Chapter V: Preface (2)

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 of bells 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."

XII. His First Inaugural

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 of applause 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 the gravest 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 the _moral sin_ that 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 be eminently 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.

XIII. Delays and Blunders

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 the purchase 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 held quantities 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 blockade did 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 the very 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. Any governor 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.

XIV. The Bombardment of Sumter

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 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.