The “State House” at Annapolis--Washington--General Scott’s
quarters--Want of a staff--Rival camps--Demand for horses--Popular
excitement--Lord Lyons--General M‘Dowell’s movements--Retreat
from Fairfax Court House--General Scott’s quarters--General
Mansfield--Battle of Bull’s Run.
_July 19th._--I baffled many curious and civil citizens by
breakfasting in my room, where I remained writing till late in the
day. In the afternoon I walked to the State House. The hall door was
open, but the rooms were closed; and I remained in the hall, which is
graced by two indifferent huge statues of Law and Justice holding gas
lamps, and by an old rusty cannon, dug out of the river, and supposed
to have belonged to the original British colonists, whilst an officer
whom I met in the portico went to look for the porter and the keys.
Whether he succeeded I cannot say, for after waiting some half hour I
was warned by my watch that it was time to get ready for the train,
which started at 4.15 p.m. The country through which the single line
of rail passes is very hilly, much wooded, little cultivated, cut up
by water-courses and ravines. At the junction with the Washington
line from Baltimore there is a strong guard thrown out from the camp
near at hand. The officers, who had a mess in a little wayside inn on
the line, invited me to rest till the train came up, and from them
I heard that an advance had been actually ordered, and that if the
“rebels” stood there would soon be a tall fight close to Washington.
They were very cheery, hospitable fellows, and enjoyed their new mode
of life amazingly. The men of the regiment to which they belonged
were Germans, almost to a man. When the train came in I found it was
full of soldiers, and I learned that three more heavy trains were
to follow, in addition to four which had already passed laden with
troops.
On arriving at the Washington platform, the first person I saw was
General M‘Dowell alone, looking anxiously into the carriages. He
asked where I came from, and when he heard from Annapolis, inquired
eagerly if I had seen two batteries of artillery--Barry’s and
another--which he had ordered up, and was waiting for, but which
had “gone astray.” I was surprised to find the General engaged on
such duty, and took leave to say so. “Well, it is quite true, Mr.
Russell; but I am obliged to look after them myself, as I have so
small a staff, and they are all engaged out with my head-quarters.
You are aware I have advanced? No! Well, you have just come in
time, and I shall be happy, indeed, to take you with me. I have
made arrangements for the correspondents of our papers to take
the field under certain regulations, and I have suggested to them
they should wear a white uniform, to indicate the purity of their
character.” The General could hear nothing of his guns; his carriage
was waiting, and I accepted his offer of a seat to my lodgings.
Although he spoke confidently, he did not seem in good spirits.
There was the greatest difficulty in finding out anything about the
enemy. Beauregard was said to have advanced to Fairfax Court House,
but he could not get any certain knowledge of the fact. “Can you not
order a reconnaissance?” “Wait till you see the country. But even if
it were as flat as Flanders, I have not an officer on whom I could
depend for the work. They would fall into some trap, or bring on a
general engagement when I did not seek it or desire it. I have no
cavalry such as you work with in Europe.” I think he was not so much
disposed to undervalue the Confederates as before, for he said they
had selected a very strong position, and had made a regular _levée
en masse_ of the people of Virginia, as a proof of the energy and
determination with which they were entering on the campaign.
As we parted the General gave me his photograph, and told me he
expected to see me in a few days at his quarters, but that I would
have plenty of time to get horses and servants, and such light
equipage as I wanted, as there would be no engagement for several
days. On arriving at my lodgings I sent to the livery stables to
inquire after horses. None fit for the saddle to be had at any price.
The sutlers, the cavalry, the mounted officers, had been purchasing
up all the droves of horses which came to the markets. M‘Dowell had
barely extra mounts for his own use. And yet horses must be had;
and, even provided with them, I must take the field without tent or
servant, canteen or food--a waif to fortune.
_July 17th._--I went up to General Scott’s quarters, and saw some of
his staff--young men, some of whom knew nothing of soldiers, not even
the enforcing of drill--and found them reflecting, doubtless, the
shades which cross the mind of the old chief, who was now seeking
repose. M‘Dowell is to advance to-morrow from Fairfax Court House,
and will march some eight or ten miles to Centreville, directly in
front of which, at a place called Manassas, stands the army of the
Southern enemy. I look around me for a staff, and look in vain. There
are a few plodding old pedants, with map and rules and compasses, who
sit in small rooms and write memoranda; and there are some ignorant
and not very active young men, who loiter about the head-quarters’
halls, and strut up the street with brass spurs on their heels and
kepis raked over their eyes as though they were soldiers, but I see
no system, no order, no knowledge, no dash!
The worst-served English general has always a young fellow or two
about him who can fly across country, draw a rough sketch map,
ride like a foxhunter, and find something out about the enemy and
their position, understand and convey orders, and obey them. I look
about for the types of these in vain. M‘Dowell can find out nothing
about the enemy; he has not a trustworthy map of the country; no
knowledge of their position, force, or numbers. All the people, he
says, are against the Government. Fairfax Court House was abandoned
as he approached, the enemy in their retreat being followed by the
inhabitants. “Where were the Confederate entrenchments? Only in the
imagination of those New York newspapers; when they want to fill up
a column they write a full account of the enemy’s fortifications.
No one can contradict them at the time, and it’s a good joke when
it’s found out to be a lie.” Colonel Cullum went over the maps with
me at General Scott’s, and spoke with some greater confidence of
M‘Dowell’s prospects of success. There is a considerable force of
Confederates at a place called Winchester, which is connected with
Manassas by rail, and this force could be thrown on the right of the
Federals as they advanced, but that another corps, under Patterson,
is in observation, with orders to engage them if they attempt to move
eastwards.
The batteries for which General M‘Dowell was looking last night have
arrived, and were sent on this morning. One is under Barry, of the
United States regular artillery, whom I met at Fort Pickens. The
other is a volunteer battery. The onward movement of the army has
been productive of a great improvement in the streets of Washington,
which are no longer crowded with turbulent and disorderly volunteers,
or by soldiers disgracing the name, who accost you in the by-ways for
money. There are comparatively few to-day; small shoals, which have
escaped the meshes of the net, are endeavouring to make the most of
their time before they cross the river to face the enemy.
Still horse-hunting, but in vain--Gregson, Wroe--_et hoc genus omne_.
Nothing to sell except at unheard-of rates; tripeds, and the like,
much the worse for wear, and yet possessed of some occult virtues,
in right of which the owners demanded egregious sums. Everywhere I
am offered a gig or a vehicle of some kind or another, as if the
example of General Scott had rendered such a mode of campaigning
the correct thing. I saw many officers driving over the Log Bridge
with large stores of provisions, either unable to procure horses
or satisfied that a waggon was the chariot of Mars. It is not fair
to ridicule either officers or men of this army, and if they were
not so inflated by a pestilent vanity, no one would dream of doing
so; but the excessive bragging and boasting in which the volunteers
and the press indulge really provoke criticism and tax patience and
forbearance overmuch. Even the regular officers, who have some idea
of military efficiency, rather derived from education and foreign
travels than from actual experience, bristle up and talk proudly
of the patriotism of the army, and challenge the world to show
such another, although in their hearts, and more, with their lips,
they own they do not depend on them. The white heat of patriotism
has cooled down to a dull black; and I am told that the gallant
volunteers, who are to conquer the world when they “have got through
with their present little job,” are counting up the days to the
end of their service, and openly declare they will not stay a day
longer. This is pleasant, inasmuch as the end of the term of many
of M‘Dowell’s, and most of Patterson’s, three months men, is near
at hand. They have been faring luxuriously at the expense of the
Government--they have had nothing to do--they have had enormous
pay--they knew nothing, and were worthless as to soldiering when they
were enrolled. Now, having gained all these advantages, and being
likely to be of use for the first time, they very quietly declare
they are going to sit under their fig-trees, crowned with civic
laurels and myrtles, and all that sort of thing. But who dare say
they are not splendid fellows--full-blooded heroes, patriots, and
warriors--men before whose majestic presence all Europe pales and
faints away?
In the evening I received a message to say that the advance of the
army would take place to-morrow as soon as General M‘Dowell had
satisfied himself by a reconnaissance that he could carry out his
plan of turning the right of the enemy by passing Occaguna Creek.
Along Pennsylvania Avenue, along the various shops, hotels, and
drinking-bars, groups of people were collected, listening to the
most exaggerated accounts of desperate fighting and of the utter
demoralisation of the rebels. I was rather amused by hearing the
florid accounts which were given in the hall of Willard’s by various
inebriated officers, who were drawing upon their imagination for
their facts, knowing, as I did, that the entrenchments at Fairfax
had been abandoned without a shot on the advance of the Federal
troops. The New York papers came in with glowing descriptions of
the magnificent march of the grand army of the Potomac, which was
stated to consist of upwards of 70,000 men; whereas I knew not half
that number were actually on the field. Multitudes of people believe
General Winfield Scott, who was now fast asleep in his modest bed
in Pennsylvania Avenue, is about to take the field in person. The
horse-dealers are still utterly impracticable. A citizen who owned a
dark bay, spavined and ringboned, asked me one thousand dollars for
the right of possession. I ventured to suggest that it was not worth
the money. “Well,” said he, “take it or leave it. If you want to see
this fight a thousand dollars is cheap. I guess there were chaps paid
more than that to see Jenny Lind on her first night; and this battle
is not going to be repeated, I can tell you. The price of horses will
rise when the chaps out there have had themselves pretty well used up
with bowie-knives and six-shooters.”
_July 18th._--After breakfast. Leaving head-quarters, I went across
to General Mansfield’s, and was going up-stairs, when the General[3]
himself, a white-headed, grey-bearded, and rather soldierly-looking
man, dashed out of his room in some excitement, and exclaimed,
“Mr. Russell, I fear there is bad news from the front.” “Are they
fighting, General?” “Yes, sir. That fellow Tyler has been engaged,
and we are whipped.” Again I went off to the horse-dealer; but this
time the price of the steed had been raised to £220; “for,” says
he, “I don’t want my animals to be ripped up by them cannon and
them musketry, and those who wish to be guilty of such cruelty must
pay for it.” At the War Office, at the Department of State, at the
Senate, and at the White House, messengers and orderlies running in
and out, military aides, and civilians with anxious faces, betokened
the activity and perturbation which reigned within. I met Senator
Sumner radiant with joy. “We have obtained a great success; the
rebels are falling back in all directions. General Scott says we
ought to be in Richmond by Saturday night.” Soon afterwards a United
States officer, who had visited me in company with General Meigs,
riding rapidly past, called out, “You have heard we are whipped;
these confounded volunteers have run away.” I drove to the Capitol,
where people said one could actually see the smoke of the cannon;
but on arriving there it was evident that the fire from some burning
houses, and from wood cut down for cooking purposes had been mistaken
for tokens of the fight.
It was strange to stand outside the walls of the Senate whilst
legislators were debating inside respecting the best means of
punishing the rebels and traitors, and to think that amidst the
dim horizon of woods which bounded the west towards the plains of
Manassas, the army of the United States was then contending, at
least with doubtful fortune, against the forces of the desperate and
hopeless outlaws whose fate these United States senators pretended to
hold in the hollow of their hands. Nor was it unworthy of note that
many of the tradespeople along Pennsylvania Avenue, and the ladies
whom one saw sauntering in the streets, were exchanging significant
nods and smiles, and rubbing their hands with satisfaction. I entered
one shop, where the proprietor and his wife ran forward to meet me.
“Have you heard the news? Beauregard has knocked them into a cocked
hat.” “Believe me,” said the good lady, “it is the finger of the
Almighty is in it. Didn’t he curse the niggers, and why should he
take their part now with these Yankee Abolitionists, against true
white men?” “But how do you know this?” said I. “Why, it’s all true
enough, depend upon it, no matter how we know it. We’ve got our
underground railway as well as the Abolitionists.”
On my way to dinner at the Legation I met the President crossing
Pennsylvania Avenue, striding like a crane in a bulrush swamp among
the great blocks of marble, dressed in an oddly cut suit of grey,
with a felt hat on the back of his head, wiping his face with a red
pocket-handkerchief. He was evidently in a hurry, on his way to
the White House, where I believe a telegraph has been established
in communication with M‘Dowell’s head-quarters. I may mention,
by-the-bye, in illustration of the extreme ignorance and arrogance
which characterise the low Yankee, that a man in the uniform of a
Colonel said to me to-day, as I was leaving the War Department,
“They have just got a telegraph from M‘Dowell. Would it not astonish
you Britishers to hear that, as our General moves on towards the
enemy, he trails a telegraph wire behind him just to let them know
in Washington which foot he is putting first?” I was imprudent
enough to say, “I assure you the use of the telegraph is not such a
novelty in Europe or even in India. When Lord Clyde made his campaign
the telegraph was laid in his track as fast as he advanced,” “Oh,
well, come now,” quoth the Colonel, “that’s pretty good, that is; I
believe you’ll say next, your General Clyde and our Benjamin Franklin
discovered lightning simultaneously.”
The calm of a Legation contrasts wonderfully in troubled times with
the excitement and storm of the world outside. M. Mercier perhaps
is moved to a vivacious interest in events. M. Stoeckl becomes more
animated as the time approaches when he sees the fulfilment of his
prophecies at hand. M. Tassara cannot be indifferent to occurrences
which bear so directly on the future of Spain in Western seas; but
all these diplomatists can discuss the most engrossing and portentous
incidents of political and military life, with a sense of calm and
indifference which was felt by the gentleman who resented being
called out of his sleep to get up out of a burning house because he
was only a lodger.
There is no Minister of the European Powers in Washington who watches
with so much interest the march of events as Lord Lyons, or who feels
as much sympathy perhaps in the Federal Government as the constituted
Executive of the country to which he is accredited; but in virtue of
his position he knows little or nothing officially of what passes
around him, and may be regarded as a medium for the communication of
despatches to Mr. Seward, and for the discharge of a great deal of
most causeless and unmeaning vituperation from the conductors of the
New York press against England.
On my return to Captain Johnson’s lodgings I received a note from
the head-quarters of the Federals, stating that the serious action
between the two armies would probably be postponed for some days.
M‘Dowell’s original idea was to avoid forcing the enemy’s position
directly in front, which was defended by movable batteries commanding
the fords over a stream called “Bull’s Run.” He therefore proposed
to make a demonstration on some point near the centre of their line,
and at the same time throw the mass of his force below their extreme
right, so as to turn it and get possession of the Manassas Railway
in their rear: a movement which would separate him, by-the-bye, from
his own communications, and enable any general worth his salt to make
a magnificent counter by marching on Washington, only 27 miles away,
which he could take with the greatest ease, and leave the enemy in
the rear to march 120 miles to Richmond, if they dared, or to make a
hasty retreat upon the higher Potomac, and to cross into the hostile
country of Maryland.
M‘Dowell, however, has found the country on his left densely wooded
and difficult. It is as new to him as it was to Braddock, when he
cut his weary way through forest and swamp in this very district to
reach, hundreds of miles away, the scene of his fatal repulse at
Fort Du Quesne. And so, having moved his whole army, M‘Dowell finds
himself obliged to form a new plan of attack, and, prudently fearful
of pushing his under-done and over-praised levies into a river in
face of an enemy, is endeavouring to ascertain with what chance of
success he can attack and turn their left.
Whilst he was engaged in a reconnaissance to-day, General Tyler
did one of those things which must be expected from ambitious
officers, without any fear of punishment, in countries where military
discipline is scarcely known. Ordered to reconnoitre the position
of the enemy on the left front, when the army moved from Fairfax to
Centreville this morning, General Tyler thrust forward some 3000 or
4000 men of his division down to the very banks of “Bull’s Run,”
which was said to be thickly wooded, and there brought up his men
under a heavy fire of artillery and musketry, from which they retired
in confusion.
The papers from New York to-night are more than usually impudent and
amusing. The retreat of the Confederate outposts from Fairfax Court
House is represented as a most extraordinary success; at best it
was an affair of outposts; but one would really think that it was
a victory of no small magnitude. I learn that the Federal troops
behaved in a most ruffianly and lawless manner at Fairfax Court
House. It is but a bad beginning of a campaign for the restoration of
the Union, to rob, burn, and destroy the property and houses of the
people in the State of Virginia. The enemy are described as running
in all directions, but it is evident they did not intend to defend
the advanced works, which were merely constructed to prevent surprise
or cavalry inroads.
I went to Willard’s, where the news of the battle, as it was called,
was eagerly discussed. One little man in front of the cigar-stand
declared it was all an affair of cavalry. “But how could that be
among the piney woods and with a river in front, major?” “Our boys,
sir, left their horses, crossed the water at a run, and went right
away through them with their swords and six-shooters.” “I tell you
what it is, Mr. Russell,” said a man who followed me out of the crowd
and placed his hand on my shoulder, “they were whipped like curs,
and they ran like curs, and I know it.” “How?” “Well, I’d rather be
excused telling you.”
_July 19th._--I rose early this morning in order to prepare for
contingencies and to see off Captain Johnson, who was about to start
with despatches for New York, containing, no doubt, the intelligence
that the Federal troops had advanced against the enemy. Yesterday was
so hot that officers and men on the field suffered from something
like sun-stroke. To unaccustomed frames to-day the heat felt
unsupportable. A troop of regular cavalry, riding through the street
at an early hour, were so exhausted, horse and man, that a runaway
cab could have bowled them over like nine pins.
I hastened to General Scott’s quarters, which were besieged by
civilians outside and full of orderlies and officers within. Mr.
Cobden would be delighted with the republican simplicity of the
Commander-in-Chief’s establishment, though it did not strike me as
being very cheap at the money on such an occasion. It consists, in
fact, of a small three-storied brick house, the parlours on the
ground floor being occupied by subordinates, the small front room
on the first floor being appropriated to General Scott himself,
the smaller back room being devoted to his staff, and two rooms
up-stairs most probably being in possession of waste papers and
the guardians of the mansion. The walls are covered with maps of
the coarsest description, and with rough plans and drawings, which
afford information and amusement to the orderlies and the stray
aides-de-camp. “Did you ever hear anything so disgraceful in your
life as the stories which are going about of the affair yesterday?”
said Colonel Cullum. “I assure you it was the smallest affair
possible, although the story goes that we have lost thousands of
men. Our total loss is under ninety--killed, wounded, and missing;
and I regret to say nearly one-third of the whole are under the
latter head.” “However that may be, Colonel,” said I, “it will be
difficult to believe your statement after the columns of type which
appear in the papers here.” “Oh! Who minds what they say?” “You will
admit, at any rate, that the retreat of these undisciplined troops
from an encounter with the enemy will have a bad effect.” “Well, I
suppose that’s likely enough, but it will soon be swept away in the
excitement of a general advance. General Scott, having determined to
attack the enemy, will not halt now, and I am going over to Brigadier
M‘Dowell to examine the ground and see what is best to be done.” On
leaving the room two officers came out of General Scott’s apartment;
one of them said, “Why, Colonel, he’s not half the man I thought him.
Well, any way he’ll be better there than M‘Dowell. If old Scott had
legs he’s good for a big thing yet.”
For hours I went horse-hunting; but Rothschild himself, even the
hunting Baron, could not have got a steed. In Pennsylvania Avenue
the people were standing in the shade under the ælanthus trees,
speculating on the news brought by dusty orderlies, or on the ideas
of passing Congress men. A party of captured Confederates, on their
march to General Mansfield’s quarters, created intense interest,
and I followed them to the house, and went up to see the General,
whilst the prisoners sat down on the pavement and steps outside.
Notwithstanding his affectation of calm and self-possession, General
Mansfield, who was charged with the defence of the town, was visibly
perturbed. “These things, sir,” said he, “happen in Europe too. If
the capital should fall into the hands of the rebels the United
States will be no more destroyed than they were when you burned it.”
From an expression he let fall, I inferred he did not very well
know what to do with his prisoners. “Rebels taken in arms in Europe
are generally hung or blown away from guns, I believe; but we are
more merciful.” General Mansfield evidently wished to be spared the
embarrassment of dealing with prisoners.
I dined at a restaurant kept by one Boulanger, a Frenchman, who
utilised the swarms of flies infesting his premises by combining
masses of them with his soup and made dishes. At an adjoining table
were a lanky boy in a lieutenant’s uniform, a private soldier, and
a man in plain clothes; and for the edification of the two latter
the warrior youth was detailing the most remarkable stories, in the
Munchausen style, ear ever heard. “Well, sir, I tell you, when his
head fell off on the ground, his eyes shut and opened twice, and his
tongue came out with an expression as if he wanted to say something.”
“There were seven balls through my coat, and it was all so spoiled
with blood and powder, I took it off and threw it in the road. When
the boys were burying the dead, I saw this coat on a chap who had
been just smothered by the weight of the killed and wounded on the
top of him, and I says, ‘Boys, give me that coat; it will just do for
me with the same rank; and there is no use in putting good cloth on
a dead body,’” “And how many do you suppose was killed, Lieutenant?”
“Well, sir! it’s my honest belief, I tell you, there was not less
than 5000 of our boys, and it may be twice as many of the enemy, or
more; they were all shot down just like pigeons; you might walk for
five rods by the side of the Run, and not be able to put your foot
on the ground.” “The dead was that thick?” “No, but the dead and the
wounded together.” No incredulity in the hearers--all swallowed:
possibly disgorged into the note-book of a Washington contributor.
After dinner I walked over with Lieutenant H. Wise, inspected a model
of Steven’s ram, which appears to me an utter impossibility in face
of the iron-clad embrasured fleet now coming up to view, though it
is spoken of highly by some naval officers and by many politicians.
For years their papers have been indulging in mysterious volcanic
puffs from the great centre of nothingness as to this secret and
tremendous war-engine, which was surrounded by walls of all kinds,
and only to be let out on the world when the Great Republic in its
might had resolved to sweep everything off the seas. And lo! it is an
abortive ram! Los Gringos went home, and I paid a visit to a family
whose daughters--bright-eyed, pretty, and clever--were seated out on
the door-steps amid the lightning flashes, one of them, at least,
dreaming with open eyes of a young artillery officer then sleeping
among his guns, probably, in front of Fairfax Court House.