Early in December, 1862, Burnside, urged by the clamor of the Northern press and populace, resolved to cross the Rappahannock, and despite the near approach of winter to assume the offensive. At this time the attempt of Federal gun boats to pass up the river to Fredericksburg had been frustrated by Stuart and some field batteries.
On December 13, 1862, Burnside started to cross the Rappahannock. Never did a general or army await the attack of a more numerous enemy with greater confidence than did Lee and the Confederates at Fredericksburg.
BROMPTON (THE OLD MARYE MANSION)
Now the Residence of Capt. M. B. Rowe.
When the two pre-arranged signal guns announced that the shelling of the town was about to begin, long streams of carriages and wagons, bearing fugitive women and children, and long processions on foot of those who could not procure vehicles, all seeking temporary shelter in the woods and wilderness, passed the camp fires of the Confederate soldiers in the rear of the town.
FREDERICKSBURG IN 1862
Just Before the Bombardment, and After the Car Bridge was Burnt by the Confederate Army
SUNKEN ROAD—SHOWING COBB MONUMENT
Shortly after nine o’clock the sun shining out with almost Indian Summer warmth quickly dispelled the mists which hid the opposing armies, and as the white folds dissolved, Jackson’s men beheld the plains beneath them dark with a moving mass of more than 40,000 foes, and from the array of batteries upon the Stafford Heights a storm of shot and shell burst upon the Confederate lines. The Federal army advanced within 800 yards of the foot of the opposing ridge when suddenly the silent woods awoke to life and the flash and thunder of more than sixty guns revealed to the Federals the magnitude of the task they had undertaken. Column after column advanced only to be repulsed with terrible loss, until about 12 o’clock the Irish Brigade, under General Meagher, advanced at the spot on the Sunken Road which is now marked by the monument to General Cobb, he having fallen earlier in the day, and boldly charging across the shot-swept plains, opposed to it were men as fearless and as staunch; behind that rude stone breastworks, those who were “bone of their bone and flesh of their flesh,” as some of the soldiers of Cobb’s Brigade were Irish like themselves. On the morning of battle General Meagher had bade his men deck their caps with sprigs of evergreen “to remind them,” he said “of the land of their birth.” The symbol was recognized by their countrymen, and “Oh, God, what a pity! Here comes Meagher’s fellows,” was the cry in the Confederate ranks. The rapidly thinning line now was within a hundred yards of their goal, suddenly a sheet of flame leaped from the parapet, to their glory be it told, though scores be swept away, falling in their tracks, like corn before the sicle, the ever thinning ranks dashed on. Of the 1,200 officers and men in this gallant charge, 937 had fallen; one body, that of an officer, was found within fifteen feet of the parapet.