By OLIVER W. LONGAN,
Adjutant General’s Office, War Department.
Visitors to Washington, whether for the purpose of meeting friends, or,
as strangers to “see the sights,” are moved by common impulse to find
their greatest gratification in all day tours from building to building,
and from point to point, where the wonders of the place are to be found,
and no ordinary matter can distract the attention from the one object
which is the topic for discussion and arrangement through all the indoor
hours of morning and evening while the visit lasts. Even the dreary
drizzling rain which fairly divides the time with the sunshine of this
weather-wise day can not dampen the ardor of the tourist, and on foot
or on wheel the round is pursued regardless of fatigue and discomfort.
Indeed, there is something of heroism both in the appearance and feeling
manifest in the mien and move of the travelers as they walk about the
streets or “climb to the dome,” and after the wearied guest has departed
and the family physician is called in to prescribe a tonic or stimulant
for an exhausted nature upon which the duty of guide has been imposed in
the days just past, he will invariably remark with exasperating irony
which almost makes the patient determine never again to truthfully reveal
the cause of infirmity, “of course you climbed to the dome.”
The purpose being to invite the reader to the “dome” as the first point
of view, a few words of description are offered. The dome of the capitol
building is a conspicuous object from all parts of the city and affords
a standpoint from which to obtain the best prospect of all the city and
surrounding country. This fact, and because it fills a picture of beauty
in a vista from a particular spot in the grounds of the Soldiers’ Home,
introduces it into this article.
From a balcony on the top of the dome, two hundred and sixteen feet from
the ground, on the eastern front of the capitol, the eye takes in a scene
of which Humboldt remarked, “I have not seen a more charming panorama in
all my travels.” West at a distance of nearly three miles is Arlington.
The mansion, which was once the home of Robert E. Lee, resembles, in the
distance, the “Hall in the Grove.” Behind it is the city of the dead, a
_home_ for the remains of about 15,000 soldiers. North a little more than
three miles is the home of the living soldier. The clock tower appears to
be the only sign of habitation upon a well wooded hill.
As one of the many places of interest which receives the attention and
merits the praise of visitors as a spot “beautiful for situation,”
a brief history and description is offered to the readers of THE
CHAUTAUQUAN, but in neither will there be found any of the mellowness of
age which is possessed by old-world places nor of the power which belongs
to
“Things of earth, which time hath bent,
A spirit’s feeling; and where he hath lent
His hand, but broke his scythe.
…
For which the palace of the present hour
Must yield its pomp, and wait till ages are its dower.”
The credit of the origin of the movement to establish a retreat for the
old and disabled soldiers of the United States army, appears to be due to
Hon. James Barbour, Secretary of War under John Quincy Adams. In a report
dated November 26, 1827, he suggests the founding of an army asylum. A
report was made upon the subject by the Committee on Military Affairs
in the House of Representatives May 21, 1828, and another February 27,
1829. Except the collection of some data upon the subject nothing further
appears to have been done until in 1839 General Robert Anderson, “the
hero of Fort Sumter,” reviewed the work and submitted his plans and
views to a number of older and more experienced officers of the army.
Their responses indicate the high degree of favor with which they looked
upon the project, but their words of foreboding in pointing out the
difficulties to be surmounted in bringing a measure through the Congress
to give it a legal status gave evidence that their estimate of strategy
did not confine its use to the military department. Receiving but little
more than good wishes for his encouragement, the dauntless captain (such
was the rank then held by General Anderson) went knocking at the doors of
Congress, and a communication addressed by him February 12, 1840, to Hon.
John Reynolds, M. C., embodying the details of his plan became the basis
of a favorable report by the House Military Committee January 7, 1841, in
which, after setting forth the usage of the service and the improvement
which would follow an act which should give the faithful soldier “the
confidence of comfortable provision for his old age when he shall be worn
out in his country’s service,” the committee declare it to be a “high
gratification” to recommend to the “favorable consideration of Congress
the admirable plan submitted by Captain Anderson—a plan which imposes no
additional burden on the community, but merely provides that the savings
of the soldier, in the vigor of his age, may afford him a shelter in the
times of his infirmity or old age.”
Never did an apple afloat more provokingly elude a youth, as with
hands resolutely clasped behind him, he bent over the tub of water and
endeavored to take it with his teeth, than did the object of Captain
Anderson play away from successful accomplishment. The experience of
people who have sought the favor of the law-making or executive powers
to obtain an object of personal good for themselves or others has taught
them that, as old people look over their spectacles to see the movement
on the other side, so do the servants of the public over the object
presented to measure the strength of the impelling power, and that
attitude is apt to remain unchanged until the impulsion becomes dynamic
when the direction of view is turned into, and through the matter urged
upon them. Something of this character must have been the experience of
those pleading the cause of the “old soldier” for about twelve years.
General Winfield Scott made special mention of the subject and strongly
recommended it in his annual report dated November 20, 1845, and again in
a report dated November 3, 1849, he says:
“While the army under my command lay at Pueblo a part of the summer of
1847, an humble petition to Congress in favor of an asylum … for the
benefit of _enlisted_ men was drawn up and signed by, I believe, every
commissioned officer.… In connection with that petition I beg to add
the following facts: On the capture of the city of Mexico, by the same
army, I levied a contribution upon the inhabitants of $150,000, in lieu
of pillage, to which the city, by the usages of war, was, under the
circumstances, liable.” The disposition of this money was accounted for
in a letter to the Secretary of War, dated at Mexico February 6, 1848,
in which was enclosed a draft for $100,000, concerning which the letter
says: “I hope you will allow the draft to go to the credit of an _army
asylum_, and make the subject known, in the way you deem best, to the
military committee of Congress. That sum is, in small part, the price of
the American blood so gallantly shed in this vicinity.” Quoting again
from the report of November 3, 1849: “The draft was made payable to me;
and, in order to place the deposit beyond the control of any individual
functionary whatever, I endorsed it, ‘The Bank of America will place the
within amount to the credit of _army asylum, subject to the order of
Congress_.’” The remainder of the report is an earnest protest against
the disposition of the draft (which the Secretary of War had caused to
be turned into the United States treasury), and a renewed “petition that
Congress may appropriate the whole to an _army asylum_ for the worn out
or decayed _enlisted_ men (regulars and volunteers) yet in service, or
who may have been honorably discharged therefrom.” Thus, all along the
line the history shows the difficulties which confronted the friends
of the soldier, while within the citadel the feeling of opposition
was strong enough to evoke the following from a member of the House of
Representatives, in a letter to General Anderson, dated January 31, 1851:
“The prejudices of the House against the army are strong, and stupid and
undiscriminating opposition is made to all changes which do not propose
to cut down the army. I am not hopeful of the success of any measure—of
the number in contemplation—that looks to the improvement of the army.”
This language was descriptive of a most remarkable state of feeling,
else the honorable member erred greatly in thinking that in the face of
the recent achievements in Mexico the national legislature would strike
down the bruised and broken battalions which had brought untold wealth
to the people, as well as glory to the national standard. The action
of a few weeks later indicated that however strong was the prejudice
against the army there was a power somewhere which operated to protect
and advance the interests so long and faithfully urged upon Congress in
favor of the “army asylum,” and on the 3d of March, 1851, the approval
of the President was given to “An Act to found a military asylum for the
relief and support of invalid and disabled soldiers of the army of the
United States.” The law constituted the general-in-chief commanding the
army and seven other general officers a board of commissioners with the
necessary powers for carrying out the purposes of the act, and provided
for the detail of officers from the army for the position of governor,
deputy governor, and secretary and treasurer, for each site which should
be established. It gave the right of admission to benefit in the asylum
to all discharged soldiers of twenty years’ service, and all disqualified
by wounds received or disease contracted in the service and in the line
of military duty—excepting deserters, mutineers, habitual drunkards and
convicted felons—and required the discharge from the asylum of those who,
being under fifty years of age, should recover their health so as to be
fit again for military duty. By the same act a specific appropriation
of money (including the levy made by General Scott upon Mexico),
amounting to $183,110.42, was made to establish the asylum, and for its
future maintenance provision was made to devote all monies derived from
stoppages and fines by courts-martial, from pay forfeited by deserters,
and from the effects of deceased soldiers unclaimed for three years—the
latter to be subject to demand of legal heirs at any time—also from a
deduction of twenty-five cents per month from each enlisted soldier,
giving the volunteers or those belonging to organizations raised for a
limited period the option of permitting the deduction from their pay
to be made or not, as they chose, but making it obligatory in effect
upon the _regular_ soldier. An amendment to this law was made March 3,
1859, which changed the name of the institution to the “Soldiers’ Home,”
reduced the number of commissioners to _three_, reduced the monthly
deduction from the pay of the soldiers to twelve and one-half cents per
month, and required pensioners to surrender their pensions to the Home
while they should remain in and receive its benefits. Another amendment
was made March 3, 1883, which made the Board of Commissioners to consist
of the general-in-chief commanding the army, the commissary general, the
adjutant general, the judge advocate general, the quartermaster general,
the surgeon general, and the governor of the Home (all _ex-officio_),
and provided for the pensions of inmate pensioners to be held in trust
for their benefit, or to be paid to their parents, wives or children.
With the exception of these amendments the provisions of the original law
remain in force.
The first commissioners, with General Scott as the senior officer, lost
no time in selecting a location for the “asylum.” Parcels of ground on
every side in the immediate vicinity of Washington City were offered
at prices varying from $50 to $350 per acre. A portion of Mount Vernon
was also offered at $1,333.33 per acre. Two tracts north of the city,
containing a total of 256 acres, were purchased for $57,500. On one of
these tracts were good buildings, one of which, “the mansion,” is now a
summer residence for the President of the United States. Additions of
ground since made to the original purchase have increased the number of
acres to 500. The tract is nearly seven-eighths of a mile wide for about
half its length from the southern boundary, which is irregular. The
north half is reduced in width by a change of direction of the eastern
boundary running westward about 400 yards. The western boundary nearly
opposite the same point changes its course and runs northeast until it
meets the eastern boundary at a point about one mile and three-eighths
from the south line. In this north point nearly all of the buildings are
situated. The ground is nearly level, being the broad top of a ridge
which, upon the east side just outside the Home grounds, is of quite
abrupt descent. A public road cuts off about fifteen acres, a portion
of which is devoted to a national cemetery, while the remaining portion
is a hillside grove in which, within a year past, a platform and seats
have been erected for use on “decoration day.” Within the main grounds a
pear orchard covers the “point,” and the first building near it is the
library. The building was originally intended for a billiard room and
bowling alley, and is the only building upon the grounds upon which the
genius of the architect “run to waste.” The main building a few yards
south of the library was the first one erected after the purchase of the
grounds for an asylum. It was commenced in 1852 and completed in 1857. It
is of white marble, the front structure 151⅓ feet long by 57 feet wide,
four stories high, with a clock tower in the center of the south front.
A rear wing from the center covers nearly equal ground with the front.
In the basement are the kitchens, store rooms, offices, smoking rooms,
etc. Upon the first floor is the dining room, large enough to seat 340
men. The remainder of this floor, and all the other floors, is devoted
to sleeping rooms, and of these—except in the matter of ventilation of
a few of the upper rooms—it may be said that they are as nearly perfect
for the uses intended as can well be made. Single beds, wire and hair
mattresses, clean and comfortable clothing of woolen and linen, clean
uncarpeted floors and pure air, a box or locker for each man, make up a
sum of comfort for the lodging of one accustomed only to the blanket and
the bunk, which is well nigh perfect, and not to be found for the same
person in the most luxurious bed-chamber wealth could provide. On the
east of the main building is the annex used principally as a dormitory.
On the same side are the stables and shops, the former too close for a
well regulated institution. Upon the west and next the main building is
the mansion, the dwelling of the former proprietor, and now the summer
residence of the President. It has been remodeled, and very little of
the original appearance of the building which a few years since was
almost buried in vines, is left. Directly south from the mansion and
main building the ground falls off gradually for half a mile, while on
either side the ridge extends in a graceful sweep for about five hundred
yards to bluffs somewhat abrupt, but not enough so to mar the beauty of
rounded form. Upon the western ridge going southward from the mansion are
the following objects in their order: The office building, a one story
brick structure, where the commissioners meet at least once every month;
the governor’s residence, and next the deputy governor’s residence, both
large, roomy, and comfortable double houses of the same material as the
“main building,” and of design in harmony with it. Next is a double
building of brick occupied by the treasurer and the attending surgeon.
These buildings all have a back-ground of woods which extends with the
gradually sloping hill to the highway which here forms the western
boundary of the grounds. The next object upon the western avenue is a
portrait statue of General Scott, which was erected in 1874 upon a point
of the ridge, which here extends to the east so as to make one side of a
basin formed with the lower ground south of the mansion. The statue is
bronze, ten feet high, upon a granite pedestal placed in the center of
a mound, around which is a circular drive for carriages. The figure is
represented in uniform, with a military cloak, fastened at the throat and
thrown back from the right shoulder; head uncovered, left arm slightly
bent and the hand resting on the thigh, the right hand upon the breast
and thrust under the partly open coat. The position is one of dignified
repose. No strain of feeling is aroused in the observer, such as is
felt in looking upon the various equine figures in the city, upon which
is perpetuated in the figure of the officer, the tension of nerve and
alertness which almost prompts an effort to break the spell and give the
dead their rest.
Standing beside the statue, or seated upon the rustic bench close by,
a view may be obtained which the visitor who has leisure may enjoy for
an indefinite time. The city lies not far below. The eye can cover it
all at one gaze. The dome of the capitol stands high above every other
object—except that shaft of marble which bids fair to soon become the
Washington monument—and far beyond is the broad Potomac, whose course is
in the direction of view, and carries the eye on and on until objects
become indistinct. Perhaps an officer close by may be observed lazily
reclining upon the grass, while a soldier stands near him waving in
various directions a white flag with a square block of color in the
center. Presently the officer takes a small telescope from the earth
beside him, and leveling it in a direction west of the city, looks
steadily for a minute or two, lowers the glass and apparently writes
down the result of his observation in a memorandum book. Looking in the
same direction as did the officer the sight will be just strong enough
to discern a flag-staff upon the top of the hills on the other side of
the Potomac, perhaps five or six miles away. Curiosity may be gratified
by a few questions, and from the answers it will be learned that the
flag-staff marks the spot known as Fort Meyer, Virginia, the station
of the United States signal corps, and the operation just witnessed
was simply a practice lesson in transmitting a message by the use of
the small flag, the motions of which to right, to left, to front, or
by circle, indicated the letters or words of the message. A practice
day upon this spot, by the signal men, is a diversion for many an old
soldier whose monotonous life is greatly relieved even by a pantomime.
A little east of south from the statue, about 400 yards distant,
is Barnes’ Hospital, named for General Joseph K. Barnes, deceased,
late surgeon-general of the army, who was the senior officer of the
commissioners of the Home, when the hospital was built nearly eight
years ago. It is a model hospital in every respect, and has received
unqualified approval from the foremost medical men of Europe, as well
as of America. It is full of patients all the time. It was intended to
accommodate sixty, but the average number is about eighty. Some are
ailing, some are waiting, some of sight or limb are wanting, all are
forever done with the fullness of physical life, and the surgeon looks
upon them as his children, whose every want he must attend. Three hundred
yards farther south is the portion of the grounds known as “Harewood,”
an estate of 191 acres added to the Home by purchase in 1872. A good
portion of it is woods, through which are beautiful drives winding into
labyrinths for one unaccustomed to them, for at three different points a
stranger will be bewildered by following a well-worn track which returns
upon itself, and may be traversed many times before some objects begin
to have a familiar look. One of these places is bounded by a drive which
is as irregular as would be the loop of a lasso thrown from the hand
and permitted to drop upon the ground, an oblong irregular figure, from
the northern end of which is the capitol “vista.” Through the woods
for a distance of 500 or 600 yards an opening has been cut just wide
enough, and trimmed just high enough to admit a view of the dome of the
capitol, which is invisible from points a step or two on either side of a
particular spot. With the aid of very little imagination one may think
the eye rests upon the temple in the new city which has been pictured in
misty glory by so many artists.
Upon the “Harewood” grounds are the principal farm and dairy buildings.
The cottage now occupied by the farmer was, in some of the years of war,
the summer home of the “great war secretary,” Edwin M. Stanton, the man
who in the war times inspired more fear amongst his subordinates by the
promptness and severity of his punishments for delinquencies than ever
visited the same persons in the presence of an active foe. And yet when
he stood upon the steps of the north front of the old War Department
building, now gone down with him to the dust, and tried on that memorable
3d of April, 1865, to speak congratulatory words concerning the news
which had come over the wires from the hand of President Lincoln, at City
Point, Va., of a broken Rebellion and an evacuated Confederate capitol,
his eyes were so full of tears that he did not see that the crowd which
stood about and before him was composed of his apparently demoralized
officers and clerks who had abandoned their desks and swarmed from the
building by the windows as well as the doors; or, if he did see them,
his voice was too much broken with the emotions, which were stronger
than his stout heart, to permit him to administer a rebuke to those who
almost without exception, at some time in the months and years just past,
contributed their share to the result, and many had brought away the
marks of the sacrifice.
The work of farming is confined to the products of a market garden, which
can not be purchased for the purposes of the Home in as good condition
as they can be raised upon the ground. The dairy is the most important
institution of the Home, and the herd of from forty to fifty Alderney and
Holstein cattle is by no means the least amongst the matters of interest
to be seen upon the grounds. The work of the dairy is done by men. The
cooking for the inmates, nursing the sick, and indeed all the indoor
work usually done by women is done by men. Some of the employes are
“civilians,” so called to distinguish them from inmates who are employed
upon light work.
There are five principal gates or entrances to the Home grounds; two
upon the east side and three upon the west side. At each is a lodge and
a gate-keeper. The first on the east is the Harewood gate, entering
upon the grounds already mentioned, of the same name. From it the “East
drive,” after a serpentine course westward for about 500 yards up a
pretty sharp grade, turns northward, and as it passes along east of
the central portion of the grounds affords the finest view of the open
country, the drive being upon high ground and the view unobstructed
across the entire place. From the same gate “Corcoran Avenue,” flanked
on both sides by magnificent rows of shade trees, leads into the woods.
“Sherman” gate is near the north point opposite the cemetery; “Scott”
gate, or as familiarly known, “Eagle” gate because of the immense iron
eagles upon the gate pillars, is directly opposite “Sherman” gate, and
both lead to the buildings only a few steps distant. There is a large
gate a few steps west of the Scott statue so little used as not to be
dignified with a name. The most important gate is one nearest the city
upon the west side. It is reached by an avenue from “Seventh Street
Road,” a continuation of the most important street running north and
south in Washington. The avenue is the property of the Home, although the
land on either side is owned by private parties. It is called “Whitney
Avenue,” and the gate bears the same name. The ornaments upon the gate
pillars or piers, which are of brick capped with stone, are large vases
said to be copies of a vase designed by Thorwaldsen. The first view
upon entering this gate is the one which may properly be called the
“prettiest” when the word is used as meaning an appearance which gives
momentary pleasure, but may not be remembered as one would remember the
scenery and lake at Chautauqua. About two hundred feet from the gate are
two little lakes which serve to assure the visitor that there really is
real water on the place. By artificial means one of these lakes is held
at a level about ten feet above the other, and by pipes carried to the
center of the lower, a pretty, single jet fountain is formed. The north
end of the upper lake is crossed by a substantial iron bridge, and the
south end of the lower one is covered by a short granite span. Between
the two all effort to find any satisfaction in the waste (?) of water is
futile. But for miniatures they are really pretty, and with the three
swans bumping up against the green shore as they float backward and swim
forward, the half dozen white ducks with their heads in the mud and their
dozen red legs and feet in the air in active effort to kick themselves
farther into the mud, and the two wild geese, domesticated by the loss of
part of a pinion each, as they stand sullenly by looking like fettered
savages, all combine to afford a diversion which may not be found
anywhere else by the visitor.
The drives throughout the grounds will afford a ride of ten or eleven
miles without going twice over the same spot, except at crossings.
They are beautiful, hard, well kept, graveled courses. The gutters
are models, and of themselves works of beauty, as they are paved with
selected stone, nearly white, nearly of a size, and none much larger
than a large egg, all in their natural form or shape. But it all affords
but little genuine good to the old soldier. If he ventures out upon the
road his walk is beset with dangers, and a sudden fright from a dashing
team almost upon him drives away all gratification he might receive by
looking from a place of safety upon the handsome equipages whirling by.
Except the “short cuts” through the grass—and these are few and under
prohibition—there is but one foot-path of any length in the grounds, and
that is of brick, between the main building and the hospital. In most
cases, to traverse this, is not even a matter of melancholy pleasure. The
many privileges ready made for the citizens of Washington, without care
or cost to them, are no doubt appreciated by them, but if a due weight
of appreciation could be given to the cost, both original in money and
cumulative in deprivation to those whose right it is to use them, the use
of extended drives in a beautiful park away from the heat and dust of the
streets, and yet so near as to be at the door, would lead all the rest.
The Soldiers’ Home in the District of Columbia is unquestionably a grand
institution, and in providing creature comforts, can probably not be
improved upon, but it fails to meet a want which is known and recognized
by the authorities having it in charge. Perhaps the one word which
will best express it is _diversion_, not in the sense of amusement,
but to take one away from his melancholies and permit no reaction. The
inmates are men who have formed habits which grew under circumstances of
constantly recurring excitement.
They are able to understand that the best years of their lives have
passed, and that the best powers of their bodies have been used, while
nearly half of the allotted time of life, as measured by the number
of their years, ought to still be to their credit, but they feel in
some way that their hands are empty. True, they have every comfort for
animal life, and in the little red stone chapel, the three services
every Sunday are more than they ever knew before as a provision for
their spiritual welfare, and they have the same freedom from care to
which they have been accustomed through their military life, but each
one sees that all he has is shared by five hundred others, and in it all
he has no single part over which he can exercise individual control,
not even himself. Everything tells him his work is done, and there is
no more in the give and take of life over which he can plan and work.
Discontent is inevitable, and until some plan is devised for bringing
the military service, or most of its features, to the Home, and having
there a counterpart of the camp and its duties, not to be imposed as
set tasks, but to be taken up and directed by the men who all their
lives have been under direction, and ought now to enjoy the privilege of
apparent control, a remedy will probably not be found. It took years
to overcome in a measure the dislike and suspicion with which the old
soldier regarded the Home. It was a manifestation of interest in him
which was new and unusual, and by him untried. Progress has been made
in the past years toward overcoming the matters which may be mentioned
as difficulties in the problem of how to take care of men who ought to
be simply aided in taking care of themselves by supplying them to a
proper extent with means or material, and throwing upon them sufficient
responsibility to create the _occupation_, which is the greatest need of
the institution. This will gradually be worked out, and then the Home
will be what it should, a place for work and life, and less of a place
for waiting and death.