Meantime, as the months rolled on, it became evident that the victory at Manassas could not be considered as a criterion of future success.  Everywhere there was fighting.  Varying fortune attended the Confederate arms. Unvarying glory, unsurpassed, magnificent bravery so dazzled the eyes of the nation that none saw or admitted defeat anywhere.  Yet valuable territory had been surrendered.  Homeless refugees flocked into Richmond, but even these were hopeful and defiant, almost proud of their early martyrdom, ready to serve the cause by “doing all their hands found to do with their might.”

If anything had been needed to inspire hope, to arouse patriotic pride, the appearance of Johnston’s army as it passed through Richmond on its way to the Peninsula to foil once more the “On-to-Richmond” plans of the enemy would have more than sufficed.

Oh, what days were those, which came unheralded, to write their history in letters of fire upon the records of the city of Richmond!

General Johnston had kept his own counsel.  Says Pollard:  “With such consummate address was this move managed, that our own troops had no idea of what was intended until the march was taken up.”  Soldiers had been continually passing through the city, but by companies or regiments, each in its turn admired and enthusiastically cheered.  Now, when seemingly countless legions swept by with martial tread, their resounding footsteps and splendid appearance equally with the roll of many drums and the clash of regimental bands stirred the hearts of the multitude thronging the sidewalks, crowding every door-way and gallery, “mounting wall and battlement, yea, even to chimney-top;” not, indeed, to see a “great Caesar,” but to hail with wildest delight a magnificent army, of which the humblest soldier was a “greater than Caesar,” inasmuch as he was ready to sacrifice upon the altar of patriotism all that the Roman conqueror held most dear first of all,—­personal ambition.

Among the crowd, side by side with the ladies resident in Richmond, stood mothers, wives, sisters, from other Southern States, looking eagerly for the well-known uniform worn by their own, proudly pointing them out as they passed, even to utter strangers, sure of warmest sympathy, following them with longing eyes until they were lost to sight, hundreds, alas! forever.

Among the gayly-fluttering banners borne proudly aloft some were ragged and torn by shot or shell.  As each of these appeared men shouted themselves hoarse, women drew shuddering sighs and grew deathly pale, as if realizing for the first time the horrors of war and the dangers their loved ones had passed.

For several days this excitement was kept up.  All night heavy artillery rumbled along Broad Street.  At any hour of the night I could see from my window shadowy figures of mounted men, could hear the ceaseless tramp of cavalry horses.  Every day the sun shone upon the glittering bayonets and gay flags of swiftly-passing soldiery.  The air was flooded with music until the last strain died away, and the calm which preceded a terrible storm of battle fell upon the city.