THE WILDERNESS
Fifteen by twenty miles stretched the Wilderness. Out of a thin soil
grew pine trees and pine trees, scrub oak and scrub oak. The growth was
of the densest, mile after mile of dense growth. A few slight farms and
clearings appeared like islands; all around them was the sea, the sea of
tree and bush. It stretched here, it stretched there, it touched all
horizons, vanishing beyond them in an amethyst haze.
Several forest tracks traversed it, but they were narrow and worn, and
it was hard to guess their presence, or to find it when guessed. There
were, however, two fair roads--the old Turnpike and the Plank Road.
These also were sunken in the thick, thick growth. A traveller upon them
saw little save the fact that he had entered the Wilderness. Near the
turnpike stood a small white church, the Tabernacle church. A little
south of the heart of the place lay an old, old, abandoned iron
furnace--Catherine Furnace. As much to the north rose a large old
house--Chancellorsville. To the westward was Dowdall's Tavern. Around
all swept the pine and the scrub oak, just varied by other trees and
blossoming shrubs. The ground was level, or only slightly rolling. Look
where one might there was tree and bush, tree and bush, a sense of
illimitable woodland, of far horizons, of a not unhappy sameness, of
stillness, of beauty far removed from picturesqueness, of vague,
diffused charm, of silence, of sadness not too sad, of mystery not too
baffling, of sunshine very still and golden. A man knew he was in the
Wilderness.
Mayday here was softly bright enough, pure sunshine and pine odours, sky
without clouds, gentle warmth, the wild azalea in bloom, here and there
white stars of the dogwood showing, red birds singing, pine martens
busy, too, with their courtship, pale butterflies flitting, the bee
haunting the honeysuckle, the snake awakening. Beauty was everywhere,
and in portions of the great forest, great as a principality, quiet. In
these regions, indeed, the stillness might seem doubled, reinforced, for
from other stretches of the Wilderness, specifically from those which
had for neighbour the roads, quiet had fled.
To right and left of the Tabernacle church were breastworks, Anderson
holding them against Hooker's advance. In the early morning, through the
dewy Wilderness, came from Fredericksburg way Stonewall Jackson and the
2d Corps, in addition Lafayette McLaws with his able Roman air and
troops in hand. At the church they rested until eleven o'clock, then,
gathering up Anderson, they plunged more deeply yet into the Wilderness.
They moved in two columns, McLaws leading by the turnpike, Anderson in
advance on the Plank Road, Jackson himself with the main body following
by the latter road.
Oh, bright-eyed, oh, bronzed and gaunt and ragged, oh, full of quips and
cranks, of jest and song and courage, oh, endowed with all quaint
humour, invested with all pathos, ennobled by vast struggle with vast
adversity, oh, sufferers of all things, hero-fibred, grim fighters, oh,
Army of Northern Virginia--all men and all women who have battled salute
you, going into the Wilderness this May day with the red birds singing!
On swing the two columns, long, easy, bayonets gleaming, accoutrements
jingling, colours deep glowing in the sunshine. To either hand swept the
Wilderness, great as a desert, green and jewelled. In the desert to-day
were other bands, great and hostile blue-clad bands. Grey and
blue,--there came presently a clash that shook the forest and sent
Quiet, a fugitive, to those deeper, distant haunts. Three bands of blue,
three grey attacks--the air rocked and swung, the pure sunlight changed
to murk, the birds and the beasts scampered far, the Wilderness filled
with shouting. The blue gave back--gave back somewhat too easily. The
grey followed--would have followed at height of speed, keen and
shouting, but there rode to the front a leader on a sorrel nag. "General
Anderson, halt your men. Throw out skirmishers and flanking parties and
advance with caution."
McLaws on the turnpike had like orders. Through the Wilderness, through the
gold afternoon, all went quietly. Sound of marching feet, beat of hoof,
creak of leather, rumble of wheel, low-pitched orders were there, but no
singing, laughing, talking. Skirmishers and flanking parties were alert,
but the men in the main column moved dreamily, the spell of the place upon
them. With flowering thorn and dogwood and the purple smear of the Judas
tree, with the faint gilt of the sunshine, and with wandering gracious
odours, with its tangled endlessness and feel as of old time, its taste of
sadness, its hint of patience, it was such a seven-leagues of woodland as
might have environed the hundred-years-asleep court, palace, and princess.
The great dome of the sky sprung cloudless; there was no wind; all things
seemed halted, as if they had been thus forever. The men almost nodded as
they marched.
Back, steadily, though slowly, gave the blue skirmishers before the grey
skirmishers. So thickly grew the Wilderness that it was somewhat like
Indian fighting, and no man saw a hundred yards in front of him.
Stonewall Jackson's eyes glinted under the forage cap; perhaps he saw
more than a hundred yards ahead of him, but if so he saw with the eyes
of the mind. He was moving very slowly, more like a tortoise than a
thunderbolt. The men said that Old Jack had spring fever.
Grey columns, grey artillery, grey flanking cavalry, all came under
slant sunrays to within a mile or two of that old house called
Chancellorsville set north of the pike, upon a low ridge in the
Wilderness. "Open ground in front--open ground in front--open ground in
front! Let Old Jack by--Let Old Jack by! Going to see--Going to see--"
_Halt_!
The beat of feet ceased. The column waited, sunken in the green and gold
and misty Wilderness where the shadows were lengthening and the birds
were at evensong. In a moment the evensong was hushed and the birds flew
away. The same instant brought explanation of that "Don't-care.
-On-the-whole-quite-ready-to-retreat.-Merely-following-instructions"
attitude for the past two hours of the blue skirmish line. From
Chancellorsville, from Hooker's great entrenchments on the high roll of
ground, along the road, and on the plateau of Hazel Grove, burst a
raking artillery fire. The shells shrieked across the open, plunged into
the wood, and exploded before every road-head. Hooker had guns a-many;
they commanded the Wilderness rolling on three sides of the formidable
position he had seized; they commanded in iron force the clearing along
his front. He had breastworks; he had abattis. He had the 12th Corps,
the 2d, the 3d, the 5th, the 7th, the 11th; he had in the Wilderness
seventy thousand men. His left almost touched the Rappahannock, his
right stretched two miles toward Germanna Ford. He was in great
strength.
Jeb Stuart with his cavalry, waiting impatiently near Catherine Furnace,
found beside him General Jackson on Little Sorrel. "General Stuart, I
wish you to ride with me to some point from which those guns can be
enfiladed. Order Major Beckham forward with a battery."
This was the heart of the Wilderness. Thick, thick grew the trees and
the all-entangling underbrush. Stuart and Stonewall Jackson, staff
behind them, pursued a span-wide bridle path, overarched by dogwood and
Judas tree. It led at last to a rise of ground, covered by matted
growth, towered above by a few pines. Four guns of the Horse Artillery
strove, too, to reach the place. They made it at last, over and through
the wild tangle, but so narrow was the clearing, made hurriedly to
either side of the path, that but one gun at a time could be brought
into position. Beckham, commanding now where Pelham had commanded, sent
a shell singing against the not distant line of smoke and flame. The
muzzle had hardly blazed when two masked batteries opened upon the rise
of ground, the four guns, the artillerymen and artillery horses, and
upon Stonewall Jackson, Stuart, and the staff.
The great blue guns were firing at short range. A howling storm of shot
and shell broke and continued. Through it came a curt order. "Major
Beckham, get your guns back. General Stuart, gentlemen of the staff,
push out of range through the underwood."
The guns with their maddened horses strove to turn, but the place was
narrow. Ere the movement could be made there was bitter loss. Horses
reared and fell, dreadfully hurt; men were mown down, falling beside
their pieces. It was a moment requiring action decisive, desperately
gallant, heroically intelligent. The Horse Artillery drew off their
guns, even got their wounded out of the intolerable zone of fire.
Stonewall Jackson, with Stuart, watched them do it. He nodded, "Good!
good!"
Out of the raking fire, back in the scrub and pine, there came to a halt
near him a gun, a Howitzer. He sat Little Sorrel in the last golden
light, a light that bathed also the piece and its gunners. The Federal
batteries were lessening fire. There was a sense of pause. The two foes
had seen each other; now--Army of Northern Virginia, Army of the
Potomac--they must draw breath a little before they struck, before they
clenched. The sun was setting; the cannonade ceased.
Jackson sat very still in the gold patch where, between two pines, the
west showed clear. The aureate light, streaming on, beat full upon the
howitzer and on the living and unwounded of its men. Stonewall Jackson
spoke to an aide. "Tell the captain of the battery that I should like to
speak to him."
The captain came. "Captain, what is the name of the gunner there? The
one by the limber with his head turned away."
The captain looked. "Deaderick, sir. Philip Deaderick."
"_Philip Deaderick._ When did he volunteer?"
The other considered. "I think, general, it was just before
Sharpsburg.--It was just after the battle of Groveton, sir."
"Sharpsburg!--I remember now. So he rejoined at Manassas."
"He hadn't been in earlier, sir. He had an accident, he said. He's a
fine soldier, but he's a silent kind of a man. He keeps to himself. He
won't take promotion."
"Tell him to come here."
Deaderick came. The gold in this open place, before the clear west, was
very light and fine. It illuminated. Also the place was a little
withdrawn, no one very near, and by comparison with the tornado which
had raged, the stillness seemed complete. The gunner stood before the
general, quiet, steady-eyed, broad-browed. Stonewall Jackson, his
gauntleted hands folded over the saddle bow, gazed upon him fully and
long. The gold light held, and the hush of the place; in the distance,
in the Wilderness, the birds began again their singing. At last Jackson
spoke. "The army will rest to-night. Headquarters will be yonder, by the
road. Report to me there at ten o'clock. I will listen to what you have
to say. That is all now."
Night stole over the Wilderness, a night of large, mild stars, of
vagrant airs, of balm and sweetness. Earth lay in a tender dream, all
about her her wild flowers and her fresh-clad trees. The grey and the
blue soldiers slept, too, and one dreamed of this and one dreamed of
that. Alike they dreamed of home and country and cause, of loved women
and loved children and of their comrades. Grey and blue, these two
armies fought each for an idea, and they fought well, as people fight
who fight for an idea. And that it was not a material thing for which
they fought, but a concept, lifted from them something of the grossness
of physical struggle, carried away as with a strong wind much of the
pettiness of war, brought their strife upon the plane of heroes. There
is a beauty and a strength in the thought of them, grey and blue,
sleeping in the Wilderness, under the gleam of far-away worlds.
The generals did not sleep. In the Chancellor house, north of the pike,
Fighting Joe Hooker held council with his commanders of corps, with
Meade and Sickles and Slocum and Howard and Couch. Out in the
Wilderness, near the Plank Road, with the light from a camp-fire turning
to bronze and wine-red the young oak leaves about them, there held
council Robert Edward Lee and Stonewall Jackson. Near them a war horse
neighed; there came the tramp of the sentry, then quiet stole upon the
scene. The staff was near at hand, but to-night staff and couriers held
themselves stiller than still. There was something in the air of the
Wilderness; they knew not what it was, but it was there.
Lee and Jackson sat opposite each other, the one on a box, the other on
a great fallen tree. On the earth between them lay an unrolled map, and
now one took it up and pondered it, and now the other, and now they
spoke together in quiet, low voices, their eyes on the map at their feet
in the red light. Lee spoke. "I went myself and looked upon their left.
It is very strong. An assault upon their centre? Well-nigh impossible! I
sent Major Talcott and Captain Boswell again to reconnoitre. They report
the front fairly impregnable, and I agree with them that it is so. The
right--Here is General Stuart, now, to tell us something of that!"
In fighting jacket and plume Jeb Stuart came into the light. He saluted.
"General Lee, their right rests on the Brock road, and the Brock road is
as clean of defences as if gunpowder had never been invented, nor
breastworks thought of!" He knelt and took up the map. "Here, sir, is
Hunting Creek, and here Dowdall's Tavern and the Wilderness church, and
here, through the deep woods, runs the old Furnace road, intersecting
with the Brock road--"
Lee and his great lieutenant looked and nodded, listening to his further
report. "Thank you, General Stuart," said at last the commander-in-chief.
"You bring news upon which I think we may act. A flanking movement by the
Furnace and Brock roads. It must be made with secrecy and in great strength
and with rapidity. General Jackson, will you do it?"
"Yes, sir. Turn his right and gain his rear. I shall have my entire
command?"
"Yes, general. Generals McLaws and Anderson will remain with me,
demonstrate against these people and divert their attention. When can
you start?"
"I will start at four, sir."
Lee rose. "Very good! Then we had better try to get a little sleep. I
see Tom spreading my blanket now.--The Wilderness! General, do you
remember, in Mexico, the _Noche Triste_ trees and their great scarlet
flowers? They grew all about the Church of our Lady of Remedies.--I
don't know why I think of them to-night.--Good-night! good-night!"
A round of barren ground, towered over by pines, hedged in by the
all-prevailing oak scrub, made the headquarters of the commander of the
2d Corps. Jim had built a fire, for the night wind was strengthening,
blowing cool. He had not spared the pine boughs. The flames leaped and
made the place ruddy as a jewel. Jackson entered, an aide behind him.
"Find out if a soldier named Deaderick is here."
The soldier named Deaderick appeared. Jackson nodded to the aide who
withdrew, then crossing to the fire, he seated himself upon a log. It
was late; far and wide the troops lay sleeping. A pale moon looked down;
somewhere off in the distance an owl hooted. The Wilderness lay still as
the men, then roused itself and whispered a little, then sank again into
deathlike quiet.
The two men, general and disgraced soldier, held themselves for a moment
quiet as the Wilderness. Cleave knew most aspects of the man sitting on
the log, in the gleam of the fire. He saw that to-night there was not
the steel-like mood, cold, convinced, and stubborn, the wintry
harshness, the granite hardness which Stonewall Jackson chiefly used
toward offenders. He did not know what it was, but he thought that his
general had softened.
With the perception there came a change in himself. He had entered this
ring in the Wilderness with a constriction of the heart, a quick
farewell to whatever in life he yet held dear, a farewell certainly to
the soldier's life, to the army, to the guns, to the service of the
country, an iron bracing of every nerve to meet an iron thrust. And now
the thrust had not yet come, and the general looked at him quietly, as
one well-meaning man looks at another who also means well. He had
suffered much and long. Something rose into his throat, the muscles of
his face worked slightly, he turned his head aside. Jackson waited
another moment,--then, the other having recovered himself, spoke with
quietness.
"You did, at White Oak Swamp, take it upon yourself to act, although
there existed in your mind a doubt as to whether your orders--the orders
you say you received--would bear that construction?"
"Yes, general."
"And your action proved a wrong action?"
"It proved a mistaken action, sir."
"It is the same thing. It entailed great loss with peril of greater."
"Yes, general."
"Had the brigade followed there might have ensued a general and
disastrous engagement. The enemy were in force there--_as I knew_. Your
action brought almost the destruction of your regiment. It brought the
death of many brave men, and to a certain extent endangered the whole.
That is so."
"Yes, general. It is so."
"Good! There was an order delivered to you. The man from whose lips you
took it is dead. His reputation was that of a valiant, intelligent, and
trustworthy man--hardly one to misrepeat an important order. That is
so?"
"It is entirely so, sir."
"Good! You say that he brought to you such and such an order, the order,
in effect, which, even so, you improperly construed and improperly acted
upon, an order, however, which was never sent by me. A soldier who was
by testifies that it was that order. Well?"
"That soldier, sir, was a known liar, with a known hatred to his
officers."
"Yes. He repeated the order, word for word, as I sent it. How did that
happen?"
"Sir, I do not know."
"The officer to whom I gave the order, and who, wrongly enough,
transferred it to another messenger, swears that he gave it thus and
so."
"Yes, general. He swears it."
A silence reigned in the fire-lit ring. The red light showed form and
feature clearly. Jackson sitting on the log, his large hands resting on
the sabre across his knees, was full within the glow. It beat even more
strongly upon Cleave where he stood. "You believe," said Jackson, "that
he swore falsely?"
"Yes, general."
"It is a question between your veracity and his?"
"Yes, general."
"There was enmity between you?"
"Yes, general."
"Where is he now?"
"He is somewhere in prison. He was taken at Sharpsburg."
There fell another silence. The sentry's tread was heard, the crackle of
the fire seizing upon pine cone and bough, a low, sighing wind in the
wilderness. Jackson spoke briefly. "After this campaign, if matters so
arrange themselves, if the officer returns, if you think you can provide
new evidence or re-present the old, I will forward, approved, your
appeal for a court of inquiry."
"I thank you, sir, with all my heart."
Stonewall Jackson slightly changed his position on the log. Jim tiptoed
into the ring and fed again the fire. There was a whinnying of some
near-by battery horses, the sound of changing guard, then silence again
in the Wilderness. Cleave stood, straight and still, beneath the other's
pondering, long, and steady gaze. An aide appeared at an opening in the
scrub. "General Fitzhugh Lee, sir." Jackson rose. "You will return to
your battery, Deaderick.--Bring General Lee here, captain."
The night passed, the dawn came, red bird and wren and robin began a
cheeping in the Wilderness. A light mist was over the face of the earth;
within it began a vast shadowy movement of shadowy troops. Silence was
so strictly ordered that something approaching it was obtained. There
was a certain eeriness in the hush in which the column was formed--the
grey column in the grey dawn, in the Wilderness where the birds were
cheeping, and the mist hung faint and cold. By the roadside, on a little
knoll set round with flowering dogwood, sat General Lee on grey
Traveller. A swirl of mist below the two detached them from the wide
earth and marching troops, made them like a piece of sculpture seen
against the morning sky. Below them moved the column, noiseless as might
be, enwound with mist. In the van were Fitzhugh Lee and the First
Virginia Cavalry. They saluted; the commander-in-chief lifted his hat;
they vanished by the Furnace road into the heart of the Wilderness.
Rodes's Division came next, Alabama troops. Rodes, a tall and handsome
man, saluted; Alabama saluted. Regiment by regiment they passed into the
flowering woods. Now came the Light Division beneath skies with a coral
tinge. Ambrose Powell Hill saluted, and all his brigades, Virginia and
South Carolina. The guns began to pass, quiet as was constitutionally
possible. The very battery horses looked as though they understood that
people who were going to turn the flank of a gigantic army in a strong
position proceed upon the business without noise. Up rose the sun while
the iron fighting men were yet going by. The level rays gilded all
metal, gilded Traveller's bit and bridle clasps, gilded the spur of Lee
and his sword hilt and the stars upon his collar. The sun began to drink
up the mist and all the birds sang loudly. The sky was cloudless, the
low thick woodland divinely cool and sweet. Violet and bloodroot,
dogwood and purple Judas tree were all bespangled, bespangled with dew.
While the guns were yet quietly rumbling by Stonewall Jackson appeared
upon the rising ground. He saluted. Lee put out his hand and clasped the
other's. "General, I feel every confidence! I am sure that you are going
forth to victory."
"Yes, sir. I think that I am.--I will send a courier back every half
hour."
"Yes, that is wise.--As soon as your wagons are by I will make
disposition of the twelve thousand left with me. I propose a certain
display of artillery and a line of battle so formed as to deceive--and
deceive greatly--as to its strength. If necessary we will skirmish hotly
throughout the day. I will create the impression that we are about to
assault. It is imperative that they do not come between us and cut the
army in two."
"I will march as rapidly as may be, sir. The Furnace road, the Brock
road, then turn eastward on the Plank road and strike their flank.
Good!" He jerked his hand into the air. "I will go now, general."
Lee bent across again. The two clasped hands. "God be with you, General
Jackson!"
"And with you, General Lee."
Little Sorrel left the hillock. The staff came up. Stonewall Jackson
turned in his saddle, and, the staff following his action, raised his
hand in salute to the figure on grey Traveller, above them in the
sunlight. Lee lifted his hat, held it so. The others filed by, turned
sharply southward, and were lost in the jewelled Wilderness.
The sun cleared the tallest pines; there set in a splendid day. The long,
long column, cavalry, Rodes's Division, the Light Division, the artillery,
ordnance wagons and ambulances, twenty-five thousand grey soldiers with
Stonewall Jackson at their head--the long, long column wound through the
Wilderness by narrow, hidden roads. Close came the scrub and pine and all
the flowering trees of May. The horsemen put aside vine and bough, the pink
honeysuckle brushed the gun wheels; long stretches of the road were
grass-grown. Through the woods to the right, by paths nearer yet to the
far-flung Federal front, paced ten guardian squadrons. All went silently,
all went swiftly. In the Confederate service there were no automata. These
thousands of lithe, bronzed, bright-eyed, tattered men knew that something,
something, something was being done! Something important that they must all
help Old Jack with. Forbidden to talk, they speculated inwardly. "South by
west. 'T isn't a Thoroughfare Gap march. They're all here in the
Wilderness. We're leaving their centre--their right's somewhere over there
in the brush. Shouldn't wonder--Allan Gold, what's the Latin for 'to
flank'?--Lieutenant, we were just whispering! Yes, sir.--All right, sir. We
won't make no more noise than so many wet cartridges!"
On they swung through the fairy forest, grey, steady, rapidly moving,
the steel above their shoulders gleaming bright, the worn, shot-riddled
colours like flowers amid the tender, all-enfolding green. The head of
the column came to a dip in the Wilderness through which flowed a little
creek. It was about nine o'clock in the morning. All the men looked to
the right, for they could see the plateau of Hazel Grove and the great
Federal intrenchments. "If those fellows look right hard they can see
us, too! Can't help it--march fast and get past.--Oh, that's what the
officers think, too! _Double quick_!"
The column crossed the tiny vale. Beyond it the narrow road of bends and
turns plunged due south. Now, General Birney, stationed on the high
level of Hazel Grove, observed, though somewhat faintly, that movement.
He sent a courier to Hooker at Chancellorsville. "Rebel column seen to
pass across my front. All arms and wagon train. It has turned to the
southward."
"To the south!" said Hooker. "Turned southward. Now what does that mean?
It might mean that Sedgwick at Fredericksburg has seized and is holding
the road to Richmond. It might mean that Lee contemplated an
unobstructed retreat through this Wilderness section southward to
Gordonsville, which is not far away. From Gordonsville, he would fall
back on Richmond. Say that is what he planned. Then, finding me in
strength across his path, he would naturally make some demonstration,
and behind it inaugurate a forced march, southward out of this wild
place. A retreat to Gordonsville. It's the most probable move. I will
send General Sickles toward Catherine Furnace to find out exactly."
Birney from Hazel Grove, Sickles from Chancellorsville, advanced. At
Catherine Furnace they found the 23d Georgia, and on both sides of the
Plank road discovered Anderson's division. Now began hot fighting in the
Wilderness. The brigades of Anderson did gloriously. The 23d Georgia,
surrounded at the Furnace, saw fall, in that square of the Wilderness,
three hundred officers and men; but those Georgians who yet stood did
well, did well! Full in the front of Chancellorsville, McLaws, with his
able, Roman air, his high colour, short black beard and crisp speech,
handled his troops like a rightly trusted captain of Caesar's. He kept
the enemy's attention strained in his direction. Standing yet upon the
little hillock, in the midst of the flowering dogwood, a greater than
McLaws overlooked and directed all the grey pieces upon the board before
Chancellorsville, played, all day, like a master, a skilfully
complicated game.
Far in the Wilderness, miles now to the westward, the rolling musketry
came to the ears of Stonewall Jackson. He was riding with Rodes at the
head of the column. "Good! good!" he said. "That musketry is at the
Furnace. General Hooker will attempt to drive between me and General
Lee."
An aide of A. P. Hill's approached at a gallop. He saluted, gained
breath and spoke. "They're cutting the 23d Georgia to pieces, sir!
General Anderson is coming into action--"
A deeper thunder rolling now through the Wilderness corroborated his
words. "Good! good!" said Jackson imperturbably. "My compliments to
General Hill, and he will detach Archer's and Thomas's brigades and a
battalion of artillery. They are to cooperate with General Anderson and
protect our rear. The remainder of the Light Division will continue the
march."
On past the noon point swung light and shadow. On through the languorous
May warmth travelled westward the long column. It went with marked
rapidity, emphatic even for the "foot cavalry," went without swerving,
without straggling, went like a long, gleaming thunderbolt firmly held
and swung. Behind it, sank in the distance the noise of battle. The Army
of Northern Virginia knew itself divided, cut in two. Far back in the
flowering woods before Chancellorsville, the man on the grey horse,
directing here, directing there his twelve thousand men, played his
master game with equanimity, trusting in Stonewall Jackson rushing
toward the Federal right. Westward in the Wilderness, swiftly nearing
the Brock road, the man on the sorrel nag travelled with no backward
look. In his right hand was the thunderbolt, and near at hand the place
from which to hurl it. He rode like incarnate Intention. The officer
beside him said something as to that enormous peril in the rear, driving
like a wedge between this hurrying column and the grey twelve thousand
before Chancellorsville. "Yes, sir, yes!" said Jackson. "But I trust
first in God, and then in General Lee."
The infantry swung into the Brock road. It ran northward; it lay bare,
sunny, sleepy, walled in by emerald leaves and white and purple bloom.
The grey thunderbolt travelled fast, fast, and at three o'clock its head
reached the Plank road. Far to the east, in the Wilderness, the noise of
the battle yet rolled, but it came fainter, with a diminishing sound.
Anderson, Thomas, and Archer had driven back Sickles. There was a pause
by Chancellorsville and Catherine Furnace. Through it and all the while
the man on grey Traveller kept with a skill so exquisite that it shaded
into a grave simplicity those thousands and thousands and thousands of
hostile eyes turned quite from their real danger, centred only on a
finely painted mask of danger.
At the intersection of the Brock and the Plank roads, Stonewall Jackson
found massed the 1st Virginia cavalry. Upon the road and to either side
in the flowering woods, roan and bay and black tossed their heads and
moved their limbs amid silver dogwood and rose azalea. The horses
chafed, the horsemen looked at once anxious and exultant. Fitzhugh Lee
met the general in command. The latter spoke. "Three o'clock. Proceed at
once, general, down the Plank road."
"I beg, sir," said the other, "that you will ride with me to the top of
this roll of ground in front of us. I can show you the strangest
thing!"
The two went, attended only by a courier. The slight eminence, all clad
with scrub-oak, all carpeted with wild flowers, was reached. The
horsemen turned and looked eastward, the breast-high scrub, the few
tender-foliaged young trees sheltering them from view. They looked
eastward, and in the distance they saw Dowdall's Tavern. But it was not
Dowdall's Tavern that was the strangest thing. The strangest thing was
nearer than Dowdall's; it was at no great distance at all. It was a long
abattis, and behind the abattis long, well-builded breastworks. Behind
the breastworks, overlooked by the little hill, and occupying an old
clearing in the Wilderness, was a large encampment--the encampment, in
short, of the 11th Army Corps, Howard commanding, twenty regiments, and
six batteries. From the little hill where the violets purpled the
ground, Stonewall Jackson and the cavalry leader looked and looked in
silence. The blue soldiers lay at ease on the tender sward. It was
_dolce far niente_ in the Wilderness. The arms were stacked, the arms
were stacked. There were cannon planted by the roadside, but where were
the cannoneers? Not very near the guns, but asleep on the grass, or
propped against trees smoking excellent tobacco, or in the square on the
greensward playing cards with laughter! Battery horses were grazing
where they would. Far and wide were scattered the infantry, squandered
like plums on the grass. They lay or strolled about in the slant
sunshine, in the balmy air, in the magic Wilderness--they never even
glanced toward the stacked arms.
On the flowery slope across the road, Stonewall Jackson sat Little
Sorrel and gazed upon the pleasant, drowsy scene. His eyes had a glow,
his cheek a warm colour beneath the bronze. Staff, and indeed the entire
2d Corps, had remarked from time to time this spring upon Old Jack's
evident good health. "Getting younger all the time! This war climate
suits him. Time the peace articles are signed he'll be just a boy again!
Arrived at--what do you call it? perennial youth." Now he and Little
Sorrel stood upon the flowering hilltop, and his lips moved. "Old Jack's
praying--Old Jack's praying!" thought the courier.
Fitz Lee said something, but the general did not attend. In another
moment, however, he spoke curt, decisive, final. He spoke to the
courier. "Tell General Rodes to move _across_ the Plank road. He is to
halt at the turnpike. I will join him there. Move quietly."
The courier turned and went. Stonewall Jackson regarded again the scene
before him--abattis and breastworks and rifle-pits untenanted, guns
lonely in the slanting sunlight, lines of stacked arms, tents,
fluttering flags, the horses straying at their will, cropping the tender
grass, in a corner of a field men butchering beeves--regarded the German
regiments, Schimmelpfennig and Krzyzancerski, regarded New York and
Wisconsin, camped about the Wilderness church. Up from the clearing,
across to the thick forest, floated an indescribable humming sound, a
confused droning as from a giant race of bees. The shadows of the trees
were growing long, the sun hung just above the pines of the Wilderness.
"Good! good!" said Stonewall Jackson. His eyes, beneath the old, old
forage cap, had a sapphire depth and gleam. A colour was in his cheek.
"Good! good!" he said, and jerked his hand into the air. Suddenly
turning Little Sorrel, he left the hill--riding fast, elbows out, and
big feet, down into the woods, his sabre leaping as he rode.