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 was absolutely pedantic.* (* He instructed the orderly that accompanied him, and who knew the roads, to call him “Colonel’) But war, according to Napoleon, is made up of accidents.  The country was full of spies; the Southern newspapers were sometimes indiscreet; and the simple fact that Jackson had been seen near Richmond would have warned McClellan that his right wing was in jeopardy.  Few men would have taken such infinite trouble to hide the departure from the Valley and the march across Virginia to attack McClellan.  But soldiers of experience, alive to the full bearing of seemingly petty details, appreciate his skill.* (* “The manner,” says Lord Wolseley, “in which he thus mystified his enemy regarding this most important movement is a masterpiece.”  North American Review volume 149 pages 166 and 167.) According to the dictum of Napoleon, “there are no such things as trifles in war.”