Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 25.
Reverend J. William Jones, Ed.

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[94] accredited greatness—what warrant for the justness of this verdict— I, and others with me, saw in the quiet of the camp and in the rush of the battle; and how I saw with my eyes, and stand here to declare, that his greatness vanished not, nor faded, but the brighter shone, when the shadows of evening were falling and the darkness of death gathered round.

In seeking to define Jackson's place in history I accept Lord Wolseley's definition of a great commander. He declares in effect, that the marks of this rare character, are: First of all—the power, the instinct, the inspiration to divine the condition and purposes of your enemy. Secondly—the genius that in strategy instantly devises the combinations most likely to defeat those purposes. Thirdly —the physical and moral courage, the absolute self-reliance that takes the risk of decision, and the skill that promptly and properly delivers the blow that shatters the hostile plans, so managing one's own forces (even when small), as to have the greater number at the point of attack. Fourthly—the cool judgement that is unshaken by the clash and clamor of emergences. And last, but not least, the prevision, the caution that cares for the lives and well-being of the private soldiers, and the personal magnetism that rouses the enthusiasm and affection, that make the commander's presence on the battlefield, the incentive to all that human beings can dare, and the unquestioned hope and sure promise of victory.

Many incidents of Jackson's career prove that he possessed the instinctive power to know the plight, and to foretell the purposes of the Federal army and its commanders. To describe the first that I recall: While dressing his wounded hand at the first Manassas, at the field hospital of the brigade at Young's Branch, near the Lewis house, I saw President Davis ride up from Manassas. He had been told by stragglers, that our army had been defeated. He stopped his horse in the middle of the little stream, stood up in his stirrups (the palest, sternest face I ever saw), and cried to the great crowd of soldiers: ‘I am President Davis; follow me back to the field.’

General Jackson did not hear distinctly. I told him who it was, and what he said. He stood up, took off his cap and cried: ‘We have whipped them; they ran like sheep. Give me 10,000 men and I will take Washington city to-morrow.’ Who doubts now that he could have done so?

When, in May, 1862, he whipped Banks at Winchester and had, what seemed then and even now, the audacity to follow him to Harper's Ferry, he not only knew the number and condition of Banks'