many instances
they had failed to put forth the same resolute energy as the men who
followed Jackson.

But it is hardly possible to discuss the spirit of an army apart from
that of its commander. If, in strategy wholly, and in tactics in
great part, success emanates from a single brain, the morale of the
troops is not less dependent on the influence of one man. "Better an
army of stags," runs the old proverb, "led by a lion, than an army of
lions led by a stag."

Their leader's character had already made a sensible impression on
the Valley soldiers. Jackson was as untheatrical as Wellington. He
was hardly to be distinguished, even by his dress, from the private
in the ranks. Soon after his arrival at Richmond he called on Mrs.
Pendleton, the wife of the reverend captain of the Rockbridge
battery. The negro servant left him standing in the hall, thinking
that this quiet soldier, clad in a faded and sunburnt uniform, need
not be treated with further ceremony.* (* Memoirs of W.N. Pendleton,
D.D., Brigadier-General, C.S.A. page 201.) Headquarters in camp were
an ordinary bell-tent, or a room in the nearest cottage, and they
were often without guard or sentry. In bivouac the general rolled
himself in his blankets, and lay down under a tree or in a fence
corner. He could sleep anywhere, in the saddle, under fire, or in
church; and he could compel sleep to come to him when and where he
pleased. He cared as little for good quarters as a mountain hunter,
and he was as abstemious as a Red Indian on the war-path. He lived as
plainly as the men, and often shared their rations. The majority of
the cavalry were better mounted, and many of his officers were better
dressed. He was not given to addressing his troops, either in mass or
as individuals. His praises he reserved for his official reports, and
then he was generous. In camp he was as silent as the Sphinx, and he
never posed, except in action, as the commander of an army. Off duty
he was the gentlest and most unpretentious of men, and the most
approachable of generals. He was always scrupulously polite; and the
private soldier who asked him a question might be sure of a most
courteous reply. But there was no man with whom it was less safe to
take liberties; and where duty was concerned he became a different
being. The gentle tones grew curt and peremptory, and the absent
demeanour gave place to a most purposeful energy. His vigilance was
marvellous: his eye was everywhere; he