In Chicago, Joseph Medill accurately predicted that there would “be a feeble response to the late call for 300,000 volunteers to serve under proslavery generals to fight for ‘Union and Slavery.’ ”266 Plaintively Congressman Dawes asked: “How is the President going to get 300,000 more volunteers, and of what use [would they be] under such leaders if he did?”267 A colleague of Dawes’s from Ohio told Lincoln: “We find it very difficult to get men to enlist here,” for “they say they will be put to guarding rebel property or digging ditches in some swamp instead of fighting the enemy.”268 The governor of New Hampshire reported that “our reading, thinking, intelligent, patriotic young men are inquiring with commendable solicitude into the propriety of wasting their strength and energy in daily and nightly watchings of rebel estates and other property, or in keeping accurate and detailed accounts of all such property as is of absolute necessity for their comfort and convenience while prosecuting the war, or in building corduroy roads and bridges in Chickahominy Swamps.”269
The disappointing response to Lincoln’s new appeal led Congress to institute a quasi-draft. On July 17, it passed a Militia Act authorizing the secretary of war to call on states for nine-month militiamen above and beyond the regular three-year recruits. If the quotas were not met, the administration could draft men. The necessity for a draft was obvious to men like George Templeton Strong, who in late July asked rhetorically: “Why in the name of anarchy and ruin doesn’t the President order the draft of one million fighting men at once?”270 The Cincinnati Commercial editorialized: “Let us have a draft and that instantly.”271
To a sympathetic Frenchman, Lincoln explained that the draft was necessary because in America “every soldier is a man of character and must be treated with more consideration than is customary in Europe.” Therefore, “our great army for slighter causes than could have prevailed there has dwindled rapidly, bringing the necessity for a new call, earlier than was anticipated.” While predicting that the government “shall easily obtain the new levy,” he warned that a draft might be resorted to. Strangely enough, he said, “the Government is now pressed to this course by a popular demand,” for thousands of men “who wish not to personally enter the service are nevertheless anxious to pay and send substitutes, provided they can have assurance that unwilling persons similarly situated will be compelled to do like wise.” Moreover, “volunteers mostly choose to enter newly forming regiments, while drafted men can be sent to fill up the old ones, wherein, man for man, they are quite doubly as valuable.”272 Lincoln hoped that the new men would be added to already existing regiments. He explained that “if he could get 50,000 troops to fill up decimated regiments they would be as effective as 150,000 in new regiments under inexperienced officers,” but he added “that so many desired to be officers that it was difficult to get recruits for those regiments which had already their quota of officers.”273
As Massachusetts prepared to send new regiments of both three-year recruits and nine-months militiamen, problems with a hidebound army paymaster and disbursing officer obstructed the process. When Governor John A. Andrew appealed for federal help in breaking the logjam, Lincoln impatiently replied on August 12 that the governor should tell the responsible officials “that if they do not work quickly I will make quick work with them. In the name of all that is reasonable, how long does it take to pay a couple of Regts? We were never more in need of the arrival of Regts than now—even to-day.”274
In August, Stanton issued a call for 300,000 militia and warned that a draft would be used if necessary. Despite fierce opposition, particularly among Irish and German immigrants, the governors eventually raised more men than the administration had requested. Helping the recruitment effort was a new song written by a fighting Quaker abolitionist, James S. Gibbons: “We Are Coming, Father Abraham, Three Hundred Thousand More.”
Shoveling Fleas Across a Barnyard: Visit to the Front
Now Lincoln had to decide what to do with the Army of the Potomac. Some advisors, including Stanton and Montgomery Meigs, feared that Lee would attack Washington while that army licked its wounds. The quartermaster general urged Lincoln “to withdraw the army from a dangerous & useless position, & use it to defend the free states & as a nucleus for new armies.”275 (Meigs had a tendency to panic. One night, while the army lay at Harrison’s Landing, he awakened the president “to urge upon him the immediate flight of the Army from that point—the men to get away on transports & the horses to be killed as they c[oul]d not be saved.” Lincoln calmed him down and later remarked: “Thus often I who am not a specially brave man have had to sustain the sinking courage of these professional fighters in critical times.”)276
Fearing that McClellan might surrender the army, Lincoln hurried down to Harrison’s Landing to confer with him. Stanton, Assistant Secretary of War Peter H. Watson, and Frank Blair accompanied the president, who wanted to learn whether the army could possibly be starved out while the enemy attacked Washington. Before departing the capital, Lincoln assured congressional supporters that “henceforth the war shall be conducted on war principles.” They were persuaded that he had finally “convinced himself of the folly of rose-water warfare.”277
Upon the president’s arrival at Harrison’s Landing, the nearby soldiers, quartermasters, and surgeons cheered him repeatedly. McClellan asserted that during a review, he “had to order the men to cheer & they did it very feebly,” but numerous eyewitness accounts contradict his statement.278 A New Yorker wrote that McClellan’s popularity among the troops “will never measure 1/100th part of Honest Abe’s. Such cheers as greeted him never tickled the ears of Napoleon in his palmiest days.”279 Another trooper from the Empire State recalled that “we cheered his presence to the echo.”280 Yet another soldier reported that as Lincoln “rode slowly along the lines, the cheering was most enthusiastic. It evidently gratified and cheered both officers and men to witness this evidence of a lively interest in their welfare and sympathy with them of the President. On his part, he seemed to be much pleased with his reception, and to be satisfied that the Army of the Potomac was yet a living institution.”281 A general remarked “that the visit was worth a reinforcement of ten thousand men.”282 In his diary, a lieutenant described the reaction: “Long and hearty was the applause and welcome which greeted him. His presence after the late disaster … seemed to infuse new ardor into the dispirited army.”283 A sailor aboard the Monitor thought that the president “seemed to be in better spirits than I supposed he would be. His visit here has been a good thing, serving to give more confidence to the army by his presence among them.”284 Doubtless that was one of Lincoln’s aims in visiting the front.
To help achieve that goal, the president scaled the outer line of an artillery battery and made a brief, informal address to the troops: “Be of good cheer; all is well. The country owes you an inextinguishable debt for your services. I am under immeasurable obligations to you. You have, like heroes, endured, and fought, and conquered. Yes, I say conquered; for though apparently checked once you conquered afterwards and secured the position of your choice. You shall be strengthened and rewarded. God bless you all.” These remarks were greeted with hearty cheers.285
A chaplain observing a review thought that Lincoln cut a ludicrous figure, for it seemed “as though every moment the Presidential limbs would become entangled with those of the horse he rode and both come down together, while his arms were apparently subject to similar mishaps. That arm with which he drew the rein, in its angles and position, resembled the hind leg of a grasshopper—the hand before—the elbow away back over the horse’s tail. The removal of his hat before each regiment was also a source of laughter in the style of its execution—the quick trot of the horse making it a feat of some difficulty, while, from the same cause, his hold on it, while off, seemed very precarious.” And yet “the boys liked him, in fact his popularity in the army is and has been universal. Many of our rulers and leaders fall into odium but all have faith in Lincoln. ‘When he finds it out,’
they say, ‘it will be stopped.’ ”286 Shortly after the review, a Massachusetts soldier wrote that “Abraham Lincoln has acted the part of a Wise Man. No one man in this Country has so many supporters as Old Abe. … Let Abraham Lincoln say the Word, then let every man, wither Abolishionists, Proslaverites, Fanatics, Radicals, Moderates or Conservatives of whatever Party or Distinction, hold up both hands and with one unanimous voice say Amen.”287 Lincoln’s paternal streak led him to call the troops “my boys.” They in turn regarded him as a benevolent father.
But while Lincoln’s spirits were buoyed by the army’s relatively good condition, they were depressed by a long letter that McClellan handed him upon his arrival. In that remarkable document, which became known as the Harrison’s Landing letter, the general insolently and menacingly offered detailed advice about “civil and military policy, covering the whole ground of our national trouble.” He acknowledged that the views he expressed “do not strictly relate to the situation of this army, or strictly come within the scope of my official duties.”
McClellan presumptuously urged that the war be conducted “upon the highest principles known to Christian civilization,” with all the property rights of the Confederates scrupulously protected, including the right to own slaves. “Neither confiscation of property, political executions of persons, territorial organization of States, or forcible abolition of slavery should be contemplated for a moment. … Military power should not be allowed to interfere with the relations of servitude, either by supporting or impairing the authority of the master, except for repressing disorder.” Such a conservative policy, the general predicted, “would receive the support of almost all truly loyal men” and “would deeply impress the rebel masses and all foreign nations.” Ominously, he warned that if his advice were not followed, “the effort to obtain requisite forces will be almost hopeless. A declaration of radical views, especially upon slavery, will rapidly disintegrate our present armies.”288 Here McClellan meddled with policy on slavery almost as blatantly as Frémont, Hunter, and Cameron had done.
It is hard to know how Lincoln felt about McClellan’s brazen letter. After receiving it from the general’s hand, he read it, thanked its author, and said nothing about it to him. He jestingly told Frank Blair that Little Mac’s advice reminded him “of the man who got on a horse, and the horse stuck his hind foot into a stirrup. The man said, ‘If you’re going to get on I’ll get off.’ ”289
Although he could joke about the document, it “struck the President painfully,” according to Gideon Welles. Lincoln may have regarded it as a veiled threat to march on Washington and overthrow the government. The navy secretary wrote that within the Army of the Potomac “there was a belief, hardly a design perhaps, among a few of their indiscreet partisans, that these generals, better than the Administration, could prescribe the course of governmental action.”290 McClellan’s letter convinced him that the general intended to run for president in 1864.
The Young Napoleon told his wife that Lincoln had probably not profited much from his visit to Harrison’s Landing, “for he really seems quite incapable of rising to the height of the merits of the question & the magnitude of the crisis.” The general added that “I did not like the Presdt’s manner—it seemed that of a man about to do something of which he was much ashamed.”291 To his good friend S. L. M. Barlow, he complained that Lincoln “asked for no explanations, expressed no dissatisfaction—treated me with no confidence, & did not ask my opinion, except in three questions—
“1st. ‘How many troops have you left?’
“2nd. ‘How many did you lose in the late actions?’
“3rd. ‘Can you move this Army still further in retreat?’ ”292
Upon returning to the White House, Lincoln seemed to Nicolay “in better spirits” for having “found the army in better condition and more of it than he expected.”293 Lincoln may have been cheered to discover more troops in the Army of the Potomac than he anticipated, but he nevertheless worried about the enormous number of absentees. On July 13, he asked McClellan what had happened to the more than 160,000 men who had been sent to the Peninsula: “When I was with you the other day we made out 86,500 remaining, leaving 73,500 to be accounted for. I believe 23,500, will cover all the killed, wounded and missing in all your battles and skirmishes, leaving 50,000 who have left otherwise. Not more than 5000 of these have died, leaving 45,000 of your Army still alive, and not with it. I believe half, or two thirds of them are fit for duty to-day. Have you any more perfect knowledge of this than I have? If I am right, and you had these men with you, you could go into Richmond in the next three days. How can they be got to you? and how can they be prevented from getting away in such numbers for the future?”294
Lincoln’s suggestion that McClellan go on the offensive amused the general. “It is so easy,” he wrote his wife, “for people to give advice—it costs nothing!” It would be impossible for him with only 75,000 combat-ready men to attack 150,000 to 170,000 entrenched Confederates.295 When he told Lincoln that, the president gave up hope for a renewed assault on the enemy capital. He predicted to Orville H. Browning that if he could somehow “by magic” send McClellan 100,000 reinforcements, the general “would be in an ecstacy over it, thank him for it, and tell him that he would go to Richmond tomorrow, but that when tomorrow came he would telegraph that he had certain information that the enemy had 400,000 men, and that he could not advance without reinforcements.”296 Sarcastically Lincoln remarked that the general “had so skilfully handled his troops in not getting to Richmond as to retain their confidence.”297
Lincoln voiced his astonishment and exasperation to others, including some callers who came to the White House on July 11: “I can’t tell where the men have gone in that army. I have sent there, at one time and another, one hundred and [sixty] thousand men, and I can only find just half that many now. Where can they have gone? Burnside accounts to me for every man he has taken—so many killed in battle, so many wounded, so many sick in the hospitals, so many absent on furloughs. So does Mitchell. So does Buell, and so others; but I can’t tell what has become of half the army I’ve sent down to the Peninsula.” When he wondered aloud if many of the missing men would ever come back, he was told by Radical Congressmen John A. Gurley of Ohio and Isaac N. Arnold of Illinois, “You won’t get many men in our section unless there be a change.” Lincoln rejoined: “And some won’t come if there be one.” They replied, “We’ll give ten for every one that doesn’t.”298
Mea Culpa: Magnanimously Accepting Blame for Defeat
In the wake of defeat, McClellan was roundly criticized. Michigan Senator Zachariah Chandler called the general “an imbecile” and “an awfull humbug” who “deserves to be shot.”299 In an attempt to shift blame away from the general, his allies launched a campaign to vilify Stanton. From Philadelphia came rumors of ugly statements justifying the assassination of the war secretary. Edward Everett Hale hoped Lincoln would wring Stanton’s neck and throw “his ‘impulsive’ head out of the window.”300
Insisting that he himself was responsible, Lincoln absolved Stanton of any blame. In August, he made his mea culpa at a huge war rally in Washington. The atmosphere was electric with anticipation, as artillery salvos and martial music stirred up excitement. Standing on the east side of the Capitol, where he had taken the oath of office seventeen months earlier, he addressed a wildly enthusiastic crowd of 10,000, which expected an inspirational pep talk. Amid all the waving banners and other patriotic hoopla, they greeted the president with several minutes of deafening cheers. Benjamin Brown French, who had helped organize the rally, said he had “never witnessed more enthusiasm than was manifested at his appearance. It shows how he is beloved. He is one of the best men God ever created.”301 Finally Lincoln’s sad and solemn expression induced the crowd to quiet down.
The president had not anticipated that he would be asked to speak and did so only when the crowd insisted on it after the first scheduled orator had finished. Modestly, he began b
y stating that he had little of interest to say that the others on the platform could not better express than he might. “The only thing I think of just now not likely to be better said by some one else, is a matter in which we have heard some other persons blamed for what I did myself. [Voices—“What is it?”] There has been a very wide-spread attempt to have a quarrel between Gen. McClellan and the Secretary of War. Now, I occupy a position that enables me to observe, at least, these two gentlemen are not nearly so deep in the quarrel as some pretending to be their friends. [Cries of “Good.”] Gen. McClellan’s attitude is such that, in the very selfishness of his nature, he cannot but wish to be successful, and I hope he will—and the Secretary of War is in precisely the same situation. If the military commander in the field cannot be successful, not only the Secretary of War, but myself, for the time being the master of them both, cannot be but failures. [Laughter and applause.] I know Gen. McClellan wishes to be successful, and I know he does not wish it any more than the Secretary of War for him, and both of them together no more than I wish it. [Applause and cries of “Good.’ ”] Sometimes we have a dispute about how many men Gen. McClellan has had, and those who would disparage him say that he has had a very large number, and those who would disparage the Secretary of War insist that Gen. McClellan has had a very small number. The basis for this is, there is always a wide difference, and on this occasion, perhaps, a wider one, between the grand total on McClellan’s rolls and the men actually fit for duty; and those who would disparage him talk of the grand total on paper, and those who would disparage the Secretary of War talk of those at present fit for duty. Gen. McClellan has sometimes asked for things that the Secretary of War did not give him. Gen. McClellan is not to blame for asking for what he wanted and needed, and the Secretary of War is not to blame for not giving when he had none to give. [Applause, laughter, and cries of “Good.”] And I say here, as far as I know, the Secretary of War has withheld no one thing at any time in my power to give him. [Wild applause, and a voice, “Give him enough now!”] I have no accusation against him. I believe he is a brave and able man, [applause,] and I stand here, as justice requires me to do, to take upon myself what has been charged upon the Secretary of War, as withholding from him.”302
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