University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER L.

Punctual to time, our carriage appeared at the door, with
a spare horse, followed by the black quadruped on which the
negro boy sat with difficulty, in consequence of its high spirits
and excessively hard mouth. I swallowed a cup of tea and
a morsel of bread, put the remainder of the tea into a bottle,
got a flask of light Bordeaux, a bottle of water, a paper of
sandwiches, and having replenished my small flask with
brandy, stowed them all away in the bottom of the gig; but
my friend, who is not accustomed to rise very early in the
morning, did not make his appearance, and I was obliged to
send several times to the Legation to quicken his movements.
Each time I was assured he would be over presently; but it
was not till two hours had elapsed, and when I had just resolved
to leave him behind, that he appeared in person, quite
unprovided with viaticum, so that my slender store had now
to meet demands of two instead of one. We are off at last.
The amicus and self find contracted space behind the driver.
The negro boy, grinning half with pain and "the balance"
with pleasure, as the Americans say, held on his rampant
charger, which made continual efforts to leap into the gig, and
thus through the deserted city we proceeded towards the
Long Bridge, where a sentry examined our papers, and said
with a grin, "You'll find plenty of congressmen on before
you." And then our driver whipped his horses through the
embankment of Fort Runyon, and dashed off along a country
road, much cut up with gun and cart-wheels, towards the
main turnpike.

The promise of a lovely day, given by the early dawn, was
likely to be realized to the fullest, and the placid beauty of the
scenery as we drove through the woods below Arlington, and
beheld the white buildings shining in the early sunlight, and

the Potomac, like a broad silver ribbon dividing the picture
breathed of peace. The silence close to the city was unbroken.
From the time we passed the guard beyond the
Long Bridge, for several miles, we did not meet a human
being, except a few soldiers in the neighborhood of the deserted
camps, and when we passed beyond the range of
tents we drove for nearly two hours through a densely wooded,
undulating country; the houses, close to the roadside,
shut up and deserted, window-high in the crops of Indian
corn, fast ripening for the sickle; alternate field and forest,
the latter generally still holding possession of the hollows,
and, except when the road, deep and filled with loose stones,
passed over the summit of the ridges, the eye caught on either
side little but fir-trees and maize, and the deserted wooden
houses, standing amidst the slave-quarters.

The residences close to the lines gave signs and tokens that
the Federals had recently visited them. But at the best of
times the inhabitants could not be very well off. Some of the
farms were small, the houses tumbling to decay, with unpainted
roofs and sidewalls, and windows where the want
of glass was supplemented by panes of wood. As we get
farther into the country the traces of the debatable land
between the two armies vanished, and negroes looked out
from their quarters, or sickly-looking women and children
were summoned forth by the rattle of the wheels to see who
was hurrying to the war. Now and then a white man looked
out, with an ugly scowl on his face, but the country seemed
drained of the adult male population, and such of the inhabitants
as we saw were neither as comfortably dressed nor as
healthy-looking as the shambling slaves who shuffled about
the plantations. The road was so cut up by gun-wheels,
ammunition and commissariat wagons, that our horses made
but slow way against the continual draft upon the collar; but
at last the driver, who had known the country in happier
times, announced that we had entered the high-road for Fairfax
Court House. Unfortunately my watch had gone down,
but I guessed it was then a little before nine o'clock. In a
few minutes afterwards I thought I heard, through the eternal
clatter and jingle of the old gig, a sound which made me call
the driver to stop. He pulled up, and we listened. In a
minute or so, the well-known boom of a gun, followed by two
or three in rapid succession, but at a considerable distance,
reached my ear. "Did you hear that?" The driver heard

nothing, nor did my companion, but the black boy on the led-horse,
with eyes starting out of his head, cried, "I hear them,
massa; I hear them, sure enough, like de gun in de navy
yard;" and as he spoke the thudding noise, like taps with
a gentle hand upon a muffled drum, were repeated, which
were heard both by Mr. Warre and the driver. "They are
at it! We shall be late! Drive on as fast as you can!"
We rattled on still faster, and presently came up to a farmhouse,
where a man and woman, with some negroes beside
them, were standing out by the hedgerow above us, looking
up the road in the direction of a cloud of dust, which we
could see rising above the tops of the trees. We halted
for a moment. "How long have the guns been going, sir?"
"Well, ever since early this morning," said he; "they've
been having a fight. And I do really believe some of our
poor Union chaps have had enough of it already. For here's
some of them darned Secessionists marching down to go into
Alexandry." The driver did not seem altogether content with
this explanation of the dust in front of us, and presently, when
a turn of the road brought to view a body of armed men,
stretching to an interminable distance, with bayonets glittering
in the sunlight through the clouds of dust, seemed inclined to
halt or turn back again. A nearer approach satisfied me they
were friends, and as soon as we came up with the head of the
column I saw that they could not be engaged in the performance
of any military duty. The men were marching without
any resemblance of order, in twos and threes or larger troops.
Some without arms, carrying great bundles on their backs;
others with their coats hung from their firelocks; many footsore.
They were all talking, and in haste; many plodding
along laughing, so I concluded that they could not belong to
a defeated army, and imagined McDowell was effecting some
flank movement. "Where are you going to, may I ask?"

"If this is the road to Alexandria, we are going there."

"There is an action going on in front, is there not?"

"Well, so we believe, but we have not been fighting."

Although they were in such good spirits, they were not
communicative, and we resumed our journey, impeded by the
straggling troops and by the country cars containing their
baggage and chairs, and tables and domestic furniture, which
had never belonged to a regiment in the field. Still they
came pouring on. I ordered the driver to stop at a rivulet,
where a number of men were seated in the shade, drinking

the water and bathing their hands and feet. On getting out
I asked an officer, "May I beg to know, sir, where your regiment
is going to?" "Well, I reckon, sir, we are going home
to Pennsylvania." "This is the 4th Pennsylvania Regiment,
is it not, sir?" "It is so, sir; that's the fact." "I should
think there is severe fighting going on behind you, judging
from the firing?" (for every moment the sound of the cannon
had been growing more distinct and more heavy). "Well,
I reckon, sir, there is." I paused for a moment, not knowing
what to say, and yet anxious for an explanation; and the
epauletted gentleman, after a few seconds' awkward hesitation,
added, "We are going home because, as you see, the men's
time's up, sir. We have had three months of this sort of work,
and that's quite enough of it." The men who were listening
to the conversation expressed their assent to the noble and
patriotic utterances of the centurion, and, making him a low
bow, we resumed our journey.

It was fully three and a half miles before the last of the
regiment passed, and then the road presented a more animated
scene, for white-covered commissariat wagons were visible,
wending towards the front, and one or two hack carriages,
laden with civilians, were hastening in the same direction.
Before the doors of the wooden farm-houses the colored people
were assembled, listening with outstretched necks to the repeated
reports of the guns. At one time, as we were descending
the wooded road, a huge blue dome, agitated by some internal
convulsion, appeared to bar our progress, and it was
only after infinite persuasion of rein and whip that the horses
approached the terrific object, which was an inflated balloon,
attached to a wagon, and defying the efforts of the men in
charge to jockey it safely through the trees.

It must have been about eleven o'clock when we came to
the first traces of the Confederate camp, in front of Fairfax
Court House, where they had cut a few trenches and levelled
the trees across the road, so as to form a rude abattis; but the
works were of a most superficial character, and would scarcely
have given cover either to the guns, for which embrasures were
left at the flanks to sweep the road, or to the infantry intended
to defend them.

The Confederate force stationed here must have consisted,
to a considerable extent, of cavalry. The bowers of branches,
which they had made to shelter their tents, camp-tables, empty
boxes, and packing-cases, in the débris one usually sees around

an encampment, showed they had not been destitute of creature
comforts.

Some time before noon the driver, urged continually by adjurations
to get on, whipped his horses into Fairfax Court
House, a village which derives its name from a large brick
building, in which the sessions of the county are held. Some
thirty or forty houses, for the most part detached, with gardens
or small strips of land about them, form the main street.
The inhabitants who remained had by no means an agreeable
expression of countenance, and did not seem on very good
terms with the Federal soldiers, who were lounging up and
down the streets, or standing in the shade of the trees and
doorways. I asked the sergeant of a picket in the street how
long the firing had been going on. He replied that it had commenced
at half-past seven or eight, and had been increasing
ever since. "Some of them will lose their eyes and back
teeth;" he added, "before it is over." The driver, pulling up
at a roadside inn in the town, here made the startling announcement,
that both he and his horses must have something to eat,
and although we would have been happy to join him, seeing
that we had no breakfast, we could not afford the time, and
were not displeased when a thin-faced, shrewish woman, in
black, came out into the veranda, and said she could not let us
have anything unless we liked to wait till the regular dinner
hour of the house, which was at one o'clock. The horses got
a bucket of water, which they needed in that broiling sun;
and the cannonade, which by this time had increased into a respectable
tumult that gave evidence of a well-sustained action,
added vigor to the driver's arm, and in a mile or two more we
dashed in to a village of burnt houses, the charred brick chimney
stacks standing amidst the blackened embers being all that
remained of what once was Germantown. The firing of
this village was severely censured by General McDowell, who
probably does not appreciate the value of such agencies employed
"by our glorious Union army to develop loyal sentiments
among the people of Virginia."

The driver, passing through the town, drove straight on,
but after some time I fancied the sound of the guns seemed
dying away towards our left. A big negro came shambling
along the roadside—the driver stopped and asked him, "is
this the road to Centreville?" "Yes, sir; right on, sir; good
road to Centreville, massa," and so we proceeded, till I became
satisfied from the appearance of the road that we had

altogether left the track of the army. At the first cottage we
halted, and inquired of a Virginian, who came out to look at
us, whether the road led to Centreville. "You're going to
Centreville, are you?" "Yes, by the shortest road we can."
"Well, then—you're going wrong—right away! Some people
say there's a bend of road leading through the wood a mile
farther on, but those who have tried it lately have come back
to Germantown and don't think it leads to Centreville at
all." This was very provoking, as the horses were much fatigued
and we had driven several miles out of our way. The
driver, who was an Englishman, said, "I think it would be
best for us to go on and try the road anyhow. There not
likely to be any Seceshers about there, are there, sir?"

"What did you say, sir," inquired the Virginian, with a vacant
stare upon his face.

"I merely asked whether you think we are likely to meet
with any Secessionists if we go along that road?"

"Secessionists!" repeated the Virginian, slowly pronouncing
each syllable as if pondering on the meaning of the word—
"Secessionists! Oh no, sir; I don't believe there's such a
thing as a Secessionist in the whole of this country."

The boldness of this assertion, in the very hearing of Beauregard's
cannon, completely shook the faith of our Jehu in any
information from that source, and we retraced our steps to
Germantown, and were directed into the proper road by
some negroes, who were engaged exchanging Confederate
money at very low rates for Federal copper with a few straggling
soldiers. The faithful Muley Moloch, who had been
capering in our rear so long, now complained that he was very
much burned, but on further inquiry it was ascertained he
was merely suffering from the abrading of his skin against
an English saddle.

In an hour more we had gained the high road to Centreville,
on which were many buggies, commissariat carts, and
wagons full of civilians, and a brisk canter brought us in
sight of a rising ground, over which the road led directly
through a few houses on each side, and dipped out of sight,
the slopes of the hill being covered with men, carts, and horses,
and the summit crested with spectators, with their back turned
towards us, and gazing on the valley beyond. "There's Centreville,"
says the driver, and on our poor panting horses were
forced, passing directly through the Confederate bivouacs,
commissariat parks, folds of oxen, and two German regiments,

with a battery of artillery, halting on the rising-ground by the
road-side. The heat was intense. Our driver complained
of hunger and thirst, to which neither I nor my companion
were insensible; and so pulling up on the top of the hill, I sent
the boy down to the village which we had passed, to see if he
could find shelter for the horses, and a morsel for our breakfastless
selves.

It was a strange scene before us. From the hill a densely
wooded country, dotted at intervals with green fields and
cleared lands, spread five or six miles in front, bounded by a line
of blue and purple ridges, terminating abruptly in escarpments
towards the left front, and swelling gradually towards the right
into the lower spines of an offshoot from the Blue Ridge
Mountains. On our left the view was circumscribed by a
forest which clothed the side of the ridge on which we stood,
and covered its shoulder far down into the plain. A gap in
the nearest chain of the hills in our front was pointed out by
the by-standers as the Pass of Manassas, by which the railway
from the West is carried into the plain, and still nearer at
hand, before us, is the junction of that rail with the line from
Alexandria, and with the railway leading southwards to Richmond.
The intervening space was not a deal level; undulating
lines of forest marked the course of the streams which intersected
it, and gave, by their variety of color and shading
an additional charm to the landscape which, enclosed in a
framework of blue and purple hills, softened into violet in the
extreme distance, presented one of the most agreeable displays
of simple pastoral woodland scenery that could be conceived.

But the sounds which came upon the breeze, and the sights
which met our eyes, were in terrible variance with the tranquil
character of the landscape. The woods far and near
echoed to the roar of cannon, and thin frayed lines of blue
smoke marked the spots whence came the muttering sound of
rolling musketry; the white puffs of smoke burst high above
the tree-tops, and the gunners' rings from shell and howitzer
marked the fire of the artillery.

Clouds of dust shifted and moved through the forest; and
through the wavering mists of light-blue smoke, and the thicker
masses which rose commingling from the feet of men and the
mouths of cannon, I could see the gleam of arms and the
twinkling of bayonets.

On the hill beside me there was a crowd of civilians on
horseback, and in all sorts of vehicles, with a few of the

fairer, if not gentler sex. A few officers and some soldiers,
who had straggled from the regiments in reserve, moved about
among the spectators, and pretended to explain the movements
of the troops below, of which they were profoundly ignorant.

The cannonade and musketry had been exaggerated by the
distance and by the rolling echoes of the hills; and sweeping
the position narrowly with my glass from point to point, I
failed to discover any traces of close encounter or very severe
fighting. The spectators were all excited, and a lady with an
opera-glass who was near me, was quite beside herself when
an unusually heavy discharge roused the current of her blood
—"That is splendid. Oh, my! Is not that first-rate? I guess
we will be in Richmond this time to-morrow." These, mingled
with coarser exclamations, burst from the politicians who
had come out to see the triumph of the Union arms. I was
particularly irritated by constant applications for the loan of
my glass. One broken-down looking soldier observing my
flask, asked me for a drink, and took a startling pull, which
left but little between the bottom and utter vacuity.

"Stranger, that's good stuff and no mistake. I have not
had such a drink since I come South. I feel now as if I'd
like to whip ten Seceshers."

From the line of the smoke it appeared to me that the
action was in an oblique line from our left, extending farther
outwards towards the right, bisected by a road from Centreville,
which descended the hill close at hand and ran right
across the undulating plain, its course being marked by the
white covers of the baggage and commissariat wagons as far
as a turn of the road, where the trees closed in upon them.
Beyond the right of the curling smoke clouds of dust appeared
from time to time in the distance, as if bodies of cavalry were
moving over a sandy plain.

Notwithstanding all the exultation and boastings of the
people at Centreville, I was well convinced no advance of any
importance or any great success had been achieved, because
the ammunition and baggage wagons had never moved, nor
had the reserves received any orders to follow in the line of
the army.

The clouds of dust on the right were quite inexplicable. As
we were looking, my philosophic companion asked me in perfect
seriousness, "Are we really seeing a battle now? Are
they supposed to be fighting where all that smoke is going on?
This is rather interesting, you know."

Up came our black boy. "Not find a bit to eat, sir, in all
the place." We had, however, my little paper of sandwiches,
and descended the hill to a by-lane off the village, where,
seated in the shade of the gig, Mr. Warre and myself, dividing
our provision with the driver, wound up a very scanty, but
much relished, repast with a bottle of tea and half the bottle
of Bordeaux and water, the remainder being prudently reserved
at my request for contingent remainders. Leaving
orders for the saddle-horse, which was eating his first meal, to
be brought up the moment he was ready—I went with Mr.
Warre to the hill once more and observed that the line had
not sensibly altered whilst we were away.

An English gentleman, who came up flushed and heated
from the plain, told us that the Federals had been advancing
steadily, in spite of a stubborn resistance, and had behaved
most gallantly.

Loud cheers suddenly burst from the spectators, as a man
dressed in the uniform of an officer, whom I had seen riding
violently across the plain in an open space below, galloped
along the front, waving his cap and shouting at the top of his
voice. He was brought up by the press of people round his
horse close to where I stood. "We've whipped them on all
points," he cried. "We have taken all their batteries. They
are retreating as fast as they can, and we are after them."
Such cheers as rent the welkin! The congressmen shook
hands with each other, and cried out, "Bully for us. Bravo!
didn't I tell you so." The Germans uttered their martial cheers
and the Irish hurrahed wildly. At this moment my horse was
brought up the hill, and I mounted and turned towards the
road to the front, whilst Mr. Warre and his companion proceeded
straight down the hill.

By the time I reached the lane, already mentioned, which
was in a few minutes, the string of commissariat wagons was
moving onwards pretty briskly, and I was detained until my
friends appeared at the roadside. I told Mr. Warre I was
going forward to the front as fast as I could, but that I would
come back, under any circumstances, about an hour before
dusk, and would go straight to the spot where we had put up
the gig by the road-side, in order to return to Washington.
Then getting into the fields, I pressed my horse, which was
quite recovered from his twenty-seven miles' ride and full of
spirit and mettle, as fast as I could, making detours here and
there to get through the ox fences, and by the small streams

which cut up the country. The firing did not increase but
rather diminished in volume, though it now sounded close at
hand.

I had ridden between three and a half and four miles, as
well as I could judge, when I was obliged to turn for the third
and fourth time into the road by a considerable stream, which
was spanned by a bridge, towards which I was threading my
way, when my attention was attracted by loud shouts in advance,
and I perceived several wagons coming from the
direction of the battle-field, the drivers of which were
endeavoring to force their horses past the ammunition carts
going in the contrary direction near the bridge; a thick cloud
of dust rose behind them, and running by the side of the wagons,
were a number of men in uniform whom I supposed to
be the guard. My first impression was that the wagons were
returning for fresh supplies of ammunition. But every moment
the crowd increased, drivers and men cried out with the
most vehement gestures, "Turn back! Turn back! We are
whipped." They seized the heads of the horses and swore at
the opposing drivers. Emerging from the crowd a breathless
man in the uniform of an officer with an empty scabbard
dangling by his side, was cut off by getting between my horse
and a cart for a moment. "What is the matter, sir? What
is all this about?" "Why it means we are pretty badly
whipped, that's the truth," and continued.

By this time the confusion had been communicating itself
through the line of wagons towards the rear, and the drivers
endeavored to turn round their vehicles in the narrow road,
which caused the usual amount of imprecations from the men
and plunging and kicking from the horses.

The crowd from the front continually increased, the heat,
the uproar, and the dust were beyond description, and these
were augmented when some cavalry soldiers, flourishing their
sabres and preceded by an officer who cried out, "Make way
there—make way there for the General," attempted to force a
covered wagon in which was seated a man with a bloody
handkerchief round his head through the press.

I had succeeded in getting across the bridge with great difficulty
before the wagon came up, and I saw the crowd on
the road was still gathering thicker and thicker. Again I
asked an officer, who was on foot, with his sword under his
arm, "What is all this for?" "We are whipped, sir. We
are all in retreat. You are all to go back." "Can you tell

me where I can find General McDowell?" "No! nor can
any one else."

A few shells could be heard bursting not very far off, but
there was nothing to account for such an extraordinary scene.
A third officer, however, confirmed the report that the whole
army was in retreat, and that the Federals were beaten on all
points, but there was nothing in this disorder to indicate a
general rout. All these things took plaee in a few seconds. I
got up out of the road into a corn-field, through which men
were hastily walking or running, their faces streaming with
perspiration, and generally without arms, and worked my way
for about half a mile or so, as well as I could judge, against
an increasing stream of fugitives, the ground being strewed
with coats, blankets, firelocks, cooking tins, caps, belts, bayonets
—asking in vain where General McDowell was.

Again I was compelled by the condition of the fields to
come into the road; and having passed a piece of wood and a
regiment which seemed to be moving back in column of march
in tolerably good order, I turned once more into an opening
close to a white house, not far from the lane, beyond which
there was a belt of forest. Two field-pieces unlimbered near
the house, with panting horses in the rear, were pointed
towards the front, and along the road beside them there swept
a tolerably steady column of men mingled with field ambulances
and light baggage carts, back to Centreville. I had just
stretched out my hand to get a cigar-light from a German gunner,
when the dropping shots which had been sounding through
the woods in front of us, suddenly swelled into an animated
fire. In a few seconds a crowd of men rushed out of the
wood down toward the guns, and the artillerymen near me
seized the trail of a piece, and were wheeling it round to fire,
when an officer or sergeant called out, "Stop! stop! They
are our own men;" and in two or three minutes the whole
battalion came sweeping past the guns at the double, and in
the utmost disorder. Some of the artillerymen dragged the
horses out of the tumbrils; and for a moment the confusion
was so great I could not understand what had taken place;
but a soldier whom I stopped, said, "We are pursued by their
cavalry; they have cut us all to pieces."

Murat himself would not have dared to move a squadron on
such ground. However, it could not be doubted that something
serious was taking place; and at that moment a shell
burst in front of the house, scattering the soldiers near it,

which was followed by another that bounded along the road;
and in a few minutes more out came another regiment from
the wood, almost as broken as the first. The scene on the
road had now assumed an aspect which has not a parallel in
any description I have ever read. Infantry soldiers on mules
and draught horses, with the harness clinging to their heels,
as much frightened as their riders; negro servants on their
masters' chargers; ambulances crowded with unwounded soldiers;
wagons swarming with men who threw out the contents
in the road to make room, grinding through a shouting,
screaming mass of men on foot, who were literally yelling
with rage at every halt, and shrieking out, "Here are the
cavalry! Will you get on?" This portion of the force was
evidently in discord.

There was nothing left for it but to go with the current one
could not stem. I turned round my horse from the deserted
guns, and endeavored to find out what had occurred as I rode
quietly back on the skirts of the crowd. I talked with those
on all sides of me. Some uttered prodigious nonsense, describing
batteries tier over tier, and ambuscades, and blood
running knee-deep. Others described how their boys had
carried whole lines of intrenchments, but were beaten back
for want of reinforcements. The names of many regiments
were mentioned as being utterly destroyed. Cavalry and
bayonet charges and masked batteries played prominent parts
in all the narrations. Some of the officers seemed to feel the
disgrace of defeat; but the strangest thing was the general
indifference with which the event seemed to be regarded by
those who collected their senses as soon as they got out of fire,
and who said they were just going as far as Centreville, and
would have a big fight to-morrow.

By this time I was unwillingly approaching Centreville in
the midst of heat, dust, confusions, imprecations inconceivable.
On arriving at the place where a small rivulet crossed the
road, the throng increased still more. The ground over which
I had passed going out was now covered with arms, clothing
of all kinds, accoutrements thrown off and left to be trampled
in the dust under the hoofs of men and horses. The runaways
ran along-side the wagons, striving to force themselves
in among the occupants, who resisted tooth and nail. The
drivers spurred and whipped and urged the horses to the
utmost of their bent. I felt an inclination to laugh, which
was overcome by disgust, and by that vague sense of something

extraordinary taking place which is experienced when a
man sees a number of people acting as if driven by some unknown
terror. As I rode in the crowd with men clinging to
the stirrup-leathers, or holding on by anything they could lay
hands on, so that I had some apprehension of being pulled off,
I spoke to the men, and asked them over and over again not
to be in such a hurry. "There's no enemy to pursue you.
All the cavalry in the world could not get at you." But I
might as well have talked to the stones.

For my own part, I wanted to get out of the ruck as fast as
I could, for the heat and dust were very distressing, particularly
to a half-starved man. Many of the fugitives were in
the last stages of exhaustion, and some actually sank down by
the fences, at the risk of being trampled to death. Above the
roar of the flight, which was like the rush of a great river, the
guns burst forth from time to time.

The road at last became somewhat clearer; for I had got
ahead of some of the ammunition train and wagons, and the
others were dashing up the hill towards Centreville. The
men's great-coats and blankets had been stowed in the trains;
but the fugitives had apparently thrown them out on the road,
to make room for themselves. Just beyond the stream I saw
a heap of clothing tumble out of a large covered cart, and cried
out after the driver, "Stop! stop! All the things are tumbling
out of the cart." But my zeal was checked by a scoundrel
putting his head out, and shouting with a curse, "If you
try to stop the team, I'll blow your—brains out." My
brains advised me to adopt the principle of non-intervention.

It never occurred to me that this was a grand debacle. All
along I believed the mass of the army was not broken, and
that all I saw around was the result of confusion created in a
crude organization by a forced retreat; and knowing the reserves
were at Centreville and beyond, I said to myself, "Let
us see how this will be when we get to the hill." I indulged
in a quiet chuckle, too, at the idea of my philosophical friend
and his stout companion finding themselves suddenly enveloped
in the crowd of fugitives; but knew they could easily have
regained their original position on the hill. Trotting along
briskly through the fields, I arrived at the foot of the slope on
which Centreville stands, and met a German regiment just
deploying into line very well and steadily—the men in the
rear companies laughing, smoking, singing, and jesting with
the fugitives, who were filing past; but no thought of stopping

the wagons, as the orders repeated from mouth to mouth
were that they were to fall back beyond Centreville.

The air of the men was good. The officers were cheerful,
and one big German with a great pipe in his bearded mouth,
with spectacles on nose, amused himself by pricking the
horses with his sabre point, as he passed, to the sore discomfiture
of the riders. Behind the regiment came a battery of
brass field-pieces, and another regiment in column of march
was following the guns. They were going to form line at the
end of the slope, and no fairer position could well be offered
for a defensive attitude, although it might be turned. But it
was getting too late for the enemy wherever they were to attempt
such an extensive operation. Several times I had been
asked by officers and men, "Where do you think we will halt?
Where are the rest of the army?" I always replied "Centreville,"
and I had heard hundreds of the fugitives say they
were going to Centreville.

I rode up the road, turned into the little street which carries
the road on the right-hand side to Fairfax Court House
and the hill, and went straight to the place where I had left
the buggy in a lane on the left of the road beside a small
house and shed, expecting to find Mr. Warre ready for a start,
as I had faithfully promised Lord Lyons he should be back
that night in Washington. The buggy was not there. I
pulled open the door of the shed in which the horses had
been sheltered out of the sun. They were gone. "Oh,"
said I, to myself, "of course! What a stupid fellow I am.
Warre has had the horses put in and taken the gig to the top
of the hill, in order to see the last of it before we go." And
so I rode over to the ridge; but arriving there, could see no
sign of our vehicle far or near. There were two carriages of
some kind or other still remaining on the hill, and a few spectators,
civilians and military, gazing on the scene below, which
was softened in the golden rays of the declining sun. The
smoke wreaths had ceased to curl over the green sheets of
billowy forest as sea-foam crisping in a gentle breeze breaks
the lines of the ocean. But far and near yellow and dun-colored
piles of dust seamed the landscape, leaving behind
them long trailing clouds of lighter vapors which were dotted
now and then by white puff-balls from the bursting of shell.
On the right these clouds were very heavy and seemed to approach
rapidly, and it occurred to me they might be caused
by an advance of the much spoken-of and little seen cavalry;

and remembering the cross road from Germantown, it seemed
a very fine and very feasible operation for the Confederates to
cut right in on the line of retreat and communication, in which
case the fate of the army and of Washington could not be
dubious. There were now few civilians on the hill, and these
were thinning away. Some were gesticulating and explaining
to one another the causes of the retreat, looking very hot
and red. The confusion among the last portion of the carriages
and fugitives on the road, which I had outstripped, had
been renewed again, and the crowd there presented a remarkable
and ludicrous aspect through the glass; but there were
two strong battalions in good order near the foot of the hill, a
battery on the slope, another on the top, and a portion of a
regiment in and about the houses of the village.

A farewell look at the scene presented no new features.
Still the clouds of dust moved onwards denser and higher;
flashes of arms lighted them up at times; the fields were dotted
by fugitives, among whom many mounted men were marked
by their greater speed, and the little flocks of dust rising from
the horses' feet.

I put up my glass, and turning from the hill, with difficulty
forced my way through the crowd of vehicles which were making
their way towards the main road in the direction of the
lane, hoping that by some lucky accident I might find the gig
in waiting for me. But I sought in vain; a sick soldier who
was on a stretcher in front of the house near the corner of
the lane leaning on his elbow and looking at the stream of
men and carriages, asked me if I could tell him what they
were in such a hurry for, and I said they were merely getting
back to their bivouacs. A man dressed in civilian's clothes
grinned as I spoke. "I think they'll go farther than that,"
said he; and then added, "If you're looking for the wagon
you came in, it's pretty well back to Washington by this time.
I think I saw you down theere with a nigger and two men."
"Yes." "They're all off, gone more than an hour and a half
ago, I think, and a stout man—I thought was you at first—
along with them."

Nothing was left for it but to brace up the girths for a ride
to the Capitol, for which, hungry and fagged as I was, I felt
very little inclination. I was trotting quietly down the hill
road beyond Centreville, when suddenly the guns on the other
side, or from a battery very near, opened fire, and a fresh outburst
of artillery sounded through the woods. In an instant

the mass of vehicles and retreating soldiers, teamsters, and
civilians, as if agonized by an electric shock, quivered throughout
the tortuous line. With dreadful shouts and cursings, the
drivers lashed their maddened horses, and leaping from the
carts, left them to their fate, and ran on foot. Artillerymen
and foot soldiers, and negroes mounted on gun horses, with
the chain traces and loose trappings trailing in the dust, spurred
and flogged their steeds down the road or by the side
paths. The firing continued and seemed to approach the hill,
and at every report the agitated body of horsemen and wagons
was seized, as it were, with a fresh convulsion.

Once more the dreaded cry, "The cavalry! cavalry are
coming!" rang through the crowd, and looking back to Centreville
I perceived coming down the hill, between me and the
sky, a number of mounted men, who might at a hasty glance
be taken for horsemen in the act of sabreing the fugitives.
In reality they were soldiers and civilians, with, I regret to
say, some officers among them, who were whipping and striking
their horses with sticks or whatever else they could lay
hands on. I called out to the men who were frantic with terror
beside me, "They are not cavalry at all; they're your
own men"—but they did not heed me. A fellow who was
shouting out, "Run! run!" as loud as he could beside me,
seemed to take delight in creating alarm; and as he was perfectly
collected as far as I could judge, I said, "What on
earth are you running for? What are you afraid of?" He
was in the roadside below me, and at once turning on me, and
exclaiming, "I'm not afraid of you," presented his piece and
pulled the trigger so instantaneously, that had it gone off I
could not have swerved from the ball. As the scoundrel deliberately
drew up to examine the nipple, I judged it best
not to give him another chance, and spurred on through the
crowd, where any man could have shot as many as he pleased
without interruption. The only conclusion I came to was,
that he was mad or drunken. When I was passing by the
line of the bivouacs a battalion of men came tumbling down
the bank from the field into the road, with fixed bayonets, and
as some fell in the road and others tumbled on top of them,
there must have been a few ingloriously wounded.

I galloped on for a short distance to head the ruck, for I
could not tell whether this body of infantry intended moving
back towards Centreville or were coming down the road; but
the mounted men galloping furiously past me, with a cry of

"Cavalry! cavalry!" on their lips, swept on faster than I did,
augmenting the alarm and excitement. I came up with two
officers who were riding more leisurely; and touching my hat,
said, "I venture to suggest that these men should be stopped,
sir. If not, they will alarm the whole of the post and pickets
on to Washington. They will fly next, and the consequences
Will be most disastrous." One of the two, looking at me for
a moment, nodded his head without saying a word, spurred his
horse to full speed, and dashed on in front along the road.
Following more leisurely I observed the fugitives in front were
suddenly checked in their speed; and as I turned my horse
into the wood by the road side to get on so as to prevent the
chance of another block-up, I passed several private vehicles,
in one of which Mr. Raymond, of the "New York Times," was
seated with some friends, looking by no means happy. He
says in his report to his paper, "About a mile this side of
Centreville a stampede took place amongst the teamsters and
others, which threw everything into the utmost confusion, and
inflicted very serious injuries. Mr. Eaton, of Michigan, in
trying to arrest the flight of some of these men, was shot by
one of them, the ball taking effect in his hand." He asked
me, in some anxiety, what I thought would happen. I replied,
"No doubt McDowell will stand fast at Centreville to-night.
These are mere runaways, and unless the enemy's cavalry
succeed in getting through at this road, there is nothing to
apprehend."

And I continued through the wood till I got a clear space
in front on the road, along which a regiment of infantry was
advancing towards me. They halted ere I came up, and with
levelled firelocks arrested the men on horses and the carts and
wagons galloping towards them, and blocked up the road to
stop their progress. As I tried to edge by on the right of the
column by the left of the road, a soldier presented his firelock
at my head from the higher ground on which he stood, for the
road had a deep trench cut on the side by which I was endeavoring
to pass, and sung out, "Halt! Stop—or I fire!"
The officers in front were waving their swords and shouting
out, "Don't let a soul pass! Keep back! keep back!" Bowing
to the officer who was near me, I said, "I beg to assure
you, sir, I am not running away. I am a civilian and a British
subject. I have done my best as I came along to stop this
disgraceful rout. I am in no hurry; I merely want to get
back to Washington to-night. I have been telling them all

along there are no cavalry near us." The officer to whom I
was speaking, young and somewhat excited, kept repeating,
"Keep back, sir! keep back! you must keep back." Again I
said to him, "I assure you I am not with this crowd; my pulse
is as cool as your own." But as he paid no attention to what
I said, I suddenly bethought me of General Scott's letter, and
addressing another officer, said, "I am a civilian going to
Washington; will you be kind enough to look at this pass,
specially given to me by General Scott." The officer looked
at it, and handed it to a mounted man, either adjutant or
colonel, who, having examined it, returned it to me, saying,
"Oh, yes! certainly. Pass that man!" And with a cry of
"Pass that man!" along the line, I rode down the trench very
leisurely, and got out on the road, which was now clear, though
some fugitives had stolen through the woods on the flanks of
the column and were in front of me.

A little further on there was a cart on the right-hand side
of the road, surrounded by a group of soldiers. I was trotting
past when a respectable-looking man in a semi-military garb,
coming out from the group, said, in a tone of much doubt and
distress—"Can you tell me, sir, for God's sake, where the
69th New York are? These men tell me they are all cut to
pieces." "And so they are," exclaimed one of the fellows,
who had the number of the regiment on his cap.

"You hear what they say, sir?" exclaimed the man.

"I do, but I really cannot tell you where the 69th are."

"I'm in charge of these mails, and I'll deliver them if I die
for it; but is it safe for me to go on? You are a gentleman,
and I can depend on your word."

His assistant and himself were in the greatest perplexity of
mind, but all I could say was, "I really can't tell you; I believe
the army will halt at Centreville to-night, and I think
you may go on there with the greatest safety, if you can get
through the crowd." "Faith, then, he can't," exclaimed one
of the soldiers.

"Why not?" "Shure, arn't we cut to pieces. Didn't I
hear the kurnel himsilf saying we was all of us to cut and
run, every man on his own hook, as well as he could. Stop
at Cinthreville, indeed!"

I bade the mail agent[1] good evening and rode on, but even

in this short colloquy stragglers on foot and on horseback, who
had turned the flanks of the regiment by side-paths or through
the woods, came pouring along the road once more.

Somewhere about this I was accosted by a stout, elderly
man, with the air and appearance of a respectable mechanic,
or small tavern-keeper, who introduced himself as having met
me at Cairo. He poured out a flood of woes on me, how he
had lost his friend and companion, nearly lost his seat several
times, was unaccustomed to riding, was suffering much pain
from the unusual position and exercise, did not know the road,
feared he would never be able to get on, dreaded he might be
captured and ill-treated if he was known, and such topics as
a selfish man in a good deal of pain or fear is likely to indulge
in. I calmed his apprehensions as well as I could, by saying,
"I had no doubt McDowell would halt and show fight at Centreville,
and be able to advance from it in a day or two to
renew the fight again; that he couldn't miss the road; whiskey
and tallow were good for abrasions;" and as I was riding very
slowly, he jogged along, for he was a bur, and would stick,
with many "Oh dears! Oh! dear me!" for most part of
the way joining me at intervals till I reached Fairfax Court
House. A body of infantry were under arms in a grove near

the Court House, on the right-hand side of the road. The
door and windows of the houses presented crowds of faces
black and white; and men and women stood out upon the
porch, who asked me as I passed, "Have you been at the
fight?" "What are they all running for?" "Are the rest
of them coming on?" to which I gave the same replies as
before.

Arrived at the little inn where I had halted in the morning,
I perceived the sharp-faced woman in black standing in
the veranda with an elderly man, a taller and younger one
dressed in black, a little girl, and a woman who stood in the
passage of the door. I asked if I could get anything to eat.
"Not a morsel; there's not a bit left in the house, but you can
get something, perhaps, if you like to stay till supper-time."
"Would you oblige me by telling me where I can get some
water for my horse?" "Oh, certainly," said the elder man,
and calling to a negro he directed him to bring a bucket from
the well or pump, into which the thirsty brute buried its head
to the eyes. Whilst the horse was drinking, the taller or
younger man, leaning over the veranda, asked me quietly
"What are all the people coming back for?—what's set them
a-running towards Alexandria?"

"Oh, it's only a fright the drivers of the commissariat
wagons have had; they are afraid of the enemy's cavalry."

"Ah!" said the man, and looking at me narrowly he inquired,
after a pause, "Are you an American?"

"No, I am not, thank God; I'm an Englishman."

"Well then," said he, nodding his head and speaking slowly
through his teeth; "there will be cavalry after them soon
enough; there is 20,000 of the best horsemen in the world in
old Virginny."

Having received full directions from the people at the inn
for the road to the Long Bridge, which I was most anxious to
reach instead of going to Alexandria or to Georgetown, I bade
the Virginian good-evening; and seeing that my stout friend,
who had also watered his horse by my advice at the inn, was
still clinging along-side, I excused myself by saying I must
press on to Washington, and galloped on for a mile, until I got
into the cover of a wood, where I dismounted to examine the
horse's hoofs and shift the saddle for a moment, wipe the sweat
off his back, and make him and myself as comfortable as could
be for our ride into Washington, which was still seventeen or
eighteen miles before me. I passed groups of men, some on

horseback, others on foot, going at a more leisurely rate towards
the capital; and as I was smoking my last cigar by the
side of the wood, I observed the number had rather increased,
and that among the retreating stragglers were some men who
appeared to be wounded.

The sun had set, but the rising moon was adding every moment
to the lightness of the road as I mounted once more
and set out at a long trot for the capital. Presently I was
overtaken by a wagon with a small escort of cavalry and an
officer riding in front. I had seen the same vehicle once or
twice along the road, and observed an officer seated in it with
his head bound up with a handkerchief, looking very pale and
ghastly. The mounted officer leading the escort asked me if I
was going into Washington and knew the road. I told him
I had never been on it before, but thought I could find my
way, "at any rate we'll find plenty to tell us." That's Colonel
Hunter inside the carriage, he's shot through the throat and
jaw, and I want to get him to the doctor's in Washington as
soon as I can. Have you been to the fight?"

"No, sir."

"A member of Congress, I suppose, sir?"

"No sir; I'm an Englishman."

"Oh, indeed, sir, then I'm glad you did not see it; so mean a
fight, sir, I never saw; we whipped the cusses and drove them
before us, and took their batteries and spiked their guns, and got
right up in among all their dirt works and great batteries and
forts, driving them before us like sheep, when up more of them
would get, as if out of the ground, then our boys would drive
them again till we were fairly worn out; they had nothing to
eat since last night and nothing to drink. I myself have not
tasted a morsel since two o'clock last night. Well, there we
were waiting for reinforcements and expecting McDowell and
the rest of the army, when whish! they threw open a whole
lot of masked batteries on us, and then came down such
swarms of horsemen on black horses, all black as you never
saw, and slashed our boys over finely. The colonel was hit,
and I thought it best to get him off as well as I could, before
it was too late. And, my God! when they did take to running
they did it first-rate, I can tell you;" and so, the officer,
who had evidently taken enough to affect his empty stomach
and head, chattering about the fight, we trotted on in the moonlight:
dipping down into the valleys on the road, which seemed
like inky lakes in the shadows of the black trees, then

mounting up again along the white road, which shone like a
river in the moonlight—the country silent as death, though
once as we crossed a small watercourse and the noise of the
carriage-wheels ceased, I called the attention of my companions
to a distant sound, as of a great multitude of people mingled
with a faint report of cannon. "Do you hear that?" "No,
I don't. But it's our chaps, no doubt. They're coming along
fine, I can promise you." At last some miles further on we
came to a picket, or main guard, on the roadside, who ran forward,
crying out, "What's the news—anything fresh—are
we whipped?—is it a fact?" "Well, gentlemen," exclaimed
the Major, reining up for a moment, "we are knocked into
a cocked hat—licked to h—l." "Oh, pray, don't say
that," I exclaimed, "it's not quite so bad; it's only a drawn
battle, and the troops will occupy Centreville to-night, and the
posts they started from this morning."

A little further on we met a line of commissariat carts, and
my excited and rather injudicious military friend appeared to
take the greatest pleasure in replying to their anxious queries
for news, "We are whipped! Whipped like h—l."

At the cross-roads now and then we were perplexed, for no
one knew the bearings of Washington, though the stars were
bright enough; but good fortune favored us and kept us
straight, and at a deserted little village, with a solitary church
on the roadside, I increased my pace, bade good-night and
good speed to the officer, and having kept company with two
men in a gig for some time, got at length on the guarded road
leading towards the capital, and was stopped by the pickets,
patrols, and grand rounds, making repeated demands for the
last accounts from the field. The houses by the roadside were
all closed up and in darkness, I knocked in vain at several for
a drink of water, but was answered only by the angry barkings
of the watch-dogs from the slave quarters. It was a peculiarity
of the road that the people, and soldiers I met, at
points several miles apart, always insisted that I was twelve
miles from Washington. Up hills, down valleys, with the
silent grim woods forever by my side, the white roads and
the black shadows of men, still I was twelve miles from the
Long Bridge, but suddenly I came upon a grand guard under
arms, who had quite different ideas, and who said I was only
about four miles from the river; they crowded round me.
"Well, man, and how is the fight going?" I repeated my
tale. "What does he say?" "Oh, begorra, he says we're not

bet at all; it's all lies they have been telling us; we're only
going back to the ould lines for the greater convaniency of
fighting to-morrow again; that's illigant, hooro!"

All by the sides of the old camps the men were standing,
lining the road, and I was obliged to evade many a grasp at
my bridle by shouting out "Don't stop me; I've important
news; it's all well!" and still the good horse, refreshed by the
cool night air, went clattering on, till from the top of the road
beyond Arlington I caught a sight of the lights of Washington
and the white buildings of the Capitol, and of the Executive
Mansion, glittering like snow in the moonlight. At the entrance
to the Long Bridge the sentry challenged and asked for
the countersign. "I have not got it, but I've a pass from
General Scott." An officer advanced from the guard, and on
reading the pass permitted me to go on without difficulty. He
said, "I have been obliged to let a good many go over to-night
before you, congressmen and others. I suppose you did not
expect to be coming back so soon. I fear it's a bad business."
"Oh, not so bad after all; I expected to have been back tonight
before nine o'clock, and crossed over this morning without
the countersign." "Well, I guess," said he, "we don't do
such quick fighting as that in this country."

As I crossed the Long Bridge there was scarce a sound to
dispute the possession of its echoes with my horse's hoofs. The
poor beast had carried me nobly and well, and I made up my
mind to buy him, as I had no doubt he would answer perfectly
to carry me back in a day or two to McDowell's army by the
time he had organized it for a new attack upon the enemy's
position. Little did I conceive the greatness of the defeat, the
magnitude of the disasters which it had entailed upon the United
States or the interval that would elapse before another army
set out from the banks of the Potomac onward to Richmond.
Had I sat down that night to write my letter, quite ignorant at
the time of the great calamity which had befallen his army, in
all probability I would have stated that McDowell had received
a severe repulse, and had fallen back upon Centreville, that a
disgraceful panic and confusion had attended the retreat of a
portion of his army, but that the appearance of the reserves
would probably prevent the enemy taking any advantage of the
disorder; and as I would have merely been able to describe
such incidents as came under my own observation, and would
have left the American journals to narrate the actual details,
and the despatches of the American Generals the strategical

events of the day, I should have led the world at home to believe,
as, in fact, I believed myself that McDowell's retrograde
movement would be arrested at some point between Centreville
and Fairfax Court House.

The letter that I was to write occupied my mind whilst I
was crossing the Long Bridge, gazing at the lights reflected
in the Potomac from the city. The night had become overcast,
and heavy clouds rising up rapidly obscured the moon, forming
a most fantastic mass of shapes in the sky.

At the Washington end of the bridge I was challenged
again by the men of a whole regiment, who, with piled arms,
were halted on the chaussée, smoking, laughing, and singing.
"Stranger, have you been to the fight?" "I have been only
a little beyond Centreville." But that was quite enough.
Soldiers, civilians, and women, who seemed to be out unusually
late, crowded round the horse, and again I told my stereotyped
story of the unsuccessful attempt to carry the Confederate
position, and the retreat to Centreville to await better luck
next time. The soldiers along-side me cheered, and those
next them took it up till it ran through the whole line, and
must have awoke the night owls.

As I passed Willard's Hotel a little further on, a clock—I
think the only public clock which strikes the hours in Washington
—tolled out the hour; and I supposed, from what the sentry
told me, though I did not count the strokes, that it was eleven
o'clock. All the rooms in the hotel were a blaze of light.
The pavement before the door was crowded, and some mounted
men and the clattering of sabres on the pavement led me to
infer that the escort of the wounded officer had arrived before
me. I passed on to the livery-stables, where every one was
alive and stirring.

"I'm sure," said the man, "I thought I'd never see you nor
the horse back again. The gig and the other gentleman has
been back a long time. How did he carry you?"

"Oh, pretty well; what's his price?"

"Well, now that I look at him, and to you, it will be 100
dollars less than I said, I'm in good heart to-night."

"Why so? A number of your horses and carriages have
not come back yet, you tell me."

"Oh, well, I'll get paid for them some time or another.
Oh, such news! such news!" said he, rubbing his hands.
"Twenty thousand of them killed and wounded! Maybe
they're not having fits in the White House to-night!"

I walked to my lodgings, and just as I turned the key in the
door a flash of light made me pause for a moment, in expectation
of the report of a gun; for I could not help thinking
it quite possible that, somehow or another, the Confederate
cavalry would try to beat up the lines, but no sound followed.
It must have been lightning. I walked up-stairs, and saw a
most welcome supper ready on the table—an enormous piece
of cheese, a sausage of unknown components, a knuckle-bone
of ham, and a bottle of a very light wine of France; but I
would not have exchanged that repast and have waited half
an hour for any banquet that Soyer or Careme could have
prepared at their best. Then, having pulled off my boots,
bathed my head, trimmed candles, and lighted a pipe, I sat
down to write. I made some feeble sentences, but the pen
went flying about the paper as if the spirits were playing tricks
with it. When I screwed up my utmost resolution, the "y's"
would still run into long streaks, and the letters combine most
curiously, and my eyes closed, and my pen slipped, and just as
I was aroused from a nap, and settled into a stern determination
to hold my pen straight, I was interrupted by a messenger
from Lord Lyons, to inquire whether I had returned, and if
so, to ask me to go up to the Legation and get something to eat.
I explained, with my thanks, that I was quite safe, and had
eaten supper, and learned from the servant that Mr. Warre
and his companion had arrived about two hours previously.
I resumed my seat once more, haunted by the memory of the
Boston mail, which would be closed in a few hours, and I had
much to tell, although I had not seen the battle. Again and
again I woke up, but at last the greatest conqueror but death
overcame me, and with my head on the blotted paper, I fell
fast asleep.