I went up to General Scott's quarters, and saw some of his
staff — young men, some of whom knew nothing of soldiers, not even the
enforcing of drill — and found them reflecting, doubtless, the shades which
cross the mind of the old chief, who was now seeking repose. McDowell is to
advance to-morrow from Fairfax Court House, and will march some eight or ten
miles to Centreyille, directly in front of which, at a place called Manassas,
stands the army of the Southern enemy. I look around me for a staff, and look
in vain. There are a few plodding old pedants, with map and rules and
compasses, who sit in small rooms and write memoranda; and there are some
ignorant and not very active young men, who loiter about the head-quarters'
halls, and strut up the street with brass spurs on their heels and kepis raked
over their eyes as though they were soldiers, but I see no system, no order, no
knowledge, no dash!
The worst-served English General has always a young fellow
or two about him who can fly across country, draw a rough sketch map, ride like
a fox-hunter, and find something out about the enemy and their position,
understand and convey orders, and obey them. I look about for the types of
these in vain. McDowell can find out nothing about the enemy; he has not a trustworthy
map of the country; no knowledge of their position, force, or numbers. All the
people, he says, are against the Government. Fairfax Court House was abandoned
as he approached, the enemy in their retreat being followed by the inhabitants.
“Where were the Confederate entrenchments?” “Only in the imagination of those
New York newspapers; when they want to fill up a column they write a full
account of the enemy's fortifications. No one can contradict them at the time,
and it's a good joke when it's found out to be a lie.” Colonel Cullum went over
the maps with me at General Scott's, and spoke with some greater confidence of
McDowell's prospects of success. There is a considerable force of Confederates
at a place called Winchester, which is connected with Manassas by rail, and
this force could be thrown on the right of the Federals as they advanced, but
that another corps, under Patterson, is in observation, with orders to engage
them if they attempt to move eastwards.
The batteries for which General McDowell was looking last
night have arrived, and were sent on this morning. One is under Barry, of the
United States regular artillery, whom I met at Fort Pickens. The other is a
volunteer battery. The onward movement of the army has been productive of a
great improvement in the streets of Washington, which are no longer crowded
with turbulent and disorderly volunteers, or by soldiers disgracing the name,
who accost you in the by-ways for money. There are comparatively few to-day;
small shoals, which have escaped the meshes of the net, are endeavoring to make
the most of their time before they cross the river to face the enemy.
Still horse-hunting, but in vain — Gregson, Wroe — et hoc
genus omne. Nothing to sell except at unheard-of rates; tripeds, and the
like, much the worse for wear, and yet possessed of some occult virtues, in
right of which the owners demanded egregious sums. Everywhere I am offered a
gig or a vehicle of some kind or another, as if the example of General Scott
had rendered such a mode of campaigning the correct thing. I saw many officers
driving over the Long Bridge with large stores of provisions, either unable to
procure horses or satisfied that a wagon was the chariot of Mars. It is not
fair to ridicule either officers or men of this army, and if they were not so
inflated by a pestilent vanity, no one would dream of doing so; but the
excessive bragging and boasting in which the volunteers and the press indulge
really provoke criticism and tax patience and forbearance overmuch. Even the
regular officers, who have some idea of military efficiency, rather derived
from education and foreign travels than from actual experience, bristle up and
talk proudly of the patriotism of the army, and challenge the world to show
such another, although in their hearts, and more, with their lips, they own
they do not depend on them. The white heat of patriotism has cooled down to a
dull black; and I am told that the gallant volunteers, who are to conquer the
world when they “have got through with their present little job,” are counting
up the days to the end of their service, and openly declare they will not stay
a day longer. This is pleasant, inasmuch as the end of the term of many of
McDowell's, and most of Patterson's, three months' men, is near at hand. They have
been faring luxuriously at the expense of the Government — they have had
nothing to do — they have had enormous pay — they knew nothing, and were
worthless as to soldiering when they were enrolled. Now, having gained all
these advantages, and being likely to be of use for the first time, they very
quietly declare they are going to sit under their fig-trees, crowned with civic
laurels and myrtles, and all that sort of thing. But who dare say they are not
splendid fellows — full-blooded heroes, patriots, and warriors — men before
whose majestic presence all Europe pales and faints away?
In the evening I received a message to say that the advance
of the army would take place to-morrow as soon as General McDowell had
satisfied himself by a reconnoissance that he could carry out his plan of
turning the right of the enemy by passing Occaguna Creek. Along Pennsylvania
Avenue, along the various shops, hotels, and drinking-bars, groups of people
were collected, listening to the most exaggerated accounts of desperate
fighting, and of the utter demoralization of the rebels. I was rather amused by
hearing the florid accounts which were given in the hall of Willard's by
various inebriated officers, who were drawing upon their imagination for their
facts, knowing, as I did, that the entrenchments at Fairfax had been abandoned
without a shot on the advance of the Federal troops. The New York papers came
in with glowing descriptions of the magnificent march of the grand army of the
Potomac, which was stated to consist of upwards of 70,000 men; whereas I knew
not half that number were actually on the field. Multitudes of people believe
General Winfield Scott, who was now fast asleep in his modest bed in
Pennsylvania Avenue, is about to take the field in person. The horse-dealers
are still utterly impracticable. A citizen who owned a dark bay, spavined and
ring-boned, asked me one thousand dollars for the right of possession; I
ventured to suggest that it was not worth the money. “Well,” said he, “take it
or leave it. If you want to see this fight, a thousand dollars is cheap. I
guess there were chaps paid more than that to see Jenny Lind on her first
night; and this battle is not going to be repeated, I can tell you. The price
of horses will rise when the chaps out there have had themselves pretty well
used up with bowie-knives and six-shooters."
SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and
South, Vol. 1, p. 425-7
