The defense of Fort Sumter.
The Confederates demanded possession of the fort. Anderson held out for a day or two, until the walls were beaten down about his ears, and then surrendered the fortress to the rebels. This was the beginning of war.
The news of the victory was flashed through the land, and the nation stood aghast, to find that the Great Rebellion had begun.
CHAPTER XV.
DARK DAYS FOE THE UNION.
President Lincoln's Appeal to the Country—Dark Days for the Northern States—A Decisive Battle—Glorious News.
The question of slavery was the real cause of the American Civil War, though in the first instance the object of the North was solely to save the Union. Six of the slave States had withdrawn from the Union. They had appointed as their President Jefferson Davis, and had attempted to seize all the arms and forts within the border of the States.
The ease with which Fort Sumter had fallen into their hands encouraged them to believe that they could easily snap the bonds which held the Union together. In the South the white population was supposed to be far superior to their Northern neighbours in all the arts of war.
Their position as slave-masters had bred in them an arrogant temper and a reckless spirit. They were more practised at the rifle, better used to horsemanship, and more familiar with field sports, than the men of the North. And they fondly boasted that one Virginian could beat five Yankees.
Indeed, the Southern States were so confident of their strength, that they did not really believe the North would fight; they might protest, they said, but that would be all.
But men who talked like this little understood the intense love of country which burned in Northern hearts. The moment Fort Sumter fell, Lincoln appealed to the country for seventy-five thousand soldiers, and within three days nearly a hundred thousand men had volunteered.
Then the war dragged slowly on for four long, weary years.
At first the tide of battle ran full against the Federals. Their first victory had encouraged the rebels. Then a battle of very much more importance was fought close to a stream known as Bull's Run, and here again the North was defeated. Then others joined the Confederates.
Several of the most brilliant soldiers and commanders, such as Lee and Jackson, were Virginians and slave-holders, and these of course threw in their lot with the South, and for some time the North had no men of equal capacity to set against them. Thus for months and almost years it seemed as if the Confederates would succeed, and that the fetters of the slave would be fixed more firmly than ever.
But defeat and delay were in reality making leaders for the North. A young engineer officer named M'Clellan was put in command at first. His appointment appeared to be a fortunate one. He speedily organised and placed in the field a splendid army, and it was fondly expected that a few months with such troops as his would end the war. But M'Clellan, though a brave soldier and an able man, was a disappointment. Like the father of Frederick the Great, he was an ideal drill-master, but an indifferent general. He was afraid to risk his magnificent army, and while he dallied his foes snatched victory after victory.
Those were dark days for the Northern States, yet through the darkness they did not falter. They felt that their cause was just, and they were prepared to suffer and die for it. At the head of the State was the great and noble Lincoln, whose calm and indomitable spirit was unbroken under the heaviest disaster.
On the first of July 1863, General Lee, who had invaded Pennsylvania with an army of seventy thousand men, advanced upon the little town of Gettysburg. Here he met and partially defeated the Federal troops under General Meade. Meade had entrenched himself on the hill above the town; but, though defeated, he was not dislodged. The second day a further attack was made, and once more the Federals suffered heavy losses. Part of their position was carried, and Lee believed that another day would give him such a victory as would place the whole of the Northern States with all their wealth at his feet.
It was a terrible moment for the North. The fate of the Union and of the nation depended on that battle; and when, at the close of the second day's struggle, the news was flashed by telegraph through the length and breadth of the land, that Meade was again defeated, a great gloom and sorrow hung over the Northern States. At Washington, the Government sat in terror. In hundreds of churches and thousands of homes throughout the land, the wives and children of the soldiers spent the night in prayer.
At length the fateful day dawned, and the two armies met once more. Under cover of the darkness, Meade had been quietly strengthening his position, and when the sun rose over the camp, it was seen that once more he was ready to face his hitherto victorious enemy.
The battle began at noon. For some time the result was uncertain. Then for a third time the Confederates began to make headway, and it is said that some of Lee's generals actually congratulated him upon a final victory. But the battle was not ended.
The Federals had their backs to the wall, and the dogged determination which is the strength and glory of the Yankee character showed itself at last.
Again and again the best troops of the Confederate army dashed up the slope of the low hill, only to break against the stubborn bands of men who could die but would not be defeated. And when at length the rebels made one more terrible rush, they were met, hurled back, broken, beaten, and scattered, and the battle was over.
That night, the Fourth of July, the anniversary of the Declaration of American Independence, there went up a shout through the North and East that must have reached to heaven. Just outside the town of Richmond, in Virginia, was a huge prison. Here some hundreds of Northern officers, prisoners of war, were held in captivity. They had heard of the struggle going on at Gettysburg, and they knew how much depended on that battle.
When, after the first and second days' fighting, the news of the Federal repulses reached them, their hearts sank. Eagerly yet anxiously they waited for the morrow. No eye in that dreary building was closed that night in sleep. The morning of the fourth day rose. They waited in fear, and strange rumours reached them. Some one brought word that their brethren were again defeated, and tears of shame and sorrow ran down many a worn face.
Then an aged negro approached the prison. He brought wonderful news, and through the bars he conveyed tidings of the Federal victory. For a moment the good news was scarcely believed. Next loud sobs were heard, mingled with murmured praises; then suddenly from hundreds of lips there rose this glorious battle-song of the North, for they felt, though many a battle was to follow, that the Union was saved:—