Cover of the book - When the Tide Turned

General Price, for several months in the early part of the war, subsisted his devoted army without any aid from the Confederacy. Without uniform and clad in a linen duster, his long white hair floating as he rode, he led his ragged victors from one success to another.

Early in June sixty-one began the sacrifices in the Federal army. So richly gifted, so well beloved, Theodore Winthrop fell at Great Bethel, mourned by General Butler as a young brother might have been. Then came the first Manassas; the sun rising on the Federal army, marching as if for a holiday parade, and setting upon a disgraceful stampede, with loss of self-respect as well as loss of munitions of war. This was the battle where our Congressmen deserted their desks in the Capitol, crowded into carriages and rode gaily out toward the battle field to see the Rebellion put down that afternoon. It is true Freedom was not without a witness, for now came Fremont's proclamation of August 30th, thrilling the loyal North as nothing had done before; but he was at once rebuked at Washington and removed from his command. In September Rosecrans stormed the wooded bluffs on the Gauly River, falling back unsuccessful, and when the mountains of Virginia were brilliant with October color, subdued with the velvet green of the dark pines, came the defeat at Ball's Bluff. Here fell William Lowell Put­nam, the nephew of James Russell Lowell, whose loss not alone to his family and friends, but to the world as well, no words can estimate. No soul ever looked out from a face more beautiful; no finer example of heroic self sacrifice enriches history's records.

 It was now almost five months since McClellan's address to the army in which he declared his purpose, not to interfere with slavery, and also his purpose to crush what he called servile insurrection. In other words, the men in the Union Army must do guard duty for slave-holders. It was well for the discipline of our army, that the events of the coming year, the bitter reverses, the loss of the best and bravest was hidden behind the impenetrable veil of the future. And now the great gun boats, the floating monsters of our newly created Navy, began to move Southward, first to anchor in the harbor of Port Royal. "Here where the black population is 40,000 and the white but 10,000, the Federals will have a remarkable field for their Anti-Slavery experiments," wrote a Confederate editor. Would that this had been true, but it was farther from the truth than most of the announcements of that day. The words of deliverance had not been spoken; the slaves who rowed in skiffs alongside the great ships, or sought on land those whom they supposed were their blue­coated deliverers, were at once sent back to renewed scourging and slavery.

The year 1862 opened without a single well defined blow at the cause of the war. Still the great North stood behind her guns watchful, to silence the least whisper in re­gard to slavery.

 The early days of February, 1862, found Grant beginning the ascent of the Tennessee River. The gun boats moved with majesty on the water, the blue line along the bank marking the advance of the infantry. The magnificent army of the Tennessee was marching cheerfully toward Fort Donelson and death. Still in the future for them was that memorable Sunday, and the battle of Pittsburg landing. But now it is May; Hooker has met Longstreet, and the battle of Williamsburg has been fought. On the eleventh of this month our gun boats are on the James, but twelve miles from Richmond, and McClellan's great army is encamped within sight of the spires of the Confederate Capitol.

 In this Spring of 1862, from thousands of Northern hearts, the great shadow is lifting; surely the war will soon be over. Even then the situation was not comprehended.

The terrific thunder storm which on the 29th of May broke over the Virginia woods was prophetic of the coming storm of mus­ketry and artillery.

On the 3oth of May, that date now set apart for the sacred remembrance of the sol­diers' graves, came the Confederate attack, led by Johnston. Through the thick woods, over the sweet trailing arbutus, and again over marshes and through deep water, came the assaulting column. Driven from their earth works our army retreated. The battle of Fair Oaks and the seven days' fighting before Richmond darkened those June days with indescribable horror. The continuous volleys of musketry became the tenor in that great battle chorus, and the heavy bass of the artillery shook the hills and rolled over the valleys.

It was but three years since a gallows stood against the sky at Charlestown, Vir­ginia, and a poet had written:

"Soon shall John Brown tread the shaking earth 

From the Blue Ridge to the sea."