I saw a steady stream of men covered with mud, soaked through with rain, who were pouring irregularly, without any semblance of order, up Pennsylvania Avenue towards the Capitol. … I ran down-stairs and asked an “officer,” who was passing by, a pale young man, who looked exhausted to death, and who had lost his sword, for the empty sheath dangled at his side, where the men were coming from. “Where from? Well, sir, I guess we’re all coming out of Virginny as fast as we can, and pretty well whipped too.” “What! the whole army, sir?” “That’s more than I know. They may stay that like. I know I’m going home. I’ve had enough of fighting to last my lifetime.”
Why Beauregard does not come I know not, nor can I well guess. … The inmates of the White House are in a state of the utmost trepidation, and Mr. Lincoln… in despair…
My Diary: North and South (1863), ch. 51, pp. 467, 470, describing the aftermath of First Manassas
William Howard Russell