Jefferson Davis, American

by William J. Cooper

  Finding a new home proved exceedingly vexing; only poor land at prohibitive prices was available. Joseph told Jefferson that the flood and the burning of cotton had seriously damaged his finances, though he did pay Confederate taxes for both of them. He also expressed uncertainty about how he could maintain their human and animal property. Joseph’s wife Eliza chorused the litany of travails, writing her brother-in-law about her husband’s difficulties and the general displacement caused by the war.

  Joseph especially worried about the slaves. At one point he described Brierfield and Hurricane as mostly deserted, but then many of the slaves who had left on their own just as voluntarily returned. He brought more into the interior with him, and he hired out others to work in hospitals and on military projects. Confronting so many problems with limited means, he asked Jefferson to indicate exactly what he wanted done with his slaves. He informed his brother that their nephew Hugh Davis, who resided in Wilkinson County, had offered to take and care for them. He added that until he received Jefferson’s response, he would carry on as before.

  By the fall the seventy-eight-year-old family patriarch had decided to move to Texas because he and others he knew feared the Federals would overrun the state. Informing his brother of this decision, Joseph offered to take all the slaves. But in November an illness felled him for three weeks, and with Eliza also sick and weak, the elderly planter concluded that such a journey was simply impossible. He renewed his search for a temporary residence, finally finding a 1,300-acre plantation called Fleetwood in Hinds County, near Bolton’s Station, between Jackson and Vicksburg, which he bought before ever seeing it. When he got to Fleetwood, he found it less than satisfying, “a poor place with miserable huts for a part only of the negroes.” “I cannot feel that it is home,” he admitted to his brother. He also wrote Jefferson of the availability of a nearby place.

  Although Jefferson confided to a Mississippi friend that he barely had time “to bestow a thought” on his private affairs, he was distraught about his slaves and especially about his brother, worrying particularly about Joseph’s trips back and forth to Davis Bend. He helped financially by sending $3,000 to aid in provisioning his slaves. He did not want to send them to his nephew, preferring if possible to settle them near Joseph. After Joseph made his decision to move in at Fleetwood, Jefferson acquired the property close by that Joseph had mentioned. Through Joseph’s agency, he purchased 1,565 acres for $15 per acre plus the cost of hogs, all to be paid for within three years. According to Joseph’s granddaughter Lise Mitchell, who was living with her grandparents, Jefferson’s unnamed acreage was more desirable than Fleetwood. She termed it “much more valuable, though also in need of repairs and improvements.” She also commented on the poor quality of soil: “it seems a waste of labor to cultivate it, particularly so to one who has planted on the rich delta lands of the river, as Grandpa has.” No longer did the Davis brothers command plantation showplaces fronting the Mississippi. War had literally driven them to hardscrabble farms.79

  The upheaval at Davis Bend that disrupted plantation life and turned Joseph Davis into a refugee intensified President Davis’s reaction to growing civilian distress. In late 1861, he had noted the enemy’s beginning to overstep his definition of civilized warfare, but by the summer of 1862 he saw horror becoming pervasive. The penetration by Federal forces into so many areas of the Confederacy brought thousands of civilians into the swath of battles, raids, and occupations. Some Federals welcomed the havoc wreaked upon persons and property while others for a time tried to control destruction. But such boundaries proved impossible to maintain. Civilians and their property could not escape the whirlwind that accompanied marching and fighting by great armies. In Davis’s mind their barbarity was dramatized by the actions of Major General Benjamin F. Butler, his erstwhile political supporter, now the Federal commander of occupied New Orleans. Reacting to several incidents in which the city’s women had been less than respectful to his troops, Butler in May issued his famous or infamous “woman order,” which declared that any woman insulting or contemptuous of Federal military personnel would be treated as a prostitute. Even though the Lincoln administration never officially approved it and nothing untoward actually occurred to any woman, to Confederates the order became symbolic of what they conceived as uncivilized war. Then the next month Butler executed a civilian who had taken down and destroyed a United States flag.80

  Privately and publicly Davis condemned what he considered Butler’s outrages. To Varina, he deplored “the brutal tyranny” that reigned in New Orleans overseen by an ogre “properly surnamed the Beast.” In his August message to Congress, he denounced Butler’s “contumelious” behavior. Four months later, he issued a public proclamation excoriating Butler as “a felon deserving of capital punishment … an outlaw and common enemy of mankind,” who would be hanged if captured.81

  Davis matched his revulsion toward Butler with general condemnations of what he perceived as a new and horrific direction taken by his foe. In a public proclamation dated September 4, he denounced an enemy who “laid waste our fields, polluted our altars, and violated the sanctity of our homes.” Earlier he wrote to General Lee that the United States had “chang[ed] the character of the war from such as becomes civilized nations into a campaign of indiscriminate robbery and murder.” To Congress, the president was blunt: “Humanity shudders at the appalling atrocities which are being daily multiplied under the sanction of those who have obtained temporary possession of power in the United States.…”82

  Davis had no doubt that these horrors merited retaliation. Most Confederates agreed, and a number told him so. He informed Congress that “stern and exemplary punishment” should be meted out to those who deserved it. He also brought up the subject of retaliation with the cabinet, the discussion revolving around how to carry it out, a worrisome question. The fact that his armies had not yet reached into the territory of his opponents restricted Davis’s options. He could not impose the civilian suffering and destruction that came only with invading hosts. Besides, at this point he did not want to blame northern citizens for the conduct of their military and political leaders, though he did say they could not remain “wholly guiltless” if the atrocities continued without any effort to repress those responsible for them.83

  President Davis had only one realistic option: turning on prisoners of war. Immediately, however, this possibility raised concerns. If Confederates violated accepted practices and began executing prisoners, even in the name of retaliation, they would become just as barbaric as their enemy. Even more important, the Lincoln administration would surely do likewise to its prisoners. Thus, except in very particular circumstances, such as responding to a specific act against captured Confederates, venting anger and frustration on prisoners offered no satisfaction. Despite his growing scorn for the Federals’ methods of waging war, Davis never did discover an appropriate or gratifying way to repay ferocity. Only successful invasion of the free states would have offered that opportunity, and he never had it.

  For Davis, the Emancipation Proclamation represented the culmination of the savage war waged upon his country. Lincoln issued his preliminary proclamation just after Antietam on September 22, with the final version promulgated on January 1, 1863, the date it took effect. Using his authority as commander in chief, Lincoln freed all slaves in states and areas of states still engaged in rebellion against the United States. Across the Confederacy the edict generated an outrage, which Davis conveyed in a message to Congress, damning the proclamation as “the most execrable measure recorded in the history of guilty man.” For its backers he had only “profound contempt,” and he tried to present the proclamation as “impotent rage” from a government that could not conquer the Confederacy by defeating its armies.

  In assaulting the proclamation, Davis articulated both central tenets of the proslavery argument and fears of white southerners: “We may well leave it to the instincts of that common humanity which a beneficent Creator has implanted i
n the breasts of our fellowmen of all countries to pass judgment on a measure by which several millions of human beings of an inferior race, peaceful and contented laborers in their sphere, are doomed to extermination, while at the same time they are encouraged to a general assassination of their masters by the insidious recommendation ‘to abstain from violence unless in necessary self-defense.’ ” In contemplating this monstrous deed, he did identify one virtue. Now all Confederates could see “the complete and crowning proof of the true nature” of their enemy. For his part, he would react directly. Davis proposed to turn over to state authorities all Union commissioned officers captured in any state covered by the proclamation. At that point, “they may be dealt with in accordance with the laws of those States providing for punishment of criminals engaged in exciting servile insurrection.” But the Confederate government never adopted any such policy. Emotion stemming from anger and horror said yes, yet practical recognition of the undoubted repercussions on captured Confederate officers dictated no. Once again, President Davis found no practical way to satisfy his overwhelming desire for retaliation.84

  Viewing his enemy as increasingly loathsome, Davis instituted important changes in his western command structure that he hoped would help his armies fight more effectively. In his major eastern army he knew he could depend upon Robert E. Lee. But in the West he had no such security, and he had not ended the disharmony rampant among the generals in the Army of Tennessee. For some time he and Secretary of War Randolph had been contemplating a new design for the heartland—a unified command for that immense area, with the creation of a department akin to Sidney Johnston’s Department No. 2.85

  The situation Bragg left behind in Mississippi upon his departure for Tennessee undoubtedly contributed to the discussions in Richmond. In the force remaining to defend the state, command relations were unclear, with two men, each a major general, vying for control. Moreover, once in Tennessee and committed to the Kentucky campaign, Bragg exercised no real authority in Mississippi. President Davis became directly involved in trying to sort out the confusion. He had relied on Major General Earl Van Dorn, a West Pointer, professional soldier, and Mississippian, but he ended up disappointed, especially by Van Dorn’s defeat at Corinth in early October, believing justifiably that his commander had been outgeneraled.86

  Davis determined to do better by Mississippi. It was his native state, and the great Confederate river bastion Vicksburg was practically his hometown. He acted even before the fiasco at Corinth, for on October 1 he appointed a new commander for the Department of Mississippi and Southeast Louisiana. For Davis this appointment not only brought new hope to Mississippi, it also solved a nagging political problem in South Carolina.

  Central in Davis’s decision-making was John C. Pemberton, a Philadelphia-born West Pointer who followed his Virginia wife into the Confederacy. Pemberton was one of those officers who without ever having done anything to warrant it enjoyed an excellent military reputation, an opinion shared by Davis. His Confederate service began in a Virginia cavalry regiment and took him to the South Atlantic coast, where he served under Lee. When Davis in March 1862 called Lee back to Virginia as his military adviser, Pemberton took over.

  Despite his military standing, the transplanted Pennsylvanian never became acceptable to the South Carolinians, especially Governor Francis Pickens, who implored Davis to remove Pemberton. Pickens said that the general might have a fine military record, but he could not generate public support. Although the president defended Pemberton, amazingly calling him “one of the best Generals in our service,” he finally realized that political reality in South Carolina required a change. Having come to this conclusion, he knew he wanted Beauregard in Charleston, and suggested his name to Pickens. In Davis’s mind, the South Atlantic command was a good post for Beauregard because it entailed chiefly coastal defense requiring engineering skills which Beauregard possessed. There was no significant field army. Moreover, the Carolinians liked him; to them he was still the hero of Fort Sumter and First Manassas. In late September he superseded Pemberton.87

  This assignment made Pemberton available for reassignment. Davis promptly promoted him to lieutenant general and dispatched him to Mississippi. The president assured his fellow Mississippians of Pemberton’s loyalty and ability. Upon his arrival in the state, Pemberton made a positive impression on leading citizens, including Joseph Davis, who had not thought much of Pemberton’s predecessors, remarking, “When Van Dorn was made a General it spoiled a good captain.…”88

  The western boundary of Pemberton’s department was the Mississippi River, the great highway flowing north to south through the heart of the Confederate States. Beyond it lay the vast reaches of what the Confederates termed the Trans-Mississippi. Officials and citizens of Arkansas, Louisiana, and Texas, as well as Confederate refugees from Missouri, often felt isolated and likened themselves to uncared-for stepchildren. Distance made communications difficult, though not impossible, for the Confederacy still controlled the Mississippi between Port Hudson, Louisiana, and Vicksburg. Additionally, many troops from those states had gone east to fight as far away as Virginia, while few had come west. Wide correspondence and conversations with members of Congress and visitors to Richmond made President Davis quite aware of circumstances and attitudes in his Far West.

  In the summer and fall of 1862, he heard regularly from civilian and military officials. In late July, the governors of the four states jointly signed a letter to the president underscoring their personal loyalty and that of the people in their states. At the same time they spelled out what they saw as fundamental needs to sustain allegiance, an overall commander along with an infusion of arms and money. Similar pleas came to Davis’s desk from others in the region.89

  Acknowledging the “discontent and despondency” permeating the region, Davis wanted to respond as positively as he could, but he had to tread carefully because military and political concerns often merged, complicating choices. Many Missourians, especially, clamored for Sterling Price, enormously popular but an indifferent general, whom Davis did not trust for an important command. Davis worked with favorite sons, like Thomas C. Hindman in Arkansas and his former brother-in-law Richard Taylor, whom he ordered from Virginia back to Louisiana, under an overall commander. Davis had initially tapped Major General John B. Magruder, an energetic, enthusiastic officer who had performed well on the Peninsula and had the potential to rally civilians and soldiers and become an effective leader. But Magruder had barely departed Virginia when Davis recalled him because of allegations of intemperate behavior, including intoxication. Believing he could not wait for the final adjudication of Magruder’s case, he appointed Major General Theophilus H. Holmes in Magruder’s stead.90

  Davis’s choice of Holmes was both curious and unfortunate. Although a contemporary of Davis’s and an 1829 graduate of West Point, Holmes, who suffered from deafness, appeared older, as indicated by his sobriquet “Granny.” His Confederate service had been undistinguished through the Seven Days, when, as a division commander, he gave a lackluster performance. But even though Holmes had no obvious political gifts and had demonstrated little military talent, Davis assigned him to command the Trans-Mississippi. Holmes expressed reservations, writing the president that he doubted his ability to handle the post, a remonstration stemming not from modesty but self-awareness. Davis, who interpreted Holmes’s genuine misgivings as merely “diffidence,” maintained his belief in the general’s patriotism and in his professional capability.

  When he took command in Little Rock in early August, Holmes discovered serious problems that seemed to grow only worse. He even told Davis that had the president comprehended the gravity of the situation in Arkansas, he would surely have sent an abler general. Disaffection plagued both the civilian population and the soldiers. Holmes’s forces were vastly understrength and ravaged by disease. Facing such intractable difficulties, he was unsure what course to set. He asked the president to send directions, which he would gladly carry
out. But Davis instead reasserted his faith in Holmes, promoting him to lieutenant general and instructing the general to use his judgment. Once again the president held fast to his conviction that he could not give operational orders to his field commanders.91

  With Holmes and Pemberton, Davis had placed two unproven generals in critical posts. He clearly believed in Pemberton’s potential, for he assigned the Pennsylvanian to defend his home. Yet General Pemberton, whose chief mission was to protect Vicksburg, had never participated, much less commanded, in a major battle. Davis’s mysterious trust in Holmes is unfathomable but for the importance the president attached to loyalty to the Confederate cause. As a student of military history, Davis understood that “a great General is so rare that their names mark the arch of history.” He had no illusions that the Confederacy would prove an exception to what he considered a truth of history. He had demonstrated that he could assess military ability, but in these two instances hope and faith prevailed over perceptive appraisal.92

  Holmes and Pemberton controlled either side of the Mississippi, yet neither could command the other. Although Davis certainly recognized the vital strategic importance of the river and the need for joint action, he only urged his generals to cooperate, despite the debacle in Kentucky. While exhorting them, he always stipulated that the two commanders retained the discretion to act as each deemed best. The motivation for making the Mississippi a military as well as a geographical boundary rested on a political judgment. Command in the Trans-Mississippi region had to remain west of the river.93

  Appointing Holmes and Pemberton did not end Davis’s revamping of his western front. He and Secretary Randolph decided to name a single commander for much of the vast area. Even though the president had stood by Bragg, vociferous dissatisfaction with the general continued, cries the politician Jefferson Davis heard. Even Bragg himself urged that a sort of super-commander be placed over him. Only four men ranked Bragg: Cooper, who would never take the field; Lee, who was indispensable in Virginia; Beauregard, whom the president judged unqualified; and the recuperating Joseph Johnston.94