1. I.
In the old “Confederate Army of the Potomac,” and then in
the “Army of Northern Virginia,” there was a man so notable
for daring, skill, and efficiency as a partisan, that all who valued
those great qualities honoured him as their chiefest exemplar.
He was known among the soldiers as “Farley, the Scout,” but
that term did not express him fully. He was not only a scout,
but a partisan leader; an officer of excellent judgment and magnificent
dash; a soldier born, who took to the work with all the
skill and readiness of one who engages in that occupation for
which, by Providence, he is especially designed.
He served from the beginning of the war to the hard battle
of Fleetwood, in Culpeper, fought on the 9th of June, 1863.
There he fell, his leg shattered by a fragment of shell, and the
brave true soul went to rejoin its Maker.
One of the chiefest spites of fate is that oblivion which submerges
the greatest names and events. The design of this brief
paper is to put upon record some particulars of the career of a
brave soldier—so that, in that “aftertime” which sums up the
work and glory of the men of this epoch, his name shall not be
lost to memory.
Farley was born at Laurens village, South Carolina, on the
19th of December, 1835. He was descended, in a direct line,
from the “Douglas” of Scotland, and his father, who was born
on the Roanoke river, in Charlotte county, Virginia, was one of
the most accomplished gentlemen of his time. He emigrated to
South Carolina at the age of twenty-one, married, and commenced
there the practice of law. To the son, the issue of this
marriage, he gave the name of William Downs Farley, after his
father-in-law, Colonel William F. Downs, a distinguished lawyer,
member of the Legislature, and an officer of the war of 1812.
The father of this Colonel Downs was Major Jonathan Downs,
a patriot of '76; his mother, a daughter of Captain Louis Saxon,
also distinguished in our first great struggle; thus our young
partisan of 1863 had fighting blood in his veins, and, in plunging
into the contest, only followed the traditions of his race.
From earliest childhood he betrayed the instincts of the man
of genius. Those who recollect him then, declare that his
nature seemed composed of two mingled elements—the one
gentle and reflective, the other ardent and enthusiastic. Passionately
fond of Shakspeare and the elder poets, he loved to wander
away into the woods, and, stretched beneath some great oak,
pass hour after hour in dreamy musing; but if, at such times,
he heard the cry of the hounds and the shouts of his companions,
his dreams were dissipated, and throwing aside his volume,
he would join in the chase with headlong ardour.
At the age of seventeen, he made, in company with a friend,
the tour of the Northern States, and then was sent to the University
of Virginia, where his education was completed. The
summer vacation gave him an opportunity of making a pedestrian
excursion through Virginia; and thus, having enlarged
his mind by study and travel through the North and a portion
of the South, he returned to South Carolina. Here he occupied
himself in rendering assistance to his father, who had become
an invalid, and, we believe, commenced the practice of the law.
His love of roving, however, did not desert him, and his father's
business required repeated journeys into the interior of the
State. The scenery of the mountains proved a deep and lasting
source of joy to him, and, standing on the summits of the great
ranges, he has been seen to remain in such rapt contemplation
of the landscape that he could scarcely be aroused and brought
back to the real world. These expeditions undoubtedly fostered
in the youthful South Carolinian that ardent love of everything
connected with his native State which, with his craving for wild
adventure, constituted the controlling elements of his being.
“He had now attained,” a friend writes, “the pride and maturity
of manhood. There were few handsomer or more prepossessing
men. As a young man said, after the battle of Culpeper,
in speaking of the loss of Farley and Hampton, “two of the
handsomest men in our State have fallen.” His figure was of
medium height, elegantly formed, graceful, well knit, and, from
habitual exercise in the gymnasium, possessing a remarkable
degree of strength and activity. His hair was dark brown; his
eyebrows and lashes were so dark, and so shaded the dark grey
eyes beneath as to give them the appearance of blackness. His
manner was generally quiet, polished, and elegant; but let him
be aroused by some topic which awoke his enthusiasm (secession
and the Yankees, for instance), and he suddenly stood transformed
before you; and in the flashing eye and changing cheek
you beheld the dashing “Hero of the Potomac!”
“His moral character,” says the same authority, “was pure
and noble—`Sans peur et sans reproche.' It is a well known fact
among his friends and associates that ardent spirits of any kind
had never passed his lips until the first battle of Manassas, when,
being sick with measles, he fought until almost fainting, and
accepted a draught from the canteen of a friend. This was the
first and last drink he ever took.
“His father, whose last hours he watched with untiring care
and attention, died just before the opening of the war. Captain
Farley had, from an early age, taken great interest in the political
affairs of the country; he was a warm advocate of State
Rights, and now entered into the spirit of secession with eagerness
and enthusiasm. He was very instrumental in bringing
about a unanimity of opinion on this subject in his own district.
“He made frequent visits to Charleston, with the hope of
being in the scene of action should an attack be made on the
city; and was greatly chagrined that the battle of Sumter was
fought during a short absence, and he only reached the city on
the day following. He was the first man in his district to fly
to the defence of Virginia, whose sacred soil he loved with a
devotion only inferior to that which he bore his own State.
He joined Gregg's regiment, in which he served three months,
and on the disbanding of which he became an independent
fighter.”
From this time commences that career of personal adventure
and romantic exploits which made him so famous. Shouldering
his rifle—now riding, then on foot—he proceeded to the far
outposts nearest to the enemy, and was indefatigable in penetrating
their lines, harassing detached parties, and gaining information
for Generals Bonham and Beauregard. Falling back with
the army from Fairfax, he fought—though so sick that he could
scarcely stand—in the first battle of Manassas, and then entered
permanently upon the life of the scout, speedily attracting to
himself the unconcealed admiration of the whole army. To
note the outlines even of his performances at that time, would
require thrice the space we have at our disposal. He seemed
omnipresent on every portion of the lines; and if any daring
deed was undertaken—any expedition which was to puzzle,
harass, or surprise the enemy—Farley was sure to be there.
With three men he took and held Upton's Hill, directly in face
of the enemy; on numberless occasions he surprised the enemy's
pickets; and with three others, waylaid and attacked a
column of several hundred cavalry led by Colonel (afterwards
General) Bayard, whose horse he killed, slightly wounding the
rider. This audacious attack was made some ten or fifteen miles
beyond the Southern lines, and nothing but a love of the most
desperate adventure could have led to it. Farley ambushed the
enemy, concealing his little band of three men in some pines;
and although they might easily have remained perdus until the
column passed, and so escaped, Farley determined to attack, and
did attack—firing first upon Bayard, and nearly stampeding his
whole regiment. After a desperate encounter he and his little
party were all captured or killed, and Farley was taken to the
Old Capitol in Washington, where he remained some time in
captivity. General Bayard mentioned this affair afterwards in
an interview with General Stuart, and spoke in warm terms of
the courage which led Farley to undertake so desperate an
adventure. Released from prison, Farley hastened back to his
old “stamping ground” around Centreville, reaching that place
in the winter of 1861. He speedily received the most flattering
proposals from some eminent officers who were going to the
South-west; but chancing to meet General Stuart, that officer
took violent possession of him, and thenceforth kept him near
his person as volunteer aide-de-camp. With this arrangement
Farley soon became greatly pleased. He had already seen Stuart
at work, and that love of adventure and contempt of danger
—the coolness, self-possession, and mastery of the situation, however
perilous—which characterized both, proved a lasting bond
of union between them.
