THE BATTLE OF BULL-RUN, AND HOW IT ENDED.
I CONSIDER it of the greatest importance, my son, to present you
with an exact portrait of the very distinguished general who led our
gallant militiamen to battle at Bull-Run, and followed them home
without gaining a victory. Greater battles than this of Bull-Run
have been fought, as well in modern as in ancient times; but it is
my honest opinion that it has never had its equal in the small
number killed and wounded, as compared to the very large number that
got frightened and ran away. But I shall speak of this more
particularly hereafter.
When the bold McDowell had got the courage of our gallant militiamen
well up, and was sure they would look the enemy right in the eye,
and give him powder and shot to his heart's content, he led them
forth with such pomp and pageantry as had never been seen before.
Yes, my son, our gallant militiamen marched forth on the morning of
the 21st of July, 1861, every man a hero, and every man intent on
fighting the battle according to his own peculiar notions of how a
great and glorious victory ought to be gained. There was great
blowing of bugles, beating of drums, playing of bands, and
fluttering of colors; all of which told Mr. Beauregard to put in his
powder, that we were coming, and in earnest. The nation went into a
very fever of joy. Several of our grave Congressmen got up their
courage, put pistols in their pockets, and went forth with the army
to set our brave boys a noble example by their presence on the
field. Indeed, many otherwise reflecting persons looked forward to
this great clash of arms as a grand entertainment, which was to wind
up with a feast, to which the vanquished enemy was to be invited.
And to that end they went amply provided with provisions and good
wines. In truth, my son, there was a strong rear guard, made up of
Congressmen, editors, and distinguished citizens, all going to see
the battle, in wagons well-filled with luxuries. This was a new
feature in the history of war, and quiet people along the road
wondered at the sight.
The morning was hot and sultry, and the air was misty with dust
clouds. Our brave boys, who were not up to long marches, had a hard
time of it. But they were full of patriotism, and bore up under it
with great fortitude. Meeting the enemy near Bull-Run, we gave him
battle. That is, we pitched into him and he pitched into us, the
fight becoming general and extending over a great deal of ground.
Then the fighting became so mixed up and confused that it was
difficult to tell on which side victory was smiling. Indeed, neither
general could tell how things were going. For a long time both
armies kept at a respectful distance, under the evident apprehension
that somebody would get injured. In short, there was a great deal of
good ammunition wasted, and a great deal of wild and harmless firing
done. And just as we were about to proclaim a great victory over the
enemy--for many far-sighted persons declared they could see Mr.
Beauregard and his men with the toes of their boots turned towards
Richmond--a strange chapter of accidents occurred and changed the
whole scene. A number of our brave boys got killed, a greater number
got hurt, and a still greater number got frightened and thought it
high time to look to their own safety. A backward movement, not
ordered by our gallant general, began, and this soon resolved itself
into a grand race for Washington, where, it was thought, shelter and
safety were to be found behind its forts. What caused this sudden
backward movement still remains an undecided question. It was first
noticed among a regiment of brave Pennsylvanians, who had been
homesick for several days, and wanting to go home, started for that
purpose. The example of these gallant fellows was soon followed by
our Congressmen, editors, and citizens generally, each leaving his
stock of luxuries, and, indeed, everything he had, as a
peace-offering to the enemy, and resolved not to be outdone in the
race, especially in a case where it was made so clear that
discretion was the better part of valor. Indeed, these distinguished
non-fighting gentlemen proved themselves remarkably fleet of foot,
and not to be outdone in a race where personal safety was at stake.
But the worst of it was that their example was at once imitated by a
regiment of fierce Zouaves, from New York, who firmly believed, when
they went out to meet the enemy, that they were more than a match
for him. It is reported that these fierce Zouaves became very much
alarmed, and did some of the very best running of the day, under the
apprehension that they were followed by not less than a troop of
savage horsemen, better known as the black-horse cavalrymen, whose
sabres they had no taste for. But I have always been of opinion, my
son, that these fierce Zouaves were so intent on making the best
speed they were capable of, that they never looked behind them to
see if these savage horsemen were men of buckram or real substances.
I have also heard it intimated that the good speed made by these
red-legged heroes was owing to the fact that they had left their
courage at home, and were returning to get it. Another very
plausible theory I have heard advanced by an Englishman, who had
very profound ideas as to how war should be carried on and battles
fought. He very gravely told me (adding that he had undoubted
authority for his statement), that what set the gallant Zouaves to
scampering was this: There were a large number among them who had a
weakness for office-holding. Knowing this, a mischievous member
started the report that there was a vacancy in the New York
Custom-house. The fellow could not have done a more rash act, for it
sent them all scampering off the battle-field, each in the hope of
being first to gain the prize. Her Majesty's sagacious subject
contended that this sufficiently accounted for the good speed made
in retreat by that gallant regiment, and also for its leaving more
firearms than dead men on the field.
Indeed, my son, each man ran for his life, the excitement increasing
at every step, until the race became general; and in this way it was
kept up until our grand army of gallant militiamen reached the
forts, when they breathed freer and felt safe. This was a dark day
for Washington and the nation, which became bowed down with sorrow
and disappointment. The brave general followed his army into
Washington; and I have heard it intimated that he boasted of having
the most fleet-footed divisions history had any account of.
You will see, my son, that forts have a moral as well as a material
effect. The enemy might, had he known our forlorn condition, have
followed up his victory and marched into Washington with flying
colors. He was probably restrained by his fears of what we might
have in store for him when he reached the forts. As to the
provisions for the feast, we left them for the enemy to enjoy, which
he did with many thanks to us for the bounty, his own fare being
very scanty. And now, my son, I shall leave to my artist the task of
giving you an exact picture of our army as it appeared on its way to
Washington after the battle of Bull-Run.