intensified by his untimely end. When it was
reported that Jackson had fallen, men murmured in their dismay
against the fiat of the Almighty. "Why," they asked, "had one so pure
and so upright been suddenly cut down?" Yet a sufficient answer was
not far to seek. To the English race, in whatever quarter of the
globe it holds dominion, to the race of Alfred and De Montfort, of
Bruce and Hampden, of Washington and Gordon, the ideal of manhood has
ever been a high one. Self-sacrifice and the single heart are the
attributes which it most delights to honour; and chief amongst its
accepted heroes are those soldier-saints who, sealing their devotion
with their lives, have won

Death's royal purple in the foeman's lines.

So, from his narrow grave on the green hillside at Lexington, Jackson
speaks with voice more powerful than if, passing peacefully away, in
the fulness of years and honours, he had found a resting-place in
some proud sepulchre, erected by a victorious and grateful
commonwealth. And who is there who can refuse to listen? His creed
may not be ours; but in whom shall we find a firmer faith, a mind
more humble, a sincerity more absolute? He had his temptations like
the rest of us. His passions were strong; his temper was hot;
forgiveness never came easily to him, and he loved power. He dreaded
strong liquor because he liked it; and if in his nature there were
great capacities for good, there were none the less, had it been once
perverted, great capacities for evil. Fearless and strong,
self-dependent and ambitious, he had within him the making of a
Napoleon, and yet his name is without spot or blemish. From his
boyhood onward, until he died on the Rappahannock, he was the very
model of a Christian gentleman:--

E'en as he trod that day to God, so walked he from his birth,
In simpleness, and gentleness, and honour, and clean mirth.

Paradox as it may sound, the great rebel was the most loyal of men.
His devotion to Virginia was hardly surpassed by his devotion to his
wife. And he made no secret of his absolute dependence on a higher
power. Every action was a prayer, for every action was begun and
ended in the name of the Almighty. Consciously and unconsciously, in
deed as in word, in the quiet of his home and in the tumult of
battle, he fastened to his soul those golden chains "that bind the
whole round earth about the feet of God." Nor was their burden heavy.
"He was the happiest man," says one of his friends,