On receiving this report, Lincoln ordered the First Army Corps, 37,000 strong, under General McDowell, to remain at Manassas in place of embarking for the Peninsula; and thus McClellan, on the eve of his advance on Richmond, found his original force of 150,000 reduced by 46,000 officers and men.  Moreover, not content with detaching McDowell for a time, Lincoln, the next day, assigned that general to an independent command, covering the approaches to Washington; Banks, also, was withdrawn from McClellan’s control, and directed to defend the Valley.  The original dissemination of the Federal forces was thus gravely accentuated, and the Confederates had now to deal with four distinct armies, McClellan’s, McDowell’s, Banks’, and Fremont’s, dependent for co-operation on the orders of two civilians, President Lincoln and his Secretary of War.  And this was not all.  McDowell had been assigned a most important part in McClellan’s plan of invasion.  The road from Fortress Monroe was barred by the fortifications of Yorktown.  These works could be turned, however, by sending a force up the York River.  But the passage of the stream was debarred to the Federal transports by a strong fort at Gloucester Point, on the left bank, and the capture of this work was to be the task of the First Army Corps.  No wonder that McClellan, believing that Johnston commanded 100,000 men, declared that in his deliberate judgment the success of the Federal cause was imperilled by the order which detached McDowell from his command.  However inadequately the capital might be defended, it was worse than folly to interfere with the general’s plans when he was on the eve of executing them.  The best way of defending Washington was for McClellan to march rapidly on Richmond, and seize his adversary by the throat.  By depriving him of McDowell, Lincoln and his advisers made such a movement difficult, and the grand army of invasion found itself in a most embarrassing situation.  Such was the effect of a blow struck at the right place and the right time, though struck by no more than 3000 bayonets.

The battle of Kernstown was undoubtedly well fought.  It is true that Jackson believed that he had no more than four regiments of infantry, a few batteries, and some cavalry before him.  But it was a skilful manoeuvre, which threw three brigades and three batteries, more than two-thirds of his whole strength, on his opponent’s flank.  An ordinary general would probably have employed only a small portion of his force in the turning movement.  Not so the student of Napoleon.  “In the general’s haversack,” says one of Jackson’s staff, “were always three books:  the Bible, Napoleon’s Maxims of War, and Webster’s Dictionary—­for his spelling was uncertain—­and these books he constantly consulted.”  Whether the chronicles of the Jewish kings threw any light on the tactical problem involved at Kernstown may be left to the commentators; but there can be no question as to the Maxims.  To hurl overwhelming numbers at the point where the enemy least expects attack is the whole burden of Napoleon’s teaching, and there can be no doubt but that the wooded ridge, unoccupied save by a few scouts, was the weakest point of the defence.