Part 4

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 being fitted 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 from its 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.

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 of patriotism 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 and general 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.

XV. Conditions in the South

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 them ridiculous. 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.

This spirit invaded even the Congress, where strong opposition developed to long enlistments. In fact, this body seems to have seriously 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.

XVI. The First Battle

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 little more 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 with Beauregard--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.

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.

XVII. A Lost Opportunity

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 his mistakes 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 a century 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.

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 the granary 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 department had completely gone to pieces, no forward movement was possible then, or, indeed, for months afterward.

XVIII. The Quarrel with Johnston

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.

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 the Confederate 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 too great 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.

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 arousing stronger 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.

XIX. The Battle of Shiloh

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 with limited 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 the West 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 than two 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 a victorious army in the moment of its triumph.

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.

XX. The Seven Days of Battle

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. General Lee 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 whom Napoleon 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.

XXI. Butler's Infamous Order 28