ligence, however unimportant, escaped
his lips. To his wife he was as uncommunicative as to the rest.
Neither hint nor suggestion made the least impression, and direct
interrogations were put by with a quiet smile. Nor was he too shy to
suggest to his superiors that silence was golden. In a report to
Johnston, written four days after Kernstown, he administered what can
scarcely be considered other than a snub, delicately expressed but
unmistakable:--

"It is understood in the Federal army that you have instructed me to
keep the forces now in this district and not permit them to cross the
Blue Ridge, and that this must be done at every hazard, and that for
the purpose of effecting this I made my attack. I have never so much
as intimated such a thing to anyone."* (* O.R. volume 12 part 3 page
840.)

It cannot be said that Jackson's judgment in attacking Shields was at
once appreciated in the South. The defeat, at first, was ranked with
the disasters in the West. But as soon as the effects upon the enemy
were appreciated the tide of popular feeling turned. The gallantry of
the Valley regiments was fully recognised, and the thanks of Congress
were tendered to Jackson and his troops.

No battle was ever yet fought in exact accordance with the demands of
theory, and Kernstown, great in its results, gives openings to the
critics. Jackson, it is said, attacked with tired troops, on
insufficient information, and contrary to orders. As to the first, it
may be said that his decision to give the enemy no time to bring up
fresh troops was absolutely justified by events. On hearing of his
approach to Kernstown, Banks immediately countermarched a brigade of
Williams' division from Castleman's Ferry. A second brigade was
recalled from Snicker's Gap on the morning of the 24th, and reached
Winchester the same evening, after a march of six-and-twenty miles.
Had attack been deferred, Shields would have been strongly reinforced.

As to the second, Jackson had used every means in his power to get
accurate intelligence.* (* The truth is that in war, accurate
intelligence, especially when two armies are in close contact, is
exceedingly difficult to obtain. At Jena, even after the battle
ended, Napoleon believed that the Prussians had put 80,000 men in
line instead of 45,000. The night before Eylau, misled by the reports
of Murat's cavalry, he was convinced that the Russians were
retreating; and before Ligny he underestimated Blucher's str