hrase he had summed
up his view of the situation. He was no advocate of secession. He
deprecated the hasty action of South Carolina. "It is better," he
said, "for the South to fight for her rights in the Union than out of
it." But much as they loved the Union, the people of Virginia revered
still more the principles inculcated by their forefathers, the right
of secession and the illegality of coercion. And when the proposals
of the Peace Conference came to nothing, when all hope of compromise
died away, and the Federal Government showed no sign of recognising
the Provisional Government, it became evident even to the staunchest
Unionist that civil war could no longer be postponed. From the very
first no shadow of a doubt had existed in Jackson's mind as to the
side he should espouse, or the course he should pursue. "If I know
myself," he wrote, "all I am and all I have is at the service of my
country."

According to his political creed his country was his native State,
and such was the creed of the whole South. In conforming to the
Ordinance of Secession enacted by the legislatures of their own
States, the people, according to their reading of the Constitution,
acted as loyal and patriotic citizens; to resist that ordinance was
treason and rebellion; and in taking up arms "they were not, in their
own opinion, rebels at all; they were defending their States--that
is, the nations to which they conceived themselves to belong, from
invasion and conquest."* (* History of the Civil War, Ropes chapter 1
page 3.)

When, after the incident described above, the cadets marched back to
barracks, it was already so certain that the Stars and Stripes would
soon be torn down from every flagstaff in Virginia that their breach
of discipline was easily condoned. They were addressed by the
Commandant, and amid growing excitement officer after officer, hardly
concealing his sympathy with their action, gave vent to his opinions
on the approaching crisis. Jackson was silent. At length, perhaps in
anticipation of some amusement, for he was known to be a stumbling
speaker, the cadets called on him by name. In answer to the summons
he stood before them, not, as was his wont in public assemblies, with
ill-dissembled shyness and awkward gesture, but with body erect and
eyes sparkling. "Soldiers," he said, "when they make speeches should
say but few words, and speak them to the point, and I admire, young
gentlemen, the spirit you have shown in ru