A Professor.
In writing of Major Jackson as a professor, it seems highly appropriate
to mention the circumstances leading to his appointment to that
position.
[Illustration: _Entrance to the Virginia Military Institute Grounds._]
Reared in adverse circumstances, which prevented him in early youth from
receiving the benefits of a good common-school education, by his own
efforts, mainly, he fitted himself to enter the United States Military
Academy at West Point. His first year’s course would have discouraged
him in prosecuting his studies had he not been conscious that there was
that within, which, if properly nurtured, would lead to ultimate
success. In his second year, he raised his general standing from 51 to
30; in the third, from 30 to 20, and in the fourth, his graduating year,
from 20 to 17. His upward progress attracted attention, and one of his
associates remarked: “Had Jackson remained at West Point upon a course
of four years’ longer study, he would have reached the head of his
class.”
His advancement in the Mexican war, rising rapidly from brevet second
lieutenant of artillery to brevet major, was no less marked than that at
the academy, and his gallant and meritorious services had been heralded
to the world through the official reports of his superiors.
General Francis H. Smith, superintendent of the Virginia Military
Institute, in “Institute Memorial,” writes:
“It is not surprising that, when the Board of Visitors of the Virginia
Military Institute were looking about for a suitable person to fill the
chair of Natural and Experimental Philosophy and Artillery, the
associates of this young and brave major of artillery should have
pointed him out as worthy to receive so distinguished an honor. Other
names had been submitted to the Board of Visitors by the Faculty of West
Point, all of men distinguished for high scholarship and for gallant
services in Mexico. McClellan, Reno, Rosecrans, afterward generals in
the Northern army, and G. W. Smith, who afterward became a general in
the Confederate army, were thus named. But the peculiar fitness of young
Jackson, the high testimonials to his personal character, and his
nativity as a Virginian, satisfied the Board that they might safely
select him for the vacant chair without seeking candidates from other
States. He was, therefore, unanimously elected to the professorship on
the 28th of March, 1851, and entered upon the duties of his chair on the
1st of September following.
“The professorial career of Major Jackson was marked by great
faithfulness, and by an unobtrusive, yet earnest spirit. With high
mental endowments, _teaching_ was a new profession to him, and demanded,
in the important department of instruction assigned to him, an amount of
labor which, from the state of his health, and especially from the
weakness of his eyes, he rendered at great sacrifice.
“Conscientious fidelity to duty marked every step of his life here, and
when called to active duty in the field he had made considerable
progress in the preparation of an elementary work on optics, which he
proposed to publish for the benefit of his classes.
[Illustration: _Virginia Military Institute Barracks (fore-shortened)_]
“Strict, and at times stern, in his discipline, though ever polite and
kind, he was not always a popular professor; but no professor ever
possessed to a higher degree the confidence and respect of the cadets
for his unbending integrity and fearlessness in the discharge of his
duty. If he was exact in his demands upon them, they knew he was no less
so in his own respect for and submission to authority; and, thus, it
became a proverb among them, that it was useless to write an excuse for
a report made by Major Jackson. His great principle of government was,
that _a general rule should not be violated for any particular good_;
and his animating rule of action was, that _a man could always
accomplish what he willed to perform_.
“Punctual to a minute, I have known him to walk in front of the
superintendent’s quarters in a hard rain, because the hour had not quite
arrived when it was his duty to present his weekly class reports.
“For ten years, he prosecuted his unwearied labors as a professor,
making during this period, in no questionable form, such an impress upon
those who from time to time were under his command, that, when the war
broke out, the spontaneous sentiment of all cadets and graduates was,
_to serve under him as their leader_.”
An incident is related by General Smith in the same work, which shows
clearly how Jackson was looked upon in the community in which he
resided:
“He left the Virginia Military Institute on the 21st of April, 1861, in
command of the corps of cadets, and reported for duty at Camp Lee,
Richmond. Dangers were thickening rapidly around the State. Invasion by
overwhelming numbers seemed imminent. Norfolk, Richmond, Alexandria, and
Harper’s Ferry were threatened. Officers were needed to command at these
points. The Governor of Virginia nominated Major Jackson as a colonel of
volunteers. His nomination was immediately and unanimously confirmed by
the Council of State, and sent to the Convention then in session. Some
prejudice existed in that body from the supposed influence of the
Virginia Military Institute in these appointments, and the question was
asked by various members, ‘Who is this Thomas J. Jackson’? A member of
the Convention from the county of Rockbridge, Hon. S. McDowell Moore,
replied: ‘I can tell you who he is. _If you put Jackson in command at
Norfolk, he will never leave it alive unless you order him to do so._’
Such was the impress made upon his neighbors and friends in his quiet
life as a professor at the Military Institute.”
In accepting the position of professor, he was again stepping higher. In
active warfare an officer may advance rapidly, but in times of peace he
lives quietly at a military post and simply rusts out. Ill-health,
brought on mainly by exposure in the Mexican War, caused Major Jackson
to resign his commission in the army; but in all probability, had this
not been the case he would have abandoned army life, because he felt
that by close study and application, he could reach a much higher degree
of mental excellence than he had attained; and the position of professor
would enable him to do this, for he knew that the best way to learn was
to teach.
In consequence of the weakness of his eyes, his great will-power had now
to be exerted to the utmost, because he could not use his eyes at night.
In order to do himself and his classes justice, each morning after class
hours, he would carefully read over the lessons for the next day, and,
at night after his simple supper, he would quietly sit with his face to
the wall and go over in his mind the lessons read that day. In this way
he made them his own, and was prepared to teach the next day. This
training was of great use to him in his after life as a soldier. The
power of his mind was such that while riding, in later years, at the
head of his army, he could study the movements of the foe, and plan his
own with as much care and skill as in the quiet of his study at home.
The statement made by General Smith respecting the desire of the cadets
to serve under Major Jackson in the war shows how popular he was, and
this estimate of his powers could have been produced only by their
knowledge of his great worth.
“Old Jack” was the name given to the Major by the cadets, but it was
never used derisively. Pranks were played in Major Jackson’s section
room by the cadets, but more for their own amusement than for any other
purpose. They well knew the consequences if caught, but were willing to
run the risk for the sake of fun.
Cadet Abe Fulkerson once wore a collar made out of three fourths of a
yard of linen, (for no other purpose than to produce a laugh) and it
made even “Old Jack” laugh—that is, smile, which he would not have done
if the size, shape, or color of collars had been fixed by the Institute
regulations.
Cadet Davidson Penn, with an uncommonly solemn face and apparently in
good faith, once asked Major Jackson, “Major, can a cannon be so bent as
to make it shoot around a corner?” The Major showed not the slightest
sign of impatience or of merriment, but after a moment of apparently
sober thought, replied, “Mr. Penn, I reckon hardly.”
It has been said that Major Jackson never smiled or laughed. It has just
been shown that he smiled _once_, and there is no doubt but that if he
could have been seen when he read the excuse mentioned below, not only
would another smile have been seen, but a good, hearty laugh heard. At
artillery drill one evening Major Jackson had given the command,
“Limbers and caissons pass your pieces, trot, march!” Cadet Hambrick
failed to _trot_ at command and was reported. The next day the following
excuse was handed in: Report, “Cadet Hambrick not trotting at artillery
drill.” Excuse, “I am a natural pacer.” These three incidents are
recounted by Dr. J. C. Hiden, of Richmond, Virginia.
[Illustration: _Professor Jackson’s Class-room, Virginia Military
Institute._]
Cadet Thos. B. Amiss, who was afterwards surgeon of one of Jackson’s
Georgian regiments, tried a prank for the double purpose of evading a
recitation and creating a laugh. He was squad-marcher of his section,
and after calling the roll and making his report to the officer of the
day, he turned the section over to the next man on the roll, took his
place in ranks, and cautioned the new squad-marcher not to report him
absent. While the squad-marcher was making his report to Major Jackson
whose eyes seemed always riveted to his class-book when this was being
done, Amiss noiselessly climbed to the top of a column that stood nearly
in the center of the room. Having received the report, Major Jackson
commenced to call the names of those whom he wished to recite at the
board, commencing with Amiss; not hearing Amiss respond, he asked, “Mr.
Amiss absent?” The squad-marcher replied, “No, sir.” The Major looked
steadily along the line of faces, seemed perplexed and cast his eyes
upwards, when he spied the delinquent at the top of the column. The
Major, for a moment, gazed at the clinging figure and said, “You stay
there,” and Amiss had to remain where he was until the recitation was
over. He was reported, court-martialed, received the maximum number of
demerits, and had a large number of extra tours of guard duty assigned
him, during the walking of which in the lone hours of the night, he had
ample time to repent of his folly.
When the class that graduated in 1860 commenced its recitations under
Major Jackson, a sudden end was made to all kinds of merriment in his
class-room. A member of the class, who is now a member of Congress from
Virginia, concealed a small music-box under his coatee and carried it
into the class-room. After the recitation had commenced he touched a
spring and the room was filled with sweet, muffled strains of music.
Major Jackson did not hear, or if he did, took no notice of it. The
cadet, finding that his music was not duly appreciated, commenced to
bark, in very low tones, like a puppy, and this meeting with the same
fate as the music he became emboldened and barked louder. Major Jackson,
without changing his countenance, turning his head, or raising his voice
above an ordinary tone, said, “Mr. C., when you march the section in
again, please leave that puppy outside.” The laugh was on the young
cadet, and the result stated followed.
The following incident illustrates clearly how regardless Major Jackson
was of public opinion or personal feeling when in conflict with duty. A
young cadet was dismissed through a circumstance that occurred in Major
Jackson’s class-room, and he became so enraged that he challenged the
Major to fight a duel, and sent him word that if he would not fight he
would kill him on sight. Major Jackson, actuated solely by conscientious
motives, took the necessary precautions to prevent a conflict, and
informed the young man, through his friends, that if he were attacked he
would defend himself. The attack was not made, notwithstanding the fact
that the Major passed back and forth as usual. This cadet, during the
Civil War, learned to know Major Jackson better, was under his command,
and before the close of the war commanded the “Stonewall Brigade,” which
was rendered so famous by Jackson; and in later years, when asked his
opinion of this great man, said that he was the only man ever born who
had never been whipped.
Major Jackson seemed to enjoy the duty of drilling the artillery battery
more than any other duty he had to perform, and it was natural that he
should, for he had won fame as an artillery officer in the Mexican War.
[Illustration: _Where Major Jackson trained artillerymen (Virginia
Military Institute Parade-Grounds)._]
Near the close of every session of the Institute, Major Jackson was
required to drill the battery before the Board of Visitors; and in order
to make it more interesting to the public, always present in large
crowds, blank cartridges were fired, and the drill had really the
semblance of a battery in actual battle. An impressive scene was
witnessed at this drill in 1860. It commenced at 5 P. M. Major Jackson
had put the battery through its various evolutions, and as the time
approached for the firing to commence, seemed more and more interested
in his work. His old professor of engineering at West Point, Dennis
Mahan, and the commandant of cadets of that institution, Colonel Hardee,
witnessed the drill. Ever since the commencement of the evolutions, a
dark cloud had been gathering in the west and the rumbling of thunder
could be heard. The firing commenced and all was excitement. Closer and
closer came the cloud, and the artillery of heaven seemed replying to
the discharges of the battery. Major Jackson had been slowly retreating
before the imaginary foe, firing by half battery. The cloud came nearer
and nearer, unheeded by Jackson. Suddenly his voice rang clear and
sharp, “Fire advancing by half battery”—the foe were
retreating—“right-half battery advance, commence firing!” New positions
were rapidly taken, and the firing was at its height. Then the storm
broke in all its fury. Up to that time the Major had seemed oblivious to
all save the drill. The bursting storm brought him to himself and he
dismissed the battery, which at once went to shelter. Major Jackson
remained where he was, folded his arms and stood like a statue in the
driving storm. An umbrella was sent him from a house close by with an
invitation to come to cover. He replied, “No, thank you;” and there he
stood until the storm was over, doubtless thinking of the hard-fought
fields of Mexico and the havoc he had there wrought.
In November, 1851, Major Jackson connected himself with the Presbyterian
church at Lexington, then in charge of the Rev. Dr. W. S. White. It now
seemed his chief desire to do good. He was made a deacon and given a
class of young men in the Sunday school. Some of them still live and
remember how faithfully he taught them. He also gathered together the
African slaves of the town every Sabbath evening for the purpose of
teaching them the truths of the Bible. He soon had a school of eighty or
a hundred pupils and twelve teachers. This school he kept up from 1855
to 1861, when he left Lexington to enter the army; and until his death
it was always a great pleasure to him to hear of his black Sunday
school.
Duty became now more than ever the rule of his life—duty to God and duty
to man. So great was his regard for the Sabbath that he would not even
read a letter, or mail one which he knew would be carried on that day.
The Rev. R. L. Dabney tells us that one Sabbath, when a dear friend, who
knew that the Major had received a letter from his lady-love late on
Saturday night, asked, as they were walking to church, “Major, surely
you have read your letter?” “Certainly not,” said he. “What obstinacy!”
exclaimed his friend. “Do you not think that your desire to know its
contents will distract your mind from divine worship far more than if
you had done with reading it?” “No,” answered he, quietly, “I shall make
the most faithful effort I can to control my thoughts, and as I do this
from a sense of duty, I shall expect the divine blessing upon it.”
When a single man, he made it a rule to accept, if possible, all
invitations, saying that when a friend had taken the trouble to invite
him it was his duty to attend.
Major Gittings, once a cadet, and a relative of Major Jackson, says:
“Speaking from a social standpoint, no man ever had a more delicate
regard for the feelings of others than he, and nothing would embarrass
him more than any _contretemps_ that might occur to cause pain or
distress of mind to others. Hence, he was truly a polite man, and while
his manner was often constrained, and even awkward, yet he would usually
make a favorable impression, through his desire to please.”
When Major Jackson first came to Lexington he was in ill-health, and
many things he did were looked upon as odd, which were really not so. He
had been at a famous water-cure hospital in the North, and had been
ordered to live on stale bread and buttermilk and to wear a wet shirt
next to his body. He was also advised to go to bed at 9 o’clock. If that
hour found him at a party or lecture, or any other place, in order to
obey his physician, he would leave.
[Illustration: _Major Jackson’s Home in Lexington._]
The dyspepsia with which he suffered often caused drowsiness, and he
would sometimes go to sleep while talking to a friend or while sitting
in his pew at church.
General Hill says of him: “I have seen his head bowed down to his very
knees during a good part of the sermon. He always heard the text of our
good pastor, the Rev. Dr. White, and the first part of the sermon, but
after that all was lost.” Before leaving Lexington, he seemed to have
gained complete control over his muscles, even while asleep, for no one,
in the few years preceding his departure, ever saw “his head and his
knees in contact,” but it was a common thing to see him sound asleep
while sitting perfectly upright.
Before marriage, Major Jackson had his room in barracks, but took his
meals at a hotel in Lexington, and it has been said by some that his
eccentricities caused much comment; more than that, he was laughed at
and insulted by rude, coarse persons. This could hardly have been true,
for an insult offered to “Old Jack” would certainly have been found out
in some way, and if not resented personally, it would have been by the
cadets to a man. One who lived in Lexington during four years of Major
Jackson’s residence there, and more than a quarter of a century after
the war, never heard of these insults, and, surely, had they ever been
given they would have been talked of, for Jackson’s name was on every
tongue, and the incidents of his life, from boyhood to death, were
almost a constant subject of conversation.
Though Major Jackson was very modest, no man ever relied more fully upon
himself. Mentioning one day to a friend that he was going to begin the
study of Latin, he received the reply that one who had not studied the
forms of that language in youth could never become master of it in later
years. To this Jackson replied, “No; if I attempt it, I shall become
master of the language. _I can do what I will to do._”
This stern will-power came to the aid of his ambition many times. He
found it difficult to speak in public, and in order to acquire the art,
he joined a literary club called the “Franklin Society.” He was always
at the meetings, and spoke in his turn; but, at first, his efforts were
painful both to himself and to his hearers. His health was poor, his
nerves were unstrung, and sometimes he was so confused that he would
break down in the middle of a sentence for want of the right word. When
this happened, he would quietly sit down, and when his turn in the
debate came again would rise and make another attempt. Thus, before the
close of the debate, he would succeed in telling what was in his mind.
By thus trying time after time, he became a good speaker.
Soon after joining the Presbyterian church, good Dr. White, his pastor,
called upon him to pray in public. He prayed in such a halting way that
Dr. White told him that he would never again ask him to perform so hard
a task. Major Jackson replied that it was a cross to him to pray in
public, but that he had made up his mind to bear it, and did not wish to
be excused. So he kept on trying, and soon became a leader in prayer.
General Hill, speaking of this incident, says: “I think his conduct in
this case was due to his determination to conquer every weakness of his
nature. He once told me that when he was a small boy, being sick, a
mustard plaster was placed upon his chest, and his guardian mounted him
upon a horse to go to a neighbor’s house, so that his mind might be
diverted and the plaster kept on. He said that the pain was so dreadful
that he fainted soon after getting off his horse. I asked him if he had
kept it on in order to obey his guardian. He answered, ‘No, it was owing
to a feeling that I have had from childhood not to yield to trials and
difficulties.’”
The same close friend also writes: “Dr. Dabney thinks that he was timid,
and that nothing but his iron will made him brave. I think this is a
mistake. The muscles of his face would twitch when a battle was about to
open, and his hand would tremble so that he could hardly write. His men
would see the working of his face and would say, ‘Old Jack is making
faces at the Yankees.’ But all this only showed weak nerves. I think he
loved danger for its own sake.”
Like St. Paul, “he kept his body under,” and would not let any appetite
control him or any weakness overcome him. He used neither coffee,
tobacco, nor spirits, and he would go all winter without cloak or
overcoat in the mountains of Virginia, giving as a reason that he “did
not wish to give way to cold.”
For a like reason, he never drank spirits of any kind. It is told of him
that once during the Civil War, when he was too near the outposts of the
foe to have fire, and being greatly chilled, he was advised by his
surgeon to take a drink of brandy. He at length agreed to take some, but
made such a wry face in swallowing it that some one asked him if it
choked him. “No,” he replied, “I like it. That is the reason I never use
it.” Another time, being asked to take a drink of brandy, he said, “No,
I thank you; I am more afraid of it than all the Federal bullets.”
The immortal Jackson afraid of strong drink! What a lesson to people who
have not the courage to say “No,” when tempted to do wrong!
In the midst of this busy life as professor, Major Jackson was married,
on August 4th, 1853, to Miss Eleanor Junkin, the daughter of the
president of Washington College, Lexington, Virginia. This lovely lady
lived only fourteen months after her marriage. Major Jackson’s grief at
her death was so great as to alarm his friends. His health, never good,
suffered seriously, and his friends induced him in the summer of 1856 to
take a trip to Europe, hoping that “the spell might be broken which
bound him to sadness.”
His European trip benefited him very materially in health and spirits,
and on his return he, with great zeal, resumed his labors in his classes
at both the Military Institute and the Sunday School.
He had started on his return trip in ample time to reach the Institute
at its opening, September 1st, which he had promised to do; but storms
had prevented this and he was behind time.
A lady friend, knowing what a slave he was to his word, asked him if he
had not been miserable at the delay. The answer was characteristic of
the man. He had done his part, Providence had intervened, and he had not
worried in the least. No man ever trusted Providence more implicitly
than Jackson, and when he went to God in prayer he knew that his feet
would be guided in the right way.
Dr. Dabney tells us that one day, when a friend said that he could not
understand how one could “pray without ceasing,” Jackson replied that he
had, for some time, been in the habit of praying all through the day.
“When we take our meals,” said he, “there is grace, and when I take a
draught of water, I always pause to lift up my heart to God in thanks
for the ‘water of life’; and when I go to my class-room and await the
coming of the cadets, that is my time to pray for them. And so with
every other act of the day.” Thus we see that Jackson was truly a
“praying man.”
His pastor, Rev. Dr. White, once said that Major Jackson was the
happiest man that he had ever known. This happiness came from his faith
in the saving care of God.
We are told that a friend once said to him, “Suppose you should lose
your eyesight and then, too, be very ill, and have to depend on those
bound to you by no tie, would not this be too much for your faith? Do
you think you could be happy then?” He thought a moment and then said,
“If it were the will of God to place me on a sick bed, He would enable
me to lie there in peace a hundred years.”
Such was the faith of this great man! As he grew older his spirit became
more saintly until, when called upon to go up higher to meet his Lord,
his end seemed more like a passing over than a death.
Major Jackson was married again, on July 15th, 1857, to Mary Anna
Morrison, the daughter of Dr. R. H. Morrison, a Presbyterian minister,
of North Carolina. This lady is now living, and has quite lately written
a life of her husband, in which she gives beautiful glimpses of their
home life in Lexington, and also extracts from his letters written to
her during the Civil War, of which I must so soon tell you.
Shortly after his second marriage, Major Jackson bought a house and a
few acres of land, and soon all of his spare time was spent in working
in his garden and fields.
We are told that his little farm of rocky hill-land was soon well fenced
and tilled, and that he used to say that the bread grown there by the
labor of himself and slaves tasted sweeter than that which was bought.
[Illustration: _Mrs. T. J. Jackson in 1899._]
He liked to have his friends visit him, and nowhere else was he so easy
and happy as with his guests at his own table.
In his home, military sternness left his brow and the law of love took
its place.
This story is told of him, which shows how gentle and tender a soldier
may be. “Once a friend, who was taking his little four-year-old girl on
a journey without her mother, called on the way to spend the night with
Major Jackson. At bed-time, when Mrs. Jackson wished to take the child
to her room for the night, the father replied that his little one would
give less trouble if he kept her with him. In the still watches of the
night, he heard a soft step, and felt a hand laid upon his bed. It was
Major Jackson, who, fearing that the little girl would toss off the
covering, had come to see that all was safe.”
This good and peaceful life at Lexington was short. The black cloud of
war was hovering over our land and ere long the storm burst in great
fury, sweeping Major Jackson away from his quiet life, his professorial
duties, and his loved wife and friends, into the midst of carnage and
death, and to deeds that made his fame world-wide and immortal.
Major Jackson had but one more duty to perform as a professor and
officer of the Virginia Military Institute. He had been left in charge
of the corps of cadets when the superintendent had been called to
Richmond. Early on the morning of Sunday, April 21st, 1861, an order was
received by Major Jackson from Governor John Letcher, directing him to
leave with his command for Richmond at 12:30 P. M. that day. Major
Jackson’s arrangements were promptly made, and he sent a request to his
pastor, good Dr. White, to come to the Institute and hold religious
services for the young men prior to their departure. These services were
held in front of the barracks. The battalion was drawn up in line of
battle, Major Jackson at the head and venerable Dr. White in the front
and center. All, with bowed heads, were devoutly listening to the
invocations speeding heavenward. The clock in the Institute tower gave
the signal for departure, and, without a moment’s pause, Jackson took up
the line of march and left his beloved pastor praying.
The key-note of his great success as a soldier was prompt obedience to
orders and requiring the same of others.
Me-mo′ri-al, something designed to keep in remembrance a person,
place, or event.
Fac′ul-ty, the body of instructors in a school.
Prof-es-so′ri-al, pertaining to a professor.
Coat-ee′ (cō-tē′), a short military coat.
Con′sci-en′-tious, governed by conscience.
Ŏb′sti-na-cy, stubbornness.
Tell about—
Major Jackson’s appointment as professor in the Virginia Military
Institute.
His reasons for resigning his position in the army and accepting a
professorship.
His life at the Institute.
His method of studying.
His Sunday school for negroes.
His strict observance of the Sabbath.
His home life.