The impossible had been accomplished. Anything now seemed possible.
Jackson's death had destroyed this new equation of war.
Davis' faith in Jackson was in every way equal to Lee's and Lee but once
refused to follow Jackson's lead in his veto on his Lieutenant's plan to
annihilate Burnside's army at Fredericksburg.
When the report reached Richmond that Jackson was dying Davis was
inconsolable.
The whole evening the President of the Confederacy shut himself in his
room--unable to think of anything save the impending calamity. When the
end was sure he sent with his own hand the handsomest flag in Richmond
in which to wrap his body.
When Davis gazed on the white, cold, rugged features, the tears were
streaming down his hollow checks. He bent low and the tears fell on the
face of the dead.
When an officer of the Government came to the President's Mansion where
the body lay in state to consult him on a matter of importance, the
Confederate Chieftain stared at his questioner in a dazed sort of way
and remained silent.
Lifting his haggard face at last he said in pathetic tones:
"You must excuse me, my friend, I am staggering from a dreadful blow--I
cannot think--"
Three days and nights the endless procession passed the bier and paid
their tribute of adoration and love.
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