2. II.
His popularity was great in degree, but more singular in
character. No general was ever so beloved by the good and
pious of the land. Old ladies received him wherever he went
with a species of enthusiasm, and I think he preferred their
society and that of clergymen to any other. In such society his
kindly nature seemed to expand, and his countenance was
charming. He would talk for hours upon religious subjects,
never weary, it seemed, of such discourse, and at such moments
his smile had the sweetness and simplicity of childhood. The
hard intellect was resting, and the heart of the soldier spoke in
this congenial converse upon themes more dear to him than all
others. I have seen him look serene and perfectly happy, conversing
with a venerable lady upon their relative religious
experiences. Children were also great favourites with him, and
he seldom failed to make them love him. When at his headquarters
below Fredericksburg, in 1863, he received a splendid
new cap, gorgeous with a broad band of dazzling gold braid,
which was greatly admired by a child one day in his quarters.
Thereupon Jackson drew her between his knees, ripped off the
braid, and binding it around her curls, sent her away delighted.
With maidens of more advanced age, however, the somewhat
shy General was less at his ease. At “Hayfield,” near the
same headquarters, and about the same time, the hospitable
family were one day visited by Generals Lee, Jackson, and
Stuart, when a little damsel of fourteen confided to her friend
General Lee her strong desire to kiss General Jackson. General
Lee, always fond of pleasantry, at once informed Jackson of the
young lady's desire, and the great soldier's face was covered
with blushes and confusion. An amusing picture, too, is drawn
of the General when he fell into the hands of the ladies of
Martinsburg, and they cut off almost every button of his coat
as souvenirs. The beleaguered hero would have preferred
storming a line of intrenchments.
Jackson had little humour. He was not sour or gloomy, nor
did he look grimly upon “fun” as something which a good
Presbyterian should avoid. He was perfectly cheerful, liberal
and rational in this as in everything; but he had no ear for
humour, as some persons have none for music. A joke was a
mysterious affair to him. Only when so very “broad” and
staring, that he who ran might read it, did humour of any sort
strike Jackson. Even his thick coating of matter-of-fact was
occasionally pierced, however. At Port Republic a soldier said
to his companion: “I wish these Yankees were in hell,” whereupon
the other replied: “I don't; for if they were, old Jack
would be within half a mile of them, with the Stonewall Brigade
in front!” When this was told to Jackson, he is said to
have burst out into hearty laughter, most unusual of sounds upon
the lips of the serious soldier. But such enjoyment of fun was
rare with him. I was never more struck with this than one day
at Fredericksburg, at General Stuart's headquarters. There was
an indifferent brochure published in those days, styled “Abram,
a Poem,” in the comic preface to which, Jackson was presented
in a most ludicrous light, seated on a stump at Oxhill and gnawing
at a roasting ear, while a whole North Carolina brigade
behind him in line of battle was doing likewise. General Stuart
read it with bursts of laughter to his friend, and Jackson also
laughed with perfect good-humour; but no sooner had the book
been closed than he seemed to forget its existence, and said with
an irresistibly matter-of-fact expression which made this writer
retire to indulge his own laughter: “
By the by, in going to Culpeper,
where did you cross the Rapidan?” His manner was
unmistakable. It said: “My dear Stuart, all that is no doubt
very amusing to you, and I laugh because you do; but it don't
interest me.” On one occasion only, to the knowledge of the
present writer, did Jackson betray something like dry humour.
It was at Harper's Ferry, in September, 1862, just after the surrender
of that place, and when General Lee was falling back
upon Sharpsburg. Jackson was standing on the bridge over
the Potomac when a courier, out of breath, and seriously “demoralized,”
galloped up to him, and announced that McClellan
was within an hour's march of the place with an enormous army.
Jackson was conversing with a Federal officer at the moment,
and did not seem to hear the courier, who repeated his message
with every mark of agitation. Thereupon Jackson turned round
and said: “Has he any cattle with him?” The reply was that
there were thousands. “Well,” said Jackson, with his dry smile,
“you can go. My men can whip any army that comes well
provisioned.” Of wit, properly speaking, he had little. But
at times his brief, wise, matter-of-fact sentences became epigrammatic.
Dr. Hunter McGuire, his medical director, once gave
him some whiskey when he was wet and fatigued. Jackson made
a wry face in swallowing it, and Dr. McGuire asked if it was
not good whiskey. “Oh, yes,” replied Jackson, “I like liquor,
the taste and effect—
that's why I don't drink it.”
