Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War
10,000 men had been utterly defeated. The enemy’s right wing was
scattered to the winds. The Southerners were within a mile-and-a-half
of the Federals’ centre and completely in rear of their intrenchments;
and the White House or Bullock road, only half-a-mile to the front, led
directly to Hooker’s line of retreat by the United States Ford. Until
that road was in his possession Jackson was determined to call no halt.
The dense woods, the gathering darkness, the fatigue and disorder of
his troops, he regarded no more than he did the enemy’s overwhelming
numbers. In spirit he was standing at Hooker’s side, and he saw, as
clearly as though the intervening woods had been swept away, the
condition to which his adversary had been reduced.
To the Federal headquarters confusion and dismay had come, indeed, with
appalling suddenness. Late in the afternoon Hooker was sitting with two
aides-de-camp in the verandah of the Chancellor House. There were few
troops in sight. The Third Corps and Pleasonton’s cavalry had long
since disappeared in the forest. The Twelfth Army Corps, with the
exception of two brigades, was already advancing against Anderson; and
only the trains and some artillery remained
within the intrenchments at Hazel Grove. All was going well. A
desultory firing broke out at intervals to the eastward, but it was not
sustained; and three miles to the south, where, as Hooker believed, in
pursuit of Jackson, Sickles and Pleasonton were, the reports of their
cannon, growing fainter and fainter as they pushed further south,
betokened no more than a lively skirmish. The quiet of the Wilderness,
save for those distant sounds, was undisturbed, and men and animals,
free from every care, were enjoying the calm of the summer evening. It
was about half-past six. Suddenly the cannonade swelled to a heavier
roar, and the sound came from a new direction. All were listening
intently, speculating on what this might mean, when a staff-officer,
who had stepped out to the front of the house and was looking down the
plank road with his glass, exclaimed: “My God, here they come!” Hooker
sprang upon his horse; and riding rapidly down the road, met the
stragglers of the Eleventh Corps—men, waggons, and ambulances, an
ever-increasing crowd—rushing in blind terror from the forest, flying
they knew not whither. The whole of the right wing, they said,
overwhelmed by superior numbers, was falling back on Chancellorsville,
and Stonewall Jackson was in hot pursuit.
The situation had changed in the twinkling of an eye. Just now
congratulating himself on the complete success of his manœuvres, on the
retreat of his enemies, on the flight of Jackson and the helplessness
of Lee, Hooker saw his strong intrenchments taken in reverse, his army
scattered, his reserves far distant, and the most dreaded of his
opponents, followed by his victorious veterans, within a few hundred
yards of his headquarters. His weak point had been found, and there
were no troops at hand wherewith to restore the fight. The centre was
held only by the two brigades of the Twelfth Corps at the Fairview
Cemetery. The works at Hazel Grove were untenanted, save by a few
batteries and a handful of infantry. The Second and Fifth Corps on the
left were fully occupied by McLaws, for Lee, at the first sound of
Jackson’s guns, had ordered a vigorous attack up the pike and the plank
road. Sickles, with
20,000 men, was far away, isolated and perhaps surrounded, and the line
of retreat, the road to United States Ford, was absolutely unprotected.
Messengers were dispatched in hot haste to recall Sickles and
Pleasonton to Hazel Grove. Berry’s division, forming the reserve
north-east of the Chancellor House, was summoned to Fairview, and Hays’
brigade of the Second Corps ordered to support it. But what could three
small brigades, hurried into position and unprotected by intrenchments,
avail against 25,000 Southerners, led by Stonewall Jackson, and
animated by their easy victory? If Berry and Hays could stand fast
against the rush of fugitives, it was all that could be expected; and
as the uproar in the dark woods swelled to a deeper volume, and the
yells of the Confederates, mingled with the crash of the musketry, were
borne to his ears, Hooker must have felt that all was lost. To make
matters worse, as Pleasonton, hurrying back with his cavalry, arrived
at Hazel Grove, the trains of the Third Army Corps, fired on by the
Confederate skirmishers, dashed wildly across the clearing, swept
through the parked artillery, and, breaking through the forest,
increased the fearful tumult which reigned round Chancellorsville.
The gunners, however, with a courage beyond all praise, stood staunchly
to their pieces; and soon a long line of artillery, for which two
regiments of the Third Army Corps, coming up rapidly from the south,
formed a sufficient escort, was established on this commanding hill.
Other batteries, hitherto held in reserve, took post on the high ground
at Fairview, a mile to the north-east, and, although Berry’s infantry
were not yet in position, and the stream of broken troops was still
pouring past, a strong front of fifty guns opposed the Confederate
advance.
But it was not the artillery that saved Hooker from irretrievable
disaster.[6] As they followed the remnants of the Eleventh Army Corps,
the progress of Rodes and Colston had been far less rapid than when
they stormed forward
past the Wilderness Church. A regiment of Federal cavalry, riding to
Howard’s aid by a track from Hazel Grove to the plank road, was quickly
swept aside; but the deep darkness of the forest, the efforts of the
officers to re-form the ranks, the barriers opposed by the tangled
undergrowth, the difficulty of keeping the direction, brought a large
portion of the troops to a standstill. At the junction of the White
House road the order to halt was given, and although a number of men,
pushing impetuously forward, seized a line of log breastworks which ran
north-west through the timber below the Fairview heights, the pursuit
was stayed in the midst of the dense thickets.
8.15 p.m. At this moment, shortly after eight o’clock, Jackson was at
Dowdall’s Tavern. The reports from the front informed him that his
first and second lines had halted; General Rodes, who had galloped up
the plank road to reconnoitre, sent in word that there were no Federal
troops to be seen between his line and the Fairview heights; and
Colonel Cobb, of the 44th Virginia, brought the news that the strong
intrenchments, less than a mile from Chancellorsville, had been
occupied without resistance.
There was a lull in the battle; the firing had died away, and the
excited troops, with a clamour that was heard in the Federal lines,
sought their companies and regiments by the dim light of the rising
moon. But deeming that nothing was done while aught remained to do,
Jackson was already planning a further movement. Sending instructions
to A. P. Hill to relieve Rodes and Colston, and to prepare for a night
attack, he rode forward, almost unattended, amongst his rallying
troops, and lent his aid to the efforts of the regimental officers.
Intent on bringing up the two divisions in close support of Hill, he
passed from one regiment to another. Turning to Colonel Cobb, he said
to him; “Find General Rodes, and tell him to occupy the barricade[7] at
once,” and then added: “I need your help for a time; this disorder must
be corrected. As you go along the right, tell the troops from me to get
into line and preserve their order.”
It was long, however, before the men could be assembled, and the delay
was increased by an unfortunate incident. Jackson’s chief of artillery,
pressing forward up the plank road to within a thousand yards of
Chancellorsville, opened fire with three guns upon the enemy’s
position. This audacious proceeding evoked a quick reply. Such Federal
guns as could be brought to bear were at once turned upon the road, and
although the damage done was small, A. P. Hill’s brigades, just coming
up into line, were for the moment checked; under the hail of shell and
canister the artillery horses became unmanageable, the drivers lost
their nerve, and as they rushed to the rear some of the infantry joined
them, and a stampede was only prevented by the personal efforts of
Jackson, Colston, and their staff-officers. Colonel Crutchfield was
then ordered to cease firing; the Federals did the same; and A. P.
Hill’s brigades, that of General Lane leading, advanced to the deserted
breastworks, while two brigades, one from Rodes’ division and one from
Colston’s, were ordered to guard the roads from Hazel Grove.
8.45 p.m. These arrangements made, Jackson proceeded to join his
advanced line. At the point where the track to the White House and
United States ford strikes the plank road he met General Lane, seeking
his instructions for the attack. They were sufficiently brief: “Push
right ahead, Lane; right ahead!” As Lane galloped off to his command,
General Hill and some of his staff came up, and Jackson gave Hill his
orders. “Press them; cut them off from the United States Ford, Hill;
press them.” General Hill replied that he was entirely unacquainted
with the topography of the country, and asked for an officer to act as
guide. Jackson directed Captain Boswell, his chief engineer, to
accompany General Hill, and then, turning to the front, rode up the
plank road, passing quickly through the ranks of the 18th North
Carolina of Lane’s brigade. Two or three hundred yards eastward the
general halted, for the ringing of axes and the words of command were
distinctly audible in the enemy’s lines.
While the Confederates were re-forming, Hooker’s
reserves had reached the front, and Berry’s regiments, on the Fairview
heights, using their bayonets and tin-plates for intrenching tools,
piling up the earth with their hands, and hacking down the brushwood
with their knives, were endeavouring in desperate haste to provide some
shelter, however slight, against the rush that they knew was about to
come.
After a few minutes, becoming impatient for the advance of Hill’s
division, Jackson turned and retraced his steps towards his own lines.
“General,” said an officer who was with him, “you should not expose
yourself so much.” “There is no danger, sir, the enemy is routed. Go
back and tell General Hill to press on.”
Once more, when he was only sixty or eighty yards from where the 18th
North Carolina were standing in the trees, he drew rein and
listened—the whole party, generals, staff-officers, and couriers,
hidden in the deep shadows of the silent woods. At this moment a single
rifle-shot rang out with startling suddenness.
A detachment of Federal infantry, groping their way through the
thickets, had approached the Southern lines.
The skirmishers on both sides were now engaged, and the lines of battle
in rear became keenly on the alert. Some mounted officers galloped
hastily back to their commands. The sound startled the Confederate
soldiers, and an officer of the 18th North Carolina, seeing a group of
strange horsemen riding towards him through the darkness—for Jackson,
hearing the firing, had turned back to his own lines—gave the order to
fire.
The volley was fearfully effective. Men and horses fell dead and dying
on the narrow track. Jackson himself received three bullets, one in the
right hand, and two in the left arm, cutting the main artery, and
crushing the bone below the shoulder, and as the reins dropped upon his
neck, “Little Sorrel,” frantic with terror, plunged into the wood and
rushed towards the Federal lines. An overhanging bough struck his rider
violently in the face, tore off his cap and nearly unhorsed him; but
recovering his seat, he managed to seize the bridle with his bleeding
hand, and turned