Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War
and far more wealthy. Loth to lose their birthright, yet powerless to
resist, the Mexicans could only haggle for a price. The States were not
disposed to be ungenerous, but the transfer of so vast a territory
could not be accomplished in a moment, and the victorious army remained
in occupation of the capital.
Beneath the shadow of the Stars and Stripes conqueror and conquered
lived in harmony. Mexico was tired of war. Since the downfall of
Spanish rule revolution had followed revolution with startling
rapidity. The beneficent despotism of the great viceroys had been
succeeded by the cruel exactions of petty tyrants, and for many a long
year the country had been ravaged by their armies. The capital itself
had enjoyed but a few brief intervals of peace, and now, although the
bayonets of an alien race were the pledge of their repose, the citizens
revelled in the unaccustomed luxury. Nor were they ungrateful to those
who brought them a respite from alarms and anarchy. Under the mild
administration of the American generals the streets resumed their
wonted aspect. The great markets teemed with busy crowds. Across the
long causeways rolled the creaking waggons, laden with the produce of
far-distant haciendas. Trade was restored, and even the most patriotic
merchants were not proof against the influence of the American dollar.
Between the soldiers and the people was much friendly intercourse. Even
the religious orders did not disdain to offer their hospitality to the
heretics. The uniforms of the victorious army were to be seen at every
festive gathering, and the graceful Mexicañas were by no means
insensible to the admiration of the stalwart Northerners. Those
blue-eyed and fair-haired invaders were not so very terrible after all;
and the beauties of the capital, accustomed to be wooed in liquid
accents and flowery phrases, listened without reluctance to harsher
tones and less polished compliments. Travellers of many races have
borne willing witness to the charms and virtues of the women of Mexico.
“True daughters of Spain,” it has been said, “they unite the grace of
Castile to the vivacity of Andalusia; and more sterling
qualities are by no means wanting. Gentle and refined, unaffectedly
pleasing in manners and conversation, they evince a warmth of heart
which wins for them the respect and esteem of all strangers.” To the
homes made bright by the presence of these fair specimens of womanhood
Scott’s officers were always welcome; and Jackson, for the first time
in his life, found himself within the sphere of feminine attractions.
The effect on the stripling soldier, who, stark fighter as he was, had
seen no more of life than was to be found in a country village or
within the precincts of West Point, may be easily imagined. Who the
magnet was he never confessed; but that he went near losing his heart
to some charming señorita of _sangre azul_ he more than once
acknowledged, and he took much trouble to appear to advantage in her
eyes. The deficiencies in his education which prevented his full
enjoyment of social pleasures were soon made up. He not only learned to
dance, an accomplishment which must have taxed his perseverance to the
utmost, but he spent some months in learning Spanish; and it is
significant that to the end of his life he retained a copious
vocabulary of those tender diminutives which fall so gracefully from
Spanish lips.
But during his stay in Mexico other and more lasting influences were at
work. Despite the delights of her delicious climate, where the roses
bloom the whole year round, the charms of her romantic scenery, and the
fascinations of her laughter-loving daughters, Jackson’s serious nature
soon asserted itself. The constant round of light amusements and simple
duties grew distasteful. The impress of his mother’s teachings and
example was there to guide him; and his native reverence for all that
was good and true received an unexpected impulse. There were not
wanting in the American army men who had a higher ideal of duty than
mere devotion to the business of their profession. The officer
commanding the First Artillery, Colonel Frank Taylor, possessed that
earnest faith which is not content with solitude. “This good man,” says
Dabney, “was accustomed to labour as a father for the religious welfare
of his young officers, and during the summer
campaign his instructions and prayers had produced so much effect as to
awake an abiding anxiety and spirit of inquiry in Jackson’s mind.” The
latter had little prejudice in favour of any particular sect or church.
There was no State Establishment in the United States. His youth had
been passed in a household where Christianity was practically unknown,
and with characteristic independence he determined to discover for
himself the rule that he should follow. His researches took a course
which his Presbyterian ancestors would assuredly have condemned. But
Jackson’s mind was singularly open, and he was the last man in the
world to yield to prejudice. Soon after peace was declared, he had made
the acquaintance of a number of priests belonging to one of the great
religious orders of the Catholic Church. They had invited him to take
up his quarters with them, and when he determined to examine for
himself into the doctrine of the ancient faith, he applied through them
for an introduction to the Archbishop of Mexico. Several interviews
took place between the aged ecclesiastic and the young soldier. Jackson
departed unsatisfied. He acknowledged that the prelate was a sincere
and devout Christian, and he was impressed as much with his kindness as
his learning. But he left Mexico without any settled convictions on the
subject which now absorbed his thoughts.
June 12 On June 12, peace having been signed at the end of May, the
last of the American troops marched out of the conquered capital.
Jackson’s battery was sent to Fort Hamilton, on Long Island, seven
miles below New York, and there, with his honours thick upon him, he
settled down to the quiet life of a small garrison. He had gone out to
Mexico a second lieutenant; he had come back a field-officer. He had
won a name in the army, and his native State had enrolled him amongst
her heroes. He had gone out an unformed youth; he had come back a man
and a proved leader of men. He had been known merely as an
indefatigable student and a somewhat unsociable companion. He had come
back with a reputation for daring courage, not only the courage which
glories in swift action and the excitement of the charge, but courage
of an enduring quality. And in that distant country he had won more
than fame. He had already learned something of the vanity of temporal
success. He had gone out with a vague notion of ruling his life in
accordance with moral precepts and philosophic maxims; but he was to be
guided henceforward by loftier principles than even devotion to duty
and regard for honour, and from the path he had marked out for himself
in Mexico he never deviated.
[1] Copyright 1897 by Longmans, Green, & Co.
[2] General R. S. Ewell.
[3] Grant’s _Memoirs_, vol. i, p. 53.
[4] Lieutenant D. H. Hill, afterwards his brother-in-law.
[5] He had been promoted second lieutenant on March 3. _Records of the
First Regiment of Artillery._
[6] The Americans had about 8,500 men upon the field, and their loss
was 431, including two generals. _Memoirs of Lieut.-General Scott._
[7] According to the Regimental Records his company (K) was not
engaged in the battle, but only in the pursuit.
[8] Two 24-pounders, two 8-inch howitzers, and two light pieces.
Ripley’s _History of the Mexican War._
[9] It is said, however, that their horses were little more than
ponies, and far too light for a charge. Semmes’ _Campaign of General
Scott._
[10] 4,500 Americans (rank and file) were engaged, and the losses did
not exceed 50. Scott’s _Memoirs._
[11] 862 officers and men fell at Chapultepec. Scott’s _Memoirs._
[12] Grant’s _Memoirs_, vol. i, p. 169.
[13] The total loss in the battles before the capital was 2,703,
including 383 officers. Scott’s _Memoirs._
[14] Letter to the author.
[15] Grant’s _Memoirs_, vol. i, p. 168.
[16] Ripley’s _History of the Mexican War,_ vol. ii, p. 73 &c.)
[17] Grant’s _Memoirs,_ vol. i, p. 192.
Chapter III
LEXINGTON. 1851–1861
1848 Of Jackson’s life at Fort Hamilton there is little to tell. His
friend and mentor, Colonel Taylor, was in command. The chaplain, once
an officer of dragoons, was a man of persuasive eloquence and earnest
zeal; and surrounded by influences which had now become congenial, the
young major of artillery pursued the religious studies he had begun in
Mexico. There was some doubt whether he had been baptised as a child.
He was anxious that no uncertainty should exist as to his adhesion to
Christianity, but he was unwilling that the sacrament should bind him
to any particular sect.
1849 On the understanding that no surrender of judgment would be
involved, he was baptised and received his first communion in the
Episcopal Church.
Two years passed without incident, and then Jackson was transferred to
Florida. In his new quarters his stay was brief.
1851 In March 1851 he was appointed Professor of Artillery Tactics and
Natural Philosophy at the Virginia Military Institute. His success, for
such he deemed it, was due to his own merit. One of his Mexican
comrades, Major D. H. Hill, afterwards his brother-in-law, was a
professor in a neighbouring institution, Washington College, and had
been consulted by the Superintendent of the Institute as to the filling
of the vacant chair.
Hill remembered what had been said of Jackson at West Point: “If the
course had been one year longer he would have graduated at the head of
his class.” This voluntary testimonial of his brother cadets had not
passed
unheeded. It had weight, as the best evidence of his thoroughness and
application, with the Board of Visitors, and Jackson was unanimously
elected.
The Military Institute, founded twelve years previously on the model of
West Point, was attended by several hundred youths from Virginia and
other Southern States. At Lexington, in the county of Rockbridge, a
hundred miles west of Richmond, stand the castellated buildings and the
wide parade ground which formed the nursery of so many Confederate
soldiers. To the east rise the lofty masses of the Blue Ridge. To the
north successive ranges of rolling hills, green with copse and
woodland, fall gently to the lower levels; and stretching far away at
their feet, watered by that lovely river which the Indians in melodious
syllables called Shenandoah, “bright daughter of the Stars,” the great
Valley of Virginia,
Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns
And bowery hollows,
lies embosomed within its mountain walls. Of all its pleasant market
towns, Lexington is not the least attractive; and in this pastoral
region, where the great forests stand round about the corn-fields, and
the breezes blow untainted from the uplands, had been built the College
which Washington, greatest of Virginians and greatest of American
soldiers, had endowed. Under the shadow of its towers the State had
found an appropriate site for her military school.
The cadets of the Institute, although they wore a uniform, were taught
by officers of the regular army, were disciplined as soldiers, and
spent some months of their course in camp, were not destined for a
military career. All aspirants for commissions in the United States
army had to pass through West Point; and the training of the State
colleges—for Virginia was not solitary in the possession of such an
institution—however much it may have benefited both the minds and
bodies of the rising generation, was of immediate value only to those