On April 12, at 4:30 A.M., the attack began. After valiantly resisting for a day and a half, the Sumter garrison surrendered. Remarkably, though thousands of rounds were fired, no one was killed during the bombardment, which touched off the bloodiest war in American history.
Gustavus Fox’s squadron, shorn of the Powhatan, arrived at Charleston too late to affect the outcome. As Fox transported the Sumter garrison to New York, he told Anderson “how anxious the Prest was that they (S[outh] C[arolina]) should stand before the civilized world as having fired upon bread.”163 Alluding to this important point, Lincoln wrote Fox on May 1: “You and I both anticipated that the cause of the country would be advanced by making the attempt to provision Fort-Sumpter, even if it should fail; and it is no small consolation now to feel that our anticipation is justified by the result.”164 In a draft of his July 4 message to Congress, Lincoln summarized the reasoning behind his decision: “I believed … that to [withdraw the Sumter garrison] … would be utterly ruinous—that the necessity under which it was to be done, would not be fully understood—that, by many, it would be construed as a part of a voluntary policy—that, at home, it would discourage the friends of the Union, embolden it’s foes, and go far to insure to the latter a recognition of independence abroad—that, in fact, it would be our national destruction consummated.”165
Lincoln had not permitted Seward to take the first trick, nor had he let the Confederates corner him. It was a masterful exercise of leadership. In June, Seward told his wife, “Executive skill and vigor are rare qualities. The President is the best of us.” (But the secretary of state also thought Lincoln needed “constant and assiduous cooperation.” Seward provided advice to Lincoln in frequent conferences and regular late afternoon carriage rides.)166 Later that year, he declared to a close friend “that of all the men he knew, there was no one in the United States so well fitted to carry the country safely through the struggles as Mr. Lincoln.”167 The following year he called Lincoln “wise and practical,” and in 1863 he told guests at a dinner party that the president was “the best and wisest man he has ever known” and repeatedly “compared Mr. Lincoln’s task to our Saviour’s and Mr. Lincoln to the Lord.”168 Months later, Seward called Lincoln’s decision to relieve Sumter “the central and crowning act of the Administration,” the one “which determined … that Republican institutions were worth fighting for.” It meant “the preservation of the Union and in that, the saving of popular government for the World.”169
In March 1865, Lincoln succinctly analyzed the outbreak of hostilities: “Both parties deprecated war; but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive; and the other would accept war rather than let it perish. And the war came.”170 Lincoln may have been willing to accept war because he believed, as he told Orville H. Browning in February 1861, “far less evil & bloodshed would result from an effort to maintain the Union and the Constitution, than from disruption and the formation of two confederacies[.]”171
23
“I Intend to Give Blows”
The Hundred Days
(April–July 1861)
“I have desired as sincerely as any man—I sometimes think more than any other man—that our present difficulties might be settled without the shedding of blood,” Lincoln told a group of ersatz soldiers in late April. The “last hope of peace may not have passed away. But if I have to choose between the maintenance of the union of these states, and of the liberties of this nation, on the one hand, and the shedding of fraternal blood on the other, you need not be at a loss which course I shall take.”1 Little did he and most of his contemporaries realize how much fraternal blood would flow in order to save that Union and preserve those liberties; 620,000 soldiers and sailors (360,000 Union, 260,000 Confederate), including some of Lincoln’s closest friends, would die over the next four years, equaling the number of deaths in all other American wars combined, from the Revolution through the Korean War. One of those who failed to realize how bloody the war would become was Edwin M. Stanton, who on April 8 told a fellow veteran of service in Buchanan’s cabinet: “I do not think peaceful relations will continue much longer. Nor indeed do I think hostilities will be so great an evil as many apprehend. A round or two often serves to restore harmony.”2
In the fourteen weeks following the bombardment of Sumter, Lincoln acted firmly to meet the emergency. The challenge was daunting, for as he himself put it, the war “began on very unequal terms between the parties. The insurgents had been preparing for it more than thirty years, while the government had taken no steps to resist them. The former had carefully considered all the means which could be turned to their account. It undoubtedly was a well pondered reliance with them that in their own unrestricted effort to destroy Union, constitution, and law, all together, the government would, in great degree, be restrained by the same constitution and law, from arresting their progress. Their sympathizers pervaded all departments of the government, and nearly all communities of the people.”3
In that hectic time, Lincoln followed the advice he had offered twelve years earlier when he suggested that the newly installed president, Zachary Taylor, should announce: “by the Eternal, I take the responsibility.”4 Lincoln took decisive hold of the government. In his first hundred days in office, he raised and supplied an army, sent it into battle, held the Border States in the Union, helped thwart Confederate attempts to win European diplomatic recognition, declared a blockade, asserted leadership over his cabinet, dealt effectively with Congress, averted a potential crisis with Great Britain, and eloquently articulated the nature and purpose of the war. While pursuing these objectives, he demonstrated that he had the same “indomitable will” that he ascribed to Henry Clay. But as he pointed out in his eulogy on the Great Compromiser, “this quality often secures to its owner nothing better than a character for useless obstinacy.”5 Lincoln, however, proved forceful without being obstinate or autocratic, and in so doing, infused his own iron will into the North as it struggled to preserve what he would call “the last, best hope of earth.”6
Calling Up the Militia, Summoning Congress
On the evening of Friday, April 12, word of the attack on Fort Sumter reached Washington, where Lincoln calmly remarked that “he did not expect it so soon,” for he had anticipated that the secessionists would wait until the arrival of Gustavus Fox’s fleet.7 When a congressional delegation asked his reaction to the news, he replied laconically: “I do not like it.”8 That day Lincoln met twice with the future commissioner of public buildings, Benjamin Brown French, who told his son that the president “is as firm as a rock, & means to show the world that there is a United States of America left yet.”9
The following day, Lincoln remained outwardly unperturbed as he inquired about reports from South Carolina, commented on their probable accuracy, signed routine documents, and received callers. When suspicion was voiced that Anderson had behaved traitorously, Lincoln denied it, insisting that the major “acted in accordance with instructions” and that the “supply vessels could not reach him, and he did right.” The president was glad that the bombardment had killed no one, though he was puzzled that the fleet, which arrived while the attack was in progress, had taken no part in the fighting.10
That Saturday, more visitors than usual came to the White House, including a delegation from the Virginia convention who wished to learn about the president’s Southern policy. One of them recalled having “a long & earnest conversation with Mr. Lincoln, in which I showed him how war might, honorably, be avoided, by evacuating Fort Sumpter & withdrawing the mails, & closing the custom-houses, in South Carolina, taking care to blockade the ports. S. C. would thus have nobody to fight, & being deprived of her commerce, & mail facilities, would soon seek to return to the Union.”11 Lincoln replied that he might stop the mails in the seceded states, but he would not invade them in an attempt to collect import duties. He added that he reserved the right to send troops “to relieve a fort upon a border of the country.”12
&n
bsp; On Sunday, April 14, after receiving word of Sumter’s surrender, the president met with General Scott, Pennsylvania Governor Andrew G. Curtin, and Alexander K. McClure, chairman of the military committee of the Pennsylvania State Senate. When Scott insisted that Washington could not be captured by the Confederate army, which was then in South Carolina, Lincoln observed: “It does seem to me, general, that if I were Beauregard I would take Washington.”
“Mr. President,” said Scott, “the capital can’t be taken, sir; it can’t be taken.”13
When Lincoln asked how Pennsylvania would respond to a proclamation calling up the militia, Curtin pledged to send 100,000 men within a week. The president said: “Give me your hand, Andy. Thank God for that reply.” The governor promptly sent a telegram to agents in the Keystone State, which on April 18 dispatched the first militiamen to arrive at the capital.14
Later that day, Zenos Robbins, the attorney who had helped Lincoln obtain a patent in 1849, informed him that “all your friends hope that there will be no more blank cartridges, but a square, direct, and powerful exhibition of the strength of the Government.”
“Are those your opinions?” asked the president.
“Yes, sir!”
“Then I suppose that you will be interested in the newspapers to-morrow!” The press on Monday would carry a proclamation summoning state militias to put down the rebellion.15
Drafting that proclamation consumed much of Lincoln’s time on Sunday. As he and the cabinet worked on it, they faced a dilemma: prompt action must be taken, but could the army and navy be expanded, unappropriated money be spent, Southern ports be blockaded, and the writ of habeas corpus be suspended, all without congressional approval? Would it be wise to call Congress into session immediately? Would Washington, nestled between Virginia and Maryland—two Slave States that might well secede—be a safe place for senators and representatives to gather? In late March, one observer in the District of Columbia predicted “that the chances are that Virginia will go out and take the capital with her;—that as matters stand the chances are that the next Congress of the U. S. will not meet in Washington.”16
Lincoln had been resisting appeals by businessmen and New York newspapers to call a special session of Congress. They argued that legislation was needed authorizing the collection of revenues offshore and that the Morrill Tariff Act must be modified to help replenish depleted federal coffers. Lincoln hesitated in part because elections for U.S. Representatives had not taken place in several states, including Kentucky, Tennessee, and North Carolina, all of which were scheduled to choose congressmen in August; Virginia was to do so in May. (In that era, not all states held congressional elections in November of even-numbered years.) Some argued that a special session could not be held before those August elections. Eighty-one members of the House had yet to be chosen, including twenty-six from seceded states and forty-one from the Upper South and Border States (Virginia, Tennessee, Kentucky, and North Carolina.)
The president also feared that a reconvened Congress might again try to pass compromise measures permitting slavery to expand. In late March, he said “that Congress would be called together, if he felt certain it would grant the legislation needed [to authorize collection of import duties offshore], and would not set about other business which might embarrass the administration.” According to a journalist, it was “supposed by this he meant to deprecate any further attempts to compromise with the South. What if the new Congress, called together to give the president full power to collect the revenues in the seceded states, were to omit that work, and take up the old compromise patch-work?”17 The Republican majority in the House would be small, and if some of its members joined the Democrats to insist on compromising basic party principles, the result might be unfortunate. From the White House, William O. Stoddard reported that the prospect of a special session created fears “that some false prophet of peace, with a craven heart and a slippery tongue, will bring in specious proposals of some sort to distract our National Council, and impair the unity and energy of its actions.”18 In addition, congressmen themselves opposed an extra session, for they would receive no extra compensation above a travel allowance, and they dreaded the prospect of spending a miserably hot and humid summer in Washington. Moreover, according to rumor, Jefferson Davis had warned that he would regard the summoning of a special session of Congress as an act justifying war.
Lincoln and his cabinet also favored delaying a special session of Congress lest such a deliberative body prove unable to act decisively, and Seward opposed a special session because he feared Congress might unwisely tinker with the Morrill Tariff. Lincoln may well have suspected that Congress might also make some blunder that would drive loyal Slave States like Kentucky into the arms of the Confederacy. So it was decided that Congress would not convene until July 4, allowing enough time to determine if Washington would be a safe place to meet. It also meant that some emergency measures would have to be taken without prior congressional approval, measures that might be of questionable constitutionality. Some Democrats complained about the failure to have Congress meet before July 4. The president “has two months of absolute despotic control” protested the Washington States and Union.19 Lincoln’s failure to summon Congress immediately has been criticized, but it is difficult to fault his decision, given the uncertainty that prevailed immediately after the bombardment of Fort Sumter. He did ask the leaders of the finance committees to spend two weeks in Washington in advance of the opening of Congress.
The cabinet also considered the size of a militia force to call up. Some favored 50,000; Seward and others recommended double that number. Lincoln split the difference and decided to ask the states to provide 75,000 men for three months’ service, in accordance with a provision of the Militia Act of 1795. Once that number was selected, action was swift: the president drafted a proclamation, Cameron calculated the quotas for each state, Nicolay had the document copied, and Seward readied it to distribute to the press in time for Monday’s papers.
In discussions about the proclamation, some advisors suggested that the North had far more resolve and enterprise than the South. Lincoln cautioned them, saying: “We must not forget that the people of the seceded States, like those of the loyal ones, are American citizens, with essentially the same characteristics and powers. Exceptional advantages on one side are counterbalanced by exceptional advantages on the other. We must make up our minds that man for man the soldier from the South will be a match for the soldier from the North and vice versa.”20
Indeed, the North’s obvious advantages in economic strength and manpower were so largely offset by the South’s advantages that the North could well have been considered the underdog at the outset of the war. The Confederates did not have to conquer the North to win; they merely had to fend it off. The military technology of the day favored the defense, not the offense. (With its grooved barrel, the rifle, which became the primary infantry and cavalry weapon on both sides, had much greater range and accuracy than the smoothbore musket, giving soldiers on the defensive a great advantage over their attackers.) The South’s morale was exceptionally high, for it felt as if it were fighting for the principles of 1776. Moreover, Confederates sought to repel what they understandably considered an invasion. Because most battles would take place on Southern soil, the Rebels would know the terrain better and have more accurate sources of intelligence. In addition, European nations, dependent on Southern cotton, seemed likely to support the Confederacy. The South’s military leaders, at least in the eastern theater, were superior to their Northern counterparts, while Southern enlisted men were more familiar with firearms, more accustomed to hard riding, and more used to outdoor life than were Yankees. The North lacked a sophisticated governmental apparatus for conducting such a huge enterprise as the Civil War; mobilizing its vast resources would pose a grave challenge to the small, creaky, antiquated bureaucratic structures then available. A similar lack of organizational sophistication marked the civilian sector. A great
er challenge still was maintaining Northern unity. How could Kentucky slaveholders be kept in harness with Northern abolitionists? Prohibitionists in Maine with beer-loving Germans in the Midwest? Racial egalitarians in New England with racists in most other states? Free traders with protectionists? Former Whigs with former Democrats? If those elements did not all coalesce, the South would prevail despite its inferior numbers and economic muscle. (The Free States had 3,778,000 white males between the ages of 18 and 45, while the Slave States had only 1,116,000.)
The language of the proclamation reflected Lincoln’s anger at prominent secessionists, whom he regarded as a small handful who had dragooned their neighbors into disunion. In a draft of that document, he spoke of their “[in]sults, and injuries already too long endured.” (In the final version, he referred more temperately to “wrongs” rather than “insults and injuries.”) Justifying the resort to arms, he emphasized a theme he would reiterate again and again, most memorably at Gettysburg in 1863: “I appeal to all loyal citizens to favor, facilitate, and aid this effort to maintain the honor, the integrity, and the existence of our National Union, and the perpetuity of popular government.” This war was not merely one to preserve the Union but also to vindicate democracy. The mission of the troops, he explained, would “probably be to repossess the forts, places and property, which have been seized from the Union; and, in every event, the utmost care will be observed, consistently with the objects aforesaid, to avoid any devastation; any destruction of, or interference with, property, or any disturbance of peaceful citizens, in any part of the country.”21
In thus describing the likely tasks that the troops would perform, Lincoln showed questionable judgment, for it confronted the Upper South and Border States with a dilemma: either they would have to make war against fellow Southerners, or they would have to join them in secession. In Baltimore, John Pendleton Kennedy accurately predicted that the proclamation “will fire up the whole South, as it implies invasion and coercion.”22 By indicating that the militia would be used not simply to defend Washington but also to retake the forts, the president committed a “wicked blunder,” Kennedy protested. Half of the adult males in Maryland, he said, would have gladly rallied to protect the capital, but they would not consent to invade the South. “We are driven into extremities by a series of the most extraordinary blunders at Washington, which I think must convince everybody that there is no ability in the Administration to meet the crisis. They have literally forced the Border States out of the Union, and really seem to be utterly unconscious of the follies they have perpetrated.”23
Abraham Lincoln: A Life, Volume 2 Page 24
