The next morning, after breakfast, which we took in our room with Mr.
Javins, we indited a note--of which the following is a copy--to the
Confederate Secretary of State.
"Spotswood House, Richmond, Va.
"July 17th, 1864.
"Hon. J. P. Benjamin,
"Secretary of State, etc.
"DEAR SIR,--The undersigned respectfully solicit an interview
with President Davis.
"They visit Richmond only as private citizens, and have no
official character or authority; but they are acquainted with
the views of the United States Government, and with the
sentiments of the Northern people relative to an adjustment of
the differences existing between the North and the South, and
earnestly hope that a free interchange of views between
President Davis and themselves may open the way to such
_official_ negotiations as will result in restoring PEACE to
the two sections of our distracted country.
"They, therefore, ask an interview with the President, and
awaiting your reply, are
"Truly and respectfully yours."
This was signed by both of us; and when the Judge called, as he had
appointed, we sent it--together with a commendatory letter I had
received, on setting out, from a near relative of Mr. Davis--to the
Rebel Secretary. In half an hour Judge Ould returned, saying,--"Mr.
Benjamin sends you his compliments, and will be happy to see you at the
State Department."
We found the Secretary--a short, plump, oily little man in black, with a
keen black eye, a Jew face, a yellow skin, curly black hair, closely
trimmed black whiskers, and a ponderous gold watch-chain--in the
northwest room of the "United States" Custom-House. Over the door of
this room were the words, "State Department," and round its walls were
hung a few maps and battle-plans. In one corner was a tier of shelves
filled with books,--among which I noticed Headley's "History,"
Lossing's "Pictorial," Parton's "Butler," Greeley's "American
Conflict," a complete set of the "Rebellion Record," and a dozen numbers
and several bound volumes of the "Atlantic Monthly,"--and in the centre
of the apartment was a black-walnut table, covered with green cloth, and
filled with a multitude of "state-papers." At this table sat the
Secretary. He rose as we entered, and, as Judge Ould introduced us, took
our hands, and said,--
"I am glad, very glad, to meet you, Gentlemen. I have read your note,
and"--bowing to me--"the open letter you bring from ----. Your errand
commands my respect and sympathy. Pray be seated."
As we took the proffered seats, the Colonel, drawing off his "duster,"
and displaying his uniform, said,--
"We thank you for this cordial reception, Mr. Benjamin. We trust you
will be as glad to hear us as you are to see us."
"No doubt I shall be, for you come to talk of peace. Peace is what we
all want."
"It is, indeed; and for that reason we are here to see Mr. Davis. Can we
see him, Sir?"
"Do you bring any overtures to him from your Government?"
"No, Sir. We bring no overtures and have no authority from our
Government. We state that in our note. We would be glad, however, to
know what terms will be acceptable to Mr. Davis. If they at all
harmonize with Mr. Lincoln's views, we will report them to him, and so
open the door for official negotiations."
"Are you acquainted with Mr. Lincoln's views?"
"One of us is, fully."
"Did Mr. Lincoln, _in any way_, authorize you to come here?"
"No, Sir. We came with his pass, but not by his request. We say,
distinctly, we have no official, or unofficial, authority. We come as
men and Christians, not as diplomatists, hoping, in a frank talk with
Mr. Davis, to discover some way by which this war may be stopped."
"Well, Gentlemen, I will repeat what you say to the President, and if he
follows my advice,--and I think he will,--he will meet you. He will be
at church this afternoon; so, suppose you call here at nine this
evening. If anything should occur in the meantime to prevent his seeing
you, I will let you know through Judge Ould."
Throughout this interview the manner of the Secretary was cordial; but
with this cordiality was a strange constraint and diffidence, almost
amounting to timidity, which struck both my companion and myself.
Contrasting his manner with the quiet dignity of the Colonel, I almost
fancied our positions reversed,--that, instead of our being in his
power, the Secretary was in ours, and momently expecting to hear some
unwelcome sentence from our lips. There is something, after all, in
moral power. Mr. Benjamin does not possess it, nor is he a great man. He
has a keen, shrewd, ready intellect, but not the _stamina_ to originate,
or even to execute, any great good or great wickedness.
After a day spent in our room, conversing with the Judge, or watching
the passers-by in the street,--I should like to tell who they were and
how they looked, but such information is just now contraband,--we called
again, at nine o'clock, at the State Department.
Mr. Benjamin occupied his previous seat at the table, and at his right
sat a spare, thin-featured man, with iron-gray hair and beard, and a
clear, gray eye full of life and vigor. He had a broad, massive
forehead, and a mouth and chin denoting great energy and strength of
will. His face was emaciated, and much wrinkled, but his features were
good, especially his eyes,--though one of them bore a scar, apparently
made by some sharp instrument. He wore a suit of grayish-brown,
evidently of foreign manufacture, and, as he rose, I saw that he was
about five feet ten inches high, with a slight stoop in the shoulders.
His manners were simple, easy, and quite fascinating: and he threw an
indescribable charm into his voice, as he extended his hand, and said to
us,--
"I am glad to see you, Gentlemen. You are very welcome to Richmond."
And this was the man who was President of the United States under
Franklin Pierce, and who is now the heart, soul, and brains of the
Southern Confederacy!
His manner put me entirely at my ease,--the Colonel would be at his, if
he stood before Cæsar,--and I replied,--
"We thank you, Mr. Davis. It is not often you meet men of our clothes,
and our principles, in Richmond."
"Not often,--not so often as I could wish; and I trust your coming may
lead to a more frequent and a more friendly intercourse between the
North and the South."
"We sincerely hope it may."
"Mr. Benjamin tells me you have asked to see me, to"----
And he paused, as if desiring we should finish the sentence. The Colonel
replied,--
"Yes, Sir. We have asked this interview in the hope that you may suggest
some way by which this war can be stopped. Our people want peace,--your
people do, and your Congress has recently said that _you_ do. We have
come to ask how it can be brought about."
"In a very simple way. Withdraw your armies from our territory, and
peace will come of itself. We do not seek to subjugate you. We
are not waging an offensive war, except so far as it is
offensive-defensive,--that is, so far as we are forced to invade you to
prevent your invading us. Let us alone, and peace will come at once."
"But we cannot let you alone so long as you repudiate the Union. That is
the one thing the Northern people will not surrender."
"I know. You would deny to us what you exact for yourselves,--the right
of self-government."
"No, Sir," I remarked. "We would deny you no natural right. But we think
Union essential to peace; and, Mr. Davis, _could_ two people, with the
same language, separated by only an imaginary line, live at peace with
each other? Would not disputes constantly arise, and cause almost
constant war between them?"
"Undoubtedly,--with this generation. You have sown such bitterness at
the South, you have put such an ocean of blood between the two sections,
that I despair of seeing any harmony in my time. Our children may forget
this war, but _we_ cannot."
"I think the bitterness you speak of, Sir," said the Colonel, "does not
really exist. _We_ meet and talk here as friends; our soldiers meet and
fraternize with each other; and I feel sure, that, if the Union were
restored, a more friendly feeling would arise between us than has ever
existed. The war has made us know and respect each other better than
before. This is the view of very many Southern men; I have had it from
many of them,--your leading citizens."
"They are mistaken," replied Mr. Davis. "They do not understand Southern
sentiment. How can we feel anything but bitterness towards men who deny
us our rights? If you enter my house and drive me out of it, am I not
your natural enemy?"
"You put the case too strongly. But we cannot fight forever; the war
must end at some time; we must finally agree upon something; can we not
agree now, and stop this frightful carnage? We are both Christian men,
Mr. Davis. Can _you_, as a Christian man, leave untried any means that
may lead to peace?"
"No, I cannot. I desire peace as much as you do. I deplore bloodshed as
much as you do; but I feel that not one drop of the blood shed in this
war is on _my_ hands,--I can look up to my God and say this. I tried all
in my power to avert this war. I saw it coming, and for twelve years I
worked night and day to prevent it, but I could not. The North was mad
and blind; it would not let us govern ourselves; and so the war came,
and now it must go on till the last man of this generation falls in his
tracks, and his children seize his musket and fight his battle, _unless
you acknowledge our right to self-government_. We are not fighting for
slavery. We are fighting for Independence,--and that, or extermination,
we _will_ have."
"And there are, at least, four and a half millions of us left; so you
see you have a work before you," said Mr. Benjamin, with a decided
sneer.
"We have no wish to exterminate you," answered the Colonel. "I believe
what I have said,--that there is no bitterness between the Northern and
Southern _people_. The North, I know, loves the South. When peace comes,
it will pour money and means into your hands to repair the waste caused
by the war; and it would now welcome you back, and forgive you all the
loss and bloodshed you have caused. But we _must_ crush your armies, and
exterminate your Government. And is not that already nearly done? You
are wholly without money, and at the end of your resources. Grant has
shut you up in Richmond. Sherman is before Atlanta. Had you not, then,
better accept honorable terms while you can retain your prestige, and
save the pride of the Southern people?"
Mr. Davis smiled.
"I respect your earnestness, Colonel, but you do not seem to understand
the situation. We are not exactly shut up in Richmond. If your papers
tell the truth, it is your capital that is in danger, not ours. Some
weeks ago, Grant crossed the Rapidan to whip Lee, and take Richmond. Lee
drove him in the first battle, and then Grant executed what your people
call a 'brilliant flank-movement,' and fought Lee again. Lee drove him a
second time, and then Grant made another 'flank-movement'; and so they
kept on,--Lee whipping, and Grant flanking,--until Grant got where he is
now. And what is the net result? Grant has lost seventy-five or eighty
thousand men,--_more than Lee had at the outset_,--and is no nearer
taking Richmond than at first; and Lee, whose front has never been
broken, holds him completely in check, and has men enough to spare to
invade Maryland, and threaten Washington! Sherman, to be sure, _is_
before Atlanta; but suppose he is, and suppose he takes it? You know,
that, the farther he goes from his base of supplies, the weaker he
grows, and the more disastrous defeat will be to him. And defeat _may_
come. So, in a military view, I should certainly say our position was
better than yours.
"As to money: we are richer than you are. You smile; but admit that our
paper is worth nothing,--it answers as a circulating-medium; and we hold
it all ourselves. If every dollar of it were lost, we should, as we have
no foreign debt, be none the poorer. But it _is_ worth something; it has
the solid basis of a large cotton-crop, while yours rests on nothing,
and you owe all the world. As to resources: we do not lack for arms or
ammunition, and we have still a wide territory from which to gather
supplies. So, you see, we are not in extremities. But if we were,--if we
were without money, without food, without weapons,--if our whole country
were devastated, and our armies crushed and disbanded,--could we,
without giving up our manhood, give up our right to govern ourselves?
Would _you_ not rather die, and feel yourself a man, than live, and be
subject to a foreign power?"
"From your stand-point there is force in what you say," replied the
Colonel. "But we did not come here to argue with you, Mr. Davis. We
came, hoping to find some honorable way to peace; and I am grieved to
hear you say what you do. When I have seen your young men dying on the
battle-field, and your old men, women, and children starving in their
homes, I have felt I could risk my life to save them. For that reason I
am here; and I am grieved, grieved, that there is no hope."
"I know your motives, Colonel Jaquess, and I honor you for them; but
what can I do more than I am doing? I would give my poor life, gladly,
if it would bring peace and good-will to the two countries; but it would
not. It is with your own people you should labor. It is they who
desolate our homes, burn our wheat-fields, break the wheels of wagons
carrying away our women and children, and destroy supplies meant for our
sick and wounded. At your door lies all the misery and the crime of this
war,--and it is a fearful, fearful account."
"Not all of it, Mr. Davis. I admit a fearful account, but it is not
_all_ at our door. The passions of both sides are aroused. Unarmed men
are hanged, prisoners are shot down in cold blood, by yourselves.
Elements of barbarism are entering the war on both sides, that should
make us--you and me, as Christian men--shudder to think of. In God's
name, then, let us stop it. Let us do something, concede something, to
bring about peace. You cannot expect, with only four and a half
millions, as Mr. Benjamin says you have, to hold out forever against
twenty millions."
Again Mr. Davis smiled.
"Do you suppose there are twenty millions at the North determined to
crush us?"
"I do,--to crush your _government_. A small number of our people, a very
small number, are your friends,--Secessionists. The rest differ about
measures and candidates, but are united in the determination to sustain
the Union. Whoever is elected in November, he _must be_ committed to a
vigorous prosecution of the war."