The Life of Jefferson Davis

by Frank H. Alfriend

We have already described the attitude and condition of the Confederate Government at Montgomery previous to the attack upon Fort Sumter. The honorable exertions of President Davis, cordially approved by Congress and the people, to avoid a collision of arms, were disappointed, and events had now verified his life-long conviction, that the exercise of their sovereignty, by the States, would be attended by a war involving their existence. Sustained by an unlimited popular confidence, with a comparatively perfected organization, and with every possible preparation that the difficulties of its situation would permit, the Government met, with commendable composure, the shock of arms which its chief had foreseen to be inevitable.

The proclamation of President Lincoln, declaring war upon the Confederate States, was promptly responded to by President Davis, in official announcements, appropriately recognizing the condition of public affairs, and inviting energetic preparations for immediate hostilities. He at once called upon the various States for quotas of volunteers for the public defense. By public proclamation, he invited applications for privateering service, in which armed vessels might assist in the public defense on the high seas; under letters of marque and reprisal granted by Congress.[31]

In every instance, and by all classes of citizens, an enthusiastic response was given to the demands of the Government. Individuals and corporations entered into a generous and patriotic rivalry in the tender of aid to the cause. Wealthy citizens donated large sums of money or supplies, while railroad and transportation companies tendered valuable assistance in the conveyance of troops and stores. An enthusiastic desire to enter the public service was manifested in every community. Men decrepit from age, or infirm from disease, were importunate in demanding any service suitable to their condition. Volunteering progressed so actively that a few weeks only sufficed to show that the Confederacy—for the present at least—would not want soldiers. In all the States the responses to the call for volunteers exceeded the quotas.

Congress assembled in special session, in obedience to a proclamation of the President, on the 29th of April. The message was an eminently characteristic document, and made a profound impression both in Europe and the United States. Its calm and clear statements were in marked contrast with the wild elements of war convulsing the country. Europe was not less amazed and delighted with its dignity and force, than was the North impressed with the earnest terms in which the purpose of resistance was announced. He reviewed and established the doctrine of secession, detailed the facts showing the bad faith of the Northern government about Fort Sumter, and the necessity for its capture; spoke in terms of keen, yet dignified satire of Lincoln’s proclamation, which attempted to treat seven sovereign States united in a confederacy, and holding five millions of people and a half million of square miles of territory, as “combinations,” which he proposed to suppress by a posse comitatus of seventy-five thousand men; congratulated the Congress on the probable accession of other slave States; informed them that the State Department had sent three commissioners to England, France, Russia and Belgium, to seek the recognition of the Confederate States; advised legislation for the employment of privateers for measures of defense, and for perfecting the government organization; and concluded with these impressive words: “We feel that our cause is just and holy; we protest solemnly in the face of mankind that we desire peace at any sacrifice save that of honor and independence; we seek no conquest, no aggrandizement, no concession of any kind from the States with whom we were lately confederated. All we seek is to be let alone; that those who never held power over us shall not now attempt our subjugation by arms. This we will, this we must resist to the direst extremity. The moment that this pretension is abandoned, the sword will drop from our grasp, and we shall be ready to enter into treaties of amity and commerce that can not but be materially beneficial. So long as this pretension is maintained, with firm reliance on that divine power which covers with its protection the just cause, we will continue the struggle for our inherent right to freedom, independence, and self-government.”

The geographical position of Virginia clearly indicated that State as the Flanders of the war. Within her boundaries was necessarily to be located the first line of Confederate defense, and also to be found more than one favorable point d’appui for the invading forces. To the aid of important geographical and physical considerations, moral and political necessities were superadded, to urge a prompt and vigorous assistance to Virginia, in the heroic effort which she was preparing for her deliverance. With the eye of the soldier and the appreciation of the statesman, President Davis urged the immediate removal of the seat of government to the neighborhood of the seat of war. On the 20th of May the seat of the Confederate Government was transferred from Montgomery to Richmond, the capital of Virginia, and within a few days afterward Mr. Davis reached the latter city.[32]

The transfer of the Confederate capital to Richmond was an event affecting the direction, character, and destinies of the war to such an extent as entitles it to be considered one of its salient incidents. As a measure of policy, it has been variously viewed, and has involved some interesting discussion of military and strategic considerations. In the progress of events during the war, its wisdom was generally recognized, and in the calmer judgment of the present there is scarcely a dissenting voice to the prevailing opinion that it was a master-stroke of political sagacity and military forecast.

High military authority has been quoted in support of the opinion opposed to locating the Confederate capital at Richmond. Ingeniously enough it was alleged that such a step involved fighting on the exterior of the circle instead of the centre, and that thus the great advantage to the party conducting operations upon an interior line would be surrendered. It was also tolerably certain that the North would aim, in its invasion, at the Confederate capital as the vital objective point of its campaigns; and to transfer the capital to a point so far north as Richmond, greatly diminished the enemy’s difficulties—first, as to space; and secondly, by shortening his line of transportation and supply.

But these views were the conclusions of a purely strategic judgment, overlooking entirely moral and political considerations involved, nor are they by any means exhaustive of the argument as to the military aspects of the situation. The courageous and unselfish action of Virginia deserved a response of similar spirit from the Confederacy. Virginia had voluntarily become the outpost of the South, and her people needed the presence among them of that authority which was to wield her great resources, organize her energies, and give counsel to her courage. Her people invited the Government to join them and make the battle for the common deliverance of the South around their homesteads. To accept this invitation was a step no less characteristic of President Davis than was his prompt, decisive action in the crisis at Buena Vista. It had the combined advantage of bold defiance and prudent calculation. This bold courting of the issue by the infant power, at the very outset of hostilities, was the foundation of that brilliant prestige which marked its earlier history. To an adversary intoxicated with an overweening sense of numerical superiority, and a brutal reliance upon his superior strength, this defiant planting of the standard in front of his first line was a significant warning of the difficulties of the task which he had undertaken.

President Davis has never seen reason to regret the transfer of the Government to Richmond. It bound Virginia, by indissoluble ties to the fortunes of the Confederacy, and was the beginning of an affection for himself, among her citizens, which it was their pride to exhibit in the face of calamities common to him and to themselves. Not even in his own gallant State of Mississippi are the genius, virtues, and fame of Jefferson Davis cherished with a more tender association than in Virginia.

A brief résumé of events will now assist to a clear understanding of the situation of affairs when President Davis reached Richmond in the latter part of May. Virginia, a week previously, had, by formal vote of her people, ratified the ordinance of secession adopted by her convention. When the convention passed the ordinance of secession on the 17th of April, the State authorities, with commendable discretion, prepared to make important seizures of arms, stores, etc., the property of the Federal Government within the limits of the State. Governor Letcher—well known for his steadfast devotion to the Union, and for his honorable zeal to preserve it—in this trying crisis of the State, was nobly faithful to his Virginian instincts, and mindful of the honorable part which devolved upon Virginia’s Governor.