ALL this sort of feeling was destind to be arrested and reversd by a terrible shockthe battle of first Bull Runcertainly, as we now know it, one of the most singular fights on record. (All battles, and their results, are far more matters of accident than is generally thought; but this was throughout a casualty, a chance. Each side supposed it had won, till the last moment. One had, in point of fact, just the same right to be routed as the other. By a fiction, or series of fictions, the national forces at the last moment exploded in a panic and fled from the field.) The defeated troops commenced pouring into Washington over the Long Bridge at daylight on Monday, 22dday drizzling all through with rain. The Saturday and Sunday of the battle (20th, 21st,) had been parchd and hot to an extremethe dust, the grime and smoke, in layers, sweated in, followd by other layers again sweated in, absorbd by those excited soulstheir clothes all saturated with the clay-powder filling the airstirrd up everywhere on the dry roads and trodden fields by the regiments, swarming wagons, artillery, &c.all the men with this coating of murk and sweat and rain, now recoiling back, pouring over the Long Bridgea horrible march of twenty miles, returning to Washington baffled, humiliated, panic-struck. Where are the vaunts, and the proud boasts with which you went forth? Where are your banners, and your bands of music, and your ropes to bring back your prisoners? Well, there isnt a band playingand there isnt a flag but clings ashamed and lank to its staff.
The sun rises, but shines not. The men appear, at first sparsely and shame-faced enough, then thicker, in the streets of Washingtonappear in Pennsylvania avenue, and on the steps and basement entrances. They come along in disorderly mobs, some in squads, stragglers, companies. Occasionally, a rare regiment, in perfect order, with its officers (some gaps, dead, the true braves,) marching in silence, with lowering faces, stern, weary to sinking, all black and dirty, but every man with his musket, and stepping alive; but these are the exceptions. Sidewalks of Pennsylvania avenue, Fourteenth street, &c., crowded, jammd with citizens, darkies, clerks, everybody, lookers-on; women in the windows, curious expressions from faces, as those swarms of dirt-coverd returnd soldiers there (will they never end?) move by; but nothing said, no comments; (half our lookers-on secesh of the most venomous kindthey say nothing; but the devil snickers in their faces.) During the forenoon Washington gets all over motley with these defeated soldiersqueer-looking objects, strange eyes and faces, drenchd (the steady rain drizzles on all day) and fearfully worn, hungry, haggard, blisterd in the feet. Good people (but not over-many of them either,) hurry up something for their grub. They put wash-kettles on the fire, for soup, for coffee. They set tables on the side-walkswagon-loads of bread are purchasd, swiftly cut in stout chunks. Here are two aged ladies, beautiful, the first in the city for culture and charm, they stand with store of eating and drink at an improvisd table of rough plank, and give food, and have the store replenishd from their house every half-hour all that day; and there in the rain they stand, active, silent, whitehaird, and give food, though the tears stream down their cheeks, almost without intermission, the whole time. Amid the deep excitement, crowds and motion, and desperate eagerness, it seems strange to see many, very many, of the soldiers sleepingin the midst of all, sleeping sound. They drop down anywhere, on the steps of houses, up close by the basements or fences, on the sidewalk, aside on some vacant lot, and deeply sleep. A poor seventeen or eighteen year old boy lies there, on the stoop of a grand house; he sleeps so calmly, so profoundly. Some clutch their muskets firmly even in sleep. Some in squads; comrades, brothers, close togetherand on them, as they lay, sulkily drips the rain.
As afternoon passd, and evening came, the streets, the barrooms, knots everywhere, listeners, questioners, terrible yarns, bugaboo, maskd batteries, our regiment all cut up, &c.stories and story-tellers, windy, bragging, vain centres of street-crowds. Resolution, manliness, seem to have abandond Washington. The principal hotel, Willards, is full of shoulder-strapsthick, crushd, creeping with shoulder-straps. (I see them, and must have a word with them. There you are, shoulder-straps!but where are your companies? where are your men? Incompetents! never tell me of chances of battle, of getting strayd, and the like. I think this is your work, this retreat, after all. Sneak, blow, put on airs there in Willards sumptuous parlors and bar-rooms, or anywhereno explanation shall save you. Bull Run is your work; had you been half or one-tenth worthy your men, this would never have happend.)
Meantime, in Washington, among the great persons and their entourage, a mixture of awful consternation, uncertainty, rage, shame, helplessness, and stupefying disappointment. The worst is not only imminent, but already here. In a few hoursperhaps before the next mealthe secesh generals, with their victorious hordes, will be upon us. The dream of humanity, the vaunted Union we thought so strong, so impregnablelo! it seems already smashd like a china plate. One bitter, bitter hourperhaps proud America will never again know such an hour. She must pack and flyno time to spare. Those white palacesthe dome-crownd capitol there on the hill, so stately over the treesshall they be leftor destroyd first? For it is certain that the talk among certain of the magnates and officers and clerks and officials everywhere, for twenty-four hours in and around Washington after Bull Run, was loud and undisguised for yielding out and out, and substituting the southern rule, and Lincoln promptly abdicating and departing. If the secesh officers and forces had immediately followd, and by a bold Napoleonic movement had enterd Washington the first day, (or even the second,) they could have had things their own way, and a powerful faction north to back them. One of our returning colonels expressd in public that night, amid a swarm of officers and gentlemen in a crowded room, the opinion that it was useless to fight, that the southerners had made their title clear, and that the best course for the national government to pursue was to desist from any further attempt at stopping them, and admit them again to the lead, on the best terms they were willing to grant. Not a voice was raisd against this judgment, amid that large crowd of officers and gentlemen. (The fact is, the hour was one of the three or four of those crises we had then and afterward, during the fluctuations of four years, when human eyes appeard at least just as likely to see the last breath of the Union as to see it continue.)