about to fall, and the army of General Grant would be released for service east or south. It was desirable to accomplish something significant in the East as early as possible. The southern boast, that one Confederate could whip three or more northern soldiers, did not seem extravagant after Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville. And Lee had to do something. Either he must continue on the defensive and see his army gradually worn down, or he must make a courageous advance. He decided on the latter policy. The southern armies were nearly destitute of shoes and clothing, and in sore need of medicine. But the men were hardy and seasoned. If Lee could make a successful invasion of the North, he might penetrate the rich state of Pennsylvania, obtain clothing and food, and replenish his supplies. If such a venture succeeded, he might capture Harrisburg, and quite possibly Baltimore and Philadelphia. He could threaten Washington and New York. And, if he could reach Lake Erie, he could control the lines of communication east and west, and profoundly influence European favor. It was a gambler's chance, and it was worth trying. Lee crossed the Potomac and moved north rapidly. Hooker was in command of the Army of the Potomac, but since his defeat at Chancellorsville the basket had been waiting for his head. The Union Army, which within a few months had been commanded by McClellan, Burnside and Hooker successively, was awaiting another change. McClellan had been timid, Burnside rash, and Hooker boastful and intemperate. Politics and military mismanagement had done their work, and the army had experienced McClellan's indecisive victory at Antietam, Burnside's futile slaughter at Fredericksburg and Hooker's defeat at Chancellorsville. The spirit of the Army of the Potomac was crushed: and now, another experiment in leadership was impending. To Hooker's lasting credit let it be remarked that he followed Lee promptly, and, marching by parallel roads, managed to keep his own army between that of Lee and the capital at Washington. Just on the eve of battle, Hooker was removed, and Meade reluctantly took his place. Whatever Meade's deficiencies as a general, he was a gentleman, and a man of strength of character. The responsibility of command in that crisis was one which he had not sought, and if he was so overwhelmed by his new and heavy responsibilities as to show too great caution, there was much to excuse him. Continuing the movement of Hooker, he pursued Lee, intending to overtake Lee's rear, compel him to fall back, and fight a decisive battle. The field for this battle Meade selected at Pipe Creek in Maryland. Neither Meade nor Lee expected or desired to fight a battle at Gettysburg. As Meade was selecting a favorable spot for the battle at Pipe Creek, Lee was preparing for a fight near Cashtown, toward Harrisburg. It was the fate of these two skilled officers each to propose a trap so inviting that he was confident the other would step into it, and then to leave both traps baited and unsprung. The battle occurred where neither general desired it; and each one was so sure that Gettysburg was no place for a battle that neither general arrived on the field until after the first day's fight. The two armies moved with singularly little knowledge of each other's exact movements. Lee was worried because Stuart's Cavalry, on which he depended for information, was roving about, swapping sore-backed horses for fresh ones, and trading wornout shoes for new ones, so that Lee could not keep track of their movements.* To this day it is easily possible to stir the blood of a white-haired member of Jeb Stuart's merry company of horse-thieves, by whistling or fiddling a few bars from that old rebel song-the very melody which Lincoln's marching-clubs had used in honor of the Wide-awakes: If you want to have a good time, jine the cavalry, *It is not meant to imply that the cavalry rendered no effective service, but only that Lee did not know what it was doing. See Stuart's Cavalry in the Gettysburg Campaign, by General John S. Mosby, New York, 1908. Major General J. E. B. Stuart's cavalry were having their promised good time. They were moving rapidly, here and there, and Though they had a tolerable notion of aiming at progressive motion, 'Twasn't direct; 'twas serpentine. Like Monsieur's corkscrew, worming through a cork, Not like corkscrew's proxy-stiff, down-pronged fork. They were certain to reach Harrisburg by the time Lee did, and would be freshly mounted and in fine fettle for a fight. It is hard to make an infantryman, who carried his gun and thirty pounds of baggage, believe that a cavalry soldier was ever anything more than a jolly raider of stables and hen-roosts. To the men who plodded through the mud, it seemed that he whose happy fate permitted him to "join the cavalry" had few cares. But if the infantry bugle in the early dawn blew the confession: I can't get 'em up, I can't get 'em up, I can't get 'em up in the morning— the cavalry bugle trumpeted the stern command :— Get up and water your horses, You dirty beggars, get up out of bed. Stuart, a young and brilliant officer, had succeeded to the command of Stonewall Jackson on the death of the latter. Where was Stuart with his cavalry? For eight days, Lee did not know. And what was Hooker doing all this time? Still on the south side of the Potomac, no doubt, answering the criticisms of the Committee on the Conduct of the War. So Lee hoped. At the end of June, when Lee was about to descend upon Harrisburg, and capture the capital of Pennsylvania, he heard alarming news. Hooker's whole army was across the Potomac, and |