September 11th.—A soft-voiced, round-faced, rather good-looking young man, with downy moustache, came to my room, and introduced himself this morning as Mr. H. H. Scott, formerly of Her Majesty’s 57th Regiment. “Don’t you remember me? I often met you at Cathcart’s Hill. I had a big dog, if you remember, which used to be about the store belonging to our camp.” And so he rattled on, talking of old Street and young Jones with immense volubility, and telling me how he had gone out to India with his regiment, had married, lost his wife, and was now travelling for the benefit of his health and to see the country. All the time I was trying to remember his face, but in vain. At last came the purport of his visit. He had been taken ill at Baltimore, and was obliged to stop at an hotel, which had cost him more than he had anticipated; he had just received a letter from his father, which required his immediate return, and he had telegraphed to New York to secure his place in the next steamer. Meantime, he was out of money, and required a small loan to enable him to go back and prepare for his journey, and of course he would send me the money the moment he arrived in New York. I wrote a cheque for the amount he named, with which Lieutenant or Captain Scott departed; and my suspicions were rather aroused by seeing him beckon a remarkably ill-favoured person at the other side of the way, who crossed over and inspected the little slip of paper held out for his approbation, and then, taking his friend under the arm, walked off rapidly towards the bank.
The papers still continue to abuse me fante de mieux; there are essays written about me; I am threatened with several farces; I have been lectured upon at Willard’s by a professor of rhetoric; and I am a stock subject with the leaden penny funny journals, for articles and caricatures. Yesterday I was abused on the ground that I spoke badly of those who treated me hospitably. The man who wrote the words knew they were false, because I have been most careful in my correspondence to avoid anything of the kind. A favourite accusation, indeed, which Americans make against foreigners is, “that they have abused our hospitality,” which oftentimes consists in permitting them to live in the country at all at their own expense, paying their way at hotels and elsewhere, without the smallest suspicion that they were receiving any hospitality whatever.
To-day, for instance, there comes a lively corporal of artillery, John Robinson, who quotes Sismondi, Guizot, and others, to prove that I am the worst man in the world; but his fiercest invectives are directed against me on the ground that I speak well of those people who give me dinners; the fact being, since I came to America, that I have given at least as many dinners to Americans as I have received from them.
Just as I was sitting down to my desk for the remainder of the day, a sound caught my ear which, repeated again and again, could not be mistaken by accustomed organs, and placing my face close to the windows, I perceived the glass vibrate to the distant discharge of cannon, which, evidently, did not proceed from a review or a salute. Unhappy man that I am! here is Walker lame, and my other horse carried off by the West-country captain. However, the sounds were so close that in a few moments I was driving off towards the Chain Bridge, taking the upper road, as that by the canal has become a sea of mud filled with deep holes.
In the windows, on the house-tops, even to the ridges partially overlooking Virginia, people were standing in high excitement, watching the faint puffs of, smoke which rose at intervals above the tree-tops, and at every report a murmur—exclamations of “There, do you hear that?”—ran through the crowd. The driver, as excited as any one else, urged his horses at full speed, and we arrived at the Chain Bridge just as General McCall—a white haired, rather military-looking old man—appeared at the head of his column, hurrying down to the Chain Bridge from the Maryland side, to reinforce Smith, who was said to be heavily engaged with the enemy. But by this time the firing had ceased, and just as the artillery of the General’s column commenced defiling through the mud, into which the guns sank to the naves of the wheels, the head of another column appeared, entering the bridge from the Virginia side with loud cheers, which were taken up again and again. The carriage was halted to allow the 2nd Wisconsin to pass; and a more broken-down, white-faced, sick, and weakly set of poor wretches I never beheld. The heavy rains had washed the very life out of them; their clothing was in rags, their shoes were broken, and multitudes were foot-sore. They cheered, nevertheless, or whooped, and there was a tremendous clatter of tongues in the ranks concerning their victory; but, as the men’s faces and hands were not blackened by powder, they could have seen little of the engagement. Captain Poe came along with dispatches for General McClellan, and gave me a correct account of the affair.
All this noise and firing and excitement, I found, simply arose out of a reconnaissance made towards Lewinsville, by Smith and a part of his brigade, to beat up the enemy’s position, and enable the topographical engineers to procure some information respecting the country. The Confederates worked down upon their left flank with artillery, which they got into position at an easy range without being observed, intending, no doubt, to cut off their retreat and capture or destroy the whole force; but, fortunately for the reconnoitring party, the impatience of their enemies led them to open fire too soon. The Federals got their guns into position also, and covered their retreat, whilst reinforcements poured out of camp to their assistance, “and I doubt not,” said Poe, “but that they will have an encounter of a tremendous scalping match in all the papers to-morrow, although we have only six or seven men killed, and twelve wounded.” As we approached Washington the citizens, as they are called, were waving Federal banners out of the windows and rejoicing in a great victory; at least, the inhabitants of the inferior sort of houses. Respectability in Washington means Secession.
Mr. Monson told me that my distressed young British subject, Captain Scott, had called on him at the Legation early this morning for the little pecuniary help which had been, I fear, wisely refused there, and which was granted by me. The States have become, indeed, more than ever the cloacina gentium, and Great Britain contributes its full quota to the stream.
Thus time passes away in expectation of some onward movement, or desperate attack, or important strategical movements; and night comes to reassemble a few friends, Americans and English, at my rooms or elsewhere, to talk over the disappointed hopes of the day, to speculate on the future, to chide each dull delay, and to part with a hope that to-morrow would be more lively than to-day. Major-General Bell, who commanded the Royals in the Crimea, and who has passed some half century in active service, turned up in Washington, and has been courteously received by the American authorities. He joined to-night one of our small reunions, and was infinitely puzzled to detect the lines which separated one man’s country and opinions from those of the other.
