The open coffin, placed before the
Speaker's chair, was draped in the Confederate standard; the State
colours were furled along, the galleries; and the expression on the
face, firm and resolute, as if the spirit of battle still lingered in
the lifeless clay, was that of a great conqueror, wise in council,
mighty in the strife. But as the evening drew on the darkened
chamber, hung with deep mourning, and resounding to the clash of
arms, lost its sombre and martial aspect. Garlands of soft spring
flowers, the tribute of the women of Virginia, rose high above the
bier, and white pyramids of lilies, the emblems of purity and
meekness, recalled the blameless life of the Christian soldier.
From Richmond the remains were conveyed to Lexington, and, under the
charge of the cadets, lay for the night in the lecture-room of the
Institute, which Jackson had quitted just two years before. The next
morning he was buried, as he himself had wished, in the little
cemetery above the town.
Many were the mourners that stood around the grave, but they were few
in number compared with those whose hearts were present on those
silent hills. From the cities of the Atlantic coast to the far-off
settlements of Texas the news that Stonewall Jackson had fallen came
as a stunning blow.
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