The Great Escape - Ft. Libby (Article 85)

“…a place so narrow, dark and damp, and more like a grave than any place short of a man’s last home.” – A former Union prisoner at Libby describing the tunnel he helped dig

“There was never a single day that I did not consider my escape.” - Union Col. Thomas Rose

The three-story building, with a large cellar, was a former food warehouse in Richmond, Virginia, adjacent to the James river. Luther Libby had leased the building for several years, where he operated a wholesale grocery business, including a ship’s chandlery which packaged provisions for long voyages. By early 1862, the Confederate Army took control of the building and converted it into a prison to house the many Union officers captured in the early stages of the Civil War.

Conditions at the Libby prison quickly became terrible. One early Confederate Commander was Lt. David H. Todd, half-brother to Mary Todd Lincoln, wife of President Abraham Lincoln. Lt. Todd did not want the assignment and protested to his superiors that he should be in battle areas. One reason for his objection, to what otherwise might have seemed a safe and comfortable position, was that some Southerners questioned his true loyalty because of his sister’s position. Perhaps as a result, to prove his disdain for Yankees, Lt. Todd became more and more harsh in the treatment of the prisoners under his control. He confiscated packages of aid sent by relatives of the prisoners, and even interrupted needed medical care, before he finally got his wish and was transferred. Although subsequent commanders were not as deliberately punitive as Lt. Todd, the conditions within the prison remained unhealthy with no heat, limited food, minimal medical care and severe overcrowding. The Confederates did not decide to intentionally cause these deprivations; the simple fact was that the Confederate government did not have adequate resources to care for the thousands of prisoners under their control in facilities in Virginia, Georgia, and other southern states.

The Libby prison was just one of several buildings in that warehouse district and there was no high fence or wall surrounding the area. Over time, prisoners attempted to escape by leaving the converted warehouse at night and scurrying from one building to the next until they could blend into the city of Richmond. Almost all were caught and returned, and, while some may have been killed, a few did make it to Union lines. To most of the prisoners at Libby, however, the chances of a successful escape were small and the risk was too great. One early prisoner at Libby was Captain Andrew Hamilton, who began to plan an escape using a tunnel, but, at first, he had no support from other prisoners; so, his plan was never fully developed. Unknown to him at the time, Hamilton had been promoted to Major, so in some accounts, his rank has been confused. Then in September 1863, Colonel Thomas E. Rose was captured and sent to Libby prison. Soon he learned of Major Hamilton’s preliminary plan and the two worked together; however, Colonel Rose was the more committed of the two to try to escape, and was such a strong leader that he quickly enlisted about twenty-five men to participate. The plan was to dig a tunnel far enough from the Libby building and the guards who were stationed around it, to emerge and just walk out of the area.

Conceiving the idea was the easy part. Any tunnel would need to be at least sixty feet long, dug through compacted soil, and large enough to accommodate a man moving in and out with bagged debris. The challenges they faced included the lack of any proper tools, nor a way to shore up the tunnel, and they needed a place to hide the removed dirt. Also, this would not be a quick dig and Colonel Rose originally estimated at least thirty days of daily effort.

But they did have one advantage. The building had a cellar with an abandoned kitchen in one part; however, it was infested with rats, often flooded by the nearby James River, and filled with fouled, noxious air. Because of these conditions, Confederate guards rarely entered and must have assumed no prisoner would either. The cellar was referred to as “Rat Hell” by prisoners and guards alike; but the determined Colonel Rose saw it as an opportunity and took it. 

Most prisoners were held on the second and third floors and the first floor was used primarily for temporary holding and processing of new inmates. It also had several divided areas for guards to gather and for storage. Rose noted that a chimney ran through the three floors and out the roof and surmised that it must originate in the cellar. Since no fires were allowed in the prison, even for warmth in the winter, the chimney was, in essence, a passageway.  By removing a few bricks, he was able to slide down the inside of the chimney and emerge into the cellar. Photographs of the building show a few small windows at cellar level, so there was some light, but not much. The old kitchen floor was covered in straw, lots of straw, which would come in handy for the tunnelers to hide the removed dirt.

About January 20, 1864, Col. Rose determined it was time to start. Over the first several days, Rose and a few men would enter the cellar after morning roll call, remove enough bricks and stones from the foundation wall, and begin to dig the tunnel entrance. The tunnel would be about six feet below the surface and about three feet wide and high. Their target was an abandoned tobacco shed which, if they tunneled up through the floor into the shed, would hide their emergence from guards. When other prisoners learned that the escape plan was actually being implemented, Colonel Rose had no problem recruiting more men to help dig the tunnel. Rose would have two men slide down the chimney into the cellar where one man would crawl to the farthest point in the tunnel, and the other would remain at the entrance. Their only tools were iron rods they found in the cellar, some large clam shells, and spittoons to collect the dirt. They tied a spittoon in the middle of a long rope with one end at the face of the tunnel where the lead digger would fill the spittoon with dirt and then the second man at the entrance would pull the filled spittoon back out to be emptied.  The removed dirt would be spread onto the floor and covered with straw. The lead digger would then pull the now empty spittoon back into the tunnel and fill it again.

The return to the second or third floor required a bit of acrobatics and contortions. To inch his way back up, the man would put his back to one wall of the chimney reach out with hands and feet to the opposite wall, and with small upward thrusts he would slowly rise in the chimney. It must have been exhausting.

About the “Rat Hell” cellar, one former prisoner wrote, “It was dark and you could barely see your own hand, the air was bad, and the rats would crawl over us, squealing. Some men could not stay at the task. I did because I wanted out.”

Another wrote, “It was impossible to breathe the air of the tunnel for many minutes; the miner, however, would dig as long as his strength would allow, or until his candle was extinguished by the foul air; he would then make his way out, and another would take his place – a place so narrow, dark and damp, and more like a grave than any place short of a man’s last home.”

Many men “could not stay at the task” at all, and the few who had the fortitude to work in those conditions could not do it for long. As a result, Colonel Rose rotated the men at least every hour. After about fifteen days, one of the lead diggers, a young Lieutenant, decided they must be under the shed and reported to Col. Rose that he was ready to break through. Col. Rose checked the tunnel length and disagreed, believing they were are at least ten feet short. The Lieutenant went back into the tunnel and, disregarding Col. Rose’s orders, dug upward and broke through the surface. We can only imagine his surprise, and horror, as he heard sentry footsteps and voices very near the hole. He quickly plugged the small hole and had to report his mistake to Col. Rose. The disappointment among the group must have been palpable and the fear was real. The men knew that if one of the sentries were to step on the weakened surface, his foot would break through and the tunnel would be discovered. But Col. Rose’s leadership was on full display as he rallied the men and encouraged them to keep working.

But why did the Confederate guards not notice that men, who were in the cellar and tunnel, were missing from their assigned places on the second and third floors? The oversights occurred because, by early 1864, there were over one thousand prisoners in Libby and roll call was disorganized. On most mornings and evenings, the guards would have all prisoners stand in designated groups and have a senior Union officer call out the name of each prisoner. It was relatively easy for another man to respond “present” when one of the digger’s name was called. In at least one instance, however, Confederate guards conducted the roll call and discovered a man was missing; but they erroneously concluded he had escaped. In fact, he was a digger at the time, so Colonel Rose decided that the man must remain in the cellar until the tunnel was finished. As it turned out, that prisoner was left in the foul air for three more days. 

On February 9, 1864, the lead digger, in this case Col. Rose himself, broke through into the shed. That evening 109 men, including Colonel Rose and Major Hamilton, crawled through the tunnel and scattered throughout Richmond. They knew that Union troops were within a few days walking distance, but they needed to avoid the many Confederate patrols which surrounded the city. A few decided to swim across the James river, which was adjacent to the prison, but the water was swift and very cold and two of the escapees drowned. Forty-eight were recaptured over the next few days and returned to Libby; however, fifty-nine others reached Union lines. Among those who were successful in locating Union positions was Major Hamilton, who had initially developed the escape plan.

Unfortunately, Colonel Rose, who had led the effort, was re-captured before he could cross into Union territory. He had made his way through Richmond and was nearing a place where he expected to encounter Union picket lines when he spotted several soldiers in blue uniforms. He thought he had been rescued; however, when he identified himself, instead of receiving the expected protection, the soldiers pointed their rifles at him. As it turned out, in a case of very bad luck by Colonel Rose, the soldiers were actually Confederates who had donned the uniforms to penetrate the Union picket lines to gather information. They then returned Col. Rose to Libby.

Confederate prison officials conducted an inquiry into the prison break and quickly realized the serious lack of oversight by the guards. Two guards even testified that they saw several men walking from the old tobacco shed into Richmond, but assumed they were off-duty Confederate soldiers sneaking away from their camp for a night on the town. Also, in the scramble to find someone accountable, the Confederate commander charged Robert Ford, a Black teamster who delivered supplies to the prison, as an accomplice in the escape. He was beaten and imprisoned at Libby; however, a few months later, in another lapse by guards, he managed to just walk away. In subsequent interviews, Colonel Rose stated that Mr. Ford was innocent of the charge and had given no assistance to the prisoners.

It became clear to the investigators that the re-captured Colonel Rose had been the leader of the escape. To limit any further mischief by the Colonel, they kept him isolated from other prisoners until he was included in a prisoner exchange in April 1864. He promptly returned to a Union Brigade, was given a brevet (temporary) promotion to Brigadier General, and again led men into battle. In June, 1864, Rose was seriously wounded in Georgia as Union forces closed in on Atlanta. He recovered from his injuries and continued his career in the U.S. Army until his retirement in 1894.

Thomas Ellwood Rose, the architect of the Civil War’s Great Escape, died in 1907, and was given a hero’s burial at Arlington National Cemetery.

And The Bands Played On (Special Edition- New years 2019)

It was cold and cloudy, with scant moonlight. The soldiers in blue huddled by small campfires. Less than one hundred yards away, soldiers in gray, also struggled to keep warm. Nearly 100,000 American boys were about to engage in one of the great battles of the Civil War. They were just outside Murfreesboro, Tennessee, it was the evening of December 30, 1862.

 Bands were a part of almost all Army regiments during the Civil War. The drum beats and martial music were intended to help drive the common soldier toward a rendezvous with destruction, pain and, possibly death, that he might otherwise have sought to avoid. The music was loud, stirring, gallant, and inspirational. It helped instill motivation and pride in duty and honor.

 But occasionally, the bands played other types of music; especially during lulls in battle. The night before New Year’s Eve, in the rolling hills of Tennessee, was one of those nights when the bands, from both sides, were the only forces in opposition. The two sides were so close that the men had been able to hear conversations from the other side. But now, for a while, the bands, and the soldiers singing, would be the dominate sounds.

 It is lost in history as to which band started the competition, but most accounts give the nod to the Union musicians. The band began to play a patriotic tune, in this case the popular Northern song, Hail Columbia. As the band finished that song, the Confederate band struck up Dixie and the competition was on. The Union side played and sang, Yankee Doodle Dandy, a song that predated the Revolutionary War and, until the Civil War, was sung by Northerner and Southerner alike. Then the Confederate band began to play My old Kentucky Home (a Stephen Foster tune) which had become a Southern Anthem. Of course, there were a few boisterous songs, which soldiers so often learn, interspersed with other genres.

 There was lull in the music about ten pm. Then the Union band began to play a sentimental song about home. The song was originally part of a short opera first performed in 1823, with lyrics by John Howard Payne and composition by Henry Bishop. It was quickly separated from the opera and became a sentimental favorite throughout the United States, North and South. (Some erroneously credit Stephen Foster, a prolific songwriter on the era, as the composer) As the Union band sounded out the introduction, the Confederate band instantly recognized the tune and joined in; and, the music began to transcend the differences war can bring, if only for a few minutes. The soldiers, who would again soon be enemies, began to sing the same song, at the same time.

 Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,

Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.

A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there

Which seek thro’ the world, is ne’er met elsewhere

Home! Home!

Sweet, sweet home!

There’s no place like home

There’s no place like home!

An exile from home splendor dazzles in vain

Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again

The birds singing gaily that came to my call

And gave me the peace of mind dearer than all.

Home, home, sweet, sweet home.

There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home!

The boys started to sing the song again and the two bands played it again; however, the second time was a little softer than the first round. Then, even quieter for a third time as the music and the words wafted over the open ground between the two sides. When the song finally ended, all was silent for the rest of the evening. Letters have survived, written by those who participated, and, whether the soldier was Union or Confederate, young or older, enlisted or officer, they tell similar stories. One wrote, “It was the most lonely I had felt in the year since I left home.”  Another wrote, “For a short time, I thought of our house, and you, and the children, warmly, without intrusion of war.”

 General Braxton Bragg, who led the Confederate troops at Murfreesboro, told his staff to ban the song, fearing it would take the edge off the fighting men. 

 It didn’t!

 On December 31, 1862, New Year’s Eve, many of the boys who had been singing of home, in a strange mixed chorus, only a few hours before, began to die on that open ground which had separated the two sides.

Lincoln’s Christmas in the White House (Special Edition 2019)

No Tree. No Cards. Few gifts. And, the President worked all day. Not unusual at all during the Civil War.

 Historians have dissected every aspect of Abraham Lincoln’s life looking for reasons for certain of his behaviors and traditions; and many have opined about his seemingly austere Christmases as President. Some suggest that Lincoln was concerned with his public image and did not want to appear involved in trivial activities in the midst of a brutal war. Others have written that he rejected most religious rituals and always lacked interest in Christmas. One wrote, in an over-reach, that his “melancholy or depression” peaked at the holidays, as he reflected on friends and family who had died in his earlier years. There are even critics who claim that he used work as an excuse to get away from his difficult wife. Actually, these are all unfair characterizations of the man, disguised as historical explanations. Actually, the reasons for his Christmas schedules and habits are not very complicated.

 Foremost, Abraham Lincoln wore the heavy duty of Presidential responsibility like a leaden cloak; it enveloped him and he could only rarely take it off. However, this was self-imposed, not due to any concerns about perceptions by his critics. To him, there was a destructive war tearing the country apart, young men were dying, and there were daily decisions to be made; and, ultimately, he was the one in charge.

 However, there were also practical reasons that the Lincoln White House did not have a tree, and that the Lincolns did not send cards or give many gifts for Christmas.

 First, the placement of large Christmas trees in homes and public places was not a universal custom in the United States during the mid-1800s; more likely found in the northeastern regions and in settlements with a significant German or Scandinavian presence. Even if an ever-green tree had been desired by Lincoln or any of his Presidential predecessors, it would not have lasted very long. The White House was more open to the public (and relatively unguarded) in those days and White House “visitors” were already notorious for cutting snips from curtains and carpets and stealing any small trinkets; therefore, a large decorated Christmas tree in the White House would have likely been a target.

 Further, sending and receiving Christmas cards was not yet wide-spread, and any written Christmas sentiment was usually in the form of personal notes to close friends and family. And gift giving, if any, was usually for children.

 But Lincoln’s experiences in his early years also affected his Christmas traditions. He had lived in Kentucky, Indiana, and Illinois, until he became President, at the age of 52. That area was still considered the “frontier,” and would be until the great western migration after the Civil War. Conditions there, for most families, were simple, often harsh, and there was neither the money nor the time for frivolous traditions. Even by the 1850s, in Springfield, Illinois, where Abraham Lincoln, by then a successful lawyer, lived with his wife Mary and their sons, there were few Christmas trees, not many people sent holiday cards, and few gifts were exchanged.

Certainly, before he became President in 1861, the previous Christmas holidays in the Lincoln home were happier, but still restrained; which, in many ways, reflected the regional customs.  The Lincolns did not send out Christmas cards (although both wrote a few letters to friends and family), nor did they have a decorated tree; but they may have had a wreathe with a candle, a custom that was gaining favor at the time. They did give small Christmas gifts to their children, usually fruit and nuts and possibly a book or game; certainly nothing excessive, but enough to satisfy young boys back then. Those gifts may have been placed in a “stocking hung with care” as the poem now called The Night before Christmas was very popular.  Mrs. Lincoln, who appreciated the formalities of a prescribed religious service, insisted the family attend a Christmas service at local church. Lincoln enjoyed Christmas activities with his family and he relished sharing time with friends. He was a popular lawyer and politician, and he and Mary participated in various social functions during the Christmas period in their home and at the homes of friends and political acquaintances. All in all, Christmas, at the Lincoln’s Springfield home, was quite normal for that period, and in that place.

 During the Christmas holiday in 1860, the family was still living in Springfield. Lincoln had won the national election to become the sixteenth President of the United States, but would not be inaugurated until the following March. Civil War was being discussed and South Carolina had already declared secession from the Union, with several other Southern states expected to follow; however, there was still hope that war could somehow be avoided. The Lincolns held a Christmas Eve reception in their home and many of their acquaintances stopped by, including one of Lincoln’s oldest friends and confidants, Congressman Edward Baker, who Lincoln had asked to introduce him at the coming Inauguration ceremony.  Then, the following March, Abraham Lincoln became the President of the United States; and about one month later, the Civil War, which he dreaded so much, began.

 And, his Christmases would never again be the same.

December 25, 1861, was the Lincoln family’s first Christmas in the White House. Since that last Christmas in Illinois, war had indeed struck the country and his close friend, Edward Baker, who had introduced Lincoln at the Inauguration event, was now dead, just one of the many casualties of the Civil War. Therefore, it was a solemn White House, even with two young boys, Willy and Tad, who would run through the halls, and engage in other rambunctiousness; and who probably longed for a happier day. Robert, the oldest son, had been away at college, but returned for a few days around Christmas. Social activities were almost non-existent, since Mrs. Lincoln did not have many friends in Washington. Both she and her husband were considered outsiders by the long-entrenched congressional leaders, judges, and career bureaucrats who were considered the Washington elite. 

 December 25, 1862, was the second Christmas the Lincoln family spent in the White House, but that year may have been the saddest of all. Young Willy had died in February and Mrs. Lincoln could not seem to recover. Further, the war had become a stagnated mess of death and destruction, with some Union victories, but with a devastating defeat, just before Christmas, at Fredericksburg, Virginia, only about fifty miles from Washington DC (and the White House). Three months earlier, Lincoln had announced the Emancipation Proclamation to be effective January first, 1863 and the public was split on the unilateral move the President had made. If there had been a presidential poll back then, his approval rating would have been very low. On Christmas afternoon, after a morning cabinet meeting, the President and Mrs. Lincoln visited wounded soldiers at several Washington hospitals. We can only imagine that it was a lonely Christmas for young Tad.

 December 25, 1863, was their third Christmas in the White House. Mrs. Lincoln was again receiving visitors, Tad had found some new friends, and Robert visited from Harvard; however, the President was still subdued. Although the war news was better, with several major victories for the Union armies, including at Gettysburg and Vicksburg, casualties continued to mount and the President still worked through the day.

 December 25, 1864, was their fourth Christmas in the Presidential mansion and the mood was different. President Lincoln knew that the war would not last much longer, the Confederacy would be defeated, the Union would be preserved, and slavery would soon be outlawed. (The Senate had passed the 13th Amendment to the Constitution and he was prepared to press the House of Representatives on the issue.) Also, he had just been re-elected to a second four-year term by a wide margin of both voters and the Electoral College. He even received a welcome telegram from General William Tecumseh Sherman, announcing that Savannah, Georgia was now in Union hands, it read, “Mr. President, I beg to present you, as a Christmas gift, the city of Savannah.” Robert came home from Harvard, but worried his mother because he wanted to join the Army. Tad, the President’s young son, who still lived in the White house, invited a group of newsboys, who sold papers around the area, to follow him home for dinner; without telling his parents. He knew his father would not mind, but he must have been at least a little concerned about his mother’s reaction; as she could be difficult at times. However, it appears that Mary Lincoln handled Tad’s surprise without drama.  Over the holidays, President and Mrs. Lincoln held several receptions for Union military leaders, politicians, and foreign emissaries. 1864 was probably the closest to a “normal” Christmas in the Lincoln White House.

 Unfortunately, it would be Abraham Lincoln’s last. The President was assassinated less than four months later.

 Abraham Lincoln had enjoyed traditional Christmas customs, as they were practiced at that time back home in Springfield, with family and friends; but for four years, in the White House, he could not fully enjoy the special holiday season.

 But, shouldn’t we? Perhaps, for a few days anyway, we can even set aside some matters that divide us. After all, Abraham Lincoln left us with many examples of reconciliation, a legacy from which we can learn and, at least, try to follow.

Lincoln’s Thanksgiving Day Messages (Special edition)

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. Later Congress adopted a resolution making Thanksgiving the fourth Thursday in November to avoid confusion in those infrequent years when there are five Thursdays in the month.

But the October 1863 proclamation was not Lincoln’s first, nor was Lincoln the first to issue a proclamation of Thanksgiving in the United States. Most of us were taught that Pilgrims in North America declared a Day of Thanksgiving in 1621 to celebrate their first harvest and, 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. Then, 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 continuing November date.

During the Civil War, Abraham Lincoln issued four proclamations establishing special days for Prayer and/or Thanksgiving; in August 1861, in April and October 1863, and in October 1864. Each asked the public to set aside time to reflect upon the challenges the country faced and to follow their own religious creed to express hope for peace and gratitude for the blessings bestowed on the Nation; but only the 1863 and 1864 proclamations attempted to establish a recurring Thanksgiving Day in November. The proclamations summarized below were actually collaborative efforts between Lincoln and William Seward, his Secretary of State. The two men had been rivals for the Presidency but, by late 1861, had learned to respect and trust each other’s political instincts and writing skills. Seward was a devout Episcopalian and his intonements tended to be more ecclesiastical and flourishing. Lincoln, on the other hand, while no less spiritual, tended to use simpler terms; and the reader can usually discern which phrase was more likely Seward’s or Lincoln’s. 

Unfortunately, over time, some writers, especially in internet posts, have confused the various proclamations and presented erroneous text as “Lincoln’s Thanksgiving Day Proclamation.” However, it is important that we maintain a correct historical record of these proclamations or, over time, the false texts become the “new” history. For ease of identification, most scholars refer to the four proclamations as the 1861 Proclamation for Prayer, The April 1863 Proclamation for Prayer, The 1863 Thanksgiving Day Proclamation, and The 1864 Thanksgiving Day Proclamation. The following are summaries, as each original document is lengthy; however, the full documents are readily available from reliable sources for those who would like to read the complete (and authentic) texts. Just search under the any of the above references.

In August 1861, when the awful realities of the Civil War were becoming evident, Lincoln and Seward felt that the people might be comforted by a special day on which the nation as a whole would turn to their religious faith, in whatever forms that may take, to ask for guidance in restoring the forefathers’ vision for the United States. That 1861 Presidential proclamation read (in part):

“..And, whereas our own beloved country, once by the blessing of God, united, prosperous, and happy, is now afflicted with faction and Civil War, it is particularly fit for us to recognize the hand of God in this terrible visitation, and in sorrowful remembrance of our faults and crimes as a nation, and as individuals, to humble ourselves and pray for His mercy….and that the inestimable boon of civil and religious liberty…earned by His blessing and the labors and sufferings of our forefathers, may be restored in all its original excellence.” The Proclamation went on to declare the last Thursday in September, 1861, as a day of humiliation, prayer, and fasting and urged “all ministers and teachers of religion of all denominations and the heads of all families to observe and keep that day according to their creeds and modes of worship.”

Not quite an official “Thanksgiving Day” but a good start!

By early 1863, Lincoln and Seward were confident that the North would eventually prevail and the Union would be restored; but neither had reason to hope the War would end soon. In April, 1863, they decided to issue another proclamation of prayer; and this one included the phrase, “I do, by this proclamation, set April 30, 1863 as a day of national humiliation, fasting, and prayer.” Note the absence of the word Thanksgiving; and hardly an uplifting slogan, which most historians suspect was Seward’s choice, as was much of the text. But it was signed by Lincoln and, in summary, read as follows: “..We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of heaven. We have been preserved these many years in peace and prosperity….But we have forgotten God.…We have vainly imagined….that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own (and) we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving Grace. It behooves us to humble ourselves before the offended Power. And I do request that all the people abstain that day from their ordinary secular pursuits and to unite at their several places of public worship and in their respective homes, in keeping that day Holy to the Lord, and devoted to the humble discharge of the religious duties proper to that solemn occasion. Let us rest humbly in the hope authorized by the Divine teachings that the united cry of the nation will be heard on High, and (provide) the restoration of our now divided and suffering country…”  This was a noble document, which set aside another day for national reflection, but it still did not establish a Thanksgiving Day.

But Lincoln would soon have to deal with a determined woman named Sarah Josepha Buell Hale!  She was a well-known editor, novelist, and poet, who wrote Mary had a Little Lamb, but who also wrote, in 1828, 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.”  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, she and her readers continued to “encourage” (her word) and “pester” (one recipient’s word) national politicians to establish a specific day for Thanksgiving.  Mrs. Hale was aware that Abraham Lincoln, and even Confederate President Jefferson Davis, had issued several Thanksgiving proclamations during the first two years of the War, but those were to plead for, or celebrate, 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, and asked Seward to draft a Presidential Proclamation which would include the universal and conciliatory themes that Sarah Hale had proposed.  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. 

The document, simply titled, Proclamation, was signed by Lincoln on October 3, 1863 and read (in part): “…the year that is drawing toward its close has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies…bounties which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come. In the midst of Civil War of unequaled magnitude and severity, peace has been preserved with all (other) nations, laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has been preserved except in the theater of military conflict; while that theater has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union.” Lincoln and Seward went on to describe the wealth that was building in the north from farming, mining, and transportation, and advances in bringing in new states from western territories; while still keeping up an aggressive war effort against the Confederacy. (That last portion was decried by Southern politicians and newspaper editors). But then Lincoln and Seward returned to the basic theme of gratitude and Thanksgiving. “No human counsel hath devised, nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the most gracious gifts of the most High God,…. It seems fit and proper that they should solemnly, reverently, and gratefully acknowledge as with one heart and one voice by the whole American people. I do therefore invite my fellow-citizens to…observe the last Thursday in November as a Day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father. And I recommend to them that they do so with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care those who have become widows, orphans, mourners, or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and implore the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and restore it as soon as may be consistent with Divine purposes, to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquility, and Union.” The phrase “A Day of Thanksgiving” was specifically included!

Not every American, however, was pleased with the proclamation. While the October 1863 Proclamation was widely reported in Southern newspapers, rather than inspire people as it had in the North, it offended many in the South by its references to successful military campaigns against the Confederacy and restoration of the Union.

A year later, on October 20, 1864, President Lincoln issued his second Thanksgiving Day proclamation, again declaring the last Thursday of November for the special Day. As before, Lincoln and Secretary Seward collaborated to issue a memorable document, again titled simply Proclamation which read (in part): “It has pleased Almighty God to prolong our national life another year,…and vouchsafing (granting with grace) to us in his mercy many and signal victories over the enemy who is of our own household…He has augmented our free population by emancipation and by immigration, while he has opened new sources of wealth and has crowned the labor of our workingmen in every department of industry with abundant rewards. He has been pleased to inspire our minds and hearts with fortitude, courage, and resolution sufficient for the great trial of Civil War into which we have been brought by our adherence as a nation to the cause of freedom and humanity…Therefore I set apart the last Thursday in November as a day …of Thanksgiving and praise, offer up penitence and prayers for a return of the inestimable blessings of peace, union, and harmony throughout the land.” Again, Lincoln and Seward included “a Day of Thanksgiving” in the document.

However, because of an assassin’s bullet a few months later, this became President Lincoln’s last Thanksgiving Day Proclamation.

Sarah Hale lived to see her vision become a treasured special day “to be thankful for the blessings of life.”  And, as she, Lincoln, and Seward hoped, it is observed across all lines that, on other matters, may divide us; such as geography, ethnicity, religion, and politics. Hopefully, in a year of serious political divisions, we will try to honor that message as we celebrate this special holiday.

Have a wonderful, and reflective, Thanksgiving Day.

The Lady Became a Lawyer (Article 84)

“I saw a path and I decided to take it, despite the many obstacles I knew would be in my way. I would be delayed, but never deterred.” -  Myra Colby Bradwell on her drive to become a lawyer.

 Those who held the keys to the gates of law schools did not want to let her in. The powers in charge of licensing lawyers to practice in Illinois refused to admit her to the bar; but other states were no better. Even Federal judges stood in her way. They just did not understand with whom they were dealing! And, along the way, she became a confidant and advocate for Mary Todd Lincoln, after the assassination of the President.

 Myra Bradwell was not the first woman lawyer nor the first woman to graduate from law school, but she was a leader in the movement to permit women to actually practice the profession. Anabelle Mansfield was the first woman admitted to any state’s bar. She did not attend law school, but apprenticed with an experienced lawyer, passed the Iowa Bar Examination in 1869, and was admitted to that state’s bar; but decided to teach rather than practice law. Ada Keply, in 1870, was the first woman to graduate with a law degree, in her case, from the University of Chicago Law School. However, she was initially denied admission to the Illinois bar. She chose to devote her energies to other reform issues and did not re-apply for ten years, but was subsequently admitted to the Illinois bar in 1881.

 While not the first woman to break these barriers, Myra Colby Bradwell continuously fought the legal and judicial system for years and was a vocal critic of what she called “The Men’s Club” of lawyers and judges in Illinois and almost all other states.

 Myra was born in 1831 into a family that encouraged her education. Although her early childhood was spent in New England, her family moved to Illinois when she twelve. She continued her education at the Elgin Female Seminary and prepared to become a teacher; a “respectable” and accepted profession for a young lady. At twenty-one, she married James Bradwell who had trained to be a lawyer, but instead became the headmaster of a private school in Memphis, Tennessee; where Myra also taught.  Over the next two years, James continued to study legal reference books at the school and his interest in a law career was rekindled. Myra later recalled that the couple often discussed, and sometimes debated, legal theory and actual cases as a normal part of their conversations between husband and wife. She once said, “In our home, the law was a subject as often as the weather.” James decided that he would prefer to practice in the Chicago area, where he was well known, and the couple moved back to Illinois. James quickly passed the bar exam, was admitted to the Illinois bar, and soon had a thriving practice. He also had a bright and energetic assistant he trusted; his wife, Myra.

 Myra was fascinated by the law and, with her husband’s encouragement, began to seriously consider becoming a lawyer. At the time, no state permitted a woman to become a lawyer, and most even prohibited married women to sign contracts. For the time being, however, she became a valuable asset to the firm by assisting with research and frequently wrote drafts of briefs which James would then re-write in his own hand and sign. They were a great team! But both Myra and her husband were prepared to fight “the powers that be” until she won the right to practice law; however, even they must not have imagined how long it would take.

 Myra’s husband was active in Illinois politics and he knew Abraham Lincoln before he became President; and it is presumed that Myra had met the President as well. James and Myra were both ardent supporters of the Union and contributed both time and money to various Union political organizations and charities. During the Civil War, Myra served as a medical volunteer and as an active member of the region’s chapter of the Sanitary Commission. This privately funded organization had been authorized by President Lincoln to advance the level of medical care for wounded soldiers, with the primary goal of improving survival rates.  Letters have survived in which Mr. Bradwell informed President Lincoln of the progress of the Sanitary Commission in the Chicago area and included other political news from the state.

 After the Civil War ended, Myra formed the Chicago Legal News, a newspaper devoted to all issues of law, which was an immediate financial success and a staple in law offices throughout the mid-west. In the meantime, she continued her battle to be recognized as a lawyer. She lost an appeal to the Illinois Supreme Court and, in 1873, lost an appeal to the United States Supreme Court. That ruling, in a 7 to 1 vote seemed to, once and for all, keep women out of “The Men’s Club.”  The decision gave several reasons for the denial, among them: (1) it would open the floodgates and too many women would apply, (2) brutal cases would not be appropriate for women’s involvement, (3) women’s responsibilities to care for family were paramount; and concluded with the statement, which seems so absurd today, that, “God designed the sexes to occupy different spheres of action.” But not one word about qualifications!

 Myra’s husband had become a State Congressman in Illinois and, with Myra’s help in drafting the legislation, he introduced, and was able to get enacted, several new laws expanding women’s rights.  One granted the right of women to singularly sign contracts, and another new law prohibited the denial of women to any profession (except the military). But after the 1873 Supreme Court decision, Myra lost her zeal to keep fighting for her own right to practice law. She remained, however, a strong advocate for other young women to get law degrees and supported the growing movement in other states to admit qualified women to the bar.

 To push her agendas, which also included women’s suffrage, the right for women to unilaterally sign contacts, and improving the labor conditions for women in the workforce, Myra found a new voice. She became a lobbyist, and a very effective one!

 She had a talent for bringing injustices to the public mind, and then pressuring state legislators and U.S. congressmen who resisted her reforms. She also gained on her side, a bevy of men, in addition to her husband, who were powerful lawyers and judges in both state and federal courts, and who were willing to represent her causes.

 One of the famous cases she championed was that of Mary Todd Lincoln, the widow of Abraham Lincoln. In 1875, after Mary was involved in a series of bizarre incidents, Robert Lincoln, her son, took her to court where a judge deemed her insane and ordered her committed to the Bellevue Mental hospital, near Chicago. Mary Lincoln was humiliated and wrote letters to newspaper editors, lawyers, and politicians, pleading for help, claiming she was not insane and was capable of managing her own affairs. Myra Bradwell believed Mrs. Lincoln needed support, not incarceration, and her husband promptly petitioned for a new court hearing. In the meantime, Myra, a master at public relations, began a withering campaign in newspapers, and in the numerous ladies’ periodicals, framing Robert as a greedy and uncaring son. (He was neither.)

 Their dual approach of his legal maneuvers, combined with her public relations juggernaut, was successful and a judge ordered that Mrs. Lincoln be released. However, Myra was not finished with Mary’s case. First, Myra’s husband petitioned, and then convinced, the court to actually declare Mrs. Lincoln legally sane, a step further than just ordering her release. Robert Lincoln, who had, in fact, been paying many of his mother’s expenses since his father’s death, was embarrassed by the situation and did not object to the new court proceedings, or to the verdict. Next, Myra began a campaign to assist Mary financially. Abraham Lincoln did not die a wealthy man and Mary’s unusual behavior was often a matter of money; or rather the fear of lack of money. At that time, neither former Presidents, nor their widows, were granted pensions. Mrs. Lincoln worried that she could not afford to live in the manner to which she was accustomed when her husband was alive and earning a substantial income as a lawyer and then as President. Myra subsequently lobbied the U.S. Congress to grant a pension to Mrs. Lincoln to assure her financial well-being, and a few years later, successfully argued for an increase. Mary Lincoln praised Myra’s efforts on her behalf, but she never forgave Robert for initiating the sanity hearing and her confinement.

 When Myra was sixty years old, in 1890, the United States Supreme Court, in an unusual move, acting without a pending case, voted unanimously to accept Myra’s original application to practice in federal court, which had been submitted in 1869. And, in another rare move, directed that the effective date of her approval be back-dated to the date of her application. While the largely symbolic decision was intended to expedite her admission to the Illinois Bar, it had no immediate effect and it would take “The Men’s Club” two more years, until 1892, to finally permit her to practice law by admitting her to the Illinois Bar Association.

 Unfortunately, she never got the opportunity to actually try a case in court and died on February 14, 1894.  Her husband and daughter wanted to continue her legacy, so they assumed the roles of publisher and editor of her Chicago Legal News; and insisted that every edition contain an article about women’s rights, including championing the right of women to vote. A privilege Myra never received.

 Shortly before her death, Myra Bradwell told her daughter, “I would not change anything about my life. My husband is my best friend, my children are content, and my struggle to become a lawyer was not in vain; and I believe I served a good purpose.”

 Those comments seem to capture a life well lived.

The Last Slave Ship (Article 83)

Introduction: They were only children. She was about twelve and was sent by her parents on some errand to a nearby village. On her way, she was attacked by a group of African men, blindfolded, bound to a rope and gagged, and then marched for several days. She was repeatedly raped. She could not remember how long or how far she walked. He was also twelve, hunting with a group of men from his tribe when they were attacked by a larger group of Africans. Several of the men he knew were killed, but he was spared. He soon learned why. He found himself tied to a group of other kidnapped men, women, and children and forced to walk for many days. The two wound up at the same place; a massive slave auction compound on the western coast of Africa. This is their story.

 In 1860, the large ocean-going freighter Clotilda landed in Alabama with over one hundred kidnapped Africans; so called “Black Cargo,” chained in the hold.  It had been a long voyage from Africa and the crew was ready to off-load the “cargo” to their owner, Timothy Meaher. The United States had outlawed participation in the International African Slave trade fifty years earlier, in 1808; so, the importation of new African slaves was a risky business. Mr. Meaher, who was an Alabama based slave broker, funded the illegal operation to prove to others in Alabama that he could still smuggle new slaves into the Country by sailing a direct route from Africa, rather than purchasing slaves from the large central markets in Cuba and other Caribbean outposts. The British were determined to interfere with the International African Slave trade and the Queen’s Navy regularly stopped and boarded ships leaving Caribbean ports. However, since those slave ships were headed for other islands and Central and South America, the British Navy largely ignored ships crossing the Atlantic, directly toward the United States.

 Conditions aboard the Clotilda were harsh but, unlike earlier passages, after the first week at sea, the slaves were rotated to the upper deck for fresh air every few days. This was not a compassionate move by Meaher and the ship’s Captain, but only a business decision designed to help keep the slaves healthier to improve their value. And, although a few of the kidnapped Africans died on the voyage to America, likely from disease, 110 survived. Upon arrival in Alabama, they were all sold at auction and scattered across that state, with some also sold to owners in Louisianna and Mississippi. Most were then lost in the fog of slavery which was usually the fate of kidnapped Africans.

 But two of the prisoners on the Clotilda were not lost, and have not been forgotten.

 One of the Africans was a young girl, probably twelve years old, named Redoshi, who was from Benin. She was kidnapped, probably randomly chosen, by Africans from another tribe and marched to an ocean-side holding area where she was held by a slave trader. After she was loaded onto the Clotilda, she was again raped and then assigned as a “bride” to another young slave. Upon landing in Alabama, she and her selected husband were sold to Washington Smith, a merchant and banker, as well as a planter. He gave Redoshi the name of Sally Smith and put her to work primarily in his home, but she was also sent to work the fields as needed. Not much is known about Sally Smith after the Civil War except that she did survive. She and her husband continued to live on land which was part of the Smith Plantation, subsisting on some work for which they were paid very little, and on small crops they planted. Her children knew about her African heritage as she passed on glimpses of her language and rituals. While her main story survived for another generation, many details were simply forgotten as time marched on.

Another African who came to the U.S. aboard the Clotilda was a young man named Oluale Kossola. Oluale had also been captured by a rival African tribe, but witnessed the death of several men from his village before he and other young boys were taken to the holding pens on the coast; for sale to the highest bidder!

 These two did not know each other, and may have never spoken, but both independently reached a very personal decision after they were kidnapped. Despite their captivity, they would secretly harbor their native language and their spiritual beliefs, partly as a small protest to their situation, but primarily to retain their self-dignity.  And, both were determined to never give up.

 After the voyage to Alabama, Oluale, was sold at auction to James Meaher, a brother of Timothy Meaher, who owned the Clotilda; and Oluale was re-named Cudio Lewis by his new owner.  The young African secretly practiced his native language and some of the spiritual rituals from his tribe. If his owner knew about Oluale’s clandestine activities, he never reproached his young slave; and, in fact, encouraged Oluale to assume a leadership role among the rest of the slaves. Oluale (Cudio Lewis) married and he and his wife had five children and, not always the case, the family was allowed to remain together by their owner. After the Civil War, and emancipation,  Oluale, led a small group of former slaves and formed the community of Africatown, outside Mobile, Alabama.  Although he had preserved his African name and taught his children that he was born as Oluale Kossola, he continued to use the name of Cudio Lewis for the rest of his life. Oluale became known to scholars because a biography, titled Barrocoon, was written in 1930, largely from personal interviews with Mr. Lewis.

 For many years, historians considered Oluale (Cudjo Lewis) to be the last surviving African transported to America to become a slave. Most slaves in America in 1860 had been born in this country as a slave; and only a few were still living who were brought to the United States before the International Slave Trade was banned in 1808. But, because Oluale had been brought to Alabama at such a young age in 1860, he out lived all other known victims of the International African Slave Trade. He lived in Africatown until his death at about 87 in 1935. Thus, he was thought by most historians to be the last survivor of the Africans illegally shipped to Alabama on the Clotilda; therefore, he had been considered the last slave brought to the United states on the last slave ship.

 However, recent research indicates that Redoshi, who died in 1937 at about 90, was actually the last of the group from the Clotilda to survive. Although she had outlived all of her children and any grandchildren had scattered to other regions, she left a sketchy record with friends she met later in her life. In the last few years before her death, Redoshi confided in several women, Black and White, some of whom attended her church, and others who served her with medical care or provided other assistance. As they learned about Redoshi’s past, these women realized that none of the other elderly African-Americans in their care had actually been slaves, although several claimed that their parents had been slaves. Some of the women who were acquainted with Redoshi, corresponded among each other and included details of their experiences with her in letters; but no one made a specific attempt to otherwise document Redoshi’s story. Fortunately, some of the letters were saved by their families; however, it would be another fifty years before dedicated researchers consolidated the correspondence and the story of Redoshi finally emerged.  She was truly the last surviving African slave in the United States.       

The Clotilda, which is considered the last African Slave ship to land in the United States, was burned after the 1860 voyage to hide evidence of its use and sank in the tide waters off Mobile, Alabama. However, in an extraordinary find, the remains of the Clotilda were recently discovered under water and will be restored to become part of the growing historical record of slavery in America; and a stark reminder to our generations.

 It seems we need such reminders. It is important that we never forget that such a thing can happen, because such a thing did happen.

Dixie Boy - Union Spy (Article 82)

“Some in the South called me a turncoat and some called me a traitor. These are untruthful. I stayed loyal to the United States and it was my region that turned on my country.” – Philip Henson

He was born in Alabama in 1827, worked along-side slaves and, for a while, even became a slave overseer; but he failed miserably at that job. He was accepted among various Indian Tribes because he had earned their friendship with his respectful attitude toward their culture. He became a successful merchant who, as the Civil War broke out, arranged to be hired by a friend in a special position which exempted him from being drafted into the Confederate Army. It was not the fear of battle which drove him to gain the exemption, but it was his anti-slavery and anti-secession views. He said that, “I was home with my people in Mississippi but I could not serve the secessionists. I swore an oath to the Union because I believed in it.” 

 So, Philip Henson became a spy, and risked his life to serve the Union cause, while he continued to live among his neighbors.

 As a child, Henson traveled throughout Texas, Kansas, and the Indian Territories with his father, a career Federal Indian Agent, who served as a liaison to various Tribes. However, unlike many Indian Agents, his father was known as dedicated, fair, and honest in his dealings with the Natives. His father’s earned respect by the Tribes carried over to Philip and he was largely educated along with Native children in schools overseen by his father. In turn, Philip respected the native cultures and was able to move freely, and comfortably, within Indian territories for the rest of his life.

 His father died when he was only twelve and, since there was no federal pension system at the time, he had to find work to support his mother and younger siblings. He found a part time job as a postal carrier and, as did many poor White children in the South, he also worked on several large plantations, often alongside slaves. At one point when he was about twenty-one, a plantation owner offered him a new job as overseer of slaves, usually a step-up for a White field hand. But Philip did not have the aptitude, or attitude, to use the harsh measures which were common to drive the slaves to work harder and faster. He quickly realized that he was just not cut out for the job and notified the owner that he must quit. Instead, the plantation owner, who knew that Philip was smart and honest, offered him a different job. It turned out that Philip was good at managing the transportation of crops to market and selling them at auction; so, he continued to be employed, but in that more genteel capacity. However, he was still involved in a business that derived profits from the toil of slaves, and that fact continued to bother him. He later said, “I only regret that I was near thirty when I saw that slavery had no place. Before then I was the same as any slaver.”

 Until he decided to strike out on his own.

 He left Alabama when he was about thirty years of age, to become a travelling trader in Kansas, the Indian Territory (now Oklahoma), and the New Mexico Territory. After three reasonably successful years living out of a covered wagon, he had accumulated enough money to return home to start a general merchandise business. He opened a store in Corinth, Mississippi, close to his old home in Alabama, married a young woman he had known before his travels, and settled down to a stable family life.

 But the secession of the first seven Southern states, including Alabama and Mississippi, in early 1861, interrupted his plans.

 Henson’s experiences working with and then overseeing slaves had convinced him that slavery was wrong and he believed secession was a mistake. However, since neither position was popular in Alabama or Mississippi in 1861, Philip only shared his opinions with a few close friends. Although he did not volunteer to join the new Confederate Army, as did many of the other young men in the area, his loyalty to the Southern cause was not yet questioned and he continued to operate his successful mercantile business.  His life began to change, however, when the new Confederate government imposed a draft to conscript men into the Army, and Philip Henson, at thirty-four years old, received his draft notice.

 There were numerous exemptions to the Confederate draft including the first-born sons of plantation owners, anyone who owned more than twenty slaves, and certain government positions; but Philip did not qualify. Fortunately for him, there was also an exemption for an overseer of plantation slaves, and an old friend who owned slaves, but who was not in favor of secession or the draft, officially hired him as an overseer. It was a curious arrangement because his new employer knew that Philip had failed at that type of job before, but he never expected him to fulfill the duties. And, the ruse worked. With his draft exemption in place, Philip again focused on his business and family. Obviously, the Confederate officials still did not suspect that he opposed both slavery and secession because, based on his former work as a postal carrier, Philip was offered and accepted the position as a supervisor for the Confederate Postal System. Which was also exempt from the draft!

 His new duties allowed him to travel throughout the South and, on a trip to Texas, he met and became friends with that state’s former Governor, Sam Houston, who had opposed secession by Texas. Houston had warned Texans to not join the Confederate States, which he correctly expected would eventually be defeated by Union forces. However, Texans chose to secede and Houston’s refusal to sign an oath to the Confederacy had resulted in his ouster as Governor. Philip confided in Houston that he could not support the Confederates and would be willing to actually aid the Union if he knew how. Sam Houston suggested that Henson travel to Illinois to meet officials who Houston knew might have use for a dis-satisfied southerner, but one who still enjoyed the favor of the Confederate government. Through those initial contacts, Henson was introduced to a young Army Colonel, Ulysses S. Grant, who would soon be dispatched to Tennessee to engage Southern forces. Henson swore an oath to the Union and was soon providing information to Colonel Grant which would prove valuable to his mission.

Philip Henson had agreed to become a spy!

 One of his early efforts on behalf of the Union was to contact a small group of Alabamians, self-named the Mossbacks of Nickajack, who opposed the Confederacy. The Mossbacks had systematically hindered shipments of Confederate supplies northward into Tennessee for several months, aiding the Union without actually being affiliated. Henson introduced their leaders to Colonel Grant and the Mossbacks became an integral part of his forces, and later formed into the First Alabama Cavalry, serving under Union General William Sherman.

 Incredibly, Henson continued to avoid detection by his Confederate postal system superiors and was still able to travel throughout Tennessee, Mississippi, and Alabama in his official capacity. We do not know if he was asked, or chose on his own, to visit Vicksburg, Mississippi. The fortress city overlooked the Mississippi River from a bluff and guarded that waterway route which was so vital to the flow of goods to the Southern Army. While in Vicksburg, Henson scouted out the city’s fortifications, which he reported to (now) General Grant. We can assume that the information about Vicksburg’s defenses was helpful to Grant as he decided to conquer the city by a siege rather than by more direct attacks which he had tried earlier. The strategy was successful and the large Confederate force, and the town’s citizens, surrendered in July, 1863.

 By early 1864, several Confederate officers had become suspicious of Henson’s frequent visits near their lines and he was finally arrested. Without any evidence, but with the suspicions of several officers he trusted, Confederate General Nathan Bedford Forrest had him sent to Mobile, Alabama, imprisoned, placed in chains, and held in solitary confinement. Henson continued to deny that he was aiding the Union, despite mental and physical torture at the hands of his guards. Occasionally, an officer would enter his cell and tell him he would be shot that day unless he revealed his sources and supporters. Although he was reported to have said Henson was, “The most dangerous spy operating within the Confederacy,” General Forrest could never prove that Henson was disloyal and never brought any specific charges against him. After about six months of horrific confinement, his guards moved him into a general stockade and began to pay less attention him; and he quickly escaped.  He mingled with different Confederate units for several weeks as he made his way north toward General Grant’s lines. He finally slipped into Union held territory, just outside Appomattox Courthouse in Virginia, and reached General Grant’s headquarters. One of Henson’s contacts in the Union Army, upon seeing him safe in the Northern camp said, “Well, Phil, the damn rope has not been made yet to hang you!”

General Grant appreciated Henson’s contributions and, although his usefulness as a Union spy was over, Grant gave him a brevet (temporary) commission as Major and assigned him to duties similar to an Inspector General, where his keen observations again proved helpful.

 Then, everyone’s world changed; President Abraham Lincoln was assassinated!

 Although the official inquiries were headed by Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, General Grant asked Henson to conduct an “unofficial” investigation and to report any finding directly to him. We do not know if Henson uncovered any information helpful to the official assassination investigation; and (technically) his service to the Union ended when Grant resigned as Commanding General to accept the nomination of the Republican Party for President in 1868.

 After the Civil War, Henson was denied a pension by the War Department because he would not provide details of his service, and he never asked former General Grant to verify his assignments for the Union. But, when Grant became President in 1868, he again asked Henson to lead various investigations and conferred the rank of Lt. Colonel to assure Henson had wide access to military and civilian files. As part of his duties, Henson also investigated any threats to President Grant; a precursor to the Secret service.

 After Grant’s second term ended, the public began to become aware of Henson’s service on behalf of General (and President) Grant. Soon, he was in demand as a public speaker and was considered very entertaining as he often used his talent for mimicking dialects as he told stories of famous (and infamous) people he had encountered. Also, sometime in the 1870s, Henson decided to let his beard grow, “until it stopped.” And he did! In 1898, one newspaper article reported, “As many came to see his six foot long beard as came to hear him speak. It was a wonder he could move his jaw.” There are no known photographs of Henson with a beard that long, but there is a sketch used for advertisements and the cover of programs for his speaking engagements. The drawing may have exaggerated the beard and he could have even added extension hair; but the long beard added to his mystique and celebrity status.

 Henson, beard and all, was able to make a good living by giving speeches about his exploits; however, he provided only sketchy anecdotes, leaving his audiences then, and historians today, wishing he would have divulged more. He never gave any details about his investigation into Lincoln’s assassination because, “The General never gave me permission to talk to any other man.” He told one of his sons, “The damn thing of it was to track the trail of blood, bodies, and bucks until it got me there”

 Philip Henson died at age 84, taking most of his private conversations with Grant to his grave.

 Henson once said that he marveled at his survival during the war, including his capture and harsh incarceration by Confederate General Bedford Forrest. He told an interviewer, “I do not know how, but I believe God was with me and preserved me for what I had to do. I never felt a fear of death. When I was ordered to be shot once (by an underling of Forrest), I told my wife that I did not believe I would be shot, but if I should be, I was ready to die for the cause, as my work would be finished.”

 For his speaking engagements, Henson used the tag-line “Dixie Boy, Union Spy.”

And, he was truly both!

Q & A August 1, 2019

Q & A  August 1, 2019

The following are few of the questions I received from readers, and my responses, over the last year from my blogs, articles and books. I answer every question, and even respond to all comments and suggestions.

(Q)A small point, but in the interest of grammatical accuracy, in a recent article, you mis-spelled Harper’s Ferry. That is the small Virginia town where John Brown attempted to raid a Union arsenal for weapons to wage a slave insurrection. Put down, by the way by Colonel Robert E. Lee, who was still in the U.S. Army. (A) Glad you brought that up, however you are only half right. The area, before it became a town, was known as Harper’s Ferry because in the late 1700s, Robert Harper ran a ferry service across the Potomac River at the confluence with the Shenandoah River. Also, in some maps from the early 1800s, it is labeled as Shenandoah Falls; however, by 1824, a bridge had been built over the river and the ferry service ended. The small town, which grew around the bridge, officially adopted the name Harpers Ferry in 1824 (no apostrophe). Also, while the town was in Virginia until 1863, it became part of West Virginia when that new state was partitioned. You are correct about Brown’s purpose and Lee’s involvement. Unfortunately, many texts still use the old spelling for the community, which was common, but still incorrect, in the Civil War era. Please spell it Harpers Ferry, as do the 200 or so residents and the U.S. Postal Service.

(Q) I recently heard an author, speaking about Lincoln, use the term “un-reconstructed Confederates” without explaining who he was talking about. Did he refer to those who lived through re-construction after 1865 or people today? Actually both. I know the author who coined the phrase (which I consider very clever). His original intent was to focus a spotlight on modern day apologists for the Confederacy; who I refer to as neo-Confederates. Generally, both terms describe folks who, even today, believe the Confederacy was noble and that “States’ Right’s” was the reason for the war, not the preservation of slavery. They claim that slavery would have died out over time, and Lincoln led an illegal invasion of the Southern states. Over the last few years, I have seen the term un-reconstructed Confederates also applied to those Southerners who, after the Civil War, defied federal reconstruction policies and imposed Jim Crow laws to limit the progress of former slaves. The term fits both eras.

(Q) Why did the Confederate flag have thirteen stars? The stars were to represent each state in the Confederacy, just like the flag of the United States; however, most history sources I have read mention only eleven states seceded from the Union. (A) The discrepancy occurred because delegations from Missouri and Kentucky made promises they could not keep. These two groups, without any official status, falsely claimed to the committee which was organizing the Confederate government in February 1861, that their respective states had approved Secession Declarations. They had not, and neither state ever left the Union. Based on the belief that thirteen states would join the Confederacy, in March 1861, flags were authorized with thirteen stars. In fact, for several months after the war started, Jefferson Davis still held hope that Missouri, Kentucky, and possibly even Maryland, might secede from the Union and join the Confederacy. He had good reasons to be optimistic; as both Missouri and Kentucky had a segment of their citizens who supported the Confederacy, several state militia units joined the Confederate Army, and many individual young men from both states volunteered to fight for the Southern cause. Abraham Lincoln’s brothers-in-law from Kentucky did so. The Confederate flag, in several iterations, continued to have thirteen stars.

(Q) You wrote about the slave mutiny on the ship “La Amistad” in 1838. You did not mention an atrocity that occurred. According to an account I read, when the Captain of the Amistad realized he did not have enough food and water on board to take care of all of the slaves, he selected ten of them, bound them with ropes and rock ballast and threw them overboard to drown. How could you not include that travesty in your article?  (A) First some background. The slaves, who ended up on the Amistad, had earlier been kidnapped in Africa, and, along with nearly 200 others, were chained in the hold of the large ocean-going, Portuguese ship, Tecora, bound for Cuba (a horrible passage that could take a month). The Amistad was a small ship which was used to transport fifty-three slaves, who had been recently purchased at a large centralized slave auction in Cuba, to new owners at plantations elsewhere on the island nation. The slaves broke their chains, took over the Amistad, and sailed to Connecticut where they were ultimately set free by the U.S. Supreme Court. (My rendition of the Amistad story can be found at www.alincolnbygadorris.com  under “Blog # 77). To answer your question, I had read the account you mention (at least a similar one), but I did not find it credible as to the La Amistad incident. I do believe that such atrocities occurred on other slave ships which ran short on food and water on the voyage from Africa to Cuba, but, in my opinion, not on La Amistad. In my research, I determined that the writers of a movie titled “Amistad” incorporated a scene in which slaves were thrown overboard in the manner you describe; however, I believe they must have added the scene for dramatic effect. Again, I am not disputing that such wanton disregard for human life occurred on board some slave ships; but I have found no confirmation that such an incident occurred on the Tecora, at least on that specific voyage. Historians estimate that ten percent of those shackled in the holds of slave ships died in route from injury, disease, starvation, beating, and/or outright executions. Of the fifteen million Africans kidnapped and transported across the Atlantic over two hundred years, about 500,000 were sent to what is now the United States. If the estimate is true, 50,000 of those died on the voyages. As an abolitionist wrote about slavery, “As a human, it is impossible to describe man’s inhumanity to man.”

(Q) Didn’t the Fifth Amendment to the Constitution, which is one of the Bill of Rights, protect the slave-holder’s investment in his slaves. Was it not an illegal and unconstitutional act for Lincoln and the Union to free slaves without just compensation to the owners? This is not to support the concept of slavery, which I believe would have died out anyway within two-three generations. But, under the Fifth amendment, the slave owners should have been compensated for the abrupt emancipations in 1863 and 1865. This is one striking example of Lincoln’s total disregard for the rights of Southern citizens. (A) I believe you are either misreading the Fifth Amendment or have been reading neo-confederate propaganda. The Constitution and the Bill of Rights were silent on the matter of slavery (except to prohibit the International Slave Trade after 1808) and, by omission, left the question of legality of slavery up to each state. The Fifth Amendment covers a lot of ground. For example, it prohibits double jeopardy in criminal cases and, somewhat to your point, also states, “Nor shall private property be taken for public use without just compensation.” Since slaves freed under the Emancipation Proclamation, or later under the Thirteenth  Amendment, were not “taken for public use”, the point is moot. The compensation clause was important to the framers of the Constitution because English soldiers had frequently commandeered homes, equipment, and other property whenever they wished, often with no compensation to the citizen. After the War, much of the Southern property (but not slaves) confiscated by Union forces was either returned to the owner or compensation was offered. In one famous case it was not! The wife of Robert E. Lee might have been able to use the Fifth Amendment to claim compensation for the Union’s seizure of her family’s plantation at Arlington as a cemetery; but she was very ill at war’s end and neither she, nor her husband pursued the case. Interestingly, Lincoln, as a way to entice Rebel states back into the Union, once considered that the Union might offer a fund of up to $400 Million (a lot of money in 1865) to compensate slaveholders who voluntarily released their slaves. But his cabinet was unanimously opposed, as would have been the Congress; so that idea never had a chance.

(Q)  You keep referring to Jefferson Davis’s willingness to lead the Secessionist movement because he wanted to protect slavery. This is, again, a false narrative. Jefferson Davis believed that secession was a State’s right, a much more important Constitutional issue than slavery. Our overblown central government proves that he was right. (A) First, let me quote Jefferson Davis when he was still a U.S. Senator, before secession occurred. “Secession is possible unless something is not done. I again ask, what is to stop this agitation before the great and final object of which it aims, the abolition of slavery in the states, is consummated. Is it then not certain that if something is not done to arrest it, the South will be forced to choose between abolition and secession?”  (underlines are mine).  There it is, Slavery or secession, not states’ rights was his position. Jefferson certainly thought that a state had the right to secede from jurisdiction of the U.S. Constitution if it felt aggrieved by the federal government; but he chose to exercise that State’s right to assure the perpetuation of slavery. Next, I will not agree that the question of States’ Rights is a more important Constitutional question than slavery. But, now, as to your assertion that our “overblown central government” proves that Davis was right. I always hesitate to give a current political opinion; but in this case, I will put my toe into the quagmire. While I agree we have let the federal government grow beyond the framers’ intent in the Constitution, I consider that the over-reach and fiscal irresponsibility we are living with today is the result of the politicians we chose to elect over the last seventy years. Except for some excesses during war-time, the government had stayed pretty financially contained within the Constitution (of 1789) for its first 160 years.  I expect the critics of my economic opinion will soon begin the e-mail campaign!

(Q) Do you believe Abraham Lincoln was a Christian, an agnostic, or what?  This question is important to me because I admire him so much, but I recently heard that he may not have been a Christian, and that thought saddens me.  (A) First, your admiration for the man is well placed; as I agree that he was one of most towering figures in our nation’s history. However, I cannot directly answer your question about his faith, because I am in no position to try to judge anyone’s faith.  I just will not do that. I did devote a section on this topic (Supplemental Report D) in my 2015 book, “Abraham Lincoln, An Uncommon, Common Man.”  The best I can do now, is tell you what Lincoln once said about joining a church, and what others said about him. When asked by a friend, Henry Demming, why he had never officially joined a church, Lincoln replied, “I have found difficulty giving my assent to the long and complicated statements of Christian doctrines. If any Church will inscribe over its altar, as the sole qualification for membership, the Savior's condensed statement; 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself,'- that church will I join.” Lincoln had extensively read the Bible and memorized many passages, which he often invoked in his speeches and writings. Here is what some contemporaries said about Lincoln. General Sherman wrote (in part) after a meeting with Lincoln, “I recall thinking, of all men I have ever known he seemed to possess more of the elements of greatness, combined with goodness, than any other.” And, his friend Leonard Swett said upon Lincoln’s death, “A feeling of religious reverence, and belief in God, increased upon him when involved in matters of the gravest importance and humanity.  If you judge his devotion by the observances of religious ceremony or Sabbath rituals, he would fall short of your standard.  However, if you judge him by the higher rule of purity in conduct, of honesty of motive, his rigid discharge of duty, his accountability to God, then you will accept that he was undoubtedly full of Natural religion, for he believed in God as much as the most approved Church member.” In his personal, political and business life, he held no religious biases, and once said (paraphrased) that neither politics nor religion should cause the loss of a friend. Also, you might consider a personal statement Lincoln wrote in 1862, referred to now as “Meditation on the Divine Will” which he had kept private. The document was only discovered, and then titled, by his secretaries after his death. Lincoln wrote:                                          
“September 2, 1862
The will of God prevails. In great contests each party claims to act in accordance with the will of God. Both may be, and one must be wrong. God cannot be for, and against the same thing at the same time. In the present civil war, it is quite possible that God's purpose is something different from the purpose of either party---and yet the human instrumentalities, working just as they do, are of the best adaptation to effect (sp) His purpose. By His mere quiet power, on the minds of the now contestants, He could have either saved or destroyed the Union without a human contest. Yet the contest began. And having begun He could give the final victory to either side any day. Yet the contest proceeds.”

My opinion is that, based on his words and deeds, Abraham Lincoln was at peace with his understanding of Providence. In his biography “Lincoln,” David Herbert Donald writes; “He was a believer in the God of the Bible and, although not a regular, church-going Christian I believe he accepted Christianity as part and parcel of that.” If this matter is important to you, there are several well-written books which explore his spiritualty and your librarian or bookstore can help you. Just be aware that there are also nonsense posts, articles, and books out there about Lincoln, so look carefully at the credentials of the author. Whatever your research leads you to understand about Lincoln’s religious beliefs, I hope you continue to revere his legacy.

This must have been a time for religious reflection by readers because I received another, somewhat related question.

(Q) I am in possession of a small tract titled “Lincoln’s Devotional” which contains daily inspirational sayings, often followed by a scripture. The forward indicates that it is a copy of one used by Lincoln. The cover is missing but the pages were securely sewn and seem to be intact.  I have been reading it and find it very inspirational. Are you aware of this book? Is it an important piece of Lincoln memorabilia? (A) If I had a copy, I would treasure it; however, it is not very valuable from a monetary standpoint. An original small book was published in the 1850s titled “The Believer’s Daily Treasure” which contained a scripture verse for each day of the year. A copy, which has Abraham Lincoln’s signature on the title page, is in the hands of a collector of Lincoln items and available to scholars. Many historians believe that this is the small book Lincoln was seen to read on occasion, with some later researchers erroneously thinking it was a New Testament; as it was about the right size. No historian that I know of has uncovered how the small book came to be in Lincoln’s possession. He may have purchased it or it may have been a gift; that fact is lost in history. Fortunately, however, his copy of the book has survived and is being cared for. The small book you have is probably a copy of a revised version of “The Believer’s Daily Treasure” published in the 1950s. The publisher called this new tract, “Lincoln’s Devotional”, certainly because it would sell more copies than under the original title. The revisions included fewer Old Testament verses and the addition of a few more modern inspirational sayings. I think you are lucky to have your copy. In a distant way, you may be reading what Lincoln read.

(Q)   A few months ago, you wrote an article titled, “Sherman’s Andersonville Dilemma” in which you described the general’s failure to liberate the Union prisoners held in that Georgia prison; although his large army was only a few miles away. After the camp was finally liberated in April 1865, the Commander was hanged by the Union for war crimes. Do you think his execution was justified? Do you think Sherman or Grant or Lincoln bore any responsibility for the loss of life at Andersonville?    (A) In my article, I tried to convey the moral and military factors that weighed on General Sherman. He and Grant made statements over the years about the decision with both determining that Sherman’s mission was to march his army across Georgia from Atlanta (inland) to Savanna (on the coast), destroy the Confederate forces, and capture those two major cities. They knew the Union soldiers would engage the Confederate army along the way and both Generals believed that, if Sherman had split his forces to send a large number to Andersonville, those soldiers who remained on the march across Georgia would have been in greater danger as they fought Confederate units. I do not know of any statements Lincoln made on the matter. In my view, Sherman and Grant accepted the responsibility for their decision to focus on the primary mission, but I do not believe they bore any responsibility for the atrocities that occurred at Andersonville. As to the commander, Captain Hartmann Wirz, who assumed command of the prison in March 1864, historians are divided about his culpability. When he took over, he reported to his superiors that conditions in the prison were miserable and asked for help. So, some believe he had done the best he could with almost no support from the Confederate government for professional guards or for food supplies; and may have been a scapegoat. Other historians believe he deserved to be tried for war crimes because he permitted already inhumane conditions to worsen. At least one author suggests that Wirz considered freeing the prisoners in late 1864, but he ultimately just let things deteriorate. On the gallows, Wirz said, in part, that he was just following orders. We heard that same plea from some Germans at their trials at the end of WW II.  Personally, I think Wirz received an appropriate judgement and sentence. The best book on the subject is “Andersonville” by Mackinlay (Bruce) Cantor.

(Q) I had assumed that the eleven states which seceded rejoined the Union at about the same time; which was soon after Robert E. Lee surrendered and Jefferson Davis was captured. However, I recently read an article in which the author said, “The eleven prodigal states stumbled home to the Union like eleven drunken soldiers whose money ran out while on leave, and some came home earlier than others.” Can you tell me what he meant? (A) First, I think that line is very clever and I would like to read the whole article. The eleven states which seceded did not leave the Union at the same time (they took from December 1860 through May 1861) and, after the Civil War, they were not recognized as re-admitted states into the Union at the same time. There was never any finalizing treaty between the Confederacy and the Union, so each state had to petition for re-admittance, which essentially was when the United States Senate and the House of Representatives allowed appointed or elected officials to take their seats. Admittance required the State to certify that Slavery was illegal and the Civil Rights amendments (#14 and #15) would be honored. The initial Senators and Representatives were “Reconstruction politicians” approved by Union authorities, and it would be another five years before more “traditional” Southern politicians would be elected and seated. Unfortunately, almost immediately after re-admittance, most of those Southern states simply disregarded the 14th and 15th amendments and imposed Jim Crow restrictions on the Black communities; which lasted another hundred years. The eleven former Confederate states, in order of re-admittance, are: Tennessee (July 24, 1866), Alabama (January 11, 1868), Arkansas (June 22, 1868), Florida (June 26, 1868), North Carolina (July 4, 1868), Louisianna and South Carolina (July 9, 1868), Virginia (January 26, 1870, Mississippi (February 23, 1870), Texas (March 30, 1870), and Georgia (July 15, 1870). Georgia had actually been approved for re-admittance two years earlier, but the wanton disregard for Civil Rights within the State caused a repeal of the first authorization. West Virginia was partitioned from Virginia in 1863 and was admitted that year as a new state. The four slave-holding Border States of Delaware, Maryland, Kentucky, and Missouri, never left the Union.

Contact the author at gadorris2@gmail.com

Q & A July 19, 2019

Q & A July 19, 2019

The following are few of the questions I received from readers, and my responses, over the last year from my blogs, articles and books. I answer every question, and respond to all comments and suggestions.

 (Q) I recently traveled through Arizona and we stopped at Picacho Peak, north of Tucson. There was a plaque commemorating the Battle of Picacho Peak as the farthest west military engagement between Confederate and Union troops. I thought Glorieta Pass in New Mexico held that honor. Can you enlighten me? (A) In a way both are correct.  The battle of Glorieta Pass took place in March 1862 in northern New Mexico Territory (which at that time also included present day Arizona). The Confederates had already taken effective control of both Albuquerque and Santa Fe, and decided to march northward, with over a thousand soldiers to take control the mining areas in, what is now, Colorado. The area’s Union commander had assembled a force of about one thousand three hundred men, including volunteers from Northern New Mexico and Colorado, to try to halt the Confederate advance. The two forces met at the pass and a battle began which lasted most of three days. Both sides had over fifty men killed and nearly one hundred wounded. On the last day, a detachment of Union forces happened upon the large contingent of Confederate supply wagons (necessary for the long trip to Colorado) and destroyed the essential materials. The Confederates had no choice but to abandon the mission and return to Santa Fe and Albuquerque. After assessing the situation, most of the Southern forces moved back into Texas at San Antonio. On the other hand, the Picacho Pass engagement was a much smaller battle. Earlier, in February, a Confederate unit of about 120 men had entered Tucson and were generally welcomed by the citizens. In April, 1862, a few weeks after the battle at Glorieta Pass, a small Confederate scouting party of ten, which was part of the larger force stationed at Tucson, had a chance encounter with thirteen Union soldiers. Those Union troops were advance scouts who were part of the “California Column”, a force of two thousand formed to prevent Confederates from moving farther westward and into that state. The two small scouting parties clashed at Picacho Peak (sometimes referred to as Picacho Pass), north of Tucson in present day Arizona. Within an hour, three of the Californians were killed and three wounded; however, the survivors managed to capture three of the Confederates. The other seven Confederates returned to Tucson and alerted their commander, who then decided to abandon their position in Tucson.  So, some claim that Glorieta Pass was the farthest westerly battle because large forces, with senior commanders directing battle plans, fought there. Although the two units which engaged at Picacho Peak were only scouting patrols, most historians agree that the fire-fight constituted the farthest battle in the west. And, I believe that the families of the three Union soldiers killed at Picacho Peak would agree that their sons died in a Civil War battle; which happened to be farther west than Glorieta Pass.

(Q) I recently visited the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum. I did not think the Library was user friendly, but the Museum was better than I expected. Have you used the Library and visited the Museum, and what are your impressions of both? (A)  I agree that the Library is difficult to navigate, at least in comparison to some other libraries of historical significance. Not all of the works, articles, and documents in the Library are fully cross-referenced; generally, a result of the meager funding provided by the state of Illinois (which has enormous fiscal problems). Also, part of the problem is that the Library, when it was first formed was a bit too eager to be a primary depository, and accepted almost any materials donated regardless of the historical significance. As a result, librarians and curators were simply overwhelmed. On the other hand, the Museum was selective from the start. The organizing committees came up with a visually impressive design and integrated many different perspectives into the narratives and displays. I often say that this Presidential Museum is unlike others in that it attempts to show Lincoln and many of his contemporaries as human, with all of the flaws which we humans bear. It is definitely not just a “crowning of Saint Abe”. I think it is a remarkable museum and I go anytime I can. The Library is still useful to academics, and people like me, who are willing to trudge through the labyrinth.

(Q) Abraham Lincoln sent a lot of young men to fight and die in the Civil War. Did he have any close relatives who fought in the Civil War and/or died or were wounded. I know his son evaded service until the very end. (A) Lincoln had no brothers, only one step brother, and only a few male cousins, all who were near his age and were too old during the Civil War to join the military. His wife, Mary Todd, had seven brothers and half-brothers from Kentucky, five of whom fought for the Confederacy, although that state did not secede. Two, Alexander and Samuel, died in combat. Also, Lincoln was especially close to his brother-in-law, Benjamin Helm, the husband of Mary’s sister, Emilie. Helm, who became a Confederate General, was killed at Chickamauga, in 1863. Lincoln invited Emilie to stay for a while at the White House for which he was roundly criticized by the political opposition; but he told one critic simply, “Mrs. Lincoln and I are in the habit of choosing our own house guests.”  Finally, I think your assessment of Robert Lincoln’s service record is too harsh. He was a first-year student at Harvard at the start of the war and tried several times to persuade his father to release him from a commitment to finish his degree so that he could join the Union Army. Mary Lincoln would become distraught at the thought and the President stalled Robert. In early 1865, although Robert had not yet formally graduated, Lincoln acquiesced to Robert and asked General Ulysses Grant to accept Robert on his staff. General Grant agreed and was always complimentary of Robert’s service. Grant, and other Generals, were concerned that if Robert was in an infantry or cavalry unit, he would be targeted by Confederates, which would have put other soldier’s lives at greater risk. Further, if he had been captured, the President would have been in an untenable position.  

Q&A about Confederate Memorials. I had planned to include a new article consolidating the many questions and comments (and my responses) about the Confederate Memorial controversy; however, I changed my mind.  I have over 4,000 followers of these articles and, for many, any discussion of that specific topic is as divisive, and even confrontational, as the monuments themselves. So, rather than just widely publish a summary of the letters I have received on the subject, I will offer the article only to those who request it.  If you have an interest, simply “reply” to this e-mail or to the other e-mail address below and request the “Confederate Memorial Q&A” and I will email you the compilation article.

Contact the author at gadorris2@gmail.com or see prior articles under “Blogs” as the web-site www.alincolnbygadorris.com

A Fallen Soldier’s Children (Articles 80 and 81)

“Whose father was he” – Headline in the Philadelphia Inquirer                     

 After the battle at Gettysburg, in July 1863, the body of a soldier was found by a young girl within the city in a location removed from the main battles. He wore a blue Union private’s shirt, but otherwise carried no identification, not even a unit insignia. He was, however clutching a small glass plate image, called an ambrotype, of three children, which he had probably removed from his pocket for a final look before dying of his wounds.

But who was he?

The girl notified one of the many burial details around the small community which were moving bodies of fallen soldiers to a central area for identification before burial. Unfortunately, determining the name was not always possible. In the Civil War era, identifying dog tags, which are so ubiquitous today, did not exist; so, the process of recording the names of war dead was more happenstance. Some soldiers carried personal information in a pouch or folder as a means of identification. If survivors of a unit were still in the immediate area, they could help provide names and even important information such as the home state or home town. Officers and senior Sergeants would check-off the soldiers still alive after a battle and often could record in official records, the names of those who had died. But in the chaos of battle, there were soldiers who remained unidentified and were simply buried with a marker as “unknown” or, even more tragic, in a mass grave.

The burial detail she summoned permitted the young girl to keep the plate image of the three children, to whom she now felt a connection. Her father ran a small tavern and boarding house in a village nearby, and the girl placed the picture in a prominent location as a way to honor the unidentified soldier. Patrons would note the display and soon people came into the tavern just to see the image and ponder the sad circumstances. It was not unusual for Gettysburg artifacts to be on display in businesses and homes in the area, as the great battlefield was littered with weapons, hats, badges, and other paraphernalia carried by soldiers. But this item struck a chord with most who saw it.

The girl had asked the burial detail to inter the soldier’s body in an individual grave, marked with the date and location where his body was found, and the words “A Father” added as a reminder. A local resident provided a plot, and they all hoped that someone, somehow, sometime would eventually provide a name.

Within a few days, one person, who just happened upon the tavern and saw the display, decided to try and identify the family.

John Bourns, a physician from Philadelphia was on a volunteer mission to Gettysburg to help care for the several thousand wounded who were still near the battlefield. Dr. Bourns asked the tavern owner if he could take the image and show it to some of the wounded men in the hope that the unusual item might be recognized. Unfortunately, he found no one who recalled the image.

However, Dr. Bourns did not give up. First, he located the grave, which had been marked as requested, and placed a more permanent sign explaining the image held by the dying soldier. Then, when he returned to Philadelphia, he had copies printed on small cards with his contact information and, began to hand out the cards and sent them to various publications.

On October, 29, 1863, The Philadelphia Inquirer ran a letter, not from Dr. Bourns, but from someone who had received one of the cards. The Inquirer re-printed the letter with the image on the front page. The caption read, “Whose Father is He” and continued with, “How touching, how solemn.”  The writer then went on to tell the story he had heard about the soldier’s dying effort to see his children’s faces and added, “What pen can describe the emotions of this patriot-father as he gazed upon these children, so soon to be made orphans!” The writer then encouraged all who might see the letter and the image to contact other newspapers and magazines throughout the north in an effort to locate the family.

Within days, the image and the story were appearing all over Pennsylvania, Ohio, New York and throughout New England. At a time with no radio, no TV, and no internet, this story had quickly captured the attention of an entire region.

On November 3, the publisher of the “American Presbyterian” was preparing to mail out the periodical and, at the last minute, made room to include the article from the Inquirer. However, the newsletter did not have the capability of printing an image so the editor tried to describe the picture of the three children as best he could. The American Presbyterian newsletter was circulated throughout the Northeast and a copy went to a subscriber in Portville, New York, who reprinted it and circulated copies to other parishioners and churches in the area. One recipient took the letter to Mrs. Philinda Humiston, the mother of three small children, whose husband had not been in contact with her for months. Of course, she feared the worst, but had heard nothing from the Union army and knew that many Union soldiers were held as prisoners by the Confederacy. After reading the description of the image of the three children, Mrs. Humiston said that she had sent a similar picture to her husband the previous May and that she had received a letter from him acknowledging the gift, in which he wrote, “I got the likeness of the children and it pleased me more than anything thing that you could have sent to me. How I want to see them and their mother is more than I can tell. I hope that we may all live to see each other again if this war does not last to long.”

Dr. Bourns was contacted and he quickly had a copy of the one of the cards delivered to Mrs. Humiston. When she finally saw a copy of the glass image, she knew that her husband would not be coming home and that her children would never again see their father.

Sergeant Amos Humiston of the 154th New York Volunteer Infantry Regiment, had died in the service of his country, at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, nearly four months earlier.

This image of Sergeant Humiston was taken before the war. Artists added a beard and uniform for souvenir cards.

The American Presbyterian, in its publication of November 19, 1863, announced the details of the search and the resolution. Ironically, that was also the day that Abraham Lincoln gave his famous Gettysburg Address at the new National Cemetery; where Sergeant Humiston was later moved to a final resting place. This time to a well-marked grave.

As it turned out, most of Sergeant Humiston’s 154th New York Regiment had been captured by Confederate forces on the day he was killed, so no one who knew him was available to identify his body. Therefore, without a young girl’s compassion, and Dr. Bourns’ willingness to devote time to the effort, Sergeant Humiston’s family would never have had closure and his sacrifice would not have been honored.

And, he has been honored. In addition to his grave, which visitors can visit today, a commemorative plaque can be found near the place where he fell. Sergeant Humiston may still be the only enlisted soldier with an individual memorial at Gettysburg.

Postscript: Dr. Bourns raised several thousand dollars selling the cards he had made and gave   a portion, as well as the original ambrotype, to Mrs. Humiston.  He then used the rest of the proceeds, plus fees from the sales of a poem about the story, to build a orphans’ compound in Gettysburg. Sergeant Humiston’s family was the first to live there.

 The Life of Amos Humiston-

But who was Sergeant Humiston? Why was he found alone? Certainly, there must have been more to his life story than his unfortunate death and more to the man than a brief obituary.

And there was.

Amos Humiston was born in Owego, New York, in 1830 and spent his childhood there. His own father died when Amos was only seven, and his mother remarried to Philander Boice who, by all accounts, was a caring stepfather to Amos and his older brother, Morris. Both Humiston boys attended local schools until they were about fifteen, after which they were apprenticed to a local harness maker. Their education was more than most children received at the time and the apprenticeships were a common method of learning a useful skill. However, Amos, who had mastered the skills of using leather to make several types of goods over nearly four years, decided he would like to see the world before settling down to what would have been a steady career.

His choice for his new adventure must have surprised his family. When he was nineteen years old, Amos decided to join a whaling crew, although he had never been on a ship!

He went to New Bedford, Massachusetts, which was one of the nation’s most active whaling ports. The whaling industry was in full force in the 1850’s with whale oil and whale bone in high demand throughout the world. Amos was not reckless, just eager, and he did not fall prey to “landsharks” who would trick (or even kidnap) unsuspecting young boys and deliver them to an unscrupulous ship’s Captain. Through inquiry, Amos learned that the ship “Harrison” was captained by a man known to be fair (but firm) and he was accepted as a “green” sailor. This was a hard life, with danger at every whale encounter. Men were frequently injured as the small boats they used to surround and try to kill the large animals would often be smashed by a quick flip of the whale’s tail. And it was a long tenure. The Harrison took almost three months to sail into Pacific waters and then continued northward almost to the Bearing Straights, near Russia. Then, the ship reversed course and followed the whale migration into the South Pacific. There were ports along the way where their cargo of whale oil and whale bone could be sold or traded for more supplies, so Amos Humiston did get to see the world. He said in a letter, however, that the “work is much harder, much bloodier, and much smellier, and the storms are more frightening” than he imagined. But, once on a whaling vessel, there is no opportunity for a change of heart, so, over the next three and a half years, his home was the Harrison and Amos became an experienced sailor. His total pay, when he disembarked, was only about $200.00! Of course, while at sea, he had room, such as the small berth was, he had meals, such as they were, and he had no other expenses except that spent in port cities. So, while he now had $200.00, his brother may have reminded Amos that he could have made a lot more over forty months in the harness making business.

So, Amos must have decided that harness making was not so bad after all.

He returned to New York and went into business with his brother in Candor, a few miles from his boyhood home. He was skilled and industrious, to the delight of his brother, and the business flourished.

Amos was twenty-three years old, making a reasonable living, and was single. That combination attracted the attention of matchmakers in the area; but he only needed one introduction. He said he was “as if struck by lightning” when he met Philinda Smith. Of course, there was a courtship as was the custom of the day, but it was very short! Amos and Philinda were married on July 4, 1854 and, over the next five years, the Humiston’s had three children. For reasons we do not know, in 1859, Amos moved his family about fifty miles west to the town of Portville, where he formed a partnership with another harness maker, who had been a family friend. His business, and his family, thrived in Portville. He and Philinda valued education and their children began learning to read at very early ages. Life was good for the Humiston family.

But the United States, after only about eighty years as a new nation, was in peril!

Amos was a vocal supporter of the Union and was concerned that the constant threats of secession by some southern states could lead to conflict and, when the first seven states did secede and form the Confederate States of America, Amos was certain there would be war. While slavery was interwoven in the debates over secession, Amos did not articulate his views on slavery, as far as we know, nor do we know if he voted for Abraham Lincoln as President. However, he did write that President Lincoln was right to force the seceded states back into the Union through military action. Believing the war would be quickly won by the Union, just as many southerners believed it would be quickly won by the Confederates, Amos did not immediately join the army or the local militia. After all, he had a business to run and a family to care for; and he was thirty years old.

However, a year after the war had started, and after a few Confederate victories, Amos decided it was his patriotic duty to serve, and on July 26, 1862, he enlisted. Because of his age, maturity, and experience in a disciplined environment, he was given the rank of Corporal and the 154th New York regiment headed for Virginia to join the more than 200,000 other men in the growing Army of the Potomac.

Amos regularly wrote to his family, describing army life, but his letters also indicated that he was ready for battle and prepared for the dangers involved. He became ill at one time and was confined to a tent for several weeks. He wrote that, “It is worse than an old bird’s nest” And in another letter, while still ill, he wrote, “I can die in battle like a man, but I hate the idea of dying here like a hog.” But Amos did recover, and his letters indicated he was pleased to get back to the tasks of a soldier. His unit marched into battle areas several times but had no direct clashes with the enemy. Also, he had been promoted to Sergeant.

On May 2, 1863, Sergeant Humiston and his men were thrust into battle at Chancellorsville and were handed a stunning defeat, led by Confederate General Stonewall Jackson. Of the 60 men under Sergeant Humiston, 12 were killed or missing and another twelve severely wounded, a staggering forty percent casualty rate. While Amos was not seriously injured, he was struck in the chest by a bullet, but it must have already lost speed, because he only received a bad bruise. He wrote to Philinda that night, “it could have been worse, but it made me think of home and you and the children.”

A few days later, Sergeant Humiston received a gift from his wife, an ambrotype image of his three children, He quickly wrote back to her, “I got the likeness of the children today and it pleased me more than anything you could have sent to me. How I want to see them and their mother is more than I can tell. I hope we may all live to see each other again if this war does not last too long.”

Then, Sergeant Humiston and his men were given orders to march out of Virginia, toward Pennsylvania, to a small town called Gettysburg.

They arrived at their destination on July 1, 1863 and set up camp south of the town and prepared for battle, which they expected soon. They could hear artillery and see the smoke created from hundreds of guns firing simultaneously. They were ordered to move forward, into the north-east outskirts of Gettysburg, to help halt a Confederate charge that threatened to break through the Union lines. It was a poor decision by Union officers, because Sergeant Humiston’s 154th New York unit was outnumbered more than three to one by the Confederate force rushing at them.  When they realized their mistake, the Union officers called the men to retreat; however, most of the 154th regiment was surrounded and captured by the Confederates. A few Union soldiers were not captured and attempted to flee to the relative safety of a nearby hill where Union soldiers held higher ground. Among those who retreated, evidently, was Sergeant Amos Humiston. At some point in his scramble, he must have lost his personal pack, which would have contained his identification and, probably, some letters from his wife.

But he never made it. It is unknown if he was initially wounded in the battle, or if he was struck by a long shot taken by a Confederate as he ran to avoid capture, but Sergeant Humiston fell to the ground on the outskirts of Gettysburg. He propped himself up against a fence, removed the ambrotype from his pocket, and looked at his children for the last time.

He had lived a good life and had fought the good fight. May you rest in peace, Sergeant Amos Humiston.

A Gathering of Old Foes (Article 79)

“The hatred is gone, but it took some time.” -  An eighty-year-old former Confederate Private

“I seen things I can’t forget and it’s been more than fifty years and I’m near eighty.”  - Former Union soldier

“You don’t look so frightening now as you did then” -  A former Union soldier, smiling at a former Confederate in 1913.

“You are the man” – A Confederate soldier who found the Union soldier who had saved his life.

The Civil War finally ended. Soldiers went home and began to reconstruct their lives. Some did well, but others did not. But most of them were grateful to have survived, because they knew nearly a million others did not get the chance to go home.

There were numerous reunions in the fifty years following the Civil War, many sponsored by the two most prominent veterans’ groups of that time; the Grand Army of the Republic and the United Confederate Veterans. However, smaller units, particularly if represented by one state, would hold regimental gatherings where attendees had served together and had formed a special bond to one another. But, generally, reunions were almost always limited to soldiers who fought together and the concept of bringing former Union and Confederate soldiers to one reunion was rarely proposed or implemented. Occasionally, groups from both sides might appear at the same site, but interaction, if any was minimal. Over time, some former Union and Confederate soldiers found themselves serving together in state legislatures, or on committees and boards for the good of their communities; but that hardly constituted a reunion.

Over the first fifty years after the Civil War, veteran groups frequently gathered at the battle fields, which they considered hallowed grounds, but usually the Union and Confederate groups held separate ceremonies. But, in 1913, at the largest veterans’ reunion ever held, the old soldiers embraced their former foes. Well, most of them did; as there were some who could still not forgive.

The largest, most memorable, and well photographed reunion of former Confederate and Union soldiers was held from June 30 through July 4, 1913 at Gettysburg to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the famous battle. Over 45,000 veterans attended, with most from the Union but nearly 9,000 former Confederate soldiers attended as well. At least 20,000 of the men had actually fought at Gettysburg. Counting some family members, and active duty soldiers and Boy Scouts who helped with the ceremonies, almost 58,000 people descended on Gettysburg, which had a population of only about 7,500. The logistics for the event were staggering for the time. Thirty-four special trains were scheduled, over 5,000 housing tents were erected and one massive auditorium tent was designed and constructed that would seat 13,000 people. Electric lines were erected and the entire campground was lighted at night, a spectacular sight for outside observers. For four days, this throng had to be fed and also cared for as many of the attendees were in their seventies and eighties (and a few in their nineties). One speaker said, “Once again this field trembles under the tread of a mighty host, not now in fear, but in joy.”

On July 3rd, 120 former Confederate soldiers who were part of the deadly, and futile, battle of Picket’s charge, faced an equal number of elderly former Union soldiers across the same field; but as one wrote, “not with rifles and bayonets but with canes and crutches.” They then assembled on Cemetery Ridge and shook hands. Joshua Chamberlain, the Union hero and Medal of Honor recipient for his leadership and valor at Little Round Top, attended and said, “It was a radiant fellowship”

                     Two Civil War Veterans

And, author Stephen Crane labeled these gatherings “The meetings of a mysterious fraternity” noting the respect shown to former adversaries.

Almost all of the nearly fifty thousand veterans were able to appreciate the newly found camaraderie with their former enemies. However, a very few let long-simmering grudges surface. In one case, several former adversaries found themselves eating at a common mess tent when an argument began and a brief fight ensued between two old men; one Union and one Confederate. But this time, they only waved forks at each other. One witness said that, before others could break-up the skirmish, the Union soldier, who had escaped unharmed in the original battle at Gettysburg, was slightly wounded in the hand by a fork in, what the writer called, “The Gettysburg Battle of 1913.”  (Note: This incident is often confused with a more serious confrontation at the Hotel Gettysburg on June 30 where, as reported in the Pittsburg Progress, eight men were stabbed by W.B. Henry who was not a veteran himself, but claimed to be son of a veteran. That incident occurred when someone made a loud slur about Abraham Lincoln and a Union veteran threw a goblet at the inciter. Henry then became enraged and pulled a knife and began his attacks. None of the wounds were serious and, while the attacker spent a few nights in jail, otherwise, it appears he escaped further punishment.)

But those were exceptions as almost all who attended were able to set aside resentments. Two old veterans who knew each other before the war but who chose opposite sides, renewed their acquaintance at the reunion. In a gesture that must have meant so much to each of them, they went into town and purchased a hatchet – and buried it, unmarked, somewhere on the grounds at Gettysburg. At a separate event, one Confederate was asked to recreate the famous, and always frightening, Rebel yell. He declined saying he could not as it was, “Impossible unless made in great fear, at a dead run, full charge against the enemy; and (it would be) worse than folly to try to imitate it with stomach full of food and a mouth full of false teeth.”

On the Fourth of July, President Woodrow Wilson spoke to assembled crowd: "We have found one another again as brothers and comrades in arms, enemies no longer, generous friends rather, our battles long past, the quarrel forgotten—except that we shall not forget the splendid valor."

A New York times article from July 3rd described a special reunion of two men who fought in one of the ferocious battles at Gettysburg. A former Confederate soldier was telling a group that he had been shot while near a specific outcropping and would have died if a young Union soldier had not stopped to assist him by controlling the bleeding. He said, “I would have died then and there without him and I never forgot.”  An elderly former Union soldier overheard the conversation and said that he had helped a Confederate boy on that day. As the two former enemies began to compare their recollections, the old Confederate shouted; “But my God, that’s just what the Yankee did for me. There couldn’t have been two cases like that at the same time. You are the man!” 

There was also a seventy-fifth Gettysburg reunion in 1938 with about 2,000 veterans in attendance, but only twenty-five had actually fought at Gettysburg. So, soon, that great battle would no longer be an actual memory for any living soldier. The valor and sacrifice of all of those who were there, amid the horrific circumstances, both those who fell and those who survived, would be remembered and honored by subsequent generations.

Today, it is left for us to perpetuate the legacy of the Battle at Gettysburg in 1863; however, we should not forget that these most bitter foes ultimately came to a reconciliation during the remarkable reunion at Gettysburg in 1913.

Children Go To War (Article 78)

"Put the boys in...and may God forgive me for the order." - Confederate General John C. Breckenridge at the battle of New Market.

Certainly, in the Revolutionary War, and in the War of 1812, boys of fourteen, fifteen and sixteen took up arms for their country. Most served in infantry units but some boarded naval vessels. There may have even been a few young boys who traveled away from home with forces during the Mexican War in 1847. But during the Civil War, the documented cases of boys as young as ten, eleven and twelve, who found themselves in battle situations is astonishingly high. They fought for the Union and the Confederacy, but unlike many of the senior officers whose choice was made on philosophical grounds based on their convictions about slavery, state’s rights and secession, most of these boys joined to fight with other soldiers based simply on where they lived or to follow a father, brother, or friend. Some were either runaways or orphans who, in the mid-nineteenth century, could only expect a harsh existence anyway.

And in one instance, boys joined their fellow cadets from a military school in battle.

Both the Union and Confederate military began the war insisting that a soldier be at least eighteen years of age, or have a parent’s permission to enlist. However, since personal identification records were not very precise, most of the underage youngsters who wanted to enlist, simply lied about their age. An oft told story from the Civil War was that an enterprising boy, who evidently preferred to not lie, wrote the number “18” on a piece of paper and put it his shoe; then, when the recruiter asked if he was “over eighteen” the boy could honestly reply, “Yes sir!”

Confederate enlistment records were never very thorough, but became even worse during the last two years of the War. As the attrition rate for Southern soldiers continued to climb, more boys were allowed to join the army by recruiters who needed every new soldier they could get, and they would often simply disregarded the age of the enlistee. As a result, more underage boys probably fought for the Confederacy than for the Union.

Most of the child soldiers were drummers or other musicians, flag bearers, messengers, and aides, who served behind the battle lines. But there were those who raised their weapons, followed orders to engage the enemy, and, in too many cases, fell on the killing fields.

There were children, however, who survived their ordeal. Some emerged from battle as inspirational figures, while others simply lived to tell of their experiences. But all, whether casualties or survivors, deserve to be remembered.

John Clem entered the Union Army as a drummer at only ten years old. He was well behind the clashing armies at the battle of Shiloh in April 1862, when a Confederate artillery shell exploded nearby and a metal shrapnel fragment hit his drum and shattered it. Slightly injured but still able to play, Johnny picked up another drum, and stayed at his position. As word spread of his calm behavior and dedication to his task, he became somewhat famous, as “Johnny Shiloh.”

                                                John Clem – Johnny Shiloh

Then, when he was the ripe old age of twelve, during the battle of Chickamauga, in September, 1863, John Clem made history again. A Confederate Officer encountered young Johnny sitting with his drum on a mobile artillery piece and ordered him to surrender. Obviously surprising the officer, the boy retrieved a discarded gun and shot his unsuspecting captor. As time went on there was some dispute over whether the Confederate officer was killed or wounded, but, in any event, Johnny was not captured. When the episode was reported in Union newspapers, “Johnny Shiloh” became even more famous as the “Drummer Boy of Chickamauga” and, seizing on the growing publicity and public adoration, the Union Army quickly awarded him a medal for “Heroism under fire.”  For the next two years, young Clem continued to serve his unit, although not in direct combat. Then, after the end of the War, he remained in the Army and was later commissioned as a Second Lieutenant; and served until his retirement in 1915 as a Brigadier General. He never personally described his actions at Shiloh or Chickamauga as “heroic” but instead as “impulsive” and “his duty” and usually added that he was very lucky.

Other than musicians and aides, the youngest Confederate soldier was probably Charles C. Hay, who joined an Alabama regiment when he was eleven years old; but his enlistment records showed him to be sixteen. His true age was not determined after the Civil War, so we do not know if the recruiter or the leaders of his unit suspected that Charlie was so young.

There were also other boys who were assigned “safer” positions who, when presented with a challenge, ran toward battle. Orion Howe, a fourteen year-old Union drummer was severely wounded during a volunteer mission to deliver a message to another unit during the battle of Vicksburg. An observer wrote; “We could see him nearly all the way. He ran through what seemed a hailstorm of canister and musket-balls, each throwing up its little puff of dust when it struck the dry hillside. Suddenly he dropped and our hearts sank, but he had only tripped. Often, he stumbled, sometimes he fell prostrate, but was quickly up again and he finally disappeared from us, limping over the summit.” Howe later received the Medal of Honor for his actions and was appointed to the United States Naval Academy in 1865.

Then there were the “Boys of VMI.”

The Virginia Military Institute (VMI) was founded as a state university in Lexington in 1837, with their first class starting in 1839. The stated purpose for the new school was to prepare young men for potential service, if needed, in the Virginia Militia; although many graduates accepted a commission in the United States Army. The Lexington location was chosen because significant weaponry had been gradually accumulated there for use, again only if needed, by the state’s militia.

Within a week after the start of the Civil War, the first Union troops moved onto Virginia soil, and the administration of VMI volunteered their cadets to the Virginia Militia, which was affiliated with, but not yet officially part of, the Confederate army. About fifty of the older Cadets, and several faculty members, were quickly assigned to Richmond where they trained new (raw) recruits in battle formations. The other younger Cadets remained at VMI to guard the arsenal of weapons; and, when the Richmond based Cadets returned in January 1862, for many of the boys, life as a student in a military school resumed. While the Confederate government exempted VMI Cadets from the draft calls, many of the older Cadets voluntarily left school to join the Southern Army. Those Cadets who were in their final year, and who chose to join the Confederate Army, were granted early graduation. Interestingly, about thirty of the VMI Cadets left the school and returned to Northern states, with a few joining the Union Army.

Although, the full corps of VMI Cadets had been assembled as a military unit on two earlier occasions, they were not assigned duties near any battle lines. But then on May 11, 1864, the Cadets were ordered to march about seventy-five miles to join the Confederate forces under General John C. Breckenridge near Harpers Ferry, Virginia. (Breckenridge, a former Vice President of the United States, was a candidate of the Southern Democratic Party for President in 1860 against Abraham Lincoln.)

A few of the VMI Cadets were only fifteen years old and many others were only sixteen. The 247 Cadets were positioned as a rear guard and, at first, General Breckenridge had no intention of putting them in harm’s way. In fact, the General addressed the Cadet Corps and said, “Gentlemen from VMI, I trust I will not need your services today; but if I do, I know you will do your duty!" Then Breckenridge told an aide, "They are only children, and I cannot expose them to such fire."

However, as is often the case, once the shooting started, the battle did not follow the carefully laid plans, and when a large Union force swept deep into the Confederate lines, the young Cadets were ordered into the battle. General Breckenridge reportedly said, “Put the boys in (the battle) and may God forgive me for issuing this order.”

So, on May 15, 1864, the 247 members of the VMI Corps of Cadets fought for the Confederacy as an independent unit at the battle of New Market, near Harpers Ferry, Virginia. And, as the General predicted, the VMI boys did their duty and preserved the Confederate line. But there was an awful price to be paid. Ten boys lay dead, and another forty-five were wounded. One Cadet proudly wrote later, “The line went forward in the best of order.” After the VMI Cadet Corps fought at New Market, Union Generals determined that the VMI campus, and its arsenal, comprised a military threat and, on June 12, 1864, the campus buildings were burned by Northern forces and the weapons cache was seized.

However, the heroism of the 247 cadets has not been forgotten. To this day, the names of the ten boys lost at New Market are read at a solemn annual VMI ceremony.

Many of the boys of the Civil War, at first, must have had hopes of a glorious experience, wrapped in romantic and heroic ideals. But, as with almost every soldier, of every age, and of every era, they soon realized the truth. War is horrific!

One boy wrote; “I want to say, as we lay there and the shells were flying over us, my thoughts went back to my home, and I thought what a foolish boy I was to run away and get into such a mess as I was in. I would have been glad to have seen my father coming after me.”

And a 16-year-old wrote; “I passed the corpse of a beautiful boy who lay with his blond curls scattered about his face and his hand folded peacefully across his breast. He was clad in a bright and neat uniform, garnished with gold, which seemed to tell the story of a loving mother and sisters who had sent their household pet to the field of war. His neat little hat lying beside him …He was about my age… At the sight of the poor boy’s corpse, I burst into a regular boo hoo.”

After the Civil War, the public, politicians, and military leaders became aware of the large numbers of children who had fought and the many (really too many) who were wounded or killed. As a result, the prohibition of recruitment, enlistment, and use of children in the United States military became a stated policy.

However, in every war since, especially in World Wars I and II, there are examples of a few who found a way to become a child at war. We can only hope it does not happen again on our watch.

The Amistad Affair (Article77)

“…where human life and human liberty are in issue, and constitute the very essence of the controversy, it was the ultimate right of all human beings in extreme cases to resist oppression and to apply force against ruinous injustice.” – U.S. Supreme Court, 1841

In early 1839, professional slave-hunters (really kidnappers), some African and some White, brought their recent “haul” of native Africans to the shores of Western Africa, to a port in Sierra Leone. There they were divided into groups, with only a few members of each tribe in a group to minimize communication. Several hundred men, women, and children were herded on board the Portuguese ship Tecora, for a three-week voyage to Cuba, then a province of Spain. (This will be important later). The conditions within the hold of the ship were horrible, with the prisoners chained to only allow minimal movement and left to wallow in filth. As a result of the deplorable conditions, during the voyage, several of the Africans died before reaching Cuba. After they arrived in Cuba the survivors were sold at a large centralized slave auction, where it was common for 500-600 slaves per day to be offered to plantation owners; and to so-called wholesalers, who would then again sell them at local auctions in the Caribbean Islands and in South and North America.

To this point, the story of these particular Africans, however inhumane, was in no way unusual. In fact, nearly fifteen million people were kidnapped in Africa, chained in the hold of ships for a horrific voyage across the Atlantic, and then sold (and re-sold) as slaves throughout the Americas, but about 500,000 went to the British colonies in North America. However, the next chapters in the lives of some of the people, who were transported on the Tecora, would become very much different.

On June 27, 1839, fifty-three of the Africans were led to another smaller ship, La Amistad, a Spanish schooner; where they were placed in shackles in the hold of that ship to begin what was expected to be a three-day voyage to a plantation farther along the Cuban coastline.

The three “officers” of the La Amistad, Captain Ramón Ferrer, and First Mates José Ruiz and Pedro Montez, were Spanish citizens. (This becomes important later).  Ferrer also had a personal slave, Antonio, who was not part of the African group, but had been in his “possession” for several years. Ruiz was personally responsible for delivering forty-nine of the slaves, but Montez, for some reason, was given responsibility for four of the slaves by the Spanish Governor of Cuba. Since the trip usually required three days, the ship carried sufficient rations and fresh water only for the crew; with the expectation that the slaves, who had been fed before being placed in the hold of the La Amistad, could survive without further nourishment for three days. On this voyage, however, unusually strong headwinds required the crew to sail the ship on a longer and more erratic route and Ferrer, as captain, determined that there would not be enough food and water for the crew if they shared with all of the slaves during an extra three or four days before they reached their new port.

But he had a solution! A terrible solution. He assumed that the stronger slaves would survive and he would accept that a few of the weaker ones would not. So, he allowed some food and water to be given to those slaves he deemed worthy, and denied it to others who were already weakened. Some of them died while being chained in the hold of the ship.

Deaths of a few slaves was not unexpected on those voyages and the trade was so lucrative that the monetary “losses” could be covered. To Ferrer, as Captain, it was a business decision, not a moral dilemma. But, in a way, he would soon pay for his total disregard for the lives of those he was willing to let die of thirst and/or starvation.

Unknown to the crew, one of the slaves, a young chieftain of the Membe Tribe, who came to be called Cinque, had found an old file and, for several days, had been sawing on the irons that bound him. Sometime before dawn on July 2, the irons broke and Cinque began to release the main bindings on other slaves. Several of the men were from tribes which spoke a similar language and they began to plan an escape. The first crew member who came down into the hold was the ship’s cook and the Africans quickly killed him and raced to the deck. There they pounced on Ferrer and the rest of the crew. However, the crew was armed, while the Africans were not, and two of the slaves were killed. But, in the melee, Ferrer and another crewman were also killed. At least one, perhaps two, crewmen jumped ship and their fate is unknown.

La Amistad, was then under complete control of the Africans.

However, the slaves had never sailed, had no understanding of using winds to maintain a course, and were not even sure which direction would take them back to Africa. Their intent was, after all, to sail home!

Cinque quickly emerged as the leader of the freed Africans and he directed that the lives be spared of the two men who he believed could steer the ship, Ruiz and Montez. He also spared Ferrer’s slave, Antonio, who had some understanding of the Africans’ languages, and who would serve as an interpreter.

José Ruiz and Pedro Montez promised, under the threat of death, to sail the Amistad back to Africa. However, that first night, and every night thereafter, Ruiz and Montez steered a northern course in the darkness, that would not take the Africans back home. Instead, after a stop at an isolated area along the Cuban coastline to forage for edible plants and fresh water, they sailed La Amistad toward the eastern coastline of the United states.  Out on the open ocean, with no navigation skills and only the sun during daylight as a general directional guide, the Africans thought they were headed home. However, Ruiz and Montez continued their northward heading every night and during overcast days, which would eventually take the Amistad far from Africa.

To Connecticut!

As the ship moved along the coast of the United States, they made several stops in remote bays where a few slaves would search on land for more food and fresh water; usually accompanied by Antonio. It is unclear how much Antonio knew of the deceptive plan.  

There have been some questions about the decisions of Ruiz and Montez. For example, why the two sailors did not just cruise around Cuba until they found a “friendly” port or neared the Cuban shore and simply jump ship? The most likely reason was that the Africans guarded them so carefully that Ruiz and Montez probably believed they would have been quickly killed before reaching safety.

They probably also reasoned that the long voyage would buy them time to try to build trust with the Africans. And, they were successful. An uneasy truce developed between the two Spaniards, Antonio, and the former slaves, especially Cinque, which allowed some cooperation to sail the ship and forage for food.

But why did Ruiz and Montez head for Connecticut? Two reasons: (1) that state strictly enforced Fugitive Slave Laws, and (2) The New England seafaring states also strictly enforced International Admiralty Laws which would govern the disposition of the La Amistad and its cargo.

Ruiz and Montez hoped, when they neared the Connecticut coast, to convince the Africans that they had found a neutral port where slavery was not legal (true enough) and they would be safe (not true at all). The two Spaniards expected that, if they could turn the ship over to Connecticut authorities, there was a good chance the Africans would be held as fugitive slaves and they (Ruiz and Montez) would be personally rewarded for returning the ship to its rightful owners.

After almost two months, the La Amistad finally anchored off the New England coast on August 26, 1839. Antonio and several of the Africans rowed to shore where they again scavenged for supplies and fresh water. The small group returned to the ship with new provisions, just as La Amistad was discovered and boarded by a small ship, the USS Washington, which was assigned by the Federal government to guard the coastline. The Commander of the Washington, Thomas Gedney, placed some of his crew on the Amistad, took charge of all on board, and directed the ship and its passengers to a port at New London, Connecticut.

Ruiz and Montez thought their plan had worked, but they underestimated Gedney, who had a different idea.

In an extraordinary and selfish move, Gedney filed a salvage claim against the ship and the cargo of Africans under International Admiralty Law (the slaves, after all were only property to him). Gedney chose to dock in Connecticut because he believed, as did Ruiz and Montez, that the slaves would be treated as fugitives, unlike New York State where escaped slaves were routinely protected. He expected to make a small fortune when he repatriated the Amistad to its owners and returned the slaves to their documented slave-holders back in Cuba. Gedney transferred the captured Africans into the custody of the U.S. Court in Connecticut, and waited for his reward. He could not have cared less about the fate of Ruiz and Montez.

But there were other parties with claims to La Amistad and its human cargo. And they began to show up in Connecticut as well.

Britain filed a petition that the Africans must be freed because they had been illegally kidnapped in their home country in violation of several treaties which banned the International Slave Trade. To Britain, the Africans were, therefore, not fugitives but illegally kidnapped people.

Spain filed a brief that the matter should be tried in a Spanish court, in Cuba, which had been permitted a strange exemption from the International Slave Trade treaties which Spain had signed. The American President, Martin Van Buren, afraid of the reaction by Southern voters, had the U.S. Attorney General file a brief in support of the Spanish position. Spain also wanted Antonio returned to Cuba as a slave to be auctioned off; with the proceeds reverting to the state, since Captain Ferrer had no relatives.

Also, Ruiz and Montez filed a claim that they should receive a portion of the salvage rights to the “cargo” of Africans because the slaves had “escaped” but were re-captured, and delivered to Connecticut, only by their cunning.

The underlying issue was whether the Africans were really kidnapped from their homes, (as the British claimed); or, if they were really fugitives from Cuba, where slavery was legal, based on their short stay on the island (as Spain and the American President claimed).

Then, the case turned again, when the Cuban representatives accused the Africans of murder and demanded that they be returned to Cuba for trial on those charges. Ruiz and Montez applauded the Cuban and Spanish interpretations; but they did not get to celebrate for long.

A group of abolitionists obtained an arrest warrant against Ruiz and Montez for kidnapping, murder (for the slaves who died of thirst and/or starvation), and violations of international anti-slavery laws; and the two sailors were then detained by Connecticut authorities.  The abolitionists further demanded that the Africans be freed and that the U.S. government pay for their return to their homes.

In January 1840, all of the petitions were combined under one U.S. District Court judge, and he finally ruled that:

1.      The Africans were free men, illegally kidnapped.

2.      Ruiz and Montez should be held for trial for kidnapping and murder. They were immediately arrested and taken, howling, from the courtroom.

3.      The claims of the naval officer, Gedney, for salvage rights to the Amistad, but not the human cargo, were valid. The Spanish owners could recover the ship by payment to Gedney. Then, in an extraordinary gesture, the judge awarded one-third of the salvage proceeds be paid, by Gedney, to the Africans.

4.      The Spanish and Cuban claims to the Africans (and the ship) were declared invalid, except as to Antonio, who could be claimed under existing Fugitive Slave Laws. (But, Antonio had long since disappeared.)

5.      The Africans were free to leave the court room; however, the court decided that it had no authority to force the U.S. government to pay for their transportation back to Africa.

Then, as we find so often today, all parties, which did not get what they wanted, decided to appeal the decision.

In the meantime, the abolitionist group found housing in Connecticut for the now freed Africans and began to raise money to cover their transportation costs. But the court required the Africans to remain in the United States through the appeal process.

Ruiz and Montez posted bail and returned to Cuba. There is no evidence that there was ever any attempt to extradite them back to the U.S. for trial. It is presumed they returned to their former “profession” as transporters of kidnapped Africans into slavery in areas of the Caribbean and South America where slavery remained legal for another forty years.

The U.S. Attorney General, upon orders of President Van Buren, appealed to the U.S. Supreme Court, and the hearing was set for February 23, 1841. This was one year after the first trial ended; and almost two years after the Africans were kidnapped from their homes.

The U.S. Attorney General’s office opened the hearing pleading the case that this was a Spanish issue and that the Supreme Court should overturn the lower courts order and give custody of the slaves and La Amistad to the Spanish government. Any trials should then be conducted under Spanish law. The United States should no longer be involved.

But the U.S. Attorney General (and President Van Buren) would be up against a brilliant lawyer. John Quincy Adams, former President of the United States, had agreed to represent the Africans, as part of a strong defense team of dedicated abolitionists. Prior to the hearing, Adams told others that he believed President Van Buren had made a cowardly and purely political move in backing the Spanish claim; and then he said no less to the Supreme Court Justices.

Adams told the court that they must first keep in mind that they represented the Judicial Branch and had no allegiance to the President and the Executive Branch; adding that the forefathers intended that separation to be absolute. He went on to directly criticize the President for misusing his Constitutional authority by bowing to Spanish interests. His other comments are eloquent.

“This review of all the proceedings of the Executive (the U.S. President) I have made with utmost pain, because it was necessary to bring it fully before your Honors, to show that the course of that department had been dictated, throughout, not by justice but by a sympathy for the most partial and unjust. And this sympathy prevailed to such a degree, among all the persons concerned in this business, as to have perverted their minds with regard to all the most sacred principles of law and right, on which the liberties of the United States are founded; and a course was pursued (by the President), from the beginning to the end, which was not only an outrage upon the persons whose lives and liberties were at stake, but hostile to the power and independence of the judiciary itself”.

On March 9, 1841, Associate Justice Joseph Story read the Court's 7-1 decision (one Justice had not participated). He declared that:

1. The Africans were free men, they were never legal property. They were not fugitive criminals, as the U.S. Attorney's Office argued, but rather "unlawfully kidnapped, and forcibly and wrongfully carried on board a certain vessel"

2. The documents submitted by the U.S. Attorney were actually fraudulent on the part of the Spanish government and were given no consideration.

3. Lt. Gedney was to be awarded salvage from the La Amistad (but not for the slaves) for having performed "a highly meritorious and useful service to the proprietors of the ship and cargo". The one-third awarded to the Africans was not mentioned and the disposition of that part of the lower decree is lost in history. It is possible that the Africans waived any rights to the salvage value to gain support from Lt. Gedney’s lawyers.

4. The U.S. President was not required to return the Africans to their homes.

Then the Chief Justice added:  These African negroes are not slaves, but kidnapped, and free negroes and the United States are bound to respect their rights as much as those of Spanish subjects. The conflict of rights between the parties, must be decided upon the eternal principles of justice and international law, where human life and human liberty are in issue, and constitute the very essence of the controversy. It was the ultimate right of all human beings in extreme cases to resist oppression and to apply force against ruinous injustice. When the “Amistad” arrived, (in Connecticut) she was in possession of the negroes, asserting their freedom; and in no sense could they possibly intend to import themselves here, as slaves, or for sale as slaves.” He concluded with,“The said negroes are declared to be free, and be dismissed from the custody of the court, and go without delay.

The group of Abolitionists had arranged for temporary housing of the Africans in Farmington Connecticut, and by April 1842 they had gathered sufficient funds to buy their passage back to Africa, including any overland travel to their homes. Most of those newly freed, including Cinque, chose to return to Africa; however, a small group stayed in and around Farmington. A contingent of American Christian missionaries accompanied those who returned to Africa to establish schools and hospitals.

The ordeal for the survivors of the Amistad had lasted three years. 

The Hampton Roads Peace Conference (Articles 74, 75,and 76)

PART 1: A Fiasco at Niagara

 “The recent Niagara Falls Peace tryst, was a gathering of un-elected men, who were sanctioned by neither Lincoln or Jefferson Davis; and who only accomplished further inflamement of passions, North and South. We have Horace Greeley and the Tribune to blame for this scandal.” – editorial by a competitor of Greeley’s at another newspaper.

 In July 1864, Horace Greeley, publisher of the New York Tribune, decided to become a negotiator for peace. When he learned that several Southern representatives had gathered in Niagara Falls, Canada, and were prepared to discuss peace terms, Greeley encouraged President Abraham Lincoln to participate. Although he received a response from Lincoln, it was not as enthusiastic as Greeley hoped; but he pressed on without any real authority. The meetings were held among several men including a minor political influence peddler, three Confederate operatives with no credentials, and Greeley, whose ego was only surpassed by his outrage and vindictiveness when he perceived a slight. With that cast of characters, the conference was a failure; however, the incident gave Abraham Lincoln the opportunity to clearly express his conditions for peace, and in that respect, the meeting served some purpose.

 Those gathered in the Canadian town of Niagara Falls, plus others in New York City and in Washington DC, over a two-week period included, in addition to Greeley, William “Colorado” Jewett, who was known to Lincoln and Greeley, and who had been on the periphery of several schemes, usually unsuccessful, to influence politicians. Jewett had been the person who notified Greeley that “Southern Peace Commissioners” were in Canada. Those “commissioners” were Clement Clay, of Alabama, and Jacob Thompson, of Mississippi, both former U.S. Senators before the Civil War, and Professor James Holcomb of the University of Virginia. Also, in attendance was George Sanders whose role has never been clearly defined, but was a liaison to some Northerners who sought Canadian help in opposing the American Civil War. And, eventually, Lincoln sent John Hay, one of his secretaries with a message for Greeley.

 By mid-1864, many in the North had become very tired of the war. In June, Abraham Lincoln had been re-nominated for a second term, but the delegates were not enthusiastic about his re-election chances. The people wanted peace, and peace at almost any price. Thompson, Clay, and Holcomb, staying in Canada, let the word out that they were authorized by the Confederacy to confer about possible peace terms. As they hoped, Jewett, whose political machinations were well known, contacted Horace Greeley, publisher/editor of the New York Tribune, who immediately contacted President Abraham Lincoln.

 On July 7, 1864, Greeley wrote to Lincoln and encouraged his participation in discussions. In his long letter Greeley wrote, “Our bleeding, bankrupt, almost dying country also longs for peace-shudders at the prospect for new conscriptions (Lincoln was contemplating a new draft), of further wholesale devastations, and of new rivers of human blood. And, a wide-spread conviction that the Government (meaning Lincoln) is not anxious for peace, and do not improve proffered opportunities to achieve it, is doing great harm now, and, is morally certain, unless removed, to do far greater in the coming elections.” Greeley was giving a veiled threat to Lincoln that if word got out that he refused any opportunity for peace, he would lose the 1864 Presidential election. And, Greeley would have been ready to be the one who would spread that word through his newspaper and other contacts.

 Greeley added an admonition for Lincoln, “Mr. President, I fear you do not realize how intently the people desire any peace consistent with the national integrity and honor. I do not say that a just peace is now attainable, though I believe it to be so. But I do say, that a frank offer by you to the insurgents of terms…will…prove an immense and sorely needed advantage to the national cause; it may save us from a northern insurrection. I beg you to invite those now at Niagara to exhibit their credentials and submit their ultimatum.” (The words “do” and “offer” were underlined in Greeley’s letter and not by this author)

 Lincoln did not believe that Jefferson Davis had authorized any delegation. However, not wanting to give the New York editor ammunition to accuse him being unwilling to hear a possible prospect for peace, Lincoln wrote Greeley and suggested that he go to Niagara Falls and determine if their credentials were, in fact, legitimate authority on behalf of Jefferson Davis. Then, if they possessed such written credentials, Greeley should tell them that Lincoln would grant them safe-passage to Washington.

 Lincoln’s apparent trust in Greeley might seem strange since Greely had done everything possible to prevent Lincoln’s re-nomination. But Greeley’s vanity was such that he assumed Lincoln would (or at least should) value his advice. Privately, Lincoln referred to Greeley as, “an old shoe — good for nothing now, whatever he has been.”

 Greeley desperately wanted some conference to occur and just as desperately, now wanted to be part of it. He wrote Lincoln on July 13: “I have now information on which I can rely that two persons duly commissioned and empowered to negotiate for peace are at Niagara Falls, in Canada. Their names, only given in confidence, are the Hon. Clement C. Clay, of Alabama, and Hon. Jacob Thompson, of Mississippi. If you should prefer to meet them in person, they require safe-conducts for themselves, and for George N. Sanders, who will accompany them. In negotiating directly with yourself, you would be enabled at all times to act upon the freshest advices of the military situation. All that is assumed is a mutual desire to terminate this wholesale slaughter, and it seems to me high time that an effort to this end should be made. I am quite sure that a frank, earnest, anxious effort to terminate the war on honorable terms would immensely strengthen the Government in case of its failure, and would help us in the eyes of the civilized world, which now accuses us of obstinacy, and indisposition even to seek a peaceful solution of our sanguinary, devastating conflict.” (This is an edited version; Greeley never used a few words, when he had a chance to use many.)

 Lincoln sent another message to Greeley encouraging him to verify the credentials of the emissaries and offering safe-passage if Greeley believed they were valid and urged him on by stating, “I was not expecting you to send me a (another) letter but to bring me a man or men.”

 President Lincoln could not afford to alienate Greeley or to appear to reject a genuine peace overture. But, Lincoln smelled a rat! And, he thought it was time to bring the matter to a close. He was ready to teach the meddlesome Greeley a few lessons on the art of politics (and of over-confidence). And, Lincoln realized that he could use Greeley’s actions to show the country that any such negotiations were either unauthorized by Jefferson Davis or doomed to failure because of irreconcilable differences.

 John Hay, Lincoln’s secretary, was dispatched to New York bearing a personal, confidential note for Greeley from Lincoln which clearly stated his position.  But this time the letter was addressed “To Whom It May Concern” and Lincoln wrote, “Any proposition which embraces the restoration of peace, the integrity of the whole Union, and the abandonment of slavery, and which comes by and with an authority that can control the armies now at war against the United States will be received and considered by the Executive government of the United States, and will be met by liberal terms on other substantial and collateral points; and the bearer, or bearers thereof shall have safe conduct both ways.” Lincoln was sure the letter would be leaked to the press; in fact, he counted on it!

 Greeley now had his authorization from Lincoln, but even he must have recognized that the President left no “wiggle room” for the future existence of the Confederacy or continuation of slavery by including language about the “…integrity of the whole Union and abandonment of slavery” in the letter. But, Greeley plowed on; and, after some disagreement over the exact terms of safe-passage” for the Confederates who feared arrest when they crossed the border, Greeley headed for Niagara Falls.  Upon arrival he notified the Confederates of Lincoln’s safe-conduct pass and willingness to meet, if Greeley could be satisfied that they were truly authorized by Jefferson Davis to speak on behalf of the Confederacy.

 Greeley told the Confederates, “I am informed that you are duly accredited from Richmond as the bearers of propositions looking to the establishment of peace; that you desire to visit Washington in the fulfilment of your mission. If my information be thus far substantially correct, I am authorized by the President of the United States to tender you his safe-conduct on journey proposed, and to accompany you at the earliest time that will be agreeable to you.”

 Then things began to fall apart.

 The Southern “delegates” hesitated; and then admitted that they had no credentials from Jefferson Davis but were earnest in trying to broker a peace deal. They declared that no negotiations were possible based on Lincoln’s continuing insistence that the Confederacy dissolve and the seceded states rejoin the United States. Further, they said that they intended to inform Davis and his administration that their sincere efforts had been rebuffed. Greeley realized that he had been used. The Southerners would make it appear to not only their constituents, but to Northerners and the world at large, that it was Lincoln and the Union which were roadblocks to peace, not the Confederacy.

 Greeley thought he could shrewdly bring the two side together before any firm negotiating positions were stated; but in fact, he had been out-maneuvered by Lincoln and the Southerners. 

 The entire episode was an embarrassment for Greeley, who did not take any slight very well. To further his discomfort, the Southern delegates released Lincoln’s letters to the press and declared that Lincoln’s demand that slavery be abolished was the primary cause for failure of the peace initiative. Democratic newspapers in the North and almost all newspapers in the South, accused Lincoln of continuing the war for the sole purpose of ending slavery; knowing that a majority in the North supported the war only to re-unite the Union (but not to end slavery). Even many of Lincoln’s political friends believed that his “To whom it may concern” letter would cost him re-election because it was a declaration that the war was now to be fought to abolish slavery; a notion not accepted by many in the North.

 While Lincoln had gambled that he would not lose too many constituents with his position; he also knew that the Democratic Presidential Candidate, expected to be former General George McClellan, would press the point in his bid to wrest the presidency from Lincoln in November 1864. Lincoln’s best hope was that events over the next few months, including prospective Union victories, would show Northerners that the Union was winning, that the Confederacy would lose, and, with the victories, Lincoln believed voters would accept emancipation along with re-union. But, the fact was that Lincoln himself was never certain he could win another term.

 However, for now, Lincoln had to do some damage control and issued a statement that, “If there was anybody or any delegation at Niagara Falls, or anywhere else, authorized to represent the Southern Confederacy and to treat for peace, they had free conduct and safety to Washington and return.” Lincoln later said, “Instead of Mr. Greeley doing it that way, he went there as an ambassador, and with an array of reporters established himself on the American side and opened negotiations with these two alleged envoys across the bridge. I had reason to believe that these envoys were without authority, because President Davis had said to this friend of mine and of his that he would treat (meaning to negotiate) on no terms whatever but on absolute recognition of the independence of the Southern Confederacy.” The friend to whom Lincoln was referring was James Gilmore, who had met with Jefferson Davis and was told by Davis that, “The war must go on until the last man of this generation falls in his tracks, unless you acknowledge our right to self -governance.”

 Not any wiggle room there either!

 Lincoln later said, “Of course, they never came, because their mission was a subterfuge. But they made Greeley believe in them, and the result is that he is still attacking me for needlessly prolonging the war for purposes of my own.” Greeley did finally support Lincoln for re-election, but only after the Union had established the likely-hood of victory when Atlanta fell in September 1864. Greeley liked to back winners and Lincoln won that election.

 It has been said that, “No attempt at peace in time of war is wasted.” While the Niagara meetings did not plant a seed for real peace, the episode did provide Abraham Lincoln with the opportunity to, again, declare his position that he would never accept the continuation of the Confederate States, but, instead, only full restoration of the Union.

And, the Civil War would continue until that outcome was finally reached.

 But, There was another, more rational, attempt for a Peace Conference; At Hampton Roads, Virginia.

 (The story of the Hampton Roads Peace Conference, where Abraham Lincoln met with three Confederate emissaries is told in these next two sections. First, “The Prelude” then followed by “The Meeting”)

The Prelude:

In the Presidential election of November 1864, Lincoln dominated in almost all Union states and he carried an overwhelming majority among the military, both officer and enlisted alike. Most voters in the north wanted to force capitulation by the south and expected an end to the Confederate government. Some, but certainly not all, saw the demise of the Confederacy as the means to the end of slavery. Lincoln’s opponent, in the 1864 election was former General George McClellan, who had offered, as a condition of a peace agreement, recognition of the Confederate States of America as a separate entity; further, he did not call for the immediate end of slavery. He lost big!

The electoral mandate Lincoln received had established his authority and now he was focused on ending the war, which he believed would come by keeping military pressure on the South. However, to some, the time seemed ripe for a peace initiative, and the idea which eventually led to the Hampton Roads Conference was born; although it was not an easy path.

The simple historical account is that President Lincoln, accompanied by Secretary of State Seward, met on February 3rd, 1865 at Hampton Roads, Virginia, with three commissioners representing the Confederate States, to discuss possible peace terms. However, at the conference, Lincoln would not accept the continued existence of the Confederate Government and Jefferson Davis had only authorized the Commissioners to discuss a two-state solution. So, the war would go on for another few months, and more Union and Confederate soldiers would die, (and Lincoln would be assassinated), before hostilities ceased. Even then, the Civil War ended, not with peace commissioners signing a treaty, but only when Confederate Generals, who realized their cause was lost, began to surrender their forces.

As a result, some Civil War historians have called the Hampton Roads Conference a failure, a wasted opportunity, or a relatively unimportant event. Some of this is just academic arrogance, with individuals putting their own spin on historical events.

In many ways, Lincoln was a complicated man, but, these narratives miss his very simple, and uncomplicated, reasons for attending the Peace Conference at Hampton Roads. He wanted to press upon the Southern leadership that he would accept only a re-unified nation with no “two government” solution to the war; and, to deliver a clear message that the institution of slavery was doomed. Lincoln’s intended to leave no room for equivocation or mis-understanding.

With that in mind, the Hampton Roads Conference served a valuable purpose as Lincoln and Confederate President Davis as both knew their goals were absolutely incompatible. Davis insisted that the Confederacy continue, while Lincoln insisted it would not.

Lincoln and Davis- The impossible Divide:

Lincoln despaired over the continuing loss of life in the war, but expected that Jefferson Davis would not agree to unconditional surrender as long as he had viable military forces in the field. In his annual message to Congress a month earlier, Lincoln said, “No attempt at negotiation with the insurgent leader could result in any good” because Davis "would accept nothing short of severance of the Union—precisely what we will not give. His declarations are explicit and oft-repeated. He cannot voluntarily reaccept the Union; we cannot voluntarily yield it. Therefore, the issue between him and us ... can only be tried by war and decided by victory.”

Lincoln also knew that if his administration made any direct contact with the Confederate President (who Lincoln referred to as the insurgent or rebel leader) it might suggest to some that the Union recognized the legitimacy of the Confederate government and the secessionist state governments. Lincoln would not allow that! On the other hand, Lincoln said he would receive overtures from representatives of any state which sought to withdraw secession declarations and requested return to the United States. He said, “They can, at any moment, have peace simply by laying down their arms and submitting to the national authority under the Constitution. But he concluded with this clear statement, “The abandonment of armed resistance to the national authority is the only indispensable condition to ending the war" Then to make his point to those southerners who hoped slavery might be permitted in some regions, Lincoln said that he “would not retract or modify the Emancipation Proclamation, nor return to slavery any person who is free by the terms of that Proclamation.” He finished his remarks on the subject by saying, “The war will cease on the part of the government, whenever it shall have ceased on the part of those who began it."

The Architect of the Conference

Then, on December 28, 1864, shortly after Lincoln’s electoral victory for a second term, Francis Preston Blair, Sr., asked to see the President. Blair, a Southerner from Maryland, was a long-time political leader with influence among both Republicans and Democrats.  He was an early opponent of secession and then had supported the war effort to preserve the Union. Lincoln respected Blair and had even named his son to a cabinet position. Blair, by then over seventy years old, offered to go to the Confederate Capital of Richmond, Virginia to meet personally with Jefferson Davis, who he had known for many years. Lincoln granted Blair a pass across Union lines to visit Richmond, with a cover story that Blair hoped to retrieve some personal papers seized by Confederate forces who had raided and burned his Maryland home; an incident for which Davis had expressed regret. Lincoln was careful to impress on Blair that he should not provide a “peace” overture to Blair. Today we might call it “plausible deniability” in the event Blair’s trip became public and was perceived as political blunder.

Davis saw an opportunity in meeting with Blair. There were growing concerns among Confederate officials that Davis was opposed to any peace discussions and some were beginning to question his authority to direct the war. Perhaps Davis believed that, if President Lincoln continued to push for the subjugation of the Confederacy and capitulation by the South, Davis could use Lincoln’s intransigence to re-ignite Southern support for the war effort.

On January 12, 1865, Blair arrived in Richmond, having passed through battle lines under a flag of truce; and went directly to the Executive Mansion of the Confederate States of America and its President, Jefferson Davis.

The Mexico Plan

What Blair suggested to Davis was astounding! And, unknown to Lincoln. His plan called for the cessation of hostilities between the North and the South and the uniting of forces to oppose French expansion into Mexico. Blair declared that slavery should no longer remain an insurmountable obstruction to pacification because all sides could now agree that it would soon die out anyway. Blair said that he believed Lincoln might be open to reconciliation, and a permanent peace, if a cease-fire could be arranged. That would be followed by a combined Union and Confederate force which would drive the French out of Mexico; and then, restoration of the Union could occur. Perhaps just being polite to his friend, Davis listened, but, then quickly rejected the proposal saying that the Mexicans themselves must solve their own problem.

Davis wrote a note stating that he was willing to appoint a delegation to meet with President Lincoln or his representatives for the purpose of ending the war, “with a view to secure peace to the two countries." Whether Blair was so pleased to obtain any remarks from Jefferson Davis which hinted at a prospect for peace, or if he missed (or ignored) the significance of Davis’s concluding words of “two countries,” he was returning with a message Lincoln would never accept.

But Blair would bring other favorable news to Lincoln. He had met with friends in Richmond who told him that they believed their cause was lost and Davis was just hanging on.

The Conference takes shape

Blair met with Lincoln on January 18 and delivered Davis’s note. Lincoln also summarily dismissed Blair’s idea of a joint military action in Mexico but was grateful for the information about discontent among other Southern leaders; who he hoped might be able to pressure Davis into surrender. Lincoln was somewhat encouraged by Davis’s apparent willingness to negotiate but again, clearly stated that he would not accept any recognition of the Confederacy as a legitimate government (the “two-state” solution). The President asked Blair to return to Richmond, this time carrying a letter, addressed to Blair, but to be shared with Jefferson Davis. Lincoln wrote, “I have constantly been ready to receive any agent whom he, or any other influential person now resisting the national authority, may informally send to me with a view to securing peace to the people of our one common country." Lincoln had made clear in his note to Blair (and secondarily to Davis) that he would not agree to any negotiations based on Davis's "two-countries" condition.

Of course, word leaked out about Blair’s mission, but not the details of the conversations, so speculations, and even outright falsehoods, appeared in newspapers and in the halls of Congress in both the North and the South. The New York Herald reported that the city "has been under an intense excitement during the last few days over the question of peace. All manner of probable and improbable, possible and impossible stories have been in circulation.”

But Lincoln’s most serious critics were angered by reports of his overture to Davis; many in his own party. Radical Republicans, who wanted the Confederacy crushed, followed by penalizing reconstruction requirements and retribution against secessionist leaders, assumed that Lincoln planned to negotiate a compromise peace with the rebels. The New York Times, which often disagreed with the President, wrote,“None but national authorities can wage war or make for peace; and the moment we enter into negotiations with the rebel Government for terms of peace, that moment we have…. conceded everything for which they have been making war. Federal officials should continue to deal solely with the rebels as individuals, not their pretended government in Richmond.”

Edwin Stanton, the Secretary of War, expressed concern that rumors of peace initiatives would reduce the already dwindling numbers of new recruits and might even weaken the resolve of the soldiers who were still fighting the war.  But Lincoln was willing to take that risk.

Blair returned to Richmond and again met with Davis on January 21. After Davis had read the letter, he quickly realized that Lincoln’s comment “our one common country”' was directly related to his own words in his letter which referred to “the two countries.” Blair told Davis that Lincoln could not compromise on the one-country principle as a condition for peace talks, but, Davis seemed willing to pursue the opportunity. He met with Confederate Vice President Alexander H. Stephens and described his meetings with Blair. Stephens, who was acquainted with Lincoln through their earlier service in the U.S. Congress, believed there was still some chance of a cease-fire without giving up Confederate sovereignty or accepting re-union. Davis agreed, and, unusual for him at the time, obtained approval from his cabinet.

However, Davis was concerned that, even with any safe-passage granted by Lincoln, he might be detained and arrested; so, he selected a high-ranking team of Confederate officials to attend. He chose Stephens, Robert M. Hunter, a former U.S. Senator and Confederate Secretary of State, and John A. Campbell, a former Associate Justice of the United States Supreme Court, to meet with Lincoln or his representatives. Davis made clear that his primary purpose was a cease-fire.

The Preliminary Arrangements

Lincoln was cautious. He decided to send Secretary of State Seward closer to City Point, where General Ulysses S. Grant had headquarters, to await a determination as to where Seward (and possibly Lincoln) might meet the Confederate Commissioners. While the Southern emissaries hoped they would travel to Washington DC to meet the President; Lincoln believed that would add some legitimacy to the Confederacy and he was not going to let that happen.

In the meanwhile, The U.S. House of Representatives was debating the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment, and rumors of a “Peace Conference” prompted opponents to demand that President Lincoln answer whether Peace Commissioners were in the city.” In a carefully worded reply Lincoln wrote the Speaker of the House that, “There are no peace commissioners in the City nor are there likely to be any in it.”  This most honest man had just deliberately mis-led Congress.

Lincoln was still hesitant to engage in high-level discussions until he knew more about the Confederate Commissioners expectations. As an interim step, Lincoln decided to have General Grant, who was already near the battle-lines, and Major Thomas Eckert, who was in charge of the War Department’s telegraph office, to first meet with the Commissioners. After their reports, Lincoln would decide if there would be a conference and where it would be held.

Major Eckert and General Grant met with the Commissioners and informed them that any proposal, which included a cease-fire, must also be tied to reconstruction and re-union into one country. Eckert and Grant did not coordinate their individual reports to the President and their impressions could not have been more different. Eckert said later that his assignment came directly from the President and he felt compelled to report independently of General Grant. 

Eckert informed Lincoln that the Conference should not occur as the Commissioners insisted that the “two countries” begin negotiations on only a cease-fire. Lincoln was described as disappointed by Eckert’s report, but not surprised. This could have been a fatal blow to the proposed conference.

However, General Grant still had some hope that a conference could be valuable and sent a message on the evening of February 1st which read, “I am convinced, upon conversation with Messrs. Stephens & Hunter that their intentions are good and their desire sincere to restore peace and union….I fear now their going back without any expression from any one in authority will have a bad influence."

Lincoln trusted Grant and telegraphed the General to permit the Commissioners to travel further north to Hampton Roads (in Union territory) and wait on board the “River Queen” a large river boat with accommodations for the three men. Then surprising everyone, Lincoln decided to leave Washington DC and join Seward for the meeting. Grant’s message may have led Lincoln to agree that he should at least meet with the commissioners to avoid “a bad influence” on any future peace initiatives.

Word of Lincoln’s departure and realization that he might meet with a Confederate Peace Commission surprised both Republicans and Democrats in Washington and most were critical! Not all prominent politicians, however, were opposed to the meeting. Offering a left-handed compliment, the grandson of President John Quincy Adams wrote to his father; “It is a step forward, an indispensable first step. As for dignity, I do not look to President Lincoln for that. However, I do look to him for honesty and shrewdness and I see no evidence that in this matter he has been wanting in these respects."

(NOTE: The next article, Part 2, covers the extraordinary meeting among President Lincoln, Secretary of State William Seward, and three Confederate officials; known in history as The Hampton Roads Peace Conference)

The Meeting:

To Preston Blair’s surprise, Lincoln agreed to meet with three Southern delegates designated by Jefferson Davis, and led by Confederate Vice President, Alexander Stephens, along with John Campbell and David Hunter, both other senior members of Davis’s administration. There would be a Peace Conference after all, at Hampton Roads, Virginia.

The Peace Conference Begins

Lincoln arrived at Hampton Roads late on the evening of February 2, 1865, after Secretary of State William Seward had already met informally with the commissioners. The next morning, Lincoln, Seward, and the commissioners met on the River Queen, a large river boat docked at Hampton Roads. Lincoln and Stephens knew each other from an earlier time when both men represented their states in Washington DC, so, the opening introductions and conversations were personal and relaxed. The parties agreed that no written record of the discussions would be made and no others would participate.

Then, they got down to business. Most of what we know, or think we know, about the discussions among these five men, is taken from reports Seward and John Campbell wrote for their respective administrations; as well as letters the attendees wrote soon after the meeting and memoirs written years later. Of course, there are discrepancies among these sources, but historians have been able to piece together a probable re-construction of the discussions; and, the following is a brief summary.

Alexander Stephens began by asking a simple question, "Is there no way of putting an end to the present trouble?" Lincoln replied that it was possible but only if those resisting the Union ceased their resistance.

Stephens raised Davis’s desire for a cease-fire but Lincoln replied that the Union would not suspend military operations until the national authority was reestablished throughout the South.

Campbell asked for Lincoln’s views on Reconstruction. Lincoln’s answer was that reunion could be achieved simply by the Southern states disbanding their armies and permitting federal authorities to resume their functions. The Commissioners stated that here were numerous logistical, administrative and legal question which remained. For examples, (a) the disbandment of the scattered Confederate armies and war materials, (b) private property settlements, (c) the dismantling of Martial Law provisions, (d) legal status of emancipated slaves and slaves in areas not covered by the Emancipation Proclamation, and (e) the social upheaval that could result from universal and immediate emancipation of several million slaves. Seward said that the Federal government would be “liberal in making restitution of confiscated property, or providing indemnity, after the excitement of the times had passed."

Lincoln addressed the elephant in the room; slavery. He admitted that opinions differed on the legality of the Emancipation Proclamation, which was not a law, but only a Presidential war measure. Lincoln said that, after peace was reached, the courts should decide those matters. Seward then presented a copy of the Thirteenth Amendment, which had passed both Houses of Congress and was on the way to be ratified by three-fourths of the states. Although the Commissioners were aware of the Congressional intent, they had not yet seen the final version.

Lincoln said that he had always opposed the extension of slavery into the territories, believed slavery could not be morally justified, felt that his Emancipation Proclamation was a reasonable war-time measure, and supported the Thirteenth Amendment.  Stephens later wrote that Lincoln added, "Whatever may have been the views of your people before the war, they must be convinced now, that Slavery is doomed. It cannot last long in any event, and the best course, it seems to me, for your public men to pursue, would be to adopt such a policy as will avoid, as far as possible, the evils of immediate emancipation."

Recollections of the other attendees differ with most of quote by Stephens, and they agree only that Lincoln stated, “Slavery is doomed.” Historians believe it is unlikely that Lincoln suggested a protracted ratification; as he had hoped the Amendment would be ratified quickly.

Then, the President suggested his support for federal compensation to slaveholders if a Southern state unilaterally abolished slavery. Lincoln, putting on his diplomatic hat, said, “If it was wrong in the South to hold slaves, it was wrong in the North to carry on the slave trade and sell them to the South, ... and to have held on to the money.” Lincoln was careful to remind the Commissioners that he would need Congressional approval for any compensation plan, but, that he would support it.

The five men then discussed the issues that would arise from universal and immediate emancipation of all slaves, who had no structured means to provide for themselves. Lincoln, by most accounts, agreed there would be disruptions within society, but that was preferable to continued slavery. Lincoln realized that newly freed slaves would not be able to work their way up the American social ladder without some assistance. To his point, within weeks, he supported the Freedman’s Bureau Bill, which provided for funds to help newly freed and dislocated slaves.

After almost four hours of talks on board the River Queen, Commissioner Hunter offered his summary of the Conference. He said that the talks left nothing for the South but "unconditional submission” to the North; but Seward promptly replied that the words “unconditional submission” had not been used by either Lincoln or him. Seward continued, "Yielding to the execution of the laws under the Constitution of the United States, with all its guarantees and securities for personal and political rights, was not unconditional submission to conquerors." To further ease the Commissioners’ concerns Lincoln said that he had the sole power to pardon, and restore property, and he would liberally exercise that authority.

Despite these critical opposing views, there were some agreements reached. Lincoln was willing to resume prisoner exchanges and said he would so advise General Grant. Then, as a personal gesture, Lincoln agreed to pardon Alexander Stephens’ nephew who was held as a prisoner of war.

The Aftermath

Although, as he had expected, the Commissioners, certainly under direction from Jefferson Davis, had rejected his terms for peace, Lincoln hoped that individual secessionist states would realize the futility of continuing to fight, would withdraw their support (and their troops) from the Confederate armies, and approach the administration for reconciliation. Lincoln believed one key initiative could accelerate those prospects; compensation to the former slave-owners. He proposed to his Cabinet that Congress authorize a fund of $400,000,000 for compensation which the administration could pay proportionally to each slaveholding state, including the four border states which had never seceded, based on their slave populations in 1860. The Cabinet members, without exception, opposed the idea and they all agreed Congress would never approve the funds. As a result, Lincoln never made that specific proposal public.

Congressional leaders wanted assurances from Lincoln that, during the conference, he had not made any concessions to the Confederacy which would not meet Congressional approval. Lincoln agreed to present a summary and on February 10th, he delivered his message to Congress. In an extraordinary gesture, he provided copies of the documents in his possession related to the Conference, and added a brief commentary to explain the purpose of each communication. Then he concluded with these remarks; "…nothing was said inconsistently therewith; while, by the other party it was not said that they ever would consent to re-union, and yet they equally omitted to declare that they would so consent. They seemed to desire a postponement of that question, and the adoption of some other course first (a cease-fire) which might or might not, lead to reunion.” Lincoln said he could not agree, so the Conference ended without result. The Congressional reaction was overwhelmingly favorable. Lincoln had won over many of his most vocal critics, at least for his handling of the Conference.

One reporter observed, “The president gave enough information in the report to show the subtle wisdom with which his mission had been conducted and concluded. When the reading was completed, an instant and irrepressible storm of applause erupted begun by the members on the floor, and taken up by the people in the gallery.... The Speaker only perfunctorily attempted to quell it."

Even Thaddeus Stevens, one of Lincoln’s most severe critics and a proponent of harsh measures against members of the Confederacy, said, “I do not believe there was a man on this side who desired to sue for peace, so close was the Union to victory in the war. But the President thought it was best to make the effort, and he has done it in such a masterly style, upon such a firm basis and principle, that I believe those of us who thought his mission there was unwise, will accord to him sagacity and patriotism, and applaud his action."

Of course, there were a few Democrats, sympathetic to the South, who criticized the President for not considering the interim cease-fire proposal made by the Commissioners.

And the New York Times which had expressed doubt about Blair’s mission, headlined simply, “We escaped the meddlesome antics of Blair due to the good sense of President Lincoln!”

The Times continued that Lincoln had “…swept away the doubts of many Northerners that the rebels were fighting for independence” instead, the Times further noted, “The rebels were primarily fighting to maintain slavery. Hampton Roads should now unite all (Union) men, without distinction of party, in a cordial support of the Government and a vigorous prosecution of the war."

The New York Herald, wrote that Lincoln was "…one of the shrewdest diplomats of the day. At the same time Lincoln's liberality regarding the restoration of Constitutional rights in the South, combined with his firm commitment to reunion will operate to widen the distractions, dissensions, demoralizations and confusion existing throughout the rebellious States. The next rebel military disaster will inevitably precipitate a Southern popular revolution in behalf of peace and of submission to the Union."

As expected, the reactions from political leaders and newspapers in the South were, at first, universally angry. President Davis denounced Lincoln's rejection of an interim cease-fire and one editorial declared, “The black republican president demands an unconditional submission to the laws and authority of the United States—the sort of submission which the slave yields to the master.” (An interesting analogy from a slave-holder.) In fact, as some in the north had worried, there seemed to be a brief time wherein the rhetoric of Davis, and others who spoke against Lincoln’s stance, may have lifted the defiant spirit of some citizens and soldiers. But not for long!

It soon became evident that most of the Southern public were tired of the war, which their leaders had promised would be quick and would lead to a glorious victory. Instead, Lincoln’s terms were so clear, and the Union military advantage so strong, that even distortions of his message by Davis and die-hard Confederate politicians and newspapers could not stem the tidal wave of despair among their citizens and their soldiers in the field. Divisions within the South were reaching a breaking point by the end of February.

And Lincoln’s second inauguration was only days away.

So, by almost any measure, the Hampton Roads Conference was successful for President Lincoln and the Union. The Southern populous, their Generals, and the politicians, now knew the exact terms to end the war; which was that they must lay down their arms, submit to United States jurisdiction, and accept the demise of the Confederacy. They also knew that full emancipation was a reality that they had to face and that slavery was, in fact, as Lincoln said, “Doomed.”

If, as some historians claim, the only test of whether the Hampton Roads Conference was successful, would have been a signed peace treaty to end hostilities; then they can state that it was a failure or a meaningless gesture. 

However, in so many ways, they would be wrong!

Sherman’s Andersonville Dilemma (Article 73)

In April, 1864, Union General William Tecumseh Sherman had been given a mission by his superior officers; to take his over 60,000 Union troops out of Tennessee, into Georgia. Once there, he was to conquer Atlanta, move southeast through Macon (a strategic rail center) and then march to the sea to take Savannah. The strategy behind the Georgia campaign was not to just capture important Southern cities, but to split the diminishing Confederate forces and to demoralize the population so that they would seek an earlier end to the Civil War. An ancillary mission was to, hopefully, weaken the Confederate resistance against General Grant’s forces in Virginia by Robert E. Lee’s army; as Sherman moved his troops further south and around those battlefields.

General Sherman completed his mission, but under a historical cloud. The Georgia campaign is forever marked in history for the burning of Atlanta and for the widespread (and some say unnecessary) destruction of homes and farms during his army’s “March to the Sea” toward Savannah.

But, during that same time-period, there was another immense human tragedy taking place in Georgia, near a town called Andersonville, in a prison named Camp Sumter. The Union soldiers, held there as prisoners-of-war, suffered under inhumane conditions; a situation, at least in part, known to many Northern civilian and military officials. By the time Sherman was preparing to leave Tennessee for Georgia, he was aware of the existence of Camp Sumter, if not of the full scope of the unfolding tragedy. In spite of that knowledge, Sherman’s Georgia campaign strategy did not include the liberation of the lightly defended prison complex; and some critics suggest that it should have.

The prison had been started in December 1863, with a plan to house 10,000 Union prisoners, but was still unfinished when the first prisoners began to arrive in February 1864. In only a few months the prison population swelled to over 33,000 and conditions deteriorated rapidly. Sherman was at least somewhat aware of the deplorable conditions within the prison since a few men had escaped and told of the many prisoners who had died, and were dying, of starvation and disease. His large army would be within about 140 miles of Andersonville during his two-month siege of Atlanta (from early July-September 3rd), and even closer, about 50 miles, as the army marched through Macon, Georgia; on the way to Savannah. However, Sherman decided to not veer the army off course to liberate the thousands of Union prisoners suffering at Camp Sumter. By most estimates, at least 13,000 prisoners died there with many succumbing from the time Sherman entered Georgia in April 1864 until their liberation in April 1865.

 Why did Sherman not prioritize the liberation of the Andersonville prisoners? Certainly, many more would have survived if they had been rescued anytime during Sherman’s nine-month campaign in Georgia.

 Sherman gave various reasons for his decision.  After he completed his march to the sea in December 1864 he said he had been given a mission that was never altered. Then, just after the war, he said that he could not justify dividing his forces since he could not be sure of the size and capabilities of Confederate General John Bell Hood’s forces which were in the area. Later, he said that, while it would have been a humanitarian mission to relieve the suffering of the prisoners, if he had divided his forces to essentially begin a second and separate campaign, it would have put the remaining soldiers under his command at greater risk in battle against the enemy. He also explained that he could not have cared for the prisoners without halting his campaign; which was probably a fact, since he had organized his force to travel quickly, (read lightly), from Atlanta and obtained most of his food supplies by foraging off the land. Therefore, Sherman believed that he could not have fed and cared for another 30,000 sick soldiers.

 What is often lost is that he did permit a voluntary, but limited, attempt at liberating Andersonville in July 1864 when he agreed that General George Stoneman could undertake a rescue mission after his 2,200 men destroyed railroad tracks near Atlanta and otherwise disrupted General Hood’s supply lines. General Stoneman had requested that Sherman grant permission for the liberation effort after completing his primary mission; and General Sherman agreed that Stoneman’s idea might work. In his memoirs, Sherman wrote, “There was something most captivating in the idea, and the execution was within the bounds of probable success.” Sherman recalled that, in his orders to Stoneman, he wrote, “If you can bring back to the army any or all of those prisoners of war, it will be an achievement that will entitle you, and your command, to the love and admiration of the whole country.”

 But, it was not to be!

 The attempt ended in a disaster for the Union Army when Stoneman was caught in a pincer action between two Confederate forces. Stoneman decided that he and 700 of his troops would remain in place to provide withering cover fire for 1,500 of his men who would attempt an escape through enemy lines. The larger group did break out; however, soon afterward, Stoneman and the 700 remaining troops ran out of ammunition, were captured, and became prisoners themselves. Fortunately for Stoneman and his men, they were not taken to Andersonville, and were exchanged a few months later for a like number of Confederate soldiers in Union hands.

A few weeks after Stoneman’s failed attempt at liberation of Andersonville, on September 1, 1864, Confederate forces under General John Bell Hood pulled out of Atlanta and the city was surrendered the next day. Sherman sent a famous message to Abraham Lincoln writing, “Atlanta is ours, and fairly won.” During the siege, the Union Army had fired thousands of artillery shells into the city, some of which caused fires. Then when Confederate General Hood abandoned the city, he ordered the destruction of military facilities, equipment, and supplies which he could not carry; some by setting more fires. Because Hood’s army remained in the area, Sherman chose to extend his stay in Atlanta to defend the city, and did not leave for Macon and then Savannah until mid-November. But then, before he set off on his famous “March to the Sea” on November 15, Sherman had his forces set fire, or otherwise destroy, any remaining facilities that might be of future use to Confederate troops, including warehouses, factories, and railroad facilities.  

When those later fires became uncontrollable, the result was the infamous “Burning of Atlanta.”

Sherman left the devasted city in the hands of a small defensive unit, and took his remaining 60,000 troops toward Savannah, Georgia, about 250 miles to the southeast.  As he passed within about fifty miles of Andersonville, we do not know if he considered a second attempt to liberate the prisoners held at Camp Sumter; we only know that no attempt was made.

Moving generally in front of Sherman’s advance, Confederate troops foraged their way across Georgia taking food, horses, mules and equipment from local farmers, many of whom, but not all, willingly shared what little they had with the Southern soldiers. Sherman’s troops followed the Confederate troops through the countryside, also foraging, but in their case, they often stole any remaining food and livestock they found, leaving the families destitute; and often burned the houses and barns of the farmers who resisted.

When Sherman arrived in Savannah on December 21, 1864, Confederate troops had already abandoned the city, and the citizens quickly surrendered. Therefore, unlike Atlanta, their town was spared. Sherman remained near Savannah for a few weeks to rebuild his supplies and rest his army.  With Bell’s Confederate troops scattered, some critics of Sherman argue that he could have then sent a contingent from Savannah back to liberate the Andersonville prisoners because his primary “mission” was complete; but, by that time Sherman had other plans. In January 1865, ten months after he entered Georgia, he turned his troops northward towards the Carolinas; where he would engage Confederate troops and forage off the small farms on his way back to established Union lines.

As time went on, General Sherman continued to reflect on his decision to not make further attempts to liberate Andersonville. After Stoneman’s capture, Sherman wrote, “Nothing but natural and intense desire to accomplish an end so inviting to one’s feelings would have drawn me to commit a military mistake at such a crisis, as that of dividing and risking my cavalry so necessary to the success of my campaign.” It appears Sherman’s only regret was that he divided his forces (no matter how small the contingent) to allow Stoneman’s liberation attempt. After the Stoneman debacle, Sherman wrote to his wife, “I have already lost Stoneman & near 2,000 Cavalry in attempting to rescue the Prisoners at Macon (Andersonville). I get one hundred letters a day to effect the exchange or release of these Prisoners.” But Sherman would not yield to those hundreds of appeals. In his memoirs, Sherman wrote, “(There were)…more than twenty-five thousand prisoners confined in a stockade designed for only ten thousand; debarred of the privilege of gathering wood out of which to make huts; deprived of sufficient healthy food, and the little stream that ran though their prison-pen poisoned and polluted by the offal from their cooking and butchering houses above.”

Some historians blame much of the suffering at Andersonville on the Union decision, in early 1864, to stop permitting most prisoner exchanges, which had been a common practice until that time. Union leaders including Edwin Stanton, Secretary of War, and General Ulysses S. Grant, did not support additional prisoner exchanges with the Confederacy because they did not want to help re-enforce the diminishing Southern armies. There was some logic to the decision as it was common for released Confederates to be pressed back into service, while the Union army did not necessarily need the additional troops gained from any exchange. General Grant wrote in a letter “It is hard on our men held in Southern prisons not to exchange them, but it is humanity to those left in the ranks to fight our battles. Every man (Confederate soldier) released on parole or otherwise, becomes an active soldier against us at once, either directly or indirectly. If we commence a system of exchange which liberates all prisoners taken, we will have to fight on until the whole South is exterminated.”

General Sherman had to live with his decisions to never again attempt to liberate Andersonville and to cause such destruction throughout Georgia. But his mission was to conquer Atlanta and destroy the city’s ability to provide supplies to the Confederate armies, to then drive across Georgia to cut the Confederacy in half, and to take Savannah. He accomplished his mission, and, for most Generals, despite other collateral suffering, that is their sufficient reward; it evidently was for General William Tecumseh Sherman. To him, he did his job!

The prisoners at Andersonville just had to wait.

A Scandal in the Cabinet - Simon Cameron (Article 72)

“I have the ability to make money, I do not need to steal it.”  - Simon Cameron

 Newly elected President Abraham Lincoln asked Pennsylvania Congressman Thaddeus Stevens about the honesty of Simon Cameron, also from Pennsylvania, who was seeking the Cabinet position of either Secretary of War or Secretary of Treasury. Stevens, well known for his acerbic wit, supposedly replied, “I do not believe he would steal a red-hot stove.” After his comments were leaked to Cameron who protested, Stevens then said, “On second thought, he would steal the hot stove.”

 One contemporary of Cameron’s attempted to explain his combination of a gregarious personality and selfish interests by saying, “I always knew I would be fleeced, but I did enjoy the fleecing.” Cameron’s early years are difficult to explain because Cameron offered various versions over time; for example, early in his business career he claimed to be an orphan, but he was not. He became an apprentice with a printer and, at 21, started his own newspaper. He became a successful business man and a Pennsylvania political leader who was known to provide patronage to his friends and to withhold it from others. He was adept at raising money to finance rail lines, manufacturing facilities and a bank. Much of his own cash flow came from his appointment as the Pennsylvania state printer. He served as a U.S. Senator from his state both before and then after the Civil War. He often signed documents and letters as “General” but had never served in the military. When asked, he said that it derived from his position as Adjutant General of Pennsylvania (a largely administrative position) early in his career. He was derisively referred to in some newspapers as “The Great Winnebago Chief” for his self-rewarding efforts in settling a Native American dispute, and by others as “The Czar of Pennsylvania” for his control over much of the state’s political machinery.

 Cameron’s quote that he did not “need to steal” was probably accurate because “Czar” Cameron was a master at patronage, the politician’s currency; simply stated as, “do something for me or mine, and I’ll do something for you or yours.” He understood the power of patronage and wielded it in local and state politics for years.

 However, by 1860, Cameron had higher ambitions and hoped he might become the Republican Presidential nominee at that year’s convention; but, when he realized several others had more committed delegates, he set his sights on being named Treasury Secretary. The ultimate Republican nominee, Abraham Lincoln, wanted his Cabinet to be geographically (and politically) diverse and he sought Cabinet members with their region as one qualifier; which gave Cameron a chance despite his record of cronyism. Although Lincoln had warned his floor managers at the Chicago Republican convention to not bind him to any federal appointments in return for delegate votes, Cameron may have received such assurances and Lincoln felt obligated to consider him for some post. Since he had a better qualified candidate for Treasury Secretary, in Salmon Chase, Lincoln finally asked Cameron to be the Secretary of War. Both were important Cabinet posts in an administration which faced, at best, the break-up of the United States and, at worst, the prospect of Civil War; and Cameron accepted Lincoln’s offer.

 After his inauguration, on March 4,1861, Lincoln did not want the administration to appear on a war footing, as he still held some hope that no more than the initial seven states would attempt secession and that some peaceful resolution was possible rather than civil war. Cameron agreed with Lincoln’s cautious approach and, other than working with the aging and hobbled General Winfield Scott to re-build the Army manpower lost from defections and resignations by southerners, Cameron took little action to improve the status of the Army. Until April 15, 1861!

 When the Confederates fired on Fort Sumter, Lincoln, his Cabinet, and the senior Generals still on duty, needed to quickly ramp up the Union army. In addition to more men, the U.S. Army would need more weapons, new facilities, uniforms, horses and mules, wagons, tents, and new roads and railroad tracks to move the men and equipment.  The War Department, led by Simon Cameron, devised an effective two-stage plan to rapidly build and equip the forces that would soon reach over 200,000 troops; an unprecedented scale! First, he looked to Northern state and local militias which already had trained and equipped units. He promised that the Federal government would fully repay the states and towns if they would send men and material from their militias to prepare for the defense of Washington DC and to defend critical railroad routes and telegraph lines.  At the federal level, Cameron coordinated with General-in-Chief, Winfield Scott, to expand the Army’s Quartermaster Corps and hired several hundred clerks at the War Department to process procurement orders. Almost all Quartermaster soldiers and civilian procurement clerks worked diligently and honorably to equip the new army. However, lurking in the background, were manufacturers, merchants, and traders who saw an opportunity and seized it. Some were aided by a few soldiers and government clerks who were in a position to steer lucrative contracts and did so for a bribe.

 Soon, Cameron was being accused of offering contracts to those he knew, and he was an easy target for those charges. Cameron had called on other successful businessmen, capable of ramping up businesses to meet the Army’s various needs, to “pitch in for the good of the cause.” Reliance on acquaintances was not, in and of itself, unusual, as almost any leader expected to rapidly build something from nothing would put trust in those already known. But, Simon Cameron made, or allowed others to make, terrible procurement decisions; some of which were million-dollar mistakes. (When, as they say, a million dollars was real money!)

 There are two truisms about war; some people will die and some people will get rich!  

 In the case of the Civil War, it did not take long for examples of corruption to become public. Some contract abuses were reported by competitors who did not win an army contract, some surfaced because an honest government clerk noticed an irregularity, and a few were discovered by reporters. But, by far, the most evidence of corruption came to light when the ultimate customer, those who served in the Army, received worthless products. Those included uniforms that fell apart, shoes with paper soles, old weapons marked as new, ammunition that did not match the weapons sent, spoiled food, and near-death horses and mules presented as healthy. Even products that met specifications were often outrageously overpriced.

 Any large organization eventually reflects the moral code of its leader. The War Department needed structure and ethical boundaries; but Simon Cameron was incapable of providing either. He valued action over diligence, promptness over inspection, and loyalty over competence, especially when he was spending government money, or buying on government credit.  Critics pointed out, rightly so, that he did not amass his fortune by being so cavalier with his own money. And, Cameron did not satisfy anyone when he said, “I have the ability to make money, I do not need to steal it.” The fact is, he probably never did directly steal from the government, nor is there any evidence he personally accepted a bribe in return for steering contracts to acquaintances. But he often did fail to act decisively when an individual or company was caught over charging, (such as Colt Fire Arms), or providing less than that for which the government had paid, (such as J.P. Morgan’s Hall Carbines, which did not work, and Brooks Brothers, whose shoddy uniforms fell apart).

 To some degree, Lincoln must share part of the blame. He had heard rumors of Cameron’s favoritism and poor management practices but chose to focus his own attention on actual war issues against the enemy and political issues in Washington, rather than the inefficiencies within the Army’s procurement processes. Lincoln may have rationalized that, in spite of the corruption, necessary supplies were being delivered at a record pace. But, by the end of 1861, congressional investigations into the mis-conduct within the War Department led Lincoln to consider replacing Cameron, before a public spectacle forced his hand.

 However, Cameron instead presented Lincoln with an unexpected gift; a different politically incendiary reason to push him out of the Cabinet. Cameron usurped Presidential authority!

 Without consulting Lincoln, Cameron sent to Congress his annual report which included a proposal to arm escaped slaves and Black Freedmen and to form them into special fighting units for use against southern forces.  The militarization of former slaves had previously been proposed by abolitionists, but Lincoln rejected it (at the time) because he was concerned the Union might lose the support of the four border states (Delaware, Maryland, Kentucky and Missouri) where slavery was still legal. Lincoln had previously stopped Union Generals from arming slaves and told his Cabinet the time was not right for such a radical step. While Cameron had now given Lincoln a better reason to remove him, Lincoln knew that he needed to appease Cameron’s Pennsylvania voters and legislators and the abolitionists who supported the arming former slaves. So, Lincoln did what Presidents have always done, he offered Cameron another job - the Ambassadorship to Russia! Lincoln’s initial private termination letter to Cameron was terse and uncomplimentary; and Cameron was said to be devastated. Then, as Lincoln often did, he issued a second, softer, public letter which graciously claimed that he had accepted Cameron’s resignation with regret and that the Country would benefit from Cameron’s service in Russia. Lincoln’s second letter, for which Cameron would always be grateful, served to blunt some of, but not all of, the future criticism of Cameron’s brief tenure as Secretary of War.

 Lincoln then reached out to an old antagonist, Edwin Stanton, who was a Democrat, a Washington Lawyer, and an outspoken Unionist. Stanton had already counseled Cameron on several occasions about procurement contracts, so, he was well aware of the corruption scandals being investigated by Congress. Lincoln and Stanton had crossed paths before, when, as a prominent eastern business attorney, Stanton had refused to work with Lincoln (at the time a country lawyer), humiliating Lincoln in the process. However, in typical Lincoln fashion, that episode did not deter him from offering Stanton the position in his Cabinet. Stanton still viewed Lincoln as an incompetent President; but, Stanton accepted the assignment as the new Secretary of War because, he told others, “It was best for the Country.” And it was! Over the next three years, Stanton led the War Department honorably and effectively; and, over time he came to appreciate and admire Abraham Lincoln as President.

 Some historians find a conspiracy theory in Lincoln’s appointment of Stanton to be Secretary of War. At the time Lincoln selected Stanton, he was unaware that it was actually Stanton, as counselor to Cameron, who had written Cameron’s message to Congress which supported the arming of Black Freedmen and run-away slaves; the very document that had cost Cameron his job! While those historians speculate whether Lincoln, with that knowledge in hand, might have made a different choice; most historians agree that Stanton was the right person, at the right time, to end the chaos in the War Department.

 But what of Cameron?

 Cameron’s appointment as Ambassador to Russia was narrowly confirmed by the Senate. Then, Ambassador Cameron took such a long (and expensive) journey throughout Europe on his way to St. Petersburg, that he spent little time there on his diplomatic responsibilities. And, within months of arriving in Russia, Cameron presented Lincoln with another gift; he asked to be relieved of his mission. Lincoln would finally be rid of this nemesis.

 Cameron resumed his business enterprises and again became a political force in Pennsylvania, returning to the U.S. Senate in 1867. He served in the Senate until 1877, and typical of Cameron’s self-dealing, he only resigned in a deal that assured his son would be appointed to his seat. And, for the rest of his life, Cameron claimed that, under the circumstances of a necessary rapid build-up of an army, he was successful as Secretary of War; and, he said, that Lincoln’s kind public statement, and the subsequent Union victory, proved his point.

 But most historians view his tenure less favorably. He was disorganized to the extreme and did not follow up on early signs of corruption. Then, often, when contractors were caught bilking the Army and/or those were identified who aided their efforts by accepting bribes or favors, Cameron failed to act quickly to punish the culprits. But, despite congressional hearings about the rampant corruption within and around the War Department, Cameron was never personally charged with malfeasance. None of the investigations uncovered any evidence that Cameron personally accepted a bribe or diverted funds for his own use. The fact was that Simon Cameron benefited by trading in favors and patronage, rather than outright theft or graft.

 So, does Simon Cameron deserve his poor reputation as Secretary of War? While he did equip a large army, his management oversight was lacking, his mistakes were many and expensive, and he never established clear moral and ethical boundaries within the War Department.

 On the other hand, he was never caught stealing a hot stove.

Q & A August 1, 2018

Last month I offered eight of the many questions, comments, and/or constructive criticisms I had received over the past year, primarily from readers of my blogs/articles. Here are few more which made me pause, due further research, and/or argue my position.

 1.      (Q): In a recent article about Abraham Lincoln and Steven A. Douglas, you briefly mentioned the debates they held throughout Illinois. I know the debates became famous later, but were they well attended at the time, how did the public learn “Where and When” information as there was no mass media, and did the debates have any effect on that 1858 election for the Senate seat? (A): This could almost be another blog, but I will try to be brief. (1) There were seven debates and they were all well attended, considering the relatively small Illinois population in 1858; an estimated 1,400,000 people of whom only about 200,000 were voters, as only men employed or with property could vote. In some locations, the attendance was greater than the population of the community. (2) Both Douglas and Lincoln were popular speakers at a time when that was a form of public entertainment. Newspapers and printed handbills, which touted the events, were plentiful as it was common to have two or more newspapers and pamphleteers in even smaller towns. So, spreading the word was no problem. (3) I do not believe the debates had much affect on that specific state legislative election, since Democrats held a majority in the Illinois legislature which would select the Senator. However, the debates were followed in the national press, and a popular book was published which summarized the talking points, both of which were of enormous benefit to Lincoln in the 1860 Republican nominating process and the Presidential election. I doubt if he would have been well enough known (name recognition was equally important then) to even win the Republication nomination, if it were not for the debates.

 2.       (Q): You have written about the Hampton Roads Peace Conference which occurred in February, 1865, but you did not mention, as far as I know, the peace plan proposed by Preston Blair a month earlier to President Lincoln and Confederate President Jefferson Davis, with the support of a few Confederate and Union leaders, to combine their forces against the French, who had invaded Mexico and installed a puppet Emperor in defiance of the Monroe Doctrine.  Blair’s plan could have ended the Civil War earlier, after giving North and South a common goal, and could have been helpful to reconstruction. Did Lincoln or Davis ever acknowledge Blair’s plan and do you believe the joint Mexican invasion would have been helpful? (A): Blair was the initial catalyst for several complicated meetings, over a five-week period, which led to the Hampton Roads Peace Conference; however, his Mexico invasion plan was quickly rejected by both Lincoln and Davis. (Note: this is a very brief explanation). On December 28, 1864, Preston Blair, a Union supporter, but, also a long-time friend of Jefferson Davis, met with Lincoln and requested that he be permitted to pass through battle lines to meet with Davis in Richmond, Virginia, the Confederate Capital. Blair told Lincoln the time might be right to encourage Davis to seek a peace accord.  Lincoln did not expect any legitimate peace offers but did hope that Blair might assess the public mood in Richmond, which was under constant threat by Union forces, so he granted the pass. However, he told Blair he was not authorized to officially make any commitments on behalf of the Union government or the President. On January 13, 1865, Blair spent several hours in private discussions with Davis, during which he exceeded his authority when he brought up his own plan that called for an invasion of Mexico. Blair proposed that the two sides consider a cease fire, followed by the formation of a joint military force, which would invade Mexico, remove the French imposed Emperor, and restore the Mexican legitimate government; which had earlier been forced to disperse by the French. Blair believed that after a successful common mission, the opportunity for a permanent end to the Civil War might be advanced. Blair also thought that some Union Congressmen, who were opposed to Lincoln’s vigorous pursuit of the war and were willing to accept the Confederacy as a legitimate government, might support his plan. Blair knew that Lincoln had already dismissed any idea of an invasion of Mexico (which by proxy, would be war with France) and was content to give the Mexican people time to overthrow the foreign Emperor. In Blair’s first meeting with Jefferson Davis, he also rejected the idea; so, the two Presidents agreed on at least one point. Davis did, however, offer to Blair some encouragement that he would discuss a cease-fire and open a dialogue “between our two countries” for a peace accord. Blair returned to Washington with a letter from Davis for Lincoln and held a second meeting with Lincoln on January 18. Blair told Lincoln that his Confederate friends in Richmond were discouraged and believed their cause was lost; but that Davis remained convinced the Confederacy could survive. Lincoln then gave Blair permission for another trip back to Richmond to visit Davis. Lincoln wrote a letter to Blair, knowing it would be shared with Davis, which offered to informally receive any person who was presently “resisting national authority” who might seek peace for “our one common Country.” Blair returned to Richmond, met with Davis, and, at that meeting, Blair encouraged Davis to appoint a Peace Commission. Although there were fits and starts, the Conference was finally held, at Hampton Roads, Virginia on February 3, 1865; attended by Lincoln, Secretary of State Seward, Vice-president of the Confederacy Alexander Stephens and two other Southern Commissioners. The Conference did not specifically advance the cause for peace since Lincoln would not consider a continuation of the Confederacy (the so-called “two-nations” solution) and the commissioners were only authorized by Davis to discuss a cease-fire and peace between “our two countries.” So, there was no middle ground. However, although no peace accord was reached, the Conference was valuable because both leaders then knew exactly where the other stood; they knew there would be no “two nations” discussions, no interim cease-fire, and the Civil War would be fought to the bitter end. Blair’s idea of an invasion of Mexico was not only unwise, it was proved to be unnecessary because a native Mexican insurgency, led by legitimate President Benito Juarez, successfully regained Mexican Independence in 1867.

 3.      (Q): I just saw a film called “The Conspirator” which made the case that Mary Surratt, the owner of the boarding house where John Wilkes Booth met with others to plot Lincolns death, was in fact, innocent. The movie seemed to blame Secretary of War Stanton for the rush to judgement and her execution. What do you think, and why? (A): I saw the film about ten years ago and it occasionally resurfaces on cable. It seemed to be a reasonably accurate, but simplified, portrayal of the individuals and events; and, as with most films, it was fictionalized for dramatic effect. As to Mary Surratt’s actual guilt or innocence, I wish I knew, and so do most historians; but we do not. Mrs. Surrat was certainly around those who were conspiring; including own her son who escaped, was captured two years later, but was never convicted. She was also known to be a Southern sympathizer (by birth) which was not unusual in Washington DC at the time; it was after-all, a southern city. However, there was no testimony at the trial that directly linked her to the plot other than the prosecution’s charge that “she was there, and she must have known” and they hammered that point. Further, she claimed to not know of her son’s involvement nor where her son could be; which the prosecution claimed were lies to protect her son. She was convicted on that circumstantial evidence and sentenced to die; although, there were others who were charged in the case and who clearly had some direct involvement with Booth but who were, instead, given life sentences.  Throughout the trial, Lewis Powell (AKA Lewis Payne), who had attempted to murder Secretary of State Seward, had steadfastly claimed that Mrs. Surratt knew nothing of the plot and said he regretted returning to her boarding house (after the attack) because it seemed to implicate her. On the gallows, Powell again declared, “Mrs. Surratt is innocent and should not die with us!” There is no doubt that Secretary of War Stanton was convinced of her guilt and the new President, Andrew Johnson, went so far as to revoke the right of Habeas Corpus for Mrs. Surratt just before her execution to prevent Federal judges, who were sympathetic to her case, from issuing a writ of Habeas Corpus to review her conviction. Although she consistently proclaimed that she had no knowledge of the assassination plot, her military trial was orchestrated to assure “guilty until proven innocent” rather than the customary legal standard in civilian courts of “innocent until proven guilty.” We will probably never know for sure whether she had any direct involvement in, or even knowledge of, the assassins’ plans. Personally, I believe that she likely had some knowledge of a conspiracy on behalf of the Confederacy, but, that she did not know of the assassination plot. Further, I believe President Johnson should not have waived Habeas Corpus, but should have let the legal process work-out; however, that was not the only in-temperate decision he made during his tenure as President. But, that, as they say, is another story.

 4.      (Q): I have seen a list of axioms for success for our nation that have been attributed to Abraham Lincoln. They were called “Lincoln on Limitations of Government” and they include the following: (1) You cannot help the poor by destroying the rich. (2) You cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong. (3) You cannot help the wage earner by pulling down the wage payer. (4) You cannot further the brotherhood of man by encouraging class hatred. (5) You cannot keep out of trouble by spending more than you earn, (6) You cannot build character and courage by taking away man’s initiative and independence. (7) You cannot help men permanently by doing for them what they could, and should, do for themselves. (8) You cannot bring about prosperity by discouraging thrift. (9) You cannot establish sound security on borrowed money. Did Abraham say these things? (A): Thank you for asking rather than just re-posting and sharing. Lincoln never said this. In fact, the quote is a compilation of comments used by William Boetcker, a minister and public speaker, in the early 20th century.  Boetcker was a proponent of industrialization as the proper way to national prosperity, and these were what he called "nuggets" in a series of lectures. When compiled into one document, they became known as "The Industrial Decalogue" or the "The American Charter."  Ronald Reagan mistakenly, on several occasions, attributed some of these quotes to Lincoln, but he was not the first nor the last to do so; Governor Kasich made the same mistake in his campaign in 2016. Historians always try to correct the errors but the media lazily does not even try; and the uninformed on the internet just repeat the quote which perpetuates the myth. I even found a poster in a Springfield souvenir shop with these words on paper made to look old and with Lincoln's image over-laid; (I should have made a scene, I suppose).  In his political career, Lincoln did make comments on government’s role in the lives of citizens. In one instance, when he was in the Illinois legislature, he said (paraphrased) that the government’s duty was to do for the people what they could not do individually for themselves; but he was referring to building roads, bridges, and waterways. As to these axioms, I think the message is a good one, but the wrong messenger is given credit. Remember, Lincoln is also quoted as saying “Don’t believe everything you read on the internet.”

 5.      (Q): I saw a post recently that listed Lincoln as one of the Presidents who had an affair. Did he, and if so, with whom? Nonsense! This does not even rise to the level of historical speculation. He was married to a sometimes volatile and difficult woman, Mary Todd, but theirs was a fairly typical marriage in that day. No reputable historian, and there are many, has ever claimed that he was an unfaithful husband. (See the last line of the previous response.)

 6.      (Q): What is your opinion of George McClellan? To set you up, I believe he was a victim of Lincoln’s impatience, but was an outstanding General; and he would have made a great President in 1864, re-unifying north and south and saving thousands of lives. What say you? (A): My opinion of the man is not as harsh as some but probably not as favorable as yours. My military experience is limited to six years as an Air Force officer, but I have always believed a successful national military force (in this case an Army) requires at least three types of senior commanders/leaders. (1) The battlefield tactician who can earn the soldier’s trust and lead them in the chaos of battle (sometimes called the fog of war). (2) The strategic battle planner who can deploy large forces successfully against an enemy by anticipating significant events; and who has appointed good battlefield tacticians to carry out the orders. Equally important, but usually not recognized as such is (3), the logistical planner who can manage the process required to build, equip, and train a large military force. Only a few successful military leaders in history combined all three attributes, and most do not even master two of these skill-sets. McClellan was type-3, and he was a great logistical planner. I believe he was essential to the Union’s ability to create an effective large army, when only a small and disorganized army existed at the outbreak of civil war. This was a predicament caused by the lack of a large standing army since there was no international threats, combined with the defection of some experienced officers and soldiers to the Confederacy. The Union army in 1861 had fewer than 1,200 officers and 20,000 men; with antiquated arms; and then, nearly one third of that force left to serve on the Confederate side. General McClellan, who was a graduate of the U.S. Military Academy, but had left the Army to become a successful railroad executive, was recommended by the aging General Winfield Scott as one who had the logistical talent to build an army. Lincoln followed that advice and in the first year of the war, was complimentary of McClellan. McClellan deserves credit as a masterful executive, a leader of other officers and senior non-commissioned officers who could transform civilians into soldiers; and he was the right man for that job at that time. He created an Army large enough, well enough equipped, and well enough trained to be ready to fight a multi-front Civil War. Unfortunately, the accolades he received for this accomplishment brought out, in the young General, an arrogance that led him to disregard a fundamental American code; the obligation of the military to follow the direction of the Commander-in-Chief. His dis-respect for the President was often public and embarrassing. His military failures came as he needed to transition from a logistical General, to a strategic battle planner. He had built a magnificent army but did not seem to know what to do with it, or perhaps he was afraid of failure in the field and lacked the confidence to commit those forces. (Lincoln once remarked to the effect that if McClellan was not going to use his Army, perhaps Lincoln could borrow it.) In the second year of the war, McClellan consistently over-estimated the enemy strength, failed to take the initiative, and, over time, lost the confidence of the President. As far as McClellan’s run for the Presidency in 1864, he might have defeated Lincoln if it were not for several significant Union battlefield victories that summer and fall which encouraged both the citizenry, and the soldiers who were fighting the war, that Lincoln’s policies were on the right track. For the nation’s future, however, I believe McClellan’s Presidency would have been a disaster as he was prepared to initiate a peace settlement which could have left the Confederacy intact as a separate country, enabled the revocation of the Emancipation Proclamation, which could have resulted in freed slaves being returned to their former masters, and he would not have supported the Thirteenth Amendment.  He probably could have steered a peace agreement; but at a cost of a reunified Country and continued enslavement of millions. In my view, McClellan was the right man to build an army, but, the wrong man to lead it to victory; and he would have been the wrong man to become President. I assume you disagree with my assessment and I would encourage you to explain your position further.

Contact the author by e-mail at  gadorris2@gmail.com

Q & A July 15, 2018

Q and A July 2018

 About 80% of the e-mails I receive after a new blog/article is published, after a reader finishes one of my books, or attends one of my presentations, are complimentary (I really like those). However, the other 20% posed questions, made specific comments challenging my position, or offered constructive (or not so constructive) criticisms. These are a few of those which made me pause, due further research, and/or argue my position. I’ll send a few more in August.

 1.      (Q): In an article in May 2018, you wrote of the flight of Jefferson Davis from Richmond as Union forces advanced and you told us the story of his capture. However, you only added a footnote that he was held in prison for two years without trial before being released. What did he do with the rest of his life? Tell us more! (A): I heard from several readers, with either this question or comments that they had done their own research to learn more about Jefferson Davis. With this level of interest, I am planning a follow-up article in the fall about the rest of the life of Jefferson Davis. Suffice it to say for now, after his release in 1867, he was helped financially by wealthy friends, and wrote a two volume first person account of the Confederacy titled, “The Rise and Fall of the Confederate Government.”  He lived until 1889, and always remained convinced that the Confederacy was noble, secession was constitutionally legal, the invasion of southern states by the Union was illegal, and slavery was morally and biblically justified.

 2.      (Q): You seem to imply that all Southerners were eager to secede from the United States and that is a false narrative. In fact, most of the men who eventually became leaders of the Confederacy were loyal American patriots, such as Generals Robert E. Lee, James Longstreet, Joseph E. Johnston, and Stonewall Jackson; and even President Jefferson Davis, who had cautioned against secession. The election of Abraham Lincoln, an avowed abolitionist who disrespected southern culture, convinced these men, and other Southern leaders, that the United States government would erode the rights of individual states to control their own societies within their own borders. Secession was their only alternative. (A): I hope I never gave the impression that I believed “all” Southerners were eager to secede. I agree that many Southerners hoped for some compromise to avoid secession, especially the four Generals you name. Also, until about 1860, Davis may have cautioned against secession, but by the time he resigned from the U.S. Senate, he embraced secession. He anticipated a civil war and had hoped to be named Commanding General of Confederate forces but was instead selected as President of the Confederate States; hardly a stand against secession. Further, I and most historians, disagree with your assertion that Lincoln was an abolitionist; he simply was not. Throughout the campaign of 1860 and even at his inauguration in March of 1861, Lincoln consistently stated that he would have no power, or any intention, as President of interfering with the (then) constitutional right to own slaves. There are several historical certainties about Abraham Lincoln. He despised slavery and thought it a stain on the United States. He did not pursue the Civil War to end slavery, but to end secession and preserve the Union. He simply saw an opportunity to end slavery once the South was defeated but supported passage of the Thirteenth Amendment to Constitution which was the only way to officially end the right, in the United States, for one human to own another and treat the slave as property.

 3.      (Q): In your book and in a recent article, you quoted Confederate President Jefferson Davis as saying, “We will start and finish the War.” And, in speaking of President Lincoln, adding, “There is no fire in his fight.” I have researched the life of Jefferson Davis and can not place those quotes and, in fact, understanding his character, I doubt if they are correct.  (A): In 2011, I found those quotes, purportedly by Jefferson Davis, in a series of articles on the founding of the Confederacy which were in the University of Virginia’s Library and History Department archives. (Now likely held in the new John L. Nau III Center for Civil War History). During my research for my first Lincoln book, the two quotes, among many others, were in several articles which discussed the early divisive conversations among Confederate leaders, including Davis, Alexander Stephens and Robert Toombs, as to the likelihood (and severity) of Northern retaliation for secession, and whether a Southern state should fire the first shot to begin the expected war. The quotes seemed genuine enough to me that I took some notes but there were no specific attributions. I have not studied the life of Davis as you must have and accept that the quotes may be out of context, or possibly never actually occurred (a problem with any Civil War era quote not found in the person’s own handwriting). I accept your position and, if in the future, I use those remarks when writing or talking about Jefferson Davis, I will include a disclaimer. However, I believe those, or similar, remarks, were included in discussions among the leaders of the formation of the Confederate States of America.

 4.      (Q): Recently, I attended a motivational presentation about the power of friendship and the speaker used the example of the wife of Ulysses S. Grant and the wife of Jefferson Davis, who the speaker claimed became friends after the Civil War. Could this be true?  (A): Yes. Julia Dent Grant was a gracious woman who seemed to have a gift for bringing calm to those around her; and she was a valuable companion to her husband throughout his career, especially during his two terms as President of the United States. The Grants moved to New York after his second term and she continued to live there after his death.  When Julia Grant learned that Varina Davis, who was the widow of former Confederate President Jefferson Davis, had relocated to New York, Mrs. Grant paid a formal call to introduce herself to the former First Lady of the Confederacy. The two soon became great friends; and gave us a poignant chapter in the epic story of the Civil War.

 5.      (Q): I have read many of your articles which tell of soldiers, and armies, and Generals in the Civil War. Have you ever researched and written about the Navies on either side?  I have probably not researched or written as much as the subject, and the sailors, deserve. A chapter in “Abraham Lincoln – An Uncommon, Common Man” is titled, “The Ironclads have arrived- Mr. Welles has built us a Navy,” and in that section I also mentioned the battle between the C.S.S. Alabama and the U.S.S. Kersarge in the English Channel. Then I briefly covered the U.S. Navy’s role in the battles for Mobile, Alabama, New Orleans, Louisiana, and Vicksburg, Mississippi in both the book and in a few blogs; but the focus was not on any individual sailors or any ship’s officers. Your question has prompted me to begin further research into that aspect of the Civil War, which, I agree, is often overlooked. I am not yet certain if specific articles will result, but that is an early goal and I have enjoyed the research so far.

 6.      (Q): In the past year you have written at least three articles about the Cherokee Indians, mentioning the in-famous Trail of Tears when their ancestral lands in Georgia were confiscated and they were forcefully removed west to Oklahoma. You then wrote about the Cherokee decision to align with the Confederate States, and recently about a white man who became a Cherokee chief and fought for the South. Is there a familial heritage connection to the Cherokee? Otherwise, why so much interest in that one tribe rather that the dozens of other indigenous peoples involved in the Civil War? First, while I would be honored to share my heritage with Native Americans, in fact my direct linage is Scotts-Irish back to the early 1600s. I did write an article titled “Lincoln’s Unsteady Indian Diplomacy” and another titled, “The Native American Dilemma – Which Side to Choose,” both of which mentioned several Native Nations, with the Cherokee being one. Recently, by coincidence only, I wrote two articles specifically about the Cherokee, but, each was from a different perspective.  The first, titled “A Nation Divided – The Cherokee” focused on the political factions within the “Eastern” Cherokee and the decision of one group to fight for the Confederates and another to later align with the Union. Unrelated to those earlier articles, I stumbled across an interesting character named Will Thomas, a white man, Cherokee Chief, state legislator, and Colonel in the Confederate Army, who became the primary focus of a new article. I can assure you that I started with no specific reason to research the Cherokee Nation, but I am glad that I did.

 7.       (Q): In your blog about Lincoln and Douglas you did not delve into what might have happened if Lincoln had been defeated by Douglas in the 1860 Presidential election. I believe that, if elected, a President Douglas would have prevented the Civil War, since Douglas would not have (illegally) invaded the Southern States as Lincoln did. Further, Douglas would have championed a compromise on the subject of slavery which would have allowed it to disappear over time. There was no need for nearly a million young men to die and the south’s infrastructure to be destroyed; except for Lincoln’s aggression, stubbornness, and spitefulness toward the people of the South. Would Douglas, or any other candidate besides Lincoln, have avoided the Civil War, in your opinion. (A): Douglas, the presumptive Democrat presidential candidate, was doomed early in the 1860 campaign because Southern Democrats chose to split from the national party and nominate John Breckenridge. (There was also a candidate under the Constitutional Union Party). But, by dividing the Democratic Party vote, neither Douglas nor Breckenridge could possibly win enough votes to overtake the nearly unified Republican Party candidate, Abraham Lincoln. The other candidates combined voter totals were greater than Lincoln received, so he was a “minority” President; but, he won substantially more votes than any other single candidate and he easily won the Electoral College vote. To make Lincoln’s vote totals even more impressive, he was not allowed on the ballot in most Southern states. Douglas’s problem was that Southern leaders, and the region’s citizen voters had no confidence that he could engineer another satisfactory compromise; although, to them, Douglas probably would have been preferable to Lincoln, but not by much.  Southern political leaders and the plantation aristocracy were convinced the North would continue to press anti-slavery measures in any new states, even if there was no specific action taken right away against the fifteen states with constitutionally protected slavery. Their fear was that under a Lincoln administration, the abolitionists would be even less restrained. I believe there would have been a Civil War sooner or later no matter who had been elected President in 1860; or whether or not the Confederates fired on Fort Sumter. The lines were drawn, with such a large gap between the sides that further compromise, satisfactory to both North and South, was not possible. At the time, there could only be either (a) two nations divided from the (former) United States, or (b) there would be Civil War; and, as we now know, war it was!

 8.      (Q): I have read your article “The Militarization of the South” with interest. You state as a fact that because many Southern gentlemen attended a military academy at either West Point or at one of several state or private military schools, their martial education made the Civil War more likely. While it is true that many officers in the antebellum army did resign from the U.S. Military Academy at West Point and offer their services to the Confederacy, the great majority of graduates remained in the U.S. Army. Also, it appears that civil careers had greater appeal to most young men. With far less education than is required today, a man could become a successful physician or an attorney. Someone with an aptitude for numbers could go to any town and earn steady pay as a clerk. Every boy knew men in his neighborhood who ran a mill and enjoyed a steady income with little effort. Any number of trades were available that demanded far less discipline and paid as well or better than the military.  As for young Southern men being encouraged to pursue a military career, at the moment I cannot think of a single instance. Robert E Lee and his older brother applied to West Point and Annapolis, respectively, because Anne Carter Lee had no money to pay for their college education. That was also the case for other young men like Thomas (Stonewall) Jackson who would not have received an education otherwise. For that matter, parents (North or South) were not inclined for their daughters to marry career military men. An officer in the antebellum army would almost certainly be sent to a remote and distant post for long periods of time. Who would want a daughter to make a home and raise grandchildren in such an environment, so far removed from her own family and friends? An officer's pay was not likely to advance a man in society, and there were much more favored professions for a young man to pursue. (A) Thank you for what is one of the most articulate (and civil) criticism of one of my articles. (Note: I needed to edit out a couple of paragraphs for brevity but hope I still conveyed the writers intent.) You have made some excellent points but we will have to agree to disagree. I believe the successful military experiences of Confederate President Jefferson Davis and the Generals on his staff, (especially since they had dominated Mexico in a brief war a few years earlier), gave these men a degree of confidence that they could quickly succeed in the first few engagements against a depleted and discouraged U.S. Army. I believe they over-estimated their own capabilities and under-estimated the resolve of the U.S. Army and its Commander-in-Chief, Abraham Lincoln. Of course, there is no certainty in either argument and I hope you continue to comment on future articles.

Contact the author at gadorris2@gmail.com and see other articles at the website:  www.alincolnbygadorris.com   

The Saga of Jefferson Davis (Articles 70 and 71)

““I have an infirmity of which I am heartily ashamed. When I am aroused in a matter, I lose control of my feelings and become personal.”  - Jefferson Davis

Like Lincoln, Jefferson Davis was born in a Kentucky log cabin, but his father moved to Mississippi, accumulated slaves, and built a prosperous cotton plantation.  Davis graduated from the U.S. Military Academy at West Point in 1835 and married the daughter of Zachary Taylor, his unit Commander, who later became President of the United States. Unfortunately, Davis's wife died in the first year of their marriage and he left the Army to return home to Mississippi. His brother gave him a working plantation near Vicksburg and Davis soon became wealthy in his own right.  He owned slaves, but rarely interacted with them, except those working in the house. Most slaves interviewed later said that his plantation was less harsh than most.  In 1845 he remarried to Varina Howell, who was twenty years younger, and, by most accounts, she helped him attain a “softer side” and she was a good companion.

 Davis began his national political career as a Senator from Mississippi in 1847.  He was respected by his colleagues, but his intense personality kept him from forming close friendships among the members his own Democrat Party or the Republicans in Congress.  He frequently clashed with Stephen Douglas over the perpetuity of the Union, and consistently argued for over ten years that states had the Constitutional right to secede.  Until about 1858, however, he usually denied that he personally harbored any goal of secession.  He was also one of the most vocal defenders of, in his words, the “Sacred and Constitutional right” to own slaves. 

 On January 9, 1861, he resigned from the U.S. Senate as Mississippi prepared to secede from the Union. In his farewell speech he said, “I leave not in hostility to others… but from the high and solemn motive of defending and protecting the rights we inherited, and which is our duty to transmit unshorn to our children.” He made it clear in his memoirs that he was referring to the right to own slaves and to bequeath them to future generations.

 Two months later, he was chosen as President of the Confederate States of America. At the time, Davis and other Confederate leaders believed that at least 13 states would join the new nation, but they erroneously counted on Kentucky and Missouri. So, Davis agreed to lead eleven primarily rural states with about nine million in population, of which over three million were slaves; against nineteen states with a highly industrialized economy and nearly twenty million people (not including the four Border States).

 Davis’s commitment to the Confederate cause bordered on zeal, and he was prone to rash decisions.  Alexander Stephens once said that if Davis couldn't find an enemy to confront, he would confront a friend. To assure Davis did not become too dictatorial, other Southern leaders positioned several more moderate voices around him, including Alexander Stephens as his Vice President, a move Davis resented.

 Davis knew there would be war, but he expected the North would soon tire of the losses, and the pressure on Lincoln from the Border States and others who did not want war for any reason, would lead to a quick resolution.  And, in the first year of the war, Davis had one early advantage over Lincoln, and that was the competence of his Generals.  Over the longer haul, however, he must have known the resources of the North would wear on the South.  Although, if he was ever about ready to give up the fight, he certainly left no record and those around him said his unwillingness to compromise with them, let alone with the Union, was entrenched. But Davis never wavered, and the war would go on for four years with a terrible toll in young lives lost and near total destruction of the South’s infrastructure.

 Then, on Sunday morning, April 2, 1865, Jefferson Davis realized that the Confederate States of America, which he had envisioned as an independent nation of eleven slave-holding states, was near its end.

 Davis was in his pew at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Richmond, Virginia when he was handed a message sent by General Robert E. Lee. It read, “I advise that all preparation be made for leaving Richmond tonight.” Other parishioners recalled that Davis stood up, gained his erect posture, and walked quickly out of the church. The message clearly indicated that General Lee had decided to abandon his positions near Petersburg and retreat further south to fight another day. But the retreat would leave the much larger Union forces a clear path to the Confederate Capital of Richmond; and, Lee was, in effect, telling the Confederate government to abandon the city that evening.

 Later that Sunday, hesitant to leave the city on such short notice, Davis sent a message to General Lee which read, “To depart from Richmond tonight would necessitate the loss of many valuables, both for the want of time to pack and of transportation.” It was clear that Davis believed that Lee could hold out longer, and he questioned Lee’s decision to retreat from the defensive positions around Petersburg. At first Lee was furious and tore the message apart saying, “I am sure I gave him sufficient time.”  But he immediately gained composure and wrote the President a respectful message stating that it was, “absolutely necessary that we should abandon our position (Petersburg) tonight.”

 Although he seemed defiant, Davis must have expected the fall of Richmond, just perhaps not that specific day, because, several days before, he had placed his wife, Varina, and their children on a train toward Charleston, South Carolina (or even further south if necessary, to avoid Union capture).  Jefferson Davis wanted his family to travel separately from him for two reasons; first, of course, for their safety, but also so that he could devote his energies to maintain some semblance of a functioning government. Varina later wrote that he told her, “I understand your desire to assist and comfort me, but you can do this in only one way, and that is by going yourself and taking our children to a place of safety. If I live, you can come to me when the struggle is ended; but I do not expect to survive the destruction of constitutional liberty.” While that phrasing may sound too formal today, it is probably exactly what her husband said; especially about the destruction of Constitutional liberty. Until his dying day, Davis vehemently (but mistakenly) espoused that the Constitution permitted secession and that Lincoln’s destructive “war of northern aggression” and his Emancipation Proclamation were both unconstitutional.

 But Davis could not debate the Constitution in early April 1865.  With his family safely out of the city, Davis was able to focus on his duties in Richmond, until he received the note from General Lee; then he prepared for his own departure. As he left the Executive Mansion, Davis purportedly told the butler, “Offer a bottle of whiskey and keep the house in good condition for the Yankees.”

 Many lower level government officials and private citizens of Richmond had left the city days earlier, but now Davis and his cabinet gathered the governmental records they could carry and boarded trains assembled in Richmond for that purpose. Davis ordered the Secretary of Treasury to load, into one of the box cars, the remaining $500,000 in gold nuggets and coins available to the Confederacy, along with some gold which belonged to Richmond banks and bags of jewelry which had been donated by southern women. The stories of the box car “filled with gold” would later lead to wild speculation about a hidden fortune, and even today can still spur treasure hunters.  But, in reality, aside from the banks’ gold which Davis ordered protected, there was only the $500,000 available to the government officials, and that amount would be spent over the next five weeks.  At 11pm, Davis, his cabinet, and a few bureaucrats and, accompanied by only a small number of soldiers, headed to Danville, about 150 miles further south.

 Unfortunately, as Davis left Richmond, Confederate officials ordered the warehouse district set afire, ostensibly to keep any remaining useful materials from the invading Union forces; however, the fires quickly got out of hand, and the residential and other business areas of the city began to burn. Mobs gathered in the streets and ransacked homes and businesses, as described by one newspaper editor, “The sidewalks were encumbered with broken glass; stores were entered at pleasure and stripped from top to bottom.” Ironically, many of the fires were extinguished the next day with help from the Union soldiers who were streaming into the city; and order was restored when the soldiers broke up the mobs and arrested hundreds of the rioters.

 After the rampages slowed, one Richmond woman wrote in her diary: “The Yankees are behaving well, considering it is them.”

 Although he had abandoned Richmond, Jefferson Davis was not ready to surrender the Confederate States of America.  He still had armies in the field and he believed he could regroup elsewhere and fight on.  However, Danville quickly proved to be an unworkable temporary capital because many of its citizens did not want the Confederate officials in their town; so, Davis ordered the train to head for Greensboro, North Carolina.

 When he arrived there, Davis learned that Lee’s retreating troops had been overtaken by the forces of Union General Grant near Appomattox, Virginia; and Lee had surrendered his tattered army.  Davis at first became emotional, but quickly re-gained composure and sent for General Joseph Johnston and General P.G.T. Beauregard, who commanded Confederate forces in the area. The Generals were surprised when, instead of asking their advice on the methodology for surrender, Davis said he intended to re-build an army made of deserters who had simply gone home, combined with pardoned Confederate soldiers who would readily violate their oath to forebear arms against the Union. When Davis asked their opinion. Johnston spoke first, “Our people are tired of war, feel themselves whipped, and will not fight.” Johnston added that his men saw Lee’s surrender as the end of the war and Beauregard only said, “I concur in all General Johnston has said.” The meeting was formal, but not congenial, and Johnston said that the only real presidential power Davis had remaining was to end the war. Davis could not bring himself to participate in any surrender protocol and suggested that the Generals from the Union and Confederate armies could negotiate directly with each other. In other words, the Confederate military might surrender, but not the Confederate Government, nor its President.

 As Davis prepared to leave Greensboro, a decision was made to abandon the train and travel on horseback and in carriages. The remaining Confederate treasury gold, now down to about $300,000 after disbursements for supplies and for General Johnston to pay a modest amount to each of his 25,000 troops, was loaded into a wagon to be pulled by a team of horses. President Davis and Generals Johnston and Beauregard then parted ways, but, not before they agreed to assign about 1,200 additional cavalry troops to Davis’s escort. 

 However, before General Johnston could even arrange a meeting with Union General Sherman to discuss terms of surrender, President Abraham Lincoln was assassinated. Many in the north were convinced (mistakenly) that Jefferson Davis was responsible, and Union Secretary of War Edwin Stanton unleashed an unprecedented manhunt to find the Confederate President. The pursuers were instructed to capture Davis alive if at all possible; since both Stanton and new President Andrew Johnson wanted to try him for treason.

 Now, with the death of Abraham Lincoln, Davis knew he would be chased by more men with vengeance on their minds; but he still intended to avoid capture and rally some semblance of an army to continue the fight.  He convened a “council of war” on May 2, consisting of General John Breckenridge, General Braxton Bragg, and a few other officers in his entourage and said, “It is time that we adopt some definite plan upon which the further prosecution of our struggle shall be conducted.” Like Generals Johnston and Beauregard earlier, Breckenridge, Bragg and the others were astonished. It seemed to those in attendance that only Jefferson Davis failed to realize that the cause was lost. He was told by Breckenridge that the troops which accompanied him only expected to help him reach a safe point, and then they would return to their homes; in effect, his military escort was no longer a fighting force.  Davis reportedly said, “Then all is indeed lost.” But, if he actually said that, Jefferson Davis did not mean it, at least not yet. He had still another plan to re-build a viable Confederate resistance. In Texas!

 And, he still had some gold! He appointed an acting treasurer and instructed that the Richmond banks’ gold remain segregated and placed in viable southern banks. And, planning for the future, he instructed that most of the remaining Confederate treasury’s gold be placed into a few other scattered southern banks and in London for later use by the Confederacy; except for a small amount Davis kept to facilitate his escape. Then, he released almost all of his military escorts in the belief that a small group would be more difficult for the Union soldiers to track. Davis planned to reach General Edmund Kirby and his large force west of the Mississippi River in Louisiana and Texas where he believed Kirby’s army should be sufficient to build a “Western” Confederacy. While Kirby had learned of the recent surrender of Lee and Johnston, and he knew of the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, he also knew Jefferson Davis was on his way to Texas and Kirby was determined to keep fighting. On May 9, the Union commander in the west contacted Kirby and offered surrender terms similar to those Grant gave Lee, but Kirby rejected the overture; still hoping to unite with his President.

 Davis had even considered an alternative a Texas Confederacy enforced by Kirby’s troops. If that option were to prove impractical, Davis would go into Mexico and operate a “government in exile” to keep the Confederate grievances against the United States in the international spotlight. It is clear that Jefferson Davis could not even consider giving up the fight! He had once said, “I have an infirmity of which I am heartily ashamed. When I am aroused in a matter, I lose control of my feelings and become personal.”

 But Davis was now determined to re-unite with Varina somewhere in Georgia and he continued to move deeper into southern territory, following what he expected to be her route. With information from couriers and scouting patrols, Davis knew it was only a matter of time before he could meet with his wife, and then they would head for Texas together. And, on May 9, 1865, Jefferson Davis’s entourage converged with his wife and her escorts near Irwinsville, Georgia, and, for the first time in over a month, the two shared some time together. Then, at dawn the next morning, all of Jefferson Davis’s plans came crashing down!

 Union soldiers, who had been tracking Davis for weeks, quietly surrounded their camp, and, at first light, a Union officer shouted for them to surrender. At first Davis thought to try to escape into the woods, but his wife restrained him; and he demurred saying, “God’s will be done.” He told his wife that he might be executed on the spot, but that he believed the Union officers would likely protect her, so she should offer no resistance. Varina then draped a shawl over his head and shoulders for warmth and Davis surrendered to his waiting captors. Perhaps to Jefferson Davis’s surprise, he was not executed, but he was restrained and quickly moved away from the area.  On the other hand, as he expected, his wife was treated respectfully and informed that her husband was alive; but was a prisoner. As quickly as possible, Davis was transported to the federal prison at Fort Monroe in Virginia, where he would await his fate. For two long years!

 Eager to diminish Davis’s reputation, northern newspapers reported that he had tried to flee the camp where he was captured disguised in his wife’s clothes; a falsehood that dogged Davis for years and which greatly offended him. He said that such demeanor would have been “unbecoming a soldier and a gentleman,” and Davis considered himself both.

 General Kirby finally agreed to surrender his force in Texas on May 21 1865. Although, there would still be a few isolated skirmishes, simply because some Southern units were as yet unaware that the Confederacy had ceased to exist. In fact, the war was over!

 The public, both north and south, were eager to get news of the captured Confederate President, and newspapers rushed copies out, some more than once in a day. Since the Union administration was tight-lipped about his capture, his condition, or the plans for any trial, the papers were full of speculation. Davis considered himself a head-of-state and, as such, believed he should have been given a certain degree of respect by his jailers; but he was not. Once he was at Fort Monroe, he again anticipated execution, perhaps after the formality of a quick trial, but he still expected the same result. He was ill, coughed continually, and had little appetite. Understanding the anger in the North towards him, especially considering the assassination of President Lincoln, he assumed his fate was already decided. As the days turned into weeks, he heard nothing from the guards or administrators about a trial, so, he was left to awaken each day not knowing if it might be his last. Davis wrote these words to his wife as he sat in a cell:

“Dear Varina,

This is not the fate to which I invited you when the future was rose-colored for us both.”

 At first, he was kept in isolation, but, over time, he was moved to a larger, more comfortable cell, his food improved, he was provided with a Bible, and was permitted to write and receive letters. Davis was aware that other Confederate officials had also been arrested and imprisoned, including Vice President Alexander Stephens; but they were all released within months. Then, in May 1866, a year after his capture, in a humanitarian gesture never fully explained, his wife and a daughter were permitted to take up residence with Davis in officers’ quarters within the Fort. Their other children were left with relatives in Georgia and later in Canada. For the next year, the prisoner and his family were treated respectfully; but never sure of his fate. Would he continue to be in limbo, or would there be a trial; and, if so, would his sentence be prison or death? It is unlikely that he considered acquittal, or even release on bail, as a possibility.

 But, actually, nothing definitive had been decided about Jefferson Davis by the leaders of the Federal government, including President Johnson. Even the general public was deeply divided about what to do with the prisoner. Execution was favored by some (of course after a quick trial for history’s sake), others supported a long prison sentence, and some opposed any public trial which would give Davis a forum to argue that secession was legal. In fact, Salmon Chase, the Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court, had already said that, while secessionists committed crimes against federal property, their acts were not treasonous under the Constitution.

 In the last year of his incarceration, many national and international dignitaries petitioned for his release on humanitarian grounds; including even the Catholic Pope who had sent Davis, a Protestant, a symbolic crown of thorns. This outpouring began to change public opinion in his favor and in April 1867, after two years in captivity, a judge ruled that Davis was entitled to a bail hearing. Bail was set at $100,000.00 (similar to about $4 million today) and an unusual group combined to sign the bond agreement (meaning they would pay if Davis failed to show for a trial); including Horace Greely an avowed Unionist and abolitionist, and Cornelius Vanderbilt, a wealthy northern industrialist. The motives of those who sought Davis’s release were varied, but most simply wanted to move toward reconciliation of North and South.

By May, 1867, Davis was free on the bail bond, but still under threat of criminal charges. Several motions were made in Federal Court in early 1868 which might have led to a trial, but the impeachment and trial of President Andrew Johnson, which began on February 14 and ended on March 26 (with acquittal) delayed the case. Then, in December 1868, President Johnson, who feared that a court decision might favor Davis, and who wanted to move on with re-construction without the focus on Davis, issued an unusual pardon exempting all Confederate officials, including Davis, from the charge of treason. That pardon could have left Davis open to other criminal charges, but Johnson directed the Justice department to drop the case against Davis. Although Johnson had issued full and complete pardons for hundreds of Confederate officials who applied, Davis refused to request a pardon.  After all of that time, there was no trial, no acquittal or conviction; therefore, Davis remained in legal and political no-man’s-land. Some called him a person without a country.

 And he was broke! His plantation in Mississippi, which had been owned by his brother, was in ruins and his investments in Confederate bonds were worthless. He needed a job and, fortunately for Davis, there were admirers who were in a position to help. In 1869, he became the president of a life insurance company in Memphis; however, that company failed in the 1873 financial panic. Then, he was offered positions as President of the University of the South in Tennessee and Texas A&M, but the salaries were not sufficient to support his family’s life-style.

 Several acquaintances encouraged Davis write his memoirs, but he said that he was not sure there was an audience for his message. He did accept a few assignments from periodicals to commemorate specific events, but he considered writing a chore and was usually only paid about $250.00 for each article. But by, 1875, Davis was ready to commit to writing a memoir and several factors had caused him to change his mind. He had not been healthy since the start of the Civil War and his two-year imprisonment worsened several chronic conditions. He also realized that his own mortality was on the horizon and he did want to tell his version of history. And, finally, he needed the money. But writing his memoirs was not a linear task. The process took several twists including a change of publishers but, by 1877, he had developed the outline of what would become a two-volume work in which he would justify secession and the formation of the Confederacy. Woven through the two volumes would be a reverence for the “Lost Cause,” a flawed justification for secession and the Civil War for which so many Confederates fought (and so many died). In fact, the original working title for the book was Our Cause, but that did not survive early editing. (See Chapter 96, The Lost Cause, A Confederate Rationale)

 But Davis again slowed his writing pace and the memoir project was in danger of not being finished. However, fortunately for Davis, Sarah Anne Dorsey, a wealthy widow who had known him for years, invited him to stay at her estate called Beauvoir, near Biloxi, Mississippi. As a writer herself, Mrs. Dorsey believed that, with her editing and composition skills, she could help Davis with his memoir. Aware of Davis’s dire financial situation, she offered to sell him a small home on the property for a bargain price and carried back a very liberal three-year contract. Then to assure that Davis (and/or his surviving family) would not be financially inconvenienced if she died before him, she left her entire estate to him or, if he died earlier, to his daughter. While Beauvoir became home to Davis, his wife rarely stayed there. The fact was that Varina Davis enjoyed a more urban and socially active life-style than was available at Beauvoir (or, for that matter, than would have been enjoyed by her husband).  And, it was not the first time, nor would it be the last time, that they chose to live apart. 

 Earlier, Varina had only occasionally resided in Memphis, when her husband worked there at the life insurance company; but instead, she spent long periods in England and travelled throughout Europe as the guest of wealthy friends. After the Civil War, long separations were the norm for Davis and Varina; and both husband and wife seemed to adapt to that living arrangement. When Mrs. Dorsey died in 1879, Davis inherited the Beauvoir estate, which he considered his home for the rest of his life; however, Varina only rarely visited there.

 In the absence of Mrs. Dorsey, Davis again began to struggle with his memoirs, and the publisher sent an editor, William Tenney, to assist Davis. The two men worked well together, which was remarkable since Davis did not usually work well with anyone, and by 1881, the two-volume “The Rise and Fall of the Confederate Government” was finally finished. The book became a mainstay in many Southern households and even sold reasonably well in the Northern states. The success of the book meant that Davis’s money problems were over.

 He finished another book in 1889 called “A Short History of the Confederate States of America” which included additional anecdotes provided by other former Confederate officials. Shortly after completing the new book, Davis became gravely ill while on a steamboat on the Mississippi River and intended to return home to Beauvoir. Varina was notified and, concerned about her husband, managed to meet with the riverboat near New Orleans. His doctors, however, deemed him too ill to travel back to his home and he was offered a place to rest and recuperate at the home of a former Confederate officer who lived in New Orleans. He never recovered and on December 6, 1889 with Varina was at his side, Jefferson Davis died. He was 81 years old.

 So, what is Davis’s legacy? For the first fifty years of his life, except for his support of slavery, he had been an exemplary citizen of the United States. And, some in the South still believe the Confederate cause was noble, that a state’s right to secede was constitutional, and that Jefferson Davis deserves respect for leading the good fight against overwhelming odds. But generally, most biographers and Civil War historians have a more nuanced view and believe he was misguided in his commitment to secession, slavery, and the formation of the Confederate States. He believed slavery was a reasonable system of servitude and was the rightful privilege for the White aristocracy in the South. As President of the Confederate States, he led a four-year war against the United States which caused horrific casualties and destruction. As a result, he was considered a traitor to many in the North. And, his overconfidence in his own abilities and unwillingness to delegate, led him to make judgement errors; which caused criticism even by some Southerners. But Davis, until his death, maintained that the South needed either independence or absolute guarantees that the United States would not abolish slavery. To those who find human bondage a travesty, his commitment to slavery tarnished his legacy.

 As he said in a letter to his wife, Jefferson Davis expected his legacy to be more “rose-colored.”

The Will Thomas Legion (Article 69)

“William Holland Thomas was a White man by birth, and a Cherokee by choice – and he distinguished himself in both cultures.  He became a Chief by vote of the Cherokee and a State Senator by the vote of White men and served all his peoples well. And when he became a soldier by duty, he served honorably as a son of the South.” – anonymous obituary

When Will, (or sometimes Wil) as he was known to almost everyone, was about thirteen years old, his widowed mother apprenticed him to a trading post owner, Felix Walker, who was also a U.S. Congressman.  Such arrangements were common at the time because it provided some relief to his mother and gave Will an opportunity to learn a trade. The store was near the Cherokee Nation homeland in North Carolina and served not only tribal members but also local White farmers and hunters. Will was to be given room and board, an opportunity to receive some additional education, and $100.00 upon completion of his three years of service. It was a good bargain in those days and Will worked hard to earn the respect of Mr. Walker; even becoming a voracious reader under Walker’s tutelage. As Will was nearing the end of his service as an apprentice, Walker was forced to close the business and informed Will that he could not pay the $100 that would soon be due. As a substitute for the cash compensation, Mr. Walker offered Will his small collection of books which happened to include copies of the North Carolina Legal Code. Will accepted the unusual, and unexpected, form of compensation, not because he planned at the time to actually become a lawyer, but more likely because he understood that Mr. Walker would be unable to offer anything else; and Will did value the books.  Will wanted to remain in the area and, since he had proven to be honest, resourceful, and a dedicated worker, he found enough odd-jobs to support himself.

Many of the customers at the trading post were Cherokee, and over the prior two years, Will had shown a sincere respect for their culture and began to learn the basics of their language; which earned him the friendship of tribal members. Over time, he became fluent in the native language and began to study his collection of legal books with the goal to help serve the Cherokees in matters involving state and federal laws which affected the Natives. Struck by young Will’s work ethic and commitment to embrace the traditions of his Native people, Yonaguska, Chief of the Nation, took Will under his wing and the two became as close as any father and son. At some point, Chief Yonaguska officially adopted Will and gave him the Cherokee name of Wil-usdi (Little Wil).

With the knowledge gained from his time running the trading post for Mr. Walker, Will, at about eighteen years of age, started his own small store which slowly grew into a successful series of trading posts serving White farmers, Mountain men (referred to as Highlanders), and the local Cherokees. Although he never had any university education, in his early twenties, Will was able to study under a local attorney and became sufficiently versed in the law to be recognized as a practicing lawyer; a common path to a legal career in those days. Will was popular within both the White society and the Cherokee Nation and, in addition to his trading posts, he quickly built a viable law firm serving clients from both cultures. Then, in 1831, when he was only twenty-six, he officially became a legal representative for the Cherokee Nation.

He served as the legal advisor to the Cherokee without much controversy until 1835 when, under the Indian Removal Act, the federal government began to force the relocation of Cherokee from their ancestral lands in Tennessee, North Carolina and Georgia to the newly designated Indian Territory (now Oklahoma). The relocations were a blatant method of securing valuable Indian lands for acquisition by White settlers; however, to legitimize the removal, the federal government “negotiated” the New Echota Treaty with a small selective group of “Western” Cherokee elders, who the government agents knew did not have the authority to commit all of the Cherokee Nation. Political divisions among the Cherokee people erupted almost immediately because other Cherokee believed that the New Echota Treaty was illegal, and essentially, three factions of the Cherokee Nation emerged. The Western Cherokee split into two groups with the one group, which had claimed authority to sign the New Echota Treaty, accepting re-establishment to the Indian Territory, while a second group chose to try to re-negotiate the Treaty before removal in the hope for better compensation. Eventually, both factions of these “Western” Cherokee were re-located in what became known as the “Trail of Tears.”  However, the third group, the Eastern Cherokee (or Qualla), represented by Will Thomas, chose to challenge the order in federal courts. Thomas negotiated with the federal government from the perspective that, even if legal, the New Echota treaty did not apply to the Eastern (Qualla) Cherokee, who had signed an earlier treaty under which they had secured “reserved” land of about 600 acres in North Carolina. Thomas was ultimately successful, and, thereafter, the Qualla remained on their traditional land in North Carolina.

Throughout the years 1831-1839, Principal Chief Yonaguska involved Thomas (Wil-usdi to the Natives) in the administrative and financial affairs of the Qualla Cherokee and encouraged the other elders to consider Will as their next Principal Chief. The other leaders respected Wil-usdi in his own right; and, when Yonaguska died in 1839, Wil-usdi, a White man, was elected as the Principal Chief of the Qualla Cherokee Nation.

Thomas’s trading posts prospered during this period, serving White farmers and mountain dwelling hunters, as well as the Cherokee. However, as Principal Chief of the Nation of Qualla Cherokee, Thomas realized that the “reserved” land originally allotted to the Nation was limited, and a problem was developing as the Native population increased and White settlers began to encroach near the borders.  As Chief Wil-usdi, Thomas embarked on a mission to increase the size of the lands dedicated to the Cherokee. His problem; the Cherokee were prohibited from signing contracts or holding land titles except those held in trust or granted by the federal government. To assure his people had sufficient land for the future, Thomas began acquiring adjacent land in his own name and personally assumed the debts; but held the land in trust for the Cherokee. It was a grand and noble gesture; however, the loans would later prove to be a financial hardship and nearly wiped out all that Thomas had accomplished.

But for now, Will Thomas’s ability to successfully straddle the two very different societies enabled him to serve both, to the remarkable extent that he simultaneously, and honorably, served as principal Chief of the Eastern Cherokee Nation and as a State Senator in the North Carolina legislature, representing his White constituency. When asked about his loyalty to both cultures, Thomas wrote; “When entrusted with defending the rights of a White or Red man, I hope I shall always be found faithful to my trust and act worthy of the confidence reposed in me without regard to the consequences. The Indians are as much entitled to their rights as I am to mine.” 

However, by 1857, Thomas began to face financial problems as he became weighted down by the debts he incurred to acquire additional lands for the Cherokee. His local reputation bought him some time with creditors, but, the debt load was unsustainable and began to consume his income from both the trading posts and his law practice. Thomas realized that he was about to lose all for which he had worked so hard and so long; but then, fortuitously, he met, and soon proposed marriage to, Sarah Love, the daughter of a wealthy merchant. He was honest with Sarah’s father about his circumstances, reportedly saying, “I want not for land, but only for gold.” (In today’s language, he was “land rich but cash poor”). Thomas must have won over his soon to be father-in-law, because Sarah’s father not only approved the marriage, but helped Thomas stabilize his financial situation. Despite the convenient timing, and contention by some that the marriage was a monetary arrangement, by most accounts, his marriage to Sarah was respectful and happy; and they had three sons in successive years. With his debts under control, the Cherokee lands he held in trust secured, his trading posts and law practice again thriving, and now as a husband and father, life was good for Will Thomas.

But, that would soon change!

In 1859, abolitionist John Brown led a raid on a federal arsenal at Harper’s Ferry, Virginia, in an attempt to obtain arms for a planned slave revolt. Although U.S. Army troops, led by Robert E. Lee, quickly regained control of the arsenal, and Brown was tried and executed for his crime, the thought of a future successful slave uprising sent shock waves throughout the South. As secession flames began to burn in 1860, White politician Will Thomas, now 55 years-old, reminded his constituents that the U.S. government had had acted swiftly to end Brown’s plan. Thomas also spoke out against the potential break-up of the United States and cautioned that Civil War would likely result if southern states seceded. At the same time, as Principal Chief of the sovereign Qualla Cherokee, Wil-usdi urged neutrality, but expected his people would be in harm’s way if war broke out between Northern and Southern states. At first, to Will Thomas’s relief, North Carolina resisted a secession vote and did not initially join the new Confederate States of America; however, after the attack on Fort Sumter and Union President Abraham Lincoln’s announcement that the U.S. army would be increased by 75,000 men to put down the rebellion, North Carolina voted to secede on May 20, 1861. A devoted Southerner and North Carolina legislator, Will Thomas cast his vote for secession. Then, Thomas and the other Oualla Cherokee leaders, realizing that they could not remain neutral, offered to raise troops to act as a “home guard” in North Carolina and to support, but not join, the Confederate Army.

After nearly a year, Thomas’s independent military force had grown to include four hundred Cherokee warriors and over five hundred White Highlanders; and, Thomas and his men decided that they could, and should, do more to support the Southern cause and offered to formally join the Confederate Army. Initially designated as a battalion, the term Legion was adopted because the unit combined cavalry, infantry, artillery, and even snipers and demolition experts. Thomas’s organization was controversial from the start, with some traditional Generals opposed to its bi-cultural composition and suggested that the White men and the Cherokee would not serve well together. Thomas however, convinced enough of the Generals that he knew his men and that they were, and would continue to be, an effective military unit; besides, he also knew the Confederates needed all the men they could get. He had expected his Legion to be assigned to continue guarding outposts and rail lines in North Carolina, and was surprised when the Confederate military staff, some say at the insistence of President Davis, asked Thomas to take his men into Tennessee where Union forces were beginning to have some success.  Thomas knew that his home area in North Carolina was, at the time, relatively safe from Union attack, so he agreed to lead his troops across the border; and quickly found himself facing U.S. Army forces at a place in Tennessee called Baptist Gap. To the surprise of some Confederate Generals, and perhaps the opposing Union commander, but certainly not to Thomas, the Legion held ranks in the brief battle and fought to what was probably a tactical draw, but by some accounts was a Confederate victory.

However, what happened next left Thomas, by now promoted to Major, with a public relations nightmare and put the very future existence of the Legion at risk!

After the fighting ended for the day at Baptist Gap, Thomas’s men learned that a popular young warrior had been killed and some of the angry Cherokee went back to the battlefield and scalped several dead Union soldiers. Thomas was horrified and immediately recognized that the intemperate retaliation would be condemned throughout the North and South by those both in the military as well as civilians. Under a white flag of truce, Thomas returned the scalps for proper burial to a Union Officer and apologized for both the act as well as for his failure to control his new troops. While the episode became known to the public at large through newspaper reports, most accounts included Thomas’s quick and contrite response, and the fall-out was minimized. One can surmise that there was, what is referred to today as a “sensitivity” training session for the Cherokee soldiers; because, after that one event, such desecration was never repeated.

That public relations episode aside, the Will Thomas Legion was a battlefield success story and they accomplished nearly every mission assigned by Confederate officials; and even were victorious in a few skirmishes which no one had ordered or expected. While most of their action came in Tennessee, they were given assignments in North Carolina and were once sent by Confederate Commanders into Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley (called the breadbasket of the South) to protect the Army’s food chain. The Legion was often cut off from any communication from other Southern units and would be on their own for an extended period between specific assignments; during which times, Thomas, by now promoted to Colonel, would engage in opportunistic attacks on Union supply trains, arsenals, and storehouses. Occasionally, he would receive an order with which he disagreed and would move his men toward an engagement of his own choosing. For disobeying such an order, Thomas was once ordered arrested by an indignant General but was quickly released when superior officers realized the Legion would not serve under any other officer except Will Thomas.

By early 1865, he began to realize the futility of the Confederate cause, but, he believed it was his duty to continue to lead his Legion in attacks against Union troops. However, his missions became more difficult because the casualties from three years of fighting had reduced the Legion to only about five hundred men, down from a peak of nearly two thousand. Further, he was so out of touch with Confederate officials that, in May 1865, by now back in North Carolina, he was still planning and executing attacks against Union forces; several weeks after the Capital city of Richmond had fallen, Robert E. Lee and other Generals had surrendered, Abraham Lincoln had been assassinated, and there was no functioning Confederate Government.

On May 8, 1865, unaware that the war was at an end, Colonel Thomas prepared to attack a Union staging area at Waynesville, North Carolina. The Legion’s five hundred remaining men were substantially less that the Union force which held the town; but Colonel Thomas had a plan! First, he sent a man in civilian clothes to assess the town’s fortifications and to spread the rumor that he had seen over a thousand Confederates in the surrounding hills. Then, on the night of May 9, Thomas had his men build hundreds of campfires in the hills around the town and then they yelled, screamed, and whooped all night, leading the Union commander to believe a very large force was about to attack the next morning. One Union soldier wrote later, “It looked as if the mountains were alive. Fires could be seen on every hill and the yells and war cries of the Cherokee made it impossible to think about anything, but what would happen when daybreak arrived” 

Realizing the effect that the Confederate forces were having on his men and hoping to avoid further loss of lives, just after dawn, the Commander of the Union troops approached Thomas’s line and asked for surrender terms. The ruse had worked and Colonel Thomas agreed to come into Waynesville to formally accept the surrender of the Union force. During that meeting, the Union commander shared dispatches he held which announced the surrender in April of almost all Confederate armies, the death of Lincoln, and the collapse of the Confederate government. Finally convinced the war was indeed over, Thomas reversed the dialogue and offered to surrender to the Union commander. After signing a surrender document which granted pardons to him and his men, Thomas had one more deception in mind. He asked the Union Commander to issue over one thousand pardon documents because he was not yet ready to admit he only had five hundred men. Returning to his troops, Colonel Thomas announced to the Legion that their war was over, that they would receive pardons, and that they should return to their homes and families; but he had one final request. As part of the surrender terms, he had given his word that none of his men would engage in any guerrilla war-fare against Union forces and he asked that they honor his promise. The Legion then disbanded, and the Cherokee and Highlanders alike simply went home.

For Thomas personally, the war had taken a terrible financial toll as his stores were looted or burned and his lands were unproductive; but, fortunately, his wife and three boys had weathered the war under the care of her family. Also, those lands he acquired for the Cherokee remained intact, and, as one of his final acts as their Chief, Thomas assured that nearly 56,000 acres held in trust were perpetually added to the “reserved” lands of the Eastern Cherokee. However, at sixty years old, and after the deprivations of continuous warfare, Thomas’s own health was failing and the most cruel blows were emotional. The combined stresses of command during the war and then watching the dismantling of his lands and businesses were too much for Will.  He descended into a form of dementia, with only occasional times of lucidity, and was in and out of mental hospitals for the rest of his life. Certainly, a sad end for a dynamic man.

A few historians, including some affiliated with the “Western” Cherokee, have claimed that Thomas speculated in some of the Cherokee lands which were seized by the federal government during the forced relocations in 1835, and in doing so, exploited other Cherokee. As with many historical disputes, there is a measure of truth, but not the whole truth, to their assertions.  Thomas did obtain some former Cherokee land, but then, over time, sold that land and used the proceeds to acquire more property in North Carolina adjacent to the Qualla “reserved” land. He clearly was making the most of a controversial situation, but primarily to benefit the Qualla, for whom he served first as their legal advisor and then as their Principal Chief.  Most historians who are familiar with Wil Thomas’s life-story still write respectfully about the man, who by any measure, led a remarkable life. He was a successful businessman, an honorable politician, an effective Chief to the Cherokee, and he bridged two cultures. He not only brought diverse peoples together, but successfully lead them as a cohesive team in the most difficult of situations; where they faced life or death on the battlefield.

But, William Holland Thomas’s place in history was cemented on May 10, 1865 at Waynesville, North Carolina, when, in one of the last military engagements of the Civil War, his under-manned Confederate force tricked a superior Union army into surrender, and then, instead, surrendered themselves; all without a shot being fired. And, with that, the Will Thomas Legion became the stuff of legend.