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Port Republic (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.3
he strikes with his right hand and his left the columns of Fremont and Shields, closing in from east and west to destroy him-strikes them and passes through, continuing his retreat up the Valley. Then comes the last scene -finis coronat. At Port Republic his adversaries strike at him in two columns. He throws himself against Fremont at Cross Keys and checks his advance; then attacks Shields beyond the river, and after one of the hottest battles of the war, fought nearly man to man, defeats hone for music. A joke was a mysterious affair to him. Only when so very broad and staring, that he who ran might read it, did humour of any sort strike Jackson. Even his thick coating of matter-of-fact was occasionally pierced, however. At Port Republic a soldier said to his companion: I wish these Yankees were in hell, whereupon the other replied: I don't; for if they were, old Jack would be within half a mile of them, with the Stonewall Brigade in front! When this was told to Jackson, he
Malvern Hill (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.3
rehead of a poet!-the statement is almost a jest. Jackson the stern, intensely matter-of-fact mathematician, a man of fancy! Never did forehead so contradict phrenology before. A man more guiltless of poetry in thought or deed, I suppose never lived. His poetry was the cannon's flash, the rattle of musketry, and the lurid cloud of battle. Then, it is true, his language, ordinarily so curt and cold, grew eloquent, almost tragic and heroic at times, from the deep feeling of the man. At Malvern Hill, General -- received an order from Jackson to advance and attack the Federal forces in their fortified position, for which purpose he must move across an open field swept by their artillery. General — was always impracticable, though thoroughly brave, and galloping up to Jackson said, almost rudely, Did you send me an order to advance over that field? I did, sir, was the cold reply of Jackson, in whose eyes began to glow the light of a coming storm. Impossible, sir! exclaimed General
Harper's Ferry (West Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.3
ame for him, Fool Tom Jackson. In April, 186 , Fool Tom Jackson became Colonel of Virginia volunteers, and went to Harper's Ferry, soon afterwards fighting General Patterson at Falling Water, thence descending to Manassas. Here the small force-2ous excitement. From the day of Cold Harbour, success continued to crown him-at Cedar Mountain, the second Manassas, Harper's Ferry, Sharpsburg, where he met the full weight of McClellan's right wing under Hooker, and repulsed it, and Chancellorsviln one occasion only, to the knowledge of the present writer, did Jackson betray something like dry humour. It was at Harper's Ferry, in September, 1862, just after the surrender of that place, and when General Lee was falling back upon Sharpsburg. the boldness, fertility, and originality of his conceptions, take the campaigns against General Pope, the surprise of Harper's Ferry, the great flank attack at Chancellorsville, and the marvellous success of every step taken in the campaign of the V
Berkeley Springs (West Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.3
as present at this scene and related it to me, declares that he never saw a deeper suppression of concentrated anger than that which shone in Jackson's eye, or heard a human voice more menacing. There were other times when Jackson, stung and aroused, was driven from his propriety, or, at least, out of his coolness. The winter of 1861-2 was such an occasion. He had made his expedition to Morgan county, and, in spite of great suffering among the troops, had forced the Federal garrisons at Bath and Romney to retire, and accomplished all his ends. General Loring was then left at Romney, and Jackson returned to Winchester. All that is well known. What follows is not known to many. General Loring conceived an intense enmity for Jackson, and made such representations at Richmond, that an order was sent to Loring direct, not through Jackson, commanding in the Valley, recalling him. Jackson at once sent in his resignation. The scene which took place between him and his friend Colone
Lexington, Va. (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.3
seemed to have died rejoicing, preferring death to life. Strange madness! This religious dreamer was the stern, practical, mathematical calculator of chances; the obstinate, unyielding fighter; the most prosaic of realists in all the commonplaces of the dreadfully commonplace trade of war. The world knocks down many people with that cry of eccentric, by which is really meant insane. Any divergence from the conventional is an evidence of mental unsoundness. Jackson was seen, once in Lexington, walking up and down in a heavy rain before the superintendent's quarters, waiting for the clock to strike ten before he delivered his report. He wore woollen clothes throughout the summer. He would never mail a letter which to reach its destination must travel on Sunday. All these things made him laughed at; and yet the good sense seems all on his side, the folly on that of the laughers. The Institute was a military school; military obedience was the great important lesson to the stu
Oriental (Oklahoma, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.3
e safely declared that they are magnificent illustrations of the mathematics of war; that the brain which conceived and executed designs so bold and splendid, must have possessed a sanity for all practical purposes difficult to dispute. Iv. Jackson's religious opinions are unknown to the present writer. He has been called a fatalist. All sensible men are fatalists in one sense, in possessing a strong conviction that what will be, will be. But men of deep piety like Jackson, are not Oriental in their views. Fate was a mere word with Jackson, with no meaning; his star was Providence. Love for and trust in that Providence dwelt and beat in every vein and pulse of his nature. His whole soul was absorbed in his religion — as much as a merchant's is in his business, or a statesman's in public affairs. He believed that life meant intensely, and meant good. To find its meaning was his meat and drink. His religion was his life, and the real world a mere phantasmagoria. He seemed
Sharpsburg (Maryland, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.3
or a rabbit! the sight of the soldier or the appearance of a hare being alone adequate to arouse this tremendous excitement. From the day of Cold Harbour, success continued to crown him-at Cedar Mountain, the second Manassas, Harper's Ferry, Sharpsburg, where he met the full weight of McClellan's right wing under Hooker, and repulsed it, and Chancellorsville. When he died, struck down by the hands of his own men, he was the most famous and the most beloved of Southern commanders. Ii. Ht me. On one occasion only, to the knowledge of the present writer, did Jackson betray something like dry humour. It was at Harper's Ferry, in September, 1862, just after the surrender of that place, and when General Lee was falling back upon Sharpsburg. Jackson was standing on the bridge over the Potomac when a courier, out of breath, and seriously demoralized, galloped up to him, and announced that McClellan was within an hour's march of the place with an enormous army. Jackson was convers
Fredericksburg, Va. (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.3
e seen him look serene and perfectly happy, conversing with a venerable lady upon their relative religious experiences. Children were also great favourites with him, and he seldom failed to make them love him. When at his headquarters below Fredericksburg, in 1863, he received a splendid new cap, gorgeous with a broad band of dazzling gold braid, which was greatly admired by a child one day in his quarters. Thereupon Jackson drew her between his knees, ripped off the braid, and binding it arot! When this was told to Jackson, he is said to have burst out into hearty laughter, most unusual of sounds upon the lips of the serious soldier. But such enjoyment of fun was rare with him. I was never more struck with this than one day at Fredericksburg, at General Stuart's headquarters. There was an indifferent brochure published in those days, styled Abram, a Poem, in the comic preface to which, Jackson was presented in a most ludicrous light, seated on a stump at Oxhill and gnawing at a
Culpeper, Va. (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.3
st ludicrous light, seated on a stump at Oxhill and gnawing at a roasting ear, while a whole North Carolina brigade behind him in line of battle was doing likewise. General Stuart read it with bursts of laughter to his friend, and Jackson also laughed with perfect good-humour; but no sooner had the book been closed than he seemed to forget its existence, and said with an irresistibly matter-of-fact expression which made this writer retire to indulge his own laughter: By the by, in going to Culpeper, where did you cross the Rapidan? His manner was unmistakable. It said: My dear Stuart, all that is no doubt very amusing to you, and I laugh because you do; but it don't interest me. On one occasion only, to the knowledge of the present writer, did Jackson betray something like dry humour. It was at Harper's Ferry, in September, 1862, just after the surrender of that place, and when General Lee was falling back upon Sharpsburg. Jackson was standing on the bridge over the Potomac when
Chancellorsville (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.3
arper's Ferry, Sharpsburg, where he met the full weight of McClellan's right wing under Hooker, and repulsed it, and Chancellorsville. When he died, struck down by the hands of his own men, he was the most famous and the most beloved of Southern com silently as his column moved before him-his hands raised to heaven, his eyes closed, his lips moving in prayer. At Chancellorsville, as he recognised the corpses of any of his old veterans, he would check his horse, raise his hands to heaven, and u his conceptions, take the campaigns against General Pope, the surprise of Harper's Ferry, the great flank attack at Chancellorsville, and the marvellous success of every step taken in the campaign of the Valley. This is not the occasion for an anan; the expedition to Pope's rear, which terminated in the second battle of Manassas; and the great flank movement at Chancellorsville, which has made the tangled brakes of the Spotsylvania wilderness famous for ever. Under the grave exterior, the
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