Crucible of Command

by William C. Davis

  Beyond delegating to staff to free his time for more important tasks, Grant employed the same approach in dealing with field commanders. He placed greater trust in Sherman and McPherson than the rest, and most of all in Sherman. He told a cousin that McPherson “belongs to a class of men that we have to few of” and that “we cannot afford to lose them.”149 He was “one of my best men and is fully to be trusted,” he told Washburne. “Sherman stands in the same category. In these two men I have a host. They are worth more than a full Brigade each.”150 His orders to them during the campaign were replete with stipulations like “I therefore leave it to you” and “I leave the management of affairs at your end of the line to you.”151 That had been his practice since October 1861 before Belmont when he told a subordinate, “I do not want to cripple you by instructions but simply give you the objects of the expedition and leave you to execute them.”152 Understanding that the officer on the scene saw and knew more than Grant could from a distance, and could react faster, he felt secure enough to delegate responsibility. That delegation did not always work, as with McClernand, which is why Grant gave him detailed orders leaving almost nothing to discretion, knowing that the politician was likely to exceed any authority no matter how limited.

  One attribute he demonstrated must have come from simple common sense. Grant established an excellent rapport with officers of the navy’s “brown water” fleet, especially the notoriously prickly Porter. Intraservice rivalry between army and navy was long established, but Grant gained full and enthusiastic cooperation from Foote, Porter, and others. In part it was because he made requests rather than demands, but even more it came from including naval officers in his designs from their inception, and taking their advice at full value.

  In his dealings with officers and civilians alike, his demeanor mirrored his advice to Julia on settling an account with his sometimes difficult brother Orville. “Be patient and even tempered,” he told her. “Do not expose yourself to any misconstruction from a hasty remark,” but nevertheless “be firm.”153 Six years hence an observer looking back concluded of Grant that “he was what might be called a common sense General, displaying that mingled patience and promptitude, system, adaptation of means to ends, foresight and economy . . . which are accounted the main requisite for business prosperity.” More to the point, it seemed to suit him comfortably, for “from the moment he fairly got at work in the field he went about everything with the easy and masterly vigor of a man who has found his place.”154

  There was an obverse to Grant’s style, for he could be a true friend longer than he should have been. None of the officers he brought up with him to date would let him down, but before the war was out he would place great faith in a few men unequal to his confidence. If shown that he had misjudged an officer, Grant hurried to set things right, as he did with Quartermaster Hatch. Yet when he finally accepted that an officer or friend betrayed his trust, he could be unforgiving. Grant never again wrote or spoke of Rosecrans or especially McClernand without adding a critical caveat. When it came to officers he found incompetent or corrupt, Grant was wonderfully untroubled by getting rid of them directly. No manager should be anxious to dismiss subordinates, but neither should he be hesitant if circumstances dictate. Some months past he had arrested Brigadier General Willis Gorman in Helena when he was caught diverting a gunboat to carry cotton for his speculator son. Grant declared that there was “a disease that might be called Cotton on the brain” among people behind his lines. Finding that many speculators were lingering resigned or discharged officers, he ordered all of them out of his department “to remove as far as practicable all contagious tendencies of the disease.”155

  When it came to the firing of McClernand, Grant likely felt it deserved celebration, and in fact two days after relieving him, Grant ordered a general cannonade all along his line for the next day, but only because he thought it might reveal some weak spots.156 He kept his men busy now to maintain morale. Then on June 25 soldiers captured a letter from one of Pemberton’s generals, saying he thought the garrison could hold out another ten days at most. That supported Grant’s belief that the city must surrender by the first week of July.157 “During the present week I think the fate of Vicksburg will be decided,” he wrote Julia on June 29. He set the date for its fall at July 4 or 5, though he still might have to fight Johnston soon thereafter.158

  Finally, on July 3, a note from Pemberton came through the lines proposing an armistice for the two sides to arrange for commissioners to propose surrender terms. Grant would agree to an armistice, but there would be no commissioners and no negotiations. His terms were unconditional surrender or nothing. “Men who have shown so much endurance and courage as those now in Vicksburg, will always challenge the respect of an adversary,” he said, implying that he would be lenient. He met Pemberton between their lines at three o’clock that afternoon.159 Pemberton asked that his army march out in formation with their arms and flags before turning them over, and that officers keep their sidearms and personal property, all of them to be paroled. Grant agreed to send a response that evening. Then he met with his corps commanders to hear their views, one of the few times he ever held a council on a decision. But he went against their consensus and told Pemberton he would send a division into the city to make out lists of all men and officers and have them sign paroles. After that he would allow the Confederates to march out of their lines, the officers keeping their pistols and horses, and every man his clothing. They could also take any remaining rations, and whatever transportation they had to carry it all.160 Grant made it clear that if he was not notified of acceptance by nine on the morning of July 4 he would resume the bombardment.161 Pemberton had no choice but to agree.

  To prepare for occupation of the city, Grant drafted special orders to govern the move. A brigade was to go in to prevent anyone entering or leaving, and Logan would take command, with a regiment stationed there to prevent looting. Guards were to be established to protect captured weapons and stores, and the black men were to be organized into working parties to police the earthworks. Still concerned that the tardy Johnston might advance against him, Grant ordered that his own artillery be moved into the Confederate works and trained outward.162 Indeed, for more than a week intelligence had him concerned that Johnston might move against him, and Sherman had been ready to move out for a dozen days.163 Grant told his aide Pride that he felt confidant that Vicksburg was so hemmed in that he could release most of his army to turn against Johnston if need be, though he added that “this is what I think but do not say it boastingly nor do I want it repeated or shown.”164 Now as he waited for word from Pemberton, Grant ordered Sherman and Ord to be prepared to turn eastward and march to meet Johnston the moment Vicksburg capitulated.165

  The formalities and details took some time, but before the day was out Grant’s officers counted 128 field pieces and more than 100 siege guns, while the rolls of paroled Confederates totaled at least 27,000 and were not yet complete. When Grant rode into the city he stopped first at the Warren County courthouse to see the national flag go up from its cupola, then down to the steamboat landing to greet Porter as he came ashore to thank him for his cooperation.166 Half an hour after the surrender he sent a steamer south to Banks with the news, and another north to Cairo to telegraph Halleck that “the Enemy surrendered this morning.” Reporting that Sherman would deal with Johnston, he said he would himself send troops to help take Port Hudson and free the Mississippi at last.167 Vicksburg was a major milestone of the war, the greatest victory yet and a crippling blow to the rebellion, but the road led onward and Grant was ready to move.

  13

  HINTS OF THE INEVITABLE

  CONTRARY TO COMMON OPINION then and later, Gettysburg was hardly a decisive encounter in the East. Lee did not achieve his hoped-for battle of annihilation, but he did achieve one aim: the temporary disruption of summer campaigning plans by the Army of the Potomac. There would not be another major battle in the East for ten months. Moreover,
Lee left the battlefield on his own terms just as he had at Antietam the day after that battle. He remained in his positions and dared Meade to attack him. It was more than stubbornness. Too weakened to renew the offensive, he could still inflict a heavy blow on Meade by doing what he originally intended, taking strong ground and letting the enemy attack him. Stuart was back at last, and if Meade tied up his infantry in attacking Lee’s, then the largely unblooded Confederate cavalry could ride around a flank and strike the Union rear, gaining a Chancellorsville-like victory, even if it did not destroy the Union army. In one regard, however, the battle was decisive for the Army of Northern Virginia. The casualties among its experienced officers were so great that fully one third of his units at almost all levels would now be led by less seasoned men. The army would never again work as smoothly as before.

  Outwardly, Lee refused to be discouraged. “Our success at Gettysburg was not as great as reported,” he told Mary on July 12.1 In fact, in his first message to President Davis written the day after the battle, Lee said nothing about defeat, but rather that his army had been “compelled to relinquish their advantage and retire.”2 He showed far greater concern when he retreated to the Potomac to find it so swollen by rains that he could not cross for a week. He would have to accept battle whether he wanted it or not should Meade pursue and attack. Writing to Davis with a level of religious expression he had not used before in official correspondence, Lee told the president that “the result is in the hands of the Sovereign Ruler of the Universe, and known to Him only.” He added that “I am not in the least discouraged.”3 Even more language of faith emerged when he wrote to Mary while waiting to cross the Potomac. “I trust that our merciful God, our only help & refuge, will not desert us in this our hour of need, but will deliver us by His almighty hand, that the whole world may recognize His power & all hearts be lifted up in adoration & praise of His unbounded loving kindness,” he said. “We must however submit to His almighty will, whatever that may be.”4

  Lee’s tone changed slightly when he crossed back into Virginia July 13–14. He had intended to remain in the North longer, he told Mary, but maintained that he had accomplished what he set out to do, relieving the Shenandoah Valley of Yankee presence and drawing Meade north of the Potomac. He said nothing now of climactic battles, however, only that he still hoped “to damage our adversaries when they meet us.”5 Greeting him in Virginia was the news of the fall of Vicksburg on July 4, and Port Hudson to Banks five days later. He told the president that they ought to fortify and provision someplace on the Mississippi so strongly that it could occupy Grant indefinitely, allowing Johnston’s main army to operate against the Yankees’ rear.6 Given the limited options and resources available, and Johnston’s demonstrated aversion to offensive action, it was an impractical and ill-informed notion, but then other things had occupied Lee’s mind for some time.

  A deepening gloom was settling over him. “I have no time,” he lamented. He longed for God to forgive his “many & long standing sins” so that he could be with all of his family one more time “before I go hence & be no more seen.” Reflecting on his life he saw how he had “thrown away my time & abused the opportunities afforded me.” Feeling unable to help himself or others, he saw it as “the punishment due to my sins & follies.”7 Summing his assets at the age of fifty-six, he found that they came to “three horses, a watch, my apparel and camp equipage.” The Custis estates were in enemy hands, the slaves gone, and outbuildings and fences ruined. “The land alone remains a waste,” he told Custis.8 In July a United States court ordered the official seizure of Arlington and its furniture, which of course had been occupied for two years, and by the end of August it would be done.9 Very likely the Yankees would sell it, and in any event it already sat vandalized.10

  The war was changing Lee. Gettysburg’s near catastrophic casualties were the greatest yet. Coming as they did after more than a year of seeing the flower of Southern youth consumed in fire, the cumulative weight of it all must have been ever in his thoughts. He fumed at the plundered homes, including his own, and the destruction of private property. Nevertheless, Lee could, like Grant and most great captains—and many bad ones—compartmentalize his thinking and suppress the horror of losses in order to deal with the day ahead. Without that he and Grant could hardly have functioned. Of course, it took a toll. The relative objectivity of 1861 was gone now. He had ceased speaking of mutual responsibility for this holocaust. If he occasionally referred to the Yankees as “those people,” they were always the enemy and by now he sincerely stereotyped and demonized them. No woman could keep a secret from them, for instance, because as he told Mary, “the yankees have a very coaxing & insidious manner, that our Southern women in their artlessness cannot resist.”11

  This year one calamity after another touched him and his family until it seemed the enemy targeted the Lees and their kin particularly. In May, reading what Northern newspapers he could get, Lee first would have seen that the infuriating business of the slave whippings was news once more, this time from Boston to the Mississippi and beyond. In April a soldier named Samuel Putnam visited Arlington and talked with Leonard Norris, father of Wesley and Mary. Old and infirm, and his memory faulty, Norris gave a garbled account that ended by saying “Gen. Lee was more dreaded by his slaves than were any of his overseers.” He accused Lee of selling virtually all of his children away from him, whereas Lee sold not one, and then repeated the charge that Lee personally whipped Mary and poured brine on her lacerated back.12

  The letter spread across the country’s press. The Alexandria Gazette immediately condemned it as false, arguing that no story based on a slave’s word could be trustworthy, and another unlikely defense came from a Northern pen, Mary Lee’s half–first cousin William G. Webster, the son of Noah “Dictionary” Webster. He knew the Lees. In 1852 he gave a copy of the dictionary to the Military Academy, where Webster’s son was even then a cadet known to Superintendent Lee.13 The elder Webster often visited Arlington and he saw how Lee treated the Custis slaves, whom he described as an “indulged and good-for-nothing set.” Lee sold none, he said, only sending the unruly elsewhere for hire for fear they might endanger Mary while he was away on duty. As for Lee whipping Mary Norris, Webster contemptuously retorted, “tell it to the marines.” Whatever else Lee may have been, Webster still regarded him as a “dignified and thoughtful Christian” who could not be guilty of such a thing.14 “Though his political sins are legion, his domestic virtues are unimpeachable.”15

  Putnam then escalated his accusation, responding that his sources told him that “Gen. Lee frequently whipped the slave children with his own hand.”16 Though written on April 16, Putnam’s letter was not published for four weeks, suggesting that its appearance was in reaction to Chancellorsville. Anything that diminished Lee’s growing stature as an invincible Mars was good for Northern morale. That may explain why the story ran for more than two weeks, including follow-up letters by Putnam, and still appeared as late as July 1 in a Pennsylvania paper at the same time that Lee was being drawn into battle at Gettysburg.17 By that time one of Custis’s offspring by a slave mistress told a story so garbled that when it appeared in the press it said she was actually the bastard daughter of Lee.18 If he happened to see that item, it only added to his disgust with the slanderous Yankee nation.

  By mid-June his cup of bile for the North overflowed, once more fuelled by a news item, this time the Richmond Examiner of June 13.19 He saw a notice that William Orton Williams was dead, hanged by the Yankees as a spy. “Orton,” it said mistakenly, “was cousin to General Robert E. Lee.”20 Lee had been fond of him, certainly, and he had been something of a fixture at Arlington before the war, especially attached to the Lees’ daughter Agnes.21 Lee recommended him as “faultless in his morals and character,” and complimented his “inventive turn of mind,” though for all his charm there was a headstrong recklessness about him, and Lee may not have favored a marriage.22 Just three days after the firing on Fort Sumter, Scot
t made him a first lieutenant and attached him to his staff. It was he who warned Mary to leave when Federals were on the verge of occupying Arlington. That made him suspect and he was arrested and imprisoned until June 6, when he was released, resigned his commission, and went South.23 Lee offered him a position as aide on his staff, but Williams took a place on General Polk’s staff instead.24 Handsome and flamboyant, he was a martinet rumored to have murdered a soldier who failed to salute him.25 Instead of punishment, Williams finished the year commanding the Army of Tennessee headquarters cavalry escort.

  Early in December 1862 Williams tried unsuccessfully to get transferred to Lee’s staff, though not at his request, then legally changed his name to Lawrence W. Orton.26 He also visited Agnes Lee, and it was clear at least to the children in the house that he was in love with her.27 In April 1863 Lee expressed pleasure at hearing good accounts of him, for by then Orton was a colonel, destined for a small cavalry brigade command.28 Then he claimed that he had married widow Francis Lamb, known to some as “the notorious Mrs. Lamb of Charleston,” which dismayed Polk’s nephew, who regarded Williams as a “d[amned] f[ool],” while others called him “half-crazy.”29 Meanwhile, men in his new command refused to serve under him, complaining that he was “out of balance, erratic, full of conceit, personal vanity, and had distorted views of his military importance and dignity.”30 Others thought his behavior due to “sheer lunacy,” and what one called “the entire want of stability in his character.”31 On June 8 he suddenly appeared at Union-occupied Franklin, Tennessee, dressed as a Federal officer and calling himself Colonel Austin.32 He was soon arrested as a spy and the next day, tried by a drumhead court-martial, he and a companion were hanged as spies. It took more than twenty minutes for him to die.33