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horse was gathering himself to spring over a deep ravine, he was struck on the hip with a ball, which so stung or frightened him, that he missed his leap, and falling short, threw the Major over his head. The horse gathered himself almost instantly and galloped wildly over the prairie. The Major was first taken prisoner and then brutally murdered. Thus died as gallant a soldier and as true a gentleman as ever drew a sword in defence of his country. It may well be said of him, as of Chevalier Bayard of old, he was without fear and without reproach. The enemy, seeing that General Blunt persistently kept them in view, keeping away if pursied, and returning as soon as the pursuit slackened, were no doubt forced to believe that a large force was approaching, of which he was only the advance. His persistent following them up, doubtless riveted this conclusion in their minds, as they hurried through their wholesale work of slaughter, and then moved off slowly to the South. General B
A newspaper hero.--The poet tells us, with a happy felicity of expression, that 'tis distance lends enchantment to the view. In the case of Mr. Russell, special correspondent, &c., of the Times, this is indisputably true. Here, he figures as a gentleman who described a battle which he never came within five miles of, and a retreat in which he contrived to take the lead, distancing the most panic-struck fugitive. In England he figured a second Chevalier Bayard, who vainly endeavored to rally a panic-struck army, and at last withdrew, more in sorrow than in anger, because his single voice could not speak trumpet-toned into the ears of thousands, and because his single arm could not smite Goliath Beauregard down into annihilation. Some people's geese are swans. Mr. Russell, just now, is the particular swan of the London Times, which wants to make the world believe that at the battle, (known as that of Russell's Run, so far as he was concerned,) he was bravest of the brave, unalar
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 7. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), The death of Major-General J. E. B. Stuart. (search)
at of battle always gay, quick and daring — and especially do we love to recall him amid the sweets of social intercourse or sitting a deeply interested listener in the meetings of our Chaplains' Association at Orange Courthouse. We were present when he took leave of his devoted wife at the opening of the campaign of 1864, saw him several times amid those bloody scenes in the Wilderness, and wept with the whole army when the sad news came that the great cavalryman had fallen — that the Chevalier Bayard of the Confederacy had yielded up his noble life in defending our capital from imminent danger. We would be glad to have from some competent hand a sketch of that last campaign of Stuart's, and a detailed account of the circumstances immediately connected with his fall. Meantime we give below the very interesting account of his last moments, which appeared at the time of his death in the Richmond Examiner: No incident of mortality, since the fall of the great Jackson, has occasi
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 7. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), chapter 12.89 (search)
this army from the First Manassas to the moment of his death, and he was, with a single exception, a brilliant actor in them all. The memory of the gallant Pelham, his many virtues, his noble nature, his purity of character, is enshrined as a sacred legacy in the hearts of all who knew him. Young as he was, his mourners were two hosts — his friends and his foes. He was worthy to have his sword buried alongside of him, that no less worthy hand might ever wield it. An honor paid to chevalier Bayard by the Spanish General in Francis the First's fatal Italian campaign against Charles the Fifth. Sleep on, gallant Pelham, and may your spirit look through the vista to the everlasting hills, bathed in eternal sunlight. Spring had now arrived. A thousand pearly drops, thrown by dewy morning into the valley's lap, could everywhere be seen. And pushing the soil from her bonny pink shoulders, the clover glides forth to the world. Fresh mosses gleam in the gray, rugged boulders, with delic
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 23. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), The Forty-Ninth N. C. Infantry, C. S. A. [from the Charlotte, N. C., Observer, October 20, 27, 1895.] (search)
opened a galling fire in our rear, and advanced to the charge from the wood on our right. But brave Durham had his skirmishers there; and, though they were few in number, he was ever a lion in the path of the foe. Foot by foot he contested the ground until the charge in our front was broken, when the Forty-ninth and Twenty-fifth Regiments leaped over the works and poured a destructive volley into the ranks of the flanking party, before which their line melted away. Poor Durham—truly a Chevalier Bayard, if ever nature placed a heart in man which was absolutely without fear and a soul without reproach or blemish—received here a wound in his arm, necessitating amputation, from which he died. Occupying a position which did not call for his presence in battle, he never missed a fight; was always in the thickest at the forefront of the tempest of death; he gloried in the fray; and earned a reputation throughout the army as the fighting quartermaster, which added lustre to the valor of ou
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 25. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), chapter 1.15 (search)
ork hospital hundreds of miles from his beloved Georgia. Identified with the Cobb Legion. His history was our history, his glorious record ours. He was distinctly a creation of The Cobb Legion, and they felt that indescribable attachment that men feel fur comrades who have bled with them on more than one hard contested field. Though General Thomas R. R. Cobb had organized the legion, he was a noted man in Georgia before it was formed. Though Colonel William G. Deloney was our Chevalier Bayard, sanspeur et sans reproche, he fell at the zenith of his glory, September, 1863. Though General G. J. Wright was as brave and gallant as man could be, yet they all were older; we expected much of them. It was not the same feeling we had for Pierce Young. As Colonel Baker, of the 1st North Carolina Cavalry, told him at Middletown, Maryland, September 12, 1862, where, after a hard day's fight, incensed at some slighting remark that Baker had made of a charge of The Cobb Legion, he de
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 25. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), chapter 1.20 (search)
is but a passing glance at a long, laborious and brilliant career. Mr. Calhoun, Mr. Clay and Mr. Webster all left the Senate, or died in the Senate, about 1851 or 1852. When this grand triumvirate had departed, there were yet many strong men who served in that body with Mr. Hunter from 1850 to 1861 who have made a great impress upon our history. I need hardly mention such great names as Senators Mason, Toombs, Jefferson Davis, Benjamin, Stephen A. Douglas, Seward, Sumner, Chase, Trumbull, Bayard, Slidell and Crittenden. Yet I can truthfully assert that of this list of very able men, not one was superior in general, all-'round ability to Mr. Hunter; not one was his equal in legislative force and influence; not one was so universally confided in and trusted. Since the passing away of Jefferson, Madison, Marshall and Monroe, hardly any Virginian has borne so influential a part in political affairs as R. M. T. Hunter, and certainly no Virginian has done so in the Federal Congress, tho
erhaps twenty seven or twenty-eight years. Although not a military man by profession, he is said to be a brave and efficient officer, gentlemanly at all times, and perfectly cool and self possessed in the hour of battle. A man of medium height, with a handsome Saxon face, light hair, deep blue eyes, and well trimmed side whiskers. His dress is all times neat and appropriate. Put him where you will, he is always a gentleman, and, as such, is much admired and respected by his men. Like Chevalier Bayard, he maintains the character, and does his whole duty, even in the face of a cannon. At home, Lieutenant Slocomb is one of the wealthiest young men in the city, and lives in all the elegance and refinement of a polished and traveled gentleman. At the beginning of the war he en sted in the corps as a private, but was elected Lieutenant by the men, which position he now holds. Since coming to Virginia, the corps has had many testimonials of his regard for them, for he has contributed li
ter and Advertiser, of the 16th instant, says: On Monday a great concourse attended the funeral, in New Orleans, of the gallant Capt. T. B. Huger, late commander of C. S. N. gunboat McOrac, who was mortally wounded in the naval fight on the Mississippi. We were in some degree prepared for this result, from the reports of Captain Huger's wounds and exposure in the unequal fight below New Orleans, but we are put the less startled and shocked. A gallant and heroic spirit, a Chevalier Bayard of the see, knight without reproach and dishonor, has been taken from us by the mexorable strokes of a bloody and unnatural war. We have not at present the heart or the materials for a worthy tribute to such a spirit as Thomas B. Huger. In this city, where he was known and honored, and where he grew up with ancestral pledges and examples of pure devotion to the cause of South Carolina and honor and duty, we need not attempts a feeble tribute. Suffice it to say, of a family an