It is probable that the wounding of Jackson at this juncture was the
most effectual cause of the Confederate check on Saturday night. It
occurred just after Jackson had concluded to withdraw his first and
second lines to Dowdall's, there to re-form, and was making dispositions
to move up A. P. Hill to relieve them. Orders had been issued to the
troops not to fire unless at Union cavalry appearing in their front.
Jackson, with some staff-officers and orderlies, had ridden out beyond
his lines, as was his wont, to reconnoitre. On his return he was fired
at by his own men, being mistaken in the gloom for a Federal scout.
Endeavoring to enter at another place, a similar error was made, this
time killing some of the party, and wounding Jackson in several places.
He was carried to the rear. A few days after, he died of pneumonia
brought on by his injury, which aggravated a cold he was suffering from
at the time.
A. P. Hill was wounded somewhat later that night.
After the disabling of these two officers, Stuart was sent for, and
promptly assumed command. With Col. Alexander, chief artillery officer
present for duty, (Gen. Crutchfield being wounded,) he spent the night
rectifying the Confederate lines, and selecting positions for his
batteries. It had been Jackson's plan to push forward at night, to
secure the speediest results of his victory. But Stuart, after the
attacks upon his right by Sickles and Pleasonton, and having in view the
disorganized condition of his troops, thought wise to defer a general
assault until daylight. Having submitted the facts to Jackson, and
received word from this officer to use his own discretion in the
matter, he decided to afford his troops a few hours of rest. They were
accordingly halted in line, and lay upon their arms, an ample force of
skirmishers thrown out in front.
No better place than this will be found in which to say a few words
about the remarkable man who planned and led this movement about
Hooker's flank,--a manoeuvre which must have been condemned as foolhardy
if unsuccessful, but whose triumph wove a final wreath to crown his
dying brows.
Thomas J. Jackson entered West Point a poor boy, essentially a son of
the people. He was a classmate of McClellan, Foster, Reno, Stoneman,
Couch, Gibbon, and many other noted soldiers, as well those arrayed
against as those serving beside him. His standing in his class was far
from high; and such as he had was obtained by hard, persistent work, and
not by apparent ability. He was known as a simple, honest, unaffected
fellow, rough, and the reverse of social; but he commanded his
companions sincere respect by his rugged honesty, the while his uncouth
bearing earned him many a jeer.
He was graduated in 1846, and went to Mexico as second lieutenant of the
First United-States Artillery. He was promoted to be first lieutenant
"for gallant and meritorious services at Vera Cruz." Twice mentioned
in Scott's reports, and repeatedly referred to by Worth and Pillow for
gallantry while with Magruder's battery, he emerged from that eventful
campaign with fair fame and abundant training.
We find him shortly afterwards professor at the Virginia Military
Institute of Lexington. Here he was known as a rigid Presbyterian, and
a "fatalist," if it be fatalism to believe that "what will be will
be,"--Jackson's constant motto.
Tall, gaunt, awkward, grave, brief, and business-like in all he did,
Jackson passed for odd, "queer,"--insane almost, he was thought by
some,--rather than a man of uncommon reserve power.
It was only when on parade, or when teaching artillery practice, that he
brightened up; and then scarcely to lose his uncouth habit, but only to
show by the light in his eye, and his wrapt attention in his work, where
lay his happiest tendencies.
His history during the war is too well known to need to be more than
briefly referred to. He was made colonel of volunteers, and sent to
Harper's Ferry in May, 1861, and shortly after promoted to a brigade.
He accompanied Joe Johnston in his retreat down the valley. At Bull Run,
where his brigade was one of the earliest in the war to use the bayonet,
he earned his soubriquet of "Stonewall" at the lips of Gen. Bee. But in
the mouths of his soldiers his pet name was "Old Jack," and the term was
a talisman which never failed to inflame the heart of every man who bore
arms under his banner.
Jackson possessed that peculiar magnetism which stirs the blood of
soldiers to boiling-point. Few leaders have ever equalled him in his
control of troops. His men had no questions to ask when "Old Jack" led
the way. They believed in him as did he in his star; and the impossible
only arrested the vigor of their onset, or put a term to their arduous
marches.
His campaign in the valley against Fremont and Shields requires no
praise. And his movement about McClellan's flank at Mechanicsville, and
his still more sterling manoeuvre in Pope's campaign, need only to be
called to mind.
In the field he was patient, hard-working, careless of self, and full
of forethought for his men; though no one could call for and get from
troops such excessive work, on the march or in action. No one could ask
them to forego rations, rest, often the barest necessaries of life, and
yet cheerfully yield him their utmost efforts, as could "Old Jack."
He habitually rode an old sorrel horse, leaning forward in a most
unmilitary seat, and wore a sun-browned cap, dingy gray uniform, and a
stock, into which he would settle his chin in a queer way, as he moved
along with abstracted look. He paid little heed to camp comforts,
and slept on the march, or by snatches under trees, as he might find
occasion; often begging a cup of bean-coffee and a bit of hard bread
from his men, as he passed them in their bivouacs, He was too uncertain
in his movements, and careless of self, for any of his military
family to be able to look after his physical welfare. In fact, a cold
occasioned by lending his cloak to one of his staff, a night or two
before Chancellorsville, was the primary cause of the pneumonia, which,
setting in upon his exhausting wounds, terminated his life.
Jackson was himself a bad disciplinarian. Nor had he even average powers
of organization. He was in the field quite careless of the minutiae of
drill. But he had a singularly happy faculty for choosing men to do his
work for him. He was a very close calculator of all his movements.
He worked out his manoeuvres to the barest mathematical chances, and
insisted upon the unerring execution of what he prescribed; and above
all be believed in mystery. Of his entire command, he alone knew what
work he had cut out for his corps to do. And this was carried so far
that it is said the men were often forbidden to ask the names of the
places through which they marched. "Mystery," said Jackson, "mystery is
the secret of success in war, as in all transactions of human life."
Jackson was a professing member of the Presbyterian Church, and what
is known as a praying man. By this is meant, that, while he never
intentionally paraded or obtruded upon his associates his belief in the
practical and immediate effect of prayer, he made no effort to hide his
faith or practice from the eyes of the world. In action, while the whole
man was wrought up to the culminating pitch of enthusiasm, and while
every fibre of his mind and heart was strained towards the achievement
of his purpose, his hand would often be instinctively raised upwards;
and those who knew him best, believed this to be a sign that his trust
in the help of a Higher Power was ever present.
Jackson was remarkable as a fighter. In this he stands with but one or
two peers. Few men in the world's history have ever got so great results
from armed men as he was able to do. But to judge rightly of his actual
military strength is not so easy as to award this praise. Unless a
general has commanded large armies, it is difficult to judge of how
far he may be found wanting if tried in that balance. In the detached
commands which he enjoyed, in the Valley and elsewhere, his strategic
ability was marked: but these commands were always more or less limited;
and, unlike Lee or Johnston, Jackson did not live long enough to rise
to the command of a large army upon an extended and independent field of
operations.
In Gen. Lee, Jackson reposed an implicit faith. "He is the only man
I would follow blindfold," said Jackson. And Lee's confidence in his
lieutenant's ability to carry out any scheme he set his hand to, was
equally pronounced. Honestly, though with too much modesty, did Lee say:
"Could I have directed events, I should have chosen, for the good of the
country, to have been disabled in your stead."
But, illy as Lee could spare Jackson, less still could the Army of
Northern Virginia spare Robert E. Lee, the greatest in adversity of the
soldiers of our civil war. Still, after Jackson's death, it is certain
that Lee found no one who could attempt the bold manoeuvres on the field
of battle, or the hazardous strategic marches, which have illumined the
name of Jackson to all posterity.
It is not improbable that had Jackson lived, and risen to larger
commands, he would have been found equal to the full exigencies of
the situation. Whatever he was called upon to do, under limited but
independent scope, seems to testify to the fact that he was far from
having reached his limit. Whatever he did was thoroughly done; and
he never appears to have been taxed to the term of his powers, in any
operation which he undertook.
Honesty, singleness of purpose, true courage, rare ability, suffice to
account for Jackson's military success. But those alone who have served
under his eye know to what depths that rarer, stranger power of his has
sounded them: they only can testify to the full measure of the strength
of Stonewall Jackson.