the intention of his adversary and the state of his moral.  His power of drawing inferences, often from seemingly unimportant trifles, was akin to that of the hunter of his native backwoods, to whom the rustle of a twig, the note of a bird, a track upon the sand, speak more clearly than written characters.  His estimate of the demoralisation of the Federal army after Bull Run, and of the ease with which Washington might have been captured, was absolutely correct.  In the middle of May, 1862, both Lee and Johnston, notwithstanding Jackson’s victory over Milroy, anticipated that Banks would leave the Valley.  Jackson thought otherwise, and Jackson was right.  After the bloody repulse at Malvern Hill, when his generals reported the terrible confusion in the Confederate ranks, he simply stated his opinion that the enemy was retreating, and went to sleep again.  A week later he suggested that the whole army should move against Pope, for McClellan, he said, would never dare to march on Richmond.  At Sharpsburg, as the shells cut the trees to pieces in the West Wood, and the heavy masses of Federal infantry filled the fields in front, he told his medical director that McClellan had done his worst.  At Fredericksburg, after the first day’s battle, he believed that the enemy was already defeated, and, anticipating their escape under cover of the darkness, he advised a night attack with the bayonet.  His knowledge of his adversary’s character, derived, in great degree, from his close observation of every movement, enabled him to predict with astonishing accuracy exactly how he would act under given circumstances.

Nor can he be charged in any single instance with neglect of precautions by which the risks of war are diminished.  He appears to have thought out and to have foreseen—­and here his imaginative power aided him—­every combination that could be made against him, and to have provided for every possible emergency.  He was never surprised, never disconcerted, never betrayed into a false manoeuvre.  Although on some occasions his success fell short of his expectations, the fault was not his; his strategy was always admirable, but fortune, in one guise or another—­the indiscipline of the cavalry, the inefficiency of subordinates, the difficulties of the country—­interfered with the full accomplishment of his designs.  But whatever could be done to render fortune powerless that Jackson did.  By means of his cavalry, by forced marches, by the careful selection of his line of march, of his camps, of his positions, of his magazines, and lastly, by his consistent reticence, he effectually concealed from the Federals both his troops and his designs.  Never surprised himself, he seldom failed to surprise his enemies, if not tactically—­that is, while they were resting in their camps—­at least strategically.  Kernstown came as a surprise to Banks, McDowell to Fremont.  Banks believed Jackson to be at Harrisonburg when he had already defeated the detachment at Front Royal.  At Cross Keys and Port Republic neither Fremont nor Shields expected that their flying foe would suddenly turn at bay.  Pope was unable to support Banks at Cedar Run till the battle had been decided.  When McClellan on the Chickahominy was informed that the Valley army had joined Lee it was too late to alter his dispositions, and no surprise was ever more complete than Chancellorsville.