Dixie Victorious: An Alternate history of the Civil War

by Peter Tsouras

  “Will the slaves fight?” he asked rhetorically. Yes was the answer he drew from numerous examples—he reached deep into history to single out the helots of Sparta, and the galley slaves at Lepanto. Then, more boldly, he cited the examples of the slaves of Haiti, who won their freedom from their white masters and maintained it against a French army, and of the Maroons of Jamaica:

  “… and the experience of this war has been that so far that half-trained negroes have fought as bravely as many other half-trained Yankees. If, contrary to the training of a lifetime they can be made to face and fight bravely against their former masters, how much more probable is it that with the allurement of higher reward, and led by those masters, they would submit to discipline and face dangers.”10

  In ending, Cleburne read the names of a number of his senior subordinates who had signed the manifesto. The moment he finished and looked up from the paper, a commotion erupted from his audience. The content of the manifesto had come as a complete shock to most of the generals. Cleburne had had time to discuss the issue with his own officers and had been able to talk many of them around and obtain their signatures. His own corps commander, Hardee, and his good friend, Major General Thomas Hindman, who were already familiar with the document, supported it. His peers, however, largely failed to givehim the same support. The rest were noncommittal or hostile. Among the non-committal was the army commander, General Joseph E. Johnston, who declined to forward it to the government as it was more of a political than a military document.

  An exception to the near unanimous support of Cleburne’s staff was Major Calhoun Benham who remained so angry that he had attended the general officer to read his own dissent to the plan. More dangerous than Benham, who was open with his opposition, was Major General William Walker. He wrote to Cleburne the next day declaring the paper to be dangerous and “incendiary” and, stating he would poll their fellow general officers on the subject, asked boldly for a copy to forward to President Davis. Cleburne promptly agreed with equal boldness, thinking that would put the document just where he wanted it. He did not count on the venomous gloss Walker would put on it with his own letter. Being a gentleman, he did not realize that Walker’s polling of the other officers was a fishing trip for support for what he considered borderline treasonous conduct. Here Walker miscalculated. No officer would give him a written statement. Hindman, whose life Cleburne had saved seven years before in Helena, threw the request back at Walker with the cutting reply, “I do not choose to admit any inquisitorial rights in you.” He informed the army commander of the correspondence, and stated he was ready to call Walker out over the matter.

  Undeterred, Walker wrote to Johnston that he, in effect, was stooping to violate military protocol in a way that Cleburne had not, by forwarding the manifesto to Davis because “the magnitude of the issues involved” and “strong convictions that the further agitation of such sentiments and propositions would ruin the efficacy of our army and involve our cause in ruin and disgrace.”11 Johnston played a passive role in the entire matter. The manifesto that he would not forward officially to the President, he would allow Walker to send. It was not one of his more attractive moments as a commanding general. On January 12, Walker dispatched the copy of the manifesto to Richmond.

  Cleburne had made more enemies than just Walker. Major General Patton Anderson wrote to Lieutenant General Leonidas Polk:

  “Yes, sir; this plain, but in my view monstrous proposition was calmly submitted to the generals of this army for their sanction and adoption with the avowed purpose of carrying it to the rank and file. I will not attempt to describe my feelings on being confronted by a project so startling in its character—may I say so revolting to the Southern sentiment, Southern pride, and Southern honor. And not the least painful of the emotions awakened by it was the consciousness which forced itself upon me that it was met with favor by other beside the author in high station then present.”12

  More to the point, Major General Joe Wheeler, commander of the cavalry of the Army of Tennessee, picked up Walker’s line and suggested that Cleburne’s loyalty was suspect and the fit subject for investigation. The Irishman’s many wounds and victories were forgotten as Wheeler insinuated that Cleburne’s ten years in the country were insufficient proof of his fidelity to the Confederacy. Going further, he stated that the citizens of Helena would have lynched him had he ever made such a proposal to them.13

  As the poisonous accusations flew through the army, Cleburne was in Mobile on much-deserved leave. There he discussed his proposal with powerful men in the state and received a generally favorable response. On his return, he stopped in Atlanta, and was visited by Colonel A.S. Colyar, a Congressman from Tennessee, who would record Cleburne’s comment: “If we take this step now, we can mold the relations, for all time to come, between the white and colored races.”14 Clearly Cleburne was thinking deeply into the future. Just as clearly, he had aroused the enmity of many who would lash themselves to a dying past.

  The White House of the Confederacy, January 19, 1864

  “The President will see you now, General Lee.” The servant opened the door to the study, and Lee entered. Davis left his desk to meet Lee as warmly as his stiff personality would allow. Lee matched him with a courteous formality. For all that, both men worked well together, one of the more successful civil-military relationships in American history. It worked because Lee had no ambitions to be anything more than he was—commander of the Army of Northern Virginia, shield of his beloved Commonwealth. It also worked well because Davis, who considered himself something of a military genius, was shrewd enough to allow Lee his scope within those virtuous ambitions.

  Nevertheless, Davis valued Lee’s unsolicited advice, not just on matters concerning the Army of Northern Virginia and the eastern theater of war, but on military matters in general. After all, Lee had been his chief military advisor before he had assumed command of the Army of Northern Virginia. As long as Davis was doing the asking, he was willing to listen. Now, he waved a sheaf of papers and dropped them on his desk with disdain. “From General Walker in Johnston’s army. He forwards an outrageous proposal by Cleburne that we actually free slaves to fight for the Confederacy. I would not survive the political storm if word leaked out that I even considered it. I have instructed the Secretary of War to order it suppressed.”

  Lee replied, “May I read it, Sir? I have heard nothing but good reports about General Cleburne. His action at Ringgold Gap was by all accounts superb. And your official thanks and that of the Congress most fitting.”

  “Of course, General.” He handed the manifesto to Lee and paused. “If you are staying in Richmond tonight, I would appreciate your comments tomorrow.” His every instinct told him to bury the manifesto deep and to blast the author. But, but… he did not lightly discard Lee’s words. And there had been real admiration in Lee’s voice, and his normally reserved countenance had visibly brightened as he complimented Cleburne. Perhaps the Secretary of War’s letter could wait another day or two.

  Lee spent the night with his family in the house he had rented in Richmond. A family man to the core, Lee treasured the few opportunities to lose himself in the love of his wife and daughters. After dinner, though, he tore himself away from the feminine delights of hearth and home, and retired to his study with his aide, Major Charles Taylor, to read the manifesto. He read it twice, then handed it to Taylor. “Read it, Major.” The young man was quick off the mark and not intimidated by general officer correspondence. Lee watched the expressions of astonishment race across his face. When he had finished, Lee rose to stand in front of the red glow of the fireplace.

  “Shortly before I resigned my commission in the United States Army, I stated clearly that I thought slavery a great evil not only for the negro but for the white man as well. If I had it in my power, I would abolish it. But that was merely an idle posturing without ability to execute. I did not turn my back on a lifetime’s work for slavery, Major. I did it for Virginia.”

&nbs
p; His brown eyes lost their focus as he seemed to look far into the distance:

  “Perhaps, itis not so idle a posture after all.”15

  White House of the Confederacy, January 20, 1864

  Lee rode into a sea of pandemonium outside the White House. Smoke filled the street as fire poured from a basement window of the building. Firemen were rushing into the house as servants were rushing out of it, their arms full of what they could save. Everyone seemed to be shouting or screaming. Lee scanned the crowd around the building and found Davis actively directing the operation, much to the obvious annoyance of the local fire chief. Lee knew better than to interrupt a busy man. He leaned forward to pat Traveler on the neck, speaking softly, “We’ve seen worse, haven’t we, old boy?” The horse snorted and shook its head as if emphatically to agree.

  “General Lee, General Lee!” Lee turned to see the source of the shout. It was Judah Benjamin in his carriage waving him over. He trotted over and touched his fingers to his hat.

  “Mr. Secretary, good morning, Sir.”

  Benjamin waved towards Davis. “It seems our President is in his executive element.”

  Lee suppressed a smile. The Secretary looked up and said, “The Cleburne matter, General?

  “Yes. The President asked for my comments. I spent the night with it.”

  “Indeed, General, it is enough to keep one up through the night.”

  A dapper military aide, in a new uniform cleaner than any Lee had seen in months, appeared and saluted. “Gentlemen, the President asks that you wait until the fire is put out.” It was an hour or so until the aide returned to invite them into the President’s office. Davis was not the man to let chaos and rooms full of smoke interrupt his duties. It had not been wasted time, though. Lee and Benjamin had had much to discuss.

  Davis may have been a slave to duty, but he was obviously upset. It was not the fire itself but who set it. Two of his house servants, a slave named Jim Pemberton and a free black woman, Mary Elizabeth Bowers, had set fire to the house and fled North.16 Davis was nothing if not self-controlled, but the sense of betrayal was bitter beyond measure. It was made plain by his uncharacteristic reference to the matter in his guests’ presence. A Southern gentleman rarely discussed such “family problems” with others.

  “The Cleburne manifesto, Gentlemen. I was wrong to entertain it even momentarily. All we could expect is servile ingratitude made disastrous by putting weapons into their hands.”

  Benjamin waited until Davis had worked out his anger. “Mr. President, I would suggest that this incident supports rather than confounds Cleburne’s contentions.”

  Davis was visibly taken aback. Before he could speak, Benjamin continued. “The lure of freedom is too great, Sir. If it can sunder even your own household, it can appear anywhere. And it has and will at an increasingly debilitating rate until the institution we thought was such a valuable resource when this war started is transformed into a weapon by our enemies.”

  “We have not reached that extremity that would admit of this as a solution,” Davis said.

  “But we have, Mr. President,” Lee stated clearly.

  “Cleburne’s statements about the deleterious effects on our army is true beyond doubt. He could have been describing the Army of Northern Virginia and not just the Army of Tennessee. We will be inexorably ground down, Sir. Waiting until extremis forces us to grasp this nettle will ensure we do it too late. We must resolve to do it while we have the strength to take advantage of it.”17

  “I am not convinced they would fight well,” Davis retorted.

  “I can attest that they do, indeed, fight well, Mr. President. You yourself are the perfect example of the effectiveness of well-led negroes in a fight.”

  Davis looked surprised, and then forced a smile. Yes, before the war he had armed the black men of his estate and led them to hunt down a band of white desperados. He was hoist on his own petard, for itwas a story he had relished telling for years.

  Lee went on:

  “In my opinion, the negroes, under proper circumstances, will make efficient soldiers… Under good officers, and good instructions, I do not see why they should not become soldiers. They possess all the physical qualifications, and their habits of obedience constitute a good foundation for discipline. They furnish a more promising material than many armies of which we read in history.

  Fifteen percent of the strength of my army is black, but they fill the same roles as an equal number of white soldiers do for the enemy. The army could not peel a potato or shoe a horse without them. Cooks, teamsters, musicians, and body servants have frequently found their way into the firing line. They are regularly armed. I could not have brought 5,000 Union prisoners south after Gettysburg without armed black guards. You may not be aware, but the first Union soldier killed in battle in this war was shot by one of our negro snipers at Big Bethel.”18

  “Even if I granted that they can fight, how would we compensate their owners? We are penniless. It would ruin the country if we could do it, and for that reason, it would be politically impossible even to touch.”

  Benjamin saw his opening. He realized the issue was in play when Davis essentially conceded the viability issue of black men in arms. “Mr. President,” he said as he drew papers from his briefcase:

  “I have here the secret letter from our very able agent in London, Henry Hotze. He discussed the sensation made in London by the very rumor of our freeing the slaves and making them soldiers. He personally completely endorses the idea. Mr. President, his finger is on the pulse of European, and particularly, British opinion. He further says that this position represents the opinion of those circles in Britain most friendly to our cause.

  Mr. President, this is the key to our survival. Our friends in Britain and Europe look only for an excuse to come to our aid. Follow Cleburne’s plan, but tie the emancipation to the large loans we must have to compensate the owners. The British spent hundreds of millions of pounds compensating the owners of their slaves when they abolished the institution. They will understand this. With the slavery issue nullified, our British friends will not face the domestic opposition to aiding us in even more substantial ways that they do now.”19

  Davis’s sunken cheeks never seemed so starkly outlined as at that moment; he rose stiffly and thanked his guests. That night he did not sleep. The household could hear his footsteps across the long wooden floor of the study as he paced back and forth through the night.

  The next morning Benjamin received instructions to order Hotze in London and other agents in Europe to put it squarely to the Confederacy’s friends at the highest levels that emancipation was being considered but required loans to see it through. It was a clever way to put the ball in the British court. Another message went to the Secretary of War instructing him to take no action on the Cleburne Manifesto. Rather, Cleburne was to be summoned to Richmond for a personal interview with the President.

  The White House, Washington, D.C., February 24, 1864

  The Confederate proposal hit official London like a bomb. Even the anti-slavery parties, usually pro-Union, voiced guarded support of the idea. It did not take long for the events in London to whipsaw back across the Atlantic to Washington where the reaction was even more explosive as rumors spread throughout the Union. Lincoln sent for Frederick Douglass, the great black abolitionist.

  Douglass was one of the few men Abraham Lincoln admired through and through. More than that madman John Brown, he resembled an Old Testament prophet with a strong dose of Roman senator thrown in. For his part, Douglass returned the admiration. Lincoln was, he would write, “the first great man that I talked with in the Unites States freely who in no single instance reminded me of the difference between himself and myself, of the difference of color.”20

  “Douglass, read this.” Lincoln handed him the report from the Union’s ambassador in London, Charles Adams. As Douglass read, Lincoln stared out the window with his hands clasped behind him.

  Douglass was instantly a
larmed as the import of the report became obvious. If both the North and the South offered emancipation and the honor of bearing arms to slaves, what advantage did the North have to counter the great Confederate advantage that the South was their home? The black man’s growing allegiance to the Union was directly related to emancipation. Northern racism had come as a shock to many slaves who expected the land of their dreams to be all milk and honey. But freedom kept them coming, abuse or no. His own sources reported the wild rumors that crossed the lines. They spoke of Union officers selling off escaped slaves to Cuba. These rumors and others of Northern abuse were rampant through the South and had contributed to a marked fall off in the number of escaping slaves.

  As he put down the paper, Lincoln turned around to face him. “If this is true, Douglass, they have checked us. The Democrats will be braying at my heels now. This is a godsend to them.”

  “The land, Mr. President, the land is the key. Surely this ploy will be found wanting as the enemy hedge their promises. But the promise of land bounties would be the one thing the South could not, would not trump.”21