Lincoln & Davis: A Dual Biography of America’S Civil War Presidents

Contents

Foreward

Beginnings

Young Manhood

National Prominence and Obscurity

A Decade of Doughface,

Compromise and Chaos

Elections and Inaugurations

Dissolution and War

1862—The Last Best Hope of Earth

1863—Facing the Arithmetic

1864—War, At the Best, Is Terrible

With Malice Towards None

Lucifer Unrepentant

Postscript

Abbreviated References:

Endnotes

Foreward

On November 13, 1889, an ailing 81-year old Jefferson Davis wrote in the autograph book of 10-year old Alice Desmaris, the niece of an old friend. He would die three weeks later, but on this occasion penned the last line he would ever write, May all your paths be peaceful and pleasant, charged with the best fruit, the doing good to others. Strange words from a man who, if remembered at all by modern Americans, is primarily recalled as the slave-holding President of the Southern Confederacy during the American Civil War.

In opposition to the ill-remembered Davis is the public perception of the man who opposed him as the 16th President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln. Most modern people regard him as the man who freed the slaves and saved the Union. He is to this day the most biographied and written about American who has ever lived, all but sanctified in many circles. And while most would deem him having lived a life of doing good to others, he was also extremely fallible, coming late to the Abolition Movement, and was far more interested in saving the Union than in freeing the slaves.

Davis and Lincoln were both enormously more complex men than the simplistic public images currently prevailing. They never met face-to-face, yet were born 9 months and less than 100 miles apart in Kentucky log cabins. The parallel lives they led provided many more similarities in personas, which combined with seemingly circumstantial events to shape their beliefs and outlooks on life. Some of those circumstances were significant—both had fathers who were emotionally distant (yet they would become loving and demonstrative parents themselves), both lost their first love to disease less than one month apart, and both would lose favorite sons during their Presidential terms. Other shared circumstances were certainly less life-altering, but peculiar still for their timing—both were mostly clean-shaven their adult lives, yet started growing beards shortly after being elected to their respective presidential posts.

Both were intelligent, ambitious, outgoing, stubborn, fond of literature and reading (especially Shakespeare and the poetry of Robert Burns), married strong intelligent Southern women much younger than themselves, and, in spite of being opposed politically, did all they could to keep the Union intact up to the moment South Carolina initiated secession. Both were highly patriotic and followed their convictions regardless of whether their causes were popular or politically correct. And at the end of their lives each would be seen as being a martyr for their country and cause, Lincoln for being assassinated and Davis by never atoning for believing the South was legally justified in attempting to secede.

A handful of other books have been written comparing and contrasting the lives of these two men—Two Roads To Sumter: Abraham Lincoln, Jefferson Davis and The March To Civil War, by Bruce and William Catton, Lincoln & Davis: Imaging America 1809-1865, by Brian R. Dirck, and The Two American Presidents: A Dual Biography of Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis, by Bruce Chadwick. The Catton brothers’ book is excellent prose, but was limited in scope, only taking us up to the beginning of the war. Mr. Dirck’s book comes across more as the author’s own psychoanalysis of the two men than a detailed biography, and Mr. Chadwick’s work, while solid, still impressed this reader as being somewhat dry in the telling. In addition, neither Mr. Dirk’s nor Mr. Chadwick’s book tells their stories in sequential events as I have attempted to do here.

For contrasting the lives of Davis and Lincoln I have tried to rely as much as possible on the speeches and writings of both men individually, believing more can be learned from their own words than from the interpretations of others. Fortunately, just as many of Lincoln’s writings and speeches have survived, so have many of Davis’ personal letters, political speeches and documents. Literally thousands of his papers are in private collections or public places such as the Confederate Museum in Richmond, Virginia, and can be viewed by those with a penchant for seemingly endless research of such matters.

When researching biographies I found Lincoln, as mentioned earlier, could fill a vast library with all the different vantage points and perspectives prepared on him. I have tried to avoid sources where the author had a specific axe to grind such as The Intimate Life of Abraham Lincoln, by C. A. Tripp, who promotes the idea of Lincoln being gay. I found far more valuable the works of authors such as Benjamin P. Thomas’ Abraham Lincoln: A Biography, Doris Kerns Goodwin’s Team of Rivals, The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln, as well as the many works of Bruce Catton.

Biographies of Davis are far fewer and very often (especially the earlier ones) heavily slanted with the author’s bias towards Davis. Easily the best and most balanced biographies of Davis I could locate were Jefferson Davis: The Man and His Hour, by William C. Davis (no relation to the subject), Jefferson Davis, American, by William Cooper, and Jefferson Davis, by Clement Eaton.

To write something new and revelatory about Abraham Lincoln would require the unveiling or discovery of some major new correspondence or public documents from the era, and this author is not aware of any significant recent finds. Nor am I audacious enough to suggest while pouring over the innumerable material available on the man I gained new insight into Lincoln’s character not previously presented for public debate and scrutiny. The opinions and theories offered up here on both Lincoln’s and Davis’s personalities are my own drawn from years of research, and where I felt explanation was necessary I have attempted to make my case as succinctly as possible. For instance, many biographers have concluded Lincoln suffered from chronic depression, and I disagree with those assessments. My contention is while his personality was melancholic, the trait is not disabling. A person who is deeply or chronically depressed has enormous difficulty in making decisions or functioning effectively in society. Lincoln, who certainly experienced his fair share of personal and emotional tragedy, was never so low and bereft as to be unable to function and make critical decisions. Davis, on the other hand, went through bouts of absolute depression—following the death of his first wife he retreated to the seclusion of his Mississippi plantation and did not re-enter society for seven years. Enhanced thoughts of this and other possible controversies can be found later in this book.

On a personal note I need to thank my parents, Ray and Mary Jo Stucker, first for allowing me to live past what must have been very trying teenage years, and secondly for encouraging and allowing me to pursue my own interests. I also am enormously indebted to my wife, Peggy Gohl Stucker, for giving me the time, space, means and encouragement to fulfill this particular passion of mine.

Beginnings

Samuel Emery Davis and Jane Davis welcomed their 10th child into the world on June 3, 1808. In an era when the average American male lifespan was forty-five and women often died younger from complications in childbirth, Jane was forty-six or forty-seven, and she and 52-year old Samuel felt ten children in twenty-three years of marriage had taken the Biblical quote to go forth and multiply quite literally enough. The boy was given the Christian name of Jefferson, after Samuel’s favorite revolutionary hero and president, with the middle name of Finis, a Latin jest to show the father’s grasp of a language other than English and the mutual hope their tenth offspring was the final one.¹

Jefferson Finis Davis’s family, at least on the fraternal side, had originated in Wales. A great-grandfather, Evan Davis, arrived in Philadelphia in the early 1700s, wed a woman named Mary, eventually became an innkeeper, and sometime in the middle 1720s sired the youngest of six children, namesake Evan Davis.² In his early twenties Evan Davis, Jr. moved to South Carolina where he met and married widow Mary Emory Williams. He then moved again to the region around Augusta, Georgia, where Samuel Emory Davis came to be in the mid-1750s. Evan Davis would only survive another five or six years, leaving Samuel to grow to young manhood sans a father figure and deciding on his own to take up the Revolutionary War cause. In future years he would tell his children about raising a militia company at the age of twenty-three and leading them in the defense of Savannah in December 1779. After the war he returned home to find the land devastated and his mother deceased. His grandfather Evan had also passed during the war, and though Samuel was entitled to a share of the estate he was as uninformed of his Philadelphia relatives as they were of him, so his chance to the claim was lost. As a Revolutionary War hero he was granted several hundred acres of land near Augusta.³ History does not record where or how Samuel came by an education, but it is known he was considered by his peers to be sufficiently literate and lettered to be named county clerk. He was also greatly admired for his fine horsemanship, and sometime around 1783 met and married Jane Cook, a woman of Scotch-Irish descent.⁴

As noted, Samuel and Jane proved to be a most fertile couple. Close to a year after being wed Jane gave birth to the couple’s first son, Joseph Emory Davis in December, 1784. In the two following decades at roughly two to two-and one-half year intervals came Benjamin, Samuel, their first daughter, Anna Eliza, Isaac William, Lucinda Farrar, Amanda, Matilda, Mary Ellen (called Polly by the family), and finally, as his middle named portended, Jefferson. Long before the last child’s birth, however, Samuel proved to have the restless disposition of so many frontier settlers. Though esteemed and honored in the Georgia community, Samuel felt his toil on the land was not financially rewarding enough, and tales of fertile Kentucky were too persuasive to resist. In the mid-1790s the family moved to and settled for a short time in Mercer County, then shifted to what would eventually be Todd County in the southwestern part of the state.⁵ There Samuel and his growing family built a double log cabin, essentially two separate two-room cabins separated by a twenty-foot breezeway referred to as a dog run, a thatch-roofed open-ended space which was probably enclosed later as separate rooms. The cabin had glass windows and wood floors, highly unusual and upscale for the day.⁶

Busy on the farm raising tobacco and breeding horses and with only a couple of slaves to assist him, Samuel had little time for his youngest child. Not that Jefferson lacked for affection; with so many older siblings little Jeff was probably spoiled beyond measure. Anna, roughly sixteen years older, was especially attentive, caring for him when Jane was otherwise occupied or indisposed. When Jeff was just shy of being three years old wanderlust set in with Samuel again, and the entire family, excepting Joseph who stayed behind to study law, packed their belongings and moved to Bayou Teche in Louisiana Territory. The stay there was short—a plague of malarial mosquitoes forced Samuel to seek a higher and healthier location outside Woodville in Mississippi Territory. There, close to the east bank of the Mississippi River, fifty-five year old Samuel settled on several hundred acres to grow cotton, breed horses and build a home which he would call Poplar Grove.⁷ The house Samuel and his older sons built was commonly called a Mississippi planter’s cottage; the one-and one-half story home was centered around a wide hallway with two rooms on either side on the ground level, with two more rooms and a sitting room on the second level beneath a sloping roof. The wooden frame was enclosed with cypress siding, and wide porches were attached to the front and back. It was here, at about four years of age, when Jefferson’s earliest memories began.⁸

It is in keeping with the Southern military traditions of this country that one of Jefferson’s earliest recollections was related to the War of 1812. When war broke out with Britain brothers Benjamin, Samuel and Isaac rushed off to serve. Though Jefferson admitted knowing nothing of the war itself, he did write of his brothers’ unparalled devotion to their country.⁹ Between the stories of his father’s service in the Revolutionary War and knowing of his brothers’ actions in the War of 1812 it became ingrained at a very early age that devotion and duty to one’s country was the highest honor a person had to obey. Loyalty to family and friends was nearly as high, but early on it was firmly established country should always come first.

For the most part, however, Jefferson’s childhood memories were far more normal and carefree than the heavier concerns of warfare. Older sisters Matilda and Polly were favored playmates, and they had the run of the modest plantation and the surrounding grounds. Growing up a country boy meant he was, if not formally instructed by his father and older brothers in the crafts of hunting, fishing, farming and horsemanship, expected to learn through observation and exposure to that way of life. Samuel, having lost his own father at an early age, lacked a model on how to be a parent himself. Certainly he loved his wife and children, as demonstrated by his unwavering efforts to provide for them. From all accounts Samuel’s outward demeanor was one of undemonstrative aloofness, and his parental style seemed to be one of leading and instructing through somber example. In his memoirs Jefferson wrote his father was usually of a grave and stoical character, and of such sound judgment that his opinions were a law to his children, and His admonitions were rather suggestive than dictatorial.¹⁰ Where most fathers were the unquestioned heavy-handed masters of the house, Samuel believed in mostly sparing the rod and letting his children learn through example and being allowed to make mistakes from which lessons could be more soundly impressed. That is not meant to imply Samuel did not impose his will without the use of occasional physical force or deprivation; Jefferson so deeply resented the authority which confined him to his room without supper he vowed never to impose the same punishment on his children. Based on the standards of the time Jefferson would now be regarded as the product of an extremely liberal upbringing. On the rare occasions when mentioning his father he was obviously respectful of Samuel’s reputation in the community as well as of his equestrian talents. But he knew next to nothing of the man beneath the authoritarian exterior, and as an adult would find himself with more characteristics of his father than he would recognize in himself. On the plus side Samuel remained an exemplary horseman and rider to the end of his days, and little Jeff also became a rider par excellence, always lauded for his skill with horses and other animals. Inversely, it would come as a shock to Jefferson to find Samuel in virtual poverty at the end of his life, in spite of theoretically having worked the modest plantation successfully for many years. It may have also shocked him had he ever realized his own external persona was seen as being the spitting image of Samuel—cold, aloof and unfeeling. The quality Jefferson least admired in his father was to become the very public image of himself.

Fortunately Jefferson’s mother and siblings would more than make up for any love and affection he found lacking from Samuel. Jane Davis was mentioned as minimally as Samuel in Jefferson’s memoirs, but when she was it was with the fondest thoughts a son might have for a mother. He described Jane as a woman noted for her beauty, much of it retained to extreme old age, and her graceful poetic mind. In her he recalled a tender memory of the loving care of that mother, in whom there was so much for me to admire and nothing to remember save good.¹¹ Jane was also an avid gardener with a penchant for roses. She did, in fact, plant and tend to so many rose bushes and hedges around the cottage the estate was eventually referred to as Rosemont instead of Poplar Grove.

One of the fundamentals of life on which Samuel and Jane agreed was the belief that knowledge is power, and it was ordained all the Davis offspring (including the daughters) would go to school. Jefferson’s formal education began about the age of six when he and Polly were sent to Woodville, a log schoolhouse about a half mile from Poplar Grove. The schooling at Woodville would have been rudimentary at best, most probably a typical blab school of the day, wherein the single teacher stood at the front of the one-room log-cabin and listened while all the students of varying ages and class levels recited memorized lessons simultaneously. As historian Bruce Catton once noted, possibly the most impressive result of any of the blab schools was anyone ever learning anything from them. Jefferson started learning basic reading and writing skills, along with elementary arithmetic there, but never made mention of it in his recollections, whereas later schools brought forth reverent detailed memories. And while the schools in Mississippi were minimally adequate at best, the education back in Kentucky was equal, if not superior to, the best schools along the Atlantic seaboard. It was Kentucky where Joseph Davis acquired his law degree to become a prominent attorney in Mississippi, helping to write the first draft of the Mississippi state constitution while also establishing one of the most prosperous law practices in the state. In future years his practice helped him acquire an eleven thousand acre plantation called Hurricane. Located several miles north of Poplar Grove along a stretch of the Mississippi River, Hurricane had its own steamboat landing known as Davis Bend. Perhaps in part because of Joseph’s success Samuel broke his usual silence long enough to discuss with Jane sending their youngest son away to school. Jane opposed the idea to the point of being distraught, but in the end Samuel’s word was final. In June 1816 Samuel learned a family friend, Major Joseph Hinds, was returning to Kentucky with his family, and possibly without even allowing Jane time to say goodbye to little Jeff, sent the boy off with the Hinds family across the Natchez Trace back to Kentucky.¹²

The several weeks long trip across the rough-and-tumble terrain led northeast through the Mississippi Territory pine lands and into Tennessee. Despite the sense of being on an adventure, riding a pony and seeing sights and meeting all manner of people strange to him (Choctaw Indians and occasional interracial couples), young Davis recalled almost nothing of the trip save one meeting he would never ever forget: Andrew Jackson.

Major Hinds had commanded a battalion under Old Hickory at the Battle of New Orleans, and took advantage of the trip to stop at Jackson’s home on the outskirts of Nashville. What was intended to be a brief stay proved to be so pleasant and the cordiality of the host so immense the visit turned into a few weeks of sheer idolatry for 8-year old Jefferson. In his memoirs Davis said of the visit, I had the opportunity a boy has to observe a great man, a stand-point of no small advantage. The war hero was described as being unaffected and well-bred, temperate in language and behavior, and generous in hospitality. Jackson was very gentle and considerate towards Davis, and In me he inspired reverence and affection that has remained with me through my whole life.¹³ One of the major dichotomies found in Davis’s character is his love of being his own man and making his own decisions about all situations, and his inordinate blind hero worship of individuals throughout his life. It is to be expected any young boy away from home for the first time in his life who was welcomed and treated as virtually a family member by a genuine hero of the day would idolize said hero. But when Davis lionized any individual, whether they deserved it or not, they were placed on a pedestal so high any feet of clay became invisible to him. As an adult Davis broached zero criticism of Jackson. He would find a way to make the Jacksonian Democracy ideals dovetail with Jeffersonian democratic beliefs, a sometimes difficult stretch involving ignoring Jackson’s belief in a strong central government and Thomas Jefferson’s convictions of a smaller federal government being preferable. Whatever mental gymnastics he had to perform to reach his own conclusions, once said conviction was established in Davis’s mind it became the only right conviction—anybody who disagreed with him was either irrational or deliberately obstinate. Such an outlook would cause no end of problems for him in later years.

The visit with the Jackson family had to end eventually, and sometime in mid-July the Hinds party reached Springfield, Kentucky, where Davis was placed into the care of St. Thomas Collage, a Catholic boys’ school run by Dominican priests. It is a complete mystery why Samuel Davis, a non-diligent Baptist, would send his son to such a parochial institution. Not only was Jefferson the only Protestant at the school, he was also the youngest and smallest student. While the situation could have proved disastrous for others, Jefferson seemed to have adapted very well. With no prior indications of his religious beliefs or upbringing, it was at St. Thomas where Jefferson first mentions any inclination towards a creed. He approached Father Thomas Wilson and suggested his conversion to Catholicism as a practical matter, simply so he could fit in better with his fellow students. Father Wilson graciously told the boy conversion was a serious matter which could wait, and the topic was dropped then and forever. As a result of their kindly disposition towards him, Father Wilson and Father William Tuite became particular idols of the boy. He proved to be an apt pupil of Latin and Greek, remaining fond of languages and literature the rest of his life. Samuel Davis kept Jefferson at St. Thomas for a second year, but in the spring of 1818 Jane Davis insisted her youngest child come home, and Samuel acquiesced.¹⁴

When Jefferson returned home in May he first encountered Jane tending to her roses, and mother and son had a joyful reunion. Following the meeting little Jeff, not quite so little after two years away, sought out his father working alongside the slaves in the cotton fields. Samuel was so taken by his son’s return that Jefferson recalled He took me in his arms with more emotion than I had ever seen him exhibit, and kissed me repeatedly. It was the one and only time the youngest Davis recalled witnessing unrestrained affection from his father, though it puzzled him as to why my father should have kissed so big a boy.¹⁵

Though finished at St. Thomas, education was far from over for the 10-year old boy. He was enrolled briefly at Jefferson College, another log-cabin academy just outside of Natchez. The teaching methods at Jefferson College were typically primitive of the day—emphasis on rote recitation and copybooks, with frequent floggings for slow or recalcitrant students. Fortunately for Jefferson a new school, Wilkinson County Academy, opened in the latter half of the year, and headmaster John A. Shaw of Boston brought with him a far more progressive system. Under Shaw’s methodology the strict memory drills and beatings were forsaken in favor of logic and example. Of Shaw and his teachings, Jefferson said, He was a quiet, just man, and I am sure he taught me more in the time I was with him than I ever learned from any one else. But even with these more advanced conditions where his intellect could blossom Jefferson still had a strong streak of rebellion against authoritarian tyranny and injustice, whether real or perceived. Some memory work remained part of the curriculum, and in his early teen years one of Jefferson’s instructors assigned him the memorization of a piece Jefferson believed excessive. He protested, the instructor refused to relent on the assignment, and Jefferson went home and announced to Samuel he was not returning to the school. Recognizing a beating would not resolve the situation, Samuel told Jefferson Of course, it is for you to elect whether you will work with head or hands. He also stated emphatically My son could not be an idler, and the next day Jefferson was given a cotton bag and sent to work side-by-side with the slaves picking cotton in the fields from sunup to sundown. It was hot, back-breaking work, and the sharp edges of the cotton bolls would slice the most calloused of skin, which Jefferson’s certainly was not. The mystified looks of the slaves, wondering what a favored son was doing working alongside themselves, probably humiliated him as much as the physical strain, and after two days the implied equality with the other cotton-pickers convinced the boy working with his head was by far the better course of valor. The following day Jefferson returned to Wilkinson County Academy, much better prepared to apply his mind to his studies.¹⁶

The remaining years at home and school passed quickly and normally enough. Even though he was still placed in classes with older boys, Davis appeared to be accepted by them as an equal (very important toward the stoking of his social ego, never modest to begin with), and he continued excelling in Greek, Latin and literature courses. During his time away from the Academy Jefferson lived the privileged life of a modest plantation owner’s son. His equestrian skills continued to improve under his father’s watchful eye, he could hunt and fish at his leisure, and when older brother Joseph took up residence in Natchez he began the greatest idolization which would influence the rest of his life. Joseph was twenty-three years older than Jefferson, an accomplished and influential attorney, and, unknown to Jefferson or any other family member, the deed-holder to Samuel’s home and land in the last year of Samuel’s life. As hard as he worked to provide for his family and for reasons never known, Samuel was a failure as a farmer and businessman in the same environment where others thrived. At some point in the early 1820s the taciturn family patrician put up Rosemont (as Poplar Grove was known by then) as security for a relative’s debt, and as a result was in danger of losing his plantation. Joseph stepped in, bought the property and allowed his father to continue staying on and working the land. As galling as it must have been to Samuel to accept charity from his oldest son, it was still better than publicly losing everything, and he bore whatever shame he must have felt in his usual stoic manner. Just as stoically he accepted, possibly even encouraged, Jefferson’s ever increasing visits to Joseph. Innocent of the arrangement between Samuel and Joseph, Jefferson spent more and more time with Joseph, eventually worshipping and admiring him more as a father than he did Samuel. Joseph gladly accepted the role of substitute father, and Jefferson wrote of Joseph, He was my beau ideal when I was a boy, and my love for him is to me yet a sentiment than which I have none more sacred.¹⁷ Time and events would prove his sentiment one of the great understatements of Jeff Davis’s life.

Samuel Davis somehow learned of his grandfather’s estate and Philadelphia relatives in early 1823. Desperate to claim some portion of the inheritance and unshackling himself from debt to Joseph and others, he began the long trek back east in the spring. Before leaving he made arrangements for Jefferson to return to Kentucky for advanced education at Transylvania University. Despite the exotic-sounding title and modern-day associations with the name Transylvania, at the time the University was easily the most advanced and prestigious institution of higher learning west of the Appalachian Mountains, in many ways surpassing the more widely recognized universities on the east coast. The student body at Transylvania was larger than Harvard’s, and it’s medical and law schools were considered second to none. And since fifteen-year old Jefferson was eager to follow Joseph into the legal profession, Transylvania seemed the ideal and logical decision.

Unfortunately for Samuel too much time had passed, and all his efforts to lay claim to the nearly forty-year old inheritance were for naught. In a mournful letter to Jefferson dated June 25, 1823, Samuel bemoaned the lost opportunity and passed onto his son a final life lesson. Use every possible means to acquire useful knowledge as knowledge is power, the want of which has brought mischief and misery on your father in old age—That you may be happy and shine in society when your father is beyond the reach of harm is the most ardent wish of his heart.¹⁸

The letter reached Jefferson after his arrival in Lexington, Kentucky, home of Transylvania University. Jefferson found lodgings near the campus and prepared to enter the junior class. By this point in his education he was accustomed to being the youngest boy in his classes. What he was not used to was lacking in preparation for a subject. Mathematics was the culprit, and Transylvania found him so ill-prepared it would only admit him as an incoming freshman instead of as a junior. The only recourse was to engage a private tutor for lessons over the length of the summer and to pass an examination in the fall, all of which Davis did. In latter years he might whine about the adversity of life and the unfair treatment of others towards himself, but when he believed he controlled his own destiny he would knuckle-down and find a way to persevere. Thus Jefferson was admitted to Transylvania’s junior class in the fall of 1823.¹⁹

The course requirements facing Davis were deliberately designed to be daunting, for Transylvania prided itself in training the men who passed through its portals to be the movers and shakers of the day. Fortunately Jefferson was already ahead of the game in Latin, Latin verse, Greek, ancient history and modern history. The rest of the load work included surveying, chemistry, natural philosophy, astronomy, writing and public speaking. Apparently Davis impressed his classmates and friends as being a good student, always prepared with his lessons, very respectful and polite to the President and professors.²⁰ If he ever collected any reprimands there is no record of it. What is remembered was his demeanor. Already by age fifteen Jefferson was, on the surface, one of two very different personalities, depending on his relationship with the person viewing him. Just as his father, young Davis presented a stoical, aloof front to casual acquaintances. But those who gained his trust and confidence saw a young man of great sensitivity and boundless humor. None who met him would doubt his intelligence and devotion to duty, but like the Greek god Janus, he of two faces, few would ever reconcile the differing outward personas.

The spring of 1824 was a time of great duress for Jefferson. In March he received a letter informing him Polly, his closest sister in age and favorite childhood playmate, had died (cause unknown). The first time a person experiences the death of a family member or other loved one is generally traumatic. When such person is close in age to you and it is sudden and unexpected the emotional impact can be devastating. What the immediate effect on Jefferson was is unknown. Since he stayed in school and continued performing well in his exams it seems feasible he shut down emotionally and focused intensely on his studies. Not even his closest friends mentioned being aware of any momentary or lingering grief. But even more devastating news would arrive soon.

Samuel Davis had survived much and lived to make his own impact on the world in sixty-eight years. But the financial hardships at this point in time proved too much for the proud man who internalized all his emotions for so long. In late June he left Rosemont on an overland trip to Joseph’s plantation. He fell ill along the way and died on July 4.²¹ The only inheritance for each of his offspring was a single slave. Samuel left Jeff a young man named James Pemberton, who, as events developed, would literally save Jeff’s life. In the letter Samuel had sent to Jefferson from Philadelphia the previous year the father portended he might never return or see you any more. And now a letter from Susannah Davis, the wife of brother Isaac, conveyed the accuracy of Samuel’s prescience to the youngest son. In a letter responding to Susannah, Jefferson opened up, albeit briefly, about his emotions. You must imagine, I cannot describe, the shock my feelings sustained at the sad intelligence. In my father I lost a parent ever dear to me, but rendered more so (if possible) by the disasters that attended his declining years. When I saw him last he told me that we would probably never see each other again… This is the second time I have been doomed to receive the heart-rending intelligence of the death of a friend… If all the dear friends of my childhood are to be torn from me I care not how soon I follow.²² One could take from the tone of the letter young Davis was depressed, perhaps even suicidal. That he was depressed is beyond doubt. But suicide was never a conscious thought in his mind. Far too many life-changing events were already in motion, and the brief letter to Susannah was the only insight to his emotional state. His specific state would prove to be mercurial in nature, due in no small part to the news received from brother Joseph between the deaths of Polly and Samuel.

Joseph had decided to use his growing influence in Mississippi to apply for an appointment to West Point for Jefferson. Though he never expressed his reasons, it is a matter of historic note Joseph was tight with a dollar. Unlike Samuel, who (in hindsight, foolishly) hocked his own property in an attempt to assist a relative, Joseph would never willingly risk so much as a penny to aid anyone, even flesh-and-blood relatives, whom he considered less fiscally astute than himself. Samuel was indebted to Joseph at the time and could presumably not afford another year of tuition at Transylvania for Jeff. Joseph, as the surrogate parent, was more than happy to dispense advice and direction for his brother’s life, but paying for his tuition was not part of his makeup. Since the government would bear the brunt of expenses for Jefferson’s education at West Point, problem solved in Joseph’s mind. Jefferson’s desire to continue his senior year at Transylvania and then study law at the University of Virginia was irrelevant. Also not taken into consideration was Jefferson’s entering West Point as a freshman, a serious blow to Jefferson’s social status. If he wasn’t pompous about his hierarchy in society yet, he would be soon enough. And in spite of Jeff’s non-desire to attend the military academy, Joseph was the idol of his life, and his parental guidance must be considered just as seriously as Samuel’s. Joseph finally persuaded Jeff to take the appointment by telling him to try the academy for one year—if he did not like it then he could transfer to Virginia. As Jeff expressed it, when Joseph urged something, I was not disposed to object. The decision was made, and Secretary of War John C. Calhoun issued a commission to young Davis as a cadet on March 11, 1824. It was an innocuous beginning of a relationship with Calhoun which would also inalterably shape the younger man’s life.²³

And now having been admitted to West Point Jefferson very nearly squandered the opportunity. The Academy expected all cadets to be present for classes beginning September 1. But Davis remained in Lexington until late August, possibly tempering the grief of his lost relatives in the comfort of friends. When he arrived late he was banned from admission. Good fortune came in the form of Captain Ethan Allan Hitchcock, a friend of Joseph Davis. Since another late-arriving cadet was being granted a special examination for admittance Captain Hitchcock convinced West Point Supervisor Sylvanus Thayer to allow Jeff to take the exam as well. He was warned of the stringency of the exam, especially in the (for him) ever-problematic area of mathematics. With minimal time to prepare the apprehensive would-be cadet stood before the examination board and found the experience astoundingly cursory. Davis answered basic questions regarding algebra and geometry, proved adequate in French, and when the subject of Greek was broached he was so adept the professor apparently forgot who was examining who and had to be halted from engaging Jefferson in an extended discussion of the language. Davis felt almost shameful in having to demonstrate so little knowledge to gain admission to West Point. Following the experience he never believed that an examination formed a very conclusive rule of decision upon the qualification of a person subjected to its test.²⁴ Whether such belief was true or not, it is one of the earliest examples of how Davis reached a conclusion. He would examine or experience a problem, and having examined or experienced it to his own satisfaction would pronounce his opinion on the issue, and that was that. Everything philosophical or moral in his mind would be black or white. No shades of grey were permitted intrusion, and those who might see things differently either failed to examine or understand the matter as thoroughly as him, or were inferiors unworthy of his time and consideration.

Fifteen years earlier in a log cabin less than 100 miles northeast of the location where Jefferson entered the world, and just over 9 months after his birth, Abraham Lincoln made his appearance on February 12, 1809. And while the circumstances of Lincoln’s birth may have appeared to be comparable to those of Davis, in fact Abraham’s mere chances of survival and prospering were far more tenuous. The Lincoln family tree was practically non-existent. According to the autobiography Abe prepared for his presidential campaign he could not trace his ancestry prior to his own grandfather Abraham. He and four brothers had migrated from Berks County in Pennsylvania to Rockingham County in western Virginia in the latter part of the 18th century. Thomas Lincoln was born to Abraham in 1778, the youngest of five children. In 1782 Abraham moved the family to establish a homestead in the then unsettled area near Louisville, Kentucky. Less than two years later a raiding party of Shawnee Indians killed Abraham in front of six-year old Thomas, who was left to be raised haphazardly by local kinfolk.²⁵ Thomas was brought up with no education, and any ambition of advancing beyond his birth lot in life was probably beaten out of him before adolescence. He could scratch out his own name, and otherwise was completely unlettered. But biographies portraying Thomas as being shiftless are woefully inaccurate and entirely unfair. The man worked hard all his life and was devoted to his family and community. He was emotionally distant and Lutheran in philosophy (not religion), believing life on earth was to be spent toiling and any pleasures would have to be found in the afterlife. Such an outlook may have been unavoidable considering the harsh circumstances of his early years, but an outlook does not make him a bad man per se. Certainly he would not be revered by his famous son or history in general, but somewhere in his makeup was sufficient charm to court and wed two women who were both considered his intellectual and social betters.²⁶ At the age of twenty-eight Thomas was working as a carpenter and hired hand when he married Nancy Hanks, whose ancestry was even more uncertain than her husband’s. She was better educated and mannered, two of the few facts known about her. In 1811 the couple bought a 238-acre farm in Hardin County, Kentucky, some 14 miles northeast of the one-room dirt-floor log cabin where Abe and his older sister, Sarah, had been born. Thomas built a similar log cabin in between clearing the land and putting in sustenance crops, and a third child, Tomas, was born the following year, but died in infancy.

It was just one of many harsh realities to be endured on a very unforgiving frontier. Thomas only managed to clear enough land to plant crops to keep the family from starvation. He may have attempted small cash crops like cotton or tobacco, but even if he had managed to bring in a crop the location of the cabin was miles from the nearest settlement, and the meandering paths through the heavy forest would have prohibited passage of heavy wagons necessary to transport any such crop to market. On the isolated farm everybody who was old enough to work did so as early as possible. Sarah was most likely set to help cleaning the cabin and watching over her younger brother so as to free up Nancy to assist Thomas in the fields. All accounts suggest Abe grew and developed very quickly physically, a boon for Thomas, who did not hesitate to put his son to work for others as well as himself. Thomas, lacking (and thus devaluing) education, thought any schooling was a waste of time. But Nancy could read, and in 1815 insisted on sending both Sarah and Abraham to the nearest log-cabin school for a few months. It wasn’t much, but to the mind of the young boy it sufficed to suggest endless escape routes from the grinding labor and poverty which always entrapped his father. Jefferson Davis would not come to value working with his head rather than his hands until around age thirteen, and Lincoln, impressed into manual labor at a much more tender age, reached similar conclusions by the age of six or seven. A few more months of log-cabin education would come in the fall of 1816, and excepting a few weeks in another log cabin some six years later, it would be the completion of Abraham’s formal education. Lincoln himself said the extent of his less than one-year of formal schooling was the ability to read, write, and cipher to the Rule of Three.²⁷ A poor start and life-hindrance to others was just a good stepping-off point to young Lincoln.

The land laws governing Kentucky at the time were complex and in many cases contradictory. Landowners lost their property simply because they did not have a lawyer, or could not afford as good a lawyer as individuals who brought suit against them. A property dispute in 1816 caused Thomas Lincoln to abandon his acreage and move the family to what would be Spencer County in southern Indiana in December. Abe suggests in his campaign autobiography a secondary reason for the move was because of slavery. Some biographers have intimated the Lincoln family may have had one elderly female slave during at least part of their time in Kentucky, but no absolute evidence has been found to support this theory. Thomas never believed one human being could or should be allowed to own another, and if the woman in question existed at all she was far more likely to have been a charity case, possibly a freed slave taken in to work as a housekeeper for room and board until the end of her days. Whatever the total reasons for relocating, when the Lincoln’s did make the move they were untainted by slaveholding issues and settled on 80 acres along Little Pigeon Creek, existing in a three-sided shelter for at least one month until a log cabin could be constructed. Late in 1817 the family would be joined by Nancy’s aunt, Elizabeth Hanks Sparrow and her husband, as well as Abraham’s cousin, nineteen-year old Dennis Hanks. Dennis would be a close childhood friend to Abe, and it was he who provided a description of the relationship between Nancy and her son. She read the good Bible to [Abe]—taught him to read and to spell—taught him sweetness & benevolence as well.²⁸ Another neighbor described Nancy as a woman Know(n) for the Extraordinary Strength of her mind among the family and all who knew her; she was superior to her husband in Every way.²⁹ Thus it was a devastating blow to Thomas, Sarah and Abe when Nancy contracted a fatal disease of the era, something called milk sickness, and passed away October 5, 1818. Both Elizabeth and Thomas Sparrow predeceased her from the same illness in late September, and all were buried on top of a hill a quarter-mile from the cabin.³⁰ Many years later Abraham would tell law partner William Herndon his recollection of Nancy: All that I am or hope ever to be I get from my mother, God bless her.³¹

So many other biographers have ascribed Lincoln’s alleged life-long chronic depression to this event in the nine-year old’s life I would feel remiss in not addressing it as well. It is not known whether Abraham was born with a melancholy temperament, or if the death of his beloved mother first brought it on. Perhaps it was a combination of being born with the trait which was furthered by early experiences with death. Whatever the cause or source, the melancholy would accompany him the rest of his life. Practically every friend and acquaintance who commented on Lincoln’s personality (and the list seems endless) took note of the dour mood which seemed to hang on him like an invisible cloak. And yet all also took note of his never far-away sense of humor, his ability to tell a story and illustrate a point with a seemingly limitless supply of jokes. So the chronic depression ascribed to him by so many others is most likely a misunderstanding of the condition on their part. Depression is a malady brought about by physiological changes in the brain’s chemistry rendering the afflicted stymied and unable to function effectively in normal society. Melancholy, more of a personality trait than an actual mental illness, has only the surface impression of depression and does not leave an individual functionless. And Lincoln, even in his darkest hours, was never paralyzed or immobilized in thought or action. He was ambitious, even as a child, and his native intelligence was recognized by his contemporaries. Thomas might labor in poverty his entire life, but Abe, more fantastical than any hero from a Dickens novel, was determined to rise above his circumstances. And a person who can conquer the born dirt-poor hardships Lincoln had to overcome could not have been chronically depressed. The great man to-be would not have become that man with the added burden of depression.

Thomas was at least sensitive enough to his devastated children’s needs to realize he could not serve as both father and mother to them. Approximately a month after Nancy’s passing he left his children and their cousin alone while he returned to Kentucky. Back in Hardin County Thomas had known Sarah Bush Johnston, a thirty-one-year old widow with three children. He convinced her to marry him on December 2, and soon thereafter returned to the homestead on Little Pigeon Creek with Sarah and her children. Abe, his older sister Sarah and cousin Dennis Hanks did their best to keep the farm from going to ruin during Thomas’ absence, but they were still only children. The new stepmother’s first impression on meeting them was they were essentially wild animals, ragged and dirty. The application of soap and fit clothing made them much more human.³² Sarah recognized and encouraged Abe’s developing fertile mind and soon came to love Abe just as much as one of her own. She encouraged his thirst for knowledge, backed his ambition, and said of him, Abe never gave me a cross word or look and never refused… to do any thing I requested him. I never gave him a cross word in all my life.³³ Abe would, in turn, refer to her as his angel mother.

During the next ten years Abraham’s life primarily consisted of working on his father’s farm—plowing the soil, planting and harvesting crops—and being hired out by Thomas to help others with whatever work they might need—clearing forested land, digging wells, slaughtering livestock, and helping with every physical necessity to exist on the harsh frontier. The difference between young Lincoln and his contemporaries were the books Abe always strove to have in hand at all times. Starting with the family’s King James Bible, Lincoln read, re-read and memorized every book he could lay his hands on, often balancing a volume on the plow handles and perusing the literature while preparing the field. Books of any kind were scarce (hence, valuable) in the wilderness known as the West, so the discovery of any new printed word, whether newspaper, pamphlet, or actual book, was cause for celebration to Abe. The works he managed to get his hands on and commit to his (rarely acknowledged) phenomenal memory would include Aesop’s Fables, Mason Locke Weems’s The Life and Memorable Actions of George Washington, John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe, William Grimshaw’s History of the United States, and William Scott’s Lessons in Elocution, which introduced Abe to selections from Shakespeare’s plays. He managed to borrow a copy of the Revised Statutes of Indiana containing the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and the Northwest Ordinance of 1787. Lincoln’s own understanding and interpretation of these essential American documents became the foundation for his political beliefs and thoughts.³⁴ The education offered in Jefferson Davis’s world was considered necessary for the advancement of not only the man, but the country, for only the best educated men were considered worthy of national leadership. In the backwater rural area surrounding Lincoln excessive reading was intellectual indulgence, not real work done by the plebian masses. Sarah Bush Lincoln understood her step-son’s ambition and took particular Care not to disturb him—would let him read on and on till [he] quit of his own accord.³⁵ Thomas despaired of and actively resented his son’s love of reading, angrily halting Abe’s efforts at bettering himself to push the boy back to the never-ending physical labors.³⁶ And where Samuel Davis was liberal in the rearing of his offspring, Thomas had no known qualms about resorting to physical abuse towards Abe.

When Jefferson Davis began his West Point studies he was one of 259 cadets. As everyone who has spent time in a military academy knows, regulations control every aspect of a cadet’s life, and in 1824 the regulations were even more rigid than modern standards. Rules let them know when to rise, when to turn out lights and be in bed, how to clean their rooms and make their beds, when to study, what they could or could not read, when they could be in another cadet’s room and when they had to be in their own room, when and how to do military drills, etc. Any breach of these regulations was considered an offense which went on the cadet’s record as a demerit, and the collection of enough demerits was grounds for expulsion. As with so many things military, the regulations and unrelenting pressure were intentionally designed to expose and eliminate the weak of mind or body and to instill instant obedience to authority, to create a mindset where the interest of the group outweighed the interest of the individual. For a young man such as Davis, raised to have an independent spirit and having long shown resentment of authority, the fit into West Point would not come easy. In his first shortened month at the Academy Jefferson managed to avoid collecting any demerits, but it would definitely prove to be an exception to the rest of his duration there.

Most of the demerits Davis collected were due to simple carelessness on his part—being absent from his own room or being caught in the rooms of other cadets during off-hours, arriving late to parade drills or missing them entirely, failing to close his door, not securing his cot after morning reveille, having long hair at inspection, cooking in his quarters after hours, failure to march from the mess hall, being absent from chapel, and disobeying orders. But far and away Jefferson’s worst offense occurred near the end of his first term. On July 31, 1824, the corps was in a field encampment when a heavy rainstorm flooded the grounds and the cadets were allowed to disperse and fend for themselves. Jefferson fell in with four other cadets, and together they wandered too far to Benny Haven’s Tavern, some two miles from the Academy.³⁷ The friends were discovered at the off-limits establishment some time later by Captain Hitchcock, who would testify at a court-martial upon his entrance into the taproom Cadet Davis exhibited extreme embarrassment bordering on weakness, presumably from the consumption of alcoholic liquors. Hitchcock saw the five cadets, with glasses in front of Davis’s comrades. Even though Davis did not have a glass it was inferred from his behavior, associates and surroundings he had been drinking as well. Davis and his fellow students were placed under arrest, and two days later the court-martial commenced.

During the court-martial Davis displayed a genuine flair for splitting hairs and petty bureaucracy. Academy rules prohibited the drinking of wine, porter, or any other spirituous or intoxicating liquor. Jefferson admitted to at least one companion drinking wine, cider and port, which, of course I did not understand to be spirituous liquors, claiming his definition of spirituous included only distilled spirits. The court did not buy the argument any more than it believed the cadet when he said the group had entered the tavern accidentally rather than purposefully. The excuse he was being tried under regulations which had been posted only weeks earlier and he was unaware of them was a simple ignorance of the law argument, and it, too, did not fly. The final hair to be split also involved the wording of the regulation prohibiting cadets from visiting public houses. Under Jefferson’s interpretation the regulation only applied to those who visited such a place and bought spirituous liquors. Since he was not accused of actually buying any drinks the rule did not apply in his case, and all charges should be summarily dismissed. It must have been entertaining to watch the youth defending himself in a courtroom situation for the first time, claiming the laws he did not agree with should not apply to him. Perhaps in his own mind he was already an attorney worthy of his older brother’s admiration, spouting clearly thought out arguments whose logic and reason would acquit him. Such was not the opinion of the military tribunal, however, and Davis was convicted and sentenced to dismissal from the Academy. But because of testimony from Major William J. Worth that Cadet Davis’s deportment as a Gentleman has been unexceptionable, the dismissal was remanded in consideration of his prior good conduct.³⁸

Two years later in August 1826 Jefferson again sought a little frolic—of course without leave at Benny Haven’s. This time he and a friend were alerted an instructor was on the way to the tavern, so the two left the premises and took a short cut off the main trail to return to their barracks without being caught. Unfortunately for Jeff the short cut involved traversing a steep cliff, and, whether due to the amount of alcohol imbibed or haste or both, he slipped and fell at least sixty feet down the cliff toward the river, halting his fall only by grabbing hold of a small tree. His comrade called down to him, Jeff, are you dead? and Davis recalled wanting to laugh, but was hurting too much. The extent of his injuries was never recorded, but must have been far more than simple contusions as Davis spent the rest of August through November in the infirmary, and several times was expected to die. Being bedridden he avoided collecting any demerits, and curiously was not even punished for being off post without permission.³⁹ Only his grades suffered, and if Davis learned any lesson from the incident it was quickly forgotten.

Only one month after leaving the infirmary Jefferson once again came dangerously close to expulsion and the societal shame which would have accompanied it. On Christmas Eve several cadets, Davis included, had plans for a drinking party. Whiskey and eggs were procured for the preparation of a traditional kind of egg nog. The drinking began late in the evening in the barrack rooms, and in the early hours of Christmas Day Captain Hitchcock discovered thirteen revelers in one room. Davis, already well intoxicated, stumbled in to announce to the others Hitchcock was on his way, and found himself face-to-face with Hitchcock. The youth was ordered to return to his room immediately and be considered under arrest. Davis did as ordered, and because of the amount of alcohol already imbibed soon fell asleep on his cot. The other cadets involved were not so obedient or fortunate. Instead of going meekly to their respective quarters they gathered clubs and other weapons to drive the officers out of the barracks, and it was only with great difficulty the infamous egg-nog riot, as it became known, was quashed. Twenty-three cadets were arrested, and nineteen of them were court-martialed and dismissed. Davis was one of the twenty-three arrested initially, but because he fell asleep and did not participate in the actual riot his training for a military career continued. In his memoirs Davis recalled himself in the best possible light, claiming during his testimony he had taken the high moral ground and not named names. In fact he implicated his own roommate, an irreparable breach to his code of honor which he somehow managed to bury so deeply as to erase from his mind.⁴⁰ Other moral transgressions would also be conveniently forgotten, or at least not correctly recalled in the memoirs dictated in his advanced age, another telling mark of the man’s inability to ever admit a mistake. Davis was sentenced to six weeks arrest, and finally an imprint was made sufficient to keep him as much on the straight-and-narrow as possible. More minor demerits would continue to accrue, but the serious offenses were past.

Far more important than his transgressions would be the friends (and enemies) Jefferson made during his West Point years. He made the acquaintance of a fellow student, Albert Sidney Johnston, a native of Kentucky, while at Transylvania University, and was delighted to find Johnston in the class ahead of him. While the friendship with Sidney Johnston was closer to being equals rather than the hero worship generally saved for older men, for the rest of his life Davis considered his friend the finest soldier he ever knew. Other southerners Davis befriended (and would command during the Civil War) were Leonidas Polk of Tennessee, Thomas F. Drayton of South Carolina, and two Virginians in the class below him, Joseph E. Johnston and Robert E. Lee. Befriend is probably not the correct term for Jefferson’s relationship with the Virginians. Lee’s code of ethics and conduct was far more rigid than Jefferson’s—he had no demerits in his four years at West Point, and ranked second in scholarship, so it seems likely the two cadets had minimal social interaction. Cadet Davis was also rumored to have engaged in a fistfight with Cadet Joseph Johnston for the affections of tavern-owner Benny Haven’s daughter, with Cadet Davis coming out on the losing end.⁴¹