The Victim: A Romance of the Real Jefferson Davis

by Thomas Dixon

  CHAPTER XXXIV

  THE TURN OF THE TIDE

  The death of Jackson was to Jefferson Davis an appalling disaster. Hehad never seriously believed the Southern people could win their unequalstruggle against the millions of the North backed by their inexhaustibleresources until the achievements of Lee and Jackson had introduced a newelement into the conflict. So resistless and terrible had become theeffective war power of Southern soldiers led by these two men whoseminds moved in such harmony with each other and with their Chief inRichmond that the South at last was in sight of success.

  The impossible had been accomplished. Anything now seemed possible.Jackson's death had destroyed this new equation of war.

  Davis' faith in Jackson was in every way equal to Lee's and Lee but oncerefused to follow Jackson's lead in his veto on his Lieutenant's plan toannihilate Burnside's army at Fredericksburg.

  When the report reached Richmond that Jackson was dying Davis wasinconsolable.

  The whole evening the President of the Confederacy shut himself in hisroom--unable to think of anything save the impending calamity. When theend was sure he sent with his own hand the handsomest flag in Richmondin which to wrap his body.

  When Davis gazed on the white, cold, rugged features, the tears werestreaming down his hollow checks. He bent low and the tears fell on theface of the dead.

  When an officer of the Government came to the President's Mansion wherethe body lay in state to consult him on a matter of importance, theConfederate Chieftain stared at his questioner in a dazed sort of wayand remained silent.

  Lifting his haggard face at last he said in pathetic tones:

  "You must excuse me, my friend, I am staggering from a dreadful blow--Icannot think--"

  Three days and nights the endless procession passed the bier and paidtheir tribute of adoration and love. And when he was borne to his lastresting place through the streets of the city, the sidewalks, thewindows and the housetops were a throbbing mass of weeping women andmen.

  Jefferson Davis was perhaps the only man in the South in a position torealize the enormous loss which the Confederacy had sustained in thedeath of Lee's great lieutenant.

  The Southern people who gloried in Jackson's deeds had as yet no realappreciation of the services he had rendered. They could not realizetheir loss until events should prove that no man could be found to takehis place.

  The brilliant victory of Chancellorsville, following so closely onFredericksburg, had lifted the Confederacy to the heights.

  In the West the army had held its own. The safety of Vicksburg was notseriously questioned. General Bragg confronted Rosecrans with an army sostrong he dared not attack it and yet not strong enough to driveRosecrans from Tennessee.

  Two campaigns were discussed with Davis.

  The members of his Cabinet, who regarded the possession of Vicksburg andthe continued grip on the Mississippi River vital to the life of theConfederacy, were alarmed at Grant's purpose to fight his way to thisstronghold and take it.

  They urged that Lee's army be divided and half of it sent immediately toreenforce Bragg. With this force in the West Rosecrans could be crushedand Grant driven from his design of opening the Mississippi.

  Lee, flushed with his victories, naturally objected to the weakening ofhis army by such a division. He proposed a more daring and effective wayof relieving Vicksburg.

  He would raise his army to eighty-five thousand men, clear Virginia ofthe enemy and sweep into Pennsylvania, carry the war into the North,forage on its rich fields, capture Harrisburg and march on Washington.

  Davis did not wish to risk this invasion of Northern soil. But hissituation was peculiar. His relations with Lee had been remarkable fortheir perfect accord. They had never differed on an essential point ofpolitical or military strategy. Davis' pride in Lee's genius wasunbounded, his confidence in his judgment perfect.

  Lee was absolutely sure that his army raised to eighty-five thousandeffective men could go anywhere on the continent and do anything withinhuman power. He had crushed McClellan's army of two hundred thousandwith seventy-five thousand men, and driven him from his entrenchments atRichmond down the Peninsula. With sixty thousand he had crushed Pope andhurled his army into the entrenchments at Washington, a bleeding,disorganized mob. With sixty-two thousand he had cut to piecesBurnside's hundred and thirteen thousand. With fifty thousand he hadrolled up Hooker's host of one hundred and thirty thousand in a scrollof flame and death and flung them across the Rappahannock.

  His fame filled the world. His soldiers worshiped him. At his commandthey would charge the gates of hell with their bare hands. His soldierswere seasoned veterans in whose prowess he had implicit faith. His faithwas not a guess. It was founded on achievements so brilliant there wasscarcely room for a doubt.

  Lee succeeded in convincing Davis that he could invade the North, liveon its rich fields and win a battle which would open the way, not onlyto save Vicksburg from capture, but secure the peace and independence ofthe South.

  A single great victory on Northern soil with his army threateningWashington would make peace a certainty. Davis was quick to see thelogic of Lee's plan. It was reasonable. It was a fair risk. And yet thedangers were so enormous he consented with reluctance.

  Reagan, the Western member of his Cabinet, urged with all the eloquenceof his loyal soul the importance of holding intact the communicationswith the territory beyond the Mississippi. He begged and pleaded for theplan to reenforce Bragg and play the safe game with Vicksburg. Davislistened to his advice with the utmost respect and weighed each pointwith solemn sense of his responsibility.

  The one point he made last he tried to drive home in a sharp personalappeal.

  "You cannot afford, Mr. President," he urged with vehemence, "to furtherexpose your own people of Mississippi to the ravages of such men as nowcontrol the invading army. They have laid your own home waste. Thepeople of Vicksburg are your neighbors. They know you personally. Thepeople of this territory have sent their sons and brothers into Virginiaby thousands. There are no soldiers left to defend them--"

  The President lifted his thin hand in protest.

  "I can't let the personal argument sway me, Reagan. Our own people mustendure what is best for the cause. All I wish to know is what _is_best--your plan or General Lee's."

  Lee persuaded him against his personal judgment to consent to the daringscheme of Northern invasion.

  So intent was Reagan on the plan of direct relief to Vicksburg thatafter Lee had begun his preparations for the advance, Davis called aCabinet meeting and reconsidered the whole question. Reagan pleaded withtears at last for what he knew his Chief felt to be best. Davis weighedfor the second time each point with care and again decided that Lee'splan promised the greater end--peace.

  The moment his final decision was made Davis at once commissioned VicePresident Alexander H. Stephens, who knew Lincoln personally, to go toWashington to make the proposition for an armistice and begin thenegotiations for a permanent peace on the day Lee should make good hispromise.

  The letter with which Stephens started to Washington asked on its facethat the President of the United States arrange for an exchange ofprisoners which would be prompt and effective and prevent all sufferingby Northern men in Southern climates and Southern men in Northernprisons. Davis had asked again and again that all prisoners beexchanged. The Federal War Department had obstructed this exchange untilthousands of Northern soldiers crowded the prisons of the South and itwas impossible for the Confederate authorities to properly care forthem. Medicine had been made contraband of war by the North and thesimplest remedies could not be had for the Confederate soldiers or theirprisoners. Behind this humane purpose of Stephens' mission lay thebigger proposition, which was a verbal one, to propose peace on Lee'svictory on Northern soil.

  Lee's army lay on the plains of Culpeper during the beautiful month ofMay. The vast field was astir with the feverish breath of preparationsfor the grand march. Trains rushed to the front loaded with mu
nitions ofwar. New batteries of artillery with the finest equipment ever knownwere added to his army. The ordnance trains were packed to theircapacity. His troops were better equipped than ever before in thehistory of the war. Every department of the huge, pitiless machine wasrunning like clockwork.

  Fifteen thousand cavalry were reviewed at Brandy Station led by Stuart'swaving plume--Stuart, the matchless leader who had twice ridden round ahostile army of a hundred thousand men. Crowds of cheering women watchedthis wonderful pageant and waved their handkerchiefs to the handsomeyoung cavalier as he passed on his magnificent horse draped withgarlands of flowers.

  It required an entire week to review the cavalry, infantry, andartillery.

  On June the first, the advance began.

  Ewell's corps, once commanded by Jackson, led the way. They swungrapidly through the Blue Ridge Mountains, into the Valley and suddenlypounced on General Milroy at Winchester. Milroy with a few of hisofficers escaped through the Confederate lines at night and succeeded incrossing the Potomac at Harper's Ferry. Ewell captured three thousandprisoners, thirty pieces of artillery, a hundred wagons and greatstores. Seven hundred more men were taken at Martinsburg.

  On June twenty-seventh, the whole of Lee's army was encamped atChambersburg in Pennsylvania in striking distance of the Capital of theState.

  The execution of this march had been a remarkable piece of strategy. Hehad completely baffled the Northern Commanders, spread terror throughthe North and precipitated the wildest panic in Washington.

  Within twenty-odd days the Southern General had brought his forces fromFredericksburg, Virginia, confronted by an army of one hundred thousandmen, through the Blue Ridge, and the Shenandoah Valley intoPennsylvania. He had done this in the face of one of the most powerfuland best equipped armies the North had put into the field. He had sweptthe hostile garrisons at Winchester, Martinsburg and Harper's Ferry intohis prisons and camped in Pennsylvania without his progress being oncearrested or a serious battle forced upon him. He had cleared Virginia ofthe army which threatened Richmond and they were rushing breathlesslyafter him in a desperate effort to save the Capital of Pennsylvania.

  So far Lee had made good every prediction on which he had based his planof campaign.

  Davis felt so sure that he would make good his promised victory that hehurriedly dispatched Stephens to Fortress Monroe under a flag of truceand asked for a safe conduct for his Commissioner to Washington.

  In alarm the Governors of Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York, Maryland, andWest Virginia called out their militia. Lee was not deterred by theirpanic. He knew that those raw troops would cut no figure in the swiftand terrible drama which was being staged among the ragged crags aroundGettysburg. The veteran armies of the North and South would decide theissue. If he won, he would brush aside the militia as so many schoolboys and march into Washington.

  Meade was rushing his army after his antagonist with feverish haste. Hisadvance guard struck Lee before the town of Gettysburg on July first,1863. A desperate struggle ensued. Neither Meade nor Lee had yet reachedthe field.

  Within a mile of the town the Confederates made a sudden and unitedcharge and smashed the Federal line into atoms. General Reynolds, theirCommander, was killed and his army driven headlong into the streets ofGettysburg. Ewell, charging through the town, swept all before him andtook five thousand prisoners.

  The crowded masses of fugitives, fleeing for their lives, passed out ofthe town and rushed up the slopes of the hills beyond.

  At five o'clock Lee halted his men until the rest of his army shouldreach the field.

  During the night General Meade rallied his disorganized men, poured hisfresh troops among them and entrenched his army on the heights where hisdefeated advance guard had taken refuge.

  Had Lee withdrawn the next morning when he scanned those hills whichlooked down on him through bristling brows of brass and iron the historyof the Confederacy might have been longer. It could not have been moreillustrious.

  His reasons for assault were sound. To his council of war he wasexplicit.

  "I had not intended, gentlemen," he said, "to fight a general battle atsuch distance from our base, unless attacked by the enemy. We findourselves confronted by the Federal army. It is difficult to withdrawthrough the mountains with our large trains. The country is unfavorablefor collecting supplies while in the presence of the main body of theenemy as he can restrain our foraging parties by occupying the mountainpasses. The battle is in a measure unavoidable. We have won a greatvictory to-day. We can defeat Meade's army in spite of these hills."

  When Lee surveyed the heights of Gettysburg again on the morning of thesecond of July, he saw that the Northerners held a position ofextraordinary power. Yet his men were flushed with victory aftervictory. They had swept their foe before them in the first encounter aschaff before a storm. They were equal to anything short of a miracle.

  He ordered Longstreet to hurl his corps against Cemetery Ridge and drivethe enemy from his key position before the entrenchments could becompleted.

  Longstreet was slow. Jackson would have struck with the rapidity oflightning. On this swift action Lee had counted. The blow should havebeen delivered before eight o'clock. It was two o'clock in the afternoonbefore Longstreet made the attack and Meade's position had been madestronger each hour.

  From two o'clock until dark the long lines of gray rolled and dashedagainst the heights and broke in red pools of blood on their rockyslopes.

  Three hundred pieces of artillery thundered their message in an Oratorioof Death. The earth shook. Hills and rocks danced and reeled before theexcited vision of the onrushing men. For two hours the guns roared andthundered without pause. The shriek of shell, the crash of fallingtrees, the showers of flying rocks ripped from cliffs by solid shot, theshouts of charging hosts, the splash of bursting shrapnel, the neighingof torn and mangled horses, transformed the green hills of Pennsylvaniainto a smoke-wreathed, flaming hell. The living lay down that night tosleep with their heads pillowed on the dead.

  On this second day Lee's men had gained a slight advantage. They hadtaken Round Top and held it for two hours. They had at least proven thatit could be done. They had driven in the lines on the Federal left. TheSouthern Commander still believed his men could do the impossible.Longstreet begged his Chief that night to withdraw and choose anotherfield. Lee ordered the third day's fight. On his gray horse he watchedPickett lead his immortal charge and fall back down the hill.

  He rode quietly to the front, rallying the broken lines. He made nospeech. He uttered no bombast.

  He calmly lifted his hand and cried:

  "Never mind--boys!"

  To his officers he said:

  "It's all my fault. We'll talk it over afterward. Let every good manrally now."

  His army had never known a panic. The men quietly fell into line andcheered their Commander.

  To an English officer on the field Lee quietly said:

  "This has been a sad day for us, Colonel--a sad day; but we can't expectalways to gain victories."

  Lee had lost twenty thousand men and fourteen generals. Meade had losttwenty-three thousand men and seventeen generals. Lee withdrew his armyacross the swollen Potomac, carrying away his guns and all the prisonershe had taken.

  General Meade had saved the North, but Lee's army was still intact, onits old invincible lines in Virginia, sixty-five thousand strong.

  The news from Gettysburg crushed the soul of Davis. He had hoped withthis battle to end the war, and stop the frightful slaughter of ournoblest men, North and South. His Commissioner, Alexander H. Stephens,was halted at Fortress Monroe and sent back to Richmond with aninsulting answer.

  So bitter was Lee's disappointment that he offered his resignation toDavis.

  The President at once wrote a generous letter in which he renewed theexpressions of his confidence in the genius of his Commanding Generaland begged him to guard his precious life from undue exposure.

  Gettysburg was but one of the appalling
calamities which crushed thehopes of the Confederate Chieftain on this memorable fourth of July,1863.

  On the recovery of Joseph E. Johnston from his wound at Seven Pines hewas assigned to the old command of Albert Sidney Johnston in the West.His department included the States of Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama,Georgia and North Carolina.

  He entered on the duties of his new and important field--complaining,peevish, sulking.

  On the day before his departure Mrs. Davis visited his wife andexpressed to General Johnston the earnest wish of her heart for herhusband's success.

  "I sincerely hope, General," she said cordially, "that your campaignwill be brilliant and successful."

  The General pursed the hard lines of his mouth.

  "I might succeed if I had Lee's chances with the army of NorthernVirginia."

  From the moment Johnston reached his field he began to quarrel with hisgenerals and complain to the Government at Richmond. He made no seriouseffort to unite his forces for the defense of Vicksburg and continuouslywrote and telegraphed to the War Department that his authority wasinadequate to really command so extended a territory. He made no effortto throw the twenty-four thousand men he commanded into a juncture withPemberton who was struggling valiantly against Grant's fifty thousandclosing in on the doomed city.

  On May eighteenth, Johnston sent a courier to Pemberton and advised himto evacuate Vicksburg without a fight! Pemberton held a council of warand refused to give up the Mississippi River without a struggle.Johnston sat down in his tent and left him to his fate.

  Grant closed in on Vicksburg and the struggle began. Pemberton could notbelieve that Johnston would not march to his relief.

  Women and children stood by their homes amid the roar of guns and thebursting of shells. Caves were dug in the hills and they took refugeunder the ground.

  A shell burst before a group of children hurrying from their homes tothe hills. The dirt thrown up from the explosion knocked three littlefellows down, but luckily no bones were broken. They jumped up, brushedtheir clothes, wiped the dirt from their eyes, and hurried on without awhimper.

  When the dark days of starvation came, the women nursed the sick andwounded, lived on mule and horse meat and parched corn.

  Johnston continued to send telegrams to the War Department saying heneeded more troops and didn't know where to get them. Yet he was inabsolute command of all the troops in his department and could orderthem to march at a moment's notice in any direction he wished. Hehesitated and continued to send telegrams and write letters for moreexplicit instructions.

  He got them finally in a direct peremptory order from the WarDepartment.

  On June fifteenth, he telegraphed his Government:

  "I consider saving Vicksburg hopeless."

  Davis ordered his Secretary of War to reply immediately in unmistakablelanguage:

  "Your telegram grieves and alarms us, Vicksburg must not be lost without a struggle. The interest and honor of the Confederacy forbid it. I rely on you to avert this loss. If better resource does not offer you must hazard attack. It may be made in concert with the garrison, if practicable, but otherwise without. By day or night as you think best."

  The Secretary of War, brooding in anxiety over the possibility ofJohnston's timidity in the crisis, again telegraphed him six dayslater:

  "Only my convictions of almost imperative necessity for action induced the official dispatch I have sent you. On every ground I have great deference to your judgment and military genius, but I feel it right to share, if need be to take the responsibility and leave you free to follow the most desperate course the occasion may demand. Rely upon it, the eyes and hopes of the whole Confederacy are upon you, with the full confidence that you will act, and with the sentiment that it were better to fail nobly daring, than through prudence even to be inactive. I rely on you for all possible to save Vicksburg."

  On June twenty-seventh, Grant telegraphed Washington:

  "Joe Johnston has postponed his attack until he can receive ten thousand reenforcements from Bragg's army. They are expected early next week. I feel strong enough against this increase and do not despair of having Vicksburg before they arrive."

  Pemberton's army held Vicksburg practically without food for forty-sevendays. His brave men were exposed to blistering suns and drenching rainsand confined to their trenches through every hour of the night. They hadreached the limit of human endurance and were now physically too weak toattempt a sortie. Johnston still sat in his tent writing letters andtelegrams to Richmond.

  Pemberton surrendered his garrison to General Grant on July fourth, andthe Mississippi was opened to the Federal fleet from its mouth to itssource.

  Grant telegraphed to Washington:

  "The enemy surrendered this morning, General Sherman will face immediately on Johnston and drive him from the State."

  But the great letter writer did not wait for Sherman to face him. Heimmediately abandoned the Capital of Mississippi and retreated into theinterior.

  In the fall of Vicksburg, the Confederacy had suffered a most appallingcalamity--not only had the Mississippi River been opened to the Federalgunboats, but Grant had captured twenty-four thousand prisoners of war,including three Major Generals and nine Brigadiers, ninety pieces ofartillery and forty thousand small arms.

  The Johnston clique at Richmond made this disaster the occasion offierce assaults on Jefferson Davis and fresh complaints of the treatmentof their favorite General. The dogged persistence with which this groupof soreheads proclaimed the infallibility of the genius of the weakestand most ineffective general of the Confederacy was phenomenal. The moremiserable Johnston's failures the louder these men shouted his praises.The yellow journals of the South continued to praise this sulking oldman until half the people of the Confederacy were hoodwinked intobelieving in his greatness.

  The results of this Johnston delusion were destined to bear fatal fruitin the hour of the South's supreme trial.