Lee's Lieutenants

by Douglas Southall Freeman

  This could not have been the full measure of Colston’s failure. Had it been he would have escaped criticism, if for no other reason than that other commands, with a less depleted corps of officers, had done scarcely better. A black entry must have followed an occurrence on the afternoon of May 3. After the seizure of Chancellorsville, Colston was ordered to undertake an advance up the road to United States Ford. His engineer, directed to make a reconnaissance, reported the Federals’ position stronger than could be taken by Colston’s weakened division. Colston thereupon told Stuart that “my division was not able to attack with any prospect of success the position of the enemy.” Stuart evidently was disgusted that an officer of rank should say, in effect, that he could not. The acting corps commander ordered Colston to shelter his men in some abandoned Federal entrenchments, and placed him and his division under the general direction of Rodes. This episode may have been judged to mean that Colston did not have and could not hope to gain the confidence of his men. Lee’s conclusion was that Raleigh Colston was not suited to active field leadership. By May 20 he was relieved of command—a course of action Lee seldom took. Even to the President no explanation was given by Lee. He wrote only, “I think it better to relieve Colston from duty.” It was a curious case.40

  The next man of rank who came through the campaign with diminished reputation was McLaws. He, like Colston, received no praise in Lee’s report. References to the Georgian’s actions on May 4 were stiff and formal. This cold treatment could mean only that Lee was disappointed in McLaws’s performance, which he must have considered below the opportunities and requirements of the situation. Ignorant of the ground and doubtful of his strength, as compared with the enemy’s, McLaws had not been aggressive. Nothing had he risked that more he might gain. Again the question: Was it overcaution, or hesitation in dealing with Early; or was it that McLaws missed the cool direction of Peter Longstreet, his absent corps commander? The record is silent.

  That Brigadier General Pendleton was considered the third failure of the campaign is plain from the manner in which he, like Colston and McLaws, was denied Lee’s commendation. Early, who directed Pendleton’s operations part of the time in the fighting at Fredericksburg, mentioned him casually and without a syllable of approbation. Unofficial criticism of Pendleton included the charge that he made faulty dispositions and then did not recall any of the reserve batteries hurried to the rear at the time Chilton told Early to evacuate the heights. Amid rejoicing over the efficiency of the new battalion organization, nothing derogatory of Pendleton seems to have been said publicly. He had not shone; he had not disgraced himself; it was doubtful whether the best of artillery employment would have prevented on May 3 the capture of the hills behind Fredericksburg. The worst that could be said of him was that he had seemed more interested in saving than in serving his guns.

  After Colston, McLaws, and Pendleton, the man who had to be written down next as of doubtful achievement was Alfred H. Colquitt. Concerning him the question fundamentally was one of judgment. Had he lessened the victory of the evening of the second by his halt on the right, in the belief that cavalry was threatening his flank? Colquitt not only deprived Jackson of hundreds of good Georgia rifles but also blocked Ramseur, whose fine brigade showed the next day what it was capable of doing. The Georgian may be said to have redeemed himself on the third, but apparently he did not clear himself in the estimation of his superiors. At first opportunity, as will appear, his brigade was exchanged for one then in North Carolina.

  Appraising Chancellorsville produces substantially this estimate of change and of stabilization:

  Second Corps command

  Jackson—at his superlative best in the dash and the dramatic success of his march to Hooker’s right.

  Divisional command of the Second Corps

  Early—resourceful, unafraid, manifestly capable of acting on his own.

  Rodes—full of fire and drive; amply qualified for divisional command.

  Colston—disappointing.

  Hill—disabled but cooperative and courageous.

  Heth—not brilliant as a second to Hill, but steady and reliable.

  Among Second Corps brigade commanders

  Paxton—dead and difficult to replace.

  J. R.Jones—probably had written himself off the army roster by leaving the field because of an ulcerated leg.

  Ramseur—full of promise in the spirit of Jackson and Rodes.

  Doles—of the same mold as Ramseur.

  Pender—as always, valiant and hard-hitting.

  Gordon—daring, quick, courageous, with a singular grip on his command by reason of his personality and eloquence.

  Nicholls—justifying his commission but probably invalided permanently by loss of a leg; no successor among his colonels.

  First Corps division commanders

  Anderson—admirably efficient, despite the tradition that Longstreet only could elicit his full powers.

  McLaws—shown to be hesitant and unaggressive.

  Among First Corps brigade commanders

  Wilcox—one of the most conspicuous and useful officers in the campaign; promotion almost imperative.

  Wright—In the spirit of Malvern Hill, the first to reach Chancellorsville in Anderson’s fine advance from the south.

  Posey—like Nicholls, justifying promotion, and of the same hard-hitting indomitable spirit as Ramseur and Doles.

  Artillery and staff

  Pendleton—all the misgivings of Malvern Hill and Shepherdstown deepened, but nothing of a positive nature to warrant displacement.

  Artillery battalion commanders—almost without exception qualified for their new rank and able to use their battalion organization most effectively. Alexander especially distinguished.

  Crutchfield—outstanding but now incapacitated for months; none of his battalion commanders pre-eminently marked to act in his stead.

  Boswell, of Jackson’s staff—dead and deplored but survived by his capable comrade Jed Hotchkiss, who could succeed him.

  Price, of Stuart’s staff—the most useful cavalry staff officer; an able man required to fill the place made vacant by his death.

  Longstreet, of course, had been missed greatly. It was difficult to think of any part of the First Corps in battle without his calm direction. With Old Pete and his generals returning ere long, then, in corps and divisional command Chancellorsville had wrought no harm beyond repair. Rodes could be trusted with D. H. Hill’s division; someone—most probably Edward Johnson or Arnold Elzey—would take Trimble’s division if its commander remained a cripple. New brigadiers would be needed. They always were. To procure qualified men in any considerable number might be more difficult now than to get one or two new major generals. Reorganization might be vexatious and troublesome, but it would entail no impossible task, provided, of course, Jackson soon were back in the field.

  Tuesday morning, May 5, Old Jack welcomed Chaplain Lacy, who arrived at 10 o’clock to conduct bedside worship and to give the general the satisfaction of discussing religion. Jackson asked that Lacy come every morning at the same hour; meantime he could enjoy to the limit of his strength the privilege of Lieutenant Smith, who was of his same Presbyterian faith and was minded to the ministry. Jackson took occasion to expound one of his favorite views—that the Bible supplied rules for every action of life. He asked Smith with a smile, “Can you tell me where the Bible gives generals a model for their official reports of battles?” When Smith answered that he never had consulted Holy Writ to find examples of battle reports, Jackson gave as an example the narrative of Joshua’s battle with the Amalekites: “There you have one. It has clearness, brevity, fairness, modesty; and it traces the victory to its right source, the blessing of God.” Lee’s battle, as well as Joshua’s, came in for discussion, with Jackson expressing no doubt of the outcome.

  The general passed the next day, Wednesday, as he had spent Tuesday with no symptoms of other involvement, and with additional delectable discourse on theology.
This helped to make a day of consistent and encouraging gain. Ere its close, Chaplain Lacy went to army headquarters to request the detail of Dr. Samuel B. Morrison of Early’s division, who had been the general’s family physician and was, besides, a kinsman of Mrs. Jackson’s. He would be an excellent medical counselor and a relief chief nurse in place of Dr. McGuire, who could not endure much longer his vigils at the bedside. Lacy returned with a thoughtful message for Jackson from General Lee: “Give him my affectionate regards, and tell him to make haste and get well, and come back to me as soon as he can. He has lost his left arm; but I have lost my right arm.”41

  That night, Wednesday, May 6, Dr. McGuire was so weary that he decided he would sleep on a couch in Jackson’s room and leave the patient in the care of Jim Lewis, the general’s body servant. With Dr. McGuire on the couch and Jim silent in the chair, Jackson went to sleep without difficulty. About 1:00 A.M. he was awakened with nausea and quietly told Jim to get a wet towel and apply it to his stomach. Vaguely conscious that this was the wrong thing to do, Jim asked if he might wake Dr. McGuire and ask him. Jackson refused: The doctor had been very tired; let him sleep; get the towel.

  The cold compress did no good. Paroxysms in the right side were added to the nausea. Moment by moment, pain increased until it almost passed endurance. The general’s frame was shaken but his resolution was firm: He would not waken the sleeping surgeon if he could endure till morning. Soon he observed, though without panic, that the pain was sharpened every time he drew breath. He held out until the gray of dawn, then permitted Jim to awaken McGuire. The young physician listened intently to the general’s breathing and examined the painful area of the chest. All too readily, McGuire became convinced of what the patient himself may have suspected: Jackson was developing pneumonia.

  Hope and planning and confident expectation were halted. There must instead be a stern battle here in the cottage at the Chandlers’. If it was won, Chancellorsville was a double victory. Were the battle lost—were it possible, even, to think that Jackson might not recover—then the North would be repaid for all the boys who had been slain or maimed there in the Wilderness of Spotyslvania, where the burnt forest still smoked and the dead lay unburied.

  Jackson was not afraid. He did not believe pneumonia would kill him. Judgment, confidence, faith, ambition—something had convinced him that he had more work to do. Attack, then, the disease that was assailing him! Preliminary to cupping, which would bring more blood to the affected member, Jackson was given morphia. This of course made him less sensitive to his pain but it threw him quickly into a stupor. From that hour the personality of Jackson, as his officers knew it, seemed in a haze, obscured, uncertain. In the first offthrust of reason, he seemed to be carried back again to the attack on Hooker’s right. “Major Pendleton,” he exclaimed, “send in and see if there is higher ground back of Chancellorsville.”

  That afternoon he became aware of another presence in the room. There, by his bed, white-faced but composed, was his wife. He stirred himself to greet her, but so deeply was he under his opiate that he dropped off again quickly. At length, when she ministered to him he was able to show by smile or glance that he knew her. Looking steadfastly at her he observed the emotion she was trying to conceal. With an effort, but seemingly in full command of his faculties, he said, “My darling, you must cheer up and not wear a long face…. Do not be sad; I hope I may yet recover. Pray for me, but always remember in your prayers to use the petition, ‘Thy will be done.’”42

  Dr. Morrison now arrived and came at once to the general. As the surgeon leaned over him, Jackson opened his eyes, recognized Morrison, smiled and said simply, “That’s an old, familiar face.” Morrison and McGuire now held a consultation and decided they should call from Richmond its most distinguished authority on pneumonia, Dr. David Tucker. Lieutenant Smith was sent to the city on the next train. Jackson all the while seemed half asleep, half delirious. His mind turned to the battlefield. More than once he seemed to be thinking of his troops as weary at the end of a long conflict. He wanted the commissary at hand, wanted the soldiers fed. “Tell Major Hawks to send forward provisions to the men.”The name stuck in his mind … “Major Hawks … Major Hawks” he muttered.

  Despite his delirium, the doctors did not feel discouraged. When the cool Thursday evening closed in rain, they could not dispute the nature and progress of the malady, but they believed he was holding his own against it. There were some reasons for thinking him better, though these may have been nothing more than the effect of the opiates the surgeons continued to administer. At bedtime Dr. Morrison took his seat by Jackson to watch and to give the medicines. The doctor had little to do. Jackson lay in stupor but kept a grip on himself. Once, during the night when Morrison offered him a draught, Jackson seemed almost to reprimand with a terse answer—“Do your duty!”43

  Friday, May 8, was the anniversary of the Battle of McDowell. Among the camps there was profound concern. Men were asking: Was Old Jack in danger? How could the army do without him? For a year, a rounded year that very day, his name had been the symbol of victory. Many who had seen him in battle, those blue eyes ablaze, had shared Dick Taylor’s belief that the bullet which could kill Stonewall never had been molded. The enemy had not struck him down; his own troops had; and if they, even they, had not been able to slay him, could pneumonia? In the name of all of them General Lee was to speak when he said, “Surely, General Jackson must recover; God will not take him from us, now that we need him so much.”

  In the cottage at the Chandlers’, that Friday, some of the surgeons were not so sure. The ominous condition was his difficult breathing and his great exhaustion. Later in the day, Dr. Morrison had to express a fear that the disease might not be overcome. To this Jackson listened without emotion, and then, rallying his mind and tongue, said deliberately, “I am not afraid to die; I am willing to abide by the will of my Heavenly Father. But I do not believe that I shall die at this time; I am persuaded the Almighty has yet a work for me to perform.” Even after Dr. McGuire, his own medical director, admitted doubt concerning the outcome, Jackson still insisted that he would recover. He had a restless night, but he did not appear to be shaken in his confidence that he would beat his new adversary.

  Out of doors, the brightest day of a changeable May week was Saturday, the ninth. It found Jackson’s breathing apparently less difficult and his pain diminished. His weakness manifestly was worse. David Tucker, the Richmond authority on pneumonia, at length had arrived. Later in the day Jackson said slowly to McGuire: “I see from the number of physicians that you think my condition dangerous, but I thank God, if it is His will, that I am ready to go.” In the afternoon he asked for Chaplain Lacy. At the time, his lungs were so nearly filled that his breathing was difficult again, and his respiration was shallow and cruelly fast, but he would not be balked from conversing with Lacy. He wanted to know if the chaplain was working to promote Sunday observance by the army in the manner previously enjoined on him. Lacy was able to report that he was. When at length Lacy rose to go, he offered to be with the general on the Sabbath Day; but Jackson insisted that he go to Second Corps headquarters and preach, as usual, to the soldiers.

  Evening came, clear and warm. The general talked more of battle than anything else and he commanded and exhorted—“Order A. P. Hill to prepare for action…. Pass the infantry to the front.” Most of his other words were confused or unintelligible. Mrs. Jackson read to him from the Psalms, and then she and her brother, Lieutenant Morrison of the staff, sang the most spiritual of the hymns that he favored. “The singing,” Mrs. Jackson said afterward, “had a quieting effect, and he seemed to rest in perfect peace.” Later the spirit of the soldier asserted itself once more. “I think I will be better by morning,” he said. Determined as he was to fight on, he lost ground as the night passed.44

  The soft spring night ended at last in warmth and promise of sunshine. It was the tenth of May. It was Sunday; was this the day to witness the last battle in the lo
ng list of Jackson’s battles? Presently, as the morning light grew brighter, Mrs. Jackson sat by him and the others left the chamber. Long before, he had told her that he did not fear to die but that he hoped he would “have a few hours’ preparation before entering into the presence of his Maker and Redeemer.” Her voice came to him on the border of the far country: “Do you know the doctors say, you must soon be in Heaven?” Then, “Do you not feel willing to acquiesce in God’s allotment, if He wills you to go today?”

  He opened his eyes and looked at her. “I prefer it,” he said slowly and with much difficulty. “I prefer it.” She said, “Well, before this day closes, you will be with the blessed Saviour in His glory.” He steadied himself for the effort of speech and said deliberately, “I will be an infinite gainer to be translated.” She talked with him further and asked his wishes about many things, but could not hold his attention.

  Toward noon full consciousness seemed to return, and he called for Dr. McGuire. “Doctor,” said Jackson distinctly, “Anna informs me that you have told her that I am to die today; is it so?” Gently McGuire replied that medicine had done its utmost. Jackson seemed to ponder, gazing upward for a few moments. Then, as if he thought the orders of Higher Command had been given, his response was strong: “Very good; very good; it is all right.”