October 26th.–More reviews. To-day rather a pretty sight–12 regiments, 16 guns, and a few squads of men with swords and pistols on horseback, called cavalry, comprising Fitz-John Porter’s division. McClellan seemed to my eyes crest-fallen and moody to-day. Bright eyes looked on him; he is getting up something like a staff, among which are the young French princes, under the tutelage of their uncle, the Prince of Joinville. Whilst McClellan is reviewing, our Romans in Washington are shivering; for the blockade of the Potomac by the Confederate batteries stops the fuel boats. Little care these enthusiastic young American patriots in crinoline, who have come to see McClellan and the soldiers, what a cord of wood costs. The lower orders are very angry about it however. The nuisance and disorder arising from soldiers, drunk and sober, riding full gallop down the streets, and as fast as they can round the corners, has been stopped, by placing mounted sentries at the principal points in all the thoroughfares. The “officers” were worse than the men; the papers this week contain the account of two accidents, in one of which a colonel, in another a major, was killed by falls from horseback, in furious riding in the city.
Forgetting all about this fact, and spurring home pretty fast along an unfrequented road, leading from the ferry at Georgetown into the city, I was nearly spitted by a “dragoon,” who rode at me from under cover of a house, and shouted “stop ” just as his sabre was within a foot of my head. Fortunately his horse, being aware that if it ran against mine it might be injured, shied, and over went dragoon, sabre and all, and off went his horse, but as the trooper was able to run after it, I presume he was not the worse; and I went on my way rejoicing.
McClellan has fallen very much in my opinion since the Leesburg disaster. He went to the spot, and with a little–nay, the least–promptitude and ability could have turned the check into a successful advance, in the blaze of which the earlier repulse would have been forgotten. It is whispered that General Stone, who ordered the movement, is guilty of treason–a common crime of unlucky generals–at all events he is to be displaced, and will be put under surveillance. The orders he gave are certainly very strange.
The official right to fib, I presume, is very much the same all over the world, but still there is more dash about it in the States, I think, than elsewhere. “Blockade of the Potomac!” exclaims an official of the Navy Department. “What are you talking of? The Department has just heard that a few Confederates have been practising with a few light field-pieces from the banks, and has issued orders to prevent it in future.” “Defeat at Leesburg!” cries little K_____, of McClellan’s staff, “nothing of the kind. We drove the Confederates at all points, retained our position on the right bank, and only left it when we pleased, having whipped the enemy so severely they never showed since.” “Any news, Mr. Cash, in the Treasury to-day?” “Nothing, sir, except that Mr. Chase is highly pleased with everything; he’s only afraid of having too much money, and being troubled with his balances.” “The State Department all right, Mr. Protocol?” “My dear sir! delightful! with everybody, best terms. Mr. Seward and the Count are managing delightfully; most friendly assurances; Guatemala particularly; yes, and France too. Yes, I may say France too; not the smallest difficulty at Honduras; altogether, with the assurances of support we are getting, the Minister thinks the whole-affair will be settled in thirty days; no joking, I assure you; thirty days this time positively. Say for exactness on or about December 5th.” The canvas-backs are coming in, and I am off for a day or two to escape reviews and abuse, and to see something of the famous wild-fowl shooting on the Chesapeake.