Meanwhile, what of those other gay picnickers, Senator Wade and Senator Chandler?  They drove in a carriage.  Viewing the obligations of the hour much as did C. C. Clay at the President’s reception, they were armed.  Wade had “his famous rifle” which he had brought with him to Congress, which at times in the fury of debate he had threatened to use, which had become a byword.  These Senators seem to have ventured nearer to the front than did Trumbull and Grimes, and were a little later in the retreat At a “choke-up,” still on the far side of Centerville, their carriage passed the carriage of the four Congressmen—­who, by the way, were also armed, having among them “four of the largest navy revolvers.”

All these men, whatever their faults or absurdities, were intrepid.  The Congressmen, at least, were in no good humor, for they had driven through a regiment of three months men whose time expired that day and who despite the cannon in the distance were hurrying home.

The race of the fugitives continued.  At Centerville, the Congressmen passed Wade.  Soon afterward Wade passed them for the second time.  About a mile out of Fairfax Court House, “at the foot of a long down grade, the pike on the northerly side was fenced and ran along a farm.  On the other side for a considerable distance was a wood, utterly impenetrable for men or animals, larger than cats or squirrels.”  Here the Wade carriage stopped.  The congressional carriage drove up beside it.  The two blocked a narrow way where as in the case of Horatius at the bridge, “a thousand might well be stopped by three.”  And then “bluff Ben Wade” showed the mettle that was in him.  The “old Senator, his hat well back on his head,” sprang out of his carriage, his rifle in his hand, and called to the others, “Boys, we’ll stop this damned runaway.”  And they did it.  Only six of them, but they lined up across that narrow road; presented their weapons and threatened to shoot; seized the bridles of horses and flung the horses back on their haunches; checked a panic-stricken army; held it at bay, until just when it seemed they were about to be overwhelmed, military reserves hurrying out from Fairfax Court House, took command of the road.  Cool, unpretentious Riddle calls the episode “Wade’s exploit,” and adds “it was much talked of.”  The newspapers dealt with it extravagantly.(2)

Gallant as the incident was, it was all the military service that “Ben” Wade and “Zach” Chandler—­for thus they are known in history-over saw.  But one may believe that it had a lasting effect upon their point of view and on that of their friend Lyman Trumbull.  Certain it is that none of the three thereafter had any doubts about putting the military men in their place.  All the error of their own view previous to Bull Run was forgotten.  Wade and Chandler, especially, when military questions were in dispute, felt that no one possibly could know more of the subject than did the men who stopped the rout in the narrow road beyond Fairfax.