Proclamation of Amnesty--Lincoln’s Benevolence--His
Self-reliance--Progress of the Campaign--The Summer of
1864--Lincoln’s Speech at Philadelphia--Suffering in the
South--Raids--Sherman’s March--Grant’s Position--Battle of
the Wilderness--Siege of Petersburg--Chambersburg--Naval
Victories--Confederate Intrigues--Presidential
Election--Lincoln Re-elected--Atrocious attempts of the
Confederates.
The American political year begins with the meeting of Congress, which
in 1863 assembled on Monday, December 7th. On the 9th, President
Lincoln sent to both Houses a message, in which he set forth the
principal events of the year, as regarded the interests of the American
people. The previous day he had issued a proclamation of amnesty to all
those engaged in the rebellion, who “should take an oath to support,
protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States and the union
of the states under it, with the Acts of Congress passed during the
rebellion, and the proclamations of the President concerning slaves.”
From this amnesty those were excepted who held high positions in the
civil or military service of the rebels, or who had left similar
positions in the Union to join the enemy. It also declared that
whenever, in any of the rebel states, a number of persons, not less
than one-tenth of the qualified voters, should take this oath and
establish a state government which should be republican, it should
be recognised as the government of the state. On the 24th March, he
issued a proclamation following this, in which he defined more closely
the cases in which rebels were to be pardoned. He allowed personal
application to himself in all cases. Mr. Lincoln was of so gentle a
disposition that he seldom refused to sign a pardon, and a weeping
widow or orphan could always induce him to pardon even the worst
malefactors. The manner in which he would mingle his humorous fancies,
not only with serious business, but with almost tragic incidents, was
very peculiar. Once a poor old man from Tennessee called to beg for
the life of his son, who was under sentence of death for desertion. He
showed his papers, and the President, taking them kindly, said he would
examine them, and answer the applicant the next day. The old man, in an
agony of anxiety, with tears streaming, cried, “To-morrow may be too
late! My son is under sentence of death. _It must be done now, or not
at all._” The President looked sympathetically into the old man’s face,
took him by the hands, and pensively said, “_That_ puts me in mind of a
little story. Wait a bit--I’ll tell it.”
“Once General Fisk of Missouri was a Colonel, and he despised swearing.
When he raised his regiment in Missouri, he proposed to his men that
he should do all the profanity in it. They agreed, and for a long
time not a solitary swear was heard among them. But there was an old
teamster named John Todd, who, one day when driving his mules over a
very bad road, and finding them unusually obstinate, could not restrain
himself, and burst into a tremendous display of ground and lofty
swearing. This was overheard by the Colonel, who at once brought John
to book. ‘Didn’t you promise,’ he said, indignantly, ‘that I was to do
all the swearing of the regiment?’ ‘Yes, I did, Colonel,’ he replied;
‘but the truth is, the swearing had to be done then, or not at all--and
you weren’t there to do it.’ Well,” concluded Mr. Lincoln, as he took
up a pen, “it seems that this pardon has to be done now, or not at all,
like Todd’s swearing; and, for fear of a mistake,” he added, with a
kindly twinkle in his eye, “I guess we’ll do it at once.” Saying this,
he wrote a few lines, which caused the old man to shed more tears when
he read them, for the paper held the pardon of his son. Once, and once
only, was President Lincoln known to sternly and promptly refuse mercy.
This was to a man who had been a slave-trader, and who, after his term
of imprisonment had expired, was still kept in jail for a fine of 1000
dollars. He fully acknowledged his guilt, and was very touching in his
appeal on paper, but Lincoln was unmoved. “I could forgive the foulest
murder for such an appeal,” he said, “for it is my weakness to be too
easily moved by appeals for mercy; but the man who could go to Africa,
and rob her of her children, and sell them into endless bondage, with
no other motive than that of getting dollars and cents, is so much
worse than the most depraved murderer, that he can never receive pardon
at my hands. No; he may rot in jail before he shall have liberty by
any act of mine.” On one occasion, when a foolish young fellow was
condemned to death for not joining his regiment, his friends went with
a pardon, which they begged the President to sign. They found him
before a table, of which every inch was deeply covered with papers.
Mr. Lincoln listened to their request, and proceeded to another table,
where there was room to write. “Do you know,” he said, as he held the
document of life or death in his hand, “that table puts me in mind of
a little story of the Patagonians. They open oysters and eat them, and
throw the shells out of the window till the pile gets higher than the
house, and then”--he said this, writing his signature, and handing them
the paper--“_they move_.”
Holland tells us that, in a letter to him, a personal friend of the
President said, “I called on him one day in the earlier part of
the war. He had just written a pardon for a young man who had been
sentenced to be shot for sleeping at his post as sentinel. He remarked,
as he read it to me, “I could not think of going into eternity with the
blood of that poor young man on my skirts.” Then he added, “It is not
to be wondered at that a boy raised on a farm, probably in the habit
of going to bed at dark, should, when required to watch, fall asleep;
and I cannot consent to shoot him for such an act.” This story has a
touching continuation in the fact that the dead body of this youth was
found among the slain on the field of Fredericksburg, wearing next his
heart a photograph of the great President, beneath which was written,
_God bless President Lincoln_. Once, when a General went to Washington
to urge the execution of twenty-four deserters, believing that the
army was in danger from the frequency of desertion, President Lincoln
replied, “General, there are already too many weeping widows in the
United States. For God’s sake, don’t ask me to add to the number, for I
won’t do it.”
It is certain that every man who knew anything of the inner workings of
American politics, or of Cabinet secrets, during the war, will testify
that no President ever did so much himself, and relied as little on
others, as Lincoln. The most important matters were decided by him
alone. He would listen to his Cabinet, or to anybody, and shrewdly
avail himself of information or of ideas, but no human being ever had
the slightest personal _influence_ on him. Others might look up the
decisions and precedents, or suggest the legal axioms for him, but he
invariably managed the case, though with all courtesy and deference to
his diplomatic junior counsel. He was brought every day into serious
argument with the wisest, shrewdest, and most experienced men, both
foreign and American, but his own intelligence invariably gave him
the advantage. And it is not remarkable that the man who had been too
much for Judge Douglas should hold his own with any one. While he was
President, his wonderful powers of readily acquiring the details of
any subject were thoroughly tested, and as President, he perfected the
art of dealing with men. One of his French biographers, amazed at the
constantly occurring proofs of his personal influence, assures his
readers that, “during the war, Lincoln showed himself an organiser of
the first class. A new Carnot, he created armies by land and navies
by sea, raised militia, appointed generals, directed public affairs,
defended them by law, and overthrew the art of maritime war by building
and launching his terrible monitors. He showed himself a finished
diplomatist, and protected the interests of every one. His success
attested the mutual confidence of people and President in their common
patriotism. The emancipation of the slaves crowned his grand policy.”
If some of these details appear slightly exaggerated, it must be borne
in mind that all this and more appears to be literally true to any
foreigner who, in studying Lincoln’s life, learns what a prodigious
amount of work was executed by him, and to what a degree he impressed
his own mind on everything. He either made a shrewd remark or told a
story with every signature to any remarkable paper, and from that day
the document, the deed, and the story were all remembered in common.
On the 1st February, 1864, the President issued an order for a draft
for 500,000 men, to serve for three years or during the war, and (March
14th) again for 200,000 men for service in the army and navy. On the
26th February, 1864, General Grant, in the words of the President,
received “the expression of the nation’s approbation for what he had
done, and its reliance on him for what remained to do in the existing
great struggle,” by being appointed Lieutenant-General of the army of
the United States.[28] It was owing to Mr. Lincoln that General Grant
received the full direction of military affairs, limited by no annoying
conditions. He at once entered on a vigorous course of action. “The
armies of Eastern Tennessee and Virginia,” says Brockett, “were heavily
increased by new levies, and by an effective system of concentration;
and from the Pacific to the Mississippi it soon became evident that,
under the inspiration of a great controlling mind, everything was
being placed in condition for dealing a last effective blow at the
already tottering Confederacy.” The plan was that Sherman should
take Atlanta, Georgia, and then, in succession, Savannah, Columbia,
Charleston, Wilmington, and then join Grant. Thomas was to remain in
the South-West to engage with Hood and Johnston, while Grant, with his
Lieutenants, Meade, Sheridan, and Hancock, were to subdue General Lee
and capture Richmond, the rebel capital.
[Illustration: LINCOLN VISITING THE ARMY.]
But, notwithstanding the confidence of the country in General Grant,
and the degree to which the Confederacy had been compressed by the
victories of 1863, the summer of 1864 was the gloomiest period of the
war since the dark days of 1862. In spite of all that had been done, it
seemed as if the war would never end. The Croakers, whether Union-men
or Copperheads,[29] made the world miserable by their complaints. And
it is certain that, in the words of General Badeau, “the political and
the military situation of affairs were equally grave. The rebellion
had assumed proportions that transcend comparison. The Southern people
seemed all swept into the current, and whatever dissent had originally
existed among them, was long since, to outside apprehension, swallowed
up in the maelstrom of events. The Southern snake, if scotched, was not
killed, and seemed to have lost none of its vitality. In the Eastern
theatre of war, no real progress had been made during three disastrous
years. Gettysburg had saved Philadelphia and Washington, but even
this victory had not resulted in the destruction of Lee; for in the
succeeding January, the rebel chief, with undiminished legions and
audacity, still lay closer to the national capital than to Richmond,
and Washington was in nearly as great danger as before the first Bull
Run.” General Grant’s first steps, though not failures, did little to
encourage the North. It is true that, advancing on the 3rd of May,
and fighting terribly every step from the Rapidan to the James, he
“had indeed flanked Lee’s army from one position after another, until
he found himself, by the 1st June, before Richmond--but he had lost
100,000 men! Here the enemy stood fast at bay.” The country promptly
made up his immense losses; but by this time there was a vacant chair
in almost every household, and the weary of waiting exclaimed every
hour, “How long, O Lord! how long?”
Two things, however, were contributing at this time to cheer the North.
The lavish and extravagant manner in which the Government gave out
contracts to support its immense army, and the liberality with which
it was fed, clothed, and paid, though utterly reprehensible from an
economical point of view, had at least the good effect of stimulating
manufactures and industry. In the gloomiest days of 1861-2, when
landlords were glad to induce respectable tenants to occupy their
houses rent-free, and poverty stared us all in the face, the writer had
predicted, in the “Knickerbocker” and “Continental” Magazines, that,
in a short time, the war would bring to the manufacturing North such a
period of prosperity as it had never experienced, while in the South
there would be a corresponding wretchedness. The prediction, which was
laughed at, was fulfilled to the letter. Before the end of the war,
there was a blue army coat not only on every soldier, but on almost
every other man in America, for the rebels clad themselves from our
battle-fields, and, in some mysterious manner, immense quantities of
army stores found their way into civilian hands. All over the country
there was heard not only the busy hum of factories, but the sound
of the hammer, as new buildings were added to them. Paper-money was
abundant, and speculation ran riot. All this made a grievous debt; but
it is certain that the country got its money’s worth in confidence and
prosperity. When, however, despite this, people began to be downcast,
certain clergymen, with all the women, organised on an immense scale a
Sanitary Commission, the object of which was to contribute comforts
to the soldiers in the field. To aid this benevolent scheme, enormous
“Sanitary Fairs” were held in the large cities, and these were carried
out in such a way that everybody was induced to contribute money or
personal exertions in their aid. These fairs, in mere magnitude,
were almost like the colossal _Expositions_ with which the world has
become familiar, but were more varied as regards entertainment. That
of Philadelphia was the Great Central Sanitary Fair, where Mr. Lincoln
and his wife were present, on the 16th of June, 1864. Here I saw Mr.
Lincoln for the first time. The impression which he made on me was
that of an American who is reverting to the Red Indian type--a very
common thing, indeed, in the South-West among pure-blooded whites. His
brown complexion and high cheek-bones were very Indian. And, like the
Indian chiefs, he soon proved that he had the gift of oratory when he
addressed the multitude in these words--
“I suppose that this toast is intended to open the way for
me to say something. War at the best is terrible, and this
of ours, in its magnitude and duration, is one of the most
terrible the world has ever known. It has destroyed property,
destroyed life, and ruined homes. It has produced a national
debt and a taxation unprecedented in the history of the
country. It has caused mourning among us until the heavens may
almost be said to be hung in black. And yet it continues. It
has had accompaniments not before known in the history of the
world--I mean the Sanitary and Christian Commissions with their
labours for the relief of the soldiers, and these fairs, first
begun at Chicago, and next held in Boston, Cincinnati, and
other cities. The motives and objects that lie at the bottom
of them are worthy of the most that we can do for the soldier
who goes to fight the battles of his country. From the tender
hand of woman, very much is done for the soldier, continually
reminding him of the care and thought for him at home. The
knowledge that he is not forgotten is grateful to his heart.
Another view of these institutions is worthy of thought. They
are voluntary contributions, giving proof that the national
resources are not at all exhausted, and that the national
patriotism will sustain us through all. It is a pertinent
question, When is this war to end? I do not wish to name a day
when it will end, lest the end should not come at any given
time. We accepted this war, and did not begin it. We accepted
it for an object, and when that object is accomplished, the
war will end; and I hope to God that it never will end until
that object is accomplished. Speaking of the present campaign,
General Grant is reported to have said, ‘I am going to fight
it out on this line if it takes all summer.’ This war has
taken three years; it was begun, or accepted, upon the line
of restoring the national authority over the whole national
domain; and for the American people, as far as my knowledge
enables me to speak, I say we are going through on this line
if it takes three years more. I have not been in the habit of
making predictions in regard to the war, but now I am almost
tempted to hazard one. I will. It is that Grant is this
evening in a position, with Meade, and Hancock of Pennsylvania,
whence he can never be dislodged by the enemy until Richmond is
taken. If I shall discover that General Grant may be greatly
facilitated in the capture of Richmond by briefly pouring to
him a large number of armed men at the briefest notice, will
you go? (Cries of “Yes.”) Will you march on with him? (Cries of
“Yes, yes.”) Then I shall call upon you when it is necessary.
Stand ready, for I am waiting for the chance.”
The hint given in this speech was better understood when, during the
next month, a call was made for 500,000 more men. These Sanitary Fairs,
and the presence of Mr. Lincoln, greatly revived the spirits of the
Union party. They had learned by this time that their leader was not
the vulgar Boor, Ape, or Gorilla which the Southern and Democratic
press persisted to the last in calling him, but a great, kind-hearted
man, whose sympathy for their sorrows was only surpassed by the genius
with which he led them out of their troubles. The writer once observed
of Dr. George M‘Clellan, father of the General, that while no surgeon
in America equalled him in coolness and daring in performing the most
dangerous operations, no woman could show more pity or feeling than he
would in binding up a child’s cut finger; and, in like manner, Abraham
Lincoln, while calmly dealing at one time with the ghastly wounds of
his country, never failed to tenderly aid and pity the lesser wounds of
individuals.
But if the North was at this season in sorrow, those in the South had
much greater cause to be so, and they all deserved great credit for the
unflinching manner in which they endured their privations. From the
very beginning, they had wanted many comforts; they were soon without
the necessaries of civilised life. They manufactured almost nothing,
and for such goods as came in by blockade-running enormous prices were
paid. The upper class, who had made the war, were dependent on their
servants to a degree which is seldom equalled in Europe; and, like
those ants which require ant-slaves to feed them, and to which their
Richmond “sociologists” had pointed as a natural example, they began
to starve as their sable attendants took unto themselves the wings of
Freedom and flew away. In their army, desertion and straggling were so
common, that the rebel Secretary of War reported that the effective
force was not more than half the men whose names appeared on the rolls.
Their paper-money depreciated to one-twentieth its nominal value. There
were great failures of crops in the South; the Government made constant
seizures of provisions and cattle; and as the war had been confined to
their own territory, the population were harried by both friend and foe.
Events were now in progress which were destined to utterly ruin the
Confederacy. These were the gigantic Northern incursions, which,
whether successful or not in their strategic aims, exhausted the
country, and set the slaves free by thousands. Early in February,
General Gillmore’s attempt to establish Union government in Florida
had failed. So, too, did Sherman, proceeding from Vicksburg, and
Smith, leaving Memphis, fail in their plan of effecting a junction,
although the destruction which they caused in the enemy’s country was
enormous. In the same month, Kilpatrick made a raid upon Richmond,
which was eminently successful as regarded destroying railways and
canals. In March, General Banks undertook an expedition to the Red
River, of which it may be briefly said that he inflicted much damage,
but received more. In April, Fort Pillow, on the Mississippi, held by
the Union General Boyd, was treacherously captured by the rebel General
Forrest, by means of a flag of truce. After the garrison of 300 white
men and 350 black soldiers, with many women and children, had formally
surrendered and given up their arms, a horrible scene of indiscriminate
murder ensued. A committee of investigation, ordered by Congress,
reported that “men, women, and little children were deliberately shot
down and hacked to pieces with sabres. Officers and men seemed to vie
with each other in the devilish work. They entered the hospitals and
butchered the sick. Men were nailed by their hands to the floors and
sides of buildings, and then the buildings set on fire.” Some negroes
escaped by feigning death, and by digging out from the thin covering of
earth thrown over them for burial. The rebel press exulted over these
barbarities, pleading the terrible irritation which the South felt at
finding her own slaves armed against her. Investigation proved that
this horrible massacre was in pursuance of a pre-conceived policy,
which had been deliberately adopted in the hope of frightening out
of the Union service not only negroes, but loyal white Southerners.
From the beginning of the war, the rebels were strangely persuaded
that _they_ had the privilege of inflicting severities which should
not be retaliated upon them. Thus at Charleston, in order to check
the destructive fire of the Union guns, they placed Northern officers
in chains within reach of the shells, and complacently notified our
forces that they had done so. Of course an equal number of rebel
officers of equal rank were at once exposed to the Confederate fire,
and this step, which resulted in stopping such an inhuman means of
defence, was regarded with great indignation by the South. But it was
no unusual thing with rebels to kill helpless captives. A horrible
instance occurred (April 20th, 1864) at the capture of Fort Plymouth,
N. C., where white and black troops were murdered in cold blood after
surrendering. These deeds filled the country with horror, and Mr.
Lincoln, who was “deeply touched,” publicly avowed retaliation, which
he never inflicted.
The advance of Sherman towards the sea was not exactly what Jefferson
Davis predicted (September 22nd, 1864) it would be. Sherman’s force,
he said, “would meet the fate of the army of the French Empire in
the retreat from Moscow. Our cavalry will destroy his army ... and
the Yankee General will escape with only a body-guard.” The events
of this march are thus summed up by Holland. Sherman was opposed by
Johnston, who, with a smaller army, had the advantage of very strong
positions and a knowledge of the country, he moving towards supplies,
while Sherman left his behind him. The Federal General flanked
Johnston out of his works at Buzzard’s Roost; and then, fighting and
flanking from day to day, he drove him from Dalton to Atlanta. To
do this he had to force “a difficult path through mountain defiles
and across great rivers, overcoming or turning formidable entrenched
positions, defended by a veteran army commanded by a cautious and
skilful leader.” At Atlanta, Johnston was superseded by Hood, and Hood
assumed the offensive with little luck, since in three days he lost
half his army, and then got behind the defences of Atlanta. Here he
remained, surrounded by the toils which Sherman was weaving round him
with consummate skill, and which, as Sherman admits in his admirably
written report,[30] were patiently and skilfully eluded. But on the
2nd September, Atlanta fell into Sherman’s hands. The aggregate loss
of the Union army from Chattanooga to Atlanta was in all more than
30,000--that of the rebels above 40,000. Then Sherman proposed to
destroy Atlanta and its roads, and, sending back his wounded, to move
through Georgia, “smashing things to the sea.” And this he did most
effectually. Hood retreated to Nashville, where he was soon destined to
be conquered by Thomas.
On the 12th November, Sherman began his march. The writer has heard
soldiers who were in it call it a picnic. In a month he passed
through to Savannah, which was held by 15,000 men; by the 20th it was
taken; and on the 21st General Sherman sent to President Lincoln this
despatch, “I beg to present to you as a Christmas gift the city of
Savannah, with 150 guns, plenty of ammunition, and about 25,000 bales
of cotton.” In this march he carried away more than 10,000 horses and
mules, and set free a vast number of slaves. Then, turning towards the
North, the grand North-Western army co-operated with Grant, “crushing
the fragments of the rebellion between the opposing forces.”
Meanwhile, Hood, subdued by Sherman, had, with an army of nearly
60,000 men, advanced to the North, where he was followed by General
Thomas. On November 20th, Hood, engaging with Schofield, who was under
Thomas, was defeated in a fierce and bloody battle at Franklin, in
which he lost 6000 men. On the 15th December, the battle of Nashville
took place, and lasted two days, the rebels being utterly defeated,
though they fought with desperate courage. They lost more than 4000
prisoners, fifty-three pieces of artillery, and thousands of small arms.
The close of December, 1864, found the Union armies in this
position--“Sheridan had defeated Early in the Shenandoah Valley;
Sherman was at Savannah, organising further raids up the coast; Hood
was crushed; Early’s army was destroyed; Price had been routed in
Missouri; Cawley was operating for the capture of Mobile; and Grant,
with the grip of a bull-dog, held Lee in Richmond.” The Union cause was
greatly advanced, while over all the South a darkness was gathering as
of despair. And yet, with indomitable pluck, they held out for many a
month afterwards. And “there was discord in the councils of the rebels.
They began to talk of using the negroes as soldiers. The commanding
General demanded this measure; but it was too late. Lee was tied, and
Sherman was turning his steps towards him, and, among the leaders of
the rebellion, there was a fearful looking-out for fatal disasters.”
Yet, with the inevitable end full in view, the Copperhead party, now
openly led by M‘Clellan, continued to cry for “peace at any price,” and
clamour that the South should be allowed to go its way, and rule the
country.
We have seen how Grant, now at the head of the entire national army
of 700,000 men, had planned in council with Sherman the great Western
campaign, and its result. After this arrangement, he returned to
Virginia, to conduct in person a campaign against Lee. A letter which
he received at this time from President Lincoln, and his answer, are
equally honourable to both. That from Lincoln was as follows:--
“EXECUTIVE MANSION, WASHINGTON,
“_April 30th, 1864_.
“Not expecting to see you before the spring campaign opens, I
wish to express in this way my entire satisfaction with what
you have done up to this time, so far as I understand it. The
particulars of your plans I neither know nor seek to know. You
are vigilant and self-reliant; and, pleased with this, I wish
not to obtrude any restraints or constraints upon you.... If
there be anything wanting which it is in my power to give, do
not fail to let me know it. And now, with a brave army and a
just cause, may God sustain you.
“A. LINCOLN.”
General Grant, in his reply, expressed in the most candid manner his
gratitude that, from his first entrance into the service till the day
on which he wrote, he had never had cause for complaint against the
Administration or Secretary of War for embarrassing him in any way;
that, on the contrary, he had been astonished at the readiness with
which everything had been granted; and that, should he be unsuccessful,
the fault would not be with the President. The manliness, honesty, and
simple gratitude manifest in Grant’s letter, render it one of the most
interesting ever written. While M‘Clellan was in command, Mr. Lincoln
found it necessary to supervise; after Grant led the army, he felt that
no direction was necessary, and that an iron wheel must have a smooth
way. To some one inquiring curiously what General Grant intended to do,
Mr. Lincoln replied, “When M‘Clellan was in the hole, I used to go up
the ladder and look in after him, and see what he was about; but, now
this new man, Grant, has pulled up the ladder and _hauled the hole in_
after him, I can’t tell what he is doing.”
On May 2nd, 1864, Grant marched forward, and on the next night crossed
the Rapidan river. On May 5th began that terrible series of engagements
known as the Battle of the Wilderness, which lasted for five days.
During this conflict the Union General Wadsworth and the brave
Sedgwick, the true hero of Gettysburg, were killed. Fifty-four thousand
five hundred and fifty-one men were reported as killed, wounded, or
missing on the Union side, from May 3rd to June 15th; Lee’s losses
being about 32,000. There was no decisive victory, but General Lee was
obliged to gradually yield day by day, while Grant, with determined
energy, flanked him until he took refuge in Richmond. At this time
there was fearful excitement in the North, great hope, and greater
grief, but more resolve than ever. President Lincoln was in great
sorrow for such loss of life. When he saw the lines of ambulances miles
in length coming towards Washington, full of wounded men, he would
drive with Mrs. Lincoln along the sad procession, speaking kind words
to the sufferers, and endeavouring in many ways to aid them. One day
he said, “This sacrifice of life is dreadful; but the Almighty has not
forsaken me nor the country, and we shall surely succeed.”
Though the inflexible Grant had no idea of failure, and though his
losses were promptly supplied, he was in a very critical position,
where a false move would have imperilled the success of the whole
war. On the 12th June, finding that nothing could be gained by
directly attacking Lee, he resolved to assail his southern lines of
communications. He soon reached the James river, and settled down to
the siege of Petersburg.
Sherman had opened his Atlanta campaign as soon as Grant had
telegraphed to him that he had crossed the Rapidan. At the same time,
he had ordered Sigel to advance through the Shenandoah towards Stanton
(Va.), and Crook to come up the Kanawha Valley towards Richmond, but
both were defeated, while Butler, though he inflicted great damage on
the enemy, instead of capturing Petersburg, was himself “sealed up,”
as Grant said. “All these flanking movements having failed, and Lee
being neither defeated in the open field nor cut off from Richmond, the
great problem of the war instantly narrowed itself down to the siege
of Petersburg, which Grant began, and which, as it will be seen, long
outlasted the year. Meanwhile, terrible injury was daily inflicted on
the rebels in Virginia, by the numerous raiding and flanking parties
which, whether conquering or conquered, destroyed everything, sweeping
away villages and forests alike for firewood, as I well know, having
seen miles of fences burned.
“On May 18th, just after the bloody struggle at Spottsylvania, a
spurious proclamation, announcing that Grant’s campaign was closed,
appointing a day of fasting and humiliation, and ordering a new draft
for 400,000 men, appeared in the New York ‘World’ and ‘Journal of
Commerce,’ newspapers avowedly hostile to the Administration. The other
journals, knowing that this was a forgery, refused to publish it. By
order of the President, the offices of these two publications were
closed; and, this action being denounced as an outrage on the liberty
of the press, Governor Seymour attempted to have General Dix and
others indicted for it.” The real authors of the forgery were two men
named Howard and Mallison, their object being stock-jobbing purposes.
When General Sigel was defeated, he was relieved by General Hunter,
who, at first successful, was at last obliged to retreat before the
rebel Early, with very great loss. This placed Hunter in such a
position that he could not protect Washington. Early, finding himself
unopposed, crossed Maryland, plundered largely, fought several battles
with the militia, burned private houses, destroyed the trains on the
Washington and Baltimore railroads, and threatened both cities. Then
there was great anxiety in the North, for just at that time Grant was
in the worst of his great struggle. But when Early was within two miles
of Baltimore, he was confronted by the 6th Corps from the Potomac, the
19th from Louisiana, and large forces from Pennsylvania, and driven
back. During this retreat, he committed a great outrage. Having entered
Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, a peaceful, unfortified town, he demanded
100,000 dollars in gold, to be paid within an hour, and as the money
could not be obtained, he burned the place. Meanwhile, Sheridan had
made his famous raid round Lee’s lines, making great havoc with rebel
stores and lines of transit, but in no manner infringing on the rules
of honourable warfare.
During July, 1864, Admiral Farragut, of the Union navy, with a
combination of land and sea forces, attacked Mobile. A terrible
conflict ensued, resulting in the destruction of a rebel fleet, the
capture of the famous armour-ship _Tennessee_, four forts, and many
guns and prisoners. This victory was, however, the only one of any
importance gained during this battle-summer. It effectually closed one
more port. But the feeling of depression was now so great in the North,
owing to the great number of deaths in so many families, that President
Lincoln, by special request of the Congress--which adjourned July 4th,
1864--issued a proclamation, appointing a day of fasting and prayer.
But two days after, public sorrow was “much alleviated,” says Raymond,
“by the news of the sinking of the pirate _Alabama_” (June 19th) by the
_Kearsage_, commanded by Winslow. Yet for all the grief and gloom which
existed, the Union-men of America were never so obstinately determined
to resist. The temper of the time was perfectly shown in a pamphlet by
Dr. C. J. Stille of Philadelphia, entitled, “How a Free People conduct
a long War,” which had an immense circulation, and which pointed out
in a masterly manner that all wars waged by a free people for a great
principle have progressed slowly and involved untiring vigour. And
President Lincoln, when asked what we should do if the war should last
for years, replied, “We’ll keep pegging away.” In short, the whole
temper of the North was now that of the Duke of Wellington, when he
said at Waterloo, “Hard pounding this, gentlemen; but we’ll see who can
pound the longest.”
During the summer of 1864, two self-styled agents of the Confederate
Government appeared at Clifton, Canada, in company with W. Cornell
Jewett, whom Raymond terms an irresponsible and half-insane adventurer,
and George Sanders, described as a political vagabond. Arnold states
that expeditions to rob and plunder banks over the border, and to
fire Northern cities, were subsequently clearly traced to them; “and
that there is evidence tending to connect them with crimes of a
still graver and darker character.” These men were employed by the
Confederate Government, to be acknowledged or repudiated according
to the success of their efforts. They induced Horace Greeley to aid
them in negotiating for peace, and he wrote to President Lincoln as
follows--“I venture to remind you that our bleeding, bankrupt, almost
dying country, also longs for peace; shudders at the prospect of fresh
conscriptions, of further wholesale devastations, and of new rivers of
human blood. I fear, Mr. President, you do not realise how intensely
the people desire any peace, consistent with the national integrity and
honour.”
To Mr. Lincoln, who firmly believed that the best means of attaining
peace was to conquer it, such language seemed out of place. Neither
did he believe that these agents had any direct authority, as proved to
be the case. After an embarrassing correspondence, the President sent
to these “commissioners” a message, to the effect that any proposition
embracing the restoration of peace, the integrity of the whole Union,
and the abandonment of slavery, would be received by the Government
of the United States if coming from an authority that can control the
armies now at war with the United States. In answer to this, the agents
declared, through Mr. Greeley, that it precluded negotiation, and
revealed in the end that the purpose of their proceedings had been to
influence the Presidential election. As it was, many were induced to
believe that Mr. Lincoln, having had a chance to conclude an honourable
peace, had neglected it.
Meanwhile, Mr. Lincoln had the cares of a Presidential campaign on his
hands. Such an election, in the midst of a civil war which aroused
everywhere the most intense and violent passions, was, as Arnold
wrote, a fearful ordeal through which the country must pass. At a
time when, of all others, confidence in their great leader was most
required, all the slander of a maddened party was let loose upon him.
General M‘Clellan, protesting that personally he was in favour of
war, became the candidate of those whose watchword was “Peace at any
price,” and who embraced all those who sympathised with the South
and with slavery. Their “platform” was simply a treasonable libel on
the Government, declaring that, “under the _pretence_ of the military
necessity of a war-power higher than the Constitution, the Constitution
itself has been disregarded in every part, and public liberty and
private rights alike trodden down, and the material prosperity of the
country essentially impaired; and that justice, humanity, liberty,
and the public welfare demand that immediate efforts be made for a
cessation of hostilities.”
It was, therefore, distinctly understood that the question at stake
in this election was, whether the war should be continued. The
ultra-Abolition adherents of General Fremont were willing to see a
pro-slavery President elected rather than Mr. Lincoln, so great was
their hatred of him and of Emancipation, and they therefore nominated
their favourite, knowing that he could not be elected, but trusting
to divide and ruin the Lincoln party. But this movement came to
an inglorious end. A portion of the Republican party offered the
nomination for the Presidency to General Grant, which that honourable
soldier promptly declined in the most straightforward manner. As the
election drew on, threats and rumours of revolution in the North
were rife, and desperate efforts were made by Southern emissaries to
create alarm and discontent. But such thorough precautions were taken
by the Government, that the election was the quietest ever known,
though a very heavy vote was polled. On the popular vote, Lincoln
received 2,223,035; M‘Clellan, 1,811,754. The latter carried only
three states--New Jersey, Delaware, and Kentucky, while all the others
which held an election went to Lincoln. The total number admitted
and counted of electoral votes was 233, of which Lincoln and Johnson
(Vice-President) had 212, and M‘Clellan and Pendleton 21.
Of this election, the President said, in a speech (November 10th,
1864)--
“So long as I have been here, I have not willingly planted a
thorn in any man’s bosom. While I am duly sensible to the high
compliment of a re-election, and duly grateful, as I trust,
to Almighty God for having directed my countrymen to a right
conclusion, as I think, for their good, it adds nothing to my
satisfaction that any other man may be disappointed by the
result. May I ask those who have not differed with me to join
with me in this spirit towards those who have?”
Those who yet believe that the rebels were in the main chivalric and
honourable foes, may be asked what would they have thought of the
French, if, during the German war, they had sent chests of linen,
surcharged with small-pox venom, into Berlin, under charge of agents
officially recognised by Government? What would they have thought of
Germany, if official agents from that country had stolen into Paris and
attempted to burn the city. Yet both of these things were attempted
by the agents of the Confederate _Government_--not by unauthorised
individuals. On one night, fires were placed in thirteen of the
principal hotels of New York, while, as regards incendiarism, plots
were hatched from the beginning in the South to treacherously set fire
to Northern cities, to murder their public men, and otherwise make
dishonourable warfare, the proof of all this being in the avowals and
threats of the Southern newspapers. Immediately after the taking of
Nashville by Thomas, the writer, with a friend, occupied a house in
that town which had belonged to a rebel clergyman, among whose papers
were found abundant proof that this reverend incendiary had been
concerned in a plot to set fire to Cincinnati.
In connection with these chivalric deeds of introducing small-pox and
burning hotels, must be mentioned other acts of the rebel agents,
sent by their Government on “detached service.” On the 19th October,
a party of these “agents” made a raid into St. Albans, Vermont,
where they robbed the banks, and then retreated into Canada. These
men were, however, discharged by the Canadian Government; the money
which they had stolen was given up to them, as Raymond states, “under
circumstances which cast great suspicion upon prominent members of
the Canadian Government.” The indignation which this conduct excited
in the United States is indescribable, and the Canadian Government,
recognising their mistake, re-arrested such of the raiders as had not
made their escape. But the American Government, finding that they had
few friends beyond the frontier, properly established a strict system
of passports for all immigrants from Canada.
The year 1864 closed under happy auspices. “The whole country had come
to regard the strength of the rebellion as substantially broken.”
There were constant rumours of peace and reconciliation. The rebels,
in their exhaustion, were presenting the most pitiable spectre of a
sham government. The whole North was crowded with thousands of rebel
families which would have starved at home. They were not molested; but,
as I remember, they seemed to work the harder for that to injure the
Government and Northern people among whom and upon whom they lived,
being in this like the teredo worms, which destroy the trunk which
shelters and feeds them.