The Citizen

STONEWALL JACKSON

In the December Century, Mr. George W. Cable, in an article on "The Gentler Side of Two Great Southerners," relates the following story of Stonewall Jackson, which was told to Mr. Cable by Mr. George H. Moffett, of the Evening Telegram, of Portland, Ore.:

"Stonewall Jackson," he said, "openly deplored, as did so many other great leaders of the South, the institution of slavery. Yet he was firmly convinced that its existence was not only guaranteed by the national constitution, but sanctioned by a divinely inspired scripture. I heard him say as much in the only political speech he ever made. It was at a meeting held in Lexington, Va., in the election campaign of 1860, his voice coming unexpectedly from a seat in the rear of the house, where he had risen in support of an aggressive resolution. He was then Maj. Jackson, a professor, as every one knows, in the Lexington Military Institute. He was a frequent visitor in the house where, as a college student, I boarded, and I had more than once heard him express in private conversation the same convictions which he, on that one occasion only, declared in public.

"My acquaintance with him was only such as a boy of sixteen would have with a man of mature years. Our only point of intimate contact lay in the fact that I taught a class in the now famous colored Sunday-school which he had organized in connection with the Presbyterian church of the town. But I believe this Sunday-school of negro children of which he was superintendent lay closer to his heart than any other object on earth except his home and family. In the war, though much under legal age, I became a private cavalryman. Sometimes I saw Gen. Jackson. In August, 1862, the day before he met and drove back Pope's army in the battle of Cedar Run, I was riding down the road leading north from Orange Court House, on my way from brigade headquarters to join my regiment on the Rapidan, when I overtook a division of infantry on the march, going toward Culpepper. The active movements of our forces indicated the sharp work that was near at hand. When I reached the head of the column I found Gen. Jackson, his cap drawn down over his forehead, riding alone and apparently buried in deep meditation of his strategic plans. I rode by with a silent salute, but he recognized me, called to me to halt, and, riding up to my side, began to talk about the colored Sunday-school in Lexington. It was a great gratification to him, he said, that the school was being kept up in his absence. So we parted, and he rode on to bloody victory.

"And once again: it was the afternoon of the first day of the second Bull Run battle, and one of the most critical moments of Jackson's whole military career. He had come round through Thoroughfare Gap, putting the Bull Run Mountains and Pope's whole army between himself and Lee. Pope had turned, closed in upon him, and brought him to bay. The battle had been raging for hours, and though Longstreet had come to Jackson's aid, no one could yet say that Jackson's hard-pressed left would not be overwhelmed. Our battalion of cavalry under Maj. Patrick had been halted near Groveton—almost in the centre of the field of battle—and sharpshooters were deployed to meet the enemy, who were coming down the Warrenton pike. At this moment General Jackson rode up. There was hard fighting everywhere. He conversed for a few moments with Major Patrick, and then turned and spoke to me. He said that certain of our men on an eminence above the road were needlessly exposed, and bade me ride to them and call them in. I had started to obey, when he suddenly stopped me with—

"Oh! I had a letter a few days ago from Dr. White, and he tells me that our Sunday-school is still kept up."

"That was all. I went my way to execute his command, and he rode back to his infantry. I never saw him again."

So spoke my narrator, whom I thank again here for allowing me the honor to tell the story after him.