Jefferson Davis, American

by William J. Cooper

  Johnston did make one positive recommendation. He regularly urged the War Department to unleash a cavalry force against Sherman’s long rail supply line, which stretched back to Chattanooga and on up to Nashville. Always claiming his own mounted arm was too weak for such an assignment, he wanted the troops sent from Mississippi or elsewhere. To help obtain the War Department’s agreement on this maneuver, he called on Governor Brown and Senator Hill to lobby for it. One strong Confederate cavalry force did exist in Mississippi, under Major General Nathan Bedford Forrest, the ablest Confederate cavalry commander. Whether Forrest could have done more than temporarily interrupt Sherman is most unlikely. No doubt exists, however, on two other relevant matters. Johnston never considered any assault on the railroad by a portion of his own army akin to Lee’s employment of Early. And Davis never considered sending Forrest against Sherman’s rear, for he believed the cavalryman essential for the defense of Mississippi. In June, Forrest was instrumental in turning back a Federal attack on the northern part of the state. Of course, the president could have jettisoned Mississippi and directed Confederate forces there toward central Tennessee, where they might or might not have forced Sherman to turn away from Johnston and head back to Tennessee. Davis was not prepared to take that drastic step and shrink his country. The emotional and political costs would have been exorbitant.

  Confronting yet another troubling situation with the Army of Tennessee, Davis once more called on his best soldier and most trusted counselor. “Gen. Johnston,” Davis wired to Lee, “has failed and there are strong indications that he will abandon Atlanta.” Underscoring his conclusion, the president had learned that the line Johnston had told Senator Hill he could hold for more than a month had been given up in a week. Stating that “the case seems hopeless in present hands,” Davis broached the possibility of Johnston’s removal and asked Lee, “Who should succeed him?” Lee cautioned the president not to act hastily. He thought it “a grievous thing to change commander of an army situated as is that of the Tennessee,” a concern Davis shared. The president told Senator Hill that removing Johnston would be dreadful, but he feared he would have to do it. Lee agreed, adding, “Still if necessary it ought to be done.”31

  While Lee was wary about changing commanding generals in Atlanta, Davis’s two closest cabinet advisers had decided that drastic and immediate action was essential. Judah Benjamin, never a Johnston admirer, had long questioned the general’s strategy. He saw only disaster if Johnston were retained. Secretary Seddon expressed the same opinion, though he had reached it from a different starting point. He had usually backed Johnston and in December 1863 had enthusiastically pushed for Johnston’s assignment to the Army of Tennessee. Now he advised Davis that Johnston must go.32

  Finally, the president turned to Johnston himself. On July 16 he requested from the general information about the “present situation, and your plan of operation.…” Replying that same day, Johnston reiterated lines that he had been speaking since the Peninsula in 1862. His opponent outnumbered him, which meant that his “plan of operations must, therefore, depend upon that of the enemy.” This exchange convinced Davis that his concerns about Johnston’s confidence were justified. Now he had to act. The following day he relieved Johnston for failing to stop Sherman but chiefly for “express[ing] no confidence that you can defeat or repel him.…”33

  In relieving Johnston, Davis compared his campaign to Lee’s. Although both generals had retreated before a superior foe, the president viewed their circumstances and performances as quite different. Lee had battled all the way and with Early had even tried a daring, albeit unsuccessful, move to regain the initiative. At Petersburg, he had Grant as much at bay as Grant had him. With a bloodied and weary army, Grant could neither overpower nor dislodge the Confederate defenders. Lee knew he could hold on for a considerable time. Moreover, throughout the weeks from the Wilderness to Petersburg he had kept Davis thoroughly informed and had promptly posted the president on his intentions and actions.34

  In contrast, Johnston, in the same amount of time, had fallen back over twice as great a distance and through country more advantageous for defense. He never seriously tried to grasp the initiative, and he constantly cried for help from outside his army. He never slowed down or weakened Sherman, who reached Atlanta relatively more powerful than Grant at Petersburg. According to a compatriot, Davis worried that Johnston thought “his army is not for the defense of the country, but that he must at all hazards protect the army.” Perhaps most important, Johnston never confided in Davis. He never gave the president any reason to have confidence in him. Of course, that would have been difficult because he had so little in himself.35

  Removing Johnston meant replacing him. With Sherman at the gates of Atlanta, a decision could not be put off, and with Davis determined to fight for the city, no time remained to bring in someone from outside the Army of Tennessee. Given the situation, Davis had few choices. The army’s two senior lieutenant generals were unavailable for different reasons. Leonidas Polk had been killed by Federal artillery just prior to the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain, and William Hardee had withdrawn his name from consideration back in December 1863, under conditions not nearly so pressing. The remaining two were Polk’s successor Alexander P. Stewart, who had received his third star only in late June, and the impatient Hood, who had been advocating offensive moves.

  Of course, the president wanted the opinion of Robert E. Lee. It had become habitual with him to seek Lee’s counsel before making any major decision regarding the Army of Tennessee. When Davis posed Hood’s name, he got an unenthusiastic response. Lee acknowledged Hood’s “gallantry, earnestness & zeal,” but feared for his success “when the whole responsibility rested upon him.” Lee suggested the more experienced Hardee. Four days after this exchange the president sent Secretary Seddon by train to confer with Lee about Johnston’s replacement. Upon Seddon’s return, he and Davis closeted themselves to make a decision. From Davis’s perspective, Hardee had already expressed an unwillingness to take over the army. On the other hand, Hood was eager for the command and no one doubted he would fight. Davis promoted him to the temporary rank of full general and gave him the opportunity.36

  Hood fulfilled Davis’s expectations; he fought desperately for Atlanta. In a series of bold assaults in and around the city, he tried to throw Sherman back. He failed, though he did the best he could. Military historians have often condemned Hood for destroying the fine army he had inherited from Johnston, but some have been impressed by his effort. He started out with inferior numbers. Then his headlong attacks lacked the careful planning that would have increased his chances of severely hurting Sherman. In addition, he had no luck. Hood had learned to fight in the Army of Northern Virginia in 1862 and 1863, and on the battlefield he tried to emulate the combative Lee. But he was no Lee. And by mid-1864 even Lee could not drive his enemy back.37

  During a difficult spring and summer, Davis did not spend all of his time on his two major armies. His workdays continued long and extended well into the night. Friends worried about the constant pressure and about the impact on his health of the late hours as well as the absorption in detail. He was urged to turn over small matters to others; but such counsel did not comprehend the sheer impossibility of his doing so. Neither his ingrained administrative style nor his concept of his duty would permit any substantive delegation of authority or tasks.38

  Yet the president did not neglect his public obligations. When 1,000 prisoners of war were returned to Richmond, he joined a large crowd in Capitol Square to welcome them. Greeted by hearty cheers from the soldiers, Davis praised them for their bravery in captivity and promised they could soon rejoin their units. He also had the sad task of visiting Lee’s celebrated cavalry chieftain, Major General J. E. B. Stuart, who lay dying in a Richmond home. He had been mortally wounded just north of the city while repelling a Federal cavalry raid. Returning to the Executive Mansion, Davis knelt in prayer and, according to his wife, asked God to spare S
tuart’s life “to our needy country.”39

  Davis’s family concerns extended beyond the travails in the White House to include the tribulations of brother Joseph. Joseph had thought about Georgia as a sanctuary, but decided the trip would be too arduous. As a result, the spring of 1864 found the displaced old planter in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, with his granddaughter Lise Mitchell still by his side. His wandering had finally come to a halt. He informed Jefferson he was “feeble” but not sick. He reported on family trials and slaves, some of whom remained with him. He hoped to find work for them and to plant some corn in order to help feed them. Jefferson worried about his elderly sibling and wanted him in Richmond. Declining the invitation, Joseph said the expense would be too great; besides, Jefferson did not need the added bother of having him at hand. Joseph did want to send Lise for “the advantages” he saw in the capital city, but she would not leave him. With cares and sadness pressing upon him, Joseph wrote of happier times as “only the faint shadow of the past.” The old man and the young woman would stay in Tuscaloosa to the end.40

  The president’s moods ranged from grim to light. After he spoke to the former prisoners, some women friends asked if the men would like going back to the army. Davis answered, “it may seem hard.” Then he pointed to some twelve- to fourteen-year-old boys playing nearby and said they too “will have their trial,” possibly with rats as their rations. On other occasions his spirits were buoyant and he would indulge his fondness for telling stories. One companion heard incidents involving two of his heroes, Andrew Jackson and Zachary Taylor. Visitors to the presidential office were invariably impressed by his charm and graciousness.41

  In July an acute observer described a man yet vigorous but visibly affected by the enormous burden constantly with him. A slight stoop barely bowed his frame of just under six feet. His hair and chin whiskers were now “iron-gray,” and “his face was emaciated and much wrinkled.” But to this eyewitness, Davis’s broad forehead along with strong mouth and chin signified “great energy and strength of will.” His eyes still captivated, even though one was damaged.42

  In mid-July a visit from two northern men who came to talk about the possibility of ending the war provided an occasion for President Davis to define once again his sense of the Confederacy. These men, Union officer James F. Jaquess and Methodist minister James R. Gilmore, had no official status, though they had been granted passage from Washington into Confederate lines. Upon their arrival in Richmond, they made clear in their request for an interview that they came as private citizens. They also specified they brought no message from President Lincoln, but they declared themselves familiar with his views. Davis readily agreed to see them and, accompanied by Judah Benjamin, met them in Benjamin’s office. He agreed with his guests that he could not leave untried any approach that might result in peace. He told them he wanted peace and deplored bloodshed as much as they did, but claimed that “not one drop of the blood shed in this war is on my hands.” “I can look up to my God and say this,” he went on, because he had striven for a dozen years to prevent war, but he had failed.

  The war came, he asserted, and “Now it must go on till the last man of this generation falls in his tracks, and his children seize his musket and fight our battle, unless you acknowledge our right to self government.” Insisting that Confederates were not battling for slavery, Davis claimed that slavery had never been the key issue. In his words, “it was only a means of bringing other conflicting elements to an earlier culmination. It fired the musket which was already capped and loaded.” “We are fighting for Independence,” he proclaimed, “and that, or extermination, we will have.”

  Davis repeatedly emphasized that peace required independence. Upon being told that the North would never relent in its determination to maintain the Union and that the northern people might eventually want to hang Confederate leaders, Davis responded, “There are some things worse than hanging or extermination. We reckon giving up the right of self-government one of those things.” Throughout the discussion Davis never wavered in his complete confidence that the Confederacy could and would prevail. He pointed to Grant’s inability to break Lee and the massive casualties he had incurred while trying, and he stated that Sherman’s lengthening supply line rendered his situation increasingly perilous, whether or not Atlanta fell. As his visitors departed, Davis spoke directly: “Say to Mr. Lincoln from me, that I shall at any time be pleased to receive proposals for peace on the basis of our Independence. It will be useless to approach me with any other.”43

  In just six weeks, the assurance Davis expressed to his northern visitors was sorely tested. From the moment he had taken command of the Army of Tennessee, Hood had been trying to drive Sherman away from Atlanta. He did not succeed. A month and a half after he inaugurated his fight for Atlanta, he gave up all hope of saving the city. On September 2 Federal troops marched in. The news dealt “a stunning blow” to Davis and his advisers. “No hope,” Mary Chesnut wrote. “We will try to have no fear.”44

  President Davis recognized the danger to his army and even more to his cause. Preserving Atlanta had been the psychological as well as military goal of the campaign. Davis had removed Johnston specifically because the general would not promise to defend the city. The president wanted it defended, and Hood had complied, though unsuccessfully. Atlanta’s fall opened the way both to central Alabama and on to the Gulf of Mexico, as well as to central Georgia and South Carolina on to the South Atlantic coast. Davis believed he had to rally public opinion in the threatened region and show support for the Army of Tennessee and its aggressive general.

  For the third time in less than two years, he decided that a western trip was essential. Accompanied by aides Francis Lubbock and G. W. C. Lee, he left Richmond by rail on September 20 for Georgia. His route took him via Charlotte and Augusta; there in order to bypass captured Atlanta he had to turn south and then back north through Macon, where he arrived unannounced early on the morning of the twenty-fourth. At stops along the way crowds, including many women, gathered at depots to see him. Observers commented on his worn, burdened look; one reflected, “poor man he pays for his honors.” Yet Davis still spoke in firm and vigorous voice. His brief remarks always emphasized his continuing confidence in the Confederate cause and called for all able-bodied men to join the ranks. In Macon he stopped with General Cobb and gave a talk before traveling on to Hood’s headquarters at Palmetto, twenty miles southwest of Atlanta.45

  On a rainy Sunday, September 25, he reached the end of his journey. In visiting the army, he had two goals. Hoping to boost morale, he was eager to show his unflagging belief in the soldiers, and at the same time he wanted to stand publicly by his young commander. He spoke extemporaneously to Tennessee troops gathered at the station to meet him. “Be of good cheer, for within a short while your faces will be turned homeward and your feet pressing the soil of Tennessee.” Although those words brought forth shouts of approval, his inspection of the army highlighted the problem he faced. The president with generals and their staffs rode by the drawn-up units, but this review did not replicate those of 1862 and 1863. This time Davis received salutes but heard no cheers. The silence did not necessarily mean that the troops had turned against their commander in chief. They had just been through weeks of hard, bloody fighting, which ended in defeat. According to reports, some were angry and a few even called for Joe Johnston; many others simply did not feel like hurrahing. Still, the reception given Davis provided a telling commentary on the condition of the army. And he was affected. One officer described him as “careworn,” with a “scornful expression” on his face. The commentator thought the president and the senior commanders “all looked uneasy and apprehensive.” The generals told Davis about morale problems and questioned the competence of the commanding general. Yet the president did not consider firing Hood, who had done precisely what had been expected of him. Besides, no ready replacement was at hand.46

  In addition to dealing with the matter of esprit, Davis discusse
d strategy. Hood proposed to move his army into North Georgia, believing that this maneuver would draw Sherman away from Atlanta. If Sherman refused to oblige the Confederates and headed south from Atlanta, Hood would be close on his heels. A receptive Davis authorized Hood to proceed with those plans, with one alteration. Should Sherman try to force Hood away from his communications, as they expected he would, Davis directed his general to fall back westward on Gadsden, Alabama. There he would have secure supply lines coming from the Southwest, and he would also be closer to Lieutenant General Richard Taylor, commander of the Department of Alabama and Mississippi. Davis knew he could not approve a retreat by Hood after he had removed Johnston for following such a policy. He also knew that retreat toward the Atlantic Ocean or the Gulf of Mexico could have but one result. Furthermore, he believed an advance would help morale. Aggressiveness he always preferred and in this instance considered essential, so he supported Hood.47

  After settling the future course of the Army of Tennessee, Davis traveled on to Montgomery, where he stayed with Governor Thomas Watts, addressed the Alabama legislature, and on September 28 met with Richard Taylor. Taylor expressed surprise at Hood’s offensive intentions because he thought Hood’s forces too weak to undertake such a campaign. He also informed the president that he himself had insufficient resources to provide any assistance to Hood. Davis brought up the possibility of obtaining help from the Trans-Mississippi. Replying that none existed, Taylor pointed out the practical impossibility of moving large numbers of troops across the Mississippi. He went on to tell his former brother-in-law that many soldiers would refuse to come east. According to Taylor, loyalty to the Confederate government had waned considerably west of the river. Both soldiers and civilians felt that Richmond had neglected their homeland. Davis, of course, had no way to project directly the authority of the Confederate government in the Trans-Mississippi.