By the spring of 1863, the Union had given the Confederacy every reason to remain defensive: for the duration of the war, federal troops had invaded points throughout the south forcing the rebels to shift to the location of each incision. Allowing this dynamic to continue to play out meant the only way for a Confederate success was a negotiated peace. On May 15, the southern brain trust, including General Robert E. Lee and President Jefferson Davis, convened in Richmond to discuss strategy. Lee proposed that he lead an effort that would remove the threat to Richmond, throw the Yankees on their heels, spell political doom for the Republicans (led by Abraham Lincoln in the White House), open up the possibility of Britain or France recognizing the Confederacy, and, at worst, an armistice that resulted in the Confederate States of America coexisting with the United States.[i] While Postmaster-General John Reagan and other Confederates felt that Lee should have sent troops to protect Vicksburg and the west from the trouble Ulysses S. Grant and his men were causing, Lee did not want to oblige the Confederacy to remain on the defensive but instead introduce the “prospect of an advance” as it would change “the aspect of affairs.”[ii]
Lee found himself in command of 75,000 men including some of the most experienced veterans the South possessed. With A.P. Hill and Richard Ewell at Lee’s side, the Army of Northern Virginia had the benefit of high morale as it marched into the Shenandoah Valley in early June 1863.[iii] Soon, panic spread throughout the north: Lee’s men had crossed into Pennsylvania.[iv] The Richmond Examiner reported:
From the very beginning the true policy of the South has been invasion. The present movement of General Lee . . . will be of infinite value as disclosing the . . . easy susceptibility of the North to invasion. . . . Not even the Chinese are less prepared by previous habits of life and education for martial resistance than the Yankees. . . . We can . . . carry our armies far into the enemy’s country, exacting peace by blows leveled at his vitals.[v]
Although Lee made his move into Pennsylvania with the benefit of J.E.B. Stuart and his cavalry screening him from a Union advance, Stuart became separated from Lee’s column and therefore “deprived Lee of intelligence about enemy movements at a crucial time.”[vi] While Lee marched, he had hoped to have more dignity than when the Yankees crusaded through the South, but his men “seized all the shoes, clothing, horses, cattle, and food they could find” and gave “Confederate IOUs in return.”[vii] Soldiers also seized blacks in Pennsylvania and sent them to be slaves in the Confederacy.[viii] One woman complained to Confederate General James Longstreet of the seizure of her cattle to which he responded, “Yes, madam, it’s very sad—very sad; and this sort of thing has been going on in Virginia more than two years—very sad.”[ix]
In pursuit of Lee and the rebels was Joseph “Fighting Joe” Hooker. The Union defeat at Chancellorsville shook Lincoln’s trust in Hooker, and Fighting Joe was on his way to further disappointing his commander. When he had intelligence that Lee was crossing the Rappahannock River, Hooker proposed a maneuver to the rebel rear; Lincoln wrote that the Union troops cannot risk becoming “entangled upon the river, like an ox jumped half over a fence and liable to be torn by dogs front and rear without a fair chance to gore one way or kick the other.”[x] The frustration deepened as it became clear that Fighting Joe not only had questionable tactics but also had an aversion to taking on his opponent: as Lee made his way further north, Hooker suggested an attack on Richmond.[xi] Lincoln’s response: “I think Lee’s Army, and not Richmond, is your true objective point.”[xii]
On June 28, Lincoln conferred with his cabinet. Looking “sad and careworn,” he informed them that Hooker had amounted to no more than a McClellan and that he was replacing Hooker with George Gordon Meade.[xiii] While Meade did not enjoy the same popularity amongst soldiers that McClellan had—such as during the Peninsula Campaign—the troops were now preparing to fight on home territory. “Our men are three times as Enthusiastic as they have been in Virginia. The idea that Pennsylvania is invaded and that we are fighting on our own soil proper, influences them strongly. They are more determined than I have ever before seen them.”[xiv] Immediately upon taking the reins, Meade moved his men northward to meet the rebels, and Union cavalry met Confederate General A.P. Hill and his men marching into Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.[xv]
Thus, on July 1, the battle began with 24,000 Confederates facing 19,000 federals “along a three-mile semicircle west and north” of the town.[xvi] When Lee arrived at the scene, he ordered Ewell and Hill to launch their assault with four divisions, and the power was overwhelming: the Union right flank collapsed and caused a retreat to a nearby hill, Cemetery Hill, where the federal troops rallied then halted the southern advance with the cover of artillery.[xvii] During the assault, Union General John Reynolds, saddled on his horse, ordered his men to keep up their fighting, shouting: “Forward, forward, men! Drive those fellows out of that! Forward! For God’s sake, forward!”[xviii] Those were his final words: he toppled over from his horse, and with his face to the “soil of his native Pennsylvania,” his soldiers saw a half-inch hole behind his right ear.[xix] One of the true “soldier generals of the army,” as a young lieutenant called him, had died at the age of forty-two.[xx] Lee, wary of federal reinforcements, authorized Ewell to attack Cemetery Hill “if practicable.”[xxi] Ewell, however, did not find it practicable, and by the time dusk came, General Winfield Scott Hancock had arrived with reinforcements and extended the Union line from Cemetery Hill to Little Round Top, an eminence south of Cemetery Hill and connected to it by Cemetery Ridge.[xxii] Overnight, Meade and three more corps made their way to the front and further strengthened the line.[xxiii] Throughout the night, Union soldiers plied their shovels to fortify their natural fortress in anticipation of the inevitable rebel attack.[xxiv]
Across the way, as night came on July 1, Lee looked upon the formidable Union line through field glasses and strategized with Longstreet. The men had the best of the Confederate veteran troops at their disposal with the highest morale they had during the war: they were eager to attack their rivals “they had beaten so constantly.”[xxv] Longstreet recommended the rebels maneuver to get between the Union line and Washington and therefore choose a more favorable site of battle. Speaking to Longstreet, Lee pointed to Cemetery Hill and said, “The enemy is there, and I am going to attack him there,” to which Longstreet responded, “If he is there, it will be because he is anxious that we should attack him; a good reason, in my judgment, for not doing so.”[xxvi] Lee replied: “They are there in position, and I am going to whip them or they are going to whip me.”[xxvii] Longstreet, fearing the consequences of such an attack, “turned away sadly with a conviction of impending disaster.”[xxviii] Lee drew up a plan of attack for July 2 that would have rebels charging the left and right Union flanks with the hope of forcing a breakthrough.[xxix]
Longstreet, despite his concerns, was tasked with ordering the charge in the early morning of July 2. Delays led to scrutiny: had the only non-Virginian in Lee’s army cowered under pressure or not believed in the attack plan? He did not have troops in position until 4:00 p.m., but while he may have not been as speedy as his commander would have liked, the fault was not only his as he had to wait for two divisions that had been misled by Lee’s guide on a more circuitous route to join Longstreet’s men.[xxx] When they were finally in position and prepared to attack, Longstreet found that the Union line was not in the position scouts had reported: corps commander Daniel Sickles had moved his men to Little Round Top where they had a clear line of sight over a peach orchard and a “maze of boulders” called the Devil’s Den.[xxxi] Longstreet, fearing another rebuff if he approached Lee to inquire about a change in strategy given the shift in the Union line, ordered his men to advance.[xxxii]
Charging up Little Round Top came 15,000 hollering veteran rebels who first had the effect of crushing Sickles and his men.[xxxiii] One veteran saw “no less than five charges and countercharges” with the edge of the fight swaying “back and forward like a wave.”[xxxiv] Meade, learning of the onslaught, rushed over three corps which were sufficient to repel the advance: the 1st Minnesota and 20th Maine achieved fame for stopping rebel assaults that “came dangerously close to breakthroughs.”[xxxv] Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain would be immortalized for his actions during the fight for Little Round Top: as Confederate regiments climbed the “rocky, wooded slope filled with smoke, noise, and terror,” he ordered his men to “fix bayonets on their empty rifles and charge,” surprising the rebels. A Union lieutenant, H.S. Melcher, cheered his men and shouted, “Come on! Come on! Come on, boys!” charging forward with a “wild yell of anguish wrong from its tortured heart,” bringing his regiment to charge with him.[xxxvi] The Confederates were confounded: they recoiled, staggered, broke, and ran.[xxxvii] The federals had secured Little Round Top.[xxxviii] Although Sickles had lost control of the peach orchard and the Devil’s Den—as well as taken a shot to the right knee that left the remainder of his leg “hanging in shreds,” putting an end to his military career—the Union line held firm on the prized high ground.[xxxix]
On the northern side of the Union line, near Cemetery Hill, the Confederates had more success: a hole had opened in the Union line, just as Lee had planned. Hancock necessarily had shifted men to reinforce Sickles and stop the charge up Little Round Top, but Ewell advanced too late to capitalize on the newly-opened gap: his brigades moved at dusk only far enough to take some trenches but not Cemetery Hill.[xl] Night fell on July 2, and nearly 35,000 casualties had been tallied in the fighting near Gettysburg.[xli] The wounded called out “for water and assistance, but for the most part the veterans of both armies were inured to this by now.”[xlii]
For July 3, Lee hoped to break “those people” and achieve the long-awaited piercing of the Union line.[xliii] Newly arrived for Lee to command were three fresh divisions led by George Pickett, and Lee saw them as an ideal spearhead into the center of Meade’s line which Lee supposed to be already weakened from the two days of fighting.[xliv] Then, Ewell would target the right flank and “clamp the pincers” when Pickett penetrated the Union line.[xlv] On the Union side, during a midnight council of generals, Meade presciently told his men that “if Lee attacks to-morrow, it will be in your front.”[xlvi]
At the break of dawn, rebels advanced on the extreme right flank of the Union line, and federals stormed the trenches that the rebels had taken the previous day.[xlvii] Longstreet urged Lee to make a move on the Union left while the right was facing an assault, but Lee insisted on charging the middle of the line with Pickett’s division and two of Hill’s which would first consist of an advance through three-quarters of a mile in open fields then face “dug-in infantry supported by ample artillery.”[xlviii] Longstreet told Lee, “General, I have been a soldier all my life. I have been with soldiers engaged in fights by couples, by squads, companies, regiments, divisions, and armies, and should know as well as anyone what soldiers can do. It is my opinion that no 15,000 men ever arrayed for battle can take that position.”[xlix] While Lee did not see the long odds as a deterrent, Longstreet was haunted by them: “My heart was heavy,” he wrote later. “I could see the desperate and hopeless nature of the charge and the hopeless slaughter it would cause. . . . That day at Gettysburg was one of the saddest of my life.”[l]
At 1:07 p.m., Confederate artillery boomed. Their target was the Union center, and while the aim of the cannons was not low enough to inflict significant casualties, it created “the most infernal pandemonium” for soldiers on the ridge.[li] Federal artillery countered, and for nearly two hours, hundreds of guns fired with a roar “heard as far away as Pittsburgh.”[lii] Pickett, with his long, perfumed hair “worn in ringlets and his face adorned by a drooping mustache,” stood with his men waiting for their orders to advance.[liii] He may have finished last in his class at West Point but was determined to “win everlasting glory” on this day.[liv] The Union artillery halted firing across the ridge on which they were stationed, and minutes later, the rebel shells stopped falling on the federals. Over the field, “a singularly depressing silence” fell.[lv] At 3:00 p.m., Pickett received his orders to advance as rebel intelligence reported that their artillery appeared to have disabled the federal artillery.[lvi]
The mile-long line of men in gray marched toward the open fields in a sight that many remembered with awe. When they began traversing the stretch of farmland, northern artillery—not being disabled but having held their fire to draw the advance of the rebels—erupted sending a cascade of shell on the Confederate.[lvii] Waiting at the top of the ridge sat infantry ready to blast their opponents with a sheet of gunfire. Union General John Gibbon rode along the lines, “cool and calm,” telling his men in an unimpassioned voice, “Do not hurry, men, and fire too fast, let them come up close before you fire, and then aim low and steadily.”[lviii] At 200 yards, regiments from Vermont, Ohio, and New York unleashed fire and caused a collapse of the southern assault.[lix] Stretcherbearers ran to answer the many high-pitched yells of the wounded as the air carried a sulphuric smell and the sky above them turned “lurid with flame and murky with smoke.”[lx] Amidst the turmoil, one rebel saw a rabbit bolt from a clump of bushes and called out, “Run, old hare. If I was a old hare, I’d run too.”[lxi] The federal troops called out to their opponents: “Come on, Johnny! Keep on coming!”[lxii] Just as a few hundred Virginians and Tennesseans came close to breaching the first Union line, they “fell like leaves in an autumn wind.”[lxiii] Men on both sides shouted, fired, cursed, prayed, and screamed as others were wounded and dying, producing a “strange and terrible . . . sound that came from thousands of human throats, yet was not a commingling of shouts and yells but rather like a vast mournful roar.”[lxiv] Pickett’s charge, consisting of 14,000 men, was finished, and barely half returned to their starting point.[lxv] The remaining men worked to form a defensive line for the seemingly inevitable counterattack by Meade, but there would be no pursuit. Instead, on July 4, the rebels found themselves marching through the rain with ambulances and commandeered farm wagons bouncing in the rutted roads.[lxvi] One Virginia captain wrote home: “We gained nothing but glory and lost our bravest men.”[lxvii]
Meade scarcely believed that he had “beaten the victors of Chancellorsville” so much that he did not pursue the fleeing rebels, but his inaction drew scrutiny after the fact for some thought a death blow could have then been inflicted.[lxviii] He did not know how beaten the rebels were or how low their ammunition for artillery was, but more than anything, he did not want to follow “the bad example [Lee] had set me, in ruining himself attacking a strong position.”[lxix] One former corps commander captured the spirit of the Army of the Potomac: “The glorious success of the Army of the Potomac has electrified all. I did not believe the enemy could be whipped.”[lxx] One correspondent remarked to Meade, “Ah, General Meade, you’re in very great danger of being President of the United States.”[lxxi] As nearly 4,000 rebel prisoners marched their way to the rear, one federal saw them as men “it would be a pleasure to meet, when the war is over. I had no desire to exult over them, and pity and sympathy were the general feelings of us all upon the occasion.”[lxxii]
Lee, during the journey back to Virginia, possessed a weariness that surprised those near him. General John Imboden watched Lee: “The moon shone full upon his massive features and revealed an expression of sadness that I had never before seen upon his face.”[lxxiii] Lee, growing animated, told Imboden, “I never saw troops behave more magnificently than Pickett’s division of Virginians did today in that grand charge upon the enemy. And if they had been supported as they were to have been—but, for some reason not yet fully explained to me, were not—we would have held the position and the day would have been ours.”[lxxiv] Once more expressing his regret, he concluded: “Too bad; too bad. Oh, too bad!”[lxxv]
In Washington, the news from Gettysburg and the surrender at Vicksburg brought Lincoln to the White House balcony to proclaim to “serenaders that the ‘gigantic Rebellion’ whose purpose was to ‘overthrow the principle that all men are created equal’ had been dealt a crippling blow.”[lxxvi] In Wilmington, Delaware, William Thompson Lusk wrote that “[b]ells are ringing wildly all over the city,” and citizens grinned at one another “with fairly idiotic delight.”[lxxvii] He continued: “All hysterical nonsense is pardonable now,” including a man “frantically swinging a dinner bell, contributing thus his share of patriotic clamor to the general ding-dong.”[lxxviii] In New York, George Templeton Strong wrote:
[T]he results of this victory are priceless. . . . The charm of Robert Lee’s invincibility is broken. The Army of the Potomac has at last found a general that can handle it, and has stood nobly up to its terrible work in spite of its long disheartening list of hard-fought failures. . . . Government is strengthened four-fold at home and abroad.[lxxix]
The stakes could not have been much higher for the Confederacy: victory in the North would likely have led to a negotiated peace to the war or at least diplomatic recognition by France or England.[lxxx] With a resounding victory for the Union, “all idea of intervention is at an end.”[lxxxi] The Confederacy would not be the same after Gettysburg: Lee’s army, once seen as unstoppable and having “the admiration of the Western world,” was shattered.[lxxxii] Lee offered his resignation to Jefferson Davis, which was swiftly refused.[lxxxiii] The chief of ordnance for the Confederacy wrote an entry in his diary:
Events have succeeded one another with disastrous rapidity. One brief month ago we were apparently at the point of success. Lee was in Pennsylvania, threatening Harrisburgh, and even Philadelphia. Vicksburgh seemed to laugh all Grant’s efforts to scorn. . . . Port Hudson had beaten off Banks’ force. . . . Now the picture is just as sombre as it was bright then. . . . It seems incredible that human power could effect such a change in so brief a space. Yesterday we rode on the pinnacle of success—today absolute ruin seems to be our portion. The Confederacy totters to its destruction.[lxxxiv]
At Gettysburg, the Union suffered 23,000 casualties, but the South had 28,000, greater than a third of all Lee’s army.[lxxxv] Together, the casualties surpassed those at Shiloh, Antietam, Ball’s Bluff, and Belmont combined.[lxxxvi] Fifty-two Confederate generals had crossed the Potomac River to fight at Gettysburg, and at least 17 of them were casualties of the three-day conflict.[lxxxvii] Lee’s army had suffered a loss in leadership that one British observer opined would lead to the Confederacy never being able to replicate the success of the early war effort: “Don’t you see your system feeds upon itself? You cannot fill the places of these men. Your troops do wonders, but every time at a cost you cannot afford.”[lxxxviii]
Four months after the carnage, the battlefield became a permanent cemetery for the fallen soldiers. A large crowd gathered for the dedication ceremony, led by Edward Everett of Massachusetts, and President Lincoln had been asked to make “a few appropriate remarks” on the occasion.[lxxxix] He delivered a concise address bringing meaning to the sacrifices on both sides and reaffirming that reconciliation was possible once the guns had been stored away:
Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate—we cannot consecrate—we cannot hallow—this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.[xc]
[i] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 647.
[ii] See id. (citing James Longstreet to Louis Wigfall, May 13, Archer Jones, Confederate Strategy from Shiloh to Vicksburg [Baton Rouge, 1961], 208.
[iii] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 648.
[iv] See id.
[vi] See id. at 649.
[viii] See id.; Edwin B. Coddington, The Gettysburg Campaign: A Study in Command (New York, 1968), 153-79.
[ix] James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 649 (quoting Walter Lord, ed., The Fremantle Diary: Being the Journal of Lieutenant Colonel James Arthur Lyon Fremantle, Coldstream Guards, on his Three Months in the Southern States [Boston, 1954], 224).
[x] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 651 (quoting Roy C. Basler, ed., The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, 9 vols. [New Brunswick, N.J., 1952-55], Vol. VI, 249, 257, 273).
[xi] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 651.
[xii] Roy C. Basler, ed., The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, 9 vols. (New Brunswick, N.J., 1952-55), Vol. VI, 249, 257, 273.
[xiii] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 642 (citing Roy C. Basler, ed., The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, 9 vols. [New Brunswick, N.J., 1952-55], Vol. VI, 281; Howard K. Beale ed., Diary of Gideon Welles, 3 vols. [New York, 1960], Vol. I, 340, 344, 348.
[xiv] Bell Irvin Wiley, The Life of Billy Yank: The Common Soldier of the Union (Indianapolis, 1952), 283.
[xv] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 653-54.
[xvi] See id. at 654.
[xvii] See id.
[xviii] Shelby Foote, The Civil War: A Narrative, Vol. II, 469.
[xx] See id.
[xxi] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 654.
[xxii] See id. at 655.
[xxiv] See Shelby Foote, The Civil War: A Narrative, Vol. II, 481.
[xxv] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 655.
[xxvi] Id. at 656 (quoting “Lee in Pennsylvania,” Annals of the War [Philadelphia, 1879], 421; “Lee’s Right Wing at Gettysburg,” Battles and Leaders, Vol. III, 339-40).
[xxvii] Shelby Foote, The Civil War: A Narrative, Vol. II, 480.
[xxviii] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 656.
[xxix] See id.
[xxx] See id. at 656-57.
[xxxi] See id. at 657.
[xxxii] See id.
[xxxiii] See id.
[xxxiv] Shelby Foote, The Civil War: A Narrative, Vol. II, 504.
[xxxv] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 657-59.
[xxxvi] Henry Steele Commager, The Blue and the Gray, Vol. II, 620.
[xxxviii] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 659.
[xl] See id. at 660.
[xlii] Shelby Foote, The Civil War: A Narrative, Vol. II, 520.
[xliii] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 660.
[xliv] See id. at 660-61.
[xlv] See id. at 661.
[xlvi] Id. (quoting John Gibbon, “The Council of War on the Second Day,” Battles and Leaders, Vol. III, 314).
[xlvii] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 661.
[xlix] Shelby Foote, The Civil War: A Narrative, Vol. II, 530.
[l] James Longstreet, “Lee’s Right Wing at Gettysburg,” Battles and Leaders, Vol. III, 343, 345.
[li] See Shelby Foote, The Civil War: A Narrative, Vol. II, 541.
[lii] James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 661.
[liii] See id. at 662.
[liv] See id.
[lv] Shelby Foote, The Civil War: A Narrative, Vol. II, 548.
[lvi] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 662.
[lviii] Henry Steele Commager, The Blue and the Gray, Vol. II, 631.
[lix] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 662.
[lx] Shelby Foote, The Civil War: A Narrative, Vol. II, 549.
[lxii] Id. at 555.
[lxiii] James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 662.
[lxiv] Shelby Foote, The Civil War: A Narrative, Vol. II, 562.
[lxv] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 662.
[lxvi] See id. at 664-65.
[lxvii] Shelby Foote, The Civil War: A Narrative, Vol. II, 564.
[lxviii] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 663.
[lxix] See id. (quoting War of the Rebellion . . . Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, 128 vols. [Washington, 1880-1901], Ser. I, Vol. 27, pt. 3, 539; Shelby Foote, The Civil War: A Narrative, Vol. II, 567-68; Freeman Cleaves, Meade of Gettysburg [Norman, Okla., 1960], 172).
[lxx] James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 663 (quoting War of the Rebellion . . . Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, 128 vols. [Washington, 1880-1901], Ser. I, Vol. 27, pt. 3, 539; Shelby Foote, The Civil War: A Narrative, Vol. II, 567-68; Freeman Cleaves, Meade of Gettysburg [Norman, Okla., 1960], 172).
[lxxi] Shelby Foote, The Civil War: A Narrative, Vol. II, 566.
[lxxii] See id. at 565.
[lxxiii] Id. at 581.
[lxxvi] James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 664 (quoting Roy C. Basler, ed., The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, 9 vols. [New Brunswick, N.J., 1952-55], Vol. VI, 319-20).
[lxxvii] Henry Steele Commager, The Blue and the Gray, Vol. II, 643.
[lxxix] The Diary of George Templeton Strong, Vol. III: The Civil War 1860-1865, ed. Allan Nevins and Milton Halsey Thomas (New York, 1952), 330.
[lxxx] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 650-51.
[lxxxi] Henry Adams to Charles Francis Adams, Jr., July 23, 1863, in C. Ford, ed., A Cycle of Adams Letters 1861-1865, 2 vols. (Boston, 1920), Vol. II, 59-60.
[lxxxii] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 665.
[lxxxiii] See id.
[lxxxiv] Frank E. Vandiver, ed., The Civil War Diary of General Josiah Gorgas (University, Ala., 1947), 55.
[lxxxv] See James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era, 664.
[lxxxvi] Shelby Foote, The Civil War: A Narrative, Vol. II, 578.
[lxxxvii] Id. at 577.
[lxxxviii] See id. at 578.
[lxxxix] Henry Steele Commager, The Blue and the Gray, Vol. II, 643.
[xc] Id. at 643-44.