no counsel of their fears.  They were not enamoured of the defensive, for they knew the value of the initiative, and that offensive strategy is the strategy which annihilates.  Yet, when their enemy remained concentrated, they were content to wait till they could induce him to disperse.  Both were masters of ruse and stratagem, and the Virginian was as industrious as the Englishman.  And in yet another respect they were alike.  “In issuing orders or giving verbal instruction, Jackson’s words were few and simple; but they were so clear, so comprehensive and direct, that no officer could possibly misunderstand, and none dared disobey."* (* General J.B.  Gordon.) Exactly the same terms might be applied to Wellington.  Again, although naturally impetuous, glorying in war, they had no belief in a lucky star; their imagination was always controlled by common-sense, and, unlike Napoleon, their ambition to succeed was always subordinate to their judgment.  Yet both, when circumstances were imperative, were greatly daring.  The attacks at Groveton and at Chancellorsville were enterprises instinct with the same intensity of resolution as the storm of Badajos and Ciudad Rodrigo, the passage of the Douro, the great counterstroke of Salamanca.  On the field of battle the one was not more vigilant nor imperturbable than the other, and both possessed a due sense of proportion.  They knew exactly how much they could effect themselves, and how much must be left to others.  Recognising that when once the action had opened the sphere in which their authority could be exercised was very limited, they gave their subordinates a free hand, issuing few orders, and encouraging their men rather by example than by words.  Both, too, had that “most rare faculty of coming to prompt and sure conclusions in sudden exigencies—­the certain mark of a master-spirit in war."* (* Napier.) At Bull Run, Jackson was ordered to support Evans at the Stone Bridge.  Learning that the left was compromised, without a moment’s hesitation he turned aside, and placed his brigade in the only position where it could have held its ground.  At Groveton, when he received the news that the Federal left wing was retreating on Centreville across his front, the order for attack was issued almost before he had read the dispatch.  At Chancellorsville, when General Fitzhugh Lee showed him the enemy’s right wing dispersed and unsuspecting, he simply turned to his courier and said, “Let the column cross the road,” and his plan of battle was designed with the same rapidity as Wellington’s at Salamanca or Assaye.

It has been already pointed out that Jackson’s dispositions for defence differed in no degree from those of the great Duke.  His visit to Waterloo, perhaps, taught the American soldier the value and importance of concealing his troops on the defensive.  It was not, however, from Wellington that he learned to keep his plans to himself and to use every effort to mislead his adversary.  Yet no general, not