mad; before it was over
they believed him to be a genius. He lived with his military family
on the most intimate terms, and his unfailing courtesy, his utter
absence of self-assertion, his sweet temper, and his tactful
consideration for others, no matter how humble their rank, were
irresistible. On duty, indeed, his staff officers fared badly.
Tireless himself, regardless of all personal comforts, he seemed to
think that others were fashioned in the same mould. After a weary
day's marching or fighting, it was no unusual thing for him to send
them for a ride of thirty or forty miles through the night. And he
gave the order with no more thought than if he were sending them with
a message to the next tent. But off duty he was simply a personal
friend, bent on making all things pleasant. "Never," says Dr. Hunter
McGuire, "can I forget his kindness and gentleness to me when I was
in great sorrow and trouble. He came to my tent and spent hours with
me, comforting me in his simple, kindly, Christian way, showing a
depth of friendship and affection which can never be forgotten. There
is no measuring the intensity with which the very soul of Jackson
burned in battle. Out of it he was very gentle. Indeed, as I look
back on the two years that I was daily, indeed hourly, with him, his
gentleness as a man, his tenderness to those in trouble or
affliction--the tenderness indeed of a woman--impress me more than
his wonderful prowess as a warrior."

It was with his generals and colonels that there was sometimes a lack
of sympathy. Many of these were older than himself. Ewell and Whiting
were his seniors in point of service, and there can be little doubt
that it was sometimes a little hard to receive peremptory orders from
a younger man. Jackson's secrecy was often irritating. Men who were
over-sensitive thought it implied a want of confidence. Those
overburdened with dignity objected to being treated like the private
soldiers; and those over-conscious of superior wisdom were injured
because their advice was not asked. Before the march to Richmond
there was much discontent. General Whiting, on reaching Staunton with
his division, rode at once to Port Republic to report. "The
distance," says General Imboden, "was twenty miles, and Whiting
returned after midnight. He was in a towering passion, and declared
that Jackson had treated him outrageously. I asked, 'How is that
possible, General?--he is very polite to everyone.'

"'Oh, hang h