August 6th.—Prince Napoleon, anxious to visit the battle-field at Bull Run, has, to Mr. Seward’s discomfiture, applied for passes, and arrangements are being made to escort him as far as the Confederate lines. This is a recognition of the Confederates, as a belligerent power, which is by no means agreeable to the authorities. I drove down to the Senate, where the proceedings were very uninteresting, although Congress was on the eve of adjournment, and returning visited Mr. Seward, Mr. Bates, Mr. Cameron, Mr. Blair, and left cards for Mr. Brekinridge. The old woman who opened the door at the house where the latter lodged said, “Massa Brekinridge pack up all his boxes; I s’pose he not cum back here again.”
My Diary North and South – William Howard Russell
August 5th. — The roads from the station are crowded with troops, coming from the North as fast as the railway can carry them. It is evident, as the war fever spreads, that such politicians as Mr. Crittenden, who resist the extreme violence of the Republican party, will be stricken down. The Confiscation Bill, for the emancipation of slaves and the absorption of property belonging to rebels, has, indeed, been boldly resisted in the House of Representatives; but it passed with some trifling amendments. The journals are still busy with the affair of Bull Run, and each seems anxious to eclipse the other in the absurdity of its statements. A Philadelphia journal, for instance, states to-day that the real cause of the disaster was not a desire to retreat, but a mania to advance. In its own words, “the only drawback was the impetuous feeling to go a-head and fight.” Because one officer is accused of drunkenness a great movement is on foot to prevent the army getting any drink at all.
General McClellan invited the newspaper correspondents in Washington to meet him to-day, and with their assent drew up a treaty of peace and amity, which is a curiosity in its way. In the first place, the editors are to abstain from printing anything which can give aid or comfort to the enemy, and their correspondents are to observe equal caution; in return for which complaisance, Government is to be asked to give the press opportunities for obtaining and transmitting intelligence suitable for publication, particularly touching engagements with the enemy. The Confederate privateer Sumter has forced the blockade at New Orleans, and has already been heard of destroying a number of Union vessels.
August 4th.—I had no idea that the sun could be powerful in Washington; even in India the heat is not much more oppressive than it was here to-day. There is this extenuating circumstance, however, that after some hours of such very high temperature, thunder-storms and tornadoes cool the air. I received a message from General McClellan, that he was about to ride along the lines of the army across the river, and would be happy if I accompanied him; but as I had many letters to write for the next mail, I was unwillingly obliged to abandon the chance of seeing the army under such favourable circumstances. There are daily arrivals at Washington of military adventurers from all parts of the world, some of them with many extraordinary certificates and qualifications; but, as Mr. Seward says, “It is best to detain them with the hope of employment on the Northern side, lest some really good man should get among the rebels.” Garibaldians, Hungarians, Poles, officers of Turkish and other contingents, the executory devises and remainders of European revolutions and wars, surround the State department, and infest unsuspecting politicians with illegible testimonials in unknown tongues.
August 3rd.—McClellan orders regular parades and drills in every regiment, and insists on all orders being given by bugle note. I had a long ride through the camps, and saw some improvement in the look of the men. Coming home by Georgetown, met the Prince driving with M. Mercier, to pay a visit to the President. I am sure that the politicians are not quite well pleased with this arrival, because they do not understand it, and cannot imagine a man would come so far without a purpose. The drunken soldiers now resort to quiet lanes and courts in the suburbs. Georgetown was full of them. It is a much more respectable and old-world looking place than its vulgar, empty, overgrown, mushroom neighbour, Washington. An officer who had fallen in his men to go on duty was walking down the line this evening when his eye rested on the neck of a bottle sticking out of a man’s coat. “Thunder,” quoth he,” James, what have you got there?” “Well, I guess, captain, it’s a drop of real good Bourbon.” “Then let us have a drink,” said the captain; and thereupon proceeded to take a long pull and a strong pull, till the man cried out, “That is not fair, Captain. You won’t leave me a drop.”—a remonstrance which had a proper effect, and the captain marched down his company to the bridge.
It was extremely hot when I returned, late in the evening. I asked the boy for a glass of iced water. “Dere is no ice, massa,” he said. “No ice? What’s the reason of that?” “De Sechessers, massa, block up de river, and touch off deir guns at de ice-boats.” The Confederates on the right bank of the Potomac have now established a close blockade of the river. Lieutenant Wise, of the Navy Department, admitted the fact, but said that the United States gunboats would soon sweep the rebels from the shore.
August 2nd.—Mr. Olmsted visited me, in company with a young gentleman named Ritchie, son-in-law of James Wadsworth, who has been serving as honorary aide-de-camp on M’Dowell’s staff, but is now called to higher functions. They dined at my lodgings, and we talked over Bull Bun again. Mr. Ritchie did not leave Centreville till late in the evening, and slept at Fairfax Court House, where he remained till 8.30 a.m. on the morning of July 22nd, Wadsworth not stirring for two hours later. He said the panic was “horrible, disgusting, sickening,” and spoke in the harshest terms of the officers, to whom he applied a variety of epithets. Prince Napoleon has arrived.
Day after day, till the month was over and August had come, I passed in a state of powder and julep, which the Virginian doctor declared saved my life. The first time I stirred out the change which had taken place in the streets was at once apparent: no drunken rabblement of armed men, no begging soldiers—instead of these were patrols in the streets, guards at the corners, and a rigid system of passes. The North begin to perceive their magnificent armies are mythical, but knowing they have the elements of making one, they are setting about the manufacture. Numbers of tapsters and serving men, and canaille from the cities, who now disgrace swords and shoulder-straps, are to be dismissed. Round the corner, with a kind of staff at his heels and an escort, comes Major General George B. M’Clellan, the young Napoleon (of Western Virginia), the conqueror of Garnet, the captor of Peagrim, the commander-in-chief, under the President, of the army of the United States. He is a very squarely-built, thick-throated, broad-chested man, under the middle height, with slightly bowed legs, a tendency to embonpoint, His head, covered with a closely cut crop of dark auburn hair, is well set on his shoulders. His features are regular and prepossessing—the brow small, contracted, and furrowed; the eyes deep and anxious-looking. A short, thick, reddish moustache conceals his mouth; the rest of his face is clean shaven. He has made his father-in-law, Major Marcy, chief of his staff, and is a good deal influenced by his opinions, which are entitled to some weight, as Major Marcy is a soldier, and has seen frontier wars, and is a great traveller. The task of licking this army into shape is of Herculean magnitude. Every one, however, is willing to do as he bids: the President confides in him, and “Georges” him; the press fawn upon him, the people trust him; he is “the little corporal” of unfought fields—omnis ignotus pro mirifico, here. He looks like a stout little captain of dragoons, but for his American seat and saddle. The latter is adapted to a man who cannot ride: if a squadron so mounted were to attempt a fence or ditch half of them would be ruptured or spilled. The seat is a marvel to any European. But M’Clellan is nevertheless “the man on horseback” just now, and the Americans must ride in his saddle, or in anything he likes.
In the evening of my first day’s release from juleps the President held a reception or levee, and I went to the White House about nine o’clock, when the rooms were at their fullest. The company were arriving on foot, or crammed in hackney coaches, and did not affect any neatness of attire or evening dress. The doors were open: any one could walk in who chose. Private soldiers, in hodden grey and hob-nailed shoes, stood timorously chewing on the threshold of the state apartments, alarmed at the lights and gilding, or, haply, by the marabout feathers and finery of a few ladies who were in ball costume, till, assured by fellow-citizens there was nothing to fear, they plunged into the dreadful revelry. Faces familiar to me in the magazines of the town were visible in the crowd which filled the reception-rooms and the ballroom, in a small room off which a military band was stationed.
The President, in a suit of black, stood near the door of one of the rooms near the hall, and shook hands with every one of the crowd, who was then “passed” on by his secretary, if the President didn’t wish to speak to him. Mr. Lincoln has recovered his spirits, and seemed in good humour. Mrs. Lincoln, who did the honours in another room, surrounded by a few ladies, did not appear to be quite so contented. All the ministers are present except Mr. Seward, who has gone to his own state to ascertain the frame of mind of the people, and to judge for himself of the sentiments they entertain respecting the war. After walking up and down the hot and crowded rooms for an hour, and seeing and speaking to all the celebrities, I withdrew. Colonel Richardson in his official report states Colonel Miles lost the battle of Bull Run by being drunk and disorderly at a critical moment. Colonel Miles, who commanded a division of three brigades, writes to say he was not in any such state, and has demanded a court of inquiry. In a Philadelphia paper it is stated M’Dowell was helplessly drunk during the action, and sat up all the night before drinking, smoking, and playing cards. M’Dowell never drinks, and never has drunk, wine, spirits, malt, tea, or coffee, or smoked or used tobacco in any form, nor does he play cards; and that remark does not apply to many other Federal officers.
Drunkenness is only too common among the American volunteers, and General Butler has put it officially in orders, that “the use of intoxicating liquors prevails to an alarming extent among the officers of his command,” and has ordered the seizure of their grog, which will only be allowed on medical certificate. He announces, too, that he will not use wine or spirits, or give any to his friends, or allow any in his own quarters in future—a quaint, vigorous creature, this Massachusetts lawyer.
The outcry against Patterson has not yet subsided, though he states that, out of twenty-three regiments composing his force, nineteen refused to stay an hour over their time, which would have been up in a week, so that he would have been left in an enemy’s country with four regiments. He wisely led his patriot band back, and let them disband themselves in their own borders. Verily, these are not the men to conquer the South.
Fresh volunteers are pouring in by tens of thousands to take their places from all parts of the Union, and in three days after the battle, 80,000 men were accepted. Strange people! The regiments which have returned to New York after disgraceful conduct at Bull Run, with the stigmata of cowardice impressed by their commanding officers on the colours and souls of their corps, are actually welcomed with the utmost enthusiasm, and receive popular ovations! It becomes obvious every day that M’Clellan does not intend to advance till he has got some semblance of an army: that will be a long time to come; but he can get a good deal of fighting out of them in a few months. Meantime the whole of the Northern states are waiting anxiously for the advance which is to take place at once, according to promises from New York. As Washington is the principal scene of interest, the South being tabooed to me, I have resolved to stay here till the army is fit to move, making little excursions to points of interest. The details in my diary are not very interesting, and I shall make but brief extracts.
July 27th.—So ill to-day from heat, bad smells in the house, and fatigue, that I sent for Dr. Miller, a great, fine Virginian practitioner, who ordered me powders to be taken in “mint juleps.” Now mint juleps are made of whiskey, sugar, ice, very little water, and sprigs of fresh mint, to be sucked up after the manner of sherry cobblers, if so it be pleased, with a straw.
“A powder every two hours, with a mint julep. Why, that’s six a day, Doctor. Won’t that be—eh ?—won’t that be rather intoxicating?”
“Well, sir, that depends on the constitution. You’ll find they will do you no harm, even if the worst takes place.”
July 26th.—Whether it is from curiosity to hear what I have to say or not, the number of my visitors is augmenting. Among them was a man in soldier’s uniform, who sauntered into my room to borrow “five or ten dollars,” on the ground that he was a waiter at the Clarendon Hotel when I was stopping there, and wanted to go North, as his time was up. His anecdotes were stupendous. General Meigs and Captain Macomb, of the United States Engineers, paid me a visit, and talked of the disaster very sensibly. The former is an able officer, and an accomplished man—the latter, son, I believe, of the American general of that name, distinguished in the war with Great Britain. I had a long conversation with General M’Dowell, who bears his supercession with admirable fortitude, and complains of nothing, except the failure of his officers to obey orders, and the hard fate which condemned him to lead an army of volunteers—Captain Wright, aide de camp to General Scott, Lieutenant Wise, of the Navy, and many others. The communications received from the Northern States have restored the spirits of all Union men, and not a few declare they are glad of the reverse, as the North will now be obliged to put forth all its strength.
July 25th.—The unfortunate General Patterson, who could not keep Johnston from getting away from Winchester, is to be dismissed the service—honourably, of course—that is, he is to be punished because his men would insist on going home in face of the enemy, as soon as their three months were up, and that time happened to arrive just as it would be desirable to operate against the Confederates. The latter have lost their chance. The Senate, the House of Representatives, the Cabinet, the President, are all at their ease once more, and feel secure in Washington. Up to this moment the Confederates could have taken it with very little trouble. Maryland could have been roused to arms, and Baltimore would have declared for them. The triumph of the non-aggressionists, at the head of whom is Mr. Davis, in resisting the demands of the party which urges an actual invasion of the North as the best way of obtaining peace, may prove to be very disastrous. Final material results must have justified the occupation of Washington.
I dined at the Legation, where were Mr. Sumner and some English visitors desirous of going South. Lord Lyons gives no encouragement to these adventurous persons.
July 24th.—I rode out before breakfast in company with Mr. Monson across the Long Bridge over to Arlington House. General M’Dowell was seated at a table under a tree in front of his tent, and got out his plans and maps to explain the scheme of battle.
Cast down from his high estate, placed as a subordinate to his junior, covered with obloquy and abuse, the American General displayed a calm self-possession and perfect amiability which could only proceed from a philosophic temperament and a consciousness that he would outlive the calumnies of his countrymen. He accused nobody; but it was not difficult to perceive he had been sacrificed to the vanity, self-seeking, and disobedience of some of his officers, and to radical vices in the composition of his army.
When M’Dowell found he could not turn the enemy’s right as he intended, because the country by the Occoquan was unfit for the movements of artillery, or even infantry, he reconnoitred the ground towards their left, and formed the project of turning it by a movement which would bring the weight of his columns on their extreme left, and at the same time overlap it, whilst a strong demonstration was made on the ford at Bull’s Run, where General Tyler brought on the serious skirmish of the 18th. In order to carry out this plan, he had to debouch his columns from a narrow point at Centreville, and march them round by various roads to points on the upper part of the Run, where it was fordable in all directions, intending to turn the enemy’s batteries on the lower roads and bridges. But although he started them at an early hour, the troops moved so slowly the Confederates became aware of their design, and were enabled to concentrate considerable masses of troops on their left.
The Federals were not only slow, but disorderly. The regiments in advance stopped at streams to drink and fill their canteens, delaying the regiments in the rear. They wasted their provisions, so that many of them were without food at noon, when they were exhausted by the heat of the sun and by the stifling vapours of their own dense columns. When they at last came into action some divisions were not in their places, so that the line of battle was broken; and those which were in their proper position were exposed, without support, to the enemy’s fire. A delusion of masked batteries pressed on their brain. To this was soon added a hallucination about cavalry, which might have been cured had the Federals possessed a few steady squadrons to manœuvre on their flanks and in the intervals of their line.
Nevertheless, they advanced and encountered the enemy’s fire with some spirit; but the Confederates were enabled to move up fresh battalions, and to a certain extent to establish an equality between the numbers of their own troops and the assailants, whilst they had the advantages of better cover and ground. An apparition of a disorderly crowd of horsemen in front of the much-boasting Fire Zouaves of New York threw them into confusion and flight, and a battery which they ought to have protected was taken. Another battery was captured by the mistake of an officer, who allowed a Confederate regiment to approach the guns, thinking they were Federal troops, till their first volley destroyed both horses and gunners. At the critical moment, General Johnston, who had escaped from the feeble observation and untenacious grip of General Patterson and his time-expired volunteers, and had been hurrying down his troops from Winchester by train, threw his fresh battalions on the flank and rear of the Federal right. When the General ordered a retreat, rendered necessary by the failure of the attack —disorder spread, which increased—the retreat became a flight which degenerated—if a flight can degenerate— into a panic, the moment the Confederates pressed them with a few cavalry and horse artillery. The efforts of the Generals to restore order and confidence were futile. Fortunately a weak reserve was posted at Centreville, and these were formed in line on the slope of the hill, whilst M’Dowell and his officers exerted themselves with indifferent success to arrest the mass of the army, and make them draw up behind the reserve, telling the men a bold front was their sole chance of safety. At midnight it became evident the morale of the army was destroyed, and nothing was left but a speedy retrograde movement, with the few regiments and guns which were in a condition approaching to efficiency, upon the defensive works of Washington.
Notwithstanding the reverse of fortune, M’Dowell did not appear willing to admit his estimate of the Southern troops was erroneous, or to say “Change armies, and I’ll fight the battle over again.” He still held Mississippians, Alabamians, Louisianians, very cheap, and did not see, or would not confess, the full extent of the calamity which had fallen so heavily on him personally. The fact of the evening’s inactivity was conclusive in his mind that they had a dearly bought success, and he looked forward, though in a subordinate capacity, to a speedy and glorious revenge.
