colleagues. Always free from any suggestion of demagoguery, always
conservative, his utterances on this subject were marked with candor and
moderation. Nor did the ominous shadows that descended upon the next
Congress disturb his equanimity or unsettle his resolution to perform his
duty as he saw it. For days the impassioned storm of invective and
denunciation raged around him, but he remained silent. At last the news
came that his state had seceded. He announced the event to the Senate in a
speech, which in nobility of conception has probably never been surpassed.
He defined his own position and that of his state, and as he bade farewell
to his colleagues, even among his bitterest opponents there was scarcely
an eye undimmed with tears, and whatever others thought in after years,
there was no one in that august assemblage who did not accord to Jefferson
Davis the meed of perfect sincerity and unblemished faith in the cause
which he had espoused.
X. Still Hoped to Save the Union
On the evening of the day Mr. Davis retired from the Senate, he was
visited by Robert Toombs of Georgia, who informed him that it was reported
from a trustworthy source that certain representatives, including
themselves, were to be arrested. He had intended to leave the capital the
following day, but changed his plans to await any action the government
might take against him.
To his friends he declared the hope that the rumor might be well founded,
for should arrests be made, he saw therein the opportunity to bring the
question of the right of a state to secede from the Union before the
Supreme Court for final adjudication. Nothing of the kind happened, and
after waiting for about ten days, Mr. Davis left Washington.
During his stay he freely discussed the situation with the leading
Southern statesmen who called upon him. The general opinion was the first
result of secession, which most of them assumed to be final, must be the
formation of a new federal government, and the consensus of opinion
designated Mr. Davis as the fittest person for the presidency. On the
first proposition he did not agree with his colleagues. He expressed the
belief that the action of the states in exercising the right of secession
would serve to so sober Northern sentiment that an adjustment might be
reached, which, while guaranteeing to the South all of the rights
vouchsafed by the Constitution, would still preserve the Union. He
therefore sought to impress upon them--especially the South Carolina
delegation--the necessity of moderation, the unwisdom of any act at that
time which might render an adjustment impossible.
The second proposition he refused to consider at all, and begged those who
might be instrumental in the formation of a new government, if one must be
created, not to use his name in connection with its presidency. That he at
this time entertained a sincere desire for the preservation of the Union
can be doubted by no one familiar with his private correspondence. In a
letter dated two days after his resignation from the Senate he defends the
action of his state, it is true, but at the same time deplores disunion as
one of the greatest calamities that could befall the South.
In another letter written three days later, he uses this significant
language: "All is not lost. If only moderation prevails, if they will only
give me time, I am not without hope of a peaceable settlement that will
assure our rights within the Union." That he did not abandon that hope
until long afterward, that he clung to it long after it became a delusion,
is very probable, as we shall see.
Nothing could be farther from the truth than the theory so often advanced
that presidential ambition was responsible for Mr. Davis' attitude on the
question of secession. This I have indicated in the last chapter. The
truth of this position is established if he were sincere in his
declarations that he did not covet the honor of the presidency of the new
government. Those declarations were made to the men who, of all others,
could further his ambition; they knew his stubbornness of opinion,
understood how likely it was that he would never abandon that or any other
position; there were other aspirants whom he knew to be personally more
acceptable to a majority of these statesmen, and his attitude, of course,
released them from any responsibility imposed by popular sentiment in his
favor in the South. If one is still inclined to accept all this, however,
as another instance of Cæsar putting the crown aside, the question
arises, Why did he assume the same attitude with those who possessed no
power to influence his fortunes? Why in his letters to his wife, to his
brother, to his friends, in private life, did he express the strongest
repugnance to accepting that office should it be created and offered? But
even stronger evidence that he did not seek or want it is afforded by
another circumstance. Mississippi, in seceding from the Union, had
provided for an army. The governor had appointed him to command it, with
the rank of major-general. In the event of war, that position opened up
unlimited possibilities in the field, which was exactly what he desired;
for, unfortunately, he then and always cherished the delusion that he was
greater as a soldier than he was as a statesman. All of this is consistent
with his sincerity--inconsistent with any other reasonable theory.
Mr. Davis must also be acquitted of the charge made by no inconsiderable
number of the Southern people that he first failed to anticipate war and
later underestimated the extent and duration of the approaching conflict.
On his way from Washington to Mississippi, he made several speeches. All
of them were marked by moderation, but to the prominent citizens who on
that journey came to confer with him, he declared in emphatic terms that
the United States would never allow the seceded states to peacefully
withdraw from the Union, and warned them that unless some adjustment were
effected, they must expect a civil war, the extent, duration and
termination of which no one could foresee.
At Jackson he reiterated those views, along with a hope for
reconciliation, in a speech delivered before the governor and Legislature
of his state. Peaceful adjustment he declared not beyond hope, yet if war
should come, he warned them that it must be a long one, and that instead
of buying 75,000 stands of small arms, as proposed, that the state should
only limit the quantity by its capacity to pay. Those views, it may be
here remarked, were not coincided with by his own state or the people of
the South generally. They were far in advance of their representatives on
the question of secession, but the belief was generally prevalent at even
a much later date that no attempt would be made to coerce a seceding
state.
XI. President of the Confederacy
The convention of the seceding states met at Montgomery, Feb. 4, 1861, and
proceeded to adopt a constitution as the basis for a provisional
government. The work was the most rapid in the history of legislative
proceedings, being completed in three days. With the exceptions of making
the preamble read that each state accepting it did so in "its sovereign
and independent capacity," fixing the president's and vice-president's
term of office at six years and making them ineligible for re-election,
prohibiting a protective tariff, inhibiting the general government from
making appropriations for internal improvements, requiring a two-thirds
vote to pass appropriation bills and giving cabinet officers a seat, but
no vote, in Congress, the Confederate constitution was, practically, a
reaffirmation of that of the United States.
It was adopted on the eighth, and the provisional government to continue
in force one year, unless sooner superseded by a permanent organization,
was formally launched upon the troubled waters of its brief and stormy
existence. The following day, an election was held for president and
vice-president, the convention voting by states, which resulted on the
first ballot in the selection by a bare majority of Jefferson Davis and
Alexander H. Stephens of Georgia. Mr. Davis, as we have seen, was not a
candidate. He was not in, nor near, Montgomery at the time, and took no
part, by advice or otherwise, in the formation of the new constitution.
His selection over Mr. Toombs was the result of a single set of
circumstances. Mr. Davis' military education, his experience in the field,
his services as secretary of war, a widespread popular belief in his
ability as a military organizer, and his known capacity as a statesman
in times of peace, all marked him as the fittest man for a place which
evidently required a combination of high qualities. Had Mr. Toombs
possessed either military education or experience, there is scarcely a
doubt that he would have been chosen.
[Illustration: The Capitol at Richmond]
The news of his election reached Mr. Davis while working in his garden,
and is said to have caused him genuine disappointment and grief. That the
convention was uncertain of his acceptance is indicated by the fact that
with the notification was sent an earnest appeal to consider the public
welfare, rather than his own preferences, in considering the offer of the
presidency. Upon this ground he based his action in accepting the office
and hastening to Jackson, he resigned his position in the state army,
expressing the hope and belief that the service would be but temporary.
All along the route to Montgomery, bands and bonfires, booming cannon and
the peals of bells heralded his approach, and vast concourses greeted him
at every station.
What purported to be an account of this journey was printed in the leading
papers of the North, which pictured Mr. Davis as invoking war, breathing
defiance and threatening extermination of the Union. Nothing of the kind,
however, occurred. The speeches actually delivered were moderate,
conservative and conciliatory. So much so, in fact, that they were
disappointing to his enthusiastic audiences, and there are yet living many
witnesses to the frequent and repeated declaration of the fear that "Jeff.
Davis has remained too long amongst the Yankees to make him exactly the
kind of president the South needs."
XII. His First Inaugural
Monday, Feb. 18, 1861, there assembled around the state capitol at
Montgomery such an audience as no state had ever witnessed--as perhaps
none ever will witness. Statesmen, actual and prospective; jurists and
senators; soldiers and sailors; officers and office-seekers, the latter,
no doubt, predominating; clerks, farmers and artisans; fashionably attired
women in fine equipages decorated with streamers and the tri-colored
cockades; foreign correspondents--in fact, representatives from every
sphere and condition of life, each eager to witness a ceremonial which
could never occur again.
At exactly one o'clock Mr. Davis and Mr. Stephens appeared upon the
platform in front of the capitol, and when the mighty wave of applause
had subsided, Howell Cobb, President of the Constitutional Convention,
administered to them the oath of office. Then in that peculiarly musical
voice which had never failed to charm the Senate in other days, a voice
audible in its minutest inflections to every one of the vast throng, Mr.
Davis delivered his inaugural address.
Strangely enough, both sections of the divided country then and thereafter
attached a widely varying value to the address. It was so simple, clear
and direct that it is amazing two interpretations should have been placed
upon it. As an exposition of the causes leading to secession, it was a
masterpiece. It is impossible to read it today without feeling that in
every sentence it breathed a prayer for peace.
Viewed in connection with the events that produced it, as the first
official advice of the chief executive of a new nation beset with the most
stupendous problems, confronted by the gravest perils, it certainly added
nothing to Mr. Davis' reputation as a statesman. Beyond the declaration
that the Confederacy would be maintained, a desire for peace and freest of
trade relations with the United States, he outlined no policies and
offered neither suggestions nor advice.
Mr. Davis, now more than perhaps any other Southern statesman, should have
realized that "the erring sisters" would not be permitted to depart in
peace, and yet beyond the barest general statement that an army and a navy
must be created, he dismissed the matter, to plunge into an academic
discussion of the prosperity of the South and the _moral sin_ that would
be committed by the United States should it perversely and wickedly
disturb this condition and curtail the world's supply of cotton!
The question of revenue was, of course, of paramount importance, but no
idea, no plan, no suggestion was offered along that line. The more one
studies that remarkable production, the more puzzling it becomes, if we
assume that Mr. Davis was altogether sincere in his declaration that the
severance was final and irremediable.
If he were not, if he still hoped for some adjustment that would reunite
the severed union, one may readily understand why he refrained from
assuming the vigorous attitude that the occasion demanded, but which might
have placed compromise beyond the pale of possibility. The significant
omissions were not compatible with Mr. Davis' well-known views of official
duty. Nor is the matter in any way explained by assuming that as Congress
was charged with the performance of all of these important matters, that
it was not Mr. Davis' duty to suggest plans and methods. His office
invested him with those powers and he was elected to it for the express
reason that he was supposed to be eminently qualified in all practical
administrative and legislative details, especially those of a military
nature.
While Mr. Davis must be absolved from the charge that his cabinet
appointments were the result of favoritism, they were, nevertheless, for
the most part, unfortunate. The portfolio of the treasury, undoubtedly the
most important place in the cabinet, was intrusted to Mr. Memminger, of
South Carolina, an incorruptible gentleman of high principles and mediocre
ability, a theorist, devoid of either the talents or experience that would
have fitted him for the difficult place. Toombs, Benjamin and Reagan were
better selections. The others were men honest, sincere of purpose, but
little in their antecedents to recommend them for the particular positions
which they were called upon to fill. With at least two of them, Mr. Davis
was not previously personally acquainted, and political considerations
probably secured their appointment.
XIII. Delays and Blunders
One of the president's first official acts was to appoint Crawford,
Forsyth and Roman as commissioners "to negotiate friendly relations" with
the United States. They were men of different political affiliations, one
being a Douglas Democrat, one a Whig and the other a lukewarm
secessionist. All were conservative and shared fully in the president's
desire for peace on any honorable terms.
But while trying to secure peace, Mr. Davis was not insensible to the
necessity of an army, and on this point the first difference arose between
him and Congress. Beyond the small and inefficient militia maintained by
the different states, there was neither army nor guns, and ammunition with
which to equip one. He therefore urged Congress to provide for the
purchase of large quantities of warlike material, but that body,
infatuated with the idea that there would be no war, proceeded to debate
whether it were advisable to add anything to the stock owned by the
states, which at that time was insufficient to arm one-thirtieth of the
population subject to military duty.
Mr. Toombs once assured the writer that after the loss of valuable time it
was decided to send an agent abroad, it was proposed to purchase but eight
thousand Enfield rifles and that it was with the utmost difficulty that he
prevailed upon the government to increase the order to ten thousand.
From this circumstance the extent of the infatuation may be inferred. The
peace delusions of Congress seem to have been fully shared by the
secretary of the treasury.
At the time of the inauguration of the Confederate government and for
months thereafter, merchants and banks of the South held quantities of
gold, silver and foreign exchange which they were anxious to sell at very
nearly par for government securities, and yet this opportunity was
neglected. But as grave as that blunder was, it was, nevertheless,
insignificant when compared to another. There were then in the South about
three million bales of cotton which the owners would have sold for ten
cents a pound in Confederate money.
The president accordingly suggested to Mr. Memminger that the government
buy this cotton, immediately ship it to Europe and there store it to await
developments. His theory was that if war should come, it must be a long
one and that in less than two years this cotton would be worth from
seventy to eighty cents a pound, which would then give the government
assets, convertible at any time into gold, of at least a billion dollars.
The plan was sound and feasible, for a blockade did not become seriously
effective until more than a year after the beginning of war, and we know
the price of cotton went even beyond Mr. Davis' figures. The secretary,
however, engrossed in the puerile plans of fiat money, which the history
of almost any revolution, from the days of Adam, should have proved a
warning, turned a deaf ear to this suggestion which at once combined
profound statesmanship and admirable financial sagacity, and the matter
came to naught.
But this was only one of the many serious blunders and lapses which
retarded the adequate preparation which all at a later day recognized
should have been made by the Confederacy.
When the stern logic of events portrayed this neglect as the parent of
failure, the spirit of criticism emerged even in the South and failed not
to spare Mr. Davis. But these critics have, for the most part, overlooked
the very important fact that it was impossible for the president to
accomplish a great deal without the co-operation of his Congress.
The states' rights ideas, we must remember, were the predominant ones
entertained by the people and their representatives, and that they, more
than anything else, paralyzed action, promoted delays and fostered
confusion, can admit of no doubt. The forts, arsenals, docks and shipyards
belonged to the states, and although Mr. Davis early in his administration
urged that they be ceded to the general government, it was not until war
became a certainty that a reluctant consent was yielded and this most
necessary step consummated. Another weakness lay in the fact that the
provisional army, in so far as one existed, was formed on the states'
rights plan.
That is to say, it was composed of volunteers, armed and officered by the
states, who alone possessed power over them. Any governor might at any
time without any reason withdraw the troops of his state from the most
important point at the most critical moment, without being answerable to
any power for his action. These are but two examples of many that might be
adduced, but they will serve to demonstrate how impossible it was for any
man, whatever his influence or position, to make the preparations demanded
by the situation while hedged about by such fatal limitations. And,
whatever Mr. Davis' failures may have been in this regard, they are
chargeable to the system adopted by the people themselves, rather than to
any serious derelictions on his part.
XIV. The Bombardment of Sumter
The bulk of the Confederate army was mobilized at Charleston, where, if
hostilities were to occur, they were likely to begin, owing to the fact
that a Federal garrison still held Fort Sumter. Mr. Davis, realizing the
critical nature of this situation, impressed upon the peace commissioners
that, failing to secure a treaty of friendship, they were to exhaust every
effort to procure the peaceful evacuation of Sumter.
The history of those negotiations is too well known to need repetition
here. Mr. Seward's disingenious methods served their purpose of inspiring
a false hope of peace, and it is very probable that Mr. Davis suspected no
duplicity until fully advised of the details and destination of the
formidable fleet that was being fitted out at New York. When it sailed,
and not before, ended his long dream of peace.
The attempt to reinforce a stronghold in the very heart of the Confederacy
was express and unmistakable notice to the world that the United States
did not propose to relinquish its sovereignty over the seceded states. To
allow the peaceful consummation of the attempt was to acquiesce in a claim
fatal to the existence of the new government. Therefore, if the
Confederacy was to be anything more than a futile attempt to frighten the
Federal government into granting concessions, the time had now come to
act. The president did not hesitate. General Beauregard was instructed to
demand the surrender of Sumter, and, failing to receive it, to proceed
with its reduction.
The story of that demand and its refusal, of how at thirty minutes past
four o'clock on the morning of April 12, 1861, the quiet old city of
Charleston was aroused from its slumbers by that first gun from Fort
Johnston "heard around the world," and how the gallant Major Anderson, Mr.
Davis' old comrade in arms of other days, maintained his position until
the walls of the fortifications were battered down and fierce fires raged
within, are all history, and need no further comment or elaboration at
this time.
[Illustration: Interior of Fort Sumter After the Surrender]
There as at Matanzas in the beginning of the war with Spain, the first and
only life sacrificed was that of a mule. When Mr. Davis learned this, he
exclaimed: "Thank heaven, nothing more precious than the blood of a mule
has been shed. Reconciliation is not yet impossible." But he was hardly
serious in that declaration. The die was now cast, and for the first time
the North realized that the South was in earnest--the South, that war was
inevitable.
Mr. Lincoln's call for volunteers to coerce the seceding states aroused a
perfect frenzy of patriotism throughout the South, and the full military
strength of the Confederacy could have been enlisted in thirty days, but
it is hardly necessary to say that a government which had reluctantly
ordered ten thousand rifles was in no position to take advantage of that
opportunity.
The president immediately called an extra session of Congress. It convened
on April 29, and received his special message, which was in marked
contrast to his inaugural. There were no dissertations on agriculture and
morality now, but with that forceful perspicacity which usually
characterized his utterances, he marked out sensibly and well what should
be done, and suggested definite methods. This message was the first
utterance, public or private, which clearly demonstrated that his dream of
compromise was over.