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April, 186 AD (search for this): chapter 1.3
service, became a Professor at the Lexington Military School. Here the world knew him only as an eccentric but deeply pious man, and a somewhat commonplace lecturer. Stiff and rigid in his pew at church, striding awkwardly from his study to his lectureroom, ever serious, thoughtful, absent-minded in appearancesuch was the figure of the future Lieutenant-General, the estimate of whose faculties by the gay young students may be imagined from their nickname 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-2,611 muskets — of Brigadier-General Jackson saved the day. Without them the Federal column would have flanked and routed Beauregard. Bee, forced back, shattered and overwhelmed, galloped up to Jackson and groaned out, General, they are beating us back! Jackson's set face did not move. Sir
ponent like a hand of ice. General — , he said, I always endeavour to take care of my wounded and to bury my dead. Obey that order, sir! The officer who was 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, no
on 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 Rginia without his authority, and explanations, apologies, protestations, came from the head of the War Office, that the design was given up. Such is a little morceau of private history, showing how Jackson came near not commanding in the Valley in 1862. With the exception of these rare occasions when his great passions were aroused, Jackson was an apparently commonplace person, and his bearing neither striking, graceful, nor impressive. He rode ungracefully, walked with an awkward stride, a
June, 1862 AD (search for this): chapter 1.3
s 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 him. Troops never fought better than the Federals there, but they were defeated; and Jackson, by forced marches, hastened to fall upon McClellan's right wing on the Chickahominy. These events had, in June, 1862, attracted all eyes to Jackson. People began to associate his name with the idea of unvarying success, and to regard him as the incarnate genius of victory. War seemed in his person to have become a splendid pageant of unceasing triumph; and from the smoke of so many battle-fields rose before the imaginative public eye, the figure of a splendid soldier on his prancing steed, with his fluttering banner, preceded by bugles, and advancing in all the pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious
June 27th, 1862 AD (search for this): chapter 1.3
Jackson. I. At five in the evening, on the 27th of June, 1862, General Stonewall Jackson made his appearance on the field of Cold Harbour. Fresh from the hot conflicts of the Valley — an athlete covered with the dust and smoke of the arena-he came now with his veteran battalions to enter upon the still more desperate conflicts of the lowland. At that time many persons asked, Who is Jackson? All we then knew of the famous leader was this — that he was born a poor boy beyond the Alleghanies; managed to get to West Point; embarked in the Mexican war as lieutenant of artillery, where he fought his guns with such obstinacy that his name soon became renowned; and then, retiring from active service, became a Professor at the Lexington Military School. Here the world knew him only as an eccentric but deeply pious man, and a somewhat commonplace lecturer. Stiff and rigid in his pew at church, striding awkwardly from his study to his lectureroom, ever serious, thoughtful, absen
September, 1862 AD (search for this): chapter 1.3
rget 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 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 conversing with a Federal officer at the moment, and did not seem to hear the courier, who repeated his message with every mark of agitation. Thereupon Jackso
discourse, and at such moments his smile had the sweetness and simplicity of childhood. The hard intellect was resting, and the heart of the soldier spoke in this congenial converse upon themes more dear to him than all others. I have 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 around her curls, sent her away delighted. With maidens of more advanced age, however, the somewhat shy General was less at his ease. At Hayfield, near the same headquarters, and about the same time, the hospitable family were one day visited by Generals Lee, Jacks
Richard Ashby (search for this): chapter 1.3
ies. The old incredulity of Frederick will obtrude itself upon the mind. If Jackson was crazy, it it a pity he did not bite somebody, and inoculate them with a small amount of his insanity as a soldier. Unquestionably the most striking trait of Jackson as a leader was his unerring judgment and accuracy of calculation. The present writer believes himself to be familiar with every detail of his career, and does not recall one blunder. Kernstown was fought upon information furnished by General Ashby, a most accomplished and reliable partisan, which turned out to be inaccurate; but even in defeat Jackson there accomplished the very important object of retaining a large Federal force in the Valley, which McClellan needed on the Chickahominy. For instances of 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
-General Jackson saved the day. Without them the Federal column would have flanked and routed Beauregard. Bee, forced back, shattered and overwhelmed, galloped up to Jackson and groaned out, General, they are beating us back! Jackson's set face did not move. Sir, he said, we will give them the bayonet. Without those 2,611 muskets that morning, good-by to Beauregard! In the next year came the Valley campaign; the desperate and most remarkable fight at Kernstown; the defeat and retreat of Banks from Strasburg and Winchester; the retreat, in turn, of his great opponent, timed with such mathematical accuracy, that at Strasburg 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 h
Ferry, soon afterwards fighting General Patterson at Falling Water, thence descending to Manassas. Here the small force-2,611 muskets — of Brigadier-General Jackson saved the day. Without them the Federal column would have flanked and routed Beauregard. Bee, forced back, shattered and overwhelmed, galloped up to Jackson and groaned out, General, they are beating us back! Jackson's set face did not move. Sir, he said, we will give them the bayonet. Without those 2,611 muskets that morning, good-by to Beauregard! In the next year came the Valley campaign; the desperate and most remarkable fight at Kernstown; the defeat and retreat of Banks from Strasburg and Winchester; the retreat, in turn, of his great opponent, timed with such mathematical accuracy, that at Strasburg 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 l
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