August 31st.–A month during which I have been exposed to more calumny, falsehood, not to speak of danger, than I ever passed through, has been brought to a close. I have all the pains and penalties attached to the digito monstrari et dicier hie est, in the most hostile sense. On going into Willard’s the other day, I said to the clerk behind the bar, “Why I heard, Mr. So-and-so, you were gone?” “Well, sir, I’m not. If I was, you would have lost the last man who is ready to say a word for you in this house, I can tell you.” Scowling faces on every side–women turning up their pretty little noses–people turning round in the streets, or stopping to stare in front of me–the proprietors of the shops where I am known pointing me out to others; the words uttered, in various tones, ” So, that’s Bull-Run Russell!”–for, oddly enough, the Americans seem to think that a disgrace to their arms becomes diminished by fixing the name of the scene as a sobriquet on one who described it–these, with caricatures, endless falsehoods, rumours of duels, and the like, form some of the little désagrémens of one who was so unfortunate as to assist at the retreat, the first he had ever seen, of an army which it would in all respects have suited him much better to have seen victorious.
I dined with Lieutenant Wise, and met Captain Dahlgren, Captain Davis, U.S.N., Captain Foote, U.N.S., and Colonel Fletcher Webster (since killed in action), son of the great American statesman, now commanding a regiment of volunteers. The latter has a fine head and face; a full, deep eye; is quaint and dry in his conversation, and a poet, I should think, in heart and soul, if outward and visible signs may be relied on. The naval captains were excellent specimens of the accomplished and able men who belong to the United States Navy. Foote, who is designated to the command of the flotilla which is to clear the Mississippi downwards, will, I am certain, do good service–a calm, energetic, skilful officer. Dahlgren, who, like all men with a system, very properly watches everything which bears upon it, took occasion to call for Captain Foote’s testimony to the fact, that he battered down a six-foot granite wall in China with Dahlgren shells. It will run hard against the Confederates when they get such men at work on the rivers and coasts, for they seem to understand their business thoroughly, and all they are not quite sure of is the readiness of the land forces to co-operate with their expeditionary movements. Incidentally I learned from the conversation–and it is a curious illustration of the power of the President–that it was he who ordered the attack on Charleston harbour, or, to speak with more accuracy, the movement of the armed squadron to relieve Sumter by force, if necessary; and that he came to the conclusion it was feasible principally from reading the account of the attack on Kinburn by the allied fleets. There was certainly an immense disproportion between the relative means of attack and defence in the two cases; but, at all events, the action of the Confederates prevented the attempt.