Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War
crossing the lofty plateau, sinks sharply down to Luray, the principal
village on the South Fork. Elsewhere precipitous gullies and sheer rock
faces forbid all access to the mountain, and a few hunters’ paths alone
wind tediously through the woods up the steep hillside. Nor are signal
stations to be found on the wide area of unbroken forest which clothes
the summit. Except from the peaks at either end, or from one or two
points on the New Market–Luray road, the view is intercepted by the sea
of foliage and the rolling spurs.
Striking eastward from Luray, two good roads cross the Blue Ridge; one
running to Culpeper Court House, through Thornton’s Gap; the other
through Fisher’s Gap to Gordonsville.
It was the Massanuttons that weighed on the mind of Banks. The Valley
of the South Fork gave the Confederates a covered approach against his
line of communications. Issuing from that strait cleft between the
mountains Ashby’s squadrons might at any time sweep down upon his
trains of waggons, his hospitals, and his magazines; and
should Jackson be reinforced, Ashby might be supported by infantry and
guns, and both Strasburg and Winchester be endangered. It was not
within Banks’ power to watch the defile. “His cavalry,” he reported,
“was weak in numbers and spirit, much exhausted with night and day
work.” Good cavalry, he declared, would help incalculably, and he
admitted that in this arm he was greatly inferior to the enemy.
Nor was he more happy as to the Alleghanies on his right. Frémont was
meditating an advance on Lewisburg, Staunton, and the Virginia and
Tennessee Railway with 25,000 men.[8] One column was to start from
Gauley Bridge, in the Kanawha Valley; the other from the South Branch
of the Potomac. Milroy’s brigade, from Cheat Mountain, had therefore
occupied Monterey, and Schenck’s brigade had marched from Romney to
Moorefield. But Moorefield was thirty miles west of Woodstock, and
between them rose a succession of rugged ridges, within whose deep
valleys the Confederate horsemen might find paths by which to reach to
Banks’ rear.
It was essential, then, that his communications should be strongly
guarded, and as he advanced up the Valley his force had diminished at
every march. According to his own report he had, on April 6, 16,700 men
fit for duty. Of these 4,100 were detached along the road from
Woodstock to Harper’s Ferry. His effective strength for battle was thus
reduced to 12,600, or, including the troops escorting convoys and the
garrison of Strasburg, to 14,500 men, with 40 pieces of artillery.[9]
Such were the considerations that influenced the Federal commander. Had
he occupied New Market, as McClellan had desired, he would have secured
the Luray road, have opened the South Fork Valley to his scouts, and
have overcome half the difficulties presented by the Massanuttons. A
vigorous advance would have turned the attention of the Confederates
from his communications to their own; and to drive Jackson from the
Valley was the best method
of protecting the trains and the magazines. But Banks was not inclined
to beard the lion in his den, and on April 16 Jackson had been
unmolested for more than three weeks. Ashby’s troopers were the only
men who had even seen the enemy. Daily that indefatigable soldier had
called to arms the Federal outposts. “Our stay at Edenburg,” says
Gordon, “was a continuous season of artillery brawling and picket
stalking. The creek that separated the outposts was not more than ten
yards wide. About one-fourth of a mile away there was a thick wood, in
which the enemy concealed his batteries until he chose to stir us up,
when he would sneak up behind the cover, open upon us at an unexpected
moment, and retreat rapidly when we replied.” It was doubtless by such
constant evidence of his vigilance that Ashby imposed caution on the
enemy’s reconnoitring parties. The fact remains that Jackson’s camps,
six miles to the rear, were never once alarmed, nor could Banks obtain
any reliable information.
This period of repose was spent by Jackson in reorganising his
regiments, in writing letters to his wife, and, like his old
class-mate, Gordon, in admiring the scenery. It is not to be supposed
that his enforced inaction was altogether to his taste. With an enemy
within sight of his outposts his bold and aggressive spirit must have
been sorely tried. But with his inferior numbers prudence cried
patience, and he had reason to be well content with the situation. He
had been instructed to prevent Banks from detaching troops to reinforce
McClellan. To attain an object in war the first consideration is to
make no mistakes yourself; the next, to take instant advantage of those
made by your opponent. But compliance with this rule does not embrace
the whole art of generalship. The enemy may be too discreet to commit
himself to risky manœuvres. If the campaigns of the great masters of
war are examined, it will be found that they but seldom adopted a
quiescent attitude, but by one means or another, by acting on their
adversary’s _moral,_ or by creating false impressions, they induced him
to make a false step, and to place himself in a position which made it
easy for them
to attain their object. The greatest general has been defined as “he
who makes the fewest mistakes;” but “he who compels his adversary to
make the most mistakes” is a definition of equal force; and it may even
be questioned whether the general whose imagination is unequal to the
stratagems which bring mistakes about is worthy of the name. He may be
a trustworthy subordinate, but he can scarcely become a great leader.
Johnston had advised, when, at the beginning of March, the retreat of
the Confederates from Winchester was determined on, that Jackson should
fall back on Front Royal, and thence, if necessary, up the South Fork
of the Shenandoah. His force would thus be in close communication with
the main army behind the Rapidan; and it was contrary, in the
General-in-Chief’s opinion, to all sound discretion to permit the enemy
to attain a point, such as Front Royal, which would render it possible
for him to place himself between them. Jackson, however, declared his
preference for a retreat up the North Fork, in the direction of
Staunton. Why should Banks join McClellan at all? McClellan, so Jackson
calculated, had already more men with him than he could feed; and he
believed, therefore, that Staunton would be Banks’ objective, because,
by seizing that town, he would threaten Edward Johnson’s rear, open the
way for Frémont, and then, crossing the Blue Ridge, place himself so
near the communications of the main army with Richmond that it would be
compelled to fall back to defend them. Nor, in any case, did he agree
with Johnston that the occupation of Front Royal would prevent Banks
leaving the Valley and marching to Manassas. Twenty miles due east of
Winchester is Snicker’s Gap, where a good road crosses the Blue Ridge,
and eight miles south another turnpike leads over Ashby’s Gap. By
either of these Banks could reach Manassas just as rapidly as Jackson
could join Johnston; and, while 4,500 men could scarcely be expected to
detain 20,000, they might very easily be cut off by a portion of the
superior force.
If a junction with the main army were absolutely necessary, Jackson was
of opinion that the move ought to
be made at once, and the Valley abandoned. If, on the other hand, it
was desirable to keep Banks and McClellan separated, the best means of
doing so was to draw the former up the North Fork; and at Mount
Jackson, covering the New Market to Luray road, the Valley troops would
be as near the Rapidan as if they were at Front Royal.[10] The
strategical advantages which such a position would offer—the isolation
of the troops pursuing him, the chance of striking their communications
from the South Fork Valley, and, if reinforcements were granted, of
cutting off their retreat by a rapid movement from Luray to
Winchester—were always present to Jackson’s mind.[11]
An additional argument was that at the time when these alternatives
were discussed the road along South Fork was so bad as to make marching
difficult; and it was to this rather than to Jackson’s strategical
conceptions that Johnston appears to have ultimately yielded.
Be this as it may, the sum of Jackson’s operations was satisfactory in
the extreme. On March 27 he had written to Johnston, “I will try and
draw the enemy on.” On April 16 Banks was exactly where he wished him,
well up the North Fork of the Shenandoah, cut off by the Massanuttons
from Manassas, and by the Alleghanies from Frémont. The two detachments
which held the Valley, his own force at Mount Jackson, and Edward
Johnson’s 2,800 on the Shenandoah Mountain, were in close
communication, and could at any time, if permitted by the higher
authorities, combine against either of the columns which threatened
Staunton. “What I desire,” he said to Mr. Boteler, a friend in the
Confederate Congress, “is to hold the country, as far as practicable,
until we are in a condition to advance; and then, with God’s blessing,
let us make thorough work of it. But let us start right.”
On April 7 he wrote to his wife as follows:—
“Your sickness gives me great concern; but so live that it and all your
tribulations may be sanctified to you, remembering that our ‘light
afflictions, which are but for a
moment, work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of
glory!’ I trust you and all I have in the hands of a kind Providence,
knowing that all things work together for the good of His people.
Yesterday was a lovely Sabbath day. Although I had not the privilege of
hearing the word of life, yet it felt like a holy Sabbath day,
beautiful, serene, and lovely. All it wanted was the church-bell and
God’s services in the sanctuary to make it complete. Our gallant little
army is increasing in numbers, and my prayer is that it may be an army
of the living God as well as of its country.”
The troops, notwithstanding their defeat at Kernstown, were in high
spirits. The very slackness of the Federal pursuit had made them aware
that they had inflicted a heavy blow. They had been thanked by Congress
for their valour. The newspapers were full of their praises. Their
comrades were returning from hospital and furlough, and recruits were
rapidly coming in.[12] The mounted branch attracted the majority, and
Ashby’s regiment soon numbered more than 2,000 troopers. Their
commander, however, knew little of discipline. Besides himself there
was but one field-officer for one-and-twenty companies; nor had these
companies any regimental organisation. When Jackson attempted to reduce
this curiously constituted force to order, his path was once more
crossed by the Secretary of War. Mr. Benjamin, dazzled by Ashby’s
exploits, had given him authority to raise and command a force of
independent cavalry. A reference to this authority and a threat of
resignation was Ashby’s reply to Jackson’s orders. “Knowing Ashby’s
ascendency over his men, and finding himself thus deprived of
legitimate power, the general was constrained to pause, and the cavalry
was left unorganised and
undisciplined. One half was rarely available for duty. The remainder
were roaming over the country, imposing upon the generous hospitalities
of the citizens, or lurking in their homes. The exploits of their
famous leader were all performed with a few hundreds, or often scores,
of men, who followed him from personal devotion rather than force of
discipline.”[13]
By April 15 Jackson’s force had increased to 6,000 men.[14] McClellan
had now landed an army of over 100,000 at Fortress Monroe, on the
Yorktown Peninsula, and Johnston had marched thither to oppose him. The
weather had at last cleared; although the mountain pines stood deep in