body of citizens. They were escorted in solemn procession to the barracks of the Institute, and deposited in the old lectureroom of the deceased. The room was just as he had left it two years before, as no one had occupied it during his absence; but it had been draped in mourning. The coffin was placed in front of the dead man's favorite chair, and amid the roar of the old cadet battery, heard at intervals of half an hour throughout the day, the body of the soldier lay in state in the familiar hall.

It was thus that he had returned to the beloved spot where he had passed so many happy hours in other years, and to which his thoughts went back in those last moments when he murmured:

"Bury me in Lexington, in the Valley of Virginia!"

"Lexington!" That town had witnessed the peaceful labors of the professor; the calm researches of the quiet student; the serene enjoyments of the good husband and friend. Thence he had departed to enter upon the career which was to make his name renowned forever in the annals of a tragic epoch-to crown him with glory and honor as the right arm and chief hope of a great people. He murmured "Lexington! Lexington!" as the German exile murmurs "the Rhine! the Rhine!"

"The Valley of Virginia!" Those words too had, doubtless, a magical influence upon the stern soul of the celebrated leader. They conjured up visions of his chief glories won upon that old familiar, long loved soil. They meant Kernstown! McDowell! Winchester! Cross Keys! Port Republic! There was scarce a foot of the great highways of that region but had been trodden by him and his soldiers; scarce a mile over which he had not fought. There his steps had been clogged with battles, and almost every encounter was a victory. For that sacred earth he had fought so long and persistently; thence he had so frequently driven the invaders; every foot was dear to him from the mouth of the beautiful Shenandoah to its source; and for its freedom he had cheerfully risked all that man possesses. He had delivered that lovely land from all its foes;

and, lying powerless there near Fredericksburg, his heart turned fondly to the scene of his happiness and his fame. In that earth which he had redeemed-the soil of the Valley of Virginia-he desired his ashes to repose.

There they were accordingly deposited. Escorted by infantry, cavalry, and artillery, and borne to the grave upon a caisson of the old cadet battery, as became the great artillerist, they were consigned to the beloved earth where reposed the bodies of his first wife and child.

It is said that some loving hand planted on his grave a piece of laurel brought from the grave of Napoleon at St. Helenathus connecting, as it were, by an invisible link, the man of Austerlitz with the victor of Port Republic and Chancellorsville.

Both returned in the moments of delirium to the battle-field; but whilst Napoleon died with that fierce cry, "Tête d'Armée !” upon his lips, Jackson fell asleep in a childlike dream of rivers and green trees. Napoleon trusted in his "Star"-Jackson in God. The former was a simple fatalist; the motto of the Virginian was, "Do your duty and trust to Providence."

"It is all right," was the other motto of Jackson-and he clung to it even in death. Let us, too, trust that all is well, and look beyond the storm with serene trust in Him who rules the destinies of men and nations.

CHAPTER XL.

JACKSON THE SOLDIER AND THE MAN.

WE have presented in the foregoing pages as truthful a record of the events of Jackson's career, as the material at our command permitted. It is impossible that the main occurrences have not been understood, or that the reader has not formed a tolerably clear idea of the military and personal traits of the in

dividual. From the narrative, better than from any comment, those characteristics will be deduced; but a rapid summary of Jackson's traits as a soldier and a man may interest some readers, and to this we now proceed. Eulogy is easy in presence of this great career; but let us dismiss all such unprofitable work, and rationally inquire what endowments went to accomplish the successes of the soldier.

Jackson was a born leader, and had, underlying all, that supreme spirit of combativeness which is the foundation of military success. It is a fancy that he did not love fighting. War was horrible in his eyes, it is true, from the enormous public and private misery which it occasioned; but he none the less loved the conflict of opposing forces. In battle, under his calm exterior, he had the gaudium certaminis. You could see that he was a fighting animal, from his ponderous jaw. We say "animal," because, at such moments, Jackson the compassionate Christian, became Jackson the veritable bull-dog. His combativeness, when thus aroused, was obstinate, enormous. To fight to the death was his unfaltering resolve, and his own invincible resolution was infused into his troops; they became inspired by his ardor, and were more than a match for two or three times their number fighting without this stimulus. With Jackson leading them in person, on fire with the heat of battle, the Stonewall Brigade and other troops which had served under him long, felt themselves able to achieve impossibilities. But combativeness and military ardor do not make a great commander; without them no officer can accomplish much, but more is needed to achieve the glories of arms. Enterprise is necessary; and this word, for want of a better, must express a quality of Jackson's mind which more than all else gave him his astonishing success. His rule was, never to allow an enemy to rest; to attack wherever it was possible, and to press on until all opposition was broken down and the day gained. The remarkable activity shown in his campaigns is an evidence that he possessed this trait as a General in a more eminent degree, perhaps, than any his contemporaries. A sluggish or unwary adversary was doomed

of

already. When he least expected it, Jackson was before him; attacking with all the advantages of a surprise. It was said that he marched his men nearly to death, and it was true. But these excessive drains upon their physical strength were compensated by victories, by spoils, and by an immense accession to the moral strength of his command. Nor did he fail to preserve, thus, thousands of lives, which would have been lost by more deliberate and conventional warfare. He always preferred to arrive, by forced marches, in face of an unprepared enemy, and drive them before him, with comparatively small loss, to a more leisurely advance which would find them ready to meet him. He aimed to succeed rather by sweat than blood. His famous flank movements proved a terrible tax on the strength of his troops; but after their exhausting marches, the men finished the work without bloodshed, almost, and soon forgot their weariness in the sweet sleep which follows toil and victory. Aggressive warfare was the fundamental principle of his military system. He preserved the unvarying conviction, throughout his whole career, that the true policy of the South was one of invasion. So far did he carry this, that after Port Republic, as we have seen, he was passionately bent on advancing into Pennsylvania, though General McClellan was knocking at the doors of Richmond with an army of 150,000 men. After the battles of the Chickahominy, he rose from his camp-couch one night, where he was lying, talking with a friend, and violently striking the pillow with his clenched hand, exclaimed: "Why don't we go to Pennsylvania now? The Scipio Africanus policy is the best!" To march, to manœuvre, to flank, to strike-to advance, retreat, keep his enemy in constant fear-such was his system. He never rested, and took no account of hours or seasons. He seems to have considered all weather good to fight in, and to have discarded the general conviction of military men that night attacks are hazardous. The Bath expedition was undertaken in the dead of winter; and at Fredericksburg he projected and attempted to execute that final assault upon the Federal army which was to begin "precisely at sunset." At Chancellorsville,

at nine o'clock at night, when he fell, he was preparing for that movement of his left wing which was to envelope General Hooker and decide the fate of the Federal army. No other general living would have ventured upon so dangerous an undertaking; but Jackson had decided upon it without hesitation.

It is not to be wondered at that unwary or indolent opponents became the victims of a strategy so bold and aggressive. General Banks is an example. A more unfortunate appointment could not have been made by the Federal Government. General Banks seems to have been without enterprise, and greatly wanting in that watchful care which his position, in front of so dangerous a foe, required. Jackson surprised him at Strasburg, and drove him from the Valley, almost without resistance. The manœuvring around Port Republic was another example of his superiority to General Fremont, whose plan of advancing with one column upon Jackson's rear, while another was sent to intercept him, was turned against him, and became the occasion of his ruin. The rapidity of Jackson's marches in the Valley campaign and the expedition to the rear of General Pope, was marvellous; but there was something still more striking in the enterprise which suggested these movements. To a soldier so fertile in resources, so rapid, daring, and unhesitating, victory was almost a foregone conclusion.

The difference between enterprise and foolhardiness is that between calculation and chance. Jackson's military movements were always based upon close calculation, and he was certainly not wanting in foresight and caution. He seems to have known perfectly well what it was in his power to achieve, and as thoroughly what was beyond his strength. He risked much, on many occasions, but appears to have been justified in his calculations of the ultimate result. It will be objected to him by military men, that he hazarded too much at times, and was only extricated by good fortune. There appears to be some justice in this; but the resources of his genius were enormous, and doubled his numbers. Some of his ideas seem absurd when coolly looked at. We have seen that when he was asked what