CHAPTER II.
From saddening associations with the tragical death of Mr. Lincoln, popular attention was turned three weeks after his interment to a great military display in the Capital of the Nation in honor of the final victory for the Union. The exigencies of the closing campaign had transferred the armies commanded by General Sherman from the Mississippi Valley to the Atlantic coast. The soldiers of Port Hudson and Vicksburg, the heroes of Donelson, Chattanooga, and Atlanta, had been brought within a day's march of the bronzed veterans whose battle-flags were emblazoned with the victories of Antietam and Gettysburg and with the crowning triumph at Appomattox. It was the happy suggestion of Secretary Stanton which assembled all these forces in the National Capital to be viewed by the Commander-in-Chief. Through four years of stern and perilous duty, there had been no holiday, no parade of ceremony, no evolution for mere display, either by the troops of the East or of the West. Their time had been passed in camp and in siege, in march and in battle, with no effort relaxed, no vigor abated, no vigilance suspended, during all the long period when the fate of the Union was at stake. It was now fitting that the President, attended by the chief officers of the Government, should welcome them and honor them in the name of the Republic. They had brought from the field the priceless trophy of American Nationality as the reward of their valorous struggle. By the voice of the people a "triumph" as demonstrative, if not as formal, as that given to a conqueror in Ancient Rome was now decreed to them. They had earned the right to be applauded on the via sacra, and to receive the laurel-wreath from the steps of the Capitol.
The first day's review, Wednesday, May 23, was given to the Army of the Potomac, of which General Meade had remained the commander since the victory at Gettysburg, but whose operations during the closing year of the struggle had been under the personal direction of General Grant. A part only of its vast forces marched through Washington on that day of loyal pride and gladness; but the number was large beyond the power of the eye to apprehend, beyond any but the skilled mind to reckon. An approximate conception of it can be reached by stating that one hundred and fifty-one regiments of infantry, thirty-six regiments of cavalry, and twenty-two batteries of artillery passed under the eye of the President, who reviewed the whole from a platform in front of the Executive Mansion.
On the ensuing day the Army of the Tennessee and the Army of Georgia, constituting the right and left wing of General Sherman's forces, were reviewed. There was naturally some rivalry of a friendly type between the Eastern and Western soldiers, and special observation was made of their respective qualities and characteristics. The geographical distinction was not altogether accurate, for Western troops had always formed a valuable part of the Army of the Potomac; while troops from the East were incorporated in Sherman's army, and had shared the glories of the Atlanta campaign and of the March to the sea. It was true, however, that the great mass of the Army of the Potomac came from the eastern side of the Alleghanies, while the great mass of Sherman's command came from the western side. The aggregate number reviewed on the second day did not differ materially from the number on the first day. There were some twenty more regiments of infantry on the second day, but fewer cavalry regiments and fewer batteries of artillery.
The special interest which attached to the review, aside from the inestimable significance of a restored Union, consisted in the fact that the spectators, who were reckoned by tens of thousands, saw before them an actual, living, fighting army. They were not holiday troops with bright uniforms, trained only for display and carrying guns that were never discharged against a foe. They were a great body of veterans who had not slept under a roof for years, who had marched over countries more extended than those traversed by the Legions of Cæsar, who had come from a hundred battle-fields on which they had left dead comrades more numerous than the living who now celebrated the final victory of peace. It was the remembrance of this which in all the glad rejoicing over the past and all the bright anticipation of the future lent a tinge of sadness to the splendid and inspiring spectacle of the day. The applause so heartily given for the soldiers who were present could not be unaccompanied by tears for the fate of that vast host which had gone down to death without even the consolation of knowing that they had not died in vain.
In the four years of their service the armies of the Union, counting every form of conflict, great and small, had been in twenty-two hundred and sixty-five engagements with the Confederate troops. From the time when active hostilities began until the last gun of the war was fired, a fight of some kind—a raid, a skirmish, or a pitched battle—occurred at some point on our widely extended front nearly eleven times a week upon an average. Counting only those engagements in which the Union loss in killed, wounded, and missing exceeded one hundred, the total number was three hundred and thirty,—averaging one every four and a half days. From the northernmost point of contact to the southernmost, the distance by any practicable line of communications was more than two thousand miles. From East to West the extremes were fifteen hundred miles apart.
During the first year of hostilities—one of preparation on both sides —the battles were naturally fewer in number and less decisive in character than afterwards, when discipline had been imparted to the troops by drill, and when the materiel of war had been collected and stored for prolonged campaigns. The engagements of all kinds in 1861 were thirty-five in number, of which the most serious was the Union defeat at Bull Run. In 1862 the war had greatly increased in magnitude and intensity, as is shown by the eighty-four engagements between the armies. The net result of the year's operations was highly favorable to the Rebellion. In 1863 the battles were one hundred and ten in number—among them some of the most significant and important victories for the Union. In 1864 there were seventy-three engagements, and in the winter and early spring of 1865 there were twenty-eight.
In fact, 1864-65 was one continuous campaign. The armies of the Union did not go into winter-quarters to the extent of abandoning or suspending operations. They felt that it was in their power to bring the struggle to an end at once, and they pressed forward with prodigious vigor and with complete success. General Grant with his characteristic energy insisted that "active and continuous operations of all the troops that could be brought into the field regardless of season and weather were necessary to a speedy termination of the war." He had seen, as he expressed it in his own terse, quaint language, that "the armies of the East and the West had been acting independently and without concert, like a balky team, no two of them ever pulling together." Under his direction the forces of the Union, however distant from each other, were brought into harmonious co-operation and with the happiest results. The discipline of the Union army was never so fine, its vigor was never so great, its spirit was never so high, as at the close of that terrible campaign which under Grant's command in the East began at the Wilderness and ended with Lee's surrender, and which under Sherman's command in the West began with the march towards Atlanta, and closed with the complete conquest of Georgia and the Carolinas.
A grave moral responsibility rests upon those who continue a contest of arms after it is made clear that there is no longer a possibility of success. However far the laws of war may justify a belligerent in deceiving an enemy, the laws of honorable and humane dealing are violated with one's own partisans when a brave and confiding soldiery are led into a fight known by their commanders to be hopeless. Early in January, 1865, Jefferson Davis indicated the desire of the Confederate authorities to negotiate with the National Government for the arrangement of the terms of peace, and as a result the famous conference was held at Fortress Monroe. This step was taken by Mr. Davis because he saw that further effort on the part of the Confederates must be utterly futile. When he failed at this conference to secure any recognition of his government, he spitefully turned to the prolongation of the struggle. Every life destroyed in the conflict thereafter was needless slaughter, and the blood of the victims cries out against the Confederate Government for compelling the sacrifice.
When at last through sheer exhaustion the Confederate Armies ceased resistance and surrendered, they did so on precisely the same terms that had been offered by the Government of the Union three months before. In the interim the Confederate leaders had been deluding their people with the pretense that the "Lincoln Government" had outraged the South in refusing to recognize Confederate Nationality even long enough to treat with it for peace. "Nothing beyond this," exclaimed Mr. Robert M. T. Hunter in a speech delivered at a meeting in Richmond held immediately after the Peace Conference to which he had been one of the commissioners,—"Nothing beyond this is needed to stir the blood of Southern men." In the course of his inflammatory address Mr. Hunter made the naïve confession: "If our people exhibit the proper spirit they will bring forth the deserters from their caves; and the skulkers, who are avoiding the perils of the field, will go forth to share the dangers of their countrymen." The "skulkers" and "deserters" referred to were no doubt brave men who, having fought as long as there was hope, were not ambitious to sacrifice their lives to carry on the shameless bravado of the political leaders of the Rebellion.
Mr. Hunter spoke with singular intemperance of tone for one who was usually cool, guarded, and conservative. He was followed by the Mephistopheles of the Rebellion, the brilliant, learned, sinister Secretary of State, Judah P. Benjamin. He spoke as one who felt that he had the alias of an English subject for shelter, or possibly the Spanish flag for protection, when the worst should come, and thus he might continue to play the part of Confederate citizen so long as it favored his ambition and his fortune. He delivered a speech full of desperate suggestion—so desperate indeed that it re-acted and injured the cause for which he was demanding harsh sacrifices on the part of others. He urged upon his hearers that the States of the Confederacy had nearly seven hundred thousand male slaves of the age for military service. He gave the assurance that if freedom should be conceded to these men they would fight in aid of the Rebellion. Besides advocating a guaranty of emancipation to all these black men,—for the right to keep whom in slavery the war had been undertaken,—Mr. Benjamin urged that every bale of cotton, every hogshead of tobacco, every pound of bacon, every barrel of flour, should be seized for the benefit of the common cause.
Happily Mr. Benjamin went too far. His over-zeal had tempted him to prove too much. The Southern people who had desired to build up a slave empire, and who despised the negro as a freeman, were asked by Mr. Benjamin to surrender this cherished project, and join with him in the ignoble design of founding a confederacy whose corner-stone should rest on hatred of the Northern States, and whose one achievement should be the revival and extension of English commercial power on this continent. When the end came, Mr. Benjamin did not share the disasters and sacrifices with the sincere and earnest men whom he had done so much to mislead, and to whom he was bound in an especial manner by the tie which unites the victims of a common calamity. Instead of this magnanimous course which would in part have redeemed his wrong-doing, Mr. Benjamin took quick refuge under the flag to whose allegiance he was born. He left America with the full consciousness that to the measure of his ability, which was great, he had inflicted injury upon the country which had sheltered and educated him, and which had opened to him the opportunity for that large personal influence which he had used so discreditably to himself and so disastrously to the cause he espoused.
Mr. Benjamin became a resident of London and subsequently won distinction at the English Bar—rising to the eminence of Queen's counsel. His ability and learning were everywhere recognized, but it was at the same time admitted that he owed much of his success to the sympathy and the support of that preponderating class among British merchants who cordially wished and worked for our destruction,—who, covertly throughout the entire civil conflict, and openly where safe opportunity was presented, did all in their power to embarrass and injure the Union. If Mr. Benjamin had been loyal, and had honorably observed the special oath which he had taken to maintain and defend the Constitution, he might in vain have sought the patronage of that large number of Englishmen who enriched him with generous retainers. No one grudged to Mr. Benjamin the wages of his professional work, the reward of ability and industry; but the manner in which he was lauded into notoriety in London, the effort constantly made to lionize and to aggrandize him, were conspicuous demonstrations of hatred to our Government, and were significant expressions of regret that Mr. Benjamin's treason had not been successful. Those whom he served either in the Confederacy or in England in his efforts to destroy the American Union may eulogize him according to his work; but every citizen of the Great Republic, whose loyalty was unswerving, will regard Mr. Benjamin as a foe in whom malignity was unrelieved by a single trace of magnanimity.
The Confederates had failed in war, but their leaders had not the moral courage to accept the only practicable peace. Their subsequent course in Congress, in the Cabinet, and in the field, exposed in very striking outline the strong points and the weak points of Southern character. It exhibited Southern men as possessed of the utmost physical courage—often carried indeed to foolish audacity. It exhibited them at the same time as singularly deficient in the attribute of moral courage. When the Southern leaders knew the Confederate cause to be hopeless not a single man among them displayed sufficient heroism to brave public opinion with the declaration of his honest belief. The absolute suppression of free discussion which had long prevailed in the South, the frequent murder of those who attempted to express an unpopular opinion however honestly entertained, had deprived brave men of every trait of that higher form of courage which has given immortality of fame to the moral heroes of the world.
Not individually alone but in combined action this weak trait of Southern character was made manifest. Only a month before the time when the Confederacy was in ruins and the members of its Congress were fugitives from its Capital, they united in an inflammatory address to the people of the South, urging them to continue the contest. They made assertions and employed arguments which as men of intelligence they could not themselves believe and accept. They strove by exciting evil passions and blind animosities to hurl the soldiers of the Confederacy once more into a desperate fight with all its suffering and with certain defeat. In this address, which was the unanimous vote of the Confederate Senate and the Confederate House of Representatives, the people were told that if they failed in the war, "the Southern States would be held as conquered provinces by the despotic government at Washington;" that they "would be kept in subjugation by the stern hand of military power as Venice and Lombardy have been held by Austria, as Poland is held by the Russian Czar." A still more terrible fate was foretold. "Not only," continued the address, "would we be deprived of every political franchise dear to freemen, but socially we would be degraded to the level of slaves. . . . Not only would the property and estates of vanquished rebels be confiscated, but they would be divided and distributed among our African bondsmen."
Even the extravagance and absurdity of the foregoing declarations were outdone in other parts of the address. These senators and representatives—not ignorant men themselves—presumed so far upon the ignorance of their constituents as to assure them that "our enemies with a boastful insolence unparalleled in the history of modern civilization have threatened not only our subjugation, but some of them have announced their determination if successful in this struggle to deport our entire white population, and supplant it with a new population drawn from their own territory and from European countries. . . . Think of it! That we the descendants of a brave ancestry who wrested from a powerful nation by force of arms the country which we inhabit—bequeathed to us by them, and upon which we have been born and reared; that we should be uprooted from it and an alien population planted in our stead is a thought that should inspire us with undying hostility to an enemy base enough to have conceived it."
The white population of the eleven Confederate States was at that time between five and six millions. Of course no man who signed the address believed its statements. No one believed that the Government of the United States or the loyal people of the North were so inhuman and so unpatriotic as to advocate the deportation of this vast population, or so foolish as to think that such a task would be practicable even if it were desirable. The address was read in the North immediately after it was issued, and created a mingled feeling of astonishment, amusement, and sorrow. The severest comment made upon it was the remark of a Republican representative in Congress who had a most kindly feeling for the men of the South—that "the deportation for life of the men who signed and issued the libel would not only be a just punishment for the offense, but would be an undoubted advantage to both North and South." The close of the address was in harmony with its opening, and contained an argument which to some minds relieved the whole document from wickedness by making it ludicrous. Its last words insisted that "failure makes us vassals of an arrogant people—secretly if not openly hated by the most enlightened and elevated portions of mankind. Success records us forever in letters of light upon one of the most glorious pages of history. Failure will compel us to drink the cup of humiliation even to the bitter dregs of having the history of our struggle written by New-England historians."
The same lack of moral courage to face the inevitable and deal frankly with friends and supporters was still more palpably shown by Jefferson Davis when he sent a message to the Confederate Congress on March 13, three weeks before the fall of Richmond, in a tone similar to that of the famous address. Even after he was a fugitive, and the Capital of the Confederacy was in the possession of the Union Army, Mr. Davis halted long enough at Danville, to issue a proclamation in which he said, "We have now entered upon a new phase of the struggle. Relieved from the necessity of guarding particular points, our army will be free to move from point to point to strike the enemy in detail far from his base. Let us but will it, and we are free. . . . Let us not despond, my countrymen, but, relying on God, meet the foe with fresh defiance, with unconquered and unconquerable hearts." It is clearly established that Mr. Davis was fully aware of the state of affairs when he issued this misleading and inexcusable proclamation. Four days after its publication the army upon which he relied even for personal protection surrendered to General Grant, and Mr. Davis again sought safety in flight.
These extravagant misrepresentations do infinite damage to the Confederate cause and to the Confederate leaders in history. They reveal in strong light the method by which those leaders were willing to impose and actually did impose upon the almost unlimited credulity of the white population of their States. Prejudice on the question of slavery could be easily stimulated, and no effort was spared to poison the minds of the Southern people against the National Government and against the Northern people. But the exaggerations at the close of the struggle were no greater than those which had been employed at its commencement. From beginning to end the Rebellion was based upon the suppression of that which was true and the suggestion of that which was untrue. To mete out the proper share of responsibility to the leaders who organized the insurrection would be a task at once ungracious and impossible. The aggressive character of the movement was not concealed, and the motives underlying it were understood. That which was not understood, and which still remains to be accounted for, was the conduct of the thousands of Southern Unionists who did not express their opinions and maintain their faith with the firmness and effectiveness which had been widely hoped for and expected in the North. From the timidity of the friends of the Union and the boldness of the advocates of Secession, it is not difficult to understand how the large class of poor whites in the South could be urged into a contest in which every blow struck by them was in support of a system to whose baleful influence they owed their own ignorance, their social degradation, their pitiable poverty.
The wonder excited by the raising of the vast army which saved the Union from destruction was even surpassed by the wonder excited by its prompt and peaceful dissolution. On the day that the task of disbandment was undertaken, the Army of the United States bore upon its rolls the names of one million five hundred and sixteen men (1,000,516). The killed, and those who had previously retired on account of wounds and sickness and from the expiration of shorter terms of service, aggregated, after making due allowance for re-enlistments of the same persons, at least another million. The living among these had retired gradually during the war, and had resumed their old avocations, or, in the great demand for workmen created by the war itself, had found new employment. But with the close of hostilities many industries which had been created by the demands of war ceased, and thousand of men were thrown out of employment. The disbandment of the Volunteer Army would undoubtedly add hundreds of thousands to this number, and thus still further overstock and embarrass the labor-market. The prospect was not encouraging, and many judicious men feared the result.
Happily all anticipations of evil proved groundless. By an instinct of self-support and self-adjustment, that great body of men who left the military service during the latter half of the year 1865 and early in the year 1866 re-entered civil life with apparent contentment and even with certain advantages. Their experience as soldiers, so far from unfitting them for the duties and callings of Peace, seem rather to have proved an admirable school, and to have given them habits of promptness and punctuality, order and neatness, which added largely to their efficiency in whatever field they were called to labor. After the Continental Army was dissolved, its members were found to be models of industry and intelligence in all the walks of life. The successful mechanics, the thrifty tradesmen, the well-to-do farmers in the old thirteen States were found, in great proportion, to have held a commission or carried a musket in the Army of the Revolution. They were, moreover, the strong pioneers who settled the first tier of States to the westward, and laid the solid foundation which assured progress and prosperity to their descendants. Their success as civil magistrates, as legislators, as executives was not less marked and meritorious than their illustrious service in war. The same cause brought the same result a century later in men of the same blood fighting with equal valor the same battle of Constitutional liberty. The inspiration of a great cause does not fail to ennoble the humblest of those who do battle in its defense. Those who stood in the ranks of the Union Army have established this truth by the twenty years of honorable life through which they have passed since their patriotic service was crowned with victory.
The officers who led the Union Army throughout all the stages of the civil conflict were in the main young men. This feature has been a distinguishing mark in nearly all the wars in which the American people have taken part, and with a few notable exceptions has been the rule in the leading military struggles of the world. Alexander the Great died in his thirty-second year. Cæsar entered upon the conquest of Gaul at forty. Frederick the Great was the leading commander of Europe at thirty-three. Napoleon and Wellington, born in the same year, fought their last battle at forty-six years of age. On the exceptional side Marlborough's greatest victories were won when he was nearly sixty (though he had been brilliantly distinguished at twenty-two), and in our own day the most skillful campaign in Europe was under the direction of Von Moltke when he was in the seventieth year of his age.
Washington took command of the Continental Army at forty-three. Lafayette was a major-general at twenty. Nathaniel Greene was a general officer in the military establishment of the Revolution at thirty-three, and entered upon his memorable campaign in the South at thirty-eight. Winfield Scott was but twenty-eight when he commanded at Chippewa and Lundy's Lane. Macomb was thirty-two when he gained the famous victory over Sir George Prevost at Plattsburg. Jackson was forty-seven when he won the decisive battle over Pakenham at New Orleans. On the other hand, Taylor was sixty-three when he conquered at Buena Vista, and Scott was sixty-one when he made his celebrated march from Vera Cruz to the Capital. Scott enjoys the rare distinction of having held high and successful command in two wars which were a full generation of men apart. In 1847 he commanded in Mexico the sons of those officers who aided in his brilliantly successful campaign against the British on the borders of Canada in 1814.
At the opening of the war of the Rebellion General Scott again assumed command, but his seventy-five years pressed heavily upon him, and he soon gave way to younger men who came rapidly forward with patriotic ardor and with worthy ambition. Nearly all the graduates of the United-States Military Academy who achieved distinction were in what might be termed their middle youth; a few were in their twenties; none were old. General Grant won his campaign of the Tennessee, and fought the battles of Henry, Donelson, and Shiloh when he was thirty-eight years of age. Sherman entered upon his onerous work in the South-West when he was forty-one, and accomplished the march to the sea when he was forty-four. Thomas began his splendid career in Kentucky when he was forty-three, and fought the critical and victorious battle of Nashville when he was forty-six. Sheridan was but thirty-three when he confirmed a reputation, already enviable, by his great campaign of 1864 in the Shenandoah Valley. Meade won the decisive battle of Gettysburg when he was forty-seven. McClellan was but thirty-five when he succeeded General Scott in command of the army. McDowell was forty-five when he fought the first battle of magnitude in the war. Buell was forty-two when he joined forces with Grant's army on the second day's fight at Shiloh. Pope was scarcely over forty when he attained the highest credit for his success in the South-West. Hancock was forty-one when he approved himself one of the most brilliant commanders in the army by his superb bearing on the field of Spotsylvania. Hooker was forty-six when he assumed command of the Army of the Potomac.
General Schofield was thirty-four when he commanded with signal ability and success in the battle of Franklin. John Reynolds was forty-three when he fell at the head of his corps in the first day's fight at Gettysburg. Rosecrans was forty-two when he gained the important victory at Stone River. Burnside was thirty-seven when he made the admirable record of his North-Carolina campaign. Howard was thirty-two when he was assigned to the command of a corps, and only a year older when he succeeded McPherson in the command of the army of the Tennessee. McPherson was thirty-five when he gave up his heroic life on the bloody field before Atlanta. Slocum was thirty-eight when he handled his division with consummate skill at White-Oak Swamp. Joseph J. Reynolds was a major-general before he was forty. Parke was at the head of a corps when he was thirty-five. Hazen was thirty-four when he led in the important capture of Fort McAllister. McKenzie, Custer, Kilpatrick, and Ames had each won his star before he had passed his twenty-sixty hear. The only West-Point man who became conspicuous in the command of troops after he was fifty years of age was David Hunter. He entered upon his sixtieth year on the day of the unfortunate battle of Bull Run, and engaged thenceforth in severe and meritorious field-service. Montgomery C. Meigs, one of the ablest graduates of the Military Academy, was kept from the command of troops by the inestimably important services he performed as quartermaster-general, in which office he succeeded Joseph E. Johnston when the latter cast his fortunes with the Confederacy. Perhaps in the military history of the world there was never so large an amount of money disbursed upon the order of a single man as by the order of General Meigs. The aggregate sum could not have less during the war than fifteen hundred millions of dollars, accurately vouched and accounted for to the last cent. General Meigs is still living, vigorous in mind and body, active in good works, and enjoying the unstinted confidence and admiration of his countrymen.
Among the officers who volunteered from civil life the success of young men as commanders was not less marked than among the graduates of West Point. General Logan, to whom is conceded by common consent the leading reputation among volunteer officers, and who rose to the command of an army, went to the field at thirty-five. General Butler was forty-two when he was placed at the head of the Army of the Gulf, and began his striking career in Louisiana. General Banks was forty-four when with the rank of major-general he took command of the Department of Maryland. Alfred Terry, since distinguished in the regular service, achieved high rank as a volunteer at thirty-five. Garfield was a major-general at thirty-one with brilliant promise as a solider when he left the field to enter Congress. Frank Blair at forty-one was a successful commander of a division in the arduous campaign which ended with the fall of Vicksburg. Jacob D. Cox had achieved his reputation in the field at thirty-four. Sickles was forty-one when, desperately wounded, he was borne from the head of his corps at Gettysburg. Cadwallader Washburn in his forty-third year was in command of an important district in the South-West. Rawlins was high in General Grant's confidence and favor at thirty when he filled the important post of chief of staff. James B. Steedman was forty-four when he received Mr. Lincoln's special encomium for bravery. Franz Sigel was in command of a corps before he was thirty-five. Crawford was thirty-three when his division did its noble work at Gettysburg. Chamberlain was thirty-four when he associated his name indelibly with the defense of Little Round-Top. Corse was but twenty-nine when he held the pass at Altoona. Beaver was still younger when he received his terrible wound and his promotion. Grenville Dodge had risen to the rank of a major-general and approved his merit in the Atlanta campaign before his was thirty-three. Hawley did splendid service in the field at thirty-five, and rose rapidly to the rank of brigadier-general. Gresham had made his brave record at thirty-two, and bears wounds to attest his service. The McCooks were all young, all gallant, all successful. Negley was a brigadier-general at thirty-two. Robert Potter commanded a corps before he was thirty-seven. Joseph B. Carr achieved an honorable reputation in his early thirties. Hartranft was highly distinguished before he was thirty-seven. Nelson A. Miles left his counting-room at twenty-one, enlisted as a private, and in two years was a brigadier-general. Selden Connor was rewarded with the same rank for his conduct at the battle of the Wilderness before he was twenty-seven. Nicholas L. Anderson was under thirty when he received his brevet of major-general for a military career worthy in all respects of his eminent kinsman who fired the first gun in defense of the Union. The only general of volunteers beyond fifty years of age who acquired special distinction was James S. Wadsworth who in his fifty-seventh year fell in one of the most sanguinary battles of the war.
The list, both of regulars and volunteers, who achieved high command while still young, might be largely increased. The names given are selected from a roll of honor that has never been surpassed for gallantry of spirit and intrepidity of action in the military service of any country,—a roll too long to have full justice done to all the names borne upon it. Indeed, one of the obstacles to widespread popular fame for many, was in the great number of generals who fairly earned the laurels due to exalted heroism. In a military establishment so vast that the major-generals number one hundred and fifty, and the generals of brigade nearly or quite six hundred, with battles, engagements, and skirmishes in full proportion to the force which such a number of commanders implies, it is difficult to give even the names of all who are worthy of lasting renown. Battles such as established Scott's fame in the Niagara campaign, or Jackson's at New Orleans, or Taylor's at Buena Vista, were in magnitude repeated a hundred times during the civil conflict under commanders whose names are absolutely forgotten by the public. A single corps of Grant's army at the Wilderness, or of Sherman's at Atlanta, or of Meade's at Gettysburg, or of McClellan's on the Peninsula, or of Hooker's at Chancellorsville, contained a large number of troops than Washington or Scott ever commanded on the field, a larger number than Taylor or Jackson ever saw mustered. A more correct conception of the real magnitude of the Union Army can be reached by measuring the proportions of the several branches of the service, than by simply stating the aggregate number of men. There were in all some seventeen hundred regiments of infantry, over two hundred and seventy regiments of cavalry, and more than nine hundred batteries of artillery. These numbers are without parallel in the military history of the world.
There was a very strong and patriotic disposition to engage in the war, on the part of the sons of the Northern statesmen who had been prominent during the generation preceding the outbreak of hostilities. It was no doubt felt by the juniors to be a chivalric duty to defend on the field what had been advanced by the seniors in Congress and in Cabinet. A very notable instance was that of the brothers Ewing,—Hugh, Thomas, and Charles, sons of the eminent Thomas Ewing of Ohio,—each of which attained through gradual promotion, fairly earned by meritorious service in the field, the rank of brigadier-general. They were all young, the eldest not being over thirty-five when he received his commission, the youngest under thirty. Senator Fessenden of Maine had two sons who rose to the rank of brigadier-general; a third with the rank of captain, was killed in the second battle of Bull Run. Vice-President Hamlin had one son who attained the rank of brigadier-general; another who served as colonel. William H. Seward, jun., also reached the rank of brigadier-general. William H. Harris, son of Mr. Seward's successor in the Senate, honorably distinguished himself in the service. Benjamin Harrison of Indiana commanded a brigade before he was thirty, and made a military record which did honor to the illustrious name which he inherits. Fletcher Webster lost his life while bravely commanding a Massachusetts regiment in a war which his illustrious father's exposition of the Constitution had served the arm of the Government to maintain. Similar instances in the Union Army might be cited in great number. The same disposition was manifested on the Confederate side, and it may be said with truth that almost every name which grew into prominence in the long political contention between the North and the South was represented in the conflict of arms to which it led.
That men without previous military education should prove to be intelligent, brave, efficient, and skillful officers, was a constant surprise to the foreign critics of our campaigns. The commanders of batteries, of regiments, of brigades, not to speak of battalions and companies, were almost wholly from the volunteer service. Many of the volunteers, as already indicated, rose to the command of divisions, a few to the command of corps, and in some marked instances to the command of separate armies and to the military direction of vast districts. At the same time the value of strict military training was shown by the superior prominence attained in proportion to their numbers by the officers who had been educated at the West Point Military Academy. The wisdom of maintaining that institution was abundantly vindicated by the results of the war. Its graduates worked in harmony with the volunteers, and, as matter of fact, the field offices they held during the war were, with few exceptions, under the law for the organization of the volunteer forces. They imparted to the entire army the discipline, the organization, and the efficiency of a regular military establishment. There was naturally at the beginning of the war a certain jealousy between the regulars and the volunteers, but none that did not yield to the patriotism and good sense of both. The two services were rapidly and most happily combined, and demonstrated by their joint prowess the strength of the country for defense, and, if need by, for offense. Without maintaining a large military establishment, which besides its expense entails multiform evils, it was shown that the Republic possesses in the strong arms and patriotic hearts of its sons an unfailing source of military power.