was dictated by other motives than the restoration of his health.  No sooner had it become evident that McClellan’s position was impregnable than he turned his thoughts to some more vulnerable point.  He would allow the enemy no respite.  In his opinion there should be no “letting up” in the attack.  The North should be given no leisure to reorganise the armies or to train recruits.  A swift succession of fierce blows, delivered at a vital point, was the only means of bringing the colossus to its knees, and that vital point was far from Richmond.

Before the Confederate troops marched back to Richmond he laid his views before the member of Congress for the Winchester district, and begged Mr. Boteler to impress them on the Government.  “McClellan’s army,” he said, “was manifestly thoroughly beaten, incapable of moving until it had been reorganised and reinforced.  There was danger,” he foresaw, “that the fruits of victory would be lost, as they had been lost after Bull Run.  The Confederate army should at once leave the malarious district round Richmond, and moving northwards, carry the horrors of invasion across the border.  This,” he said, “was the only way to bring the North to its senses, and to end the war.  And it was within the power of the Confederates, if they were to concentrate their resources, to make a successful bid for victory. 60,000 men might march into Maryland and threaten Washington.  But while he was anxious that these views should be laid before the President, he would earnestly disclaim the charge of self-seeking.  He wished to follow, and not to lead.  He was willing to follow anyone—­Lee, or Ewell, or anyone who would fight.”  “Why do you not urge your views,” asked Mr. Boteler, “on General Lee?” “I have done so,” replied Jackson.  “And what does he say to them?” “He says nothing,” was the answer; “but do not understand that I complain of this silence; it is proper that General Lee should observe it.  He is wise and prudent.  He feels that he bears a fearful responsibility, and he is right in declining a hasty expression of his purpose to a subordinate like me."* (* Dabney volume 2 pages 230, 231.)

Jackson was perfectly right in his estimate of the Federal army.  McClellan had 90,000 men, but 16,000 were sick, and he was still under the delusion that he had been defeated by more than twice his numbers.  His letters to the President, it is true, betrayed no misgiving.  He was far from admitting that he had been defeated.  His army, he wrote, was now so favourably placed that an advance on Richmond was easy.  He was full of confidence.  He was watching carefully for any fault committed by the enemy, and would take advantage of it.  The spirit of his army, he declared, was such that he felt unable to restrain it from speedily assuming the offensive.  He had determined not to fall back unless he was absolutely forced to do so.  He was ready for a rapid and heavy blow at Richmond.  But to strike that blow he required heavy reinforcements, and while waiting their arrival he was unwilling to leave his strong position.* (* O.R. volume 11 part 2 page 306.)