University of Virginia Library

2. II.

These events took place in the summer of 1864, and in the
autumn of that year General Early fought his famous battles,

and—the world said—sustained his ignominious defeats in the
Shenandoah Valley. “Ignominious” was the adjective which
expressed the views of nine-tenths of the citizens outside of the
immediate region, and probably of one-half the army of Northern
Virginia. In the eyes of the world there is a crime for
which there is no palliation, and that is failure. There is a
criminal to whom all defence is denied—it is the man who fails.
No matter what the failure results from, there it is, and no
explanations are “in order.” Early was defeated in a pitched
battle near Winchester, on the 19th of September, and the
country, gloomy, despondent, embittered, and elamouring for
a victory, broke out into curses almost at the man who had sustained
this reverse. It was his bad generalship, they cried;
“the troops had no confidence in him;” he was the poorest of
soldiers, the veriest sham general—else why, with his splendid
army, did he allow a second or third-rate general like Sheridan
to defeat him? When the defeat at Fisher's Hill followed, and
the fiasco at Waynesboro' terminated the Valley campaign, people
were convinced that General Jubal A. Early was a very
great dunce in military matters, had been outgeneralled and
outfought by an opponent little, if any, stronger than himself,
and the whole campaign was stigmatized as a disgraceful series
of blunders, ending in well-merited defeat and disaster.

That was the popular clamour; but it is safe to say that popular
clamour is essentially falsehood, because it is based upon
passion and ignorance. The truth of that campaign is that
Early was “leading a forlorn hope,” and that he never fought
less than four to one. At Fisher's Hill and Waynesboro', he
fought about eight to one. It is not upon General Early's
statements in his recent letter from Havana, that the present
writer makes the above allegation, but upon the testimony of
officers and citizens of the highest character who are unanimous
in their statement to the above effect. From the date
of the battle of Winchester, or the Opequon, to the present
time, it has been persistently declared by the fairest and best
informed gentlemen of the surrounding region, who had excellent
opportunities to discover the truth, that Early's force in

that fight was about eight or ten thousand, and Sheridan's
about forty or fifty thousand. General Early states upon his
honour—and the world is apt to believe him—that his effective
strength in this action was eight thousand five hundred muskets,
three battalions of artillery, and less than three thousand
cavalry. General Sheridan's force he makes, upon a close
calculation, about thirty-five thousand muskets, one of his
corps alone numbering, as captured documents showed, twelve
thousand men—more than the whole Southern force, infantry,
cavalry, and artillery. In the number of guns Sheridan, he
says, was, “vastly superior” to him; and official reports captured
showed the Federal cavalry “present for duty” two days
before the battle, to have numbered ten thousand men.[2] There
was thus a terrible disproportion between the Federal and
Confederate forces. Greatly outnumbered in artillery; with
thirty-five thousand muskets opposed to his eight thousand five
hundred; and ten thousand excellently mounted and armed
eavalry to his three thousand miserably mounted and equipped
horsemen; Early occupied anything but a bed of roses in
those days of September, when his little force so defiantly
faced the powerful army opposed to it.

Why he was not attacked and driven up the Valley long
before the 19th of September, will remain an interesting historical
problem. Nothing but the unceasing activity and audacity
of the Confederate commander appears to have retarded
this consummation. General Hunter seems to have been paralysed,
or intimidated by the incessant movements of his wary
opponent. From the period of his return to the Valley from
Washington, Early had given his adversary no breathing
spell. To-day he seemed retreating up the Valley; on the
next day he was in Maryland; when he fell back and his
adversary followed, a sudden and decisive blow at the head
of the pursuing column threw the whole Federal programme
into confusion; and grim and defiant, Early faced General
Hunter in line of battle, defying him to make an attack.

It will be hard to establish the statement that in these movements,
during the summer and autumn of 1864, in the Shenandoah
Valley, Early did not carry out in the fullest degree the
instructions received from General Lee, and accomplish admirably
the objects for which he had been sent to that region.
He was placed there as Jackson had been in 1862, to divert a
portion of the Federal forces from the great arena of combat
in the lowland. By his movements before and after the battle
of Kernstown, Jackson, with about four thousand men, kept
about twenty-five thousand of the enemy in the Valley. By
his movements preceding the battle of Opequon, Early, with
eight or ten thousand men, kept between forty and fifty thousand
from General Meade's army at Petersburg. That he
could meet the Federal force in his front, in a fair pitched battle,
was not probably believed by himself or by General Lee.
His command was essentially what he calls it, a “forlorn hope”
—the hope that it could cope with its opponents being truly
forlorn. As long as that opponent was amused, retarded, or

kept at arm's length, all was well. When he advanced to
attack in earnest, it was doubtless foreseen that the thirty or
forty thousand bayonets would drive back the eight or nine
thousand. That result followed on the 19th of September,
when, Sheridan having superseded Hunter, the attack was
made at the Opequon. And yet nothing is better established
than the fact that up to the moment when he put his cavalry
in motion against the Confederate left, General Sheridan had
been virtually defeated. Every assault of his great force of
infantry had been repulsed; and nowhere does this more
clearly appear than in an account of the action published in
Harper's Magazine, by a field officer, apparently of one of the
Federal regiments. That account is fair, lucid, and records
the precise truth, namely, that every advance of the Federal
infantry was met and repulsed. Not until the ten thousand
cavalry of General Sheridan advanced on the Martinsburg
road, attained the Confederate rear, and charged them in flank
and rear, was there the least wavering. It is true that from
that moment the action was lost. Early's line gave way in
confusion; his artillery was fought to the muzzle of the guns,
but could do nothing unsupported; and that night the Confederate
forces were in full retreat up the Valley.

Such, divested of all gloss and rodomontade, was the battle
on the Opequon. It was a clear and unmistakable defeat, but
the reader has seen what produced it. Not want of generalship
in the Confederate commander. It is gross injustice to
him to charge him with the responsibility of that reverse; and
no fair mind, North or South, will do so. He was defeated,
because the force opposed to him was such as his command
could not compete with. By heroic fighting, the little band
kept back the swarming forces of the enemy, holding their
ground with the nerve of veterans who had fought in a hundred
battles; but when the numerous and excellently armed
cavalry of the enemy thundered down upon their flank and
rear, they gave up the struggle, and yielded the hard fought
day.

The second act of this exciting drama was played at Fisher's

Hill, three days afterward. Sullenly retiring like a wounded
wolf, who snarls and shows his teeth at every step, Early took
up a position on the great range of hills above Strasburg, and
waited to be attacked. His design was to repulse any assault,
and at nightfall retire; but the enemy's large numbers enabling
them to turn his flank, they drove him from his position,
and he was forced to fall back in disorder, with heavy loss.
This result was charged upon the cavalry, but Early's small
force could not defend the ground, and the Federals assuredly
gained few laurels there. So heavy had been the blow struck
by the great force of the enemy three days before, that it is
wonderful how the Southern troops could make any stand
at all. Early's loss in the battle of the Opequon, in killed,
wounded, and “missing”—that terrible item in a defeated and
retreating army—was so great, that it is doubtful whether his
army, when it stood at bay on Fisher's Hill, numbered four
thousand muskets. Such, at least, is the statement of intelligent
and veracious officers who took part in the engagement.
They are unanimous in declaring that it did not exceed that
number. Sheridan's force they declare to have been overpowering,
but the Southern troops could and did meet it when the
attack was made in front. Not until the great force of the
enemy enabled him to turn the left flank of Early and sweep
right down his line of works, did the troops give way. Numbers
overcame everything.

Early retreated up the Valley, where he continued to present
a defiant front to the powerful force of Sheridan, until the
middle of October. On the 19th he was again at Cedar Creek,
between Strasburg and Winchester, and had struck an almost
mortal blow at General Sheridan. The Federal forces were
surprised, attacked at the same moment in front and flank,
and driven in complete rout from their camps. Unfortunately
this great success did not effect substantial results. The enemy,
who largely outnumbered Early, especially in their excellent
cavalry, re-formed their line under General Wright. Sheridan,
who had just arrived, exerted himself to retrieve the bad fortune
of the day, and the Confederates were forced to retire in

their turn. General Early's account of this event is interesting:
“I went into this fight,” he says, “with eight thousand five
hundred muskets, about forty pieces of artillery, and about
twelve hundred cavalry, as the rest of my cavalry, which was
guarding the Luray Valley, did not get up in time, though
ordered to move at the same time I moved to the attack.
Sheridan's infantry had been recruited fully up to its strength
at Winchester, and his cavalry numbered eight thousand seven
hundred, as shown by the official reports captured. The main
cause why the rout of his army in the morning was not complete,
was the fact that my cavalry could not compete with his,
and the latter, therefore, remained intact. He claimed all his
own guns that had been captured in the morning, and afterward
recaptured, as so many guns captured from me, whereas
I lost only twenty-three guns; and the loss of these and the
wagons which were taken, was mainly owing to the fact that
a bridge, on a narrow part of the road between Cedar Creek
and Fisher's Hill, broke down, and the guns and wagons, which
latter were not numerous, could not be brought off. Pursuit
was not made to Mount Jackson, as stated by both Grant and
Stanton, but my troops were halted for the night at Fisher's
Hill, three miles from Cedar Creek, and the next day moved
back to New Market, six miles from Mount Jackson, without
any pursuit at all.”

Thus terminated the Valley campaign of 1864. In November,
Early again advanced nearly to Winchester, but his offer
of battle was refused, and he went into winter quarters near
Staunton, with the small and exhausted force which remained
with him, the second corps having been returned to General
Lee. He had then only a handful of cavalry and a “corporal's
guard” of infantry. In February, 1865, when the days of
the Confederacy were numbered and the end was near, he was
to give the quidnuncs and his enemies generally one more opportunity
of denouncing his bad generalship and utter unfitness
for command. In those dark days, when hope was sinking
and the public “pulse was low,” every reverse enraged the
people. The whole country was nervous, excited, irascible,

exacting. The people would hear no explanations—they
wanted victories. Such was the state of public sentiment
when intelligence came from the mountains that Early's
“army” had been again attacked, this time near Staunton, and
owing to the excessively bad generalship of that officer, had
sustained utter and ignominious defeat. How many thousands
of men had thus been defeated was not exactly stated; but
the public said that it was an “army.” It was one thousand
infantry and about six pieces of artillery. This force was
attacked by two divisions of cavalry, numbering five thousand
each—ten thousand in all. Early had not a mounted man, his
entire cavalry force, with the rest of his artillery, having been
sent off to forage. By the great force of the enemy, Early
was driven beyond the mountains, his command hopelessly
defeated, and his name was everywhere covered with obloquy
and insult. He said nothing, waiting with the equanimity of
a brave man for the moment which would enable him to justify
himself. He has done it now; and no manly heart will read
his noble words without respect for this true patriot and fearless
soldier. “Obvious reasons of policy,” he says, “prevented
any publication of these facts during the war, and it will now
be seen that I was leading a forlorn hope all the time, and the peo
ple can appreciate the character of the victories won by Sheridan
over me.”

But this is General Early's account of the campaign, it may
be said. It is natural—some persons even now may say—that
he should endeavour by “special pleading” to lift from his
name the weight of obloquv, and strive to show that he was not
deficient in military ability, in courage, skill, and energy. The
objection is just; no man is an altogether fair witness in regard
to his own character and actions. Somewhere, a fault will be
palliated, a merit exaggerated. Fortunately for Early's fame—
unfortunately for the theory of his enemies—a document of the
most conclusive character exists, and with that paper in his hand,
the brave soldier may fearlessly present himself before the bar
of history. It is the letter of General Lee, to him, dated March
30, 1865, three days before that “beginning of the end,” the

evacuation of Petersburg. The clamour against Early had accomplished
the object of many of those who raised it. His
ability was distrusted; he was regarded as unfit for command;
“remove him!” was the cry of the people. Here is General
Lee's letter relieving him of his command. It would be an
injustice to the good name of Early to suppress a line of it.

In defeat, poverty, and exile, this recognition of his merit remains
to that brave soldier; and it is enough. There is something
better than the applauses of the multitude—something
which will outweigh in history the clamour of the ignorant or
the hostile; it is this testimony of Robert E. Lee to the “zealous
and patriotic services” of the man to whom it refers; to the
“ability, zeal, devotion, fidelity, energy, and courage” which he
had “ever manifested in the service of the country,” leaving the
“confidence” of the Commander-in-Chief in him “unimpaired.”