But Jackson took as little count of numbers as did Cromwell. Concealing his march with his usual skill he dashed with his 16,000 men into the midst of his enemies. Driving Banks before him, and well aware that Fremont and McDowell were converging in his rear, he advanced boldly on Harper’s Ferry, routed Saxton’s outposts, and remained for two days on the Potomac, with 62,000 Federals within a few days’ march. Then, retreating rapidly up the Valley, beneath the southern peaks of the Massanuttons he turned fiercely at bay; and the pursuing columns, mustering together nearly twice his numbers, were thrust back with heavy loss at the very moment they were combining to crush him.* (* “An operation which stamps him as a military genius of the highest order.” Lord Wolseley, North American Review volume 149 No. 2 page 166.) A week later he had vanished, and when he appeared on the Chickahominy, Banks, Fremont, and McDowell were still guarding the roads to Washington, and McClellan was waiting for McDowell. 175,000 men absolutely paralysed by 16,000! Only Napoleon’s campaign of 1814 affords a parallel to this extraordinary spectacle.* (* “These brilliant successes appear to me models of their kind, both in conception and execution. They should be closely studied by all officers who wish to learn the art and science of war.”—Ibid.)
Jackson’s task was undoubtedly facilitated by the ignorance of Lincoln and the incapacity of his political generals. But in estimating his achievements, this ignorance and incapacity are only of secondary importance. The historians do not dwell upon the mistakes of Colli, Beaulieu, and Wurmser in 1796, but on the brilliant resolution with which Napoleon took advantage of them; and the salient features, both of the Valley Campaign and of that of 1796, are the untiring vigilance with which opportunities were looked for, the skill with which they were detected, and the daring rapidity with which they were seized.