CHAPTER IV.
THE BATTLE OF BULL-RUN, AND HOW IT ENDED.
I CONSIDER it of the greatest importance, my son, to present you with an exact portrait of the very distinguished general who led our gallant militiamen to battle at Bull-Run, and followed them home without gaining a victory. Greater battles than this of Bull-Run have been fought, as well in modern as in ancient times; but it is my honest opinion that it has never had its equal in the small number killed and wounded, as compared to the very large number that got frightened and ran away. But I shall speak of this more particularly hereafter.
When the bold McDowell had got the courage of our gallant militiamen well up, and was sure they would look the enemy right in the eye, and give him powder and shot to his heart's content, he led them forth with such pomp and pageantry as had never been seen before. Yes, my son, our gallant militiamen marched forth on the morning of the 21st of July, 1861, every man a hero, and every man intent on fighting the battle according to his own peculiar notions of how a great and glorious victory ought to be gained. There was great blowing of bugles, beating of drums, playing of bands, and fluttering of colors; all of which told Mr. Beauregard to put in his powder, that we were coming, and in earnest. The nation went into a very fever of joy. Several of our grave Congressmen got up their courage, put pistols in their pockets, and went forth with the army to set our brave boys a noble example by their presence on the field. Indeed, many otherwise reflecting persons looked forward to this great clash of arms as a grand entertainment, which was to wind up with a feast, to which the vanquished enemy was to be invited. And to that end they went amply provided with provisions and good wines. In truth, my son, there was a strong rear guard, made up of Congressmen, editors, and distinguished citizens, all going to see the battle, in wagons well-filled with luxuries. This was a new feature in the history of war, and quiet people along the road wondered at the sight.
The morning was hot and sultry, and the air was misty with dust clouds. Our brave boys, who were not up to long marches, had a hard time of it. But they were full of patriotism, and bore up under it with great fortitude. Meeting the enemy near Bull-Run, we gave him battle. That is, we pitched into him and he pitched into us, the fight becoming general and extending over a great deal of ground. Then the fighting became so mixed up and confused that it was difficult to tell on which side victory was smiling. Indeed, neither general could tell how things were going. For a long time both armies kept at a respectful distance, under the evident apprehension that somebody would get injured. In short, there was a great deal of good ammunition wasted, and a great deal of wild and harmless firing done. And just as we were about to proclaim a great victory over the enemy—for many far-sighted persons declared they could see Mr. Beauregard and his men with the toes of their boots turned towards Richmond—a strange chapter of accidents occurred and changed the whole scene. A number of our brave boys got killed, a greater number got hurt, and a still greater number got frightened and thought it high time to look to their own safety. A backward movement, not ordered by our gallant general, began, and this soon resolved itself into a grand race for Washington, where, it was thought, shelter and safety were to be found behind its forts. What caused this sudden backward movement still remains an undecided question. It was first noticed among a regiment of brave Pennsylvanians, who had been homesick for several days, and wanting to go home, started for that purpose. The example of these gallant fellows was soon followed by our Congressmen, editors, and citizens generally, each leaving his stock of luxuries, and, indeed, everything he had, as a peace-offering to the enemy, and resolved not to be outdone in the race, especially in a case where it was made so clear that discretion was the better part of valor. Indeed, these distinguished non-fighting gentlemen proved themselves remarkably fleet of foot, and not to be outdone in a race where personal safety was at stake. But the worst of it was that their example was at once imitated by a regiment of fierce Zouaves, from New York, who firmly believed, when they went out to meet the enemy, that they were more than a match for him. It is reported that these fierce Zouaves became very much alarmed, and did some of the very best running of the day, under the apprehension that they were followed by not less than a troop of savage horsemen, better known as the black-horse cavalrymen, whose sabres they had no taste for. But I have always been of opinion, my son, that these fierce Zouaves were so intent on making the best speed they were capable of, that they never looked behind them to see if these savage horsemen were men of buckram or real substances. I have also heard it intimated that the good speed made by these red-legged heroes was owing to the fact that they had left their courage at home, and were returning to get it. Another very plausible theory I have heard advanced by an Englishman, who had very profound ideas as to how war should be carried on and battles fought. He very gravely told me (adding that he had undoubted authority for his statement), that what set the gallant Zouaves to scampering was this: There were a large number among them who had a weakness for office-holding. Knowing this, a mischievous member started the report that there was a vacancy in the New York Custom-house. The fellow could not have done a more rash act, for it sent them all scampering off the battle-field, each in the hope of being first to gain the prize. Her Majesty's sagacious subject contended that this sufficiently accounted for the good speed made in retreat by that gallant regiment, and also for its leaving more firearms than dead men on the field.
Indeed, my son, each man ran for his life, the excitement increasing at every step, until the race became general; and in this way it was kept up until our grand army of gallant militiamen reached the forts, when they breathed freer and felt safe. This was a dark day for Washington and the nation, which became bowed down with sorrow and disappointment. The brave general followed his army into Washington; and I have heard it intimated that he boasted of having the most fleet-footed divisions history had any account of.
You will see, my son, that forts have a moral as well as a material effect. The enemy might, had he known our forlorn condition, have followed up his victory and marched into Washington with flying colors. He was probably restrained by his fears of what we might have in store for him when he reached the forts. As to the provisions for the feast, we left them for the enemy to enjoy, which he did with many thanks to us for the bounty, his own fare being very scanty. And now, my son, I shall leave to my artist the task of giving you an exact picture of our army as it appeared on its way to Washington after the battle of Bull-Run.