More than a Museum (Article 33)

Most of us have toured museums. We have stood before famous paintings or valuable artifacts, with our arms crossed over our chests or perhaps behind our backs; and admired the exhibits. We likely whispered to our companions as we strolled past numerous interesting displays and then picked up the pace when an area was not so captivating.

 However, as a sign at the Metropolitan Museum of Art declares, “There are museums and then there are Museums!”  The individuals, whose reflections follow, had all recently visited the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum in Springfield, Illinois. As we compared our experiences we realized that each of us had seen something personal; however, we had been affected by different sections.

But, we all agreed; this is a Museum!

 One person noted that he was touched by the changes in President Lincoln as the war took its toll, another recalled the lilting music that accompanied each display, and one could not forget the display of a slave auction. One lady said that the exhibits of the Lincoln funeral processions brought back childhood memories of a much later assassination. Another woman said she was moved by the Mary Todd Lincoln gallery, and a veteran was struck by the display of letters from young men in the Civil War to their families. A mother was surprised that, for the first time, she and her young son wanted to linger in the same places.  And one Southerner said that it changed his perception of Lincoln. 

 All spoke of a sense of reverence and awe.

 The Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum is comprised of two adjacent but distinctly different buildings.  While the extensive Library is of most interest to historians, researchers, and authors, the Museum is for everyone. The Library is a gift to academia; but the Museum is a gift to all of the people.

The Museum is unique in that it does not just honor the life and accomplishments of one man, as is common with other Presidential Libraries.  Nor does it offer only one side of a horrific Civil War. Instead, it showcases an entire era and the people who lived through the most turbulent time in our country’s history; northerner and southerner, slave-owner and slave, merchant and farmer, and the soldiers who wore Union blue and Confederate gray.

 Lincoln’s boyhood, early career, and Presidential years are depicted in a series of life sized dioramas that are in amazing detail; however, the museum is not just about Lincoln. It brings the viewer in touch with literally hundreds of people as the exhibits illustrate the first 65 years of the 19th Century. The causes and effects of the Civil War are demonstrated, not just through an academic history recitation, but through the recollections of the individuals who lived in those times. Every display is accompanied by period music, paintings, photographs, newspaper headlines, and commentary by soldiers, farmers, merchants, and slaves. While some commentary is by the societal and political elites of the day, most are the reflections of common men and women who were often trying to describe the indescribable.

 It is almost impossible for any visitor to come away from the Museum without a greater appreciation for these people; especially for those who fought on both sides of the Civil War (or War of Northern Aggression as some Southerners still prefer).

 The Museum strikes a balance between the motivations of Lincoln and those of the Southern leaders, and also between the Union and Confederate causes.

 Lincoln is accurately depicted, from his innate intelligence, his wit, and especially his dedication to his primary cause as President, the preservation of the Union. However, the museum gives an honest assessment of this complex man, with his self-doubts and flaws and is not simply a crowning of “Saint Abraham.”  

Most visitors recalled a personal connection they felt as they toured the various displays and many found themselves drawn and re-drawn to a certain area.

One said that he found himself looking at four photographs of Abraham Lincoln which were arranged on a wall in progression by date; 1861, 1863, 1864 and 1865. The toll on the President was striking and the visitor began to think of how Lincoln was worn down by the enormity of the ongoing Civil War.  He said he kept returning to those four photographs and he had to wipe away tears; which, by the way, he hoped no one had noticed.

 Another said she began to listen to the exquisite companionship provided by the music which surrounded several hundred images of young soldiers, some smiling, some terribly wounded, and some dead; and she said the effect was just “so sad but somehow beautiful.” She purchased the CD of the music and said that when she listens now, the same emotions re-occur.

 A man told of not being able to leave the life sized (and very life-like) diorama of a Negro family being torn apart at a slave auction; the anguish on the father’s face as he is pulled away, the abject horror on the face of his wife, and the ten year old boy, crying, reaching out to his father, without yet realizing his totality of his loss. The visitor returned several times, each time noticing more details in the heartbreaking scene, and the enormity of the tragedy sank in. The display captured the pain of nearly four million men, women and children who, at the start of the Civil War were still only “property”; to be bought and sold by another human being.

 Then there were the images of the Lincoln funeral train and its long slow route through the Northern states to his home in Springfield; which one visitor compared to the public outpouring after President Kennedy’s assassination and remembered how she felt. Now, for the first time, she understood the sadness of so many at the death of Abraham Lincoln.  To her, it became a personal experience, not just a history lesson.

 One lady wrote that at first she could not wait to see the collection of exquisite formal gowns displayed on mannequins of Mary Todd Lincoln. The visitor was aware of Mrs. Lincoln’s fascination with intricate beading and the inclusion of several colors, a hallmark of Elizabeth Keckley, her favorite seamstress who was a former slave. Then, after admiring the handiwork, she began to read the accompanying text and for the first time realized the awful sadness that surrounded Mary; the gowns could give the allusion of gaiety, but they masked the truth. One gown in particular was worn by Mrs. Lincoln to a White House Gala, while her nine year old son, Willie, was sick upstairs in his bed. Willie died a few days later and Mary never forgave herself. Further, her only friend in Washington was Mrs. Keckley, who nursed her through a long grieving period. The visitor noted that she had only come to the exhibit to see Mary’s clothing, but was grateful that she was now able to better understand the woman to whom history has not been kind.

 Another visitor, a veteran of the Vietnam War, stood for a long time before the display of letters from young soldiers (both Union and Confederate) and noted the similarities between those letters and the ones he had written to his family and the letters his own father had sent home during the Second World War. He wrote, “These bring back my own memories. It seems war is always the same for the soldier.”

 A young mother, who had made it a point over the years to take her children to major museums and exhibits, on this day, took her ten year old son to the Lincoln Museum. She recalled that both she and her son found themselves struck by the same exhibits. She said it was the first time that they shared a common reaction as most museum excursions became a tug of war, with each wanting to spend time at different areas. Then she added, “But, not here, not at this place.”

 Finally, there was an elderly gentleman from South Carolina who had reluctantly visited with his middle aged son. He had spent a lifetime believing, and instilling in his children, that Lincoln had deliberately destroyed southern culture.  He now said “I don’t know if I had an epiphany or I have just mellowed, but I found myself changing my opinion. The Slave auction display and letters touched something within me. I just didn’t get it before. I apologized to my son.”

 The many scenes affected these visitors in different ways, but each also recalled sections that were uplifting and others that were educational. And of course, some that were humorous; after all it features “Abe” who was a great storyteller.  

 All of us agreed that we would visit again. I know I will.

 And, I sincerely hope you do too.

Contact the author at  gadorris2@gmail.com

The Letter of Elisha Rhodes (Article 32)

On May 1, 1861, 19 year old Elisha Hunt Rhodes asked his widowed mother’s permission to join the Rhode Island Volunteers, a local Militia that was preparing to answer President Lincoln’s call to counter the recent “Southern Rebellion.” She begged him to stay home and Elisha, the family’s primary breadwinner, would not go without her permission. He wrote; “Sunday was a sorrowful one at our home. My mother went about with tears in her eyes while I felt disappointment that I could not express, and therefore nursed my sorrow in silence.” As he recalled later, his mother came into his room that evening and said, “My son, other mothers are called to make this sacrifice, why should not I.” The next day Elisha left home, but with a promise to his mother to write often.

And, for the next four years, he did just that; writing almost daily either to his mother, his sister, his friends, or in a journal.

Fortunately for future generations, Elisha’s family preserved his journal and letters and the book “All for the Union” was published in 1985.

Elisha had never been far from Pawtuxet, Rhode Island and only rarely fired a musket. He wrote that he wanted to be one of the 75,000 volunteers from 18 states to join together in “Abraham Lincoln’s great cause to restore the dream of George Washington and re-unite the country.”

The boys of Pawtuxet and the surrounding small towns were “new to soldiering” but immediately began marching drills and Elisha wrote, “I soon thought myself quite a soldier. I was elected First Sergeant, much to my surprise. Just what a First Sergeant’s duties might be, I have no idea.” Two weeks later he wrote, “We are off to Washington with mixed feelings of excitement, joy and sorrow.”

His Rhode Island volunteer unit was assigned to a regular U.S. Army Brigade when they arrived in the Capital and Elisha became a Private, a role in which he felt comfortable as “decisions and orders come from others” and he seemed to enjoy the drudgery of daily training. He was quickly promoted to Corporal, “I believe because I do not complain as much.”

“July 11. President Lincoln visited our camp. I like the looks of him.” And, on July 15th, Elisha wrote: “It begins to look warlike and we shall probably have a chance to pay our southern brethren a visit upon the sacred soil of Virginia very soon. Well, I hope we shall be successful and give the rebels a good pounding.”

The place Elisha was headed was called Manassas by Virginians and Bull Run by Union strategists. On July 19, Elisha first learned what war was really like.

“We were not at first in the battle. But it soon came to us. We were saluted by a volley of musketry which went over our heads. My first sensation was the whir of the bullets.” Then the bullets began to find their mark and the 2nd Rhode Island lost their Captain, and boys on either side of Elisha were struck. The troops, including Elisha, began to fall back and soon the main Union force was in full and disorganized retreat. He later recalled, “I struggled on, clinging to my gun and cartridge box. Many times I sat down and determined to go no further and willing to die to end my misery, but would go on. At daylight we could see the spires of Washington. The loss of the regiment in this disastrous affair was 93.”

The Union had not pounded the rebels as Elisha hoped and the rout of the Northern army quickly became known as “the great skedaddle.”

“July 24. I am certain that I have killed rebels, but I do not rejoice except that I still live”.

“Oct 16 (1861). We have lost so many good men. I trust that I am prepared to do my duty unto death if it is required”.

Over the next six months, The Union army consolidated forces around Washington. President Lincoln called for more troops, military training intensified, and a spring offensive against the South was planned. Union forces grew to 270,000 men who were anxious to “get on with it” as Elisha wrote on January 31, 1862.

“Mud, mud, mud. If I was the owner of this town I would sell it cheap. Will the mud never dry up so this army can move. I want to see service and I want the war over so that I can go home.”

In March Elisha was again promoted to Sergeant Major, “My elevation comes more as a result of exposure to war and remaining alive than to any military prowess.”

Beginning in April, 1862, Elisha became part of what was known as General George McClellan’s peninsula campaign, a long slow slog which was intended to eventually lead the Union Army to the Confederate Capital in Richmond, Virginia. They never made it. The Southern forces, which were greatly outnumbered, engaged in a tactical retreat that featured numerous quick assaults which devastated the Union troops they encountered. At Williamsburg, Elisha found himself in his second battle. Although considered a Union victory, Elisha wrote, “The field presented a horrible appearance, and in one spot I counted sixty dead bodies. But I thank God for this victory and may we have many more and so end this war.”

On May 20th, Elisha noted, “Richmond is just nine miles off. The Negroes are delighted to see us but the Whites look as if they would like to kill us.” Then on May 24th, he wrote, “We can see the spires of the churches in Richmond.”

Richmond was close and the troops knew it. Elisha wrote, “We can see the end, and we are ready.” But, General McClellan balked. Although he had more troops than his opponents, he continued to insist to President Lincoln that he was outnumbered and he refused to advance. His Brigade commanders began to call McClellan “the Virginia creeper” and Elisha noted, “We are not going to Richmond, I do not know why?”

Elisha Rhodes was always modest as he noted his advancement in the ranks. He was certainly a capable leader and was promoted again on July 24, 1862 to Second Lieutenant. “I am an officer, how I do not know. But I will do my duty to my leaders and my men.” And later, “It seems right that officers should rise through the ranks, for only such can sympathize with the private soldiers.”

In early September, Elisha’s unit did finally move, not toward Richmond, but to a place called Antietam Creek along with 95,000 other northern troops. They could hear the Confederates less than a mile away moving into positions. On the morning of September 17th, the fighting quickly became fierce. In one small section of the battle, Elisha found himself in a vast cornfield with bullets “sweeping the cornstalks and men dropping where they had moments before stood. I have never in my soldier’s life seen such a sight. The dead and wounded covered the ground.”

From his small vantage point, Elisha could not know that on that day, more Americans lost their lives than combined in the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812, the Indian Wars, and the Mexican War. And, to put the losses in perspective for our generations, twice as many men died that day than on D-Day in 1944. Antietam was, however, considered a victory for the Union, and gave President Lincoln the confidence to announce the Emancipation Proclamation.

Elisha’s next battle was at Fredericksburg, Virginia on December 11 when he wrote; “It was cold and there were no fires, we looked forward to the march. The air was filled with shot and shell flying over our heads but it was our boys firing into Fredericksburg. The rebels did not often reply but would at times land a shot into our side.” However, Elisha and his Generals were unaware that the Confederates let them into Fredericksburg and waited with superior positions on the hills outside of town. Fortunately for Elisha, his unit was not one of those ordered by General Burnside to take those hills. Nine thousand Union men were cut down by the Southern forces. The Confederate losses were about 5,000, however, many of those were not casualties but farm boys who deserted to go home for Christmas; most, but not all, came back.

Three weeks later, Elisha Rhodes wrote: “December 31. Well the year 1862 is drawing to a close. As I look back I am bewildered when I think of the hundreds of miles I have tramped, the thousands of dead and wounded. The year has not amounted to much as far as the war is concerned, but we hope for the best and feel sure that in the end the Union will be restored. Goodbye 1862.”

But January did not start any better. Union General Burnside tried to move troops along the northern bank of the frozen Rappahannock River near Falmouth, Virginia. Elisha wrote; “How I would like to have some of those ‘On to Richmond’ fellows out here with us in the snow.” And, “The wagons began to turn over and mules, tethered to the wagons, were drowned in the mud and water. The rebels put up a sign marked ‘Burnside stuck in the mud.’ We can fight the rebels but not in mud.” It was not just a soldier’s complaint as Burnside finally realized that the rebel sign was correct and decided to make camp until the weather improved.

“Feb 1. (1863) General Burnside was relieved today and General Hooker has taken command. A few more changes and I suppose the people North will think the war ended.”

And on February 10th, “I met some rebels today. Firing on pickets is forbidden by both sides and we went down to the river bank. (The rebels) kept up a stream of questions and their band played and we enjoyed the music.”

“March 12. I have been granted furlough.” Then on April 7th,“Back with my army duties. Homesickness cured, but another attack of it expected.”

“Apr 14,63. On picket duty at the river today. Saw fifty Rebels. They are anxious to get northern newspapers and asked but I declined as it is against orders. General Stonewall Jackson came down to the river bank today. Several rebel sentinels told us it was Gen. Jackson. We tipped our hats and they waved back. We could have shot him but we have an agreement that neither side will fire (at pickets), it is simple murder.”

“April 15. (1863) I have become a First Lieutenant and Adjutant of Company B. I believe I am suited to the tasks and can be of service to my men.” Elisha’s unit stayed encamped outside Fredericksburg, opposite a large Confederate force across the river commanded by Robert E. Lee and, as Elisha now knew, also led by General Thomas J. “Stonewall” Jackson whose reputation as a great General was well known among Union soldiers.

Then, on April 26, Elisha learned that Union General Hooker was dividing his forces, but had no idea of the purpose; he only knew his unit would remain in place near Fredericksburg with the river separating the two sides. In fact, Hooker intended to march the other half of his men around the Confederate position to surprise Lee’s army by attacking from a different direction. A week later, Elisha learned that those troops met disaster at a place called Chancellorsville where 15,000 Union soldiers were lost.

“Sun. May 3. I led my unit into the battle today across the river on pontoon boats. No losses today.”

“May 6. I shall be glad when this war is over and I can be civilized again. I do not like so much death and destruction.” He had just lost 15 men, 3 killed, 12 wounded.

In a bitter moment the next day, finally realizing that the Confederates had won the engagement at Chancellorsville and Fredericksburg, he wrote, “Too many men lost. For what? The men fought with valor. Do we not have the Generals?”

And, on May 12th he added, “Gen Stonewall Jackson is dead. Shot by mistake by one of his own pickets. That may help us but I do not rejoice at his death.”

In early June, Elisha’s unit was ordered to march northward out of Virginia into Pennsylvania, and assemble near the quiet town of Gettysburg.

It would not be quiet for long.

“July 1, 1863, I live another day but many did not. A shell burst over our heads, immediately followed by showers of iron. The flying iron struck some men down, about 30 men of our brigade were killed or wounded. We had not yet fired a shot.”

Elisha did later fire his weapon, many times that day, and for the next two days. Finally, the battles faded and Elisha had time to write as he realized that he had witnessed a great Union victory.

“July 4, 1863. Was ever the Nation’s Birthday celebrated in such a way before? I wonder what the South thinks of us Yankees now! I think Gettysburg will cure the rebels of any desire to invade the North again.”

Over the next few days, Elisha would learn that in the three days of fighting, casualties for the Union were over 23,000 killed, wounded or missing which was nearly a third of the men committed to the battle. Elisha did not yet know that the Confederate losses were 28,000 nearly half of Lee’s forces, and that Lee was rapidly retreating into Virginia.

Again, however, the Union Generals, now headed by George Meade, paused and did not pursue Lee’s decimated army and finish the fight. Elisha wrote: “Why do we stand down?”

The next nine months were relatively quiet for Elisha, his letters spoke of camps, short marches, a few skirmishes, but did not mention any casualties in his unit. He almost seemed bored.

On April 19, 1864, Elisha first saw General Ulysses S. Grant and wrote, “He is a short thick set man. I was a little disappointed in the appearance, but I like the look of his eye.”

Grant took 70,000 men, including Lieutenant Elisha Rhodes, further into Virginia to engage Lee’s Army. What followed was not so much a battle but four weeks of daily skirmishes, followed by occasional all out assaults.

The battles became known as the “Wilderness Campaign” and the “Battle of Cold Harbor.”

“June 20. Yesterday, Sergeant Polley showed me a board on which he had carved his name, date of birth and a place for date of death. I asked if he expected to be killed and he said no, that he had made it for fun. Today he was killed.”

Thousands had died in the four weeks but nothing was settled. Grant and Lee had only managed to weaken their armies. But, Elisha must have distinguished himself in those battles for on June 21, 1864 he was promoted to Captain and given command of his regiment. “This is an honor I cherish and a duty I accept. The men seem pleased.”

For Elisha, the rest of the war was dangerous, of course, but he did not find himself in any more pitched battles. On October 4, 1864 he wrote, “I fired my pistol today and my men fired their rifles, and I heard musket shot over us, but we only heard and did not clearly see any rebels. We seem to be chasing ghosts.”

In December he was promoted to Lt. Colonel (he did not mention any earlier promotion to Major) and on April 2, he was promoted to full Colonel, still in command of his regiment. He only noted these changes, without any elaboration.

“Saturday April 15. We cannot realize that President Lincoln is dead. I wept.” And, on the 16th Elisha added, “Could he not have lived to see the end of this war? We do not know the Vice President. We do know General Grant and he will see us through.”

The next two weeks, while the Union and Elisha mourned the death of President Lincoln, Southern leaders realized the hopelessness of their situation and their remaining forces began to surrender.

“April 28. The war is certainly over. The roads are full of Negroes and we told them they were free. An overseer ordered them back to work and they offered to work if paid. I do not know how the matter ended.”

Elisha had spent four years in the Union Army, mostly in Virginia, but he had crossed the Potomac and its tributaries over twenty times.

“July 9. Although I want to go home, yet I think of the separation from comrades some of whom I have known for more than four years, I cannot help feeling sad. I thank God that I have had the opportunity of serving my Country, freeing the slaves, and restoring the Union.”

And then, on July 13, 1865 he wrote simply;

“I am coming home.”

Colonel Elisha Hunt Rhodes was just 23 years old.

Contact the author at gadorris2@gmail.com

Blockade Runners - The South’s Lifeline (Article 31)

Among their legendary names were the “Denbigh”, the “Bermuda”, the “Calhoun”, the “Cecile”, the “Banshee” and over one thousand other ships with similar missions.  They were fast and they needed to be as they were the prey.  One writer called it “A most deadly game of hare and hounds” and the hounds were in the Union Navy, which rapidly became the largest naval force in the world.  And, the prey was the South’s lifeline.

 Soon after the start of the Civil War, the Union began a naval blockade of the major harbors in the Confederate states. The purpose was to disrupt the flow of war related materials into the South and restrict the export of goods (primarily cotton and rice) which Southern states needed to sell to foreign countries.  While the much smaller Confederate Navy occasionally tried to challenge the blockade, they were ineffective and, for the most part, the major ports remained restricted.

 So, a new industry was born!

 The Atlantic coastline of the Southern states from Virginia, around Florida, and along the Gulf of Mexico to New Orleans, had hundreds of smaller ports, simple docks, and river passages that became the lifeline for goods that needed shipped into and out of the South.  There were not enough Union war ships to cover every possible landing site. Supplies from Europe, Mexico, South America, and the Caribbean would be delivered to Cuba and the Bahamas by large ocean going cargo ships and then offloaded into smaller swift ships bound for these secondary southern ports. After avoiding the Union Navy and delivering the foreign cargo, they would then be loaded with exports and sail back to their Caribbean port.   

 In the English language, seldom does the same word describe both an object and give a designation to the person involved. However that is the case with “blockade runner” which describes both a specific type of ship used by the South in the Civil War and also is the name given to the sailors who manned the ship.

 The new ships were built in England, France and Spain and were designed to combine maximum speed with reasonable cargo capacity. Although some had sails, they were primarily powered by steam engines which usually drove a single large side mounted paddle-wheel, but occasionally ships had either two paddlewheels with one on each side or a propeller mounted in back. They were long (usually 125-200 feet,  narrow and with a shallow draft to offer less resistance in the water, some had an iron clad bow, and the ships were usually painted off white or dull gray to blend in with the sea and the horizon.  Of course, since the profits could be so high, many older ships were pressed into service as a blockade runner but often they were too slow or otherwise unsuited for the task and were easily captured or sunk by the Union Navy.

 One contemporary British observer wrote about the blockade runners who operated around the Charleston area. “The scheme involved two ships, one designed for the long and innocent voyage across the ocean and another in which every devise known was employed that could increase efficiency, speed, invisibility, certain space for stowage and to these qualities, and all others were sacrificed. In the latest vessels of this class speed was too much studied at the expense of strength, and some of them were disabled before they reached their cruising speed, and were worthless. For the blockade runner, the excitement of fighting was wanting as the ship could make no resistance, for as a rule, she was not prepared to make any, as a pound of arms meant one pound less of goods. He could choose his time for the final run and when the moment came was prepared for it; and his moments of action were followed by intervals of repose and relaxation. It is not without danger as the runner must hug close to the shore with the Blockader (Union Navy) on one side and the rocks of the coast on the other, with no light house or flares and only a good pilot to guide them. It is a most satisfactory business.”

 One blockade runner, the “Denbigh”, made so many successful runs that Confederate officials called her the “Packet” and the “Ghost”.

 Those who sailed these ships, were in a very risky business, but one for which they were handsomely paid. One writer wrote that the Captains had “The cunning of a fox, the patience of a Job, and the bravery of a Spartan warrior.” Another said, “They were driven by Pride, Patriotism, and Pocket; although not always in that priority.”

 The owners, Captains and sailors were also called blockade runners.  Most were not affiliated with the Confederate navy, but were pure capitalists (or profiteers as they were commonly called).  Some British Navy Captains even took a leave of absence to reap the large rewards paid by ship owners for only a few voyages.  While some Captains were given “official papers” by the Confederate government or by a southern state, such documentation was primarily for use when transacting business in a foreign port or if they encountered a Confederate naval vessel. The documents were of absolutely no help if the blockade runner was unfortunate enough to be engaged by the Union Navy, in which case the ship would be seized, or sunk, the cargo confiscated and the sailors arrested. The owners considered such loss simply a cost of doing business and reflected the risk in their prices. However, because their newest ships had been specifically designed to be faster and more maneuverable than war-ships, even when detected the blockade runner often escaped.

 The risk of loss, however, was not limited to capture by the Union Navy. More blockade runners were actually lost as they tried to navigate into the smaller ports without the benefit of lighthouses and channel buoys; often ending up aground on shoals or broken up when dashed upon rocks in storms.

 At one time in 1864, it is estimated that nearly 1,000 specifically built or re-fitted ships were plying the southern Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico as blockade runners.  Records show that over 200 such ships were captured or floundered, but most historians believe the number was much higher.

 The blockade runners (the ships and the men) were initially employed to bring needed munitions to the Confederate armies. For example over 600,000 rifles, 200,000 pistols, 2,000 cannon and numerous swords (which were still a weapon of choice for officers during the Civil War) were delivered from European manufactures. Many of the ship Captains also ran a personal business of supplying luxury items to discerning, and wealthy, Southerners; some of whom created or maintained their wealth by selling the imported goods at very high prices to their government and their neighbors. One Captain reported on a single voyage bringing in 100 cases of French champagne, 200 bolts of fine silk, 10 cases of hair dye, 50 sets of English china, and “too much silver serving pieces to count.”  The outbound run from the Confederate states was also wildly profitable as cotton could be sold in England for 10-20 times more that it had cost to buy from the Southern cotton brokers.

 To the people of the South, the blockade runners were romanticized as heroes, although most were driven by money and not by ideology. Mary Chesnut, the famous Civil War diarist wrote: “An iron steamer has run the blockade at Savannah. We raise our wilted heads like flowers after a shower.”  And, in Margaret Mitchell’s “Gone with the Wind,” Rhett Butler was a blockade runner and she accurately portrayed their prevailing attitude by having Butler scoff at both the idealism of the Confederacy and the ineptitude of the “Yankees” to catch him; while he grew rich from the trade.

 However, it was not always so easy.

 When a ship was captured, and many were, whether on an import or export leg, the value of both the vessel and the cargo were a total loss for the owner. Occasionally, ships that were destroyed on the rocks due to a storm or to imprecise navigation were also total losses. However, not all shipwrecks were accidental. There were instances in which a Captain of a blockade runner, being pursued by the Union Navy, would intentionally run his ship onto the shore near where he was to meet his Confederate associates; who would then quickly offload the cargo and usually burn the ship.  These cases could still be profitable for the owner as the cargo was often worth more than the ship; and he could replace the vessel with the profits.

 Despite their daring, and their ability to maneuver past the Union navy, the blockade runners could not move enough goods to save the South.

 For many years before the Civil War, the South had built an efficient mercantile business trading cotton and rice to Europe in return for manufactured goods. However, this business model worked against the South during the war as their production of agricultural goods for export dramatically declined and, because they had always depended upon imported finished goods, they had built very little manufacturing capability. As the Southern revenues from exports declined, the cost of imports such as clothing, farm implements, and especially weaponry, rapidly accelerated. The Confederacy went deeper into debt, over-expanded their currency and their entire economy gradually collapsed. The blockade runners could only slow, but not prevent, the downward spiral. 

 In the last few months of the war, far fewer blockade runners were active. First, the Southern merchants and Confederate government could no longer afford to acquire the imports, nor could they deliver exports; so the ship owners moved their operations to more profitable waters.

 Simply put, the business of blockade running had run its course.

Contact the author at  gadorris2@gmail.com

Lincoln and the Press (Articles 29 & 30)

PART 1: Earlier Years

Most politicians today have a love-hate relationship with the press. Early in their careers they love to gain the name recognition that press coverage brings and the opportunity to get their message (sometimes a changing message) out to the voters. But they hate criticism of their positions and at times (almost unanimously) feel the press is unfair.

 Not much has changed in the last 150 years!

 Abraham Lincoln and the press had a “love” relationship from about 1831 until 1860, which was followed by a sometimes tumultuous “hate” relationship. When he was younger, Lincoln was an avid reader of the few books available to him, but the various newspapers, which found their way into his rural central Illinois area, were his primary source of reading material. Newspapers were the mass media of the day, handed down to many readers beyond the original recipient and usually posted on community bulletin boards. His step-mother recalled that his first published letter was on the “evils of drink,” written when he was nineteen, which a friend had forwarded to a popular journal.  Over the next few years, Lincoln wrote other short essays and humorous stories which also were reprinted in area newspapers. As a young man, he became a part-time postmaster and said that the best part of the job was that he was able to read all of the newspapers meant for his neighbors. His first “letter to the editor” to espouse a political point was published in the Springfield, Illinois Sangamo Journal on March 15,1832, in which he supported dredging the Sangamon River to make it navigable. Was it just happenstance that he intended to run for a seat in the Illinois House of Representatives later that year? 

 Some authors think not.

 In 2014,  Harold Holzer, a respected historian of the Civil War, published  “Lincoln and the Power of the Press” in which he claimed that Lincoln cleverly used the newspapers, first in Springfield,  then later throughout Illinois and other northern states, for over twenty-five years to build a constituency for his future political ambitions. Holzer wrote that Lincoln was able to lead the editors and publishers to support his candidacy and his political positions, when they might have otherwise not done so. He further asserts that, after Lincoln won the Republican nomination for President in 1860, his manipulations became more frequent and pronounced; and then as President, when persuasion would not work, he intensified efforts to control and censor the press.

 Holzer is generally favorable to Lincoln and opines that he showed restraint when some politicians called for extensive censorship during the Civil War.  But, as always occurs after a new “Lincoln” theory is postulated, a herd of other writers and commentators joined in the fray and began to sensationalize the issue.  A frequent charge was that Lincoln consistently abused his Presidential power in a methodical attack on freedom of the press. Some of these other authors, but not Holzer, even confuse Lincoln’s several suspensions of Habeas Corpus (the right to hear charges in a court) during the Civil War with the separate issue of Freedom of the Press. In fact, Lincoln intervened in several cases where northern politicians and Union Generals tried to ignore Habeas Corpus to control opposition press; and never ordered the suspension of this fundamental right specifically directed at the management or reporters of a newspaper.

 Holzer was at least partially correct about Lincoln’s relationship with the press, but the more vehement  authors were further off-base. While some of Lincoln’s actions later in his political career show that he knew how to use the press to his own advantage, it is un-historic to claim that, as a young man, Lincoln had any machiavellian motive for his frequent letters and articles to the press. On the other hand, Lincoln might be reasonably characterized as “managing” the press after 1854 during his campaigns for the U.S. Senate and the 1860 Presidential race. And, after the Civil War began, he did take actions (or failed to take action) that at least opens the door to charges of manipulation of the press. When discussing Lincoln’s relationship with the press, the words “used, managed, and/or manipulated” are distinctions, not just semantics.

 In his twenties, Abraham Lincoln was very intelligent, but he was not a prophet who foresaw his political future. When he began to regularly write letters to newspapers, he was living in tiny New Salem, a few miles from Springfield.  He was working as a store clerk, surveyor and part time postmaster and he was still undecided on a career. At the time he certainly had no national political aspirations; he just enjoyed the interpersonal exchanges, both accolades and criticisms, which resulted from his letters.  Encouraged by friends and neighbors, he became interested in politics and, after a failed attempt in 1832, won four consecutive elections to the Illinois House of Representatives. In 1837 he moved to Springfield to begin his law career and, for the first time, he lived in a community with a local newspaper and he became a regular contributor to the four- page Sangamo Journal.  Lincoln recognized that newspapers gave him an opportunity to express his ideas to a larger audience whether he wanted to weave a humorous tale, offer an opinion on an issue of the day, or satirize a politician. While the publication of his letters and articles provided name recognition which helped politically, it was even more valuable to Lincoln in building his new law practice; the primary financial resource for him and his family. 

 Springfield, which was the county seat and soon would become the State Capital, consistently had a least two newspapers. These competing publications provided national news a few days after the events, reports of local interest, advertisements, articles meant to entertain, space for letters to the editor, and political commentary.

 Especially, political commentary!

 Almost all newspapers were extremely partisan publications which touted the candidates and causes for which they approved and eviscerated the opposition. Truth was only an occasional and frequently an unintentional by-product. However, even opposition papers often published Lincoln’s  letters and essays because most were humorous as he thought that a “light hearted jab did not sting as much” and he frequently poked fun at himself.

 After his fourth term as a state legislator, during which he was Speaker of the House, Lincoln chose to leave office to focus on his law practice. Although he did not run for office for another five years, he consistently sent letters on many subjects to the newspapers; which at least puts a dent in the theory that he consistently used the press for political gain.

 But, in 1846, he said “I again had the political itch and I had to scratch it” so he decided to run for a seat in the U.S. House of Representatives; despite the fact that his party did not hold a majority in his district. In an interesting twist, the incumbent unexpectedly announced his resignation to join the U.S. Army in anticipation of a war with Mexico and Lincoln was approached by several publishers who offered to support him for a direct interim appointment to Congress. Although it would have been a quicker and easier path to Congress, Lincoln declined because he thought he should win or lose in his own race. So much for manipulation of the press!

 During his campaign for Congress Lincoln continued to write letters to newspapers in his district, however, his letters, and printed speeches, probably cost him some votes as he frequently expressed his concerns about President Polk’s war with Mexico. He told friends that he realized that he was “swimming upstream” but thought “the people should know where I stand” on the war and “President Polk’s land grab” in Mexico.  Although he won the election, his constituency was shrinking because the War was popular with most Americans. Then, once he was seated in Congress, he became a vociferous critic of the War, and even opposed the surrender terms after the American victory; further depleting his base of support.

 If, as some authors claim, his letters to newspapers were calculated to boost his political opportunities, then Lincoln made a catastrophic error! His correspondence with newspapers and Congressional votes related to the war with Mexico certainly cost him any chance for re-election.  He chose to not run for a second term and he would not run for political office for another five years. Again, hardly a good example of manipulation of the press!

 But, his flow of correspondence to newspapers never waned. His topics often included political issues, support for public works projects within Illinois, the benefits of railroad expansion, and generally favored Whig politicians over their Democrat opponents; and, of course, the occasional fictional “yarn” from his lively imagination.

 He was most profound, however, when addressing the attempts in Congress in 1850 and 1854 to reach compromises with Southern states on the issue of expansion of slavery. While Lincoln accepted that slavery was permitted under the Constitution in certain states, he was adamantly opposed to the admission of slavery into the western states and northwestern territories.  By 1854, his letters and speeches on the matter were widely covered by many newspapers in both the North and South. It is during this time when he developed a plan to use the newspapers to further his political career; but even then, his grandest hope was to become a U.S. Senator from Illinois or possibly Governor; but certainly not President of the United States.

 At least not yet!

 Therefore, if the clock starts at 1854-1855, those authors may be justified who claim Lincoln “used” or “managed” (but not yet “manipulated”) the press to advance his political career. 

 Part 2 explores his evolving attitudes about managing news coverage after 1856 and some of his more forceful actions as President after 1861, which might rationally be referred to by some as “manipulation” of the press.

Part 2: Becoming President

 In 2014, Harold Holzer published “Lincoln and the Power of the Press” suggesting that Lincoln, from the time he wrote a letter to the Sangamon Journal in 1831, methodically used newspapers for over twenty five years to build a constituency for his future political ambitions to become the Illinois Governor, Senator, Vice President, or even President.  Holzer, and other writers who subsequently jumped on the bandwagon (and gravy train), assert that Lincoln was able to get editors and publishers to promote his agenda through friendship, flattery, and even political favors. Further, they claim that after he won the Republican nomination for president in 1860, his manipulations became more frequent and pronounced; then as President, when persuasion did not work, he intensified efforts to control, intimidate, and censor the press. While Holzer tends to give Lincoln credit for some restraint during a violent Civil War, and gives him a generally favorable overview, other writers level more serious, and spurious, charges.

 On the other hand, most Lincoln scholars believe that he had no preconceived notion to use the press to further his political objectives until at least 1854.  For the most part, he simply enjoyed interaction with the press; whether by letters to editors which were published and would often result in a dialogue, or by personal interviews with reporters, editors, and publishers.

 But, by 1854, things did change. Lincoln realized that his rapport with many newspapers provided him with a forum to express his opposition to the expansion of slavery, and could be helpful as he planned to again run for office after a seven year hiatus. Then, as President, he intensified his efforts to manage newspaper coverage of events during the Civil War, providing credence to the charge that he “manipulated” the press. 

 What were these circumstances that began Lincoln’s evolution from simply enjoying the banter with the press, to then utilizing the press to enhance his political opportunities and further his objectives for public policy, and finally to consider interference with the press?

 By 1850, the differences over the issue of slavery began to cause serious unrest throughout the country. Some wanted slavery abolished, others (like Lincoln) wanted it controlled to the limited number of states authorized under the Constitution, and some wanted it not only preserved but expanded to other states and territories. Lincoln abhorred slavery and, in 1854, began to use the public forums he had gained in newspapers over the past 25 years to articulate his opposition to Congressional compromises that would permit the expansion of slavery.

 Also, seven years after his last campaign, he began to think about re-entering politics.

 In 1854, the first evidence surfaced that Lincoln planned to cultivate editors and publishers who would be proponents for his future campaigns, rather than just publish his public policies. After announcing that he would switch to the new Republican Party, Lincoln called on Joseph Medill, owner/publisher of the Chicago Tribune, who believed that Lincoln could convince members of the dying Whig Party to become Republicans. After his successful alliance with Medill, the Tribune ran numerous articles promoting Lincoln and his political positions and he even used offices at the newspaper when he was in Chicago.  And, over the next four years Lincoln cultivated relationships with other prominent editors and publishers as he made a concerted effort to win the 1858 appointment as the United States Senator from Illinois.  Although the Democrat party held a majority in the Illinois Legislature, which would make the Senatorial appointment, Lincoln garnered enough votes from non-Republicans to make the selection close; but he still lost to Stephen A. Douglas.

 However, he emerged from that race with positive national exposure due to the public interest in the Lincoln-Douglas debates, and renewed his efforts for a run for Governor or the next Senate appointment in 1860. To capitalize on the exposure, he regularly sent excerpts from the debates and related speeches to newspapers throughout the North, and he financially helped publish a best-selling book about the debates. After his acclaimed speech in opposition to slavery at Cooper Union in New York City in early 1860, Lincoln assured that the text was provided to newspapers throughout the northern states.

 Generally, until he won the Republican nomination for President in June 1860, newspapers in the north were favorable to Lincoln even if they endorsed one of the perceived stronger Republican candidates.  Many thought his life story was quaint and would be interesting to their readers, but that he could not win the nomination. However, after his nomination, there was a discernable change in reporting of his speeches, editorial replies to his letters, and observations by publishers of newspapers aligned with the Republican Party; especially if the paper had strongly endorsed another candidate for the nomination, as almost all did.

 His honeymoon with the press was over!

 Now began what one recent author titled “Lincoln’s War for Public Opinion” and what another, with all of the hyperbole he could muster, called “Lincoln’s assault on the freedom of the press.” And, it is at this period of time (1860-1861) to which those authors who are critical of Lincoln’s relationship with the press can point with some reason to question his motives.

 Lincoln embarked on a concerted effort to affect the manner in which newspapers covered his candidacy and then, after he won the election, intensified his effort to manage the press. Among other steps, he invested in a German language newspaper to support his candidacy, and he began to single out certain newspapers for interviews that he expected would lead to favorable commentary in the press.

 President Lincoln never held a formal news conference. He preferred to meet individually with reporters, almost always in the presence of one of his secretaries or a Cabinet member. He would also allow reporters to stop by the White House and, if he had the time, would permit a quick meeting; if not, the reporter could jot down a few questions and Lincoln would usually reply within the same day. But this was not just a courtesy to the press.  Lincoln said he usually gained more information than he gave since reporters often had received telegraphed news even before he received official reports.

 He also offered certain reporters and publishers favored access to the White House and in return, he expected his administration’s policies would receive positive mention in their papers. Early in his Presidency Lincoln sought to reward John Forney, publisher of the both the Philadelphia Press and the Washington based Sunday Morning Chronicle for a continuing stream of favorable commentary. Forney was not only given a position as “Secretary” for the Republican Caucus in Congress, but his newspapers received regular payments for advertising by the State Department and War Department. Lincoln even occasionally wrote a “position paper” which would appear first in Forney’s publications. Was this good management of the press or was it manipulation?

In another instance, Lincoln became aggravated by New York Tribune publisher Horace Greeley’s constant insistence that Lincoln give abolition an equal standing with preservation of the Union as reason for continuing the Civil War. After several vicious editorials, the President finally agreed to provide Greely with a definitive statement on the matter.  Greeley considered that he had won a concession from the President and announced in his paper that he had demanded a clarification statement and that Lincoln had conceded. Lincoln then wrote the famous letter in which he said (paraphrased) that his primary goal was the Preservation of the Union and that if he could save the Union by freeing every slave, or only freeing some slaves, or even by freeing no slaves, he would do it. Then late on a Saturday, Lincoln sent the original to Greeley and a copy to the Washington National Intelligencer.  Lincoln knew that Greeley did not publish on Sunday but the Intelligencer did, so the “scoop” that Greely wanted was printed a day earlier in Washington and in all New York papers on Monday.  Lincoln’s actions might be considered “manipulation” by some; but others believe that the egotistical Greeley got what he deserved.

 There is sometimes a fine line between Presidential recognition and perceived patronage. During his re-election campaign of 1864, Lincoln reached out to James Gordon Bennett, publisher of the very influential New York Herald, who had been highly critical of Lincoln’s conscription policies. Lincoln still thought Bennett was honorable and respected Bennett’s world understanding. Through an intermediary, Lincoln asked if Bennett would consider becoming Ambassador to France, an offer that was intended as a show of respect and to let Bennett know that Lincoln harbored no ill feelings. Bennett graciously declined and the episode resulted in at least respectful relations between the two men. However, the offer became an embarrassment to Lincoln and Bennett when it was leaked to other newspapers which then nearly unanimously called it a pay-off for favorable editorials. Some consider that the episode was a failed attempt by Lincoln at manipulation of the press; but was it? 

 As President, he did not always have to become personally involved in press management, as he had a ready supply of surrogates. His Generals frequently refused to cooperate with the press and some even detained reporters and publishers. Lincoln quietly supported some but reigned in others. General William Tecumseh Sherman had little tolerance for the press, once saying that he hated “men who will not take a musket and fight, but will follow an army to pick up news for sale.” Sherman even convened a court-martial to try Thomas Knox, a reporter from the New York Herald who had told the General to his face that he “led with insanity and inefficiency” on the battlefield. The court convicted Knox of the minor infraction of “Accompanying the army without permission” and Sherman’s only available punishment was to thereafter ban Knox from his command. Lincoln, not wanting to embarrass one of his top Generals, waited a few weeks to pardon Knox, but asked the Herald to keep him away from Sherman.

 There were numerous instances in which Union Generals suppressed newspapers in captured Southern territory, but those can be justified as war measures in enemy territory.  However, there were also several editors and publishers in Northern states who railed against the draft, criticized specific military action, or even disclosed sensitive military tactical plans to the point that local Union commanders considered the comments inflammatory and a danger to either their troops or to public order. In every instance, except one, when such a situation occurred in the North, Lincoln ordered the Commander to cease the censorship preferring to “let the people decide which way to go” as he thought that the “cure was worse than the disease.”

But there was one instance in which Lincoln directly ordered the closure of a northern newspaper. Since mid-1863, New York City had been a hotbed of draft resistance with large scale riots resulting in several thousand injuries and hundreds of deaths, and federal troops had been required to restore order.  On May18th, 1864, the New York World fabricated a story, even forging Lincoln’s signature on a fake proclamation, which declared a new draft for up to 400,000 troops. Public outrage was immediate and dangerous. Lincoln responded the following day in telegraphs to all New York papers in which he called the story false, wicked, traitorous, treasonous, and provided aid to the enemy. But the World not only repeated the concocted story, but added other “invented” material and, as a result, Lincoln ordered the publisher arrested and the newspaper prevented from any further publication. Lincoln later said that he never regretted the decision because New York had been the scene of terrible rioting initiated by opponents of the draft and he saw the fabricated proclamation as incendiary.

 Lincoln didn’t mind so much if newspaper articles were critical of him personally. However, he was concerned if an article attacked his decisions as Commander-in Chief as either too cautious or, contrarily, as too aggressive; and he would occasionally issue an open letter that he knew would be published in many newspapers. For example, he quickly and forcefully responded when several publishers attempted to sway public opinion to support a so-called Unilateral Peace Initiative, which called for an end to the war but left the Confederate states as an independent nation. Lincoln was committed to re-unification of the country, and thought the proposal suggested that the sacrifices of hundreds of thousands of soldiers would have been in vain.  In this case, Lincoln had the support of most Northern newspapers so he only had to “suggest” that those loyal publishers point out the folly of such a settlement.

 In my opinion, Lincoln did not begin to manipulate the press as a young man to promote his political ambitions, he just enjoyed the process. And later in life he generally used his rapport with newspaper publishers to place his political views, and his candidacy, before the citizens; which might, at worst, be called press management.

 However, many Lincoln scholars (and I) share the view that some of his actions when he was President are more difficult to defend. So, as President, did he appropriately manage, or inappropriately manipulate (even coerce), the press? Under the circumstances, were his actions justified, or not?

 The answers are not so easy, but I give him the benefit of the doubt.

 Contact the author at  gadorris2@gmail.com

The Diary of Mary Chesnut (Article 28)

Every day she would write something in her diary. She might mention her activities, a comment or message from her husband, or an update on a family member or friend; but most days she wrote about the people of Charleston, South Carolina and her observations about her new country, The Confederate States of America.

And her country was at War!

Mary Boykin Chesnut left us a treasure; her diary! While most memoirs and written recollections from the Civil War period emphasize military strategies, information about battles, or focus on famous individuals, Mary Chestnut had a different interest. In her words we can see the growing dissatisfaction of the Southern aristocrats and politicians with the United States government, then the exuberance of the citizenry at the secession of South Carolina and the formation of the new Confederate nation, next their pride in early military victories, later the gradual realization of the tremendous toll the war brought in lives lost and human suffering, and then the agony as they realized their cause was lost. Some of her passages are found below.

Mary’s father had been a Governor of South Carolina and the family lived primarily in Charleston where they were served by household slaves. Mary attended the city’s best finishing school where she became fluent in French and German and began a life-long interest in writing.

At seventeen she married James Chesnut, a successful lawyer and emerging politician who became a U.S. Senator in 1858. However, in December, 1860 James became the first Senator to resign his seat after South Carolina seceded and he became an officer in the state’s militia; and a few months later was commissioned into the Confederate army.

James had grown up on a large plantation called “Mulberry” near Camden, South Carolina where his father owned over 500 slaves. Although her family and her husband’s family owned slaves, Mary was not silent about her belief that slavery demeaned the other positive aspects of Southern heritage and culture. She once wrote to a friend, “Can we not, with the great minds in the South, find some way to end this (slavery), it breeds hypocrisy.” And noting that some slave owners took advantage of female slaves, she added, “It undermines the sanctity of marriage. God forgive us, but ours is a monstrous system.”

James, on the other hand, believed slavery was a god-given right, and a legal right in the United States; however, he only periodically personally owned any slaves, and then usually as butlers and housekeepers. James and Mary must have had some interesting conversations as she was known for speaking her mind, of course within the genteel courtesies of the day.

In late 1860, when South Carolina became the first Southern state to secede from the Union and her husband resigned from the United States Senate, Mary began a new dairy in which she recorded her daily thoughts for the next five years. These are only a few excerpts.

On South Carolina’s secession and knowing other states would follow: “It has come to this. We are divorced, North and South, because we hate each other so. Or so it seems. Are not my old friends still my friends?”

While Mary believed slavery was wrong, she was still devoted to the South and supported South Carolina’s Secession Declaration: “We (South Carolina) should not have to leave the United States but we must. The Northern people can be our friends but the (U.S.) government is no friend of South Carolina.”

They often stayed at the plantation his father owned and they had their own home in Charleston. However, in early 1861 her husband, by then a Major in the state militia, obtained rooms for them on the top floor of a hotel which overlooked Charleston Harbor; so that he would be close to his garrison. Mary was keenly aware that Southern forces intended to take over all Federal facilities in and around the city and the harbor and had already forced the evacuation of several forts and docks. Mary and her husband were personally acquainted with Major Robert Anderson, the officer in charge of the last Union contingent that remained in the area. New Union President Abraham Lincoln needed to decide whether Anderson and his U.S. Army troops should abandon Charleston Harbor, or remain and make a stand in one of the forts. If the Union forces stayed, it would probably mean War!

Mary hoped Anderson's troops would just leave but on April 2, 1861 she wrote, “Why did that green goose Anderson go into Fort Sumter?”

Mary not only had a front row seat to the drama unfolding in the harbor, she had a very personal involvement. Her husband had been one of three Southern officers to row out to the Fort to meet with Major Anderson to offer an ultimatum; surrender or be attacked! She must have been very anxious as she waited the outcome.

She only had to wait until early on the morning of April 12. “At the heavy booming of cannon, I sprang out of bed, and on my knees, I prayed as I have never prayed before. There was a sound of stir all over the house, pattering of feet in the corridor-all seemed hurrying.” Mary then went to rooftop and noticed, “The women were wild, they prayed while the men stood yelling their encouragement to the gunners.” Then on a more personal note she wrote, “I knew my husband was rowing about in a boat somewhere in that dark bay, and who could tell what each volley accomplished of death and destruction.”

Mary’s husband survived the battle, the Union soldiers left Charleston Harbor, and the Confederates moved into Fort Sumter. Charleston settled back into daily routines, but Mary was pensive. “And so we fool on, into the black cloud ahead of us.” A few days later she added, “This Southern Confederacy must be supported now by calm determination and cool brains. We have risked all and we must play our best, for the state is life or death. Woe to those who began the war if they were not in bitter earnest.”

She noted the excitement and optimism in Charleston where most believed that the South would quickly win the War. “Charleston is crowded with soldiers, the new ones are running in. They fear the war will be over before they get sight of the fun.” And about a dinner she and her husband hosted: “We enjoyed the merriest, maddest dinner we have had yet. The men were more audaciously wise and witty than usual” and she added, “For once in my life I listened.”

She observed Confederate soldiers going off to fight with their servants: “A gentleman took his manservant with him to clean his boots, polish his sword and forage for rations.”

She also noted the haphazard start by her new Confederate government: “The new government is off to a shaky start.” And, “There is a perfect magazine of discord and discontent in that (Jefferson Davis) cabinet. It only wants a hand to apply a torch and up they go.”

She visited Richmond after the Confederates won the first battle at Bull Run (which most Southerners called Manassas): “The city seemed lifted up, and everyone appeared to walk on air.” A few days after the Manassas battle she noted that a friend in Washington DC had written this in a letter to Mary: “We (the Confederate Army) might have walked into Washington any day for a week after Manassas, such was the consternation and confusion there.”

The Union soon imposed a naval blockade at all major Southern ports, so delivery of imported goods became erratic. To avoid capture, ships had to "run the blockade" and then could usually only deliver the goods to remote coastal docks. Their arrivals caused a profound change in mood: “An iron steamer has run the blockade at Savannah. We raise our wilted heads like flowers after a shower.”

The Southern Press seemed to run unfettered throughout the war, printing attacks on the Confederate government, detailing troop movements, and providing opinions on the effectiveness of prospective military plans. “The north does not need spies - for our own newspapers tell every word there is to be told by friend or foe.”

In April 1862, the Union Naval and Army forces captured New Orleans, the South’s largest city and most important port: “New Orleans gone-and with it the Confederacy? Are we not cut in two? That Mississippi ruins us if lost”

In late September 1862, Abraham Lincoln published the Emancipation Proclamation, to become effective on January 1, 1863: “If anything can reconcile me to the idea of a horrid failure after all of our efforts to make good our independence of Yankees, it is Mr. Lincoln’s proclamation freeing the Negroes. There is no turning back now, slavery will surely end.” Several days later she added, “Three hundred of Mr. Walter Blake’s Negroes have gone to the Yankees.” And later, “Some fear the Negroes will riot, but I think most will not-they also want peace.”

As the Confederate military situation worsened, so did the political climate: “The Confederacy has been beaten to death by the politicians”. And: “It is like a Greek tragedy, where you know what the outcome is bound to be.” And a bit later: “If it is as the newspapers say, why waste our blood? Why should we fight and die when it is no use?”

As did many women in both North and South, Mary volunteered time at local hospitals to care for wounded soldiers. “Who are these southern boys, sometimes I can barely understand the language they speak, except suffering always sounds the same.” And, “The boys just want to go home but I know many will not see their mothers again, so I wash their faces and pray with them.” And, “The wounds of war are so harsh, perhaps the dead are better.”

And, then as Union forces began their advances throughout the South: “The dreadful work of death is beginning again.” And, “The deep waters are closing over us.”

As General Sherman’s Union troops advanced on Atlanta in late 1864, they left a wide path of destruction: “They say no living thing is found in Sherman’s track, only chimneys and telegraph poles to carry the news of his attacks backwards.” A few weeks later: “Our all depends on that Army at Atlanta. If that fails us, the game is up.” Then, after the fall of Atlanta: “The agony is over. There is no hope, but we will try to have no fear.”

After Christmas of 1864: “Darkest of all Decembers ever my life has known, sitting here by the embers stunned, helpless, alone.”

As the war dragged on, the deprivations grew worse for all southerners: “I daily part with my raiment for food. We find no one who will exchange wearables for Confederate money. So, we are devouring our clothes.”

On Lincoln’s assassination: “This is dreadful. Who caused this calamity, for we will all be blamed.” A few days later: “What will the Yankees do to us now? Will retributions begin?”

In one of her final entries after the surrender of the last large Southern army: “We are scattered, stunned, the remnant of heart left alive is filled with brotherly hate. Whose fault? Everybody blames someone else. Only the dead heroes left stiff and dark on the battlefield escape.”

After the War, Mary stopped writing daily in her diary. She and her husband returned to his family plantation in Camden only to find that the house had been vandalized, food crops and livestock had been stolen, and the cotton fields had been burned: so they settled back into a life far different than they had known before the war. James reopened his law practice but, in the devastated southern economy, there were few clients who could pay for his services.

Mary spent the last few years of her life organizing her papers with the intention of writing a historical narrative of the Civil War, including recollections from notes she had kept that were not originally in the diary. When her husband died in 1885, Mary was left to live in near poverty, and subsisted only with care provided by a few former slaves. She died at age 63 in 1886.

She had not finished her memoir.

(Fortunately, Mary’s relatives found and preserved her diaries and notes. Over the next century several renditions of Mary’s diary were published, however, most included inaccurate annotations and fictional entries. However, in 1981, C. Van Woodward wrote “Mary Chesnut’s Civil War Diary” which won a Pulitzer Prize. It is still the most historically accurate version and the only one I recommend.)

Contact the author at gadorris2@gmail.com

At the Crossroads - Winfield Scott and Robert E. Lee (Article 27)

By early April, 1861, newly inaugurated President Abraham Lincoln knew that he would probably face a civil war and that he would need a military commander who was absolutely loyal to the Union cause and capable of forming, training, and then leading, a very large army against Southern forces

The current senior commander of military forces, General Winfield Scott was a Virginia native, a lawyer by training, and a highly decorated officer who received honors for gallantry in the War of 1812 and the Mexican War and had served as an able administrator when peace prevailed. However, Scott informed Lincoln that, at age 75, he was suffering from several disabling ailments and that he could not provide the vigorous military leadership his country would require. Lincoln appreciated the General’s honest self-assessment of his limitations but now needed to quickly designate a new commanding General; but who?

Some of the most experienced senior military officers in the U.S. Army had already resigned their commissions and had joined either Southern militias or the newly formed Confederate Army; and Lincoln suspected that there were other officers who might also defect if hostilities broke out. Although General Scott was proud of his Southern heritage, he opposed secession and Lincoln believed he could rely on Scott to recommend a new Commander who would be loyal to the Union and be a proven military leader. Equally important, Scott could help identify other officers still in the U.S. Army who might be sympathetic to the Confederacy.

Scott’s first choice as his replacement was also a Virginian whose career he had closely followed, a graduate of the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, a decorated hero of the Mexican War, and an exceptional administrative leader who had served in several significant peacetime assignments. Further, Scott was aware that his nominee, like himself, had expressed opposition to secession and both men had voiced misgivings about the moral implications of slavery.

Scott recommended Colonel Robert E. Lee.

Lee was the son of “Light Horse” Harry Lee, a hero of the Revolutionary War who had also been a Governor, a Congressman, and before Robert’s birth, a reasonably wealthy plantation owner and slaveholder. Harry Lee had been a close confidant of George Washington and uttered the famous line at Washington’s funeral, “First in War, First in Peace, and First in the hearts of his countrymen.” However, Harry was a risk-taker who made several poor choices later in his life and deserted his family when Robert was only a small boy, leaving the family in a precarious financial situation. Robert’s mother made sure the children understood that their father’s finest moments were in service to his country and young Robert noticed that the public, while not overlooking Harry’s later transgressions, still showed respect for his contributions to the founding of the United States. Robert decided upon a military career early in life and, between his father’s service and his mother’s family connections, Robert gained an appointment to the U.S. Military Academy. He became an exceptional cadet at West Point, graduated near the top of his class, and excelled both in military tactics and in his academic engineering program.

Robert E. Lee thrived as a U.S. Army officer. As a Captain in the war with Mexico, Lee was highly decorated for heroic service while serving under General Scott. Then, after that war, Scott recognized Lee’s engineering skills and arranged for Lee to lead several important large scale national public works projects; a major role for Army engineers at the time.

Although Lee did not grow up in a wealthy home, his family still enjoyed a certain societal status and he gained additional trappings of Southern aristocracy when he married Mary Custis; the step-granddaughter of George Washington. Robert and his wife lived just across the Potomac River from Washington DC in a stately mansion on the Custis plantation at Arlington, Virginia. Certainly Colonel Lee was considered a favored son of Virginia.

General Scott told Lincoln about Lee’s family background, his reputation as a military leader, and the administrative skills he had shown in his peace time assignments. Lincoln was already aware that a year earlier Colonel Lee had led a contingent of U.S. troops in a successful attack to regain control of the Federal Munitions Arsenal at Harper’s Ferry from the forces of abolitionist John Brown; who had seized the arsenal to gain weapons for use in a planned large scale slave revolt. Lee’s quick tactical assault had prevented the dispersal of the weapons and led to the capture of Brown.

Lincoln was impressed.

The President agreed with General Scott’s recommendation and decided to send an emissary to Arlington to offer Colonel Lee the rank of General and the command of all Union forces. They chose Preston Blair, a founder of the Republican Party and respected political insider, who was well acquainted with Lee. Blair, who had been born in Virginia, now resided in Maryland, a slave state which had decided to not join the Confederacy but remain in the Union. At the time, all four men, Lincoln, Scott, Blair and even Lee had some hope that Virginia would make the same decision as Maryland and not secede.

Meanwhile, events were rapidly escalating between the dis-satisfied southern states and the federal government; and before Blair could meet with Lee, Confederate forces fired on Fort Sumter on April 12, 1861.

Since Virginia had not yet seceded from the Union, Blair urgently made his way to Arlington hoping to get a commitment from Colonel Lee to continue to serve the Union. While the two men had a polite conversation, Lee declined the offer with an eloquent explanation which Blair reported to Scott and Lincoln and which Lee repeated in a letter he wrote that evening to his sister. Lee said, “I look upon secession as anarchy. And, if I owned every slave in the South I would sacrifice them all to save the Union. But, how can I draw my sword upon Virginia, my native state. I will retire to my home in Virginia and share the miseries of my people and, save in defense of Virginia, will draw my sword on no one.”

The portion of Lee’s response about not drawing his sword against Virginia is often quoted (rightly so) as his reason for choosing the Confederacy. However, his comments on secession as anarchy, the release of slaves to save the Union, and retiring except in defense of Virginia, are often omitted. In fact his statement is usually paraphrased to simply, “I cannot raise my sword against Virginia.” The entire statement is a better indication of the inner-conflict Lee faced.

By today’s standards, such loyalty to an individual state, as opposed to loyalty to the United States, may seem strange. But to Virginians in 1861, the Commonwealth of Virginia, which had been founded as a colony 250 years earlier, represented their roots for many generations. By contrast, the United States had only existed for 72 years. This parochial loyalty was true of many Confederate soldiers throughout the South who were more motivated to defend their individual state from Yankee intrusion than they were to fight for the viability of the Confederate government.

Colonel Lee was also under extreme pressure by other Virginians and Confederate officials to join their cause; and even Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederacy, made a personal plea. But, for the next few days after his meeting with Blair, Lee took no further action and said later that he had hoped Virginia might avoid secession and join with Maryland, Delaware, Kentucky and Missouri as slave-holding states which remained in the Union; the so-called Border States. He made no commitments until the Virginia Legislature passed a resolution of succession on April 17, 1861 to be voted on by their citizens on May 22nd.

After the Legislative resolution, Lee expected that a majority of Virginians would cast their ballots to secede and he planned to go to Richmond to offer his service to the Virginia Militia to help defend his state from what he was certain would be Federal reprisals. But first, Lee felt an obligation to his friend and mentor and on April 18, 1861 he went to Washington DC to personally inform General Scott of his decision to resign his commission in the U.S. Army. Both men later reported that they wept at the meeting as Scott said, “Lee, you have made the greatest mistake of your life, but I feared it would be so.” They shook hands, Lee returned to his home at Arlington, and the following day submitted his official resignation letter.

Lee then went to Richmond and accepted the position of Brigadier General in the Virginia Militia, and prepared to resist any Union forces that might invade his state. He would never return to Arlington.

At his own crossroads, Robert E. Lee had decided to turn South.

General Scott’s loyalties would also be tested. Like Lee, he was a native Virginian, and had also received a delegation from his home state whose prominent members urged him to join the Virginia Militia in the likelihood that voters decided to secede and Lincoln would order an invasion. Scott declined their plea saying, “I have served the flag off my country for 50 years and as long as God permits me to live, I will defend that flag with my sword, even if my native state assails it.” General Scott was immediately labeled a “traitor” by Virginia newspapers, Southern politicians, and some former friends; and to Scott’s great disappointment, his nephew went to his family home and destroyed the General’s portraits and other memorabilia from his fifty years of service to his country.

General Winfield Scott had also arrived at his crossroads, but turned North.

The two Virginians who were close friends, honored military officers, and in many ways so similar, each followed his conscience and chose opposite paths.

Contact the author at gadorris2@gmail.com

A Southern Belle - And Union Spy (Article 26)

She grew up in a wealthy family in Richmond, Virginia, surrounded by nannies and house servants who were slaves owned by her father. He wanted her to have a classic education so, to supplement her studies completed at home, she attended a boarding school in Philadelphia. She was involved in the social activities common for young ladies within the upper-class of her day. To most observers, she was a typical Southern Belle.

But, those observers would be proven very wrong!

Elizabeth Van Lew was the daughter of a prominent Richmond merchant, John Van Lew, who built a successful hardware and farm implement company. He had purchased several slaves to provide labor for his business, which included some light manufacturing, and then, as his wealth increased, he bought other slaves to work in his home. His children, including Elizabeth, were accustomed to service by slaves who were butlers, cooks, maids, and nannies. By all accounts, her father was a benevolent slaveholder; as incongruous as that statement might sound today.

At age 15, Elizabeth was sent to a Quaker School for young women in Philadelphia where she came to believe that slavery was “against God’s law” and should be abolished; a basic tenet of that religious organization. While she never officially became a Quaker, after her return to Richmond, she tried for years to convince her father to free his slaves but he refused. Her brother, John, was ambivalent towards slavery, believing that it should and would eventually be abolished, but did not share his sister’s zeal and was not ready to oppose his father. However, upon their father’s death in 1843, Elizabeth persuaded her mother and brother to not only release the Van Lew slaves, most of whom stayed on to work for wages, but to also use part of their inheritance to acquire and free the relatives of their former slaves who were owned by others.

Elizabeth’s opposition to slavery was well known in Richmond and she was often called an abolitionist, but Elizabeth was offended by the label, saying, “I was never an abolitionist. (They) are fanatics. I paid dearly in the loss of many friends, but I was never a fanatic.”

The distinction to her was that she and her family simply lived their principles. Elizabeth did not personally criticize or provoke local slaveholders, many of whom were her neighbors and friends. And, while she would express her opinion that slavery should be ended, she did not engage in illegal activity to encourage slaves to escape.

Elizabeth, and to a lesser extent, John, also found themselves at odds with most of her family’s friends over another issue that was simmering in the South. Although both loved their state of Virginia and were proud of their southern heritage, they were also known to be opposed to secession from the United States, an idea that had been periodically proposed in Virginia (and the rest of the South) since the 1830’s.

However, because they expressed their opinions on slavery and secession quietly and without confrontation, John and Elizabeth remained active and respected in Richmond social and political circles.

Until the War!

In December, 1860 the tide of secessions by other Southern states began, followed by the formation of the Provisional Confederate States of America. At first, John and Elizabeth were relieved when Virginia politicians did not rush to secede or to join the Confederacy. However, in May, 1861, a month after Southern forces fired on Fort Sumter, Virginia citizens voted to also secede from the United States.

Elizabeth and John had both hoped that Virginia would not join the Confederate movement and remain in the Union as had Missouri, Kentucky, Maryland and Delaware; the four other so-called Border States which also permitted slavery. To their dismay, not only did Virginia secede in May 1861, but the state also agreed that Richmond, the city where they had spent their entire lives, would become the Capital of the Confederate States of America.

Both the brother and sister opposed secession in part because they revered the critical roles of their fellow Virginians, George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, in the founding of the United States and its Constitutional government. However,  they also pragmatically feared that any Union invasion would devastate their beloved state of Virginia.

Their fears were well founded.

After Virginia seceded and land battles of the Civil War began to occur on Virginia soil, Richmond became a center for the care of Confederate wounded and the holding of Union wounded and prisoners of war. Elizabeth was naturally a compassionate woman and helped care for wounded soldiers from both sides, but she soon saw the need for someone to offer basic aid to the growing number of Northern prisoners. She obtained permission from the interim prison commander to provide food and some medical care; and, in an irony of history, that prison commander was Confederate Lieutenant David Todd, the half-brother of Mary Todd Lincoln, the wife of Abraham Lincoln.

Elizabeth’s visits to the prisoners became more frequent when she started to receive aid packages from northern relief organizations and she even enlisted several former Van Lew slaves to assist in her efforts. As a result, the citizens of Richmond began to criticize Elizabeth for her lack of support for the Confederacy and her empathy toward the imprisoned Union soldiers. Based on complaints by local politicians and newspaper publishers, Lt. Todd revoked her visitation rights; however, she immediately appealed to the Provost Marshall of Richmond, General John Winder, who allowed her to continue her services. When asked how she managed to regain access to the prisoners, Elizabeth said; “Oh, I can flatter almost anything out of old Winder; his personal vanity is so great.”

Elizabeth felt that the various state secessions, the formation of the new Confederate government, and the willingness of its leaders to risk Civil War, were primarily to perpetuate slavery; which she abhorred. So, her mission began to gradually change from one of compassion to resistance. Although she must have spoken with her brother about her plan to aid the Union cause as a spy, John seems to have never been directly involved and remained active in the hardware business founded by their father. However, John’s anti-secessionist stance and refusal to serve in the Confederate Army soon began to undermine his business in Richmond.

In 1863, Elizabeth helped several Union prisoners escape through enemy lines, after first hiding them for a few days in a secret room in her home. She also collected information from talkative Confederate officers and politicians and forwarded dispatches to Union Generals utilizing both escaping prisoners and a small group of civilian spies and couriers who, like her, also opposed secession and/or slavery. Her network came to include a clerk in the Confederate War Department and several of her former slaves, including Mary Bowser, who worked in prominent households in Richmond. Miss Bowser, who had been taught to read and write by the Van Lew family, reportedly worked for a while in the Confederate President’s mansion where she was able to surreptitiously interpret documents and glean information useful to the Union.

It seems that the longer the war continued, the more brazen Elizabeth became. In 1863, at great risk to her own life, Elizabeth harbored several Confederate deserters in her home’s secret room until they could safely escape Richmond. And, in one instance she guided a small Union force to a holding area outside Richmond in an attempt to free a group of prisoners and re-captured slaves.

Always a thorn in the side of Southern officials, at one point Elizabeth publicly protested the intentionally disrespectful manner in which a Confederate Army unit had disposed of the body of Union Colonel Ulric Dahlgren, who was killed during a raid to free Union prisoners. So, in perhaps her most audacious act, she secretly led a small group to the burial site, which was under watch by southern soldiers, dis-interred the body, and hid it in a secret location. She then arranged for her courier network to eventually return the remains to the officer’s family.

Elizabeth continued her espionage efforts and sent regular dispatches, sometimes concealed in hollowed out eggs, to Union Generals Benjamin Butler and Ulysses S. Grant. When Richmond fell to Union Forces on April 2, 1865, Elizabeth raised the United States flag at her home, reportedly the first civilian in the city to do so. Her prior opposition to slavery and to secession by Virginia, and her obvious sympathy for the Union prisoners of war already had caused resentment by many in Richmond; and the raising of the Union banner was perceived as adding insult to injury. Then as the depth of her cooperation with the Union as a spy became known in Richmond, Elizabeth was shunned by almost everyone and remained a social outcast until her death in 1900.

A Richmond newspaper, attempting to explain how she had remained undiscovered, speculated that she was able to fool Confederate officials by acting “addled” and referred to her as “Crazy Bet” in an unflattering article. However, Elizabeth, in her journals, indicated the “Crazy Bet” story was not only insulting but un-necessary as she simply relied on flattery, deception, and cunning; and she certainly benefited from the chivalry toward women prevalent in that Victorian era.

While Elizabeth was moderately wealthy before the War, by 1865 her financial situation was dire. The hardware business founded by her father and owned by her brother had nearly collapsed during the War, and only provided a meager income to John and his family. Since Elizabeth, who had never married, had used almost all of her inherited wealth to aid prisoners of war, to support escaping slaves, and to fund her spy network, for the next year, she lived nearly penniless in the family home. Then, a few Union Generals, who had benefited from her efforts, learned of her plight, and began to provide minor financial support and when Ulysses S. Grant was elected President in 1868, he appointed her Postmistress of Richmond. She remained a postal employee until 1887; although she was relegated to clerical status when President Rutherford B. Hayes installed his own postmaster in 1877. When she finally retired from the Post Office, the group of Union Generals established a small annuity which supplemented her retirement income for the rest of her life.

Nearly one hundred years after her death, Elizabeth was honored with induction into the U.S. Military Intelligence Hall of Fame.

Elizabeth Van Lew never moved from her Richmond home and for the rest of her life she tolerated the indifference and outright animosity of neighbors and former friends. But, she never wavered and said that she was satisfied that she had followed her conscience and contributed to the reunification of her country.

And, she was able to witness the end of slavery in America.

Contact the author at gadorris2@gmail.com

Mary Lincoln’s Story (Article 25)

The dance was over and the tall, somewhat gangley and awkward, young man had just politely escorted Mary, a very pretty young lady, back to her seat, next to her sister. As he walked away, Mary smiled and told her sister, “Mr. Lincoln had said that he wanted to dance with me in the worst way, and he just did!”

That evening, Abraham Lincoln and Mary Todd had the first of many dances for the next 25 years.

When she first met Abraham Lincoln, Mary Ann Todd was twenty years old, well educated in the classics, spoke fluent French, passable German, enjoyed social interaction with many friends, and had numerous suitors, including Stephen A. Douglas whose political career would shadow Lincoln’s. She was self-confident (for her era) and an engaging conversationalist, but her witty comments could occasionally have a bit of sting. She enjoyed political debate and kept well informed of local, state and even national issues; and she did not hesitate to express her strong opinions. On one occasion, her sarcasm toward the Illinois State Auditor in an anonymous letter to a local newspaper nearly forced Lincoln, her fiancee, to fight a duel to defend her honor. One contemporary noted that “Every thought that crossed her mind, was quickly spoken.”

Mary had grown up in Lexington, Kentucky where she lived a genteel life surrounded by a large family of brothers and sisters. Her father, Robert Todd, was a hero in the War of 1812, a banker, and owned a small plantation. He also owned about thirty slaves, some of whom Mary knew well as they served as nannies and house servants, but most were field hands with whom Mary had little contact. After her mother died when Mary was only six, her father quickly remarried but Mary and her new stepmother never bonded and their relationship deteriorated as Mary entered her teen age years. Some, who knew Mary and her step-mother, said that as Mary became a young woman, the two seemed to vie for the family’s lead role in Lexington social circles. When she was nineteen, her sister Elizabeth married Ninian Edwards, a wealthy businessman and political insider in Springfield, Illinois, and Mary began to spend more time there and, in essence, left her father’s home for good. In part she moved to get away from her stepmother, but also very important to Mary, she was immediately accepted into Springfield society and began to receive flattering attention from several eligible gentlemen.

But Mary chose Abraham Lincoln. After a tumultuous period of courting, and one broken engagement, they married on November 4, 1842; he was 33, she was 24.

Although her “Mr. Lincoln” was not wealthy, he was a popular citizen of Springfield and, as his law practice flourished and his political influence grew, Mary seemed to enjoy her perceived aristocracy.  And, according to numerous friends at that time, she was a caring mother who insisted that her children become well educated, and a dedicated wife who was helpful to her husband’s political interests and to his legal career.

However, later in her life, Mary was characterized harshly by some contemporaries and then, after her husband’s death, by biographers of Abraham Lincoln. Further, there is no question that she had given her critics adequate justification.

Much of the negative information about Mary during her “Springfield” days came from Lincoln’s last law partner, William Herndon, who despised Mary; and the feeling was mutual! Immediately after Lincoln’s death, Herndon embarked on a one year quest to interview many of Lincoln’s (and Mary’s) acquaintances. When Herndon wrote his 1889 biography of Lincoln, a few years after Mary’s death, he included many unflattering anecdotes about her, some of which her contemporaries said were either exaggerated or simply untrue. He once commented that Lincoln spent so much time traveling on the legal circuit because “his home life was hell and absence from home was his heaven.” And Carl Sandburg’s monumental six volume biography of Lincoln, written from 1926-1939 and based to some degree on Herndon’s book and articles, was only somewhat more balanced toward Mary. After nearly a century, a few modern biographers began to present Mary’s story in a more sympathetic light; while not overlooking her seemingly steady transformation from popular socialite into an abrasive “First Lady” and then into an erratic (possibly mentally ill) widow.

So what changed in Mary’s life that would cause her to become regarded as “difficult at best and unstable at worst” by so many?

For the first half of her life, Mary had a few experiences when she was saddened by the loss of a relative or friend and she would demonstratively grieve and usually seek solitude for a while; but then gradually recover. Mary also could easily become frustrated with situations (or individuals) and would quickly lash out in anger at friends, and even her husband; but would hardly ever apologize. Almost all who remained close to her came under her fire at some point, but most, including Lincoln, seemed willing to accept that “It was just Mary being Mary.” Contemporaries noted that, while she might remain in “her moods” for a little longer than most, she was able to resume positive social interactions with her friends and family over time.

However, when she was about thirty, there began an ever building crescendo of disappointments and personal tragedies in Mary’s life which had a compounding negative effect on her ability to cope and to regain her perspective. While most people recover from adversities and heartaches in a reasonable time, after this point in her life, it would appear that Mary could not.

The episodes included a rejection of Mary by Washington’s social elite in 1847 and again in 1861, hardly a crisis for most people but devastating experiences for Mary. More tragically, she also faced the deaths of three of her sons; the division of her family in the Civil War as some of her brothers and other relatives fought, and four died, for the Confederacy; and then she witnessed the assassination of her husband.

When these episodes are viewed in sequence, Mary’s descent seems unavoidable.

In 1847 Lincoln won election to the U.S. House of Representatives and Mary found herself in Washington DC. While Mary had thrived as a socialite in Lexington and Springfield, she quickly learned that a first term Congressman’s wife, especially from the “backwoods” state of Illinois, had no social status. To her great disappointment, for the first time in her life, Mary did not have an easy entrée into the social circles that she desperately wanted. But, rather than follow her sister’s advice to try to cultivate a few friends through church and charitable activities, which would have gradually allowed more of the women of Washington to know her, Mary instead complained incessantly; further alienating those she hoped to join. To many of her contemporaries, and later historians, Mary’s over-reaction to the perceived rejection seemed shallow; but to her, it was a humiliating experience and a personal insult.

So, she bolted!

Only returning to Washington for a few weeks at a time, she spent much of the next two years in Kentucky with her family, in New York with her two children, or back in Springfield. While she had always supported her husband’s political career, she was probably pleased when Lincoln, who considered his Congressional experience a failure, chose to not seek a second term in 1849.

After the disappointing time in Washington, Abraham Lincoln returned to his home, his friends, his law practice, and his family in Springfield. Lincoln had made many valuable contacts in the Capital who would be helpful later in his political career; however, Mary was never able to forgive or forget the affront by the social elite of Washington.

But, she was home and her life returned to a familiar and comfortable pattern.

Then, in February 1850, her four year old son, Eddie, died of pulmonary tuberculosis. Mary was grief-stricken and isolated herself for several weeks from her husband and son Robert; and would refuse to eat for days. For the first time, Lincoln expressed concern for her health with her family. While he was also a person known to only slowly recover from such loss, Lincoln was supportive of Mary while she was in mourning; and over time, she seemed to gather herself and move on.

For the next few years, it appears that Mary regained some of her confidence and again became a popular hostess in Springfield, supported her husband’s efforts to broaden his clientele for the law firm, and helped to promote his political influence. Lincoln’s personal popularity had not waned after his short time as a Congressman and it soon became clear he might run for another office; possibly for Governor, but more likely as a U.S. Senator in 1854. And Mary was determined to help him; telling her sister “I always knew he would again be a politician, and I would again be a politician’s wife.”

U.S. Senators at that time were chosen by state legislatures, not elected by the voters, and Lincoln’s Whig Party was in the minority in 1854; but, he was popular enough among some Democrats that he had at least a reasonable chance for the appointment. And, in fact, Lincoln received the most votes (48%) of the four candidates on the first two roll-calls, but he could not gain the 51% necessary to win. Fearing that a pro-slavery candidate who was in second position could be selected, Lincoln requested that his supporters switch to Lyman Trumbull, the candidate in fourth place, who, like Lincoln, also opposed the expansion of slavery. With Lincoln’s supporters added to his own, Trumbull collected enough votes to be selected. Lincoln, as always, graciously conceded and even visited the winner’s home, entertaining the crowd with a few of his humorous stories; and he remained friends with Trumbull for the rest of their lives. Mary, on the other hand, believed that Trumbull should have been the one to step aside, and became so bitter over the loss that for years she refused to speak with his wife, Julia Trumbull, who had been her best friend and bridesmaid.

A few months later, Lincoln told Mary that he would run for the same office in four years against Stephen A. Douglas, the other Illinois Senator and Mary’s former suitor. In a move that would require months of thorough explanations to retain his many followers, Lincoln left his Whig Party and joined the new Republican Party, which more clearly opposed the expansion of slavery than either the Whigs or Democrats; both of which had pro-slavery southern contingents.  Ever a supporter of Lincoln’s political ambitions, Mary, who knew well the various party platforms, agreed with her husband’s decision to become a Republican and re-engaged in the social whirl to help his chances. The Lincoln home again became a place to be seen in Springfield. Her guests were influential politicians, newspaper publishers, merchants, and ministers from all parts of Illinois who she (and he) thought might support Lincoln’s candidacy, in 1858, to replace Senator Douglas, a Democrat. In these settings, Mary was a gracious hostess, a witty and informed conversationalist, and an effective advocate for her husband.

The 1858 campaign for U.S. Senator from Illinois was unlike any other in the nation’s history. Senator Douglas and Abraham Lincoln had known each other for years, had been opponents in the courtroom, and their political differences were striking; however, they respected each other. Both were recognized as entertaining orators and, to the delight of citizens in Illinois then, and historians today, they agreed to hold seven debates in towns across the state. The Lincoln-Douglas debates drew national attention because the two men presented opposing arguments on the major issues of the day; the need for national railroad and telegraph service, the use of federal lands in the west for individual homesteads; and, critical to the future of the nation, whether or not to limit slavery. Underlying the slavery issue was the real threat by several Southern states to secede from the United States if the Federal government attempted any restrictions on slave ownership. Newspapers throughout the country reported on the debates and, based on the interest by many citizens, the debate manuscripts were published in book form and became a sensational best-seller.

When the Democratic majority in the Illinois Legislature chose to re-appoint Senator Douglas, Abraham Lincoln again congratulated his opponent. Mary, also as before, publicly criticized those who she did not feel gave enough support to her husband; and some of her friends described her as “almost in mourning” for a while.

After this latest political setback, although her husband would not be going to Washington as a U.S. Senator, neither would Mary’s situation return to normal. While there would be no real tragedies during the next few years, neither would there be any period of stability and calm in her family life.

Because of the popularity of his message, helped in part by his humorous delivery, her husband had become a national political figure; and he was now in demand as a speaker in states throughout the north. Between his travels for his growing case load as an attorney, now representing more corporate clients, and his trips for political speeches, Mary often found herself alone in Springfield with her sons and she was known to complain, sometimes bitterly, during Lincoln’s absences. But, she also took great pride in her husband’s growing national prominence as evidenced in her correspondence with her family and later remembrances by her friends.

By early 1860, it became clear that her husband would be a viable candidate for President of the United States and Mary was an enthusiastic hostess to numerous political delegations from the various “northern” states. After a difficult presidential campaign which lasted from January to November, Mary would again leave Springfield for Washington DC.

But this time, as the wife of the nation’s President!

It is clear from her correspondence and comments recalled by friends that Mary thought she would receive a different welcome this time. Surely she must have expected to be standing in the center of the city’s social circle. But, in some ways, Washington society was now worse for Mary than before. Earlier she had been ignored in part because she was unfamiliar and in part because of her husband’s rather low position in the Washington political arena. Now, however, she was certainly well known and her husband occupied the highest office in the nation, but she again found herself an outcast by many who she had hoped would accept her. The grand ladies of Washington DC did not embrace Mary; and they never would.

With few friends, Mary threw herself into plans for renovation of the White House which, by all accounts had been allowed to run down by prior occupants. Many of her ideas were approved by the Congressional committee which authorized the funds but Mary quickly overspent her allocations, primarily by choosing furniture, rugs, draperies and wallpaper which were outrageously and unnecessarily expensive. Some of the blame must be placed on the merchants to the wealthy elite who took advantage of Mary, but she failed to seek other bids or advice. Her activities became an embarrassment to the President as the appropriations committee made the overspending a political issue. As one politician noted, “There is a Civil War going on, boys are dying, and the President’s wife is devoted only to extravagance!” For the first time in American history, the wife of a President was ridiculed by the press and a subject of gossip at many social gatherings.

However, unlike her earlier experience in Washington in 1848, Mary could not bolt! She had to stay in a town where she did not feel welcome.

But to be fair to Mary, not all of her time was devoted to the White House renovation. Throughout the first year in Washington, without any fanfare, Mary spent many days in military hospitals visiting wounded soldiers. Observers recalled that she could sit beside young men, some with terrible wounds, and quietly comfort them. She wrote hundreds of letters dictated to her by those who could not write for themselves and often read poetry to small groups. Her husband told several friends that he was proud of her dedication to this important work and Mary must have felt useful; even if not included socially by those whose acceptance she so much desired.

But then, the next tragedy struck. After lingering for two weeks, Mary’s nine year old son Willie died of typhoid fever on February 20, 1862; and Mary would really never fully recover. Her grief was so deep that for over a month she rarely communicated with her husband or with her young son Tad except through a friend, her dressmaker Elizabeth Keckley. Although Mary resumed some semblance of normal White House responsibilities after three months, from then on and for the rest of her life, she seemed to walk a fine line between reasonable and outrageous behavior.

Always a religious woman, Mary now turned to the occult in an attempt to “contact poor Willie and Eddie on the other side” and even invited charlatans into the White House for séances. When Lincoln objected, she just moved the meetings elsewhere.

A few months after Willie’s death, she again began to schedule her hospital visits but not with the frequency as before.

In Mary’s lifetime, most people believed that “time heals all wounds” and an individual’s inability to recover from despair was often considered a personal weakness. It would be another generation before psychiatric researchers would better define deep depression and state that some might not recover without treatment; and could possibly drop over the edge into “the abyss of mental illness.”

Mary was getting closer to the abyss.

Her mood swings now became more pronounced, and she would even occasionally insult visitors in White House reception lines. Her jealousy toward women who showed even the most basic courtesy to the President might result in a sharp verbal retort; however, occasionally her outbursts toward the women were disruptive and embarrassing to her husband. In one instance, widely reported in the Washington press, Mary berated the wife of a Union General with highly volatile insults until pulled away by the President. Lincoln told Mary to apologize; and although she did so, and the General’s wife graciously accepted, witnesses said Mary’s apology was obviously insincere.

While we do not know what went on behind closed doors, White House observers, including Mrs. Keckley, later commented that Lincoln usually showed remarkable restraint and would try to comfort his wife following one of her episodes.

While the Civil War was raging, Mary also had to live daily with heart wrenching divisions within her own family. Mary’s grandparents, parents, and most siblings were committed southerners and, while Kentucky remained in the Union, five of her brothers and half-brothers joined the Confederate army and three of them, as well as a brother-in-law, were killed by Union forces. With her family’s southern heritage and support for the Confederacy, many in Washington questioned Mary’s loyalty to the Union; and comments were made in public and written in newspapers which grieved both Mary and Mr. Lincoln. A Congressional committee even began hearings on the matter until Abraham Lincoln, deeply saddened, appeared unannounced at a meeting to defend his wife; and for a while, the furor died down. Most historians agree that she did not deserve the doubts and criticism about her commitment to the Union or her opposition to slavery. Mary had spoken against slavery early in her life, actively supported the Contraband Society which aided former slaves, and openly discussed her despair when her brothers chose to renounce the United States.

Then, in an incident over which Mary had no control, her troubles were compounded.  While her husband was in Washington focused on the critical battles at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, Mary was traveling outside the city in the carriage frequently used by the President. The driver was suddenly thrown off resulting in a high speed crash and Mary was ejected; suffering a serious head injury, which her doctors described as near fatal. Investigators subsequently discovered that most of the bolts which held the driver’s seat in place had been removed which caused suspicion, never proven, that it was an attempt to harm the President. Mary’s physical recovery required several weeks of careful attention by her doctors and nurses but the circumstances of the accident just added to her worries. Her son Robert later came to believe that her head injuries may have been permanent and contributed to her erratic behavior as she grew older.

Fortunately for Mary and for President Lincoln, beginning with Gettysburg, the Union began to claim more victories over the Confederacy and by 1864 the positive public sentiment toward her husband resulted in his landslide re-election. Mrs. Keckley and others noted that Mary seemed to improve and was usually in good spirits; with one exception. Her son Robert, now twenty one years old and studying at Harvard, felt obligated to join the Union Army; but Mary, fearing the loss of another son, was adamantly opposed. When Lincoln arranged for Robert to join General Grant’s staff, Mary again became overwrought for several weeks and openly berated the President.

By this time in her life, one of Mary’s few remaining pleasures was to attend plays and dramatic readings at any of the several theaters in Washington DC, where she and the President would be seated in a special box.  On April 14, 1865, Mary and her husband went to Ford’s theater to see a popular comedy. That evening the assassin struck Abraham Lincoln, and Mary stepped into the abyss.

Certainly Mary had been deeply hurt by the unwillingness of Washington society to respect her. The loss of Eddie twenty years earlier was difficult for her and the death of Willie in the White House broke her down for months. The divisions, and deaths, within her family in the Civil War distressed her, and possibly the carriage accident did more harm than first thought. But watching the murder of her husband was certainly the cruelest of tragedies. Her depression deepened and she wore only black clothing for the rest of her life.

Over the next few years she isolated herself and refused to live in Springfield where she had family and friends; instead she rented a home in Chicago. Unfortunately, Mary was already estranged from the one friend she had leaned on through several tragedies; Elizabeth Keckley, her dressmaker.  Keckley, who was born as a slave before she obtained her freedom and became a successful businesswoman, had published an autobiography which included details of her four years working for Mary; and emphasized their friendship. Although favorable toward Mary, the book was denounced by Mary and Robert because they thought it violated the privacy of the Lincoln family; and Mary never again spoke with Mrs. Keckley.

Her sisters and a few friends noted that Mary had become obsessed with money, or rather a fear of the lack of money, and she began to accuse her eldest son Robert of squandering assets left by her husband. Robert, however, was scrupulous in his handling of his father’s meager estate which consisted of the Springfield house and a few thousand dollars in Illinois bonds; and, in fact, unappreciated by Mary, Robert was personally covering some of her expenses. At the time, however, there was no pension allocated for former Presidents nor for the widow of a former President, so her income was very limited. Lincoln had no remaining financial interest in his former law firm; and the Todd estate in Kentucky had been decimated during the War and the remnants divided through two generations so Mary could get no financial support from her family. Her resources would have probably been sufficient in Springfield, but not for a home in Chicago, extensive travel in Europe, and an occasional wild buying spree of furnishings she could not use and clothing she would not wear.

After numerous petitions by friends of Abraham Lincoln, Congress finally, by a close vote, awarded Mary an annual pension of $3,000 (equivalent to over $100,000 today).

With her financial situation somewhat stabilized, she moved to Europe with Tad, where she was welcomed by the English, French, and German aristocracy.  However, after three years living abroad, for reasons that she did not make clear, Mary decided that she and her son would return home.

But, as at other times in her life, tragedy struck soon after they were back in the United States. Tad Lincoln, at nineteen years of age, fell ill with congestive heart failure, complicated by pneumonia, and became the third of her sons to die.

Mary’s public conduct now became even more bizarre as she made unfounded claims that she had been robbed several times and that she had been poisoned. In 1875, after Mary attempted to jump from a window to escape an imagined fire, her son Robert requested that a court declare his mother insane; and her confinement was ordered. Upon hearing the ruling, Mary attempted suicide by a drug overdose that was only unsuccessful because her apothecary, alarmed at her behavior, had substituted a placebo for a narcotic.  Within weeks of her hospitalization, Mary and a few of her remaining friends, including Myra Bradwell, one of the nation’s first female lawyers, began a campaign for her freedom by sending letters to newspapers and to Congress alleging Robert had misled the court. Four months after her commitment, embarrassed by the accusations against him, Robert did not contest his mother’s release; and Mary then moved back to Springfield to live with her sister.

Over the next few months, Bradwell championed Mary’s legal case and asked for a second formal hearing which could clear her name; and in that forum, Mary was “officially” declared sane. Also, during this time, Bradwell successfully petitioned Congress to increase Mary’s annual pension to $5,000. With her financial situation secure, Mary then left the United States and again lived in France until her health began failing in late 1880.

Mary was only 63 when she died at her sister’s Springfield home on July 16, 1882. In a final tragedy, she had refused to reconcile with Robert, but finally agreed to have him visit a few days before her death.

So, was Mary the angry, despondent, confrontational woman described in most biographies? Certainly, at times she was. Historians generally agree that during their Springfield days, while Mary could be petulant, she was supportive of, and helpful to, Lincoln’s law practice and political endeavors. However, when her husband was President and his responsibilities were the most grave and exhausting, Mary became an added burden, rather than a source of comfort and companionship; and there is no question that he was often exasperated and distracted by her irrational behavior. As a result, almost all biographers of Abraham Lincoln have been relentless in their criticism of Mary, especially during her White House years.

But when her life is viewed as a series of tragedies, adversities, and disappointments, I just see a promising, intelligent, and witty young woman gradually losing her self-confidence, turning very sad, then bitter, and, in the later years of her life, likely becoming mentally ill.

Who, among her most severe critics, can say with certainty that they would have weathered all of the storms she faced and not also have neared the abyss?

Contact the author at gadorris2@gmail.com

A Yankee in Mississippi - The Newton Knight Story (Article 24)

The soldiers loaded the “appropriated” foodstuffs from the farm’s storehouse along with chickens and pigs into the wagons, and rode off. Little remained for the family of the Southern soldier who had left to fight for the Confederacy. The farmer’s wife comforted her children but despaired over their future since the soldiers had taken most of their food; and she wondered whether her husband, if he were even still alive, might ever know of their plight.

This was similar to oft told stories of Union troops raiding southern farms during the Civil War. But, in this case, and numerous other instances, the soldiers were from the Confederate Army and their victims lived in and around Jones County, Mississippi.

Yes, Mississippi!

While secession fever gripped much of the South in December 1860, in every southern state there were enclaves where the residents hoped the United States would remain indivisible. In general, those areas were populated by farmers, fishermen, and/or ranchers, with few slaveholders. But these residents represented only a small minority of southern citizens and an even smaller minority in the legislatures of the states which debated whether to secede. Therefore, when the Provisional Confederate States of America was formed in February 1861, the vast majority of politicians in those states, and the people they represented, celebrated their new country.

But, not everyone!

Jones County, in southern Mississippi consisted of 700 square miles of rolling hills, flowing streams, open grasslands, and extensive forests. The area had been settled in the late 1700s by farmers who raised cattle, planted corn, beans, and potatoes and harvested timber from the dense forests; generally without the use of slave labor. Jones County and the several adjacent counties had few slaves, unlike the plantation based economy in other parts of Mississippi. Noting the mild year round climate, its natural resources, and thriving farms, one 19th century writer described it as “A land of milk and honey where a man could raise his family with the sweat of his own brow.”

Such an environment breeds an independent sort, and Jones County was no exception.

Rumblings, even threats, of secession, were heard throughout Mississippi during the prior ten years, and by 1860 had reached a crescendo; except in an area around Jones County where most families dis-avowed slavery and many were “Primitive Baptists” who neither swore nor consumed alcohol. They asked nothing of the Mississippi state government, or the U.S. government for that matter, before secession and wanted nothing to do with the new Confederate government after the state seceded on January 9, 1861. In fact, during the state debate on secession in December 1860, Jones County elected an anti-secessionist representative by a vote of 374 to 24. For the next few months, there was little acrimony between those who opposed secession in Jones County and the state officials; however, after the Civil War started in April, 1861 and the Confederate States of America announced a draft call, tension became palpable. With most of the state in a mood for war, militias began to torment, and then arrest, those who opposed the draft. The persecution was particularly harsh toward the men of Jones County and one local resident later remembered it as “a reign of terror” with many forced to join the Confederate Army or face death by military order. Another wrote of the Confederate forces, “They are constraining us to bear arms against our country.”

Newton Knight was a fourth generation farmer in Jones County, who was known to be deeply religious and who, except for voting in periodic elections, seemed to avoid involvement in either County or State politics.  When Mississippi held a “Secession Convention” in late 1860, Knight, as most men in Jones County, did not want their state to secede from the United States. They subsequently also opposed the formation of the Confederate States of America, the resulting Civil War, and the Southern government’s institution of involuntary draft calls to build and maintain military forces. Knight later said that he had “hoped to just stay out of it,” but he finally agreed, in September 1861, to join the army to save himself and his family from continuing harassment. Subsequently, Knight and a small group of friends from Jones County enlisted with the understanding that they could serve together; and they were assigned to a post near Vicksburg about 200 miles north of their home.

In May 1862, still needing more men to fight, the Confederate government issued another draft call to all of their thirteen states. However for this new draft, Southern politicians, largely slaveholders or merchants who benefited from slavery, included an exemption for anyone who owned twenty or more slaves. Although many slave holders who were eligible for the exception still voluntarily joined the army, the subsistence farmers, who made up a large part of the Confederate forces, resented the new draft waiver. The upheaval among troops already in the army and resistance by new draftees was quick. Many enlisted men simply deserted and went back home while draft resistance reached a peak.

It was not, however, only the lower ranking soldiers who opposed the exemption. Confederate General Joseph E. Johnson infuriated Jefferson Davis when he said, “This act creates a poor boys’ army and tramples on the Confederate Constitution.” And, the Governor of North Carolina was so opposed to the exemption for large slave holders that he instituted his own exemptions to the draft! He declared that all civil servants and members of state militia units were exempt and began to pad the rolls; one county named 27 commissioners and surveyors, while a Confederate General sent to round up draft dodgers found one militia unit with, “3 Generals, 4 Colonels, 10 Captains, 30 Lieutenants, and 1 Private with a misery in his bowels.”

However, the Governor of Mississippi, himself a large slave-owner, as was Jefferson Davis, supported the exemption and cooperated with the Confederate government’s effort to prevent others from escaping the draft. While Newton Knight believed the exemption “made this a rich man’s war and a poor man’s fight,” he remained at his post, as did most of his friends.

But circumstances soon changed and Knight decided to go home!

Despite promises he received in return for enlisting, Knight learned that a Confederate unit had raided his farm for provisions and threatened his family; so he deserted and headed for Jones County. It was a dangerous two hundred mile journey because the military had dispatched cavalry units to search for, find and return, or execute, deserters.

Knight was able to avoid detection, although he had a few close calls when he could see and hear Confederate troopers ride by. When he arrived back home, he could not believe the devastation he found throughout the area. Not only his farm, but most others had been ravaged by Confederate soldiers and, with few men available to plant new crops and care for animals, there was little hope for quickly rebuilding the food supply. But, a particular Confederate edict called tax-in-kind was the cruelest blow of all. Tax collectors were authorized to take what they deemed appropriate to provide for Confederate armies and they took food, crops (even seed corn), cattle, pigs, chickens, and farm implements. Women and children were left with little or, in some cases, no food. One Confederate General said later that “The tax-in-kind system, and the corrupt collectors, have done more to demoralize these people than the Yankee army,” and another said, “Men cannot be expected to fight for the government that permits their wives and children to starve.”

So, in Jones County, a rebellion against the Confederacy began!

In May 1863, when the Southern Army needed to reinforce Vicksburg against an expected Union assault, Knight was identified as a deserter and ordered to rejoin his old unit. He refused and was severely beaten by the soldiers who came to arrest and return him for likely execution; but somehow he escaped.

However, now the Confederate military in the area had a new and very angry enemy. After the fall of Vicksburg in July, many of the remaining Jones County soldiers just walked home and some of them joined with Knight to provide protection to local farmers against the tax-in-kind seizures. With desertions at a high level and with Knight and his men interfering with collections, Confederate forces descended on Jones County. When they approached one home, the officer in charge was killed; and most historians believe the shot was fired by Newton Knight.

The Jones County War was on!

To be clear, not all residents of Jones County agreed with Knight and there were men from the area who continued to fight, and die, for the Confederacy; and, among those loyal residents, he was seen as a deserter and a traitor. But Knight was now recognized by Confederate officials, by most of the men of Jones County, and by many from neighboring counties, as the leader of the opposition. They became known as “The Knight Company” and their guerrilla exploits against the better armed and trained Confederate cavalry were taking a toll. They even raised the American flag over county courthouses. Jefferson Davis, himself from Mississippi, was told that, “Jones County is in open rebellion and the combatants are proclaiming themselves Southern Yankees and resist by force of arms all efforts to capture them.”

Finally, Jefferson Davis had heard enough and he called for Colonel Robert Lowry, who was from an area near Jones County. Lowry had become a Confederate hero when he and his men withstood furious charges by General Sherman’s Union forces at Kennesaw Mountain in Georgia. Lowry was ordered by Davis to gain control of Jones County by “any and all means necessary,” and Lowry was successful. Using cash rewards when that worked, and torture when cash did not, he began to identify the men in Knight’s Company; then quickly caught, and summarily hanged, ten men loyal to Knight. To assure the Jones County residents got the message, Lowry left the bodies dangling for several days for all to see. While Knight was never caught, most of his men were forced to remain in hiding until the War’s end; and a few even avoided prosecution by rejoining Confederate units.

After the War, Union reconstruction policies presented Newton Knight with an opportunity to help the people of Jones County. The occupying Union Army named him a commissioner in charge of distributing food, seeds for crops, and farm animals to the nearly starving residents. However, over the next several years, as protection and enforcement by Union soldiers lessened, those in Mississippi who had supported the Confederacy again became more powerful; with some help from the Ku Klux Klan. Knight was constantly harassed by the Klan and other former Confederates, so he moved to a nearby county where his family also owned land and resumed farming. He did, however, retain his family’s homestead farm a few miles away in Jones County, but rarely returned. And, for the rest of his life, he avoided the political issues of his day.

On the other hand, Robert Lowry, a hero to many Mississippians, was twice elected Governor of their state.

During his “resistance” Knight and his men had often been provided food by a free Black woman named Rachel, whose last name we do not know. Although he was married, Knight offered Rachel, who had several “encounters with the Klan,” a place to live on his farm. Knight’s wife objected, divorced him, and left to live with her family. Despite a Mississippi law prohibiting marriage between races, Knight and Rachel were married by a minister, but without an official license, becoming common-law husband and wife. In one last act of defiance, despite a Mississippi law prohibiting Whites and Blacks from being buried in the same cemetery, Newton left directions that he be buried on his old homestead, next to Rachel, who had died earlier. He was 85 years old.

So, did Jones County secede from the Confederate States of America as several authors have claimed? Did Jones County declare war on the Confederacy? Despite newspaper headlines and articles during and following the Civil War using terms such as “The State of Jones” and “The Jones County War” there is no evidence that the County officially tried to secede from Mississippi or from the Confederacy. Union General Sherman later said that he had received a “Declaration of Independence” and a request for aid from someone in the County, but did not name the sender and took no action to reply.

Modern authors, who have explored the events in Jones County during the Civil War and in the reconstruction period which followed, arrive at differing opinions of Newton Knight. To some, he was an outlaw who capitalized on the fact that many of the men from that area were away at war. To others he was a traitor who killed Confederate soldiers and forced the military to divert troops from Vicksburg; which contributed to the Union victory and capture of that stronghold on the Mississippi River. To his admirers Knight was an idealist and loyal citizen of the United States; a simple man who reluctantly fought back against a rebel government which was committed to the preservation of slavery. A few authors even romanticize Knight as some sort of Robin Hood.

But Newton Knight defies any simplified characterization and he likely had a bit of all of those traits. He resented slave-holders and opposed secession; but was probably not a dedicated Unionist nor a supporter of Abraham Lincoln. I believe he was a fiercely independent and stubborn man who wanted the government, whether Union, Confederate, or the state of Mississippi, to just leave him alone.

Not unlike some folks today!

To read more, “The State of Jones” by Jenkins offers a historical perspective.

Contact the author at gadorris2@gmail.com

The Assassination of President Lincoln (Articles 22 & 23)

Part 1- The Plot, Part 2- The Aftermath

Part 1 – The Plot:

On Friday April 14, 1865, most residents of Washington DC were euphoric.

The long, deadly, Civil War was surely about to end. The former Confederate Capital of Richmond was in Union hands, General Robert E. Lee had surrendered in Virginia, and General Joseph E. Johnston had asked for surrender terms for his large army further south.

All in all, for those who supported the Union, this Good Friday was indeed a good day.

But Washington DC had always been a “Southern” city and some residents had hoped that the Confederate States of America, formed only four years earlier, would endure as a sovereign country. While these people were certainly saddened by the fall of the Confederacy, most were probably relieved that the Great War was ending; and most just wanted to resume their daily lives.

However, there were a few men in Washington who were committed to a plan which, if successful, might cause such chaos within the Union to allow Confederate military forces and political officials to re-group and, at the same time, exact revenge on the Union leaders who they believed were most responsible for the “War of Northern Aggression” against the South. John Wilkes Booth had chosen April 14 to have his co-conspirators carry out coordinated attacks that would attempt to murder Vice-President Andrew Johnson, General Ulysses S. Grant, and the primary target, President Abraham Lincoln.

But Booth had been plotting for months and, until the past few days, assassination was not even part of his plan.

In the late summer of 1864, according to friends, Booth said he wanted to serve the Confederacy in some “grand way,” but not as an ordinary soldier. He began to contemplate a mission to kidnap Lincoln, spirit him away to Richmond, and then use him as a pawn to trade for a large number of Confederate prisoners. Booth may have decided on this course of action after Union Secretary of War, Edwin Stanton, declared an end to, what had been, frequent prisoner exchanges saying, “I am no longer going to release Confederates just to have them fight us again.”

From September 1864 through January 1865, Booth periodically traveled into Confederate held territory and even to Canada where there were numerous Southern operatives. But, despite one hundred and fifty years of research, and much speculation, no one knows for certain if he received any support, or even encouragement, from Confederate authorities for his plan.

We do know that Booth met with potential co-conspirators during that time with mixed success. In November he discussed the kidnap plan with two friends, Samuel Chester and John Mathews, who both refused to join him, testifying later that they considered it just reckless talk. But, by January 1865, Booth had recruited at least seven men who were willing to attempt to kidnap the President of the United States. Ned Spangler, Michael O’Laughlin, and Samuel Arnold had known Booth for years and they were joined by four men Booth had only recently met; John Surratt, David Herold, George Atzerodt, and Lewis Paine.

Throughout February and March, Booth developed and discarded various plans to capture Lincoln and studied several possible escape routes into Confederate territory in Virginia. Booth even attended Lincoln’s Inauguration speech on March 4 and told a friend that he was close enough to the President to shoot him there if he chose; but kidnapping was still the mission.

Then Booth learned that Lincoln would attend a play given for wounded Union soldiers at Campbell Hospital on the outskirts of Washington on March 17; and he thought the time had come. He summoned the seven other conspirators, they found a grove of trees on the road from which they could spring their surprise attack, and waited for Lincoln’s carriage. As the carriage approached, Booth rode out to check the number and placement of the guards before ordering the charge. But, to his dismay, when the carriage passed, the occupant was Secretary of Treasury Salmon Chase!

The kidnap plan quickly began to unravel as some of the men were concerned that authorities may have learned of the plot. Although Booth tried to rally the group, several began to express doubt that they could ever successfully kidnap the President; and Booth reluctantly agreed that they should separate for a few weeks. Booth went to New York for two weeks and must have been discouraged by the military advances by the Union Army in Virginia. When he returned to Washington in early April, he found the city in celebration over the abandonment of the former Confederate capital city of Richmond by its political leaders. He also learned that Lincoln had even walked through the streets of Richmond on April 4, unharmed! And then, on April 9, Robert E. Lee surrendered.

Observers later noted that Booth was now alternatively despondent, or angry (even apoplectic), or resolved and focused, and it appears this is when he decided on a much simpler, and deadly, plan than kidnapping the President.

On Tuesday April 11 Lincoln scheduled a brief evening speech at the White House to publicly discuss his plan for reconciliation of the Southern states. Booth and Paine went to the White House lawn where Booth wondered aloud if Paine, who was armed, should fire at the President who stood at an open window framed by candle-light. We do not know if he decided against the assassination attempt at that time because the area was too crowded or if he wanted to wait for an opportunity to kill more officials than just the President. However, when Lincoln said that the nation should consider allowing Negro veterans the right to vote, an angry Booth reportedly told Paine, “That will be the last speech he will ever make.”

While it seems that Booth trusted Paine and that they formed a bond, Booth may not have been aware that his friend’s name was not Paine, but was actually Lewis Powell. Many witnesses knew him only as Paine and, for several days, authorities believed Powell and Paine were different co-conspirators. For the purpose of the rest of this narrative his birth name of Powell will be used.

On April 12, the morning after Lincoln’s White House speech, John Wilkes Booth called together Powell, David Herold, and George Atzerodt; the men who he believed would be willing to participate in the assassinations of three of the Union’s most influential leaders.

However, Booth was unsure of when and where to strike to assure the murders would be simultaneous. Booth was reasonably sure that Vice President Johnson would be at the Kirkwood House, where he had remained out of public view since his embarrassing speech at the Inaugural Ceremony which he delivered while “manifestly intoxicated.” Then Booth learned, through theatrical acquaintances, that Lincoln might attend Ford’s Theater on Friday April 14; but he still had no idea where to find General Grant, his third target.

Then, for Booth, the pieces seemed to fall into place!

He learned that General Grant and his wife would accompany Lincoln and Mary to a play, on April 14, at Ford’s Theater, where Booth knew the building layout and the staff very well.  Booth decided that he and  Powell would go together to assassinate Lincoln and Grant during the performance at a moment in the play, “Our American Cousin,” when he knew that the audience, including Lincoln and Grant, would be focused on the actors and laughing at a humorous line in the script.

But just as quickly as the plan had come together, circumstances again changed, and Booth needed another rapid revision!

On the morning of the 14th, Booth learned that General Grant had left Washington and would not be at the theater with Lincoln.  Booth, Powell, Atzerodt, and Herold discussed alternate plans and decided that Secretary of State William Seward should now be a target and Powell accepted the new assignment.  Since Seward was at his home recuperating from a carriage accident, Booth and Powell would have to separate for their missions.  Booth already had planned for someone to have his horse waiting after he shot Lincoln and escaped the theater, so he assigned another accomplice, David Herold, to accompany Powell to Seward’s home as a lookout and to control their horses.  Herold would then later meet Booth just across the Potomac River in Maryland.  The final mission fell to George Atzerodt, who was to kill Vice President Johnson.

The three attacks were to occur at 10:15 pm.

About 7pm Atzerodt, who was known for drinking to excess, went to the bar of the Kirkwood House where the Vice-President stayed, and began the first of many rounds of whiskey.  But, he never attacked Johnson and finally, about 10pm, left the hotel and meandered a few miles north into Maryland to seek refuge with relatives.  He said later that he never intended to go through with the assassination.

At 10:15, as David Herold controlled their horses, Powell charged into Seward’s home, and repeatedly stabbed the Secretary, his son, and another visitor; but remarkably, all of his victims survived.  Powell then ran from the house, mounted his horse and headed for a hideout in the city; while Herold rode off for his rendezvous with Booth.

At about 10:10pm, John Wilkes Booth entered Ford’s Theater where he had earlier set up a brace to block the stairway door from the inside.  Booth had expected to see a guard at the door that he would need to either talk his way past or attack with a knife; so he must have been astonished to see a vacant chair.  The absence of John Parker, who was to guard the stairway, has never been adequately explained.  Unhindered, Booth went to the second floor, entered the President’s box, shot Abraham Lincoln, dropped the derringer he had just fired, used a large knife to slash the arm of an army officer who was a guest in the box, and jumped from the balcony to the stage.  He caught his spur in the bunting and landed awkwardly on the stage breaking his left leg.  Many in the audience thought the action was part of the play; then the screams began!  Waving the knife to clear his path, Booth, limping badly, exited the theater, mounted his waiting horse, and escaped into the outskirts of the City to meet David Herold, as planned, in Maryland.

Abraham Lincoln, mortally wounded, would die the following morning.

So who were these assassins and their accomplices? Several of the early members of the Booth team balked at the change in objective from seizure to assassination and left the band; but four stuck together.  They and a few secondary accomplices were an unlikely team.  They each had some allegiance to the Confederacy, although their level of zeal differed, but none were trained assassins and they did not really know each other very well.

John Wilkes Booth was from a famous family of actors and writers, was well educated, and had enjoyed some success as an actor himself.  Although his family supported the Union, John, the youngest and least successful, gravitated toward support for the Confederacy.  His family later commented that perhaps, at first, he did so as a mild rebellion against his family and allegiance to the Southern cause may have seemed more “romantic” to him.  Only in the last year of the War did his public comments turn vociferous, and then usually when he had too much to drink.  At one family gathering his brother, Edwin, asked John to leave the house because his language became so disruptive and embarrassing.  John was already jealous of Edwin’s greater fame and fortune and some biographers believe that episode turned John from only a vocal supporter to one committed, as John Wilkes himself said, “To make a mark for the Confederacy.”

Lewis Powell (aka Paine) had served a year as a Confederate soldier and was a prisoner of war for a short time; but he also had a violent civilian past.  In early 1865 he applied for and received a certificate of pardon and signed a loyalty oath to the Union; however, he gave his name as Lewis Paine, an alias he would use until after Lincoln’s assassination.  A trusted Booth ally, he readily agreed to the original kidnap plan and then, when Booth decided to instead assassinate Lincoln and other government leaders, Powell agreed to accept whatever target he was assigned; and, in the end, Booth asked him to kill Secretary Seward.  A few modern conspiracy advocates have speculated that Powell’s pardon and use of the alias of Paine is an indication of a plot by Union officials to either infiltrate southern sympathizers in Washington DC or even to murder Abraham Lincoln; however, historians debunk those theories.

George Atzerodt was a part-time boatman for hire, often by thieves or purveyors of contraband, to cross the Potomac River, and on occasion, he had rowed Confederate couriers to the Virginia shore.  Atzerodt participated in the kidnap plot because, as one acquaintance later testified at his trial, “He would do anything for a price, and often did.”  Another said, “(He) was not very courageous and I have seen him in scrapes and I have seen him get out of them very fast.”  And, while both of these witnesses told the court that, as far as they knew, Atzerodt had never been involved in murder, he accepted the assignment to kill the Vice President!

David Herold was, by most accounts, a bit dim-witted, loyal to his few friends and he seemed to support himself through odd jobs.  Herold had spent his youth in an area of southern Maryland and Virginia near the Potomac and was originally expected to guide the kidnappers (with Lincoln as their hostage) through the countryside.  When the plot changed to assassination, he was assigned to first assist Powell at the Seward home and then to help Booth escape south through Maryland and into Virginia.

These four, Booth, Powell, Atzerodt, and Herold were directly involved in the various plots, including participation in the attacks on the evening of April 14.  But, subsequent testimony implicated several ancillary accomplices and perhaps two who may have been falsely accused.

Michael O’Laughlin was once a neighbor of John Wilkes Booth in Baltimore where the Booth family maintained a residence.  By all accounts the two were boyhood friends but saw little of each other as adults.  O’Laughlin, who was working as a store clerk, may have been surprised to receive a note in early September from Booth asking him to meet at a Baltimore hotel.

Samuel Arnold had been a classmate of Booth’s at a private preparatory school and it is believed that Arnold and Booth had some contact over the years; therefore Arnold may not have been as surprised as O”Laughlin when he also received a note to meet with Booth.

After Booth explained his plan to kidnap Lincoln, both O’Laughlin and Arnold agreed to participate; however, neither was later willing to become an assassin!

Ned Spangler was a carpenter and knew John Wilkes Booth because he was hired several times by the Booth family.  By 1864, Ned was working as a stage hand at Ford’s theater and was a frequent drinking companion of Booth’s.  While Spangler was a part of the original kidnap plot, he may not have known of Booth’s plan to murder Lincoln that night at Ford’s Theater.  Spangler had been asked by Booth to hold his horse outside the theater, but Spangler instead recruited a part-time helper, Joseph Burroughs to control the horse.  Certainly the hapless Burroughs knew nothing of Booth’s plan that night, but he was caught in the dragnet and found himself in jail for several days.

John Surratt, who lived in his mother’s boarding house, was a low level courier (for a fee) between Confederate agents in Washington and Generals farther south in Virginia; and had at least one assignment into Canada.  Surratt had also hired George Atzerodt to row him across the Potomac on several occasions.  Historians are unsure whether Booth was provided with an introduction to John Surratt by Confederate agents or simply by a southern sympathizer, possibly by Dr. Samuel Mudd from Maryland.  Conspiracy theorists often declare Confederate agents were involved, but Dr. Mudd also provides them with an interesting story line.  Whatever the source of the introduction to Booth, Surratt had willingly participated in the initial plot to kidnap Lincoln, but he withdrew from the group when Booth decided on assassination.  Certainly Surratt knew that President Lincoln and others were to be murdered but he did not report the new plan to authorities.

Mary Surratt was a widow who ran a boarding house in Washington DC with the help of her son John.  She was clearly identified as a southerner, having spent most of her youth in Virginia, but she was not an extremist and her neighbors and friends considered her a “woman of good character” who worked hard to maintain her business.  Mary also owned a small tavern in Maryland, about 15 miles south-east of Washington, in a rural area known as Surrattsville; where her deceased husband’s family had settled years earlier.  Many historians question Mary’s role in the kidnap and murder plots, and it is certainly possible that she was not guilty of any crime directly related to the President’s murder.  The charges against her were determined, not by factual evidence of participation, but by her association with Booth, Powell and of course, her son.

Dr. Samuel Mudd may have had some knowledge of Booth’s plot to kidnap President Lincoln; we just cannot be sure, however, it is unlikely that he was aware of the plan’s change to assassination.  The two men first met in November 1864 when Booth was in Southern Maryland ostensibly looking for land to create an estate, but likely scouting escape routes and prospective sympathizers for the kidnapers and their planed hostage, Abraham Lincoln.  Witnesses later said that Booth was directed by local residents to Dr. Mudd whose family owned several large tracts of land.  Mudd was a trained physician but had largely given up his practice to manage the family farm which had been ravaged by both Union and Confederate soldiers in search of provisions for their armies.  There was some later testimony, but not conclusive, that Dr. Mudd may have provided Booth with a letter of introduction to John Surratt.  What we do know is that Dr. Mudd and Booth met again before dawn on Saturday April 15 when Booth, along with David Herold, arrived at Mudd’s home to have the doctor treat his broken leg.  Mudd’s subsequent failure to personally and promptly tell authorities about his encounters with Booth was sufficient to label him a co-conspirator.

On Saturday morning, April 15, William Seward was still alive, despite having been savagely stabbed.  Vice President Johnson was still unaware that he had been an intended target.  Powell was hiding, Atzerodt was drunk, and Booth and Herold were on the run in Maryland trying to reach Virginia.

And, at 7:22am, President Abraham Lincoln died!

Part 2: The Aftermath.

The Confederate government had abandoned their Capital in Richmond, General Robert E. Lee had surrendered, and the War was certainly going to end very soon. And, the President of the United States had given a speech three days earlier in which he welcomed back the people of the South, “As if they never left us at all.”

But that Good Friday would end as one of the most tragic days in American history.

Abraham Lincoln, who was attending a play at Ford’s Theater, was mortally wounded that evening at 10:20 pm and would die the following morning. In a coordinated attack at his home, Secretary of State William Seward, his son and another guest were savagely stabbed, but survived. Vice President Johnson was supposed to also be a target but was not harmed as the assigned assassin did not go through with his mission.

When he jumped from the elevated Presidential box to the stage, Lincoln’s assassin, John Wilkes Booth, broke his leg but stumbled to his feet and escaped the building to a waiting horse. He then rode east to the Navy Yard Bridge to cross the Anacostia River into southern Maryland. When the sentries at the bridge stopped him, Booth gave his correct name and stated that he was returning to a friend’s home in Maryland; and, unaware that Lincoln had just been assassinated, the guards let Booth pass. Within a few minutes, David Herold, who had controlled the getaway horses at Secretary Seward’s home, approached the same bridge and was also allowed to pass. Booth and Herold then set out to ride nearly fifty miles through rural southern Maryland with a plan to cross the Potomac River into eastern Virginia at a point where the river was nearly two miles wide. They had decided on the longer escape route to avoid Union military units which for the past year had been massed near the west side bridges toward Alexandria, Virginia

George Atzerodt, who decided to not murder Vice President Johnson, instead became drunk and left the city for a relative’s home in Maryland.

Lewis Powell, who had attacked Secretary Seward, was not yet a suspect and stayed out of sight in the city until Monday morning. Then disguised in shabby clothes as a laborer, he headed for a place he thought he would be welcomed.

By Sunday, April 16, police and military officers knew Booth was Lincoln’s assassin but they did know who had attacked Seward. However, when they learned of Booth’s frequent visits to Mary Surratt’s boarding house, her son John, who was known to be a Southern sympathizer, became a suspect.

But authorities, when they went to interview Mrs. Surratt, had no reason to believe she was directly involved. When the officers first met her, they erroneously informed her that her son, John, had attacked Secretary Seward and asked if she knew where he could be found. The officers testified later that Mrs. Surratt seemed genuinely surprised and horrified that her son may have been involved in such a murderous scheme.  She readily admitted that she knew Booth but said that her son had not been home for several days; and she was telling the truth.

The officers noted that Mary Surratt was in deep despair over the accusation against her son, and it would be another day before she learned that John was not the person who had tried to kill Seward after all. Meanwhile, the boarding house was placed under full time surveillance and all who arrived were questioned.

But John Surratt would not be coming home.

While he had willingly joined the original kidnap plan, John Surratt refused to participate in the plot to murder Lincoln and others, and had left Washington DC several days before the assassination. He had been asked by a Confederate contact to go to Elmira, New York to determine if a small force could successfully liberate the Southern soldiers who were held in a nearby prisoner of war camp.  While in New York, John heard about the assassination, and that there was a $25,000 reward for his capture. He slipped into Canada and was not heard from for two years.

Back in Washington DC, on Monday morning April 17, Lewis Powell arrived at the boarding house and was identified as Seward’s assailant by a witness who was at the house. Powell gave his name as “Lewis Paine” which was the name on the pardon certificate he gave to the officers who arrested him. Mary Surratt must have been momentarily relieved to learn that her son was no longer a suspect in that crime; but the good news ended then and there. Although there was no proof of her personal involvement in the plot, authorities arrested Mrs. Surratt because she was clearly in contact with both Powell and Booth; now known to have carried out the attacks.

The authorities were after anyone who had been in contact with Booth, and his three friends who had participated in the kidnap scheme were quickly targeted. Based on a tip from someone to whom he had bragged about his friendship with Booth, Baltimore police arrested Michael O’Laughlin on Monday April 17. Also, Ned Spangler, the stage hand, was arrested the same day as agents learned of his friendship with Booth. Samuel Arnold had been arrested a day earlier when police found a letter he had written to Booth in the room at the National Hotel which Booth had rented.

George Atzerodt was found on Thursday in Maryland at his cousin’s house, in a drunken sleep. His brother, a Baltimore policeman, gave his probable location upon learning that George was a possible suspect. The police were after Atzerodt because witnesses had seen him with Booth and Powell; but authorities were still unaware that he had been assigned to assassinate the Vice President.

But John Wilkes Booth and David Herold were still free and headed south through Maryland to find a safe haven in Virginia. To understand their travel route, it is helpful to know a bit about the geography of Washington DC, the bordering state of Virginia, the Maryland countryside, and the meandering course of the Potomac River. While there was a bridge over the Potomac from Washington DC westward into Virginia, the city was actually bordered more to the east and south by Maryland. In fact, after crossing the Anacostia River, a small tributary of the Potomac at the Navy Yard Bridge, Booth and Herold needed to ride nearly fifty miles south through Maryland. And, while the Potomac generally flowed to the southeast, there were stretches where it ran south, other parts where it ran east, and places where it actually turned north for a few miles; much in the shape of a fish-hook. So, Herold and Booth would cross the Potomac about 45 miles southeast of Washington into Virginia.

The two fugitives headed first to Mary Surratt’s tavern at Surrattsville. They gathered several weapons which were stored there, some knowingly by John Surratt and others possibly unknowingly by his mother, and rode another 20 miles south to the Maryland farm of Dr. Samuel Mudd.

Booth’s broken leg needed medical attention.

Arriving at the farm about 6 am, less than eight hours after the assassination, Herold introduced himself as “Henson” and said he was traveling with a wounded Confederate soldier named “Tyson” who had a broken leg. Mudd set the break, fashioned a splint, and offered to let the two men spend the night. Mudd testified later at his trial that he had never met Herold before and that he did not recognize his patient as Booth while attending to the damaged leg. Mudd further said that he first learned that Lincoln had been shot when he went into town later that morning and was shocked when told that John Wilkes Booth was the assassin. Only then, according to Mudd, did he realize that it was Booth at his home. The doctor returned to the farm and ordered Booth and Herold to leave; however, he did not report Booth’s visit for another day and, even then, asked his cousin to give the information to Union authorities.

Historians are divided about Dr. Mudd. It is not known with certainty whether the fugitives would have stopped at Mudd’s farm were it not for Booth’s injury, or if Mudd really failed at first to recognize Booth as his patient. Even Mudd gave conflicting stories over time, but his hesitation to personally and promptly report his encounter with Booth sealed his fate.

After leaving Mudd’s farm, Booth and Herold still needed to traverse another 20 miles before they would reach the point on the Potomac where they planned to cross into Virginia. Since there were people in southern Maryland who were sympathetic to the Confederate cause, Herold’s story about the wounded soldier just trying to get home was sufficient to gain them meals and a few restful nights’ sleep.

When they reached their destination at river’s edge, they traded their horses for provisions and a rowboat. Once on Virginia soil they continued their journey by requesting rides in wagons with drivers they assessed as unlikely to betray the wounded Confederate soldier and his companion.

About 9 am on April 24th, after nine days on the run, they were approached by three actual Confederate soldiers who had recently been pardoned by a Union General and were headed home. Herold, not wanting the soldiers to think they were deserters, or Union spies, blurted out, “We are the assassinators of the President.” William Jett, who seemed to be the leader, said that they were aware of Lincoln’s assassination and that Booth was a suspect. Jett then said that he knew a local farmer, Richard Garrett, who lived a few miles away and who would likely be sympathetic to a wounded Confederate; but Jett advised Booth and Herold against revealing their real names. The three soldiers and Herold agreed to double up on two horses, giving Booth a horse by himself, and the five men headed for Garrett’s farm.

Jett chose to leave them near the farm rather than to make introductions to Garrett, so Herold walked a short distance to the farm house and introduced himself to Richard Garrett as David Boyd. Herold asked for a few days refuge for himself and a wounded companion; who was introduced as James W. Boyd, his brother. Garrett was a dedicated secessionist and readily agreed to let the men stay and said he would try to learn if there were any nearby Confederate units the two brothers might join.

Over the prior few days, Union authorities had questioned hundreds of people in Maryland and Virginia, and after assessing the locations of sightings of a wounded man and his friend, were able to focus more searchers along Booth’s route. Although none of the witnesses along the trail admitted to knowing the fugitives were Booth and Herold, several stated that they had helped the wounded young Confederate and his friend get back home by providing food, rest, and transportation.

Then, agents found William Jett!  He said that he had met two “stragglers” and recommended that they might seek refuge with Richard Garrett; but he did not disclose that he knew the men were Booth and Herold. Word reached Garrett, likely by someone sent by Jett, that Union troops were on their way to his farm to search for two fugitives and would probably arrive the following day.

What neither Jett nor Garrett knew was that the Union Commander, sensing that they were close to finding Booth, ordered an all-night ride.

Upon learning that Union troops were looking for the two men, Garrett asked Herold the reason that such a large force was tracking them. Herold, still not disclosing his or Booth’s identity, replied that he and his brother were wanted for “several transgressions” and that they would leave the area if Garrett would provide two horses. It is not clear if Garrett realized by this time who the men really were, but he refused to give them horses that evening to aid their escape. Garrett expected the troops to arrive later the next morning, so he allowed Booth and Herold to rest overnight in a nearby tobacco barn; but he wanted them to depart early, evidently on foot.

After a hard night-time ride for over twelve hours, the Union troops arrived at Garrett’s house about 2:30 am and charged in. The startled Garrett told them two men were in the barn, which the soldiers then immediately surrounded. The Commander yelled an order for Booth and Herold to surrender and assured them the soldiers would hold their fire; as their orders were to take Booth alive if at all possible. The Commander and Booth had several conversations over the next hour but these were not really negotiations; mostly Booth made statements about his willingness to die for his cause and the senior officer repeated several times his demand that they surrender. Finally, the Commander ordered a small fire to be started at the rear of the barn to “smoke them out” and at first that seemed to work. Booth yelled, “There is a man in here who wants to surrender awful bad” and “He is innocent of any crime whatsoever.” Then Herold, unarmed and with his hands raised, stepped out of the barn. He was immediately seized by soldiers who pulled him away from the barn and tied him to a nearby tree.

Booth, on the other hand, began to limp towards an area away from the flames and could be seen through cracks in the barn still carrying a rifle. Sergeant Boston Corbett, who later said it appeared that Booth was ready to shoot at one of the officers, fired a single shot that struck Booth in the neck. Booth fell, paralyzed from damage to his spinal cord, and was dragged from the burning barn by two soldiers. He remained conscious and spoke several times over the next three hours. He died at 7 am, April 26.

The twelfth day after he murdered Abraham Lincoln!

Sergeant Corbett was immediately arrested by the Commander for killing Booth against clear orders; however, the public saw him as a hero and, after several weeks of uncertainty, the army decided to drop the charges.

Booth’s body was taken overland back to the Potomac River and placed on a waiting ship for passage to the Washington Federal Navy Yard where the process of identification took place. There were several points of identity noted by the examiners besides the familiar facial features. The left leg was broken, Booth had the letters “JWB” tattooed on his hand, a dentist recognized several fillings, and a surgeon who had removed a non-malignant tumor from Booth’s neck noted the scar that was left. Several of Booth’s theatrical acquaintances also identified the body. A few personal items were found including a photograph of his sister and a diary, with the final entry on the day before his death. Satisfied that the corpse was Booth, a brief autopsy was performed which verified the damage to the spinal cord. As often seen today following any tragedy, there was a morbid public interest in the manner of Booth’s death and in his remains; and Secretary of War Stanton and new President Andrew Johnson did not want any burial site to become a curiosity to some and a martyr’s grave to others. The crew of the ship, which had transported the body to the Federal Navy Yard, was even ordered to stage a “burial at sea” to mislead any onlookers. They also decided that Booth would be secretly buried in a location known only to a few and controlled by the military. Booth’s remains lay buried in the secret location until 1869 when President Johnson, as one of his last acts in office, permitted Booth’s family to identify and then re-inter the body. They decided on a Baltimore cemetery where the family owned several plots; but they placed the body in an unmarked grave. Years later, researchers studied the cemetery records and, by a process of elimination, were able to locate Booth’s burial place.

One cannot help but contrast Booth’s ignoble end to the outpouring of grief by millions of Americans, who paid their respects to Abraham Lincoln in the Capital city and along the rail route through most northern cities for his final journey back to Springfield, Illinois.

But, there are some authors, not historians, who speculate whether Booth was actually killed at Garrett’s barn; however, reputable scholars dispute their theories and agree that Booth was the leader of the initial kidnap plan and the subsequent assassination plot, that he died at Garrett’s farm, and that his body was appropriately identified.  The speculative tales make interesting reading but should not be considered American history.

With all of the suspects in custody, except John Surratt, Secretary Stanton and President Johnson directed that all conspirators be tried together in a military court; the trial began on May 9, 1865 and by June 29, the verdicts were in.

Lewis Powell, David Herold, George Atzerodt, and Mary Surratt were to be hanged. Dr. Mudd, Arnold, and O’Laughlin received life sentences; while Ned Spangler was sentenced to six years. Mudd later received a pardon for his heroic medical care for guards and inmates during a deadly outbreak of yellow fever. O’Laughlin died in the epidemic, but Arnold and Spangler also received pardons. Thereafter, those pardoned would lead quiet lives.

Because the trial was held in a military court, President Andrew Johnson had to approve any death sentences; and he did so for the four defendants on July 5; and then ordered that the executions be held in only two days, July 7.

Throughout the trial, Lewis Powell had steadfastly claimed that Mrs. Surratt knew nothing of the plot and said he regretted returning to the boarding house because it seemed to implicate her. There was a flurry of appeal activity, especially on behalf of Mrs. Surratt, including a writ of habeas corpus issued by a federal judge at 2 am on the day of her scheduled execution; but President Johnson quickly suspended the right to habeas corpus for all Lincoln defendants. On the gallows, Powell again declared, but to no avail, “Mrs. Surratt is innocent and should not die with us!”

After the sentences were carried out, the four bodies were buried near the gallows, in a secure military facility, where they remained for four years until the families were allowed to re-inter them.

But what of the others who were part of the kidnap or assassination plots, knew of Booth’s plans, or were simply caught up in the events.

John Surratt avoided capture for two years until he was caught in Europe and returned to stand trial; but his case was tried in a Washington DC civil court rather than a military court. The jury deadlocked and the trial ended but the federal prosecutors filed a motion for a second trial with new charges. In a remarkable example of incompetence, or as some believe a cunning plan to absolve John Surratt, the prosecutor chose charges that had a two year statute of limitations; and the Judge dismissed the entire case. The irony was that, because Surratt was a fugitive and out of the country for two years, the limitation did not apply.

John Surratt was interviewed several times over the years and always bristled when asked why he chose to disappear rather than defend his mother; even if only by a written statement delivered to prosecutors or newspapers without revealing his location. His answers varied but, while proclaiming her innocence, were usually self-serving and unapologetic. In a presentation he gave in 1870 to a historical society, John Surratt gave his most thorough account of the kidnap plot but claimed he left the group when Booth suggested assassination. He further claimed that a former classmate, Louis Weichmann, a clerk in the Union War Department who often stayed at the Surratt boarding house, was in fact a co-conspirator.  Weichmann was the primary witness against Mary Surratt, and he testified that he saw her in “private sessions with Booth and Powell” which would suddenly go quiet when he entered a room. According to John Surratt, Weichmann committed perjury against his mother to save himself. No charges were ever filed against Weichmann and in a deathbed statement in 1902, he again swore that he was never Booth’s associate and that his testimony was true. John Surratt, who continued to incriminate Weichmann, died in 1916 at 72. Most historians believe Weichmann probably knew more about Booth’s plans than he said in his testimony, but few think he was a co-conspirator.

Richard Garrett was harassed by federal investigators and army officials for a while but was never formally charged. William Jett, who had suggested Booth rest at Garrett’s farm and then told the pursuing military unit where Booth was hiding, was never charged but he became severely depressed over regret that, “with one statement I betrayed both Booth and Mr. Garrett.” Jett died in an asylum a few years later.

And what about John Parker, the man who was supposed to guard the door to Lincoln’s box? Some said he left his post to get a better view of the play and another witness said Parker joined him for a drink at an adjacent bar after the President was seated. One investigator reported that Parker claimed Lincoln had dismissed him upon entering the box. The true reason the door was unguarded is unknown and remains a missing piece of the puzzle. Historians do know that Parker appeared about midnight at police headquarters with two prostitutes he had arrested, so he may have simply resumed a foot patrol after leaving the theater.  Although initially charged with neglect of duty, Parker’s case was dismissed; but his absence from his post has provided fuel for speculation for 150 years.

So did Booth accomplish his mission? I think not. Instead of helping the Confederacy, Booth actually caused the Southern people egregious harm. Lincoln’s murder unleashed a torrent of anger at the South by otherwise tolerant Northern citizens and politicians who now thought Confederate officials were complicit in the assassination of their popular President. These admirers of Lincoln now joined forces with the “Radical Republicans” in Congress, who already wanted to punish the southern population, and the result was a generation of punitive reconstruction policies.

Personally, I have always been more interested in the humanity lessons from historic events, rather than the factual minutia or trivia about the episodes. In my book, “Abraham Lincoln – An Uncommon, Common Man,” I wrote the following:

“Over time the assassination has become a historical event, studied in detail by thousands of authors and often viewed as an academic exercise. In many cases, however, the human tragedy is overlooked. Mary lost her husband and witnessed his murder. Tad and Robert lost their father and Sarah Bush Johnson lost her son. William Herndon and Joshua Speed lost their best friend, and William Seward lost the one political leader and friend he most admired. The country lost a President who was willing to forgive his adversaries and, while denied by some, the South lost an advocate who would have welcomed them back into the Union without the retribution evident in the subsequent reconstruction.

I have always considered Lincoln’s assassination a horrific loss for his family and friends, and a national tragedy with terrible repercussions.

But, while researching for this article, I found a letter expressing such immeasurable grief that I realized I had never considered the effect of Lincoln’s assassination on one family.

Whenever a good and decent family has a member who deliberately causes a tragedy, especially one of epic proportions, the family experiences grief on multiple fronts. They grieve for the loss of the innocent just as others, but they also may become victims to public outrage directed at them; and still, in some way, they also mourn the loss of one so close who inexplicably was to blame. The remaining members of the Booth family were overwrought by Lincoln’s death and their brother’s actions. On April 20, while John Wilkes Booth was still a fugitive, his older brother Edwin, a celebrated actor and philanthropist who was an admirer of Lincoln, wrote this letter (in part), addressed to “My fellow Citizens” which was widely published in America and in Europe.

“When a nation is overwhelmed with sorrow, the mention of private grief would, under the circumstances, be an intrusion, but I feel sure that a word from me will not be so regarded by you. It has pleased God to lay at the door of my afflicted family the life blood of our great, good and martyred President. I am yet but too sensible that other mourners fill the land. To them, to you, one and all, go forth our deep and unutterable sympathy; our abhorrence and detestation of this most foul and atrocious of crimes. For my mother and sisters, for my two remaining brothers, and my own poor self, there is nothing to be said. For our loyalty as dutiful, though humble, citizens and efforts to elevate our name, we appeal to the record of the past. For the present, we are not responsible. For the future—alas! I shall struggle on with a heavy heart, an oppressed memory and a wounded name—dreadful burdens—to my too welcome grave.”

His final words, “to my too welcome grave,” convey the deep sorrow Edwin felt for the rest of his life. John Wilkes Booth had not only murdered Abraham Lincoln and deprived the South of a magnanimous President who would have embraced their return; he also destroyed his own family.

A true American tragedy.

Contact the author at  gadorris2@gmail.com

Appomattox - A Meeting of Giants (Article 21)

Union General Ulysses S. Grant was suffering from one of his frequent severe headaches when he called his staff to a meeting at his camp, in the Virginia countryside, on the evening of April 6, 1865.

That same evening, at about the same time and only three miles away, Confederate General Robert E. Lee was meeting with his staff to determine how best to use his decimated Army of Northern Virginia to delay Grant’s advance through the South. Although the Confederate Capital of Richmond had already fallen to the Union onslaught, Lee and his staff had not yet contemplated surrender and planned to fight on. Some on his staff even advocated “a stand to the last man” on their home soil.

General Grant was certain that his overwhelming advantage of men, armaments, and provisions would soon defeat Lee’s army, through horrific attrition if not through ingenious military tactics. But he also realized that his enemy would not go quietly and many young men would die every day until a cease fire and/or surrender could be arranged.

Now, perhaps for the first time since he was promoted by President Lincoln to Commander of all Union forces, General Grant hesitated to press the battle the next morning against what he knew was a bedraggled Southern army.  Until that night, Grant had effectively utilized the strategy of “all forces, at all points, at all times” against the Confederates.  Because of the carnage he seemed willing to accept as he aggressively attacked Southern forces, one newspaper editor had even sarcastically used his initials and dubbed him “Unlimited Slaughter” Grant, rather than the more heroic nickname of “Unconditional Surrender” Grant used by many northern writers.

But now Lt. General Grant, the highest ranking officer in the Union Army, paused for a moment.

Grant asked his staff if they believed that General Lee might agree to surrender his army to avoid any further bloodshed because, even as Lee must realize, the ultimate Union victory was not in doubt.  While some still advocated an all-out attack to force surrender, others on Grant’s staff agreed that as one officer later recalled, “The human toll on both sides would outweigh any territory gained.”

Throughout the next day, April 7, there was intermittent fighting and more bloodshed without significant movement of the battle lines.

After consulting again with his staff that afternoon, Grant decided to send a letter to Lee, which would be delivered under a white flag by one of his aides on horseback.  At 5pm on April 7, Grant wrote (in part); “The results of the last week must convince you of the hopelessness of further resistance in this struggle.  I regard it as my duty to shift responsibility of any further effusion of blood by asking of you the surrender of (your) army.”

Grant later said that his terrible headache, which had lasted two days, ceased the moment he penned the note to Lee.

The recognized military protocol for transfer of such messages between enemy camps was that a trusted staff officer would carry a white flag to the enemy front line and, after shouting out his intention, would be met in “no man’s land” by an officer from the other side (also with a white flag).  The two officers would deliver the message to the intended recipient and await a reply.  This was a dangerous assignment for both officers, especially at night when a nervous sentry might shoot before recognizing the white flag.

Lee responded about 9pm and his letter was presented to Grant just before midnight.  Lee wrote (in part); “I have received your note.  Though not entertaining the opinion you express of the hopelessness of further resistance, I reciprocate your desire to avoid useless effusion of blood and ask the terms you will offer.”

Grant received Lee’s note at 1am on April 8, and within an hour, Grant wrote (in part); “In reply I would say that peace being my great desire, there is but one condition I would insist on – namely that the men and officers be disqualified for taking up arms against the government.  I will meet you or any officers you may designate, at any point agreeable to you for the purpose of arranging definitely the terms.”

Later that day, as Lee retreated further in Virginia, there were still ongoing skirmishes with casualties on both sides.  Perhaps the ongoing clashes and Lee’s continual movement caused a delay in the delivery of Grant’s early morning message to Lee; but it was not given to General Lee until about 5pm, thirteen hours later. 

Lee responded to Grant about 8pm on April 8 writing (in part); “General, I received your note of today.  In mine of yesterday, I did not intend to propose the surrender but to ask the terms of your proposition.  To be frank I do not think the emergency has arisen to call for the surrender of this army; but as far as your proposal may tend to the restoration of peace, I should be pleased to meet you at 10am tomorrow (April 9) on the Old State Road to Richmond, between picket-lines of the two armies.”

Again the couriers would take a daring night-time ride through enemy lines; but it would be nine hours before Lee’s latest reply was delivered to Grant about 5am on April 9.

Grant immediately wrote (in part); “Your note of yesterday is received.  I have not authority to treat on the subject of peace.  The meeting for 10am today would lead to no good.”  Grant said later that he thought Lee wanted terms of a peace agreement between the Union and the Confederacy but Grant believed he could only discuss surrender and disarmament of Lee’s army, which he directly faced.  Grant also knew that there still were three large Confederate Armies with about 175,000 men which operated in other Southern states for which Lee could not speak; nor could Lee speak for the Confederate government.  Grant concluded his message by offering this opinion about an overall peace agreement; “By the South laying down their arms, they would hasten that most desirous event, save thousands of lives, and hundreds of millions of property not yet destroyed.  Seriously hoping our difficulties may be settled without the loss of another life.”

But Grant had clearly intended to cancel the meeting which Lee had proposed for 10am that same morning!

Three hours after Grant sent his latest reply, about 8am, on April 9, Lee received Grant’s message which stated a meeting that day at 10am “would do no good.”  Lee was startled and now needed to try to assure a meeting with Grant did occur.  Unknown to Grant, Lee had conferred with his staff the previous evening and had determined to surrender his army to Grant if the terms were at all reasonable.  He also had told his staff that he expected to be arrested at the meeting, but that they should honor any agreement he signed.  Hoping to re-start plans for a meeting that day (April 9), Lee wrote; “I now ask for an interview, in accordance with the offer contained in your letter of yesterday.

But General Lee could only hope his latest message would re-kindle Grant’s willingness to meet!

Within three hours, about 11am, Grant received Lee’s request for “an interview” and replied (in part); I am at Walker’s church and will push forward to the front for the purpose of meeting with you.  Notice sent to me on this road where you wish the interview to take place.”

The meeting was on!

Their aides determined that the village of Appomattox Courthouse, a small farming hub in Appomattox County, Virginia, was about mid-way from each army’s picket-line; and both Generals soon headed for the historic meeting.  There has always been some public confusion about the location of the meeting because historians interchangeably use the term Appomattox, Appomattox Courthouse (the official name of the community), and the McLean home as the meeting site.  The village contained a county courthouse, a general store, a tavern and several fine residences, most with slave quarters.  Aides for the two Generals rejected the courthouse as a venue, probably because it contained visual reminders of the Confederate government to which Grant might have objected.  (We do not know if he would have.)  While in town, Lee’s aide met Wilmer McLean who offered the use of his home which had a parlor large enough to accommodate the two Generals and their staffs.

The home also had several out-buildings, including slave quarters, but McLean said that the few slaves had fled north several months earlier.

Lee arrived first and was seated at one of two desks in the parlor.  Observers noted that Lee was impeccably dressed in a new General’s uniform and carried at his side a fine sword with intricate engravings.  When Grant arrived within a few minutes he was ushered into the same parlor.  The contrast between the two men was striking.  Grant wore a simple soldier’s shirt, which had only a small emblem with the stars of a General, no weapon, and his trousers were tucked into his mud splattered riding boots.

The two men courteously greeted each other and discussed the fact that they had met before, during the Mexican War, when Grant was a young Lieutenant and Lee an experienced Captain. Each man had graduated from the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, although several years apart. At that first meeting, almost twenty years earlier, both men were then in the service of the United States Army.  After a short period during which their staffs were formally introduced, the two Generals were left alone for a private discussion. After about twenty minutes the staff officers were summoned by Grant and, upon entering, noted Grant sat at a second desk a few paces away from where Lee was seated.

One aide later said that, “The room was filled with quiet respect” and Lee asked Grant if he would write down the terms they had just privately discussed.  Grant began to personally hand-write the surrender document and, when he had finished in only a few minutes, the others in the room were astonished.  It was, perhaps, one of the most brief and generous terms of surrender in the history of warfare.  Grant agreed to release every Confederate soldier and officer, including General Lee, rather than consider them prisoners-of-war;  requiring only their promise to no longer engage in warfare against the Union, to lay down their military issued rifles and artillery, and return home.  Grant further added that officers could keep their side-arms and swords and any one could keep rifles, horses, and mules which they owned.  And, while it was a time-honored military custom for the vanquished commander to “surrender his sword” that did not happen in this case.  Grant later simply said, “It never entered my mind.”

Grant then asked General Lee about the status of food for his army and when Lee replied “dismal,” Grant ordered rations for 25,000 to be delivered to the Southern soldiers.

As General Lee left, the two men exchanged brief acknowledgements, shook hands, and Lee mounted his horse to ride back through the lines.  Grant ordered that; “There be no displays of triumph” over Lee and his men.  One Union officer said that; “General Grant displayed no emotion but respect, while General Lee seemed to be the saddest man on earth.”

Much has been written about the famous meeting on April 9, but not much about a second meeting between Grant and Lee two days later.  Lee had become concerned that his men needed an official pardon certificate from Grant or they could be subject to arrest by other Union forces.  Grant agreed and had his staff issue nearly 23,000 individual pardons.  General Lee did not request one for himself.

An interested observer of the events at Appomattox was Captain Robert Todd Lincoln, son of the President, who was on Grant’s staff. Captain Lincoln returned to the White House and described the details of the historic meeting to his father at a family dinner on Thursday April 13; the night before President Lincoln would be assassinated.

Lee’s surrender did not, by itself, end the War as there were still several large Confederate armies operating in Georgia, North Carolina, and in the western states of Oklahoma and Texas; but, over the next few weeks, they too laid down their arms and went home. Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederacy, had fled the Capital of Richmond on April 3 and hoped to escape into Texas, but he was captured in Georgia on May 10, 1865.

After Lincoln’s death, Secretary of War Edwin Stanton and new President Andrew Johnson discussed the possible prosecution of Robert E. Lee; however, Grant strongly objected, some said “threatened” would be a better word, and the subject was dropped. Grant later wrote that, “President Lincoln would not have wanted a vengeful prosecution” of Lee.

When the War was finally over, Robert E. Lee became President of Washington College in Virginia where he lived modestly for the rest of his life. He once said, “I surrendered as much to Lincoln’s goodness as to Grant’s artillery.” However, he also often expressed appreciation for the courtesies shown to him and his men by General Grant and once reproached a professor in a public meeting saying, “I will not tolerate impolite remarks about General Grant in my presence.”

On April 9, 1865 at Appomattox Courthouse, Virginia, history witnessed a true “Meeting of Giants” and the two men left us with valuable examples of courtesy and respect toward an adversary; and a life lesson on how to begin the healing process.

We just need to remember.

Contact the author at  gadorris2@gmail.com

To Divide or Preserve- The Election of 1864 ( Article 20)

In the summer of 1864, Abraham Lincoln was worried. Very worried!

He had come to grips with the probability that, although he had just won his party’s nomination for a second term as President, he could lose the election in November. To his friends, family, and Cabinet members he seemed to accept that possibility without bitterness, as he told them that the failure of Union forces to militarily overcome the Confederacy gave “the people sufficient cause to scuttle this administration.” He knew that he could personally handle the defeat and expected that he would just return home to Springfield to be among his friends and to resume his law practice with William Herndon.

His worry, therefore, was not for himself, but for the Country. Lincoln had freely acknowledged that there were men who could probably be a more effective Commander-in-Chief and provide the military leadership needed to hasten a victory over the Confederacy.  He was, however, near despair that a new President might be elected who would try to settle the War with a peace agreement which left the Nation divided, slavery intact, and a horrific Civil War fought in vain.

Then the Democratic Party nominated as President the one person Abraham Lincoln was certain would not continue the fight to preserve the United States or to abolish slavery; former General George B. McClellan!

In 1862, Lincoln had removed McClellan from duty for his reluctance to engage Confederate forces saying, “he has the slows” after the General had openly defied a series of strategic directives. In one of the ironies of history, McClellan’s nomination in 1864 came at the same “Wigwam” building in Chicago where Lincoln had been nominated in 1860.

One Republican Senator said, “If Lincoln loses the election to McClellan, the United States will fail.”  However, he was not referring to a military victory by the South, but instead to the expectation that McClellan would offer a peace settlement that left the Confederate States of America as a distinct, and separate, government within which slavery would be perpetuated.

Lincoln said, “I fear he will give Jefferson Davis more than he has won.”

McClellan had campaigned on a “Peace for All” platform and promised that, if elected, he would initiate an offer to the Confederate States which could end the War without interference with “property rights;” which was the common euphemism for slavery. Further, he stated that Lincoln’s 1863 Presidential Emancipation Proclamation was “illegal and detrimental to peaceful settlement” implying that he would rescind the edict. Lincoln feared that repeal of the Proclamation might result in widespread slave insurrections and had earlier said, “The whole slave population of the South expects its freedom at our hands. These Black millions are waiting patiently for their time to come, and if this War ends without giving them their freedom, they will take it.”

Buoyed by the possibility of a McClellan victory, Confederate President Jefferson Davis, who despised Lincoln, weighed in and said that his government would favorably respond to peace overtures by “President” McClellan.

By mid-1864, the Northern population was growing “war weary” and some would have preferred the permanent separation of the Southern states as a viable alternative to the continuing death and destruction of the Civil War. These northern citizens were not swayed by assurances from Lincoln, other Union politicians, and military leaders that the Federal armies would eventually prevail over the Confederate forces.

But would a majority of the nation’s voters be willing to wait for that outcome?

Lincoln was painfully aware that the voter combination of wavering Republicans and “Peace Democrats” could turn the White House over to McClellan. And Lincoln feared the possible election of McClellan because the Founding Fathers’ concept of a United nation comprised of the several States could be forever lost.

Upon McClellan’s nomination in August, Lincoln presented his Cabinet with a sealed envelope which he asked them to sign and date without permitting them to read the contents; only alluding to a personal promise to be revealed later. He told his secretaries that he did not want to be talked out of the pledge that the envelope contained. Lincoln’s confidential memo stated, “It seems exceedingly likely that this administration will not be re-elected. Then it will be my duty to so co-operate with the President Elect, as to save the Union between the election and the inauguration; as he will have secured the election on such ground that he can not possibly save it afterward.”

To a casual observer, Lincoln simply gave a noble promise to work with an incoming President, but historians agree this was no benign pledge.

Actually, if he lost, Lincoln intended to throw overwhelming Union resources of men and armament into furious charges in an attempt to drive Confederate forces to surrender and capitulation in the four months between the election and McClellan’s inauguration on March 4, 1864. And, in fact, Lincoln and Grant immediately began to employ some elements of that military strategy beginning in August.

However, even if these relentless attacks did not drive the Confederate government to a final unconditional surrender by March 4, the Southern forces would be so weakened that McClellan, as the new President, would be left with an incredibly strong bargaining position. In that event, it would be nearly impossible for McClellan to fail to seize a forceful pro-Union advantage in any peace negotiations or he would risk being judged by Congress and most northern citizens as an appeaser; which Lincoln suspected he might be.

Lincoln intended to build a box within which McClellan would be cornered with no choice but to extract major concessions from the South.

In any case, in August 1864, Lincoln accepted the probability that he would lose the November election. On the other hand, George McClellan was absolutely confident that he would win.

But, no one has ever been able to accurately predict the fortunes or pace of war and, within weeks of Lincoln’s confidential pledge, the Union victories began to pile up. Admiral Farragut won control of the ports in Mobile, Alabama. General Sherman captured Atlanta. General Sheridan gained control of the Shenandoah Valley. And General Grant was pushing General Lee further into Virginia.

The end of the long Civil War was not yet imminent, but it was clearly perceivable; and the mood of the northern electorate began to improve.

On Election Day, November 8, 1864, McClellan, ever a pompous and arrogant person by nature who considered himself superior to Lincoln in every way, expected victory.

In contrast, Abraham Lincoln prepared his family, friends and his Cabinet for loss and then went to the War Department telegraph office to wait for the results.

Neither Lincoln nor McClellan could have been more surprised at the outcome. Lincoln won the popular vote 2,200,000 to 1,500,000 and the electoral vote 212 to 21. This was a devastating defeat for McClellan and an endorsement for Lincoln; and sent a clear message to Jefferson Davis that there would be no forthcoming peace initiative favorable to the Confederate States.

Lincoln took special pride in the results of the military canvass as he won nearly 80% of the vote of soldiers who, after all, carried the heaviest burden of the War.

After the election, when it no longer served any purpose, Lincoln shared the “pledge” with his Cabinet.

We can only ponder what would have been left of the United States of America if McClellan had won the 1864 election and quickly negotiated with the Confederate States. Would McClellan have repealed the Emancipation Proclamation? If so would those slaves already freed by the 1863 Proclamation have been forced to return to their Southern masters? McClellan certainly would not have championed the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution to abolish slavery as Lincoln did in January 1865. Would the slave holding Border States of Maryland, Delaware, Kentucky, and Missouri, which had remained in the Union, have retained legalized slavery? Would there have been deadly slave insurrections, especially in several large areas where they substantially outnumbered the White population? Would there have been two independent nations which shared a border along Arkansas, Tennessee, and Virginia? Would, as Lincoln predicted, the Confederate States have later broken up into several smaller nations and become “the worst of Europe” and unable to prevent foreign intervention?

In October 1864, several Republican Senators, concerned about the outcome, asked Lincoln to consider suspension of the November election. Despite facing the real possibility of defeat, he refused and said: “We cannot have free government without free elections; and if the rebellion could force us to forgo or postpone a national election, it might fairly claim to have already conquered us.”

But then, 2,200,000 citizens and 212 electors cast ballots for Abraham Lincoln!

And, I believe, preserved the United States of America.

Contact the author at   gadorris2@gmail.com

Spies in Petticoats (Article 19)

The military officers and politicians who were targets of women spies were often unaware that they were in a battle, not with guns and swords, but a battle of wits; and many came half armed.

Both the Union and the Confederacy had women who supported their chosen side as nurses, couriers, and a few who actually disguised themselves as men so they could become soldiers.  But each cause also had women who risked their lives to become effective and valuable spies while they lived among the enemy.

There were several southern belles who chose this road less traveled and left us with remarkable stories of courage, cunning, deception, and loyalty to the Confederate States of America.

While there were many women in southern states who, from time to time, provided useful information to nearby Confederate forces; there were three who were truly spies and who actively sought interaction with Union politicians and soldiers to gain information.  Their unwitting “sources” failed to look past the ladies’ charm and talked, sometimes bragged, too much about troop strength and battle preparations.  Washington DC, and most of the surrounding area, was Southern by culture with significant secessionist populations and legalized slavery; but Washington remained the Union’s capital despite constant threats of a Confederate invasion.  The city bordered the Confederate state of Virginia and the entire area was a hot-bed (pun intended) of espionage by these lady operatives.  However, most of the information was not necessarily gained from “pillow talk” but often just careless comments the men made in the presence of these women from whom they, mistakenly, perceived no threat.

Besides their beauty and charm, another advantage for these “spies in petticoats” was the common Victorian courtesy shown women at that time.  They were frequently permitted to pass through Union lines into Confederate territory, and back again, with only non-invasive questions and with a nominal search.  Usually the women simply stated, in their delightful southern drawl, that they were visiting family and often added a few tears as they claimed to be going to a funeral.  It was inconceivable for many of the young Union soldiers, who guarded the lines, to suspect that the demure and soft spoken southern lady would be engaged in such “un-lady-like” behavior.

After all, they were the “fairer sex” weren’t they?

But Belle Boyd, Antonia Ford, and Rose O’Neal Greenhow were three women who were committed to the secessionist cause and who were willing to risk their freedom, and even their lives, in service to the Confederacy.

Belle Boyd lived in what is now West Virginia and became known to the Union military within days after the start of the Civil War when, at the age of 17, she shot and killed a Union soldier who had broken into her home.  She was arrested but soon released.  By all accounts, she was a beautiful and charming young woman who, despite her earlier arrest, continued to be able to gain sensitive information from Union soldiers in the area.  She even began to act as a regular courier between Confederate Generals Stonewall Jackson and P.G.T. Beauregard and both credited her with helping them win victories, or avoid defeat, in the Shenandoah Valley in early 1862.  Belle’s frequent trips soon caught the attention of Federal officers, possibly due to a counter-intelligence operative in the South, and she was again arrested in July 1862 and sent to the Old Capitol Prison in Washington DC.  She was released after one month and deported to Richmond, Virginia.  They should have saved her room because she was arrested twice more crossing the battle lines and was sent each time to the Old Prison for thirty, then for sixty days.  Upon her last release, she became a courier carrying secret Confederate papers to England.  Again she was captured, this time by the Union Navy but was quickly released.  As it turned out, she had secretly married one of the naval officers who had detained her and then Belle, and her new husband, fled to England.  In 1865, soon after the war ended, Belle was widowed and spent a year writing her memoirs; which became a best-seller and the basis for a successful theatrical speaking career.  She was eligible for a pardon to regain full citizenship in the United States but never applied.  She died in 1900, an unrepentant defender of secession and slavery.

Antonia Ford was living in the cross-roads town of Fairfax, Virginia, not far south of Washington DC, when her community was over-run and occupied by Union troops soon after the war started.  Only 23 at the time, she began to provide military intelligence to Confederate General J.E.B. Stuart who gave her a written, but unofficial, commission in his Army.  She continued to act as a courier, for both General Stuart and for the Confederate Partisan leader John Singleton Mosby.  In March 1863 she came under suspicion of being a Southern spy after Mosby’s Rangers captured Union General Edwin Stoughton, at a remote country inn.  The local Union commanders soon learned that Antonia was known to keep the company of both General Stoughton and Mosby, but there was no proof that she had actually aided in Stoughton’s capture.  (Stoughton, who was not highly regarded by other senior officers, was later exchanged for a Confederate prisoner and quickly forced out of the U.S. Army).  To try to obtain proof of Antonia’s disloyalty, in an elaborate hoax the Union recruited a female from a Southern family, who lived in Maryland, to seek out Antonia and befriend her.  The ruse worked when Antonia shared her written “commission” from General Stuart with her “new friend.”  Antonia was arrested and, like Belle Boyd, was sent to the Old Capitol Prison where a female guard found that she was also carrying secret Confederate documents.  In a turn of events similar to Boyd’s, Antonia was released at the order of a Union Major who was one of her captors; and they were quickly married.  Unlike Boyd, Antonia Ford did regain U.S. Citizenship after the War; however she died at only 33 years of age in 1871.  She left no memoir and only anecdotally mentioned her exploits in a few letters to friends and family.  Her husband, the former Major who had been stripped of his commission, never re-married; and, for the rest of his life, he turned down numerous lucrative offers to write and/ or speak about his wife’s service for the Confederacy.

On the other hand there is ample record of the life, and activities, of Rose O’Neal Greenhow, perhaps the most famous and effective female spy for the Confederates.  Mrs. Greenhow was a fixture in Washington DC society long before the start of the Civil War.  She had married a wealthy doctor in 1835 but widowed in 1845.  She was very well educated, attractive, and considered a great conversationalist by her many friends, both men and women; and all were aware that she was a devoted secessionist.  Rose frequently shared her belief that, “The Southern states have been hindered, dishonored and wronged by the national government in power.”  She expected that many of the senior U.S. Army officers would resign their Union commissions to join the Confederate Army when secession occurred. When the War broke out, she immediately offered to use her prominent social position in Washington to help the new Confederate Generals gain intelligence about Union troop movements for the initial battles; which most assumed would be just across the border in Virginia.

She did not have to wait long.

Mrs. Greenhow was credited by General Beauregard for providing him with correct Union force strength near Bull Run which gave him time to amass additional troops and win the first major battle of the Civil War.  Because she had been so open about her support for secession before the War, Alan Pinkerton, who was in charge of the newly formed Union Secret Service, suspected that Rose might be a spy and/or a courier for the Confederates.  Pinkerton placed Rose under house arrest, but was then astonished to see how many prominent Union officers and politicians still continued to visit her home.  To restrict her contacts he had Rose and her eight year old daughter transferred to the Old Capitol Prison (evidently a favorite holding place).  Rose immediately began a series of letters from prison to newspapers and to prominent Union politicians outlining her and her daughter’s “dreadful treatment and unproven charges by Mr. Pinkerton” and described the harsh condition of her confinement.  Her plight was even brought to the attention of Abraham Lincoln, but there is no evidence that he interceded on her behalf.  However, the general public, newspaper editors, and politicians erupted in outrage and Pinkerton was forced to release her; but determined to not allow her to remain free in Washington DC, he arranged for her to be “deported” to Richmond.

There, she was greeted as a returning hero!

Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederate States, promptly gave her official credentials and asked her to go to London and Paris to help gain diplomatic and financial support for the Confederate government.  With her poise, education, and social manner, she was quickly accepted among the aristocracy in Europe and served well in her position.  While living in London, she wrote a best-selling memoir in early 1864 (in which she did not name any of her Union sources) and received substantial royalties by both European and American publishers.  On September 15, 1864, Rose left her daughter at a finishing school in London and boarded a British ship, with plans to land in North Carolina, before making her way overland to Richmond.  On October 1, her blockade runner ran aground while trying to escape Union gunboats and, against the Captain’s orders, Rose left the ship in a small lifeboat toward land; taking with her a bag of gold coins, presumably earnings from her book.  The rowboat capsized before reaching shore and Rose O’Neal Greenhow, weighted down with the gold, drowned.  She was buried with full military honors by a grateful Confederate government.  She was fifty one years old.

Of course, there have been courageous women warriors throughout recorded history, and today we certainly have many serving our country in the armed forces and probably quite a few serving in intelligence agencies.  Although these three women were committed to the “States in Rebellion” and tried their best to aid in the break-up of the United States, one cannot help but admire their courage and commitment to their cause.

Fairer sex, indeed!

Contact the author at gadorris2@gmail.com

Lincoln as Protector and Defender (Article 18)

On this anniversary of Abraham Lincoln’s birth (February 12, 1809), it seems an appropriate time for Americans to reflect, at least for a few moments, on his remarkable life. We might consider his rise from abject poverty, his drive to overcome a lack of formal education, his leadership as President to preserve the Union of the States. and/or his commitment to abolish slavery.

In addition to those accomplishments, and his other personal attributes such as honesty and loyalty, some of us are moved, even today, by his compassion and empathy; especially toward those who needed a little help to defend themselves. Reliable examples abound of his willingness to stand up for a principle or offer protection to the defenseless, even at personal risk.

While not all Lincoln anecdotes are historically accurate, scholars have conducted extensive research to clarify which episodes actually occurred. The following examples of Abraham Lincoln as a “Defender and Protector” have, I believe, passed that test.

As a boy, Lincoln was large for his age but his contemporaries said he was a great friend who did not impose his size on them. However, these same childhood friends also said he could not tolerate a larger person taking advantage of someone smaller or even mistreating a helpless animal. Some recalled that he once encountered a group of four or five boys placing hot coals on the back of a turtle and Abe confronted them. One friend said that, “When them boys turned on Abe, he let them know that all of them could likely take him down, but he would find each one later and them boys ran off.”

A few years later Lincoln’s father had decided to move the family’s home and, for part of the trip, they had to travel downriver by flatboat. One morning after pushing off from shore they realized that they had left their small dog on land. Despite his father’s protests, Abe tied the raft to a fallen tree in the river and waded back through icy water to retrieve the pet. His father was furious at the delay but young Abraham said, “The dog feels better and, except for cold feet, so do I.”

As he grew into adulthood, Lincoln was an unusually tall man at 6’4″ but equally remarkable was how strong he was. Many contemporaries told of his athletic ability and strength demonstrated in wrestling matches (which he enjoyed and usually won) and as a rail-splitter who felled trees with a long ax and mallet. But even as an adult, Lincoln was always modest and did not use his physical attributes to intimidate others; however, on occasion he did use his size and strength to step in for those who needed help.

In 1832, when Lincoln was a Captain of a militia unit during the Black Hawk War, an old, weak, and hungry Indian wandered into their encampment. He was seized by several militia members who quickly decided to kill the old man as a spy. The Indian produced a written document from an army official which attested to his honorable service; but the militia men ignored the pass and one shouted, “Let’s make an example out of him!” Lincoln heard the commotion and stepped into the fray and grabbed one of the more belligerent of the men. In a controlled rage, Lincoln simply said, “It must not be done” and moved to stand between the men and the Indian. Lincoln protected his ward until the militia group turned away. He then offered the old man some provisions and escorted him a safe distance.

After his service in the militia, Lincoln pursued a license to practice law and settled into a partnership in Springfield, Illinois, where he also became active in politics. In 1838, the state and national congressional elections were bitterly fought between the Democrats and the Whigs; and Springfield, Illinois was the scene of several chaotic confrontations.  One evening a meeting was being held in a courtroom, which was directly under the second floor law offices of Lincoln and Stuart, and the yelling between the parties became very loud.  Then, one of the onlookers pointed to the speaker and screamed, “Boys, take him down” and the crowd moved toward the podium.  Suddenly, a trap door opened over the speaker and the on-lookers were shocked to first see long legs come through, followed by the rest of the body of an obviously agitated Abraham Lincoln.  When Lincoln landed on the platform, he grabbed a large water pitcher and waved it at the crowd, and especially at the person he judged to be the ring-leader.  “Hold on men!” he shouted, “Mr. Baker has a right to be heard.  No man will take him from this stand if I can prevent it.”  The crowd backed down, especially the instigator who happened to be the editor of a local paper, and who was more likely to incite others into rash acts than to participate himself.  The incident was a favorite campaign story for years.

Four years later, his defense of another person could have cost him his life!  Lincoln was challenged to a duel by James Shields, a local politician, who thought Lincoln had been the one who anonymously wrote a defamatory letter to a local newspaper, attacking Shields by name.  But, in fact the letter had been written by Lincoln’s fiancée, Mary Todd; however, Lincoln felt he had to accept the challenge rather than disclose that Mary was the real author.  The duel, to be fought with swords, was scheduled for Sept 22 across the Mississippi River in Missouri because dueling in Illinois was illegal.  Fortunately on September 21, friends of the two men came up with a compromise which had Lincoln state that the letter was meant as political satire rather than a personal attack, which Shields then accepted as sufficient despite what he considered “only a half apology.”  Over time, the truth of Mary’s involvement finally began to emerge in Springfield society, probably because Mary confided in a friend (or two).

While these episodes illustrate that Lincoln was not afraid of personal confrontation, throughout his life he seemed determined to avoid conflict whenever possible.  He valued an open dialogue followed by compromise and settlement, rather than intimidation to push a unilateral agenda.  But, as one contemporary said, “From the time he was a young boy Lincoln spoke for the less fortunate, whether it was a stronger man against a weaker one or a master against a servant.”

He frequently paraphrased Thomas Jefferson saying, “Differences of opinion in politics or religion should not cause the loss of a friend.”  One editor, who was critical of Lincoln’s willingness to hear all sides of an issue, insultingly called him “The Great Compromiser.”

Lincoln’s propensity to reach middle ground with adversaries was most tested after his election in November 1860 as the next President of the United States. Although he would not take office for nearly four months, most Southern political leaders were concerned that Lincoln’s Republican administration would push new laws limiting the expansion of slavery, or might even try to abolish their “peculiar institution.”  So, in December 1860, slave states began to secede from the Union.

Of course, the secessionist leaders of the eleven Confederate states would have disagreed that Lincoln sought compromise, as most Southern politicians saw him as unyielding.  However, even they were offered olive branches in Lincoln’s speeches, both before and after the 1860 election, and in his first Inaugural Address on March 4.  As the new president, he even authorized Democrat Stephen Douglas, his old political foe, to reach out to Southern leaders to help reduce tensions.  And, as a last effort to avoid hostilities, he wrote conciliatory letters to the Governors of key states which had seceded.  But when the Confederate forces fired on Fort Sumter in South Carolina on April 12, 1861, any hope ended for a peaceful resolution.

Abraham Lincoln did not want the conflict of Civil War, but the Southern leaders soon learned, as others had in prior confrontations when options for compromise were extinguished, that even the “Great Compromiser,” when pushed too far, would become a focused, and formidable, foe.

And, as he had in the past when peaceful negotiations failed, Lincoln was prepared to “protect and defend” something in which he believed; in this case, the very existence of the United States.  We should all be very glad he did.

Happy Birthday, Abe!

Gary Alan Dorris: contact the author at   gadorris2@gmail.com

The Thirteenth Amendment - If Not Now, When? (Article 17)

Over 150 years ago, on January 31, 1865, a reluctant and divided House of Representatives voted to advance the Constitutional process to abolish slavery by sending the proposed Thirteenth Amendment to the states for ratification.

It is difficult to imagine today that many Americans once believed that the ownership of one human being by another was either proper (even Divinely inspired) or it was tolerated as acceptable. Of course there were those who opposed slavery but they had never been able to muster any serious legal steps which would lead to abolition.

In an irony of history, there was an earlier “proposed” Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution which would have had the exact opposite effect of the one we have today. In 1860, in an effort to appease southern states which were considering secession, a Constitutional Amendment was proposed by the Democratic majority in the U.S. Senate which would “shield domestic institutions (slavery) of the states from abolition or interference from Congress” and would perpetuate the legal status of slavery. It was assigned the next sequential number and was titled “The Proposed Thirteenth Amendment” for legislative purposes. The proposal failed by a narrow margin in Congress and, therefore, was never sent to the states for ratification; so the number “thirteen” again became available for whatever Amendment might be proposed later.

In January 1864, Republicans, who by then had a strong majority in the Senate, proposed a new Constitutional Amendment which would abolish slavery rather than shield it as in the earlier 1860 proposal. In a twist of fate, it was also designated as “The Proposed Thirteenth Amendment” by the Senate.

While President Lincoln supported this newest proposal, he did not inject himself into the Senate debate process, and the act was approved by the Senate in April 1864. It was then promptly forwarded to the House of Representatives.

And there it languished for nearly a year!

The Republican leadership in the House of Representatives had no intention of bringing the proposed Thirteenth Amendment to the floor for a vote. While the Senate had a comfortable Republican majority which made passage easier, there were still sufficient pro-slavery Democrats in the House, combined with a few Republicans who were tolerant of slavery, to prevent the required two-thirds vote for approval. Throughout 1864, President Lincoln quietly supported those who were willing to champion the Amendment in the House but he made no expansive public comments, as he was concerned that his interference might harden the opposition.  Then in the elections of November 1864, many Democrats lost their seats in the Republican landslide. However, because new Congressmen were not seated in January as they are today, those who lost would retain their voting rights for several months until the new Congress began later in 1865.

Lincoln carefully weighed his options and decided it would be best to push for a quick House vote in January 1865, without waiting for the more favorable Congress to be sworn in. That meant, however, that he would need several of these “lame duck” Democrats to vote for the Amendment. The Republican House leadership, and even most in his Cabinet, believed the vote would fail in the current Congressional term and urged the President to hold off. Another issue was that some Republican House members were ambivalent about the Amendment and would have preferred to not have to cast a public vote. (Sound familiar?)

Lincoln certainly was aware that it would be an easier vote if he waited. So why was he willing to risk a failed vote in January? Because, he faced an unprecedented dilemma!

He was confident that the Civil War would end within a few months with complete capitulation by the “states in rebellion” and, on one hand, he sincerely wanted to bring those states back into the Union as quickly as possible with minimal repercussions.

But, on the other hand, Lincoln was concerned that these “reunited” states might combine with the four Border States of Missouri, Kentucky, Maryland, and Delaware where slavery had remained legal, to block ratification which required a “super majority” of three-fourths of all “eligible” states.

With these contrary forces at play, Lincoln thought it would be best to use the month of January 1865 to persuade enough Democrats, and those hesitant Republicans, to support the Amendment and then hold the House vote on, or before, January 31.

The President’s “persuasion process” included personal visits to House members, a tenuous and uncomfortable alliance with abolitionist Thaddeus Stevens who led the Radical Republicans, and even a few patronage job offers to “lame duck” Democratic House members.

But, his gamble paid off!

On January 31, 1865, 119 Congressmen, mostly Republicans and a few Democrats, voted “Aye” while 56 Congressman, mostly Democrats but with a few Republicans, voted “Nay” or abstained; just edging past the two-thirds legislative requirement by 5 votes.  And, because the Senate had already passed the Amendment, it could be sent directly to the states for ratification.

However, the document first made one more stop.  While there was no precedent, nor any legal requirement, for a President to sign a proposed Constitutional Amendment before it is sent to the states for ratification, Lincoln insisted that he sign this one!

Lincoln knew there were many who opposed the Amendment and that there would be difficult debates in most state legislatures; and that some states would reject it. He hoped, however, that before 1865 drew to a close, the Amendment would finally be ratified by three-fourths of the states and become law.

Lincoln was pleased when Illinois became the first state to ratify on February 1, only one day after the House vote (the state had an advance copy and received word of passage by telegraph).  He was then further gratified when two of the Border States, Maryland and Missouri, approved the Amendment within days.  However obtaining a positive vote from 27 of the 36 states was still a large hurdle; and, in fact, by the time of Lincoln’s death on April 15, 1865, only 21 states had ratified the Amendment.

Historians note that there may have been a bit of “sleight of hand” by Secretary of State William Seward when he declared on December 18, 1865 that 27 of the 34 eligible states had ratified the Thirteenth Amendment, which then immediately became the “Law of the Land.”  Seward was well aware that the last four states for which he certified ratification were South Carolina, Alabama, North Carolina, and Georgia, all still under Federal Military control and all with “reconstruction” legislatures.  It soon became a moot point, however, as Oregon, California, Iowa and New Jersey, four states firmly committed to the Union, ratified the Amendment a few days later.

Of course, the Thirteenth Amendment probably did not, at the time, change the beliefs of many on the matter; as it is said that “Laws cannot change the hearts of man, but only changes their actions.”

I have always thought it was tragic that Abraham Lincoln did not live to see the Thirteenth Amendment become part of our Constitution.  But I like to think that, when 119 members of the House of Representatives voted “Aye” on January 31, 1865, he must have celebrated, even if for just a moment.

And, 150 years later, on this date, so should we.

Licoln’s Leadership Traits (Article 16)

Abraham Lincoln wrote thousands of letters, memos, and speeches in the last thirty years of his life on subjects ranging from legal case reviews, to simple friendship and family sentiments, to explanations of his thoughts on more profound issues such as slavery, secession, and religion. However, he never articulated his philosophy of leadership, I believe because he may have thought it pretentious.

But, he was a leader!

His contemporaries left volumes about his talent for leading others to his position, but sometimes, even more importantly, his ability to lead others to effective compromise. Lincoln had a deep confidence that he could influence others and he had the patience to work through resistance without rancor towards his opponents. Also, Lincoln understood the critical difference between the power of the authority of his position, versus his personal leadership and he would almost always attempt personal persuasion before issuing commands.

But, have no doubt, he could command!

Since Lincoln never defined his leadership philosophy, it is left for his contemporaries and modern authors to build their case from their own perspective. There have been numerous books describing Lincoln’s abilities to manage people. Some focused on his relationships with individual leaders around him including William Seward, Salmon Chase, and Edward Bates, all Republican opponents for the 1860 Presidential nomination, and Edwin Stanton, a Democrat, who had humiliated Lincoln a few years earlier by refusing to work with him on an important U.S. patent trial; but then Lincoln asked all of these men to serve on his Cabinet.

Some authors have applied technical and scholastic terms to his leadership style such as authoritative, transformational, motivational, situational, or transactional.  In her 2005 book, “Team of Rivals” Doris Goodwin did not try to apply one of these leadership labels, but described his willingness to seek, and respect, opposing views, and to keep the contrary personalities on his cabinet focused on the national issues rather than their personal politics.  She concluded that he was a “masterful” leader.

I believe Goodwin was on the right track.  Lincoln was a natural leader who seemed to seamlessly move, as needed, among all of these various definitions of leadership depending on the circumstances.  For me, the best way to study how he led is to simply paraphrase statements he made, or others made about him.  In my opinion these are ten leadership traits which Lincoln consistently displayed.

Leadership trait # 1: Treat people fairly and honestly and you may be perceived as their leader:

Even as a child, Abraham Lincoln began to display leadership potential.  One of his childhood friends, Nathanial Grigsby, said, “Lincoln was my best friend and the best friend to other of us boys.  Abe was our leader and was smarter but he didn’t hold it over us.”  Another said, “He told the truth and never courted favors.”

Leadership trait # 2: Be willing to take a risk and accept a leadership position, even if you know you do not yet have 100% of the information:

During the Black Hawk War in 1832, Lincoln was selected as Captain of the New Salem Militia.  He accepted the position without any basic military skills and “set about learning drill commands” but he never quite got the nomenclature down.  He said if he couldn’t remember a command, he would just make one up.  And he did!

Once his men were marching in a wide line and came to a fence with a narrow opening and he could not remember the commands to have his men form into a double line and turn through the small opening.  So he said, “Men Attention, fall out for five minutes, and then regroup on the other side of the fence.”

Leadership trait # 3: Try to work with those who have different ideas or disagree with you.

As an Illinois State Congressman, he was elected to four consecutive terms and always served in a leadership role.  In his last term, he was elected as Speaker of the House, despite the fact that his Whig Party was in the minority, but many Democrats voted for him to lead the Illinois House because he could get things accomplished.  One Democratic leader said, “With Lincoln, a deal said was a deal done.”

Leadership trait # 4: If you cannot reach agreement, leave open the opportunity for a future entree.

Alexander Stephens, Vice President of the Confederate States, and Lincoln left us a great example of failing to agree but leaving room for a future entree.  After the 1865 Hampton Roads Peace Conference at which Lincoln and Stephens failed to reach any accord, Lincoln arranged for the release of Stephens’ nephew, a Confederate officer, who was a prisoner of war.

Leadership trait # 5: Don’t let a poor first impression guide your relationships.

Judge David Davis, a longtime friend, said that Lincoln, speaking of another lawyer once said, “Judge, I don’t like that man, I should like to get to know him better.”

Leadership trait # 6: Do not reprimand in haste or in anger.

When Union General Meade decided to not pursue General Lee’s forces after the battle at Gettysburg, Lincoln wrote Meade a scathing letter in part saying, “He was in your grasp and, to have closed upon him, would have ended the War.  As it is, the War will be prolonged indefinitely.  Your golden opportunity is gone and I am distressed immeasurable because of it.”  But, Meade never saw the letter:  It was found later among Lincoln’s papers marked “never signed, never sent.”

Lincoln once said, “Any reply uttered in haste while angry will, more often than not, do more harm to the sender than to the intended recipient,”  (I recently saw a humorous, but appropriate, post on Facebook with a picture of Lincoln saying, “Think before you hit ‘send’ after typing that mean-spirited e-mail!”)

Leadership Trait # 7: Be willing to accept blame (sometimes even when the problem may not have been entirely your fault) and be willing to share credit with subordinates (even when you may have been largely responsible for a success).

In another letter to General Meade, a few months after Gettysburg, Lincoln sent him a revised battle order and wrote: “General, the order I enclose has no other record.  If you choose to follow it, and you succeed, you need not publish the order.  If it fails, publish it.  Then, if  successful, you can have the credit, if it fails, I will take the responsibility.”

Leadership trait # 8: Admit when you are wrong.

After General Ulysses S. Grant had won the battle at Vicksburg Mississippi, he moved on to capture Jefferson Davis’s plantation further south in the state.  Lincoln had earlier expressed concerns whether Grant should move deeper into Mississippi, but now wrote this letter to Grant.  “Dear General Grant, I simply want to say to you that when you decided to do this, I thought you were wrong.  When you moved (deeper) into Mississippi, I thought it was a mistake.  General Grant, I simply wish to say, I was wrong and you were right.”

Leadership trait # 9: Hold firm in your basic beliefs but pull others to you with compassion and forgiveness, not retribution or persecution.

Lincoln wanted “reconstruction” of the former Confederate States back into the Union to be as prompt as possible, with minimal political restrictions, and without vengeful public trials of the leaders.  He said, “If you hold a man out and away from you, how can he desire to rejoin us?  If we pull them to us with fairness and without consideration that they were ever away from us, we can be one again.  Let the rebels just go home!  Enough lives have been sacrificed.  We must extinguish our resentments if we expect harmony and Union.”

However, after Lincoln’s death, the Radical Republican majorities in the House and Senate passed harsh reconstruction laws upon the South, which caused sectional issues for another 100 years.  I believe if he had lived, Lincoln’s leadership would have resulted in a more moderate and forgiving reconstruction policy, but also with better defined Civil Rights for the freed slaves.

Leadership trait #10: Use Humor appropriately. To make a point more clear, to entertain, and to ease tension; but not to humiliate or to be sarcastic.

But even Lincoln occasionally was willing to use both humiliation and sarcasm whenever he found himself dealing with arrogance, disrespect, or callousness toward others; and often his targets were Generals and politicians. These are two examples.

One day the Postmaster of Washington DC suddenly died and a Congressman ran to Lincoln to inform him. Lincoln knew the postmaster and was shocked and saddened by the news. Before Lincoln could even reply, the Congressman said, “Mr. Lincoln, I would like to take his place.” A disgusted Lincoln said, “Well, Congressman, that will be fine with me, if it is alright with the undertaker.”

On several occasions Lincoln used sarcasm on General George McClellan, whose arrogance was legendary. He once wrote to McClellan after the General claimed he was not ready to advance because he was still training his 200,000 man army. Lincoln replied, “General, if you are not going to use your Army, may I borrow it for a while.”

Generally, Lincoln’s use of humor served him well. These following two contemporaries offer interesting assessments of Lincoln as a leader because they both originally questioned if he was qualified to be their leader.

Edwin Stanton agreed to become Lincoln’s Secretary of War only because he knew the first Secretary of War, James Cameron was detrimental to the Union.  Stanton considered that Lincoln was not qualified to be a lawyer, let alone the President, and Stanton said that he would be able to manage the War Department in spite of what he expected to be “Mr. Lincoln’s attempted interferences.”  However, over the next three years the two men worked together almost every day and, after the first few months, developed a respectful relationship.  Upon Lincoln’s death, Stanton uttered the famous words: “Now he belongs to the ages” and in a letter a year later wrote, “I came to love Mr. Lincoln and I, and the country, still mourn his loss.”

William Tecumseh Sherman was from Ohio but had many close friends in the South.  He attended West Point and, after the Mexican War, he relocated to the south and married the daughter of a wealthy merchant; and in that social setting it was well known that he did not oppose slavery but was a fierce Unionist and cautioned his friends against secession.

When the Civil War started, he rejoined the Union Army but expressed grave concerns about Lincoln’s ability to be an effective President.  Even after two years, in 1863, he wrote privately that: “I am concerned that Mr. Lincoln is not advantageously using the Union’s military strengths.”   However, as he had more personal interaction with Lincoln in 1864 and 1865, his opinion dramatically changed.  After a series of meetings with Lincoln and Grant, just a few weeks before Lincoln’s death, Sherman wrote to his wife, “I recall thinking that of all of the men I have ever known, President Lincoln seemed to possess more of the elements of greatness, combined with goodness, than any other.”

Try to imagine if only a few of today’s prominent politicians could consistently meet these ten leadership traits.  Unfortunately, most of us cannot directly influence people at that level.  However, we can teach our children and grandchildren these traits and, if we do, we just might spring a bunch of “New Lincolns” loose in this country over the next few years.

Now that would be leadership!

Emancipation Proclamation - Facts and Fictions (Article 15)

There is a misconception by many, perhaps caused by educational shortcuts, that Abraham Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation “freed the slaves” in the United States. In fact, when it was first issued, the document did not even affect over 400,000 slaves held in the so-called “Border States” and it freed only a few of the nearly four million slaves held throughout the South. So, why do most historians, and this Lincoln admirer, consider the document one of the most important in American history? Why, because it was a good first step!

But, it was not a quick, nor easy, decision for President Lincoln to make.

He, and his cabinet, had discussed the ramifications of such a document since mid-summer, but felt that the Union first needed a significant military victory or the public, both North and South, might see it as an act of desperation. Then came the horrific battle at Antietum Creek on September 17, 1862 which claimed more American lives in one day than any military engagement before or since. While Northern newspapers and politicians considered it a victory, because General Robert E. Lee had retreated further south, many Civil War historians consider that the battle was actually a draw. But, this “declared victory” gave Lincoln and his advisers the confidence to move forward with the Proclamation; and he published the text on September 22, to be effective on January 1, 1863.  Lincoln personally wrote most of the document, accepting a few suggestions from Secretary of State William Seward and others in his Cabinet. His handwritten final draft was titled simply “A Proclamation”, however, the Government Printing Office engraved the title as “Emancipation Proclamation.” It is unknown if Lincoln made that change, but I like to think he did.

Lincoln detractors, then and now, point out that (1) the Proclamation failed to include slaves held in parts of what is now West Virginia and the four Border States of Delaware, Maryland, Kentucky and Missouri. (TRUE); (2) it did not, at first, free many slaves held in the eleven Confederate states (TRUE); (3) it was a deliberate and cynical attempt by Lincoln to cause slave insurrections in the South (FALSE); and (4) it was a desperate act by Lincoln who needed Negro troops to overcome Confederate forces (FALSE).

A Presidential “Emancipation Proclamation” had been encouraged by abolitionists and “Radical Republicans” (a name they embraced) in Congress beginning even before the Civil War started in April 1861. When Lincoln won the November 1860 election, many hoped the new Republican President would announce an effort to end slavery in all states. But Lincoln had said before the election, and again in his first Inaugural Address, that he had no power as President to “Constitutionally” interfere with the right of slavery in certain of the United States and that the Southern states had nothing to fear from his Republican administration. It appears that neither side was listening.

While Lincoln had always personally opposed slavery as an institution, he believed that the U.S. Constitution permitted slavery in specific states. However, after April 1861, he also took the position that the eleven states, which had seceded and initiated a “rebellion” against the lawful government, had forfeited any Constitutional protections. In the first few months of the War, Lincoln held hope that a quick military victory by Union forces would encourage some, if not all, Confederate states to petition for return into the United States; and he thought any unilateral Presidential Proclamation or anti-slavery legislation would be counter-productive to that goal. But, as the War dragged on, he began to explore the use of Presidential War Powers and the concept of “military necessity” to emancipate slaves in Confederate territory captured by Union forces. He was not yet ready to act however, as evidenced by his rebukes in early 1862 of several Union Generals who declared slaves freed as their troops entered areas of the South. A primary concern for Lincoln was the potential effect on the four Border States of any order to free slaves issued by him or his Generals. Lincoln reasoned that these states had remained in the Union and under the U.S. Constitution, therefore, they should not be subject to any anti-slavery Presidential Proclamation. So, on this point, his detractors’ comments are true!

However, his willingness to exclude these four Border States was a pragmatic decision, as he was concerned that Southern sympathizers in those states might lead a movement to also secede from the Union. Lincoln was convinced that the War would be prolonged, if not actually lost, if the Border States joined the Confederacy and provided several hundred thousand more men to fight against the Union. Lincoln did offer compensation to those four states if they would voluntarily free slaves but, while the proposal was debated, none actually agreed to such legislation.

It is also historically true, as his detractors note, that the Emancipation Proclamation did not, at first, free many slaves, since it only applied to areas of the eleven Confederate states which had already come under Union control, or would thereafter. However, over time, the Union Army accepted thousands of Negro men and established training programs to turn the former slaves into soldiers, and a few into sailors. Those new army enlistees were then assigned to all-black regiments under the control of White officers; a segregation policy very few questioned in 1863. In fact, it would be another 85 years before the U.S. armed forces were fully integrated.

It is false, however, when Lincoln’s critics claim that he hoped for slave insurrections. Lincoln actually feared that, if such violent uprisings occurred, even White citizens in the North might turn against his policies. As a precaution, he expected his Union Generals to control the risk of slave insurrections and retributions by former slaves as Union forces captured Confederate territory.

It is also false when some critics claim that Lincoln desperately needed the additional soldiers to defeat the Southern armies.  While the Negro troops certainly contributed to the War effort and performed admirably in battle (read the stirring story of Colonel Robert G. Shaw’s Black troops at Fort Wagner), the North already had superior numbers and resources.  And, at the time he wrote the Proclamation in late 1862, Lincoln was confident the Union would eventually prevail, but he did hope that the effects of emancipation on the southern economy, coupled with the added troops available to the Union Army, might shorten the war.

As he and his Cabinet expected, the Emancipation Proclamation had immediate impact on the Union (mostly positive) and on the Confederacy (mostly negative).  First, although Britain and France had abolished slavery years earlier, both had been giving some support to the South but, internationally, the Proclamation gave the North a morally superior position and left the Confederate States isolated as a government that supported the expansion of slavery.  Second, while the inclusion of thousands of former slaves as new recruits did strengthen Union forces, more importantly the Confederate Army began to lose the use of slaves to provide needed logistical labor for their fighting troops.  And third, while the North’s industrial based economy thrived during war-time, the South’s loss of slave labor decimated their regional agrarian economies.

Although some politicians and newspaper editors in the North and the South predicted Confederate forces would see a significant increase in enlistments from outrage over the Proclamation; Lincoln correctly anticipated that the Confederate army would see only a minor resurgence in recruiting because most of the South’s eligible young men were already under arms.

The one unwelcome surprise for the President and his Cabinet was the scope of new, sometimes violent, draft protests in the North, especially in Ohio and New York, as many now believed the conflict was evolving into “Lincoln’s Negro War” rather than a war to preserve the Union.

The body of the Emancipation document contains significant semantic legalese which was necessary to correctly convey the circumstances for freeing some slaves while exempting others for whom freedom would not be granted.  The document did, however, contain a few inspiring phrases such as, “And upon this act, sincerely believed to be an act of justice, warranted by the Constitution, upon military necessity, I invoke the considerate judgment of mankind, and the gracious favor of Almighty God.”

However, it is the simple title of “Emancipation Proclamation” which best conveys the spirit of Lincoln’s words.  As one editor wrote, “The title alone is Mr. Lincoln’s message to our nation.”  Although on January 1, 1863, there were still nearly four million Negroes held as slaves in the eleven Confederate states and the four Border States, from that day forward slavery was destined to be eradicated.

At the time, however, Lincoln was concerned that, because the Proclamation was issued under authority of his War Powers, it could be challenged in the courts after the war ended and the country was reunified.  He anticipated that there might be “drawn out legal processes” as former slave owners, who considered their slaves as chattel (property), would file claims for “confiscation” by the government.  So he worked with Republican Senators to begin the process of amending the Constitution to eliminate the original 1789 provisions protecting slavery in certain states.  The Senate passed the proposed Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution in 1864, the House passed it in January 1865, and the required “three-fourths” of states finally ratified the Amendment by September 1865.

But, the “stain that is slavery” began to be washed away in 1863 with Lincoln’s inspiring document, appropriately titled “The Emancipation Proclamation.” A good and necessary first step.

The Partisans - Guerrilla Warriors of the Confederacy (Article 14)

They were called partisans, raiders, guerrillas, and irregulars by many; but rouges, killers, and criminals by others. They attacked Union Army troops, trains, bridges, and even an occasional fortress; but others also attacked civilians, including women and children, and robbery became a way of life for some. Although they were authorized by the Confederate government, military control was tenuous at best. While most considered themselves patriots and were proud of their Confederate alliance, others were fiercely independent and resisted any influence on their actions by the Southern military officers or politicians. Their leaders were men named Mosby, Quantrill, McNeill, White, and Monday (whose first name was Sue and was often mistakenly described in the press as a woman). Their forces operated mostly in Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas, Missouri, and Kansas.

President Abraham Lincoln and his first and second Secretaries of War, Simon Cameron and Edwin Stanton, could not understand how these irregular Confederate operatives could wreak so much havoc, for so long, without being caught. But, the Union Army did try, very hard, to catch them, diverting valuable resources to the hunt with only limited success; and more than one General vowed to bring them down, only to fail. Lincoln said they were “like a bur under the saddle” and in 1863, after Confederate General Lee retreated back South after the battle at Gettysburg,  Lincoln predicted that “As their rebellion grows weaker, it will turn more and more to guerrilliasm.”

Lincoln knew that the Confederate government had passed a “Partisan Ranger Act” which gave authority to designated guerrilla bands with the understanding that they would agree to place themselves under the command of a General Officer if needed for a major campaign; in the meantime they could operate with near autonomy. Some willingly accepted occasional directives to attack certain targets and became invaluable to Confederate Generals Robert E. Lee, Joseph Johnston and J.E.B. Stuart.  Others only remembered the “autonomy and guerrilla” sections of their authorization and never integrated or cooperated, even temporarily, into regular forces.

Unique to these groups, under the Partisan Act, was a provision that that their units would be paid by the Confederate Army for “any supplies, arms, and munitions” which they seized from the Union. With such a lucrative bounty, enlistments in Partisan bands, especially in Virginia, soon exceeded those into the regular Confederate Army.

So, who were these men, and what did they accomplish for the Confederate States of America? The following is a look at two distinctly different Partisan leaders and the results of their campaigns.

John Singleton Mosby had opposed secession and was indifferent towards slavery, but he said, “Virginia is my mother, and I can not fight against my mother.” A lawyer by training, when Virginia became the last of eleven states to secede, Mosby became an officer in the Confederate Army. He was a small man but once said, “I was glad to see that little men were a match for big men through being armed.”  Other lawyers considered him an intense competitor and one said that “he had a strong independent streak” which may explain his early difficulties with senior commanders. However, Mosby’s lack of respect for traditional military customs was offset by his courage and leadership, some said recklessness, when engaging the enemy; which led General Stuart to allow Mosby to resign his commission and recruit a partisan band.  Mosby gladly accepted the opportunity and willingly agreed to continue to aid General Johnston and General Lee, and, of course, Stuart’s forces whenever requested. 

Mosby’s raiders were so effective attacking Union supply lines and then disappearing into the countryside that he was nicknamed “The Grey Ghost” by newspapers from both sides. The northern Virginia area where he operated was referred to as “Mosby’s Confederacy,” and in one daring raid, Mosby captured Union Brigadier General Edwin Sloughton, 30 soldiers, and 58 horses.  When Lincoln was informed he said, “Well I’m sorry for that because I can make new Brigadier Generals, but I can’t make horses.”  The President was well aware that Sloughton was not well regarded by his superior officers and was later forced to resign his commission after a prisoner exchange.  Mosby was proud of his service to the Confederacy, however, after the war he wanted to again become a United States citizen and his request for pardon was approved.  He returned to the practice of law and became acquainted with President Ulysses S. Grant who appointed his old enemy to positions in the diplomatic corps and in the U.S. Department of Justice.  Mosby lived a long and productive life and died in 1916 at the age of 82.

On the other hand, hundreds of miles west, William Clarke Quantrill wanted nothing to do with the Confederate military or government; and the Southern officers in Tennessee, Arkansas, Missouri and Kansas wanted nothing to do with Quantrill.  They were glad, however, that, as an authorized Partisan, he had decided that the Union soldiers and abolitionists were his enemy, not their Confederate forces.  In a move he later regretted, Confederate General Thomas Hindman actually conferred the rank of Captain on Quantrill believing that might bring some control over the Raider’s activities; but Quantrill promptly promoted himself to “Colonel” and never followed any directive from Hindman.  While Quantrill attacked several Union encampments and supply trains, he most frequently led raids into communities in Kansas and Missouri.  Not satisfied to plunder the few belongings of the towns-people, his band would kill several of the men as a lesson to “Unionists and abolitionists.”  On August 21, 1863, with over 400 raiders, Quantrill attacked Lawrence, Kansas which was a known abolitionist community, and gave the order to “kill every man big enough to carry a gun.”  Over 150 men of Lawrence died that day, including some boys as young as twelve.  However, in a message mixed with some chivalry and some callousness, Quantrill had directed his forces that, “No women should be shot but remove their wedding bands.”  One very drunk raider was captured the next morning and killed by a civilian, becoming Quantrill’s only casualty. 

After that raid, the Governor of Missouri, despite being a strong Southern sympathizer, compared having Quantrill on the South’s side by saying, “It was like having won an elephant in a raffle.”  And Robert E. Lee said, “The evils resulting from their organization more than counterbalance the good they accomplish.”  Even many of his own raiders became disenchanted and Quantrill’s leadership began to wane, until he had fewer than thirty men left.  Of those, some became infamous after the war as they continued their criminal activity including Frank and Jesse James, and Cole and Jim Younger.  Quantrill and his smaller gang survived until the end of the war, conducting raids on Union supply lines, but he was wounded and captured while hiding in Kentucky on May 10, 1865.  He died of his injuries two weeks later while in a Union prison.  He was only 27 years old.

In my view, Mosby was a Confederate patriot who served his new country as his conscience guided him, although his post war ties to Ulysses S. Grant later turned some Southerners against him.  Quantrill, on the other hand, was an opportunistic criminal, reviled by the North, but who also eventually lost the support of almost all Confederate officials for his deliberate attacks on civilians.

But, as partisans and guerrillas, both fulfilled their missions to destroy Union resources and divert the attention of Union Commanders; and they both perplexed Abraham Lincoln.

Contact the author at gadorris2@gmail.com

Lincoln, Mrs. Hale, and Thanksgiving Day (Article 13)

On October 23, 1863, Abraham Lincoln signed a proclamation declaring the final Thursday in November as a “Day of Thanksgiving” and our nation has continuously celebrated this special day as Lincoln prescribed; with the exception of two years when Franklin D. Roosevelt tinkered with tradition by moving Thanksgiving to the third Thursday. It was not well received. Later Congress adopted a resolution making Thanksgiving the fourth Thursday in November, as it was in 1863, to avoid confusion in those infrequent years when there are five Thursdays in the month.

Most of us were taught in school that Pilgrims in North America declared a Day of Thanksgiving in 1621 to celebrate their first harvest.  Actually, both the Pilgrims in Plymouth and the Puritans in Massachusetts Bay frequently organized special days for prayer to give thanks for welcome events such as the arrival of a new ship, a harvest, and survival of a harsh winter.   By the early 1700s individual colonies began declaring a Day of Thanksgiving for various reasons and at different times of the year.

On a national level, in 1777, while the Revolutionary War was still being waged, the members of the Continental Congress were grateful that their rebellion still held promise for independence and they issued a proclamation designating Thursday December 18, as a Day of Solemn Thanksgiving.

On October 3, 1789, President George Washington proclaimed a Thanksgiving Day for Thursday, November 26.  However, since Washington was meticulously pragmatic and not prone to issue any type of religious or celebratory orders, he began the proclamation with this disclaimer, “Both houses of Congress have requested me to recommend to the People of the United States a day of public thanksgiving and prayer to be observed.”

Thereafter, a few Presidents and the Governors of several states periodically issued Thanksgiving Proclamations, however none designated a November date.

Enter a determined woman named Sarah Josepha Buell Hale!  A well-known editor, novelist, and poet, her most enduring literary contribution to Americana was her poem “Mary’s Lamb,” later titled “Mary’s Little Lamb.”  In 1828, Mrs. Hale wrote a popular novel, “Northwood, Life in the North and the South” in which she envisioned a future of regional reconciliation after an end to slavery; this was nearly twenty five years before Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote the more impassioned, and more famous, anti-slavery novel “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”  Sarah was a strong proponent of women’s education and is known in academia as a founder of Vassar College.  But few Americans are aware that, for over thirty years, she used her public persona to lobby individual states and Congress to declare a national Thanksgiving Day and, by 1860, thirty one states had done so; however, she had no success with Congress or with the four Presidents who preceded Lincoln.  As editor of the “Godey’s Lady Book” and “The Ladies Magazine,” which combined had the largest paid circulation of any women’s periodicals, she and her readers continued to “encourage” (her word) and “pester” (one recipient’s word) national politicians, including President Lincoln to establish a specific day for Thanksgiving.

Before hearing from Mrs. Hale, Abraham Lincoln, and even Confederate President Jefferson Davis, had issued several Thanksgiving proclamations during the first two years of the War but they were to celebrate a military victory. On the other hand, Sarah Hale wanted a designated day “for all Americans to put aside sectional feelings and local incidents” and “to be thankful for the blessings of life, not of war.”  She wrote of her hopes in a letter to President Lincoln, which he promptly shared with William Seward, the Secretary of State. After discussing the matter, Lincoln asked Seward to draft a Presidential Proclamation which would include the universal and conciliatory themes that Sarah Hale had proposed.  President Lincoln only made a few changes to Seward’s draft which, for the first time, established a fixed date of the last Thursday in November for the national observance.  It was signed by Lincoln on October 3, 1863 and the tradition of a national Thanksgiving Day has endured ever since.

Sarah Hale lived a long and productive life and saw her vision become a treasured special day “to be thankful for the blessings of life.”  And, as she hoped, it is observed across all lines that, on other matters, may divide us; such as politics, geography, ethnicity, and religion.  What a wonderful legacy.

For that we should be grateful to William Seward, Abraham Lincoln, and especially Sarah Josepha Buell Hale.

Have a wonderful, and reflective, Thanksgiving Day.

Lincoln Through A Southern Lens (Article 12)

Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain) told of a dialogue with a Southern lady one evening twenty years after the Civil War. Hoping to start a casual conversation, Clemens said, “Madam, what a splendid moon.” To which the lady responded in a most pleasing southern drawl, “Bless you dear, but you should have seen the moon before the War.”

As I researched material for my books about Abraham Lincoln, I became curious about the perceptions toward Lincoln and the Civil War held by those individuals with a long and deep Southern heritage. I began to seek people who grew up in the South and whose families had lived in the Southern states since at least the mid-19th century. I inquired as to their own thoughts about the War and Lincoln’s legacy and asked if they could articulate the perceptions of their friends, teachers, and relatives; going back as far as they could remember. Some could recall commentary by great grandparents and others were, fortunately, able to refer to written records their ancestors had left for posterity.

While I expected to seek answers in private conversations, I received one “view through a Southern lens” at a meeting of a civic club in early 2012. The discussion at our table turned to the recently announced movie “Lincoln” which was expected in theaters in a few months; and one visiting couple joined in the conversation. The woman, with her face tightened in resolve and in a very measured voice said, “Abraham Lincoln was a despicable man” and waited for one of us to respond. Her husband hesitated for a moment before saying, “My wife is from Georgia and her family has not yet conceded the Civil War.” She was not amused.

In other, more private exchanges, I interviewed Southerners whose families had lived in the region since before the Civil War, with some pre-dating the Revolutionary War.  Their personal thoughts, as well as their speculation about the views of their contemporaries, ranged from a barely controlled hatred of Lincoln, the War, and the aftermath, to an appreciation that the United States was preserved and slavery ended.  However, most said that their relatives who lived through the War, and the next few generations, deeply resented Lincoln, the “War of Northern Aggression,” and the subsequent “Yankee” re-construction policies.

I was very fortunate to interview two men who were also from Georgia, as was the lady at the civic club. Both went to grade school and high school in smaller communities in the 1940s and 1950s and then became acquainted at a Georgia university; and have since remained life-long friends. These men epitomize the term “Distinguished Southern Gentlemen” by the honorable way they have conducted their lives. Both said that their great grandparents, and even grandparents,  might have agreed with the lady’s assessment and one commented that, “Even in the 50s, nothing could start an inflamed conversation at family gatherings like the North’s invasion of the South, Abraham Lincoln, and re-construction; even after a hundred years!”

Both of these men said, however, that most of their contemporaries had a nuanced view of Lincoln and the Civil War, agreeing that the preservation of the Union and the end of slavery were positive outcomes. But, they both were critical of the intentional mass destruction of Southern infrastructure during the War and the unnecessarily harsh penalties of re-construction after the War ended. In their elementary and secondary classrooms, the history of that period tended to focus on the noble effort of the Confederate cause, admiration for its civilian and military leaders, and the unfair policies toward the South in the aftermath; but neither recalled descriptions of Lincoln as “despicable” or other similar derogatory terms. Neither thought Lincoln was to blame for the debilitating re-construction policies and, to the contrary, both thought Lincoln, had he lived through his second term, would have been a moderating force. One said that, “In all wars the victor sets the terms for reconciliation, but the Union’s policies were more retaliatory and focused on retribution, rather than the best path to reconciliation.”  Both acknowledged that, for a few generations after the war, there were still those who defended slavery as a historical right, a practical labor source, and the relationship of owner to slave as benevolent. However, they said that those they personally knew, including grandparents, parents, friends, and teachers, while proud of their Southern heritage, never attempted to defend the institution of slavery.

By contrast, I also had an exchange with a “serious student of the Civil War,” a term he applied to himself, who was a direct descendent of men who fought for the Confederacy. He said, “I take great pride in their service and their sacrifices and the Southern officers conducted themselves more honorably than their Union Counterparts.”  He further stated that, “Secession was a legal and appropriate response to abuses by the Federal government, and the Union conducted an undeclared war on a new country.”

As an aside, while we disagreed on most points, I appreciated that his tone was always reasoned and calm, unlike some of the “new Confederates” and “Southern Avengers” who seem to shout out their arguments in sound-bite slogans with a string of epithets. My experience with these groups began when they coordinated a mass of spiteful comments about Lincoln and the Civil War on the Amazon.com sales pages for my books and on my web-site; causing us to temporarily shut down comments. To add insult to injury, I don’t think any of them ever paid for one my books!

However, while the “serious Civil War student” was more measured and polite, he was absolute in his belief that the United States (what remained of it) and the Confederate States of America could have co-existed as separate countries for years. If so, the Civil War could have been avoided and, perhaps, the two countries might have re-formed a new Union later. He said that he had “bought into the mythology of Lincoln” until he began his independent research at the age of thirty, when he determined that “Lincoln was no Great Emancipator but only a tyrant who was predetermined to destroy the South.” When he added that, “Slavery would have died out anyway over the next fifty years,” I asked if he had any concern for the four million slaves in 1865 and the thousands more who would have been born into slavery under his scenario.  He replied, “The slaves were totally unprepared for freedom, and over that fifty years slaves could have been gradually assimilated as the South modernized; which would have been preferable to the War waged by Abraham Lincoln’s armies.” After reviewing his commentary, I thought that he demonstrated an old proverb that someone can study a lot but still not learn anything at all!

Fortunately, based on my interviews, these “new Confederates” are a small, but noisy, minority of those with a Southern heritage. One person told me that, “We refer to these so-called new Confederates as the ‘crazies’ and they are an embarrassment to the South.” Another said, “We can be proud of many aspects of our Southern heritage without overlooking the terrible injustice of slavery, which is a stain that cannot be erased and must not be forgotten.”

After all of these interviews and other interactions, my limited research revealed to me that there may be as many opinions about Lincoln and the Civil War as seen “through a Southern lens” as there are fireflies on a southern night; and that would be too many to count.

Contact the author at gadorris2@gmail.com