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John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., Ashby. (search)
retiring modesty, was Ashby, whose name and fame, a brave comrade has truly said, will endure as long as the mountains and valleys which he defended. II. The achievements of Ashby can be barely touched on herehistory will set them in its purest gold. The pages of the splendid record can only be glanced at now; months of fighting must here be summed up and dismissed in a few sentences. To look back to his origin — that always counts for somethinghe was the son of a gentleman of Fauquier, and up to 1861 was only known as a hard rider, a gay companion, and the kindesthearted of friends. There was absolutely nothing in the youth's character, apparently, which could detach him from the great mass of mediocrities; but under that laughing face, that simple, unassuming manner, was a soul of fire — the unbending spirit of the hero, and no less the genius of the born master of the art of war. When the revolution broke out Ashby got in the saddle, and spent most of his time therein
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., Mosby. (search)
m to have been a bandit. Iii. What was the appearance and character of the actual individual? What manner of personages were Mosby and his men, as they really lived, and moved, and had their being in the forests and on the hills of Fauquier, in Virginia, in the years 1863 and 1864? If the reader will accompany me, I will conduct him to this beautiful region swept by the mountain winds, and will introduce him-remember, the date is 1864-to a plain and unassuming personage clad in gray, wiand that appears to have resulted from a disobedience of his orders. He had here some valuable officers and men killed. He was several times wounded, but never taken. On the last occasion, in 1864, he was shot through the window of a house in Fauquier, but managed to stagger into a darkened room, tear off his stars, the badges of his rank, and counterfeit a person mortally wounded. His assailants left him dying, as they supposed, without discovering his identity; and when they did discover i
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., From the Rapidan to Frying-Pan in October, 1863. (search)
he track of the enemy toward Warrenton, followed by the infantry, who had witnessed the feats of their cavalry brethren with all the satisfaction of outside spectators. In Jeffersonton and at Warrenton Springs many brave fellows had fallen, and sad scenes were presented. Lieutenant Chew had fought from house to house in the first named place, and in a mansion of the village this gallant officer lay dying, with a bullet through his breast. At Mr. M—‘s, near the river, young Marshall, of Fauquier, a descendant of the Chief Justice, was lying on a table, covered with a sheet-dead, with a huge, bloody hole in the centre of his pale forehead; while in a bed opposite lay a wounded Federal officer. In the fields around were dead men, dead horses, and abandoned arms. The army pushed on to Warrenton, the cavalry still in advance, and on the evening of the next day Stuart rapidly advanced with his column to reconnoitre toward Catlett's Station, the scene of his great raid in August, 18
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., chapter 3.32 (search)
1862, to the Second Manassas, they passed over nearly forty miles, almost without a moment's rest; and as Jackson rode along the line which was still moving on briskly and without stragglers, no orders could prevent them from bursting forth into tumultuous cheers at the sight of him. He had marched them nearly to death, to reach a position where they were to sustain the whole weight of Pope's army hurled against them — they were weary unto death, and staggering-but they made the forests of Fauquier resound with that electric shout which said, We are ready! Such has been the work of the Old Brigade — not their glory; that is scarcely here alluded to-but their hard, unknown toil to carry out their chief's orders. March! has been the order of their going. The very rapidity of their marches separates them from all soldier comforts-often from their very blankets, however cold the weather; and any other troops but these and their Southern comrades would long since have mutinied, and d
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., Longbow's horse. (search)
ident of the hard ride, and the death of the Captain's horse especially, puzzles me. That incident is veracious, as I have once before said; but a serious question arises as to whether Longbow bore that message! I have a dim recollection that my friend Colonel Surry told me once that he had been sent to Beauregard; had killed his horse; and the high character of the Colonel renders it impossible to doubt any statement which he makes. I expect him on a visit soon, as he intends to make a little scout, he tells me, to Fauquier to see a young lady — a Miss Beverley-there, and doubtless will call by; then I shall ask him what are the real facts of this affair. Meanwhile my friend Longbow is entitled to be heard; and I have even taken the trouble to set down his narrative for the amusement of the friend to whom it will be sent. If Colonel Surry ever composes his memoirs, as I believe is his intention, the real truth on this important point will be recorded. Until then-Vive Longbow
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., Hunted down. (search)
one, to follow his appointed work without assistance, depending only upon his own strong arm and trusty weapons. He cared little for society, though no one seemed more amiable; I never saw a brighter or more friendly smile than his. That smile did not deceive; there was no deceit of any sort in S . He loved his friends, but he loved his calling better still. It might have been said of him that man delighted him not, nor woman either. His chief delight was to penetrate the dense woods of Fauquier, assail the enemy wherever he found an opening, and inflict upon them all the injury in his power. In the eyes of the scout those enemies were wolves, and he hunted them. This sketch will demonstrate the fact that now and then they returned the compliment. In person S — was suited to his calling; stout but active; a good hand with pistol and sabre; quick of eye; and with nerves which no peril could shake. Soldiers generally prefer broad daylight and an open country to operate; S-like
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., How S-overheard his death-warrant. (search)
by the brave man whom it concerns, and I never knew him to boast or exaggerate. The incident took place during the summer of 1863, in the country beyond the Rappahannock, not far from the foot of the Blue Ridge. This region — the county of Fauquier--was the true Paradise of the scout. On its winding and unfrequented roads, and amid its rolling hills and mountain spurs, the scout and ranger wandered at will, bidding defiance to all comers. The thick woods enabled him to approach unseen uning eyes followed the scout upon his way; the extensive uplands were pasture ground for grazing great herds of cattle. The traveller went on, mile after mile, unespied by any one, and in presence only of tall forests and azure mountains. In Fauquier, S- had many friends whom he was fond of visiting on his adventurous excursions; but unfortunately he had also a number of enemies in the persons of Federal soldiers. Detached bodies of the enemy had pitched their tents in the region, and the F
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., How S-- captured a Federal Colonel's hat (search)
ime the game was growing too dangerous. The men had recovered from their astonishment and were running to their guns. S— had no desire to receive a volley of musketry; and, waving the captured hat with one hand, fired his last barrel with the other at the Colonel, and then retreated at a gallop, followed by a number of musket-balls, at which, however, he only laughed. He soon rejoined his men, who had pursued the escort into the other camp; and then, as the whole place was buzzing like a nest of hornets, they quietly disappeared and were soon lost in the extensive woods, where pursuit was impossible. What S- did with his hat I am unable to say; but, doubtless, the heart of some high Confederate was charmed by the offering, for mighty is the market price of all that comes through the blockade. If not thus disposed of, the trophy lies somewhere hidden among the opima spolia of S— , to be shown some day as a memorial of that gay adventure in the summer forests of Fauquier
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., How S.-carried off a Federal field-officer. (search)
How S.-carried off a Federal field-officer. I have not yet done with S-, the scout. Still another adventure of his comes back to my memory, and this also shall proceed to be narrated. The chosen field for the operations of the scout fraternity was, as I have said, the county of Fauquier--not only because the enemy frequented habitually that region, but from its great adaptability to partisan manoeuvres. Behold now, in this bloody year 1863, our friend the scout making a little excursion into the Chinquepin Territory in search of information, adventure, spoils --whatever is calculated to charm the heart of the free ranger of the woods. Mounted on a good fresh horse, with pistols at side, and a good stout heart to back the ready hand, the scout joyfully set forth all alone on his journey, trusting to Providence to guide him, and to his own skill and courage for the result. The country swarmed with the enemy; and to find out all about them, their strength, position, and p
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., On the road to Petersburg: notes of an officer of the C. S. A. (search)
suits for himself from the London tailors (no good ones in this colony as yet), fine silks for the ladies, wines from Madeira, and Bordeaux, and Oporto, new editions of the Tattler, or Spectator, or Tom Jones, all paid for by the tobacco crop raised here at Ampthill. The Flyby-Night probably brings also the London Gazette, showing what view is taken in England of the rising spirit of rebellion in the colonies, and what the ministers think of the doctrine of coercion. Our present Governor, Fauquier, is not wholly sound, it is thought, upon these questions, and Lord Dunmore it is supposed will succeed him. A second gun! The Captain of the Fly-by-Night seems to have anchored at the wharf, and the swivel, announcing his arrival to his patrons, is making a jolly racket. Again!-and there again! Bomb! bomb! bomb! bomb! Can that be the Fly-by-Night, and is that Mr. Randolph galloping up in hot haste from the ferry opposite Wilton? It is a courier who stops a moment to tell me that the
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