THE NINE-MILE ROAD
In the golden afternoon light of the twenty-third of June, the city of
Richmond, forty thousand souls, lay, fevered enough, on her seven hills.
Over her floated the stars and bars. In her streets rolled the drum.
Here it beat quick and bright, marking the passage of some regiment from
the defences east or south to the defences north. There it beat deep
and slow, a muffled drum, a Dead March--some officer killed in a
skirmish, or dying in a hospital, borne now to Hollywood. Elsewhere,
quick and bright again, it meant Home Guards going to drill. From the
outskirts of the town might be heard the cavalry bugles blowing,--from
the Brook turnpike and the Deep Run turnpike, from Meadow Bridge road
and Mechanicsville road, from Nine-Mile and Darbytown and Williamsburg
stage roads and Osborne's old turnpike, and across the river from the
road to Fort Darling. From the hilltops, from the portico or the roof of
the Capitol, might be seen the camp-fires of Lee's fifty thousand
men--the Confederate Army of the Potomac, the Army of the Rappahannock,
the Army of Norfolk, the Army of the Peninsula--four armies waiting for
the arrival of the Army of the Valley to coalesce and become the Army of
Northern Virginia. The curls of smoke went up, straight, white, and
feathery. With a glass might be seen at various points the crimson flag,
with the blue St. Andrew's cross and the stars, eleven stars, a star for
each great State of the Confederacy. By the size you knew the arm--four
feet square for infantry, three feet square for artillery, two and a
half by two and a half for cavalry.
The light lay warm on the Richmond houses--on mellow red brick, on pale
grey stucco. It touched old ironwork balconies and ivy-topped walls, and
it gilded the many sycamore trees, and lay in pools on the heavy leaves
of the magnolias. Below the pillared Capitol, in the green up and down
of the Capitol Square, in Main Street, in Grace Street by St. Paul's,
before the Exchange, the Ballard House, the Spotswood, on Shockoe Hill
by the President's House, through all the leafy streets there was vivid
movement. In this time and place Life was so near to Death; the ocean of
pain and ruin so evidently beat against its shores, that from very
contrast and threatened doom Life took a higher light, a deeper
splendour. All its notes resounded, nor did it easily relinquish the
major key.
In the town were many hospitals. These were being cleaned, aired, and
put in order against the impending battles. The wounded in them now,
chiefly men from the field of Seven Pines, looked on and hoped for the
best. Taking them by and large, the wounded were a cheerful set. Many
could sit by the windows, in the perfumed air, and watch the women of
the South, in their soft, full gowns, going about their country's
business. Many of the gowns were black.
About the hotels, the President's House, the governor's mansion, and the
Capitol, the movement was of the official world. Here were handsome men
in broadcloth, grown somewhat thin, somewhat rusty, but carefully
preserved and brushed. Some were of the old school and still affected
stocks and ruffled shirts. As a rule they were slender and tall, and as
a rule wore their hair a little long. Many were good Latinists, most
were good speakers. One and all they served their states as best they
knew how, overworked and anxious, facing privation here in Richmond with
the knowledge that things were going badly at home, sitting long hours
in Congress, in the Hall of Delegates, in courts or offices, struggling
there with Herculean difficulties, rising to go out and listen to
telegrams or to read bulletins. Sons, brothers, kinsmen, and friends
were in the field.
This golden afternoon, certain of the latter had ridden in from the
lines upon this or that business connected with their commands. They
were not many, for all the world knew there would be a deadly fighting
presently, deadly and prolonged. Men and officers must stay within
drum-beat. Those who were for an hour in Richmond, in their worn grey
uniforms, with the gold lace grown tarnished (impossible of
replacement!), with their swords not tarnished, their netted silk
sashes, their clear bright eyes and keen thin faces, found friends
enough as they went to and fro--more eager questioners and eager
listeners than they could well attend to. One, a general officer, a man
of twenty-nine, in a hat with a long black plume, with the most charming
blue eyes, and a long bronze, silky, rippling beard which he constantly
stroked, could hardly move for the throng about him. Finally, in the
Capitol Square, he backed his horse against the railing about the great
equestrian Washington. The horse, a noble animal, arched his neck. There
was around it a wreath of bright flowers. The rider spoke in an
enchanting voice. "Now if I tell you in three words how it was and what
we did, will you let me go? I've got to ride this afternoon to Yellow
Tavern."
"Yes, yes! Tell us, General Stuart."
"My dear people, it was the simplest thing in the world! A man in the
First has made a song about it, and Sweeney has set it to the banjo--if
you'll come out to the camp after the battle you shall hear it! General
Lee wanted to know certain things about the country behind McClellan.
Now the only way to know a thing is to go and look at it. He ordered a
reconnoissance in force. I took twelve hundred cavalrymen and two guns
of the horse artillery and made the reconnoissance. Is there anything
else that you want to know?"
"Be good, general, and tell us what you did."
"I am always good--just born so! I rode round McClellan's army--Don't
cheer like that! The town'll think it's Jackson, come from the Valley!"
"Tell us, general, how you did it!"
"Gentlemen, I haven't time. If you like, I'll repeat the man in the
First's verses, and then I'm going. You'll excuse the metre? A poor,
rough, unlearned cavalryman did it.
"Fitz Lee, Roony Lee, Breathed and Stuart,
Martin to help, and Heros von Borcke,
First Virginia, Fourth, Ninth, two guns and a Legion--
From Hungary Run to Laurel Hill Fork,
"By Ashland, Winston, Hanover, Cash Corner,
Enon Church, Salem Church, Totopotomoy, Old Church,
"You observe that we are trotting.
"By Hamstead, Garlick, Tunstall Station, Talleyville,
Forge Mill, Chickahominy, Sycamore, White Birch.
"Here we change gait.
"By Hopewell and Christian, Wilcox and Westover,
Turkey Bridge, Malvern Hill, Deep Bottom and Balls
Four days, forty leagues, we rode round McClellan
As Jeremiah paced round Jericho's walls.--"
"It wasn't Jeremiah, general! It was Joshua."
"Is that so? I'll tell Sweeney. Anyhow, the walls fell.
"Halt! Advance! Firing! Engagement at Hanover.
Skirmish at Taliaferro's. Skirmish at Hawes.
Tragic was Totopotomoy, for there we lost Latane
Hampden-like, noble, dead for his Cause.
"At Old Church broke up meeting. Faith! 'twas a pity
But indigo azure was pulpit and pew!
Fitz Lee did the job. Sent his love to Fitz Porter.
Good Lord! Of Mac's Army the noble review!
"There isn't anything our horses can't do.
"Tunstall Station was all bubbly white with wagons.
We fired those trains, those stores, those sheltering sheds!
And then we burned three transports on Pamunkey
And shook the troops at White House from their beds!
"Loud roars across our path the swollen Chickahominy
'Plunge in, Confeds! you were not born to drown.'
We danced past White Oak swamp, we danced past Fighting Joseph
Hooker!
We rode round McClellan from his sole to his crown!
"There are strange, strange folk who like the Infantry!
Men have been found to love Artillery.
McClellan's quoted thus 'In every family
There should exist a gunboat'--ah, but we,
Whom all arms else do heap with calumny,
Saying, 'Daily those damned centaurs put us up a tree!'
We insist upon the virtues of the Cavalry!
"Now, friends, I'm going! It was a beautiful raid! I always liked Little
Mac. He's a gentleman, and he's got a fine army. Except for poor Latane
we did not lose a man. But I left a general behind me."
"A general? General who--"
Stuart gave his golden laugh. "General Consternation."
The sun slipped lower. Two horsemen came in by the Deep Run road and
passed rapidly eastward through the town. The afternoon was warm, but
the foremost wore a great horseman's cloak. It made all outlines
indefinite and hid any insignia of rank. There was a hat or cap, too,
pulled low. It was dusty; he rode fast and in a cloud, and there came no
recognition. Out of the town, on the Nine-Mile road, he showed the
officer of the guard who stopped him a pass signed "R. E. Lee" and
entered the Confederate lines. "General Lee's headquarters?" They were
pointed out, an old house shaded by oaks. He rode hither, gave his horse
to the courier with him, and spoke to the aide who appeared. "Tell
General Lee, some one from the Valley."
The aide shot a quick glance, then opened a door to the left. "General
Lee will be at leisure presently. Will you wait here, sir?"
He from the Valley entered. It was a large, simply furnished room, with
steel engravings on the walls,--the 1619 House of Burgesses, Spotswood
on the Crest of the Blue Ridge with his Golden Horseshoe Knights,
Patrick Henry in Old St. John's, Jefferson writing the Declaration of
Independence, Washington receiving the Sword of Cornwallis. The windows
were open to the afternoon breeze and the birds were singing in a
rosebush outside. There were three men in the room. One having a large
frame and a somewhat heavy face kept the chair beside the table with a
kind of granite and stubborn air. He rested like a boulder on a mountain
slope; marked with old scars, only waiting to be set in motion again to
grind matters small. The second man, younger, slender, with a short red
beard, leaned against the window, smelled the roses, and listened to the
birds. The third, a man of forty, with a gentle manner and very honest
and kindly eyes, studied the engravings. All three wore the stars of
major-generals.
The man from the Valley, entering, dropped his cloak and showed the same
insignia. D. H. Hill, leaving the engravings, came forward and took him
by both hands. The two had married sisters; moreover each was possessed
of fiery religious convictions; and Hill, though without the genius of
the other, was a cool, intelligent, and determined fighter. The two had
not met since Jackson's fame had come upon him.
It clothed him now like a mantle. The man sitting by the table got
ponderously to his feet; the one by the window left the contemplation of
the rosebush. "You know one another by name only, I believe, gentlemen?"
said D. H. Hill. "General Jackson--General Longstreet, General Ambrose
Powell Hill."
The four sat down, Jackson resting his sabre across his knees. He had
upon him the dust of three counties; he was all one neutral hue like a
faded leaf, save that his eyes showed through, grey-blue, intense
enough, though quiet. He was worn to spareness.
Longstreet spoke in his heavy voice. "Well, general, Fate is making of
your Valley the Flanders of this war."
"God made it a highway, sir. We must take it as we find it."
"Well," said A. P. Hill, smiling, "since we have a Marlborough for that
Flanders--"
Jackson shifted the sabre a little. "Marlborough is not my _beau ideal_.
He had circumstances too much with him."
An inner door opened. "The artillery near Cold Harbour--" said a voice,
cadenced and manly. In a moment Lee entered. The four rose. He went
straight to Stonewall Jackson, laid one hand on his shoulder, the other
on his breast. The two had met, perhaps, in Mexico; not since. Now they
looked each other in the eyes. Both were tall men, though Lee was the
tallest; both in grey, both thin from the fatigue of the field. Here the
resemblance ended. Lee was a model of manly beauty. His form, like his
character, was justly proportioned; he had a great head, grandly based,
a face of noble sweetness, a step light and dauntless. There breathed
about him something knightly, something kingly, an antique glamour,
sunny shreds of the Golden Age. "You are welcome, General Jackson," he
said; "very welcome! You left Frederickshall--?"
"Last night, sir."
"The army is there?"
"It is there, sir."
"You have become a name to conjure with, general! I think that your
Valley will never forget you." He took a chair beside the table. "Sit
down, gentlemen. I have called this council, and now the sun is sinking
and General Jackson has far to ride, and we must hasten. Here are the
maps."
The major-generals drew about the table. Lee pinned down a map with the
small objects upon the board, then leaned back in his chair. "This is
our first council with General Jackson. We wait but for the Army of the
Valley to precipitate certainly one great battle, perhaps many battles.
I think that the fighting about Richmond will be heavier than all that
has gone before." An aide entered noiselessly with a paper in his hand.
"From the President, sir," he said. Lee rose and took the note to the
window. The four at table spoke together in low tones.
"It is the most difficult ground in the world," said A. P. Hill. "You'll
have another guess-time of it than in your Valley, general! No broad
pike through the marshes of the Chickahominy!"
"Are there good maps?"
"No," said Longstreet; "damned bad."
Jackson stiffened. D. H. Hill came in hastily. "It's rather difficult to
draw them accurately with a hundred and ten thousand Yankees lying
around loose. They should have been made last year."
Lee returned. "Yes, the next ten days will write a page in blood." He
sighed. "I do not like war, gentlemen. Now, to begin again! We are
agreed that to defend Richmond is imperative. When Richmond falls the
Confederacy falls. It is our capital and seat of government. Here only
have we railroad communications with the far South. Here are our
arsenals and military manufactories, our depots of supply, our treasury,
our hospitals, our refugee women and children. The place is our heart,
and arm and brain must guard it. Leave Richmond and we must withdraw
from Virginia. Abandon Virginia, and we can on our part no longer
threaten the northern capital. Then General Jackson cannot create a
panic every other day, nor will Stanton then withdraw on every fresh
alarm a division from McClellan."
He leaned his head on his hand, while with the firm fingers of the other
he measured the edge of the table. "No! It is the game of the two
capitals, and the board is the stretch of country between. To the end
they will attempt to reach Richmond. To the end we must prevent that
mate. Let us see their possible roads. Last year McDowell tried it by
Manassas, and he failed. It is a strategic point,--Manassas. There may
well be fighting there again. The road by Fredericksburg ... they have
not tried that yet, and yet it has a value. Now the road that McClellan
has taken,--by sea to Fortress Monroe, and so here before us by the
York, seeing that the Merrimac kept him from the James. It is the best
way yet, though with a modification it would be better! There is a key
position which I trust he'll not discover--"
"He won't," said D. H. Hill succinctly. "The fairies at his cradle
didn't give him intuition, and they made him extremely cautious. He's a
good fellow, though!"
Lee nodded. "I have very genuine respect for General McClellan. He is a
gentleman, a gallant soldier, and a good general." He pushed the map
before him away, and took another. "Of late Richmond's strongest defence
has been General Jackson in the Valley. Well! McDowell and Fremont and
Banks may be left awhile to guard that capital which is so very certain
it is in danger. I propose now to bring General Jackson suddenly upon
McClellan's right--"
Jackson, who had been holding himself with the rigidity of a warrior on
a tomb, slightly shifted the sabre and drew his chair an inch nearer the
commander-in-chief. "His right is on the north bank of the
Chickahominy--"
"Yes. General Stuart brought me much information that I desired. Fitz
John Porter commands there--the 5th Army Corps--twenty-five thousand
men. I propose, general, that you bring your troops as rapidly as
possible from Frederickshall to Ashland, that from Ashland you march by
the Ashcake road and Merry Oaks Church to the Totopotomoy Creek road and
that, moving by this to Beaver Dam Creek, you proceed to turn and
dislodge Porter and his twenty-five thousand, crumpling them back upon
McClellan's centre--here." He pointed with a quill which he took from
the ink-well.
"Good! good! And the frontal attack?"
"General A. P. Hill and his division will make that. The batteries on
the Chickahominy will cover his passage of the bridge. General
Longstreet will support him. General Magruder with General Huger and the
reserve artillery will be left before Richmond. They will so demonstrate
as to distract General McClellan's attention from the city and from his
right and General Porter. General Stuart will take position on your line
of march from Ashland, and General D. H. Hill will support you."
"Good! good! This is the afternoon of the twenty-third."
"Yes. Frederickshall is forty miles from this point--" He touched the
map again. "Now, general, when can you be here?"
"Thursday morning, the twenty-sixth, sir."
"That is very soon."
"Time is everything in war, sir."
"That is perfectly true. But the time is short and the manoeuvre
delicate. You and your troops are at the close of a campaign as arduous
as it is amazing. The fatigue and the strain must be great. You and
General Hill are far apart and the country between is rough and
unmapped. Yet victory depends on the simultaneous blow."
Jackson sat rigid again, his hand stiffly placed upon the sabre. "It is
not given to man to say with positiveness what he can do, sir. But it
is necessary that this right be turned before McClellan is aware of his
danger. Each day makes it more difficult to conceal the absence of my
army from the Valley. Between the danger of forced marching and the
obvious danger that lies in delay, I should choose the forced marching.
Better lose one man in marching than five in a battle not of our
selecting. A straw may bring failure as a straw may bring victory. I may
fail, but the risk should be taken. Napoleon failed at Eylau, but his
plan was correct."
"Very well," said Lee. "Then the morning of the twenty-sixth be it!
Final orders shall await you at Ashland."
Jackson rose. "Good! good! By now my horses will have been changed. I
will get back. The army was to advance this morning to Beaver Dam
Station."
He rode hard through the country all night, it being the second he had
spent in the saddle. Beaver Dam Station and the bivouacking Army of the
Valley saw him on Tuesday morning the twenty-fourth. "Old Jack's back
from wherever he's been!" went the rumour. Headquarters was established
in a hut or two near the ruined railroad. Arriving here, he summoned his
staff and sent for Ewell. While the former gathered he read a report,
forwarded from Munford in the rear. "Scout Gold and Jarrow in from the
Valley. Fremont still fortifying at Strasburg--thinks you may be at
Front Royal. Shields at Luray considers that you may have gone to
Richmond, but that Ewell remains in the Valley with forty thousand men.
Banks at Winchester thinks you may have gone against Shields at Luray,
or King at Catlett's, or Doubleday at Fredericksburg, or gone to
Richmond--but that Ewell is moving west on Moorefield!"
"Good! good!" said Jackson. Staff arrived, and he proceeded to issue
rapid and precise orders. All given, staff hurried off, and the general
spoke to Jim. "Call me when General Ewell comes." He stretched himself
on a bench in the hut. "I am suffering," he said, "from fever and a
feeling of debility." He drew his cloak about him and closed his eyes.
It was but half an hour, however, that he slept or did not sleep, for
Ewell was fiery prompt.
The Army of the Valley entered upon a forced march through country both
difficult and strange. It had been of late in the possession of the
enemy, and the enemy had stretched felled trees across forest roads and
burned the bridges spanning deep and sluggish creeks. Guides were at
fault, cross-roads directions most uncertain. The wood grew intolerably
thick, and the dust of the roads was atrocious; the air cut away by the
tall green walls on either hand; the sun like a furnace seven times
heated. Provisions had not come up in time at Beaver Dam Station and the
troops marched upon half-rations. Gone were the mountains and the
mountain air, present was the languorous breath of the low country. It
had an upas quality, dulling the brain, retarding the step. The men were
very tired, it was hot, and a low fever hung in the air.
They marched until late of a night without a moon, and the bugles waked
them long ere dawn. A mist hung over all the levels, presaging heat.
_Column Forward!_ To-day was a repetition of yesterday, only accented.
The sun girded himself with greater strength, the dust grew more
stifling, the water was bad, gnats and mosquitoes made a painful cloud,
the feet in the ragged shoes were more stiff, more swollen, more
abraded. The moisture in the atmosphere weakened like a vapour bath. The
entire army, "foot cavalry" and all, marched with a dreadful slowness.
_Press Forward--Press Forward--Press Forward--Press Forward!_ It grew to
be like the humming insects on either hand, a mere noise to be expected.
"Going to Richmond--Going to Richmond--Yes, of course we're going to
Richmond--unless, indeed, we're going a roundabout way against McDowell
at Fredericksburg! Richmond will keep. It has kept a long time--ever
since William Byrd founded it. General Lee is there--and so it is all
right--and we can't go any faster. War isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Oh, hot, hot, hot! and skeetery! and General Humidity lives down this
way. _Press Forward--Press Forward--Press Forward. If that noise don't
stop I'll up with my musket butt and beat somebody's brains out!_"
Ashland was not reached until the late evening of this day. The men fell
upon the earth. Even under the bronze there could be seen dark circles
under their eyes, and their lips were without colour. Jackson rode along
the lines and looked. There were circles beneath his own eyes, and his
lips shut thin and grey. "Let them rest," he said imperturbably, "until
dawn." There rode beside him an officer from Lee. He had now the
latter's General Order, and he was almost a day behind.
Somewhat later, in the house which he occupied, his chief of staff,
Ewell and the brigadiers gone, the old man, Jim, appeared before him.
"Des you lis'en ter me er minute, gineral! Ob my sartain circumspection
I knows you didn't go ter bed las' night--nurr de night befo'--nurr de
night befo' dat--'n' I don' see no preperation for yo' gwine ter bed
dish-yer night! Now, dat ain' right. W'at Miss Anna gwine say w'en she
heah erbout hit? She gwine say you 'stress her too much. She gwine say
you'll git dar quicker, 'n' fight de battle better, ef you lie down
erwhile 'n' let Jim bring you somethin' ter eat--"
"I have eaten. I am going to walk in the garden for awhile."
He went, all in bronze, with a blue gleam in his eye. Jim looked after
him with a troubled countenance. "Gwine talk wif de Lawd--talk all night
long! Hit ain' healthy. Pray an' pray 'n' look up ter de sky 'twel he
gits paralysis! De gineral better le' me tek his boots off, 'n' go ter
bed 'n' dream ob Miss Anna!"
At three the bugles blew. Again there was incalculable delay. The sun
was up ere the Army of the Valley left Ashland. It was marching now in
double column, Jackson by the Ashcake road and Merry Oaks Church, Ewell
striking across country, the rendezvous Pole Green Church, a little
north and east of Mechanicsville and the Federal right. The distance
that each must travel was something like sixteen miles.
The spell of yesterday persisted and became the spell of to-day. Sixteen
miles would have been nothing in the Valley; in these green and glamoury
lowlands they became like fifty. Stuart's cavalry began to appear,
patrols here, patrols there, vedettes rising stark from the broom sedge,
or looming double, horsemen and shadow, above and within some piece of
water, dark, still, and clear. Time was when the Army of the Valley
would have been curious and excited enough over Jeb Stuart's troopers,
but now it regarded them indifferently with eyes glazed with fatigue. At
nine the army crossed the ruined line of the Virginia Central, Hood's
Texans leading. An hour later it turned southward, Stuart on the long
column's left flank, screening it from observation, and skirmishing
hotly through the hours that ensued. The army crossed Crump's Creek,
passed Taliaferro's Mill, crossed other creeks, crept southward through
hot, thick woods. Mid-day came and passed. The head of the column turned
east, and came shortly to a cross-roads. Here, awaiting it, was Stuart
himself, in his fighting jacket. Jackson drew up Little Sorrel beside
him. "Good-morning, general."
"Good-morning, general--or rather, good-afternoon. I had hoped to see
you many hours ago."
"My men are not superhuman, sir. There have occurred delays. But God is
over us still."
He rode on. Stuart, looking after him, raised his brows. "In my opinion
A. P. Hill is waiting for a man in a trance!"
The army turned southward again, marching now toward Totopotomoy Creek,
the head of the column approaching it at three o'clock. Smoke before the
men, thick, pungent, told a tale to which they were used. "Bridge on
fire!" It was, and on the far side of the creek appeared a party in blue
engaged in obstructing the road. Hood's Texans gave a faint cheer and
dashed across, disappearing in flame, emerging from it and falling upon
the blue working party. Reilly's battery was brought up; a shell or two
fired. The blue left the field, and the grey pioneers somehow fought the
flames and rebuilt the bridge. An hour was gone before the advance could
cross on a trembling structure. Over at last, the troops went on,
southward still, to Hundley Corner. Here Ewell's division joined them,
and here to the vague surprise of an exhausted army came the order to
halt. The Army of the Valley went into bivouac three miles north of that
right which, hours before, it was to have turned. It was near sunset. As
the troops stacked arms, to the south of them, on the other side of
Beaver Dam Creek, burst out an appalling cannonade. Trimble, a veteran
warrior, was near Jackson. "That has the sound of a general engagement,
sir! Shall we advance?"
Jackson looked at him with a curious serenity. "It is the batteries on
the Chickahominy covering General Hill's passage of the stream. He will
bivouac over there, and to-morrow will see the battle--Have you ever
given much attention, general, to the subject of growth in grace?"