,
the annihilation of one of the converging forces, and large capture
of guns and prisoners. A victory as complete as Rivoli would have
completed its dramatic interest. But for this Jackson himself was
hardly to blame. The misconduct of the Confederate cavalry on May 24
and 25 permitted Banks to escape destruction; and the delay at the
temporary bridge near Port Republic, due, mainly, to the
disinclination of the troops to face the ford, and the want of
resolute obedience on the part of their commanders, saved Fremont
from the same fate. Had Shields' advanced brigades been driven back,
as Jackson designed, while the day was still young, the operations of
the Valley army would in all probability have been crowned by a
brilliant triumph over nearly equal forces. Fremont, already fearful
and irresolute, was hardly the man to withstand the vigour of
Jackson's onset; and that onset would assuredly have been made if
more careful arrangements had been made to secure the bridge. This
was not the only mistake committed by the staff. The needlessly long
march of the main body when approaching Front Royal on May 28 might
well have been obviated. But for this delay the troops might have
pushed on before nightfall to within easy reach of the Valley
turnpike, and Banks have been cut off from Winchester.

It is hardly necessary to say that, even with regular troops, the
same mistakes might have occurred. They are by no means without
parallel, and even those committed by the Federals have their exact
counterpart in European warfare. At the beginning of August, 1870,
the French army, like Banks' division on May 28, 1862, was in two
portions, divided by a range of mountains. The staff was aware that
the Germans were in superior strength, but their dispositions were
unknown. Like Banks, they neglected to reconnoitre; and when a weak
detachment beyond the mountains was suddenly overwhelmed, they still
refused to believe that attack was imminent. The crushing defeats of
Worth and Spicheren were the result.

The staff of a regular army is not always infallible. It would be
hard to match the extraordinary series of blunders made by the staffs
of the three armies--English, French, and Prussian--in the campaign
of Waterloo, and yet there was probably no senior officer present in
Belgium who had not seen several campaigns. But the art of war has
made vast strides since Waterloo, and even since 1870. Under Moltke's
system, which has been appli