25th.—I had a dream last night. There is nothing being done to-day, and as Dr. Franklin, when he gave as one of his rules of conduct, “Never tell your dreams,” did not add, never write them, I here record mine. “Like master, like man.” Master McClellan had his dream published for the the world; I see no good reason why I may not record mine for my humble self. It was part vision, part dream— part retrospective, part prospective: I saw Buell, and Halleck, and Grant, and Pope, and Foote, battling successfully. I saw some slight errors in their conduct. I saw Grant resting securely at Shiloh, made careless by his former successes, and I saw the terrible consequences of his self-reliant carelessness, and yet with all the draw-backs, and the terrible responsibility, the aggregate of all the efforts in the West and Southwest, had resulted in a great progress of our cause. I saw some of the gigantic projects of Fremont, at first sneered at and ridiculed; afterwards adopted, and become the most powerful agents of our success.
“A change came o’er the spirit of my dream,” and I saw the Army of the Potomac at Bull Run scattered in flight —routed, massacred—when it should have been successful. I saw the terrible slaughter at Big Bethel—so great that the Government never dared to tell it—greater than any of us had ever imagined. I saw thousands of our best men driven to the slaughter at Ball’s Bluff without the possibility of either success or escape. I saw in my vision what I had witnessed in reality, our fight at Lee’s Mill, when about two hundred of our brave men were sacrificed by being led against an enemy of the strength and position of whom our leaders were ignorant, I saw the army fall back, and die by hundreds in the swamps and ditches, waiting for the enemy to leave. I saw the pursuit from Warwick to Williamsburg, in which we rushed upon a body of the retreating army, and were repulsed with the loss of fifty men. I saw again Hancock’s little Brigade drawn up in line of battle, about sun-set of the same day, under command of Col. Cobb, in sight of Fort Magruder, and distinctly heard the voice of General _____ ask the Colonel if he would take that fort with his little Brigade “now, or wait till your men have had their suppers?” I saw the men, tired and hungry (for they had not ate a mouthful all day) throw off their knapsacks right in the field where they stood, and go forward to “take that fort before they had their suppers.” And then I saw what had not been visible to my eyes awake, 15,000 of the best troops of the Confederate army lying in and around that fort, the strongest I had ever seen, and our little, jaded, worn-out brigade of three thousand on their way to take it. And how clearly then did the dream show me the incompetency of the leaders on whom these devoted men were pouring out their whole confidence. I saw a Providence lead the brigade astray into the enemy’s abattis, entangle and detain it there till after dark, then lead it across an open field into another abattis, impassable even by daylight, and there compel it to remain till morning, complaining of the very fate which was preserving it from entire destruction. I saw the impossibility of escape for a single man, had they passed the abattis and attacked the fort. I saw Gen. Hooker next morning, groping about, ignorant of the position of the rest of our army, and of the strength and position of the enemy, until he stumbled on them, and found himself unexpectedly engaged with a force which he was unable to withstand. I saw him with his corps fight as rarely ever man fought before —his brave men and officers falling around him, unflinching and unaided, calling in vain for succor on whole divisions of the army, who were looking on as idle spectators, but looked in vain for the commander-in-chief, or some one with authority to order up these idle but anxious brigades. I saw Hancock’s Brigade engaged without plan, and without order, the General, secure behind the walls of the fort, ordering his regiments to fall back from before the advancing foe, and that same Providence inspiring one regiment to stand fast, despite that order, to fight the battle to the death, to save the army, and to win for their General a reputation which he had not courage to risk in the unequal combat. So much in retrospect. My dream reached ahead, and I saw Gen. McClellan at the head of a large army marching into Richmond. Suddenly we came upon a fort thrown up by the enemy. I got upon an elevation, and saw a few thousand troops there. A balloon was in the air; my dream transported me to this balloon; I looked into Richmond; there was a small army there preparing to evacuate; the citizens were hurrying to and fro, packing up and leaving the city; some were already crossing the river. The few troops who were there, marched out, presenting a bold front, as if to delay our advance till the citizens could have time to escape. The aeronaut dropped a note to the commander to hurry forward, and he would not only take the city but capture an immense spoil. My eye followed the fall of the note, and what was my surprise to see breastworks had sprung up for miles in length, in front of our army; men, dead and dying, were lying in the ditches, and thousands of spades and shovels were burying them there without winding sheets or coffins, whilst the Commander-in-Chief, with folded arms, stood looking on. A shout arose, “Hurrah for McClellan!” and a response, so deep and sudden that it shook the very ground! “What has he accomplished.” I awoke, startled more by the idea conveyed in question, than by its noise. I immediately arose, and having thought for a few minutes over the retrospection of my vision, caught up my diary and wrote it down with this addendum: “Now here we are in the sight of Richmond, preparing for the great battle which is perhaps to decide the fate of free institutions for ages, without any more idea of what we have to contend against than we had at Lee’s Mill or Fort Magruder. Have we no way to discover the enemy’s strength and position as he does ours? If after all I have witnessed I have misgivings as to the result, it should not be wondered at, nor should I be blamed for my want of confidence. Whilst I hope for the best, I keep prepared for the worst; only whatever is in reserve for us, let it come and relieve this suspense.”
