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Lee preparing to lead Texas Confederates at the Battle of the Wilderness (Friday, May 6, 1864).
Lee's Texans (1984) by artist Don Troiani. |
Lee To The Rear
John Reuben Thompson (1823 - 1873)
Dawn of a pleasant morning in May,
Broke through the Wilderness cool and gray;
While perched in the tallest tree-tops, the birds
Were carolling Mendelssohn's 'Song without Words.'
Far from the haunts of men remote,
The brook brawled on with a liquid note;
And Nature, all tranquil and lovely wore
The smile of the spring, as in Eden of yore.
Little by little, as daylight increased,
And deepened, the roseate flush in the East-
Little by little did morning reveal
Two long glittering lines of steel;
Where two hundred thousand bayonets gleam,
Tipped with the light of the earliest beam,
And the faces are sullen and grim to see
In the hostile armies of Grant and Lee.
All of a sudden, ere rose the sun,
Pealed on the silence the opening gun-
A little white puff of smoke there came,
And anon the valley was wreathed in flame.
Down on the left of the Rebel lines,
Where a breastwork stands in a copse of pines,
Before the Rebels their ranks can form,
The Yankees have carried the place by storm.
Stars and Stripes on the salient wave,
Where many a hero has found a grave,
And the gallant Confederates strive in vain
The ground they have drenched with their blood to regain.
Yet louder the thunder of battle roared,
Yet a dealier fire on the columns poured;
Slaughter infernal rode with Despair,
Furies twain, through the murky air.
Not far off, in the saddle there sat
A gray-bearded man in a black slouched hat;
Not much moved by the fire was he,
Calm and resolute Robert Lee.
Quick and watchful he kept his eye
On the bold Rebel brigades close by,
Reserves that were standing (and dying) at ease,
While the tempest of wrath toppled over the trees,
For still with their loud, deep, bull-dog bay,
The Yankee batteries blazed away,
And with every murderous second that sped
A dozen brave fellows, alas! fell dead.
The grand old gray-beard rode to the space
Where Death and his victims stood face to face,
And silently waved his old slouched hat-
A world of meaning there was in that!
'Follow me! Steady! We'll save the day!'
This was what he seemed to say;
And to the light of his glorious eye
The bold brigades thus made reply:
'We'll go forward, but you must go back'-
And they moved not an inch in the perilous track:
'Go to the rear, and we'll send them to hell!'
And the sound of the battle was lost in their yell.
Turning his bridle, Robert Lee
Rode to the rear. Like waves of the sea,
Bursting their dikes in their overflow,
Madly his veterans dashed on the foe.
And backward in terror that foe was driven,
Their banners rent and their columns riven,
Wherever the tide of battle rolled
Over the Wilderness, wood and wold.
Sunset out of a crimson sky
Streamed o'er a field of ruddier dye,
And the brook ran on with a purple stain,
From the blood of ten thousand foemen slain.
Seasons have passed since that day and year-
Again o'er its pebbles the brook runs clear,
And the field in a richer green is drest
Where the dead of a terrible conflict rest.
Hushed is the roll of the Rebel drum,
The sabres are sheathed, and the cannon are dumb;
And Fate, with his pitiless band, has furled
The flag that once challenged the gaze of the world;
But the fame of the Wilderness fight abides;
And down into history grandly rides,
Calm and unmoved as in battle he sat,
The gray-bearded man in the black slouched hat.
This poem describes a famous incident that took place during the second day of the Battle of the
Wilderness near Tapp's Farm in which General Robert E. Lee rode to the front to witness the progress of the
battle and was ordered back emphatically by his Confederates, who were concerned for their
general's safety.
On the morning of Friday, May 6, 1864 in the clearing near the Widow Tapp's Farm stood 12 guns of Confederate
Lieutenant Colonel William T. Poague’s artillery battalion. As the Union army pursued Lieutenant General A.P. Hill’s retreating Confederates into this field, Poague emptied his
guns, shooting deadly double-canister shot and driving the Federals back into the woods. More Union soldiers soon
infiltrated the woods south of the road and began picking off Poague’s
gunners. Hill, who had once served in the artillery, hurried to help
with the guns, but still the battalion threatened to give way.
Lee himself was nearby anxiously watching the progress of the battle with his staff. Just
then, fresh gray-clad troops appeared on the field, Brigadier General John Gregg's 800-man Texas Brigade,
the vanguard of General James Longstreet's column.
General Lee, relieved and excited,
waved his hat over his head and shouted, "Texans always move them! Hurrah for Texas!"
Caught up in the excitement, Lee began to move forward with the
advancing brigade, intent on leading the charge himself. As the Texans realized this, they halted and a sergeant and several others grabbed
the reins of Lee's horse, Traveller.
With concern for their commanding officer, the men directly pleaded with him with shouts of "Lee to the rear!" They turned their commander back, telling the general that they were concerned for his safety and would only go forward if he moved to a less exposed location. Lee relented and the grey and butternut clad Confederates of the Texas brigade then swept ahead into the opposite woods, checking the Federals
and giving Longstreet time to bring up the rest of his corps.
According to the memoirs of Colonel Charles S. Venable, an officer on Lee’s staff who was an eye witness to the event:
Much moved by the greeting of these brave men and their
magnificent behavior, General Lee spurred his horse through an opening
in the trenches and followed close on their line as it moved rapidly
forward. The men did not perceive that he was going with them until they
had advanced some distance in the charge; when they did, there came
from the entire line, as it rushed on, the cry, "Go back, General Lee!
Go back!…. We won’t go on unless you go back!" A sergeant seized his
bridle rein. Just then I called his attention to General Longstreet, who
sat on his horse on a knoll to the right of the Texans. He yielded with
evident reluctance to the entreaties of his men and rode up to
Longstreet’s position.
These Texans refused to let Lee risk his own life and their counterattack led to the halting of the Union breakthrough and fulfilling their pledge to their commanding general to drive back the enemy.
About the author
John Reuben Thompson, was born in Richmond, Virginia, in 1828 to Yankee parents and
educated in Richmond and Connecticut. He attended the University of Virginia earning a law degree in 1845. He became the owner and editor of The Southern Literary Messenger, once edited by Edgar Allen Poe, whom Thompson worked with. His literary career then took off and he also worked with many other notable Southern authors, such as William Gilmore Simms, Henry Timrod, Paul Hamilton Hayne and Philip Pendleton Cooke.
When the War Between the States began, Thompson served as assistant secretary of
the Commonwealth of Virginia. He was also a contributor to The Index -- the Confederacy's British publication. When failing health forced him to
surrender his editorial duties, he ran the blockade and spent the remainder of
the War in England, becoming The Index's chief writer.
Thompson remained in England after the War ended and moved in the highest English
literary circles, counting William Makepeace Thackery, Robert Browning, and Lord Alfred Tennyson among
his friends. He also edited the memoirs of Prussian soldier of fortune and Confederate veteran Lieutenant Colonel Heros von Borke, who had served the under General J.E.B. Stuart, and eventually returned
to New York in the fall of 1866 to work for William Cullen Bryant at The Evening Post.
Upon his death in 1873, his body was returned to his native Virginia and was buried
in Richmond's Hollywood Cemetery.
