Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War
camp, which proved to be beyond Jackson’s forces, then lying in the
fields on both sides of the Valley pike. Over 3,000 strong, neat in
fresh clothing of grey with white gaiters, bands playing at the head of
their regiments—not a straggler, but every man in his place, stepping
jauntily as if on parade, though it had marched twenty miles or more—in
open column, with the rays of the declining sun flaming on polished
bayonets, the brigade moved down the hard smooth pike, and wheeled on
to the camping-ground. Jackson’s men, by thousands, had gathered on
either side of the road to see us pass.
“After attending to necessary camp details, I sought Jackson, whom I
had never met. The mounted officer who had been sent on in advance
pointed out a figure perched on the topmost rail of a fence overlooking
the road and field, and said it was Jackson. Approaching, I saluted and
declared my name and rank, then waited for a response. Before this came
I had time to see a pair of
cavalry boots covering feet of gigantic size, a mangy cap with visor
drawn low, a heavy dark beard and weary eyes, eyes I afterwards saw
filled with intense but never brilliant light. A low gentle voice
inquired the road and distance marched that day. ‘Keezleton road,
six-and-twenty miles.’ ‘You seem to have no stragglers.’ ‘Never allow
straggling.’ ‘You must teach my people; they straggle badly.’ A bow in
reply. Just then my Creoles started their band for a waltz. After a
contemplative suck at a lemon, ‘Thoughtless fellows for serious work’
came forth. I expressed a hope that the work would not be less well
done because of the gaiety. A return to the lemon gave me the
opportunity to retire. Where Jackson got his lemons ‘No fellow could
find out,’ but he was rarely without one. To have lived twelve miles
from that fruit would have disturbed him as much as it did the witty
dean.”[8]
May 21 The next day, marching in the grey of the morning, the force
moved north, the Louisianians in advance. Suddenly, after covering a
short distance, the head of the column was turned to the right; and the
troops, who had confidently expected that Strasburg would be the scene
of their next engagement, found themselves moving eastward and crossing
the Massanuttons. The men were utterly at sea as to the intentions of
their commander. Taylor’s brigade had been encamped near Conrad’s
Store, only a few miles distant, not many days before, and they had now
to solve the problem why they should have made three long marches in
order to return to their former position. No word came from Jackson to
enlighten them. From time to time a courier would gallop up, report,
and return to Luray, but the general, absorbed in thought, rode
silently across the mountain, perfectly oblivious of inquiring glances.
At New Market the troops had been halted at crossroads, and they had
marched by that which they had least expected. The camp at Luray on the
21st presented the same puzzle. One road ran east across the mountains
to Warrenton or Culpeper; a second north to Front Royal
and Winchester; and the men said that halting them in such a position
was an ingenious device of Jackson’s to prevent them fathoming his
plans.[9]
May 22 The next day, the 22nd, the army, with Ewell leading, moved
quietly down the Luray Valley, and the advanced guard, Taylor’s
Louisianians, a six-pounder battery, and the 6th Virginia Cavalry,
bivouacked that night within ten miles of Front Royal, held by a strong
detachment of Banks’ small army.
Since they had Left Mount Solon and Elk Run Valley on May 19 the troops
in four days had made just sixty miles. Such celerity of movement was
unfamiliar to both Banks and Stanton, and on the night of the 22nd
neither the Secretary nor the general had the faintest suspicion that
the enemy had as yet passed Harrisonburg. There was serenity at
Washington. On both sides of the Blue Ridge everything was going well.
The attack on Frémont had not been followed up; and McClellan, though
calling urgently for reinforcements, was sanguine of success. Mr.
Lincoln, reassured by Jackson’s retreat from Franklin, had permitted
Shields to march to Falmouth; and McDowell, with a portion of his
troops, had already crossed the Rappahannock. The President of the
Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, an important personage at Washington,
appears to have been alone in his apprehension that a storm was
gathering in the summer sky. “The aspect of affairs in the Valley of
Virginia,” he wrote to Stanton, “is becoming very threatening. . . .
The enterprise and vigour of Jackson are well known. . . . Under the
circumstances will it not be more judicious to order back General
Shields to co-operate with General Banks? Such a movement might be
accomplished in time to prevent disaster.”[10] The Secretary, however,
saw no reason for alarm. His strategical combinations were apparently
working without a hitch. Banks at Strasburg was in a strong position;
and McDowell was about to lend the aid which would enable McClellan to
storm the rebel capital. One of Frémont’s columns, under General Cox, a
most able officer, which was making good progress towards the Virginia
and Tennessee Railroad, had certainly been compelled to halt when
Milroy was driven back to Franklin. Yet the defeated troops were
rapidly reorganising, and Frémont would soon resume his movement.
Milroy’s defeat was considered no more than an incident of _la petite
guerre._ Washington seemed so perfectly secure that the recruiting
offices had been closed, and the President and Secretary, anticipating
the immediate fall of Richmond, left for Fredericksburg the next day.
McDowell was to march on the 26th, and the departure of his fine army
was to be preceded by a grand review.
Even Banks, though Shields had marched to Fredericksburg, reducing his
force by a half, believed that there was no immediate reason to fear
attack. “I regard it as certain,” he wrote, “that Jackson will move
north as far as New Market . . . a position which enables him to
cooperate with General Ewell, who is still at Swift Run Gap.” Yet he
took occasion to remind Mr. Stanton of the “persistent adherence of
Jackson to the defence of the Valley, and his well-known purpose to
expel the Government troops. This,” he added, “may be assumed as
certain. There is probably no one more fixed and determined purpose in
the whole circle of the enemy’s plans.” Banks had certainly learned
something of Jackson by this time, but he did not yet know all.
So on this night of May 22 the President and his people were without
fear of what the morrow might bring forth. The end of the rebellion
seemed near at hand. Washington was full of the anticipated triumph.
The crowds passed to and fro in the broad avenues, exchanging
congratulations on the success of the Northern arms and the approaching
downfall of the slaveholders. The theatres were filled with delighted
audiences, who hailed every scoffing allusion to the “Southern
chivalry” with enthusiasm, and gaiety and confidence reigned supreme.
Little dreamt the light-hearted multitude that, in the silent woods of
the Luray Valley, a Confederate army lay asleep beneath the stars.
Little dreamt Lincoln, or Banks, or Stanton, that
not more than seventy miles from Washington, and less than thirty from
Strasburg, the most daring of their enemies, waiting for the dawn to
rise above the mountains, was pouring out his soul in prayer,
Appealing from his native sod
_In formâ pauperis_ to God:
“Lay bare Thine arm—stretch forth Thy rod.
Amen!” That’s Stonewall’s way.
It is not always joy that cometh in the morning, least of all to
generals as ignorant as Banks when they have to do with a skilful foe.
It was not altogether Banks’ fault that his position was a bad one.
Stanton had given him a direct order to take post at Strasburg or its
vicinity, and to send two regiments to hold the bridges at Front Royal.
But Banks had made no remonstrance. He had either failed to recognise,
until it was too late, that the force at Front Royal would be exposed
to attack from the Luray Valley, and, if the post fell, that his own
communications with both Winchester and Washington would be at once
endangered; or he had lost favour with the Secretary. For some time
past Mr. Stanton’s telegrams had been cold and peremptory. There had
been no more effusive praise of “cautious vigour” and “interesting
manœuvres;” and Banks had gradually fallen from the command of a large
army corps to the charge of a single division.
His 10,000 men were thus distributed. At Strasburg were 4,500 infantry,
2,900 cavalry, and 16 guns. At Winchester 850 infantry and 600 cavalry.
Two companies of infantry held Buckton station on the Manassas Gap
Railway, midway between Strasburg and Front Royal.[11] At Rectortown,
east of the Blue Ridge, nineteen miles from Front Royal, was General
Geary with 2,000 infantry and cavalry; these troops, however, were
independent of Banks.
Front Royal, twelve miles east of Strasburg, was committed to the
charge of Colonel Kenly, of the 1st Maryland Regiment in the Federal
service, and 1,000 rifles and 2 guns were placed at his disposal. The
post itself was
indefensible. To the west and south-west, about three miles distant,
stand the green peaks of the Massanuttons, while to the east the lofty
spurs of the Blue Ridge look down into the village streets. A mile and
a half north the forks of the Shenandoah unite in the broad river that
runs to Harper’s Ferry. The turnpike to Winchester crosses both forks
in succession, at a point where they are divided by a stretch of
meadows a mile in width. In addition to these two bridges, a wooden
viaduct carried the railway over the South Fork, whence, passing
between the North Fork and the Massanuttons, it runs south of the
stream to Strasburg. Kenly had pitched his camp between the town and
the river, covering the bridges, and two companies were on picket
beyond the houses.
In front were the dense forests which fill the Luray Valley and cover
the foothills of the mountains, and the view of the Federal sentries
was very limited. A strong patrol of 100 infantry and 30 troopers,
which had been sent out on the 20th, had marched eleven miles south,
had bivouacked in the woods, and had captured a Confederate straggler.
The officer in command had obtained information, by questioning
civilians, that Confederate infantry was expected, and this was
confirmed by his prisoner. Banks, however, notwithstanding this report,
could not bring himself to believe that an attack was imminent, and the
cavalry was called back to Strasburg. For this reason Kenly had been
unable to patrol to any distance on the 22nd, and the security of his
camp was practically dependent on the vigilance of his sentries.
May 23 On the morning of May 23 there was no token of the approaching
storm. The day was intensely hot, and the blue masses of the mountains
shimmered in the summer haze. In the Luray Valley to the south was no
sign of life, save the buzzards sailing lazily above the slumbrous
woods. Suddenly, and without the least warning, a long line of
skirmishers broke forward from the forest. The clear notes of the
Confederate bugles, succeeded by the crash of musketry, woke the echoes
of the Blue Ridge, and the Federal pickets were driven in
confusion through the village. The long roll of the drums beat the
startled camp to arms, and Kenly hastily drew up his slender force upon
a ridge in rear.
The ground in front of his position was fairly open, and with his two
pieces of artillery he was able to check the first rush of the
Confederate infantry. The guns which had accompanied their advanced
guard were only smooth-bores, and it was some time before a battery
capable of making effective reply to the Federal pieces was brought up.