selves a short distance. Of what was said there is no record. McClellan laid both hands on Burnside's shoulders, and the two stood in that attitude face to face, several minutes, McClellan speaking, Burnside making little reply. It seems probable that McClellan had been disturbed by a letter which we now know he received from the President. Not till the last week in October was there any movement, when pontoons were laid at Berlin and the army began its crossing. General Lee, cognisant of all that was going on, leisurely returned towards the Rappahannock. The Union army marched deliberately - bivouacking at night-the bivouac fires illuming all the country. General McClellan was sitting in his tent on the evening of November 7th, when General Buckingham placed a letter in his hands, relieving him from command and appointing Burnside as his successor. General McClellan rode along the lines of the army, receiving the hurrahs of the troops under Fitz John Porter and several brigades in other commands, but only respectful silence from others. I was present at a luncheon of cold tongue and ham, spread upon a table in a farmhouse, where the health of the departing commander was drunk by the corps and division commanders present. It was far from being a hilarious occasion. The commander who had come before the country with such éclat from western Virginia, sixteen months previous, was departing for his home in New Jersey, discredited by those who were waging earnest warfare for the preservation of the Union. The great opportunities of military achievement, several times within his grasp, had gone by never to return. General Burnside took the command reluctantly; but he was quick in deciding upon a plan. General McClellan's line of march had been towards Gordonsville. He decided to move upon Fredericksburg. The movement was made with great rapidity, and he only failed of seizing the place because the pontoons were not there at the time appointed. Lee came and occupied the town, threw up his earthworks, and planted his batteries. Burnside planned to have Franklin cross the Rappahannock below Port Royal, Hooker above it, while Sumner was to cross opposite the town; but a heavy storm frustrated the movement. It was generally supposed that the army would go into winter quarters, and many of the correspondents accordingly returned to their homes. The press of the country, reflecting the feelings of the people, pronounced the campaign at an end. The friends of General McClellan were clamorous for his return. Congress and political advisers in Washington demanded that Burnside should move somewhere. They knew nothing of the obstacles in his path. In a letter to the newspaper for which I corresponded, I gave the following views of the situation, on December 9th: "It is a clear, cold morning. The sky is without a cloud. Standing near General Sumner's quarters, I have a wide sweep of vision. The quarters of the veteran general commanding the right grand division. are in a spacious mansion, newly constructed, the property of a wealthy planter, whose estate is somewhat shorn of its beauty by the ravages of war. The fences are all gone, the forests are fast disappearing, the fine range of cedars which lined the Belleplain road are no longer to be seen. All around are the white tents of the command, the innumerable camp-fires sending up blue columns of smoke. The air is calm. You hear the rumbling of distant baggage-trains, the clatter of hundreds of axes felling the forests for fuel,— the bugle-call of the cavalrymen, and the rataplan of the drummers, and mingling with all, the steady, constant flow of the falling waters of the winding stream. "Looking far off to the southeast, across the intervale of the river, you see a white cloud of steam moving beneath the fringe of a forest. It is a locomotive from Richmond, dragging its train of cars with supplies for the rebel camps. The forests and hills beyond are alive with men. Resting my glass against the side of the building to keep it steady, I can count the men grouped around the camp-fires, turning at times to keep themselves warm. Others are bringing in wood. An officer rides along. A train of wagons is winding down the hill toward the town. All along the range of hills are earthworks with sand-bag embrasures, and artillery behind, not quaker guns, I think, but field artillery, so ranged that a movement directly across the river would be marching into the jaws of death, as hazardous and destructive as the charge of the Light Brigade at Balaklava. - - "I know that there is a clamour for an onward movement, a desire and expectation for an advance; but I think there are few men in the country who, after taking a look at the rebel positions, would like to lead in a movement across the stream. "Looking into the town of Fredericksburg, we see but few smokes ascending from the chimneys, but few people in the streets. It is almost wholly deserted. The women and children have gone to Richmond, or else are shivering in camp. Close upon the river bank on either side face the pickets, within easy talking distance of each other. There has been no shooting of late. There is constant badinage. The rebel picket asks the Yankee when he is going to Richmond. The Yankee asks the rebel if he don't want a pair of boots. I am sorry to say that such conversation is mixed with profane words. Each party seems to think that hard words hit hard." "Last night the southern sky was red with the blaze of rebel campfires. Far off to the southeast I see a hazy cloud, and columns of smoke, indicating the presence of a large army. I do not doubt that if we attempt to cross we shall meet with terrible opposition from a force. nearly if not quite as large as our own. "If the President or General Halleck insist upon Burnside's making the movement, it will be made with whatever power, energy, determination, and bravery the army can exhibit. I am as anxious as any one can be to see a great blow given to the Rebellion; but I am not at all anxious to see the attempt made against such disadvantages as are apparent to the most casual observer from this position." It was an unreasonable demand which the public made upon Burnside. He had been just one month in command of the army. His first plan had failed through the remissness of others; his second effort to move had been made abortive by the storm. He could not attempt again the movement with any hope of success, for Lee had taken precautions against an attack upon his flank. Neither the public, the politician, nor the War Department would consent to his going into winter quarters. He had no alternative other than to devise a new plan. These considerations are to be kept in remembrance in reviewing the battle of Fredericksburg. General Burnside obtained correct information of the position held by General Lee. Jackson's corps was separated from Longstreet's by a ravine, but Lee had constructed a road through the woods and across a ravine, by which troops could be readily marched to the right or left, as they might be needed. He was satisfied that Lee did not expect him to cross at the town, but lower down the river. He decided, therefore, to cross the Rappahannock, and make a desperate push to obtain possession of the road, which would divide Lee's army. The plan was accepted by a council of officers on the 10th of December. Preparations were made that night for the passage of the river in three places. The artillery was drawn in position along the bank,— about one hundred and fifty pieces, some of which were thirty-pounders. Orders were issued to the troops to be ready at a moment's warning. General Woodbury, with a brigade of engineers, was ordered down to the river. Soon after dark on the night of the 10th, the brigade, with its long train of boats on wheels, came down from the Stafford hills. Boats sufficient for the construction of two bridges halted near the railroad; enough for two more went a third of a mile down stream, opposite the lower end of the town, while the remainder went a mile and a half |