In Prussia’s war with Austria in 1866, Von Moltke’s plan at the battle of Sadowa, where he splendidly triumphed, was in the same respect a close imitation of Lee’s at Gettysburg.  The Prussians occupied the outer fish-hook line, the Austrians the inner.  When the pickets closed in the morning Von Moltke saluted King William and said:  “Your Majesty will to-day win not only the battle but the campaign.”  At noon this did not appear possible.  Prince Frederick Charles’s corps were withering under the hottest artillery fire of the century, save that at Gettysburg, just three years earlier to the hour.  It seemed as if in fifteen minutes they must give way.  But, hark!  What means that cheering on the left?  New cannons boom and the Austrian fire slackens!  Von Moltke knows perfectly well what it means.  The Crown-Prince has arrived with his fresh corps.  He has stormed the Heights of Chlum—­the Culp’s Hill of that battlefield.  He enfilades the whole Austrian line.  Benedek is beaten; on to Vienna; the war is ended!

It was with a heavy heart that General Lee ordered his brave men southward again—­a heart made heavier by many a stinging criticism against him in the Southern press.  The resolution that bore him up at this crisis was morally sublime.  He could not hope to strengthen his army more.  For a time he had to weaken it by sending Longstreet west to assist Bragg in fighting the battle of Chickamauga.  Clothing, rations, animals, and forage, as well as men, were increasingly scarce.  The South was exhausted much sooner than any expected, having greatly overestimated its wealth by taking exports and imports for gauge.  Doubtful if ever before was so large and populous a region so far from self-sustaining.  The force against Lee, on the other hand, was daily becoming stronger.

Till Gettysburg, Lee had toyed with the Army of the Potomac—­not because the rank and file of that army was at fault, and not mainly because of its generals’ inability, but mostly because of political interference with its operations.  The great and revered President Lincoln, with all his powers, was not a military man.  No more was Secretary Stanton.  They secured the best military aid they could.  From an early period General Halleck—­“Old Brains,” men called him because of his immense military information—­was their constant adviser; and though he was a scholar rather than a genius, he could doubtless have saved them many an error had they heeded his counsel instead of civilian clamor.

How impressively did not the Civil War teach that fine military scholarship alone, while it may greatly add to a general’s efficiency, cannot make a true military leader!  Compare Halleck with Grant or Sherman!  The Creoles of Louisiana considered their Beauregard the ne plus ultra military genius of the South.  One of them was once asked his opinion of General Lee.  He replied in his broken English:  “O, Gen Lee a ve’y good gen’l, ve’y good gen’l indeed; Gen Beaugar speak ve’y fav’ble of Gen Lee.”  So, at last, did Halleck speak “ve’y fav’ble” of Grant.