In the wars with England the militia of the different States had furnished the means both of resistance and aggression, but their grave shortcomings, owing principally to the lack of competent officers, had been painfully conspicuous.  After 1814, the principle that the militia was the first line of defence was still adhered to, and the standing army was merely maintained as a school for generals and a frontier guard.  It was expected, however, that in case of war the West Point graduates would supply the national forces with a large number of officers who, despite their civil avocations, would at least be familiar with drill and discipline.  This fact is to be borne in mind in view of the Civil War.  The demands of the enormous armies then put into the field were utterly unprecedented, and the supply of West Pointers was altogether inadequate to meet them; but the influence of the Military Academy was conspicuous throughout.  Not a few of the most able generals were little more than boys; and yet, as a rule, they were far superior to those who came from the militia or volunteers.  Four years of strict routine, of constant drill, and implicit subordination, at the most impressionable period of life, proved a far better training for command than the desultory and intermittent service of a citizen army.

During his stay at West Point Jackson’s development was not all in one direction.  He gained in health and strength.  When he joined he had not yet attained his full height, which fell short of six feet by two inches.  The constant drilling developed his frame.  He grew rapidly, and soon acquired the erect bearing of the soldier; but notwithstanding the incessant practice in riding, fencing and marching, his anatomical peculiarities still asserted themselves.  It was with great difficulty that he mastered the elementary process of keeping step, and despite his youthful proficiency as a jockey, the regulation seat of the dragoon, to be acquired on the back of a rough cavalry trooper, was an accomplishment which he never mastered.  If it be added that his shyness never thawed, that he was habitually silent, it is hardly surprising to find that he had few intimates at the Academy.  Caring nothing for the opinion of others, and tolerant of association rather than seeking it, his self-contained nature asked neither sympathy nor affection.  His studious habits never left him.  His only recreation was a rapid walk in the intervals of the classes.  His whole thoughts and his whole energy were centred on doing his duty, and passing into the army with all the credit he could possibly attain.  Although he was thoroughly happy at West Point, life to him, even at that early age, was a serious business, and most seriously he set about it.