Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War
fire is heavier than if it was by company or battalion (volley firing).
Sometimes, however, one may be best, sometimes the other, according to
circumstances. But my opinion is that there ought not to be much firing
at all. My idea is that the best mode of fighting is to reserve your
fire till the enemy get—or you get them—to close quarters. Then deliver
one deadly, deliberate fire—and charge!”
Although the newspapers did scant justice to the part played by the
brigade in the battle of Bull Run, Bee’s epithet survived, and Jackson
became known as Stonewall throughout the army. To one of his
acquaintances the general revealed the source of his composure under
fire. “Three days after the battle, hearing that Jackson was suffering
from his wound, I rode,” writes Imboden, “to his quarters near
Centreville. Of course the battle was the only topic discussed during
breakfast. ‘General,’ I remarked, ‘how is it that you can keep so cool,
and appear so utterly insensible to danger in such a storm of shell and
bullets as rained about you when your hand was hit?’ He instantly
became grave and reverential in his manner, and answered, in a low tone
of great earnestness: ‘Captain, my religious belief teaches me to feel
as safe in battle as in bed. God has fixed the time for my death. I do
not concern myself about that, but to be always ready, no matter when
it may overtake me.’ He added, after a pause, looking me full in the
face: ‘That is the way all men should live, and then all would be
equally brave.’”[17]
Although the war upon the borders had not yet touched the cities of the
South, the patriotism of Virginia saw with uneasiness the inroads of
the enemy in that portion of the State which lies beyond the
Alleghenies, especially the north-west. The country was overrun with
Federal soldiers, and part of the population of the district had
declared openly for the Union. In that district was Jackson’s
birth-place, the home of his childhood, and his mother’s grave. His
interest and his affections were bound by many ties to the country and
the people, and in
the autumn of 1861 he had not yet come to believe that they were at
heart disloyal to their native State. A vigorous effort, he believed,
might still restore to the Confederacy a splendid recruiting-ground,
and he made no secret of his desire for employment in that region. The
strategical advantages of this corner of Virginia were clearly
apparent, as will be seen hereafter, to his perception. Along its
western border runs the Ohio, a river navigable to its junction with
the Mississippi, and giving an easy line of communication into the
heart of Kentucky. Through its northern counties passed the Baltimore
and Ohio Railroad, the main line of communication between Washington
and the West; and alongside the railway ran the Chesapeake and Ohio
Canal, a second and most important line of supply. Above all,
projecting as it did towards the great lakes of the North, the
north-western angle, or Virginia Panhandle, narrowed the passage
between East and West to an isthmus not more than a hundred miles in
breadth. With this territory in the possession of the Confederates, the
Federal dominions would be practically cut in two; and in North-western
Virginia, traversed by many ranges of well-nigh pathless mountains,
with few towns and still fewer roads, a small army might defy a large
one with impunity.
Nov. 4 On November 4 Jackson’s wish was partially granted. He was
assigned to the command of the Shenandoah Valley District, embracing
the northern part of the area between the Alleghenies and the Blue
Ridge. The order was received with gratitude, but dashed by the fact
that he had to depart alone. “Had this communication,” he said to Dr.
White, “not come as an order, I should instantly have declined it, and
continued in command of my brave old brigade.”
Whether he or his soldiers felt the parting most it is hard to say.
Certain it is that the men had a warm regard for their leader. There
was no more about him at Centreville to attract the popular fancy than
there had been at Harper’s Ferry. When the troops passed in review the
eye of the spectator turned at once to the trim carriage of Johnston
and of Beauregard, to the glittering uniform of Stuart, to the superb
chargers and the martial bearing of young officers fresh from the
Indian frontier. The silent professor, absent and unsmiling, who
dressed as plainly as he lived, had little in common with those dashing
soldiers. The tent where every night the general and his staff gathered
together for their evening devotions, where the conversation ran not on
the merits of horse and hound, on strategy and tactics, but on the
power of faith and the mysteries of the redemption, seemed out of place
in an army of high-spirited youths. But, while they smiled at his
peculiarities, the Confederate soldiers remembered the fierce
counterstroke on the heights above Bull Run. If the Presbyterian
general was earnest in prayer, they knew that he was prompt in battle
and indefatigable in quarters. He had the respect of all men, and from
his own brigade he had something more. Very early in their service,
away by the rippling Shenandoah, they had heard the stories of his
daring in Mexico. They had experienced his skill and coolness at
Falling Waters; they had seen at Bull Run, while the shells burst in
never-ending succession among the pines, the quiet figure riding slowly
to and fro on the crest above them; they had heard the stern command,
“Wait till they come within fifty yards and then give them the
bayonet,” and they had followed him far in that victorious rush into
the receding ranks of their astonished foe.
Little wonder that these enthusiastic youths, new to the soldier’s
trade, should have been captivated by a nature so strong and fearless.
The Stonewall Brigade had made Jackson a hero, and he had won more from
them than their admiration. His incessant watchfulness for their
comfort and well-being; the patient care with which he instructed them;
his courtesy to the youngest private; the tact and thoughtfulness he
showed in all his relations with them, had won their affection. His
very peculiarities endeared him to them. Old Jack or Stonewall were his
nicknames in the lines of his own command, and stories went round the
camp fire of how he had been seen walking in the woods round
Centreville absorbed in prayer, or lifting
his left hand with that peculiar gesture which the men believed was an
appeal to Heaven, but which, in reality, was made to relieve the pain
of his wounded finger. But while they discussed his oddities, not a man
in the brigade but acknowledged his ability, and when the time came not
a man but regretted his departure.
His farewell to his troops was a striking scene. The forest, already
donning its gorgeous autumnal robes, shut in the grassy clearing where
the troops were drawn up. There stood the grey columns of the five
regiments, with the colours, already tattered, waving in the mild
November air. The general rode up, their own general, and not a sound
was heard. Motionless and silent they stood, a veritable stone wall,
whilst his eye ran along the ranks and scanned the familiar faces. “I
am not here to make a speech,” he said, “but simply to say farewell. I
first met you at Harper’s Ferry, at the commencement of the war, and I
cannot take leave of you without giving expression to my admiration of
your conduct from that day to this, whether on the march, in the
bivouac, or on the bloody plains of Manassas, where you gained the
well-deserved reputation of having decided the fate of battle.
“Throughout the broad extent of country through which you have marched,
by your respect for the rights and property of citizens, you have shown
that you are soldiers not only to defend, but able and willing both to
defend and protect. You have already won a brilliant reputation
throughout the army of the whole Confederacy; and I trust, in the
future, by your deeds in the field, and by the assistance of the same
kind Providence who has hitherto favoured our cause, you will win more
victories and add lustre to the reputation you now enjoy. You have
already gained a proud position in the future history of this our
second War of Independence. I shall look with great anxiety to your
future movements, and I trust whenever I shall hear of the First
Brigade on the field of battle, it will be of still nobler deeds
achieved, and higher reputation won!” Then there was a pause; general
and soldiers looked upon each other, and the heart of the leader
went out to those who had followed him with such devotion. He had
spoken his words of formal praise, but both he and they knew the bonds
between them were too strong to be thus coldly severed. For once he
gave way to impulse; his eye kindled, and rising in his stirrups and
throwing the reins upon his horse’s neck, he spoke in tones which
betrayed the proud memories that thronged upon him:—
“In the Army of the Shenandoah you were the First Brigade! In the Army
of the Potomac you were the First Brigade! In the Second Corps of the
army you are the First Brigade! You are the First Brigade in the
affections of your general, and I hope by your future deeds and bearing
you will be handed down to posterity as the First Brigade in this our
second War of Independence. Farewell!”
For a moment there was silence; then the pent-up feeling found
expression, and cheer upon cheer burst forth from the ranks of the
Valley regiments. Waving his hand in token of farewell, Jackson
galloped from the field.
NOTE I
THE TROOPS EMPLOYED ON THE HENRY HILL
FEDERAL
_First Division:_ TYLER
Brigade Keyes Brigade Sherman Brigade Shenck = 4,500
_Second Division:_ HUNTER
Brigade Porter Brigade Burnside = 6,000
_Third Division:_ HEINTZLEMAN
Brigade Franklin Brigade Wilcox Brigade Howard = 7,500
Total 18,000, and 30 guns.
CONFEDERATE
_Army of the Shenandoah_ [JOHNSTON]
Brigade Jackson Brigade Bee Brigade Bartow Brigade Kirby Smith =
8,700
_Army of the Potomac_ [BEAUREGARD]
Brigade Bonham Brigade Cocke Brigade Early 7th Louisiana Regiment 8th
Louisiana Regiment Hampton’s Legion Cavalry = 9,300
Total 18,000, and 21 guns.
NOTE II
THE COST OF AN INADEQUATE ARMY
Lord Wolseley has been somewhat severely criticised for asserting
that in the Civil War, “from first to last, the co-operation of
even one army corps (35,000 men) of regular troops would have given
complete victory to whichever side it fought on.” Whatever may be
argued as to the latter period of the conflict, it is impossible
for anyone who understands the power of organisation, of
discipline, of training, and of a proper system of command, to
dispute the accuracy of this statement as regards the year 1861,
that is, for the first eight months.
It is far too often assumed that the number of able-bodied men is
the true criterion of national strength. In the Confederate States,
for instance, there were probably 750,000 citizens who were liable
for service in the militia, and yet had the United States possessed
a single regular army corps, with a trained staff, an efficient
commissariat, and a fully-organised system of transport, it is
difficult to see how these 750,000 Southerners could have done more
than wage a guerilla warfare. The army corps would have absorbed
into itself the best of the Northern militia and volunteers; the
staff and commissariat would have given them mobility, and 60,000
or 70,000 men, moving on Richmond directly Sumter fell, with the
speed and certainty which organisation gives, would have marched
from victory to victory. Their 750,000 enemies would never have had