tached portion of an army, and which are worked out on
the map. The problems of the battle-field are of a different order.
The natural characteristics which, when fortified by experience,
carry men through any dangerous enterprise, win the majority of
victories. But men may win battles and be very poor generals. They
may be born leaders of men, and yet absolutely unfitted for
independent command. Their courage, coolness, and common sense may
accomplish the enemy's overthrow on the field, but with strategical
considerations their intellects may be absolutely incapable of
grappling. In the great wars of the early part of the century Ney and
Blucher were probably the best fighting generals of France and
Prussia. But neither could be trusted to conduct a campaign. Blucher,
pre-eminent on the battle-field, knew nothing of the grand
combinations which prepare and complete success. If he was the strong
right hand of the Prussian army, his chief of staff was the brain.
"Gneisenau," said the old Marshal, "makes the pills which I
administer." "Ney's best qualities," says Jomini, who served long on
his staff, "his heroic valour, his quick coup d'oeil, and his energy,
diminished in the same proportion that the extent of his command
increased his responsibility. Admirable on the field of battle, he
displayed less assurance, not only in council, but whenever he was
not actually face to face with the enemy." It is not of such material
as Ney and Blucher, mistrustful of their own ability, that great
captains are made. Marked intellectual capacity is the chief
characteristic of the most famous soldiers. Alexander, Hannibal,
Caesar, Marlborough, Washington, Frederick, Napoleon, Wellington, and
Nelson were each and all of them something more than mere fighting
men. Few of their age rivalled them in strength of intellect. It was
this, combined with the best qualities of Ney and Blucher, that made
them masters of strategy, and lifted them high above those who were
tacticians and nothing more; and it was strength of intellect that
Jackson cultivated at Lexington.

So, in that quiet home amidst the Virginian mountains, the years sped
by, peaceful and uneventful, varied only by the holiday excursions of
successive summers. By day, the lecture at the Institute, the drill
of the cadet battery, the work of the church, the pleasant toil of
the farm and garden. When night fell, and the curtains were drawn
across the windows that looked upon the qu