Up the river, Harper's Ferry was held by "Stonewall" Jackson, who was soon succeeded by J.E. Johnston. Confronting and watching this force was General Patterson, at Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, with a body of men rapidly growing to considerable numbers by the daily coming of recruits. Not very far away, southeastward, the main body of the Confederate army, under Beauregard, lay at Manassas, and the main body of the Federal army, under McDowell, was encamped along the Potomac. On May 23 the Northern advance crossed that river, took possession of Arlington Heights and of Alexandria, and began work upon permanent defensive intrenchments in front of the capital.
The people of the North knew nothing about war or armies. Wild with enthusiasm and excitement, they cheered the departing regiments, which, as they vaguely and eagerly fancied, were to
begin fighting at once. Yet it was true that no one would stake his money on a "football team" which should go into a game trained in a time so short as that which had been allowed for bringing into condition for the manoeuvres and battlefields of a campaign an army of thirty or forty thousand men, with staff and commissariat, and arms of infantry, cavalry, and artillery, altogether constituting an organization vast, difficult, and complex in the highest degree of human coöperation. Nevertheless "On to Richmond!" rolled up the imperious cry from every part of the North. The government, either sharing in this madness, or feeling that it must be yielded to, passed the word to the commander, and McDowell very reluctantly obeyed orders and started with his army in that direction,—not, however, with any real hope of reaching this nominal objective; for he was an intelligent man and a good soldier, and was perfectly aware of the unfitness of his army. But when, protesting, he suggested that his troops were "green," he was told to remember that the Southern troops were of the same tint; for, in a word, the North was bound to have a fight, and would by no means endure that the three months' men should come home without doing something more positive than merely preventing the capture of Washington.
On July 16, therefore, McDowell began his advance, having with him about 35,000 men, and by the 19th he was at the stream of Bull Run, behind which the Confederates lay. He planned his
battle skillfully, and began his attack on the morning of the 21st. On the other hand, Beauregard was at the double disadvantage of misapprehending his opponent's purpose, and of failing to get his orders conveyed to his lieutenants until the fight was far advanced. The result was, that at the beginning of the afternoon the Federals had almost won a victory which they fully deserved. That they did not finally secure it was due to the inefficiency of General Patterson. This general had crossed the Potomac a few days before and had been instructed to watch Johnston, who had drawn back near Winchester, and either to prevent him from moving his force from the Shenandoah Valley to Manassas, or, failing this, to keep close to him and unite with McDowell. But Patterson neither detained nor followed his opponent. On July 18 Beauregard telegraphed to Johnston: "If you wish to help me, now is the time." If Patterson wished to help McDowell, then, also, was the time. The Southern general seized his opportunity, and the Northern general let his opportunity go. Johnston, uninterrupted and unfollowed by Patterson, brought his troops in from Manassas Junction upon the right wing of the Federals at the very moment and crisis when the battle was actually in the process of going in their favor. Directly all was changed. Older troops would not have stood, and these untried ones were defeated as soon as they were attacked. Speedily retreat became rout, and rout became panic. At a great
speed the frightened soldiers, resolved into a mere disorganized mob of individuals, made their way back to the camps on the Potomac; many thought Washington safer, and some did not stop short of their distant Northern homes.
The Southerners, who had been on the point of running away when the Northerners anticipated them in so doing, now triumphed immoderately, and uttered boastings magniloquent enough for Homeric heroes. Yet they were, as General Johnston said, "almost as much disorganized by victory as were the Federals by defeat." Many of them also hastened to their homes, spreading everywhere the cheering tidings that the war was over and the South had won.
In point of fact, it was a stage of the war when defeat was more wholesome than victory. Fortunately, too, the North was not even momentarily discouraged. The people had sense enough to see that what had happened was precisely what should have been expected. A little humiliated at their own folly, about as much vexed with themselves as angry with their enemies, they turned to their work in a new spirit. Persistence displaced excitement, as three years' men replaced three months' men. The people settled down to a long, hard task. Besides this, they had now some idea of what was necessary to be done in order to succeed in that task. Invaluable lessons had been learned, and no lives which were lost in the war bore fruit of greater usefulness than did those which seemed to have been foolishly thrown away at Bull Run.
[143] So said Hon. George W. Julian, somewhat ruefully acknowledging that Lincoln "was always himself the President." Polit. Recoll. 190.
[144] South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Florida, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas were covered by this proclamation; on April 27, North Carolina and Virginia were added.