Skirmish at Bull’s Run--The crisis in Congress--Dearth of
horses--War prices at Washington--Estimate of the effects of
Bull’s Run--Password and countersign--Transatlantic view of
“The Times”--Difficulties of a newspaper correspondent in
the field.
_July 20th._--The great battle which is to arrest rebellion, or
to make it a power in the land, is no longer distant or doubtful.
M‘Dowell has completed his reconnaissance of the country in front
of the enemy, and General Scott anticipates that he will be in
possession of Manassas to-morrow night. All the statements of
officers concur in describing the Confederates as strongly entrenched
along the line of Bull’s Run covering the railroad. The New York
papers, indeed, audaciously declare that the enemy have fallen back
in disorder. In the main thoroughfares of the city there is still
a scattered army of idle soldiers moving through the civil crowd,
though how they come here no one knows. The officers clustering
round the hotels, and running in and out of the bar-rooms and
eating-houses, are still more numerous. When I inquired at the
head-quarters who these were, the answer was that the majority were
skulkers, but that there was no power at such a moment to send
them back to their regiments or punish them. In fact, deducting
the reserves, the rear-guards, and the scanty garrisons at the
earthworks, M‘Dowell will not have 25,000 men to undertake his seven
days’ march through a hostile country to the Confederate capital; and
yet, strange to say, in the pride and passion of the politicians,
no doubt is permitted to rise for a moment respecting his complete
success.
I was desirous of seeing what impression was produced upon the
Congress of the United States by the crisis which was approaching,
and drove down to the Senate at noon. There was no appearance of
popular enthusiasm, excitement, or emotion among the people in the
passages. They drank their iced water, ate cakes or lozenges, chewed
and chatted, or dashed at their acquaintances amongst the members,
as though nothing more important than a railway bill or a postal
concession was being debated inside. I entered the Senate, and found
the House engaged in not listening to Mr. Latham, the Senator for
California, who was delivering an elaborate lecture on the aspect
of political affairs from a Republican point of view. The Senators
were, as usual, engaged in reading newspapers, writing letters, or
in whispered conversation, whilst the Senator received his applause
from the people in the galleries, who were scarcely restrained from
stamping their feet at the most highly-flown passages. Whilst I was
listening to what is by courtesy called the debate, a messenger from
Centreville, sent in a letter to me, stating that General M‘Dowell
would advance early in the morning, and expected to engage the enemy
before noon. At the same moment a Senator who had received a despatch
left his seat and read it to a brother legislator, and the news it
contained was speedily diffused from one seat to another, and groups
formed on the edge of the floor eagerly discussing the welcome
intelligence.
The President’s hammer again and again called them to order; and from
out of this knot, Senator Sumner, his face lighted with pleasure,
came to tell me the good news. “M‘Dowell has carried Bull’s Run
without firing a shot. Seven regiments attacked it at the point of
the bayonet, and the enemy immediately fled. General Scott only gives
M‘Dowell till mid-day to-morrow to be in possession of Manassas.”
Soon afterwards, Mr. Hay, the President’s secretary, appeared on the
floor to communicate a message to the Senate. I asked him if the
news was true. “All I can tell you,” said he, “is that the President
has heard nothing at all about it, and that General Scott, from whom
we have just received a communication, is equally ignorant of the
reported success.”
Some Senators and many Congress men have already gone to join
M‘Dowell’s army, or to follow in its wake, in the hope of seeing
the Lord deliver the Philistines into his hands. As I was leaving
the Chamber with Mr. Sumner, a dust-stained, toil-worn man, caught
the Senator by the arm, and said, “Senator, I am one of your
constituents. I come from ----town, in Massachusetts, and here are
letters from people you know, to certify who I am. My poor brother
was killed yesterday, and I want to go out and get his body to send
back to the old people; but they won’t let me pass without an order.”
And so Mr. Sumner wrote a note to General Scott, and another to
General Mansfield, recommending that poor Gordon Frazer should be
permitted to go through the Federal lines on his labour of love; and
the honest Scotchman seemed as grateful as if he had already found
his brother’s body.
Every carriage, gig, waggon, and hack has been engaged by people
going out to see the fight. The price is enhanced by mysterious
communications respecting the horrible slaughter in the skirmishes
at Bull’s Run. The French cooks and hotel-keepers, by some occult
process of reasoning, have arrived at the conclusion that they must
treble the prices of their wines and of the hampers of provisions
which the Washington people are ordering to comfort themselves at
their bloody Derby. “There was not less than 18,000 men, sir, killed
and destroyed. I don’t care what General Scott says to the contrary,
he was not there. I saw a reliable gentleman, ten minutes ago, as cum
straight from the place, and he swore there was a string of waggons
three miles long with the wounded. While these Yankees lie so, I
should not be surprised to hear they said they did not lose 1000 men
in that big fight the day before yesterday.”
When the newspapers came in from New York I read flaming accounts of
the ill-conducted reconnaissance against orders, which was terminated
by a most dastardly and ignominious retreat, “due,” say the New York
papers, “to the inefficiency and cowardice of some of the officers.”
Far different was the behaviour of the modest chroniclers of these
scenes, who, as they tell us, “stood their ground as well as any
of them, in spite of the shot, shell, and rifle-balls that whizzed
past them for many hours.” General Tyler alone, perhaps, did more,
for “he was exposed to the enemy’s fire for nearly four hours;” and
when we consider that this fire came from masked batteries, and
that the wind of round shot is unusually destructive (in America),
we can better appreciate the danger to which he was so gallantly
indifferent. It is obvious that in this first encounter the Federal
troops gained no advantage; and as they were the assailants, their
repulse, which cannot be kept secret from the rest of the army, will
have a very damaging effect on their _morale_.
General Johnston, who has been for some days with a considerable
force in an entrenched position at Winchester, in the valley of the
Shenandoah, had occupied General Scott’s attention, in consequence
of the facility which he possessed to move into Maryland by Harper’s
Ferry, or to fall on the Federals by the Manassas Gap Railway, which
was available by a long march from the town he occupied. General
Patterson, with a Federal corps of equal strength, had accordingly
been despatched to attack him, or, at all events, to prevent his
leaving Winchester without an action; but the news to-night is
that Patterson, who was an officer of some reputation, has allowed
Johnston to evacuate Winchester, and has not pursued him; so that it
is impossible to predict where the latter will appear.
Having failed utterly in my attempts to get a horse, I was obliged
to negotiate with a livery-stable keeper, who had a hooded gig,
or tilbury, left on his hands, to which he proposed to add a
splinter-bar and pole, so as to make it available for two horses,
on condition that I paid him the assessed value of the vehicle and
horses, in case they were destroyed by the enemy. Of what particular
value my executors might have regarded the guarantee in question, the
worthy man did not inquire, nor did he stipulate for any value to be
put upon the driver; but it struck me that, if these were in any way
seriously damaged, the occupants of the vehicle were not likely to
escape. The driver, indeed, seemed by no means willing to undertake
the job; and again and again it was proposed to me that I should
drive, but I persistently refused.
On completing my bargain with the stable-keeper, in which it was
arranged with Mr. Wroe that I was to start on the following morning
early, and return at night before twelve o’clock, or pay a double
day, I went over to the Legation, and found Lord Lyons in the
garden. I went to request that he would permit Mr. Warre, one of the
_attachés_, to accompany me, as he had expressed a desire to that
effect. His Lordship hesitated at first, thinking perhaps that the
American papers would turn the circumstance to some base uses, if
they were made aware of it; but finally he consented, on the distinct
assurance that I was to be back the following night, and would not,
under any event, proceed onwards with General M‘Dowell’s army till
after I had returned to Washington. On talking the matter over the
matter with Mr. Warre, I resolved that the best plan would be to
start that night if possible, and proceed over the long bridge, so as
to overtake the army before it advanced in the early morning.
It was a lovely moonlight night. As we walked through the street
to General Scott’s quarters, for the purpose of procuring a pass,
there was scarcely a soul abroad; and the silence which reigned
contrasted strongly with the tumult prevailing in the day-time. A
light glimmered in the General’s parlour; his aides were seated in
the verandah outside smoking in silence, and one of them handed us
the passes which he had promised to procure; but when I told them
that we intended to cross the long bridge that night, an unforeseen
obstacle arose. The guards had been specially ordered to permit no
person to cross between tattoo and daybreak who was not provided with
the countersign; and without the express order of the General, no
subordinate officer can communicate that countersign to a stranger.
“Can you not ask the General?” “He is lying down asleep, and I dare
not venture to disturb him.”
As I had all along intended to start before daybreak, this
_contretemps_ promised to be very embarrassing, and I ventured to
suggest that General Scott would authorise the countersign to be
given when he awoke. But the _aide-de-camp_ shook his head, and I
began to suspect from his manner and from that of his comrades that
my visit to the army was not regarded with much favour--a view which
was confirmed by one of them, who, by the way, was a civilian, for
in a few minutes he said, “In fact, I would not advise Warre and you
to go out there at all; they are a lot of volunteers and recruits,
and we can’t say how they will behave. They may probably have to
retreat. If I were you I would not be near them.” Of the five or six
officers who sat in the verandah, not one spoke confidently or with
the briskness which is usual when there is a chance of a brush with
an enemy.
As it was impossible to force the point, we had to retire, and I
went once more to the horse dealer’s, where I inspected the vehicle
and the quadrupeds destined to draw it. I had spied in a stall a
likely-looking Kentuckian nag, nearly black, light, but strong, and
full of fire, with an undertaker’s tail and something of a mane to
match, which the groom assured me I could not even look at, as it was
bespoke by an officer; but after a little strategy I prevailed on
the proprietor to hire it to me for the day, as well as a boy, who
was to ride it after the gig till we came to Centreville. My little
experience in such scenes decided me to secure a saddle horse. I knew
it would be impossible to see anything of the action from a gig; that
the roads would be blocked up by commissariat waggons, ammunition
reserves, and that in case of anything serious taking place, I should
be deprived of the chance of participating after the manner of my
vocation in the engagement, and of witnessing its incidents. As it
was not incumbent on my companion to approach so closely to the scene
of action, he could proceed in the vehicle to the most convenient
point, and then walk as far as he liked, and return when he pleased;
but from the injuries I had sustained in the Indian campaign, I could
not walk very far. It was finally settled that the gig, with two
horses and the saddle horse ridden by a negro boy, should be at my
door as soon after daybreak as we could pass the Long Bridge.
I returned to my lodgings, laid out an old pair of Indian boots,
cords, a Himalayan suit, an old felt hat, a flask, revolver, and
belt. It was very late when I got in, and I relied on my German
landlady to procure some commissariat stores; but she declared the
whole extent of her means would only furnish some slices of bread,
with intercostal layers of stale ham and mouldy Bologna sausage. I
was forced to be content, and got to bed after midnight, and slept,
having first arranged that in case of my being very late next night
a trustworthy Englishman should be sent for, who would carry my
letters from Washington to Boston in time for the mail which leaves
on Wednesday. My mind had been so much occupied with the coming event
that I slept uneasily, and once or twice I started up, fancying I was
called. The moon shone in through the mosquito curtains of my bed,
and just ere daybreak I was aroused by some noise in the adjoining
room, and looking out, in a half dreamy state, imagined I saw General
M‘Dowell standing at the table, on which a candle was burning low, so
distinctly that I woke up with the words, “General, is that you?” Nor
did I convince myself it was a dream till I had walked into the room.
_July 21st._--The calmness and silence of the streets of Washington
this lovely morning suggested thoughts of the very different scenes
which, in all probability, were taking place at a few miles’
distance. One could fancy the hum and stir round the Federal
bivouacs, as the troops woke up and were formed into column of
march towards the enemy. I much regretted that I was hot enabled to
take the field with General M‘Dowell’s army, but my position was
surrounded with such difficulties that I could not pursue the course
open to the correspondents of the American newspapers. On my arrival
in Washington I addressed an application to Mr. Cameron, Secretary
at War, requesting him to sanction the issue of rations and forage
from the Commissariat to myself, a servant, and a couple of horses,
at the contract prices, or on whatever other terms he might think
fit, and I had several interviews with Mr. Leslie, the obliging and
indefatigable chief clerk of the War Department, in reference to the
matter; but as there was a want of precedents for such a course,
which was not at all to be wondered at, seeing that no representative
of an English newspaper had ever been sent to chronicle the progress
of an American army in the field, no satisfactory result could be
arrived at, though I had many fair words and promises.
A great outcry had arisen in the North against the course and policy
of England, and the journal I represented was assailed on all sides
as a Secession organ, favourable to the rebels and exceedingly
hostile to the Federal government and the cause of the Union. Public
men in America are alive to the inconveniences of attacks by their
own press; and as it was quite impossible to grant to the swarms of
correspondents from all parts of the Union the permission to draw
supplies from the public stores, it would have afforded a handle to
turn the screw upon the War Department, already roundly abused in the
most influential papers, if Mr. Cameron acceded to me, not merely
a foreigner, but the correspondent of a foreign journal which was
considered the most powerful enemy of the policy of his government,
privileges which he denied to American citizens, representing
newspapers which were enthusiastically supporting the cause for which
the armies of the North were now in the field.
To these gentlemen indeed, I must here remark, such privileges were
of little consequence. In every camp they had friends who were
willing to receive them in their quarters, and who earned a word of
praise in the local papers for the gratification of either their
vanity or their laudable ambition in their own neighbourhood, by the
ready service which they afforded to the correspondents. They rode
Government horses, had the use of Government waggons, and through
fear, favour, or affection, enjoyed facilities to which I had no
access. I could not expect persons with whom I was unacquainted to
be equally generous, least of all when by doing so they would have
incurred popular obloquy and censure; though many officers in the
army had expressed in very civil terms the pleasure it would give
them to see me at their quarters in the field. Some days ago I had
an interview with Mr. Cameron himself, who was profuse enough in
promising that he would do all in his power to further my wishes;
but he had, nevertheless, neglected sending me the authorisation
for which I had applied. I could scarcely stand a baggage train and
commissariat upon my own account, nor could I well participate in the
system of plunder and appropriation which has marked the course of
the Federal army so far, devastating and laying waste all the country
behind it.
Hence, all I could do was to make a journey to see the army on the
field, and to return to Washington to write my report of its first
operation, knowing there would be plenty of time to overtake it
before it could reach Richmond, when, as I hoped, Mr. Cameron would
be prepared to accede to my request, or some plan had been devised
by myself to obviate the difficulties which lay in my path. There
was no _entente cordiale_ exhibited towards me by the members of the
American press; nor did they, any more than the generals, evince any
disposition to help the alien correspondent of the _Times_, and my
only connection with one of their body, the young designer, had not,
indeed, inspired me with any great desire to extend my acquaintance.
General M‘Dowell, on giving me the most hospitable invitation to
his quarters, refrained from offering the assistance which, perhaps,
it was not in his power to afford; and I confess, looking at the
matter calmly, I could scarcely expect that he would, particularly
as he said, half in jest, half seriously, “I declare I am not quite
easy at the idea of having your eye on me, for you have seen so much
of European armies, you will, very naturally, think little of us,
generals and all.”