Crucible of Command

by William C. Davis

  Grant appeared at Meade’s headquarters at Culpeper on March 24, pleased to see that the soldiers seemed happy with his coming.84 Meade was harder to read, and Grant was attuned to the difficulty of Meade’s position. Grant’s very presence could be taken as an implied criticism of Meade’s past performance. He, too, had seen the press speculation that Grant would relieve him of his command. Fortunately Grant took pains to avert embarrassment, and issued orders through Meade himself, leaving as much as possible to his discretion. It was not an ideal situation, nor was Burnside’s IX Corps reporting directly to Grant since it was not part of Meade’s army, an organizational anomaly Grant ought to have redressed. Meade increasingly came to resent his position, but it was the right decision for Grant. Lee’s was not just another Confederate army, and Lee was no ordinary general. Grant could trust Sherman against Johnston, and he knew that by this time defeating Lee virtually meant defeating the Confederacy. If Grant took the Army of Northern Virginia out of the war, it would end the rebellion itself. Grant was where he needed to be.

  He also avoided going to Washington more than necessary, knowing that any appearance there generated rumor. For the first time he had to be conscious of personal security. A Confederate partisan raid on the Orange & Alexandria Railroad on April 14 narrowly missed bagging him on his way back from Washington. “I cannot move without it being known all over the country,” he complained to Julia.85

  On April 9 Grant outlined his matured plan to Meade. He would have preferred to move well south of Richmond, probably via the North Carolina coast, then advance inland near Lynchburg and approach Lee and Richmond from the southwest.86 That meant abandoning his own supply line, but he had done that before. The plan resembled his earlier thought of launching a campaign out of east Tennessee into southwest Virginia and then onward. Such a move should force Lee to abandon northern Virginia to defend the capital, leaving it vulnerable to moves by Butler and any forces Grant assembled at Washington to move south. He concluded that such a move was too risky with an army he did not yet know, or for a nervous Washington that needed the security of a major army between it and the unpredictable Lee.

  Grant understood that the North, having made him lieutenant general, expected him to confront Lee himself. “Lee’s Army will be your objective point,” he now told Meade. “Wherever Lee goes there you will go also.”87 Grant acknowledged that the campaign might end in laying siege to Richmond, and that they would aim to wind up south of the James to link with Butler.88 By April 19 Grant hoped to give the signal to advance on April 30, but fresh rains forced postponement until May 1.89 A few days later he set May 4 as the day, and there would be no more delays. “When I telegraph,” he advised his commanders, “we will start rain or shine.”90 It was the worst possible moment to hear that Banks had failed already, his army defeated and sent in retreat on April 8. Grant had felt for nearly a year that Banks was a liability, and now suggested that his old friend Major General Joseph Reynolds replace him immediately, though political exigencies protected Banks for another month.91

  Grant told Halleck that he would try to turn one or the other of Lee’s flanks. Implicit was that he hoped to isolate Lee from Richmond and catch him in the open. But he also thought it possible that Lee would withdraw to Richmond’s defenses without giving battle; in that case Grant would push forward and connect with Butler, both of them using the James River as a supply line. He knew the route he wanted to follow, but kept that even from Halleck, saying only that he wanted Butler and Meade to converge. He would launch with fifteen days’ supplies, drawing enough from the land to stretch that to twenty-five, expecting to reach the James in that time. To be safe, he requested that a million rations be held on steamers ready to send where he might direct. He was prepared, it seemed, for everything, and anxious to begin.92 “We are not yet off,” he told Julia on April 30. “I am impatient to be off.”93

  On May 1 he thanked Lincoln for nearly three years of support. Should he fail, he told the president, “the least I can say is, the fault is not with you.”94 Next day he wrote his last letter to Julia. “I know the greatest anxiety is now felt in the North for the success of this move,” he told her. He felt unperturbed by the enormous responsibility, then added that he only lost his presence of mind in the company of ladies, when “I know I must appear like a fool.”95

  The next evening Meade’s legions began crossing the Rapidan River. Within a matter of hours Grant would know if Lee intended to fight.96 Rarely in history were two combatants more evenly matched. Both looked to preparation, careful planning, and especially supply to frame victories, yet remained ready on the instant to capitalize on unanticipated exigency. Both preferred the indirect approach and surprise to frontal combat. Both sought to follow up victory by pressing the foe for further gain, and more important, each reacted to unexpected setbacks with quick thinking and opportunism to regain initiative. Their views were hardly identical, and their personalities scarcely intersected, yet if ever they had fought side by side there would have been instant harmony. In most respects Grant enjoyed advantages in manpower and wherewithal; Lee had the benefit of acting on the defensive, an intimate knowledge of the men and officers of his army that he had molded for nearly two years, a tradition of victory, and his knowledge of the ground. Now both found themselves in a way pushed beyond their experience. Grant was not taking a bastion from an immobile foe, or using a river to push his advance, and he scarcely knew the Army of the Potomac as yet. Flowing northwest to southeast, Virginia’s rivers offered Lee one line of defense after another, and Grant must force each crossing. For his part, a weaker Lee could only react to the enemy’s first moves and then seize opportunities for counterstrokes; at Second Manassas and Chancellorsville he had shown just how devastating he could be. Grant’s optimism and overconfidence might afford just such a chance. His days of being taken by surprise were done, but he reacted faster to the unexpected than anyone Lee had faced.

  Lee’s boyhood home Stratford Hall in Westmoreland County, which he always dreamed of recovering for his family. Library of Congress

  One of Lee’s several boyhood homes, his uncle William Fitzhugh’s house at 607 Oronoco Street in Alexandria. Just visible at the left is the Benjamin Hallowell house where Lee attended classes in 1825. Library of Congress

  The Custis home, Arlington House, where Lee wooed and married Mary Custis, shown in a wartime image. More than any other place, Arlington was “home” to Lee. Library of Congress

  The earliest known photograph believed to be of Robert E. Lee, taken circa 1845–1846 in New York, with his son “Rooney” at his side. He was not quite forty years old. Virginia Historical Society

  Lieutenant Lee’s first assignment was initial construction of what became Fort Pulaski near Savannah, Georgia. Library of Congress

  Mary Anna Randolph Custis Lee, circa 1845, with the Lees’ youngest, Robert Jr. Virginia Historical Society, Richmond, VA

  The man who more than any other helped influence and make Lee as a soldier, Major General Winfield Scott was virtually a surrogate father to him. Library of Congress

  Lee’s father-in-law, George Washington Parke Custis, who left him the unenviable task of saving the plantations and managing the slaves’ ultimate emancipation. Library of Congress

  Lieutenant Colonel Lee circa 1852 when he was superintendent at West Point. The uniform was added in 1861. Library of Congress

  The slave pen at Alexandria where the captured runaway Arlington slaves were held until Lee had them whipped. Library of Congress

  In October 1859 Lee commanded the company of marines who stormed this engine house at Harpers Ferry to capture John Brown and his raiders. Library of Congress

  Before Lee could sit for a photographer after taking command of Virginia forces, someone doctored his West Point photo to add a uniform and a hat with “VA.” Library of Congress

  Lee built an excellent working relationship with President Jefferson Davis in spite of the Mississippian’s prickly and
sometimes obstinate nature. Library of Congress

  Lieutenant General Thomas J. “Stonewall” Jackson became Lee’s right hand until his mortal wounding at Chancellorsville, days after this image was made. Library of Congress

  Lee’s middle son, “Rooney,” became an able cavalry general in his own right, and a source of much concern when he was wounded and a prisoner of war. Library of Congress

  Vannerson’s late-1864 portrait of Lee, probably his finest standing pose, with sash and presentation sword. Lee’s famous perfect posture is manifest. Library of Congress

  Lee thought his best wartime portraits were taken in early 1864 in Richmond by Julian Vannerson. Library of Congress

  The table on which Lee signed the surrender terms proposed by Grant at Appomattox. Library of Congress

  After Appomattox Lee returned to his family’s home on Franklin Street in Richmond. He arrived April 15, two days before this image was made. From its window he watched Union soldiers marching past. Library of Congress

  A few days later Mathew Brady brought his camera to Franklin Street to capture the old warrior, defiance still in his tired eyes, in his last photos as a Confederate general. Library of Congress

  Lee was fifty-eight years old and not in good health, but still robust. Beside him is his son Custis at left, and adjutant Walter Taylor at right. Library of Congress

  Lee did not like posing for the camera, even in good times, and always appeared stiff and formal. Library of Congress

  The new president of Washington College, Lee in February 1866, and aging rapidly. Library of Congress

  Lee’s old friend and sometime rival, General Joseph E. Johnston at left with Lee in April 1870, when Johnston was working on his memoirs, and Lee had given up on his. Library of Congress

  The official dedication of Arlington National Cemetery on May 30, 1868. Grant sits partially visible on the platform at center, later to be somewhat apprehensive that he might be buried on Lee’s old estate. Just the day before, Grant accepted the Republican nomination for the presidency, closing his acceptance with the words, “Let us have peace.” Library of Congress

  Currier and Ives created a print of Lee’s death that suggested his apotheosis into sainthood. Library of Congress

  The saint in his shrine. Recumbent of Lee by Edward Valentine in the chapel at Washington and Lee University in Lexington, Virginia. Library of Congress

  On May 29, 1890, a crowd estimated at ten thousand gathered in Richmond for the unveiling of the Lee monument, an indelible link with the city, Confederacy, and Lost Cause memory. U.S. Army Military History Institute, Carlisle, PA

  Grant was forty-two and Lee fifty-seven, Grant at the peak of health and energy, while Lee feared his weakening body and lagging faculties. Each was defending his notion of home. Grant by now was the most popular man in the Union, arguably more so even than Lincoln. Lee was easily the most important man in the Confederacy, his popularity and influence, had he chosen to use it, far outstripping Davis’s. Unquestionably, they were at this moment the preeminent military figures in America, and arguably the world. All those past years of youth and education and experience brought them to this, along with chance and shifting fortune. Moreover, they embodied a mixture of the realities and aspirations of their respective causes, and America itself.

  Grant was part of a generation that had been styled “Young America,” the “go ahead” generation. Trade and industry and the spread of the free capital market that characterized the North were all in his blood, and framed his belief in the future of his country. Born in Ohio, matured in Missouri and then Illinois, he was at home anywhere Julia was, and he could just as well envision moving to California or even Mexico, his horizons limitless. For him the nation had been always a nation, not a confederation. For him civil war held few dangers of having to fight his own blood. If his name opened no doors as he grew to manhood, neither did it hold him with bonds. He was the self-made man, risen by his own talent and energy, and not a little good fortune. For all that his earlier enterprises had failed, through little agency of his own, he never lost his expectation of success. Now history put him in a position where those qualities could launch him. He had found the one thing he could do better than anyone else.

  Alexis de Tocqueville, the French visitor who in his Democracy in America asked, “who is this new man, this American?” spoke of Grant and his kind, not Lee, for Lee was no new man. He typified both the reality and the cherished ideals of the Old South. His was a name, even if a little tarnished. He was tradition and sense of place. The idea of Lee living anywhere but Virginia was unthinkable; his horizons always were the Potomac, the Appalachians, the Chesapeake, and that North Carolina that he would not wish on a friend. No wonder that dear though the Union was to him, the Old Dominion was dearer. His network of extended family relations and alliances virtually guaranteed that he could never hope to avoid raising his sword against family if he accepted the command offered by Scott and Lincoln. He believed that slavery, even if an evil, was the best way for blacks to live amid white society.

  Still, there was much in them that spoke for America as a whole. They both supported expansion. They both believed in a central government stronger than the old Jeffersonian ideal, though Lee had backed away some degree in his middle age. Each regarded representative democracy as a superior form for that government to take, differing only in their views of who should have the vote; Grant favored universal male suffrage, while Lee felt uneasy about even all classes of whites voting. When it came to this conflict, however, they were firmly united. This was a people’s war. All the people had a stake in it. All the people had an obligation to put their hearts and wealth and blood into it. All would find their futures indelibly shaped by it.

  Grant and Lee became commanders not by blood or accident of birth, or by favoritism and politics. A great general in history is often defined less by the battles he wins than by the defeats he can survive. Grant earned his chance at Lee by victories and demonstrated command capabilities that sustained him in spite of surprise at Shiloh and the embarrassment of Holly Springs. Lee deserved to be here about to meet him thanks to outstanding service in Mexico, his skill in building a new Confederate army from almost nothing, and a keener insight than any other general’s into how the underdog had to approach this war. Serving under hesitant and inadequate superiors opened the door for Grant to rise, but even when viewed against the whole range of senior commanders in the first two years of the war, Grant still stood out by his energy and ability. As long as Lee kept beating the men Lincoln sent against him, Grant’s turn at facing him was predestined. The accident of Joseph E. Johnston’s wounding gave Lee command when it did, but Davis had already considered relieving him of his command; he would have sooner or later, when he could take no more of that general’s insubordination and milquetoast leadership. Whenever that happened, Lee would be there, the only logical alternative.

  And now everything depended upon them and what happened when they met again. Lee meant to contest every foot of ground. Grant meant to show Lee something new: a Federal army that did not turn back. The world was watching as America sat poised to leap forward to define the next century and more of Western culture. Grant and Lee were about to define what sort of nation America would become.

  As the sun set just before seven o’clock on the evening of May 4, 1864, a thousand cook fires dotted the fields and woods south of the Rapidan. The armies did not need the fires for warmth; the temperature was still above 50 degrees when the men lay down for the fitful night ahead.97 Rather, the blazes cooked rations and lent cheer to legions facing the unknown.

  Two of those fires, away from the rest and ten miles apart, gave hot meals and perhaps cheer to two men in particular. They had met before, sixteen years ago in Mexico. They were a study in contrasts.

  All that morning blue-clad soldiers waded the Rapidan at Germanna Ford. About midday something of an apparition rode across and up to a house just beyond, dismounted, and stepped o
nto the porch. He sat and wrote a telegram to go back to Washington: “The crossing of Rapidan effected.”98 With his mind on more important things than punctuation, he signed it “U S Grant Lt Genl.” Then the general commanding all the armies of the United States watched rank upon rank of lean veterans march past him to their bivouacs, part of an army of 120,000.

  At that moment General Ulysses S. Grant was a contradiction. Among the many things for which he was known by now, simplicity ranked high. He cared little for the pomp of war. On this day, however, he all but gleamed in finery. In place of the usual private’s blouse he wore a blue frock coat with double rows of gleaming brass buttons grouped in threes, the only coat of its kind in the United States. His worn shoes or muddy boots were gone, replaced by polished black knee-length boots, his trousers neatly tucked into their tops. Despite disliking gloves, he wore new yellow ones matching the yellow sash around his waist, while a black felt hat with gold cord perched uneasily on his head. Like many officers, he thought a sword a clumsy nuisance, but a polished presentation saber hung at his side.

  Grant in elegant dress was a rare sight even in Washington. In the army itself it ranked as a matter of wonder. Today he felt the occasion called for it, and because this army, still largely unknown to him, needed to think he looked like a general. He and they were about to contend with a legend made flesh. Perhaps Grant hoped his opponent would remember him this time. If so, the sense of occasion did not extend beyond his person. When he dismounted, everyone saw that he rode the same old saddle that for more than two years had carried him from victory to victory.