the imagination could penetrate.  At rare intervals some daring blockade-runner brought a budget of Southern newspapers, or an enterprising correspondent succeeded in transmitting a dispatch from Richmond.  But such glimpses of the situation within the cordon did little more than tantalise.  The news was generally belated, and had often been long discounted by more recent events.  Still, from Northern sources alone, it was abundantly clear that the weaker of the two belligerents was making a splendid struggle.  Great names and great achievements loomed large through the darkness.  The war at the outset, waged by ill-trained and ill-disciplined volunteers, commanded by officers unknown to fame, had attracted small notice from professional soldiers.  After the Seven Days’ battles it assumed a new aspect.  The men, despite their shortcomings, had displayed undeniable courage, and the strategy which had relieved Richmond recalled the master-strokes of Napoleon.  It was evident that the Southern army was led by men of brilliant ability, and the names of Lee’s lieutenants were on every tongue.  Foremost amongst these was Stonewall Jackson.  Even the Northern newspapers made no scruple of expressing their admiration, and the dispatches of their own generals gave them constant opportunities of expatiating on his skill.  During the first weeks of August, the reports from the front, whether from Winchester, from Fredericksburg, or from the Peninsula, betrayed the fear and uneasiness he inspired.  The overthrow of Pope’s advanced guard at Cedar Run, followed by the unaccountable disappearance of the victorious army, was of a piece with the manoeuvres in the Valley.  What did this disappearance portend?  Whither had the man of mystery betaken himself?  Where would the next blow fall?  “I don’t like Jackson’s movements,” wrote McClellan to Halleck; “he will suddenly appear when least expected.”  This misgiving found many echoes.  While Jackson was operating against Pope, McClellan had successfully completed the evacuation of Harrison’s Landing.  Embarking his sick, he marched his five army corps to Fortress Monroe, observed by Lee’s patrols, but otherwise unmolested.  The quiescence of the Confederates, however, brought no relief to the North.  Stocks fell fast, and the premium on gold rose to sixteen per cent.  For some days not a shot had been fired along the Rapidan.  Pope’s army rested in its camps.  Jackson had completely vanished.  But the silence at the front was not considered a reassuring symptom.

If the Confederates had allowed McClellan to escape, it was very generally felt that they had done so only because they were preparing to crush Pope before he could be reinforced.  “It is the fear of this operation,” wrote the Times Special Correspondent in the Northern States, “conducted by the redoubtable Stonewall Jackson, that has filled New York with uneasy forebodings.  Wall Street does not ardently believe in the present good fortune or the future prospects of the Republic."* (* The Times, September 4, 1862.)