This allegation of favoritism was assumed to have a conspicuous illustration in the case of Mr. Benjamin, for whom the President retained his partiality even after he had been censured by Congress, and when his unpopularity was not to be concealed. The same motive was affirmed, however, in the selection of his other advisers; and to obviate the necessity of detail hereafter, we will dispose of this subject at once.
Despite the persistent assertion to the contrary, the fact is indisputable, that, in the selection of no single member of his cabinet, did Jefferson Davis make use of the opportunity to reward either a friend or a partisan. In no case did personal favor even remotely influence his choice, save in the appointment of Mr. Seddon as Secretary of War – an appointment made with the universal acclaim of the public and the newspapers. James A. Seddon and Jefferson Davis were, indeed, friends of twenty years’ standing; but, besides, Mr. Seddon was recommended not more by the confidence of the President, than by the unlimited confidence of the country in his intellect, integrity, and patriotism.
Personal details are frequently not to be denied an important historical bearing, and the motives of Mr. Davis, in the choice of his cabinet, claim no insignificant page in his official history. We have briefly adverted elsewhere to some of these considerations.
When the Confederate cabinet was organized at Montgomery, Robert Toombs was placed at its head; yet between Davis and Toombs there had not been close intimacy, hardly mutual confidence – certainly nothing like ardent friendship. But Mr. Toombs represented an overwhelming majority of the people of Georgia, the wealthiest and largest State of the Confederacy at that period, as determined at their last election. He was peculiarly the representative public man of Georgia; the most prominent citizen of his State, repeatedly selected for its highest honors, and then a reputed statesman. When Mr. Toombs resigned, his successor was Mr. Hunter, who had served with Mr. Davis in the Senate, and in whose qualifications the President had confidence. They had both been friends of Mr. Calhoun, and disciples of his political school. Political accord by no means signifies personal intimacy, and while Mr. Hunter has many admirers, and was greatly respected in Virginia and in the Senate, he has not been generally accredited with marked sympathetic tendencies.
Mr. Benjamin was originally made Attorney-General, because of his high legal reputation, and because Louisiana was entitled to a representative in the cabinet, but not because of personal considerations, since his relations with Mr. Davis were neither intimate nor cordial. The partiality of the President for Mr. Benjamin was, indeed, an after-thought – the result of observation of his wonderful mental resources, his unequal capacity for labor and zealous devotion to the cause.
Mr. Mallory was recommended for the Navy Department by his previous experience. There had been mutual kind feeling between himself and Mr. Davis as Senators, but nothing like close association. Mr. Davis had never seen Mr. Walker until he was appointed Secretary of War, in accordance with the emphatic choice of Alabama. General Randolph was appointed solely in consequence of Mr. Davis’ convictions of his fitness. Previous to the war General Randolph was undistinguished, save in Virginia, where his fine capacity and exalted worth were becomingly appreciated. General Breckinridge, the last Confederate Secretary of War, was sufficiently recommended by his talents and position. Mr. Memminger was made Secretary of the Treasury, not as the friend of Mr. Davis, but as the choice of South Carolina. With Mr. Trenholm, his successor, the President had no personal acquaintance, until he became a member of the cabinet. Mr. Davis, the last Attorney-General, was originally neither a personal friend nor a party associate of the President; nor was Mr. Watts, his predecessor.
With the favorable response of Congress and the people to the vigorous and timely suggestions of the President, began a more spirited prosecution of the war, though the season of peril was not yet tided over, nor the current of adversity exhausted. Already there were numerous indications of the increased scale, and enlarged theatre of operations, which the war now demanded.
At the conclusion of active operations in the Trans-Mississippi district, in the autumn of 1861, the State forces of Missouri, still retaining their separate organization, under General Price, and the Confederate forces of McCulloch, were located south of Springfield, near the Arkansas line. An unfortunate phase of the Southern conduct of the war in this quarter, and one from which arose no little apprehension, was the apparently irreconcilable difference between Generals Price and McCulloch. With a view to secure the indispensable element of harmony, President Davis, during the winter, appointed Major-General Earl Van Dorn, an able and gallant officer, to the supreme command of military operations in the Trans-Mississippi department. General Van Dorn was a favorite with the President, and his services had already been of a character to justify the high expectations, indulged not less by himself than by the public, of fortunate results of the unanimity, at last secured in a quarter where its absence had been severely felt.
The result of the enemy’s movements, begun early in January, 1862, was the retreat of the weak column of Price to the Boston Mountains, in Arkansas, where McCulloch was encamped. This junction of the two commands did not result in coöperation until the arrival of General Van Dorn, early in March. With a vigor characteristic of this officer’s career, Van Dorn advanced against the enemy, advantageously posted, and with numbers superior to his own force. The result was the battle of Elk Horn, a brilliant but fruitless engagement, in which the Southern commander, in consequence of the want of discipline among his soldiers, and partially through the effects of those earlier dissensions with which he had no connection, failed to realize the ends at which he aimed.49
Elk Horn was probably the most considerable engagement, in point of the numbers engaged, fought during the war, west of the Mississippi. Unimportant in its bearing upon the general character of the war, it was a decided check upon the aspiration of the Confederate Government to recover Missouri, and to give its authority a solid establishment in the Trans-Mississippi region. This was afterward the least important theatre of the war, though subsequent events there were by no means unworthy of record. Even at this early stage, the war was rapidly tending to a concentration of the energies of both parties, upon the more vital points of conflict in Virginia, and the central zone of the Confederacy. A few weeks later Generals Van Dorn and Price, with the major portion of the Trans-Mississippi army, were transferred to the scene of operations east of the great river.
General Albert Sidney Johnston, after his retreat from Nashville, consequent upon the fall of Fort Donelson, paused at Murfreesboro’, Tennessee, for a sufficient period to receive accessions to his force, which increased it to the neighborhood of twenty thousand men. These accessions were portions of the command lately operating in South-eastern Kentucky, and remnants of the forces lately defending Fort Donelson. General Beauregard, having evacuated Columbus, which, in common with the other posts of the former Confederate line of defense in Kentucky and Tennessee, became untenable with the loss of the Tennessee and Cumberland Rivers, concentrated his forces at Corinth, in the northern part of Mississippi.
The evacuation of Columbus did not necessarily give the enemy control of the Mississippi above Memphis. A strong position was taken by the Confederate forces at Island No. 10, forty-five miles below Columbus. Considerable anticipation was indulged by the Southern public, of a successful stand at this point for the control of the Mississippi. It was, however, captured by the enemy; and in the loss of two thousand men and important material of war by its surrender, the Confederacy sustained another severe blow, and the Federal Secretary of the Navy justly congratulated the North, upon a “triumph not the less appreciated because it was protracted and finally bloodless.”
The retirement of the forces of General Albert Sidney Johnston south of the Tennessee River, and the location of General Beauregard’s command at Corinth, readily suggested the practicability of a coöperation, by those two commanders, for the defense of the valley of the Mississippi, and the extensive railroad system, of which Corinth is the centre. With the approbation of President Davis, a concentration of troops, from various quarters, ensued, and, about the first of April, an admirable army of forty thousand men was assembled in the neighborhood of Corinth, and upon the railroads leading to that point. There was no situation during the war more assuring of good fortune to the Confederates, than that presented in Northern Mississippi in the early days of April, 1862. President Davis indulged the highest anticipations from this grand combination of forces which he so cordially approved. He confidently expected a victory from the Western army, led by that officer whose capacity he trusted above all others, which should more than compensate for the heavy losses of the previous campaign. General Johnston was no less hopeful of the situation. The conjuncture was indeed rare in its opportunities. The exposed situation of General Grant, whose command lay upon the west bank of the Tennessee River, with a most remarkable want of appreciation of its precarious position by its commander, and a total absence of provision for its safety, invited an immediate attack by the Confederate commander, before the Federal column could be reinforced by Buell, then making rapid marches from Nashville.
The incidents of the battle of Shiloh are familiar to the world. It constitutes, perhaps, the most melancholy of that series of “lost opportunities” in the Confederate conduct of the war, upon which history will dwell with sad interest. The first day’s victory promised fruits the most brilliant and enduring. The action of the second day can only be construed as a Confederate disaster. Such was the sentiment of the South, and such must be the verdict of history.
Shiloh was, perhaps, the sorest disappointment experienced by the South, until the loss of Vicksburg, and the defeat of Gettysburg threatened the approaching climacteric of the Confederacy. The public grief at the death of General Johnston was tinged with remorse, for the unmerited censure with which the popular voice, encouraged by the press, had previously assailed him. Not until his death did the South appreciate the worth of this great soldier. Never, perhaps, had there been a more sublime instance of self-abnegation than was displayed by Sidney Johnston.
All through the autumn and winter of 1861 he had maintained his perilous position in Kentucky, confronted by forces quadruple his own, and yet assailed by an impatient and ignorant public, for not essaying invasion, with a force which subsequent events proved inadequate for defense. But not even the hideous array of facts following the reverses of February secured his vindication; still he was assailed by an unreasoning public, instigated by a carping, partisan press. He was ridiculed as incompetent – as one who had traversed the curriculum of West Point, only to become educated in the frippery of military etiquette. For the first time, President Davis was charged with a desire to reward favorites, even at the risk of the public welfare, as illustrated by his retention in high command, of one whom actual trial had proven incapable, and undeserving of his previous reputation.
But President Davis, happily for his own fame, not less than for the fame of this illustrious victim of popular clamor, was unmoved by the censures of the public, and the invectives of the newspapers. He did not permit the confidence which, upon deliberate judgment, and upon a long and intimate acquaintance, he had reposed in General Johnston, to be shaken, and sternly repelled the clamor against him, as he afterwards did in the case of Lee, and even of Stonewall Jackson. His habitual reply to importunate petitions for the removal of Johnston was: “If Sidney Johnston is incompetent to command an army, then the Confederacy has no general fit for that position.”
Humanity rejoices in no attribute more noble than the capacity for warm and enduring friendship; and there is nothing more exalted in the character of Jefferson Davis than his devotion to his friends. At all times as true as steel to those for whom he professes attachment, he knows no cold medium, cherishes no feeling of indifference, but his nature kindles responsively to the warmth in the bosom of others. A like enthusiasm towards himself has usually been the reward of his heroic constancy. In Sidney Johnston there was that touching union of chivalric generosity and tender sympathy, which peculiarly qualified him for fellowship with Jefferson Davis. Such friendship, as that which united them, rises to the sublimity of the noblest virtue, and presents a spectacle honorable to human nature.
President Davis commemorated the death of General Johnston in a communication to Congress, and in terms of touching and appropriate feeling. Said he:
“But an all-wise Creator has been pleased, while vouchsafing to us His countenance in battle, to afflict us with a severe dispensation, to which we must bow in humble submission. The last, long, lingering hope has disappeared, and it is but too true that General Albert Sidney Johnston is no more. My long and close friendship with this departed chieftain and patriot forbid me to trust myself in giving vent to the feelings, which this intelligence has evoked. Without doing injustice to the living, it may safely be said that our loss is irreparable. Among the shining hosts of the great and good who now cluster around the banner of our country, there exists no purer spirit, no more heroic soul, than that of the illustrious man whose death I join you in lamenting. In his death he has illustrated the character for which, through life, he was conspicuous – that of singleness of purpose and devotion to duty with his whole energies. Bent on obtaining the victory which he deemed essential to his country’s cause, he rode on to the accomplishment of his object, forgetful of self, while his very life-blood was fast ebbing away. His last breath cheered his comrades on to victory. The last sound he heard was their shout of victory. His last thought was his country, and long and deeply will his country mourn his loss.”
The battle of Shiloh was an incident of the war justifying more than a passing notice. Never since Manassas, and never upon any subsequent occasion, had the Confederacy an opportunity so abundant in promise. The utmost exertions of the Government had been employed to make the Western army competent for the great enterprise proposed by its commander. The situation of Grant’s army absolutely courted the tremendous blow with which Johnston sought its destruction, a result which, in all human calculation, he would have achieved had his life been spared. At the moment of his death a peerless victory was already won; the heavy masses of Grant were swept from their positions; before nightfall his last reserve had been broken, and his army lay, a cowering, shrunken, defeated rabble, upon the banks of the Tennessee. That, at such a moment, the army should have been recalled from pursuit, especially when it was known that a powerful reinforcement, ample to enable the enemy to restore his fortunes, was hastening, by forced marches, to the scene, must ever remain a source of profound amazement.
It was the story of Manassas repeated, but with a far more mournful significance. It was not the failure to gather the fruits of the most complete victory of the war, nor the irreparable loss of Sidney Johnston, which filled the cup of the public sorrow. Superadded to these was the alarming discovery that the second great army of the Confederacy, in the death of its commander, was deprived of the genius which alone had been proven capable of its successful direction. Johnston had no worthy successor, and the Western army discovered no leader capable of conducting it to the goal which its splendid valor deserved.
A very perceptible diminution of what had hitherto been unlimited confidence, not only in the genius, but even in the good fortune of Beauregard, was the result of his declared failure at Shiloh. Not even his distinguished services, subsequently, were sufficient to entirely efface that unfortunate record. Military blunders, perhaps the most excusable of human errors, are those which popular criticism is the least disposed to extenuate. The reputation of the soldier, so sacred to himself, and which should be so jealously guarded by his country, is often mercilessly mutilated by that public, upon whose gratitude and indulgence he should have an unlimited demand. We shall not undertake to establish the justice of the public verdict, which has been unanimous, that the course of General Beauregard involved, at least, an “extraordinary abandonment of a great victory.” It only remains to state the material from which a candid and intelligent estimate is to be reached.
General Beauregard has explained his course, in terms which, it is to be presumed, were at least satisfactory to himself. His official report says: “Darkness was close at hand; officers and men were exhausted by a combat of over twelve hours without food, and jaded by the march of the preceding day through mud and water.”
General Bragg, who conspicuously shared the laurels of the first day’s action, has recorded a memorable protest against the course adopted at its close. Says General Bragg … “It was now probably past four o’clock, the descending sun warning us to press our advantage and finish the work before night should compel us to desist. Fairly in motion, these commands again, with a common head and a common purpose, swept all before them. Neither battery nor battalion could withstand their onslaught. Passing through camp after camp, rich in military spoils of every kind, the enemy was driven headlong from every position, and thrown in confused masses upon the river bank, behind his heavy artillery, and under cover of his gunboats at the landing. He had left nearly the whole of his light artillery in our hands.”… The enemy had fallen back in much confusion, and was crowded, in unorganized masses, upon the river bank, vainly striving to cross. They were covered by a battery of heavy guns, well served, and their two gunboats, now poured a heavy fire upon our supposed position, for we were entirely hid by the forest. Their fire, though terrific in sound, and producing some consternation at first, did us no damage, as the shells all passed over, and exploded far beyond our position… The sun was about disappearing, so that little time was left us to finish the glorious work of the day… Our troops, greatly exhausted by twelve hours’ incessant fighting, without food, mostly responded to the order with alacrity, and the movement commenced with every prospect of success… Just at this time, an order was received from, the commanding general to withdraw the forces beyond the enemy’s fire.
The testimony of General Polk, also a distinguished participant in the battle, was concurrent with that of General Bragg, and no less emphatic in its suggestions. In his report is to be found the following passage:
“The troops under my command were joined by those of Generals Bragg and Breckinridge, and my fourth brigade, under General Cheatham, from the right. The field was clear. The rest of the forces of the enemy were driven to the river and under its bank. We had one hour or more of daylight still left; were within from one hundred and fifty to four hundred yards of the enemy’s position, and nothing seemed wanting to complete the most brilliant victory of the war, but to press forward and make a vigorous assault on the demoralized remnant of his forces.
“At this juncture his gunboats dropped down the river, near the landing, where his troops were collected, and opened a tremendous cannonade of shot and shell over the bank, in the direction from which our forces were approaching. The height of the plain on which we were, above the level of the water, was about one hundred feet, so that it was necessary to give great elevation to his guns, to enable him to fire over the bank. The consequence was that shot could take effect only at points remote from the river’s edge. They were comparatively harmless to our troops nearest the bank, and became increasingly so to us as we drew near the enemy and placed him between us and his boats.
“Here the impression arose that our forces were waging an unequal contest – that they were exhausted, and suffering from a murderous fire, and by an order from the commanding general they were withdrawn from the field.”
President Davis could only share the universal dissatisfaction with the unfortunate termination of the battle of Shiloh. A conclusive evidence of his forbearance and justice is seen in the fact, that he did not avail himself of the opportunity to displace an officer, toward whom he was charged with entertaining such bitter and implacable animosity, when public sentiment would, in all probability, have approved the expediency of that step. But General Beauregard was in no danger of mean resentment from President Davis, who so frequently braved the anger of the public against its distinguished servants. General Beauregard retained the control of the Western army, without interference from the executive, and within a few weeks, by the successful execution of his admirable retreat from Corinth, which he justly declared “equivalent to a brilliant victory,” did much to repair his damaged reputation.50 So eminent, in its perfection and success, was the retreat of Beauregard with his little army from the front of Halleck, who had more than one hundred thousand men, that a portion of the Northern press admitted that while Shiloh made Grant ridiculous, Corinth made a corpse of Halleck’s military reputation.
As yet there had been no compensating advantage gained by the Confederacy to repair the disasters sustained in the early part of the year. Indeed, the train of reverses had hardly been more than temporarily interrupted, when a calamity hardly less serious than the loss of Tennessee happened in the loss of New Orleans, the largest, most populous, and most wealthy city of the Confederacy. This event was speedily followed by the calamitous results which were to be expected. It was the virtual destruction of Confederate rule in Louisiana. It cut off the available routes to Texas, so inestimable in its importance as a source of grain and cattle; gave the enemy a base of operations against the entire gulf region, and was altogether disheartening to the South.51
Some time previous to the fall of New Orleans, which occurred in the latter days of April, the Confederacy had made its most serious effort to dispute the hitherto absolute naval supremacy of the North. On the 8th of March, 1862, occurred the famous naval engagement in Hampton Roads, between the Confederate iron-clad Virginia, and the Federal Monitor. Ever since the summer of 1861, the Navy Department had been preparing, at Gosport Navy-yard, a formidable naval contrivance – a shot-proof, iron-plated steam battery. The result of the experiment was a success, which did much to relieve the Navy Department of undeserved reproach, and to produce a revolution in theories relating to naval science and architecture all over the world.
About this period the activity of the naval forces of the enemy was rewarded by additional successes. The towns of Newborn, Washington, and other places of less note in North Carolina, were captured by naval expeditions in conjunction with detachments from the army of General Burnside. The successes of the Burnside expedition, which had been prepared by the North with such large expectations, were by no means inconsiderable; but they were soon lost sight of in the presence of the more absorbing operations in the interior. The naval resistance of the South had thus far necessarily been feeble. In the subsequent progress of the war, except in rare instances, it disappeared altogether as an element in the calculation of means of defense.
The vulnerability of the South upon the sea-coast, and along the lines of her navigable rivers, measured the extent of the good fortune of the enemy. The North was shortly to yield a reluctant recognition of the comparatively insignificant influence of its long train of triumphs in the promotion of subjugation. Upon the soil of Virginia – classic in its memories of contests for freedom, the chosen battle-ground of the Confederacy – was soon to be shed the effulgence of the proudest achievements of Southern genius and valor – a radiance as splendid as ever shone upon the blazing crest of war.