And Jackson’s attitude was that of the Southern people.  When the news of Bull Run reached Richmond, and through the crowds that thronged the streets passed the tidings of the victory, there was neither wild excitement nor uproarious joy.  No bonfires lit the darkness of the night; no cannon thundered out salutes; the steeples were silent till the morrow, and then were heard only the solemn tones that called the people to prayer.  It was resolved, on the day following the battle, by the Confederate Congress:  “That we recognise the hand of the Most High God, the King of kings and Lord of lords, in the glorious victory with which He has crowned our arms at Manassas, and that the people of these Confederate States are invited, by appropriate services on the ensuing Sabbath, to offer up their united thanksgivings and prayers for this mighty deliverance.”

The spoils of Bull Run were large; 1500 prisoners, 25 guns, ten stand of colours, several thousand rifles, a large quantity of ammunition and hospital stores, twenty-six waggons, and several ambulances were left in the victors’ hands.  The Federal losses were 460 killed and 1124 wounded; the Confederate, 387 killed, 1582 wounded, and 13 missing.  The First Brigade suffered more severely than any other in the Southern army.  Of 3000 officers and men, 488 were killed or wounded, nearly a fourth of the total loss.

A few days after the battle Johnston advanced to Centreville, and from the heights above the broad Potomac his cavalry vedettes looked upon the spires of Washington.  But it was in vain that the Confederate troopers rode to and fro on the river bank and watered their horses within sight of the Capitol.  The enemy was not to be beguiled across the protecting stream.  But it was not from fear.  Although the disaster had been as crushing as unexpected, it was bravely met.  The President’s demand for another army was cheerfully complied with.  Volunteers poured in from every State.  The men were no longer asked to serve for three months, but for three years.  Washington became transformed into an enormous camp; great earthworks rose on the surrounding heights; and the training of the new levies went steadily forward.  There was no cry for immediate action.  Men were not wanting who believed that the task of coercion was impossible.  Able statesmen and influential journalists advised the President to abandon the attempt.  But Lincoln, true to the trust which had been committed to his keeping, never flinched from his resolve that the Union should be restored.  He, too, stood like a wall between his defeated legions and the victorious foe.  Nor was the nation less determined.  The dregs of humiliation had been drained, and though the draught was bitter it was salutary.  The President was sustained with no half-hearted loyalty.  His political opponents raved and threatened; but under the storm of recrimination the work of reorganising the army went steadily forward, and the people were content that until the generals declared the army fit for action the hour of vengeance should be postponed.