be received with cheers as he rides down the line, but he has put any great military success far beyond his reach. In this study of military morale, its causes and its effects, the history of the Army of the Potomac is one of the most important and one of the gravest lessons the world has ever seen.

I have to confess that at Antietam I shared, more or less fully, the opinions of those among whom I was. I accepted McClellan as the best authority in regard to the enemy's numbers, and, assuming that he was approximately right in that, the reasonable prudence of waiting for reinforcements could not be denied. I saw that he had lost valuable time in the movements of the campaign, but the general result seemed successful enough to hide this for the time at least. My own experience, therefore, supports the conclusion I have already stated, that an army's enterprise is measured by its commander's, and, by a necessary law, the army reflects his judgment as to what it can or cannot accomplish.

Mr. Lincoln had told McClellan during his visit to the army that his great fault was "overcautiousness." He had intimated plainly enough that he must insist upon the continuance of the campaign. He had discussed the plans of advance, and urged McClellan to operate upon Lee's communications by marching south on the east side of the Blue Ridge. He had disclaimed any purpose of forcing a movement before the army was ready, but saw no reason why it should take longer to get ready after Antietam than after Pope's last battle. Soon after his return to Washington, Halleck sent a peremptory order to McClellan to cross the Potomac. [Footnote: Official Records, vol. xix. pt. i. p. 10.] It was dated October 6th, and said: "The President directs that you cross the Potomac and give battle to the enemy or drive him South. Your army must move now while the roads are good. If you cross the river between the enemy and Washington, and cover the latter by your line of operations, you can be reinforced with 30,000 men. If you move up the valley of the Shenandoah, not more than 12,000 or 15,000 can be sent to you. The President advises the interior line between Washington and the enemy, but does not order it." It also required him to report immediately which line he adopted. Halleck, as General-in-chief, ought to have given his own decision as to the line of operations, but his characteristic indecision was shown in failing to do so. He did not even express an opinion as to the relative merits of the two lines, and limited himself to his concurrence in the order to move in one way or the other.

McClellan replied on the 7th, [Footnote: Official Records, vol. xix. pt. i. p. 11.] saying that he had determined to adopt the Shenandoah line, though he wished to "state distinctly" that he should only use that line till the enemy should retire beyond Winchester, as he did not expect to be able to supply his army more than twenty or twenty-five miles beyond a railway or canal depot. If the enemy retreated, he would adopt some new and decisive line of operations. He objected to the interior line because it did not cover Maryland and Pennsylvania from a return of Lee's army, and because (as he said) the army could not be supplied by it. He indicated three days as the time within which he could move. At the end of that time he complained of still lacking clothing. On the 12th he found it "absolutely necessary" that the cavalry should have more horses. The discussion over these things ran on till the 21st.

Mr. Lincoln made a strong effort to save McClellan from the effects of his mental deficiencies. He exhausted advice and exhortation. He even ventured upon mild raillery on the idleness of the army. On the 13th he had written a remarkable letter to McClellan, in which he reminded him of what had occurred between them at the Antietam and argued in favor of the interior line of movement. [Footnote: Official Records, vol. xix. pt. i. p. 13.] He showed that Lee at Winchester supplied his army twice as far from his railway depot as McClellan thought possible for the Army of the Potomac. He urged the recognized advantage of operating by a line which attacked the enemy's communications. He pointed out that if Lee should try to cross the Potomac, our army could be in his rear and should destroy him. He showed that McClellan at Harper's Ferry was nearer to Richmond than Lee: "His route is the arc of a circle of which yours is the chord." He analyzed the map and showed that the interior line was the easier for supplying the army: "The chord line, as you see, carries you by Aldie, Haymarket and Fredericksburg, and you see how turnpikes, railroads, and finally the Potomac by Acquia Creek, meet you at all points from Washington." He even gave the figures in miles from gap to gap in the mountains, which would enable McClellan to strike the enemy in flank or rear; and this was of course to be done if Lee made a stand. "It is all easy," his letter concluded, "if our troops march as well as the enemy; and it is unmanly to say they cannot do it." Yet he expressly disclaimed making his letter an order. [Footnote: Since writing this, I have had occasion to treat this subject more fully, as bearing upon Mr. Lincoln's military judgment and intelligence, in a review of Henderson's Stonewall Jackson, "The Nation," Nov. 24, Dec. 1, 1898.]

As a mere matter of military comprehension and judgment of the strategic situation, the letter puts Mr. Lincoln head and shoulders above both his military subordinates. Halleck saw its force, but would not order it to be carried out. McClellan shrank from the decisive vigor of the plan, though he finally accepted it as the means of getting the larger reinforcements. On the 21st of October the discussion of cavalry horses was pretty well exhausted, and McClellan telegraphed Halleck [Footnote: Official Records, vol. xix. pt. i. p. 81.] that in other respects he was nearly ready to move, and inquires whether the President desired him to march on the enemy at once or to wait the arrival of the new horses. Halleck answered that the order of the 6th October remained unchanged. "If you have not been and are not now in condition to obey it, you will be able to show such want of ability. The President does not expect impossibilities, but he is very anxious that all this good weather should not be wasted in inactivity. Telegraph when you will move and on what lines you propose to march." This dispatch was plainly a notice to McClellan that he would be held responsible for the failure to obey the order of the 6th unless he could exonerate himself by showing that he could not obey it. In his final report, however, he says that he treated it as authority to decide for himself whether or not it was possible to move with safety to the army; [Footnote: Ibid.] "and this responsibility," he says, "I exercised with the more confidence in view of the strong assurance of his trust in me, as commander of that army, with which the President had seen fit to honor me during his last visit." Argument is superfluous, in view of the correspondence, to show that orders and exhortations were alike wasted.

The movement began in the last days of October, the Sixth Corps, which was in the rear, crossing the Potomac on the 2d of November. McClellan had accepted Mr. Lincoln's plan, but lack of vigor in its execution broke down the President's patience, and on the 5th of November, upon Lee's recrossing the Blue Ridge without a battle, he ordered the general to turn over the command to Burnside, as he had declared he would do if Lee's was allowed to regain the interior line. The order was presented and obeyed on the 7th, and McClellan left the army. The fallen general brooded morbidly over it all for twenty years, and then wrote his "Own Story," a most curious piece of self-exposure, in which he unconsciously showed that the illusions which had misguided him in his campaigns were still realities to him, and that he had made no use of the authentic facts which Confederate as well as National records had brought within his reach. He had forgotten much, but he had learned nothing.



CHAPTER XVIII

PERSONAL RELATIONS OF McCLELLAN, BURNSIDE, AND PORTER

Intimacy of McClellan and Burnside—Private letters in the official files—Burnside's mediation—His self-forgetful devotion—The movement to join Pope—Burnside forwards Porter's dispatches—His double refusal of the command—McClellan suspends the organization of wings—His relations to Porter—Lincoln's letter on the subject—Fault-finding with Burnside—Whose work?—Burnside's appearance and bearing in the field.

McClellan and Burnside had been classmates at West Point, and had been associated in railway employment after they had left the army, in the years immediately before the war. The intimacy which began at the Academy had not only continued, but they had kept up the demonstrative boyish friendship which made their intercourse like that of brothers. They were "Mac" and "Burn" to each other when I knew them, and although Fitz-John Porter, Hancock, Parker, Reno, and Pleasonton had all been members of the same class, the two seemed to be bosom friends in a way totally different from their intimacy with the others. Probably there was no one outside of his own family to whom McClellan spoke his secret thoughts in his letters, as he did to Burnside. The characteristic lack of system in business which was very noticeable in Burnside, made him negligent, apparently, in discriminating between official letters and private ones, and so it happens that there are a number in the official records which were never meant to reach the public. They show, however, as nothing else could, the relations which the two men sustained to each other, and reveal strong traits in the characters of both.

After Burnside had secured his first success in the Roanoke expedition, he had written to McClellan, then in the midst of his campaign of the peninsula, and this was McClellan's reply on the 21st of May, 1862:—[Footnote: Official Records, vol ix. p. 392.]

"MY DEAR BURN,—Your dispatch and kind letter received. I have instructed Seth [Williams] to reply to the official letter, and now acknowledge the kind private note. It always does me good, in the midst of my cares and perplexities, to see your wretched old scrawling. I have terrible troubles to contend with, but have met them with a good heart, like your good old self, and have thus far struggled through successfully.... I feel very proud of Yorktown: it and Manassas will be my brightest chaplets in history, for I know that I accomplished everything in both places by pure military skill. I am very proud, and very grateful to God that he allowed me to purchase such great success at so trifling a loss of life.... The crisis cannot long be deferred. I pray for God's blessing on our arms, and rely far more on his goodness than I do on my own poor intellect. I sometimes think, now, that I can almost realize that Mahomet was sincere. When I see the hand of God guarding one so weak as myself, I can almost think myself a chosen instrument to carry out his schemes. Would that a better man had been selected.... Good-bye and God bless you, Burn. With the sincere hope that we may soon shake hands, I am, as ever,

Your sincere friend, MCCLELLAN."

When McClellan reached the James River after the seven days' battles, the first suggestion as to reinforcing him was that Burnside should bring to his aid the bulk of his little army in North Carolina. This was determined upon, and the Ninth Corps was carried by sea to Fortress Monroe. As soon as the movement was started, Burnside hastened in advance to Washington, and on returning to the fortress wrote McClellan as follows:—[Footnote: O. S., p. 472.]

"OLD POINT, July 15, 1862.

MY DEAR MAC,—I have just arrived from Washington, and have not time to get ready to go up this morning, but will to-morrow. I've much to say to you and am very anxious to see you.... The President has ordered me to remain here for the present, and when I asked him how long, he said five or six days. I don't know what it means; but I do know, my dear Mac, that you have lots of enemies. But you must keep cool; don't allow them to provoke you into a quarrel. You must come out all right; I'll tell you all to-morrow.

Your old friend, BURN."

He went up the river to Harrison's Landing and stayed a couple of days, consulting with McClellan as to the situation. He returned to Old Point Comfort on the 18th, and immediately telegraphed to the War Department for leave to go to Washington and present the results of his conference with McClellan. [Footnote: Official Records, vol. xi. pt. iii. p. 326.] This was granted, and he again presented himself before the President and Secretary Stanton as the friend of McClellan. He urged the increase of McClellan's army to an extent which would make the general resume the aggressive with confidence. Halleck visited McClellan at once after assuming command as general-in-chief, but satisfied himself that the government could not furnish the thirty thousand additional troops which McClellan then demanded. [Footnote: Id., p. 337.] This led to the decision to bring the Army of the Potomac back by water, and to unite it with Pope's army on the Rappahannock.

On this visit to Washington the President and Secretary of War had offered to Burnside himself the command of the Army of the Potomac. He had refused it, earnestly asserting his faith that McClellan was much fitter for the command than he, and trying hard to restore confidence and a mutual good understanding between his friend and the government. He was discouraged at the result, and after he returned to his command wrote a letter, every line of which shows his sadness and his disinterested friendship, for he does not mention, much less take credit to himself for, the refusal to supersede his friend. [Footnote: O. S., 472.]

"FORT MONROE, Aug. 2, 1862.

MY DEAR MAC,—I'm laid up with a lame leg, and besides am much worried at the decision they have chosen to make in regard to your army. From the moment I reached Washington I feared it would be so, and I am of the opinion that your engineers [Footnote: This hints at General Barnard's unfavorable criticisms of McClellan's management, which led to a request by the latter to have another officer assigned as chief engineer. See Halleck to McClellan, Aug. 7, 1862. Official Records, vol. xi. pt. iii. p. 359.] had much to do with bringing about the determination. When the conclusion was arrived at, I was the only one who advocated your forward movement. I speak now as if a positive decision had been arrived at, which I do not know, and you of course do; my present orders indicate it. But you know what they are and all about it, so I will accept it as something that is ordered for the best. Let us continue to give our undivided support to the cause and all will be well. It looks dark sometimes, but a just God will order everything for the best. We can't expect to have it all as we wish. I'm off for my destination, and will write you a long letter from there. The troops are nearly all embarked. Good-bye. God bless you!

Your old friend, A. E. BURNSIDE."

Burnside was sent with the Ninth Corps to Falmouth on the Rappahannock. Porter's corps joined him there, and both the corps were sent forward to Warrenton to join Pope. When Pope's communication with Washington was cut, it was only through Burnside that the government could hear of him for several days, and in response to the calls for news he telegraphed copies of Porter's dispatches to him. Like McClellan's private letters, these dispatches told more of the writer's mind and heart than would willingly have been made public. Burnside's careless outspoken frankness as to his own opinions was such that he probably did not reflect what reticences others might wish to have made. Perhaps he also thought that Porter's sarcasms on Pope, coming from one who had gained much reputation in the peninsula, would be powerful in helping to reinstate McClellan. At any rate, the dispatches were the only news from the battle-field he could send the President in answer to his anxious inquiries, and he sent them. They were the cause of Mr. Lincoln's request to McClellan, on September 1st, that he would write Porter and other friends begging them to give Pope loyal support. They were also the most damaging evidence against Porter in his subsequent court-martial.

Before the Maryland campaign began, Mr. Lincoln again urged upon Burnside the command of the army, and he again declined, warmly advocating McClellan's retention as before. [Footnote: C. W., vol. i. p. 650.] His advocacy was successful, as I have already stated. [Footnote: Ante, p. 257.] The arrangement that Burnside and Sumner were to command wings of the army of at least two corps each, was made before we left Washington, and Burnside's subordinates, Hooker and Reno, were, by direction of the President, assigned to corps commands through orders from army headquarters. [Footnote: Official Records, vol. xix. pt. ii. pp. 188, 197.] McClellan did not publish to the Army of the Potomac this assignment of Burnside and Sumner till the 14th of September, though it had been acted upon from the beginning of the campaign. [Footnote: Id., p. 290.] On the evening of the same day Porter's corps joined the army at South Mountain, and before the advance was resumed on the following morning, the order was again suspended and Burnside reduced to the command of a single corps. [Footnote: Id., p. 297.] I have already suggested Hooker's relation to this, and only note at this point the coincidence, if it was nothing more, that the first evidence of any change in McClellan's friendship toward Burnside occurs within a few hours from Porter's arrival, and in connection with a complaint made by the latter.

McClellan and Burnside had slept in the same house the night after the battle of South Mountain. Porter seems to have joined them there. During the evening McClellan dictated his orders for the movements of the 15th which were communicated to the army in the morning. That Porter should be unfriendly to Burnside was not strange, for it had by this time become known that the dispatches of August 27th to 30th were relied upon by General Pope's friends to show Porter's hostile and insubordinate spirit in that campaign. The court-martial was still impending over Porter, and he had been allowed to take the field only at McClellan's special request. Although Burnside had not dreamed of doing Porter an ill service, his transmittal of the dispatches to the President had made them available as evidence, and Porter, not unnaturally, held him responsible for part of his peril. The sort of favoritism which McClellan showed to Porter was notorious in the army. Had the position of chief of staff been given him, it would have sanctioned his personal influence without offending the self-respect of other general officers; but that position was held by General Marcy, the father-in-law of McClellan, and Porter's manifest power at headquarters consequently wore the air of discourtesy toward others. The incident I have narrated of the examination of Lee's position at Sharpsburg from the ridge near Pry's house was an example of this. It was Porter who in the presence of the commandants of the wings of the army was invited by McClellan to continue the examination when the others were sent below the crest of the hill. Governor Sprague testified before the Committee on the Conduct of the War to the notoriety of this from the beginning of the peninsular campaign and to the bad feeling it caused. [Footnote: C. W., vol. i. p. 566.] General Rosecrans testified that in the winter of 1861-62, on his visit to Washington, he found that Porter was regarded as the confidential adviser of McClellan. [Footnote: Id., vol. vi. (Rosecrans) p. 14.] It was matter of common fame, too well known to be questioned by anybody who served in that army. Mr. Lincoln had discussed it to some extent in his correspondence with McClellan in the month of May, and had warned the general of the mischiefs likely to ensue, even whilst authorizing provisional corps to be organized for Porter and Franklin. He had used such exceptional plainness as to say to the general [Footnote: Official Records, vol. xi. pt. iii. p. 154.] that "it is looked upon as merely an effort to pamper one or two pets and to persecute and degrade their supposed rivals. The commanders of these corps are of course the three highest officers with you, but I am constantly told that you have no consultation or communication with them; that you consult and communicate with nobody but General Fitz-John Porter and perhaps General Franklin. I do not say these complaints are true or just, but at all events it is proper you should know of their existence."

McClellan's dealing with the division of the army into wings was part of the same persistent method of thwarting the purpose of the administration while ostensibly keeping the letter. It was perfectly easy to advance from South Mountain upon Sharpsburg, keeping Sumner's and Burnside's commands intact. The intermingling of them was unnecessary at the beginning, and was mischievous during the battle of Antietam. No military reason can be given for it, and the history of the whole year makes it plain that the reasons were personal.

The offer of the command of the army to Burnside, though refused, was a sufficiently plain designation of McClellan's successor in case he should be relieved or be disabled. It needed a more magnanimous nature than McClellan's proved to be, to bear the obligation of Burnside's powerful friendship in securing for him again the field command of the army. When he was in personal contact with Burnside, the transparent sincerity of the latter's friendship always brought McClellan to his better self, and to the eye of an observer they were as cordially intimate as they had ever been. Yet unfriendly things which had been done officially could not easily be undone, and the friendship was maintained by the subordinate condoning the sins against it. Hooker was allowed to separate himself from Burnside's command on the morning of the 15th, against the protest of his commander; the order announcing the assignment of the wing command was suspended and was never renewed, though McClellan afterward gave Burnside temporary command of several corps when detached from the rest of the army.

Burnside spent several hours with his chief on Monday morning (15th), and was disturbed and grieved at the course things had taken. It is possible that his pre-occupation of mind made him neglect the prompt issue of orders for moving the Ninth Corps, though I know nothing definite as to this. [Footnote: My own recollection is that part of the corps had marched without rations on the preceding day, and had sent back during the night for them. Burnside took the responsibility of allowing the corps to wait until these supplies came and the men could be fed before marching again. It will be remembered that McClellan made no effort to bring on an engagement that day, nor during the whole of the next day.] Porter's corps was to follow us through Fox's Gap, and when his head of column came up the mountain at noon, we certainly were not in motion. My own division was the rear one of the column that day, by way of change, as I had had the advance all the way from Washington. General Porter reported at McClellan's headquarters that the movement of his troops was obstructed by Burnside's, and got at his own special request an order to push by them. [Footnote: Official Records, vol. xix. pt. ii. p. 296.] The written order Porter preserved, and put upon it an endorsement adding to what it contains the accusation that "Burnside's corps was not moving three hours after the hour designated for him." [Footnote: Ibid.] No doubt there was many a delay in that campaign in divers corps. The significant thing in this one was the pains taken to "make a record" of it against Burnside, and the inclusion in this of unofficial matter by means of the endorsement.

On the 16th another vexatious incident of a similar character occurred. After McClellan's reconnoitring on our left, he orally directed that the divisions of the Ninth Corps should be moved to positions designated by members of his staff. When Burnside had taken his position on a hill-top from which the positions could be seen and the movement accurately directed, another staff officer from McClellan came and requested that the movement be delayed for further consideration by the commanding general. It was this that occasioned a halt and our subsequent march in the dusk of evening, as has been narrated in its place. That evening the following note was written at McClellan's headquarters, but it was not delivered to Burnside till the next day, the day of the battle: [Footnote: Id., p. 308.]—

"HEADQUARTERS, ARMY OF THE POTOMAC, September 16, 1862.

MAJOR-GENERAL BURNSIDE, Commanding Ninth Corps, etc.

GENERAL,—The General commanding has learned that although your corps was ordered to be in a designated position at 12 M. to-day, at or near sunset only one division and four batteries had reached the ground intended for your troops. The general has also been advised that there was a delay of some four hours in the movement of your command yesterday. I am instructed to call upon you for explanations of these failures on your part to comply with the orders given you, and to add, in view of the important military operations now at hand, the commanding general cannot lightly regard such marked departure from the tenor of his instructions.

I am, general, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

—————,

Lieutenant-Colonel, Aide-de-camp, and Act'g Ass't Adj't. Gen'l."

To this missive Burnside dictated the following answer on the field during the battle:—[Footnote: Official Records., vol. xix. pt. ii. p. 314.]

"HEADQUARTERS, September 17, 1862.

BRIG. GEN. S. WILLIAMS, Assistant Adjutant-General.

GENERAL,—Your dispatch of yesterday this moment received. General Burnside directs me to say that immediately upon the receipt of the order of the general commanding, which was after twelve o'clock, he ordered his corps to be in readiness to march, and instead of having Captain Duane [Footnote: Captain Duane was senior engineer officer in the field, on the staff of McClellan, and had conducted the reconnoitring of the Antietam.] post the divisions in detail, and at the suggestion of Captain Duane, he sent three aides to ascertain the position of each of the three divisions, that they might post them. These aides returned shortly before three o'clock, and they immediately proceeded to post the three columns. The general then went on an eminence above these positions to get a good view of them, and whilst there, during the progress of the movement of his corps, an aide from General McClellan came to him and said that General McClellan was not sure that the proper position had been indicated, and advised him not to hasten the movement until the aide had communicated with the general commanding. He (General Burnside) at once went to General McClellan's headquarters to inform him that he had seen large bodies of the enemy moving off to the right. Not finding the general commanding, General Burnside returned to his command, and the movement was resumed and continued as rapidly as possible. General Burnside directs me to say that he is sorry to have received so severe a rebuke from the general commanding, and particularly sorry that the general commanding feels that his instructions have not been obeyed; but nothing can occur to prevent the general from continuing his hearty co-operation to the best of his ability in any movement the general commanding may direct.

I have the honor to be, general, very respectfully, your obedient servant, LEWIS RICHMOND, Assistant Adjutant-General."

The answer was of course conclusive, but it leaves the difficult problem, how came the reprimand to be written which General McClellan could not have dictated, as the interruption of Burnside's movement was caused by a message from himself? The blank for the name of a staff officer who was to sign it, and the indication of his rank and position point to Lieutenant-Colonel James A. Hardie as the one for whom it was prepared, but Colonel Hardie must have demurred to signing it, since Colonel Richmond's answer implies that General Seth Williams's name was finally attached. All of us who knew General Williams and his methods of doing business will be slow to believe that he volunteered a paper of that kind. He afterward served on Burnside's own staff and had his confidence. The responsibility must fall upon General Marcy, the chief of staff, and most of the officers of that army will be likely to conclude that he also would act only by the direction of McClellan or of some one whom he regarded as having decisive authority to speak for him in his absence.

I have already referred to an error contained in General Porter's report of the battle of Antietam, where he says that "Morell's division in reporting to General Burnside relieved his corps, which was at once recalled from its position in front of Antietam bridge." [Footnote: Official Records, vol. xix. pt. i. p. 339.] I mention it again only to say that since this was not only contrary to the fact, but is unsupported by the records, to accept it and to embody it in his official report certainly indicates no friendly disposition toward Burnside. To that extent it supports any other circumstances which point to Porter as the hostile influence which becomes so manifest at McClellan's headquarters after the 14th of September. I know by many expressions uttered by Burnside during those days and afterward, that though he was deeply grieved at some things which had occurred, he did not waver in his loyal friendship to McClellan. He uttered no unkind word in regard to him personally, either then or ever in my hearing. He sometimes spoke of what he believed to be mischievous influences about McClellan and which he thought were too powerful with him, but was earnest and consistent in wishing for him the permanent command of that army till success should give a glorious end to the war. It was after the irritating incidents I have narrated that the visit to McClellan to dine with him occurred, and I saw them frequently together till I left the army on the 5th of October. Their manner toward each other was more than cordial, it was affectionately intimate. Burnside never mentioned to me, although I was next him in command, the reprimand which is copied above. His real unwillingness to supersede McClellan, even when the final order came in November, is abundantly attested. McClellan only by degrees gave outward evidence of the souring of his own feelings toward Burnside, but his private letters show that the process began with the battle of South Mountain. By the time that he wrote his final report in the latter part of 1863 it had advanced far enough to warp his memory of the campaign and to make him try to transfer to Burnside the responsibility for some of his mishaps. When his "Own Story" was written, the process was complete, and no kindly remembrance dictated a word which could give any indication of the friendship that had died.

Those who are not familiar with the customs of military service might see little significance in the fact that the fault-finding with Burnside was put in the form of official communications which thus became part of the permanent documentary history of the war. To military men, however, it would be almost conclusive proof of a settled hostility to him, formally calling his military character in question in a way to make it tell against him for ulterior purposes. Nothing is more common in an active campaign than for a commanding officer to send messages hurrying the movement of a part of his army. These are usually oral, and even when delays are complained of, the commander, in the interests of cordial cooperation and cheerful alacrity, awaits a full opportunity for personal explanation from his immediate subordinates before administering a reprimand. It goes without saying that where intimate friendship exists, still more delicate consideration is used. To send such a letter as that of September 16th, and in the course of such deliberate movements as were McClellan's during those days, would be scarcely conceivable unless there had been a formal breach of personal relations, and it was equivalent to notice that they were henceforth to deal at arm's-length only.

McClellan's "Own Story" shows that in regard to the alleged delay on the morning of the 15th, he had a personal explanation from Burnside. [Footnote: O. S., p. 586.] Yet in the night of the 16th the same querulous inquiry was repeated as if it had not been answered, with the addition of the new complaint of a delay on the 16th which was caused by McClellan's personal request, and the whole accompanied by so formal a reprimand that the ordinary reply to it would have been a demand for a court of inquiry. The occurrence was unexampled in that campaign and stands entirely alone, although McClellan's memoirs show that he alleged delays in other cases, notably in Hooker's march that same afternoon to attack the enemy, of which no recorded notice was taken. [Footnote: O. S., p.590.] Considering the personal relations of the men before that time, and as I myself witnessed them from day to day afterward, it is simply incredible that McClellan dictated the letters which went from his headquarters.

Before ending the discussion of matters personal to these officers I will say a few words regarding Burnside's appearance and bearing in the field. He was always a striking figure, and had a dashing way with him which incited enthusiasm among his soldiers. Without seeming to care for his costume, or even whilst affecting a little carelessness, there was apt to be something picturesque about him. He had a hearty and jovial manner, a good-humored cordiality toward everybody, that beamed in his face as he rode through the camps or along the lines. When not on parade, he often discarded his uniform coat, wearing a light undress jacket, with no indication of his rank except the yellow silk sash about his waist which showed that he was a general officer. On one occasion when I accompanied him in a change of position, we passed the Ninth Corps column in march, and it was interesting to see how he was greeted by the troops which had been with him in his North Carolina campaign. He wore that day a "Norfolk jacket," a brown knit roundabout, fitting close to his person; his hat was the stiff broad-rimmed, high-crowned regulation hat, worn rather rakishly, with gold cord, acorn-tipped; his pistol-belt was a loose one, allowing the holster to hang on his hip instead of being buckled tight about the waist; his boots were the high cavalry boots reaching to the knee; his large buckskin gauntlets covered his forearm; he rode a large bony horse, bob-tailed, with a wall-eye which gave him a vicious look, and suited well the brigandish air of his rider's whole appearance. Burnside's flashing eyes, his beard trimmed to the "Burnside cut" with the mustache running into the side whiskers whilst the square, clean-shaven chin and jaws gave a tone of decision and force to his features, made up a picture that at once arrested the eye. As we went along the roadside at a fast trot, his high-stepping horse seemed to be keeping his white eye on the lookout for a chance to lash out at somebody. The men evidently enjoyed the scene, cheering him loudly. I was particularly amused with one group of soldiers at rest by their stacked muskets. They sat upon their haunches, and clapped their hands as he passed, exclaiming and laughing, "Just see the old fellow! just look at him!" Burnside laughed at their fun as jollily as they did themselves, and took no offence at the free-and-easy way in which they showed their liking for him. There was no affectation in all this, but an honest enjoyment in following his own whim in style and in accoutrement. His sincere earnestness in the cause for which he was fighting was apparent to all who met him, and no one in his presence could question the single-hearted honesty and unselfishness of the man. His bearing under fire was good, and his personal courage beyond question. He shrank from responsibility with sincere modesty, because he questioned his own capacity to deal with affairs of great magnitude. He was not only not ambitious to command a great army, but he honestly sought to put it aside when it was thrust upon him, and accepted it at last from a sense of obligation to the administration which had nominated him to it in spite of his repeated disclaimers. It carafe to him finally, without consulting him, as a military order he could not disobey without causing a most awkward dead-lock in the campaign.



CHAPTER XIX

RETURN TO WEST VIRGINIA

Ordered to the Kanawha valley again—An unwelcome surprise—Reasons for the order—Reporting to Halleck at Washington—Affairs in the Kanawha in September—Lightburn's positions—Enemy under Loring advances—Affair at Fayette C. H.—Lightburn retreats—Gauley Bridge abandoned—Charleston evacuated—Disorderly flight to the Ohio—Enemy's cavalry raid under Jenkins—General retreat in Tennessee and Kentucky—West Virginia not in any Department—Now annexed to that of Ohio—Morgan's retreat from Cumberland Gap—Ordered to join the Kanawha forces—Milroy's brigade also—My interviews with Halleck and Stanton—Promotion—My task—My division sent with me—District of West Virginia—Colonel Crook promoted—Journey westward—Governor Peirpoint—Governor Tod—General Wright—Destitution of Morgan's column—Refitting at Portland, Ohio—Night drive to Gallipolis—An amusing accident—Inspection at Point Pleasant—Milroy ordered to Parkersburg—Milroy's qualities—Interruptions to movement of troops—No wagons—Supplies delayed—Confederate retreat—Loring relieved—Echols in command—Our march up the valley—Echols retreats—We occupy Charleston and Gauley Bridge—Further advance stopped—Our forces reduced—Distribution of remaining troops—Alarms and minor movements—Case of Mr. Summers—His treatment by the Confederates.

In war it is the unexpected that happens. On the 4th of October my permanent connection with the Army of the Potomac seemed assured. I was in command of the Ninth Corps, encamped in Pleasant Valley, awaiting the renewal of active operations. My promotion to the rank of Major-General had been recommended by McClellan and Burnside, with the assurance that the permanent command of the corps would be added. On that evening an order came from Washington directing me to return to the Kanawha valley, from which our troops had been driven. I was to report in person at Washington immediately, and would there get detailed directions. The order was as much a surprise to my immediate superiors as it was to me, and apparently as little welcome. We all recognized the necessity of sending some one to the Kanawha who knew the country, and the reasonableness, therefore, of assigning the duty to me. McClellan and Burnside both promised that when matters should be restored to a good footing in West Virginia they would co-operate in an effort to bring me back, and as this was coupled with a strong request to the War Department that my promotion should be made immediate, [Footnote: McClellan to Halleck, Official Records, vol. xix. pt. ii. p. 383.] acquiesced with reasonably good grace.

Going to Washington on the eth, I received my orders and instructions from Halleck, the General-in-Chief. They were based upon the events which had occurred in the Kanawha valley since I left it in August. The information got by General Stuart from Pope's captured quartermaster had led to a careful examination of the letter-books captured at the same time, and Lee thus learned that I had left 5000 men, under Colonel Lightburn, to garrison the posts about Gauley Bridge. The Confederate forces were therefore greater than ours in that region, and General Loring, who was in command, was ordered to make at once a vigorous aggressive campaign against Lightburn, to "clear the valley of the Kanawha and operate northwardly to a junction" with the army of Lee in the Shenandoah valley. [Footnote: Official Records, vol. xix. pt. i. p. 1069; Id., vol. xii. pp. 940-943, 946. This correspondence fully justifies Pope's suspicion that Lee then planned to operate by the Valley of Virginia.] Loring marched, on the 6th of September, with a column which he reported about 5000 strong, expecting to add to it by organizing recruits and militia as Floyd had done in the previous year. His line of operations was by way of Princeton, Flat-top Mountain and Raleigh C. II. to Fayette C. H. His forces do not seem to have been noticeably increased by recruiting till ours had retreated out of the valley.

Lightburn's advanced positions were two,—a brigade under Colonel Siber of the Thirty-seventh Ohio being at Raleigh C. H. and another under Colonel Gilbert of the Forty-fourth Ohio, near the Hawk's Nest, and at Alderson's on the Lewisburg road. A small post was kept up at Summersville and one at Gauley Bridge, where Lightburn had his headquarters, and some detachments guarded trains and steamboats in the lower valley. Gauley Bridge was, as in the preceding year, the central point, and though it was necessary to guard both the Lewisburg and the Raleigh roads on the opposite sides of the New River gorge, a concentration on the line the enemy should take was the plain rule of action when the opposing armies were about equal. Or, by concentrating at Gauley Bridge, my experience had proved that we could hold at bay three or four times our numbers. In either case, fighting in detail was to be avoided, and rapid concentration under one leader to be effected.

On the approach of the enemy Siber was withdrawn from Raleigh C. H. to Fayette, and Gilbert to Tompkins farm, three miles from Gauley Bridge, but the brigades were not united. On the 10th of September Loring attacked Siber at Fayette, in the intrenchments made by Scammon in the winter. Siber repulsed the efforts of Loring to drive him out of his position, and held it during the day. Three companies of the Fourth Virginia under Captain Vance, and a squad of horse were sent by Lightburn from Gauley Bridge to Siber's assistance, but the latter, being without definite orders and thinking he could not hold the position another day, retreated in the night, setting fire to a large accumulation of stores and abandoning part of his wagons. He halted on the ridge of Cotton Hill, covering the road to Gauley Bridge, and was there joined by five companies of the Forty-seventh Ohio, also sent to his assistance by Lightburn. Loring followed and made a partial attack, which was met by the rear-guard under Captain Vance and repulsed, whilst Siber's principal column marched on to Montgomery's ferry on the Kanawha.

Meanwhile Lightburn had called in Gilbert's force to Gauley Bridge during the night of the both, and placed them opposite the ferry connecting with Siber, which was just below Kanawha Falls and in the lower part of the Gauley Bridge camp. On Siber's appearance at the ferry, Lightburn seems to have despaired of having time to get him over, and directed him to march down the left bank of the river, burning the sheds full of stores which were on that side of the stream. When Captain Vance with the rear-guard reached the ferry, the buildings were blazing on both sides of the narrow pass under the bluff, and his men ran the gantlet of fire, protecting their heads with extra blankets which they found scattered near the stores. Vance easily held the enemy at bay at Armstrong's Creek, and Siber marched his column, next morning, to Brownstown, some twenty-five miles below Kanawha Falls, where steamboats met him and ferried him over to Camp Piatt. There he rejoined Lightburn.

Gilbert's artillery was put in position on the right bank at Montgomery's Ferry, and checked the head of Loring's column when it approached the Kanawha in pursuit of Siber. Lightburn had ordered the detachment in post at Summersville to join him at Gauley, and Colonel Elliot of the Forty-seventh Ohio, who commanded it, marched down the Gauley with his ten companies (parts of three regiments) and a small wagon train. He approached Gauley Bridge on the 11th, but Lightburn had not waited for him, and the enemy were in possession. Elliot burned his wagons and took to the hills with his men, cutting across the angle between the Gauley and the Kanawha and joining Gilbert's column near Cannelton. A smaller detachment, only a little way up the Gauley, was also left to its fate in the precipitate retreat, and it also took to the hills and woods and succeeded in evading the enemy. It was about ten o'clock in the morning when Loring's head of column approached the Kanawha and drew the fire of Gilbert's guns. After about an hour's cannonade across the river, Lightburn gave the order to retreat down the right bank, after burning the stores and blowing up the magazine at Gauley Bridge. Loring found men to swim across the river and extinguish the fires kindled on the ferry-boats, which were soon put in use to ferry Echols's brigade across. This followed Lightburn down the right bank, whilst Loring himself, with Williams's and Wharton's brigades, marched after Siber down the left. The over-hanging cliffs and hills echoed with the cannonade, and the skirmishers exchanged rifle-shots across the rapid stream; but few casualties occurred, and after Elliot joined the column, it marched with little interruption to Camp Piatt, thirteen miles from Charleston, where Siber met them, and the steamboats he had used passed down the river to the Ohio.

Siber's brigade continued its retreat rapidly to Charleston, passed through the town and crossed the Elk River. Gilbert's brigade also retired, but in better order, and it kept up a skirmish with the advance-guard of Echols's column which was following them. When Gilbert reached the outskirts of Charleston, he checked the advance of the enemy long enough to enable the quartermasters at the post to move their trains across the Elk; but the haste of the evacuation was so great that the stores in depot there were not removed, and were burned to prevent their falling into the enemy's hands. Gilbert retired across the Elk, and the suspension bridge was destroyed. Loring's artillery made a dash for a hill on the left bank of the Kanawha, which commanded the new position taken up by Lightburn's troops, and the Confederate battery soon opened an enfilade fire across the river, taking the line of breastworks along the Elk in flank and in reverse. The trains and the stragglers started in direst confusion on the road to Ravenswood on the Ohio, which offered a line of retreat not subject to the enemy's fire. Siber's brigade followed, Gilbert's continued to bring up the rear. The road down the Kanawha was abandoned because it was in range of artillery from the opposite side of the river throughout its whole course down the valley. The road to Ripley and Ravenswood was therefore taken, and the flying troops were met at those towns on the Ohio by steamboats which conveyed part of them to Point Pleasant at the mouth of the Kanawha, where the whole command was concentrated in the course of a few days. [Footnote: Official Records, vol. xix. pt. i. pp. 1058-1060.] Siber's loss was 16 killed, 87 wounded, and over 100 missing. Gilbert reported 9 men killed and 8 wounded, with about 75 missing; but as the enemy do not enumerate any captured prisoners in their reports except a lieutenant and 10 men, it is evident that the missing were mostly men who outran the others. Loring's losses as reported by his surgeon were 18 killed and 89 wounded. The enemy claim to have captured large numbers of wagons, horses, mules, and stores of all kinds which Loring estimated at a million dollars' worth, besides all that were burned.

It was a panicky retreat after the hot little fight by Siber's brigade at Fayette C. H., and it is not worth while to apply to it any military criticism, further than to say that either of the brigades intrenched at Gauley Bridge could have laughed at Loring. The river would have been impassable, for all the ferry-boats were in the keeping of our men on the right bank, and Loring would not dare pass down the valley leaving a fortified post on the line of communications by which he must return. The topography of the wild mountain region was such that an army could only pass from the lower Kanawha to the headwaters of the James River by the road Loring had used in his advance, or by that leading through the post of Gauley Bridge to Lewisburg and beyond. The Confederate War Department seem to have thought that their forces might have passed from Charleston to the Ohio, thence to Parkersburg, and turning east from this town, have made their way to Beverly and to the Valley of Virginia by the route Garnett had used in the previous year. They would have found, however, as Loring told them, that it would have been easy for the National forces to overwhelm them with numbers while they were making so long and so difficult a march in a vast region most of which was a wilderness.

Lightburn's position had been made more embarrassing by the fact that a cavalry raid under Brigadier-General Jenkins was passing around his left flank while Loring came upon him in front. Jenkins with a light column of horse moved from Lewisburg by way of the Wilderness Road to northwestern Virginia, captured posts and destroyed stores at Weston, Buckhannon, and Roane C. H., and made a circuit to the lower Kanawha, rejoining Loring after Lightburn's retreat. Little real mischief was done by this raid, but it added to the confusion, and helped to disturb the self-possession of the commanding officer. In this way it was one of the causes of the precipitate retreat.

Several circumstances combined to make Lightburn's disaster embarrassing to the government. West Virginia had not been connected with any military department after Pope's command had been broken up. McClellan's authority did not extend beyond his own army and its theatre of operations. Halleck could hardly take personal charge of the affairs of remote districts. Thus the Kanawha valley had dropped out of the usual system and was an omitted case. The embarrassment was increased by the fact that Buell was retreating out of Tennessee before Bragg, Morgan had evacuated Cumberland Gap and was making a painful and hazardous retreat to the Ohio, and the Confederate forces under Kirby Smith were moving directly upon Cincinnati. Lightburn's mishap, therefore, was only the northern extremity of a line of defeats extending through the whole length of the Ohio valley from Parkersburg to Louisville. The governors of West Virginia and Ohio were naturally alarmed at the events in the Kanawha valley, and were earnest in their calls upon the War Department for troops to drive Loring back beyond the mountains and for an officer to command them who knew something of the country.

Halleck seems to have been puzzled at the condition of things, not having realized that Pope's retirement had left West Virginia "in the air." It took a week, apparently, to get satisfactory details of the actual situation, and on the 19th of September the first important step was taken by annexing the region to the Department of the Ohio, then commanded by Major-General Horatio G. Wright, whose headquarters were at Cincinnati. [Footnote: Official Records, vol. xvi. pt. ii. p. 328.] Wright was directed to provide for the recovery of lost ground in West Virginia as rapidly as possible, but the campaign in Kentucky was the more important and urgent, so that no troops could be spared for secondary operations until the Confederates had ceased to threaten Cincinnati and Louisville.

On the 1st of October Halleck again called General Wright's attention to the need of doing something for West Virginia. Governor Peirpoint, of that State, represented the Confederates under Loring as about 10,000 in number, and this reflected the opinion which Lightburn had formed during his retreat. It became the basis of calculation in the campaign which followed, though it greatly exaggerated Loring's force. Three days later Brigadier-General George W. Morgan was known to have reached the Ohio River with the division he had brought from Cumberland Gap, and General Halleck outlined a plan of action. He ordered Morgan's division to be sent to Gallipolis to take part in the advance into the Kanawha valley, where some new Ohio regiments were also to join them. [Footnote: Official Records, vol. xix. pt. ii. p. 381.] He at the same time called me to Washington to receive instructions under which I was to take command of the whole force operating on the Kanawha line. Brigadier-General Milroy had already (September 25th) been ordered to proceed thither with his brigade, which was in Washington and was part of Banks's forces garrisoning the capital. [Footnote: Id., pp. 355, 359.] He was moved through Pennsylvania to Wheeling by rail, and thence down the Ohio River to Point Pleasant at the mouth of the Kanawha.

My order to leave the Army of the Potomac reached me on Saturday evening. Much business had to be closed up before I could properly turn over the command of the Ninth Corps, but I was able to complete it and make the journey to Washington so as to report to General Halleck on Monday morning. He received me very kindly, and explained the necessity they were under to send some one to the Kanawha valley who knew the country. He was complimentary as to my former service there, and said my return to that region would meet the earnest wishes of the governors of West Virginia and Ohio, as well as the judgment of the War Department and of himself. To compensate for separating me from the command of the Ninth Corps, it had been decided to make my promotion at once and to put the whole of West Virginia under my command as a territorial district. He inquired into some details of the topography of the Kanawha valley and of my experience there, and concluded by saying that reinforcements would be sent to make the column I should lead in person stronger than the 10,000 attributed to Loring. My task would then be to drive back the enemy beyond the mountains. When that was accomplished, part of the troops would probably be withdrawn. The actual position of Milroy's brigade was not definitely known, and Governor Peirpoint of West Virginia had asked to have it sent to Clarksburg. This gave me the opportunity to urge that my own Kanawha division be detached from the Ninth Corps and sent back to Clarksburg, where with Milroy they would make a force strong enough to take care of that part of the State and to make a co-operative movement toward Gauley Bridge. This also was granted, and immediate promotion was given to Colonel Crook so that he might command the division, and a promise was made to do the like for Colonel Scammon, who would then be available for the command of the division still under Lightburn, whose retreat was strongly condemned as precipitate. No soldier could object to an arrangement so satisfactory as this, and though I still preferred to remain with the Army of the Potomac, I could only accept the new duty with sincere thanks for the consideration shown me. The General-in-Chief accompanied me to the room of the Secretary of War, and Mr. Stanton added to my sense of obligation by warm expressions of personal good-will. His manner was so different from the brusque one commonly attributed to him that I have nothing but pleasant remembrances of my relations to him, both then and later. My own appointment as major-general was handed me by him, the usual promotions of my personal staff were also made, and directions were given for the immediate appointment of Crook to be brigadier.

I called to pay my respects to the President, but he was in Cabinet meeting and could not be seen. I had a short but warmly friendly visit with Mr. Chase later in the day, and was ready to leave town for my new post of duty by the evening train. The Secretary of War directed me to visit Wheeling and Columbus on my way, and then to report to General Wright at Cincinnati before going to the Kanawha valley. This was in fact the quickest way to reach the mouth of the Kanawha River, for the fall rains had not yet come to make the Ohio navigable, and from Columbus to Cincinnati, and thence by the Marietta Railway eastward, was, as the railway routes then ran, the best method of joining my command. The Baltimore and Ohio Railroad was interrupted between Harper's Ferry and Hancock (about fifty miles) by the Confederate occupation of that part of Virginia. [Footnote: Official Records, vol. xix. pt. ii. pp. 393, 394.] General Crook was ordered to march the division from its camp in Pleasant Valley to Hancock, where trains on the western division of the railway would meet him and transport the troops to Clarksburg. For myself and staff, we took the uninterrupted railway line from Washington to Pittsburg, and thence to Wheeling, where we arrived on the evening of October 8th. The 9th was given to consultation with Governor Peirpoint and to communication with such military officers as were within reach. We reached Columbus on the both, when I had a similar consultation with Governor Tod and his military staff in regard to new regiments available for my use. Leaving Columbus in the afternoon, we arrived at Cincinnati late the same night, and on Saturday, the 11th, I reported to General Wright.

He was an officer of the engineer corps of the regular army, a man of fine acquirements and of a serious and earnest character, whose military service throughout the war was marked by solidity and modesty. If there seemed at first a little hauteur in his manner, one soon saw that it was a natural reserve free from arrogance. The sort of confusion in which everything was, is indicated by the fact that he knew nothing of my whereabouts when informed from Washington that I would be ordered to the Kanawha, and on the same day (6th October) addressed a dispatch to me at Point Pleasant whilst I was receiving instructions from General Halleck in Washington. [Footnote: Official Records, vol. xvi. pt. ii. p. 579.] Our personal consultation established a thoroughly good understanding at once, and as long as I remained under his orders, I found him thoroughly considerate of my wishes and appreciative of my suggestions and of the conduct of my own part of the work to be done.

Morgan's division, after reaching the Ohio River, had been moved to Portland on the Marietta Railroad, the nearest point to Gallipolis, which was twenty-five miles away and nearly opposite the mouth of the Great Kanawha. His retreat had been through a sparsely settled country, much of which was a wilderness, rugged and broken in the extreme. His wagons had broken down, his teams were used up, his soldiers were worn out, ragged, and barefoot. [Footnote: Id., pt. i. p. 990.] Many arms and accoutrements had been lost, and the command was imperatively in need of complete refitting and a little rest. The men had been largely recruited in East Tennessee and Kentucky, and were unwilling to serve in any other theatre of war. The Tennesseans, indeed, were reported to be mutinous at the news that they were to be sent to the Kanawha valley. General Wright issued orders for the refitting of the command, and promised such delay and rest as might be found practicable. He detached three regiments to serve in Kentucky, and directed their place to be made good by three new Ohio regiments then organizing. The division was permitted to remain at Portland till imperatively needed for my movement.

There were no trains running on the railroad on Sunday, and Monday morning, the 13th October, was the earliest possible start on the remainder of my journey. I left Cincinnati at that time, and with my personal staff reached Portland in the afternoon. Morgan's division was found to be in quite as bad condition as had been reported, but he was in daily expectation of the new equipments and clothing, as well as wagons for his baggage-train and fresh horses for his artillery. It was stated also that a paymaster had been ordered to join the division, with funds to pay part at least of the large arrears of pay due to the men. This looked hopeful, but still implied some further delay. Uneasy to learn the actual condition of affairs with Lightburn's command, I determined to reach Gallipolis the same night. Our horses had been left behind, and being thus dismounted, we took passage in a four-horse hack, a square wagon on springs, enclosed with rubber-cloth curtains. Night fell soon after we began our journey, and as we were pushing on in the dark, the driver blundered and upset us off the end of a little sluiceway bridge into a mud-hole. He managed to jump from his seat and hold his team, but there was no help for us who were buttoned in. The mud was soft and deep, and as the wagon settled on its side, we were tumbled in a promiscuous heap into the ooze and slime, which completely covered us. We were not long in climbing out, and seeing lights in a farm-house, made our way to it. As we came into the light of the lamps and of a brisk fire burning on the open hearth, we were certainly as sorry a military spectacle as could be imagined. We were most kindly received, the men taking lanterns and going to our driver's help, whilst we stood before the fire, and scraped the thick mud from our uniforms with chips from the farmer's woodyard, making rather boisterous sport of our mishap. Before the wagon had been righted and partly cleaned, we had scraped and sponged each other off and were ready to go on. We noticed, however, that the room had filled with men, women, and children from the neighborhood, who stood bashfully back in the shadows, and who modestly explained that they had heard there was a "live general" there, and as they had never seen one, they had "come over." They must have formed some amusing ideas of military personages, and we found at least as much sport in being the menagerie as they did in visiting it. Our mishap made us wait for the moon, which rose in an hour or so, and we then took leave of our entertainers and our audience and drove on, with no desire, however, to repeat the performance. We made some ten miles more of the road, but found it so rough, and our progress so slow, that we were glad to find quarters for the rest of the night, finishing the journey in the morning.