CHAPTER XVI
RUDE'S HILL
Stonewall Jackson and his army in slow retreat up the valley came, thesecond day after Kernstown, to the gorge of Cedar Creek. A bridge hadonce been here; there remained the blackened cross-timbers and a portionof the flooring. The water below was cold, deep, and rapid. Rather thanbreast it, the army made shift to cross on the charred wood. An infantrycommand, stepping gingerly, heard behind it shots and shouts--a Federalcavalry charge upon the rear guard. Several of the men, listening tooabsorbedly, or not content with the present snail-like motion, suddenlyleft the timbers and entered the rough and swollen creek that pouredbeneath. Their exclamations in this berth were piteous, and theircomrades fished them out with bayonets and laughter.
Upon the night of the 26th Banks's troopers occupied the northern shoreof Tom's Brook. Ashby held the southern side, and held it fast. Behindthat safe and vigilant and valiant screen the Army of the Valley movedquietly and in good spirits to the points its general had in mind. Thearmy never knew what were these points until it found itself actuallyupon the ground. It is morally certain that had he lived, arecalcitrant, in former days, no amount of _peine forte et dure_ wouldhave opened the lips of Stonewall Jackson had he willed to keep themclosed. During their earlier acquaintance officers and men alike hadmade many an ingenious endeavour to learn the plans they thought theyought to know. They set quaint traps, they made innocent-seemingremarks, they guided right, they guided left, they blazed beautifultrails straight, they thought, to the moment of revelation. It nevercame. He walked past and around and over their traps. Inquisitiveofficers found themselves not only without a straw of information, butunder displeasure. Brilliant leading remarks shone a moment by their ownbrilliancy, then went out. The troops conjectured one road--they went byanother; natives described the beauties of the village before which theywere sure to break ranks--at eve they experienced the hospitalities ofquite another town. Generals in the ranks demonstrated that they weregoing to turn on Shields, or that they were going east by the oldManassas Gap and whip Geary, or northeast and whip Abercrombie. They didnone of the three. They marched on up the valley to Rude's Hill nearMount Jackson. About this time, or a little later, men and officers gaveit up, began to admire, and to follow blindly. A sergeant, one evening,put it to his mess. "If we don't know, then Banks and Shields andFremont and Milroy and McClellan and Lincoln and Stanton don't know,either!" The mess grew thoughtful; presently it took the pipe from itsmouth to answer, "Dog-gone it, Martin, that's true! Never saw it justthat way before."
Rude's Hill formed a strong natural position. There was water, therewere woods, there was an excellent space for a drill-ground. Jackson'sdirections as to drill-grounds were always characteristically explicit."_Major: You will see that a camp is chosen where there are wood, water,and a drill-ground--_" emphasis on the drill-ground. At Rude's Hill theydrilled and drilled and drilled. Every morning rang out adjutant's call,every morning there were infantry evolutions, artillery evolutions. Theartillery had some respite, for, turn by turn, the sections went forwardten miles to do picket duty for Ashby, Chew's Horse Artillery beingcontinually engaged with the Federal outposts. But the infantry drilledon, drilled and wondered at Banks. One week--two weeks!--and the generalin blue with nineteen thousand men still on the farther side of Tom'sBrook!
Despite the drilling the Army of the Valley had a good time at Rude'sHill. Below brawled the Shenandoah, just to the east sprang theMassanuttens. There was much rain, but, day by day, through the silverveil or the shattered golden light, lovelier and more lovely grew thespring. The army liked to see her coming. In its heart it felt aspringtime, too; a gush of hope and ardour. The men hardly countedKernstown a defeat. It was known that Old Jack had said to one of theaides, "I may say that I am satisfied, sir." And Congress had thankedthe Army of the Valley. And all the newspapers sang its praises. Thebattle of Pea Ridge in Arkansas, the shelling of Newbern in NorthCarolina, the exploits of the Merrimac in Hampton Roads, the battle ofKernstown in the Valley--so at the moment ran the newspapers. And day byday recruits were coming in; comrades as well who had been in hospitalor home on furlough. In that fortnight the Army of the Valley grew tonumber nearly six thousand men.
At Rude's Hill there was an election of company officers. Theproceedings--amazing enough to the professional soldier--put into camplife three days of excitement and salt. Given a people of strongpolitical proclivities suddenly turned soldier; given human grudges andlikings, admirations and contempts; given the ballot in military as incivil life; given a chance to inject champagne into the ennui of campexistence, and in lieu of gun practice to send off sky-rockets andcatherine wheels; given a warm personal interest in each private's bosomas to whom, for the next twelfth month (if the war lasted that long), hewas going to obey--and there resulted a shattering of monotonycomparable to a pitched battle.
The elections were held in beautiful, vernal groves. That there would bechanges it was believed; change was in the air! For days beforehand thecharacter for conduct, courage, and general agreeableness of every manwho wore three bars on his collar, or two, or one, or who carriedchevrons of silk or chevrons of worsted, had been strictly in the zoneof fire. Certain officers nearing certain camp-fires felt caucusesdissolving at their approach into an innocence of debating societiesengaged with Fabius Maximus or Scipio Africanus. Certain sergeants andcorporals dreamed bars instead of chevrons, and certain high privates,conscious of merit, saw worsted chevrons, silk chevrons, and gold barsall in one blissful night.
But when election day dawned bright and clear, with a fine chorus ofbirds and an especial performance by the regimental bands, when rollcall was over, and camp duties were over, and morning drill was over (norelaxation here! There was only one day in the week on which Old Jacklet up on drill, and that wasn't election day!) and the pickets hadreluctantly marched away, leaving their votes behind them, and a sectionof artillery had gone off, swearing, to relieve Chew, and the men couldat last get down to work, to happy babbling, happy speechifying, happyminding the polls, and when in the cool of the afternoon the returnswere announced, there were fewer changes than had been predicted. Afterall, most of the officers were satisfactory; why let them down with ajolt? And the privates were satisfactory, too. Why take a capitalcomrade, a good cook and forager and story-teller, and make himuncomfortable by turning him into an officer? He was nice enough as hewas. Not that there were no alterations. Several companies had newcaptains, some lieutenants stepped down, and there was a shifting ofnon-commissioned officers. In Company A of the 65th Lieutenant MathewCoffin lost out. The men wished to put up Allan Gold for thelieutenancy, but Allan declined. He had rather, he said, be scout thanlieutenant--and what was the use in changing, anyhow? Lieutenant Coffinwas all right. Hadn't he been as brave as a lion at Kernstown--and anyman is liable to lose his temper at times--and wouldn't we hate him tohave to write back to that young lady at home--? The last plea almostsettled it, for the Confederate heart might be trusted to melt at themention of any young lady at home. But all the Thunder Run men wereagainst Coffin, and Thunder Run turned the scale. In the main, however,throughout the army, company officers were retained, and retainedbecause they were efficient. The election was first-rate fun, and themen cheered the returns, then listened to the orders of the evening fromthe same old bars and chevrons. The sun went down on a veritable lovefeast--special rations, special music, special fires, and, betweensupper and tattoo, an entertainment in each regiment.
The 65th had a beautiful programme, its debating and literary societies,its glee clubs, chess and checker circles, old sledge associations,Thespians and Greek Letter men all joining forces. The stage was a pieceof earth, purple brown with pine needles. Two huge fires, one at eitherside, made a strong, copper-red illumination. The soldier audience satin a deep semicircle, and sat at ease, being accustomed by now to theposture of tailor or Turk. Only recruits sought logs or stones uponwhich to sit. Tobacco smoke rose like incense.
The chief musician "soun
ded on the bugle horn." The Glee Club of CompanyC filed on the stage with three banjos and two guitars, bowed elegantly,and sang the "Bonny Blue Flag." The applause was thunderous. A largebearded man in the front row lifted a voice that boomed like one ofAshby's cannon. "Encore! Encore!" Company C sang "Listen to the MockingBird." The audience gently sighed, took the pipe from its lips, andjoined in--
"Listen to the mocking bird--Listen to the mocking bird.... The mocking bird still singing o'er her grave. Listen to the mocking bird--Listen to the mocking bird.... Still singing where the weeping willows wave."
The pine trees took it up, and the hazel copses and the hurryingShenandoah.
"Twas in the mild September--September--September, And the mocking bird was singing far and wide."
"_Far and wide_.... That's grand, but it sure is gloomy. Next!" Thechief musician, having a carrying voice, made announcements. "No. 2.Debate. Which will first recognize the Confederacy, England or France?With the historic reasons for both doing so. England, Sergeant Smith.France, Sergeant Duval.--The audience is not expected to participate inthe debate otherwise than judicially, at the close."
The close saw it decided by a rising vote that England would comefirst--Sergeant Smith, indeed, who chanced to be a professor ofbelles-lettres at a great school, having declared, with the gesture ofSaint John on Patmos, that he saw approaching our shores a white wingedship bearing her declaration of amity. "No. 3," intoned the firstmusician. "Recitation by Private Edwin Horsemanden."
Private Edwin Horsemanden gave the title of his selection, a poeticselection. Some of his fellow privates looked puzzled. "'OzEtaliahn?'--What does 'Oz Etaliahn' mean? Cherokee or Choctaw, which?Explain it to us, Eddy. Is it something to eat--or to drink? ''T istrue, 'tis pity, 'tis pity 'tis 'tis true'--but most of us never went tocollege!... Oh, an opera house!--In Paris, do you say? Go on, Eddy, goon!"
"At Paris it was, at the opera there,-- And she looked like a queen in a book that night--"
"Never saw one out of a book, did you?... Yes, I saw a gypsy queenonce.... And the queen of the circus.... There's a man in Company D oncesaw the queen of England, saw her just as plain! She was wearing a scoopbonnet with pink roses around her face.... Sh! Shh!"
"Of all the operas that Verdi wrote."
"Who's Verdi?"
"The best, to my taste, is the 'Trovatore.'"
"'Trovatore?' Eddy, isn't that the serenading fellow who goes on singingtill they hang him? Oh, Lord, yes! And the anvil chorus! The anvilchorus comes in there. Go on, Eddy. We feel perfectly at home."
"And Mario"
"Hm! stumped again."
"can sooth with a tenor note The souls in Purgatory."
The large bearded man was up once more. "I rise to object. There isn'tany such place. The com--commanding general'll put him in irons formisrepresenting the sidereal system. There's only heaven, hell, and theenemy.--_Yaaaaih, Yaai.... Yaaai, yaaaah, yaaaaih!_ Certainly, sergeant.The pleasure is mine, sir. Don't mention it, I beg. Mum's the word!"
"The moon on the tower slept soft as snow"--
"Gee-whiz! what a snowball! Didn't the tower break down? No! You amazeme. Go on, Eddy, go on. We know the natural feelings of a sophomore."
"And who was not thrilled in the strangest way As we heard him sing, while the gas burned low, '_Non ti scordar di me?_'"
"What's that? Wait a minute, Eddy! Let's get the words. I always didwant a chance at German.--Now you say them slowly and we'll repeat....Why, man alive, you ought to be proud of your linguisticaccomplishments!... Well, I'll begin, and we'll fire by platoons.
"Non ti scordar di me?--"
"Attention! Company A!"
"Non ti scordar di me?-- Non ti scordar di me?"
"Very good! We'll get the meaning after we learn the words. Company B!"
"Non ti scordar di me?"
"Well roared, Bottom! Company C!"
"Non ti scordar di me?"
"Look out, or General Banks'll be sending over Tom's Brook to knowwhat's the matter! Company D!"
"Non ti scordar di me?"
"Company D goes to the head of the class! Company E!"
"Non ti scordar di me?"
"'Ware pine cones! Company E's shaking them down.... This class'sgetting too big. Let's all learn the words together, so's PrivateHorsemanden can go on with his piece! Attention, 65th! Make ready! Takeaim! Fire!"
"NON TI SCORDAR DI ME?"
"Now Eddy.... Oh, yes, you go on! You aren't going to cheat us that way.We want to know what happened when they stopped talking German! Hasn'tanything happened yet."
"Non ti--"
"Sh! Go on, Eddy boy, and tell us exactly what occurred."
Private Edwin Horsemanden had pluck as well as sentiment, and he wenton. Moreover he had his revenge, for at bottom the 65th was itselftender-hearted, not to say sentimental. It believed in lost loves andlost blossoms, muslin dresses, and golden chains, cypress shades andjasmine flowers,
"And the one bird singing alone to his nest, And the one star over the tower."
The 65th sighed and propped its chin on its hand. Presently the 65thgrew misty-eyed.
"Then I smelt the smell of that jasmine flower She used to wear in her breast It smelt so faint and it smelt so sweet.--"
The pipe dropped from the 65th's hand. It sat sorry and pleased. PrivateEdwin Horsemanden went on without interruption and finished with eclat.The chief musician cleared his throat. "The Glee Club of Company H willnow--"
The Glee Club of Company H was a large and popular organization. It tookthe stage amid applause. The leader bowed. "Gentlemen, we thank you.Gentlemen, you have just listened to a beautiful novelty--a prettylittle foreign song bird brought by the trade-wind, an Englishnightingale singing in Virginian forests.--Gentlemen, the Glee Club ofCompany H will give you what by now is devil a bit of a novelty--whatpromises to be as old as the hills before we have done with it--what ourgrandchildren's grandchildren may sing with pride--what to the end oftime will carry with it a breath of our armies. Gentlemen, the Glee Clubof Company H gives you the Marseillaise of the South. _Attention!_"
"Way down South in the land of cotton, 'Simmon seed and sandy bottom--"
The 65th rose to its feet. Its neighbour to the right was the 2dVirginia, encamped in a great open field; to the left the 5th, occupyinga grove of oaks. These regiments were busied with their own genial hour,but when the loudly sung air streamed across from the 65th theysuspended their work in hand. They also sung "Dixie." Thence it wastaken up by the 4th and the 33d, and then it spread to Burk andFulkerson. The batteries held the top of Rude's Hill, up among the nightwind and the stars. The artillerymen took the air from the infantry.Headquarters was situated on the green bank of the Shenandoah. Staff andcouriers and orderlies hummed or sang. Stonewall Jackson came to thedoor of his tent and stood, looking out. All Rude's Hill throbbed to"Dixie."
On went the programme. "Marco Bozzaris" was well spoken. A blacksmithand a mule driver wrestled for a prize. "Marmion Quitting the Douglas'sHall" was followed by "Lula, Lula, Lula is Gone," and "Lula" by"Lorena," and "Lorena" by a fencing match. The Thespians playedcapitally an act from "The Rivals," and a man who had seen Macready gaveHamlet's Soliloquy. Then they sang a song lately written by JamesRandall and already very popular,--
"I hear the distant thunder hum, Maryland! The Old Line bugle, fife and drum--"
An orderly from headquarters found Richard Cleave. "General Jacksonwishes to see you, sir."
The general's tent
was not large. There were a table and two stools, onone of which sat Jackson in his characteristic position, large feetaccurately paralleled. On the table, beside the candle, lay threebooks--the Bible, a dictionary, and "Napoleon's Maxims." Jackson waswriting, his hand travelling slowly across a sheet of dim blue, lined,official paper. The door flap of the tent was fastened back. Cleave,standing in the opening, saluted.
"Take a seat, sir," said the general, and went on to the end of hispage. Having here signed his name, he dropped the quill and slightlyturned so as to face the waiting officer. From under his high bronzedforehead his blue eyes looked quietly upon Cleave.
The younger man returned the gaze as quietly. This was the first time hehad been thus summoned since that unlucky winter evening at BloomeryGap. He remembered that evening, and he did not suppose that his generalhad forgotten it. He did not suppose that Jackson forgot anything. Butapparently it was no longer to be counted against him. Jackson's facewore the quiet, friendly, somewhat sweet expression usual to it when allwas calm within. As for Cleave himself, his nature owned a certainprimal flow and bigness. There were few fixed and rigid barriers.Injured pride and resentment did not lift themselves into reefs againstwhich the mind must break in torment. Rather, his being swept fluid,making no great account of obstacles, accepting all turns of affairs,drawing them into its main current, and moving onward toward some goal,hardly self-conjectured, but simple, humane, and universal. The anger hemight have felt at Bloomery Gap had long passed away. He sat nowattentive, collected, broad-browed, and quiet.
"Major Cleave," said Jackson, "you will take an orderly with you andride across the mountains. General Ewell is at Gordonsville with asomewhat larger force than my own. You will take this letter to him," hefolded it as he spoke, "and you will talk to him as one intelligent manto another."
"Do you mean, sir, that I am to answer his questions?"
"Yes, sir. To the best of your ability. There is impending a junctionbetween General Ewell and myself. He wishes to know many things, andseems to think it natural that I should tell him them. I am not a greatletter writer. You will give him all the information that is common tothe army."
Cleave smiled. "That, sir, is not a great deal."
"Perhaps it is not, sir. You are at liberty to give to General Ewellyour own observations and expectations. You will, however, representthem as your own."
"May I ask, sir, when this junction is to occur?"
"I have not decided, sir."
"Does General Ewell know when it will occur?"
"Not precisely. He will be told in good time."
"Whether, when you move, you move north or west or south or east, is, Isuppose, sir, purely a matter of conjecture?"
"Purely, sir."
"But the _morale_ of the army, its efficiency and spirit, may be freelypraised and imparted?"
"Yes, sir, freely. Upon your return I shall want from you yourimpression of General Ewell and the troops he commands." He drew towardhim a map which lay on the table. "You will ride through Massanutton Gapby Conrad's Store and Swift Run Gap. Thence you will make a detour toCharlottesville. There are stores there that I wish reported upon andsent on to Major Harman at Staunton. You will spend one day upon thatbusiness, then go on to Ewell."