The Last Weeks of Abraham Lincoln

by David Alan Johnson

  The president telegraphed his anxious secretary of war, Edwin M. Stanton, on Saturday morning: “Arrived here, all safe, about 9 A.M. yesterday. No war news.”1 Secretary Stanton's mind must have been put at ease by Lincoln's communiqué. He responded, “I would be glad to receive a telegram from you dated at Richmond before you return” to Washington. This was apparently the straight-laced Mr. Stanton's attempt at making a joke.2

  Commander John S. Barnes came aboard the River Queen for breakfast. His first activity was to escort Mary Lincoln to the dining room. When Commander Barnes and Mrs. Lincoln arrived, they found that the president was already there, not looking very well, still suffering the effects of yesterday's illness. “Mr. Lincoln ate very little,” Commander Barnes wrote, “but was very jolly and pleasant.”3 Tad Lincoln was also present for breakfast, along with Captain Penrose.

  While everyone except the president was having their sausages and eggs, they were joined by Captain Robert Lincoln. It was an unexpected visit but was not entirely a social call—Captain Lincoln explained that he had come with a message from General Grant. “Robert just now tells me that there was a little rumpus up the line, and ended about where it began,” is how the president reported the contents of his son's communiqué.4

  The message that Robert Lincoln had delivered was a lot more significant than the president's cheerful tone indicated. It meant that General Grant's long-awaited spring offensive had finally begun, only it had not been begun by General Grant. Early that morning, General Lee had attacked the Federal lines south of Petersburg at Fort Stedman. The fort was about two hundred yards south of the Confederate trenches. Lee's attack surprised everyone, including General Grant. Only a week earlier, he had written to his father, “I am anxious to have Lee hold on where he is a short time longer so that I can get him in a position where he must lose a great portion of his army.”5

  But General Lee seldom did what anyone expected. His predawn attack was not just a “little rumpus;” it was a major assault that had broken a hole in Grant's lines. “The charge, however, was successful and almost without loss,” the general wrote in his usual straightforward manner, “the enemy passing through our lines between Fort Stedman and Battery No. 10.”6 The fort itself was also captured, and its guns were turned against the Federal troops. Besides the element of surprise, the attackers also had darkness on their side—in the predawn haze, it was just about impossible to tell friend from foe, which also made it impossible to bring up any artillery to use against the Confederates.

  As soon as the sun rose above the horizon, and the gunners were able to distinguish Union troops from Confederate, heavy artillery fire was brought down on the attackers. This made all the difference. At about 7:45, a Federal counterattack stopped General Lee's assault and also recaptured Fort Stedman. The Union artillery had prevented any reinforcements from reaching the Confederates, who lost all the ground they had captured just a few hours earlier. “This effort of Lee's cost him about four thousand men and resulted in their killing, wounding, and capturing about two thousand of ours,” General Grant would later report.7

  The surprise attack on Fort Stedman had been a desperate attempt by General Lee to break through the Federal lines. The purpose of his assault was to upset and delay General Grant, which would allow the Confederates a head start on their run toward North Carolina. “The movement was well planned and carried out,” Colonel Horace Porter reflected, “but it proved a signal failure.”8

  After the president had finished his breakfast, and after Robert Lincoln had delivered his message about Fort Stedman, several officers came to see President Lincoln and pay their respects. Among those present were Admiral David Dixon Porter, General Grant's old friend from Vicksburg, and Commander John S. Barnes from the USS Bat. During the course of their conversation, it was decided to visit the scene of that morning's fighting. No one actually had any real news regarding the battle, and the president wanted to have a first-hand look at the battleground himself.

  At around noon, the president and a “large party” boarded a train and rode from City Point to General Meade's headquarters. As the train approached Meade's office, it quickly became apparent to everyone on board that the fighting at Fort Stedman had been a lot more serious, and a lot more costly in lives, than Captain Lincoln had indicated—it had not been just “a little rumpus up the line.” As Commander Barnes described, “The ground immediately around us was still strewn with dead and wounded men, Federal and Confederate.”9 Some of the wounded were still sprawled over the railroad tracks that led to Meade's headquarters, and had to be removed before the train could proceed.

  Once the president arrived at headquarters, “Mr. Lincoln was taken in charge by General Meade,” and the visitors were escorted to a spot where the entire battlefield could be seen. “We passed through the spot where the fighting had been most severe,” Commander Barnes recalled, “and where great numbers of dead were lying, with burial parties at their dreadful work.”10

  The president rode one of General Grant's horses, a little black pony named Jeff Davis. The pony may have been just the right size for General Grant, who was five feet eight inches tall. But the sight of President Lincoln on Jeff Davis was anything but distinguished; the president's feet nearly touched the ground. “Mr. Lincoln was a good horseman,” at least in the opinion of William Crook, “but always rather an ungainly sight on horseback.”11 Everybody laughed at the president, including Lincoln himself. “Well, he may be Jeff Davis and a little too small for me,” Lincoln said, “but he is a good horse.”

  This turned out to be one of the few light moments of the afternoon. After observing the burial parties at work, the president passed several hundred Confederate prisoners who had been captured that morning. Lincoln did not say very much as he watched them shamble past, but he was obviously affected by this “dirty lot of humanity” being herded off to a prison camp. “He remarked that he had seen enough of the horrors of war, that he hoped this was the beginning of the end, and that there would be no more bloodshed or the ruin of homes.”12

  The president also had another look at some actual fighting—“some lively skirmishing,” artillery fire that had broken out “between the picket-lines of the two forces.”13 He had a very good vantage point, on a hill not more than a quarter mile from where the shooting had broken out. “We could see the shells as they were fired,” William Crook wrote, “but while we were there they burst in the air and did no damage.” Lincoln asked if he might be standing “too close for comfort of his party” to the cannon fire. When he was assured that there was no danger, the president stayed at that position for two more hours. He did not move until the fighting had ended.

  Lincoln carried a map with him, which he took out of his pocket and looked at several times during the afternoon. “He had the exact location of the troops marked on it,” Colonel Horace Porter noted, “and he exhibited a singularly accurate knowledge of the various positions.”14 The president wanted to get as much first-hand information of actual fighting conditions as possible, without actually putting himself in danger. Reading combat dispatches in the War Office gave him a good overview, but there was no substitute for observing the situation himself.

  The afternoon's activities left the president in a serious and reflective mood. When he returned to City Point later in the day, he sat by the campfire and spoke with General Grant and several members of the staff. “At first, his manner was grave and his language much more serious than usual.”15 Among other things, he talked about “the appalling difficulties encountered by the administration, the losses in the field, the perplexing financial problems, and the foreign complications.”

  But after a while, the president's tone of voice changed and his manner became much more cheerful. He told one of his famous stories, this one was about a barber who gave one of his customers such a close shave that he also succeeded in cutting his own finger. After finishing his story, Lincoln compared the barber with England, and her “inimical attitu
de” toward the North. Along with most of the Northern population, he resented Britain's support of the Confederacy, as well as her supplying the Confederate navy with commerce raiders, including the Alabama and the Shenandoah. “And so England will discover that she has got the South into a pretty bad scrape by trying to administer to her,” Lincoln explained, “and in the end she will find that she has only cut her own finger.”16 (President Lincoln usually said “England” when he meant “Britain.”)

  The president's audience laughed at the story, including General Grant. When the laughter died away, Grant asked Lincoln a pointed question: “Mr. President, did you at any time doubt the final success of the cause?” The president instantly replied, “Never for a moment.”17 Everyone present, including Grant, was impressed by the quickness and sincerity of Lincoln's response.

  Returning to the subject of the relationship with Britain, Lincoln mentioned the Trent affair, which had happened over three years earlier and was another point of conflict between Britain and the United States. In 1861, the American warship USS San Jacinto stopped the British steamer Trent, which was sailing from Cuba to Europe with two Confederate officials aboard. The two representatives were forcibly removed from the Trent in international waters, and were taken to Boston as prisoners. Britain angrily demanded their immediate release, and Lincoln complied with the demands. Lincoln was not happy about giving up the two Confederate ministers, but he was certain that “after ending our war successfully, we would be so powerful that we could call her to account.”18

  Colonel Horace Porter thought it was more than appropriate for General Grant to hear the president's remarks regarding Britain, because President Ulysses S. Grant would preside over what would become known as the “Alabama claims.” These claims would result in compensation from Britain, in the amount of $15,500,000, for damages inflicted upon the American merchant navy by British-built commerce raiders during the Civil War. These claims resulted in “the payment from England of fifteen and a half millions of dollars as compensation for damages inflicted upon our commerce.”19

  Earlier in the day, the president had sent a telegram to Secretary of War Edwin M. Stanton from General Meade's headquarters. “I am here within five miles of the scene of this morning's action,” he wrote. “I have nothing to add to what Gen. Meade reports, except that I have seen the prisoners myself and they look like there might be the number he states—1,600.”20 He wanted to keep Secretary Stanton informed of his activities before he became so involved in the day's activities that he would forget.

  Now that the day was finally over, President Lincoln wanted nothing more than to get back to the River Queen and go to bed. He politely declined General Grant's invitation to have dinner with him at his headquarters and went aboard the River Queen to spend the night.

  In the morning, President Lincoln seemed to be in excellent spirits after a good night's sleep. He “wandered into the tent of the headquarters telegraph operator,” where Colonel Horace Porter and a few other members of General Grant's staff were spending some time. He proceeded to take a telegram from Secretary of War Stanton out of his pocket and said, with a broad smile, “Well, the serious Stanton is actually becoming facetious. Just listen to what he says in his dispatch: ‘Your telegram and Parke's report of the scrimmage this morning are received.’”1 General John G. Parke commanded the Ninth Corps, which had been manning the Fort Stedman sector of the Petersburg lines. “The rebel rooster looks a little the worse, as he could not hold the fence. We have nothing new here. Now you are away, everything is quiet and the tormentors vanished. I hope you will remember General Harrison's advice to his men at Tippecanoe, that they can ‘see as well a little farther off.’”2 Secretary Stanton was still as worried as ever about President Lincoln's safety and was sending him a humorous warning not to put himself in danger again, as he had done at Fort Stedman.

  After breakfast, the president made his way over to General Grant's headquarters; this was the beginning of a day of military reviews. General Grant told Colonel Porter, “I shall accompany the President, who is to ride ‘Cincinnati,’ as he seems to have taken a fancy to him.”3 The general rarely allowed anyone else to ride his big black horse. But since Jeff Davis was much too small to accommodate Lincoln's six-foot, four-inch frame, Grant thought it best that the president rode Cincinnati. It was a matter of comfort and convenience for the president, as well as a gesture of courtesy.

  General Grant also had some instructions for Colonel Porter: “I wish you would take Mrs. Lincoln and Mrs. Grant to the reviewing ground in our headquarters ambulance,” he told the colonel.4 Although it has been designed as medical transport, the “ambulance” was frequently used as an ordinary carriage throughout the war. This particular “headquarters ambulance” had been fitted with springs, to give a smoother ride for its passengers, but it was still anything but a luxury vehicle. Colonel Porter expressed his pleasure “at bring selected for so pleasant a mission” as serving as escort for the president's wife. His pleasure would turn to something a great deal more disagreeable and unpleasant before the day was over.

  The second major event of the day, after the president's visit, was the arrival of General Philip Sheridan. “Sheridan reached City Point on the 26th day of March,” General Grant reported in his usual straightforward manner.5 General Sheridan's army had just reached Harrison's Landing and his cavalry would be riding north to join with General Grant's forces.

  Before setting off on his review of troops with President Lincoln, Grant took a few minutes to have a private conversation with General Sheridan regarding the activities of his army. Grant had already met with Sheridan, and had advised him to return to North Carolina to join forces with William Tecumseh Sherman against Confederate general Joseph E. Johnston's army. But in this second conversation, when there would be no one else present, General Grant informed Sheridan, “General, this portion of your instructions I have put in merely as a bind”—in other words, he did not want his actual plans to be made public.6 Grant was using this meeting, in private, to inform General Sheridan of his actual plans: he intended to keep General Sheridan with him as part of the Army of the Potomac; Sheridan would not be going south to join General Sherman; and Grant was planning to bring the war to an end as soon as possible right there in Virginia—“I intend to close the war right here,” is the way he put it. General Sheridan had not been happy about leaving Grant for North Carolina; his face “at once brightened up” when he heard Grant's change of plan. “I'm glad to hear it,” he said, slapping his leg, “and we can do it.”

  General Sheridan was invited to join President Lincoln and his party on their trip to review his own troops. The River Queen cast off at eleven o'clock, carrying the Lincolns and their guests—the Grants, General Sheridan, Admiral Porter, Lieutenant Commander Barnes, Colonel Horace Porter, and General Grant's secretary Adam Badeau—up the James River. Horses and Grant's headquarters ambulance were also loaded aboard. “The president was in a more gloomy mood than usual on the trip up the James,” Colonel Porter observed. “He spoke with much seriousness about the situation, and did not attempt to tell a single anecdote.”7

  It did not take long for the River Queen to reach the place where Sheridan's troops were making their way across the river. The cavalry was in the process of crossing a pontoon bridge, which had been built by army engineers for the occasion. While the rest of the men waited for their turn to cross, they washed themselves in the river, watered their horses, and generally enjoyed themselves, “laughing and shouting to each other and having a fine time.” When they found out that the president was watching them, the cavalrymen “cheered vociferously.”8

  The River Queen left Sheridan's cavalry behind and steamed past Admiral Porter's flotilla of warships, which were a short distance upriver, giving President Lincoln another spectacle. It was quite an array of naval power—the ships were “dressed with flags, the crews on deck cheering as the River Queen passed by.”9 The president returned the salute—“as h
e passed each vessel, [he] waved his high hat as if saluting old friends in his native town, and seemed as happy as a schoolboy.”

  President Lincoln's mood certainly had changed since he left City Point. His entire attitude had improved completely, almost miraculously. When the River Queen tied up alongside Admiral Porter's flagship, the USS Malvern, the president and his entourage discovered that they were the admiral's guests for lunch. Lincoln was clearly delighted by the “grand luncheon” and by the quantity and variety of the food that was being served.10 “It was the cause of funny comments and remarks by the President,” including jokes about the difference between life in the army, with its hardtack and mud marches and dismal unpalatable rations, and life aboard ship, which featured appetizing lunches. Everybody laughed at Lincoln's remarks, and he visibly enjoyed being “the moving spirit” of the occasion as much as he enjoyed lunch.

  After lunch, the River Queen left Admiral Porter's flotilla and proceeded to take the president and his guests to Aitken's Landing. General Grant had planned a presidential review of troops under General Edward O. C. Ord, commander of the Army of the James. All the horses, along with the headquarters ambulance, were put ashore for the trip inland to the reviewing ground.

  When the River Queen arrived at Aitken's Landing, several officers were on hand to escort the president and all the other visitors to the review. General Ord wanted to make a favorable impression with both the president and General Grant and spared no effort in his attempt to show his troops to their best possible advantage. “There were probably twenty or thirty officers and a few orderlies in the party,” Commander Barnes wrote, “all in their best uniforms, and as brilliant a squadron as could be expected from an army in the field.”11