It was the Corinth of bad water and dusty streets that the Confederate Army of the Mississippi came to know in May 1862. It had been a dry spring, and potable water was unusually scarce. Thirst drove soldiers to drink from contaminated pools. Rank odors rising from Dismal Swamp hung about town. Earl Van Dorn arrived with the Army of the West in mid-April, boasting that he felt like a wolf ready for prey. But almost everyone else was ill from the water or heartsick from defeat. Of the 80,000 Confederates crowded into Corinth, nearly 18,000 were sick.13
Price was among the ill. Cholera had nearly killed him during the Mexican War, leaving him susceptible to severe intestinal disorders for the rest of his life. The rigors of the Pea Ridge campaign and the shock of his arm wound weakened Price badly and triggered an attack of diarrhea, so that he came to Corinth already sick.
Price had little to say about matters at Corinth, and his only public remarks on the subject were in poor taste. Shortly after Price arrived, General Beauregard took him on an inspection of the fortifications outside town. The Creole was proud of the entrenchments, which Braxton Bragg and his engineers had laid out. They began a mile and a half east of Corinth, running first to the north and then to the west, a seven-mile- long semicircle that terminated on the Memphis and Charleston Railroad northwest of town. Bragg’s engineers had done well, constructing the works on ridges whenever possible and anchoring them in forests or creek bottoms. Heavy siege guns, protected by earthwork epaulements, were mounted at vulnerable points. But Price was unimpressed. “Well, these things may be very fine; I never saw anything of the kind but once, and then I took them,” he told Beauregard and Bragg. Price’s impolitic reference to his triumph at Lexington sat poorly with his hosts, who came to question his competence as well as his tact (Bragg eventually dismissed Price as singularly unsuited for command), but it boosted his reputation among Southern journalists. Weary of the stalemate at Corinth, the press lauded Price as a rough-and-ready general who scorned “pick and shovel warfare.”14
That stalemate was, in any case, about to end. On May 25 Beauregard called together his chief lieutenants—Van Dorn and Price included — to discuss the propriety of evacuating Corinth. There really was little to debate; all present knew that it was only a matter of time before Halleck’s anaconda tactics would crush their badly outnumbered forces. Lt. Gen. William J. Hardee urged that Corinth be abandoned at once and the army withdrawn along the Mobile and Ohio Railroad. Beauregard agreed. Four days later the Confederates slipped away. With them went all but a handful of the townspeople.
Halleck made a halfhearted pursuit with a fragment of his force, and by June 9 the Confederates held a new line at Tupelo, fifty-two miles south of Corinth. Broken in health, Beauregard went off to Mobile on June 16 to recuperate. He neither asked for nor received permission to take leave but simply transferred command to Bragg and left. President Davis had long wanted to shelve the Creole, who opposed him politically, and he used Beauregard’s unauthorized leave of absence as a pretext to replace him with Bragg. Assuming command “with unfeigned reluctance,” Bragg set about to reorganize and restore discipline to the army.15
Sterling Price also left Tupelo, although unlike Beauregard he had the good sense to secure a leave of absence. Accompanied by his chief of staff, Thomas Snead, Price traveled to Richmond to speak with President Davis. His purpose in seeking an audience with the president was threefold. First, he wanted command of the Trans-Mississippi District. Arkansas and Missouri congressional delegations had been lobbying since Pea Ridge for Van Dorn’s removal and Price’s appointment. Governor Thomas Moore of Louisiana had added his influence on the Missourian’s behalf. For his part, Van Dorn wanted nothing more to do with the region and heartily endorsed Price’s application. In a private letter to Davis, he wrote that “the love of the people of Missouri was so strong for General Price, and his prestige as a commander so great there, wisdom would seem to dictate that he be put at the head of affairs in the West. I drop whatever glory there may be in it on the brow of General Price, than whom there is no one more worthy to wear it and than by whom I would rather see it worn.”
Of course Van Dorn was being disingenuous. Although an independent command anywhere suited his taste, as a Mississippian he preferred one close to home. So, when after the evacuation of Corinth Van Dorn was offered the command of Department Number One, which embraced Vicksburg, he resigned command of the Army of the West and eagerly set out for the river citadel.16
Price’s second reason for going east was to get his Missouri brigades ordered back to Arkansas. And — his third reason for seeing Davis — Price believed the time was ripe for a new expedition into Missouri, an operation he was anxious to lead.
Price’s journey to Richmond was a triumphal procession. His victory at Lexington and courage at Pea Ridge had made him one of the more popular generals in the South. Crowds gathered at train stations to pay their respects, and Price’s arrival in the capital on June 16 was greeted with wild celebration. Exclaimed the Daily Richmond Whig, “The Washington of the West is now in Richmond—All hail!” The Virginia general assembly hosted a formal reception for Price, and many of the town’s leading citizens opened the doors of their homes to him.
Not so the president. Davis was little disposed to hear the demands of a general whom he later described as “the vainest man he had ever met.” Nor was Davis any more willing now than he had been in 1861 to assign a non-West Pointer to a major command. Too, Price’s popularity was a threat. The string of Confederate defeats in early 1862 and the presence of the Union Army of the Potomac at the gates of Richmond had emboldened Davis’s detractors. One cabal of disgruntled politicians from Missouri had begun speaking of deposing the president and installing Price as “generalissimo.” Price probably knew nothing of this talk of impeaching Davis, which never went beyond parlor banter, but his appearance in Richmond coincided with it.17
Price’s first interview was brief but cordial. Davis heard out Price’s request for reinforcements from Beauregard and for command of the Trans-Mississippi District but was noncommittal. He told Price to submit his proposal to the secretary of war in writing and promised a second meeting.
Price dutifully propounded his proposal regarding “the proper conduct of the war west of the Mississippi” in a letter to Secretary of War George Randolph. He advocated turning the Trans-Mississippi District into a separate department, “under the command of an officer enjoying enough of the confidence of the Government to be left untrammeled by specific instructions,” and nominated himself for the job. Price proposed an immediate advance from Arkansas into Missouri, which he said would divert Federal troops from Beauregard’s front.
Randolph forwarded Price’s letter to the president. Davis sent for Price a few days later. Both were in bad temper. After submitting his letter to Randolph, Price had learned that Maj. Gen. John Magruder, an eccentric West Point-trained Virginian, had been appointed to command the Trans-Mississippi District. Davis, in turn, was put off by the imperious tone of Price’s letter. A clash of wills was inevitable.
After some perfunctory remarks, Davis told Price that he had decided not to allow him or his Missourians to return to the trans-Mississippi. They were needed where they were, the president explained. As for command of the district, he continued, that belonged to Magruder.
Price fumbled for a face-saving exit. “Well, Mr. President,” he stammered. “Well, Mr. President, if you will not let me serve you, I will nevertheless serve my country. You cannot prevent me from doing that. I will send you my resignation, and go back to Missouri and raise another army there without your assistance, and fight again under the flag of Missouri, and win new victories for the South in spite of the Government.”
Thomas Snead watched the president closely for his reaction. He knew Davis’s reputation for eviscerating those who dared to defy him. “His eye flashed with anger as he glanced at the general’s flushed face, and his tone was contemptuous,” remembered Snead. Davis chose his words
carefully and uttered them slowly, for greater effect: “Your resignation will be prompdy accepted, General, and if you go back to Missouri and raise another army, and win victories for the South, or do it any service at all, no one will be more pleased than myself, or,” he added after an emphatic pause, “more surprised.”
Price slammed his fist on the table. “Then I will surprise you, sir,” he shouted.
Price and Snead returned to their lodgings at the Spottswood Hotel. Price stormed inside to write out his resignation; Snead remained outdoors to harangue passersby. The president was a scoundrel and an ingrate. Ripping the insignia of Confederate rank from his frock coat, Snead told the crowd that he and Price would go to Missouri and fight under the “Bear Flag.”18
Their threat was never tested. The next morning President Davis returned Price’s resignation. As much as he wanted to see Price go, Davis knew that Price’s Missourians would follow him out of the army in a mass desertion that might tear the fabric of the western armies. And his resignation might give impetus to a rumored effort by Governor Hiram Rector of Arkansas to establish a separate Confederacy beyond the Mississippi River. Davis included a conciliatory (for him) note with his disapproval of Price’s resignation. He promised to instruct General Bragg to send Price and his Missourians back to the trans-Mississippi “as soon as it could safely be done.” However, Magruder would remain in command of the district. Mollified a bit, Price consented to return to duty in Mississippi.
Notwithstanding his popular reception, Price’s trip to Richmond had proved a fiasco. He had earned the open enmity of a president notorious for bearing grudges and had come away with an executive pledge that events were to render as empty as the spirit in which it had been given.19
* * *
William Starke Rosecrans was a man of rare ability and high principles who had an unfortunate knack of irritating his superiors. His was a world of absolutes; to Rosecrans, mendacity and mediocrity were intolerable, particularly in those who pretended to leadership.
Strength of character ran in the Rosecrans family. William’s father was a stern man of unflinching integrity. Neighbors called on him to arbitrate local disputes and spoke of his “iron will and hot temper,” traits William inherited. His mother imparted to William a gentle streak that, while not preventing his outbursts of temper, at last made him regret them. She also passed on to her son a deep and genuine religiosity, a passion for the truth, and a love of learning. What William lacked was a sense of humor. Too often he came across as ridiculous or insulting when he was merely being earnest.
At eighteen Rosecrans was admitted to West Point, a member of what became known as “the brilliant class of 1842.” Among his classmates was Earl Van Dorn; Grant entered the academy a year later. Rosecrans graduated fifth in his class and won a commission in the Engineer Corps, but his army service was undistinguished. In 1853 he became seriously ill and, said his wife, “to secure rest and make a choice of a civil career more likely to support his family,” Rosecrans resigned his commission.
Maj. Gen. William Starke Rosecrans (U.S. Army Military History Institute)
“The next seven years,” Ohio journalist Whitelaw Reid wrote, “were to Lieutenant Rosecrans years of more varied than profitable activity.” He drifted into the coal oil business and with two partners built a refinery in Cincinnati. While Rosecrans was testing an experimental oil one evening, a safety lamp exploded in his face. He was badly burned and remained bedridden for eighteen months. The scars that lingered distorted his features, leaving a slight but perceptible smirk to his face.
As soon as he recovered, Rosecrans returned to the refinery. Business was poor, but he succeeded in his experiments, becoming, as he later boasted, “the first to obtain a good, odorless oil from petroleum.” He also developed a new process of manufacturing soap, invented the first kerosene lamp to burn a round wick, and designed a short chimney lamp. Rosecrans formed a company to manufacture them. By April 1861 his businesses had begun to turn a profit.20
War fundamentally changed Rosecrans’s fortunes. The soldier turned engineer found himself again in uniform, as a brigadier general of Ohio volunteers on the staff of Maj. Gen. George B. McClellan, then commander of the Department of the Ohio. In May 1861 Rosecrans accompanied McClellan into western Virginia as a brigade commander, playing an instrumental part in a string of victories that secured the region for the Union and elevated McClellan to command of the Army of the Potomac. Rosecrans stayed in western Virginia. He took charge of the Department of the Ohio and cursed the duplicity of “that damned little cuss, McClellan,” who had taken credit for the climactic victory at Rich Mountain that Rosecrans had won.
Having deprived Rosecrans of due recognition, McClellan went on to rob him of most of his troops. Then President Lincoln, looking for a back shelf on which to put Maj. Gen. John C. Fremont, converted Rosecrans’s department into the Mountain Department and placed Fremont in command. Rosecrans became second fiddle to a military misfit. Bitter and bored, in April 1862 he journeyed to Washington in search of a new assignment.
Before the end of May he was in Corinth, under orders to report to Halleck. Halleck sent him on to John Pope’s Army of the Mississippi. Rosecrans and Pope had been classmates at West Point, and Pope was pleased to receive him. He gave Rosecrans command of his right wing, which consisted of two divisions.21
It was quite a fall for Rosecrans, to be reduced from department command, with direct access to the president, to leadership of two divisions in a small army, but at least he had a purpose and a place in a chain of command. General Grant, on the other hand, was still suffering the embarrassment of his nebulous role at headquarters. And he was ill. A cold he caught three months earlier had lingered and settled in his chest. Severe, recurring headaches plagued him. On a night reconnaissance after Shiloh, Grant’s horse slipped on a loose boulder and fell, taking the general down with it. Grant’s leg swelled badly and went numb, and he paced before his tent outside Corinth with a noticeable limp.
Repeatedly during the siege of Corinth, Grant had asked to be relieved of duty under Halleck; each request was returned disapproved. Grant renewed his demand after the town fell. His desire to leave, when Halleck was at last disposed to let him go, was irrational. As his biographer William McFeely observed, Grant “was about to make the blunder of requesting a new assignment, a move which almost surely would have been interpreted as petulance and very likely would have sent him into professional oblivion.”
At that moment a friend prevailed on him to reconsider. William T. Sherman had dropped by Halleck’s headquarters one afternoon in early June to pay his respects and exchange gossip. Halleck mentioned offhandedly that Grant was leaving the next morning. Halleck assured Sherman that he did not know why Grant was going but said that the Ohioan had applied for and been granted thirty days' leave. “Of course we all knew that he was chafing under the slights of his anomalous position, and I determined to see him on my way back,” remembered Sherman.
Sherman found Grant at his camp—four or five tents partially hidden in a forest off the main road — seated on a camp stool, aimlessly sorting and bundling letters to pass the time until he left. Sherman begged him to stay. His own changed circumstances proved how quickly one’s fortunes might turn, Sherman contended. Before Shiloh the press had disparaged him as crazy. But “that battle had given me new life, and now I was in high feather; and I argued with him that, if he went away, events would go right along, and he would be left out; whereas, if he remained, some happy accident might restore him to favor and his true place.” Grant promised to stay with the army awhile longer. But he could not bear another day in Corinth and so removed his headquarters to Memphis.22
Sherman had rescued Grant from almost certain oblivion and, by his compassion, had cemented his friendship with Grant, who later would stand by Sherman when other commanders might have dismissed him. And Sherman’s prediction came true. Grant’s fortunes — and those of Rosecrans—were about to take a turn f
or the better.
3. The Darkest Days of the War
Henry Halleck did nothing to exploit the bright strategic situation during Grant’s absence from the army. The first week of June found him in Corinth with 137,000 soldiers who were “elated at their [bloodless] success” and anxious to press on. Opposing him were 50,000 discouraged Confederates at Tupelo. In abandoning Corinth the Confederates had yielded what litde remained to them of western Tennessee. With Federals astride the railroad to Memphis, Fort Pillow was indefensible, and the Confederate garrison pulled out the day after Beauregard yielded Corinth. The Federal river fleet steamed to Memphis, where on June 6 it obliterated a small Confederate flotilla. Memphis surrendered, the last river obstacle to the Federals until Vicksburg, 200 miles to the south.
To Grant and most other generals it seemed a moment of unparalleled opportunity. The Confederate interior lay open to invasion from two directions. Halleck might bypass the Rebel army at Tupelo and continue down the Mississippi River Valley to Vicksburg. Or he could move laterally along the Memphis and Charleston Railroad, concentrate his forces at Chattanooga, and then push on to Atlanta.
But after a halfhearted pursuit of Beauregard that ended on June 9, Halleck opted against an offensive. “The major object now,” he told John Pope and Don Carlos Buell after reining in Pope from too vigorous a chase, “is to get the enemy far enough south to relieve our railroads from danger of an immediate attack. There is no object in bringing on a battle if this can be obtained without one. I think by showing a bold front, the enemy will continue to retreat, which is all I desire.”1
The Darkest Days of the War- the Battles of Iuka and Corinth Page 4