The new dominion. [volume] (Morgantown, W. Va.) 1876-1904, 1877-08-11
The Music St0newall Jackson Loved
About His Dyspepsia.


have referred to Major Jackson's i'll
health. 1t took the form of dyspepsia,
and once during the war he told me he
had suffered with it for twenty years, and
he knew of no misery which attacked a
man as it did physically, mentally and
morally, and was as likely to drive one to
suicide. 1t produced in him that sim
plicity of diet which was as conspicuous
as his simplicity of manners. He never
was hearty eater, but often ate Of one
or two things ON the table plentifully,
eating some things he did not like and
liking many things he did not eat. In
the army he rarely accepted an invitation
to dinner, and when he did, it was gen
orally to oblige his staff. He once said
to me that he believed he was fonder of
whisky and brandy than any man in his
army, and yet he never tasted it. His
discipline commenced with himself, and
he controlled his appetite as firmly as he
did his troops.
In face and figure Stonewall Jackson
was not striking. Above the average
height, with a frame angular, muscular
and fleshless, he was in all his move
ments, from riding a horse to handling a
pen, the most ungraceful man in the
army. His expression was thoughtful,
and generally clouded with an air of IA
tigue. His eve was small, blue, and in
repose as gentle as Il young girls. With
high, broad forhead, small, sharp nose,
thin, pallid lips, deep set eyes, and dark,
rusty beard, he was not handsome man.
His face in the drawing-room or tent,
l. Il
ent from itself on the battlefield as a
little lake in summer noon differs from
the same lake when frozen. Walking
or riding the General was ungainly; his
main object was to go over the ground,
without regard to the manner of his GO
ing. His fayorite horse was as little like
Pegasus as he was like Apollo; he rode
boldly and well, but certainly not with
grace and ease. He was not man of
style. General Lee, on horseback, or off,
was the handsomest man | ever saw. 1t
was said of Wade Hampton that he looked
as knightly when mounted as if he had
stepped out from an old canvas, horse
and all Breckenridge was model of
manly beauty, and Joe Johnston looked
every inch soldier. None of those
Akin to his dyspepsia, and perhaps as
a consequence, was his ignorance of
music. One morning, at Ashland, he
startled a young lady from her propriety
by grayely asking her if she had ever
heard new piece of music called
Dixie" and as gravely listening to her
while she sang it. He had heard it a
thousand times from the army bands,
and yet it seemed new to him. Judged
by the Shakspearean standard, who
could be more fit for treasons, STRATA
gems, and spoils?' And yet there was
one kind of music which always inter
ested and delighted him. 1t was the
>" rebel yell of his troops. To this
grand chorus he never failed TO respond.
The difference between the regular
"hurrah of the Federal army and the
irregular, wild yell of the Confederates,
was as marked as the difference in their
uniforms. The rebel yell was peculiar
mixture of sounds, a kind of weird
shout. Jackson was greeted with it
whenever he made his appearance to the
troops, on the march or in battle; and
just as invariably he would seize his old
gray cap from his head in acknowledge
ment, and his Little Sorrel," knowing
his habit, would break into gallop and
never halt until the shout had ceased.
remember one night, at tattoo, this cry
broke forth in the camp of the Stonewall
Brigade, and was taken up by brigades
and divisions, until it rolled over field
and wood throughout the whole corps
The General came hastily and bare
9haded from his tent, and going up to a
fence near by, he leaned upon it and lis
tened in quiet to the rise, climax and
conclusion of that strange serenade, rails
ing his head to catch the last sound, as
it grew fainter, and until it died away
like an echo along the mountains. Then
turning toward his tent he muttered, in
half-soliloquy: "That was the sweetest
music | ever heard"