THE SPAWN OF LETHARGY.
Considering the surroundings, it seems inevitable that the lull after
the first great victory should have been followed by reaction, all over
the South; and that reasons--as ridiculous as they were numerous--should
have been assigned for inaction that appeared so unwarranted.
Discontent--at first whispered, and coming as the wind cometh--gradually
took tongue; and discussion of the situation grew loud and varied. One
side declared that the orders for a general advance had been already
given, when the President countermanded them upon the field, and sent
orders by General Bonham to withdraw the pursuit. Another version of
this reason was that there had been a council of the generals and Mr.
Davis, at which it was agreed that the North must now be convinced of
the utter futility of persisting in invasion; and that in the reaction
her conservative men would make themselves heard; whereas the
occupation of Washington would inflame the North and cause the people
to rise as one man for the defense of their capital. An even wilder
theory found believers; that the war in the South was simply one of
defense, and crossing the Potomac would be _invasion_, the effect of
which would retard recognition from abroad. Another again declared that
there was a jealousy between Generals Johnston and Beauregard, and
between each of them and the President, that prevented concert of
action.
The people of the South were eminently democratic and had their own
views--which they expressed with energy and vim--on all subjects during
the war; so these theories, to account for the paralysis after
Manassas, were each in turn discussed, and each found warm defenders.
But gradually it came to be generally conceded that none of them could
be the true one. The President took no command on his visit to
Manassas, for he reached the field only after the battle had been won
and the flight commenced. Any suggestions that occurred to him were
naturally made to General Johnston. There is good authority for stating
that he did not make any criticism on one material point, stating to
both generals that the whole plan, conduct and result of the battle met
his fullest approval; and on reflection the whole people felt that
their chief was too much a soldier to have committed the gross breach
of discipline indicated. The story of the council came to be regarded
as a silly fabrication. The fear of inflaming the North, coming on the
heels of a complete and bloody victory, was about as funny as for a
pugilist whose antagonist's head was "in chancery" to cease striking
lest he should anger him; and events immediately following Manassas
showed there could be little jealousy or pique between the generals, or
between them and the President. General Johnston, with the magnanimity
of the true knight his whole career has shown him to be, declared that
the credit of the plan and choice of the field of battle was due to
General Beauregard; and Mr. Davis' proclamation on the success was
couched in language that breathed only the most honest commendation of
both generals and of their strategy. The fear of invasion prejudicing
opinion abroad was as little believed as the other stories, for--outside
of a small clique--there grew up at this time all over the South such a
perfect confidence in its strength and its perfect ability to work its
own oracle, that very little care was felt for the action of Europe. In
fact, the people were just now quite willing to wait for recognition of
their independence by European powers, until it was already achieved.
So, gradually the public mind settled down to the true reasons that
mainly prevented the _immediate_ following up of the victory.
A battle under all circumstances is a great confusion. With raw troops,
who had never before been under fire, and who had been all day fiercely
contending, until broken and disordered, the confusion must necessarily
have been universal. As they broke, or fell back, brigade overlapped
brigade, company mixed with company, and officers lost their regiments.
The face of the country, covered with thick underbrush, added to this
result; so that when the enemy broke and the rout commenced, it was
hard to tell whether pursuers or pursued were the most disorganized
mass. The army of Manassas was almost entirely undisciplined, and had
never before felt the intoxication of battle. On that terrible day it
had fought with tenacity and pluck that belonged to the race; but it
had largely been on the principle prevalent at weddings in the "ould
country"--when you see a head, hit it! The few officers who desired a
disciplined resistance soon saw the futility of obtaining it, and felt
that as the men, individually, were fighting bravely and stubbornly, it
were better only to hold them to that. When the pursuit came, the men
were utterly worn and exhausted; but, burning with the glow of battle,
they followed the flying masses fast and far--each one led by his own
instincts and rarely twenty of a company together.
A major-general, who left his leg on a later field, carried his company
into this fight. During the pursuit he led it through a by-path to
intercept a battery spurring down the road at full speed. They overtook
it, mastered the gunners and turned the horses out of the press. In the
deepening twilight, he turned to thank the company, and found it
composed of three of his own men, two "Tiger Rifles," a Washington
artilleryman, three dismounted cavalry of the "Legion," a doctor, a
quartermaster's clerk, and the Rev. Chaplain of the First ----!
This was but a specimen of the style of the pursuit. There was but
little cavalry--one regiment under Lieutenant-Colonel Stuart and a few
single companies. No one brigade could be collected in anything like
order; night was deepening and the enemy's flight was approaching what
was reasonably supposed to be his reserve. Under these circumstances it
was apparent that prudence, if not necessity, dictated calling in the
pursuit by the disordered troops. General Bonham--the ranking officer
in front--saw this plainly; and on his own authority gave the order
that appeared most proper to him. I never heard that, _at this time_,
it was objected to by his superior officers.
Moreover, it was not only the demoralization caused by the pursuit
that was sufficient reason for not following up Manassas. The army,
ordinarily, was not in a condition to advance into an enemy's country,
away from its regular communications. In the first place, there was no
transportation, and the arms were bad. It was a work of time to utilize
the spoils; to distribute arms where most needed; to put the captured
batteries in condition for use; and to replace with the splendid
ambulances and army wagons, that had been prepared for the holiday
march to Richmond, the hastily and clumsily-constructed ones already in
use; and to so give out the captured horses as best to utilize them.
This latter was of the utmost moment before an advance could be
attempted. The Confederates were shorter of transportation--even of
defective character--than of anything else; and for days after the
fight the flood-gates of heaven seemed to stand open, to deluge the
country around Manassas until it became a perfect lake of mud. Roads
already bad were washed into gullies; holes generally knee-deep became
impassable. It is perfectly easy, therefore, to understand why, for a
week after the battle, delay was necessary; but as week after week
passed, and there was still no forward movement, it ceased to be
strange that the people should murmur, and ask why it was the army was
satisfied with laurels easily won when fresh ones were within its
grasp. All felt that veteran officers handling raw troops had to be
more careful in their management, and to count more closely before
putting them into the new and dangerous position of an invading army,
than would meet with the concurrence of a populace naturally ardent and
doubly heated by triumph.
But it is equally true that for ten days after the battle, Washington
lay perfectly at the mercy of the South; and by that time the army of
Manassas was in better condition than could be expected later; and it
was anxious to move forward.
But the auspicious moment was not seized; time was given for the broken
fragments of the Union army to be patched again into something like
organization. Fresh forts and earthworks were hastily thrown up; a
perfect chain of defenses formed around Washington, and strongly
garrisoned. The pickets of the opposing armies were near enough to
exchange constant shots, and even occasional "chaff."
Still there was no movement; the summer wore away in utter inactivity.
The camp at Orange Courthouse began to be looked upon as a stationary
affair; while the usual difficulties of camp life--aggravated by the
newness of the troops and the natural indisposition of the southron to
receive discipline--began to show themselves. The army at this time was
principally composed of the better educated and better conditioned class,
who were the first to volunteer; and as I have already said, many of
the privates were men of high position, culture and wealth. Thus
composed, it was equal to great deeds of gallantry and dash. _Elan_ was
its characteristic--but it was hard to reduce to the stratified regularity
of an army. Napier has laid down as an axiom that no man is a good
soldier until he has become a perfect machine. He must neither reason
nor think--only obey. Critics, perhaps equally competent, in reviewing
the Crimean war, differ from this and declare the main advantage of the
French troops over the Russian was a certain individuality--a pride in
themselves and their army that had been entirely drilled out of their
stolid adversaries. Be this as it may, the _esprit de corps_ of the
Frenchman was in his corps only as such; and he would no more have
discussed the wisdom, or prudence of any order--even in his own
mind--than he would have thought of disobeying it.
The steady-going professional men who sprung to arms throughout the
South could face a deadly fire, without blenching, for hours; but they
could not help reasoning, with nothing to do for twenty hours out of
every twenty-four.
The gay young graduates of the promenade and ball-room could march
steadily, even gaily, into the fiery belching of a battery, but they
could not learn the practice of unreasoning blindness; and the staunch,
hard-fisted countryman felt there was no use in it--the thing was over
if the fighting was done--and this was a waste of time. _Nostalgia_--that
scourge of camps--began to creep among the latter class; discontent
grew apace among the former. Still the camp was the great object of
interest for miles around; there were reviews, parades and division
dinners; ladies visited and inspected it, and some even lived within
its lines; but the tone of the army went down gradually, but steadily.
During the summer more than one of Beauregard's companies--though of
the best material and with a brilliant record--had to be mustered out
as "useless and insubordinate." Excellence in drill and attention to
duty both decreased; and it was felt by competent judges that rust was
gradually eating away the fabric of the army. This was certainly the
fault to a great extent of the officers, though it may, in part, have
been due to the men themselves. In the beginning these had tried
honestly to choose those among them best fitted for command; but like
all volunteers, they fell into the grave error of choosing the most
popular. Almost all candidates for office were equally eligible and
equally untried; so personal considerations naturally came into play.
Once elected, they did their duty faithfully, in the field; but were
either too weak, or too inexperienced, to keep the strict rules of
discipline applied during the trying inactivity of camp; and they were
too conscious of the social and mental equality of their men to enforce
the distinction between officer and private, without which the command
loses half its weight. In some instances, too, the desire for
popularity and for future advancement at the hands of friends and
neighbors introduced a spirit of demagogism hurtful in the extreme.
For these combined reasons the army of Manassas, which a few weeks
before had gone so gaily "into the jaws of death," began rapidly to
mildew through warp and woof; and the whole texture seemed on the point
of giving way.
Thoughtful men--who had waited calmly and coolly when the first burst
of impatience had gone up--began now to ask why and how long this
lethargy was to continue. They saw its bad effects, but believed that
at the next blast of the bugle every man would shake off the incubus
and rise in his might a patriot soldier; they saw the steady stream of
men from North and West pouring into Washington, to be at once bound
and held with iron bands of discipline--the vast preparation in men,
equipments, supplies and science that the North was using the precious
days granted her to get in readiness for the next shock. But they felt
confident that the southern army--if not allowed to rust too
long--would again vindicate the name it had won at Manassas.
These thinkers saw that some branches of the Government still kept up
its preparations. Throughout the length of the land foundries were
going up, and every improvement that science or experience could
suggest was making in the construction of arms and ammunition;
water-power, everywhere off the line of attack, was utilized for
powder-mills and rope-walks; every cloth factory in the country was
subsidized; and machinery of great variety and power was being imported
on Government account. Over Richmond constantly hung a dense cloud of
coal smoke; and the incessant buzz of machinery from factories,
foundries and lathes, told of increased rather than abated effort in
that branch of the Government. Then, too, the most perfect confidence
was felt in the great strategic ability of General Johnston--who had
already found that high level in the opinion of his countrymen, from
which neither the frowns of government, the combination of cliques, nor
the tongues of slanderers could afterward remove him.
They believed, too, in the pluck and dash of Beauregard; and, combining
this with the outside activity, evident in every direction, felt there
must be good and sufficient reason for the--to them--inexplicable quiet
about the Potomac.
But perhaps the very worst feature was the effect of the victory upon
the tone of the people at large. The very tongues that had wagged most
impatiently at the first delay--that had set in motion the wild stories
by which to account for it--had been the first to become blatant that
the North was conquered. The minutest details of the fight were carried
over the land, repeated at country courts and amplified at bar-room
assemblages, until the common slang was everywhere heard that one
Southron was equal to a dozen Yanks. Instead of using the time, so
strangely given by the Government, in making earnest and steady strides
toward increasing the army, improving its _morale_ and adding to its
supplies, the masses of the country were upon a rampage of boastfulness,
and the notes of an inflated triumph rang from the Potomac to the Gulf.
In this regard the effect of the victory was most injurious; and had it
not been for the crushing results--from a strategic point of view--that
would have followed it, partial defeat might have proved a blessing in
its place.
The one, while it threw a gloom over the country, would have nerved the
people to renewed exertion and made them look steadily and unwaveringly
at the true dangers that threatened them. The other gave them time to
fold their hands and indulge in a complacency, ridiculous as it was
enervating.
They ceased to realize the vast resources of the Union in men, money
and supplies; and more than all, they underrated the dogged
perseverance of Yankee character. It was as though a young boxer, in a
deadly conflict with a giant, had dealt a staggering blow; and while
the Titan braced his every muscle for a deadlier gripe, the weaker
antagonist wasted his time lauding his strength and feeling his biceps.
Meantime, the keen, hard sense of the Washington Government wasted no
time in utilizing the reaction on its people. The press and the public
clamored for a victim, and General Scott was thrown into its maw
unhesitatingly. The old hero was replaced by the new, and General
McClellan--whose untried and inexperienced talent could hardly have
augured his becoming, as he did, the best general of the northern
army--was elevated to his place to please the "dear public."
The rabid crowds of men and men-women--whose prurient curiosity had
driven them to follow the great on-to-Richmond, with hopes of a first
view of the triumphant entry of the Grand Army--soon forgot their
uncomfortable and terrified scramble to the rear. They easily changed
their whine of terror to a song of triumph; and New England Judiths,
burning to grasp the hair of the Holofernes over the Potomac, pricked
the flagging zeal of their male companions.
The peculiar error that they were fighting for the Union and the
flag--so cruelly dissipated of late--threw thousands into the ranks;
heavy bounties and hopes of plunder drew many more; and the still
frequent interstices were filled with many an Irish-German amalgam,
that was supposed to be peculiarly good food for powder.
And so the summer wore on, the demoralizing influence of the inaction
in the camps of the South increasing toward its close. The affair at
Leesburg, occurring on the 20th of October, was another brilliant
success, but equally barren of results. It showed that the men would
still fight as readily and as fiercely, and that their officers would
lead them as gallantly, as before; it put a few hundred of the enemy
_hors de combat_ and maintained "the right of way" by the river to the
South. But it was the occasion for another shout of triumph--perfectly
incommensurate with its importance--to go up from the people; and it
taught them still more to despise and underrate the power of the
government they had so far successfully and brilliantly defied.
Elsewhere than on the Potomac line, the case had been a little
different. Magruder, on the Peninsula, had gained no success of note. A
few unimportant skirmishes had taken place and the Confederate lines
had been contracted--more from choice than necessity. But the combatants
were near enough--and respected each other enough--for constant
watchfulness to be considered necessary; and, though the _personnel_ of
the army was, perhaps, not as good as that of the Potomac, in the main
its condition was better.
At Norfolk nothing had been done but to strengthen the defenses.
General Huger had striven to keep his men employed; and they, at least,
did not despise the enemy that frowned at them from Fort Monroe, and
frequently sent messages of compliment into their camps from the lips
of the "Sawyer gun." The echo of the paeans from Manassas came back to
them, but softened by distance and tempered by their own experience--or
want of it.
In Western Virginia there had been a dull, eventless campaign, of
strategy rather than action. General Wise had taken command on the
first of June, and early in August had been followed by General John B.
Floyd--the ex-U.S. Secretary of War.
These two commanders unfortunately disagreed as to means and conduct of
the campaign; and General R. E. Lee was sent to take general command on
this--his first theater of active service. His management of the
campaign was much criticised in many quarters; and the public verdict
seemed to be that, though he had an army of twenty thousand men, tolerably
equipped and familiar with the country, Rosecrans out-manoeuvered him
and accomplished his object in amusing so considerable a Confederate
force. Certain it is that, after fronting Lee at Big Sewell for ten or
twelve days, he suddenly withdrew in the night, without giving the
former even a chance for a fight.
The dissatisfaction was universal and outspoken; nor was it relieved by
the several brilliant episodes of Gauley and Cotton Hill, that General
Floyd managed to throw into his dark surroundings.
It is hard to tell how much foundation the press and the public had for
this opinion. There had been no decisive disaster, if there had been no
actual gain; and the main result had been to maim men and show that
both sides would fight well enough to leave all collisions matters of
doubt.
It may not here be out of place to correct a false impression that has
crept into the history of the times regarding General Floyd. The
courteous press of the North--and not a few political enemies who felt
safety in their distance from him--constantly branded him as "traitor"
and "thief." They averred that he had misused his position and betrayed
the confidence reposed in him as U.S. Secretary of War, to send
government arms into the South in view of the approaching need for
them. Even General Scott--whose position must have given him the means
of knowing better--reiterates these calumnies, the falsity of which the
least investigation exposed at once.
Mr. Buchanan, in his late book, completely exonerates General Floyd
from this charge; and the committee to whom it was referred reported
that of 10,151 rifles distributed by him in 1860, the Southern and
South-Western states received only 2,849!
Followed by the hate of one government to receive the coldness of the
other, John B. Floyd still strove with all his strength for the cause
he loved.
"After life's fitful fever he sleeps well"
in his dear Virginia soil; and whatever his faults--whatever his
errors--no honest man, North or South, but must rejoice that his
enemies even acquitted him of this one.
Then the results elsewhere had not been very encouraging when compared
with the eastern campaign; though Sterling Price had managed to more
than hold his own against all obstacles, and Jeff Thompson had been
doing great things with little means in south-western Missouri.
Still, since Rich Mountain, no serious disaster had befallen
Confederate arms, and the people were fain to be satisfied.