February 1848.

The peace negotiations were protracted from September to the following February, and in their camps beyond the walls the American soldiers were fain to content themselves with their ordinary duties.

It cannot be said that Jackson had failed to take advantage of the opportunities which fortune had thrown in his way.  As eagerly as he had snatched at the chance of employment in the field artillery he had welcomed the tactical emergency which had given him sole command of his section at Chapultepec.  It was a small charge; but he had utilised it to the utmost, and it had filled the cup of his ambition to the brim.  Ambitious he certainly was.  “He confessed,” says Dabney, “to an intimate friend that the order of General Pillow, separating his section on the day of Chapultepec from his captain, had excited his abiding gratitude; so much so that while the regular officers were rather inclined to depreciate the general as an unprofessional soldier, he loved him because he gave him an opportunity to win distinction.”  His friends asked him, long after the war, if he felt no trepidation when so many were falling round him.  He replied:  “No; the only anxiety of which I was conscious during the engagements was a fear lest I should not meet danger enough to make my conduct conspicuous.”

(Map:  The city of Mexico and environs.)

His share of the glory was more than ample.  Contreras gave him the brevet rank of captain.  For his conduct at Chapultepec he was mentioned in the Commander-in-Chief’s dispatches, and publicly complimented on his courage.  Shortly after the capture of the city, General Scott held a levee, and amongst others presented to him was Lieutenant Jackson.  When he heard the name, the general drew himself up to his full height, and, placing his hands behind him, said with affected sternness, “I don’t know that I shall shake hands with Mr. Jackson.”  Jackson, blushing like a girl, was overwhelmed with confusion.  General Scott, seeing that he had called the attention of every one in the room, said, “If you can forgive yourself for the way in which you slaughtered those poor Mexicans with your guns, I am not sure that I can,” and then held out his hand.  “No greater compliment,” says General Gibbon, “could have been paid a young officer, and Jackson apparently did not know he had done anything remarkable till his general told him so."* (* Letter to the author.) Magruder could find no praise high enough for his industry, his capacity, and his gallantry, and within eighteen months of his first joining his regiment he was breveted major.  Such promotion was phenomenal even in the Mexican war, and none of his West Point comrades made so great a stride in rank.  His future in his profession was assured.  He had acquired something more than the spurs of a field officer in his seven months of service.  A subaltern, it has been said, learns but little of the higher art of war in the course