Now, on the morning of January 1, 1863, as he sat alone at his table, he decided to ignore the bulk of his cabinet’s recommendations. He did work with Chase’s suggestion, which became a new final paragraph: “And upon this act, sincerely believed to be an act of justice, warranted by the Constitution, upon military necessity, I invoke the considerate judgment of mankind, and the gracious favor of Almighty God.”
While Lincoln was bent over the table revising, his wife and oldest son appeared in his office. Before retiring the previous evening, Mary had asked her husband, “What do you intend doing?” Now Lincoln looked up, his face worn with lines. Robert Lincoln would comment later that there was a “presence” in his father’s manner that silenced both his mother and himself.
Lincoln completed his editing. A clerk was called and asked to carry the document to the State Department where a final copy would be prepared for Lincoln’s signature.
At 10:45 a.m. William Seward and his son, Frederick, climbed the stairs to the president’s office bearing the newly revised proclamation. While preparing to sign it, the president noticed an error in the transcription. He made the necessary change and asked Seward to have a new copy engrossed, completed in a fine handwriting. By now it was nearly eleven o’clock and Lincoln needed to prepare to meet his New Year’s Day guests in the Blue Room.
Outside the White House, the streets of Washington had been thronged with persons eager to welcome in the New Year since early morning. The day had dawned bright and clear. People greeted one another with “warm salutations.” Despite the tenseness in the capital in the wake of the demoralizing defeat at Fredericksburg in December, the festivities of New Year’s Day seemed to hold out the prospect of a hopeful and better future.
The crowd, larger than usual, knew how special this reception would be. New Year’s Day receptions at the White House were a long tradition, and on January 1, 1863, persons of all walks of life wanted to be present when Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation. People lined up two and three abreast along Pennsylvania Avenue stretching back toward Seventeenth Street.
The official guests entered the White House at 11 a.m., beginning with the diplomatic corps arrayed in their best finery from the fashions of the various countries. The nine judges of the Supreme Court came next, led by the aged Roger Taney. Gideon Welles, secretary of the navy, attended, but most cabinet members hosted their own receptions at their residences. A group of army officers, who had assembled at the War Department, arrived together, led by General Henry Halleck.
At twelve noon, the large White House gates were opened and the crowd surged in. Delegations from Maine to California had been waiting in line for hours. The civil and the uncivil pressed and pushed their way the length of the grand portico toward the main entrance. A small detachment of police, backed up by members of a Pennsylvania regiment, tried to maintain some order, but there was little. Visitors were admitted in groups at intervals. As soon as one group had entered, another was passed through. Once inside, the “scuffle” of the annual New Year’s Day reception began. The plush carpets had been covered to protect them from the mud.
Abraham and Mary Lincoln stood in the Blue Room in the midst of the melee. This was Mary’s first public reception since the death of Willie the previous February. Some of the surviving soldiers of the War of 1812, known as the “old defenders,” stood out among the visitors. Lincoln was flanked on his left by his outsized Illinois friend Ward Hill Lamon, acting as marshal for the occasion. Lamon obtained the name of each guest and announced the person to the president. Each person was eager to shake the hand of the “pres,” as he was familiarly called. Lincoln pumped each hand in return. After three hours of hand shaking, the president was exhausted and his right hand was swollen. Finally, at shortly after 2 p.m., the last of the crowd exited the White House.
The president returned upstairs to his office. Visibly drooping with fatigue, he prepared to sign the proclamation. As he took up his gold pen and dipped it in ink, “his hand trembled, so that he held the pen with difficulty,” Senator Charles Sumner observed. Illinois congressman Isaac Arnold reported that Lincoln told him when he grasped the pen, “My hand and arm trembled so violently, that I could not write.” Unusually, Lincoln signed his full name in a slow and careful hand. He looked up and allowed himself a little laugh, exclaiming, “That will do.” When it was all over, Lincoln sighed, “I never, in my life, felt more certain that I was doing right, than I do in signing this paper.”
EVEN ON THIS DAY OF CELEBRATION, Lincoln’s continuing struggle to find competent military leadership intruded. After the Union army’s de moralizing defeat at Fredericksburg, General Ambrose Burnside, commander of the Army of the Potomac, traveled to Washington and requested a meeting with the president. They met briefly on December 31, but Lincoln convened a larger meeting on the morning of January 1 that included General in Chief Halleck and Secretary of War Stanton.
Lincoln had developed a strong liking for Burnside, a man with large blue eyes and a winning smile. His regard was only strengthened when the general accepted responsibility for the defeat at Fredericksburg, an attitude so unlike that of the previous commander. When Burnside arrived, he gave the president a letter he had written the night before at Willard’s Hotel. “Burn,” as his men called him, appeared outwardly strong, but inside self-doubt ate away at his ability to command. In his letter he told Lincoln, “It is of the utmost importance that you be surrounded and supported by men who have the confidence of the people and of the army.” Because Burnside believed he no longer retained that confidence, he asked to be relieved so that he might “retire to private life.” He went on to say that neither Stanton nor Halleck had the confidence of the army, and they should resign also. Lincoln read the letter, and, without saying a word, returned it to Burnside.
The four men talked about Burnside’s plan to cross the Rappahannock again. Burnside, cordial but agitated, did not defend his plan but simply expanded on the reasons for it. Lincoln turned to Halleck and asked for his opinion. Halleck hesitated, hemming and hawing. The tension between Burnside and Halleck was evident. The president, irritated, continued to press Halleck for his recommendation; the general in chief replied that the decision was the prerogative of the field commander. Seeing that he was not getting anywhere, Lincoln concluded the meeting.
After Burnside, Stanton, and Halleck left, Lincoln wrote a letter to Halleck instructing him to go with Burnside, assess the situation, consult with the other officers, and then either approve or disapprove the plan. “If in such a difficulty as this you do not help,” Lincoln wrote, “you fail me precisely in the point for which I sought your assistance. Your military skill is useless to me, if you will not do this.” Lincoln gave the letter to Stanton to deliver to Halleck.
When Halleck received the letter, he resigned. Lincoln, finding himself caught in an intolerable situation between a man who acted more like a clerk than a commander, but with no one else to take his place, withdrew his letter. He wrote on the bottom, “Withdrawn, because considered harsh by Gen. Halleck.”
LINCOLN DID NOT ACCEPT Burnside’s resignation. He wished to give him another opportunity to succeed.
Relieved by Lincoln’s support, Burnside’s spirits were revived. He worked long hours with little sleep in an effort to redeem himself and took advantage of the unusual dry winter weather of the first weeks of January to prepare for battle.
Burnside did not intend to keep his troops cooped up in winter quarters. He was determined to win a victory in January that was denied him in December. On a cold, clear January day he mounted his walleyed gray horse, Major, for “a fine ride of 15 or 18 miles,” bound for a personal reconnaissance of the upper fords of the Rappahannock, looking for the best place where his huge army might cross above Fredericks-burg.
On Monday morning, January 19, 1863, Burnside gave the orders for his 130,000-man army to begin the march up the Rappahannock. The river, which traversed 184 miles across northern Virginia, had becom
e an unofficial boundary between North and South. The troops initially marched quickly on dry roads. Intelligence, which would later prove faulty, brought news that James Longstreet’s corps had departed for Tennessee. Burnside hoped this might be the beginning of a great Union victory.
His hopes were quickly dashed. After three weeks of clear weather, it began to rain heavily, turning the roads into a quagmire. Wagons bogged down. Horses struggled to pull the heavy artillery. After two days, Burnside ordered the troops back to winter camp. What became dubbed derisively the “Mud March” resulted in yet another failure for the Army of the Potomac.
Burnside learned that Joseph Hooker and William B. Franklin, two key senior officers, had openly criticized his plans to their troops. He was determined that there should be accountability for the defeatist chatter. He headed for Washington, and, after considerable difficulty because of the continuing horrendous weather, made it shortly after 7 a.m. on January 24, 1863. He went directly to see Lincoln, carrying Order Number Eight, which outlined his determination to fire or transfer Hooker, William Franklin, and other complainers who he believed had sowed dissension in the ranks, or be himself relieved of command.
The next day, January 25, 1863, Lincoln welcomed Burnside into his office at 10 a.m. The president thanked Burnside for his service and told him he had decided to replace him. Burnside was reassigned to the Department of the Ohio.
WHO WOULD BE BURNSIDE’S REPLACEMENT? At a time of low morale, both in the country and throughout the Army of the Potomac, Lincoln understood how much was riding on making the right appointment. Whoever he chose would be the fourth commander of the Army of the Potomac in less than two years. Lincoln determined not to consider George McClellan or any of McClellan’s partisans, some of whom the president now transferred out of the Army of the Potomac. He may have thought of Western commanders, such as Ulysses S. Grant or William S. Rosecrans, but they were doing well where they were. Besides, Lincoln did not want to antagonize his Eastern soldiers with another imported Western commander, as had happened six months earlier with the appointment of John Pope.
Lincoln offered a surprise when he decided to appoint Joseph Hooker, even after all of Hooker’s sniping at Burnside behind his back. Lincoln did not consult Stanton, Halleck, or members of his cabinet. At a White House reception the evening of January 24, 1863, Henry J. Raymond, editor of the New York Times, warned Lincoln about Hooker’s loose talk. Lincoln put his hand on Raymond’s shoulder and, speaking softly into his ear, not wanting to be overheard, said, “That is all true. Hooker does talk badly, but the trouble is, he is stronger with the country today than any other man.” Lincoln’s primary priority in early 1863 had become the public and the soldiers.
Born in Hadley, Massachusetts, and a graduate of West Point, “Fighting Joe” Hooker was handsome, with wavy brown hair and blue eyes. He had earned his nickname for his courage at Williamsburg in the battle on the Virginia peninsula in the spring of 1862. Hooker seemed to be everywhere, calmly directing his men from the vantage point of “Colonel,” his large white horse. Hooker did not like his nickname because he believed it did him “incalculable injury,” leading the public to think “I am a hot headed, furious young fellow” not given to calm and thoughtful military leadership. He earned a reputation for caring about his soldiers during the siege at Yorktown. He commanded a division in the second battle of Bull Run and was wounded in the foot at Antietam in September 1862.
If Lincoln may have earlier overlooked some of the flaws of McClellan, Pope, Halleck, and Burnside, he made the appointment of Hooker with his eyes wide open. Lincoln knew that Hooker came with both assets and liabilities. Hooker’s chief assets were that he was an independent and outspoken soldier. Hooker’s chief liabilities were the same two qualities. In the Mexican War, he had criticized General Winfield Scott, testifying against him in a court of inquiry. Assigned to command the Center Grand Division under Burnside at Fredericksburg, he was “incensed” from the start of Burn’s much-too-slow strategy to cross the Rappahannock. He tried to persuade Burnside not to continue the suicidal attack on Marye’s Heights.
Abraham Lincoln made a surprise appointment in choosing “Fighting Joe” Hooker to become the fourth commander of the Army of the Potomac in January 1863.
When Lincoln made his decision to appoint Hooker, he summoned him to the White House. The president told him,
I think it best for you to know that there are some things in regard to which, I am not quite satisfied with you. … I think that during Gen. Burnside’s command of the Army, you have taken counsel of your ambition, and thwarted him as much as you could, in which you did a great wrong to the country, and to a most meritorious and honorable brother officer.
One can only imagine Hooker’s expression when Lincoln then said, “Of course it was not for this, but in spite of it, that I have given you the command.” Lincoln had heard that among Hooker’s headstrong loose talk he had made the suggestion that what the country might need in this crisis was a dictator. Lincoln told Hooker, “Only those generals who gain successes, can set up dictators. What I now ask of you is military success, and I will risk the dictatorship.”
Lincoln later wrote what he had said in Hooker’s letter of appointment. He mingled affirmation with admonition in the remarkable letter, all in a tone of kindness, even humor. Several months later, Hooker told reporter Noah Brooks, “That is just such a letter as a father might write to a son. It is a beautiful letter, and although I think he was harder on me than I deserved, I will say I love the man who wrote it.”
As a part of his appointment, Hooker requested that he report directly to the president, wanting to bypass Henry Halleck. Hooker and Halleck had studied together at West Point, but bad blood had developed in their days in California in the 1850s. Apparently Hooker owed Halleck money, and Halleck had publicly disapproved of Hooker’s drinking and carousing. Lincoln, sometimes too willing to oblige, acquiesced to Hooker’s request. His decision to bypass the chain of command would pose problems in the future.
With a new commander in place and no immediate advance planned, Lincoln could finally step back from his daily regimen as commander in chief. No president, before or after, ever spent nearly as much time in the day-to-day, hour-by-hour command of the armed forces of the nation. Lincoln’s nonstop work was taking a tremendous toll on him.
WHO DID THE EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION FREE? Critics quickly created an oft-repeated maxim that the only slaves emancipated were outside the reach of the Northern army. The proclamation exempted the border states, as well as Tennessee, plus areas of Virginia and Louisiana occupied by Union troops. The proclamation was not so much a fact accomplished as a promise to be realized.
If the Emancipation Proclamation could be achieved, it would be by the marching feet of a liberating army. But up until now this had been “a white man’s war.” By the middle of the nineteenth century, most Americans had forgotten that African-Americans fought in both the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812. Blacks had been barred from state militias since 1792. The regular army, including West Point, did not recruit or enroll black soldiers.
If critics pointed to the weaknesses of the proclamation, it contained one potentially large strength: “And I further declare and make known, that such persons of suitable condition, will be received into the armed service of the United States to garrison forts, positions, stations, and other places, and to man vessels of all sorts in said service.” But the promise came with a question. Did Lincoln intend that freed slaves join the Union army and navy? If so, in what roles? Even Lincoln’s closest colleagues were not sure what he intended at the beginning of 1863.
The second Confiscation Act of July 17, 1862, gave Lincoln the power to employ blacks in any way he chose, but he had been reluctant to use them as soldiers. Since early in the war, slaves had sought refuge in Union camps. Soldiers quickly learned that some slaves were willing bearers of information about Confederate troops and movements.
The overwh
elming majority of Northern soldiers did not sign up to free black slaves or fight beside them in the Union army. The attitudes of these soldiers combined a hatred of blacks with a greater hatred of the system of slavery they saw as a foundation of the Confederate states.
Recruitment of slaves for the Union military had taken place piecemeal in South Carolina, Louisiana, and Kansas in 1862, without either Lincoln’s affirmation or authorization. In July 1862, days before sharing his plans for an Emancipation Proclamation with his cabinet, Lincoln had told Senator Orville Browning that the arming of black soldiers “would produce dangerous & fatal dissatisfaction in our army, and do more injury than good.” After his public announcement of his plans for emancipation in September, the suggestion of arming black soldiers incited as much or more antagonism from Democrats and from Unionists in border states than the idea of emancipation itself.
AFTER MONTHS OF FOREBODING, Frederick Douglass was elated when he heard that Lincoln had signed the Emancipation Proclamation. He had been encouraging the arming of black troops since the start of the war. From his editor’s desk in Rochester, and on platforms across the North, Douglass had criticized the president in 1861 and 1862 for fighting a war with his white hand while his black hand was tied behind his back.
Now, at the beginning of 1863, Douglass made plans to act upon the military promise within the civil promise of emancipation. In February, he traveled two thousand miles to encourage black enlistment. In an address delivered at the Cooper Institute in New York, Douglass declared, “The colored man only waits for honorable admission into the service of the country. They know that who would be free, themselves must strike the blow, and they long for the opportunity to strike that blow.” On his tour, Douglass was struck by the clash of twin emotions—white Northern discouragement with the war effort and eagerness on the part of blacks to enlist and serve.
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