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. The people sorrowed for him with no ordinary
grief, not as a great man and a good, who had done his duty and had
gone to his reward, but as the pillar of their hopes and the
sheet-anchor of the Confederate cause. Nor will those familiar with
the further history of the Civil War, from the disaster of Gettysburg
to the surrender at Appomattox, question the truth of this mournful
presage. The Army of Northern Virginia became a different and less
manageable instrument after Chancellorsville. Over and over again it
failed to respond to the conceptions of its leader, and the failure
was not due to the soldiers, but to the generals. Loyal and valiant
as they were, of not one of his lieutenants could Lee say, as he had
said of Jackson, "Such an executive officer the sun never shone on. I
have but to show him my design, and I know that if it can be done it
will be done. No need for me to send or watch him. Straight as the
needle to the pole he advances to the execution of my purpose."* (*
Hon. Francis Lawley, the Times, June 16, 1863.)

These words have been quoted as an epitome of Jackson's military
character. "He was essentially," says Swinton, "an executive officer,
and in that sphere he was incomparable; but he was devoid of high
mental parts, and destitute of that power of planning a combination,
and of that calm, broad, military intelligence which distinguished
General Lee."* (* Campaigns of the Army of the Potomac page 289.) And
this verdict, except in the South, has been generally accepted. Yet
it rests on a most unsubstantial basis. Because Jackson knew so well
how to obey it is asserted that he was not well fitted for
independent command. Because he could carry out orders to the letter
it is assumed that he was no master of strategy. Because his will was
of iron, and his purpose, once fixed, never for a moment wavered, we
are asked to believe that his mental scope was narrow. Because he was
silent in council, not eager in expressing his ideas, and averse to
argument, it is implied that his opinions on matters of great moment
were not worth the hearing. Because he was shy and unassuming;
because he betrayed neither in face nor bearing, save in the heat of
battle, any unusual power or consciousness of power, it is hastily
concluded that he was d