In the war, indeed, there had arisen no soldier who so powerfully drew the public eye as Jackson.  In the opinion of many persons, he was a greater and abler commander than Lee himself; and, although such an opinion will not be found to stand after a full review of the characters and careers of the two leaders, there was sufficient ground for it to induce many fair and intelligent persons to adopt it.  Jackson had been almost uniformly successful.  He had conducted to a triumphant issue the arduous campaign of the Valley, where he was opposed in nearly every battle by a force much larger than his own; and these victories, in a quarter so important, and at a moment so critical, had come, borne on the wind of the mountain, to electrify and inspire the hearts of the people of Richmond and the entire Confederacy.  Jackson’s rapid march and assault on General McClellan’s right on the Chickahominy had followed; he then advanced northward, defeated the vanguard of the enemy at Cedar Mountain, led the great column of Lee against the rear of General Pope, destroyed Manassas, held his ground until Lee arrived, and bore an important part in the battle which ensued.  Thence he had passed to Maryland, fallen upon Harper’s Ferry and captured it, returned to fight with Lee at Sharpsburg, and in that battle had borne the brunt of the enemy’s main assault with an unbroken front.  That the result was a drawn battle, and not a Southern defeat, was due to Lee’s generalship and Jackson’s fighting.  The retrograde movement to the lowland followed, and Jackson was left in the Valley to embarrass McClellan’s advance.  In this he perfectly succeeded, and then suddenly reappeared at Fredericksburg, where he received and repulsed one of the two great assaults of the enemy.  The battle of Chancellorsville followed, and Lee’s statement of the part borne in this hard combat by Jackson has been given.  The result was due, he said, not to his own generalship, but to the skill and energy of his lieutenant, whose congratulations he refused to receive, declaring that the victory was Jackson’s.

Here had at last ended the long series of nearly unbroken victories.  Jackson had become the alter ego of Lee, and it is not difficult to understand the sense of loss felt by the commander-in-chief.  In addition to this natural sentiment, was deep regret at the death of one personally dear to him, and to whom he was himself an object of almost reverent love.  The personal relations of Lee and Jackson had, from first to last, remained the same—­not the slightest cloud had ever arisen to disturb the perfect union in each of admiration and affection for the other.  It had never occurred to these two great soldiers to ask what their relative position was in the public eye—­which was most spoken of and commended or admired.  Human nature is weak at best, and the fame of Jackson, mounting to its dazzling zenith, might have disturbed a less magnanimous soul than Lee’s.  There is not, however, the