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John Pelham (search for this): chapter 2.19
as we now advanced, mounted skirmishers from the Federal side forded the stream, and very gallantly came to meet us. On our side, sharpshooters were promptly deployed-then came the bang of carbines-then Stuart's Horse Artillery galloped up, under Pelham, and a rear-guard affair began. Stuart formed his column for a charge, and had just begun to move, when the Federal skirmishers were seen retiring; a dense smoke arose from Cub Run bridge, and suddenly the enemy's artillery on a knoll beyond opeirst shot they fired was admirable. It fell plump into a squadron of cavalry-between the files as they were ranged side by side in column of twos-and although it burst into a hundred pieces, did not wound man or horse. The Horse Artillery under Pelham replied to the fire of the opposing guns; an animated artillery duel commenced, and the ordinary routine began. Ii. There is a French proverb which declares that although you may know when you set out on a journey, you do not know when you
Pope (search for this): chapter 2.19
th which I myself once saw in a human eye. On the occasion in question, a young, weak-minded, and timid person was instantaneously confronted, without premonition or suspicion of his danger, with the abrupt prospect of an ignominious death; and I think the great English writer would have considered my incident more stirring than his own. It was on the morning of August 3 I, 1862, on the Warrenton road, in a little skirt of pines, near Cub Run bridge, between Manassas and Centreville. General Pope, who previously had only seen the backs of his enemies, had been cut to pieces. The battle-ground which had witnessed the defeat of Scott and McDowell on the 21St of July, 1861, had now again been swept by the bloody besom of war; and the Federal forces were once more in full retreat upon Washington. The infantry of the Southern army were starved, broken down, utterly exhausted, when they went into that battle, but they carried everything before them; and the enemy had disappeared, thun
Nemesis (search for this): chapter 2.19
the death-struggle fixed on the cold upturned faces of the dead; but never have I witnessed an expression more terrible and agonizing than that which passed over the face of the boy-deserter, as he thus heard his sentence. He had evidently regarded himself as a mere prisoner of war; and now he was condemned to death! He had looked forward, doubtless, to mere imprisonment at Richmond until regularly exchanged, when hang him on that tree! burst upon his ears like the voice of some avenging Nemesis. Terrible, piteous, sickening, was the expression of the boy's face. He seemed to feel already the rope around his neck; he choked; when he spoke his voice sounded like the death-rattle. An instant of horror-struck silence; a gasp or two as if the words were trying to force their way against some obstacle in his throat; then the sound came. His tones were not loud, impassioned, energetic, not even animated. A sick terror seemed to have frozen him; when he spoke it was in a sort of m
James E. B. Stuart (search for this): chapter 2.19
and to the work in question the great cavalier Stuart addressed himself with the energy, dash, and vlosophic coolness. The cavalry, headed by General Stuart, pushed on, and we were now nearly at Cub incident. I was sitting on my horse near General Stuart, who had put in the skirmishers, and was neart might be wounded.) Bring him up, said Stuart coldly, with a lowering glance from the blue en me so intently! In another moment he was in Stuart's presence, and calmly, quietly, without the f emotion whatever, waited to be addressed. Stuart's words were curtest of the curt. Is this xpression, as they met the lowering glances of Stuart, was almost confiding. I could not suppress aver heard. Where were you born? continued Stuart, as coldly as before. In--, Virginia, sir. The coolness of the speaker was incredible. Stuart could only look at him for a moment in silencerivate in that battery yonder? Yes, sir. Stuart turned to an officer, and pointing to a tall p[9 more...]
Walter Scott (search for this): chapter 2.19
without premonition or suspicion of his danger, with the abrupt prospect of an ignominious death; and I think the great English writer would have considered my incident more stirring than his own. It was on the morning of August 3 I, 1862, on the Warrenton road, in a little skirt of pines, near Cub Run bridge, between Manassas and Centreville. General Pope, who previously had only seen the backs of his enemies, had been cut to pieces. The battle-ground which had witnessed the defeat of Scott and McDowell on the 21St of July, 1861, had now again been swept by the bloody besom of war; and the Federal forces were once more in full retreat upon Washington. The infantry of the Southern army were starved, broken down, utterly exhausted, when they went into that battle, but they carried everything before them; and the enemy had disappeared, thundering with their artillery to cover their retreat. The rest of the work must be done by the cavalry; and to the work in question the great c
McDowell (search for this): chapter 2.19
monition or suspicion of his danger, with the abrupt prospect of an ignominious death; and I think the great English writer would have considered my incident more stirring than his own. It was on the morning of August 3 I, 1862, on the Warrenton road, in a little skirt of pines, near Cub Run bridge, between Manassas and Centreville. General Pope, who previously had only seen the backs of his enemies, had been cut to pieces. The battle-ground which had witnessed the defeat of Scott and McDowell on the 21St of July, 1861, had now again been swept by the bloody besom of war; and the Federal forces were once more in full retreat upon Washington. The infantry of the Southern army were starved, broken down, utterly exhausted, when they went into that battle, but they carried everything before them; and the enemy had disappeared, thundering with their artillery to cover their retreat. The rest of the work must be done by the cavalry; and to the work in question the great cavalier Stua
De Quincey (search for this): chapter 2.19
he canteen on the body of a dead enemy. A trifling incident of the second battle of Manassas remains in my memory more vividly than the hardest fighting of the whole day, and I never recall the incident in question without thinking, too, of De Quincey's singular paper, A vision of sudden death. The reader is probably familiar with the article to which I refer — a very curious one, and not the least admirable of those strange leaves, full of thought and fancy, which the Opium Eater scatterede, and its maddened horses-rushing straight down on the frail vehicle with which it soon came in collision. It was at the moment when the light little affair was dashed to pieces, the stage rolling with a wild crash over the boy and girl, that De Quincey saw in their awestruck faces that singular expression which he has described by the phrase, A vision of sudden death. It requires some courage to intrude upon the literary domain of that great master, the Opium Eater, and the comparison will
George Washington (search for this): chapter 2.19
incident more stirring than his own. It was on the morning of August 3 I, 1862, on the Warrenton road, in a little skirt of pines, near Cub Run bridge, between Manassas and Centreville. General Pope, who previously had only seen the backs of his enemies, had been cut to pieces. The battle-ground which had witnessed the defeat of Scott and McDowell on the 21St of July, 1861, had now again been swept by the bloody besom of war; and the Federal forces were once more in full retreat upon Washington. The infantry of the Southern army were starved, broken down, utterly exhausted, when they went into that battle, but they carried everything before them; and the enemy had disappeared, thundering with their artillery to cover their retreat. The rest of the work must be done by the cavalry; and to the work in question the great cavalier Stuart addressed himself with the energy, dash, and vigour of his character. The scene, as we went on, was curious. Pushing across the battle-field-we
John Randolph (search for this): chapter 2.19
commenced, and the ordinary routine began. Ii. There is a French proverb which declares that although you may know when you set out on a journey, you do not know when you will arrive. Those who journey through the fine land of memory are, of all travellers, the most ignorant upon that score, and are apt to become the most unconscionable vagarists. Memory refuses to recall one scene or incident without recalling also a hundred others which preceded or followed it. You people, said John Randolph to a gentleman of an extensive clan, with which the eccentric orator was always at war, you people all take up each other's quarrels. You are worse than a pile of fishhooks. If I try to grasp one, I raise the whole bunch. To end my preface, and come to my little incident. I was sitting on my horse near General Stuart, who had put in the skirmishers, and was now superintending the fire of his artillery, when a cavalry-man rode up and reported that they had just captured a deserter.
William H. F. Lee (search for this): chapter 2.19
avy beard; motionless amid the shell which were bursting around him. For an instant he seemed to hesitate-life and death were poised in the balances. Then with a cold look at the trembling deserter, he said to the men: Take him back to General Lee, and report the circumstances. With these words he turned and galloped off; the deserter was saved, at least for the moment. I do not know his ultimate fate; but if he saw General Lee in person, and told his tale, I think he was sparedturned and galloped off; the deserter was saved, at least for the moment. I do not know his ultimate fate; but if he saw General Lee in person, and told his tale, I think he was spared. That great and merciful spirit inflicted the death-penalty only when he could not avoid it. Since that day I have never seen the face of the boy-nor even expect to see it. But I shall never forget that vision of sudden death in his distended eyes, as Stuart's cold voice ordered, Hang him on that tree.
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