stroyed by half their number. The other rule is,
never fight against heavy odds, if by any possible manoeuvering you
can hurl your own force on only a part, and that the weakest part, of
your enemy and crush it. Such tactics will win every time, and a
small army may thus destroy a large one in detail, and repeated
victory will make it invincible."* (* Battles and Leaders volume 2
page 297.) And again: "To move swiftly, strike vigorously, and secure
all the fruits of victory, is the secret of successful war.""

These maxims were the outcome of his studies, "drawn absolutely and
merely," says Lord Wolseley, "from his knowledge of war, as learned
from the great leaders of former days; "* (* North American Review
volume 149 page 168.) and if he made war by rule, as he had regulated
his conduct as a cadet, it can hardly be denied that his rules were
of the soundest. They are a complete summary of the tactics which
wrought such havoc in the Valley. The order in which they are placed
is interesting. "To mystify, mislead, and surprise," is the first
precept. How thoroughly it was applied! The measures by which his
adversaries were to be deceived were as carefully thought out as the
maps had been closely studied. The troops moved almost as often by
country roads and farm tracks as by the turnpikes. The longer route,
even when time was of importance, was often preferred, if it was well
concealed, to the shorter. No precaution, however trivial, that might
prevent information reaching the enemy was neglected. In order that
he might give his final instructions to Colonel Munford before
marching to Richmond, he told that officer to meet him at ten o'clock
at night in Mount Sidney. "I will be on my horse," he wrote, "at the
north end of the town, so you need not inquire after me."* (* O.R.
volume 12 part 3 page 914.) "Le bon general ordinaire" would have
scoffed at the atmosphere of mystery which enveloped the Confederate
camp. The march from Elk Run Valley to Port Republic, with its
accompaniments of continuous quagmire and dreary bivouacs, he would
have ridiculed as a most useless stratagem. The infinite pains with
which Jackson sought to conceal, even from his most trusted staff
officers, his movements, his intentions, and his thoughts, a
commander less thorough would have pronounced useless. The long night
ride to Richmond, on June 22, with its untoward delays and provoking
contretemps, sounds like an excess of precaution which wa