Jefferson Davis, American Page 20

  There he confronted the real reason he had undertaken a difficult two-week journey of around 1,000 miles, with the prospect of a prompt return trip. Although the evidence is sketchy and precision impossible, it is clear that the normal distress of a young wife sending her husband off to war had burgeoned into emotional turmoil that brought Jefferson Davis home. Without doubt Varina missed him. In a letter to him she related a dream that graphically portrayed the impact of their separation on her. She told him that the previous night she had dreamt that they were parting in front of a crowd, and every time she started away, he ran back to her and kissed her again. “I actually waked with your kisses so warm upon my lips,” she confided, “that I could not believe you were not in my arms.” Then she professed her love: “Dearest, best beloved, may God bring you these arms once more, and then at least for the time I clasp you I shall be happy.”36

  Yet more lay beneath Varina’s distress than anxiety about Jefferson’s absence. When he left for Mexico, the decision was made that Varina would spend much of her time near Joseph, and, as Jefferson had feared, difficulties arose. Varina later admitted that she had been “wounded” by talk in the family about Jefferson’s remaining dependent on Joseph. Joseph’s response that he had given Jefferson land, helped him, and looked upon him as a son failed to allay her uneasiness. Excessive concern about dependency most probably affected Varina because she expected to be treated as an adult and an equal, especially after her heady experience in Washington. On the other hand, Joseph, old enough to be her grandfather, still considered her basically the child who had called him Uncle Joe and had married his cherished brother. But Varina was no longer a child, and she certainly did not act like one. Even if all else had been smooth and calm, the sharply different perspectives held by these two ferociously strong-willed people had the potential in themselves to generate strife. Also, when at Hurricane, Varina was not only in Joseph’s home but in Eliza’s as well. Another woman dominated that household.37

  Then the vexing issue of Jefferson’s 1846 will must be considered. This question becomes especially troublesome because no copy survives, and it is not clear exactly when he prepared it. Varina later claimed that he did so during his leave, but most likely he drew it up in July before departing from Davis Bend, a common practice for a man going to war. And the document would have been left with Joseph, who helped write it and still owned the land Jefferson farmed. Varina most probably knew about its contents, and possibly her unhappiness exploded because this first will, like the later one in 1847, permitted Varina to reside at Brierfield during her lifetime, but shared the income with Jefferson’s two widowed sisters and two orphaned nieces. Those provisions certainly upset her in 1847, because she did not feel that these stipulations admitted her primacy as wife, much less recognized her as an adult and an equal. From Brierfield a proud and angry Varina declared to her mother, “I have become quite a savage … and I tear my food in silence.” Even so, she prided herself on her ability to manage on her own: “Woman was made to live alone, if man was not.”38

  Finally, being around children at Hurricane caused her disappointment to grow even keener. By October 1846 the twenty-year-old Varina Davis had been married for eighteen months but she had not yet had a child or even become pregnant. Her culture taught her to wish for and cherish motherhood as the highest calling of a woman. In her time the chief duty of a wife, especially one young and vigorous, was to provide children for the family and then to care for them. That after a year and a half Varina did not yet enjoy the confidence of knowing she could satisfy that desire was “a source of grief to her.”39

  Much about the dynamics of the situation that called Jefferson home can be discerned from letters he wrote Varina and Joseph in the first two months after his return to Mexico. To Varina he placed himself in the role of wise teacher and counselor as well as proud, though imperfect, husband. “My dear wife,” he lectured, “you have taken upon yourself in many respects the decision of your own course, and remember to be responsible for ones conduct is not the happy state which those who think they have been governed too much sometimes suppose it.” A homily followed: “To rise superior to petty annoyances to pity and forgive the weakness in others which galls and incommodes us is a noble exhibition of moral philosophy and the surest indication of an elevated nature.” He made clear that he wanted “the power and the practice” in his wife to include “look[ing] over the conventionalisms of society yet hav[ing] the good sense which skillfully avoids a collision.…” “With the practice and without the power a woman may be respectable,” he declaimed, but “with the power and without the practice she will often be exposed to remarks, the fear of which would render me as husband unhappy.” That concern, he confessed, “belong[ed] to a morbid sensibility” that he had early on told her about. Recognizing her perceptiveness, he acknowledged that “had I not done so you must after our marriage have discovered it.” Despite all the upheaval he wanted them both to “believe that all is ordered for the general good & tutor our minds to act as becomes contributors, to feel as becomes creaturis bound by many obligations to receive with gratitude whatever may be offered, and wait with patience and confidence the coming result.”

  One thing that Varina could anticipate was a new home that had been discussed during Jefferson’s visit to Davis Bend. He said she could build whatever she wanted, but only after talking with Joseph and getting his advice. Jefferson obviously still thought that Joseph should occupy in Varina’s life a position similar to that in his own. After telling her to consult Joseph, a not entirely perceptive husband counseled, “endeavor to make your home happy to yourself and those who share it with you.” His closing expressed the depth of his feelings for her: “Farewell, ever with deepest love and fondest hope.”40

  To Joseph he expressed guarded optimism that all would be well with Varina. Joseph had obviously written positively about her, for Jefferson exclaimed, “God grant that all your hopes in relation to Varina be realized.” Evidently at Hurricane the brothers had talked about the effect on Varina of Jefferson’s going back to Mexico, and both had agreed that he should return. “If she shall be excited by my absence to such action and self command as to restore her health and spirits,” Jefferson pronounced, “it will be a boon cheaply purchased by all the sacrifices and inconveniences it costs me.”41

  Although family matters concerned Davis most during his stay in Mississippi, his trip home produced other important results. As the first notable Mississippian to return from the war, Davis received a laudatory welcome. The public had been primed by newspaper accounts that after Monterrey extolled all the officers in the Rifles for “ascend[ing] the ladder of fame,” but the commander received special notice: “Col. Davis was in the front and head of the battle from the opening to the close, cheering onward the men by his cool, pleasant, fearless and confident manner.” Briefly, a squabble erupted over Davis’s failure to list all casualties in a letter to Joseph that ended up in the Vicksburg Sentinel. But when those upset realized that Davis knew the Vicksburg Whig correspondent with the regiment would make a full accounting of all the killed and wounded, the tempest subsided. It did not at all dull the praise heaped upon Davis; the editor of the Whig even publicly apologized for his part in the wrangle. Of course, Davis was not the only prominent Mississippian in Mexico, but he appeared on home ground first, and he had done well on the battlefield.42

  Davis gave a speech in the limelight before several hundred people at “a splendid collation” held at Southern Hall in Vicksburg on November 10. Enjoying the moment, he expressed appreciation for “the approbation extended so generously by my fellow citizens.” He then praised “the gallant men it has been my pride and good fortune to lead in battle,” proclaiming that at Monterrey they had added to “the honor and chivalry of our State.” While he piled accolade after accolade upon his troops for their heroism and skill, he did not forget their colonel, emphasizing, for example, that his attention to drill led to the regiment’s ability to
execute difficult maneuvers during combat. Jefferson Davis’s name became imprinted on the minds of thousands of Mississippians. As a political man, he reaped incalculable benefits from being a war hero, the man of the hour.43

  Davis’s reception and his response to it had two concrete manifestations. In his public address he fueled a controversy that had begun sputtering back in Mexico. After the Battle of Monterrey, the First Tennessee and the First Mississippi each claimed that it had been first in the Tenería on September 21. Surely the victory provided enough glory for all, and everyone admitted the signal contribution of each regiment, but that general acclaim satisfied neither. Although the preponderant evidence places the First Mississippi in the works just minutes ahead of the Tennesseans, the key element in the dispute was pride, not only of regiments, but also of colonels. The highly partisan politics of the time also got injected into the controversy—Campbell was a Whig and Davis, of course, a Democrat.44

  By the time Davis reached New Orleans on his way to Davis Bend, the conflicting claims had appeared in the press. In his Vicksburg speech and in a letter to the editor of the Vicksburg Sentinel, he stressed that the Rifles had initially breached the walls of the Tenería. A letter in a New Orleans paper claiming that distinction for the First Tennessee brought forth a remonstrance from Davis. To its author, Balie Peyton, a Whig and friend of Campbell’s who had served on General Worth’s staff at Monterrey, Davis wrote asking how he intended to remove the erroneous impression created by his account. Then they exchanged letters in which Peyton said he was only repeating what Colonel Campbell had told him. Davis, in turn, insisted on a specific and public disclaimer. Although this torrent of pride threatening to sweep aside good sense finally slowed, the hard feelings generated did not easily abate. No matter Davis’s motives—and they undoubtedly included pride and politics—he did not exhibit much generosity or tolerance even if he was right on the narrow factual point. Peyton believed that Davis took up the cudgels chiefly “to make a little Locofoco capital at home for Miss. consumption.” Certainly Davis’s stance as a stalwart advocate for Mississippi did not injure his reputation in his own state.45

  Davis’s early anointment as Mississippi’s hero of the war also pushed him ahead of a fellow Mississippian, his senior in years and rank, who also happened to be his brigade commander in Mexico. In addition to having been the ranking major general in the state militia, the forty-seven-year-old John A. Quitman of Natchez was a longtime friend and neighboring landowner on Davis Bend. Moreover, Quitman harbored political ambitions, and he hoped his military service would have political benefits. He certainly felt that some of the plaudits being showered upon Davis should come his way, and he saw his subordinate stealing a march on him.46

  Although Davis could not help what was happening in Mississippi public opinion, his conduct toward Quitman was not generous. In his official report of the battle addressed to General Quitman, Davis made respectful and politic comments about the brigade commander’s helpful role in the contest. In the Vicksburg speech, however, Davis never mentioned Quitman’s name, an omission that rankled the general when the news reached him. Quitman resented Davis’s claiming “the merit of having done every thing,” even though he had no authority “to make any disposition but under my orders.” The general began to think of the colonel, he later wrote his wife, as “a selfish and fiercely ambitious man, without one particle of magnanimity in his character.”47

  That Davis did not call on Quitman’s family when in Mississippi further irritated the general. The Quitmans at home were eager for a visit from the man Quitman’s daughter called “our old friend ‘Uncle Jeff.’ ” They wanted news from husband and father and had parcels to send him; but Davis never appeared, though he did probably stop in Natchez to pick up Varina on his way to Davis Bend. Possibly he did not have the time to see the Quitmans, and he did arrange to have sent to him the packages and letters they wanted him to carry back to Mexico. Davis as deliveryman did not, however, mollify Quitman, who thought the colonel seemed unfriendly.48

  Although General Quitman and Colonel Davis undoubtedly saw each other as potential political rivals, probably more important to Davis was Quitman’s position on the Mississippi-Tennessee quarrel. Quitman’s official report did not take sides, a stance he considered appropriate because he commanded both regiments. Even after the controversy became public and Davis requested a declaration from him, Quitman would never state directly that the Rifles beat the First Tennessee into the Tenería, though he admitted privately that Lieutenant Colonel McClung was the first man on the ramparts and that a deep ditch had impeded the Tennesseans. With Davis back in Mexico, relations worsened, and when in January 1847 Quitman was reassigned to Winfield Scott’s command, the two men remained estranged. Reconciliation would not come until after the war.49

  As his turbulent family situation quieted, at least for a time, and proudly wearing the laurels of a publicly acclaimed war chief, Jefferson Davis on about November 20 set out on his return trip to Mexico. Ever mindful of the relationship between the war and politics as well as his own political career, he made sure before he left the country to renew his ties to the Polk administration. From New Orleans he reminded Secretary Walker of his friendship, both personal and political. Eager for information on governmental policy toward Mexico, he requested Walker to keep him informed. Then Colonel Davis outlined what he considered the proper American course—establish a line of posts across northern Mexico from Tampico on the Gulf of Mexico on to a favorable point on the Pacific, and then commence operations to seize “the entrepots of Commerce.” According to Davis, such a policy would quickly bring Mexico to the bargaining table and end the war with “an early and cheap peace.” Davis worried that if the fighting dragged on, the need for revenue might reopen the door for protective tariffs, undoing the good of the recently enacted Walker Tariff.

  After discussing grand strategy, Davis moved on to the particulars of local Democratic politics. He was disturbed by rumors afloat in New Orleans that the customhouse officers, with Walker’s blessing, intended to start a new paper. Davis informed the secretary that the city already had a strong Democratic and pro-Walker sheet, whose editor, Eliza Davis’s brother, wanted to push Walker for the presidency. Davis did not think he could give permission to do so, but he did report that he had provided the journalist with a letter of introduction to Walker, and hoped the two men would meet.50

  On December 1, the day after writing that letter, Davis sailed from New Orleans for Brazos Island. Two weeks later he reached Camargo and promptly headed south to rejoin his regiment. When he met up with General Taylor on Christmas Day, his commanding general was most displeased. The repudiation of the armistice by the administration had not set well with him, nor did he believe that the president or the government had properly appreciated or acknowledged his accomplishment at Monterrey. Now there was even more to irritate him. To solidify his position in northern Mexico and also to prepare for an advance deeper into the country, should Washington choose, Taylor in November had ordered the occupation of Saltillo, fifty miles southwest of Monterrey, and in December, the movement of troops to Victoria, over 100 miles southeast of Monterrey. Initially he planned to extend his lines southeastward to Tampico on the Gulf Coast, but the Mexicans evacuated that port before the Americans reached Victoria. While Taylor was moving his troops about, the president did decide on a new campaign aimed at Mexico City. Much of Taylor’s army would participate, but not the general himself, whom Polk pilloried as narrow, partisan, and unqualified for high command. To lead the offensive, Polk named Major General Winfield Scott commanding general of the United States Army.51

  Under this plan Taylor was assigned a holding mission centered on Monterrey; but, to him even worse, his army was decimated. More than half, 9,000 men including almost all of his regulars, were transferred to Scott’s invasion force. In these decisions, Taylor spied politics—an administration frightened by his success and popularity, and in collusion with Genera
l Scott, was now snubbing him. His suspicions had some substance; but Scott, about whom the president also harbored doubts, had not plotted against Taylor. Neither of these regular generals was a good Democrat, and nothing was more important to James K. Polk than partisan credentials and allegiance.

  In Taylor’s pared-down force, Colonel Davis became even closer to his commander and friend. When Taylor dispatched so many troops to Scott’s gathering host, he kept the First Mississippi with him. Proud of their retention by Old Rough-and-Ready, the Rifles considered it a signal honor indicating their superiority over their rivals, the First Tennessee, among the units sent to Scott. Taylor’s growing intimacy with Davis surely contributed to his decision to keep the First Mississippi in his command. As he tried to fathom the political currents, Taylor’s antipathy toward the administration festered, and he placed the president, the secretary of war, and the commanding general all on his enemies’ list. In his view, all three had schemed to deprive him of recognition and leave him out of the war. When General Scott arrived in Mexico and came to Camargo for a meeting with Taylor, Old Rough-and-Ready did not show up. In this instance he was not refusing to obey orders, for Scott had only requested his presence, but when Scott ordered him to abandon Saltillo, Taylor did disobey because he believed such a move would weaken his defensive posture. In fact, Taylor planned to establish his headquarters in Saltillo, then occupied by a force under Brigadier General John E. Wool that had set out from San Antonio, Texas, bound originally for Chihuahua. After Taylor and Wool agreed that going so far west made little sense, Taylor directed Wool to Saltillo, where he held the extreme right of Taylor’s line. In numberless camp conversations with his general, Davis undoubtedly built up a lasting aversion to Scott as a man personally inimical toward Taylor, though as a good Democrat he kept very private any sharing of his commander’s antipathy toward Polk and the secretary of war. Davis never spoke publicly against the Polk administration, but he always defended Taylor’s actions, including the Monterrey armistice.