51. LI.
THE ADVANCE.
I WAS riding beside Jackson when he received the intelligence
of General Banks's retreat. He had been carelessly glancing, as
he rode along, at a copy of a Northern newspaper captured by
one of Ashby's scouts; and I saw a grim smile touch upon his
features—then fly away.
“The retreat of General Banks is rather curious, after this paragraph,
Major,” he said.
And he handed me the paper, pointing with his finger to a few
lines under the head of “Telegraphic.”
It was a dispatch from General Banks to the authorities at
Washington, dated from Harrisonburg a few days before, announcing
that “the rebel Jackson had left the Valley, and was in
full retreat on Richmond.”[1]
I had scarcely finished reading the paragraph, when Jackson
said to his adjutant-general, the brave Major Pendleton:
“Major, write an order directing General Ewell to join me,
without loss of time, at Newmarket, with his entire command.
Say `without loss of time,' Major.”
The order was immediately written and dispatched, and Jackson
continued his way, reaching Harrisonburg, and thence pressing
forward to Newmarket.
General Ewell promptly appeared at the rendezvous with his
strong division, and Jackson met him with great cordiality. He
was a man past middle age, with black hair, beard, and mustache,
with a thin, erect figure, sparkling black eyes, and a manner abrupt
and decisive. The General differed in two features then
from his subsequent self. He had not received his severe wound
in the knee, and he swore, apparently from inveterate habit. It
was hard, afterward, to recognize in the pale, thin invalid, commanding
a great army corps, and scrupulously decorous in all his
utterances, the bluff, abrupt soldier of the Valley campaign.
“Well, General,” he said, “here I am. My division is up.”
“Thanks for your promptness, General.”
“Banks has retreated to Strasburg.”
“Yes.”
“And you are about to follow him?”
“I think I ought to.”
“By what route?”
“Well, we ought to take the best we can find.”
It was obvious that Jackson would not communicate his intentions
even to his division commanders. They complained of this
more than once; but the reader will remember the words of the
General heretofore recorded: “If my own coat knew what I
designed, I would take it off and burn it.”
On the next day all was ready for the forward movement, now
plainly decided upon. Jackson had under him nearly twenty
thousand excellent troops, including some additional cavalry;
and the reader need not be told that such a man, with such a
weapon in his grasp, was not apt to let it remain idle. Orders
were issued that every species of baggage should be left behind,
even the knapsacks—and the most ignorant man in the forces
then knew that Jackson was “stripping for a fight.”
At daylight, the long column of infantry and artillery was in
motion—toward the “Newmarket Gap,” leading into the Luray
Valley.
Ewell's question, so skilfully evaded, was thus answered.
Jackson was going to attack his adversary in flank and rear.
Take the map of Virginia, my dear reader, and you will understand
Jackson's design more clearly, at a single glance, than
from the most labored explanation. You will see that Strasburg,
where General Banks had fortified, is eighteen miles south of
Winchester, on the main Valley turnpike, and that along the east
side of this turnpike runs the Massinutton Mountain. On the
opposite side of the mountain—between it and the great wave
of the Blue Ridge—is the “Luray Valley,” leading to Front
Royal, directly on the flank of Strasburg. If Jackson could
amuse his adversary by cavalry demonstrations on the main
Valley road, while he rapidly advanced down the Luray Valley
and gained Front Royal, he might hope to pass that point—interpose
himself between Strasburg and Winchester—and force
General Banks to surrender, or fight his way through to the
Potomac.
Jackson was now swiftly advancing to the accomplishment of
this bold and vigorous conception. The troops moved rapidly
across the Shenandoah, and through Newmarket Gap; pressed
forward down the Luray Valley, under a burning May sun; and
at nightfall threw themselves upon the ground, completely exhausted,
within ten miles of Front Royal.
Before daylight, Jackson was in the saddle, and his advance
force hurried forward to attack the Federal garrison in the
town.
The assault was sudden and decisive. The Federal cavalry
galloped pell-mell through the streets, striking fire from the
pavement, and the Confederates rushed in with cheers, amid
waving handkerchiefs and tumultuous outeries of rejoicing from
the inhabitants. The Federal forces made a brief stand on the
elevated ground beyond, and endeavored to destroy the bridge
over the Shenandoah. But they were furiously attacked by
the advance force; the bridge was saved; and the army rapidly
crossed the river.
Jackson was now directly on his adversary's flank, and a few
hours would enable him to reach the Federal rear and cut off
their retreat. But the strength of the human machine under
this great engineer began to fail—the wheels commenced to
creak. The immensely hard march of the two last days, under
a burning sun, had filled the road with stragglers, unable to keep
up; and those who remained in the ranks were exhausted. To
concentrate for battle, and rest his entire force, Jackson ordered
a halt; and again, at nightfall, the troops lay down in the roads
and fell asleep, clutching their muskets.
