Grant and Sherman: The Friendship that Won the Civil War (49 page)

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Authors: Charles Bracelen Flood

Tags: #Biography, #History, #bought-and-paid-for, #Non-Fiction

BOOK: Grant and Sherman: The Friendship that Won the Civil War
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With all his cares, Lincoln spoke of himself as “very greatly rejoiced” by the news of Lee’s surrender to Grant at Appomattox on April 9. The day after that, talking to a crowd in Washington that had brought along two or three bands to serenade him, Lincoln said, “I have always thought ‘Dixie’ one of the best tunes I have ever heard. Our adversaries over the way attempted to appropriate it, but I insisted … that we fairly captured it.” As the crowd applauded, Lincoln added, to more applause and laughter, “I presented the question to the Attorney General, and he gave it as his opinion that it is our lawful prize.”
The next evening, as he made a much longer speech, the public saw a different Lincoln, thoughtful and intense. Here was the eve of peace, but throughout the war he had never been able to get a consensus in Congress for his specific plans for the postwar treatment of the South, and had opposed the Radicals in such a way that they could not enact their harsher views into law. His mood at the moment seemed to match the weather. It was a misty night; reading by the light of a candle held by an aide, Lincoln began speaking to an enthusiastic crowd that had gathered beneath the shadowy second-floor balcony window of the White House, expecting to hear a victory speech. He began as his listeners expected him to, saying, “We meet this evening, not in sorrow, but in gladness of heart,” and added, paying tribute to the recent successes of “General Grant, his skillful officers, and brave men,” that “no part of the honor, for plan or execution, is mine.”
Despite Lincoln’s saying that he hoped for “a righteous and speedy peace,” those who wanted a rousing speech soon found themselves disappointed. They were listening to a scholarly soliloquy, in which Lincoln revealed himself as still wrestling with the moral problems and political realities that lay ahead at this moment when Lee had surrendered to Grant and Sherman was clearly moving to finish off the one remaining large Confederate force under Joseph E. Johnston.
Concerning “reconstruction, as the phrase goes,” Lincoln called it a prospect “fraught with difficulty.” Speaking defensively, he referred to a criticism “that my mind has not seemed definitely fixed on the question whether the seceded states, so called, are in the Union or out of it.” Terming that question “a merely pernicious abstraction,” he said, “We all agree that the seceded States, so called, are out of their proper practical relation to the Union, and that the sole object of the [federal] government, civil and military, is to again get them into that proper practical relation.” Lincoln told the crowd, “We simply must begin with, and mould from, disorganized and discordant elements.” He added, using as an example the continuing efforts made during the war to form and maintain a state government in Louisiana that was acceptable to the Union, that in the coming period “no exclusive, and inflexible plan can be prescribed as to details.” Again using the example of what might be accomplished in Louisiana, he spoke in favor of “giving the benefit of public schools equally to black and white, and empowering the Legislature to confer the franchise upon the colored man.” As for who among the blacks should have the right to vote, Lincoln was at the moment for being selective: “I would myself prefer that it now were conferred on the very intelligent, and on those who serve our cause as soldiers.”
The mist turned to rain; before Lincoln finished speaking, a considerable number of the crowd drifted away. The man who had led the nation through its greatest crisis, the man who had held the border states in the Union and nonetheless freed so many slaves was being honest and realistic enough to say of those who had supported the Union that even now “we, the loyal people, differ among ourselves as to the mode, manner, and means of reconstruction.” This speech of Lincoln’s on April 11, two days after the surrender at Appomattox, was not the speech the crowd wanted to hear.
The next day, in a cabinet meeting and in separate discussions with several cabinet members, Lincoln discovered that his advisers had learned about his recent dealings in Richmond with the Confederate leader Campbell and his subsequent instruction to Union general Weitzel to allow the Virginia legislature to assemble for the purpose of withdrawing from the Confederacy. (Assistant Secretary of War Charles A. Dana, who had been with Lincoln at City Point and knew about all this, had sent reports to his superior, Secretary of War Stanton, about the matter, and Stanton had passed on the information to Attorney General James Speed and Postmaster General William Dennison.) Lincoln, who took the position that he had “just seen” a letter from Campbell to Weitzel in which Campbell spoke of reassembling the Virginia legislature in its official capacity, tried to argue that he was simply trying “to effect a reconciliation as soon as possible.” He added that he had never intended to treat the Virginia legislators as “a rightful body,” but his cabinet resolutely opposed him on the issue. Finally admitting that he “had perhaps made a mistake,” Lincoln gave up on the initiative he had discussed with Campbell and later in the day wrote Weitzel, concerning the Virginia legislators, “Do not allow them to assemble, but if any have come, allow them safe-return to their homes.”
 
While Sherman continued trying to bring things to an end in North Carolina, Julia Grant reported that in Washington “everyone was wild with delight” about the surrender. Grant returned to City Point from Appomattox shortly after four a.m. on Tuesday, April 13, and Julia noted, “About fifty generals of high rank and other officials breakfasted with us that morning.” Later in the morning, she, Grant, and “a large number of other officers” went up to Washington aboard the Mary Martin, and as they came up the Potomac, “all the bells rang out in merry greetings, and the city was literally swathed in flags and bunting. The sun shone brightly, and the very winds seemed on a frolic.” Julia was struck by the appearance of the American flag at the landing: the wind had come up strongly, and the Stars and Stripes was “broadly spread as though to show that not a single star was lost from that blue field … Our Union is safe.” Grant drove in a carriage with Julia and the wife of John Rawlins to the fashionable Willard Hotel and then, Julia said, “as soon as he saw me comfortably located, went straight to the Executive Mansion” to meet with Lincoln.
The excitement in the city that Julia saw on arriving by boat was a foretaste of the evening to come: Washington was to have a “Grand Illumination” that night, with government buildings lit by flaming gas jets, some designed as stars and eagles, and others spelling out “Peace” and “Victory.” Candles would shine brightly in every window of the government buildings and many of the residents’ houses; there would be bonfires in the streets and in front of statues, and fireworks in the sky. Julia was looking forward to the events of the evening, which would include a reception honoring Grant at Stanton’s house, to take place after the Grants and the Stantons rode around the city together in a carriage to see the city in its festival mood. Then, at a moment when Grant was out, a note from Mrs. Lincoln was delivered to the Grants at the Willard, and Julia opened it. Addressed only to Grant and not mentioning Julia, it said, “Mr. Lincoln is indisposed with quite a severe headache, yet would be very pleased to see you at the [White] house this evening about 8 o’clock & I want you to drive around with us to see the illumination.”
When Grant returned—apparently Lincoln was feeling so bad that he held meetings with Grant, Secretary of War Stanton, and Navy Secretary Gideon Welles but did not venture out of the White House until the next day—Julia showed him this invitation. Grant’s first reaction was that this would be fine; Julia would ride around the city with the Stantons and he would ride with Mrs. Lincoln and come by himself to the Stantons’ after that, but he quickly learned that would not do. “To this plan,” Julia recalled, “I protested and said I would not go at all unless he accompanied me.” Grant retreated and said he would first ride around Washington with Julia and the Stantons, then “escort the wife of our President to see the illumination” as he felt it his duty to do, and then come to the party at the Stantons’. “This was all satisfactory to me,” Julia said, “as it was the honor of being with him when he first viewed the illumination in honor of peace being restored to the nation, in which he had so great a share—it was this I coveted.”
And so Julia and her “Ulys” drove through the brilliantly lit streets—the Capitol’s marble dome and portico were gleaming, and many flags hung from the balconies and windows of the White House. There were thirty-five hundred candles in the windows of the Government Post Office, and six thousand illuminated the Patent Office. Lanterns glowed everywhere, and fireworks exploded high above them as crowds surged through the streets while bands playing patriotic tunes marched in every direction. Later, at the Stantons’ house, Grant was the center of attention. Julia wrote, “All of the great men of the nation who were necessarily in Washington at that time were assembled that night. Such congratulations, such friendly, grateful grasps of the hand and speeches of gratitude!” The next day would mark the fourth anniversary of the surrender of Fort Sumter after the Confederate bombardment that began the fighting. On that day in 1861, Ulysses S. Grant, who had been forced to resign as a captain, a rank three grades below that of colonel, was not yet back in the army. Now he was the victorious commander of a force that had grown to a million men.
On the morning of that next day, Good Friday, April 14, 1865, Julia had plans to go to Burlington, New Jersey, where she and Grant had rented a house for her and their four children to use when they were not visiting him at his headquarters at City Point. She had their seven-year-old son Jesse with them in Washington, but now she wanted to get back to the other three children and asked Grant to come with her on the evening train to Philadelphia and then on to Burlington. Grant explained that he had to go to the White House at eleven that morning to meet Lincoln and his cabinet to discuss “the reduction of the army” and doubted he could get away at any point that day. Finally, when Julia said she could not wait until the next day, he said, “Well, I will see what I can do. I will certainly go if it is possible.”
At noon, a man whose looks Julia did not like arrived at the Willard Hotel and said to her, “Mrs. Lincoln sends me, Madam, with her compliments, to say that she will call for you at exactly eight o’clock to go to the theater.” On hearing what he had to say—there was no written message, and in any event the tone of it “seemed like a command”—she told the man to convey her regrets to Mrs. Lincoln and to say that she and Grant would be leaving the city that afternoon. The man persisted, saying, “Madam, the papers say that General Grant will be with the President tonight at the theater.” Julia told him to leave.
I dispatched a note to General Grant entreating him to take me home that evening; that I did not want to go to the theater; that he must take me home. I not only wrote to him, but sent three of his staff officers who called to pay their respects to me to urge the General to go home that night. I do not know what possessed me to take such a freak, but go home I felt I must.
 
Grant sent word that if he could possibly accompany them to Burlington, he would pick Julia and Jesse up at the hotel and they would go together to the station. Lincoln had indeed invited him and Julia to the theater—Mrs. Lincoln wanted to see
Our American Cousin
, a popular farce that was having its last performance at the Ford Theatre—but Grant was able to make their excuses. Julia was having a “late luncheon with Mrs. Rawlins and her little girl and my Jesse” at the hotel when four men came in and sat at the next table. Julia thought she recognized the man who had brought the message purporting to be from Mrs. Lincoln, and she was particularly struck by the behavior of “a dark, pale man” who “played with his soup spoon, sometimes filling it and holding it half-lifted to his mouth, but never tasting it. This occurred many times. He also seemed very intent on what we and the children were saying. I thought he was crazy.” Quietly, Julia asked Mrs. Rawlins what she thought of the men at the next table, and when Mrs. Rawlins agreed that their behavior seemed “peculiar,” Julia said, referring to a famous Confederate raider, “I believe they are part of Mosby’s guerrillas and they have been listening to every word we have said. Do you know, I believe there will be an outbreak tonight or soon. I just feel it and am glad I am going away tonight.”
The cabinet meeting that Lincoln had invited Grant to attend began at eleven and went on for three hours. The entire cabinet was present, except for Secretary of State Seward, who had been severely injured in a carriage accident nine days before and was in a weakened condition at home in bed. On some matters there was agreement: as soon as the victory was complete, unhindered commercial relations should be established with the states that had seceded, and the Departments of Treasury and the Interior would resume their normal functions in the South, along with the reestablishment of one national postal service under the postmaster general.
Then the substance and the mood of the meeting changed. Lincoln not only believed in magnanimity toward the defeated South, but was convinced, as he now told his cabinet, that as a practical matter, “We can’t undertake to run State governments in all these Southern states. Their people must do that—though I reckon at first some of them may do it badly.” This did not precipitate an argument, but it was generally agreed that an army of occupation would be needed, with military governors ruling the former Confederate states under martial law until some form of civilian rule was reestablished. (In this connection, the Commonwealth of Virginia would become, in administrative terminology, Military District No. 1.)

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