It was
now long past noon, and in that prodigious canopy of dust and fire and
smoke it seemed for a while that the Union army in truth had shattered
the trap. The men in gray were borne back by the courage and weight of
their opponents. Hooker, Kearney, Reynolds and all the gallant generals
of the North continually urged on their troops. Confidence in victory
at last passed through all the army, and incited it to greater efforts.
But Jackson was undaunted. Never was he cooler. Never did his genius
shine more brilliantly. Never did any man in all the fury and turmoil
of battle, amid a thousand conflicting reports and appalling confusion,
have a keener perception, a greater power to sum up what was actually
passing, and a better knowledge of what to do.
Lee was a mile away, standing on a wooded hill, the bearded Longstreet by
his side, watching the battle in his immediate front, where accumulating
masses under Pope's own eye were gathering. On the other flank where
Jackson stood and the conflict was heaviest he trusted all to his great
lieutenant and not in vain.
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