Chapter 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

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 Butler himself 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 Pollard and 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 and wisdom 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.

XXII. Mental Imperfections

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 that of 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.

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.

XXIII. Blunders of the Western Army

During this time the Western army suffered one disaster after another in such rapid succession that the warmest friends of the Confederacy began to despair of its future. Thoroughly alarmed. President Davis overcame his animosity sufficiently to send General Johnston to the rescue, but instead of giving him full authority over one or both of the armies he designated him as the commander of a geographical department with little more than the power usually invested in an inspector general.

Bragg, the most unfortunate of all the Southern generals, commanded in Tennessee, where he was out-generaled and defeated at Murfreesboro when he held all of the winning cards in his own hands. His blunders upon that field so enraged his officers that they were almost in revolt against him. However, in his fidelity to his old friend and comrade, Mr. Davis failed to discover what was evident to every intelligent lieutenant in the army, and Bragg was continued in command to perpetrate other blunders still more costly and unpardonable.

The Southern corps of the Western army was still worse handled. The Mississippi River, after the fall of New Orleans and Memphis, was of little or no use to the Confederacy, but Mr. Davis conceived the idea that it must be defended although that course, necessarily would weaken Bragg and render success impossible to either corps.

To the command of the Southern corps, Mr. Davis appointed General Pemberton, a theoretical soldier who it was alleged had never witnessed any considerable engagement. However this may be, his conduct fully sustained the allegation, for, from start to finish, he seems to have been mystified by the tactics of Grant and Sherman, and after a series of marches and countermarches in which he lost much and gained nothing he fell back on Vicksburg, perhaps the most indefensible city in America, and prepared to sustain a siege, the outcome of which could not be doubtful for a moment.

Being safely driven into a position from which there was but one line of retreat, Pemberton appealed to the President for aid, and General Johnston was instructed to furnish it. His soldierly mind saw at a glance that the proper thing to do was to abandon Vicksburg, and he accordingly ordered Pemberton to do so. That officer protested and appealed to Mr. Davis, who sustained him and notified Johnston that under no circumstances must Vicksburg be abandoned. That decision sealed the fate of Pemberton's army, and on the day General Grant invested it he telegraphed to Washington that its fall was only a question of time. How that prediction was verified by the surrender of Pemberton's army of 30,000 men, thus leaving Grant and Sherman free to double back on Bragg, are too well known to need any discussion at this time. All thinking men realized that it sealed the doom of the Confederacy unless the Northern campaign of General Lee should prove successful.

XXIV. Davis and Gettysburg

The conception of the Gettysburg campaign has been properly attributed to Mr. Davis, but much of the criticism that it has evoked is unfair being based upon a misconception of the object sought to be attained. If one will consider the moral effect that the victory of Chancellorsville produced throughout the North, that many influential leaders and a large part of the press openly declared that another such calamity must be followed by the recognition of the Confederacy, the idea of this Northern campaign, it must be conceded, was founded upon sound military principles. Military critics are very generally agreed that Gettysburg would have been a Confederate instead of a Union victory had the Southern troops occupied Little Round Top on the evening of the first day. That they did not is a fortuitous circumstance, which can militate nothing against the soundness of the idea involved in the campaign, while the fact that a victory so great as to have been decisive lay within easy grasp of the Confederates would seem to amply justify the hazard on the part of President Davis.

The last reasonable hope of success was over when Lee retreated from Pennsylvania, but if Mr. Davis recognized that fact he gave no indication of it. On the other hand, adversity had begun to develop that real strength of character which a little later was destined to win the respect of his enemies and the admiration of the rest of the world.

Confederate finances had now sunk to so low an ebb that a collapse seemed inevitable. Congress passed one futile piece of legislation after another, each worse than its predecessor, and matters went from bad to worse with startling rapidity. Mr. Davis was not a financier, but he brought forward a plan which, while it laid perhaps the heaviest burden of taxation ever placed upon a people, nevertheless served for a time to stem the fast rising tide of national bankruptcy.

About the same time, deeply impressed with the suffering of Federal prisoners caused by the cruel policy of refusing exchanges, he attempted to send Vice-President Stephens to Washington to negotiate a general cartel with President Lincoln, but Stephens was allowed to proceed no farther than Fortress Monroe, and nothing came of the mission which was conceived by Mr. Davis purely in the interest of humanity.

As the fall drew on, Bragg was being pressed steadily back by an overwhelming force under Rosecrans, and it became apparent that another disaster was impending over the Confederacy. To avert it President Davis hurried Longstreet's corps forward as reinforcements, a policy the soundness of which was demonstrated a little later by the great victory of Chickamauga.

But again Bragg failed to measure up to the situation, and instead of capturing or destroying his antagonist, which a prompt pursuit must have insured, he actually refused to understand that he had won a victory until its fruits were beyond his reach. Not even that costly piece of stupidity could quite shake the confidence of the President in his old friend, and it was not until Bragg had insured and received his own disastrous defeat at Missionary Ridge and Lookout Mountain, by sending Longstreet's whole corps away on a wild-goose chase against Knoxville, that his resignation was accepted; and even then he was taken to Richmond and duly installed as the military adviser of the Chief Executive.

The fortunes of the Confederacy were now at a low ebb. The Western army was demoralized and so hopeless seemed the task of reorganization that one general after another refused to undertake it, until in his dilemma the President turned once more to General Johnston. That splendid soldier, forgetting past injuries, accepted the command and soon succeeded in creating an army whose very existence infused new courage throughout the Confederacy. In the meantime, Mr. Davis' resolution rose superior over the reverses that were everywhere overwhelming his government, and our admiration for the man vastly increases as we see him steering, wisely now, his foundering nation into that dark year 1864, destined to reveal to us a great man growing greater, better and more lovable under the heavy accumulation of terrible misfortune.

XXV. The Chief of a Heroic People

The world has never witnessed a more sublime spectacle than that presented by the Southern people at the beginning of 1864. The finances of the government had gone from bad to worse until it required a bursting purse to purchase a dinner. Or, rather it would have done so had the dinner been procurable at all, which in most cases it was not. Gaunt famine stalked through a desolate land scarred by the remains of destroyed homes and drenched in the blood of its best manhood. Scarcely a home had escaped the besom of death and destruction, and, on the lordly domains where once a prodigal and princely hospitality had been daily dispensed, children cried in vain for the bread that the broken-hearted mother could no longer give. That such terrific desolation should have failed to force submission is almost beyond understanding, but it produced exactly the opposite result.

Delicately nurtured women, reared in ease and luxury, cheerfully chose to starve in thread-bare garments while they sent their silver and jewels to the government to enable it to continue the struggle. They bade their husbands and sons and brothers to remain at the front and never sheathe their swords unless in an honorable peace; and forthwith the stripling of tender years and the gray-bearded grandsire, bowed with the infirmities of time, went forth to perform prodigies of valor upon the last sanguinary fields of the dying Confederacy.

The President of the Confederacy was too wise a man not to realize the significance of the situation at that time. He fully realized the awful suffering of his people. He saw his armies driven from the West, the lines of the Confederacy daily contracting. He saw the last hope of foreign intervention die and he witnessed the birth, even in the government, of a strong spirit of hostility to himself. What this must have meant to a man of his sensitive, kindly nature we may readily guess, but to the world his attitude was most admirable. Calm, resolute, majestic he stood at the helm, steering the foundering craft of state through the last storm as steadily, as resolutely as though he knew a haven of safety instead of destruction to lie just beyond.

Early in 1864 it became apparent that such an effort as had never been made before to crush the Confederacy was impending. General Grant was transferred to the East, and early in the spring with a magnificent army of 162,000 began his advance upon Richmond. The great Confederate chieftain, Lee, with a force one-third as great confronted him, and then began that mighty duel which must always remain the wonder and admiration of the world. In the Wilderness Lee struck a staggering blow, which halted the advance and doubled up the Federal army. Grant announced that he proposed to fight it out on that line if it took all summer, straightened his lines and began the campaign, which one may more readily understand if he will imagine some Titan armed with a ponderous hammer, confronting a wily, agile antagonist, who must rely upon a rapier sharp, indeed, but slender to a dangerous degree. Incessantly through those spring days the forests rang with the clamor of blows. At Culpepper and Spottsylvania and North Anna the hammer fell and was parried by the rapier, Grant always moving by the flank and seeking to out-maneuver his antagonist and always failing to do so. By June, the two armies in their side-stepping tactics had reached Cold Harbor, where Grant in a great frontal attack lost 13,000 men in a few moments, which must have convinced him that it would take longer than all summer to fight it out on that line, as he then and there abandoned it and adopted a new one. In three months he had lost 150,000 men and was not so near Richmond as McClellan had been in 1862.

XXVI. Sherman and Johnston

In the meantime that campaign which was destined to place Sherman and Johnston in the very front rank of the world's great commanders, was in progress. Both were masters of military strategy and each fully appreciated the ability of the other. Sherman ever seeking to draw Johnston into a pitched battle was constantly thwarted. At Dalton, Resaca and Marietta Johnston delivered hard blows, falling back before his antagonist could use his superior numbers to any advantage.

By this means he reached Atlanta with a larger army than he had in the beginning of the campaign, while that of Sherman had decreased from one hundred to little more than fifty thousand. Johnston's tactics of wearing out the enemy by drawing him through a hostile country away from his base of supplies is now admitted by military critics to have been a piece of masterly strategy. It is also generally conceded that Sherman could not have captured Atlanta by siege with three times his force. But although Johnston had repulsed every assault upon his works and was daily growing stronger, President Davis was greatly displeased with this defensive policy and constantly importuned him to give battle. This Johnston refused to do and was relieved of the command by the President, who appointed General Hood, whom he declared "would at least deliver one manly blow for the South."

In so far as the delivery of the blow was concerned he was destined not to be disappointed, but very greatly so in the result.

The very day that he took command, Hood, a brave, impetuous man of slight ability and poor judgment, left his works, furiously assaulted Sherman, and was promptly cut to pieces. The Confederate army was practically annihilated, and the fall of Atlanta made certain the success of that famous march to the sea which alone would have doomed the Confederacy.

General Johnston, too great to cherish resentment, once more yielded to the appeals of the President and took command of the shattered army. But the time had passed when he might have accomplished any substantial results and henceforth even his genius could not serve to postpone the end.

XXVII. Mr. Davis' Humanity

In the meantime, amidst these disasters and the gloomy forebodings that were settling over the South, Mr. Davis did not forget the sufferings of the army of captives that languished in Southern prisons. Time and again he had sought to establish a cartel for the exchange of all prisoners but it had never been faithfully observed by the Federal government, and at last General Grant had refused to exchange upon any terms, declaring that to do so would ensue the defeat of Sherman's army. The result was that the Southern prisons were rapidly filled, and as supplies and medicines failed, the sufferings in some places, notably Andersonville, became intense. The prisoners were placed upon the same rations as the Confederate soldiers, but they had never been used to such fare and it meant starvation to them. The ravages of malaria among them was appalling, and yet as the Federal government had made quinine contraband of war not an ounce of it could be procured for their use.

Mr. Davis, whose strongest trait of character was gentleness and humanity, felt keenly this state of affairs, and sought by every power at his command to ameliorate it. When the proposition to exchange was rejected, he asked that medicines and supplies be sent for the exclusive use of Northern prisoners. When that was refused, he asked that doctors and nurses be furnished from the Federal army. That also failing, and the condition of the sufferers at Andersonville growing worse he finally offered to liberate them provided the government would take them out of the South--a proposition which was not accepted until after many months of useless delay which cost thousands of lives.

Thus it will be seen how baseless was that calumny which yet survives in some quarters that Jefferson Davis was responsible for the sufferings of those poor unfortunates who in reality were sacrificed by an indifferent government, which feared to recruit the ranks of the Confederate army by the exchange of prisoners although such a course was dictated by the laws of civilized warfare no less than by motives of humanity. In reality Mr. Davis did far more than required by the laws of nations, and the verdict of history not only acquits him of any share in that great iniquity, but places him in marked contrast to his antagonists who chose to sacrifice their soldiers rather than jeopardize the prospects of an early final victory.

The brilliant victory of Colquitt at Ocean Pond, of Forest at Fort Pillow, and other minor successes gained by the Confederate leaders added scarcely a transient ray of hope. Clouds of smoke by day, a pillar of fire by night, marked the advance of Sherman through Georgia. The most fruitful region of the South was left a charred and desolate ruin. Tilly, the Duke of Alva, nor Wallenstein ever left destruction so complete and irremediable as that which marked the path of that great soldier who declared war was hell and fully lived up to that harsh conviction.

After the fall of Savannah, the blue legions now irresistible, turned northward, and it became apparent that the vitals of the Confederacy lay between the two huge iron jaws of Grant's and Sherman's armies which were closing with a steady force that nothing could resist.

Day and night Grant rained his mighty sledge-hammer blows upon the defenses of the devoted capital, which Lee met and parried with the skill of consummate military genius. But the blade of the rapier was growing thinner and the time must come when it would break. Holding works forty miles in length with less than a thousand soldiers to the mile, he inflicted repulse after repulse until the Southern people came to regard him as invincible.

Even Mr. Davis, who was now almost constantly with his great Captain, seems to have shared the delusion, and despite his warnings that the end must soon come delayed his departure from Richmond.

At last on Sunday, April 2, 1865, a courier entered old St. John's in the midst of services and handed the President a telegram. It was General Lee's notice that he could no longer hold his lines. Mr. Davis quietly left the church, but all understood and soon a panic reigned in the quiet old city. This was increased by the terrific explosions that came from the river and arsenals where warships and military supplies were being destroyed. That night the fires from burning warehouses lighted the train that bore out of the doomed city the President and his cabinet and the archives of the fugitive government. Whether from the sparks of the burning arsenals or from the torches of incendiaries will never be known, but that night a fierce conflagration swept over the city, and when in the gray dawn of the next morning General Godfrey Weitzel's cavalry rode through the smoldering streets and raised the stars and stripes over Virginia's ancient and the Confederates' recent capital, it floated over a scene of desolation only a little less complete than Napoleon beheld when he looked for the last time from the ancient Krimlin upon destroyed Moscow.

XXVIII. General Lee's Surrender

History has fully recorded the last scenes of the heroic effort of the peerless Lee to fall back upon Danville and effect a junction with General Johnston and it is unnecessary here to relate how surrounded by overwhelming numbers and reduced to starvation he finally at Appomattox surrendered the remaining 7,500 of that superb army which, without doubt, had been the most magnificent fighting machine in the world's history.

In the meantime the fugitive government reached Danville in a pouring rain. There were no accommodations for the officials, no place to install the executive machinery. General Breckenridge, sitting upon a camp stool in front of the damp dingy little station, studied a map and drew the lines along which Johnston and Lee should advance. The Secretary of State, reclining upon a knapsack, talked hopefully of the recognition that was certain to arrive from England and France in a few days. Mr. Reagan chewed a straw and said nothing. It was a dull day in the department of justice, and the Attorney-General paced the platform and looked thoughtfully toward Canada. At last it was decided to begin work and the clerks seated themselves around tables in the cars, and the government was soon once more issuing all kinds of orders. Mr. Davis, calm and tranquil as usual, had made up his mind never to surrender as long as resistance was possible unless he could secure favorable terms for his people. For himself he asked nothing, but he believed it his duty to continue the struggle until the fundamental principles of a free people should be secured for the South. This he did not doubt could be accomplished by the junction of Lee and Johnston. It was, of course, a great blow to his hopes when the news of Lee's surrender reached him, but he belonged to that rare type of man whose courage and resolution grow stronger in the face of adversity. His only hope now lay in Johnston's army, but with it he declared the South could conquer an honorable peace against the world in arms.

With this idea in view the wandering government moved on to Greensboro. There, the President was informed by General Johnston of the utter hopelessness of longer continuing the struggle. That the old veteran was right now admits of no doubt, but Mr. Davis combated the idea most vigorously. Johnston assured him that while a surrender was a matter of days in any event that Sherman would sign an agreement guaranteeing the political rights of the people in the subjugated states. This Mr. Davis rightfully believed the Federal government would repudiate, but left his general full discretion in the matter, moving on southward, intending to cross the Mississippi, join the army of Kirby Smith and continue the war in Texas.

Just as he was leaving Greensboro he received the news of President Lincoln's assassination. None who ever really knew Mr. Davis can doubt what his feelings were upon that occasion. General Reagan, who was with him, says his face expressed surprise and horror in the most unmistakable manner. "It is too bad, it is shocking, it is horrible!" he declared, and then after a moment's reflection added, "This is bad for the South. Mr. Lincoln understood us and at least was not an ungenerous foe."

That very morning the little daughter of his host came running in and in wide-eyed terror said that some one had told her that "Old Lincoln was coming to kill everybody." Mr. Davis, taking her upon his knees, said soothingly: "You are wrong, my dear, Mr. Lincoln is not a bad man. He would not willingly harm any one, and he dearly loves little girls like you." These incidents, trivial enough in themselves, are nevertheless interesting as indices of Jefferson Davis' opinion of Mr. Lincoln.

XXIX. The Capture of Davis

Proceeding to Charlotte, Mr. Davis there learned of the surrender of General Johnston. Determining to make his way to Texas he decided to take a southerly route which he hoped to find free from Federal troops. A cavalry force of about two thousand accompanied him as far as the Savannah River, but there discovering General Wilson's brigade to be in the country in front it was deemed advisable for the force to disband and Mr. Davis, with Burton Harrison, his secretary, and a few others to go forward in the hope of escaping discovery.

At Irwinsville, Ga., he learned that his family, which was also proceeding westward, was but a few miles away and he was advised that the country was filled with marauders who were rifling and robbing all strangers whose appearance indicated the possession of valuables. This information, coupled with the story that Mrs. Davis' party was believed to possess a valuable treasure, so alarmed Mr. Davis for the safety of his family that he resolved to join it at all hazards. This resolution cost him his liberty.

Perhaps no event of history has ever been so grossly and malignantly misrepresented as the capture of Jefferson Davis. At the time an absurd story was published along with a cartoon in even so respectable a paper as _Harper's Weekly_, which represented Mr. Davis at the time of his capture arrayed in shawl, bonnet and hoop-skirts, and, strange as it may seem, this ridiculous screed is still accepted by thousands of intelligent people as correct history. The true facts of the case, as learned from Mr. Davis and corroborated by both General Wilson and Mr. Burton Harrison, are as follows:

The Confederate President reached the spot where his wife's party had pitched its tent after nightfall. During the evening it was decided that, to avoid discovery, he would leave the party on the following day and thenceforward would proceed westward alone. About daylight the travelers were awakened by firing across a nearby stream, and Mr. Davis thinking it an attack from marauders remarked to his wife that he hoped he still had enough influence with the Southern people to prevent her robbery and stepped out of the tent. Almost immediately he returned saying it was not marauders but Federal soldiers. Mrs. Davis, frantic with fright, begged him to fly. In the darkness of the tent he picked up a light rain coat, which he supposed to be his own but which belonged to his wife, and she threw a shawl around his shoulders. His horse stood saddled by the roadside and he ran toward it, but before he could reach it a trooper interposed and with leveled carbine bade him surrender. Intending to place his hand under the foot of the soldier and topple him out of the saddle he gave a defiant answer and rushed forward. Mrs. Davis, however, now interposed and Mr. Davis seeing the opportunity lost walked back to the tent, where a few moments later he surrendered to Colonel Pritchard of the Fifth Michigan Cavalry.

No soldier who took part in the capture of Mr. Davis ever supposed that he attempted to disguise himself, and the story of the bonnet and the hoop-skirts is, of course, pure fiction. The picture of the illustrious captive, presented in this edition, represents him exactly as he appeared at the time of his capture, when divested of the shawl and raglan, which in no way served to conceal his identity, much less his sex.

Despite the efforts of Colonel Pritchard to spare Mr. Davis all indignities, many insults were heaped upon him enroute to Macon. Once arrived at that point he was furnished with a comfortable suite of rooms and after a time General Wilson sought an interview, during the course of which Mr. Davis first learned that he was accused of complicity in the assassination of President Lincoln, and of Andrew Johnson's proclamation offering $100,000 reward for his apprehension.

Those who knew Mr. Davis will remember him best by his habitual expression of calm dignity and benign gentleness. One would imagine that scorn or contempt could never disturb that face, but General Wilson says that when he imparted the above information that his lips curved in contempt, that his brows were knitted and that there was a deep gleam of anger in his eyes which, however, soon softened away as he remarked, with a half rueful smile, that there was at least one man in the United States who knew that charge to be false. General Wilson, of course, asked who it was, and Mr. Davis replied, "The author of the proclamation himself, for he, at least, knows that of the two I would have preferred Lincoln as president."

From Macon Mr. Davis was sent under guard to Augusta, and from thence on a river tug in company with Clement C. Clay and Alexander H. Stephens, to Port Royal, where they were transferred to a steamer which conveyed them to Fortress Monroe. During the time they were anchored off shore crafts of all descriptions swarmed around, and the insults and gibes of the morbid sight seekers keenly annoyed the illustrious prisoner, and it was a relief when a file of soldiers came to escort him ashore. He requested permission from General Miles for his family to proceed to Washington or Richmond, but this was curtly refused and they were sent back to Savannah.