Team Of Rivals Part 35

More than any other cabinet member, Seward appreciated Lincoln's peerless skill in balancing factions both within his administration and in the country at large. While radicals considered Seward a conservative influence on the president, in truth, he and the president were engaged in the same task of finding a middle position between the two extremes-the radical Republicans, who believed that freeing the slaves should be the primary goal of the war, and the conservative Democrats, who resisted any change in the status of the slaves and fought solely for the restoration of the Union. "Somebody must be in a position to mollify and moderate," Seward told Weed. "That is the task of the P. and the S. of S." In another letter to his old friend, Seward expressed great confidence in Lincoln. "The President is wise and practical," he wrote. His trust in Lincoln was complete, inspiring faith in the eventual success of the Union cause.

From the outside, however, Seward was viewed by radicals as a malevolent influence on Lincoln. Count Gurowski despaired at Seward's supposed ties with McClellan, Blair, and their allies in the conservative press. "Oh! Mr. Seward, Mr. Seward," he queried, "why is your name to be recorded among the most ardent supporters of [McClellan's] strategy?" In fact, already by the middle of March, Seward had lost his early faith in McClellan and wondered why Lincoln did not strip him of command. In a private conversation with a friend, Seward scorned McClellan's inflated estimates of enemy strength, suggesting that the Union troops from New York State alone probably outnumbered all the Confederate forces in northern Virginia! Nonetheless, he refrained from airing his doubts in public.

In the wake of the "Quaker gun" affair, Lincoln's confidence in McClellan had also eroded. While acknowledging that the general was a great "engineer," Lincoln noted drolly that "he seems to have a special talent for developing a 'stationary' engine." The more he studied the general, he confided to Browning, the more he realized that when "the hour for action approached he became nervous and oppressed with the responsibility and hesitated to meet the crisis." For this reason, Lincoln had "given him peremptory orders to move." Finally, twenty-four hours before Lincoln's deadline, McClellan's ma.s.sive army of nearly a quarter of a million men left the base camps around Washington and headed toward the Potomac, where more than four hundred ships had gathered to carry them to Fort Monroe in Hampton Roads, Virginia. Parading to the refrains of regimental bands, with rifles on their shoulders and new equipment on their backs, the high-spirited, well-disciplined troops presented a sight, one diarist noted, such as "the eye of man has seldom seen." Before the army set sail, McClellan delivered an emotional address. "I will bring you now face to face with the rebels," he told his beloved troops, "ever bear in mind that my fate is linked with yours.... I am to watch over you as a parent over his children, and you know that your General loves you from the depths of his heart."

When most of the force had reached Fort Monroe, Stanton later recalled, "information was given to me by various persons that there was great reason to fear that no adequate force had been left to defend the Capital," despite Lincoln's "explicit order that Washington should, by the judgment of all the commanders of Army corps, be left entirely secure." Stanton referred the matter to Lorenzo Thomas, the adjutant general, who, after surveying the circ.u.mstance, concluded that the president's order had most definitely not been obeyed. McClellan had left behind "less than 20,000 raw recruits with not a single organized brigade," a force utterly incapable of defending Washington from sudden attack. Enraged, Stanton carried the d.a.m.ning report to the president at midnight. Lincoln promptly withdrew General McDowell's 1st Corps from McClellan's command so that Washington would be protected. That withdrawal, Stanton later recalled, "provoked [McClellan's] wrath, and the wrath of his friends."

With immense forces still at his disposal, McClellan advanced from Fort Monroe to the outskirts of Yorktown, roughly fifty miles from Richmond. Once again, mistakenly insisting that the rebel force outnumbered his, McClellan kept his army in a state of perpetual preparation. His engineers spent precious weeks constructing earthworks so his big guns could quash rebel defenses before the infantry a.s.sault. On April 6, Lincoln telegraphed McClellan: "You now have over one hundred thousand troops.... I think you better break the enemies' line from York-town to Warwick River, at once. They will probably use time, as advantageously as you can." The following day, McClellan scorned the president's admonition, informing his wife that if Lincoln wanted the enemy line broken, "he had better come & do it himself."

Still, McClellan persisted in his baffling inaction. He notified Stanton that "the enemy batteries are stronger" than antic.i.p.ated. Stanton was livid: "You were sent on purpose to take strong batteries," he reminded McClellan. Later that day, Lincoln telegraphed the general, warning that further delay would only allow the enemy to summon reinforcements from other theaters. "It is indispensable to you that you strike a blow," Lincoln advised his commander on April 9. "The country will not fail to note-is now noting-that the present hesitation to move upon an intrenched enemy, is but the story of Mana.s.sas repeated. I beg to a.s.sure you that I have never written you, or spoken to you, in greater kindness of feeling than now.... But you must act."

Two more weeks pa.s.sed without any sign of movement. "Do not misunderstand the apparent inaction here," McClellan wired Lincoln; "not a day, not an hour has been lost, works have been constructed that may almost be called gigantic-roads built through swamps & difficult ravines, material brought up, batteries built." In another letter to his wife, he rationalized his continuing delay with the dubious contention that the more troops the enemy gathered in Yorktown, "the more decisive the results will be." A few days later, McClellan formulated yet another justification for postponement, arguing that he had been "compelled to change plans & become cautious" without McDowell's 1st Corps that had been taken from him to protect Washington. This left him "unexpectedly weakened & with a powerful enemy strongly entrenched in my front." Therefore, he was not "answerable for the delay of victory."

As it happened, Confederate general Joe Johnston, after keeping McClellan at bay for a month with substantially inferior numbers, had decided in early May to withdraw twelve miles up the peninsula toward Richmond. Hearing that a fallback was under way, McClellan finally moved on Yorktown to discover that, in a repeat of his experience at Mana.s.sas, the rebels were gone. Though he tried to claim the rebel retreat as a great bloodless victory, the public was unconvinced, and the question remained: why had he kept idle for a month? Had he moved on Yorktown with his greater numbers, he could have done serious damage to the rebel army. In the meantime, just as Lincoln had forewarned, the long delay had allowed the rebels to bring additional forces from various theaters into the peninsula, where, under General Johnston's command, they prepared for a counteroffensive.

ANXIETY SURROUNDING the impending battle did little to curtail the spring social season in Washington. If anything, the pace of social life accelerated, as Washingtonians sought relaxation and entertainment in the traditional round of calls, receptions, soirees, musicales, and dinners. Once the air turned "soft and balmy," the National Republican reported, the public squares came alive with "crowds of visitors, who either tread its graveled walks, or seat themselves beneath the trees," listening to the songs of birds and the joyful shouts of children rolling "their hoops over the ground."

Mary remained in mourning for Willie, however, and the traditional spring receptions in the White House were canceled, along with the Marine Band concerts on the lawn. In the social vacuum, Kate Chase took command of the Washington social scene, making her a powerful a.s.set to her father. Her intermittent romance with the Rhode Islandbased Sprague did not diminish her signal commitment to her father, whose household she managed with matchless style.

Her social supremacy derived in part from her striking appearance, enhanced by the simple but elegant wardrobe a.s.sembled during her many trips to New York in pursuit of furnishings for her father's mansion. She was "more of a professional beauty than had at that time ever been seen in America," noted Mary Adams French, the wife of the famed sculptor Daniel Chester French, "with a beauty and a regal carriage which we called 'queenly,' but which no real queen ever has." In an era when "the universal art of being slim had not been discovered," Mrs. French continued, the "tall and slim" Kate seemed otherworldly. She had "an unusually long white neck, and a slow and deliberate way of turning it when she glanced around her. Wherever she appeared, people dropped back in order to watch her." f.a.n.n.y Villard, wife of the journalist Henry Villard, was one of many who looked with awe on Kate: "I a simple young home body from New England never before had seen so beautiful and brilliant a creature as Kate Chase; and it seemed to me then that nothing could blight her perfection."

And yet Kate's grace and beauty accounted for only a small part of her social success. Her emergence as the foremost lady of Washington society resulted as much from hard work and meticulous planning as from her natural a.s.sets. She met each morning with her household servants, giving detailed instructions for the day's activities. Continuing the ritual she had established in Columbus, she and her father hosted regular breakfast parties for out-of-town guests. Her correspondence reveals the elaborate preparations these affairs entailed. A letter to her father's friend, the Philadelphia banker Jay Cooke, requests that he "stop at Van Zant's where you find the best fruit and have a basketful of the best and prettiest grapes, pears, oranges, apples etc. sent me by Adams Express...so that they may arrive here without fail early Tuesday morning." She regretted the imposition, but she "could not think of anyone who would do it quite so well," and was "especially anxious" to make this "an attractive and agreeable occasion."

In addition to these early-morning breakfasts, Kate presided over weekly receptions known as "Cabinet calling" days. Every Monday, a contemporary Washingtonian wrote, "the wives of the Cabinet officers receive their friends; also Mrs. McClellan is at home on this same day." Through the late morning and early afternoon, regardless of rain, mud, or snow, the ladies of Washington made the rounds, visiting in turn each cabinet member's home. "First to Mrs. Seward's," columnist Cara Ka.s.son reported, where Anna Seward officiated in the absence of Frances. A black doorman delivered their card to yet another servant, "who places it in the silver-card receiver, at the same moment ushering us in (names clearly p.r.o.nounced), to the presence of Mrs. Seward." Greetings were exchanged and refreshments served, before proceeding to the next reception at Mrs. Caleb Smith's. There they found "an elegantly set table, salads and all good things." After visiting Mrs. Welles, who always entertained "in her friendly manner," the ladies would "take a gla.s.s of wine at Mrs. Blair's, admire the queenly dignity of Miss Chase, enjoy a delightful talk with the kindly family of Mrs. Bates, and then drive on to pay our respects to Mrs. McClellan and Mrs. Stanton."

While Kate hosted the weekly cabinet receptions with elegance and grace, she devoted her greatest efforts to the celebrated candlelight dinners she held each Wednesday evening. With exacting care, she drew up the guest lists, prepared the menus, and arranged seating. With her father occupying the head of the table, she would help maintain lively, entertaining conversation from her place at the other end. After dinner, a band would play and dancing would begin. "Diplomats and statesmen felt it an honor to be her guests, and men of letters found that they needed their keenest wits to be her match in conversation," one reporter noted. "Her drawing-room was a salon, and it has been paralleled only in the ante-revolutionary days of the French monarchy, when women ruled the empire of the Bourbons."

Over time, the Chase home increasingly became a forum for critics of the Lincoln administration. In the relaxed atmosphere of Kate's private dinner parties, William Fessenden could freely condemn Lincoln's reluctance to confront the emanc.i.p.ation question. The members of the Committee on the Conduct of the War could censure General McClellan more harshly than public statement would safely allow. Over coffee and dessert in the parlor, the women could spread disdainful gossip about Mary Lincoln. Kate clearly understood the role that "parlor politics" could play in cementing alliances and consolidating power in furtherance of her father's irrepressible political ambitions. She was determined to create nothing less than a "rival court" to the White House that could help catapult Chase to the presidency. In the spring of 1862, she reigned supreme.

The most compelling conversations in the Chase drawing room that balmy spring swirled around the proclamation of General David Hunter, an old friend of Lincoln's who commanded the Department of the South, which encompa.s.sed South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida. In early May, acting without prior approval from the White House, Hunter had issued an official order declaring "forever free" all slaves in the three states under his jurisdiction. Chase's circle was exultant, for Hunter's proclamation went beyond even General Fremont's attempt of the previous August. "It seems to me of the highest importance," Chase wrote to Lincoln, "that this order not be revoked.... It will be cordially approved, I am sure, by more than nine tenths of the people on whom you must rely for support of your Administration." Lincoln's reply to Chase was swift and blunt: "No commanding general shall do such a thing, upon my responsibility, without consulting me."

By repudiating Hunter's proclamation, Lincoln understood that he would give "dissatisfaction, if not offence, to many whose support the country can not afford to lose." He firmly believed, however, that any such proclamation must come from the commander in chief, not from a general in the field. "Gen. Hunter is an honest man," Lincoln told a delegation after officially revoking Hunter's order. "He was, and I hope, still is, my friend.... He expected more good, and less harm from the measure, than I could believe would follow."

While Seward and Stanton supported Lincoln's decision, Chase publicly disagreed. In conversations with Sumner and others, he openly denounced Lincoln's action, fanning talk "among the more advanced members" of the Republican Party about Lincoln's "pusillanimity." Chase's defiance earned him plaudits from the New York Tribune, "all the more warmly appreciated," Chase told Horace Greeley, given the influential editor's "earlier unfavorable judgments" of his public career. Chase maintained to Greeley that he had "not been so sorely tried by anything here-though I have seen a great deal in the shape of irregularity, a.s.sumptions beyond law, extravagance, & deference to generals and reactionists which I could not approve,-as by the nullifying of Hunter's proclamation." Rumors began to surface that the controversy would cause an open rupture in the cabinet and precipitate Chase's departure. Still, so long as Lincoln believed Chase was the right man for the Treasury, he had no intention of requesting his resignation. As for Chase, so long as he could garner radical support by publicly opposing Lincoln on this critical issue, he would productively remain in the cabinet until the time was right to make a break.

IN THE FIRST WEEK OF MAY, Lincoln resolved to end months of frustration with McClellan by personally visiting Fort Monroe. Stanton had suggested that a presidential journey to the tip of the Peninsula might finally spur McClellan to act. On the evening of Monday, May 5, the president arrived at the Navy Yard and boarded the Miami, a five-gun Treasury cutter, accompanied by Stanton, Chase, and General Egbert Viele. "The cabin," Viele recalled, "was neat and cozy. A center table, buffet and washstand, with four berths, two on each side, and some comfortable chairs, const.i.tuted its chief appointments." Since the Miami was a Treasury ship, Chase "seemed to feel that we were his guests," General Viele observed. The treasury secretary even brought his own butler to serve meals, and "treated us as if we were in his own house."

Both Chase and Stanton began the twenty-seven-hour journey anxious about all the work they had left behind. As the hours pa.s.sed by, however, they warmed to Lincoln's high-spirited discourse and began to relax. General Viele marveled how Lincoln was always the center of the circle gathered on the quarterdeck, keeping everyone engrossed for hours as he recited pa.s.sages from Shakespeare, "page after page of Browning and whole cantos of Byron." Talking much of the day, he interspersed stories and anecdotes from his "inexhaustible stock." Many, as usual, were directly applicable to a point made in conversation, but some were simply jokes that set Lincoln laughing louder than all the combined listeners. One of his favorite anecdotes told of a schoolboy "called up by the teacher to be disciplined. 'Hold out your hand!' A paw of the most surprising description was extended, more remarkable for its filthiness than anything else." The schoolmaster was so stunned that he said, "'Now, if there were such another dirty thing in the room, I would let you off.' 'There it is,' quoth the unmoved culprit, drawing the other hand from behind his back."

While the presidential party lounged on the deck, Lincoln playfully demonstrated that in "muscular power he was one in a thousand," possessing "the strength of a giant." He picked up an ax and "held it at arm's length at the extremity of the [handle] with his thumb and forefinger, continuing to hold it there for a number of minutes. The most powerful sailors on board tried in vain to imitate him."

After the Tuesday luncheon table was cleared, the president and his advisers pored over maps and a.n.a.lyzed the army positions in and around Virginia. Union forces at Fort Monroe occupied the northern sh.o.r.e of Hampton Roads, which connected the Chesapeake to three rivers. Confederate forces on the southern sh.o.r.e still held Norfolk and the Navy Yard. Two months earlier, the rebels had used this strategic foothold to great advantage by sending the powerful nine-gun Merrimac, a scuttled Union ship that they had raised and covered with iron plates, into a series of devastating engagements. In the s.p.a.ce of five hours, the ironclad had managed to sink, capture, and incapacitate three ships and two Union frigates.

The news had terrified government officials, who feared that the invincible Merrimac might sail up the Potomac to attack Washington or even continue on to New York. "It is a disgrace to the country that the rebels, without resources, have built a vessel with which we cannot cope," General Meigs had grumbled. An emergency cabinet meeting was convened, during which Stanton unfairly faulted Welles for the disaster. His attack was so personal, according to Welles's biographer, that the navy secretary "found it very difficult for a time even to be civil in [Stanton's] presence."

In fact, the navy had been more than adequately prepared to deal with the Merrimac. The very next day, the Monitor, a strange ironclad vessel resembling a "cheese box on a raft," engaged the Merrimac in battle. Though the little Monitor seemed "a pigmy to a giant," it proved far more maneuverable. Commanded by Lieutenant John L. Worden, who directed two large guns from a revolving turret, the Monitor fought the Merrimac to a draw and sent the Confederate vessel back to the harbor. When Stanton learned that Worden might lose one eye as a result of the struggle, he said: "Then we will fill the other with diamonds."

To Herman Melville, as to many others, the battle of the two ironclads marked the beginning of a new epoch in warfare. "The ringing of those plates on plates/Still ringeth round the world," he wrote. "War yet shall be, but warriors/Are now but operatives."

As the president and his advisers huddled over maps of Fort Monroe, Norfolk, and the surrounding area, they could not understand why McClellan had not ordered an attack on Norfolk immediately after his occupation of Yorktown. The Confederate retreat up the Peninsula had left the city and the Navy Yard vulnerable. Though the Monitor had held its own against the Merrimac, there was no a.s.surance that this feat would be repeated. If Norfolk were captured, perhaps the Merrimac could be captured as well. With McClellan and his troops about twenty miles away, Lincoln and his little group came to a decision of their own. If General John E. Wool, commander of Fort Monroe, had sufficient forces at his disposal, an immediate attack should be made on Norfolk. Disconcerted by the prospect, the seventy-eight-year-old General Wool insisted on consulting Commodore Louis Goldsborough, since the navy's warships would have to immobilize the Confederate batteries before any troops could be safely landed.

In the black of night, the Miami could not easily pull aside the Minnesota, Goldsborough's flagship, so Lincoln's party climbed into a tugboat and approached the port side of the Minnesota. The steps leading up to the deck were very "narrow," Chase wrote, "with the guiding ropes on either hand, hardly visible in the darkness. It seemed to me very high and a little fearsome. But etiquette required the President to go first and he went. Etiquette required the Secretary of the Treasury to follow." Stanton, climbing immediately behind Chase, must have overcome even greater trepidation, for an accident when he was younger had left one leg permanently damaged and he suffered, besides, from frequent attacks of vertigo. Fortunately, they all made it aboard without mishap. Though Lincoln was probably unfamiliar with Commodore Goldsborough, Chase had known him for several decades-the distinguished naval officer had won the hand of William Wirt's daughter, Elizabeth, at a time when Chase had not been deemed an appropriate suitor.

Goldsborough approved the idea of attack in theory, but feared that so long as the Merrimac was still a factor, it was too risky to carry troops across the water. Lincoln disagreed, and orders were given to begin sh.e.l.ling the Confederate batteries. Before long, "a smoke curled up over the woods," Chase recalled, "and each man, almost, said to the other, 'There comes the Merrimac,' and, sure enough, it was the Merrimac." However, upon spying the Monitor, accompanied by a second powerful ship, "the great rebel terror paused-then turned back." The next day, Lincoln, Chase, and Stanton each personally surveyed the sh.o.r.eline to determine the best landing place for the troops. Under a full moon, Lincoln went ash.o.r.e in a rowboat. He walked on enemy soil and then returned to the Miami. Once the best spot was chosen, Chase pushed for an immediate attack, worried that McClellan might appear and delay the attack. The next night, the convoys headed for sh.o.r.e.

They discovered that the rebels had decided to evacuate Norfolk and scuttle the Merrimac to keep it out of Union hands soon after the sh.e.l.ling began. As the Union troops moved uncontested into the city, Chase, accompanying Generals Wool and Viele, heard the soldiers shouting "cheer after cheer." In the city center, they were met by a delegation of civilian authorities who formally surrendered Norfolk to General Viele. The general remained in City Hall as military governor of the region.

It was after midnight when Chase and General Wool finally returned to the Miami. Lincoln and Stanton, after waiting nervously all evening for their return, had just retired to their rooms. "The night was very warm," Lincoln recalled, "the moon shining brightly,-and, too restless to sleep, I threw off my clothes and sat for some time by the table, reading." Hearing a knock at Stanton's door, which was directly below his own, he guessed that "the missing men" had come back at last. Minutes later, Chase and General Wool came to Lincoln's room. Eschewing ceremony, Wool happily announced: "Norfolk is ours!" Stanton, who had "burst in, just out of bed, clad in a long nightgown," was so jubilant over the news that "he rushed at the General, whom he hugged most affectionately, fairly lifting him from the floor in his delight." Lincoln recognized that the scene "must have been a comical one," with Stanton clad in a nightgown that "nearly swept the floor" and he himself having just undressed. Nevertheless, they "were all too greatly excited to take much note of mere appearances." Beside the capture of Norfolk, the destruction of the fearsome Merrimac would open the supply lines from Washington to the peninsula.

When the triumphant trio returned to Washington, reporters noted that Stanton was "conveyed home seriously ill." Physicians feared at first that he was suffering from one of the bouts of vertigo that immobilized him for days at a time. He soon recovered, however, and enjoyed the sweetness of victory in what the Civil War historian Shelby Foote has called "one of the strangest small-scale campaigns in American military history."

Unusually buoyant, Chase expressed greater admiration for the president than he ever had before or ever would again. "So has ended a brilliant week's campaign of the President," Chase wrote, "for I think it quite certain that if he had not come down, Norfolk would still have been in possession of the enemy, and the Merrimac, as grim and defiant and as much a terror as ever. The whole coast is now virtually ours."

Not surprisingly, McClellan refused to credit the president for the return of Norfolk to the Union. "Norfolk is in our possession," he flatly declared to his wife; "the result of my movements."

THE DAY AFTER Lincoln's triumphant return, Navy Secretary Welles invited Seward, Bates, and their families to join him and his wife for a six-day cruise along the coast of Virginia, now cleared of rebel forces and the menacing Merrimac. "We had two pilots and thirteen sailors," Fred Seward informed his mother. "Wormley and his cook and waiters, two howitzers, and two dozen muskets, coal and provisions for a week, field gla.s.ses and maps." The armed navy steamer took them to Norfolk and the Gosport Navy Yard, where they viewed the ruins of the Merrimac. They proceeded up York River to McClellan's new headquarters at West Point, thirty miles from Richmond. The cabinet colleagues enjoyed an easy camaraderie as the steamer moved from one river to the next. They consumed hearty meals, sang patriotic songs to the music of a navy band, and joked with one another. When Seward discovered that rats had eaten a tie and socks belonging to Bates, he composed a humorous poem, complete with sketches, to commemorate the occasion.

By day, they went ash.o.r.e and wandered through the seaboard towns now in possession of the Union armies. "Virginia is sad to look upon," Seward wrote to his wife, "not merely the rebellion, but society itself, is falling into ruin. Slaves are deserting the homes intrusted to them by their masters, who have gone into the Southern armies or are fleeing before ours. There is universal stagnation, and sullenness prevails everywhere." Like Lincoln, Seward was always sensitive to the devastation of war. Despite his satisfaction at the recent Union successes that had subdued this part of Virginia, he was disquieted by the bleakness he encountered. "We saw war, not in its holiday garb," he told f.a.n.n.y, "but in its stern and fearful aspect. We saw the desolation that follows, and the terror that precedes its march."

The steamer reached McClellan's camp at about 3 p.m. on May 13. Approaching the sh.o.r.e, Fred Seward was amazed to find that "a clearing in the woods" had been "suddenly transformed into a great city of a hundred thousand people, by the advent of McClellan's Army and its supporting fleet." McClellan escorted the party ash.o.r.e, where they reviewed thousands of his troops and discussed the general's plans.

Though McClellan considered such visits "a nuisance," he convinced his official guests that, if properly reinforced, he would soon prevail in a decisive fight "this side of Richmond," which would be "one of the great historic battles of the world." McClellan's high-spirited, well-disciplined troops and the gigantic size of the operation were impressive to all. "At night," Fred Seward observed, "the long lines of lights on the sh.o.r.e, the shipping and bustle in the river made it almost impossible to believe we were not in the harbor of Philadelphia or New York."

After the meeting with McClellan, Seward advised Lincoln by telegraph that McDowell's forces should be sent to the York River to reinforce McClellan "as soon as possible." Lincoln and Stanton agreed. McDowell was ordered to move his entire force from the vicinity of Washington to the peninsula. For weeks, McClellan's Democratic supporters had publicly criticized the president and secretary of war for retaining McDowell's force out of irrational fear for Washington. Yet now that McClellan stood to have his demands met, he told Lincoln that he wouldn't receive McDowell's men unless it was clear that he would have absolute authority over them. McClellan considered McDowell a radical on the issue of slavery and despised him personally, calling him an "animal" in a letter to his wife. Lincoln a.s.sured McClellan by telegraph that he was in command.

The day after Lincoln ordered McDowell to prepare for the move south, he made an impromptu visit, accompanied by Stanton and Dahlgren, to McDowell's headquarters at Fredericksburg. The trip was arranged so suddenly that Captain Dahlgren had no chance to bring food or beds aboard the steamboat that was to carry them to Aquia Landing. Despite the makeshift accomodations, Lincoln relaxed at once, reading aloud from the works of a contemporary poet, Fitz-Greene Halleck, then considered "the American Byron." Lincoln chose that night to read Marco Bozzaris, a lengthy poem celebrating the death of a Greek hero in the war against Turkey. Lincoln was drawn to the poet's vision of a lasting greatness, of deeds that would resound throughout history. Because of such achievements in life, both Greece, in which "there is no prouder grave," and the mother "who gave thee birth," can speak "of thy doom without a sigh": For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's;

One of the few, the immortal names,

That were not born to die.

When Lincoln and his party reached Aquia Creek shortly after dawn, they were driven to McDowell's camp in what Dahlgren described as "a common baggage car, with camp-stools for the party." McDowell was eager to show the little group his army's accomplishments in having rebuilt bridges and repaired telegraph lines, creating a direct link between Washington and Fredericksburg. The general was particularly proud of a new trestle bridge that spanned a creek and deep ravine at a height of a hundred feet. Though "there was nothing but a single plank for us to walk on," Dahlgren recalled, Lincoln impulsively said: "Let us walk over." So the president, followed by McDowell, and then poor Stanton, understandably fearful of heights, and finally Dahlgren, began the hazardous journey. "About half-way," Dahlgren wrote, "the Secretary said he was dizzy and feared he would fall. So he stopped, unable to proceed. I managed to step by him, and took his hand, thus leading him over, when in fact my own head was somewhat confused by the giddy height."

After breakfast, the president and McDowell mounted horses and spent the day inspecting the troops. Enduring a hot sun without the protection of a hat, Lincoln reviewed "one division after another, all in fine order, the men cheering tremendously." After a simple meal, the presidential party returned to Aquia Creek, departing for Washington sometime after 10 p.m. Lincoln "was in good spirits," according to Dahlgren. Once again, he read poetry aloud, and they all retired to their makeshift beds. Before falling asleep, Stanton confided to Dahlgren that "he did not think much of McDowell!"

Troublesome news reached Washington the following day that General Stonewall Jackson had been sent to attack Union forces in the Shenandoah Valley, hoping to prevent McDowell from moving south. The goal was realized. After Jackson attacked Front Royal, forcing General Banks to hastily retreat north to Winchester, the president telegraphed McClellan: "I have been compelled to suspend Gen. McDowell's movement to join you." He followed up with a telegram explaining that with Jackson chasing Banks farther and farther north, Washington was again endangered. "Stripped bare, as we are here, it will be all we can do to prevent [the enemy] crossing the Potomac at Harper's Ferry, or above.... If McDowell's force was now beyond our reach, we should be utterly helpless." Moreover, while Jackson and his forces made their way north, Lincoln reasoned, Richmond must be vulnerable. "I think the time is near when you must either attack Richmond or give up the job and come to the defence of Washington. Let me hear from you instantly."

McClellan replied at 5 p.m.: "Independently of it the time is very near when I shall attack Richmond." He then haughtily informed his wife that he had "just finished [his] reply to his Excellency," and complained, "it is perfectly sickening to deal with such people & you may rest a.s.sured that I will lose as little time as possible in breaking off all connection with them-I get more sick of them every day-for every day brings with it only additional proofs of their hypocrisy, knavery & folly."

James McPherson concludes that "Lincoln's diversion of McDowell's corps to chase Jackson was probably a strategic error-perhaps even the colossal blunder that McClellan considered it." For as soon as Jackson had managed to divert the Union forces bound for Richmond, he turned back southward to join in the defense of the Confederate capital. Still, McPherson adds, "even if McDowell's corps had joined McClellan as planned, the latter's previous record offered little reason to believe that he would have moved with speed and boldness to capture Richmond."

In the end, though McClellan had advanced to a position only four miles from Richmond by the end of May, he still refused to take the initiative, and his troops were surprised by a Confederate attack at Fair Oaks. Though the battle was inconclusive and the rebels suffered heavier losses than the Union, McClellan was so devastated by the toll of nearly five thousand Union dead and wounded that he lost whatever momentum he had created. "McClellan keeps sending word that he will attack Richmond very soon,-but every day brings some new excuse," reported Christopher Wolcott, Stanton's brother-in-law, now a.s.sistant secretary of war. The rain, a legitimate excuse during the first ten days of June, had stopped five days earlier. Nevertheless, Wolcott noted, "he has not stirred."

McClellan's catalogue of gripes and concerns was endless. There were bridges to be built, bad roads, regiments to be reorganized. When Lincoln eventually ordered McDowell to reinforce him, the general continued to protest that "if I cannot fully control all his [McDowell's] troops I want none of them, but would prefer to fight the battle with what I have and let others be responsible for the results." Finally, he confided in his wife, "utmost prudence" was essential. "I must not unnecessarily risk my life-for the fate of my army depends upon me & they all know it."

McClellan's chronic delays allowed General Lee to take the initiative once again. During the last week in June, the Confederates launched a brutal attack on Union forces that became known as the Seven Days Battles. The b.l.o.o.d.y series of engagements on the plains and in the swamps and forests surrounding the Chickahominy River left 1,734 Federals dead, 8,066 wounded, and 6,055 missing or captured. At the end of the first day's fighting, McClellan telegraphed Stanton to warn that he was up against "vastly superior odds." He calculated that the rebels had 200,000 troops when in fact they had fewer than half that figure. He would carry on without the reinforcements he had repeatedly requested, but, he continued, if his "great inferiority in numbers" caused "a disaster the responsibility cannot be thrown on my shoulders-it must rest where it belongs." Irked, Lincoln replied that McClellan's talk of responsibility "pains me very much. I give you all I can...while you continue, ungenerously I think, to a.s.sume that I could give you more if I would."

As the fighting intensified in the days that followed, neither McClellan nor Lincoln was able to sleep. Success alternated between the two forces during the first two days. Then, on June 27, the Confederates scored a critical victory at Gaines' Mill, forcing McClellan to retreat. "I now know the full history of the day," McClellan telegraphed Stanton shortly after midnight. "I have lost this battle because my force was too small. I again repeat that I am not responsible for this." The president "is wrong in regarding me as ungenerous when I said that my force was too weak. I merely intimated a truth which to-day has been too plainly proved." Finally, he vindictively added: "If I save this Army now, I tell you plainly that I owe no thanks to you or to any other persons in Washington. You have done your best to sacrifice this army." When the supervisor of telegrams at the War Department read this defiant message, he was so appalled by the insubordinate tone and the extraordinary charge against the government that he directed his staff to strike the last sentence before relaying it to Stanton.