The Life of Jefferson Davis

by Frank H. Alfriend

The last definite phase of the military policy of the Confederate authorities, previous to the fall of the capital, was the design of concentration for the destruction of Sherman, who was rapidly approaching the Virginia border. This would, of course, necessitate the abandonment of Richmond, with a view to the junction of the armies of Lee and Johnston. The latter officer, with the remnant of Hood’s army, and other fragmentary commands, confronted Sherman’s army—forty thousand strong—with a force of about twenty-five thousand men. When Lee’s army should unite with Johnston’s, the Confederate strength would approximate sixty thousand—a force ample to overwhelm Sherman.

The success of this design was mainly dependent upon the question of the time of its execution. If the concentration against Sherman should be attempted prematurely, that Federal commander would be warned of his danger in time to escape to the coast, or to retire until reënforcements from Grant should reach him. It was thus highly important that Sherman should advance sufficiently far to preclude his safe retreat, while, at the same time, the distance between Lee and Johnston should be shortened. On the other hand, if the concentration should be delayed too long, General Grant might, by a vigorous assault upon Lee, either hold the latter in his works at Petersburg, or cut off his retreat, either of which events would defeat the proposed concentration. In the sequel, the activity of Grant, his overwhelming numbers, and the timely arrival of Sheridan’s cavalry, after the latter had failed in his original design against Lynchburg and the Confederate communications, precipitated a catastrophe, which not only prevented the consummation of this design, but speedily proved fatal to the Confederacy.

There was nothing in the calm exterior of President Davis, during the days of early spring, to indicate that he was then meditating an abandonment of that capital, for the safety of which he had striven during four years of solicitude, and in the defense of which the flower of Southern chivalry had been sacrificed. There was no abatement of that self-possession, which had so often proven invulnerable to the most trying exigencies; no alteration of that commanding mien, so typical of resolution and self-reliance. To the despondent citizens of Richmond, there was something of re-assurance in the firm and elastic step of their President, as he walked, usually unattended, through the Capitol Square to his office. His responses to the respectful salutations of the children, who never failed to testify their affection for him, were as genial and playful as ever, and the slaves still boasted of the cordiality with which he acknowledged their civility.

A similar cheerfulness was observed in General Lee. In the last months of the war, it was a frequent observation that General Lee appeared more cheerful in manner than upon many occasions, when his army was engaged in its most successful campaigns. Hon. William C. Rives was quoted in the Confederate Congress, as having said that General Lee “had but a single thing to fear, and that was the spreading of a causeless despondency among the people. Prevent this, and all will be well. We have strength enough left to win our independence, and we are certain to win it, if people do not give way to foolish despair.”

From the beginning of winter, the possibility of holding Richmond was a matter of grave doubt to President Davis. He had announced to the Confederate Congress that the capital was now menaced by greater perils than ever. Yet a proper consideration of the moral consequences of a loss of the capital, not less than of the material injury which must result from the loss of the manufacturing facilities of Richmond, dictated the contemplation of its evacuation only as a measure of necessity. When, however, the dilatory and vacillating action of Congress baffled the President in all his vigorous and timely measures, there was hardly room to doubt that the alternative was forced upon General Lee of an early retreat or an eventual surrender. When spring opened, the Army of Northern Virginia was reduced to less than thirty-five thousand men. With this inadequate force, General Lee was holding a line of forty miles, against an army nearly one hundred and seventy-five thousand strong. A prompt conscription of the slaves, upon the basis of emancipation, the President and General Lee believed would have put at rest all anxiety for the safety of Richmond. But when the threadbare discussions and timid spirit of Congress foretold the failure of this measure, preparations were quietly begun for a retirement to an interior line of defense.

These preparations were commenced early in February, and were conducted with great caution. Mr. Davis did not believe that the capture of Richmond entailed the loss of the Confederate cause should Lee’s and Johnston’s armies remain intact. That it diminished the probability of ultimate success was obvious, but there was the anticipation of a new basis of hope, in events not improbable, could Lee’s army be successfully carried from Petersburg. A thorough defeat of Sherman would obviously recover at once the Carolinas and Georgia, and give to the Confederacy a more enlarged jurisdiction and more easy subsistence, than it had controlled for more than a year. A reasonable anticipation was the re-awakening of the patriotic spirit of the people, and the return of thousands of absentees to the army, as the immediate results of a decisive defeat of Sherman. Then, even if it should prove that the Confederacy could not cope with the remaining armies of the enemy, it was confidently believed that the North, rather than endure the sacrifices and doubts of another campaign, would offer some terms not inconsistent with the honor of the South to accept. At all events, resistance must continue until the enemy abated his haughty demand of unconditional submission.

The movements of Sherman and Johnston reduced the theatre upon which the crisis was enacting to very contracted limits. The fate of the Confederacy was to be decided in the district between the Roanoke and James Rivers, and the Atlantic Ocean and the Alleghanies. General Grant, fully apprised of the extremities to which Lee was reduced, for weeks kept his army in readiness to intercept the Confederate retreat. It was greatly to the interest of the Federal commander that Lee should be held at Petersburg, since his superior numbers must eventually give him possession of the Southside Railroad, which was vital to Lee not only as a means of subsistence, but as an avenue of escape. But General Grant, sooner than he anticipated, found an opportunity for a successful detachment of a competent force against the Southside Railroad by the arrival of Sheridan’s cavalry, ten thousand strong—as splendid a body of cavalry as ever took the field. The swollen condition of James River had prevented the consummation of Sheridan’s original mission, which was, after he had effectually destroyed all Lee’s communications northward and westward, to capture Lynchburg, and thence to pass rapidly southward to Sherman. Finding the river impassable, Sheridan retired in the direction of Richmond, passed Lee’s left wing, crossed the Pamunkey River, and, by the 25th of March, had joined Grant before Petersburg. General Grant was not slow in the employment of this timely accession.

The fatal disaster of Lee’s defeat at Petersburg was the battle of Five Forks, on the 1st of April, by which the enemy secured the direct line of retreat to Danville. For, without that event, the fate of Petersburg and Richmond was determined by the result of Grant’s attack upon the Confederate centre on the 2d of April. With all the roads on the southern bank of the Appomattox in the possession of the enemy, there remained only the line of retreat upon the northern side, which was the longer route, while the pursuing enemy had all the advantage of the interior line. But for that disadvantage, Lee’s escape would have been assured, and the Confederate line of defense reëstablished near the Roanoke River.

President Davis received the intelligence of the disasters while seated in his pew in St. Paul’s Church, where he had been a communicant for nearly three years. The momentous intelligence was conveyed to him by a brief note from the War Department. General Lee’s dispatch stated that his lines had been broken, and that all efforts to restore them had proven unsuccessful. He advised preparations for the evacuation of the city during the night, unless, in the meantime, he should advise to the contrary. Mr. Davis immediately left the church with his usual calm manner and measured tread.[82] The tranquil demeanor of the President conveyed no indication of the nature of the communication. But the incident was an unusual one, and, by the congregation, most of whom had for days been burdened with the anticipations of disaster, the unspoken intelligence was, to some extent, correctly interpreted.

The family of Mr. Davis had been sent southward some days before, and he was, therefore, under the necessity of little preparation for departure. Though his concern was obvious, his calmness was remarkable. In this trying exigency in his personal fortunes, he showed anxiety only for the fate of the country, and sympathy for that devoted community from which he was now compelled to separate.