To-day, I know that I was not mistaken, or laboring under the influenceof undue affection and admiration. That figure has passed from earth,but still lives!
Stuart is long dead, and the grass covers him; but there is scarce afoot of the soil of Virginia that does not speak of him. He is gone, buthis old mother is proud of him--is she not?
Answer, mountains where he fought--lowlands, where he fell--river,murmuring a dirge, as you foam through the rocks yonder, past his grave!
XXXV.
"SOON WITH ANGELS I'LL BE MARCHING."
Let me rapidly pass over the events of the tenth of May.
Gordon's little brigade had been ordered to follow on the rear of theenemy, while Fitz Lee moved round by Taylorsville to get in front ofthem.
Stuart rode and met Gordon, gave the brave North Carolinian, so soonto fall, his last orders; and then hastened back to Fitz Lee, who hadcontinued to press the enemy.
They had struck the Central railroad, but the gray cavaliers were closeon them. Colonel Robert Randolph, that brave soul, doomed like Gordon,charged them furiously here, took nearly a hundred prisoners, and drovethem across the road.
At this moment Stuart returned, and pushed forward toward Taylorsville,from which point he intended to hasten on and get in their front.
About four in the afternoon we reached Fork church, and the commandhalted to rest.
Stuart stretched himself at full length, surrounded by his staff, in afield of clover; and placing his hat over his face to protect his eyesfrom the light, snatched a short sleep, of which he was very greatly inneed.
The column again moved, and that night camped near Taylorsville,awaiting the work of the morrow.
At daylight on the 11th, Stuart moved toward Ashland. Here he came upwith the enemy; attacked them furiously, and drove them before him,and out of the village, killing, wounding, and capturing a considerablenumber.
Then he put his column again in motion, advanced rapidly by theTelegraph road toward Yellow Tavern, a point near Richmond, where heintended to intercept the enemy--the moment of decisive struggle, towhich all the fighting along the roads of Hanover had only been theprelude, was at hand.
Stuart was riding at the head of his column, looking straight forward,and with no thought, apparently, save that of arriving in time.
He was no longer gay. Was it the coming event; was it the loss of sleep;the great interest at stake; the terrible struggle before him? I knownot; but he looked anxious, feverish, almost melancholy.
"My men and horses are tired, jaded, and hungry, but all right," he hadwritten to General Bragg, from Ashland.
And these words will serve in large measure to describe the condition ofthe great commander himself.
I was riding beside him, when he turned to me and said, in a low tone:--
"Do you remember a conversation which we had at Orange, Surry, thatnight in my tent?"
"Yes, general."
"And what I said?"
"Every word is engraved, I think, upon my memory."
"Good. Do not let one thing ever escape you. Remember, that I said whatI say again to-day, that 'Virginia expects every man to do his duty!'"
"I will never forget that, general."
He smiled, and rode on. For half a mile he was silent. Then I heardescape from his lips, in a low, musing voice, a refrain which I hadnever heard him sing before--
"Soon with angels I'll be marching!"[1]
[Footnote 1: Real]
I know not why, but that low sound made me shiver.
XXXVI.
YELLOW TAVERN, MAY 11, 1864.
Yellow Tavern! At the mention of that name, a sort of tremor agitates meeven to-day, when nearly four years have passed.
In my eyes, the locality is cursed. A gloomy cloud seems ever hangingover it. No birds sing in the trees. The very sunshine of the summerdays is sad there.
But I pass to my brief description of the place, and the event whichmade it one of the black names in Southern history.
Yellow Tavern is an old dismantled hostelry, on the Brook road, aboutsix miles from Richmond. Nothing more dreary than this desolate waysideinn can be imagined. Its doors stand open, its windows are gone, therotting floor crumbles beneath the heel, and the winds moan through thepaneless sashes, like invisible spirits hovering near and muttering somelugubrious secret. "This is the scene of some deed of darkness!" you aretempted to mutter, as you place your feet upon the threshold. When youleave the spot behind you, a weight seems lifted from your breast--youbreathe freer.
Such was the Yellow Tavern when I went there in the spring of 1864. Isit different to-day? Do human beings laugh there? I know not; but I knowthat nothing could make it cheerful in my eyes. It was, and is, and everwill be, a thing accursed!
For the military reader, however, a few words in reference to thetopographical features of the locality are necessary.
Yellow Tavern is at the forks of the Telegraph and Mountain roads, sixmiles from Richmond. The Telegraph road runs north and south--over thisroad Stuart marched. The Mountain road comes into it from the northwest.By this road Sheridan was coming.
Open the left hand, with the palm upward; the index finger pointingnorth. The thumb is the Mountain road; the index-finger the Telegraphroad; where the thumb joins the hand is the Yellow Tavern in openfields; and Richmond is at the wrist.
Toward the head of the thumb is a wood. Here Wickham, commandingStuart's right, was placed, his line facing the Mountain road so as tostrike the approaching enemy in flank.
From Wickham's left, or near it, Stuart's left wing, under Lomax,extended along the Telegraph road to the Tavern--the two lines thusforming an obtuse angle.
On a hill, near Lomax's right, was Breathed with his guns.
The object of this disposition of Stuart's force will be seen at aglance. Lomax, commanding the left, was across the enemy's front;Wickham, commanding the right, was on their flank; and the artillery wasso posted as to sweep at once the front of both Stuart's wings.
The enemy's advance would bring them to the first joint of the thumb.There they would receive Lomax's fire in front; Wickham's in flank; andBreathed's transversely. The cross fire on that point, over which theenemy must pass, would be deadly. Take a pencil, reader, and draw thediagram, and lines of fire. That will show Stuart's excellent design.
Stuart had reached Yellow Tavern, and made his dispositions before thearrival of Sheridan, who was, nevertheless, rapidly advancing by theMountain road. Major McClellan, adjutant-general, had been sent toGeneral Bragg, with a suggestion that the latter should attack fromthe direction of the city, at the moment when the cavalry assailed theFederal flank. All was ready.
It was the morning of May 11th, 1864.
Never was scene more beautiful and inspiring. The men were jaded, liketheir horses; but no heart shrank from the coming encounter. Stretchingin a thin line from the tavern into the woods on the right of theMountain road, the men sat their horses, with drawn sabres gleaming inthe sun; and the red battle-flags waved proudly in the fresh May breeze,as though saluting Stuart, who rode in front of them.
Such was the scene at Yellow Tavern. The moment had come. At abouteight, a stifled hum, mixed with the tramp of hoofs, was heard. Then acourier came at a gallop, from the right, to Stuart. The enemy were insight, and advancing rapidly.
Stuart was sitting his horse near Yellow Tavern when that intelligencereached him. He rose in his saddle, took his field-glasses from theirleathern case, and looked through them in the direction of the woodsacross the Mountain road.
Suddenly, quick firing came on the wind--then, loud shouts. Stuartlowered his glasses, shut them up, replaced them in their case, and drewhis sabre.
Never had I seen him present an appearance more superb. His headwas carried proudly erect, his black plume floated, his blue eyesflashed--he was the _beau ideal_ of a soldier, and as one of his bravestofficers[1] afterward said to me, looked as if he had resolved on"victory or death." I had seen him often aroused a
nd strung for action.On this morning he seemed on fire, and resembled a veritable king ofbattle.
[Footnote 1: Breathed.]
Suddenly, the skirmish line of the enemy appeared in front of the woods,and a quick fire was opened on Stuart's sharp-shooters under ColonelPate, in the angle of the two roads; Stuart hastened to take the realinitiative. He posted two guns on a rising ground in the angle, andopened a heavy fire; and galled by this fire, the enemy suddenly made adetermined charge upon the guns.
Stuart rose in his stirrups and gazed coolly at the heavy line advancingupon him, and forcing Pate's handful back.
"Take back the guns!" he said.
They were limbered up, and went off rapidly.
At the same moment Colonel Pate appeared, his men obstinately contestingevery foot of ground as they fell back toward the Telegraph road, wherea deep cut promised them advantage.
Colonel Pate was a tall, fair-haired officer, with a ready smile, and acordial bearing. He and Stuart had bitterly quarrelled, and the generalhad court-martialed the colonel. It is scarcely too much to say thatthey had been deadly enemies.
For the first time now, since their collision, they met. But on this daytheir enmity seemed dead. The two men about to die grasped each other'shands.
"They are pressing you back, colonel!" exclaimed Stuart.
"Yes, general, I have but three skeleton squadrons! and you see theirforce."
"You are right. You have done all that any man could. Can you hold thiscut?"
"I will try, general."
Their glances crossed. Never was Stuart's face kinder.
"If you say you will, you will do it! Hold this position to the last,colonel."
"I'll hold it until I die, general."[1]
[Footnote 1: His words.]
With a pressure of the hand they parted.
Fifteen minutes afterward, Pate was dead. Attacked at once in front andon both flanks in the road, his little force had been cut to pieces. Hefell with three of his captains, and his handful were scattered.
Stuart witnessed all, and his eye grew fiery.
"Pate has died the death of a hero!"[1] he exclaimed.
[Footnote 1: His words.]
"Order Wickham to dismount his brigade, and attack on the right!" headded to Lieutenant Garnett, aid-de-camp. Twenty minutes afterward,Wickham's men were seen advancing, and driving the enemy before them.This relieved the left, and Wickham continued to push on until he struckup against a heavy line behind rail breastworks in the woods.
He then fell back, and each side remained motionless, awaiting themovement of the other.
Such was the preface to the real battle of Yellow Tavern,--the speciesof demonstration which preluded the furious grapple.
Stuart's melancholy had all vanished. He was in splendid spirits. Hehastened back his artillery to the point from which it had been driven,and soon its defiant roar was heard rising above the woods.
At the same moment a courier galloped up.
"What news?"
"A dispatch from Gordon, general."
Stuart took it and read it with high good humor.
"Gordon has had a handsome little affair this morning," he said; "he haswhipped them."
And looking toward the northwest--
"I wish Gordon was here,"[1] he said.
[Footnote 1: His words.]
The guns continued to roar, and the enemy had not again advanced. It wasnearly four o'clock. Night approached.
But the great blow was coming.
Stuart was sitting his horse near the guns, with Breathed beside him.Suddenly the edge of the woods on the Mountain road swarmed with bluehorsemen. As they appeared, the long lines of sabres darted from thescabbards; then they rushed like a hurricane toward the guns.
The attack was so sudden and overpowering, that nothing could standbefore it. For a short time the men fought desperately, crossing sabresand using their pistols. But the enemy's numbers were too great. Theleft was driven back. With triumphant cheers, the Federal trooperspressed upon them to drive them completely from the field.
Suddenly, as the men fell back, Stuart appeared, with drawn sabre, amongthem, calling upon them to rally. His voice rose above the fire, and awild cheer greeted him.
The men rallied, the enemy were met again, sabre to sabre, and the fieldbecame a scene of the most desperate conflict.
Stuart led every charge. I shall never forget the appearance which hepresented at that moment; with one hand he controlled his restive horse,with the other he grasped his sabre; in his cheeks burned the hot bloodof the soldier.
"Breathed!" he exclaimed.
"General!"
"Take command of all the mounted men in the road, and hold it againstwhatever may come! If this road is lost, we are gone!"[1]
[Footnote 1: His words.]
Breathed darted to the head of the men and shouted:--
"Follow me!"
His sword flashed lightning, and digging the spur into his horse, hedarted ahead of the column, disappearing in the middle of a swarm ofenemies.
A superb sight followed. Breathed was seen in the midst of the Federalcavalry defending himself, with pistol and sabre, against the blowswhich were aimed at him on every side.
He cut one officer out of the saddle; killed a lieutenant with a pistolball; was shot slightly in the side, and a sabre stroke laid open hishead. But five minutes afterward he was seen to clear a path with hissabre, and reappear, streaming with blood.[1]
[Footnote: This incident, like all here related as attending thisbattle, is rigidly true.]
The momentary repulse effected nothing. The enemy re-formed their line,and again charged the guns, which were pouring a heavy fire upon them.As they rushed forward, the hoofs of their horses shook the ground. Adeafening cheer arose from the blue line.
Stuart was looking at them, and spurred out in front of the guns.His eyes flashed, and, taking off his brown felt hat, he waved it andcheered.
Then he wheeled to take command of a column of Lomax's men, coming tomeet the charge.
They were too late. In a moment the enemy were trampling among the guns.All but one were captured, and that piece was saved only by the terrorof the drivers. They lashed their horses into a gallop, and rushedtoward the Chickahominy, followed by the cannoneers who were cursingthem, and shouting:--
"For God's sake, boys, let's go back! They've got Breathed! Let's goback to him!"[1]
[Footnote 1: Their words.]
That terror of the drivers, which the cannoneers cursed so bitterly,ended all. The gun, whirling on at wild speed, suddenly struck againstthe head of the column advancing to meet the enemy. A war-engine hurledagainst it could not have more effectually broken it. Before it couldre-form the enemy had struck it, forced it back; and then the wholeFederal force of cavalry was hurled upon Stuart.
His right, where Fitz Lee commanded in person, was giving back. His leftwas broken and driven. The day was evidently lost; and Stuart, with asort of desperation, rushed into the midst of the enemy, calling uponhis men to rally, and firing his pistol in the faces of the Federalcavalrymen.
Suddenly, one of them darted past him toward the rear, and as he did so,placed his pistol nearly on Stuart's body, and fired.
As the man disappeared in the smoke, Stuart's hand went quickly to hisside, he reeled in the saddle, and would have fallen had not CaptainDorsay, of the First Virginia Cavalry, caught him in his arms.
The bullet had passed through his side into the stomach, and wounded himmortally. In its passage, it just grazed a small Bible in his pocket.The Bible was the gift of his mother--but the Almighty had decreed thatit should not turn the fatal bullet.
Stuart's immense vitality sustained him for a moment. Pale, andtottering in the saddle, he still surveyed the field, and called on themen to rally.
"Go back," he exclaimed, "and do your duty, as I have done mine! And ourcountry will be safe!"[1]
Mohun; Or, the Last Days of Lee and His Paladins. Page 21