56. LVI.
FALLING BACK.
The retreat which followed was one long battle.
General Fremont was pressing Jackson's rear on the main
Valley road; General Shields was hurrying by a parallel route
up the Luray Valley, to cut him off at Newmarket.
Jackson had taught his adversaries topography. They were
playing against him the same game which had been so fatal to
General Banks. That commander's woes had all originated from
the unfortunate existence of the Luray Valley. Might not Jackson
become the victim of a flank movement by that route, in his
turn?
So General Shields hurried by Luray toward Newmarket, and
General Fremont followed in his adversary's rear.
Desperate attempts were made to break through Ashby's rear-guard
of cavalry, infantry, and artillery; and the Federal cavalry
charged with very great gallantry.
They were repulsed by the free use of canister, and by the energy
of Ashby, who seemed to delight in the performance of the
duty assigned to him.
It was Ashby who fought that long battle I have mentioned,
from Strasburg up the Valley. At Woodstock, Edinburg, Mount
Jackson—on every hill and in every valley of this beautiful region—he
fought, with shell, canister, the carbine, and the sabre.
A certain amount of fighting every day seemed now to have
become necessary to the man; and such untiring energy and activity
had he displayed, that Jackson, who had long since become
as warmly attached to him as ever, placed the whole rear of the
army under him.
It was thenceforth in Ashby's power to order into action as
much infantry as he wished; but his cavalry and horse artillery
continued to be sufficient.
I was with him nearly all the time during this famous retreat—
can never think of it without seeing Ashby on his milk-white
horse again—and always his noble form and face rise up and
illustrate the page which speaks of those events. I see him as he
passed before me then, and shall ever see him.
I loved and admired him as the pearl of honor, the flower of
chivalry. But how I should have treasured up every word, and
been beside him always, had I known his days were numbered—
that even then his last sands of life were running through the
glass!
