Although Washington was surrounded in July 1864 by a ring of strongly built fortifications, most of the capital’s garrison had been sent on Grant’s orders to Virginia to reinforce the Army of the Potomac, leaving about 10,000 semi-invalid veterans and inexperienced militiamen to defend the city. Jubal Early crossed the Potomac into Maryland on July 5–6 and advanced with 14,000 men to the Monocacy River near Frederick, where he defeated 6,000 Union troops under Major General Lew Wallace on July 9. The battle of Monocacy delayed Early’s arrival at Washington by one day, allowing time for reinforcements sent by Grant from Petersburg to reach the capital. Early sent skirmishers toward Fort Stevens north of the city on July 11 as troops from the Sixth Corps began arriving by boat along the Potomac. The next day President Lincoln came under fire as he watched the fighting from the fort’s parapet. Convinced that he could not break through the strengthened Union defenses, Early withdrew on the night of July 12. Lois Bryan Adams wrote about the Confederate attack in letters that appeared in the Detroit Advertiser and Tribune on July 20 and July 21, 1864.
EXPERIENCES OF A RESIDENT
From Our Own Correspondent
Washington, July 13, 1864
I write you today from the center of the besieged capital, not knowing how or when my letter may reach you. Communication with the rest of world by rail or telegraph, is, as Michigan doubtless knows before this date, entirely cut off. The Potomac, however, is still running, and, as far as we know, its connection with the Chesapeake and Atlantic coast is still unbroken. So there is hope that in the course of time the waves may wash this waif on its northward way.
After the adjournment of Congress and the “noise and confusion” consequent upon a proper observation of the Fourth were past, the old Federal city, having assured itself that between Christian and Sanitary Commissions and State Relief Associations its sick and wounded defenders would be decently cared for, quietly addressed itself to preparations for its usual summer siesta. Confident of Grant’s ability to whittle, smoke, and burrow himself into Richmond, and devoutly believing that the rebels would kindly stay there to witness his entree and grace his triumph, Washington stretched itself beside its slimy canal in the shadow of its unfinished monument, and said, “Now for a ‘little more slumber, a little more folding of the hands to sleep,’” and was dreamily dozing off when startled by Maryland’s cry of alarm and the smoke and flame of her burning dwellings. Hardly yet awake, she sprang to her feet barely in time to turn the key of her own door against the invader who already had his hand upon the latch. His coming was sudden, but still not altogether unprepared for.
This is the third day of our isolation from the civilized world, yet but for the lack of outside news, the addition of more stir among the inside military, and the distant roll of drums and roar of cannon around the borders, there is little to remind us that we are not one with the rest of the world as ever. Business seems progressing about the same as before, with the exception perhaps of a little rise in the prices of wares and goods. The workmen at the north front of the Patent Office still keep up their steady, monotonous pecking at the great marble blocks; laborers are quietly relaying and repairing street pavements; shop and tradespeople are going on with their business as usual; the tinsmith over the alley makes more noise than ever with the inevitable clattering hammer of his, and the dozens of rattle-brained children on the pavement rattle on, happily oblivious of the change.
It seems strange to be sitting here so quietly listening to the measured tread of armies and the ceaseless roll of their heavy trains through our streets. We know that “the front” now is no mythical or distant place far down the Rapidan, the Rappahannock, or the James; but, for the present at least, a reality terribly near, a dark horizon shutting us in, flashing with fire and streaming with blood. The neighing of the war horse in on our very ears—“the thunder of Captains and the noise of the shouting.”
Yesterday and the day before there was considerable cannonading along our northern boundaries, only three or four miles from the city. Today we have but little; as yet there has been only skirmishing, and the throwing of shot and shell from the forts to prevent the rebels from concentrating in favorable positions. Surmises, conjectures, and rumors of every sort are in circulation, as to the number and object of the enemy, and as many differences of opinions probably, in regard to the result of this dashing venture. It will all very likely end in a little more than a great scare, some loss of life, the devastation of Maryland, the abstraction of millions of valuable property, and final escape of the daring raiders with it to Dixie. Even while I write, a rumor comes that they are across the Potomac again with their booty. Whether they will be intercepted or not remains to be seen.
Quite an engagement took place last evening, and it is said that the rebels have left some three or four hundred wounded on the field. They made Postmaster General Blair’s house their headquarters, and did not burn it as they did the residences of known Union men. This fact is considered significant. It is reported that Sheridan will meet these plunderers on their way back to Richmond. Union people here will be terribly exasperated if they are allowed to escape.
L.
THE SIEGE RAISED | DEVELOPMENTS BY THE LATE EXCITEMENT | WEEDS IN UNCLE SAM’S GARDEN | DISLOYALTY IN DEPARTMENTS | THE SPIRIT MANIFEST | BRIGHT TINTS | AN INCIDENT OF THE SEVENTH STREET BATTLE
From Our Own Correspondent
Washington, July 15, 1864
The two days’ siege of the capital is raised, cars are again running on the road that never was torn up, the valorous government clerks after enduring the hardships of war for several hours, returned yesterday, covered with dust and glory, to do duty at their desks and ledgers once more; secessionists, who in the moment of government alarm had become jubilant at the prospect of the fall of the capitol, and were shut in prison for safe keeping, are released and restored to favor—in short Washington is itself again, with all the symptoms of summer noontide somnolence creeping over its heart and brain.
The recent stir and excitement have had the effect to develop to a fuller extent than has heretofore been shown, the strong pro-slavery and Southern sympathetic elements existing here. People in distant States and cities have no knowledge of the prevalence and strength of these elements, or what inevitable, and it would seem irremediable, clogs they are upon the energies of the government.
The truth is, Uncle Sam’s house, garden, and, for that matter, some of his large fields, too, have become weedy and foul beyond description. He has hesitated about pulling up the tares lest he might root up the wheat also; and now not only tares in the fields at large, but rank pigweeds, purslane, couch-grass and nettles, in his very conservatory and dooryard, claim his protection, and get it too, as it were in spite of himself and his most vigilant gardeners. It is easy to say, “pull them up and throw them to the dogs,” but the doing of it is another thing. Still it does seem to some of us who stand peeping through the fence, that better use might be made of the rich ground occupied by those pompous pigweeds, sneaking couch-grass and purslane, and vindictive nettles.
It is a fact shamefully notorious here that there is scarcely one, indeed, I think it may be said with certainty, not one, of the government departments where the pro-slavery sentiment and the enemies of the Administration are not strongly represented. The representatives of rebeldom have secured appointments through the favor and influence of Copperhead Congressmen, or have bought them of tinctured or temporizing officials, and hold them probably because Government has more important matters to attend to than ferreting out “little foxes.” Yet they are the very ones that are spoiling the grapes in the heart of the vineyard.
A case is publicly known and talked of where a woman employed in one of the departments, at a salary of $50 per month, had a brother in the Union army who was wounded and brought to one of the hospitals in the city, but whom she never visited or took the least notice of, though she went daily with a government pass to carry comforts and luxuries to a rebel uncle who was confined in prison in the Old Capitol. Many other instances of the same nature transpire everyday, and many of these lady employees of government have relatives and friends in the rebel army, with whom they are in constant correspondence, and to whom it is said portions of their salaries are often transmitted. Is not this a delicate and unselfish way of aiding and comforting traitors?
But the women are far from being alone in this business; indeed they would not be in it at all if men were what they ought to be; for if all heads of Departments and Bureaus were what they should be in times like these, no such traitoresses would find their way into them under such flimsy pretenses as they do, to plunder and betray. This last raid seemed for a while to promise certain success to the rebels; sympathizers here appeared confident of it, and were quite open and insolent in the avowal of their sentiments. In no way perhaps did they better manifest the true spirit of their principles than in their insolent behavior towards the colored population. Even little misses spread themselves across the pavement when one of that luckless race was seen coming, and signified that “nigger might take their place in the gutter again.”
These things are humiliating to national pride, but they go to show that there is a great deal of human nature, with a strong cross of Southern blood in it, still to be found in this good city of Washington. What the President and his trusty advisers have to contend with in the manifestation of this mongrel nature among officials, civil and military, no pen need undertake to tell. Happy will it be for us if, in spite of all, the old ship of State is at last brought safely through the storm.
A woman living near the battleground north of the city, has a brother in the rebel army who took the opportunity of being near to make her a visit, hoping also to get much needed supplies of food and clothing; but she indignantly drove him from her house, and threatened to shoot him for a traitor, as he is, if he ever attempted to appeal to her or call her sister again. Union soldiers, though strangers, she fed and gave drink to with blessings and God speed, but the brother who had betrayed his country and sought its ruin, she cast from her as a wretch worthy only of the traitor’s doom—the scorn and detestation of all loyal hearts.
L.