Only a hasty and ill-informed judgment could condemn the Southern people for the decay of its spirit in this last stage of the war. No people ever endured with more heroism the trials and privations incidental to their situation. Yet these sacrifices appeared to have been to no purpose; a cruel and inexorable fate seemed to pursue them, and to taunt them with the futility of exertion to escape its decree. Victories, which had amazed the world, and again and again stunned a powerful adversary, and which the South felt that, under ordinary circumstances, should have secured the reward of independence, were recurred to only as making more bitter the chagrin of the present. Previous defeats, at the time seeming fatal, had been patiently encountered, and bravely surmounted, so long as victory appeared to offer a reward which should compensate for the sacrifice necessary to obtain it. But, now, even the hope of victory had almost ceased to be a source of encouragement, since any probable success would only tend to a postponement of the inevitable catastrophe, which, perhaps, it would be better to invite than to defer.
It must be confessed, too, that the people and the army of the Confederacy, in this crisis, found but little source of reanimation in the example of a majority of its public men. Long before the taint of demoralization reached the heart of the masses, the Confederate cause had been despaired of by men whose influence and position determined the convictions of whole communities. In President Davis and General Lee the South saw conspicuous examples of resolution, fortitude, and self-abnegation. It is not to be denied that the impatient and almost despairing temper of the public was visibly influenced by the persistent crimination of Mr. Davis, by the faction which sought to thwart him even at the hazard of the public welfare. But when it was discovered that the unity of counsel and purpose which had animated the President and General Lee at every stage of the struggle, was still maintained, popular sympathy still clung to the leader, whose unselfish devotion and unshaken fortitude should have been a sufficient rebuke to his accusers.
A vast deal of misrepresentation has been indulged to show that Mr. Davis had become unpopular in the last stage of the war, and that he was the object of popular reproach as chiefly responsible for the condition of the country. To the contrary, there were many evidences of the sympathy which embraced Mr. Davis as probably the chief sufferer from apprehended calamities. His appearance in public in Richmond, was always the occasion of unrestrained popular enthusiasm. Even but a few weeks before the final catastrophe, there were signal instances of the popular affection for him, and it was painfully evident to those who knew his character, that these demonstrations were accepted by him as an exhibition of popular confidence in the success of the cause. Indeed, the very confidence which these exhibitions of popular sympathy produced in the mind of Mr. Davis, has been urged as an evidence of a want of sagacity, which disqualified him for a clear appreciation of the situation of affairs.
Perhaps with more color of truth than usual, this view of Mr. Davis’ character has been presented. That he did not fully comprehend the wide-spread demoralization of the South in the last months of the war, is hardly to be questioned. Judging men by his own exalted nature, he conceived it impossible that the South could ever abandon its hope of independence. He did not realize how men could cherish an aspiration for the future, which did not embrace the liberty of their country. No sacrifice of personal interests or hopes were, in his view, too great to be demanded of the country in behalf of a cause, for which he was at all times ready to surrender his life. Of such devotion and self-abnegation, a sanguine and resolute spirit was the natural product, and it is a paltry view of such qualities to characterize them as the proof of defective intellect. Just such qualities have won the battles of liberty in all ages. Washington, at Valley Forge, with a wretched remnant of an army, which was yet the last hope of the country, and with even a more gloomy future immediately before him, declared that in the last emergency he would retreat to the mountains of Virginia, and there continue the struggle in the hope that he would “yet lift the flag of his bleeding country from the dust.” In the same spirit Jefferson Davis would never have abandoned the Confederate cause so long as it had even a semblance of popular support.
Almost to the last moment of the Confederacy, he continued to cherish the hope of a reaction in the public mind, which he believed would be immediately kindled to its old enthusiasm by a decided success. It was in recognition of this quality of inflexible purpose, as much as of any other trait of his character, that the South originally intrusted Davis with leadership. Fit leaders of revolutions are not usually found in men of half-hearted purpose, wanting in resolution themselves, and doubting the fidelity of those whom they govern. Desperate trial is the occasion which calls forth the courage of those truly great men, who, while ordinary men despair, confront agony itself with sublime resolution.
If ingenuity and malignity have combined to exaggerate the faults of Mr. Davis, the love of his countrymen, the candor of honorable enemies, and the intelligence of mankind have recognized his intellectual and moral greatness. The world to-day does not afford such an example of those blended qualities which constitute the title to universal excellence. For one in his position, the leader of a bold, warlike, intelligent, and discerning people, there was demanded that union of ardor and deliberation which he so peculiarly illustrated. Revolutionary periods imperatively demand this union of capacities for thought and action. The peculiar charm of Mr. Davis is the perfect poise of his faculties; an almost exact adjustment of qualities; of indomitable energy and winning grace; heroic courage and tender affection; strength of character, and almost excessive compassion; of calculating judgment and knightly sentiment; acute penetration and analysis; comprehensive perception; laborious habits, and almost universal knowledge. Of him it may be said as of Hamilton: “He wore the blended wreath of arms, of law, of statesmanship, of oratory, of letters, of scholarship, of practical affairs;” and in most of these fields of distinction, Mr. Davis has few rivals among the public men of America.
But it is altogether a fallacious supposition that the military situation of the Confederacy, in the last winter of the war, was beyond reclamation. The most hasty glance at the situation revealed the feasibility of destroying Sherman, when he turned northward from Savannah, with a proper concentration of the forces yet available. President Davis anxiously sought to secure this concentration, but was disappointed by causes which need not here be related. With Sherman defeated, the Confederacy must have obtained a new lease of life, as all the territory which he had overrun, would immediately be recovered, and the worthless title of his conquests would be apparent, even to the North. There were indeed many aspects of the situation encouraging to enterprise, could an adequate army be obtained, and the heart of the country reanimated. President Davis was not alone in the indulgence of hope of better fortune. Again he had the sanction of Lee’s name in confirmation of his hopes, and in support of the measures which he recommended.
But the resolution of the President was not sustained by the coöperation of Congress. The last session of that body was commemorated by a signal display of timidity and vacillation. Congress assembled in November, and at the beginning of its session its nerve was visibly shaken. Before its adjournment in March, there was no longer even a pretense of organized opinion and systematic legislation. Its occupation during the winter was mainly crimination of the President, and a contemptible frivolity, which at last provoked the hearty disgust of the public. The calibre of the last Confederate Congress may be correctly estimated, when it is stated that as late as the 22d of February, 1865, less than sixty days before the fall of Richmond, that body was earnestly engaged in devising a new flag for the Confederacy.
Not a single measure of importance was adopted without some emasculating clause, or without such postponement as made it practically inoperative. Of all the vigorous suggestions of Mr. Davis for recruiting the army, mobilizing the subsistence, and renovating the material condition of the country, hardly one was adopted in a practicable shape. Congress had clearly despaired of the cause. It had not the courage to counsel the submission, of which it secretly felt the necessity, and left the capital with a declaration that the “conquest of the Confederacy was geographically impossible,” yet clearly attesting by its flight a very different view of the situation.
The history of the Congress of the Confederate States is a record of singular imbecility and irresolution. It was a body without leaders, without popular sympathy, without a single one of those heroic attributes which are usually evoked in periods of revolution. It may safely be asserted that in the history of no other great revolution does the statesmanship of its legislators appear so contemptible, when compared with the military administration which guided its armies. Whatever may be the estimate of the executive ability of the Confederate administration, it can not be denied that its courage was abundant; nor can it be questioned that the courage of Congress often required the spur of popular sentiment. In the wholesale condemnation of Mr. Davis by a class of writers, it is remarkable that the defective legislation of the Confederacy should be accredited with so little influence in producing its failure. If he was so grossly incompetent, what must be the verdict of history upon a body which, for four years, submitted to a ruinous administration when the corrective means were in its own hands?