[132] At New Bedford, in a lecture "which was interrupted by frequent hisses." Schouler, Hist. of Mass. in the Civil War, i. 44-47.
[133] The Act of 1795 only permitted the use of the militia until thirty days after the next session of Congress; this session being now summoned for July 4, the period of service extended only until August 3.
[134] When General Grant took command of the Eastern armies he said that the country should be cautioned against expecting too great success, because the loyal and rebel armies were made up of men of the same race, having about the same experience in war, and neither able justly to claim any great superiority over the other in endurance, courage, or discipline. Chittenden, Recoll. 320.
[135] The third, fourth, and sixth. Schouler, Mass. in the Civil War, i. 52.
[136] Schouler, Mass. in the Civil War, i. 72.
[137] Mayor Brown thinks that the estimate of these at 20,000 is too great. Brown, Baltimore and Nineteenth April, 1861, p. 85.
[138] N. and H. iv. 98; Chittenden, 102; Lee's biographer, Childe, says that "President Lincoln offered him the effective command of the Union Army," and that Scott "conjured him ... not to quit the army." Childe, Lee, 30.
[139] Shortly before this time he had written to his son that it was "idle to talk of secession," that it was "nothing but revolution" and "anarchy." N. and H. iv. 99.
[140] Childe, Lee, 32; Mr. Childe, p. 33, says that Lee's resignation was accepted on the 20th (the very day on which his letter was dated!), so that he "ceased to be a member of the United States Army" before he took command of the state forces. Per contra, N. and H. iv. 101.
[141] Childe, Lee, 34.
[142] Greeley in his Amer. Conflict, i. 349, says that the "open Secessionists were but a handful." This, however, is clearly an exaggerated statement.
The capture of Fort Sumter and the call for troops established one fact. There was to be a war. The period of speculation was over and the period of action had begun. The transition meant much. The talking men of the country had not appeared to advantage during the few months in which they had been busy chiefly in giving weak advice and in concocting prophecies. They now retired before the men of affairs, who were to do better. To the Anglo-Saxon temperament it was a relief to have done with waiting and to begin to do something. Activity cleared the minds of men, and gave to each his appropriate duty.
The gravity of the crisis being undeniable, the people of the North queried, with more anxiety than ever before, as to what kind of a chief they had taken to carry them through it. But the question which all asked none could answer. Mr. Lincoln had achieved a good reputation as a politician and a stump speaker. Whatever a few might think, this was all that any one knew. The narrow limitations of his actual experience certainly did not encourage a belief in his probable fitness to encounter duties more varied, pressing, numerous, novel, and difficult than had ever come so suddenly to confound any ruler within recorded time. Later on, when it was seen with what rare capacity he met demands so exacting, many astonished and excitable observers began to cry out that he was inspired. This, however, was sheer nonsense. That the very peculiar requirements of these four years found a president so well responding to them may be fairly regarded, by those who so please, as a specific Providential interference,—a striking one among many less striking. But, in fact, nothing in Mr. Lincoln's life requires, for its explanation, the notion of divine inspiration. His doings, one and all, were perfectly intelligible as the outcome of honesty of purpose, strong common sense, clear reasoning powers, and a singular sagacity in reading the popular mind. Intellectually speaking, a clear and vigorous thinking capacity was his chief trait. This sounds commonplace and uninteresting, but a more serviceable qualification could not have been given him. The truth is, that it was part of the good fortune of the country that the President was not a brilliant man. Moreover, he was cool, shrewd, dispassionate, and self-possessed, and was endowed really in an extraordinary degree with an intermingling of patience and courage, whereby he was enabled both to await and to endure results. Above all he was a masterful man; not all the time and in small matters, and not often in an opinionated way; but, from beginning to end, whenever he saw fit to be master, master he was.[143]
This last fact, when it became known, answered another question which people were asking: In whose hands were the destinies of the North to be? In those of Mr. Lincoln? or in those of the cabinet? or in those of influential advisers, something like what have been called "favorites" in Europe, and "kitchen cabinet" in the more homely phrase of the United States? The early impression was that Mr. Lincoln did not know a great deal. How could he? Where and how could he have learned much? It must be admitted that it was entirely natural that his advisers, and other influential men concerned in public affairs, should adopt and act upon the theory that Mr. Lincoln, emerging so sharply from such a past as his had been, into such a crisis as was now present, must need a vast amount of instruction, guidance, suggestion. Accordingly there were many gentlemen who stood ready, not to say eager, to supply these fancied wants, and who could have supplied them very well had they existed. Therefore one of the first things which Mr. Lincoln had to do was, without antagonizing Mr. Seward and Mr. Chase, to indicate to them that they were to be not only in name but also in rigid fact his secretaries, and that he was in fact as well as by title President. This delicate business was done so soon as opportunity offered, not in any disguised way but with plain simplicity. Mr. Chase never took the disposition quite pleasantly. He managed his department with splendid ability, but in the personal relation of a cabinet adviser upon the various matters of governmental policy he was always somewhat uncomfortable to get along with, inclined to fault-finding, ever ready with discordant suggestions, and in time also disturbed by ambition.
Mr. Seward behaved far better. After the question of supremacy had been settled, though in a way quite contrary to his anticipation, he frankly accepted the subordinate position, and discharged his duties with hearty good-will. Indeed, this settlement had already come, before the time which this narrative has reached; but the people did not know it; it was a private matter betwixt the two men who had been parties to it. Only Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Seward knew that the secretary had suggested his willingness to run the government for the President, and that the President had replied that he intended to run it himself. It came about in this way: on April 1 Mr. Seward presented, in writing, "Some thoughts for the President's consideration." He opened with the statement, not conciliatory, that "We are at the end of a month's administration, and yet without a policy, either domestic or foreign." He then proceeded to offer suggestions for each. For the "policy at home" he proposed, as the "ruling idea:" "Change the question before the public from one upon slavery, or about slavery, for a question upon Union or Disunion." It was odd and not complimentary that he should seem to forget or ignore that precisely this thing had already been attempted by Mr. Lincoln in his inaugural address. Also within a few days, as we all know now, events were to show that the attempt had been successful. Further comment upon the domestic policy of Mr. Seward is, therefore, needless. But his scheme "For Foreign Nations" is more startling:—
"I would demand explanations from Spain and France categorically at once.
"I would seek explanations from Great Britain and Russia, and send agents into Canada, Mexico, and Central America, to rouse a vigorous spirit of independence on this continent against European intervention.
"And, if satisfactory explanations are not received from Spain and France,
"Would convene Congress and declare war against them.
"But whatever policy we adopt, there must be an energetic prosecution of it.
"For this purpose it must be somebody's business to pursue and direct it incessantly.
"Either the President must do it himself, and be all the while active in it, or
"Devolve it on some member of his cabinet.
"Once adopted, debates on it must end, and all agree and abide.
" It is not in my especial province.
"But I neither seek to evade nor assume responsibility."
Suggestions so wild could not properly constitute material for "consideration" by the President; but much consideration on the part of students of those times and men is provoked by the fact that such counsel emanated from such a source. The secretary of state, heretofore the most distinguished leader in the great Republican movement, who should by merit of actual achievement have been the Republican candidate for the presidency, and who was expected by a large part of the country to save an ignorant president from bad blunders, was advancing a proposition to create pretexts whereby to force into existence a foreign war upon a basis which was likely to set one half of the civilized world against the other half. The purpose for which he was willing to do this awful thing was: to paralyze for a while domestic discussions, and to undo and leave to be done anew by the next generation all that vast work which he himself, and the President whom he advised, and the leaders of the great multitude whom they both represented, had for years been engaged in prosecuting with all the might that was in them. But the explanation is simple: like many another at that trying moment, the secretary was smitten with sudden panic at the condition which had been brought about so largely by his own efforts. It was strictly a panic, for it passed away rapidly as panics do.
The biographer of Mr. Seward may fairly enough glide lightly over this episode, since it was nothing more than an episode; but one who writes of Mr. Lincoln must, in justice, call attention to this spectacle of the sage statesman from whom, if from any one, this "green hand," this inexperienced President, must seek guidance, thus in deliberate writing pointing out a course which was ridiculous and impossible, and which, if it had been possible, would have been an intolerably humiliating retreat. The anxious people, who thought that their untried President might, upon the worst estimate of his own abilities, get on fairly well by the aid of wise and skilled advisers, would have been aghast had they known that, inside of the government, the pending question was: not whether Mr. Lincoln would accept sound instruction, but whether he would have sense to recognize bad advice, and independence to reject it. Before Mr. Seward went to bed on that night of April 1, he was perhaps the only man in the country who knew the solution of this problem. But he knew it, for Mr. Lincoln had already answered his letter. It had not taken the President long! The secretary's extraordinary offer to assume the responsibility of pursuing and directing the policy of the government was rejected within a few hours after it was made; rejected not offensively, but briefly, clearly, decisively, and without thanks. Concerning the proposed policies, domestic and foreign, the President said as little as was called for; he actually did not even refer to the scheme for inaugurating gratuitously a war with a large part of Europe, in order for a while to distract attention from slavery.
To us, to-day, it seems that the President could not have missed a course so obvious; yet Mr. Seward, who suggested the absurdity, was a great statesman. In truth, the President had shown not only sense but nerve. For the difference between Seward's past opportunities and experience and his own was appreciated by him as fully as by any one. He knew perfectly well that what seemed the less was controlling what seemed the greater when he overruled his secretary. It took courage on the part of a thoughtful man to put himself in such a position. Other solemn reflections also could not be avoided. Not less interested than any other citizen in the fate of the nation, he had also a personal relation to the ultimate event which was exclusively his own. For he himself might be called, in a certain sense, the very cause of rebellion; of course the people who had elected him carried the real responsibility; but he stood as the token of the difference, the concrete provocation to the fight. The South had said: Abraham Lincoln brings secession. It was frightful to think that, as he was in fact the signal, so posterity might mistake him for the very cause of the rending of a great nation, the failure of a grand experiment. It might be that this destiny was before him, for the outcome of this struggle no one could foretell; it might be his sad lot to mark the end of the line of Presidents of the United States. Lincoln was not a man who could escape the full weight of these reflections, and it is to be remembered that all actions were taken beneath that weight. It was a strong man, then, who stood up and said, This is my load and I will carry it; and who did carry it, when others offered to shift much of it upon their own shoulders; also who would not give an hour's thought to a scheme which promised to lift it away entirely, and to leave it for some other who by and by should come after him.
It is worth while to remember that Mr. Lincoln was the most advised man, often the worst advised man, in the annals of mankind. The torrent must have been terribly confusing! Another instance deserves mention: shortly before Mr. Seward's strange proposal, Governor Hicks, distracted at the tumult in Maryland, had suggested that the quarrel between North and South should be referred to Lord Lyons as arbitrator! It was difficult to know whether to be amused or resentful before a proposition at once so silly and so ignominious. Yet it came from an important official, and it was only one instance among thousands. With war as an actuality, such vagaries as those of Hicks and Seward came sharply to an end. People wondered and talked somewhat as to how long hostilities would last, how much they would cost, how they would end; and were not more correct in these speculations than they had been in others. But though the day of gross absurdities was over, the era of advice endured permanently. That peculiar national trait whereby every American knows at least as much on every subject whatsoever as is known by any other living man, produced its full results during the war. Every clergyman and humanitarian, every village politician and every city wire-puller, every one who conned the maps of Virginia and imbibed the military wisdom of the newspapers, every merchant who put his name to a subscription paper, considered it his privilege and his duty to set the President right upon every question of moral principle, of politics, of strategy, and of finance. In one point of view it was not flattering that he should seem to stand in need of so much instruction; and this was equally true whether it came bitterly, as criticism from enemies, or sugar-coated, as advice from friends. That friends felt obliged to advise so much was in itself a criticism. Probably, however, Mr. Lincoln was not troubled by this view, for he keenly appreciated the idiosyncrasies as well as the better qualities of the people. They, however, were a long while in understanding him sufficiently to recognize that there was never a man whom it was less worth while to advise.
Business crowded upon Mr. Lincoln, and the variety and novelty of it was without limit. On April 17 Jefferson Davis issued a proclamation offering "letters of marque and reprisal" to owners of private armed vessels. Two days later the President retorted by proclaiming a blockade of Confederate ports.[144] Of course this could not be made effective upon the moment. On March 4 the nominal total of vessels in the navy was 90. Of these, 69 were classed as "available;" but only 42 were actually in commission; and even of these many were in Southern harbors, and fell into the hands of the Confederates; many more were upon foreign and distant stations. Indeed, the dispersion was so great that it was commonly charged as having been intentionally arranged by secessionist officials under Mr. Buchanan. Also, at the very moment when this proclamation was being read throughout the country, the great navy yard of Gosport, at Norfolk, Virginia, "always the favored depot" of the government, with all its workshops and a great store of cannon and other munitions, was passing into the hands of the enemy. Most of the vessels and some other property were destroyed by Federals before the seizure was consummated; nevertheless, the loss was severe. Moreover, even had all the vessels of the regular navy been present, they would have had other duties besides lying off Southern ports. Blockading squadrons, therefore, had to be improvised, and orders at once issued for the purchase and equipment of steam vessels from the merchant marine and the coasting service. Fortunately the summer season was at hand, so that these makeshifts were serviceable for many months, during which better craft were rapidly got together by alteration and building. Three thousand miles of coast and many harbors were included within the blockade limits, and were distributed into departments under different commanders. Each commander was instructed to declare his blockade in force as soon as he felt able to make it tolerably effective, with the expectation of rapidly improving its efficiency. The beginning was, therefore, ragged, and was naturally criticised in a very jealous and hostile spirit by those foreign nations who suffered by it. Dangerous disputes threatened to arise, but were fortunately escaped, and in a surprisingly short time "Yankee" enterprise made the blockade too thorough for question.
Amid the first haste and pressure it was ingeniously suggested that, since the government claimed jurisdiction over the whole country and recognized only a rebellion strictly so called, therefore the President could by proclamation simply close ports at will. Secretary Welles favored this course, and in the extra session of the summer of 1861 Congress passed a bill giving authority to Mr. Lincoln to pursue it, in his discretion. Mr. Seward, with better judgment, said that it might be legal, but would certainly be unwise. The position probably could have been successfully maintained by lawyers before a bench of judges; but to have relied upon it in the teeth of the commercial interests and unfriendly sentiment of England and France would have been a fatal blunder. Happily it was avoided; and the President had the shrewdness to keep within a line which shut out technical discussion. Already he saw that, so far as relations with foreigners were concerned, the domestic theory of a rebellion, pure and simple, must be very greatly modified. In a word, that which began as rebellion soon developed into civil war; the two were closely akin, but with some important differences.
Nice points of domestic constitutional law also arose with the first necessity for action, opening the broad question as to what course should be pursued in doubtful cases, and worse still in those cases where the government could not fairly claim the benefit of a real doubt. The plain truth was that, in a condition faintly contemplated in the Constitution, many things not permitted by the Constitution must be done to preserve the Constitution. The present crisis had been very scantily and vaguely provided for by "the fathers." The instant that action became necessary to save the Union under the Constitution, it was perfectly obvious that the Constitution must be stretched, transcended, and most liberally interlined, in a fashion which would furnish annoying arguments to the disaffected. The President looked over the situation, and decided, in the proverbial phrase, to take the bull by the horns; that which clearly ought to be done he would do, law or no law, doubt or no doubt. He would have faith that the people would sustain him; and that the courts and the lawyers, among whose functions it is to see to it that laws and statutes do not interfere too seriously with the convenience of the community, would arrive, in what subtle and roundabout way they might choose, at the conclusion that whatever must be done might be done. These learned gentlemen did their duty, and developed the "war powers" under the Constitution in a manner equally ingenious, comical, and sensible. But the fundamental basis was, that necessity knows no law; every man in the country knew this, but the well-intentioned denied it, as matter of policy, while the ill-intentioned made such use of the opportunities thus afforded to them as might have been expected. Among the "war Democrats," however, there was at least ostensible liberality.
An early question related to the writ of habeas corpus. The Maryland legislature was to meet on April 26, 1861, and was expected to guide the State in the direction of secession. Many influential men urged the President to arrest the members before they could do this. He, however, conceived such an interference with a state government, in the present condition of popular feeling, to be impolitic. "We cannot know in advance," he said, "that the action will not be lawful and peaceful;" and he instructed General Scott to watch them, and, in case they should make a movement towards arraying the people against the United States, to counteract it by "the bombardment of their cities, and, in the extremest necessity, the suspension of the writ of habeas corpus." This intimation that the suspension of the venerated writ was a measure graver than even bombarding a city, surely indicated sufficient respect for laws and statutes. The legislators restrained their rebellious ardor and proved the wisdom of Mr. Lincoln's moderation. In the autumn, however, the crisis recurred, and then the arrests seemed the only means of preventing the passage of an ordinance of secession. Accordingly the order was issued and executed. Public opinion upheld it, and Governor Hicks afterward declared his belief that only by this action had Maryland been saved from destruction.
The privilege of habeas corpus could obviously, however, be made dangerously serviceable to disaffected citizens. Therefore, April 27, the President instructed General Scott: "If at any point on or in the vicinity of any military line which is now, or which shall be, used between the city of Philadelphia and the city of Washington, you find it necessary to suspend the writ of habeas corpus for the public safety, you ... are authorized to suspend that writ." Several weeks elapsed before action was taken under this authority. Then, on May 25, John Merryman, recruiting in Maryland for the Confederate service, was seized and imprisoned in Fort McHenry. Chief Justice Taney granted a writ of habeas corpus. General Cadwalader replied that he held Merryman upon a charge of treason, and that he had authority under the President's letter to suspend the writ. The chief justice thereupon issued against the general an attachment for contempt, but the marshal was refused admittance to the fort. The chief justice then filed with the clerk, and also sent to the President, his written opinion, in which he said: "I understand that the President not only claims the right to suspend the writ of habeas corpus at his discretion, but to delegate that discretionary power to a military officer;" whereas, according to the view of his honor, the power did not lie even with the President himself, but only with Congress. Warming to the discussion, he used pretty strong language, to the effect that, if authority intrusted to other departments could thus "be usurped by the military power at its discretion, the people ... are no longer living under a government of laws; but every citizen holds life, liberty, and property at the will and pleasure of the army officer in whose military district he may happen to be found." It was unfortunate that the country should hear such phrases launched by the chief justice against the President, or at least against acts done under orders of the President. Direct retort was of course impossible, and the dispute was in abeyance for a short time.[145] But the predilections of the judicial hero of the Dred Scott decision were such as to give rise to grave doubts as to whether or not the Union could be saved by any process which would not often run counter to his ideas of the law; therefore in this matter the President continued to exercise the useful and probably essential power, though taking care, for the future, to have somewhat more regard for form. Thus, on May 10, instead of simply writing a letter, he issued through the State Department a proclamation authorizing the Federal commander on the Florida coast, "if he shall find it necessary, to suspend there the writ of habeas corpus."
In due time the assembling of Congress gave Mr. Lincoln the opportunity to present his side of the case. In his message he said that arrests, and suspension of the writ, had been made "very sparingly;" and that, if authority had been stretched, at least the question was pertinent: "Are all the laws but one to go unexecuted, and the government itself to go to pieces, lest that one be violated?" He, however, believed that in fact this question was not presented, and that the law had not been violated. "The provision of the Constitution, that the privilege of the writ of habeas corpus shall not be suspended unless when, in cases of rebellion or invasion, the public safety may require it, is equivalent to a provision that such privilege may be suspended when, in cases of rebellion or invasion, the public safety does require it." As between Congress and the executive, "the Constitution itself is silent as to which or who is to exercise the power; and as the provision was plainly made for a dangerous emergency it cannot be believed that the framers of the instrument intended that in every case the danger should run its course until Congress could be called together, the very assembling of which might be prevented, as was intended in this case by the rebellion."
If it was difficult, it was also undesirable to confute the President's logic. The necessity for military arrests and for indefinite detention of the arrested persons was undeniable. Congress therefore recognized the legality of what had been done, and the power was frequently exercised thereafter, and to great advantage. Of course mistakes occurred, and subordinates made some arrests which had better have been left unmade; but these bore only upon discretion in individual cases, not upon inherent right. The topic, however, was in itself a tempting one, not only for the seriously disaffected, but for the far larger body of the quarrelsome, who really wanted the government to do its work, yet maliciously liked to make the process of doing it just as difficult and as disagreeable as possible. Later on, when the malcontent class acquired the organization of a distinct political body, no other charge against the administration proved so plausible and so continuously serviceable as this. It invited to florid declamation profusely illustrated with impressive historical allusions, and to the free use of vague but grand and sonorous phrases concerning "usurpation," "the subjection of the life, liberty, and property of every citizen to the mere will of a military commander," and other like terrors. Unfortunately men much more deserving of respect than the Copperheads, men of sound loyalty and high ability, but of anxious and conservative temperament, were led by their fears to criticise severely arrests of men who were as dangerous to the government as if they had been soldiers of the Confederacy.
May 3, 1861, by which time military exigencies had become better understood, Mr. Lincoln called "into the service of the United States 42,034 volunteers," and directed that the regular army should be increased by an aggregate of 22,714 officers and enlisted men. More suggestive than the mere increase was the fact that the volunteers were now required "to serve for a period of three years, unless sooner discharged." The opinion of the government as to the magnitude of the task in hand was thus for the first time conveyed to the people. They received it seriously and without faltering.
July 4, 1861, the Thirty-seventh Congress met in extra session, and the soundness of the President's judgment in setting a day which had at first been condemned as too distant was proved. In the interval, nothing had been lost which could have been saved by the sitting of Congress; while, on the other hand, the members had had the great advantage of having time to think soberly concerning the business before them, and to learn the temper and wishes of their constituents.
Mr. Lincoln took great pains with his message, which he felt to be a very important document. It was his purpose to say simply what events had occurred, what questions had been opened, and what necessities had arisen; to display the situation and to state facts fairly and fully, but not apparently to argue the case of the North. Yet it was essential for him so to do this that no doubt could be left as to where the right lay. This peculiar process of argument by statement had constituted his special strength at the bar, and he now gave an excellent instance of it. He briefly sketched the condition of public affairs at the time when he assumed the government; he told the story of Sumter, and of the peculiar process whereby Virginia had been linked to the Confederacy. With a tinge of irony he remarked that, whether the sudden change of feeling among the members of the Virginian Convention was "wrought by their great approval of the assault upon Sumter, or their great resentment at the government's resistance to that assault, is not definitely known."
He explained the effect of the neutrality theory of the Border States. "This," he said, "would be disunion completed. Figuratively speaking, it would be the building of an impassable wall along the line of separation,—and yet not quite an impassable one, for under the guise of neutrality it would tie the hands of the Union men, and freely pass supplies to the insurrectionists.... At a stroke it would take all the trouble off the hands of secession, except what proceeds from the external blockade." It would give to the disunionists "disunion, without a struggle of their own."
Of the blockade and the calls for troops, he said: "These measures, whether strictly legal or not, were ventured upon under what appeared to be a popular demand and a public necessity, trusting then, as now, that Congress would ratify them." At the same time he stated the matter of the suspension of the writ of habeas corpus, which has been already referred to.
Speaking of the doctrine that secession was lawful under the Constitution, and that it was not rebellion, he made plain the genuine significance of the issue thus raised: "It presents ... the question whether a Constitutional Republic or Democracy, a government of the people by the same people, can or cannot maintain its territorial integrity against its own domestic foes. It presents the question whether discontented individuals, too few in numbers to control the administration according to the organic law in any case, can always, upon the pretenses made in this case, or any other pretenses, or arbitrarily without any pretense, break up their government, and thus practically put an end to free government upon the earth. It forces us to ask: Is there in all Republics this inherent fatal weakness? Must a government of necessity be too strong for the liberties of its own people, or too weak to maintain its own existence?" The Constitution of the Confederacy was a paraphrase with convenient adaptations of the Constitution of the United States. A significant one of these adaptations was the striking out of the first three words, "We, the people," and the substitution of the words, "We, the deputies of the sovereign and independent States." "Why," said Mr. Lincoln, "why this deliberate pressing out of view the rights of men and the authority of the people? This is essentially a people's contest. On the side of the Union it is a struggle for maintaining in the world that form and substance of government whose leading object is to elevate the condition of men ... to afford to all an unfettered start and a fair chance in the race of life.... This is the leading object of the government for whose existence we contend. I am most happy to believe that the plain people understand and appreciate this."
Many persons, not gifted with the power of thinking clearly, were disturbed at what seemed to them a purpose to "invade" and to "subjugate" sovereign States,—as though a government could invade its own country or subjugate its own subjects! These phrases, he said, were producing "uneasiness in the minds of candid men" as to what would be the course of the government toward the Southern States after the suppression of the rebellion. The President assured them that he had no expectation of changing the views set forth in his inaugural address; that he desired "to preserve the government, that it may be administered for all as it was administered by the men who made it. Loyal citizens everywhere have a right to expect this,... and the government has no right to withhold or neglect it. It is not perceived that in giving it there is any coercion, any conquest, or any subjugation."
In closing he said that it was with the deepest regret that he had used the war power; but "in defense of the government, forced upon him, he could but perform this duty or surrender the existence of the government." Compromise would have been useless, for "no popular government can long survive a marked precedent that those who carry an election can only save the government from immediate destruction by giving up the main point upon which the people gave the election." To those who would have had him compromise he explained that only the people themselves, not their servants, can safely reverse their own deliberate decisions. He had no power to agree to divide the country which he had the duty to govern. "As a private citizen the executive could not have consented that these institutions shall perish; much less could he, in betrayal of so vast and so sacred a trust as these free people have confided to him. He felt that he had no moral right to shrink, nor even to count the chances of his own life in what might follow."
The only direct request made in the message was that, to make "this contest a short and decisive one," Congress would "place at the control of the government for the work at least 400,000 men, and $400,000,000. That number of men is about one tenth of those of proper ages within the regions where apparently all are willing to engage, and the sum is less than a twenty-third part of the money value owned by the men who seem ready to devote the whole."
The message was well received by the people, as it deserved to be.
The proceedings of Congress can only be referred to with brevity. Yet a mere recital of the names of the more noteworthy members of the Senate and the House must be intruded, if merely for the flavor of reminiscence which it will bring to readers who recall those times. In the Senate, upon the Republican side, there were: Lyman Trumbull from Illinois, James Harlan and James W. Grimes from Iowa, William P. Fessenden from Maine, Charles Sumner and Henry Wilson from Massachusetts, Zachariah Chandler from Michigan, John P. Hale from New Hampshire, Benjamin F. Wade from Ohio, and John Sherman, who was elected to fill the vacancy created by the appointment of Salmon P. Chase to the Treasury Department, David Wilmot from Pennsylvania, filling the place of Simon Cameron, Henry B. Anthony from Rhode Island, Andrew Johnson from Tennessee, Jacob Collamer from Vermont, and James R. Doolittle from Wisconsin. On the Democratic side, there were: James A. McDougall of California, James A. Bayard and William Saulsbury of Delaware, Jesse D. Bright of Indiana, who was expelled February 5, 1862, John C. Breckenridge of Kentucky, who a little later openly joined the Secessionists, and was formally expelled December 4, 1861; he was succeeded by Garrett Davis, an "American or Old Line Whig," by which name he and two senators from Maryland preferred to be described; James W. Nesmith of Oregon. Lane and Pomeroy, the first senators from the free State of Kansas, were seated. In the House Galusha A. Grow of Pennsylvania, who had lately knocked down Mr. Keitt of South Carolina in a fisticuff encounter on the floor of the chamber, was chosen speaker, over Francis P. Blair, Jr., of Missouri. Thaddeus Stevens of Pennsylvania was the most prominent man in the body. Among many familiar names in running down the list the eye lights upon James E. English of Connecticut; E.B. Washburne, Isaac N. Arnold, and Owen Lovejoy of Illinois; Julian, Voorhees, and Schuyler Colfax of Indiana; Crittenden of Kentucky; Roscoe Conkling, Reuben E. Fenton, and Erastus Corning of New York; George H. Pendleton, Vallandigham, Ashley, Shellabarger, and S.S. Cox of Ohio; Covode of Pennsylvania; Maynard of Tennessee. The members came together in very good temper; and the great preponderance of Republicans secured dispatch in the conduct of business; for the cliques which soon produced intestine discomfort in that dominant party were not yet developed. No ordinary legislation was entered upon; but in twenty-nine working days seventy-six public Acts were passed, of which all but four bore directly upon the extraordinary emergency. The demands of the President were met, with additions: 500,000 men and $500,000,000 were voted; $207,000,000 were appropriated to the army, and $56,000,000 to the navy. August 6 Congress adjourned.
The law-makers were treated, during their session, to what was regarded, in the inexperience of those days, as a spectacle of real war. During a couple of months past large bodies of men had been gathering together, living in tents, shouldering guns, and taking the name of armies. General Butler was in command at Fortress Monroe, and was faced by Colonel Magruder, who held the peninsula between the York and the James rivers. Early in June the lieutenants of these two commanders performed the comical fiasco of the "battle" of Big Bethel. In this skirmish the Federal regiments fired into each other, and then retreated, while the Confederates withdrew; but in language of absurd extravagance the Confederate colonel reported that he had won a great victory, and Northern men flushed beneath the ridicule incurred by the blunder of their troops.
A smaller affair at Vienna was more ridiculous; several hundred soldiers, aboard a train of cars, started upon a reconnoissance, as if it had been a picnic. The Confederates fired upon them with a couple of small cannon, and they hastily took to the woods. When they got home they talked wisely about "masked batteries." But the shrewdness and humor of the people were not thus turned aside, and the "masked battery" long made the point of many a bitter jest.
Up the river, Harper's Ferry was held by "Stonewall" Jackson, who was soon succeeded by J.E. Johnston. Confronting and watching this force was General Patterson, at Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, with a body of men rapidly growing to considerable numbers by the daily coming of recruits. Not very far away, southeastward, the main body of the Confederate army, under Beauregard, lay at Manassas, and the main body of the Federal army, under McDowell, was encamped along the Potomac. On May 23 the Northern advance crossed that river, took possession of Arlington Heights and of Alexandria, and began work upon permanent defensive intrenchments in front of the capital.
The people of the North knew nothing about war or armies. Wild with enthusiasm and excitement, they cheered the departing regiments, which, as they vaguely and eagerly fancied, were to begin fighting at once. Yet it was true that no one would stake his money on a "football team" which should go into a game trained in a time so short as that which had been allowed for bringing into condition for the manoeuvres and battlefields of a campaign an army of thirty or forty thousand men, with staff and commissariat, and arms of infantry, cavalry, and artillery, altogether constituting an organization vast, difficult, and complex in the highest degree of human coöperation. Nevertheless "On to Richmond!" rolled up the imperious cry from every part of the North. The government, either sharing in this madness, or feeling that it must be yielded to, passed the word to the commander, and McDowell very reluctantly obeyed orders and started with his army in that direction,—not, however, with any real hope of reaching this nominal objective; for he was an intelligent man and a good soldier, and was perfectly aware of the unfitness of his army. But when, protesting, he suggested that his troops were "green," he was told to remember that the Southern troops were of the same tint; for, in a word, the North was bound to have a fight, and would by no means endure that the three months' men should come home without doing something more positive than merely preventing the capture of Washington.
On July 16, therefore, McDowell began his advance, having with him about 35,000 men, and by the 19th he was at the stream of Bull Run, behind which the Confederates lay. He planned his battle skillfully, and began his attack on the morning of the 21st. On the other hand, Beauregard was at the double disadvantage of misapprehending his opponent's purpose, and of failing to get his orders conveyed to his lieutenants until the fight was far advanced. The result was, that at the beginning of the afternoon the Federals had almost won a victory which they fully deserved. That they did not finally secure it was due to the inefficiency of General Patterson. This general had crossed the Potomac a few days before and had been instructed to watch Johnston, who had drawn back near Winchester, and either to prevent him from moving his force from the Shenandoah Valley to Manassas, or, failing this, to keep close to him and unite with McDowell. But Patterson neither detained nor followed his opponent. On July 18 Beauregard telegraphed to Johnston: "If you wish to help me, now is the time." If Patterson wished to help McDowell, then, also, was the time. The Southern general seized his opportunity, and the Northern general let his opportunity go. Johnston, uninterrupted and unfollowed by Patterson, brought his troops in from Manassas Junction upon the right wing of the Federals at the very moment and crisis when the battle was actually in the process of going in their favor. Directly all was changed. Older troops would not have stood, and these untried ones were defeated as soon as they were attacked. Speedily retreat became rout, and rout became panic. At a great speed the frightened soldiers, resolved into a mere disorganized mob of individuals, made their way back to the camps on the Potomac; many thought Washington safer, and some did not stop short of their distant Northern homes.
The Southerners, who had been on the point of running away when the Northerners anticipated them in so doing, now triumphed immoderately, and uttered boastings magniloquent enough for Homeric heroes. Yet they were, as General Johnston said, "almost as much disorganized by victory as were the Federals by defeat." Many of them also hastened to their homes, spreading everywhere the cheering tidings that the war was over and the South had won.
In point of fact, it was a stage of the war when defeat was more wholesome than victory. Fortunately, too, the North was not even momentarily discouraged. The people had sense enough to see that what had happened was precisely what should have been expected. A little humiliated at their own folly, about as much vexed with themselves as angry with their enemies, they turned to their work in a new spirit. Persistence displaced excitement, as three years' men replaced three months' men. The people settled down to a long, hard task. Besides this, they had now some idea of what was necessary to be done in order to succeed in that task. Invaluable lessons had been learned, and no lives which were lost in the war bore fruit of greater usefulness than did those which seemed to have been foolishly thrown away at Bull Run.