Siege of Washington, D.C., written expressly for little people

By F. Colburn Adams

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Title: Siege of Washington, D.C.

Author: F. Colburn Adams

Release Date: November, 2003  [Etext #4668]
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SIEGE OF WASHINGTON, D.C.

WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR LITTLE PEOPLE.

BY F. COLBURN ADAMS, CAPT.,

AUTHOR OF THE "STORY OF TROOPER," AND OTHER BOOKS.

NEW YORK:

1867






PREFACE.





MY publisher gives it as his opinion that a great many persons will
be offended at what I have said in this work. He thinks, also, that
"quite a number" of our great generals will be seriously disturbed
in their dignity on seeing what liberties my artist has taken with
them. Such opinions as these are rather too common with publishers
in this country, who generally take very narrow views as to what
public men think and do. This work was not written to offend, but to
amuse and instruct little people. I have too much respect for our
great generals to believe that they will feel offended at what I
have said of them. Some of our little generals may perhaps take
exception to the positions my artist has assigned them, and feel
disposed to make war on him. But there will be nothing new in this,
inasmuch as any close observer of the war must have seen that these
little generals were always more fierce in making war on writers and
artists than courageous in facing the enemy. That the Siege of
Washington was the most remarkable military event history has any
account of, is very well understood among those who participated in
it. I must beg the reader, then, not to place false judgment on the
pleasantry introduced here and there, since I have recorded, with
great care and correctness, all the military movements, that took
place during that memorable occasion.

F. COLBURN ADAMS.

WASHINGTON, D. C., January 15, 1867.






CONTENTS.





I.-WASHINGTON A REMARKABLE CITY
II.-GOING TO WAR TO SETTLE OUR DIFFICULTIES
III.-THE FORTS AROUND WASHINGTON
IV.-COMING HOME AFTER THE BATTLE OF BULL RUN
V.-BRAVE ARMY OF THE POTOMAC
VI.-NOBODY HOME AT YORKTOWN
VII.-POPE DID IT
VIII.-HOW GENERAL POPE CAME TO TOWN
IX.-BRIGHT PROSPECTS AHEAD
X.-THE GENERAL THAT FOUGHT THE BATTLE OF CHANCELLORVILLE
XI.-HANGING IN THE BALANCE
XII.-ALARMING SYMPTOMS OF THE ENEMY'S APPROACH
XIII.-THE GREAT COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF TAKES THE FIELD
XIV.-THE WAY GENERAL EARLY CAME TO TAKE THE CITY
XV.-A REBEL GENERAL BROUGHT TO GRIEF
XVI.-THE DISTINGUISHED STATESMAN WHO ENGAGED IN THE WORK OF
  REBELLION WITH GREEN SPECTACLES ON






SIEGE OF WASHINGTON.

A TRUE AND AUTHENTIC STORY, WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR LITTLE PEOPLE.

CHAPTER I.

WASHINGTON AS A REMARKABLE CITY.





YOU, my son, have heard, and perhaps read, how Rome was once saved
by a goose. There were, as you know, my son, a great many geese
abroad during the siege of Washington; but it was not through any
act of theirs that the city was saved. As I love you dearly, my son,
so is it my first desire to instruct you correctly on all subjects
in which the good of our great country is concerned. Before
concluding my history of this remarkable siege, I shall prove to
your satisfaction that Washington was saved, and the fate of the
nation determined, by a barrel of whisky.

Let me say to you, my son, that the siege of Washington, however
much people abroad may laugh at it, was one of the most
extraordinary events in the history of modern warfare. It took place
in the year of our Lord, 1864; and there is no other event in the
war of the great rebellion to compare with it. You will, therefore,
my son, understand why it is that the history of an event of so much
importance should be written only by an impartial historian--one who
has courage enough to tell the truth, and no official friends to
serve at the expense of honor. I must tell you, also, my son, that
the great military problem of this siege has afforded a subject of
deep study for our engineers, from General Delafield downward, who
have puzzled their wits over it without finding a solution.

Should we be unfortunate enough to have another great war, and the
nation again be compelled to give itself up to the profession of
arms, the conduct of this siege would afford us an excellent
example, as well as a profitable key to the art of war, as
understood by our War Department in the said year of our Lord, 1864.
This, then, is another reason why this great military event should
be faithfully rendered. I will also add, my son, that though I may
fail to instruct you after the manner and style of the most profound
historian of our day, I will at least make my account of this great
siege so plain and simple that you will comprehend it in all its
multiplicity of parts.

But first let me tell you a few things about Washington, the capital
city of this great nation. You, my son, may have seen one hundred
other cities, and yet it will remind you of none of them. It is very
elongated, and spreads over a great deal of ground, apparently for
personal inconvenience. Indeed, my son, it has the appearance of
having been dropped down late of a Saturday night by some eccentric
gentleman who had a large quantity of architectural odds and ends on
hand, and had no other use for them. It has been famous always for
its acute angles and broad avenues. The former, I have heard more
than one person say, were skillfully arranged by a very
accommodating French engineer, for the special benefit of persons
who went home late of nights and were liable to get confused on the
way. The population is rather a curious one, and may be classified
as the distinct and indistinct, the settled and unsettled. The
census report, a remarkably unreliable account, has it that they
number "some" sixty thousand. A large proportion of this settled and
unsettled population is of such variety of color as to render it
almost impossible to define the nice proportions of blood it is so
strongly mixed with. On this point, my son, you must not be too
particular, but accept it as your father does, as a proof that the
races, whom we are told can never be got to live in harmony
together, have, to say the least, gone very extensively into a
system which gives strength to the belief that it could be done. The
French call this the commingling system, and their philosophers
argue from it, and with much force, that it is impossible to
establish the question as to what kind of blood the best society is
based upon. For myself, I feel that we can with safety accept these
French philosophers as good authority in such matters. You will also
find among the population of Washington natives of nearly every
country on the face of the globe. These speak no end of tongues,
follow all manner of professions and occupations, and what is most
valuable, preserve that delightful diversity for which what is
called the "old society" has always been famous. Picturesque hills
encircle the city at a distance, and a beautiful river flows past on
its way to the sea. The city has many fathers and few friends. These
fathers, while in an ornamental mood, built a grand canal into the
very bowels of the city, after the manner of Venice, that commerce
might be encouraged, and such persons as had a passion for moonlight
and gondolas could gratify it. But the people were not given to
sailing in gondolas, so this famous canal was diverted from the
object for which it was originally intended. It is now used as a
tomb where deceased animals of a domestic nature are carefully
deposited. The old inhabitants regard this tomb with a reverence I
never could understand clearly, even though I had sought for a cause
in their instinctive opposition to all and every manner of reform.
Indeed, the fathers of the city regard this grand canal as
performing a very humane part, inasmuch as it supplies an excellent
and very convenient burial-place for their domestic animals, and
increases the practice of a large number of doctors. The city
fathers, I am informed, find some consolation in the fact that other
canals have performed equally humane services.

And it came to pass, my son, that there was a great war in all the
land; and greater than was ever known before in any other land. Thus
Washington became the centre of our anxieties and our thoughts. The
people of the North, and the people of the West, and the people of
the South, who constituted the people of one great nation, had long
held different opinions as to the right of making merchandise of
men, of women, and of little children. Yes, my son, it was at last
claimed to be in accordance with Christianity to doom these people
to a life at once hopeless and miserable. As you grow up, my son,
and begin to think and act for yourself, you will think it very
strange that such a great national crime as this should have existed
in a land so blessed with the fruits of a ripe civilization. And it
will be a cause of wonder to you that a society based upon such an
abomination did not sooner break down under the burden of its
wrongs. And yet you must always bear in mind, my son, that men do
not view great crimes alike, and that even good and great men differ
as to what constitutes national rights and national wrongs. It is
said that great nations have gone to decline because their people
became blind with pride, and refused to think right. A nation is
always safe while its people think right; but you must teach the
children right before you can have the people think right. Education
and association had much to do in training the thoughts of men in
the South into wrong channels. Taking this view of the subject you
may find much to forgive in a political system that seems wrong in
your eyes and right in the eyes of its supporters. Indeed, my son, I
would enjoin you to treat with a reasonable amount of deference the
arguments advanced by those who differ with you on questions of
public policy, and also to remember that right and reason are your
strongest weapons. Never get angry with your opponent, never use
language that will cause you a regret; and if you cannot convince by
the moral force of your argument, abandon the undertaking. And
whatever else you do to advance your material prosperity, never let
it be said of you that you advocated a great political wrong merely
because it was popular and brought you the applause of the
unthinking. You cannot do so with a clear conscience; and what is
life without it?

I have, unwittingly, my son, wandered away from my subject. The
people of the South forgot all the great principles which govern
humanity for humanity's good; they were betrayed into wrong doing by
false friends, and made blind by their own prosperity. And they even
forgot that God was their truest and best guardian, and to Him they
must look for that care and protection which shall last forever.
But, my son, I would enjoin you to bear these people no ill will,
and remember how much better it is in the sight of God to deal with
the erring in the spirit of forgiveness. They were a brave and a
gallant people, who fought in the belief that they were right, and
with a heroism worthy of a good cause. It is only the meanest nature
that has no respect for the courage and gallantry of an enemy--that
cannot find in it something to admire. It was the selfishness, my
son, which slavery begat in these people, that perverted their
natures, and caused them to forget God.

Yes, my son, it was the curse of slavery that corrupted the hearts
and turned the heads of these people; that found them requesting the
race they had made suffer so long in bondage, to be thankful that
their sufferings were no worse. I never could, my son, see why any
human being, who had been made the victim of the greatest outrage
against his rights, should be thankful. The Church might, and did,
attempt to sanctify this greatest of crimes; but that did not change
the character of the cruelty and injustice. It will, no doubt, seem
strange to you that ministers of the Gospel should be found the
defenders of crime. And yet slavery found its ablest defenders in
the pulpit of the South. I am afraid it always will be so, for even
now we see ministers of the Gospel more ready to hang out false
lights to lead their people into darkness, than to give them that
truth and instruction they so much need. But you must not let the
thought of this lessen your respect for the Church. Examine with
great care until you have found out in what true Christianity
consists; and when you have, practice accordingly to the extent of
your ability. Never forget that it was the preaching of popular
errors that cost the nation so much blood and treasure, so much
sorrow and distress. That bishops should put aside their lawn, and
gird on the sword--that they should lead men to war and death,
instead of the baptismal, and all to perpetuate the sorrows of an
oppressed race, is, my son, only another proof that error may gain a
victory over truth in the hearts and feelings of the best of us.






CHAPTER II.

WE GO TO WAR TO SETTLE OUR DIFFERENCES.





HERE let me present you, my son, with an exact portrait of the
distinguished general who is commonly accepted as striking the first
blow of this war. He was kindly educated at the expense of the
nation, and was first among its enemies. For a time his fame ran
high enough, and timid people were inclined to give him the
character of a monster. But it turned out in time that he was a very
peaceable gentleman, and not so much of a terrible warrior, after
all.

But I want to tell you, my son, how it was that the people of this
great nation took to swords and cannon, to settle their differences
of opinion.

The people of the great North, and the people of the great West,
were educated to a very different way of thinking on the question of
slavery; and differed with the people of the South as to what
constituted a national blessing. They were willing, for the sake of
peace, to tolerate slavery, as a great evil it were dangerous to
attempt to remove; but it was too much to ask them to accept it as a
great national blessing. These people were energetic, thrifty,
lovers of right and justice, and had grown rich and powerful by
their own industry. They could not see why the whole people of so
great a nation as ours should be required to bow down and worship
what the rest of the civilized world had stigmatized as the greatest
scourge of mankind. Seeing the power this great wrong was obtaining
over the nation, as well as the danger it was causing us by
corrupting the minds of the people, they consulted together and
elected a President after their own way of thinking. And this so
offended the people of the South, who were a brave people, and quick
to anger, that they gathered together from all parts of their
country, gave up their peaceful pursuits, and went to war for what
they called their independence. But I always found, my son, that
independence was an abused phrase, much on the tongues of these
people. Indeed their idea of independence extended only to giving
one class the full and exclusive right to enslave the other. The
Southern idea of independence was so shaped as to contain the very
worst features of a despotism. But you must look with forgiveness on
these people, my son, and seek to forget many of those acts of
vindictiveness which characterized them during the war.

At the same time, my son, you must not lose sight of the lesson
which the result of this war teaches. Let it be a guide to your own
actions that these people went to war to tear down what they could
not build up, to destroy a Government the world had come to respect
and admire, and under which they had found a safe refuge and a
tolerance for their institution of slavery. But the edifice they
sought to build up crumbled to the ground, and they are now left
without even a safe refuge for their pride. Yes, my son, these
people scorned the example of the Christian world, went to war in
defense of a great crime, and ceased only when they had destroyed
themselves.

I have been thus serious while instructing you as to how the war
began, because I am aware that a very large number of writers will
tell you that it began in a very different manner. If the account I
may hereafter give of what took place at the siege may be less
serious, you must charge it to my love for the truth of history.
Indeed much that occurred during that remarkable military event, was
not of so serious a nature as is generally conceded by an
intelligent public. Unless, then, it be written down as it occurred,
we shall not convey a faithful picture of it to the public.

Now that the war spirit was full to the brim, the people of the
South gathered in great numbers on the plains of Manassas. They were
earnest, serious, and even savage in their intentions; and they
brought with them their powder and shot-guns, and a large quantity
of whisky. They also brought with them a great number of negroes,
who were to build the forts, and do all work it would not become a
gentleman to do. And while this work was progressing, the
"gentlemen" soldiers of the South were to talk very loudly and
courageously, and invite all the Yankees round about to come out and
get whipped. These people resolved themselves into a great and
powerful army, with Peter Beauregard, the French gentleman of whom I
have before spoken, for its commander. This gentleman was somewhat
eccentric, and much given to saying things, the true meaning of
which he did not understand. A waggish friend of mine once told me
that this Mr. Beauregard was educated for an apothecary at West
Point, a place where young gentlemen are instructed in the various
ways of getting a living honestly. Being very skillful in the use of
mortars, he was held by Mr. Davis as a most proper person to command
a southern army, inasmuch as he could give the Yankees all the
physic they wanted in the shortest time. And as it is always
expected that a great general will say a great many things that are
neither sensible nor wise, and which afford politicians an excellent
opportunity of picking them to pieces, he is a wise general who
issues his orders and keeps his lips sealed on politics. I say this,
my son, because it is popularly understood that a general who knows
his business bears the same relations to a politician that pepper
does to the stomach.

And it came to pass that the people of the North and the people of
the West became seriously alarmed at the capers Mr. Beauregard and
his men were cutting at Manassas. Indeed, many false reports were
circulated concerning the great power of this Mr. Beauregard; and
our people began to give way to their fears, and to declare that he
might enter the capital any dark night and capture or send the
Government on a traveling expedition. The aged gentlemen at the head
of our Government shook their heads discouragingly, and declared
there was no safety in going to bed at night while Mr. Beauregard
was so near a neighbor. The honest farmers in the country round
about were also very much alarmed at the unruly conduct of Mr.
Beauregard's men, who carried off their pigs and chickens, and eat
up all their vegetables. They also made a great noise, and planted
guns on all the adjacent hills, a proceeding the honest farmers did
not fully comprehend. Then these unruly men became very defiant,
felt like fighting the world, and, in the honest belief that they
could do it, invited all the rest of the nation to come out and get
whipped. Yes, my son, and to show what confidence they had in
themselves, they said we might bring "five for one;" and for that
matter, all Germany and all Ireland. It was considered wisdom with
them to say nothing about England and France. Those two peaceably
inclined nations might, at some future day, be disposed to step in
and help them out--in a quiet way. It was not so much humanity as a
matter of profitable trade with these two great nations, and if
things should take a successful turn, they might see the confederacy
in a strong light, and give it material as well as moral help,
notwithstanding it had slavery for its foundation. In short, these
Southern gentlemen acted on the wise axiom, that it will not do to
make enemies in a direction where you may need friends and
assistance.

Now, my son, the eccentric French gentleman, of whom I have spoken
as capable of administering physic enough to settle the question
with the Yankees, soon became an object of great admiration with his
noisy people. And this so pleased him, that he came in time to
admire himself, and to firmly believe in his own mind that the world
had no greater warrior. Self-confidence, my son, is one of the most
necessary things in war. I have sometimes thought that this element
of an army's strength was not fully understood. It was at least not
understood by us when the war began. If it had been, a much less
number of our people would have shared Mr. Beauregard's opinion of
himself. As it was, our timid people so magnified his proportions as
to see danger in his very shadow. But then, my son, we were very
innocent of the practical part of war when the great rebellion
began; and this innocence led us into the very grave error of giving
our adversary more than his proper dimensions. It was this that led
the Northern mind to over-measure Mr. Beauregard.

I have always had a good deal of sympathy for Mr. Beauregard, and
never believed him anything but a pleasant, harmless gentleman, who
got into bad company by mere accident. Nor do I believe he ever had
any more serious design on the capital of the nation than to look at
it longingly from a distance, and perhaps a desire now and then to
enjoy the hospitality of some old friend. That he would have played
the ruthless invader, if he had got into the city, no reflecting
mind ever believed. But then there were people ready enough to
believe anything in those days--even to believe that there was truth
to be found in the stories told by Mr. Detective Baker.

It was natural enough that Mr. Beauregard should amuse his soldiers
by telling them romantic stories of the pleasant days he had spent
in Washington, as well as the great value of what it contained. It
was necessary also that he should ascertain how far the Government
at Washington could be frightened, and what were the best means to
that end. You must know, my son, that a Frenchman regards it as one
of the first principles in war to find out how far you can frighten
your adversary before proceeding to fight him. This will account for
a good deal that Mr. Beauregard said and did while at Manassas, and
which, at the time, was somewhat unintelligible.

As we were not sure, however, as to what the real intentions of Mr.
Beauregard and his master were, it was concluded that we could
better preserve our respect for them, as well as the peace of mind
of our own people, by applying the proper means to keep them at a
respectful distance outside. Indeed the capital contained a great
many things which would be extremely useful to an ambitious
gentleman resolved on setting up a government of his own, and with
the machinery all working according to his own way of thinking. And
as the honest intentions of these ambitious men (I refer to Mr.
Beauregard and his master) were no more to be trusted than their
loyalty, we set our engineers to work building a cordon of forts,
such as the world had never seen before, and supposed to be strong
enough to keep all our enemies out. And these forts were mounted
with such reasoning powers as the largest cannon in the world were
capable of.

Among the things in Washington so very desirable to a gentleman
about to set up a government of his own was the White House. Mr.
Davis had long regarded this pleasant looking old mansion as a
desirable residence for a gentleman born to rule over a people. Once
comfortably seated in this pleasant mansion, a wonderful change
would be worked in the political opinions of those whose minds were
in doubt. Considered as master of the situation, his friends in the
North would increase fourfold. And there was no knowing the turn
respect for him abroad might take. A gentleman quietly settled down
in the White House, if only for four years, is sure to have a large
increase in the number of his friends, all ready either to accept
his favors or sound his virtues. Even slavery, that had scourged
mankind for so many generations, would have found a great increase
of friends and admirers if Mr. Davis had made a home in the White
House; so prone is weak human nature to bow to power. Indeed, I am
not so sure that, with such a turn in our political affairs, those
preachers who had been asserting the divine origin of slavery would
not then have proclaimed that God himself was its great protector--a
blasphemy the Christian Church will some day be ashamed of.

In addition to the White House being a desirable residence for Mr.
Davis, there were those fine public buildings so much admired by
strangers. They were just what Mr. Davis and his friends wanted in
starting a new government, and would come in very handy. With
Washington in his possession, and our worthy President and his
Cabinet locked up in the arsenal, or sent on a traveling expedition
into a colder climate for the benefit of their health, Mr. Davis's
new enterprise would become a fixture in the history of nations. And
there was a time when Mr. Davis could, with the means in his power,
have accomplished all these things.

The arsenal, too, was full of gunpowder, of great guns, of valuable
military stores and equipments. And these were just such things as a
gentleman resolved to be a ruler and have a government according to
his own way of thinking would stand most in need of. In short, the
powder and big guns might be needed as a means of convincing those
who differed with him that his opinions must be respected. This is a
queer world, my son, and man is the strangest and most
uncontrollable animal in it. Mr. Davis understood this as well as
any gentleman within my knowledge. And if he had kept as keen an eye
on his finances as he had on his political fortune, it would have
been much better for him. He knew that if he could show to the world
that his new government was sound financially, and likely to
continue so, his prospects would be bright indeed. And with
Washington, and what Washington contained, in his possession, he
could set up his claim to the confidence of the financial world with
more than ordinary pretensions.

It was indeed said (but I think in a strain of slander) that Mr.
Beauregard looked with an air of great condescension on our noble
Treasury building, and promised his fighting followers a share of
its contents as soon as it came into his master's possession. Indeed
it was said that Mr. Beauregard promised his men that when they got
Washington they should have luxuries for rations, and fight with
their pockets filled with silver and gold. And with their
expectations firmly fixed on a specie basis, who could doubt as to
what the result would be? This was the golden prize Mr. Davis hoped
to win with Washington. And with it he saw, or rather thought he
saw, England extending to him the right hand of fellowship, and the
Emperor of France making him one of his very best bows, and thanking
him for the liberty he had taken with the freedom of a people.

These, then, my son, are some of the reasons why we concluded to
close the gates of Washington against Mr. Davis and his rebellious
people, and to keep them closed by raising a cordon of strong forts
around the city.






CHAPTER III.

CONCERNING THE DISTINGUISHED OFFICER WHO BUILT THE FORTS.





I HAVE thought it no more than right, my son, to present you with a
pleasant, but very exact picture of the distinguished officer of
engineers, to whose skill we are indebted for the forts that more
than once saved Washington. I do this out of respect to the truth of
history, and from an apprehension that there are others, perhaps,
higher in rank, who may lay claim to the honor, at some future day.
I have also presented you with a more extended and complete portrait
of him in the frontispiece of this work. He appears here in his
usually calm, meditative mood, with his pipe and Professor Mahan's
last great work on fortifications. He is, I must tell you, my son, a
man of large brain, and generous nature, fond of his joke, and very
fertile in the art of rearing earthworks. In figure he is
Falstaffian, and when on his rounds among the fortifications wears
immense canvas-legged boots, and a hat with a high crown and
extremely broad brim. Indeed, his figure is what may be called
formidable, and there would be no mistaking him were you to meet him
on the road. And, notwithstanding his peaceable disposition, and his
scrupulous regard for the rights of others, the farmers round about
Washington regard him with fear and trembling. In short, my son, his
approach near a farm house is sure to send all the children
scampering with fear. And even the curs and other domestic animals,
seem to have an instinctive knowledge that his visits portend no
good to their master's domicil. It is curious to see those domestic
animals how they bark and snap, and then shrink away at his
approach, uttering signs of their dislike. In truth, my son, he has
a bad reputation among these worthy farmers, whose farms he quietly
takes possession of, and then indulges in his favorite amusement of
building forts on them. In this way many an honest farmer has
suddenly found himself dispossessed of his property, and his means
of getting an honest living; thereby bringing great distress on his
family. To remonstrate would be useless. He must submit to the fate
of war, and look to Heaven for redress. Now it is by no means
pleasant for a quietly-disposed farmer to have his home turned
suddenly into a fortress, and his acres made a camping ground for
soldiers, who are not the most desirable guests, even under the best
of circumstances. But the farmer lays all his sorrows at the door of
our distinguished engineer, forgetting that he is only carrying out
the orders of his superiors. Thus it was that he got a bad
reputation, just as General Gilmore got a bad reputation with the
people of Charleston, and South Carolina generally, for throwing
shells into their city.

While, then, our distinguished engineer progressed in his work of
building forts, with a view to saving the city, the people of the
North, and the people of the great West, seeing that war was upon us
in all its stern reality, were much agitated as to what was best to
be done. They were a peaceable, prospering people, and much attached
to the Government that had conferred so many blessings on them. But
the fire of their patriotism had already been kindled; and they went
wisely to work adding fuel to it. The trumpet of war had sounded
over the land, their gallant militiamen came together, boldly and
earnestly. And these they sent to Washington, by regiments, to quiet
the fears of the people, and save the nation.

Now these gallant militiamen were very full of courage, and their
courage increased as their numbers multiplied in the capital, and
they sent word to Mr. Beauregard and his men that they would be out
there soon and thrash him out of Manassas. Some of these gallant men
came for thirty days, others for ninety, our wise rulers being
satisfied in their own mind that the latter number of days would be
quite enough to finish up the small job of putting down the
rebellion. These militiamen wore gay and many-colored uniforms, and
had the fat of the land for rations. They were the nation's favored
guests, and every man was set down for a gentleman and a hero, who
would as soon shed his blood for his country as eat his breakfast.
And these gallant militiamen were organized into a grand army, so
full of pomp and circumstance, that we were sure the enemy would run
away as soon as he saw it coming. But in order to make the thing
safe beyond peradventure, we gave the command of this grand army to
General McDowell, a man of solid parts, a gentleman, and a
soldier. Our wise political rulers at that time held to the idea
that a gentleman who had seen service must be a great general. Hence
it was that General McDowell, being a gentleman and a scholar, and
ready enough to square his political sentiments with the predominant
ideas, was accepted as just the soldier who would lead our gallant
militiamen to victory, and never think of running from the enemy.
Indeed, according to our military politicians, we were to get no end
of glory through General McDowell's success. And Mr. Beauregard was
to be driven back to his master, bag and baggage.






CHAPTER IV.

THE BATTLE OF BULL-RUN, AND HOW IT ENDED.





I CONSIDER it of the greatest importance, my son, to present you
with an exact portrait of the very distinguished general who led our
gallant militiamen to battle at Bull-Run, and followed them home
without gaining a victory. Greater battles than this of Bull-Run
have been fought, as well in modern as in ancient times; but it is
my honest opinion that it has never had its equal in the small
number killed and wounded, as compared to the very large number that
got frightened and ran away. But I shall speak of this more
particularly hereafter.

When the bold McDowell had got the courage of our gallant militiamen
well up, and was sure they would look the enemy right in the eye,
and give him powder and shot to his heart's content, he led them
forth with such pomp and pageantry as had never been seen before.
Yes, my son, our gallant militiamen marched forth on the morning of
the 21st of July, 1861, every man a hero, and every man intent on
fighting the battle according to his own peculiar notions of how a
great and glorious victory ought to be gained. There was great
blowing of bugles, beating of drums, playing of bands, and
fluttering of colors; all of which told Mr. Beauregard to put in his
powder, that we were coming, and in earnest. The nation went into a
very fever of joy. Several of our grave Congressmen got up their
courage, put pistols in their pockets, and went forth with the army
to set our brave boys a noble example by their presence on the
field. Indeed, many otherwise reflecting persons looked forward to
this great clash of arms as a grand entertainment, which was to wind
up with a feast, to which the vanquished enemy was to be invited.
And to that end they went amply provided with provisions and good
wines. In truth, my son, there was a strong rear guard, made up of
Congressmen, editors, and distinguished citizens, all going to see
the battle, in wagons well-filled with luxuries. This was a new
feature in the history of war, and quiet people along the road
wondered at the sight.

The morning was hot and sultry, and the air was misty with dust
clouds. Our brave boys, who were not up to long marches, had a hard
time of it. But they were full of patriotism, and bore up under it
with great fortitude. Meeting the enemy near Bull-Run, we gave him
battle. That is, we pitched into him and he pitched into us, the
fight becoming general and extending over a great deal of ground.
Then the fighting became so mixed up and confused that it was
difficult to tell on which side victory was smiling. Indeed, neither
general could tell how things were going. For a long time both
armies kept at a respectful distance, under the evident apprehension
that somebody would get injured. In short, there was a great deal of
good ammunition wasted, and a great deal of wild and harmless firing
done. And just as we were about to proclaim a great victory over the
enemy--for many far-sighted persons declared they could see Mr.
Beauregard and his men with the toes of their boots turned towards
Richmond--a strange chapter of accidents occurred and changed the
whole scene. A number of our brave boys got killed, a greater number
got hurt, and a still greater number got frightened and thought it
high time to look to their own safety. A backward movement, not
ordered by our gallant general, began, and this soon resolved itself
into a grand race for Washington, where, it was thought, shelter and
safety were to be found behind its forts. What caused this sudden
backward movement still remains an undecided question. It was first
noticed among a regiment of brave Pennsylvanians, who had been
homesick for several days, and wanting to go home, started for that
purpose. The example of these gallant fellows was soon followed by
our Congressmen, editors, and citizens generally, each leaving his
stock of luxuries, and, indeed, everything he had, as a
peace-offering to the enemy, and resolved not to be outdone in the
race, especially in a case where it was made so clear that
discretion was the better part of valor. Indeed, these distinguished
non-fighting gentlemen proved themselves remarkably fleet of foot,
and not to be outdone in a race where personal safety was at stake.
But the worst of it was that their example was at once imitated by a
regiment of fierce Zouaves, from New York, who firmly believed, when
they went out to meet the enemy, that they were more than a match
for him. It is reported that these fierce Zouaves became very much
alarmed, and did some of the very best running of the day, under the
apprehension that they were followed by not less than a troop of
savage horsemen, better known as the black-horse cavalrymen, whose
sabres they had no taste for. But I have always been of opinion, my
son, that these fierce Zouaves were so intent on making the best
speed they were capable of, that they never looked behind them to
see if these savage horsemen were men of buckram or real substances.
I have also heard it intimated that the good speed made by these
red-legged heroes was owing to the fact that they had left their
courage at home, and were returning to get it. Another very
plausible theory I have heard advanced by an Englishman, who had
very profound ideas as to how war should be carried on and battles
fought. He very gravely told me (adding that he had undoubted
authority for his statement), that what set the gallant Zouaves to
scampering was this: There were a large number among them who had a
weakness for office-holding. Knowing this, a mischievous member
started the report that there was a vacancy in the New York
Custom-house. The fellow could not have done a more rash act, for it
sent them all scampering off the battle-field, each in the hope of
being first to gain the prize. Her Majesty's sagacious subject
contended that this sufficiently accounted for the good speed made
in retreat by that gallant regiment, and also for its leaving more
firearms than dead men on the field.

Indeed, my son, each man ran for his life, the excitement increasing
at every step, until the race became general; and in this way it was
kept up until our grand army of gallant militiamen reached the
forts, when they breathed freer and felt safe. This was a dark day
for Washington and the nation, which became bowed down with sorrow
and disappointment. The brave general followed his army into
Washington; and I have heard it intimated that he boasted of having
the most fleet-footed divisions history had any account of.

You will see, my son, that forts have a moral as well as a material
effect. The enemy might, had he known our forlorn condition, have
followed up his victory and marched into Washington with flying
colors. He was probably restrained by his fears of what we might
have in store for him when he reached the forts. As to the
provisions for the feast, we left them for the enemy to enjoy, which
he did with many thanks to us for the bounty, his own fare being
very scanty. And now, my son, I shall leave to my artist the task of
giving you an exact picture of our army as it appeared on its way to
Washington after the battle of Bull-Run.






CHAPTER V.





THE wise men of Washington agreed that McDowell was not the general
we took him for, so we sent for George B. McClellan, who had been
whipping the rebels up in Northern Virginia. We felt sure that he
was the man who would whip the rebels for us, and gain us victories;
who would dispel the gloom hanging over the land, and bring us
plenty of sunshine. Indeed, my son, the nation began to feel very
happy in the possession of such a man; for, according to the
newspapers, he had displayed remarkable military traits when only a
boy, such as great attention to the study of maps, and the making of
little dirt piles. It was also added that while yet a youth he was
very obedient to his father, and affectionately fond of his mother.
And these excellent traits of character, in one so young, it was
held by our wise men, must, when improved and enlarged by manhood,
make the man, who had given his mind to the study of arms a great
general. So, my son, you see what an opportunity there is before
you.

Well, George came to us flush from the field of his glories, and we
proceeded at once to make him a hero before he had made us an army.
The nation recovered from its disappointment, the sky brightened,
the people began to send into the capital troops of a different
sort, and the general we had put our faith in went to work making an
army--the grand old Army of the Potomac. Now, my son, it was no small
job to make an army, and when you have made it to so improve its
drill and discipline that it will stand firm and fight well. It is
just as necessary, my son, to harden the constitution of a new army
as it is to so sharpen its digestion that it will relish the
coarsest of fare. And you can do neither of these things in a day.
You must also cultivate and improve the courage of a new army. And
this can only be done by experience in the field. General George
taught his army to do all these things, and do them well. And the
nation felt grateful to him for what he was doing, and sang songs in
his praise. And the army respected and loved General George. And
General George loved and was proud of his army. The sky of our hopes
brightened then, and the nation rejoiced and felt strong again. We
all felt that when spring came Mr. Beauregard and his men would be
driven to the wall; that we should march on and take Richmond; and
that General George was just the man to do it all for us.

Then an evil hour came. The nation got in an impatient mood. And
while General George was hardening the constitution of his army on
the banks of the Potomac, a great many restless, discontented, and
evil-disposed persons sprang up, declared that he was no general at
all, and that to command armies was the business of politicians, not
soldiers. During war every nation has its mischievous men, who, to
create notoriety for themselves, make war in their own way on the
great soldiers who are struggling to preserve its honor. These men
were our misfortune. They proceeded to make war on General George,
to persecute him, and to destroy his usefulness with the army. These
men affected to know a great deal about war; but I noticed, my son,
that they were very unwilling to shoulder a musket and face the
enemy. They wanted General George to move on in the middle of
winter, drive Mr. Beauregard out of Manassas, and take Richmond. And
all this while the mud was so deep that he could not drag his wagons
through it. George very sensibly refused to destroy his army in this
way. Indeed, he foresaw that to follow their advice would be to
bring the nation to grief a second time. This increased the
discontent and opposition of his enemies, who regarded it a great
grievance that a general would not follow their advice.

But George was not to be driven into the mud by a set of meddlesome
civilians, who knew nothing about war. And to show them that he was
not, he kept his army quiet, on the banks of the Potomac, all
winter. And in this position he contemplated Mr. Beauregard, and Mr.
Beauregard contemplated him, separated by twenty miles of mud. We
had not got our war eyes open then, my son. In truth, we had but a
very imperfect idea of what an amount of resistance a resolute and
determined foe, standing on the defensive, can offer.

When it was spring, and the birds had come back to us, and the
prospect looked bright and cheering, and the hopes of the nation ran
high, George mounted his horse, and, picking up his army, moved out
in the direction of Richmond, taking the overland route. He sent
word to Mr Beauregard to wait until he came and he would thrash him
out of Manassas. But Mr. Beauregard was not inclined to accommodate
George with a fight at that particular point, where his elbows were
so exposed, and stepped quietly out by the back door before George
got there. In short, all George saw of Mr. Beauregard and his men
was the tails of their coats and the heels of their boots, away in
the shadowy distance. People said Mr. Beauregard did not do the
clean thing to slip away in such a manner. And there were those who
scolded General George for letting him get off in this shabby way;
but how he was to prevent it I never could see. Mr. Beauregard was
kind enough to leave us an army of log houses, and his smouldering
camp fires, around which a number of sooty negroes were grouped,
shivering and forlorn. And these were all we had to be thankful to
him for.

A great storm arose while we were at Manassas. Snow, rain, and hail
fell, the wind blew cold and piercing, and the face of the country
became melancholy. And the army became melancholy, and sick, for it
was stuck in the mud, and was suffering for something to eat, though
so near Washington. And the poor animals got sick, and began dying,
for there was nothing for them to eat. There was no following Mr.
Beauregard to Richmond over such a muddy road, which looked very
long then, and very dangerous. George was put to his wits to know
what to do next. There was no persuading Mr. Beauregard to stop long
enough to let us strike him square in the stomach, so George hit
upon a great plan, whereby wonders were to be worked in the art of
strategy. He conceived the grand idea of taking his army to sea,
avoiding the mud, and after enjoying a pleasant voyage, finding a
shorter and better road to Richmond. We all know at what a
disadvantage you can take a man when you get in his rear. George
felt that if he could take advantage of this on an enlarged plan he
could have Mr. Beauregard just where he wanted him. That is, if he
could get in his rear before he got to Richmond, he would have him
and his men hived, and could give them a good thrashing, and then
step quietly in and take the city. But it is not so easy a matter to
get in the rear of a gentleman who keeps his eyes open. Nor, my son,
have I ever before heard that it was wise in a great general to
perform a feat in grand circle sailing to gain an advantage over an
adversary who occupied the same roads with him. But George made up
his mind that he knew better than all of us, so he took his army to
sea, became a great navigator as well as a general, and sailed for
the Peninsula, where some good friend had told him there were finer
weather and harder roads.

The greatest of generals, my son, are liable to disappointment. They
may drive the enemy, and win victories; but they cannot control the
elements. That was what bothered George. It was all very pleasant to
give his army an airing at sea, but when he was safely landed on the
Peninsula, he found himself further from Richmond than when he
started. Instead of mud he found dangerous quicksands, into which
his army plunged and sank almost out of sight. And there was no
better weather on the Peninsula than at Manassas. His cavalrymen,
when they had got their sea-legs off, and mounted, cut a sorry
figure in the quicksand. And his artillery sunk above its boots.
Indeed it was with the greatest difficulty his army could be kept on
the surface. There was no getting a firm understanding.

When George had got his army "all ashore," he set out on his grand
journey to Richmond. But when he had waded for twenty miles or so
through quicksands, he halted before a little old town called
Yorktown. Now the old women along the road told George that he had
better have nothing to do with Yorktown, that Yorktown was not much
account anyhow, and not worth spending much powder on. They told him
also that although Mr. Beauregard had not been seen, there was one
General Johnson, who had just come to town with a large army; and
had made no end of sand heaps, and put mighty big guns on them. That
he would not find it so easy to get into Yorktown while General
Johnson sat smoking his pipe behind them big sand heaps. And so it
proved.






CHAPTER VI.

NOBODY HOME AT YORKTOWN.





THIS, my son, is an exact portrait of the general who sat behind the
great sand heaps at Yorktown, smoking his pipe, and gave our George
so much trouble. George and he had been old friends and playmates at
school, where they had played pitch and toss in a harmless way. So
it is natural to suppose they knew each other's game perfectly well.
George took the hint given him by the old women along the road, and
when he got to Yorktown he saw clear enough that his old friend
Johnston was playing a game of brag with his big sand hills. And to
show Mr. Johnston that he was not to be outdone in that line of art,
George, when he had settled his army down in the soft ground, went
to work satisfying the nation that he could build just as big sand
heaps as any other general. In short, my son, George found himself
in a worse predicament than he was in at Manassas, for his friend
Johnston had a large army, and stronger works than Mr. Beauregard
left behind him. So his army laid down its guns, and took up the
spade, and went largely into the ditching and dyking business. He
made sand heaps bigger than Mr. Johnston's, and stretched them all
the way across the Peninsula, so that there was no getting on either
side of him. And when he had done this he mounted them with the
biggest cannon, which he intended to fire when he got them all up;
so as to make a magnificent display of substantial fire-works, and
in that way frighten Mr. Johnston out of town. So careful was George
not to do his old friend any bodily injury before he got all his
guns mounted, that he would only exchange compliments with him at
morning and evening, when few shells would be tossed backward and
forward, just to preserve what was called the etiquette of war. I
have sometimes thought these compliments were exchanged with the
very best of motives, intended only to change the monotony of camp
life with a little excitement.

When George and his army had toiled hard for nearly a month, had
thrown up a whole mountain of sand hills, and kept on crying for
more soldiers, and had got almost all his guns mounted; and was just
ready to bring Yorktown down about Mr. Johnston's ears, with a grand
display of substantial fireworks, that general made up his mind not
to be served in that way. Nor would he accommodate George by waiting
to see his grand display of fireworks. No, my son, he was not the
man to be caught at a disadvantage, or waste powder unnecessarily.
Some kind friend informed him of George's intentions, so he packed
up his baggage one night, and moved himself off, leaving Yorktown
and his sand hills as a legacy to George, who was very much
disappointed at being treated so shabbily by his old friend and
playmate.

People said General Johnston was a cunning fox, and not to be caught
in any trap our George could set. But George, like the Irishman, had
a deal of pluck, and a big heart, and, above both, a great deal of
chivalry. Now he was anxious that his old friend should not go away
so shabbily, but come back, and either breakfast with him or
accommodate him with a fight. So he sent his rough-riders after him,
and they proceeded at a rapid pace, and came up with him on the
outskirts of Williamsburg, where General Johnston prepared to fight
rather than come to breakfast. There both armies came together, and
a great battle was fought, which lasted two days. There was
desperate fighting on both sides, and a great many were killed and
wounded, and a great many more so badly frightened that they kept
out of the fight, which they held to be a proof of their wisdom.

We gained a great victory over the rebels at Williamsburg, and made
them feel so ashamed of themselves that they resumed their march
backwards on the road to Richmond. And this battle and this victory
attached our good Union soldiers more closely to General George.
Indeed, my son, they loved him, and looked up to him as a dutiful
child does to a kind father. They marched up the Peninsula singing
his praises. And now, my son, let me enjoin you that whenever you
hear the names of Generals Hancock and Kearney mentioned, respect
and revere them, for never was American valor more beautifully
illustrated than by those generals on the field at Williamsburg.

Then General George sent the right wing of his grand army, under
General Franklin, by water, to West Point, where he fought a battle
with General Johnston's rear-guard, and gained another victory. Then
both armies moved leisurely along, up the Peninsula, in a manner not
to make the marching uncomfortable. It rained a great deal, and the
roads were bad, and the enemy resolved not to be hurried. And our
Government, which was not so wise in war matters then as it got to
be in time, was not disposed to do anything that might change
General Johnston's resolution. In fine, our Government seemed to
have quite as big a quarrel with General George as it had with the
rebels, and the politicians held it of more importance to destroy
our own general than the rebel army. The Government was just as fair
as fair could be in making promises to General George. But then the
Government seemed to have a short memory, and forgot its promises
almost as soon as it had made them. It promised to send General
McDowell, who was not far away, to help George fight the rebels and
take Richmond. But the Government forgot to do so; and instead, kept
that gallant officer looking from the hills of Fredericksburg, to
see if the rebels were coming in that direction. To tell you the
truth, my son, our Government was so afraid that the rebels would
turn short around and take Washington, and make prisoners of its
cabinet officers, that it made "look-out generals" of so many brave
officers, who had troops under their command, that it had none to
send General George to assist in taking Richmond. It may however, be
a consolation to us to know that this would not have been the first
time, in the history of the world, that fear had cost a great nation
its fortunes and its glories.

General George marched leisurely along with his brave army until he
came within four miles of Richmond, where there was a great swamp
called the Chickahominy. The name of this swamp will be long
remembered by our brave soldiers of the Army of the Potomac. The
rain fell like a deluge, and flooded it; and it gave out deadly
fevers, which brought death and tribulation on our army. And in this
swamp our army fought the battle of Fair Oaks, and gained another
grand victory over the enemy. But we had no means of following up
this victory, and so its effect was lost to us. Then our army
settled down into this deadly swamp, and wondered and waited for
nearly a month, until our men got heart-sick and fever-stricken. We
watched the enemy on the hills beyond; and the enemy watched us in
the swamp. And we waited until the enemy had brought all his forces
up into Richmond, and General Lee, his best general, had taken
command. Things began to look desperate with our George, and he
began thinking how he should get safely out of the swamp and change
his base. How was he to fight Mr. Lee with all his strength, when
the strength we ought to have sent him was kept at a safe distance
looking on? George saw that the glories of Williamsburg, of West
Point, of Hanover Court House, and of Fair Oaks would have to be
thrown away because the wisdom of the nation would not send us aid.

This, my son, was the day of our tribulation. The people were
strong, and the army represented the people. I wish, my son, that I
could say also that the Government was strong. But the army, if it
was sick, had not lost its courage, nor its love for the general who
commanded it.

General Lee then came out with his strong and powerful army and
fought us at Gaines's Mill, where he beat us after a desperate
battle. We might as well confess that we were beaten, and badly
beaten, in that battle; and that we had to make the best we could of
our defeat, and get across the Chickahominy Swamp as quick as we
could, and turn our backs on it forever, for we had filled it with
the graves of our brave soldiers. George was sanguine, had great
confidence in the endurance of his army, and looked forward to the
future with faith and hope. He did not want to acknowledge that he
was beaten at Gaines's Mill; but the nation made up its mind that he
was. Indeed, the nation could not comprehend the principle of
generalship that claimed a victory, and at the same time made a
change of base necessary in the face of an advancing enemy. But
George got his army safe across the Chickahominy, though in some
confusion, and instead of driving the enemy to the wall, as he had
promised us he would do, the enemy began driving him to the James
River.

Like the Irishman who had twice got his head broken, but was
unwilling to say he was beaten, George continued to show General Lee
that our army was still full of pluck.

So he turned round and thrashed the enemy right soundly at Savage's
Station, at White Oak Swamp, and at Malvern Hill--just to show that
he could do it. These are places, my son, you shall read of in
history. And the glories of the battles fought at them shall become
brighter and brighter as we contemplate them; and new lustre will
shed on the names of the officers who fought them, and set such
noble examples of courage to their men. It was George's misfortune
that he fought these battles and gained these victories while his
army was moving backward instead of forward--while seeking a place of
safety instead of driving the enemy to seek one. This makes a great
difference with the public, which does not generally study the rules
of strategy, and does not like to see an army fall back after it has
gained what its commander claims to be a great victory.






CHAPTER VII.

POPE DID IT.





HERE, my son, you have an exact portrait of the great general who
was brought to Washington to command all our armies, and to keep us
from making any more military mistakes. He is presented to you just
as he sat in his easy chair, confounding the rules of war and
bringing confusion on the army. This great general, though he had
never fought a battle, except on paper, brought with him from the
West a new and much enlarged plan for taking Richmond.

General George was on the banks of the James River, with his army,
pointing with his sword toward Richmond, as the heart of the
rebellion, and offering to take it for us if we would only send him
twenty-five thousand fresh men, which very reasonable proposal we
declined. Indeed the general we had placed in the easy chair at
Washington, over George, declared it as his solemn conviction that
Richmond was not to be taken in any such way. That an army so near
Richmond could not take it with advantage. That objective points
must be reached over the right road, not the wrong one. That General
George, having taken his army to Richmond over the wrong road, must
bring it back over the same wrong road, and then proceed on his
travels over the right road. That Richmond, unless approached over
the right road could not be taken in the right way. That General
George had deceived us, inasmuch as his plan had too much strategy
in it, and not enough straight lines. That Richmond, to be taken in
the right way, must be taken by a new general, with a new army, and
according to new ideas. That it was better to keep Washington from
being taken than to take Richmond, though we had a large army
knocking at its gates. This was the military logic of our new
Commander-in-Chief. And this was the great Commander-in-Chief who
was to conduct the war for us on enlarged principles and keep the
nation safe against blunders.

This great general, then, when he had got comfortably settled in his
easy chair, must needs show the people what faith he had in his new
plan. So he ordered little George to pack up his baggage, stop
knocking at the enemy's back door, and bring his army back to
Washington on transports. Of course the rebels were very thankful to
him for this act of kindness, as it evinced a disposition to conduct
the war for their benefit. With General George and his army on their
way to Washington by ship, Richmond was no longer besieged. And then
the rebel army was at liberty to go where it pleased. And it very
soon pleased General Lee to march it against Washington at a rapid
pace, and over the shortest road. We had an army at sea, and a
number of others we did not know just exactly where. So things
military began to get so confused that the people did not understand
them. They were requested to be patient, however, and patient they
had to be.

Well, my son, we brought the scattered battalions we had on their
front together at the forts, and soon formed a good fighting army.
But where was the new general to lead it to victory for us? The
government cast about it for a man, and at last fixed its eye on
Pope. He was the shining star among generals, the man to take the
buckrum out of the rebels for us. And it was said of this great
general that he possessed uncommon virtues. His friends laid
numerous feats of valor at his door, and the whole history of war
was ransacked to find another such a hero. He had captured Islands,
whipped rebel armies (I have forgotten how many), and bagged
invisible prisoners enough to satisfy a Napoleon. This great
general, too, was remarkable for his modesty; and he was also a man
of strict veracity. Yes, my son, considering the times, he was a
rare example of a man who never boasts of his achievements, nor
claims a feather that belongs to another man's cap. Such were the
virtues of this great general.

Well, my son, we sent for him to come to Washington and take care of
us, and he came.






CHAPTER VIII.

HOW THE NEW GENERAL CAME TO TOWN.





MY artist has drawn you an exact picture of the manner in which this
great general entered the capital of the nation. The skies
brightened, and the country felt safe again at the thought of having
such a hero. Children laughed and gamboled, and said the rebels
would get it now Pope had come to town. Dogs ran out, and barked,
and snapped for joy. The crowd pressed forward to look at him, and
policemen, for once, had enough to do. Fair women waived
handkerchiefs and threw him kisses. And many were they who marvelled
that so great a soldier had remained so long undiscovered. You see,
my son, we are a people much given to excitement, and when we get to
heaping honors on a man we do it without mercy. Hence it pleased us
much when we saw Pope come to town amidst the beating of drums and
the blowing of horns. That was the way he came.

I have spoken of this great general's modesty, my son. It will also
be necessary for me to inform you that he introduced a new idea in
war, one worthy of being added to the regulations, and that was that
every general should be his own trumpeter, as well as keep a number
of trumpeters in his employ.

Then Pope went out to see and have a talk with his army. He also
published a grand order to his soldiers, which will stand as a great
curiosity in our war literature, as long as the history of the
rebellion, for its wisdom astonished the people. He told them the
war had been carried on after a strange fashion, which he intended
should be changed. He enjoined them, in a word, neither to look to
the right nor the left, but to keep straight ahead, with their steel
sharp and their powder dry. And when they got near enough to the
enemy to see the color of his eye, then deliver their lead right
square into his stomach. That was the way war must be carried on.
Our army must look only to the front, keep its eye open, and forget
that there was such a thing as its rear.

This was highly encouraging to those politicians who said our army
must get to Richmond over the shortest road. After what I have said,
my son, you will not fail to see what a great general this Pope was.
Great generals were not generally generous enough to intrust the
care of their rear to the enemy. But this was not all. He
established his headquarters in the saddle, and told his soldiers
they would always find him there. My opinion has always been, though
I have never had much to do with war, that the general who
establishes his headquarters in the saddle, was not always to be
found when you wanted him. In short, the saddle is a very uncertain
locality, and very difficult to find when you have information to
convey, and orders to receive; both of which may be necessary during
a battle. I rode an hour once to find a general whose headquarters
were in the saddle, and did n't find him after all.

When, then, this great general had shown us how the rebels were to
be whipped, he went out to take command of his army. And again there
was great blowing of horns and beating of drums. And when he had got
his headquarters firmly established in the saddle, he invited the
enemy to come forward and get whipped. And the enemy came forward in
all their strength,--fierce and earnest, and a great and bloody
battle was fought on the plains of Manassas. And when they had
fought for three days General Pope declared his new method of
carrying on the war was a great success; that he had got the rebels
just where he wanted them, and would have them all in his trap for
us to-morrow. We all threw up our caps and felt so happy at this
good news. But our hopes were dashed to the ground again, and it
turned out that our Pope had made a slight mistake. It was the
rebels who had got him just where they wanted. The saddle was not a
good place from which to see what the enemy were doing. And as Pope
had given no heed to his rear, General Lee very wisely took the
responsibility of giving that important position his attention.

When, then, to-morrow came, our general, who was to give the rebels
such a whipping for us, found them in his rear, on his flank,
everywhere but where he wanted them. The very natural result of this
was that his army resolved itself into a state of confusion, and in
that manner came scampering back on Washington, leaving its
commander to take care of himself, which he did, though with the
loss of his wardrobe. It has been hinted that he returned to
Washington a much wiser general than when he left it.

The nation was again brought to grief, and fear and disorder reigned
in Washington. People were heard to say that Pope had made a
prodigious failure, and was not the general we took him for, or he
never would have let his army run away from him in this way. Others
declared he had opened the gates of the city to the enemy, and
invited him to walk in. And it was not with feelings of
encouragement that they saw gunboats move up and take position where
they could check the enemy's approach. Never did general lose his
laurels so quickly. Indeed, my son, when he returned to Washington,
with little else than his saddle, there was not a dog to bark him a
welcome, nor a chambermaid to wave a napkin in his honor.

Timid people fancied every hour of the day that they could see the
rebel army deploying over the hills of Arlington, and loud calls
were made for a general who could save us. But we had something
better than a mere general to save us. We had the grim and silent
strength of the forts. And these the enemy dare not approach. Their
effect on the enemy was manifest and he turned aside from them, and
passed up into Maryland, victorious and defiant.

I ought to tell you, my son, that while Pope was illustrating the
beauties of his new plan at the front, and bringing confusion on our
arms, General George arrived with his good old army of the Potomac,
which still loved him, still worshipped him as its hero. And just
when he was most needed, to save Pope from his disaster, the
government relieved him of his command, as if to increase the
confusion already prevailing. The army felt this as a slight offered
to itself, and called loudly for the restoration of its favorite
general. And then the general, whose portrait I have placed at the
head of a previous chapter, and who sat in his easy chair in
Washington, and brought our armies to grief, called loudly for
General George to come and help him out of his trouble. This, you
will see, my son, was first tying a man's hands, and then asking him
to come and help whip a giant.

Yes, my son, there was toil and trouble enough in Washington just
then; and the errors our wise men had committed were like witches
rising up and haunting them. It is said that the little bell-ringer
of the State Department had his traps packed up, and ready to move;
and that fear had made the burly man in the War Department civil.
Newly recruited volunteers, well fed, well clothed, and fresh
looking, were marching into the city with colors flying and drums
beating. The militia, which had come to Washington to do ornamental
duty for thirty days, were marching home with colors flying and
drums beating. Neither of these could give us relief in our trouble.
The nation had only the good old army of the Potomac to lean upon in
this its day of trouble. And how few of us, my son, think of this
matter properly, or are willing to give the brave men, who composed
that army, credit for what they had done. Like the English, we are
an exacting people, and inclined to ask too much of those who fight
our battles. Some of our public men were for forgetting what those
sun-scorched, ragged, and fever-stricken heroes had done for us on
the Peninsula, and even for wiping out their record of heroism.

I confess it was to me a sad and touching sight to see these
soldiers, who had served their country so well, who had suffered in
swamps, and fought and defeated the enemy, treated with what seemed
to me criminal indifference in the very capital they had returned to
save. They muttered their discontent at the loss of their favorite
commander, but were ready again to go forth, struggle with the
enemy, and fight for the life of the nation. But not a voice was
raised by the government to thank them for what they had done, not a
cheer to welcome their return. You must know, my son, that the
government was dumb with fear. The ghost of its errors so haunted it
that its lips were sealed. The people looked on and saw it, in its
very feebleness, asking for stronger hands to come and help it out
of its trouble.

There was, my son, but one army and one general that could save the
nation then. General George was that man, and the army was the good
old Army of the Potomac. And the government, as if to confess its
folly in the past, restored General George to his army. And there
was great rejoicing over the land when this good news went forth to
the people. And the army took more heart, and rejoiced also; and
great was its rejoicing. The soldiers had confidence in him, and
knew he could lead them to victory. Then he placed himself at their
head and marched out in pursuit of the enemy, who was advancing
triumphantly into the North. And who among us can tell what changes
there would have been in our political and social condition had not
the advance of this bold and triumphant enemy been checked by some
strong hand? I have often thought, my son, that if the people of a
republic were as ready to credit great men with the good they really
do, as they are to search their characters for faults, we should
have less pretenders and a better government.






CHAPTER VIII.

A BRIGHTER PROSPECT.





YOU have here an exact picture of the brave Franklin, who commanded
the gallant old Sixth Corps, which deserves a bright place in the
history of the Army of the Potomac.

When Pope had finished his job for us, and shown us what a hero he
was, the government, in the exercise of its wisdom, sent him into
the far West to fight the Indians, where he could, with propriety,
establish his headquarters in the saddle.

Franklin, who had been relieved of his command, for no one exactly
knew what, was now restored to it, to the great joy of the old Sixth
Corps. Soldiers fight better under a general they know and have
confidence in; and they are the best judges as to who is the most
competent to lead them. Franklin and his gallant corps fell in with
the enemy, posted in a strong position on the South Mountain, at
Crampton's Gap, and after a fierce fight, drove him from it and over
into the valley, sometimes charging up the steeps with the bayonet.
This was quite an important success, my son, since it checked the
enemy's advance, and caused him to fall back on the plains of
Antietam, and form his army in line of battle. Indeed, he so far
mistook this movement as to believe it an attempt to get in his
rear.

This gleam of success, gained by Franklin, inspired the nation with
new hope. Yes, my son, and it cheered the hearts of our brave
soldiers, restored their strength, and gave them new confidence.
Then General George formed his army in line on the plains of
Antietam, and a great and bloody battle was fought, and the rebel
army beaten and put to flight. Pay no heed, my son, to what the
prejudiced may say of this battle. It was one of the greatest
battles fought during the war. All honor to the brave soldiers who
fought it. Our troops, too, were handled with great skill, and the
world never saw better generalship than our George displayed. Yes,
my son, Antietam was our Waterloo, fought at a time when the nation
needed a victory most; and the general who fought it ought never to
be forgotten by his country. When, then, George had gained this
victory for us, had beaten and driven the enemy from all his
positions, and caused the nation to rejoice, he halted to give his
brave soldiers rest and repair damages. His losses were great, and
he had compassion on his soldiers, for many of them were without
shoes and had little raiment. In truth, my son, these brave, abused,
and war-worn soldiers had only the well-worn shoes and clothes they
had made the campaign of the Peninsula in.

George pleaded the necessity of his soldiers as a reason for his
delay, and very justly. But this pleased neither the government nor
the politicians whose bitterest prejudices seemed to control it.
These gentlemen urged that he follow the enemy at once and capture
him, a piece of strategy not so easily accomplished as many think.
In short, we were in no position to follow the enemy until we got
shoes and raiment for our brave soldiers. Nor could we have added
much to our success by following General Lee and his men, who had an
open country before them, until we were well prepared to engage them
in another battle. When, however, George got his army ready, he
moved directly on the enemy, and his soldiers were in the best of
spirits, for we had got General Lee and his men in a position where
he would be compelled to fight another battle, with the advantages
in our favor. Now I don't say, my son, that George would have won
this battle, but by fighting it he would have exposed the enemy's
real weakness, and placed him in a very bad position. But the
government, as if more willing to promote the prejudices of
politicians than to preserve the honor of our arms, resolved not to
let George fight another battle. Yes, my son, it removed him from
his command, and that, too, when he was close up with the enemy, and
was expecting every day to engage him in battle. I do not remember
that history records another instance where the commander of an
army, that had just gained a great victory, was so disgraced by his
own government.

The enemy could not have inflicted a more severe blow on our brave
army than was done by this act of our own government. A feeling of
disappointment and sorrow ran through the ranks, and the brave men
who had fought under and loved their commander, wept at the
injustice that took him away from them. It will, in time, be made
clear, my son, that the government committed a great crime against
our army by this act. It cannot be wisdom to remove a commander, so
popular with his army as George B. McClellan was, especially when
that army was on the eve of a battle. Such an act is sure to excite
dissatisfaction, and dissatisfaction destroys discipline. Nor should
such a commander be removed at so critical a time unless the
government were prepared to fill his place with one of equal, if not
superior capacity. A general, to hope for success, must have the
confidence and respect of his troops. To remove one who has, and
fill his place with one who has not, is a crime than which none can
be greater. It is a crime against the brave men whose lives are at
the risk of the capacity of their commander. Our government
committed this crime when it gave the command of the army of the
Potomac to General Burnside. That general was the best judge of what
he could do, and freely confessed his incapacity for so high a
command. But the government was not to be put off by this confession
of weakness on the part of a general, preferring to reward him for
his honesty, and make no account of his capacity. I accept this, my
son, as the only reason why General Burnside was given so high a
command. As for his capacity as a general, he gave us a proof of
that when he let the rebels fall back, and get well fortified at
Fredericksburg. To show, however, what a general could do by
attempting impossibilities, he sent the brave army of the Potomac to
be slaughtered by an enemy covered with stone walls. I tell you, my
son, it was a dark day for the nation when that was done. It
multiplied our misfortunes, gave a deeper wound to our grief and
sorrow, and brought disgrace on our arms.

I will pass over these misfortunes as lightly, my son, as possible,
hoping only that they will serve us as a warning in the future.
Having buried Burnside deep under the misfortunes of his own
incapacity, the question again came up, where shall we find a
general to do up these rebels for us, and gain us a little victory?
The great Grant was doing wonders for us in the West. He was bold,
earnest, and brave. And this was the secret of his success. But in
the East we were sorely troubled for some one who could do
something.

General Hooker was brave and bold. But, my son, he had such a
weakness for blowing his own trumpet. Yes, he could blow it as loud
and as long as any trumpeter you ever listened to--Pope excepted. He
had declared of himself that he was just the man to lead our army to
victory, and give the enemy a sound thrashing. It was true, this
general had been very insubordinate. He had said a number of things,
neither wise nor polite, of his superiors. And he had set an example
to his soldiers not inclined to improve their discipline. As,
however, he had declared himself the man to lead our army to
victory, and the government wanted just such a man, it took the
general at his word, and gave him the command.

There were some people, my son, unkind enough to say, and say
boldly, that the government did this strange act more to show its
appreciation of insubordination than out of respect to his capacity
to discharge successfully the duties of his high position. When,
however, the general had talked himself into the very best opinion
of himself, he went to work nursing his grand army into good order.
Yes, my son, the old army of the Potomac was a grand army, and
General Hooker declared it was the finest on the face of the globe.
And he nursed it into good order on the left bank of the
Rappahannock, from December, 1862, to early April, 1863. The general
could get up of a morning, and enjoy a look at his old friend Lee,
quietly domiciled on the opposite bank. And General Lee could get up
of a morning, and do the same. Both generals regarded this as a very
harmless and pleasant way of spending the winter, while carrying on
the war. They would, at times, it is true, exchange compliments of a
belligerent nature. But this was only to give a lively turn to the
state of affairs around Fredericksburg. They were, I can assure you,
my son, not intended to harm any one.






CHAPTER IX.

CHANCELLORVILLE, AND THE CURIOUS FIGHT WE HAD THERE.





I AM sure my friends will all be anxious to see a portrait of the
great general who fought the great battle of Chancellorville. And my
artist has been particularly careful to present them with a good
one.

Chancellorville was a strangely fought battle, my son; I have
various good reasons for saying this, but, perhaps, it is best that
as little as possible be said concerning them.

When spring came, and the roads were dry, and the robins had begun
to sing in the trees, and the buds to put forth, General Hooker
began to feel strong, and full of battle. He said to his officers
that they must get their courage up, and be ready for a big fight,
every one in his own way. And to his men he said, that they must
have plenty of powder in their pouches, and not be afraid to use it.
A general to be successful, my son, must have confidence in himself.
General Hooker had confidence in himself, and felt that he could
whip the rebels out of their boots any fine morning. Hence it was,
that feeling in a fighting humor one morning in early April, he
picked up his army, and, crossing the stream, went in pursuit of the
enemy. He found the enemy posted in the woods near Chancellorville,
where he engaged him in a fierce and desperate battle. But the
general's plan, if he had any, soon got out of his head, and it
became apparent that he was fighting the battle in so strange a
manner that no one could understand it. In truth, the general set
aside the established rules of war early in the battle, and went
back to first principles. These give every man the right to fight in
his own way, and is beautifully illustrated in an army fighting
without orders. I am told, my son, on very good authority, that
these "first principles," as applied to fighting battles, never were
better developed than at Chancellorville. I am afraid, my son, we
shall never get a complete and accurate history of that
extraordinary battle, for the reason that no historian will be found
capable of describing it. It is certain that the battle had not
raged long when our army was in a state of uncertainty and
confusion. Sometimes the fight was between different brigades or
divisions of our own troops, who were as often brought face to face.
The enemy liked this, for it helped him to fight the battle without
reinforcements, and saved him a deal of trouble and loss. When we
had got a great many men killed in this way, and a great many more
severely hurt, the great question arose as to who had won the
battle, and who got whipped. There can be little doubt as to the
impression made on General Lee's mind on this point. General Hooker
was sure he had gained a great victory, and yet he was not so sure.
I say he was not so sure, since he found it necessary, before
settling the question, to withdraw his army to his old quarters on
the other side of the river. It is clear that the general's
reflections would be less disturbed in his old quarters, and, with a
river separating him from the enemy, he could form a more correct
judgment as to whether he had beaten the enemy, or the enemy had
beaten him. Feeling, however, that it would not do to let it get out
that the enemy had beaten him, he resolved that it must be true that
he had beaten the enemy. This was about the most accommodating
settlement he could arrive at. But, accepting this in good faith, I
never could see the necessity for our haste to get back to our old
quarters on the hills, notwithstanding the general's friends said it
looked like rain, and he was anxious to get his army over before the
shower came on. I have noticed, also, that the rebel army, when
beaten, generally fell back in the direction of Richmond. In this
instance, however, he held his positions, beat his drums, blew his
horns, fluttered his flags, and was altogether the most defiant of
vanquished enemies. I noticed, also, that this vanquished enemy
packed his knapsacks, put his ammunition in order, and marched off,
not backwards, in the direction of Richmond, but forward, in the
direction of the North.

Yes, my son, the enemy marched defiantly into Pennsylvania, and sent
the peaceable Dutchmen in that remote part of the country into a
state of great alarm. And this I accept as the best proof that the
rebels were not beaten at Chancellorville. I am sure, also, that
General Hooker had sufficient reason to share this opinion with me.
He always had the rebels just where he wanted them, and yet I
observed that he failed to bring them to a stand before they got on
the free soil of Pennsylvania. Every honest Dutchman in the State
was convinced in his own mind that General Hooker, if he had been
the general he ought to be, should have driven the enemy into some
remote corner of Virginia, and kept him there.

The military atmosphere was still full of confusion and uncertainty.
And things seemed getting worse every day. Strange as it may seem,
the government continued making extensive efforts to further the
object of the rebel general. Fortunately for the nation, our wise
rulers waked up one morning fully convinced that General Lee was in
earnest, that he was already on the free soil of a northern State,
with a favorable prospect for making a settlement there. The
government also suddenly discovered that General Hooker, although a
brave soldier and all that, was not the man to command a great army.
So the government relieved him and sent him into elegant retirement,
a custom very common at that time.

Then the government appointed General Meade to the command of the
grand old army of the Potomac. Of this general little had been
known. Still, the nation felt relieved at the change. Now, General
Meade was a polished gentleman, a brave and good soldier, who had
fought on the Peninsula under McClellan and commanded the
Pennsylvania Reserves. To place a new general in command of an army
at a time when that army is in face of the enemy and expects every
minute to engage him in battle, is one of the most dangerous
experiments a government can indulge in. It is also one well
calculated to test to their utmost the qualities of the general
placed so suddenly in command.

It was the 1st of July, 1863, General Meade took command of the Army
of the Potomac, and posted it in order of battle on the hills and
plains around Gettysburg. There the two armies stood, the Union and
the Rebel, than whom there was none braver, awaiting for the signal
for the clash of arms. Then a great battle began and lasted three
days. And there was desperate fighting and great valor displayed on
both sides, and the field was strewn with the dead and wounded. And
the battle of Gettysburg was a great battle, and the Union army of
patriots gained a great and glorious victory over the rebels. Yes,
my son, and what was more, we celebrated it on the 4th of July. And
the people of the North were glad of heart, and rejoiced
exceedingly, and sang praises to General Meade, for he had fought
the battle well and won his country's gratitude.

Still, my son, we hesitated, and failed to take advantage of our
success. In truth, we let the rebel army re-cross the Potomac at its
leisure, although we might have given it serious trouble had we
pressed it at once. Indeed, there were a great number of people who
expected General Meade to either drive the rebel army into the
Potomac or capture it. But military men know that capturing a large
army, though it may have been beaten in battle, is not so easy a
matter. And even a victorious army, after fighting so great a
battle, needs rest and time to improve its shattered condition.






CHAPTER X.

HANGING IN THE BALANCE.





HERE, my son, is an exact portrait of the general who fought the
great battle of Gettysburg. When he had rested his army a sufficient
time he began moving in pursuit of the enemy. The rebel general fell
back into old Virginia, taking his time as he went along, and being
in no temper to hasten his steps. In short, we followed him back
timidly to Orange Court House, where he made a settlement for the
winter. There was a good deal of small fighting done during the
autumn and winter, but neither side seemed to gain any advantage.
The fate of war hung in the balance. If we gained an advantage one
day, the enemy would do something to offset it on the next. This
state of things was a source of great grief to the nation. The
people wanted something more positive for the great amount of life
and treasure they were wasting. They called for more earnestness and
more resolution on the part of our generals, and a better system of
carrying on the war on the part of the authorities at Washington.
So, my son, the people's impatience was at length heeded, and when
spring came (I mean the spring of 1864), and the people were weary
of the war, and demanded a change in the policy of conducting it, so
that an end be put to it as speedily as possible, the government
began to wake up to its duty. We had fought battles for two years
and hung the nation in mourning, and still Washington was as often
in danger as Richmond. Indeed, the fortune of war seemed in favor of
Richmond. Then the government began to see that if we would gain
victories our armies must be commanded by soldiers, not politicians.

Yes, my son, the people were excited to joy when the government
changed its military policy, and the great General Grant was brought
to Washington and placed in command of all our armies. The sun of
our hopes brightened then, for the people had confidence in that
general. He had whipped the rebels so well for us in the West, and
he had gained for us so many glorious victories.

And now, my son, we come to this remarkable siege of Washington. I
say remarkable, for it is destined to stand on the pages of military
history without anything to compare with it. Not that it was as
bloody, or that the city was as obstinately attacked and defended as
heroically, as some other cities that have been besieged, in ancient
as well as modern times. But you must know that sieges, like
battles, derive their great importance and all that makes them
remembered hereafter, not so much from the amount of blood that has
been shed during them, not so much from the impetuosity of the
attacks made or the heroic defences, as from the manner in which
they affect the fate of nations. Some sieges are remarkable for one
thing, some another. The siege of Washington was more remarkable for
the manner in which the city was defended than the manner in which
it was attacked. No fields were fertilized with carnage, nor banners
bathed in blood.

You, remember, my son, the tale of storied Troy, with all its "pomp
and circumstance of glorious war." But, my son, it has never seemed
to me more interesting than the passage of Thermopyl‘. Nor will
Agamemnon live in history after Leonidas is forgotten. And yet these
events in ancient war were small compared with the battles our Grant
fought. His deeds will brighten as you read of them in history, and
become greater than them all.

And now, my son, let us hie to the siege of Washington. Washington
was besieged and Washington was saved; and the history of its
salvation must not perish. Rome, you know, was saved by the cackling
of a goose. And when I tell you that Washington, the capital city of
this great nation was saved by the too free use of a barrel of
whisky, you must not be surprised. When its great circle of
fortifications, now bristling with cannon, and filled with busy
soldiers, shall become so many grassy mounds, their history must
still live to excite the patriotism of those who come after us.

Remember, my son, that had Washington fallen the nation had
perished. To this remarkable siege, then, and its results, let all
the succeeding glories of this great Republic be attributed.

As I have told you before, my son, after the first battle of
Manassas, when our militia did such good running, there was nothing
to prevent the rebels from entering and capturing it but the few
hastily constructed forts, or tˆtes de pont, on the Virginia side.
Nor could these have offered any resistance worth naming. Our
demoralized troops, however, never halted until they got safe inside
of them. And but for these forts, weak as they were, the city would
have fallen. When General McClellan assumed command, he saw at once
the necessity of properly fortifying the city. And the nation ought
never to forget him for his decision. Experienced engineers, with
large gangs of laborers, were set to work throwing up these huge
masses of earthwork. To this was added the labor of a large number
of the troops of the Army of the Potomac, during its organization in
the autumn and winter of 1861 and 1862. When, therefore, the army
moved for the Peninsula in the spring of 1862, the city was so
strongly fortified that it was considered safe by General McClellan
and his corps commanders. That is, my son, if its forts were
properly garrisoned, and there was a working force of forty thousand
men. But nothing was safe against the fears of a timid
administration.

But forts, my son, however strong, are only inert masses. They
cannot fight themselves; and to give them strength and action they
require to be properly and fully garrisoned. And the troops in them
require to be properly instructed in all their duties. Now, my son,
it was a question with the government, which was very timid at that
time, whether General George had left, in and around Washington, a
force sufficient to make the city perfectly safe when he started on
his memorable campaign. It is the opinion of nearly all our best
military men that he did. But the politicians got frightened, the
government got frightened, and the political generals got
frightened. And all the frightened people got their heads together;
and they made the President and Secretary of War believe just as
they believed--that Washington had been "unarmed," and that
Washington was in danger. Yes, my son, our good-hearted President,
who was no coward, was sorely troubled about the safety of
Washington. And his Secretary of War was also much troubled, as was
common with him on the appearance of danger. And the "Chief of
Staff" was also in trouble, and went to issuing orders, of a
memorable kind, few of which were understood, much less obeyed. The
result of all this was that there was great conflict of action. I
have no better name to call it by, my son. Hence it was, my son,
that our good President halted McDowell, and McDowell's corps. And
both looked on from a distance while General George was fighting
desperate battles with the enemy. This was the way the War
Department carried on the war at that time. Now, my son, it is my
purpose to so instruct you that you will know the whole truth
concerning the way the war was carried on.

The detention of General McDowell and his corps, while it
illustrated the great anxiety of the President and Secretary of War
for the safety of Washington, caused the failure of the campaign on
the Peninsula. All the sophistry in the world, my son, cannot change
that decision.

General George, with his army, was driven to the James River, and as
the enemy, then at Richmond, was between him and General Pope, and
might strike either at his pleasure, the government's fears about
Washington so increased that General George was finally recalled
from the James, to save the capital. The result was, as I have told
you before, that General Pope was driven back with the wreck of his
army to the very gates of the capital, and General George arrived
barely in time to save it. Yes, my son, General George, not only so
saved the capital, but extricated the government and the Chief of
Staff out of the difficulties they had brought on themselves.

When, then, the victorious rebel army turned aside from the
fortifications of Washington, and marched triumphantly into
Maryland, strong garrisons were left in the forts, and more troops
were poured into the city to insure its safety. It was, indeed,
resolved by the government, which began now to profit by experience,
and by the fact that the capital of the nation had twice been placed
in extreme peril, that for the future, come what might, it should at
least be made secure. Experienced officers of rank were placed in
command of the defenses, north as well as south of the Potomac. The
troops were drilled constantly, and soon became good artillerists.
They were also instructed in and soon became efficient in the art of
defending forts. They studied well, and became familiar with the
ground in their front; and, what was more than all, they knew their
guns, and how to fight them. I have been very particular concerning
these things, my son, because I desire to impress you with their
future importance.

But alas for the instability of human resolutions! Washington was to
be exposed, after all.

You will remember, my son, how everybody was seized with admiration
at the ease with which the great General Grant picked up the Army of
the Potomac, and moved off with it against the rebels. That was in
the month of May, 1864. It was then that the army moved against
Richmond for the last time: that is, not to return to us until it
had captured that rebel stronghold.

Grant had not gone far when he met a more stubborn resistance than
he had expected, fought a number of desperate and bloody battles,
and lost a great many men. Fight and move forward, was his motto, so
he resolved not to turn his face towards Washington and his back
towards Richmond, as others had done before him. The terrible waste
of human life that followed his battles, found him in want of
recruits. No reserves of any consequence had been organized, and the
government were sorely troubled to find men to fill the thinned
ranks of our heroic army. Where were these men to be got from in
time to be of service?

Think of it, my son, we had 25,000 instructed artillerists in the
forts around Washington. Here was a temptation hard to be resisted.
These men could do good service in the field as infantry; and, in an
evil hour, it was decided to send them to Grant's army for that
purpose.

Then the great question arose, how were their places to be supplied?
How were the forts to be defended, in case of attack, without them?
It would not do to strip the defenses of all troops, and leave the
forts without garrisons. If we did, the enemy would surely find it
out, for Washington was full of his spies, and we should come to
grief. The President, the cabinet, and all the generals, had
resolved, from the first, that that this must never be done, under
any contingency.

But what, at the time, was considered a happy thought, seized on the
government. I have said a happy thought, my son, but it was a very
unwise one. Let the future historian record it, for it is recorded
in the dispatches, as well as in the acts of the government.

Yes, my son, it was resolved, first, that Richmond should fall in an
hundred days, or at least during the summer; second, that to insure
the fall of Richmond within that time, the experienced troops, then
in the fortifications of Washington, should be sent to the Army of
the Potomac; third, that to replace these and other garrisons, a
call should be made on some of the States for 100,000 militiamen, to
serve for one hundred days. To the end of developing this grand
idea, all the old artillery regiments were sent away to Grant. And
their places were filled by an equal number of "hundred days' men,"
nice and fresh, fresh and green, mostly from the State of Ohio.

I have no doubt, my son, that it will seem strange to you, as it
will to all intelligent readers hereafter, that raw troops should
have been called to defend the capital in the fourth year of a great
war. But the War Department carried on the war according to this
method then. The result is not just now very pleasant to
contemplate; but it was what ordinary foresight might have
predicted. Our error was the enemy's opportunity, and he quickly
proceeded to take advantage of it. Washington was in danger, and
Washington might have been captured with but little trouble had the
enemy sent the right man to command his troops. How near it came
being lost, and how accidentally it was saved, I shall record
hereafter, for the benefit of the future historian.






CHAPTER XI.

ALARMING SYMPTOMS OF THE ENEMY'S APPROACH.





I KNOW you will be anxious to see a portrait of the distinguished
general who was first assigned to the defense of Washington during
the siege. And here I have presented you with a very clever one.
This general, McDowell McCook, chanced to be in the city, when the
government, becoming alarmed, placed him in command, and sent him
out to defend the capital. This was unfortunate for the poor
gentleman, and he at once became alarmed at finding himself in such
a position, and so near the War Department. The poor man knew
nothing of the defenses, much less of the roads. And to make the
matter worse he had no troops to command. What was a general to do
under such circumstances? Although this distinguished general had
seen some service, and served his country well in the West, he was
in no way qualified to fill the position now assigned him. And I am
inclined to accept this as a reason why the government selected him.

But before I proceed further, my son, I must instruct you as to what
happened in the Shenandoah Valley just about this time, and which,
of right, should constitute a part of the siege of Washington. The
troops in the valley had been commanded by no less than four
unfortunate generals. Patterson, Banks, Milroy, and Siegel, the last
from Germany. Of the many misfortunes of these generals, the
historian who comes after me will give you a more enlarged account
than I have time or space to do at present. Heaven knows, they were
manifold.

When, then, Grant moved against the enemy with the Army of the
Potomac, General Franz Siegel was put at the head of a column at
Winchester, and marched up the valley with a great flourish of
trumpets. This German general was in high feather then, and declared
he would drive the rebels before him, like so many chickens, and
never stop until he got them all cooped up in Richmond. But the
rebels were not inclined to submit to this cooping process. Indeed,
they soon discovered that this General Franz Siegel was not so much
of a general after all, and that he had an eccentric way of moving
his troops. So when he had driven them, as he supposed, to
Newmarket, they turned upon him in a very angry manner, gave him
battle, defeated him, and forced him back in disorder. This was
unfortunate for Siegel, and more unfortunate for his German
admirers, who declared him to be the greatest general of modern
times. But he had fought this battle so badly that the government
for once made up its mind that it would be wisdom not to let him try
his hand at another.

Major-General David Hunter was fixed upon as the right man to reform
Siegel's disordered army and correct his mistakes. Hunter had
patriotism enough, and no man doubted his courage. He was earnest in
the defense of right, even zealous in the cause of his country, and
quick in the punishment of traitors, with whom he was not in very
high favor. The general took command of this disordered army, and so
managed as to get a little discipline and some degree of order into
it. Now, it has always seemed to me, my son, that you could put a
general to no more severe trial than to place him at the head of an
army demoralized by the inefficiency of his predecessor and expect
him to fight battles and gain victories. And yet General Hunter did
this and to the satisfaction of the country. Had he been less active
with the torch, his reward in history would have been much higher.

Well, my son, the general marched with his army, and reorganized it
as he marched. And he met the enemy, and he fought him, and fought
him well, and whipped him well, and drove him back up the valley, to
the very gates of Lynchburg. But there, my son, he stopped. His
supplies had given out, and the enemy had detached a large force,
and sent it to reinforce the rebel army at Lynchburg. Our great
Chief of Staff at Washington had promised that this should not be
done, without timely notice being sent to Hunter. But it was done,
and done without any notice being sent by the Chief of Staff, whose
spies were found wanting when most needed. General Sheridan, too,
was detached from the Army of the Potomac with two brigades of
cavalry, and sent to form a junction with and succor Hunter. But the
Chief of Staff failed to send Hunter any information concerning this
movement, and hence Hunter was kept in ignorance of its design.
Sheridan was driven back before superior numbers, and failed to
carry out the plan of his instructions. Had Hunter received
information of this movement, he would not only have saved Sheridan
from defeat, but, having formed a junction with him near
Charlottesville, could leave beaten the enemy and gone where he
pleased. So much for what the Chief of Staff ought to have done but
did not do.

Of course the gates of Lynchburg were swung wide open, and there was
nothing for the famous Early, who commanded the rebel hosts, to do,
but to come out and brush Hunter away from before them. And he did
this, and more than this. He cut Hunter's communications, and sent
him flying over a different road, to the Ohio River, in search of
supplies.

And it was now, my son, that the veritable Jubal, known to his old
classmates at West Point as the late Mr. Early, saw the road open,
and the great prize before him. Scorning, as it were, to pursue
Hunter, he marched directly for Washington by the most direct road.

It was early in July, then, when General Early, at the head of his
rebel hosts, reached and crossed the Potomac. And this movement sent
the people of Washington into a state of great alarm. The southern
sympathizers at the capital were in high feather at the prospect of
Washington being captured by their friends, the rebels. Magnificent
stories were set afloat, the government got into a state of great
confusion, and timid people went about shaking their heads, and
wondering what the War Department was doing. Everybody wanted to do
something, and yet nobody knew what to do. The Chief of Staff sat in
his easy chair, and issued orders by the dozen. The Secretary of War
ran about excited, and issued orders that conflicted with everybody
else's orders. The President, not to be behind either of them,
issued orders that agreed with none of them. The great wonder is,
that some one of these high officials, so much given to issuing war
orders, did not issue a proclamation, warning Mr. Early that it
would not be comfortable for him to bring his rebels this way.

I am not prepared to say what effect such a notice would have had on
Mr. Early, who turned his column in this direction, and, marching
with great rapidity, was in a few days on the banks of the Monocacy.
And, as if to increase our alarm, he sent that festive young
trooper, Harry Gilmore, galloping down into Maryland, where his old
friends received him with open arms, and entertained him
sumptuously. Never was hero so entertained by his friends. And when
this bold trooper had enjoyed the trip, and shared the hospitality
of his friends as much as pleased him, he went to work disturbing
our military arrangements. Yes, my son, he captured one of our
railroad trains on its way to New York, and all the passengers in
it. And, what was worse than all, there was one of our most
distinguished major-generals in it, and he was made a prisoner of
war by this bold trooper. Thus he cut our communication with the
North. He did all this, and walked away leisurely and unmolested.
Although his Maryland friends set him up for a great hero, I
confess, as there was no one to oppose him, not to see in what his
heroism consisted.

As you may naturally suppose, my son, these little affairs increased
our alarm greatly. Our authorities, generally, went into a state of
perspiration; and would have sent for General Grant and his army to
come back and protect us, but for the fear that that general would
not read the order correctly. In short, they had already become
convinced that Grant was not the man to turn back when there was
anything to be made by going ahead. Then our high officials called
on the North for help, but called in vain. The North was not
inclined to share the fears of our high officials, and had been too
often sent for to come and take care of Washington.

It was common with us, then, to keep a lot of third-rate troops
scattered around Baltimore; and over Maryland. These were hastily
got together, and placed under the command of that famous warrior
Lew Wallace. The administration was sure, now, that Mr. Early would
get whipped, and that the capital would be saved. There were,
however, a few unbelieving people who shook their heads, and were
heard to say that General Wallace was not the soldier to drive Mr.
Early and his men into the Potomac.

I must do the general the credit, however, to say, that he marched
out boldly enough, and engaged Early and his men in battle as soon
as he met him. And although he had pluck enough, he was no match for
the rebel, who brushed him away before him, and sent his scattered
columns flying back into Baltimore, in great distress. Perhaps the
only sensible man surprised at this state of things was General
Wallace himself.

When those who come after us, my son, shall read of this, it will
seem very strange that the fate of Washington, the capital of this
great and powerful nation, should have depended on a battle between
General Lew Wallace, and his undisciplined troops, on the one side,
and Jubal Early and his stonewall troops on the other. And all this
in the fourth year of the war.

Now this battle, if it can be dignified with the name, was fought on
Saturday, the 9th of July. General Early took no further notice of
General Wallace, but started at once for the defenses of Washington.
And there was nothing to oppose him until he reached them; and
nothing then but some cannon, and some men who did not know how to
fire them.

When it got rumored round that the late General Early was not only
aiming to besiege Washington, but was not far away from the
defenses, there was considerable of a stir made in official circles.
Timid people tried to keep their courage up in various ways. Heroes,
who had never been out of Washington, now talked like very heroes;
and it was intimated that the Treasury Guard would come out, and
take the field. Those who had no taste for fighting, and they were
many, found it very uncomfortable, because there was no way of
getting out of the city.

During the war, my son, I frequently noticed that when a battle was
going on at the front there was sure to be a large number of heroes
in uniform doing promenade duty on the Avenue. Their number seemed
to have increased prodigiously just at this time. It was noticed
also that they walked at a more rapid pace than usual, did an
uncommon amount of eating and drinking, and had a large number of
friends they were always ready to discuss the last battle with. I
suppose this was all for the purpose of showing the amount of
courage they had.

They were ready enough to go to the front to-day if somebody would
only show them the way.

It was now the morning of the 10th of July; and a bright breezy
morning it was. The symptoms of the siege now took a positive form
and became really alarming. These symptoms were manifested in a
singular manner at two prominent points of the defenses. A
dilapidated and very much distressed mule, his ears erect and his
tail askance, galloped down the road into Tenallytown, making a
noise so hideous that the quiet inhabitants ran out in a state of
great alarm. They then went to packing up their household goods,
their tubs, tables, chairs, and crockery, and getting them ready for
removal to a place of safety. In addition to this, the unruly animal
sent terror into the very hearts of a number of cavalrymen who were
out picketing the distant hills. These gallant troopers put spurs to
their horses and never stopped until they got safely into
Georgetown, where they circulated numerous stories concerning Mr.
Early and his men, who, they declared, had driven them in.

The other remarkable manifestation took place at Brightwood, a
sleepy little town composed of four houses and a lamp-post, and
situated not far from the city, on the Fourteenth-street road. A
distressed cow came bellowing into this town just at daylight, with
her head and tail erect, and driving the pickets before her. The
antics of this otherwise kindly animal caused a great scattering
among the gallant defenders of Fort Stevens. Indeed, I have good
authority for saying that they evacuated that stronghold more
suddenly than had ever been done before, scampering down the
Fourteenth-street road at a rapid pace.

In short, my son, they mistook this wayward animal for Early's
advance guard, and came to the very wise conclusion that a fort was
not a pleasant place to stay in when an enemy outside was throwing
shells into it.

The good people of Brightwood betook themselves to packing up their
traps, and pondering over the question as to whether they had been
disloyal enough during the war to claim Mr. Early as a friend when
he arrived. It was a trying time with the good people of Brightwood.

When, however, the gallant defenders of the defenses found that it
was only a cow that had so disturbed them, they went boldly back to
their guns, and were as full of courage as could be for the rest of
the day.

As the morning wore on, the evidences of trouble outside increased.
Scattering contrabands, some with bundles on their backs, some with
chairs, buckets and wash-tubs on their heads, others with the family
table on their heads. There was an interesting group of three--two
male and one female member of the African family. One of the former
had brought his banjo, the other his fiddle. The female had a tub
well down on her head. These poor frightened people came trotting
into the city over the Tenallytown and Brightwood roads, seeking a
place of safety inside of the forts.

Then the roads became blocked with all manner of rickety vehicles,
many of them of the most primitive description, filled with the
families and furniture of peaceable farmers, who had left their
homes in fear of the approaching rebels. A more grotesque picture
than was presented by this anxious train it is impossible to
conceive.






CHAPTER XII.

THE GOVERNMENT GETS AGITATED, AND THE GREAT COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF TAKES
THE FIELD.





THIS, my son, is a portrait of General Auger, a dashing, handsome
officer, and a courteous gentleman. He commanded the department of
Washington during the memorable siege I am describing.

As I have said before, my son, as soon as it was known that General
Wallace had been driven back on Baltimore in search of rations, and
General Early was close upon Washington, the government waked up to
the fact that the capital was in danger, and began to take measures
for its defense. Our good President, believing, in the honesty of
his heart, that his presence at the front would do good, took the
field. And the Secretary of War and the Chief of Staff went to
issuing orders that no one seemed to obey. Indeed, their orders only
increased the confusion that had already taken possession of
everything military. The regular officers in command of the troops
in the fortifications, and who knew the location and details of the
forts as well as the roads leading to them, were superseded by
strangers, ignorant of all these things, and even of what their
commands consisted.

Why this was, my son, I cannot explain. Perhaps the Secretary of War
will, when he gets his historian, at $2,500 a year, to write a
national history of the war. Some malicious people said the
Secretary of War had two reasons for this: the first, to show his
contempt for military science; the second, because he wanted to show
what fools some of these strange generals were. I have also heard it
intimated that the reason why some of these strange generals were
assigned to such important posts at such a moment of peril to the
nation, was because they were of sufficient consequence to be made
victims. And as it was always necessary to have a victim to cover up
and excuse the blundering of high officials, these men would come in
handy enough. But I never considered this a good excuse for thus
superseding the officers, the only officers who really knew how to
defend the city.

It was not surprising, however, that, with such an opportunity for
gaining distinction as the defense of the capital of the nation,
major and brigadier-generals should spring up as by magic. Their
number was truly marvelous. Nor was it strange that they should all
want to be heroes. It was a little queer, however, that they should
all be in the city just at this time, and seemingly without
employment. Each, on application, was assigned to an important
command, though but few of them knew the road to the forts, and
fewer still what they were going to command when they got there.

The alarm and confusion continued to increase as General Early and
his rebel hosts approached. And now the great question arose as to
who was to be regarded as responsible for the safety of the city?
Was it the President, the Secretary of War, or the great Chief of
Staff? people inquired. No, it could be neither of these, for the
President, though frequently seen at the front, seemed only a
pleasant observer, and gave no orders to the troops. The Secretary
of War and Chief of Staff were issuing orders, as I have before
described, and assigning strange generals to commands. It could not
be General Auger, for the War Department seemed to have forgotten
him, and he remained quietly in command of the department. The
Military Governor was discharging the active duties of his office,
and so it could not be him. Some persons said General Haskins was
the man. He had been in charge of the defenses north of the Potomac,
and knew them well. But it could not be him, for he had been
superseded by General Hardin; and General McDowell McCook ranked
both of them; and, as I have before informed you, was placed in
command and sent out to see to General Early.

This, my son, was very hard on General McCook, who found himself in
a predicament he would willingly have escaped from. It is no more
than right, my son, that I should give you an account of how this
general went to the field, and what he found when he got there.

Provided with a pocket full of orders, the general mounted his horse
late on Saturday afternoon and set out for the front, over the
Fourteenth-street road. The corpulent engineer I have described in
the early part of this history was assigned to General McCook for
duty; and this officer, and two sorry-looking orderlies, were all
that bore him company. The corpulent engineer alone knew the
military roads, and the location of the forts, which was very
fortunate. As they advanced over the road beyond Meridian Hill, they
overtook several straggling generals, each proceeding to the front
with a pocket full of orders, and generally accompanied by a single
orderly. Two or three of these generals seemed quite at a loss as to
where they were going, or what they were to command. I have thus
explained this matter to you, my son, to show you what a nice way
our war authorities had of producing confusion.

When the general and his staff, which I have described above, were
well nigh Brightwood, he halted to inquire, of the alarmed negroes
and straggling citizens who were wending their way into the city,
what news they had of the enemy outside. But no trustworthy
information could he get from any of them. They all knew that
General Early was coming; and that they had left just before he had
got to where they lived. This sort of information was not exactly
the kind a general would consider it safe to base his plan of
operations on. Nor was the general any more fortunate in getting
information concerning the enemy from a number of squads of cavalry,
whose business it seemed to be to ride excitedly to the front and
then ride excitedly back again. Indeed, the whole business of these
doughty troopers, it seemed to me, was to increase the alarm and
confusion.

It was nearly sundown, the weather was hot and oppressive, and the
general was full of troubles. The worst of these was that he could
not find the troops he was sent to command. Nor could he get any
tidings concerning General Early and his rebels. Hence it was that
he concluded, and very naturally, that the enemy would not be within
sight of the defenses until morning, and that the city would at
least be safe until that time without any more of his generalship.

He therefore went into camp for the night, pitching his headquarters
in a clump of wood near Rock Creek, and not far from Crystal Spring.
And here let me record that the general had not even a camp guard.
To make the matter worse, there was no forage for the horses, and
nothing for supper. Never was general so much to be pitied. The two
orderlies, however, were willing fellows, and soon had a fire
lighted. They then proceeded to a neighboring house, and got
refreshments for the general, without which he must have gone hungry
to bed.

As the night advanced, the discomforts of the situation increased.
In short, it may as well be confessed, the general's headquarters
were besieged long before midnight, and that sleep was a thing not
to be enjoyed. You may have made up your mind that the besiegers
were an advance guard of the rebels; but they were not. They were
nothing less than an army of fierce musquitoes, who made such a
persistent attack on the general and his staff as to make his
position almost untenable. In truth, they so harassed the corpulent
engineer, in rear and flank, that he mounted his horse and returned
to the city, where he spent a comfortable night at Willard's Hotel,
and went back in the morning refreshed. My authority for this is the
distinguished engineer himself.

A little after midnight, the two orderlies became seriously alarmed
(I ought to mention that one was recently from Cork, and the other
from Kerry), and reported to the general that a conversation was
being carried on in an unknown language by two persons in the woods
beyond, and whom they verily believed to be spies of the enemy. The
general was not a little perplexed at this intelligence, for the
better informed orderly declared, that while one shouted in very bad
Irish, the other seemed to answer him in Dutch. The general listened
attentively for a minute or more, when the noise was again heard. It
turned out, however, that the intruders were only a pair of owls,
who had perched in some trees near by, and were exchanging hootings
for their own entertainment.






CHAPTER XIII.

THE KIND OF REINFORCEMENTS WE HAD TO DEFEND THE CITY.





THIS is an exact portrait of General Jubal A. Early, who was sent to
capture Washington, but arrived a little too late.

There was great excitement in the city during Sunday, the 10th of
July, and strange stories were set afloat concerning the arrival of
General Early, and his rebel army. There was also great excitement
in and around the forts north of the city. The hundred-day men did
not feel themselves safe in the forts, and those outside were making
a desperate effort to keep their courage up.

We had heroes enough in the city, but the great question was, how we
were to get them organized, provisioned, armed, and sent to the
front in time to be of service. The District militia, which we have
all heard so much of and seen so little, was not enrolled, and, of
course, could not be made available. It was said there would be some
desperate fighting done if the Treasury Guard only got to the front.
This valuable body of distinguished heroes was composed of nice
young men, who wore fine linen and patent leather boots, and in
appearance were unexceptionable.

It was a trying time for the nation, my son, and the young men of
this Treasury Guard felt that they had a duty to perform in
defending the capital, and must perform it with courage. There was
one little drawback, however, to their conduct as soldiers; and that
was, that each man wanted to go to the front encumbered with a
carpet bag, filled with sandwiches and clean shirts. Aside from
this, let me say, the guard was got in order for marching, and their
gallant commander, Colonel Floyd A. Willett, made a speech, in which
he declared there was not a chicken-hearted man in his ranks. And
when it marched for the front, which it did with drums beating, its
gallant colonel at its head, and Corporal Spinner, of Company B,
bringing up the rear, there was many a tear shed and handkerchief
waved by the pretty female clerks of the Department. Many of these
damsels had more than a friendly interest in these young heroes, who
they averred would never come back, but whiten the battle-field with
their bones.

As the War Department has not yet condescended to give us a report
in detail of the defense of Washington, I cannot inform you, my son,
of the heroic part performed by this distinguished body of nice
young men. There was a rumor that they returned to the city, after
the siege, in a very hungry condition; but had been so saving of
their powder and lead as not to waste a single round.

Now, our quartermaster-general was not to be beaten by any of them
when there was a chance for glory. Seeing the Treasury Guard march
off with so much courage and determination, the general mounted his
war horse, and assembled a whole brigade of his employees, as
gallant fellows as ever took the field, notwithstanding little could
be said of their discipline or soldierly appearance. This gallant
brigade was called the Bushwhackers, in contradistinction to the
Beef-eaters of the War Department. There was no mistaking this
brigade, for it was armed with muskets and bill-hooks. As it moved
off for the front, as it did with no very regular step, there was a
sight seldom seen. How else could it be, with our gallant
quartermaster-general at its head, and General Rucker bringing up
the rear! After a rapid march of four miles, the brigade reached the
front; and as no enemy was in sight, and there was no use for their
powder, the men went energetically to work, and did good service in
clearing away the bushes in front of the forts, so that our gallant
defenders could have an unobstructed view of the rebels as soon as
they made their appearance. This was a very happy thought; one for
which the quartermaster-general deserved the brevet he afterwards
got.

You will see by this, my son, that we were fast getting our gallant
defenders to the front. And now all that was needed to afford them
an opportunity to show themselves heroes was General Early and his
army of rebels.

I must also inform you that Provost-Marshal Todd, Captain and A. D.
C., had got a company of his men to the front, lying in ambush for
the rebels.

There was still another, and equally important force to be added to
our defenders. This was a brigade of what was called Ancient
Mariners, got together by that solid old salt, Admiral Goldsborough.
The admiral was brim-full of pluck, and his name had become famous
for not fighting the rebels afloat. Here was an opportunity to give
them a broadside or two ashore, and the admiral was not the man to
let it slip through his fingers. Indeed, he sounded his war trumpet
as quick as any of them, and when he had piped his Ancient Mariners
to arms, he told them that God and their country demanded them to do
their duty.

"Aye, aye!" responded the Ancient Mariners; "we will do it, we
will."

When the gallant admiral had got his "Ancient Mariners" ready to
march, armed with cutlass and various other well-known weapons, he
placed himself at their head and moved out to meet the enemy. His
manner of doing this, however, was somewhat novel, and deserves to
be described here. You must know, my son, that the admiral was of a
very rotund figure, and, although well enough at home on the
quarter-deck, was not accustomed to the saddle. His weight was,
indeed, such as to preclude the idea of his being a skilled
horseman. It was, therefore, necessary that he go to the field in
some more comfortable as well as becoming manner. Thereupon a
carriage and four was provided, and in this stately manner the
gallant admiral proceeded to the front, at the head of his strange
command. I may add also, my son, that the movement of this force
afforded no little amusement to the numerous urchins that followed
it. On reaching the front, it took up a strong position, and made
ready to give the enemy a broadside whenever he made his appearance.
Some mischievous person reported that it was the intention of these
"Ancient Mariners" to support the cavalry, in the event of its being
attacked. Having brought them to the front, however, we must leave
them there, the quartermaster with his spy-glass keeping a sharp
look out for any stray craft that might appear in the offing.

I have been thus minute in describing these forces, in order that
you may form a just estimate of what General McDowell McCook had to
command.

Sunday passed away, and there was no appearance of General Early and
his army. Still the excitement in the city had not abated. Our good
President, I must tell you, was out along the lines nearly all day,
with the apparent purpose of encouraging the feeble garrisons in the
forts.

Early on Monday morning (the 11th of July, 1864), the smoke and dust
of the rebel column rose in the distance, and was clearly seen from
the defenses. News of this soon spread about, and our cavalry got
more and more excited, and went galloping out and then came
galloping in at an increased rate of speed.

Then the enemy's long, thin line of skirmishers debouched into the
fields, like specter figures in a panorama. Next his artillery was
seen moving to the right and left, and apparently taking up
positions on the distant hills. These were followed by his hungry
troopers, very dirty and forlorn, and looking like shadowy figures
just issuing from a desert of dust. The movements of these rebels in
the distance gave new features to the face of the siege. General
McDowell McCook was seen to ride rapidly over the field, followed by
his two orderlies. Generals Meigs and Rucker urged on their
Bushwhackers, who went to work with renewed energy clearing up the
forest. The "Ancient Mariners" whetted their cutlasses, and
continued to exhaust their ordnance, a large stock of which they had
brought to the field in the shape of tobacco. And the Treasury Guard
stopped eating sandwiches and looked to their ammunition. In fine,
our gallant defenders went to getting their courage up in various
ways. Our good President (may his memory never die!) took up a
position near Fort Stevens, as if to encourage the hundred-day men
to stand by their guns and keep their pluck warm.

A little after noon there was a material change in the situation.
The enemy's advance skirmishers made their appearance within range
of Fort Stevens and began a miscellaneous firing. Then our own
cannon opened, and their echoes over the hills first sounded the
alarm and awakened the people of the city from their dream of
security. There were as yet no really efficient troops to send to
defend the point of attack. The people knew that between them and
the enemy there were strong and heavily armed forts; and in these
they placed their trust. They did not, however, reflect that these
forts, without proper garrisons, were only so many inert masses,
incapable of resisting for one hour the vigorous assault of an
enemy. But it was very different with the military authorities. As
the rattle of small arms and the booming of cannon increased during
Monday evening and night, they knew that the city was in peril, and
their anxiety for its safety increased. They knew that the forts
were not properly garrisoned. They knew that communication with the
North was cut off, that no reinforcements from that quarter could be
relied on. Further, that although reinforcements from General
Grant's army had been ordered up from the James River, they had not
had time to arrive.

Such was our situation on that memorable Monday night. Yes, my son,
such was the feeble condition of the defenses when General Early and
his rebel army came in sight of the dome of the Capitol. We all
looked confidently for an attack in force on Tuesday morning. Had it
been made by a column of ten thousand men, led by a bold and
determined commander, capable of infusing his own impulse into their
movements, they might, feebly garrisoned as the forts were at that
moment (with no support between or behind them), have treated our
defenses with contempt, and marched into the city.

Yes, my son, they could have marched almost unmolested between any
two of the forts, entered the city, seized the Arsenal, the Capitol,
the Treasury, and other public buildings, and enjoyed a bounteous
breakfast at the expense of our citizens. And when they had done
this, they might have enforced a legitimate surrender of the city,
together with the defenses on both sides of the river.

But General Jubal A. Early was not the man for such an enterprise.
Washington was at his mercy, but fortunately for us he did not know
it, and let the opportunity slip. Even had he known it, I am of
opinion that he lacked the nerve to grasp the advantages of the
opportunity. On that Tuesday morning, Early was at Silver Springs,
enjoying the luxuries of a spacious headquarters, and within sight
of the grand old dome of the Capitol. What strange emotions the
sight of this dome must have excited in his bosom, what
reminiscences of happier days passed under its shadow must have
seared his thoughts as they passed in review, he alone can describe.
Perhaps it was the contemplation of those happier days that stayed
his hand and made him hesitate to grasp the prize at his feet.

No, my son, Jubal A. Early was of too phlegmatic a temperament for
such an undertaking. He was slow in every thing but name. And, as I
have informed you before, so notoriously cautious and slow was he to
act, even when a youth at West Point, that he gained the sobriquet
of "The Late Early," by which he is known at this day by his
intimate friends.

How sad it is for us, to-day, to contemplate that the safety of
Washington, the capital of this great country, should have depended
on the temperament of a general. Let the future historian do this
subject justice and elaborate it as it deserves. And let him
portray, if he can, the consequences of the rebel flag greeting the
rays of the rising sun on that morning victoriously from the dome of
the Capitol.






CHAPTER XIV.

HOW THE REBEL GENERALS DEPORTED THEMSELVES.





THIS history would not be complete, my son, without a portrait of
General John C. Breckinridge. This general accompanied General
Early, in command of a division, and was extremely useful as a
subordinate, since he knew Washington and all its surroundings, and
had many friends in the city, whose respect and hospitality he had
enjoyed. What curious emotions must have excited his breast when he
saw the dome of that building where he had sat as a Senator, and by
his talents and deportment secured the respect and confidence of the
nation, I will leave the reader to imagine. Who but himself can
describe his thoughts when he recurred to that scene in the Senate
Chamber, when he raised the voice of prophecy and foreshadowed the
traitor's reward? Was there a pang in the thought that he was
himself reaping the bitterest fruit of that reward?

Never forget, my son, how terrible is the penalty that attaches to
treason. But now I must ask you to reaccompany me to another part of
the field, that we may see what is going on there. The attack made
on our defenses by the rebels was of the feeblest kind. Why this
was, some of our officers could not understand. It was evidently
made in doubt of the result, and indicated forcibly enough that
something was wrong at the rebel headquarters. We want now to see
what that was.

While the booming of cannon and the rattle of small arms was going
on in the vicinity of Fort Stevens, without any very serious damage
to either side (for I may mention here that the rebels kept at a
respectful distance from the forts), Generals Early, Ewell, and
Breckinridge were enjoying themselves on the sumptuous fare found at
Silver Springs and other neighboring plantations. In short, it is
asserted that these generals had been short of rations for some
days, and were very hungry when they reached the outskirts of
Washington. It is also asserted that they took themselves to
feasting and making merry with their friends; so much so that they
had all the cellars and larders of the houses round about examined
for bounties to supply their table. And to such an extent was this
feasting and merrymaking carried, that General Early quite forgot
that he was sent to capture Washington, and indeed set such a bad
example to his subordinates as to destroy all discipline.

There were two great events in this remarkable siege, my son, and I
must tell you what they were. If I do not, you will not get a clear
idea of how the siege was carried on by the rebels. The generals
(rebel) had not tasted fresh beef for several days, and had a sharp
appetite which their commissaries were inclined to gratify. Now,
there was on the plantation of Mr. George Riggs, near where these
generals had their headquarters, a celebrated Alderney bull, much
valued by its owner. Here was a temptation not to be resisted by
these commissaries, who had the animal led to slaughter and served
up for their masters. Yes, my son, these generals and their staffs
banqueted on Mr. Riggs's bull, and were honest enough to confess
that they had rarely fared so sumptuously. This is one of the great
events. Now to the other. A number of general officers (choice
spirits), imitating the example set by their bold superiors, went
out on a forage of their own, and coming to the house of the Hon.
Montgomery Blair, put it under a close examination, especially the
cellar and larder, which was supposed to be well stored with the
choicest. They were disappointed, however, to find that the cellar
contained little wine, and were about setting the honorable owner
down for a disciple of temperance, when they came upon a barrel of
rare old Bourbon whisky.

This discovery caused great rejoicing, the news of it spread far and
wide among the officers, and not an order was obeyed for the rest of
the day. So you will see, my son, that while the superior generals
and their staffs were banqueting on Mr. Riggs's bull, the field
officers were besieging their brains with Mr. Blair's choice whisky.
The city was perfectly safe while this state of revelry existed. And
I feel, my son, that you will agree with me that Mr. Blair deserves
well of his country for supplying his cellar with this remarkable
weapon of defense. Let the future historian bear in mind that the
War Department can claim no credit for the safety of Washington. The
credit of saving Washington belongs exclusively to Mr. Riggs's bull
and Mr. Montgomery Blair's barrel of whisky. They furnished the
feast that stole away the brains of General Early's officers, and
caused the delay that saved the city.

In fine, my son, I have good military authority for saying that
these rebel officers, after their wisdom had been carried away by
the whisky, put on ladies' dresses and so conducted themselves that
General Early, in order to get them out, and put a stop to the
riotous proceedings, was compelled to apply the torch to the house
of Mr. Blair. Let this sad result be a warning to all generals, sent
to either threaten or capture the capital of a nation.

Have I not satisfied you, my son, that Mr. Davis sent the wrong man
to take Washington? A more sanguine general, knowing that he had
been sent from Richmond to threaten and, if possible, capture
Washington, and having come so far and routed all the troops sent to
oppose him, and arrived within sight of the coveted prize, at a time
when he must have known the weakness of the defenses, would have
risked an attack in force and would have succeeded. I say he would
have succeeded; for, by all the rules of war, the capital ought to
have fallen. Let it be remembered also, that during that memorable
Tuesday, when the rattle of small arms and the booming of cannon
from Fort Stevens were calling patriotic citizens to the front to do
their duty, the engineer-in-chief and other of the high officials of
the War Department were busy packing up the records of their
offices, preparatory to their removal to the gunboats.

The attack, which had been so confidently expected on Tuesday
morning, did not take place. General Early and his officers still
continued their riotous proceedings near Silver Springs, while his
advance line kept our gallant defenders in a state of intense
excitement and activity. As hour after hour wore away, however, the
anxiety of our people increased, in fear of what might happen.

Then late in the afternoon news came that the brave old Sixth
Corps--a terror to rebels everywhere--had arrived. This sent a thrill
of joy into many a heart, and shout after shout went up along the
line as its cross came in sight. Yes, the old Sixth Corps, with
General Wright, had come once more. It was a proud sight to see
these men deploy into line of battle, in front of Fort Stevens,
their war-worn colors fluttering in the breeze, with that cross so
well known to the rebel hosts.

The siege was raised. The rebels recognized that cross, and, knowing
what it betokened, fell back rapidly before it, and prepared for a
hasty retreat. Confidence was restored to the people. The President
thanked the troops and went home in the very best humor. The
Secretary of War and the Chief of Staff stopped issuing orders; and
the quartermaster's bushwhackers hung up their bill-hooks. The major
and brigadier-generals went to congratulating each other on the part
they had taken in the defense. At two o'clock on Wednesday morning,
an advance was ordered with the two divisions of the Sixth Corps;
but when the skirmish line took possession of Silver Springs, there
was not a rebel in arms to be seen. General Early had made good
speed during the night, and was making the best of his way across
the Potomac, and home to his master.

Thus ended the most remarkable siege history has any account of.

And now, my son, I cannot close this history without a few words on
the character and conduct of Mr. Jefferson Davis, to whose ambition
this siege of our capital was due. It has been said by several of
his friends, who have access to the newspapers, that he went into
this war not only very reluctantly, but with green spectacles on.
Willing as I am to deal generously with him, and to forgive him each
and every one of his sins, and to send him out into the world to
seek atonement for them, I cannot share this opinion. And for the
reason that I happened to know Mr. Davis in the summer of 1850, when
he was the moving spirit of a convention of "Fire-Eaters," that
assembled together at Nashville, Tenn. And I have a slight
recollection of a speech he made on that occasion, in which
separation by arms was urged, and no love for the Union advanced. I
remember also that that speech was rewarded with hisses,
notwithstanding the strong dis-union element of the convention. His
dislike of the Union and plan for separating the nation, it is well
known, had been the besetting sin of his brain for twenty years.
How, then, he could have engaged in this gigantic rebellion with
green spectacles on, I cannot just exactly see. It was the ignorant,
unreasoning masses of the South who were led into the rebellion with
green spectacles on, not men like Mr. Davis. But, my son, never
strike a man when he is down; that is the work of cowards. Let us
give Mr. Davis credit for such virtues as he had, and for the manner
in which he exerted them in keeping life and strength in the
government he attempted to set up. In connection with the rebellion,
we had to deal with Mr. Davis more in his character as a soldier
than a statesman. Mr. Davis was undoubtedly an able soldier. He was
the head and front, the very life and soul of the men in the South.
Born to those qualities of pride, self-esteem, and self-will, all
of which produce confidence in the possessor, he grew up feeling
himself superior, as he was, to the ordinary men of his age. He
inherited at the same time great fixedness of purpose and
determination; and so prominent were these traits of his character,
that they impressed every one who came in contact with him.

These, my son, were the attributes that gave wings to the man's
ambition and found him aspiring to one of the high places in the
temple of fame. The nation gave him a thorough military education at
West Point, and he afterwards learned the practical duties of a
soldier in the Black Hawk war. On the return of peace, he resigned
and sought distinction in political life. He had succeeded in
reaching the House of Representatives when the war with Mexico broke
out, and he resigned and again went to the field. And,
notwithstanding what has been said to the contrary, he won great
distinction in this war. Military men everywhere did him justice.
The "Mississippi Rifles" will be remembered as long as the battle of
Buena Vista.

At the close of the war he again relinquished the sword, and was
sent to the United States Senate, where he was made chairman of the
Committee on Military Affairs. His highest ambition was to shine as
a statesman. He afterwards served four years as Secretary of War,
and then returned to the Senate, where the rebellion found him
elevated to the chairmanship of the Committee of Military Affairs.
His education, his services in the army, his position as Secretary
of War, and in the Senate, enabled him to become thoroughly
acquainted with our army, with its customs, its laws, its material,
its wants, and, above all, the character of its officers. He was,
perhaps, better acquainted with these things than any other man in
the United States. Nor was he deficient in knowledge of the
character of leading, public men at the North and West. What he had
not studied well, however, was the character and the patriotism of
the people of those sections of our country.

It was the ripe fruit of this knowledge, then, that Mr. Davis
applied in each department of the rebel government; and it was this
that made him of such incalculable value to the rebellion. We have
seen and even admired the power with which he wielded the scanty
resources of the South. And we have seen the wisdom which he
displayed from the very first in the section of his generals. With
rare exceptions, he put the right man in the right place. He knew
the importance of placing soldiers in command, when soldiers' duty
was to be performed. It would have been fortunate for us if we had
exercised similar wisdom. When the rebellion began, there was no man
in the South to have taken the place of Mr. Davis. It is not too
much to say that had he remained loyal to his country, and been
elevated to the command of our armies when the war began, he would
have quickly crushed out the rebellion. With his grasp of mind, and
his iron will, he would have so wielded the great resources of the
North and West, that the rebellion would have been crushed in a year
from its birth. And this was the man our authorities at Washington
supposed would not, or could not, attack the capital after it had
been stripped of its proper garrison. Let the truth be told: Davis
was not the man to let such a blunder go unnoticed.
The Project Gutenberg Etext of Siege of Washington, D.C.
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End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Siege of Washington, D.C.
by F. Colburn Adams