Instead of Pope, Lincoln might have chosen Grant, but that general’s record was tarnished by the close call he had experienced at the battle of Shiloh in early April. There he had incautiously allowed his army to be surprised by the Confederates, who almost defeated him before reinforcements from Don Carlos Buell arrived to turn the tide. Lincoln nearly yielded to critics insisting on Grant’s removal. “Mr. Washburne,” he told the general’s patron in Congress, Elihu B. Washburne, “Grant will have to go. I can’t stand it any longer. I am annoyed to death by the demands for his removal.” When Washburne insisted that such a step “would be an act of injustice to a deserving officer,” the president relented, saying: “Well, Washburne, if you insist upon it, I will retain him, but it is particularly hard on me.”234 Gustave Koerner claimed that if it had “not been for the most strenuous efforts of Washburne, who stood very high at Washington, … there is no doubt but Grant would have been deprived of his command.”235 Two years later, Washburne told Grant that “when the torrent of obloquy and detraction was rolling over you, and your friends, after the battle of Shiloh, Mr. Lincoln stood like a wall of fire between you and it, uninfluenced by the threats of Congressmen and the demands of insolent cowardice.”236
Warned that Pope bragged and lied, Lincoln remarked that “a liar might be brave and have skill as an officer.” He thought that “Pope had great cunning.”237 Pope’s tasks were to shield Washington, defend the Shenandoah Valley, move south up the Valley, and then turn to assault Richmond from the west as McClellan did so from the east. But Lee thwarted that strategy by attacking on the very day of Pope’s appointment. The Confederate general had resolved to act boldly in the face of superior forces instead of waiting for McClellan to besiege Richmond. (Lee had managed to scrape together 92,000 troops. McClellan had 115,000 present for duty.) Attack, attack, attack was Lee’s motto. In preparation for an offensive, he ordered his cavalry under J. E. B. Stuart to determine the enemy’s position. In mid-June, with 1,200 horsemen, Stuart rode completely around the Army of the Potomac, in the process discovering that its right flank was unprotected. With this information, Lee took a gamble, concentrating most of his army north of the Chickahominy River. If McClellan had been at all aggressive, he could have easily brushed aside the remaining Confederate forces south of the river and taken Richmond. In the final week of June, Lee, counting on Little Mac’s timidity, launched a series of battles that became known as the Seven Days.
On the eve of that bloody offensive, McClellan desperately appealed to Stanton in an extraordinary telegram: “I incline to think that Jackson will attack my right & rear. The rebel force is stated at 200,000 including Jackson & Beauregard. I shall have to contend against vastly superior odds if these reports be true. But this army will do all in the power of men to hold their position & repulse any attack. I regret my great inferiority in numbers but feel that I am in no way responsible for it as I have not failed to represent repeatedly the necessity of re-inforcements, that this was the decisive point, & that all the available means of the Gov[ernmen]t should be concentrated here. I will do all that a General can do with the splendid army I have the honor to command & if it is destroyed by overwhelming numbers [I] can at least die with it & share its fate. But if the result of the action which will probably occur tomorrow or within a short time is a disaster the responsibility cannot be thrown on my shoulders,—it must rest where it belongs.”238
On June 26, Lincoln replied to this panicky message, saying it “pains me very much. I give you all I can, and act on the presumption that you will do the best you can with what you have, while you continue, ungenerously I think, to assume that I could give you more if I would. I have omitted and shall omit no opportunity to send you reenforcements whenever I possibly can.”239
That day Lee began his offensive. McClellan retreated, but instead of returning to his base at White House Landing on the Pamunkey River, he moved south to Harrison’s Landing on the James, 35 miles from Richmond, where Union gunboats could fend off pursuers. On June 30, as the fighting raged and news from the front was scarce, Lincoln called at the Patent Office, where D. W. Bartlett saw him with “a peculiar look of pain, anxiety and discouragement on his countenance.”240 In the final battle of the Seven Days, at Malvern Hill, Lee rashly hurled his men against an exceptionally strong Union position from which artillery cut the attackers down; their bodies covered the field like windrows. (The doomed assault grimly foreshadowed George Pickett’s charge at Gettysburg one year and two days later.) Instead of following up with a counterattack that might well have allowed him to capture Richmond, McClellan retreated to Harrison’s Landing, where he established a new base. In doing so, he abandoned 2,500 wounded men and destroyed tons of precious material. As the bad news poured into Washington, Lincoln summoned Gustavus Fox, an excellent raconteur, whose amusing anecdotes cheered him up.
On June 28, as he was sidling toward the James, McClellan telegraphed once again to Stanton complaining bitterly about the administration’s failure to reinforce him: “If we have lost the day we have yet preserved our honor & no one need blush for the Army of the Potomac. I have lost this battle because my force was too small. I again repeat that I am not responsible for this & I say it with the earnestness of a General who feels in his heart the loss of every brave man who has been needlessly sacrificed today. I still hope to retrieve our fortunes, but to do this the Gov[ernmen]t must view the matter in the same earnest light that I do—you must send me very large reinforcements, & send them at once. I shall draw back to this side of Chickahominy & think I can withdraw all our material. Please understand that in this battle we have lost nothing but men & those the best we have. In addition to what I have already said, I only wish to say to the Presdt that I think he is wrong, in regarding me as ungenerous when I said that my force was too weak. I merely reiterated a truth which today has been too plainly proved. … If at this instant I could dispose of 10,000 fresh men I could gain the victory tomorrow. I know that a few thousand more men would have changed this battle from a defeat to a victory—as it is, the Gov[ernmen]t must not & cannot hold me responsible for the result. I feel too earnestly to-night—I have seen too many dead & wounded comrades to feel otherwise than that the Gov[ernmen]t has not sustained this Army. If you do not do so now the game is lost.” McClellan closed with a remarkably insubordinate blast: “If I save this Army now I tell you plainly that I owe no thanks to you or any other persons in Washington—you have done your best to sacrifice this Army.”241
Before passing this message on to his boss, the scandalized supervisor of telegraphs in the War Department, Edward S. Sanford, omitted the last two sentences. Even in its bowdlerized version, that telegram angered Stanton, who took it to Lincoln and said “with much feeling ‘You know—Mr President that all I have done was by your authority.’ ”242
Lincoln magnanimously overlooked McClellan’s insolence and tried to calm him. “Save your Army at all events,” he wired in response to Little Mac’s frantic telegram. “Will send re-inforcements as fast as we can. Of course they can not reach you to-day, to-morrow, or next day. I have not said you were ungenerous for saying you needed re-inforcement. I thought you were ungenerous in assuming that I did not send them as fast as I could. I feel any misfortune to you and your Army quite as keenly as you feel it yourself. If you have had a drawn battle, or a repulse, it is the price we pay for the enemy not being in Washington. We protected Washington, and the enemy concentrated on you; had we stripped Washington, he would have been upon us before the troops sent could have got to you. Less than a week ago you notified us that re-inforcements were leaving Richmond to come in front of us. It is the nature of the case, and neither you or the government … is to blame.”243
The president ordered Dix, Burnside, Halleck, Hunter, and Goldsborough to rush to McClellan’s assistance. But, as he told the Young Napoleon on July 1, there was little hope that they could make a difference: “It is impossible to re-inforce you for your present emergency. If w
e had a million of men we could not get them to you in time. We have not the men to send. If you are not strong enough to face the enemy you must find a place of security, and wait, rest, and repair. Maintain your ground if you can; but save the Army at all events, even if you fall back to Fortress-Monroe. We still have strength enough in the country, and will bring it out.”244
The following day, Lincoln continued to reason with his panicky general: “When you ask for fifty thousand men to be promptly sent you, you surely labor under some gross mistake of fact.” He pointed out that all the Union troops east of the Alleghenies (around Washington, in the Shenandoah Valley, at Fort Monroe, and elsewhere) did not number more than 75,000. “Thus, the idea of sending you fifty thousand, or any other considerable force promptly, is simply absurd. If in your frequent mention of responsibility, you have the impression that I blame you for not doing more than you can, please be relieved of such impression. I only beg that in like manner, you will not ask impossibilities of me. If you think you are not strong enough to take Richmond just now, I do not ask you to try just now. Save the Army, material, and personal; and I will strengthen it for the offensive again, as fast as I can.”245
Despite such sensible advice, McClellan continued to make wildly unrealistic demands: “To accomplish the great task of capturing Richmond & putting an end to this rebellion reinforcements should be sent to me rather much over than much less than 100,000 men. I beg that you will be fully impressed by the magnitude of the crisis in which we are placed.”246 The weary president replied on July 4: “Under these circumstances the defensive, for the present, must be your only care. Save the Army—first, where you are, if you can; and secondly, by removal, if you must.”247 The next day, he assured the general that “the heroism and skill of yourself, officers, and men, are, and forever will be appreciated. If you can hold your present position, we shall ‘hive’ the enemy yet.”248
Though polite in his correspondence with McClellan, the president felt bitter about the general’s demands. When asked the size of the Confederate army, he replied sarcastically: “Twelve hundred thousand, according to best authority. … no doubt of it. You see, all of our Generals, when they get whipped, say the enemy outnumbers them from three to five to one, and I must believe them. We have four hundred thousand men in the field, and three times four make twelve.”249
On July 2, Lincoln was relieved to learn from Prince de Joinville of McClellan’s staff that the troops had fought well, enjoyed good morale, and were in a strong position, with their flanks covered by gunboats. But as the severity of the defeat became apparent, Lincoln understandably despaired. On July 3, D. W. Bartlett noticed “profound sorrow” in his face.250 In the wake of the defeat, Bartlett reported, Lincoln “for days and weeks” looked “as if he had no friend on earth.”251 The president told a congressman that “when the Peninsular Campaign terminated suddenly at Harrison’s Landing, I was as nearly inconsolable as I could be and live.”252 A White House caller in mid-July said “Mr. Lincoln presented a careworn, anxious appearance.”253 He was especially downcast because he believed that McClellan might have ended the war by seizing Richmond after the fight at Malvern Hill. The president described himself to Bishop Charles Gordon Ames of Illinois as “the loneliest man in America.”254
To help relieve his gloom, Lincoln resorted to humor. Shortly after the battle of Malvern Hill, when a senator called at the White House, the president said that his visitor’s sad face reminded him of a story.
“Mr. President,” came the stuffy reply, “this situation is too grave for the telling of anecdotes. I do not care to listen to one.”
Riled by those words, Lincoln said: “Senator, do you think that this situation weighs more heavily upon you than it does upon me? If the cause goes against us, not only will the country be lost, but I shall be disgraced to all time. But what would happen if I appeared upon the streets of Washington to-day with such a countenance as yours? The news would spread throughout the country that the President’s very demeanor is an admission that defeat is inevitable. And I say to you, sir, that it would be better for you to infuse some cheerfulness into that countenance of yours as you go about upon the streets of Washington.”255 To keep up morale, Lincoln somehow managed to retain his equanimity.
In those trying times, the president and First Lady unostentatiously and unceremoniously visited many Washington hospitals, filled with the wounded veterans of the futile campaign. A journalist, observing the Lincolns at a hospital on July 26, remarked that it “was a scene of sublime interest to witness the President of the Republic taking a few hours from the care and anxieties of official business, to mingle his sympathies with the wounded and brave of our armies, and his wife placing fragrant flowers in their hands.”256 Lincoln’s solicitude for the sick and wounded of all ranks endeared him to the troops. One enlisted man told his father, a bitter critic of the administration, that the president had “a heart which does honnor to the ruler of a christian people.” Many “maimed and invalid soldiers in the Hospitals at Washington will ever cherish his name for the words of sympathy & consolation received from him when they wer[e] suffering from their honnored wounds.” Lincoln “has alway[s] the same warm hand and ready smile for a private soldier as he has for a Major General.” Recently, “while he was walking in one of the parks of the city he was approached by a poor invalid soldier who had some petition or other.” Instead of brushing him off “as many of our 2d Lieut[enants] and many of our city bugs would have done,” Lincoln “sat down on the grass beside the suplient, spoke kindly to him, gave him words of cheer, with a pencil endorsed his petition, and sent him on his way rejoicing.” While “that was a simple act,” it nevertheless “speaks volumes.”257
The Northern public despaired. Massachusetts Congressman Henry L. Dawes exclaimed: “Oh the bitterness of the cup we are compelled to drink. With a larger army than the world ever saw before, a more abundant treasury than was ever before poured into the awful maw of war, with a patriotism pervading every soul deep and abiding as his religion, buoyant and enthusiastic as hope, this nation has gone to war with the most infamous and causeless rebellion God ever permitted to exist among a set of men arrogant conceited empty-headed, leading a set of ragged sand-hillers, with no arms they did not steal, no means they did not plunder, no credit they did not have to create, and what has the nation achieved but discomfiture disgrace and ruin. … The Administration seems paralyzed.”258 Maine Senator William P. Fessenden fretted that “Seward’s vanity & folly & Lincoln’s weakness & obstinacy have not yet quite ruined us, but I fear they will.”259 One exasperated Ohioan asked: “Is there any hope that Mr. Lincoln will require that there shall be no more unnecessary delays?”260 The New York Evening Post complained that the president had “trusted too much to his subordinates,” with whom he had “not been sufficiently peremptory,” and that “his whole administration has been marked by a certain tone of languor and want of earnestness which has not corresponded with the wishes of the people.”261 A consensus emerged that McClellan lacked the talent for his post and that he was a physical and moral coward.
Abolitionists were especially irate. On June 29, Wendell Phillips accused Lincoln of “doing twice as much today to break this Union as [Jefferson] Davis is. We are paying thousands of lives & millions of dollars as penalty for having a timid & ignorant President, all the more injurious because honest.”262 Samuel J. May, Jr., observed harshly that if the North lost the war, “Lincoln is the criminal” responsible for the failure.263
Replenishing the Army: “We Are Coming, Father Abraham, Three Hundred Thousand More”
As McClellan fell back, Lincoln responded to the defeat on the Peninsula by arranging to expand the army. When Seward offered to arouse Northern governors, who would be responsible for raising new legions, the president gave him a strongly worded letter to show them: “What should be done is to hold what we have in the West, open the Mississippi, and, take Chatanooga & East Tennessee, without more [troops]—a reasona
ble force should, in every event, be kept about Washington for it’s protection. Then let the country give us a hundred thousand new troops in the shortest possible time, which added to McClellan, directly or indirectly, will take Richmond, without endangering any other place which we now hold—and will substantially end the war.” He closed with words of iron: “I expect to maintain this contest until successful, or till I die, or am conquered, or my term expires, or Congress or the country forsakes me.”264 This letter was designed to stiffen the resolve of the public. Lincoln also sought to bolster the morale of the army by squelching any signs of defeatism. Upon learning that McClellan’s chief of staff, General Randolph B. Marcy, had predicted that the Army of the Potomac might be forced to capitulate, Lincoln became so excited that he summoned him to the White House, where he told the general sternly: “I understand you have used the word ‘Capitulate’—that is a word not to be used in connection with our army.” Marcy blurted out that he was only talking hypothetically, which relieved Lincoln.265
After conferring with Governors Morgan of New York and Curtin of Pennsylvania, Seward recommended that they and their counterparts band together and urge Lincoln to ask them for a fresh levy of 500,000 men. They did so, and in response the president decided to split the difference between that figure and the one he had originally floated. On July 11, he called on the governors for 300,000 new troops.
Abraham Lincoln: A Life, Volume 2 Page 58
