Jefferson Davis, American

by William J. Cooper

  In Richmond, the president and the general got along quite well. Davis wanted and needed Lee’s advice on Virginia. More important, their discussions revealed that they shared similar views on the Potomac front. The Manassas campaign and their common reaction to Beauregard’s fanciful scheme demonstrated their harmonious outlook. Even so, only a week after Manassas, on July 28, Davis felt compelled to send Lee to Trans-Allegheny Virginia to unite disputatious Confederate commanders and to thwart a Federal advance.

  As Jefferson Davis contemplated the defense of his country, he was aware that Virginia and the Richmond-Washington corridor would always have critical importance, but he also recognized the centrality of the Mississippi Valley. As a resident of the Valley, Davis did not require a primer on the absolute need to defend the Mississippi River, the great highway into the heart of the Confederacy. Even so, leaders in the area apprised the president of its importance and urged him to make appropriate arrangements for its defense.63

  To bring military order to the Mississippi Valley and assert Confederate authority, Davis wanted to appoint a commander to oversee all military operations. No obvious choice stood out. Two of his leading generals, Joseph Johnston and Beauregard, already had crucial jobs in Virginia. The president also felt he needed Robert E. Lee in Virginia. The man Davis esteemed more than any other as a military commander was in far-off California, though newspapers reported Albert Sidney Johnston riding eastward. Davis did not believe he could wait upon Johnston’s arrival, even though he thought northern fear of the torrid summer in the Deep South would preclude any immediate attack down the Mississippi. No one yet knew that this war would be fought in all seasons on all fronts.64

  Davis’s selection for the West revealed a president who placed enormous trust in men he had known and respected during his formative years and who counted loyalty to the cause a primary qualification for high position. In mid-May, Leonidas Polk, Episcopal bishop of Louisiana, and a man of charm and persuasiveness, wrote the president about the necessity for a commander in the Mississippi Valley; then he offered his services in any capacity. Davis had known Polk at West Point, but since then they had not been in touch. Nor had Polk had any contact with anything military since his graduation in 1827, for he immediately resigned his commission to enter the ministry. Ordained in 1830, he was eight years later named missionary bishop of the Southwest, a vast territory extending into a half dozen states, and in 1841 he was chosen bishop of Louisiana.65

  Responding to Polk’s letter, Davis invited his former fellow cadet to visit. In June the tall, imposing cleric met with the president, several cabinet members, and General Lee. Impressed with Polk’s earnestness and commitment, Davis on June 25 appointed him major general and assigned him command of the region from the mouth of the Red River to the northern border of Tennessee, to include the Tennessee River Valley. In this instance, the commander in chief gave a critical post to a military neophyte. But in his episcopal duties Polk had traveled widely in the Mississippi Valley, becoming familiar with its geography and people. Besides, Davis did not believe he had a more propitious choice. In addition, he was confident Federal dread of the tropical summer in the lower Valley would keep the enemy in place for a few months. In the meantime, Polk could assert Confederate authority and solidify defenses.66

  When the new general departed Richmond, Kentucky was the major question in the West confronting the administration. When war broke out between the United States and the Confederate States, the border state of Kentucky proclaimed neutrality and forbade forces of either side to cross its borders. With adherents of both the Union and the Confederacy vying for the state’s political allegiance, both belligerents initially honored Kentucky’s wishes. But it was only a matter of time before armies bent on strategic advantage would break that artificial barrier. Eager for the state of his birth to secede formally and join his new nation, Davis did not want his soldiers to enter Kentucky first. Although aware of that policy, General Polk, rightly convinced that his enemy planned an early move, decided his mission required him to occupy Columbus, Kentucky, on the Mississippi River before the Federals did. Without giving prior notice to the War Department, Polk’s forces violated Kentucky’s neutrality on September 3 by occupying Columbus and immediately setting up fortifications.67

  Polk’s strike caused a crisis. The heavily pro-Union Kentucky legislature resolved by a three-to-one margin that the state had been invaded. At the same time the governor resigned, casting his lot with the Confederacy. Acutely concerned about the implications of Polk’s action, Governor Isham Harris of Tennessee beseeched Davis on September 5 to order the general’s immediate withdrawal because the presence of Confederate troops “injure[s] our cause in [Kentucky].” In his endorsement on Harris’s telegram, Davis instructed Secretary Walker to direct Polk to retire from Kentucky and to explain his actions. Later the same day that Harris’s message arrived, the War Department received Polk’s wire declaring military necessity made taking Columbus essential. Polk’s dispatch had been written before the president’s directive reached him.68

  Davis had to decide between a governor distraught over political fallout and a general defending his movements as militarily indispensable. After reading Polk’s account, the president sent him a countermanding order: “the necessity must justify the action.” Davis’s response permitted Polk to make the final decision, and the general held his ground. Believing the individual on the spot best knew the immediate circumstances, Davis as commander in chief was always reluctant to overrule a field commander, and this one told the president that he absolutely had to act as he did. Davis upheld Polk because he thought he had little choice. Respecting Harris’s judgment, and no political novice himself, Davis realized that in the short term his decision might be harmful to the Confederate cause in Kentucky. Yet he also knew that military might would ultimately settle the state’s fate. On the scene he had a commander who had moved decisively to bolster his position. In standing behind Polk, Davis asserted his conviction that taking the offensive where possible was appropriate.69

  Western Theater, 1861-Summer 1863.

  From W. J. Cooper and T. E. Terrill, The American South: A History (2d ed.), with permission of the McGraw-Hill Companies

  Just as Davis affirmed Polk’s intrusion into Kentucky, he once again fell prey to malarial symptoms. Wracked with intermittent fever, feeble, and weak, he went to bed. Although pressed by cabinet members to leave the capital for a nearby country seat to recuperate, the president stayed on. Then, at the end of the first week in September, from his second-floor sickroom he heard a familiar step. Immediately, he sent for Albert Sidney Johnston to come up and see him. Of that moment Davis later said, “I felt strengthened and reassured, knowing that a great support had thereby been added to the Confederate cause.”70

  For reasons not completely clear, Davis considered Johnston a great soldier. The two men went back a long way, having been friends at Transylvania and West Point. Five years older than Davis and two years ahead of him at the Military Academy, Johnston seems to have been his friend’s youthful beau ideal, a view the younger man held to tenaciously. For a time as junior officers they served together in the old Northwest. Both fought at Monterrey, and both received Zachary Taylor’s praise. They also resigned from the army at almost the same time. No longer a soldier, Johnston emigrated to Texas, where he engaged in a variety of occupations. In 1855, Secretary of War Davis got Johnston appointed as colonel of the newly created Second Cavalry Regiment. By 1861, Johnston had been promoted to brevet brigadier general and was stationed in California as commanding general of the Department of the Pacific. After getting news that his adopted state of Texas had seceded, Johnston resigned his commission and set out overland for the Confederacy. Just over six feet tall, powerfully built, and with penetrating eyes, Johnston made a striking impression. No sterling combat record marked his career; but in 1861, Davis and many others—among them, Winfield Scott—shared the view that Johnston possessed great militar
y ability, a conviction Davis never lost. Memories of shared experiences helped shape Davis’s confidence that this man he had been admiring for almost four decades would perform superlatively in the great test of his chosen profession. Having already appointed Johnston to the rank of full general, the president now named him commander of Department No. 2, embracing parts of Mississippi, Tennessee, and Arkansas, as well as all military operations in Kentucky, Missouri, Kansas, and the Indian Territory. For this critical and difficult command, the president thought Johnston “the only man who seemed equal to it.” In Davis’s mind, the heartland of his country had found its defender.71

  Sidney Johnston’s command included Missouri, another torn and divided border slave state that demanded President Davis’s attention. In March a state convention had rejected secession, but after Fort Sumter the pro-southern governor, Claiborne Jackson, called on Missouri to join her sister slave states. A civil war broke out in the state, and by midsummer the Union side had the upper hand. With the governor and the legislature decamping, the convention took over state governmental responsibilities. In June, Governor Jackson along with Davis’s former U.S. Senate colleague David R. Atchison traveled to Richmond to see the president and request military assistance. Although concerned about the commitment of Missourians, especially the paucity of troops, Davis requested and obtained a $1 million congressional appropriation for Missouri.

  Events in Missouri moved rapidly. On August 5, Governor Jackson issued a proclamation declaring Missouri independent. Five days later, Confederate forces defeated a Union army at Wilson’s Creek in the southern part of the state. Led by Sterling Price, an immensely popular former governor, the victorious Confederates moved north and asserted authority over much of the state. But Price’s advance was basically a raid because he had insufficient strength to hold territory. Reorganized and larger Federal forces drove Price back down to the southwest corner of the state. In the meantime, on November 3 a rump meeting of the pro-Confederate Missouri legislature met near the Arkansas border and passed an ordinance of secession. The Confederate Congress thereupon admitted Missouri as the twelfth Confederate state. But although Missouri senators and representatives sat in the Congress, the state’s Confederate government existed in exile for the entire war.72

  When dealing with the West, President Davis dispatched generals and orders and received visitors, but in Virginia he could go personally to his major army in order to discuss important matters. Moreover, that opportunity permitted Davis to join his troops at the front, which always pleased him. In late September, troubled by his lengthening, thinning defensive line, as well as by the increasing strength of the Federal army facing him, General Joseph Johnston requested that either the secretary of war or the president come to his headquarters at Fairfax Court House for a conference. Davis decided he would go, and on September 30, he took a 6 a.m. train out of Richmond.

  He was met by Johnston with his two ranking officers, Beauregard and Gustavus W. Smith, a Kentucky native and West Pointer who was living in New York in 1861 when he decided to join the Confederate army and was commissioned a major general. Riding the four miles from the station to headquarters, Davis raised his hat to acknowledge the cheers of soldiers and civilians along the route. While at Fairfax Court House, on October 1, Davis reconnoitered toward enemy lines. He also “rode many miles visiting the encampments.” Yet the most critical part of his trip was a conference with the three generals.

  After some discussions of army organization, the generals raised the point that most interested them—going on the offensive. They wanted to cross the Potomac, flank the Federals, force them out of their fortifications, and then attack them. An obviously interested president listened; he had even brought with him maps of river crossings. To carry out their proposed plan, the generals insisted they needed substantial reinforcements of seasoned troops. Davis told them they were asking for the impossible. No such body of experienced men existed; only new troops were available. Besides, he confided, arms were still limited. Although he could not provide ingredients for a major offensive, Davis proposed raids across the Potomac against enemy batteries. This time General Johnston demurred, probably arguing correctly that such assaults involved too much risk for the potential gain. Thus, with the decision that Johnston’s army would retain its defensive posture, Davis on October 4 returned to Richmond.73

  President Davis did not appoint generals and establish war policy in a vacuum. He was a public figure acting on a public stage. As a veteran politician, he understood the importance of public opinion. He well knew that he had to conduct political and military campaigns as “a joint operation.”74

  Davis enjoyed great popularity in 1861, and if such had existed, certainly would have received a quite high approval rating for his performance in office. The general public, men in the army, those in civil office all testified to the widespread support for the president. The Richmond Enquirer spoke for many in its observation that “the Chief Magistrate of the Confederate States, not only enjoys the unqualified confidence of the Southern people, but he has deserved it.” Observers often feared for the country without him. Secretary Mallory was convinced that should Davis die, “general dejection would ensue, and indeed our cause would have received a heavy blow & great discouragement.”75

  Testifying to his commanding public image, Davis had no opposition when he stood for election on November 6 as president for a full six-year term. In Montgomery, he and Alexander Stephens had been given provisional appointments, to serve for one year. That the country was fighting a war certainly contributed to the absence of opponents, as did the continuing determination of most Confederates to present a united front. Yet Davis’s public standing was also consequential in his confronting no challenger. Even Joseph Brown did not think anyone should oppose Davis and Stephens. Summing up the general opinion, the Richmond Examiner declared Davis should be chosen, “not merely because he commands the popular confidence, but he deserves it.”76

  The election of Davis and Stephens did not mean that a team ran the executive department. Although in Montgomery the president had consulted with the vice president, after the move to Richmond those consultations took place less and less frequently. Telling a friend the president did not include him in military decisions, Stephens revealed no dissatisfaction. At this early point Davis excluded Stephens chiefly because of his concentration on military affairs, an area in which he did not see Stephens as a valuable adviser. In time, however, this tendency extended to other areas as well. Even though the president met often with his cabinet, the vice president had no special place. Of course, in basically disregarding his vice president, Davis followed the practice of all American presidents to 1860, and of most afterwards. Yet, by thus isolating a proud, sensitive man, Davis helped create a notable opponent of his administration. By paying the vice president just a little attention, he could have helped prevent the distance growing between them.77

  Although in 1861 Stephens was not a political antagonist, elsewhere Davis confronted vigorous criticism, even enmity. The harmony so vigorously touted in Montgomery did not survive Montgomery. Robert Barnwell Rhett, Sr., Davis’s first serious as well as venomous critic, emerged in Montgomery and remained in the forefront of opposition throughout the war. Robert Barnwell, who knew Rhett well, believed the origin of this personal and spiteful enmity lay in resentment because Davis occupied the position that Rhett, often called the father of secession, believed was rightfully his. Whatever the cause, Rhett’s fury exploded shortly after Davis’s selection as provisional president. When the Provisional Congress appropriated money to lease a home for the president, Rhett cried tyranny. From the podium of his newspaper, the Charleston Mercury, Rhett hurled denunciations that the president was “egotistical, arrogant, and vindictive,” and decried his “terrible incompetency and perversity.” He characterized his voting for Davis as one of the “greatest errors of my life.” Rhett’s opposition centered on Davis the man and president, not on policy. Anyt
hing Davis said or did, Rhett found poisonous and reprehensible.78

  In the first year, Davis had the cooperation and respect of most governors, with whom he worked closely in building and deploying an army. Only Joseph Brown acted in a way that foreshadowed his joining Rhett on the front line of Davis enemies. The shrewd Brown eventually drew Stephens and some of the vice president’s friends into his orbit. In the autumn of 1861 a close Georgia associate of Stephens denounced Davis as “the prince of humbug,” with no ability, only hunger for adulation. The Brown-Stephens alliance, which Toombs also joined, would become the strongest and most tenacious political opposition the president would face.79

  An old political hand, Davis was not surprised by political opponents, though from the beginning he made clear his creed that allegiance to the Confederacy should outweigh all prior personal and political differences. Moreover, loyalty to the cause should subsume personal ambition. Offering a generalship to his old antagonist from the Mexican War, William B. Campbell, and giving a lieutenant’s commission to young Henry S. Foote, Jr., illustrated his belief, as did his response to the request of an ardent foe of secession in Tennessee that the government release him from a charge of disloyalty. Davis did so, saying he did not believe past positions important. Only current loyalty to the Confederacy mattered.80

  Discussing appointments with Tennessee governor Isham Harris, the president articulated his conception of the Confederacy and his identity with it. The governor expressed concern that Davis had paid too little attention to previous political affiliations in awarding army commissions to Tennesseans. According to Harris, “positive political necessity” required more military slots for former Whigs. In response Davis thanked the governor for advice that “shall not be disregarded,” and urged him to write frequently and candidly. Explaining his previous appointments, Davis wrote that “the magnitude and supreme importance of the present crisis” caused him “to forget the past.” Moreover, he “regard[ed] all good and true men now, as belonging to the one party of the South in which all are loyal, and all are equally entitled to recognition and honor.”81