When, in 1857, Mr. Davis was again elected to the Senate, the Compromise of 1850 had already become a dead letter, as he had predicted that it would. The anti-slavery sentiment had, like Aaron’s rod, swallowed all rivals, and party leaders once noted for conservatism, had resolved to suppress the curse, despite the decision of the Supreme Court statute, of law, of even the Constitution itself. Those who have criticised Mr. Davis most bitterly for his attitude at that time have failed to appreciate the fact that he then occupied the exact ground where he had always stood.
Others had changed. He had remained consistent. He had never countenanced the doctrine of nullification; he had always affirmed the right of secession. Profoundly versed, ashe was, in the constitutional law of the United States, familiar with every phase of the question debated by the Convention of 1787, his logical mind was unable to reach a conclusion adverse to the right of a sovereign state to withdraw from a voluntary compact, the violation of which endangered its interests. He believed that the compact was violated by the repeal of the Missouri Compromise; he felt that it was being violated now, but as in 1850 he had declared that nothing short of the necessity of self-protection would justify the dissolution of the Union, he now pleaded with the majority not to force that necessity upon the South. Secession he frankly declared to be a great evil, so great that the South would only adopt it as the last resort; but at the same time he warned the abolitionists that if the guarantees of the Constitution were not respected, that if the Northern states were to defy the decrees of the Supreme Courtfavorable to the South, as they had done in the Dred Scott decision, that if his section was to be ruled by a hostile majority without regard to the right, the protection thrown around the minority by the fundamental law of the land, that the Southern states could not in honor remain members of the Union, and would therefore certainly withdraw from it.
He undoubtedly saw the chasm daily growing wider, and had he possessed that sagacious foresight, that profound knowledge of human nature, in which alone he was lacking as a statesman of the first order, he would have realized then, as Abraham Lincoln had before, that the die was cast and that the Union could not longer endure upon the compromises of the Constitution which had implanted slavery among a free, self-governing people, a majority of whom were opposed to it. But there is no recorded utterance of Jefferson Davis, no act of his, that would lead one tobelieve that he had despaired of some adjustment of matters, or that secession was wise or desirable, until after the nomination of Mr. Lincoln. Then, for the first time, he declared before a state convention at Jackson, Miss., that the Chicago platform would justify the South in dissolving the Union if the Republican party should triumph at the coming election. But he did not expect that triumph. Shortly previous to that speech, he had introduced resolutions in the Senate embodying the principles of the constitutional pro-slavery party.
They affirmed the sovereignty of the separate states, asserted that slavery formed an essential part of the political institutions of various members of the Union, that the union of the states rested upon equality of rights, that it was the duty of Congress to protect slave property in the territories, and that a territory when forming a constitution,and not before, must either sanction or abolish slavery. The resolution passed the Senate, and Mr. Davis hoped to see it become the platform of a reunited party, which would have meant the defeat of the Republican ticket and a consequent postponement of the war.
The foregoing facts alone make ridiculous the assertions of Mr. Pollard that during this Congress Jefferson Davis, with thirteen other senators, met one night in a room at the Capitol, and perfected a plan whereby the Southern states were forced into secession against the will of the people thereof.
What the plan was, how it was put into operation so as to circumvent the will of the people of eleven states who more than a year later decided the question of secession by popular vote, why Mr. Davis later introduced the above resolution and why he worked so zealously thereafter to prevent the threatened disruption and why he sought to induce theCharleston Convention to adopt his resolution as the principles of the party, Mr. Pollard does not attempt to explain. In fact, any rational explanation would be impossible, for at every point the evidence refutes the allegation.
Then, again, those who, like Mr. Pollard, have sought to saddle the chief responsibility of secession upon Jefferson Davis have overlooked the fact that while not an avowed candidate, he nevertheless hoped to be the nominee of his party in 1860 for the presidency, and that much of his strength lay in Northern states, as Massachusetts demonstrated by sending him a solid delegation to the Charleston Convention. His conduct during his last year in the Senate is consistent with this ambition, but the ambition is wholly inconsistent with the theory that he had long planned the destruction of the Union. The truth is that the impartial historian must conclude from all of his utterances, from his acts, from the circumstancesof the case, that in so far from being the genius and advocate of disunion, he deprecated it and sought to prevent it, until political events rendered certain the election of Mr. Lincoln. Then, sincerely believing the peculiar institutions of the South to be imperiled, and never doubting the right of secession, he advocated it as the only remedy left for a situation which had become intolerable to the people of his section.
His advocacy, however, was in striking contrast to that of many of his colleagues. Always free from any suggestion of demagoguery, always conservative, his utterances on this subject were marked with candor and moderation. Nor did the ominous shadows that descended upon the next Congress disturb his equanimity or unsettle his resolution to perform his duty as he saw it. For days the impassioned storm of invective and denunciation raged around him, buthe remained silent. At last the news came that his state had seceded. He announced the event to the Senate in a speech, which in nobility of conception has probably never been surpassed. He defined his own position and that of his state, and as he bade farewell to his colleagues, even among his bitterest opponents there was scarcely an eye undimmed with tears, and whatever others thought in after years, there was no one in that august assemblage who did not accord to Jefferson Davis the meed of perfect sincerity and unblemished faith in the cause which he had espoused.
On the evening of the day Mr. Davis retired from the Senate, he was visited by Robert Toombs of Georgia, who informed him that it was reported from a trustworthy source that certain representatives, including themselves, were to be arrested. He had intended to leave the capital the following day, but changed his plans to await any action the government might take against him.
To his friends he declared the hope that the rumor might be well founded, for should arrests be made, he saw therein the opportunity to bring the question of the right of a state to secede from the Union before the Supreme Court for final adjudication. Nothing of the kind happened, and after waiting for about ten days, Mr. Davis left Washington.
During his stay he freely discussed the situation with the leading Southern statesmen who called upon him. The general opinion was the first result of secession, which most of them assumed to be final, must be the formation of a new federal government, and the consensus of opinion designated Mr. Davis as the fittest person for the presidency. On the first proposition he did not agree with his colleagues. He expressed the belief that the action of the states in exercising the right of secession would serve to so sober Northern sentiment that an adjustment might be reached, which, while guaranteeing to the South all of the rights vouchsafed by the Constitution, would still preserve the Union. He therefore sought to impress upon them—especially the South Carolina delegation—the necessity of moderation, the unwisdom of any act at that time which might render an adjustment impossible.
The second proposition he refused to consider at all, and begged those who might be instrumental in the formation of a new government, if one must be created, not to use his name in connection with its presidency. That he at this time entertained a sincere desire for the preservation of the Union can be doubted by no one familiar with his private correspondence. In a letter dated two days after his resignation from the Senate he defends the action of his state, it is true, but at the same time deplores disunion as one of the greatest calamities that could befall the South.
In another letter written three days later, he uses this significant language: “All is not lost. If only moderation prevails, if they will only give me time, I am not without hope of a peaceable settlement that will assure our rights within the Union.” That he did not abandon that hope until long afterward, that he clung to it long after it became a delusion, is very probable, as we shall see.
Nothing could be farther from the truth than the theory so often advanced that presidential ambition was responsible for Mr. Davis’ attitude on the question of secession. This I have indicated in the last chapter. The truth of this position is established if he were sincere in his declarations that he did not covet the honor of the presidency of the new government. Those declarations were made to the men who, of all others, could further his ambition; they knew his stubbornness of opinion, understood how likely it was that he would never abandon that or any other position; there were other aspirants whom he knew to be personally more acceptable to a majority of these statesmen, and his attitude, of course, released them from any responsibility imposed by popular sentiment in his favor in the South. If one is still inclined to accept all this, however, as another instance of Cæsar putting the crown aside, the questionarises, Why did he assume the same attitude with those who possessed no power to influence his fortunes? Why in his letters to his wife, to his brother, to his friends, in private life, did he express the strongest repugnance to accepting that office should it be created and offered? But even stronger evidence that he did not seek or want it is afforded by another circumstance. Mississippi, in seceding from the Union, had provided for an army. The governor had appointed him to command it, with the rank of major-general. In the event of war, that position opened up unlimited possibilities in the field, which was exactly what he desired; for, unfortunately, he then and always cherished the delusion that he was greater as a soldier than he was as a statesman. All of this is consistent with his sincerity—inconsistent with any other reasonable theory.
Mr. Davis must also be acquitted of thecharge made by no inconsiderable number of the Southern people that he first failed to anticipate war and later underestimated the extent and duration of the approaching conflict. On his way from Washington to Mississippi, he made several speeches. All of them were marked by moderation, but to the prominent citizens who on that journey came to confer with him, he declared in emphatic terms that the United States would never allow the seceded states to peacefully withdraw from the Union, and warned them that unless some adjustment were effected, they must expect a civil war, the extent, duration and termination of which no one could foresee.
At Jackson he reiterated those views, along with a hope for reconciliation, in a speech delivered before the governor and Legislature of his state. Peaceful adjustment he declared not beyond hope, yet if war should come, he warned them that it must be a long one, andthat instead of buying 75,000 stands of small arms, as proposed, that the state should only limit the quantity by its capacity to pay. Those views, it may be here remarked, were not coincided with by his own state or the people of the South generally. They were far in advance of their representatives on the question of secession, but the belief was generally prevalent at even a much later date that no attempt would be made to coerce a seceding state.
The convention of the seceding states met at Montgomery, Feb. 4, 1861, and proceeded to adopt a constitution as the basis for a provisional government. The work was the most rapid in the history of legislative proceedings, being completed in three days. With the exceptions of making the preamble read that each state accepting it did so in “its sovereign and independent capacity,” fixing the president’s and vice-president’s term of office at six years and making them ineligible for re-election, prohibiting a protective tariff, inhibiting the general government from making appropriations for internal improvements, requiring a two-thirds vote to pass appropriation bills and giving cabinet officers a seat, but no vote, in Congress, the Confederate constitution was, practically, a reaffirmation of that of the United States.
It was adopted on the eighth, and the provisional government to continue in force one year, unless sooner superseded by a permanent organization, was formally launched upon the troubled waters of its brief and stormy existence. The following day, an election was held for president and vice-president, the convention voting by states, which resulted on the first ballot in the selection by a bare majority of Jefferson Davis and Alexander H. Stephens of Georgia. Mr. Davis, as we have seen, was not a candidate. He was not in, nor near, Montgomery at the time, and took no part, by advice or otherwise, in the formation of the new constitution.
His selection over Mr. Toombs was the result of a single set of circumstances. Mr. Davis’ military education, his experience in the field, his services as secretary of war, a widespread popular belief in his ability as a military organizer, and his known capacity asa statesman in times of peace, all marked him as the fittest man for a place which evidently required a combination of high qualities. Had Mr. Toombs possessed either military education or experience, there is scarcely a doubt that he would have been chosen.
The Capitol at Richmond
The news of his election reached Mr. Davis while working in his garden, and is said to have caused him genuine disappointment and grief. That the convention was uncertain of his acceptance is indicated by the fact that with the notification was sent an earnest appeal to consider the public welfare, rather than his own preferences, in considering the offer of the presidency. Upon this ground he based his action in accepting the office and hastening to Jackson, he resigned his position in the state army, expressing the hope and belief that the service would be but temporary.
All along the route to Montgomery, bands and bonfires, booming cannon and the peals ofbells heralded his approach, and vast concourses greeted him at every station.
What purported to be an account of this journey was printed in the leading papers of the North, which pictured Mr. Davis as invoking war, breathing defiance and threatening extermination of the Union. Nothing of the kind, however, occurred. The speeches actually delivered were moderate, conservative and conciliatory. So much so, in fact, that they were disappointing to his enthusiastic audiences, and there are yet living many witnesses to the frequent and repeated declaration of the fear that “Jeff. Davis has remained too long amongst the Yankees to make him exactly the kind of president the South needs.”
Monday, Feb. 18, 1861, there assembled around the state capitol at Montgomery such an audience as no state had ever witnessed—as perhaps none ever will witness. Statesmen, actual and prospective; jurists and senators; soldiers and sailors; officers and office-seekers, the latter, no doubt, predominating; clerks, farmers and artisans; fashionably attired women in fine equipages decorated with streamers and the tri-colored cockades; foreign correspondents—in fact, representatives from every sphere and condition of life, each eager to witness a ceremonial which could never occur again.
At exactly one o’clock Mr. Davis and Mr. Stephens appeared upon the platform in front of the capitol, and when the mighty wave ofapplause had subsided, Howell Cobb, President of the Constitutional Convention, administered to them the oath of office. Then in that peculiarly musical voice which had never failed to charm the Senate in other days, a voice audible in its minutest inflections to every one of the vast throng, Mr. Davis delivered his inaugural address.
Strangely enough, both sections of the divided country then and thereafter attached a widely varying value to the address. It was so simple, clear and direct that it is amazing two interpretations should have been placed upon it. As an exposition of the causes leading to secession, it was a masterpiece. It is impossible to read it today without feeling that in every sentence it breathed a prayer for peace.
Viewed in connection with the events that produced it, as the first official advice of the chief executive of a new nation beset with the most stupendous problems, confronted by thegravest perils, it certainly added nothing to Mr. Davis’ reputation as a statesman. Beyond the declaration that the Confederacy would be maintained, a desire for peace and freest of trade relations with the United States, he outlined no policies and offered neither suggestions nor advice.
Mr. Davis, now more than perhaps any other Southern statesman, should have realized that “the erring sisters” would not be permitted to depart in peace, and yet beyond the barest general statement that an army and a navy must be created, he dismissed the matter, to plunge into an academic discussion of the prosperity of the South and themoral sinthat would be committed by the United States should it perversely and wickedly disturb this condition and curtail the world’s supply of cotton!
The question of revenue was, of course, of paramount importance, but no idea, no plan,no suggestion was offered along that line. The more one studies that remarkable production, the more puzzling it becomes, if we assume that Mr. Davis was altogether sincere in his declaration that the severance was final and irremediable.
If he were not, if he still hoped for some adjustment that would reunite the severed union, one may readily understand why he refrained from assuming the vigorous attitude that the occasion demanded, but which might have placed compromise beyond the pale of possibility. The significant omissions were not compatible with Mr. Davis’ well-known views of official duty. Nor is the matter in any way explained by assuming that as Congress was charged with the performance of all of these important matters, that it was not Mr. Davis’ duty to suggest plans and methods. His office invested him with those powers and he was elected to it for the express reason that he was supposed to beeminently qualified in all practical administrative and legislative details, especially those of a military nature.
While Mr. Davis must be absolved from the charge that his cabinet appointments were the result of favoritism, they were, nevertheless, for the most part, unfortunate. The portfolio of the treasury, undoubtedly the most important place in the cabinet, was intrusted to Mr. Memminger, of South Carolina, an incorruptible gentleman of high principles and mediocre ability, a theorist, devoid of either the talents or experience that would have fitted him for the difficult place. Toombs, Benjamin and Reagan were better selections. The others were men honest, sincere of purpose, but little in their antecedents to recommend them for the particular positions which they were called upon to fill. With at least two of them, Mr. Davis was not previously personally acquainted, and political considerations probably secured their appointment.
One of the president’s first official acts was to appoint Crawford, Forsyth and Roman as commissioners “to negotiate friendly relations” with the United States. They were men of different political affiliations, one being a Douglas Democrat, one a Whig and the other a lukewarm secessionist. All were conservative and shared fully in the president’s desire for peace on any honorable terms.
But while trying to secure peace, Mr. Davis was not insensible to the necessity of an army, and on this point the first difference arose between him and Congress. Beyond the small and inefficient militia maintained by the different states, there was neither army nor guns, and ammunition with which to equip one. He therefore urged Congress to provide for thepurchase of large quantities of warlike material, but that body, infatuated with the idea that there would be no war, proceeded to debate whether it were advisable to add anything to the stock owned by the states, which at that time was insufficient to arm one-thirtieth of the population subject to military duty.
Mr. Toombs once assured the writer that after the loss of valuable time it was decided to send an agent abroad, it was proposed to purchase but eight thousand Enfield rifles and that it was with the utmost difficulty that he prevailed upon the government to increase the order to ten thousand.
From this circumstance the extent of the infatuation may be inferred. The peace delusions of Congress seem to have been fully shared by the secretary of the treasury.
At the time of the inauguration of the Confederate government and for months thereafter, merchants and banks of the South heldquantities of gold, silver and foreign exchange which they were anxious to sell at very nearly par for government securities, and yet this opportunity was neglected. But as grave as that blunder was, it was, nevertheless, insignificant when compared to another. There were then in the South about three million bales of cotton which the owners would have sold for ten cents a pound in Confederate money.
The president accordingly suggested to Mr. Memminger that the government buy this cotton, immediately ship it to Europe and there store it to await developments. His theory was that if war should come, it must be a long one and that in less than two years this cotton would be worth from seventy to eighty cents a pound, which would then give the government assets, convertible at any time into gold, of at least a billion dollars. The plan was sound and feasible, for a blockadedid not become seriously effective until more than a year after the beginning of war, and we know the price of cotton went even beyond Mr. Davis’ figures. The secretary, however, engrossed in the puerile plans of fiat money, which the history of almost any revolution, from the days of Adam, should have proved a warning, turned a deaf ear to this suggestion which at once combined profound statesmanship and admirable financial sagacity, and the matter came to naught.
But this was only one of the many serious blunders and lapses which retarded the adequate preparation which all at a later day recognized should have been made by the Confederacy.
When the stern logic of events portrayed this neglect as the parent of failure, the spirit of criticism emerged even in the South and failed not to spare Mr. Davis. But these critics have, for the most part, overlooked thevery important fact that it was impossible for the president to accomplish a great deal without the co-operation of his Congress.
The states’ rights ideas, we must remember, were the predominant ones entertained by the people and their representatives, and that they, more than anything else, paralyzed action, promoted delays and fostered confusion, can admit of no doubt. The forts, arsenals, docks and shipyards belonged to the states, and although Mr. Davis early in his administration urged that they be ceded to the general government, it was not until war became a certainty that a reluctant consent was yielded and this most necessary step consummated. Another weakness lay in the fact that the provisional army, in so far as one existed, was formed on the states’ rights plan.
That is to say, it was composed of volunteers, armed and officered by the states, who alone possessed power over them. Anygovernor might at any time without any reason withdraw the troops of his state from the most important point at the most critical moment, without being answerable to any power for his action. These are but two examples of many that might be adduced, but they will serve to demonstrate how impossible it was for any man, whatever his influence or position, to make the preparations demanded by the situation while hedged about by such fatal limitations. And, whatever Mr. Davis’ failures may have been in this regard, they are chargeable to the system adopted by the people themselves, rather than to any serious derelictions on his part.
The bulk of the Confederate army was mobilized at Charleston, where, if hostilities were to occur, they were likely to begin, owing to the fact that a Federal garrison still held Fort Sumter. Mr. Davis, realizing the critical nature of this situation, impressed upon the peace commissioners that, failing to secure a treaty of friendship, they were to exhaust every effort to procure the peaceful evacuation of Sumter.
The history of those negotiations is too well known to need repetition here. Mr. Seward’s disingenious methods served their purpose of inspiring a false hope of peace, and it is very probable that Mr. Davis suspected no duplicity until fully advised of the details and destination of the formidable fleet that was beingfitted out at New York. When it sailed, and not before, ended his long dream of peace.
The attempt to reinforce a stronghold in the very heart of the Confederacy was express and unmistakable notice to the world that the United States did not propose to relinquish its sovereignty over the seceded states. To allow the peaceful consummation of the attempt was to acquiesce in a claim fatal to the existence of the new government. Therefore, if the Confederacy was to be anything more than a futile attempt to frighten the Federal government into granting concessions, the time had now come to act. The president did not hesitate. General Beauregard was instructed to demand the surrender of Sumter, and, failing to receive it, to proceed with its reduction.
The story of that demand and its refusal, of how at thirty minutes past four o’clock on the morning of April 12, 1861, the quiet old city of Charleston was aroused fromits slumbers by that first gun from Fort Johnston “heard around the world,” and how the gallant Major Anderson, Mr. Davis’ old comrade in arms of other days, maintained his position until the walls of the fortifications were battered down and fierce fires raged within, are all history, and need no further comment or elaboration at this time.
Interior of Fort Sumter After the Surrender
There as at Matanzas in the beginning of the war with Spain, the first and only life sacrificed was that of a mule. When Mr. Davis learned this, he exclaimed: “Thank heaven, nothing more precious than the blood of a mule has been shed. Reconciliation is not yet impossible.” But he was hardly serious in that declaration. The die was now cast, and for the first time the North realized that the South was in earnest—the South, that war was inevitable.
Mr. Lincoln’s call for volunteers to coerce the seceding states aroused a perfect frenzy ofpatriotism throughout the South, and the full military strength of the Confederacy could have been enlisted in thirty days, but it is hardly necessary to say that a government which had reluctantly ordered ten thousand rifles was in no position to take advantage of that opportunity.
The president immediately called an extra session of Congress. It convened on April 29, and received his special message, which was in marked contrast to his inaugural. There were no dissertations on agriculture and morality now, but with that forceful perspicacity which usually characterized his utterances, he marked out sensibly and well what should be done, and suggested definite methods. This message was the first utterance, public or private, which clearly demonstrated that his dream of compromise was over.
His recommendations embraced the creation of a regular army upon a sane plan,the immediate purchase of arms, ammunition and ships, the establishment of gun factories and powder mills, and a number of other subjects, which leave no doubt that he saw the situation in its true proportions, and was resolved to use the resources of the Confederacy to meet it. That these resources were meager when compared with those of his powerful adversary, is beyond question. But neither in point of wealth nor population were the odds so great against the South as those over which Napoleon twice triumphed, or those opposed to Frederick the Great in a contest from which he emerged triumphant; and the conclusion so freely indulged in of late years that the Confederacy was foredoomed from the beginning would seem to rest rather upon an accomplished fact than upon sound reasoning, if in the beginning the resources of the South had been used to the best advantage. That they were not, was known by every statesman andgeneral of the Confederacy whose achievements entitle his opinion to consideration. But it is eminently unfair to seek to saddle all or the greater part of this failure upon Mr. Davis, as has been attempted, in some cases, by the delinquents who themselves, contributed largely to that result. Some of the causes of that failure we have seen. Another, and perhaps the most potent cause, the writer believes, may be traced to conditions which have been very generally overlooked.
Previous to the Civil War, the large slaveholders constituted as distinct an aristocracy as ever existed under any monarchy. Educated in Northern colleges and the universities of Europe, it produced a race of men who in many respects has never been surpassed by those of any country in the world. It was small, but it was the governing class of the South, in which the people, except those in the more northerly section, placed implicit confidence.
A majority of the latter were not slaveholders nor were they in sympathy with slavery, and at heart they were unfriendly to the governing class, its policies and politics—a fact which was responsible for giving to the Union from the seceded states almost as many soldiers as enlisted for the Confederacy.
The educated class, of course, understood all sections of the country, but at this time it is almost impossible to understand how little the rank and file of the Southern people knew of the North, its resources and, above all, of the motives that actuated its citizens. In a word, two sections of a country separated by no natural barrier, speaking the same language and in the main living under the same laws, were to all intents and purposes as much foreigners as though a vast ocean had divided them.
Nursed upon the theories of state sovereignty, the Southern people could not at first understand how a seceding state could be coerced, and when that delusion was dispelled, their attitude was one of angry contempt. From colonial days, conditions in the South had been such as to develop courage, resourcefulness and self-reliance in the individual. The idea of coercion was to themridiculous. Numerically inferior as they were, they felt self-sufficient. So much so, in fact, that they took no trouble to conciliate that class before referred to which, while out of sympathy with them on slavery, were held by other ties which at first inclined them rather to the South than to the North. What mattered it? Let them join the Yankees, and they would whip both. This same confidence saw in the approaching conflict a short affair, and among this people, naturally as warlike as the Romans under the republic, there grew up the widespread fear that the war would not last long enough for all to take a hand. Valorous the attitude undoubtedly was, but at the same time the spirit that gave it birth was fatal to that careful preparation which alone would have insured a chance for success.
Henry Clay Addressing the Senate on the Missouri Compromise
This spirit invaded even the Congress, where strong opposition developed to long enlistments. In fact, this body seems to haveseriously believed that the volunteers would be sufficient to maintain the struggle, and while Mr. Davis saw the error and danger involved in both theories, the most that could be secured was legislation which provided for a twelve months’ enlistment. This, in all truth, was bad enough, but it is doubtful if it was so pernicious as the methods provided for fixing the rank of officers by the relative position formerly held by them in the United States army—a measure which from its inception proved a perfect Pandora’s box of discord and dissension.
The next step of Congress was unquestionably a fatal blunder. This was the removal of the capitol from Montgomery to Richmond. From the very nature of the situation, it was evident that the chief goal of the enemy would be the capture of the capital and the moral effect of such a result must prove extremely disastrous, by elating the North, discouraging the South and impairing confidence abroad.
Left at Montgomery, it would have compelled the enemy to operate from a distant base of supplies, necessitating his keeping open lines of communication eight hundred miles long, while it would have liberated to be used as occasion demanded, a magnificent army which was constantly required for the defense of Richmond. Located as that place is, within littlemore than one hundred miles of the enemy’s base, upon a river which permitted the ascent of formidable war crafts and within a short distance of a strong fortress on a fine harbor, it was a constant invitation for aggressions which required all of the energies and most of the resources of the South to meet and defend.
When in May the president reached Richmond, its defense was already demanding attention. The states had sent forward troops to the aid of Virginia and these were divided into three armies. One of these was posted at Norfolk. Another, under General Joseph E. Johnston, guarded the approach to the Shenandoah Valley, and the third, under General Beauregard, covered the direct approach to the capital from near Manassas. The day the Federal army moved forward to the invasion of the South, Mr. Davis was advised of the fact by one of his secret agents in Washington, and he wired Johnston to abandon Harper’s Ferry and effect a junction withBeauregard—an order executed with the celerity and effectiveness which could not have been surpassed by the seasoned troops of a veteran army. But a difficulty now arose. Johnston and Beauregard were commanding separate armies, and in the face of impending battle it was certainly necessary to know who exercised supreme command.
Edward Ruffin, who Fired the First Gun at Sumter
Under the law of Congress, it was doubtful if either exercised those functions, Johnston therefore wired an inquiry and received from Mr. Davis only the reply that he was general in the Confederate army. However, the anomalous situation and perhaps another motive, which will be hereafter noticed, induced the president to hasten forward, so as to be himself present upon the field of battle. When he reached Johnston’s headquarters, the hard-fought day was closing, the storm of battle was dying away to the westward and General McDowell’s army, routed at every point, was retreating in wild disorder toward Washington.
No man influential in the making of history ever knew less of the art of divining character than Jefferson Davis. Entirely ingenous himself, he persisted in attributing that virtue to every one else, utterly failing to understand the mixed motives that influence all men in most of the affairs of life. If he perceived one trait of character, real or imaginary, which appealed to his admiration, it was quite sufficient, and forthwith he proceeded to attribute to its possessor all of the other qualities which he wished him to possess. That conclusion once reached, no amount of evidence could overthrow it or even shake his confidence in its correctness.
That peculiarity, in some ways admirable in itself, was responsible for many of hismistakes and misfortunes. The first vital one attributable to that cause was Mr. Davis’ selection of the head of the commissary department of the Confederate army. Early in his military career, while stationed at Fort Crawford, a warm friendship had sprung up between himself and Lieutenant Northrop. About the time he resigned his commission an accident befell Northrop which compelled him to retire from the army also. Thereupon he studied medicine and afterward locating in Charleston became a zealous convert to the Catholic faith and beyond the spheres of church quarrels and religious polemics, remained an unimportant factor in his community. Indeed he seems to have been unable to manage his own small affairs with any degree of success, and many of his neighbors and friends believed him to be of unsound mind. Mr. Davis had not seen him, and probably knew little of his life since he left the army, a quarter of acentury before. A superficial inquiry must have demonstrated that Dr. Northrop was wholly unfitted by education, temperament and experience for a position which required business training and executive ability of the first order. However, Mr. Davis, remembering the man as he had supposed him to be years before, proceeded to appoint him to the most important and difficult position under the government.
Robert Toombs
Colonel Northrop, of course, had ideas of his own and he proceeded to execute them without the slightest regard for the wishes or opinions of the able and experienced generals who commanded the Confederate armies in Northern Virginia.
Near Manassas, where Johnston and Beauregard had been ordered to form a junction, a railroad branched off from the main line and traversed the famous Shenandoah Valley, then and afterward known as thegranary of the South. To have supplied the armies with provisions by the use of that line whose rolling stock was then comparatively idle would have been one of the easiest of military problems; but instead of following that course, breadstuffs were transported first from the Valley to Richmond and thence over the sadly overtaxed main line to the army at Manassas. But one result was possible which, of course, was the almost complete failure of the commissary department. Most of the Southern troops went hungry into the battle of Bull Run, and not until ten o’clock at night could meager rations be procured for the exhausted army. This fact was the real reason why General Johnston did not pursue the routed army of McDowell. Johnston, Beauregard and President Davis all concurred in the necessity of following up the victory, and the latter actually dictated the order to Colonel Jordan, but as the commissary departmenthad completely gone to pieces, no forward movement was possible then, or, indeed, for months afterward.
A greater calamity than this, which practically nullified the fruits of the victory, soon occurred in the beginning of that unnecessary and calamitous quarrel between the President and General Johnston. Much that is untrue has been written about its origin, but the facts as learned from the principals themselves, and all the records in the case, refer it to a single cause which may be stated in few words.
General Joseph E. Johnston
In March, 1861, the Confederate Congress enacted that the relative rank of officers should be determined in the new army by that which they held in that of the United States. General Johnston alone of those who resigned from the old army held the rank of Brigadier-General and therefore, it would seem, should have become the senior general in theConfederate armies. In fact, he was recognized as such by the government until after the battle of Bull Run.
However, on the Fourth of July the President nominated five generals, three of whom took precedence over Johnston, thus reducing him from the first general to that of fourth, and in August Congress confirmed the nominations as made. Upon learning what had been done, General Johnston wrote the President, protesting against what he conceived to be a great injustice. His language was moderate and respectful, and it is impossible to read his argument without acknowledging its faultless logic. The President, however, indorsed upon the document the single word “Insubordinate,” and sent to the writer a curt, caustic note, which without attempting any answer or explanation summarily closed the matter. That Johnston was deeply wounded admits of no doubt, but he was toogreat a soldier and man to allow this snub to influence his devotion and service, and his attitude toward the President remained throughout the struggle eminently correct. Mr. Davis however, was never able to understand those who differed from his views. General Johnston often did so; wisely as the sequel always proved, but the President invariably attributed this difference to the wrong cause. The breach was thereby kept open and with what results we shall see.
Generals Lee, Jackson and Johnston
The most important result of the victory of Bull Run was the tremendous enthusiasm that it stirred throughout the South. Volunteers came forward so rapidly that they could not be armed and the belief became general that it was to be “a ninety days’ war.” President Davis, however, nursed no such delusions. He knew the temper of the great and populous states of the North, and he fully realized that defeat would teach caution while arousingstronger determination. He, therefore, sought to impress upon Congress the necessity of stopping short enlistments and the advisability of passing general laws which would place the country in position to sustain a long war. But the times were not propitious for that kind of advice, and it was lost upon a body whose enthusiasm had temporarily exceeded its judgment and discretion.
In the fall of 1861 Mr. Davis was elected President of the Confederate States for a term of six years, and on the 21st of February in the following year he was inaugurated. This message may hardly be called a state paper, as it was devoted rather to a recapitulation of the events of the war than to discussion of measures or the recommendation of policies.
The tone of the message was hopeful, for notwithstanding the fall of Forts Donelson and Henry, and the evacuation of Bowling Green, the fortunes of war were decidedly with the South.
However, in those catastrophes, which Mr. Davis passed lightly over, the ablest generals in the Southern army saw the first results of the fatal policy of attempting withlimited resources to defend every threatened point of a vast irregular frontier reaching from the Rio Grande to the Potomac. The three hundred thousand men in the Confederate army at that time could have captured Washington or localized the whole Federal army in its defense, but scattered over an area of more than fifteen hundred miles, strength was dissipated and at every point they were too weak to attempt more than a defensive policy. Upon this point, however, Mr. Davis was inflexible, and absolutely refused to abandon any place however insignificant from a strategic point of view, even when the soldiers holding it might have been used most effectively elsewhere.
The Federal government soon perceived that this was to be the fixed policy of the Confederate President and proceeded to make the most of it. McClellan’s preparation for a blow at Richmond diverted attention from theWest where General Albert Sidney Johnston was left without hope of succor to deal with the armies of Grant and Buell. That great soldier, however, was equal to any emergency and prepared to strike before Grant and Buell could effect a junction. Fatally hampered as he was by the Commissary General’s lack of foresight or preparation and with a staff too small and inexperienced to render the required services, he forced General Grant into the battle of Shiloh. More brilliant generalship was never shown upon any field than was that day displayed by the great Texan, who drove the Federal army back upon the river in the wildest confusion and disorder. At two o’clock the battle was won. A half hour later Johnston was dead—a victim of the foolish practice of the Southern generals of remaining on the firing line. The command devolved upon Beauregard who, instead of completing the victory, stopped the battle while more thantwo hours of daylight remained. He thereby lost all that had been gained and insured his own defeat, for during the night, Buell’s corps crossed the river and easily routed his army on the following day.
What motives actuated Beauregard in this matter can only be conjectured. His amazing conduct was never even plausibly explained by himself. It was certainly not treachery, for his patriotism was unbounded. It was not incompetency, for tried by the usual standards, he was not lacking as a general.
He at that time was not on good terms with the President, and then and ever he was vain and covetous of honors and fame. Had he completed the victory, the administration, the world, history would have credited it to Johnston. Had he succeeded in winning it on the following day, it would have been his own. From all that can be learned some such reason must have influenced him in halting avictorious army in the moment of its triumph.
C. G. Memminger
When the news of the fatal affair at Shiloh reached Davis, his rage knew no bounds, but instead of relieving Beauregard of his command and bringing him promptly before a court martial, as Frederick or Napoleon would have done, he allowed him to remain at the head of the Western army without even administering a reprimand. In fact, not until Beauregard had left the army on sick leave about a month later did the President express any disapprobation. Then he declared that nothing would ever induce him to restore the offender to any command. But in most cases Mr. Davis’ anger was short lived, and while we must admire that gentleness which undoubtedly was responsible for his never punishing any offender, it was nevertheless a weakness in the South’s Chief Executive from which it was destined to suffer greater ills than flowed from the oblivion which soon shrouded the offenses of this particular general.
The gloom cast over the South by the reverses of the West by no means discouraged President Davis, and taking the field in person he aided and directed his generals in preparing for the defense of Richmond against the impending attack of McClellan.
The seven days’ battle before Richmond are particularly interesting to the military critic by reason no less of the valor displayed upon both sides than for the masterly strategy used by the two great antagonists.
General Johnston, who had been severely criticised by the President, remained long enough on the field of Seven Pines to demonstrate the soundness of his plans by winning a great victory before he was stricken down and borne unconscious to the rear. GeneralLee succeeded Johnston, and being reinforced by the indomitable Stonewall Jackson, whose soldiers were inspired by a series of recent magnificent victories in the Valley of Virginia, drove McClellan back so rapidly through a strange and difficult country that the wonder is he did not lose his entire army.
For this feat, which must be regarded as one of the most brilliant pieces of maneuvering in history, General McClellan was held up to execration and even his patriotism was questioned. In fact, the belief is still general that he lost the opportunity to capture Richmond, when as a matter of fact he could not have done so with an army of twice the size he commanded, as must be evident to any one who will remember that it took Grant, with an army of 200,000 men, more than a year to accomplish that result when confronted not by 100,000 of the best troops the world ever saw led by a dozen generals, either one of whomNapoleon would have delighted to have made a marshal, but by less than 40,000 worn, starved and ragged veterans whose great commanders with one or two exceptions, had fallen in battle. President Davis was not an ungenerous enemy and at the time, as well as frequently in later life, expressed warm admiration for the soldierly qualities that enabled McClellan to extricate himself from a situation which must have proved fatal to a less able commander.
This series of victories in some measure offset the blow the South sustained in the fall of New Orleans, and immediately thereafter the President attempted to deal with the situation in that quarter in a way which will serve to throw a strong side light upon another phase of his character. General Butler had hanged a semi-idiotic boy by the name of Munford for hauling down the flag from the mint. The act was one of impolicy, if not of wanton barbarity, and it aroused a storm of indignation throughout the South. This was, in a few days, followed by the infamous “Order No. 28,” which in retaliation for snubs received at the hands of the women of New Orleans, licensed the soldiers, upon repetition of the offense, “to greet them as women of the town plying their avocation.”
President Davis at once issued a proclamation declaring Butler an outlaw, and placing a price upon his head and commanding that no commissioned officer of the United States should be exchanged until the culprit should meet with due punishment. The officers in Butler’s army were also declared to be felons, their exchange was prohibited and they were ordered to be treated as common criminals.
As to the justice of the proclamation so far as it related to Butler himself few North or South at this day who have read “Order No. 28” will be inclined to question. But to attempt to attain to the officers of a numerous army with the guilt of a personal act of its commander must, upon due reflection, have appeared as absurd to the President as it did to the rest of the country. As a matter of fact the proclamation was never attempted to be executed although abundant chances were presented, and it is very probable that had Butlerhimself fallen into the hands of the Confederates he would have had nothing worse than imprisonment to fear had his fate been left to the President.
Mr. Davis, as we all know, issued some very sanguinary proclamations in his time, but they were altogether sound and fury, “signifying nothing,” and not one of them was ever enforced. He no doubt hoped that their terrible aspect would operate as a deterrent and no doubt they did at first. But gradually their seriousness came to be questioned and then they became a subject of amusement to both friend and foe. During his most eventful administration, although hundreds of death warrants of criminals, who richly deserved the extreme punishment, came before him he never signed one of them or permitted an execution when he had the slightest opportunity to interfere.
This, of course, was charged by Pollardand other enemies to his desire to save himself, in the event the Confederacy should fail, but no motive could have been further from the correct one than this view of the case. The truth is that Jefferson Davis was as kindly, tender, gentle and considerate as a woman, and it was quite impossible for him to assume the responsibility of inflicting serious punishment or suffering of any kind upon any of God’s creatures, human or otherwise. Had he hanged a few prisoners upon one or two occasions, it would have been of inestimable benefit to the South; had he executed one or two deserters in 1864, he would at once have checked an evil which was threatening the very existence of the Confederacy, but he did neither, although fully realizing the impolicy of his course. And whatever we may think of his strength of character we can but love the man whose humanity triumphed over passions, prejudice, policy andwisdom and brought him through those awful times that frightfully developed the savage instinct in the best of men without the taint of bloodshed upon his conscience.
History must finally charge all of Mr. Davis’ blunders to no moral defective sense but rather to imperfect mental conceptions augmented and intensified by a strong infusion of self-confidence and stubbornness which frequently destroyed the perspective and blinded him to the truth apparent to other men of far less capacity. Criticism, however well meant, never enlightened him to his own mistakes.
If he made a bad appointment, he saw in the objection to his protege ignorance of his merit, jealousy, a disposition to persecute, in fact anything rather than the possibility that he himself might have made a mistake.
This unfortunate mental attitude, combined with the fixed idea that his genius was thatof the soldier was responsible for the most unfortunate acts of his life. What his real merits as a soldier were we can only conjecture. In the Mexican War he demonstrated first-rate ability, but his highest command was that of a regiment. Although he constantly interfered with some of his generals with suggestions, sometimes tantamount to commands, he never exercised the military prerogative in directing troops in the field. We know that those suggestions were often wrong, but before concluding that his capacity as an active commander must be determined by them, we must remember that they were given usually at a great distance, and that they might have been otherwise had he understood the situation as thoroughly as he supposed he did. There is probably no doubt that he would have proved a splendid brigade commander, but it is more than doubtful if he could ever have understood the science of war as Lee or Johnston or Jackson knew it.
The Site of the Prison Camp on the James Below Richmond
In Virginia, where President Davis did not attempt to interfere with his generals, the most brilliant triumphs of the South were won, and while this is not assigned as the only reason, the fact is nevertheless significant. From second Manassas, where the vain, boastful General Pope, who had won notoriety at Shiloh by reporting the capture of 10,000 Confederates whom he must also have eaten as they never figured in parol, prison or exchange lists—was annihilated by Jackson, to the brilliant victory of Chancellorsville where the great soldier sealed his faith with his life-blood, the army of Northern Virginia was handled with that consummate generalship and displayed a degree of heroism which must ever challenge the admiration of mankind as the most perfect fighting machine in the world’s history.