Chapter XII: Book II: The Flower of Cavaliers (5)

Colonel Pate was a tall, fair-haired officer, with a ready smile, and a cordial bearing. He and Stuart had bitterly quarrelled, and the general had court-martialed the colonel. It is scarcely too much to say that they had been deadly enemies.

For the first time now, since their collision, they met. But on this day their enmity seemed dead. The two men about to die grasped each other’s hands.

“They are pressing you back, colonel!” exclaimed Stuart.

“Yes, general, I have but three skeleton squadrons! and you see their force.”

“You are right. You have done all that any man could. Can you hold this cut?”

“I will try, general.”

Their glances crossed. Never was Stuart’s face kinder.

“If you say you will, you will do it! Hold this position to the last, colonel.”

“I’ll hold it until I die, general.”[1]

[Footnote 1: His words.]

With a pressure of the hand they parted.

Fifteen minutes afterward, Pate was dead. Attacked at once in front and on both flanks in the road, his little force had been cut to pieces. He fell with three of his captains, and his handful were scattered.

Stuart witnessed all, and his eye grew fiery.

“Pate has died the death of a hero!”[1] he exclaimed.

[Footnote 1: His words.]

“Order Wickham to dismount his brigade, and attack on the right!” he added to Lieutenant Garnett, aid-de-camp. Twenty minutes afterward, Wickham’s men were seen advancing, and driving the enemy before them. This relieved the left, and Wickham continued to push on until he struck up against a heavy line behind rail breastworks in the woods.

He then fell back, and each side remained motionless, awaiting the movement of the other.

Such was the preface to the real battle of Yellow Tavern,--the species of demonstration which preluded the furious grapple.

Stuart’s melancholy had all vanished. He was in splendid spirits. He hastened back his artillery to the point from which it had been driven, and soon its defiant roar was heard rising above the woods.

At the same moment a courier galloped up.

“What news?”

“A dispatch from Gordon, general.”

Stuart took it and read it with high good humor.

“Gordon has had a handsome little affair this morning,” he said; “he has whipped them.”

And looking toward the northwest--

“I wish Gordon was here,”[1] he said.

[Footnote 1: His words.]

The guns continued to roar, and the enemy had not again advanced. It was nearly four o’clock. Night approached.

But the great blow was coming.

Stuart was sitting his horse near the guns, with Breathed beside him. Suddenly the edge of the woods on the Mountain road swarmed with blue horsemen. As they appeared, the long lines of sabres darted from the scabbards; then they rushed like a hurricane toward the guns.

The attack was so sudden and overpowering, that nothing could stand before it. For a short time the men fought desperately, crossing sabres and using their pistols. But the enemy’s numbers were too great. The left was driven back. With triumphant cheers, the Federal troopers pressed upon them to drive them completely from the field.

Suddenly, as the men fell back, Stuart appeared, with drawn sabre, among them, calling upon them to rally. His voice rose above the fire, and a wild cheer greeted him.

The men rallied, the enemy were met again, sabre to sabre, and the field became a scene of the most desperate conflict.

Stuart led every charge. I shall never forget the appearance which he presented at that moment; with one hand he controlled his restive horse, with the other he grasped his sabre; in his cheeks burned the hot blood of the soldier.

“Breathed!” he exclaimed.

“General!”

“Take command of all the mounted men in the road, and hold it against whatever may come! If this road is lost, we are gone!”[1]

[Footnote 1: His words.]

Breathed darted to the head of the men and shouted:--

“Follow me!”

His sword flashed lightning, and digging the spur into his horse, he darted ahead of the column, disappearing in the middle of a swarm of enemies.

A superb sight followed. Breathed was seen in the midst of the Federal cavalry defending himself, with pistol and sabre, against the blows which were aimed at him on every side.

He cut one officer out of the saddle; killed a lieutenant with a pistol ball; was shot slightly in the side, and a sabre stroke laid open his head. But five minutes afterward he was seen to clear a path with his sabre, and reappear, streaming with blood.[1]

[Footnote: This incident, like all here related as attending this battle, is rigidly true.]

The momentary repulse effected nothing. The enemy re-formed their line, and again charged the guns, which were pouring a heavy fire upon them. As they rushed forward, the hoofs of their horses shook the ground. A deafening cheer arose from the blue line.

Stuart was looking at them, and spurred out in front of the guns. His eyes flashed, and, taking off his brown felt hat, he waved it and cheered.

Then he wheeled to take command of a column of Lomax’s men, coming to meet the charge.

They were too late. In a moment the enemy were trampling among the guns. All but one were captured, and that piece was saved only by the terror of the drivers. They lashed their horses into a gallop, and rushed toward the Chickahominy, followed by the cannoneers who were cursing them, and shouting:--

“For God’s sake, boys, let’s go back! They’ve got Breathed! Let’s go back to him!”[1]

[Footnote 1: Their words.]

That terror of the drivers, which the cannoneers cursed so bitterly, ended all. The gun, whirling on at wild speed, suddenly struck against the head of the column advancing to meet the enemy. A war-engine hurled against it could not have more effectually broken it. Before it could re-form the enemy had struck it, forced it back; and then the whole Federal force of cavalry was hurled upon Stuart.

His right, where Fitz Lee commanded in person, was giving back. His left was broken and driven. The day was evidently lost; and Stuart, with a sort of desperation, rushed into the midst of the enemy, calling upon his men to rally, and firing his pistol in the faces of the Federal cavalrymen.

Suddenly, one of them darted past him toward the rear, and as he did so, placed his pistol nearly on Stuart’s body, and fired.

As the man disappeared in the smoke, Stuart’s hand went quickly to his side, he reeled in the saddle, and would have fallen had not Captain Dorsay, of the First Virginia Cavalry, caught him in his arms.

The bullet had passed through his side into the stomach, and wounded him mortally. In its passage, it just grazed a small Bible in his pocket. The Bible was the gift of his mother--but the Almighty had decreed that it should not turn the fatal bullet.

Stuart’s immense vitality sustained him for a moment. Pale, and tottering in the saddle, he still surveyed the field, and called on the men to rally.

“Go back,” he exclaimed, “and do your duty, as I have done mine! And our country will be safe!”[1]

[Footnote 1: His words.]

A moment afterward he called out again to the men passing him:--

“Go back! go back! I’d rather die than be whipped!”[1]

[Footnote 1: His words.]

The old lightning flashed from his eyes as he spoke. Then a mist passed over them; his head sank upon his breast; and, still supported in the saddle, he was led through the woods toward the Chickahominy.

Suddenly, Fitzhugh Lee, who had been stubbornly fighting on the right, galloped up, and accosted Stuart. His face was flushed, his eyes moist.

“You are wounded!” he exclaimed.

“Badly,” Stuart replied, “but look out, Fitz! Yonder they come!”

A glance showed all. In the midst of a wild uproar of clashing sabres, quick shots, and resounding cries, the Federal cavalry were rushing forward to overwhelm the disordered lines.

Stuart’s eye flashed for the last time. Turning to General Fitzhugh Lee, he exclaimed in a full, sonorous voice:--

“Go ahead, Fitz, old fellow! I know you will do what is right!”[1]

[Footnote 1: His words.]

This was the last order he ever gave upon the field. As he spoke, his head sank, his eyes closed, and he was borne toward the rear.

There was scarcely time to save him from capture. His wound seemed to have been the signal for his lines to break. They had now given way everywhere--the enemy were pressing them with loud shouts. Fighting with stubborn desperation, they fell back toward the Chickahominy, which they crossed, hotly pressed by the victorious enemy.

Stuart had been placed in an ambulance and borne across the stream, where Dr. Randolph and Dr. Fontaine made a brief examination of his wound. It was plainly mortal--but he was hastily driven, by way of Mechanicsville, into Richmond.

His hard fighting had saved the city. When Sheridan attacked, he was repulsed.

But the capital was dearly purchased. Twenty-four hours afterward Stuart was dead.

The end of the great cavalier had been as serene as his life was stormy. His death was that of the Christian warrior, who bows to the will of God, and accepts whatever His loving hand decrees for him.

He asked repeatedly that his favorite hymns should be sung for him; and when President Davis visited him, and asked:--

“General, how do you feel?”

“Easy, but willing to die,” he said, “if God and my country think I have fulfilled my destiny, and done my duty.”[1]

[Footnote 1: His words.]

As night came, he requested his physician to inform him if he thought he would live till morning. The physician replied that his death was rapidly approaching, when he faintly bowed his head, and murmured:--

“I am resigned, if it be God’s will. I should like to see my wife, but God’s will be done.”[1]

[Footnote 1: His words.]

When the proposed attack upon Sheridan, near Mechanicsville, was spoken of in his presence, he said:--

“God grant that it may be successful. I wish I could be there.” *

Turning his face toward the pillow, he added, with tears in his eyes, “but I must prepare for another world.”[1]

[Footnote 1: His words.]

Feeling now that his end was near, he made his last dispositions.

“You will find in my hat,” he said to a member of his staff, “a little Confederate flag, which a lady of Columbia, South Carolina, sent me, requesting that I would wear it on my horse in battle, and return it to her. Send it to her.”[1]

[Footnote 1: His words.]

He gave then the name of the lady, and added:--

“My spurs--those always worn in battle--I promised to give to Mrs. Lily Lee, at Shepherdstown. My sabre I leave to my son.”

His horses and equipments were then given to his staff--his papers directed to be sent to his wife.

A prayer was then offered by the minister at his bedside: his lips moved as he repeated the words. As the prayer ended he murmured:--

“I am going fast now--I am resigned. God’s will be done!”[1]

[Footnote 1: His words.]

As the words escaped from his lips, he expired.