Mountains, and, posting his forces along the Manassas Railroad,
guard the approaches to Washington when McDowell advanced from
Fredericksburg to the aid of General McClellan. Thus Richmond would be
half encircled by Federal armies. General McClellan, if permitted by
the Confederates to carry out his plan of operations, would soon be in
command of about two hundred thousand men, and with this force it was
anticipated he would certainly be able to capture Richmond.
Such was the Federal programme of the war in Virginia. It promised
great results, and ought, it would seem, to have succeeded. The
Confederate forces in Virginia did not number in all one hundred
thousand men; and it is now apparent that, without the able strategy
of Johnston, Lee, and Jackson, General McClellan would have been in
possession of Richmond before the summer.
Prompt action was thus necessary on the part of the sagacious soldier
commanding the army at Richmond, and directing operations throughout
the theatre of action in Virginia. The officer in question was General
Joseph E. Johnston, a Virginian by birth, who had first held General
Patterson in check in the Shenandoah Valley, and then hastened to the
assistance of General Beauregard at Manassas, where, in right of his
superior rank, he took command. Before the enemy's design to advance
up the Peninsula had been developed, Johnston had made a masterly
retreat from Manassas. Reappearing with his force of about forty
thousand men on the Peninsula, he had obstinately opposed McClellan,
and only retired when he was compelled by numbers to do so, with
the resolution, however, of fighting a decisive battle on the
Chickahominy. In face, figure, and character, General Johnston was
thoroughly the soldier. Above the medium height, with an erect figure,
in a close-fitting uniform buttoned to the chin; with a ruddy face,
decorated with close-cut gray side-whiskers, mustache, and tuft on the
chin; reserved in manner, brief of speech, without impulses of any
description, it seemed, General Johnston's appearance and bearing were
military to stiffness; and he was popularly compared to "a gamecock,"
ready for battle at any moment. As a soldier, his reputation
was deservedly high; to unshrinking personal courage he added a
far-reaching capacity for the conduct of great operations. Throughout
his career he enjoyed a profound public appreciation of his abilities
as a commander, and was universally respected as a g
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