In Lincoln's first message to Congress, he asks the following question: "Must a government be of necessity too strong for the liberties of its own people or too weak to maintain its own existence? Is there in all republics this inherent weakness?" The people of the United States were able under the wise leadership of Lincoln to answer this question "no." Lincoln begins at once with the public utterances of the first year of the War to take the people of the United States into his confidence. He is their representative, their servant. He reasons out before the people, as if it constituted a great jury, the analysis of their position, of their responsibilities, and the grounds on which as their representative this or that decision is arrived at. Says Schurz: "Lincoln wielded the powers of government when stern resolution and relentless force were the order of the day, and, won and ruled the popular mind and heart by the tender sympathies of his nature."

The attack on Sumter placed upon the administration the duty of organising at once for the contest now inevitable the forces of the country. This work of organisation came at best but late because those who were fighting to break up the nation had their preparations well advanced. The first call for troops directed the governors of the loyal States to supply seventy-five thousand men for the restoration of the authority of the government. Massachusetts was the first State to respond by despatching to the front, within twenty-four hours of the publication of the call, its Sixth Regiment of Militia; the Seventh of New York started twenty-four hours later. The history of the passage of the Sixth through Baltimore, of the attack upon the columns, and of the deaths, in the resulting affray, of soldiers and of citizens has often been told. When word came to Washington that Baltimore was obstructing the passage of troops bound southward, troops called for the defence of the capital, the isolation of the government became sadly apparent. For a weary and anxious ten days, Lincoln and his associates were dreading from morning to morning the approach over the long bridge of the troops from Virginia whose camp-fires could be seen from the southern windows of the White House, and were looking anxiously northward for the arrival of the men on whose prompt service the safety of the capital was to depend. I have myself stood in Lincoln's old study, the windows of which overlook the Potomac, and have recalled to mind the fearful pressure of anxiety that must have weighed upon the President during those long days; as looking across the river, he could trace by the smoke the picket lines of the Virginia troops. He must have thought of the possibility that he was to be the last President of the United States, that the torch handed over to him by the faltering hands of his predecessor was to expire while he was responsible for the flame. The immediate tension was finally broken by the appearance of the weary and battered companies of the Massachusetts troops and the arrival two days later, by the way of Annapolis, of the New York Seventh with an additional battalion from Boston.

It was, however, not only in April, 1861, that the capital was in peril. The anxiety of the President (never for himself but only for his responsibilities) was to be repeated in July, 1863, when Lee was in Maryland, and in July, 1864, at the time of Early's raid.

We may remember the peculiar burdens that come upon the commander-in-chief through his position at the rear of the armies he is directing. The rear of a battle is, even in the time of victory, a place of demoralising influence. It takes a man of strong nerve not to lose heart when the only people with whom he is in immediate contact are those who through disability or discouragement are making their way to the rear. The sutlers, the teamsters, the wounded men, the panic-struck (and with the best of soldiers certain groups do lose heart from time to time, men who in another action when started right are ready to take their full share of the fighting)—these are the groups that in any action are streaming to the rear. It is impossible not to be affected by the undermining of their spirits and of their hopefulness. If the battle is going wrongly, if in addition to those who are properly making their way to the rear, there come also bodies of troops pushed out of their position who have lost heart and who have lost faith in their commanders, the pressure towards demoralisation is almost irresistible.

We may recall that during the entire four years of War, Lincoln, the commander-in-chief, was always in the rear. Difficult as was the task of the men who led columns into action, of the generals in the field who had the immediate responsibility for the direction of those columns and of the fighting line, it was in no way to be compared with the pressure and sadness of the burden of the man who stood back of all the lines, and to whom came all the discouragements, the complaints, the growls, the criticisms, the requisitions or demands for resources that were not available, the reports of disasters, sometimes exaggerated and sometimes unduly smoothed over, the futile suggestions, the conflicting counsels, the indignant protests, the absurd schemes, the self-seeking applications, that poured into the White House from all points of the field of action and from all parts of the Border States and of the North. The man who during four years could stand that kind of battering and pressure and who, instead of having his hopefulness crushed out of him, instead of losing heart or power of direction or the full control of his responsibilities, steadily developed in patience, in strength, in width of nature, and in the wisdom of experience, so that he was able not only to keep heart firm and mind clear but to give to the soldiers in the front and to the nation behind the soldiers the influence of his great heart and clear mind and of his firm purpose, that man had within him the nature of the hero. Selected in time of need to bear the burdens of the nation, he was able so to fulfil his responsibilities that he takes place in the world's history as a leader of men.

In July, 1861, one of the special problems to be adjusted was the attitude of the Border States. Missouri, Kentucky, Tennessee, and West Virginia had not been willing at the outset to cast in their lot with the South, but they were not prepared to give any assured or active support to the authority of the national government. The Governor and the Legislature of Kentucky issued a proclamation of neutrality; they demanded that the soil of the State should be respected and that it should not be traversed by armed forces from either side. The Governor of Missouri, while not able to commit the State to secession, did have behind him what was possibly a majority of the citizens in the policy of attempting to prevent the Federal troops from entering the State. Maryland, or at least eastern Maryland, was sullen and antagonistic. Thousands of the Marylanders had in fact already made their way into Virginia for service with the Confederacy. On the other hand, there were also thousands of loyal citizens in these States who were prepared, under proper guidance and conservative management, to give their own direct aid to the cause of nationality. In the course of the succeeding two years, the Border States sent into the field in the Union ranks some fifty thousand men. At certain points of the conflict, the presence of these Union men of Kentucky, Tennessee, Maryland, and Missouri was the deciding factor. While these men were willing to fight for the Union, they were strongly opposed to being used for the destruction of slavery and for the freeing of the blacks. The acceptance, therefore, of the policy that was pressed by the extreme anti-slavery group, for immediate action in regard to the freeing of the slaves, would have meant at once the dissatisfaction of this great body of loyalists important in number and particularly important on account of their geographical position. Lincoln was able, although with no little difficulty, to hold back the pressure of Northern sentiment in regard to anti-slavery action until the course of the War had finally committed the loyalists of the Border States to the support of the Union. For the support of this policy, it became necessary to restrain certain of the leaders in the field who were mixing up civil and constitutional matters with their military responsibilities. Proclamations issued by Fremont in Missouri and later by Hunter in South Carolina, giving freedom to the slaves within the territory of their departments, were promptly and properly disavowed. Said Lincoln: "A general cannot be permitted to make laws for the district in which he happens to have an army."

The difficulties in regard to the matter of slavery during the war brought Lincoln into active correspondence with men like Beecher and Greeley, anti-slavery leaders who enjoyed a large share of popular confidence and support. In November, 1861, Lincoln says of Greeley: "His backing is as good as that of an army of one hundred thousand men." There could be no question of the earnest loyalty of Horace Greeley. Under his management, the New York Tribune had become a great force in the community. The paper represented perhaps more nearly than any paper in the country the purpose and the policy of the new Republican party. Unfortunately, Mr. Greeley's judgment and width of view did not develop with his years and with the increasing influence of his journal. He became unduly self-sufficient; he undertook not only to lay down a policy for the guidance of the constitutional responsibilities of the government, but to dictate methods for the campaigns. The Tribune articles headed "On to Richmond!" while causing irritation to commanders in the field and confusion in the minds of quiet citizens at home, were finally classed with the things to be laughed at. In the later years of the War, the influence of the Tribune declined very considerably. Henry J. Raymond with his newly founded Times succeeded to some of the power as a journalist that had been wielded by Greeley.

In November, 1861, occurred an incident which for a time threatened a very grave international complication, a complication that would, if unwisely handled, have determined the fate of the Republic. Early in the year, the Confederate government had sent certain representatives across the Atlantic to do what might be practicable to enlist the sympathies of European governments, or of individuals in these governments, to make a market for the Confederate cotton bonds, to arrange for the purchase of supplies for the army and navy, and to secure the circulation of documents presenting the case of the South. Mr. Yancey of Mississippi was the best-known of this first group of emissaries. With him was associated Judge Mann of Virginia and it was Mann who in November, 1861, was in charge of the London office of the Confederacy. In this month, Mr. Davis appointed as successor to Mann, Mr. Mason of Virginia, to whom was given a more formal authorisation of action. At the same time, Judge Slidell of Louisiana was appointed as the representative to France. Mason and Slidell made their way to Jamaica and sailed from Jamaica to Liverpool in the British mail steamer Trent. Captain Charles Wilkes, in the United States frigate San Jacinto, had been watching the West Indies waters with reference to blockade runners and to Wilkes came knowledge of the voyage of the two emissaries. Wilkes took the responsibility of stopping the Trent when she was a hundred miles or more out of Kingston and of taking from her as prisoners the two commissioners. The commissioners were brought to Boston and were there kept under arrest awaiting the decision from Washington as to their status. This stopping on the high seas of a British steamer brought out a great flood of indignation in Great Britain. It gave to Palmerston and Russell, who were at that time in charge of the government, the opportunity for which they had been looking to place on the side of the Confederacy the weight of the influence of Great Britain. It strengthened the hopes of Louis Napoleon for carrying out, in conjunction with Great Britain, a scheme that he had formulated under which France was to secure a western empire in Mexico, leaving England to do what she might find convenient in the adjustment of the affairs of the so-called United States.

The first report secured from the law officers of the Crown took the ground that the capture was legal under international law and under the practice of Great Britain itself. This report was, however, pushed to one side, and Palmerston drafted a demand for the immediate surrender of the commissioners. This demand was so worded that a self-respecting government would have had great difficulty in assenting to it without risk of forfeiting support with its own citizens. It was in fact intended to bring about a state of war. Under the wise influence of Prince Albert, Queen Victoria refused to give her approval to the document. It was reworded by Albert in such fashion as to give to the government of the United States an opportunity for adjustment without loss of dignity. Albert was clear in his mind that Great Britain ought not to be committed to war for the destruction of the great Republic of the West and for the establishment of a state of which the corner-stone was slavery. Fortunately, Victoria was quite prepared to accept in this matter Albert's judgment. Palmerston protested and threatened resignation, but finally submitted.

When the news of the capture of the commissioners came to Washington, Seward for once was in favour of a conservative rather than a truculent course of action. He advised that the commissioners should be surrendered at once rather than to leave to Great Britain the opportunity for making a dictatorial demand. Lincoln admitted the risk of such demand and the disadvantage of making the surrender under pressure, but he took the ground that if the United States waited for the British contention, a certain diplomatic advantage could be gained. When the demand came, Lincoln was able, with a rewording (not for the first time) of Seward's despatch, to take the ground that the government of the United States was "well pleased that Her Majesty's government should have finally accepted the old-time American contention that vessels of peace should not be searched on the high seas by vessels of war." It may be recalled that the exercise of the right of search had been one of the most important of the grievances which had brought about the War of 1812-1814. In the discussion of the Treaty of Ghent in 1814, the English and American commissioners, while agreeing that this right of search must be given up, had not been able to arrive at a form of words, satisfactory to both parties, for its revocation. Both sets of commissioners were very eager to bring their proceedings to a close. The Americans could of course not realise that if they had waited a few weeks the news of the battle of New Orleans, fought in January, 1815, would have greatly strengthened their position. It was finally agreed "as between gentlemen" that the right of search should be no longer exercised by Great Britain. This right was, however, not formally abrogated until December, 1861, nearly half a century later. This little diplomatic triumph smoothed over for the public of the North the annoyance of having to accept the British demand. It helped to strengthen the administration, which in this first year of the War was by no means sure of its foundations. It strengthened also the opinion of citizens generally in their estimate of the wise management and tactfulness of the President.

Some of the most serious of the perplexities that came upon Lincoln during the first two years of the War were the result of the peculiar combination of abilities and disabilities that characterised General McClellan. McClellan's work prior to the War had been that of an engineer. He had taken high rank at West Point and later, resigning from the army, had rendered distinguished service in civil engineering. At the time of the Lincoln-Douglas debates, McClellan was president of the Illinois Central Railroad. He was a close friend and backer of Douglas and he had done what was practicable with the all-important machinery of the railroad company to render comfortable the travelling of his candidate and to insure his success. Returning to the army with the opening of the War, he had won success in a brief campaign in Virginia in which he was opposed by a comparatively inexperienced officer and by a smaller force than his own. Placed in command of the army of the Potomac shortly after the Bull Run campaign, he had shown exceptional ability in bringing the troops into a state of organisation. He was probably the best man in the United States to fit an army for action. There were few engineer officers in the army who could have rendered better service in the shaping of fortifications or in the construction of an entrenched position. He showed later that he was not a bad leader for a defeated army in the supervision of the retreat. He had, however, no real capacity for leadership in an aggressive campaign. His disposition led him to be full of apprehension of what the other fellow was doing. He suffered literally from nightmares in which he exaggerated enormously the perils in his paths, making obstacles where none existed, multiplying by two or by three the troops against him, insisting upon the necessity of providing not only for probable contingencies but for very impossible contingencies. He was never ready for an advance and he always felt proudly triumphant, after having come into touch with the enemy, that he had accomplished the task of saving his army.

The only thing about which he was neither apprehensive nor doubtful was his ability as a leader, whether military or political. While he found it difficult to impress his will upon an opponent in the field, he was very sturdy with his pen in laying down the law to the Commander-in-chief (the President) and in emphasising the importance of his own views not only in things military but in regard to the whole policy of the government. The peculiarity about the nightmares and miscalculations of McClellan was that they persisted long after the data for their correction were available. In a book brought into print years after the War, when the Confederate rosters were easily accessible in Washington, McClellan did not hesitate to make the same statements in regard to the numbers of the Confederate forces opposed to him that he had brought into the long series of complaining letters to Lincoln in which he demanded reinforcements that did not exist.

The records now show that at the time of the slow advance of McClellan's army by the Williamsburg Peninsula, General Magruder had been able, with a few thousand men and with dummy guns made of logs, to give the impression that a substantial army was blocking the way to Richmond. McClellan's advance was, therefore, made with the utmost "conservatism," enabling General Johnston to collect back of Magruder the army that was finally to drive McClellan back to his base. It is further in evidence from the later records that when some weeks later General Johnston concentrated his army at Gaines's Mill upon Porter, who was separated from McClellan by the Chickahominy, there was but an inconsiderable force between McClellan and Richmond.

At the close of the seven days' retreat, McClellan, who had with a magnificent army thrown away a series of positions, writes to Lincoln that he (Lincoln) "had sacrificed the army." In another letter, McClellan lays down the laws of a national policy with a completeness and a dictatorial utterance such as would hardly have been justified if he had succeeded through his own military genius in bringing the War to a close, but which, coming from a defeated general, was ridiculous enough. Lincoln's correspondence with McClellan brings out the infinite patience of the President, and his desire to make sure that before putting the General to one side as a vainglorious incompetent, he had been allowed the fullest possible test. Lincoln passes over without reference and apparently without thought the long series of impertinent impersonalities of McClellan. In this correspondence, as in all his correspondence, the great captain showed himself absolutely devoted to the cause he had in mind. Early in the year, months before the Peninsular campaign, when McClellan had had the army in camp for a series of months without expressing the least intention of action, Lincoln had in talking with the Secretary of War used the expression: "If General McClellan does not want to use the army just now, I would like to borrow it for a while." That was as far as the Commander-in-chief ever went in criticism of the General in the field. While operations in Virginia, conducted by a vacillating and vainglorious engineer officer, gave little encouragement, something was being done to advance the cause of the Union in the West. In 1862, a young man named Grant, who had returned to the army and who had been trusted with the command of a few brigades, captured Fort Donelson and thus opened the Tennessee River to the advance of the army southward. The capture of Fort Donelson was rendered possible by the use of mortars and was the first occasion in the war in which mortars had been brought to bear. I chanced to come into touch with the record of the preparation of the mortars that were supplied to Grant's army at Cairo. Sometime in the nineties I was sojourning with the late Abram S. Hewitt at his home in Ringwood, New Jersey. I noticed, in looking out from the piazza, a mortar, properly mounted on a mortar-bed and encompassed by some yards of a great chain, placed on the slope overlooking the little valley below, as if to protect the house. I asked my host what was the history of this piece of ordnance. "Well," he said, "the chain you might have some personal interest in. It is a part of the chain your great-uncle Israel placed across the river at West Point for the purpose of blocking or at least of checking the passage of the British vessels. The chain was forged here in the Ringwood foundry and I have secured a part of it as a memento. The mortar was given to me by President Lincoln, as also was the mortar-bed." This report naturally brought out the further question as to the grounds for the gift. "I made this mortar-bed," said Hewitt, "together with some others, and Lincoln was good enough to say that I had in this work rendered a service to the State. It was in December, 1861, when the expedition against Fort Donelson and Fort Henry was being organised at Fort Cairo under the leadership of General Grant. Grant reported that the field-pieces at his command would not be effective against the earthworks that were to be shelled and made requisition for mortars." The mortar I may explain to my unmilitary readers is a short carronade of large bore and with a comparatively short range. The mortar with a heavy charge throws its missile at a sharp angle upwards, so that, instead of attempting to go through an earthwork, it is thrown into the enclosure. The recoil from a mortar is very heavy, necessitating the construction of a foundation called a mortar-bed which is not only solid but which possesses a certain amount of elasticity through which the shock of the recoil is absorbed. It is only through the use of such a bed that a mortar can be fired from the deck of a vessel. Without such, protection, the shock would smash through the deck and might send the craft to the bottom.

The Ordnance Department reported to the Secretary of War and the Secretary to Lincoln that mortars were on hand but that no mortar-beds were available. It was one of the many cases in which the unpreparedness of the government had left a serious gap in the equipment. The further report was given to Lincoln that two or three months' time would be required to manufacture the thirty mortar-beds that were needed. A delay of any such period would have blocked the entire purpose of Grant's expedition. In his perplexity, Lincoln remembered that in his famous visit to New York two years before, he had been introduced to Mr. Hewitt, "a well-known iron merchant," as "a man who does things." Lincoln telegraphed to Hewitt asking if Hewitt could make thirty mortar-beds and how long it would take. Hewitt told me that the message reached him on a Saturday evening at the house of a friend. He wired an acknowledgment with the word that he would send a report on the following day. Sunday morning he looked up the ordnance officer of New York for the purpose of ascertaining where the pattern mortar-bed was kept. "It was rather important, Major," said Hewitt to me, "that I should have an opportunity of examining this pattern for I had never seen a mortar-bed in my life, but this of course I did not admit to the ordnance officer." The pattern required was, it seemed, in the armory at Springfield. Hewitt wired to Lincoln asking that the bed should be forwarded by the night boat to him in New York. Hewitt and his men met the boat, secured the pattern bed, and gave some hours to puzzling over the construction. At noon on Monday, Hewitt wired to Lincoln that he could make thirty mortar-beds in thirty days. In another hour he received by wire instructions from Lincoln to go ahead. In twenty-eight days he had the thirty mortar-beds in readiness; and Tom Scott, who had at the time, very fortunately for the country, taken charge of the military transportation, had provided thirty flat-cars for the transit of the mortar-beds to Cairo. The train was addressed to "U.S. Grant, Cairo," and each car contained a notification, painted in white on a black ground, "not to be switched on the penalty of death." That train got through and as other portions of the equipment had also been delayed, the mortars were not so very late. Six schooners, each equipped with a mortar, were hurried up the river to support the attack of the army on Fort Donelson. A first assault had been made and had failed. The field artillery was, as Grant had anticipated, ineffective against the earthworks, while the fire of the Confederate infantry, protected by their works, had proved most severe. The instant, however, that from behind a point on the river below the fort shells were thrown from the schooners into the inner circle of the fortifications, the Confederate commander, Floyd, recognised that the fort was untenable. He slipped away that night leaving his junior, General Buckner, to make terms with Grant, and those terms were "unconditional surrender," which were later so frequently connected with the initials of U.S.G.

Buckner's name comes again into history in a pleasant fashion. Years after the War, when General Grant had, through the rascality of a Wall Street "pirate," lost his entire savings, Buckner, himself a poor man, wrote begging Grant to accept as a loan, "to be repaid at his convenience," a check enclosed for one thousand dollars. Other friends came to the rescue of Grant, and through the earnings of his own pen, he was before his death able to make good all indebtedness and to leave a competency to his widow. The check sent by Buckner was not used, but the prompt friendliness was something not to be forgotten.

Hewitt's mortar-beds were used again a few weeks later for the capture of Island Number Ten and they also proved serviceable, used in the same fashion from the decks of schooners, in the capture of Forts Jackson and St. Philip which blocked the river below New Orleans. It was only through the fire from these schooners, which were moored behind a point on the river below the forts, that it was possible to reach the inner circle of the works.

I asked Hewitt whether he had seen Lincoln after this matter of the mortar-beds. "Yes," said Hewitt, "I saw him a year later and Lincoln's action was characteristic. I was in Washington and thought it was proper to call and pay my respects. I was told on reaching the White House that it was late in the day and that the waiting-room was very full and that I probably should not be reached. 'Well,' I said, 'in that case, I will simply ask you to take in my card.' No sooner had the card been delivered than the door of the study opened and Lincoln appeared reaching out both hands. 'Where is Mr. Hewitt?' he said; 'I want to see, I want to thank, the man who does things.' I sat with him for a time, a little nervous in connection with the number of people who were waiting outside, but Lincoln would not let me go. Finally he asked, 'What are you in Washington for?' 'Well, Mr. Lincoln,' said I, 'I have some business here. I want to get paid for those mortar-beds.' 'What?' said Lincoln, 'you have not yet got what the nation owes you? That is disgraceful.' He rang the bell violently and sent an aid for Secretary Stanton and when the Secretary appeared, he was questioned rather sharply. 'How about Mr. Hewitt's bill against the War Department? Why does he have to wait for his money?' 'Well, Mr. Lincoln,' said Stanton, 'the order for those mortar-beds was given rather irregularly. It never passed through the War Department and consequently the account when rendered could not receive the approval of any ordnance officer, and until so approved could not be paid by the Treasury.' 'If,' said Lincoln, 'I should write on that account an order to have it paid, do you suppose the Secretary of the Treasury would pay it?' 'I suppose that he would,' said Stanton. The account was sent for and Lincoln wrote at the bottom: 'Pay this bill now. A. Lincoln.' 'Now, Mr. Stanton,' said Lincoln, 'Mr. Hewitt has been very badly treated in this matter and I want you to take a little pains to see that he gets his money. I am going to ask you to go over to the Treasury with Mr. Hewitt and to get the proper signatures on this account so that Mr. Hewitt can carry a draft with him back to New York.' Stanton, rather reluctantly, accepted the instruction and," said Hewitt, "he walked with me through the various departments of the Treasury until the final signature had been placed on the bill and I was able to exchange this for a Treasury warrant. I should," said Hewitt, "have been much pleased to retain the bill with that signature of Lincoln beneath the words, 'Pay this now.'

"Towards the end of the War," he continued, "when there was no further requirement for mortars, I wrote to Mr. Lincoln and asked whether I might buy a mortar with its bed. Lincoln replied promptly that he had directed the Ordnance Department to send me mortar and bed with 'the compliments of the administration.' I am puzzled to think," said Hewitt, "how that particular item in the accounts of the Ordnance Department was ever adjusted, but I am very glad to have this reminiscence of the War and of the President."

Lincoln's relations with McClellan have already been touched upon. There would not be space in this paper to refer in detail to the action taken by Lincoln with other army commanders East and West. The problem that confronted the Commander-in-chief of selecting the right leaders for this or that undertaking, and of promoting the men who gave evidence of the greater capacity that was required for the larger armies that were being placed in the field, was one of no little difficulty. The reader of history, looking back to-day, with the advantage of the full record of the careers of the various generals, is tempted to indulge in easy criticism of the blunders made by the President. Why did the President put up so long with the vaingloriousness and ineffectiveness of McClellan? Why should he have accepted even for one brief and unfortunate campaign the service of an incompetent like Pope? Why was a slow-minded closet-student like Halleck permitted to fritter away in the long-drawn-out operations against Corinth the advantage of position and of force that had been secured by the army of the West? Why was a political trickster like Butler, with no army experience, or a well-meaning politician like Banks with still less capacity for the management of troops, permitted to retain responsibilities in the field, making blunders that involved waste of life and of resources and the loss of campaigns? Why were not the real men like Sherman, Grant, Thomas, McPherson, Sheridan, and others brought more promptly into the important positions? Why was the army of the South permitted during the first two years of the War to have so large an advantage in skilled and enterprising leadership? A little reflection will show how unjust is the criticism implied through such questions. We know of the incapacity of the generals who failed and of the effectiveness of those who succeeded, only through the results of the campaigns themselves. Lincoln could only study the men as he came to know about them and he experimented first with one and then with another, doing what seemed to be practicable to secure a natural selection and the survival of the fittest. Such watchful supervision and painstaking experimenting was carried out with infinite patience and with an increasing knowledge both of the requirements and of the men fitted to fill the requirements.

We must also recall that, Commander-in-chief as he was, Lincoln was not free to exercise without restriction his own increasingly valuable judgment in the appointment of the generals. It was necessary to give consideration to the opinion of the country, that is to say, to the individual judgments of the citizens whose loyal co-operation was absolutely essential for the support of the nation's cause. These opinions of the citizens were expressed sometimes through the appeals of earnestly loyal governors like Andrew of Massachusetts, or Curtin of Pennsylvania, and sometimes through the articles of a strenuous editor like Greeley, whose influence and support it was, of course, all important to retain. Greeley's absolute ignorance of military conditions did not prevent him from emphasising with the President and the public his very decided conclusions in regard to the selection of men and the conduct of campaigns. In this all-perplexing problem of the shaping of campaigns, Lincoln had to consider the responsibilities of representative government. The task would, of course, have been much easier if he had had power as an autocrat to act on his own decisions simply. The appointment of Butler and Banks was thought to be necessary for the purpose of meeting the views of the loyal citizens of so important a State as Massachusetts, and other appointments, the results of which were more or less unfortunate, may in like manner be traced to causes or influences outside of a military or army policy.

General Frank V. Greene, in a paper on Lincoln as Commander-in-chief, writes in regard to his capacity as a leader as follows:

"As time goes on, Lincoln's fame looms ever larger and larger. Great statesman, astute politician, clear thinker, classic writer, master of men, kindly, lovable man,—these are his titles. To these must be added—military leader. Had he failed in that quality, the others would have been forgotten. Had peace been made on any terms but those of the surrender of the insurgent forces and the restoration of the Union, Lincoln's career would have been a colossal failure and the Emancipation Proclamation a subject of ridicule. The prime essential was military success. Lincoln gained it. Judged in the retrospect of nearly half a century, with his every written word now in print and with all the facts of the period brought out and placed in proper perspective by the endless studies, discussions, and arguments of the intervening years, it becomes clear that, first and last and at all times during his Presidency, in military affairs his was not only the guiding but the controlling hand."

It is interesting, as the War progressed, to trace the development of Lincoln's own military judgment. He was always modest in regard to matters in which his experience was limited, and during the first twelve months in Washington, he had comparatively little to say in regard to the planning or even the supervision of campaigns. His letters, however, to McClellan and his later correspondence with Burnside, with Hooker, and with other commanders give evidence of a steadily developing intelligence in regard to larger military movements. History has shown that Lincoln's judgment in regard to the essential purpose of a campaign, and the best methods for carrying out such purpose, was in a large number of cases decidedly sounder than that of the general in the field. When he emphasised with McClellan that the true objective was the Confederate army in the field and not the city of Richmond, he laid down a principle which seems to us elementary but to which McClellan had been persistently blinded. Lincoln writes to Hooker: "We have word that the head of Lee's army is near Martinsburg in the Shenandoah Valley while you report that you have a substantial force still opposed to you on the Rappahannock. It appears, therefore that the line must be forty miles long. The animal is evidently very slim somewhere and it ought to be possible for you to cut it at some point." Hooker had the same information but did not draw the same inference.

Apart from Lincoln's work in selecting, and in large measure in directing, the generals, he had a further important relation with the army as a whole. We are familiar with the term "the man behind the gun." It is a truism to say that the gun has little value whether for offence or for defence unless the man behind it possesses the right kind of spirit which will infuse and guide his purpose and his action with the gun. For the long years of the War, the Commander-in-chief was the man behind all the guns in the field. The men in the front came to have a realising sense of the infinite patience, the persistent hopefulness, the steadiness of spirit, the devoted watchfulness of the great captain in Washington. It was through the spirit of Lincoln that the spirit in the ranks was preserved during the long months of discouragement and the many defeats and retreats. The final advance of Grant which ended at Appomattox, and the triumphant march of Sherman which culminated in the surrender at Goldsborough of the last of the armies of the Confederacy, were the results of the inspiration, given alike to soldier and to general, from the patient and devoted soul of the nation's leader.

In March, 1862, Lincoln received the news of the victory won at Pea Ridge, in Arkansas, by Curtis and Sigel, a battle which had lasted three days. The first day was a defeat and our troops were forced back; the fighting of the second resulted in what might be called a drawn battle; but on the third, our army broke its way through the enclosing lines, bringing the heavier loss to the Confederates, and regained its base. This battle was in a sense typical of much of the fighting of the War. It was one of a long series of fights which continued for more than one day. The history of the War presents many instances of battles that lasted two days, three days, four days, and in one case seven days. It was difficult to convince the American soldier, on either side of the line, that he was beaten. The general might lose his head, but the soldiers, in the larger number of cases, went on fighting until, with a new leader or with more intelligent dispositions on the part of the original leader, a first disaster had been repaired. There is no example in modern history of fighting of such stubborn character, or it is fairer to say, there was no example until the Russo-Japanese War in Manchuria. The record shows that European armies, when outgeneralled or outmanoeuvred, had the habit of retiring from the field, sometimes in good order, more frequently in a state of demoralisation. The American soldier fought the thing out because he thought the thing out. The patience and persistence of the soldier in the field was characteristic of, and, it may fairly be claimed, was in part due to, the patience and persistence of the great leader in Washington.



VI

THE DARK DAYS OF 1862

The dark days of 1862 were in April brightened by the all-important news that Admiral Farragut had succeeded in bringing the Federal fleet, or at least the leading vessels in this fleet, past the batteries of Forts St. Philip and Jackson on the Mississippi, and had compelled the surrender of New Orleans. The opening of the Mississippi River had naturally been included among the most essential things to be accomplished in the campaign for the restoration of the national authority. It was of first importance that the States of the North-west and the enormous contiguous territory which depended upon the Mississippi for its water connection with the outer world should not be cut off from the Gulf. The prophecy was in fact made more than once that in case the States of the South had succeeded in establishing their independence, there would have come into existence on the continent not two confederacies, but probably four. The communities on the Pacific Coast would naturally have been tempted to set up for themselves, and a similar course might also naturally have been followed by the great States of the North-west whose interests were so closely bound up with the waterways running southward. It was essential that no effort should be spared to bring the loyal States of the West into control of the line of the Mississippi. More than twelve months was still required after the capture of New Orleans on the first of May, 1862, before the surrender of Vicksburg to Grant and of Port Hudson to Banks removed the final barriers to the Federal control of the great river. The occupation of the river by the Federals was of importance in more ways than one. The States to the west of the river—Arkansas, Missouri, and Texas—were for the first two years of the War important sources of supplies for the food of the Confederate army. Corn on the cob or in bags was brought across the river by boats, while the herds of live cattle were made to swim the stream, and were then most frequently marched across country to the commissary depots of the several armies. After the fall of Port Hudson, the connection for such supplies was practically stopped; although I may recall that even as late as 1864, the command to which I was attached had the opportunity of stopping the swimming across the Mississippi of a herd of cattle that was in transit for the army of General Joe Johnston.

In April, 1862, just after the receipt by Lincoln of the disappointing news of the first repulse at Vicksburg, he finds time to write a little autograph note to a boy, "Master Crocker," with thanks for a present of a white rabbit that the youngster had sent to the President with the suggestion that perhaps the President had a boy who would be pleased with it.

During the early part of 1862, Lincoln is giving renewed thought to the great problem of emancipation. He becomes more and more convinced that the success of the War calls for definite action on the part of the administration in the matter of slavery. He was, as before pointed out, anxious, not only as a matter of justice to loyal citizens, but on the ground of the importance of retaining for the national cause the support of the Border States, to act in such manner that the loyal citizens of these States should be exposed to a minimum loss and to the smallest possible risk of disaffection. In July, 1862, Lincoln formulated a proposition for compensated emancipation. It was his idea that the nation should make payment of an appraised value in freeing the slaves that were in the ownership of citizens who had remained loyal to the government. It was his belief that the funds required would be more than offset by the result in furthering the progress of the War. The daily expenditure of the government was at the time averaging about a million and a half dollars a day, and in 1864 it reached two million dollars a day. If the War could be shortened a few months, a sufficient amount of money would be saved to offset a very substantial payment to loyal citizens for the property rights in their slaves.

The men of the Border States were, however, still too bound to the institution of slavery to be prepared to give their assent to any such plan. Congress was, naturally, not ready to give support to such a policy unless it could be made clear that it was satisfactory to the people most concerned. The result of the unwise stubbornness in this matter of the loyal citizens of Missouri, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Maryland was that they were finally obliged to surrender without compensation the property control in their slaves. When the plan for compensated emancipation had failed, Lincoln decided that the time had come for unconditional emancipation. In July, 1862, he prepares the first draft of the Emancipation Proclamation. It was his judgment, which was shared by the majority of his Cabinet, that the issue of the proclamation should, however, be deferred until after some substantial victory by the armies of the North. It was undesirable to give to such a step the character of an utterance of despair or even of discouragement. It seemed evident, however, that the War had brought the country to the point at which slavery, the essential cause of the cleavage between the States, must be removed. The bringing to an end of the national responsibility for slavery would consolidate national opinion throughout the States of the North and would also strengthen the hands of the friends of the Union in England where the charge had repeatedly been made that the North was fighting, not against slavery or for freedom of any kind, but for domination. The proclamation was held until after the battle of Antietam in September, 1862, and was then issued to take effect on the first of January, 1863. It did produce the hoped-for results. The cause of the North was now placed on a consistent foundation. It was made clear that when the fight for nationality had reached a successful termination, there was to be no further national responsibility for the great crime against civilisation. The management of the contrabands, who were from week to week making their way into the lines of the Northern armies, was simplified. There was no further question of holding coloured men subject to the possible claim of a possibly loyal master. The work of organising coloured troops, which had begun in Massachusetts some months earlier in the year, was now pressed forward with some measure of efficiency. Boston sent to the front the 54th and 55th Massachusetts regiments composed of coloured troops and led by such men as Shaw and Hallowell. The first South Carolina coloured regiment was raised and placed under the command of Colonel Higginson.

I had myself some experience in Louisiana with the work of moulding plantation hands into disciplined soldiers and I was surprised at the promptness of the transformation. A contraband who made his way into the camp from the old plantation with the vague idea that he was going to secure freedom was often in appearance but an unpromising specimen out of which to make a soldier. He did not know how to hold himself upright or to look the other man in the face. His gait was shambly, his perceptions dull. It was difficult for him either to hear clearly, or to understand when heard, the word of instruction or command. When, however, the plantation rags had been disposed of and (possibly after a souse in the Mississippi) the contraband had been put into the blue uniform and had had the gun placed on his shoulder, he developed at once from a "chattel" to a man. He was still, for a time at least, clumsy and shambly. The understanding of the word of command did not come at once and his individual action, if by any chance he should be left to act alone, was, as a rule, less intelligent, less to be depended upon, than that of the white man. But he stood up straight in the garb of manhood, looked you fairly in the face, showed by his expression that he was anxious for the privilege of fighting for freedom and for citizenship, and in Louisiana, and throughout the whole territory of the War, every black regiment that came into engagement showed that it could be depended upon. Before the War was closed, some two hundred thousand negroes had been brought into the ranks of the Federal army and their service constituted a very valuable factor in the final outcome of the campaigns. A battle like that at Milliken's Bend, Mississippi, inconsiderable in regard to the numbers engaged, was of distinctive importance in showing what the black man was able and willing to do when brought under fire for the first time. A coloured regiment made up of men who only a few weeks before had been plantation hands, had been left on a point of the river to be picked up by an expected transport. The regiment was attacked by a Confederate force of double or treble the number, the Southerners believing that there would be no difficulty in driving into the river this group of recent slaves. On the first volley, practically all of the officers (who were white) were struck down and the loss with the troops was also very heavy. The negroes, who had but made a beginning with their education as soldiers, appeared, however, not to have learned anything about the conditions for surrender and they simply fought on until no one was left standing. The percentage of loss to the numbers engaged was the heaviest of any action in the War. The Southerners, in their contempt for the possibility of negroes doing any real fighting, had in their rushing attack exposed themselves much and had themselves suffered seriously. When, in April, 1865, after the forcing back of Lee's lines, the hour came, so long waited for and so fiercely fought for, to take possession of Richmond, there was a certain poetic justice in allowing the negro division, commanded by General Weitzel, to head the column of advance.

Through 1862, and later, we find much correspondence from Lincoln in regard to the punishment of deserters. The army penalty for desertion when the lines were in front of the enemy, was death. Lincoln found it very difficult, however, to approve of a sentence of death for any soldier. Again and again he writes, instructing the general in the field to withhold the execution until he, Lincoln, had had an opportunity of passing upon the case. There is a long series of instances in which, sometimes upon application from the mother, but more frequently through the personal impression gained by himself of the character of the delinquent, Lincoln decided to pardon youngsters who had, in his judgment, simply failed to realise their full responsibility as soldiers. Not a few of these men, permitted to resume their arms, gained distinction later for loyal service.

In December, 1862, Jefferson Davis issued an order which naturally attracted some attention, directing that General Benjamin F. Butler, when captured, should be "reserved for execution." Butler never fell into the hands of the Confederates and it is probable that if he had been taken prisoner, the order would have remained an empty threat. From Lincoln came the necessary rejoinder that a Confederate officer of equal rank would be held as hostage for the safety of any Northern general who, as prisoner, might not be protected under the rules of war.

Lincoln's correspondence during 1862, a year which was in many ways the most discouraging of the sad years of the war, shows how much he had to endure in the matter of pressure of unrequested advice and of undesired counsel from all kinds of voluntary advisers and active-minded citizens, all of whom believed that their views were important, if not essential, for the salvation of the state. In September, 1862, Lincoln writes to a friend:

"I am approached with the most opposite opinions expressed on the part of religious men, each of whom is equally certain that he represents the divine will."

To one of these delegations of ministers, Lincoln gave a response which while homely in its language must have presented to his callers a vivid picture of the burdens that were being carried by the leader of the state:

"Gentlemen," he said, "suppose all the property you possess were in gold, and you had placed it in the hands of Blondin to carry across the Niagara River on a rope. With slow, cautious, steady steps he walks the rope, bearing your all. Would you shake the cable and keep shouting to him, 'Blondin, stand up a little straighter! Blondin, stoop a little more; go a little faster; lean more to the south! Now lean a little more to north! Would that be your behaviour in such an emergency? No, you would hold your breath, every one of you, as well as your tongues. You would keep your hands off until he was safe on the other side."

Another delegation, which had been urging some months in advance of what Lincoln believed to be the fitting time for the issuing of the Proclamation of Emancipation, called asking that there should be no further delay in the action. One of the ministers, as he was retiring, turned and said to Lincoln: "What you have said to us, Mr. President, compels me to say to you in reply that it is a message to you from our Divine Master, through me, commanding you, sir, to open the doors of bondage, that the slave may go free!" Lincoln replied: "That may be, sir, for I have studied this question by night and by day, for weeks and for months, but if it is, as you say, a message from your Divine Master, is it not odd that the only channel He could send it by was that roundabout route through the wicked city of Chicago?"

Another version of the story omits the reference to Chicago, and makes Lincoln's words:

"I hope it will not be irreverent for me to say that if it is probable that God would reveal His will to others on a point so connected with my duty, it might be supposed He would reveal it directly to me.... Whatever shall appear to be God's will, I will do."

In September, 1862, General Lee carried his army into Maryland, threatening Baltimore and Washington. It is probable that the purpose of this invasion was more political than military. The Confederate correspondence shows that Davis was at the time hopeful of securing the intervention of Great Britain and France, and it was natural to assume that the prospects of such intervention would be furthered if it could be shown that the Southern army, instead of being engaged in the defence of its own capital, was actually threatening Washington and was possibly strong enough to advance farther north.

General Pope had, as a result of his defeat at the second Bull Run, in July, 1862, lost the confidence of the President and of the country. The defeat alone would not necessarily have undermined his reputation, which had been that of an effective soldier. He had, however, the fatal quality, too common with active Americans, of talking too much, whether in speech or in the written word, of promising things that did not come off, and of emphasising his high opinion of his own capacity. Under the pressure of the new peril indicated by the presence of Lee's troops within a few miles of the capital, Lincoln put to one side his own grave doubts in regard to the effectiveness and trustworthiness of McClellan and gave McClellan one further opportunity to prove his ability as a soldier. The personal reflections and aspersions against his Commander-in-chief of which McClellan had been guilty, weighed with Lincoln not at all; the President's sole thought was at this time, as always, how with the material available could the country best be served.

McClellan had his chance (and to few men is it given to have more than one great opportunity) and again he threw it away. His army was stronger than that of Lee and he had the advantage of position and (for the first time against this particular antagonist) of nearness to his base of supplies. Lee had been compelled to divide his army in order to get it promptly into position on the north side of the Potomac. McClellan's tardiness sacrificed Harper's Ferry (which, on September 15th, was actually surrounded by Lee's advance) with the loss of twelve thousand prisoners. Through an exceptional piece of good fortune, there came into McClellan's hands a despatch showing the actual position of the different divisions of Lee's army and giving evidence that the two wings were so far separated that they could not be brought together within twenty-four hours. The history now makes clear that for twenty-four hours McClellan had the safety of Lee's army in his hands, but those precious hours were spent by McClellan in "getting ready," that is to say, in vacillating.

Finally, there came the trifling success at South Mountain and the drawn battle of Antietam. Lee's army was permitted to recross the Potomac with all its trains and even with the captured prisoners, and McClellan lay waiting through the weeks for something to turn up.

A letter written by Lincoln on the 13th of October shows a wonderfully accurate understanding of military conditions, and throws light also upon the character and the methods of thought of the two men:

"Are you not overcautious when you assume that you cannot do what the enemy is constantly doing? Should you not claim to be at least his equal in prowess, and act upon the claim? As I understand, you telegraphed General Halleck that you cannot subsist your army at Winchester unless the railroad from Harper's Ferry to that point be put in working order. But the enemy does now subsist his army at Winchester, at a distance nearly twice as great as you would have to do, without the railroad last named. He now waggons from Culpeper Court House, which is just about twice as far as you would have to do from Harper's Ferry. He is certainly not more than half as well provided with waggons as you are.... Again, one of the standard maxims of war, as you know, is to 'operate upon the enemy's communications without exposing your own.' You seem to act as if this applies against you, but cannot apply it in your favour. Change positions with the enemy, and think you not he would break your communication with Richmond in twenty-four hours?... You are now nearer Richmond than the enemy is by the route you can and he must take. Why can you not reach there before him, unless you admit that he is more than your equal on a march? His route is the arc of a circle, while yours is the chord. The roads are as good on your side as on his ... If he should move northward, I would follow him closely, holding his communications. If he should prevent our seizing his communications and move towards Richmond, I would press closely to him, fight him, if a favourable opportunity should present, and at least try to beat him to Richmond on the inside track. I say 'Try'; if we never try, we shall never succeed.... If we cannot beat him when he bears the wastage of coming to us, we never can when we bear the wastage of going to him.... As we must beat him somewhere or fail finally, we can do it, if at all, easier near to us than far away.... It is all easy if our troops march as well as the enemy, and it is unmanly to say that they cannot do it."

The patience of Lincoln and that of the country behind Lincoln were at last exhausted. McClellan was ordered to report to his home in New Jersey and the General who had come to the front with such flourish of trumpets and had undertaken to dictate a national policy at a time when he was not able to keep his own army in position, retires from the history of the War.

The responsibility again comes to the weary Commander-in-chief of finding a leader who could lead, in whom the troops and the country would have confidence, and who could be trusted to do his simple duty as a general in the field without confusing his military responsibilities with political scheming. The choice first fell upon Burnside. Burnside was neither ambitious nor self-confident. He was a good division general, but he doubted his ability for the general command. Burnside loyally accepts the task, does the best that was within his power and, pitted against a commander who was very much his superior in general capacity as well as in military skill, he fails. Once more has the President on his hands the serious problem of finding the right man. This time the commission was given to General Joseph Hooker. With the later records before us, it is easy to point out that this selection also was a blunder. There were better men in the group of major-generals. Reynolds, Meade, or Hancock would doubtless have made more effective use of the power of the army of the Potomac, but in January, 1863, the relative characters and abilities of these generals were not so easily to be determined. Lincoln's letter to Hooker was noteworthy, not only in the indication that it gives of Hooker's character but as an example of the President's width of view and of his method of coming into the right relation with men. He writes:

"You have confidence in yourself, which is a valuable if not an indispensable quality.... I think, however, that during General Burnside's command of the army, you have taken counsel of your ambition and have thwarted him as much as you could, in which you did a great wrong to the country and to a most meritorious and honourable brother officer. I have heard of your recently saying that both the army and the government needed a dictator. Of course it was not for this but in spite of it that I have given you the command. Only those generals who gain success can set up as dictators. What I now ask of you is military success and I will risk the dictatorship. The government will support you to the best of its ability, which is neither more nor less than it has done and will do for all its commanders.... Beware of rashness, but with energy and sleepless vigilance go forward and give us victories."

Hooker, like Burnside, undoubtedly did the best that he could. He was a loyal patriot and had shown himself a good division commander. It is probable, however, that the limit of his ability as a general in the field was the management of an army corps; he seems to have been confused in the attempt to direct the movements of the larger body. At Chancellorsville, he was clearly outwitted by his opponents, Lee and Jackson. The men of the army of the Potomac fought steadily as always but with the discouraging feeling that the soldiers on the other side of the line had the advantage of better brain power behind them. It is humiliating to read in the life of Jackson the reply given by him to Lee when Lee questioned the safety of the famous march planned by Jackson across the front of the Federal line. Said Lee: "There are several points along the line of your proposed march at which your column could be taken in flank with disastrous results." "But, General Lee," replies Jackson, "we must surely in planning any military movements take into account the personality of the leaders to whom we are opposed."



VII

THE THIRD AND CRUCIAL YEAR OF THE WAR

Chancellorsville was fought and lost, and again, under political pressure from Richmond rather than with any hope of advantage on simple military lines, Lee leads his army to an invasion of the North. For this there were at the time several apparent advantages; the army of the Potomac had been twice beaten and, while by no means demoralised, was discouraged and no longer had faith in its commander. There was much inevitable disappointment throughout the North that, so far from making progress in the attempt to restore the authority of the government, the national troops were on the defensive but a few miles from the national capital. The Confederate correspondence from London and from Paris gave fresh hopes for the long expected intervention.

Lee's army was cleverly withdrawn from Hooker's front and was carried through western Maryland into Pennsylvania by the old line of the Shenandoah Valley and across the Potomac at Falling Waters. Hooker reports to Lincoln under date of June 4th that the army or an army is still in his front on the line of the Rappahannock, Lincoln writes to Hooker under date of June 5th, "We have report that Lee's army is moving westward and that a large portion of it is already to the west of the Blue Ridge. The 'bull' [Lee's army] is across the fence and it surely ought to be possible to worry him." On June 14th, Lincoln writes again, reporting to Hooker that Lee with the body of his troops is approaching the Potomac at a point forty miles away from the line of the entrenchments on the Rappahannock. "The animal [Lee's army] is extended over a line of forty miles. It must be very slim somewhere. Can you not cut it?" The phrases are not in military form but they give evidence of sound military judgment. Hooker was unable to grasp the opportunity, and realising this himself, he asked to be relieved. The troublesome and anxious honour of the command of the army now falls upon General Meade. He takes over the responsibility at a time when Lee's army is already safely across the Potomac and advancing northward, apparently towards Philadelphia. His troops are more or less scattered and no definite plan of campaign appears to have been formulated. The events of the next three weeks constitute possibly the best known portion of the War. Meade shows good energy in breaking up his encampment along the Rappahannock and getting his column on to the road northward. Fortunately, the army of the Potomac for once has the advantage of the interior line so that Meade is able to place his army in a position that protects at once Washington on the south-west, Baltimore on the east, and Philadelphia on the north-east. We can, however, picture to ourselves the anxiety that must have rested upon the Commander-in-chief in Washington during the weeks of the campaign and during the three days of the great battle which was fought on Northern soil and miles to the north of the Northern capital. If, on that critical third day of July, the Federal lines had been broken and the army disorganised, there was nothing that could prevent the national capital from coming into the control of Lee's army. The surrender of Washington meant the intervention of France and England, meant the failure of the attempt to preserve the nation's existence, meant that Abraham Lincoln would go down to history as the last President of the United States, the President under whose leadership the national history had come to a close. But the Federal lines were not broken. The third day of Gettysburg made clear that with equality of position and with substantial equality in numbers there was no better fighting material in the army of the grey than in the army of the blue. The advance of Pickett's division to the crest of Cemetery Ridge marked the high tide of the Confederate cause. Longstreet's men were not able to prevail against the sturdy defence of Hancock's second corps and when, on the Fourth of July, Lee's army took up its line of retreat to the Potomac, leaving behind it thousands of dead and wounded, the calm judgment of Lee and his associates must have made clear to them that the cause of the Confederacy was lost. The army of Northern Virginia had shattered itself against the defences of the North, and there was for Lee no reserve line. For a long series of months to come, Lee, magnificent engineer officer that he was, and with a sturdy persistency which withstood all disaster, was able to maintain defensive lines in the Wilderness, at Cold Harbor, and in front of Petersburg, but as his brigades crumbled away under the persistent and unceasing attacks of the army of the Potomac, he must have realised long before the day of Appomattox that his task was impossible. What Gettysburg decided in the East was confirmed with equal emphasis by the fall of Vicksburg in the West. On the Fourth of July, 1863, the day on which Lee, defeated and discouraged, was taking his shattered army out of Pennsylvania, General Grant was placing the Stars and Stripes over the earthworks of Vicksburg. The Mississippi was now under the control of the Federalists from its source to the mouth, and that portion of the Confederacy lying to the west of the river was cut off so that from this territory no further co-operation of importance could be rendered to the armies either of Johnston or of Lee.

Lincoln writes to Grant after the fall of Vicksburg giving, with his word of congratulation, the admission that he (Lincoln) had doubted the wisdom or the practicability of Grant's movement to the south of Vicksburg and inland to Jackson. "You were right," said Lincoln, "and I was wrong."

On the 19th of November, 1863, comes the Gettysburg address, so eloquent in its simplicity. It is probable that no speaker in recorded history ever succeeded in putting into so few words so much feeling, such suggestive thought, and such high idealism. The speech is one that children can understand and that the greatest minds must admire.

[Illustration:

FACSIMILE OF GETTYSBURG ADDRESS.

Address delivered at the dedication of the cemetery at Gettysburg.

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that their nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should this.

But in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead who struggled here have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation under God shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.

Abraham Lincoln

November 19, 1863]

There was disappointment that Meade had not shown more energy after Gettysburg in the pursuit of Lee's army and that some attempt, at least, had not been made to interfere with the retreat across the Potomac. Military critics have in fact pointed out that Meade had laid himself open to criticism in the management of the battle itself. At the time of the repulse of Pickett's charge, Meade had available at the left and in rear of his centre the sixth corps which had hardly been engaged on the previous two days, and which included some of the best fighting material in the army. It has been pointed out more than once that if that corps had been thrown in at once with a countercharge upon the heels of the retreating divisions of Longstreet, Lee's right must have been curled up and overwhelmed. If this had happened, Lee's army would have been so seriously shattered that its power for future service would have been inconsiderable. Meade was accepted as a good working general but the occasion demanded something more forcible in the way of leadership and, early in 1864, Lincoln sends for the man who by his success in the West had won the hopeful confidence of the President and the people.

Before this appointment of General-in-chief was given to General Grant, and he came to the East to take charge of the armies in Virginia, he had brought to a successful conclusion a dramatic campaign, of which Chattanooga was the centre. In September, 1863, General Rosecrans, who had occupied Chattanooga, was defeated some twenty miles to the south on the field of Chickamauga, a defeat which was the result of too much confidence on the part of the Federal commander, who in pressing his advance had unwisely separated the great divisions of his army, and of excellent skill and enterprise on the part of the Confederate commander, General Bragg. If the troops of Rosecrans had not been veterans, and if the right wing had not been under the immediate command of so sturdy and unconquered a veteran as General Thomas, the defeat might have become a rout. As it was, the army retreated with some discouragement but in good fighting force, to the lines of Chattanooga. By skilful disposition of his forces across the lines of connection between Chattanooga and the base of supplies, General Bragg brought the Federals almost to the point of starvation, and there was grave risk that through the necessary falling back of the army to secure supplies, the whole advantage of the previous year's campaign might be lost. Grant was placed in charge of the forces in Chattanooga, and by a good management of the resources available, he succeeded in reopening the river and what became known as "the cracker line," and in November, 1863, in the dramatic battles of Lookout Mountain, fought more immediately by General Hooker, and of Missionary Ridge, the troops of which were under the direct command of General Sherman, overwhelmed the lines of Bragg, and pressed his forces back into a more or less disorderly retreat. An important factor in the defeat of Bragg was the detaching from his army of the corps under Longstreet which had been sent to Knoxville in a futile attempt to crush Burnside and to reconquer East Tennessee for the Confederacy. This plan, chiefly political in purpose, was said to have originated with President Davis. The armies of the West were now placed under the command of General Sherman, and early in 1864, Grant was brought to Virginia to take up the perplexing problem of overcoming the sturdy veterans of General Lee.

The first action of Grant as commander of all the armies in the field was to concentrate all the available forces against the two chief armies of the Confederacy. The old policy of occupying outlying territory for the sake of making a show of political authority was given up. If Johnston in the West and Lee in the East could be crushed, the national authority would be restored in due season, and that was the only way in which it could be restored. Troops were gathered in from Missouri and Arkansas and Louisiana and were placed under the command of Sherman for use in the final effort of breaking through the centre of the Confederacy, while in the East nothing was neglected on the part of the new administration to secure for the direction of the new commander all resources available of men and of supplies.

Grant now finds himself pitted against the first soldier of the continent, the leader who is to go down to history as probably the greatest soldier that America has ever produced. Lee's military career is a wonderful example of a combination of brilliancy, daring ingenuity of plan, promptness of action, and patient persistence under all kinds of discouragement, but it was not only through these qualities that it was possible for him to retain control, through three years of heavy fighting, of the territory of Virginia, which came to be the chief bulwark of the Confederacy. Lee's high character, sweetness of nature, and unselfish integrity of purpose had impressed themselves not only upon the Confederate administration which had given him the command but upon every soldier in that command. For the army of Northern Virginia Lee was the man behind the guns just as Lincoln came to be for all the men in blue. There never was a more devoted army and there probably never was a better handled army than that with which Lee defended for three years the lines across Northern Virginia and the remnants of which were finally surrendered at Appomattox.

Grant might well have felt concerned with such an opponent in front of him. He had on his hands (as had been the almost uniform condition for the army of the Potomac) the disadvantage of position. His advance must be made from exterior lines and nearly every attack was to be against well entrenched positions that had been first selected years back and had been strengthened from season to season. On the other hand, Grant was able to depend upon the loyal support of the administration through which came to his army the full advantage of the great resources of the North. His ranks as depleted were filled up, his commissary trains need never be long unsupplied, his ammunition waggons were always equipped. For Lee, during the years following the Gettysburg battle, the problem was unending and increasing: How should the troops be fed and whence should they secure the fresh supplies of ammunition?

Between Grant and Lincoln there came to be perfect sympathy of thought and action. The men had in their nature (though not in their mental equipment) much in common. Grant carries his army through the spring of 1864, across the much fought over territory, marching and fighting from day to day towards the south-west. The effort is always to outflank Lee's right, getting in between him and his base at Richmond, but after each fight, Lee's army always bars the way. Marching out of the Wilderness after seven days' fierce struggle, Grant still finds the line of grey blocking his path to Richmond. The army of the Potomac had been marching and fighting without break for weeks. There had been but little sleep, and the food in the trains was often far out of the reach of the men in the fighting line. Men and officers were alike exhausted. While advantages had been gained at one point or another along the line, and while it was certain that the opposing army had also suffered severely, there had been no conclusive successes to inspirit the troops with the feeling that they were to seize victory out of the campaign.

In emerging from the Wilderness, the head of the column reached the cross-roads the left fork of which led back to the Potomac and the right fork to Richmond or to Petersburg. In the previous campaigns, the army of the Potomac, after doing its share of plucky fighting and taking more than its share of discouragement, had at such a point been withdrawn for rest and recuperation. It was not an unnatural expectation that this course would be taken in the present campaign. The road to the right meant further fatigue and further continuous fighting for men who were already exhausted. In the leading brigade it was only the brigade commander and the adjutant who had knowledge of the instructions for the line of march. When, with a wave of the hand of the adjutant, the guidon flag of the brigade was carried to the right and the head of the column was set towards Richmond, a shout went up from the men marching behind the guidon. It was an utterance not of discouragement but of enthusiasm. Exhausting as the campaign had been, the men in the ranks preferred to fight it out then and to get through with it. Old soldiers as they were, they were able to understand the actual issue of the contest. Their plucky opponents were as exhausted as themselves and possibly even more exhausted. It was only through the hammering of Lee's diminishing army out of existence that the War could be brought to a close. The enthusiastic shout of satisfaction rolled through the long column reaching twenty miles back, as the news passed from brigade to brigade that the army was not to be withdrawn but was, as Grant's report to Lincoln was worded, "to fight it out on this line if it took all summer." When this report reached Lincoln, he felt that the selection of Grant as Lieutenant-General had been justified. He said: "We need this man. He fights."

In July, 1864, Washington is once more within reach if not of the invader at least of the raider. The Federal forces had been concentrated in Grant's lines along the James, and General Jubal Early, one of the most energetic fighters of the Southern army, tempted by the apparently unprotected condition of the capital, dashed across the Potomac on a raid that became famous. It is probable that in this undertaking, as in some of the other movements that have been referred to on the part of the Southern leaders, the purpose was as much political as military. Early's force of from fifteen to sixteen thousand men was, of course, in no way strong enough to be an army of invasion. The best success for which he could hope would be, in breaking through the defences of Washington, to hold the capital for a day or even a few hours. The capture of Washington in 1864, as in 1863 or in 1862, would in all probability have brought about the long-hoped-for intervention of France and England. General Lew Wallace, whose name became known in the years after the War through some noteworthy romances, Ben Hur and The Fair God, and who was in command of a division of troops stationed west of Washington, and composed in part of loyal Marylanders and in part of convalescents who were about to be returned to the front, fell back before Early's advance to Monocacy Creek. He disposed his thin line cleverly in the thickets on the east side of the creek in such fashion as to give the impression of a force of some size with an advance line of skirmishers. Early's advance was checked for some hours before he realised that there was nothing of importance in front of him; when Wallace's division was promptly overwhelmed and scattered. The few hours that had thus been saved were, however, of first importance for the safety of Washington. Early reached the outer lines of the fortifications of the capital some time after sunset. His immediate problem was to discover whether the troops which were, as he knew, being hurried up from the army of the James, had reached Washington or whether the capital was still under the protection only of its so-called home-guard of veteran reserves. These reserves were made up of men more or less crippled and unfit for work in the field but who were still able to do service on fortifications. They comprised in all about six thousand men and were under the command of Colonel Wisewell. The force was strengthened somewhat that night by the addition of all of the male nurses from the hospitals (themselves convalescents) who were able to bear arms. That night the women nurses, who had already been in attendance during the hours of the day, had to render double service. Lincoln had himself in the afternoon stood on the works watching the dust of the Confederate advance. Once more there came to the President who had in his hands the responsibility for the direction of the War the bitterness of the feeling, if not of possible failure, at least of immediate mortification. He knew that within twenty-four or thirty-six hours Washington could depend upon receiving the troops that were being hurried up from Grant's army, but he also realised what enormous mischief might be brought about by even a momentary occupation of the national capital by Confederate troops. I had some personal interest in this side campaign. The 19th army corps, to which my own regiment belonged, had been brought from Louisiana to Virginia and had been landed on the James River to strengthen the ranks of General Butler. There had not been time to assign to us posts in the trenches and we had, in fact, not even been placed in position. We were more nearly in marching order than any other troops available and it was therefore the divisions of the 19th army corps that were selected to be hurried up to Washington. To these were added two divisions of the 6th corps.

Colonel Wisewell, commanding the defences of the city, realised the nature of his problem. He had got to hold the lines of Washington, cost what it might, until the arrival of the troops from Grant. He took the bold step of placing on the picket line that night every man within reach, or at least every loyal man within reach (for plenty of the men in Washington were looking and hoping for the success of the South). The instructions usually given to pickets were in this instance reversed. The men were ordered, in place of keeping their positions hidden and of maintaining absolute quiet, to move from post to post along the whole line, and they were also ordered, without any reference to the saving of ammunition, to shoot off their carbines on the least possible pretext and without pretext. The armories were then beginning to send to the front Sharp's repeating carbines. The invention of breech-loading rifles came too late to be of service to the infantry on either side, but during the last year of the War, certain brigades of cavalry were armed with Sharp's breech-loaders. The infantry weapon used through the War by the armies of the North as by those of the South was the muzzle-loading rifle which bore the name on our side of the Springfield and on the Confederate side of the Enfield. The larger portion of the Northern rifles were manufactured in Springfield, Massachusetts, while the Southern rifles, in great part imported from England, took their name from the English factory. It was of convenience for both sides that the two rifles were practically identical so that captured pieces and captured ammunition could be interchanged without difficulty.

Early's skirmish line was instructed early in the night to "feel" the Federal pickets, an instruction which resulted in a perfect blaze of carbine fire from Wisewell's men. The report that went to Early was that the picket line must be about six thousand strong. The conclusion on the part of the old Confederate commander was that the troops from the army of the Potomac must have reached the city. If that were true, there was, of course, no chance that on the following day he could break through the entrenchments, while there was considerable risk that his retreat to the Shenandoah might be cut off. Early the next morning, therefore, the disappointed Early led his men back to Falling Waters.

I happened during the following winter, when in prison in Danville, to meet a Confederate lieutenant who had been on Early's staff and who had lost an arm in this little campaign. He reported that when Early, on recrossing the Potomac, learned that he had had Washington in his grasp and that the divisions marching to its relief did not arrive and could not have arrived for another twenty-four hours, he was about the maddest Early that the lieutenant had ever seen. "And," added the lieutenant, "when Early was angry, the atmosphere became blue."



VIII

THE FINAL CAMPAIGN

After this close escape, it was clear to Grant as it had been clear to Lincoln that whatever forces were concentrated before Petersburg, the line of advance for Confederate invaders through the Shenandoah must be blocked. General Sheridan was placed in charge of the army of the Shenandoah and the 19th corps, instead of returning to the trenches of the James, marched on from Washington to Martinsburg and Winchester.

In September, the commander in Washington had the satisfaction of hearing that his old assailant Early had been sent "whirling through Winchester" by the fierce advance of Sheridan. Lincoln recognised the possibility that Early might refuse to stay defeated and might make use, as had so often before been done by Confederate commanders in the Valley, of the short interior line to secure reinforcements from Richmond and to make a fresh attack. On the 29th of September, twenty days before this attack came off, Lincoln writes to Grant: "Lee may be planning to reinforce Early. Care should be taken to trace any movement of troops westward." On the 19th of October, the persistent old fighter Early, not willing to acknowledge himself beaten and understanding that he had to do with an army that for the moment did not have the advantage of Sheridan's leadership, made his plucky, and for the time successful, fight at Cedar Creek. The arrival of Sheridan at the critical hour in the afternoon of the 19th of October did not, as has sometimes been stated, check the retreat of a demoralised army. Sheridan found his army driven back, to be sure, from its first position, but in occupation of a well supported line across the pike from which had just been thrown back the last attack made by Early's advance. It was Sheridan however who decided not only that the battle which had been lost could be regained, but that the work could be done to best advantage right away on that day, and it was Sheridan who led his troops through the too short hours of the October afternoon back to their original position from which before dark they were able to push Early's fatigued fighters across Cedar Creek southward. Lincoln had found another man who could fight. He was beginning to be able to put trust in leaders who, instead of having to be replaced, were with each campaign gathering fresh experience and more effective capacity.

From the West also came reports, in this autumn of 1864, from a fighting general. Sherman had carried the army, after its success at Chattanooga, through the long line of advance to Atlanta, by outflanking movements against Joe Johnston, the Fabius of the Confederacy, and when Johnston had been replaced by the headstrong Hood, had promptly taken advantage of Hood's rashness to shatter the organisation of the army of Georgia. The capture of Atlanta in September, 1864, brought to Lincoln in Washington and to the North the feeling of certainty that the days of the Confederacy were numbered.

The second invasion of Tennessee by the army of Hood, rendered possible by the march of Sherman to the sea, appeared for the moment to threaten the control that had been secured of the all-important region of which Nashville was the centre, but Hood's march could only be described as daring but futile. He had no base and no supplies. His advance did some desperate fighting at the battle of Franklin and succeeded in driving back the rear-guard of Thomas's army, ably commanded by General Schofield, but the Confederate ranks were so seriously shattered that when they took position in front of Nashville they no longer had adequate strength to make the siege of the city serious even as a threat. Thomas had only to wait until his own preparations were completed and then, on the same day in December on which Sherman was entering Savannah, Thomas, so to speak, "took possession" of Hood's army. After the fight at Nashville, there were left of the Confederate invaders only a few scattered divisions.

It was just before the news of the victory at Nashville that Lincoln made time to write the letter to Mrs. Bixby whose name comes into history as an illustration of the thoughtful sympathy of the great captain:

"I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the adjutant-general of Massachusetts that you are the mother of five sons who died gloriously on the field of battle. I feel how weak and fruitless must be any words of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming, but I cannot refrain from tendering to you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save. I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost and the pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom."

In March, 1864, Lincoln writes to Grant: "New York votes to give votes to the soldiers. Tell the soldiers." The decision of New York in regard to the collection from the soldiers in each field of the votes for the coming Presidential election was in line with that arrived at by all of the States. The plan presented difficulties and, in connection with the work of special commissioners, it involved also expense. It was, however, on every ground desirable that the men who were risking their lives in defence of the nation should be given the opportunity of taking part in the selection of the nation's leader, who was also under the Constitution the commander-in-chief of the armies in the field. The votes of some four hundred thousand men constituted also an important factor in the election itself. I am not sure that the attempt was ever made to separate and classify the soldiers' vote but it is probable that although the Democratic candidate was McClellan, a soldier who had won the affection of the men serving under him, and the opposing candidate was a civilian, a substantial majority of the vote of the soldiers was given to Lincoln.