after the war ended, "could not be thought of; for we were almost as much disorganized by our victory as the Federals by their defeat." Indeed, making all allowances for the magniloquent reports of those early days, it had been, to use the words of Mr. Davis, "a hard-fought field," and the victors were in no condition to pursue.

The material fruits of the Confederate victory at Bull Run were the possession of the field, and of many prisoners and spoils, the precise figures, however, being, for causes already rehearsed, difficult to fix. The official Confederate loss in the battle was 378 killed, 1489 wounded, and 30 missinga total of 1897; the official Union loss was 481 killed, 1011 wounded, and an unknown number of missing and wounded and missing. The Confederate reports showed a total of 1460 Union prisoners, wounded and unwounded, captured during and after the action. Besides these, there were many stragglers who never came back; so that the total Union loss may be safely put down, in round numbers, at from 3500 to 4000 men. The Union troops abandoned on the field and in their retreat, 28 guns, about 5900 muskets, nearly half a million cartridges, 64 artillery horses, 26 wagons, ten colors, and much camp equipage and clothing.

But the victory at Bull Run gained more than a field: it won a campaign. Midsummer passed, autumn came and went, winter at last found the Union and Confederate troops in Virginia in their peaceful log-camps. The year 1861 slipped entirely away without another forward movement in Virginia; the new year opened silently there; spring came again before the spell which Bull Run had thrown was broken up. Nor was this true of Virginia alone, but of the whole West; incessant skirmishes and desultory engagements by detached forces occupied the time and strength which had been designed for grand operations; for these latter were represed at their beginning, and the military year of 1861, from

which so much had been hoped, came to its end at the battle of Bull Run.

Nevertheless, the immediate and material consequences of this initial battle were dust in the balance, contrasted with its grand moral influences. Then, for the first time, the North knew that long and bloody war lay before it, for which it had not made adequate preparation. Much reliance it had hitherto placed on what it regarded as the supreme justice. of its cause and on the matchless enthusiasm of its million defenders. By virtue of the one bitter cup quaffed at Manassas, it saw with clear eyes a truth proclaimed by universal history, that, whatever the intrinsic dignity of a national cause, when once it falls under the dread arbitrament of the sword, its surest hope of success is in the resort to the laws of war and the application of military science. Numbers will not supply the place of discipline, nor will enthusiasm allow the rules of war to be contravened. It is military strategy, it is the tactics and logistics of campaigning, it is in short the profession of war to which a cause, deserving to find in its own nobleness defence sufficient, has to be entrusted; and, as a client rests his fortunes in his patron's hands, to be submitted to the dull, mechanical channels of an unsympathetic professional routine, with all the law's delay and with new chances of failure from the superior professional talent of the opposing advocate suffered to intervene, so was the North forced to intrust its honor and very existence to the watch-care of a professional soldiery. With the first unwelcome consciousness of that necessity, there came a momentary pang of disappointment and a flutter of incertitude; for it had been thought that an upright cause would, in some indefinite way, prove its own advocate. It had been imagined, also, that nothing but that sublime self-sacrifice, and that supreme devotion of all which makes life worth the living, which could be seen at countless hearthstones, from ocean to ocean, were required to trium

phantly vindicate the integrity of the Union. The initial shock of general battle had taught a different lesson, and had declared not only that mere numerical strength could not avail, in itself, against an adroit enemy, but also that neither the highest inspiration of patriotism, nor the profoundest devotion to duty, no, nor yet the wildest enthusiasm reinforced by the call of duty, could win battles and decide the issue of campaigns. But this battle taught something more and more important, by disclosing that if the heart of the North was pledged to its cause, not less entirely was the heart of the South given to that opposing cause which, after long and anxious doubt, it had now made its own. Many scenes had the Union troops to relate, on returning to Washington, in which dying Southern soldiers, tasting the grateful drop of water which humanity did not refuse even in the ferocity of battle, said: "You have fought for your country; I die for mine."

Learning, then, therefore, not only that ill-directed enthusiasm would not avail, even against the most unscrupulous and unprincipled opponents, and convinced, moreover, that whatever might be true of Southern leaders, Southern men with muskets in their hands were not without principle or without a cause—that indeed, they would overmatch enthusiasm by enthusiasm the North began to gird itself to a long and sanguinary contest. In the change which then came over its spirit, a reaction almost as remarkable and as violent as its first impetus with regard to the conduct of the war, succeeded. The restless leaders and demagogues who had encouraged the people to fancy that a mere levée en masse aud a popular crusade against the South, like that which Peter the Hermit and Walter the Penniless directed upon Jerusalem, would gain them Richmond and the South, were covered with confusion. With patience and docility the people now submitted to tedious military manipulations, while their volunteers, all aglow with fire, were hammered and tempered

into drilled and veteran soldiers. Reflective observers, looking beyond the trivial and accidental occurrences of Manassas, saw that patriotism had not so much lowered at the North as deepened, and if the thin leaping flames of excitement had subsided, it was but to the white heat of fixed and unquenchable purpose. Its baptism of blood was also for the North its reconsecration. It had learned from experience what a philosophical historian proclaims to be a fundamental truth of military history, and a canon to which, strange as it may seem, there is no real exception: -"One of the most certain of all lessons of military history," says Dr. Arnold, "although some writers have neglected it, and some have even disputed it, is the superiority of discipline to enthusiasm. The first thing, then, to be done in all warfare, whether foreign or domestic, is to discipline our men, and till they are thoroughly disciplined to avoid above all things the exposing them to any general action with the enemy. History is full indeed of instances of great victories gained by a very small force over a very large one; but not by undisciplined men, however brave and enthusiastic, over those who were well disciplined, except under peculiar circumstances of surprise or local advantages, such as cannot affect the truth of the general rule." Impressed with this truth, the North devoted what was left of summer with the autumn and the winter to the levying and disciplining of great armies, the accumulation of material of war, and meanwhile busily arranged formal campaigns. In place of the comparative handful of untrained three-months' militia, who had once been thought more than adequate to overrun the South before their term of service should expire, the new campaign was begun with a round half million of soldiers, enlisted "for three years or the war." In Virginia the broken mass of fugitives who marched from Bull Run to Washington, became, when swelled and moulded into symmetry under the hand of a skilful organizer, the Grand Army of the Potomac.

Every arm was increased and made efficient. Three companies of cavalry were all that crossed the Potomac with McDowell's army in May of 1861; seven companies were absolutely all that marched with it to Bull Run-two companies being left behind in Washington. "People years hence," said the commander of one of these companies, "will hardly believe this; but it is, nevertheless, strictly true." Such was the petty nucleus of the splendid corps of twenty thousand horsemen who, under Sheridan, swept through the Shenandoah Valley and took so glorious a part at Five Forks and Culpepper Court House. Instead of seven companies, McClellan took with him to the Peninsula alone ten regiments or thereabouts, of Stoneman's cavalry, and as great a force was left in other parts of Virginia. In place of nine imperfect batteries of thirty guns, which remained from Bull Run as the entire artillery of the Army in the East, spring found ninetytwo batteries, of five hundred and twenty guns, with a corps of twelve thousand and five hundred disciplined artillerists. Two hundred thousand volunteer infantry, many of them seasoned since the opening of autumn by drill and exercise in camp and garrison, were ready for march. The engineer, the quarter-master, the ordnance, the commissary and the medical departments, had been raised to a proportionate size and efficiency.

If upon the South the influence of Bull Run was less immediate, it was not the less powerful. The first emotion inspired by the result was commingled of relief, of joy, and of confidence in the future. A great burden had been lifted; for despite the braggart professions of superiority indulged by the more vainglorious of its mercurial population, thoughtful men in the South had felt that infinite consequences, possibly the fate of the war, pivoted on its first great battle; and that the issues of this battle were absolutely beyond the scope of prediction. Now was at least to be war, not a mere riot. Best and most inspiring of all, Bull Run had secured for the