45. XLV.
THE “FOOT CAVALRY.”
I had seen Jackson advance and fight: I was now to see him
retreat. The world at large, which judges of every thing superficially,
undervalues the art of “falling back;” but it is one of
the surest evidences of soldiership. Jackson's method of retiring
was cool, deliberate, and extorted my admiration. More than
ever, I saw in him those resources which make the great soldier.
Ashby's cavalry brought up the rear, and he had under him a
battery of horse artillery, commanded by that gallant young officer,
Captain Chew. The roar of these guns was never hushed.
It saluted the ears of the infantry, as they lay down in their
bivouacs to snatch a few hours of slumber, and was their reveille
when they opened their eyes at dawn.
Mingled with the sullen roar of the guns was heard incessantly
almost the sharp crack of carbines, showing that the cavalry
skirmishers were engaged. The enemy pressed hotly on the
rear; but Ashby met them with a coolness and an indefatigable
vigilance which defeated all their attempts to throw the army
into disorder.
I was much with him in those days, and more than ever admired
the great soldier—for such was this man. It was impossible
to be with him without experiencing both admiration for
his great qualities and affection for him personally. He was
truly the flower of chivalry, and was as winning by the camp-fire
as he was utterly fearless in the field. He was one of those
men who seem inaccessible to the emotion of fear. I have often
seen him sitting quietly on his milk-white horse, gazing from a
hill upon the advancing enemy, who poured upon him a storm
of balls—when it was impossible to believe, from his appearance,
that he realized his danger. I have seen others do this from
bravado—but it did not so impress you in Ashby. He seemed
to be thinking of something else—but at times the spirit of
“fight” came to his face, and he would pace slowly up and
down on his white horse, the mark of a hundred bullets, with
his face turned disdainfully over his shoulder; or rein in his
animal, and, like an equestrian statue, remain in face of the hot
fire, completely motionless.
These scenes were generally followed by a charge, and the
flash of Ashby's sabre, as he led it in person. When he fell
back after such rencounters, he was quieter than ever. A certain
amount of fighting every day seemed necessary to his peace of
mind.
I am not writing a romance, or inventing a hero, worthy
reader. Such was Ashby as he lived and moved before me.
Thus, incessantly fighting with his rear-guard, Jackson continued
his retreat up the Valley; and ere long the enemy seemed
to grow weary of the pursuit—their assaults gradually less
determined—finally they stopped. They had fallen back to
Strasburg; thence, as scouts reported, to Winchester; and soon
it became obvious to those who had means of acquiring accurate
information, that the Federal authorities had determined to give
up the idea of an advance by way of the Valley, and concentrate
their forces near Fredericksburg, and on the Peninsula, for an
advance upon Richmond.
Accurate information came on the very day the army ceased
retreating, near Newmarket. The weary troops had scarcely
gone into camp when a courier came at full gallop from Ashby,
who held the front toward Strasburg.
Jackson read the dispatch which he brought with great attention;
reflected as much, probably, as half a minute, and then
directed orders to be issued to have the troops ready to march at
daylight.
In their exhausted condition, I thought this utterly impossible
—but at dawn the little army of about four thousand men was
under arms. Jackson rode along the column, looking keenly from
under his faded cap; and then, placing himself at the head of the
troops, took the direction of Winchester.
Without relaxation—stopping for nothing—and at last, accompanied
by only a portion of his force, the rest having broken
down from the enormous rapidity of the march, he reached, at
three or four o'clock on a raw March evening, the little village
of Kernstown, within two or three miles of Winchester.
