Campaign and battle of Lynchburg, Va. — Reading Notes

Strategic Framing and Diction

Blackford opens by asserting that Federal commanders misunderstood Lynchburg's strategic value, calling it the “depot for the Army of Northern Virginia” and the “key to the inside line of communication.” His diction emphasizes vulnerability and missed opportunity: the city was “very little understood” by the enemy, and there was “much lack of nerve” in attempts to seize it. He repeatedly uses the passive voice (“it can well be understood”) to imply a shared Confederate understanding, drawing the audience into a consensus. The address’s structure—first establishing Lynchburg’s importance, then narrating the campaign—mirrors a legal brief, fitting for a lawyer speaking to veterans.

Moral Condemnation of Hunter's Tactics

Blackford devotes considerable space to denouncing Hunter’s conduct, calling it “barbaric strife” and “a style of warfare long since relegated to the savage.” He contrasts Hunter’s actions with what he considers legitimate warfare, citing Grant’s order about crows carrying rations as “within the line of legitimate warfare.” The language escalates: Hunter’s troops are accused of “insults to women and children” and “wanton destruction.” Blackford even notes that General Crook, a Union division commander, published an order regretting “acts committed by our troops that are disgraceful to the command.” This use of an enemy officer’s own words strengthens the indictment.

Use of Local Testimony and Anecdote

Blackford grounds his account in specific local details, such as the Moorman family’s experience. He describes how C.H. Moorman packed wagons with provisions and moved toward the Staunton River, leaving his house in charge of his “young, unmarried daughter, now Mrs. Hurt.” The buried hams discovered by Crook’s division become a symbol of both Southern resourcefulness and Yankee opportunism. These anecdotes, drawn from oral tradition or personal knowledge, give the address a texture absent from official reports. Blackford also references General Bradley T. Johnson’s report to justify Confederate retaliation, showing his reliance on documentary evidence.

Defense of Early's Pursuit

Blackford defends General Early’s failure to capture Hunter after the battle, arguing that “it is always much easier to criticise than to accomplish.” He explains that Early’s line was “thin” and “short,” requiring him to keep troops in hand until the enemy’s purpose was clear. The delay until daylight, he insists, was “essential.” This section reveals Blackford’s rhetorical strategy: he anticipates criticism and counters it with practical military reasoning. He also notes that two future U.S. presidents—Rutherford B. Hayes and William McKinley—served in Hunter’s army, a fact that adds a layer of irony to the Confederate defeat.

Blackford’s address is best read as a primary source on Confederate memory and rhetoric, not as a balanced military history. Readers should note his reliance on local knowledge and his tendency to frame Union actions as barbaric while justifying Confederate retaliation. The text offers insight into how veterans constructed a usable past, blending strategic analysis with moral outrage.

Reading Blackford’s careful weighing of Hunter’s scorched-earth choices, I remembered sitting with my grandfather, who spoke of war stories as though they were still happening. That same ache of contested memory returned when I opened The Philippines: Past and Present (Volume 1 of 2) — Themes and Context. Both books ask who gets to define a conflict long after the smoke clears, leaving me quietly turning pages, listening.