Jefferson Davis, American

by William J. Cooper

  Davis certainly expected such loyalty and commitment from the professional soldiers leading his armies. But in the summer and fall of 1861 two occurrences fundamentally undermined that expectation. Davis’s reaction to them would have massive consequences for him and for his country. These instances tested him as commander in chief while underscoring his understanding of the Confederate movement.

  When, on August 31, Davis sent to Congress his ranking of the five full generals in the Confederate army, he ignited a firestorm of resentment. Back in March, Congress had passed a law setting full general as the highest rank in the army; the statute also stated that rank previously held in the United States Army should govern placement in the Confederate States Army. Even before First Manassas, the president had appointed four full generals—both Johnstons, Lee, and Samuel Cooper—and after the battle he rewarded Beauregard with promotion to the highest rank.

  Even so, there had been no official seniority list until Davis’s August message. It named Cooper as senior, followed in order by A. S. Johnston, Lee, J. E. Johnston, and Beauregard. In assigning seniority Davis did not go by rank held in the United States Army, except for making Beauregard the most junior. Cooper and Lee had been colonels, A. S. Johnston a brevet brigadier general, and J. E. Johnston a brigadier general. The younger Beauregard had been only a major.

  President Davis gave various explanations for this ranking. He claimed to have followed West Point class and standing within a class—Cooper, 1815, A. S. Johnston, 1826, Lee and J. E. Johnston, 1829 (second and thirteenth respectively), Beauregard, 1838. He also said he placed A. S. Johnston and Lee ahead of J. E. Johnston because they had been line officers, while J. E. Johnston’s generalship derived solely from his staff assignment as quartermaster general. In addition, he maintained that the law applied neither to Lee nor to J. E. Johnston, because both had entered the Confederate army from Virginia state forces where the former outranked the latter. But while each of these reasons may have had some validity, Davis was clearly rationalizing what he had done. The oldest, at sixty-three, Cooper would always work in Richmond, where he would sign a multitude of orders and directives. The president wanted no question about his authority. He believed A. S. Johnston to be his best soldier, and from his arrival in Richmond he had become increasingly confident in Lee. Thus, J. E. Johnston was left in fourth place.82

  Joseph Johnston would have none of it. Always inordinately sensitive about rank, and especially careful in career activities to look out for himself, Johnston felt he had been insulted and his honor impugned. He was the only man to have held a permanent brigadier’s rank, and he had no doubt that his name should have headed Davis’s list. Angry and hurt, he penned a lengthy, agitated missive to the president in which he announced: “I now and here claim, that notwithstanding these nominations by the President and their confirmation by Congress, I still rightfully hold the rank of first general in the Armies of the Southern Confederacy.” He maintained that by placing him fourth, Davis had broken him in rank. After writing the letter, Johnston kept it for two days, and then decided it exactly expressed his feelings and sent it. In the words of his most important biographer, the general had written “an ill-judged and foolish letter,” which should never have been forwarded.

  Jefferson Davis was taken aback. Johnston’s language was surely inappropriate from a military subordinate to a superior; but, even more important, the letter told Davis that his general cared more about rank than the cause. He shared Johnston’s protest with his cabinet, terming its tone “intemperate.” He also read to his official family his brief but sharp reply: “I have just received and read your letter of the 12th instant. Its language is, as you say, unusual; its arguments and statements utterly one-sided; and its insinuations as unfounded as they are unbecoming.” This was the official end. Never again during the war did the two men correspond about this matter, though its memory embittered Johnston for the rest of his life. In his reaction Johnston had revealed the human flaws of pride and ambition, which Davis could not countenance, for the Confederate purpose was far too serious to permit indulgence in such luxuries. This incident fundamentally altered the relationship between president and general; for quite different reasons, neither man ever again trusted the other.83

  This affair with Johnston was not the only conflict Davis experienced with a general in the late summer and fall of 1861. Between August and October, Beauregard sent several fault-finding letters to the War Department, pointing to shortcomings, including food shortages. He even wrote to friendly congressmen, who read the charges to their fellows. The president resented Beauregard’s involving members of Congress to publicize his opinions about supposed deficiencies in the War Department and his unhappiness about his command relationship with Joseph Johnston. After Judah Benjamin became acting secretary, the correspondence became increasingly acrimonious. In a number of lengthy, forbearing letters Davis attempted to ameliorate the situation, telling Beauregard he understood his frustration, but adding that everyone, including Benjamin, was doing all possible for the army. He also urged Beauregard to concentrate his energy on the real enemy in his front. Indicating he did not occupy his own post out of choice, Davis said he “labor[ed] assiduously in my present position,” and “my best hope has been, and is, that my co-laborers, purified and elevated by the sanctity of the cause they defend, would forget themselves in their zeal for the public welfare.”84

  Discontented as Johnston’s deputy and aware of his popularity—friends had even mentioned him for president in place of Davis—Beauregard now moved his self-promotion to a higher level. He filled his official report on the Battle of Manassas, dated October 14, with puffery and rhetorical excesses, strongly implying that he alone made the victory possible and would have marched on Washington if the president had not prevented his doing so. In addition, he pointedly noted that even before the battle, Davis had quashed his grand offensive plan. Poorly disguised as a mere battle report, this promotional tract was sent to congressional allies as well as to the War Department.

  Davis first learned about the report from a summary printed in a Richmond newspaper. This time Beauregard had gone too far, and the president determined to set the record straight. He said he could handle the personal cuts, but worried that Beauregard’s claims made the administration look bad and could undermine public confidence in its ability to manage the war. Thereupon, he rounded up documents to prove he did not stop any advance, and even obtained a corroborating statement from Joseph Johnston. When the president forwarded Beauregard’s report to Congress, he attached an endorsement spelling out where he believed the general had erred.

  Writing to Beauregard, Davis expressed surprise and disgust. That the report’s text confirmed the newspaper account astounded him, “because if we did differ in opinion as to the measures and purposes of contemplated campaigns, such fact could have no appropriate place in the report of a battle.” More than anything else, Davis found unacceptable Beauregard’s descriptions of nonexistent plans and especially what “seemed to be an attempt to exalt yourself at my expense.” In Davis’s mind, his general had certainly not heeded his admonition to put cause above self. Davis now doubted the depth of Beauregard’s commitment, a doubt that would only grow.85

  As president, Davis served as both civilian and military leader. Those roles merged because Davis devoted himself to the military struggle to secure Confederate independence, but he conflated his own and his administration’s actions and policies with patriotism. He could believe he had overcome the ambition that had been so central in his career both because of his absolute allegiance to the Confederate cause and because he was at the top. When he detected others acting for personal advantage, he suspected lack of commitment to the cause that had become all-encompassing for him. Aware that securing Confederate independence would be a herculean task, he was convinced Confederates had to put aside or suppress all personal concerns in accomplishing this sacred mission. He was also confident that he himself had done s
o.

  Although building an army and fighting a war overwhelmingly preoccupied President Davis, he tried to shore up his diplomatic front. When Robert Toombs resigned as secretary of state in July, Davis replaced him with Robert M. T. Hunter of Virginia. Davis had known Hunter in the United States Senate, where he had sat from 1847 to 1861. Moreover, the president wanted a Virginian in the cabinet, and Hunter seemed a logical choice. The advent of Hunter did not change the chief diplomatic goals of the Confederacy: recognition, especially by Britain and France, and assistance in lifting the blockade.86

  Davis not only put a new man in the State Department, he also reconstructed his most important foreign mission. By autumn the original team sent to Europe had accomplished little. With high hopes for early intervention dashed, a frustrated Yancey resigned. At that time Davis decided to replace the commissioners with ministers plenipotentiary in the major capitals. To London, he sent James M. Mason, holder of an illustrious Virginia name and former chairman of the U.S. Senate Committee on Foreign Relations, but no Anglophile. For Paris, he chose another ex-senator, John Slidell of Louisiana, a most capable politician and a man at home with French culture and the French language.

  Mason and Slidell came closest to succeeding in their mission before they ever landed in Europe. In October they left Charleston by blockade-runner. In Havana, they transferred to the British mail packet Trent for their trans-Atlantic voyage. But on November 8 the Trent was stopped by a U.S. Navy sloop, and Mason and Slidell were removed, before the Trent was permitted to continue. Although northern public opinion initially applauded the capture, the British voiced outrage. The British government dispatched an ultimatum to Washington demanding an apology and release of the two diplomats. In the tense weeks following, talk of war reverberated on both sides of the Atlantic.

  Davis denounced the seizure, charging that the United States had violated rights “held sacred even amongst barbarians.” He certainly wanted the Trent crisis to lead to a break between Britain and the United States, even to war. His friend Ambrose Dudley Mann wrote from London that his sources predicted a joint Anglo-French move to raise the blockade.

  With no ability to affect the outcome of the dispute, Davis could only wait and hope. But he waited and hoped in vain. The British gave the United States time to make a considered response. Ultimately unwilling to risk an armed clash with Britain, the Lincoln administration decided to release Mason and Slidell, with an accompanying declaration that the Union naval officer who had captured them acted without instructions. Britain accepted this explanation, and on January 1, 1862, Mason and Slidell resumed their journey. The settlement of the incident left the Confederacy unrecognized and the blockade in place. More important for the long term, having worked out a satisfactory solution to the crisis solidified relations between the two nations. The Confederates faced a daunting task in seeking to disrupt that association.

  The British stance on the blockade compounded Confederate diplomatic difficulties. The Confederacy wanted the British to find the Union blockade of Confederate ports ineffective. Doing so would mean the blockade was not legally binding on neutral countries, like Britain and France. The crucial issue under international law was whether a blockade was physically effective. The Confederacy supported the stand that the United States, as a neutral power, had taken in previous European wars: for a blockade to be legal, the blockading power had to seal off absolutely access to its enemy’s ports. By pointing to the numerous vessels that successfully ran the Union blockade, the Confederates attempted to prove its ineffectiveness. But Britain, the world’s greatest naval power, had always argued that patrolling warships trying to stop vessels from entering or leaving enemy ports made a blockade effective and legal. In this instance, while the Confederacy advocated the customary American position, the Union stood where the British traditionally did. Not wishing to create a precedent that could rebound against its interest in a future conflict, the British government in early 1862 declared the blockade legal.87

  As Jefferson Davis formulated military and foreign policy, he had the comfort of his family in Richmond. At first the Davises lived at the Spotswood Hotel, where he had bedrooms as well as a private table and parlor, though the press of people turned them into quasi-public spaces. The family itself almost made a crowd: Jefferson, Varina, the three children—Maggie, Jeff Jr., Joe—and Varina’s younger sister Margaret (also known as Maggie). In addition, Varina was once again pregnant.88

  The Davises did not long remain hotel residents, for on August 1 they moved to the newly acquired Executive Mansion of the Confederate States. Located in the city’s Court End neighborhood at 12th and Clay Streets, a short distance northeast of the Capitol, the mansion stood “on the brow of a steep and very high hill … sharply defined against the plain at its foot.” Its fourth owner, Richmond merchant Lewis Crenshaw, sold the house to the city, which, in turn, leased it to the Confederate government as the presidential residence. Although it had an outer surface of gray stucco, the house became known as the White House of the Confederacy. Crenshaw had recently transformed the two-story, neoclassical house built in 1818 into a three-story Italianate mansion. He installed gas-burning chandeliers, called gasoliers. Following upper-class taste of the mid-Victorian period, he added richly ornamented interior details and furnishings of the American Rococo Revival style. Gilded, tasseled, and tufted, Crenshaw’s residence proved worthy of a president.89

  On the first floor of the White House were most of the public rooms—the state dining room, a receiving parlor, and a more formal drawing room. Visitors entered an oval entrance hall before proceeding to the central parlor, or they turned right, went through a side door, and ascended the main staircase or went beyond the stairs into a small private library. On the second floor the offices of the president and his private secretary occupied the center of the house, behind a small waiting room. The master bedroom with dressing room flanked one side of these offices, and a large nursery the other. There was also a water closet. In the new third story were rooms for aides and guests. The family dining room shared space in the basement with a warming kitchen, butler’s pantry, storage room, and perhaps a sleeping area for servants. Outbuildings included quarters for slaves and a gardener, a stable and a carriage house, and a two-story brick kitchen.

  As first lady, Varina maintained an active social life—lunches, teas, receptions. In the White House, she received almost every evening, with guests crowding into the first-floor public rooms. She was a gracious hostess, though she often retired early from weariness caused by her pregnancy, which occasionally required her to stay in bed. Everyone was pleased when on December 6, a new baby named William Howell Davis joined the family. Naming the new son for Varina’s father produced no marital unhappiness.90

  As presidential wife in Richmond, Varina strongly resembled the cabinet and Senate wife of Washington. Clever, strong-minded, willing to express her opinion, including even her continued “unaltered feelings” for her northern friends, she drew other women to her. In Mary Chesnut’s words, she could exert “great force.” At the same time, her sharp wit and biting comments could repel. She sometimes squabbled with other notable wives, like Charlotte Wigfall, whose husband, the Texas politician Louis Wigfall, had been an ardent supporter of Davis before and after secession but soon became a bitter foe. One observer noted that “quiet smiles or decided laughter convey & cover rifle balls.” Varina was even called “the Empress Eugénie.”91

  White House of the Confederacy, looking down Clay Street, April 1865.

  Library of Congress, copy print, Museum of the Confederacy (photo credit i11.2)

  She displayed two sides of a forceful personality. Secretary Mallory found her “a truthful, generous good woman,” whose “perception of the ridiculous is perfectly riotous in its manifestations.” Yet he commented that she “lack[ed] precisely what she plumes herself upon,—refinement & judgement; and her attempts at mimicry though they sometimes amuse, are not only usually failures, but
they present her in a light at once undignified and unamiable.” The acutely perceptive Mary Chesnut also caught both Varinas, describing her as kind and as “affability itself,” but remarking on a lack of civility and a willingness to be unnecessarily abrasive in contretemps.92

  A special familial pleasure for Jefferson came from a visit from brother Joseph, whom he had not seen since leaving Mississippi. In his new position, the youngest yearned for counsel from the oldest. Writing Joseph in mid-June, Jefferson had said he expected soon to have “a good house” and urged his brother to visit. “Your advice to me,” he continued, “always desirable is now more than at any previous period coveted.” Much to the president’s delight, Joseph journeyed to Richmond, arriving on July 21 with an entourage including his wife Eliza, two grandchildren, and three others. Initially they put up at the Spotswood, but when Jefferson occupied the White House, he insisted that Joseph come along. At first Joseph objected, but when Jefferson indicated he would return to the hotel unless his invitation was accepted, Joseph agreed. He, Eliza, and the grandchildren moved into the White House, where they joined Jefferson and Varina at receptions.93

  White House of the Confederacy in its wartime setting.

  Museum of the Confederacy (photo credit i11.3)

  Joseph also brought news of Brierfield. Since becoming president, Jefferson had not had much time to think about his plantation, but he did get occasional reports. His friend and factor Jacob Payne wrote about supplies for Brierfield and the favorable season for picking cotton. In December, his overseer Nicholas Barnes informed his employer about “your Place & Bisness.” Predicting a crop totaling 70,000 pounds of seed cotton, Barnes thought it would exceed the 1860 production. He also noted an ample corn crop. In addition, he declared the slaves were “well and doing Vary well.”94