Gettysburg ranks with the battles that have decided the fate of empires. Had the issue been different the cause of the Confederacy would no doubt have triumphed and the United States have been split in twain. It was fought when the fortunes of the South were at their highest point. Recent victories at Frederick and Chancellors Ville had greatly raised the morale. Their army had been recruited and was re-organised under efficient and much trusted commanders; they were in the position to carry the war into the enemy’s country, to invade the States still faithful to the Union, and threaten the Central Government at Washington. On the other hand, the Federals were weakened and dispirited. The withdrawal of many short-service men had greatly reduced their strength, and they had been but lately twice defeated in the open field. Had the Confederates won at Gettysburg, nothing could well have prevented their occupation of Pennsylvania and Maryland. Other far reaching consequences all tending to the success of the rebellion was more than probable.

It was the famous General Robert E. Lee, at that time the Confederate general-in-chief, who planned the operations that ended in the battle of Gettysburg. Whatever his ultimate aims, no doubt his immediate object was the defence or Richmond, the Southern capital, by an offensive counter attack. His advance was a wide outflanking movement, a blow boldly and unexpectedly struck so far to the rear that the Federals must at once fall back. Thus Richmond would be immediately relieved, while other decisive results would in all probability follow.

A word or two first about Lee, that fine soldier whom his foes compared to Napoleon, declaring that his presence on the field was worth 20,000 men to his side. He was of noble character, a simple, straightforward soldier, devout and God-fearing, a true patriot, prepared to give his life for his country, great in every situation, under every condition, unspoilt by success, unshaken by adversity. “A large austere man,” Ulysses Grant called him, and he was no doubt clothed with natural dignity that was most impressive; but he had still a keen sense of humour, and ruled by quiet sarcasm as much as by force and severity. One good story is told of his rebuke to Mr. Hill, the newspaper editor who freely found fault with one of his campaigns. “We made a great mistake, Mr. Hill, at the beginning of the war,” he said, “and that was in appointing our best generals to edit newspapers and our worst to command the armies in the field. For myself, I have done my best, but I shall be happy to change places with you if you can do better.”

Another story shows him in the finest light, his large-minded chivalry and unstinting kindliness of heart. It was after this very battle of Gettysburg about to be described, at which he was defeated, as we shall see. When he had ordered a general retreat and was passing rapidly to the rear, he came close to where a wounded Union soldier lay upon the ground with a shattered leg. The poor fellow, with a fine bravado that no one can condemn, raised himself up at recognising the enemy’s general and shouted “Hurrah for the Union!” full in Lee’s face. Then Lee-but let the veteran tell his own story. “The General heard me, looked, stopped his horse, dismounted and came towards me. I confess that I at first thought he meant to kill me. But as he came up he looked down at me with such a sad expression on his face that all fear left me and I wondered what he was about. He extended his hand to me, and grasping mine firmly and looking right into my eyes he said, ‘My son, I hope you will soon be well.’ If I live a thousand years I shall never forget the expression on General Lee’s face. There he was, defeated, retiring from a field that had cost him and his cause almost their last hope, and yet he stopped to say words like these to a wounded soldier of the opposition, who had taunted him as he passed by. As soon as the general had left me I cried myself to sleep, there upon the bloody ground.”

No wonder that “Mas’r Robert,” as he was affectionately called in the army and throughout the South, was the idol of his men. Whenever he showed himself he was greeted with that fierce yell that came to be known as the confederate battle cry. When any at a distance heard it-if there was no fighting afoot, that is to say-they knew it’s meaning, and would exclaim, “There goes Mas’r Robert, or old Stonewall Jackson, or a hunted hare.” His anxiety for his men was unbounded; his first care was for the sick and wounded. When his grateful fellow countrymen would have presented him with a house and estate, he refused, begging that the money might be distributed among the sufferers in the war. He chided his officers when they exposed themselves needlessly, and if they retorted that they only followed his example, he would say that it was his duty to be in the forefront and not their. Yet sometimes his people protested when his ardent courage carried him too far. In one of the fierce encounters in the Wilderness he rode up, resolved to lead the charge. Then the officer commanding cried, “General Lee, this is no place for you. Boys! Is it necessary for General Lee to show you the way?” “No! No!” was the ringing reply. “We will drive the enemy back if General Lee will only go to the rear.”

It is sad to turn from this splendid old man in his triumphs to the hour when he was forced to surrender the remnant of his gallant band to General Grant. Even then the affection of those he had so often led to victory was exhibited in the most touching fashion. They would have cheered him as he rode by on that same grand warhorse, Traveller, who had carried him almost uninterruptedly through the war, but the sadness of the occasion silenced all. Only “as he rode slowly along the lines hundreds of his devoted veterans pressed around their noble chief, trying to take his hand, touch his person, or even lay a hand upon his horse, thus exhibiting their great affection for him. The general then, with head bare and tears flowing his manly checks, bade adieu to the army. In a few words he told the brave men who had been so true in arms to return to their homes and become worthy citizens.

It was in June 1863, when Lee was at the zenith of his reputation that he resolved to follow up the successes already achieved against the North by an invasion of the Northern territory. The strategically operation he now adopted, and which led up to his reserve at Gettysburg, must be described here with a view to a proper appreciation of the coming battle.