III. — THE OPENING OF THE HUNT.
It soon became obvious that Lee had resolved to strike a blow at his adversary.
How to do so with advantage seemed a hard problem. Between the opponents lay the Rapidan, which would be an ugly obstacle in the path of an army retreating after defeat—and the same considerations which deterred General Meade from attacking Lee, operated to prevent a like movement on the part of his adversary.
Thus an advance of the Southern army on the enemy’s front was far too hazardous to be thought of—and the only course left was to assail their flank. This could either be done by crossing lower down, and cutting the enemy off from the Rappahannock, or crossing higher up, and cutting him off from Manassas. Lee determined on the latter—and in a bright morning early in October the great movement began.
Leaving Fitz Lee’s cavalry and a small force of infantry in the works on the Rapidan fronting the enemy, General Lee put his columns in motion for the upper fords.
The men hailed the movement with cheers of delight. As they wound along, with glittering bayonets, through the hills and across the river, you could easily see that the old army of Northern Virginia was still in full feather—that Gettysburg had not shaken it—and that Lee could count on it for new campaigns and harder combats than any in the past.
The head of the column was directed toward Madison Court-House, which would enable Lee either to advance directly upon the enemy’s flank by the Sperryville road, or continue his flank movement, pass the Rappahannock, and cut off his opponent from Washington.
The advance was an inspiring spectacle. The weather was magnificent, and the crimson foliage of the wood rivalled the tints of the red battle-flags, fluttering above the long glittering hedge of bayonets.
Stuart’s cavalry had moved out on the right flank to protect the column from the observation of the enemy. The campaign of October, 1863, had opened.
It was to be one of the briefest, but most adventurous movements of the war. Deciding little, it was yet rich in incident and dramatic scenes. A brilliant comedy, as it were—just tinged with tragedy—was that rapid and shifting raid of Lee’s whole army, on Meade. Blood, jests, laughter, mourning—these were strangely mingled, in the cavalry movements at least: and to these I proceed.
From the heights, whence you see only the “great events,” the movements of armies, and the decisive battles, let us now descend into the lowland, good reader. I will lay before you some incidents, not to be found in the “official reports;” and I promise to carry you on rapidly!