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

by F. Colburn Adams

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.