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Never can I forget the eagerness and intensity of Jackson on that march to Hooker's rear. His face was pale, his eyes were flashing. Out from his thin compressed lips came the terse command: "Press forward, press forward." In his eagerness, as he rode he leaned over on the neck of his horse as if in that way the march might be hurried. "See that the column is kept closed and that there is no straggling," he more than once ordered-and "Press on, press on" was repeated again and again. Every man in the ranks knew that we were engaged in some great flank movement, and they eagerly responded, and pressed on at a rapid gait. Fitz. Lee met us and told Jackson he could show him the whole of Hooker's army if he went with him to the top of a hill near by. They went together, and Jackson carefully inspected through his glasses the Federal command. He was so wrapped up in his plans that on his return he passed Fitz. Lee without saluting or thanking him, and when he reached the column he ordered one aide to go forward and tell General Rodes, who was in the lead, to cross the Plank road, and go straight on to the turnpike, and another aide to go to the rear of the column and see that it was kept closed up, and all along the line he repeatedly said "Press on, press right on." The fiercest energy possessed the man, and the fire of battle fell strong upon him. When he arrived at the Plank road he sent this, his last message, to Lee: "The enemy has made a stand at Chancellorsville. I hope as soon as practicable to attack. I trust that an ever kind Providence will bless us with success." And as this message went to Lee, there was flashing along the wires-giving brief joy to the Federal CapitalHooker's message: "The enemy must either ingloriously fly, or come out from behind his defences and give us battle on our own ground, where certain destruction awaits him."

Contrast the two. Jackson's-modest, confident, hopeful—relying on his cause and his God. Hooker's-frightened, boastful, arrogant, vainglorious. The two messages are characteristic of the two men and of the two people.

But this battle has been so often described in its minutest detail I forbear to tax your patience. I forbear for another reason.

While I can write about it, I cannot speak of it to old soldiers without more emotion than I wish to show. The result of that great battle the world knows. Except for the unsurpassed-the wonderful campaign of 1864-this is perhaps the finest illustration of General Lee's genius for war, and yet, in writing to Jackson he says: "I have just received your note, informing me that you were wounded. I cannot express my regret at its occurrence. Could I have directed events, I would have chosen, for the good of the country, to have been disabled in your stead, I congratulate you on the victory, which is due to your skill and energy."

See the noble spirit of our great commander! Not further removed is pole from pole than was any mean jealousy or thought of self in his great soul. He obeyed the hard command that "In honor ye prefer one another." This note displays his greatness, yet it is also history, in that we know, on his testimony, that Jackson shared with him the glory of that battle. These great soldiers loved and trusted one another, and in death they are not divided. How sacred is the soil of Lexington! for here they rest side by side.

I have already told the story of Jackson's death; it is so familiar to you all, that, though intimately associated with its scenes, I will not narrate it again. I will only declare that he met this great enemy as he had met all others, calmly and steadily, expecting as always to conquer, but now trusting, not in his own strength -not as heretofore in the prowess of mortal arms, nor in the splendid fibre of mortal courage, but in the unseen strength upon which he had always relied-the strength that never failed him— and so, foreseeing the rest that awaited him on the other side, he crossed over the river. "My hand is on my mouth, and my mouth is in the dust."

Already I have told you much that you already knew. In this I beg you to observe I have but fulfilled my promise. My apology is that my thoughts are in Lexington, and that I stand by the grave of Jackson. Under such circumstances love does not seek new stories to tell, new incidents to relate. Just to its own heart

or to some sympathizing ear, it goes over the old scenes, recalls the old memories, tenderly dwells upon and tells them over and over again, says farewell, and comes back again and stands silent in the presence of the dead, and so I finish what I had to say and bid farewell to Stonewall Jackson. And yet, all is not said, for even in the presence of his mighty shade, our hearts bow down and we are awed by another presence, for the towering form beside him is that of Robert Lee. Thought and feeling and power of expression are paralyzed. I cannot help you now with words to tell all that is in your hearts.

Time fails, and I trust to your memories to recall a group more familiar, in whose presence perhaps we would not be so oppressed, and yet a list of names that ought to be dear to every Confederate. I think that in the wide, wide world, no country of equal size has had so long a list of glorious dead-so many around whose memories a halo of glory gathers. Reverently I salute them all.

And so I leave the grave of my General and my friend, knowing that for centuries men will come to Lexington as to a Mecca, and to this grave as to a shrine, and wonderingly talk of this man and his mighty deeds. I know that time will only add to his great fame. I know that his name will be honored and revered forever, just as I know that the beautiful river, flowing near by, will sing an unceasing requiem to his memory-just as I know that the proud mountains, like some vast chain of sentinels, will keep eternal watch over his honored grave.

Account of the Wounding and Death

of Stonewall Jackson

By HUNTER MCGUIRE, M. D., L.L. D.,
Medical Director Jackson's Corps, A. N. Va.

Published in the Richmond Medical Journal May, 1866.

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