A Confederate 'Shrine' If You Have the Time (NPS "Stonewall" Jackson Death Site)


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North America » United States » Virginia
November 10th 2018
Published: September 25th 2020
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As I motored south from Washington, D.C. toward Richmond, I stopped for gas and lunch at exit 118, a convenient stop away from the city traffic of either metro. As I pulled off toward the McDonald's I noticed a sign for a "Stonewall Jackson Shrine." Finishing my fries, I decided to check it out, so I hopped over I-95 and made my way along the meandering two-lane to the location where my GPS and the fairly effective roadside signs pointed had directed me. As shrines go, it wasn't what I expected. There were no candles, no statues, no grottos, no gifts or flowers by an etched stone. This shrine was a simple farmhouse on the grounds of a former plantation now managed by the National Park Service near an extinct train station.

The jewel of this shrine was inside the farmhouse. Understated, inside the farmhouse was a small office where I was greeted by an NPS employee who seemed excited to have activity in what looked to me like a place where slow days might not be uncommon. I had already read the placards outside that the farmhouse was the location where Confederate Lieutenant General Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson had died in May, 1862, of pneumonia, of all things, a week after being accidentally shot by his own men some 20+ miles away near Chancellorsville, VA during the battle that shared the name of the locale.

The farmhouse, once a business area for the plantation, contains the actual bed with one of the blankets used where the legendary general, and Robert E. Lee's top subordinate, passed away, saying "Let us cross over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees" perhaps in delirium giving orders, according to the NPS attendant on hand.

The farmhouse sits on a small, but pretty, parcel of land. After touring the house I walked the grounds, taking pictures, while an Amtrak sped by on an adjacent rail line.

There is no shortage of history in Virginia, and such an example awaits those who travel just off the path at 118 off I-95.

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