Team Of Rivals Part 39

Lincoln headed back to Washington on Sat.u.r.day afternoon in high spirits, encouraged by the good condition of the troops. His train stopped at the tiny town of Frederick along the way, where he was greeted by a large crowd of cheering citizens, eager to demonstrate Maryland's loyalty to the Union. Called upon to speak, Lincoln replied cheerfully that "if I were as I have been most of my life, I might perhaps, talk amusing to you for half an hour," but as president, "every word is so closely noted" that he must avoid any "trivial" remarks. Nevertheless, before the train pulled away, he delivered a brief, eloquent speech from the platform of his car, thanking soldiers and citizens alike for their fidelity to the Union's cause. "May our children and our children's children to a thousand generations," he said in closing, "continue to enjoy the benefits conferred upon us by a united country, and have cause yet to rejoice under those glorious inst.i.tutions bequeathed us by Washington and his compeers."

To ensure that McClellan would not misconstrue their conversations, Lincoln had Halleck telegraph him the following Monday that "the President directs that you cross the Potomac and give battle to the enemy or drive him south. Your army must move now while the roads are good." Weeks went by, however, and McClellan found all manner of excuses for inaction-lack of supplies, lack of shoes, tired horses. At this last excuse, Lincoln could no longer contain his irritation. "Will you pardon me for asking what the horses of your army have done since the battle of Antietam that fatigue anything?"

"Our war on rebellion languishes," a frustrated George Templeton Strong wrote on October 23. "McClellan's repose is doubtless majestic, but if a couchant lion postpone his spring too long, people will begin wondering whether he is not a stuffed specimen after all." The army's inaction combined with conservative resentment against the Emanc.i.p.ation Proclamation to produce what Seward called an "ill wind" of discontent when voters headed to the polls for the midterm November elections. The results were devastating to the administration. Though Republicans retained a slight majority in Congress, the so-called "Peace Democrats," who favored a compromise that would tolerate slavery, gained critical offices in Illinois, New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana. Asked how he felt about the Republican losses, Lincoln said: "Somewhat like that boy in Kentucky, who stubbed his toe while running to see his sweetheart. The boy said he was too big to cry, and far too badly hurt to laugh."

The following day, with the midterm elections behind him, Lincoln relieved McClellan of his command of the Army of the Potomac. Though the young Napoleon had finally crossed the Potomac, he had immediately stalled again. "I began to fear he was playing false-that he did not want to hurt the enemy," Lincoln told Hay. "I saw how he could intercept the enemy on the way to Richmond. I determined to make that the test. If he let them get away I would remove him. He did so & I relieved him."

McClellan received the telegram in his tent at 11 p.m., in the company of the man Lincoln had chosen to succeed him: General Ambrose Burnside. Known as a fighting general, Burnside had commanded a corps under McClellan on the Peninsula and at Antietam. "Poor Burn feels dreadfully, almost crazy," McClellan told his wife. "Of course I was much surprised," he admitted, but "not a muscle quivered nor was the slightest expression of feeling visible on my face."

"More than a hundred thousand soldiers are in great grief to-night," the correspondent for the National Intelligencer reported as General McClellan bade farewell to his staff and his troops. With all his officers a.s.sembled around a large fire in front of his tent, he raised a gla.s.s of wine. "Here's to the Army of the Potomac," he proposed. "And to its old commander," one of his officers added. "Tears were shed in profusion," both at the final toast and when McClellan rode past the lines of his troops. "In parting from you," he told them, "I cannot express the love and grat.i.tude I bear for you. As an Army you have grown up under my care.... The glory you have achieved, our mutual perils & fatigues, the graves of our comrades fallen in battle & by disease, the broken forms of those whom wounds & sickness have disabled-the strongest a.s.sociations which can exist among men, unite us still by an indissoluble tie."

Lincoln's choice of Burnside proved unfortunate. Though he was charismatic, honest, and industrious, he lacked the intelligence and confidence to lead a great army. He was said to possess "ten times as much heart as he has head." On December 13, against Lincoln's advice, the new commander led about 122,000 troops across the Rappahannock to Fredericksburg, where General Lee waited on the heavily fortified high ground. Caught in a trap, the Union forces suffered 13,000 casualties, more than twice the Confederate losses, and were forced into a humiliating withdrawal.

Lincoln tried to mitigate the impact of the defeat, issuing a public letter of commendation to the troops: "The courage with which you, in an open field, maintained the contest against an entrenched foe...[shows] that you possess all the qualities of a great army, which will yet give victory to the cause of the country and of popular government." Even as he did the "awful arithmetic" of the relative losses, Lincoln realized, as he told William Stoddard, "that if the same battle were to be fought over again, every day, through a week of days, with the same relative results, the army under Lee would be wiped out to its last man, the Army of the Potomac would still be a mighty host, the war would be over, the Confederacy gone."

THE TRAIN OF RECRIMINATIONS that followed the Fredericksburg defeat led to a crisis for the administration that left Lincoln "more depressed," he said, "than by any event of [his] life." Radical Republicans on Capitol Hill began to insist that unless a more vigorous prosecution of the war were adopted, conservative demands for a compromise peace would multiply and the Union would be restored with slavery intact. The midterm elections, they argued, demonstrated growing public dissatisfaction with current tactics-the writing, clearly, was on the wall.

On the afternoon of Tuesday, December 16, all the Republican senators caucused in the high-ceilinged Senate reception room, hoping to devise a unified response to the disastrous situation. Without sweeping changes in the administration, they agreed, "the country was ruined and the cause was lost." Hesitant to publicly attack Lincoln in the midst of war, they focused their fury on the man they considered the malevolent power behind the throne-William Henry Seward. For months, Chase had claimed "there was a back stairs & malign influence which controlled the President, and overruled all the decisions of the cabinet," a hardly veiled reference to Seward. In private letters that had quickly become public knowledge, Chase had repeatedly griped about Lincoln's failure to consult the cabinet "on matters concerning the salvation of the country," intimating that his own councils would have averted the misfortunes now facing the country and the party.

In Republican circles, word spread that Seward was a "paralizing influence on the army and the President." He was rumored to be the "President de facto," responsible for the long delay in dismissing McClellan that led to stagnation and loss on the battlefield. Seward was said to have hindered Lincoln's intention to make the war a crusade for emanc.i.p.ation, and was deemed responsible for the resurgence of the conservatives in the midterm elections. In sum, Seward's insidious presence "kept a sponge saturated with chloroform to Uncle Abe's nose."

In the minds of the majority of the Republicans gathered together in the reception room that December afternoon, these rumors had congealed into facts. As one senator after another rose to speak of Seward's "controlling influence upon the mind of the President," Ben Wade suggested that they "should go in a body and demand of the President the dismissal of Mr Seward." Duty dictated that they exercise their const.i.tutional power, as William Fessenden professed, to demand "that measures should be taken to make the Cabinet a unity and to remove from it any one who did not coincide heartily with our views in relation to the war." As the rhetoric grew more heated, Senator James W. Grimes of Iowa introduced a resolution proclaiming "a want of confidence in the Secretary of State" and concluding that "he ought to be removed from the Cabinet."

Fessenden asked for a vote, which clearly indicated that an overwhelming majority of the thirty-one senators were in favor. Seward's friend New York senator Preston King objected that the resolution was not only "hasty and unwise" but also "unjust to Mr. Seward, as it was predicated on mere rumors." Several others agreed. Orville Browning argued that he "had no evidence the charges were true," and therefore could not vote for the resolution. Moreover, this "was not the proper course of proceeding" and would likely provoke a "war between Congress and the President, and the knowledge of this antagonism would injure our cause greatly." Recognizing that "without entire unanimity our action would not only be without force but productive of evil," Fessenden agreed to adjourn until the following afternoon to "give time for reflection."

Though the proceedings were to be kept secret, Preston King felt compelled to acquaint Seward with the situation. That evening, he went to Seward's house. Finding his old colleague in the library, he sat down beside him and told him all that had transpired. Seward listened quietly and then said, "They may do as they please about me, but they shall not put the President in a false position on my account." Asking for pen and paper, he wrote out his resignation as secretary of state and asked his son Fred and King to deliver it to the White House.

Lincoln scanned the resignation "with a face full of pain and surprise, saying 'What does this mean?'" After listening to Senator King's description of the overwrought emotions that had created "a thirst for a victim," Lincoln walked over to Seward's house. The meeting was painful for both men. Masking his anguish, Seward told Lincoln that "it would be a relief to be freed from official cares." Lincoln replied: "Ah, yes, Governor, that will do very well for you, but I am like the starling in [Laurence] Sterne's story, 'I can't get out.'"

Lincoln straightaway understood that he was the true target of the radicals' wrath. "They wish to get rid of me, and I am sometimes half disposed to gratify them," he told Browning two days later. He described the chatter setting forth Seward's controlling influence over him as "a lie, an absurd lie," that one "could not impose upon a child." Seward was the one man in the cabinet Lincoln trusted completely, the only one who fully appreciated his unusual strengths as a leader, and the only one he could call an intimate friend. Still, he could scarcely afford to antagonize the Republican senators so essential to his governing coalition. He had to think through his options. He had to learn more about the dynamics of the situation.

Seward was greatly "disappointed," Welles sensed, "that the President did not promptly refuse to consider his resignation." The hesitation compounded the pain of the unexpected a.s.sault from his old colleagues on the Hill, leaving him noticeably "wounded, mortified, and chagrined." Fortunately, Frances had journeyed to Washington the week before to look after their son Will, who had contracted typhoid fever in his army camp six miles from the capital. f.a.n.n.y, who had just turned eighteen, remained in Auburn with Jenny and the baby. The two women were due to leave Auburn for Washington a few days later to join the family for Christmas.

As f.a.n.n.y and Jenny were packing their things, Fred sent a hurried telegram to f.a.n.n.y: "Do not come at present." Fred, too, had offered his resignation as a.s.sistant secretary of state, and Frances followed his telegram with a letter telling f.a.n.n.y that her father "thought he could best serve his country at present by resigning," and that they were all leaving shortly for Auburn. Disconcerted by her father's abrupt departure, f.a.n.n.y worried greatly. "It seemed to me that if he were to leave," she noted in her diary, "the distracted state of affairs would prey upon his spirits all the more. I had a vague fear that he would come home ill, and longed to see him with my own eyes, safe. Spent a restless & uncomfortable night."

In some ways, Seward had exacerbated his own situation. His gratuitous comments about the radicals had made him enemies on Capitol Hill. Charles Sumner was particularly offended by a careless remark in one of the secretary's dispatches to London, suggesting that the mind-set of the men in Congress was not so different from that of the Confederates. Furthermore, it is not unlikely that Seward's pridefulness had led him occasionally to make immodest claims regarding his influence in the administration. Yet, despite such indiscretions, he was steadfast and loyal to the president. Having relinquished his own future ambitions, he had fought tirelessly to advance the fortunes of his chief and serve the country he loved.

When the Republican senators convened again Wednesday afternoon, Ira Harris of New York offered a subst.i.tute resolution that received unanimous approval. Rather than name Seward directly as the intended target, the resolution stated simply that "the public confidence in the present administration would be increased by a reconstruction of the Cabinet." When fears arose that Chase might lose his position as well, the resolution was amended to call for a "partial reconstruction of the Cabinet." Senator John Sherman of Ohio expressed doubt that any change in the cabinet would have an effect, since Lincoln "had neither dignity, order, nor firmness." Still, believing that they must take action, the caucus selected a Committee of Nine to call on the president and present the resolution. A meeting was set for 7 p.m. Thursday night, December 18.

Orville Browning came to the White House to see Lincoln shortly before the meeting began. "I saw in a moment that he was in distress," Browning recorded in his diary, "that more than usual trouble was pressing upon him." When Lincoln asked, "What do these men want?," Browning bluntly replied that they were "exceedingly violent towards the administration," and that the resolution adopted "was the gentlest thing that could be done." Furthermore, although Seward was "the especial object of their hostility," they were "very bitter" toward the president as well. Lincoln admitted that he had been enormously upset since receiving word about the caucus proceedings. "I can hardly see a ray of hope," he confided to Browning.

Concealing his distress, Lincoln greeted the Committee of Nine with his accustomed civility, affording them ample opportunity to speak their minds during a three-hour session. Jacob Collamer of Vermont opened the proceedings with a recitation of their primary contention that a president's cabinet council should jointly endorse principles and policy, "that all important public measures and appointments should be the result of their combined wisdom and deliberation." Since this was hardly the current state of affairs, the cabinet should be reconstructed to "secure to the country unity of purpose and action." In the conversation that followed, the senators argued that the prosecution of the war had been left too long "in the hands of bitter and malignant Democrats," like McClellan and Halleck, while the antislavery generals, like Fremont and Hunter, "had been disgraced."

This grim arraignment was attributed to Seward's domination of policy and his "lukewarmness in the conduct of the war." While the Republican senators professed belief in the president's honesty, Lincoln later said, "they seemed to think that when he had in him any good purposes, Mr. S[eward] contrived to suck them out of him unperceived." Lincoln worked to defuse the anger and tension. He confessed that the movement against Seward "shocked and grieved him," maintaining that while his cabinet had been at loggerheads on certain issues, "there had never been serious disagreements." Rumors that Seward exercised some perfidious influence in opposition to the majority of the cabinet were simply not true. On the contrary, the cabinet had acted with great accord on most matters. Indeed, in his most trying days, "he had been sustained and consoled" by their "mutual and unselfish confidence and zeal." As the conversation continued, Lincoln seemed to sense that the committee members were "earnest and sad-not malicious nor pa.s.sionate." He "expressed his satisfaction with the tone and temper" of the conversation, promised to examine the prepared paper with care, and left them with the feeling that he was "pleased with the interview."

Aware that "he must work it out by himself" with no adviser to consult, Lincoln "thought deeply on the matter." By morning, he had devised a plan of action. He sent notices to all of his cabinet members except Seward, requesting a special meeting at 10:30 a.m. When all were seated around the familiar oak table, Lincoln asked them to keep secret what he had to say. He informed them of Seward's letter of resignation, told them about his meeting with the Committee of Nine, and read aloud the paper the committee members had presented to him. He reiterated the statements he had made to the committee, emphasizing how his compound cabinet had worked together "harmoniously, whatever had been their previous party feelings," and that during the "overwhelming troubles of the country, which had borne heavily upon him," he had counted on their loyalty and "good feeling." He "could not afford to lose" any of them and declared that it would not be "possible for him to go on with a total abandonment of old friends."

Knowing that, when personally confronted, the cabinet members would profess they had worked well together, Lincoln proposed a joint session later that evening with the cabinet and the Committee of Nine. Presumably, they would disabuse the senators of their notions of disunity and discord in the cabinet. Chase was panicked at the thought of the joint meeting, since tales of the malfunctioning cabinet had originated largely with his own statements to the senators. Chase argued vehemently against the joint meeting, but when everyone else agreed, he was forced to acquiesce.

On the evening of December 19, when the members of the Committee of Nine arrived at the White House, Lincoln began the unusual session by reading the resolutions of the senators and inviting a candid discussion of the issues raised. He acknowledged that cabinet meetings had not been as regular as he might have liked, given the terrible time pressures that faced his administration. Nonetheless, he believed that "most questions of importance had received a reasonable consideration," and that "all had acquiesced in measures when once decided." He went on to defend Seward against the committee's charge that he had "improperly interfered" with decisions and had not been "earnest in the prosecution of the war." He specifically cited Seward's full concurrence in the Emanc.i.p.ation Proclamation.

The senators renewed their demand that "the whole Cabinet" must "consider and decide great questions," with no one individual directing the "whole Executive action." They noted with approval that John Quincy Adams adhered to the majority vote of his cabinet even when he disagreed with them. In like fashion, "they wanted united counsels, combined wisdom, and energetic action."

Blair followed with a long argument that "sustained the President and dissented most decidedly from the idea of a plural Executive." Though he "had differed much with Mr. Seward," he nonetheless "believed him as earnest as any one in the war; thought it would be injurious to the public service to have him leave the Cabinet, and that the Senate had better not meddle with matters of that kind." Bates expressed wholehearted agreement with Blair, as did Welles. As he contemplated the discussion, Welles wrote the next day, he realized that while he had likewise differed with Seward on numerous occasions, Seward's faults were "venial." Moreover, "no party or faction should be permitted to dictate to the President in regard to his Cabinet."

The course of the conversation had seriously compromised Chase's position. He noted irritably, recalled Fessenden, that "he should not have come here had he known that he was to be arraigned before a committee of the Senate," but he felt compelled to uphold Lincoln and his colleagues. Stating equivocally that he wished the cabinet had more fully considered every measure, Chase endorsed the president's statement that there had been accord on most measures. He grudgingly admitted that "no member had opposed a measure after it had once been decided on." As for the Emanc.i.p.ation Proclamation, Chase conceded that Seward had suggested amendments that substantially strengthened it. Neither Stanton nor Smith said a word.

After nearly five hours of open conversation, sensing he was making headway, Lincoln asked each of the senators if he still desired to see Seward resign his position. Though four, including Lyman Trumbull, reaffirmed their original position, the others had changed their minds. When the meeting adjourned at 1 a.m., the senators suspected that no change in the cabinet would be made.

The disappointed senators now turned their wrath upon Chase, whose duplicitous behavior infuriated them. When Collamer was asked how Chase could have presented such a different face when confronted in the meeting, the Vermont senator answered succinctly, "He lied." Lincoln agreed that Chase had been disingenuous, but not on that night. On the contrary, after months of spreading false stories about Seward and the cabinet, Chase had finally been compelled to tell the truth! Lincoln's political dexterity had enabled him to calm the crisis and expose the duplicity of his secretary of the treasury.

The next day, Welles paid an early call on the president. He said that he had "pondered the events" of the previous night and concluded that it would be a grievous mistake for Lincoln to accept Seward's resignation. The senators' presumption in their criticisms of Seward, "real or imaginary," was "inappropriate and wrong." In order to "maintain the rights and independence of the Executive," Lincoln must reject the senator's attempts to interfere with internal cabinet matters. Welles hoped that Seward would not press Lincoln to accept his resignation. Delighted by these comments, Lincoln asked Welles to talk with Seward.

Welles went at once to Seward's house, where he found Stanton conversing with the secretary of state. While Stanton had probably joined Chase in airing his frustrations, most particularly when McClellan was restored to command, he had come to see the necessity for solidarity. The cabinet, he said, was like a window. "Suppose you allowed it to be understood that pa.s.sers-by might knock out one pane of gla.s.s-just one at a time-how long do you think any panes would be left in it?"

When Stanton departed, Welles told Seward that he had advised the president not to accept his resignation. This "greatly pleased" Seward, who had been distraught over the whole episode. In short order, another visitor knocked on Seward's door and Monty Blair entered, also to object to the idea of Seward's resignation. So Lincoln had brought the cabinet to rally around one of their own. Like family members who would fault one another within the confines of their own household while fiercely rejecting external criticism, the cabinet put aside its quarrel with Seward, based largely on jealousy over his intimacy with Lincoln, to resist the interference of outsiders.

Still, Lincoln's troubles were not over. The news of Seward's offer of resignation had produced widespread comment, particularly among radicals who hoped that his departure would signal a first step toward a reconstructed cabinet purged of conservative influences. To refuse Seward's offer now that its tender was public knowledge would be interpreted as a slap against the radicals. The delicate balance Lincoln had struggled to maintain in his cabinet would be damaged.

Ironically, Salmon Chase unwittingly provided a perfect solution to Lincoln's difficulty. When Welles returned to Lincoln's office after speaking with Seward, he found Chase and Stanton waiting to see the president. Humiliated after the previous night, Chase had decided to hand in his own resignation. Word had already leaked out that he had been instrumental in the movement to remove Seward "for the purpose of obtaining and maintaining control in the cabinet." Were he to remain after Seward's departure, he told a friend, he would face the hostility of Seward's many friends. Yet a public offer to join Seward in resigning would put the onus on Lincoln to request Chase's continued service and "relieve him from imputations of Seward's friends and clear his future course of difficulties."

Discovering Chase, Stanton, and Welles in his office, Lincoln invited them all to sit with him before the fire. Chase said he "had been painfully affected by the meeting," which had come as "a total surprise" to him. He informed the president he had written out his resignation. "Where is it?" Lincoln asked, "his eye lighting up for a moment." When Chase said he had brought it with him, Lincoln leaped up, exclaiming, "Let me have it." Stretching out to s.n.a.t.c.h it, Lincoln pulled the paper from Chase, who now seemed "reluctant" to let it go. With "an air of satisfaction spread over his countenance," Lincoln said, "This...cuts the Gordian knot." As he began reading the note, he added, "I can dispose of this subject now without difficulty."

Chase gave Welles a "perplexed" look, suggesting he was not pleased that his colleague was a witness to this upsetting encounter. At this point, Stanton also offered to submit his resignation. "I don't want yours," Lincoln immediately replied. Then, indicating Chase's letter, he added, "This...is all I want-this relieves me-my way is clear-the trouble is ended. I will detain neither of you longer."

As soon as they left, Lincoln wrote a letter to both Seward and Chase, acknowledging that he had received their resignations, but that "after most anxious consideration," he had determined that the "public interest" required both men to remain in office. "I therefore have to request that you will resume the duties of your Departments respectively," he concluded. Welles immediately fathomed Lincoln's insistence on keeping the two rivals close despite their animosity: "Seward comforts him,-Chase he deems a necessity." By retaining both men, Lincoln kept the balance in his cabinet. When Senator Ira Harris called on him shortly after he had received Chase's resignation, Lincoln was in a buoyant mood. "Yes, Judge," he said, employing a metaphor shaped by his rural childhood, "I can ride on now, I've got a pumpkin in each end of my bag!"

Seward responded to Lincoln with alacrity. "I have cheerfully resumed the functions of this Department in obedience to your command," he replied. That afternoon, a relieved f.a.n.n.y received a telegram from Fred instructing her and Jenny to "come as soon as possible" to Washington. Chase, meanwhile, had far more difficulty in determining how to respond. His first reaction was to draft a letter refusing Lincoln's wish. "Will you allow me to say," he wrote, "that something you said or looked, when I handed you my resignation this morning, made on my mind the impression, that, having received the resignations of both Gov. Seward and myself, you felt you could relieve yourself from trouble by declining to accept either and that the feeling was one of gratification." He then went on to express the opinion that he and Seward could "both better serve you and the country, at this time, as private citizens, than in your cabinet." When Chase received a note from Seward announcing his decision to resume his duties, however, he felt compelled to follow suit. While letting Lincoln know that his original desire to resign remained unchanged, Chase promised that he would do Lincoln's bidding and return to the Treasury.

At the next cabinet meeting, Welles noted, "Seward was feeling very happy," while "Chase was pale, and said he was ill, had been for weeks." Seward magnanimously invited Chase to dine with his family on Christmas Eve. Having achieved what Nicolay termed "a triumph over those who attempted to drive him out," Seward hoped that he and Chase could now make their peace. Though Chase declined the invitation, he sent a gracious note begging that his "unwilling absence" be excused, for he was "too really sick...to venture upon his hospitality."

For Lincoln, the most serious governmental crisis of his presidency had ended in victory. He had treated the senators with dignity and respect and, in the process, had protected the integrity and autonomy of his cabinet. He had defended the executive against a legislative attempt to dictate who should const.i.tute the president's political family. He had saved his friend Seward from an unjust attack that was really directed at him, and, simultaneously, solidified his own position as master of both factions in his cabinet.

Mary Lincoln did not share her husband's gratification in the outcome. She told Elizabeth Blair that "she regretted the making up of the family quarrel-that there was not a member of the Cabinet who did not stab her husband & the Country daily," with the exception of Monty Blair. Her protective suspicions were reaffirmed during a visit to a Georgetown spiritualist on New Year's Eve. Mrs. Laury's revelations combined comforting communications from Willie with political commentary on affairs of the day. In particular, the spiritualist warned "that the cabinet were all the enemies of the President, working for themselves, and that they would have to be dismissed, and others called to his aid before he had success."

Lincoln listened patiently to Mary's concerns, but he knew that he had now balanced his team of rivals and consolidated his leadership. "I do not now see how it could have been done better," he told Hay. "I am sure it was right. If I had yielded to that storm & dismissed Seward the thing would all have slumped over one way & we should have been left with a scanty handful of supporters. When Chase gave in his resignation I saw that the game was in my own hands & I put it through."

The happy resolution of the crisis provided an upbeat ending to a very difficult year.

BATTLEFIELDS OF THE CIVIL WAR

CHAPTER 19

"FIRE IN THE REAR"