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.