THE DEATH OF STONEWALL JACKSON

By Mary Anna Jackson (His Wife).

IT was while he was performing a brilliant military maneuver, on the evening of May 2, 1863, at the Battle of Chancellorsville that Jackson, with a small reconnoitering escort, advanced in front of his own lines and, being mistaken for a Federal officer, was fired upon by the Confederates. He was severely wounded in his left arm, which had to be amputated. To the stricken general Lee said in a message sent through a friend, "He has lost his left arm, but 1 have lost my right arm." Jackson seemed in a fair way to recover, but pneumonia set in, from which he died eight days later, as told by his widow, in "The Life and Letters of 'Stonewall' Jackson," published by Harper & Brothers.

Jackson was conspicuous not only for his military genius, but for his personal character. Like Cromwell, he blended the devoutness of the Puritan with the severity of the soldier. He never began a battle without a prayer, and after a victory publicly gave thanks to God.

GENERAL JACKSON, accompanied by a part of his staff and several couriers, advanced on the turnpike in the direction of the enemy about a hundred yards, when he was fired upon by a volley of musketry from his right front. The bullets whistled among the party, and struck several horses. This fire was evidently from the enemy, and one of his men caught his bridle-rein and said to him : "General Jackson, you should not expose yourself so much." "There is no danger," he replied, "the enemy is routed. Go back and tell General Hill to press on." But in order to screen himself from the flying bullets, he rode from the road to the left and rear. The small trees and brushwood being very dense, it was difficult to effect a passage on horseback. While riding as rapidly as possible to the rear, he came in front of his own line of battle, who, having no idea that he, or any one but the enemy, was in their front, and mistaking the party for a body of Federal cavalry, opened a sharp fire upon them. From this volley General Jackson received his mortal wounds. His right hand was pierced by a bullet, his left arm was shattered by two balls, one above and one below the elbow, breaking the bones and severing the main artery. His horse, "Little Sorrel," terrified by the nearness and suddenness of the fire, dashed off in the direction of the enemy, and it was with great difficulty that he could control him his bridle hand being helpless, and the tangled brushwood, through which he was borne, almost dragging him from his seat. But he seized the reins with his right hand, and, arresting the flight of his horse, brought him back into his own lines, where, almost fainting, he was assisted to the ground by Captain Wilbourne, his signal officer. By this fire several of his escort were killed and wounded . . . and every horse which was not shot down wheeled back in terror, bearing his rider towards the advancing enemy. The firing was arrested by Lieutenant Morrison, who, after his horse was killed under him, ran to the front of the firing line, and with much difficulty in making himself heard, told them they were firing into their own men.

LAST MEETING OF LEE AND JACKSON

The enemy soon changed from canister to shell and elevated their range, when the young men renewed their efforts to get General Jackson to the rear, supporting him with their strong arms, as he slowly and painfully dragged himself along. As the Confederate troops were hurrying to the front, they met the party, and the question came from the lips of almost every passer-by, "Whom have you there?" The general, not wishing his troops to recognize him, gave orders to leave the road and diverge into the woods. He said to his attendants: "Don't tell them who it is, but simply say it is a Confederate officer." Despite these precautions, he did not escape recognition by some of his men, who exclaimed with grief and dismay: "Great God! it is General Jackson!" General Pender of North Carolina, was one of those who recognized him, and after approaching and expressing his deep regret at his wounding, said to him: "The troops have suffered severely from the enemy's artillery, and are somewhat disorganized; I fear we cannot maintain our position." Faint and exhausted as he was, a gleam of the old battle-fire flashed from his eyes, and instantly he replied: "You must hold your ground, General fender; you must hold your ground, sir." This was the last order given by the hero of so many battle-fields.

On meeting the wounded general, says Dr. McGuire: "I knelt by him and said, 'I hope you are not badly hurt, general?' He replied very calmly, but feebly, 'I am badly injured, doctor; I fear I am dying.'

"After reaching the hospital he was placed in bed, covered with blankets, and a drink of whiskey and water given him. Two hours and a half elapsed before sufficient action took place to warrant an examination.