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On his way down the ridge, that morning, early, Davies had made a discovery. While passing a roadway, his guide had casually remarked: "There is a road that leads around to the Enemy's camp, direct." "Ah!" —said Davies—"and can they get through that road?" "Oh, yes," replied the guide. Davies had at once halted, and, after posting his 16th and 31st New York Regiments, with two guns of Hunt's Battery, near this road, at its junction with the ridge road running up to Centreville and Black burn's Ford, had proceeded, with the rest of his regiments and guns, to the position where Miles finds him.
But Miles has discovered what Davies has done, in this matter of the flanking roadway; and—without knowing, or apparently caring to know, the reason underlying the posting of the two regiments and two guns in its vicinity,—flies into "a terrible passion" because of it; in "no very measured language," gives Davies "a severe dressing down;" and orders him to bring both regiments and guns down to the front. Davies complies, and says nothing. Miles also orders him to continue the firing from his batteries, without regard to the quantity of ammunition. This order, also, Davies obeys—and the firing proceeds, for two solid hours, until another order comes, about 1 o'clock P.M., to stop firing.
The fact is, that Miles is not at all himself—but is suffering under such a strain of mental excitement, he afterward claims, that he is not responsible.
Miles, however, returns to Centreville about noon; and no sooner is he gone, than Davies at once sends back pioneers to obstruct that road which would bring the Enemy around his left flank and rear, to Centreville. These, work so industriously, that they cut down a quarter of a mile of trees, and block the road up completely. Davies also posts a few pickets there, in case of accidents. It is well he does so. It is not long before the Enemy makes an attempt to get around to his rear, by that road; but, finding it both obstructed and picketed, retires again. Davies does not see the Rebels making that attempt, but catches sight of them on their return, and gives them a severe shelling for their pains.
Davies keeps up his firing, more or less—according to the condition of the Enemy and of his own ammunition—until 4 o'clock, when the firing occasioned by the Union flanking movement, six miles to his right, ceases. Then there reaches him a note from Richardson, so badly penciled that he can only make out the one word "beaten,"—but cannot, for the life of him, make out, whether the beaten one is our Right Wing, or the Enemy!
Of what followed, he tells the story himself,—under oath, before the Committee on the Conduct of the War—so graphically, that the temptation to give it, in his own words, is irresistible. "I saw unmistakable evidence," said he, "that we were going to be attacked on our Left Wing. I got all ready for the attack, but did not change my front.
"About 5 o'clock, I think, the Rebels made their appearance back upon this very road up which they had gone before; but instead of keeping up the road, they turned past a farm-house, went through the farm-yard, and came down and formed right in front of me, in a hollow, out of my sight. Well, I let them all come down there, keeping a watch upon their movements. I told the Artillery not to fire any shot at them until they saw the rear column go down, so as to get them all down in the little hollow or basin, there. There was a little basin there, probably a quarter of a mile every way. I should think that, maybe, 3,000 men filed down, before I changed front.
"We lay there, with two regiments back, and the Artillery in front, facing Bull Run. As soon as about 3,000 of the Enemy got down in this basin, I changed the front of the Artillery around to the left, in face of the Enemy, and put a company of Infantry between each of the pieces of Artillery, and then deployed the balance of the regiments right and left, and made my line-of-battle.
"I gave directions to the Infantry not to fire a shot, under any circumstances, until they got the word of command from me. I furthermore said I would shoot the first man that fired a shot before I gave the command to do so.
"I gave them orders all to lie down on their faces. They, (the Rebels) were just over the brow of the hill, so that, if they came up in front of us, they could not hit a man.
"As soon as I saw the rear column, I told * * * Lieutenant Benjamin to fire. * * * He fired the first shot when the rear column presented itself. It just went over their heads, and hit a horse and rider in their rear. As soon as the first shot was fired, I gave the order for the whole six pieces of Artillery to open with grape and canister. The effect was terrible. They were all there, right before us, about 450 yards off, and had not suspected that we were going to fire at all, though they did not know what the reason was. Hunt's Battery (belonging to Richardson—who had by mistake got Greene's) performed so well, that, in thirty minutes, we dispersed every one of them!
"I do not know how many were killed, but we so crippled their entire force that they never came after us an inch. A man, who saw the effect of the firing, in the valley, said it was just like firing into a wheat field; the column gave way at once, before the grape and canister; they were just within available distance. I knew very well that if they but got into that basin, the first fire would cut them all to pieces; and it did. We continued to fire for thirty minutes, when there was nothing more to fire at, and no more shots were returned."
At a later hour—while remaining victorious at their well defended position, with the Enemy at their front, dispersed and silenced,—these two brigades of the Left Wing, receive orders to fall back on Centreville, and encamp. With the brigade of Richardson, and Greene's Battery in advance, Davies's own brigade and Hunt's Battery following, they fall back on the heights of Centreville "without the least confusion and in perfect order"—reaching them at 7 P.M.
Meantime Miles has been relieved from command, and McDowell has ordered Blenker's Brigade to take position a mile or more in advance of Centreville, toward Bull Run, on both sides of the Warrenton Pike, to protect the retreat, now being made, in "a few collected bodies," but mainly in great disorder—owing partly to the baggage-wagons choking the road, along which both venturesome civilians and fagged-out troops are retreating upon Centreville. This confused retreat passes through Blenker's lines until 9 o'clock P.M.—and then, all is secure.
At midnight, McDowell has decided to make no stand at Centreville, but to retire upon the defensive works at Washington. The order to retreat, is given, and, with the rear well guarded by Richardson's and Blenker's Brigades, is carried out, the van of the retreat, with no Enemy pursuing, degenerating finally into a "mob," which carries more or less panic into Washington itself, as well as terrible disappointment and chagrin to all the Loyal States of the Union.
Knowing what we now do, concerning the Battle of Bull Run, it is somewhat surprising, at this day, to read the dispatches sent by McDowell to General Scott's headquarters at Washington, immediately after it. They are in these words:
"CENTREVILLE, July 21, 1861—5:45 P.M.
"We passed Bull Run, engaged the Enemy, who, it seems, had just been re-enforced by General Johnston. We drove them for several hours, and finally routed them."
["No one who did not share in the sad experience will be able to realize the consternation which the news of this discomfiture—grossly exaggerated—diffused over the loyal portion of our Country. Only the tidings which had reached Washington up to four o'clock—all presaging certain and decisive victory—were permitted to go North by telegraph that day and evening; so that, on Monday morning, when the crowd of fugitives from our grand Army was pouring into Washington, a heedless, harmless, worthless mob, the Loyal States were exulting over accounts of a decisive triumph. But a few hours brought different advices; and these were as much worse than the truth as the former had been better: our Army had been utterly destroyed-cut to pieces, with a loss of twenty-five to thirty thousand men, besides all its artillery and munitions, and Washington lay at the mercy of the Enemy, who were soon to advance to the capture and sack of our great commercial cities. Never before had so black a day as that black Monday lowered upon the loyal hearts of the North; and the leaden, weeping skies reflected and heightened, while they seemed to sympathize with, the general gloom. It would have been easy, with ordinary effort and care, to have gathered and remanded to their camps or forts around Alexandria or Arlington, all the wretched stragglers to whom fear had lent wings, and who, throwing away their arms and equipments, and abandoning all semblance of Military order or discipline, had rushed to the Capital to hide therein their shame, behind a cloud of exaggerations and falsehoods. The still effective batteries, the solid battalions, that were then wending their way slowly back to their old encampments along the South bank of the Potomac, depressed but unshaken, dauntless and utterly unassailed, were unseen and unheard from; while the panic-stricken racers filled and distended the general ear with their tales of impregnable intrenchments and masked batteries, of regiments slaughtered, brigades utterly cut to pieces, etc., making out their miserable selves to be about all that was left of the Army. That these men were allowed thus to straggle into Washington, instead of being peremptorily stopped at the bridges and sent back to the encampments of their several regiments, is only to be accounted for on the hypothesis that the reason of our Military magnates had been temporarily dethroned, so as to divest them of all moral responsibility," Greeley's Am. Conflict, pp. 552-53., vol. I.]
["No one who did not share in the sad experience will be able to realize the consternation which the news of this discomfiture—grossly exaggerated—diffused over the loyal portion of our Country. Only the tidings which had reached Washington up to four o'clock—all presaging certain and decisive victory—were permitted to go North by telegraph that day and evening; so that, on Monday morning, when the crowd of fugitives from our grand Army was pouring into Washington, a heedless, harmless, worthless mob, the Loyal States were exulting over accounts of a decisive triumph. But a few hours brought different advices; and these were as much worse than the truth as the former had been better: our Army had been utterly destroyed-cut to pieces, with a loss of twenty-five to thirty thousand men, besides all its artillery and munitions, and Washington lay at the mercy of the Enemy, who were soon to advance to the capture and sack of our great commercial cities. Never before had so black a day as that black Monday lowered upon the loyal hearts of the North; and the leaden, weeping skies reflected and heightened, while they seemed to sympathize with, the general gloom. It would have been easy, with ordinary effort and care, to have gathered and remanded to their camps or forts around Alexandria or Arlington, all the wretched stragglers to whom fear had lent wings, and who, throwing away their arms and equipments, and abandoning all semblance of Military order or discipline, had rushed to the Capital to hide therein their shame, behind a cloud of exaggerations and falsehoods. The still effective batteries, the solid battalions, that were then wending their way slowly back to their old encampments along the South bank of the Potomac, depressed but unshaken, dauntless and utterly unassailed, were unseen and unheard from; while the panic-stricken racers filled and distended the general ear with their tales of impregnable intrenchments and masked batteries, of regiments slaughtered, brigades utterly cut to pieces, etc., making out their miserable selves to be about all that was left of the Army. That these men were allowed thus to straggle into Washington, instead of being peremptorily stopped at the bridges and sent back to the encampments of their several regiments, is only to be accounted for on the hypothesis that the reason of our Military magnates had been temporarily dethroned, so as to divest them of all moral responsibility," Greeley's Am. Conflict, pp. 552-53., vol. I.]
["No one who did not share in the sad experience will be able to realize the consternation which the news of this discomfiture—grossly exaggerated—diffused over the loyal portion of our Country. Only the tidings which had reached Washington up to four o'clock—all presaging certain and decisive victory—were permitted to go North by telegraph that day and evening; so that, on Monday morning, when the crowd of fugitives from our grand Army was pouring into Washington, a heedless, harmless, worthless mob, the Loyal States were exulting over accounts of a decisive triumph. But a few hours brought different advices; and these were as much worse than the truth as the former had been better: our Army had been utterly destroyed-cut to pieces, with a loss of twenty-five to thirty thousand men, besides all its artillery and munitions, and Washington lay at the mercy of the Enemy, who were soon to advance to the capture and sack of our great commercial cities. Never before had so black a day as that black Monday lowered upon the loyal hearts of the North; and the leaden, weeping skies reflected and heightened, while they seemed to sympathize with, the general gloom. It would have been easy, with ordinary effort and care, to have gathered and remanded to their camps or forts around Alexandria or Arlington, all the wretched stragglers to whom fear had lent wings, and who, throwing away their arms and equipments, and abandoning all semblance of Military order or discipline, had rushed to the Capital to hide therein their shame, behind a cloud of exaggerations and falsehoods. The still effective batteries, the solid battalions, that were then wending their way slowly back to their old encampments along the South bank of the Potomac, depressed but unshaken, dauntless and utterly unassailed, were unseen and unheard from; while the panic-stricken racers filled and distended the general ear with their tales of impregnable intrenchments and masked batteries, of regiments slaughtered, brigades utterly cut to pieces, etc., making out their miserable selves to be about all that was left of the Army. That these men were allowed thus to straggle into Washington, instead of being peremptorily stopped at the bridges and sent back to the encampments of their several regiments, is only to be accounted for on the hypothesis that the reason of our Military magnates had been temporarily dethroned, so as to divest them of all moral responsibility," Greeley's Am. Conflict, pp. 552-53., vol. I.]
["No one who did not share in the sad experience will be able to realize the consternation which the news of this discomfiture—grossly exaggerated—diffused over the loyal portion of our Country. Only the tidings which had reached Washington up to four o'clock—all presaging certain and decisive victory—were permitted to go North by telegraph that day and evening; so that, on Monday morning, when the crowd of fugitives from our grand Army was pouring into Washington, a heedless, harmless, worthless mob, the Loyal States were exulting over accounts of a decisive triumph. But a few hours brought different advices; and these were as much worse than the truth as the former had been better: our Army had been utterly destroyed-cut to pieces, with a loss of twenty-five to thirty thousand men, besides all its artillery and munitions, and Washington lay at the mercy of the Enemy, who were soon to advance to the capture and sack of our great commercial cities. Never before had so black a day as that black Monday lowered upon the loyal hearts of the North; and the leaden, weeping skies reflected and heightened, while they seemed to sympathize with, the general gloom. It would have been easy, with ordinary effort and care, to have gathered and remanded to their camps or forts around Alexandria or Arlington, all the wretched stragglers to whom fear had lent wings, and who, throwing away their arms and equipments, and abandoning all semblance of Military order or discipline, had rushed to the Capital to hide therein their shame, behind a cloud of exaggerations and falsehoods. The still effective batteries, the solid battalions, that were then wending their way slowly back to their old encampments along the South bank of the Potomac, depressed but unshaken, dauntless and utterly unassailed, were unseen and unheard from; while the panic-stricken racers filled and distended the general ear with their tales of impregnable intrenchments and masked batteries, of regiments slaughtered, brigades utterly cut to pieces, etc., making out their miserable selves to be about all that was left of the Army. That these men were allowed thus to straggle into Washington, instead of being peremptorily stopped at the bridges and sent back to the encampments of their several regiments, is only to be accounted for on the hypothesis that the reason of our Military magnates had been temporarily dethroned, so as to divest them of all moral responsibility," Greeley's Am. Conflict, pp. 552-53., vol. I.]
"They rallied and repulsed us, but only to give us again the victory, which seemed complete. But our men, exhausted with fatigue and thirst, and confused by firing into each other, were attacked by the Enemy's reserves, and driven from the position we had gained, overlooking Manassas. After this, the men could not be rallied, but slowly left the field. In the meantime the Enemy outflanked Richardson at Blackburn's Ford, and we have now to hold Centreville till our men can get behind it. Miles's Division is holding the town. It is reported that Colonel Cameron is killed, Hunter and Heintzelman wounded, neither dangerously."IRWIN MCDOWELL,"Brigadier-General, Commanding.
"Lieutenant-Colonel TOWNSEND."
"FAIRFAX COURT HOUSE, July 21, 1861.
"The men having thrown away their haversacks in the battle, and left them behind, they are without food; have eaten nothing since breakfast. We are without artillery ammunition. The larger part of the men are a confused mob, entirely demoralized. It was the opinion of all the commanders that no stand could be made this side of the Potomac. We will, however, make the attempt at Fairfax Court House. From a prisoner we learn that 20,000 from Johnston joined last night, and they march on us to-night."IRWIN MCDOWELL.
"Colonel TOWNSEND"
"FAIRFAX COURT HOUSE, [July] 22, 1861.
"Many of the volunteers did not wait for authority to proceed to the Potomac, but left on their own decision. They are now pouring through this place in a state of utter disorganization. They could not be prepared for action by to-morrow morning even were they willing. I learn from prisoners that we are to be pressed here to-night and tomorrow morning, as the Enemy's force is very large, and they are elated. I think we heard cannon on our rear-guard. I think now, as all of my commanders thought at Centreville, there is no alternative but to fall back to the Potomac, and I shall proceed to do so with as much regularity as possible."IRWIN MCDOWELL.
"Colonel TOWNSEND."
"ARLINGTON, July 22, 1861.
"I avail myself of the re-establishing of telegraph to report my arrival. When I left the forks of the Little River turnpike and Columbia turnpike, where I had been for a couple of hours turning stragglers and parties of regiments upon this place and Alexandria, I received intelligence that the rear-guard, under Colonel Richardson, had left Fairfax Court House, and was getting along well. Had not been attacked. I am now trying to get matters a little organized over here."IRWIN MCDOWELL."Brigadier-General."E. D. TOWNSEND."
McDowell had unquestionably been repulsed, in his main attack, with his Right Wing, and much of his Army was badly demoralized; but, on the other hand, it may be well to repeat that the Enemy's plan of attack that same morning had been frustrated, and most of his forces so badly shattered and demoralized that he dared not follow up the advantage which, more by our own blunders than by his prowess, he had gained.
If the Union forces—or at least the Right Wing of them—were whipped, the Enemy also was whipped. Jackson himself confesses that while he had, at the last moment, broken our centre, our forces had turned both of his flanks. The Enemy was, in fact, so badly used up, that he not only dared not pursue us to Washington—as he would have down had he been able—but he was absolutely afraid McDowell would resume the attack, on the right of the original Bull Run line, that very night! For, in a letter to General Beauregard; dated Richmond, Virginia, August 4, 1861, Jefferson Davis,—who was on the ground at Bull Run, July 21st,—alluding to the Battle of Bull Run, and Beauregard's excuses for not pursuing the Union troops, says:
"I think you are unjust to yourself in putting your failure to pursue the Enemy to Washington, to the account of short supplies of subsistence and transportation. Under the circumstances of our Army, and in the absence of the knowledge since acquired—if, indeed, the statements be true—it would have been extremely hazardous to have done more than was performed. You will not fail to remember that, so far from knowing that the Enemy was routed, a large part of our forces was moved by you, in the night of the 21st, to repel a supposed attack upon our right, and the next day's operations did not fully reveal what has since been reported of the Enemy's panic."
And Jefferson Davis's statement is corroborated by the Report of Colonel Withers, of the 18th Virginia, who, after starting with other regiments, in an attempt to cut off the Union retreat, was recalled to the Stone Bridge,—and who says: "Before reaching the point we designed to occupy (near the Stone Bridge) we were met by another order to march immediately to Manassas Junction, as an attack was apprehended that night. Although it was now after sunset, and my men had had no food all day, when the command to march to Manassas was given, they cheerfully took the route to that place."
Colonel Davies, who, as we have seen, commanded McDowell's stubborn Left Wing, was after all, not far wrong, when, in his testimony before the Committee on the Conduct of the War, he declared, touching the story of the Bull Run Battle: "It ought to have read that we were victorious with the 13,000 troops of the Left Wing, and defeated in the 18,000 of the Right Wing. That is all that Bull Run amounts to."
In point of fact, the Battle of Bull Run—the first pitched battle of the War—was a drawn battle.
War was now fully inaugurated—Civil War—a stupendous War between two great Sections of one common Country; those of our People, on the one side, fighting for the dissolution of the Union—and incidentally for Free Trade, and for Slavery; those on the other side, fighting for the preservation of the Union—and incidentally for Protection to our Free Industries, and for the Freedom of the Slave.
As soon as the Republican Party controlled both Houses of Congress it provided Protection to our Free Industries, and to the Free Labor engaged in them, by the Morill Tariff Act of 1860—the foundation Act of all subsequent enactments on the subject. In subsequent pages of this work we shall see how the Freedom of the Slave was also accomplished by the same great Party.