Before marriage, Major Jackson had his room in barracks, but took his meals at a hotel in Lexington, and it has been said by some that his eccentricities caused much comment; more than that, he was laughed at and insulted by rude, coarse persons. This could hardly have been true, for an insult offered to “Old Jack” would certainly have been found out in some way, and if not resented personally, it would have been by the cadets to a man. One who lived in Lexington during four years of Major Jackson’s residence there, and more than a quarter of a century after the war, never heard of these insults, and, surely, had they ever been given they would have been talked of, for Jackson’s name was on every tongue, and the incidents of his life, from boyhood to death, were almost a constant subject of conversation.
Though Major Jackson was very modest, no man ever relied more fully upon himself. Mentioning one day to a friend that he was going to begin the study of Latin, he received the reply that one who had not studied the forms of that language in youth could never become master of it in later years. To this Jackson replied, “No; if I attempt it, I shall become master of the language. I can do what I will to do.”
This stern will-power came to the aid of his ambition many times. He found it difficult to speak in public, and in order to acquire the art, he joined a literary club called the “Franklin Society.” He was always at the meetings, and spoke in his turn; but, at first, his efforts were painful both to himself and to his hearers. His health was poor, his nerves were unstrung, and sometimes he was so confused that he would break down in the middle of a sentence for want of the right word. When this happened, he would quietly sit down, and when his turn in the debate came again would rise and make another attempt. Thus, before the close of the debate, he would succeed in telling what was in his mind. By thus trying time after time, he became a good speaker.
Soon after joining the Presbyterian church, good Dr. White, his pastor, called upon him to pray in public. He prayed in such a halting way that Dr. White told him that he would never again ask him to perform so hard a task. Major Jackson replied that it was a cross to him to pray in public, but that he had made up his mind to bear it, and did not wish to be excused. So he kept on trying, and soon became a leader in prayer.
General Hill, speaking of this incident, says: “I think his conduct in this case was due to his determination to conquer every weakness of his nature. He once told me that when he was a small boy, being sick, a mustard plaster was placed upon his chest, and his guardian mounted him upon a horse to go to a neighbor’s house, so that his mind might be diverted and the plaster kept on. He said that the pain was so dreadful that he fainted soon after getting off his horse. I asked him if he had kept it on in order to obey his guardian. He answered, ‘No, it was owing to a feeling that I have had from childhood not to yield to trials and difficulties.’”
The same close friend also writes: “Dr. Dabney thinks that he was timid, and that nothing but his iron will made him brave. I think this is a mistake. The muscles of his face would twitch when a battle was about to open, and his hand would tremble so that he could hardly write. His men would see the working of his face and would say, ‘Old Jack is making faces at the Yankees.’ But all this only showed weak nerves. I think he loved danger for its own sake.”
Like St. Paul, “he kept his body under,” and would not let any appetite control him or any weakness overcome him. He used neither coffee, tobacco, nor spirits, and he would go all winter without cloak or overcoat in the mountains of Virginia, giving as a reason that he “did not wish to give way to cold.”
For a like reason, he never drank spirits of any kind. It is told of him that once during the Civil War, when he was too near the outposts of the foe to have fire, and being greatly chilled, he was advised by his surgeon to take a drink of brandy. He at length agreed to take some, but made such a wry face in swallowing it that some one asked him if it choked him. “No,” he replied, “I like it. That is the reason I never use it.” Another time, being asked to take a drink of brandy, he said, “No, I thank you; I am more afraid of it than all the Federal bullets.”
The immortal Jackson afraid of strong drink! What a lesson to people who have not the courage to say “No,” when tempted to do wrong!
In the midst of this busy life as professor, Major Jackson was married, on August 4th, 1853, to Miss Eleanor Junkin, the daughter of the president of Washington College, Lexington, Virginia. This lovely lady lived only fourteen months after her marriage. Major Jackson’s grief at her death was so great as to alarm his friends. His health, never good, suffered seriously, and his friends induced him in the summer of 1856 to take a trip to Europe, hoping that “the spell might be broken which bound him to sadness.”