CHAPTER 13
OLD FUSS AND FEATHERS
Winfield Scott, feeling every bit of his seventy-five years and nearly three
hundred pounds, managed to rise when the President entered, then sat back
heavily in his leather armchair. He motioned for his aide-de-camp to take
Lincoln's wet cape and hat.
The general-in-chief's office was filled with memorabilia of the man who
liked to say that, like Roger Taney, he was "one year older than the Constitu-
tion"captured flags and surrendered swords from the Mexican War, the
fading colors of regiments he had commanded in the War of 1812, when the
British sacked Washingtonand mounted on the wall was his pride and joy,
a leather bag containing a dozen bullets.
Under Scott's direction, the U.S. Army in 1849 had adopted the muzzle-
loading gun capable of firing the Mini6 bulletpopularly known as a "minnie
ball"named after French Army captain Claude Etienne Minie. The lead
projectile was shaped quite differently from the old musket ball: this was
cylindrical, conical in front and hollow at the back. When its sides were
forced by the explosive charge against the rifling on the inside of the gun
barrel, the bullet was sent spinning out of the barrel with a degree of accuracy
and a range that greatly improved small-arms fire and, the general had long
been certain, would revolutionize infantry tactics. The new weapon and its
ammunition gave entrenched defenders an advantage over any attacking
force, whether infantry or cavalry. In Scott's opinion, it effectively ended the
Napoleonic era of massed assaults.
"General, it appears we are undone," the President was saying, as he thrust
a handful of the latest dispatches from the War Department telegraph office
into Scott's hands.
In a few moments, Secretary Seward led the Cabinet into the office. Gen-
eral Scott surveyed the group. The Secretary of War was the picture of per-
sonal despair. Half of themAttorney General Bates, Cameron of War, and
Seward of Statewere obviously in their sixties. Welles, Montgomery Blair,
Chase of Treasury, and Caleb Smith of Interior were in their late- or mid-
fifties, and Lincoln, whom Scott knew to be fifty-two, was the youngest of the
lot.
Curious that he should surround himself with older men; a good sign, Scott
thought. Perhaps the older heads, his own included, could restrain Lincoln
from his less judicious inclinations. The general recalled clearlybut would
not mention, of coursethat when Scott was in his fifties, carrying the flag
down to the Rio Grande, then-Congressman Lincoln had been privately as-
sailing "Polk's war." As President himself, Lincoln better understood what
internal resistance had to be overcome to wage a warespecially one to carry
out his belief that the Union could not be dissolved.
Scott read the later reports from the front in silence, and in immediate
understanding of the source of the disaster. What had changed the nature of
the battle was the presence of General Johnston's rebel force at Manassas,
which should have been engaged at Winchester by General Patterson. That
old Irishman had served with Scott in 1812 and in Mexico; he had always
followed orders. Patterson had assured him that he would tie Johnston down.
He had failed, and as a result McDowell faced combined rebel armies that
had the advantage of a defensive position. When the green Union troops met
resistance, they broke and ran.
"General Scott," Attorney General Bates asked, "does this mean that the
capital is in danger?"
Lincoln sharpened the question. "To what degree is Washington in danger
of capture?"
Scott did not want to contribute to their dismay, and pointed out that the
reports did not show close pursuit by the rebels. "It may be that they are not
fully aware we have abandoned the field."
"Can't you do something about rounding up the troops wandering through
the streets," asked Montgomery Blair, "to mount some sort of defense? Can't
we close the bridges and force our men coming back to stand and fight in
Arlington? The ineptitude we have seen this afternoon seems to be continu-
ing."
The general glared at the man whose bad advice had pushed them into this
mess and allowed as how he would order a general roundup of stragglers
immediately. He looked around the group, expecting someone to remind the
Postmaster General that the impetus for this ill-fated engagement came not
from the old soldier who commanded the army, but from the young politician
who ran the country.
Seward handled it obliquely. "The strategy the general preferred is well
known to us, Montgomery. We all agreed that the political need of a sharp
and decisive blow right away outweighed his purely military advice of cau-
tion."
But Blair pressed the point. "I, for one, would never have been in favor of
any bold military advance if we had known that our army was no army at all,
but a mob in fancy uniforms."
That triggered Scott's fury. He heaved forward in his chair to do rhetorical
battle. Neither Blair nor Lincoln were going to make him, or his raw recruits,
the goat of this disaster. The Scott recommendation after the secession was no
secret: to let the seceding states go in peace, since an attack on interior lines in
an age of defense was impractical. When that advice was spurned, Scott had
made his military recommendation to win the war: to seize the forts along the
Mississippi down to Memphis and then to New Orleans, to blockade the
Atlantic ports, and thus to starve the South into submission.
This sound strategy had been ridiculed in the press as his "anaconda plan,"
after the snake that squeezed its victims to death, and was dismissed by
impatient politicians as overly timid, but it was not his job to satisfy the "On
to Richmond!" zealots. The task of the General-in-Chief, once the civilian
authority had made its decision to fight, was to recommend the best way to
win. When his judgment was set aside by the President, he had gone along
with his superior officer's decisionand now was being accused of being the
cause of the defeat.
"I must be the greatest coward in America," he said, startling them all.
"Do you want to know why, Mr. Blair? Because I permitted this battle to be
fought against my better judgment."
"Your bravery has never been at issue," Blair began to backtrack, but Scott
plunged ahead, his patience at an end. Blair was his ostensible target, but
what he had to say was intended for Lincoln.
"The President ought to remove me today for moral cowardice. As God is
my judge, after my superiors had deemed it necessary to fight this battle, I did
all in my power to carry out their orders. I deserve to be cashiered because I
failed to stand up for what I believed to be true. I did not rise up and protest,
when my army was obviously in no condition to fight, and resist the political
pressure to the last."
He stared Blair down, then looked over to the man who had ordered the
engagement on the grounds that the country needed the news of a victory to
stir up its war spirit. Lincoln had a look of pain on his sallow face approach-
ing desperation.
"You seem to imply, General Scott," the President was moved to say, "that
I forced you to fight this battle."
The sight of the stricken visage of the President gave the general pause.
The harried and uncertain Lincoln did not need to be pushed into accepting
responsibility at this point; rather, the man was in terrible need of support.
That placed Winfield Scott in a dilemma: he would have to choose between
his public reputation and his self-respect. In order to exonerate himself, he
would have to embarrass his commander in chief. At this moment, with the
nation stunned and its capital in danger of falling, any further humiliation of
the President would weaken the government and could well affect the out-
come of the war.
Scott enjoyed his longtime hero's reputation. He was proud to be the only
American other than George Washington to hold the rank of lieutenant gen-
eral. His only defeat in life was political, when he ran for President as a Whig
in 1852 as that party was nearing its final stage of disintegration. He had
posed willingly, even eagerly, for that picture in Brady's studio, to be used as
the model for the statue in Scott Square that would stand for centuries. He
did not want anyone to hang a sign beneath that statue that read "Perpetrator
of the Rout at Bull Run."
But he was first and last a soldier, and would go into retirement soon as a
good soldier. "I have never served a president, Mr. Lincoln, who has been
kinder to me than you have been." He hoped that would be enough to be
taken as an assertion that he meant no imputation of blame to his com-
mander. More would be an outright lie, since Scott had persuaded himself
that he had indeed been forced to fight this battle.
"If there is a good possibility that the city will fall," said Chase, changing
the subject to a more practical one, "I think we ought to concentrate on that.
We have to get the gold out of here. We should think about evacuation."
Lincoln, the blame-laying past, was making notes on a pad. "General, what
must be done now to defend the city?"
Scott focused on the immediate problem and knew exactly what had to be
done. "Round up all available troops here in the city and send them to
McDowell's support. Close the bridges across the Potomac, blow them up if
necessaryno more retreat, the men can stay in the encampments they used
in Virginia last week. Put Baltimore on the alert in case we have to fall back.
Telegraph the recruiting stations of the nearest states to send all organized
regiments to Washington."
Lincoln, nodding approval, made notes with his pencil. Scott reluctantly
added a thought that he knew would have command consequences. The only
Union general with any recent success was George McClellan, whose well-
organized operations in the West, while not all that significant militarily, had
made him the darling of the press and had helped Northern morale. "And
order McClellan to come down to the Shenandoah Valley," Scott said, "with
such troops as can be spared from western Virginia."
"I hear he's very good," said Chase. "They call him the young Napoleon."
That's the trouble with McClellan, Scott recalled. At thirty-five, he was
young for major command; it occurred to Scott that he had been given de-
partmental command at age twenty-eight, but that was in an era when the
nation itself was new and experienced hands were few. In Mexico, George's
troops always liked him, usually a good sign, but there was evidence of an
unwillingness to take casualties. Had an unfortunate habit of appointing cro-
nies to key positions; Burnside, a hack, found a place on his staff in civilian
life. Scott forced himself to admit his chief concern about the man: McClellan
was a born commander, and that type often tended to challenge the authority
of any soldier above him.
Recognizing his own bias, Scott considered the qualities of the officer who
would, in these circumstances, be hailed as the man of the hour and be
subjected to the heady wine of national adulation. Second in his class at the
Point. Good combat experience in Mexico. Creative mind for an engineer,
invented a comfortable saddle the horsemen swore by and even the horses
seemed to prefer. Good family man, having taken that girl away from Powell
Hill in a long romantic struggle that was the talk of the officer corps. Most
important, McClellan exuded success: bored by the peacetime army, he made
a career in railroading, and was said to earn ten thousand dollars a year
running the Illinois Central. Scott assumed McClellan had met Lincoln, too,
who had been a lawyer for the railroad.
"What about McClellan, General?" asked Blair.
"Good organizer."
"Let's get him here, then," Blair said to Lincoln. "Put him in charge of
organizing the defense of Washington. Tonight."
"Wait a second," Welles of the Navy, who seldom spoke, put in. "Is he the
best?"
Seward cautioned, "He's a Democrat."
"But he's a Douglas Democrat," said Attorney General Bates. Scott prided
himself on being above politics, at least ever since that unfortunate trouncing
at the hands of Frank Pierce in the campaign of '52. But he knew the differ-
ence between a follower of the late Stephen Douglas, a Democrat who sup-
ported the war, and a follower of John Breckinridge, the Democrat who
opposed it. Republicans in Congress were furious at the military commands
going to Douglas war Democratsthree to one over Republicans, it was
chargedbut nothing infuriated them like the advancement of Breckinridge
Democrats. Scott had approved John Dix, of Buchanan's Cabinet, to be the
general in Baltimore, and Benjamin Butler of Massachusetts, another Breck-
inridge Democrat, to take charge of the vital post in Fortress Monroe. At
least George McClellan had a history of being a Douglas Democrat.
"And he's too comfortable with pop sov," added Lincoln, who had cam-
paigned against Douglas's popular-sovereignty argument on the extension of
slavery into the territories, "but I need an organizer. Someone to stop the
panic."
"Pity the best West Pointers went South," Blair observed. "Can't blame
Robert Lee, I guess, he's a Virginian."
"I'm a Virginian too," General Scott said icily, remembering how he had
offered the command of Union troops to Lee in Biair's parlor. "Lee could
have done his duty to his country. That's why his country sent him to West
Point."
Lincoln took a watch out of his pocket and flipped open the lid. "Let's
meet again in a half hour over in the Mansion," he told the Cabinet members.
"I'll be along directly." He remained with Scott after the others left. Alone,
the President said to the general: "I appreciate that. What you said about my
not forcing you into battle. You are a patriot."
"I have never evaded responsibility, sir."
"Well, I have and you just saw me. You and McDowell are going to have to
stand a lot of gaff for a while, because I cannot afford to."
"I did not want to say this in front of the others, Mr. President, but I
suspect that the rebels had our plans. Someone in a position of trust, perhaps
even in the Cabinet, may have betrayed that trust."
Lincoln shook his head; that was evidently too hard to take, on top of
unexpected defeat and the prospect of the loss of the capital. He walked to
Scott's window and watched the group crossing the street. "Seward thinks he
should be President. And yet if he had been, the Union would have been
dissolved."
Scott frowned, and decided to be totally honest with the President young
enough to be his son. "I, too, have favored peaceful separation. Neither the
North nor the South has the power to conquer the other quickly, and the
section defending its own territory has an enormous advantage. Your only
hope is what they call the anaconda, slow strangulation by blockade, but I
doubt that the North has the patience for that. It would take years."
Lincoln continued to watch the men walking off in the rain and Scott did
not know if he had listened to the essence of his strategy. No time like now, in
the shock of defeat, to make a major reassessment. But the President's
thoughts seemed to be elsewhere: "Chase is despairing. Thinks he should be
President, too, but he doesn't see the central idea. He's with the radicals,
wants to strike at slavery where it exists."
"That is how to lose the war promptly," said Scott without doubt. On that
point, political and military tactics intersected. If abolitionist rabble-rousing
drove the slave states on the border into secession, the North would soon
have to sue for peace.
Lincoln pointed to the receding back of the man Scott had warned him
would be another way to lose the war. "What a mistake," he said about
Simon Cameron. "Utterly ignorant, and obnoxious to the country. Incapable
either of organizing details or conceiving and executing general plans. Is the
Secretary of War a great trouble to you?"
"The military contracts go to his friends." General Scott did not want to
learn much more about that subject, or to pass on what he did know to the
President, who might be safer not knowing about low-level corruption. The
general said only, "Cameron may be more trouble for your administration
than for the army." Scott had taken to going to Chase at Treasury for many
of the decisions about raising troops and financing the army that would ordi-
narily be in the purview of the Secretary of War.
"Bates is a fair lawyer," Lincoln said, needing to confide, which was not
like him. "Caleb Smith is a cipher at Interior, I'm afraid, but Welles turned
out to be surprisingly good at Navy."
"That leaves Montgomery Blair." Scott thought the Biairs were a danger-
ous family with all too much influence on the President.
"I like the judge. Admire his father, tootrust his political judgment more
than anybody's. Father Blair goes clear back to Jackson, like you do." He
veered off the subject. "Hasn't been a two-term President since Andy Jack-
son." He veered back. "The Biairs know how much I need Maryland and
Missouri, and Kentucky. We lose Kentucky and the bottom is out of the tub."
Because the President had been sharing his most intimate judgments with
him, Scott felt called upon to blurt out the truth: "What I said about being a
coward, sir, was true. I should never have allowed you to go into this battle. I
should have threatened to resign. That would have stopped you."
"I wish you had, General, but that's behind us." Lincoln dug his fingers in
his hair and almost cried out the question, "What will the people say?" In a
moment, he gave a kind of answer: "Sinners will call the righteous to repen-
tance."
The President came back from the window and sat at Scott's desk, his
pencil notes set before him. "Here is what I think we have to do. See what
you think."
Scott thought that the young President's willingness to come back and
confront his new difficulties offered some hope for his success. A leader had
to be capable of rallying his own mental forces in the midst of confusion and
despair.
"Let the forces late before Manassas," Lincoln said of the routed troops,
"be reorganized as rapidly as possible in their camps here and about Arling-
ton."
"Except the three-month men," Scott amended, "they're a bad influence on
the others. If they won't sign for the duration, discharge them."
Lincoln nodded, making the change in his notes. "Let the force under
Patterson" He stopped, uncertain.
Scott finished the thoughtfor him: "Patterson, or whoever we replace him
with, maybe Banks, be strengthened and made secure in its position. We'll
need Harpers Ferry."
The President nodded. "Let the volunteer forces at Fortress Monroe, under
General Butler, be brought"
Scott shook his head. "I don't know about Butler, he's one of your politi-
cian generals, and his men aren't ready to fight."
"Let them be constantly drilled, disciplined, and instructed," noted Lin-
coln, amending his order immediately. "Let Baltimore be held as now. Let
the forces in western Virginia" He looked up.
"Tell McClellan to tell them what to do, he'll be coming from there." Scott
knew McClellan's recall to Washington was inevitable, because there was
nobody else with his energy or experience or support in the press. McDowell
was finished, at least for a while, and Scott could not ride a horse; Lincoln
needed a man who could take charge in the field. The young man would want
to take charge at headquarters as well, but that was tomorrow's worry.
"What else?" said Lincoln. "Blockade," he answered himself, jotting that
down at the bottom.
"Let the plan for making the blockade effective be pushed forward with all
possible dispatch," Scott dictated, adding, "Make that the first item."
Lincoln wrote that down, circled it, and drew an arrow to the top of the
page. To show he understood the anaconda plannow even Scott thought of
his strategy in that termthe President added its Mississippi dimension: "Let
General Fr6mont push forward in the West, giving rather special attention to
Missouri. This done, a joint movement from Cairo down to Memphis, and
from Cincinnati on East Tennessee."
Scott nodded; the President had finally adopted his strategy. Lincoln then
pushed the general's inkwell and quill toward him. "Write out the order
bringing McClellan here right away. I'll take it down to the telegraph office."
The general looked sternly at him: the President as messenger did not sit
well. "Don't take on too many details," he advised, "they'll eat you up."
"The details are what count," Lincoln said grimly. "From now on, I want
to know everything." That did not sit well with the general, either. Scott saw
a President distrustful of his Cabinet colleagues, putting together a command
structure with one man's strategy and another man as executor, trying to
decide everything himself without being certain of himself.
As the one man who had carried the burden of military leadership from the
years following the Revolution to this civil war, Scott felt he had much cause
to worry about the man who would now have to shoulder that burden as well
as the political weight. He knew that he could not remain in command of a
long war, as this would have to behis infirmities made that impossiblebut
the general did not know if Lincoln would be strong enough in execution of
the vital details to sustain the strength of what he kept calling the "central
idea." The only thing Lincoln was certain about was the absolute necessity of
preserving the Union as it was, and Scott disagreed with his judgment on
that.
Not good. The general hoped Lincoln would learn to delegate authority
later, if the Northern public and the Southern forces gave him the time, and if
men capable of handling the details appeared. At least the President would no
longer be overconfident; give the shock of Bull Run credit for that. The
President was a shaken man and was not through this crisis yet, but at least
he gave signs of being shaken in the direction of becoming realistic, not of
giving up.
In a strong hand, Scott wrote out the order commanding the "young Napo-
leon" to come to Washington immediately to undertake the defense of the
capital. He handed it to the President, who thrust it inside his coat, grabbed
his cape, and hurried out the door to what would surely be the longest night
of his life.