Absolutely.
The issue was as relevant to the South as it was to the North.
In January 1850 United States Sen. Henry Clay of Kentucky introduced a compromise bill to settle a four-year dispute over whether the territories of California and New Mexico—acquired by America in her victory over Mexico in 1848—would be annexed into the Union as slave or free. The dispute began shortly after war against Mexico had been declared in 1846 because Texas had been granted statehood in December 1845, and North and South quarreled over territory claimed by Texas that appeared to interfere with the 36-degree longitude, 30-degree latitude parallel North established by the Missouri Compromise of 1820. That legislation established that all territory above the 36-30 demarcation line was declared free, while territory below it was declared slave.
Sen. Clay sought to end the growing sectional conflict over territories annexed by Mexico. By September 1850, the bill was ratified in Congress with the following provisions: California was to be admitted to the Union as a free state. The organized territories of Utah and New Mexico were allowed to exercise popular sovereignty in deciding the issue of slave or free. Texas dropped its claim to land north of the 32nd parallel North and west of the 103 West meridian (known as unorganized territory, which included parts of New Mexico, Oklahoma and Colorado) in exchange for the federal government assuming the former Texas Republic’s debts. In addition, the slave trade was abolished in the District of Columbia, but Congress also strengthened the Fugitive Slave Act (FSA). The latter authorized and empowered slave owners to claim their property in free states, regardless of individual state personal liberty laws.
This last provision, the Fugitive Slave Act, brought the sectional conflict between North and South over slavery to an entirely new level of bitterness, contention and outright hostility.
Abolitionists and other antislavery societies refused to recognize this federal edict, and encouraged others to resist it as well. In fact, entire municipalities and states joined in the resistance, forbidding slave catchers and/or federal marshals from using local or state facilities or from receiving assistance of local or state authorities in the capture of fugitive slaves.
Many northerners, in fact, insisted that the federal government recognize state-sanctioned personal liberty laws, the aim of which were to protect free blacks, freedmen and fugitive slaves from capture by guaranteeing them due process of law. These laws included, among other things, requiring the right to a jury trial and an appeal before a slave could be extradited back to his or her master; forbidding the use of local jails; and denying cooperation from local or state officials to aid in the capture of fugitives. It was a legal way around the FSA without invoking the doctrine of nullification, which had been used before unsuccessfully by South Carolina in 1832 over tariffs.
As such, the issue of states’ rights was very much relevant to many Northerners in antebellum America, especially during the turbulent 1850s.
States’ rights, though, has historically been associated with the antebellum American South and southern rights.
Venerable U.S. Sen. John C. Calhoun of South Carolina brought the issue of southern states’ rights to the fore in the early 1820s. He realized the need for southern states to maintain fair representation in Congress, since the majority of the American population resided in the North and House seats were designated by districts according to population. The greater the population, the more seats in the House a state and, therefore, region possessed.
Calhoun further recognized that representation in the Senate was the South’s best opportunity for equal representation in Congress, because each state was allotted two senate seats, regardless of the population of that state. As such, Calhoun began to lobby passionately for territorial expansion west of the Mississippi with the aim of settling much of that territory under pro-slavery—and, therefore, pro-South—conditions and attaining statehood as slave states. This strategy, Calhoun surmised, would ensure the South held a strong voice in Congress for decades to come, no matter how loud, powerful or influential the antislavery voices became.
Therefore, he lobbied on behalf of southern “states’ rights”—and state interests—for fair representation in Washington, D.C.
The “states’ rights” doctrine was based on Congressional representation, first and foremost, but it also included the right of southern state interests—namely slavery—to expand and settle into the new territories. States' rights also included the assurance of individual property rights—again, namely slavery—to the people of southern states settling or expanding into the new territories.
Popular reference to “states’ rights” has to do with the constitutional right of states to be granted certain political powers, which maintain local sovereignty and autonomy within the national republic, as directed by the Tenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.
But state sovereignty really had less to do with the “states’ rights” of the antebellum American South than the protection of slave property did.
Southern states’ rights reached at the very core of debate and disagreement over the issue of slavery in America. It boiled down to whether individuals and, to a broader extent, states had the right to exercise their Constitutional guarantee of property (Fourth and Fifth Amendments to the U.S. Constitution) and the movement thereof in the new territories west of the Mississippi River; territories which were not yet organized and not yet represented or recognized in Congress.
Southern interests contended that slave property was protected, even in unorganized territories claimed by the United States, while northern interests disputed this claim. The Southern rights movement further argued that it was unconstitutional for the federal government to arbitrarily declare slavery illegal in the new territories, because it denied property rights of southern settlers, thereby violating the U.S. Constitution.
Interests in the North, on the other hand, countered by saying that because free labor would be directly and negatively affected by slavery in the new territories, the issue was one of commerce, which falls within the Congressional powers of Article I, Section 8 of the Constitution. Many in the North opposed the expansion of slavery for economic reasons; chiefly that it provided unfair competition to free labor. Others in the North who opposed slavery, though, did so exclusively on moral grounds; upon which many abolitionists and other antislavery societies staked a higher authority than even the Constitution.
And while the question of slavery was by far the most significant issue of the antebellum era, states’ rights was no less significant in relation to the slavery institution and, thus, not irrelevant to the cause of the American Civil War.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
Was slavery the cause of the American Civil War?
Yes and no.
Slavery was the defining issue of America’s first eighty years. It was the foundation upon which sectional differences between North and South were established. And, slavery was the impetus, the engine behind all other issues that worked together to drive America to Civil War.
Slavery was indeed the cause of differences and conflict between North and South; but it alone did not hurtle America into open war and bloodshed.
Shortly after Eli Whitney’s patenting of the cotton gin, slavery became known North to South as that “peculiar institution” upon which the United States economy, North to South, depended.
As despicable as the institution came to be in the American North, slavery was still largely tolerated where it currently existed. Many Northerners were willing to leave the institution alone in the South, knowing perhaps what the repercussions of summarily ending involuntary labor would mean to the economy in the North, where most textile mills and factories processing cotton and tobacco were located. Northerners were also sensitive to the impact that slave-picked cotton had on international markets.
As such, there was a general angst among Northerners about abolishing slavery altogether, and immediately, as many abolitionists demanded.
The American North, however, was overwhelmingly united in its opposition to the expansion of slavery into the new territories west of the Mississippi River. While Americans in the North, by and large, tolerated the existence of slavery in the Old South, they were not prepared to tolerate its perpetuation into newly acquired territories, where it would exist in direct (and unfair) competition with free labor.
Northerners generally felt that a peaceful end to slavery was not only possible, but probable, if limited to the Old South. The institution would be gradually phased out by both agricultural and economic conditions.
But the North’s insistence on restricting slavery in the new West only antagonized the South, which perceived a Yankee conspiracy to destroy the Southern economy and culture.
Tensions over slavery really began to tighten in 1820 when Congress enacted the Missouri Compromise, a law that prohibited slavery in the territories above the 36-30 parallel and allowed Missouri to enter the Union as a slave state.
Things only got worse in 1846 when Mexico declared war against the United States over Texas, which the latter had annexed as a state in late 1845. Antislavery factions in the North accused the federal government of going to war to protect Southern slave-holding interests, because Texas was being admitted as a slave state. Meanwhile, Southern pro-slavery interests wanted Texas’ representation in Congress.
Southern statesmen like Sen. John C. Calhoun of South Carolina argued that if Southern interests did not expand into the new territories, representation in Congress would remain indefinitely in favor of Northern interests. The North, Calhoun pointed out, held the lion’s share of population and, therefore, had the most Congressional districts in the House of Representatives. The South’s only hope for fair and equitable representation, Calhoun reasoned, rested in the Senate. As such, every new territory seeking statehood represented an opportunity for Southern interests to increase their numbers—and their influence—in Congress. Thus, this was the heart and core of the state’s rights argument. But that is a topic for further discussion elsewhere.
The point is that the Mexican-American War was a contentious issue between Northern antislavery and Southern pro-slavery movements because of the prospect of expansion.
The acquisition of former Mexican territories—California, in particular—further broadened the divide between northern and southern interests as settlers from both regions emigrated into the new territories and vied to establish them as either slave or free. The Compromise of 1850 was a temporarily effective measure meant to appease both sides and avoid escalating the sectional conflict into bloodshed. In effect, it banned slavery in parts of the newly annexed Mexican territories—namely California—while allowing by vote of popular sovereignty in others, such as New Mexico and Utah. The Compromise also created a stronger, more expansive Fugitive Slave Act, which satisfied the South, but enraged the North.
As such, sectional conflict was merely avoided for the time being, while tensions between the two regions only continued to grow and relations worsened.
But no other westward expansion became as volatile or did as much to accelerate America closer to bloodshed than the settlement of the Kansas and Nebraska territories in the 1850s.
At issue was the 36-30 north parallel designated by the Missouri Compromise of 1820. Pro-slavery interests contended that this law was unconstitutional, because it banned the owning of slave property, which was argued to be unconstitutional per the Fourth and Fifth Amendments to the U.S. Constitution.
The territories of Kansas and Nebraska were split by the line between slave and free. The Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854, proposed by Democratic Sen. Stephen Douglas of Illinois, essentially repealed the provisions of the Missouri Compromise, allowing popular sovereignty to decide the issue of slavery in the Kansas and Nebraska territories.
Unfortunately, the act resulted in far-reaching repercussions and tragic consequences. Political shenanigans and bully tactics of pro-South border ruffians from Missouri enraged free-soil (antislavery) settlers, some of whom responded with bloodshed.
John Brown was the most infamous example of violence in what became known as “Bleeding Kansas.” His active, leading role in committing the cold-blooded murders of the Pottawatomie Massacre in 1856 was a microcosm of the level that sectional conflict had reached in America, and offered a grim glimpse into the future of what lay ahead for the nation.
Abolitionists in the North conveniently spun the Massacre as killing in self-defense, thus justifying the deaths of the pro-Southern settlers. Both the Massacre and abolitionist societies’ defense of it enraged the South.
Both sides ultimately felt violated by the Kansas-Nebraska Act: The North, because the Missouri Compromise was repealed and because popular sovereignty left the unsettled issue of slavery open to all sorts of political tom foolery. And the South, because the same popular sovereignty it had supported ended up fueling the hatred of murderers like John Brown, who took out his wrath on pro-Southern settlers.
Brown would take his antislavery crusade into Virginia three years later in a maniacal plot to arm the slaves and lead a massive, violent revolt across the entire South. His near success at seizing the federal arsenal at Harper’s Ferry, Virginia, caused high alarm among many Southerners, whose foremost fear was not Yankee (Northern) invasion, but unrest and revolt among the millions of slaves in the South.
The South was no stranger to slave uprisings. Several took place in the early Nineteenth Century. Some were thwarted before any harm could come from them, while others, like the rebellion led by slave Nat Turner in Virginia, resulted in the murders of dozens of Southern whites.
The very last thing the South was going to stand for was Northern support for a slave uprising. It was one thing for the North to oppose the South’s peculiar institution, but quite another to actually encourage a rebellion among the slave population.
Hesitation among Northerners to condemn John Brown for wanting to end slavery convinced the South that this wasn’t going to be the last time that a slave uprising would be enabled by the North. As such, secession talk started up yet again, but this time more heated, more passionate, more insistent, and more defiant than ever before.
In the North, slavery abolition also became more passionate—and more important to the national debate—than it had ever been before.
The stage was set not for an inevitable war, but an imminent one. America had passed a point of no return with the John Brown-Harper’s Ferry incident, which was really a residual extension of the “Bleeding Kansas” conflict.
It was the last straw for both the North and the South. From that point on, all other attempts at compromise—including the Crittenden Compromise in December 1860—were futile, at best. They no longer delayed conflict, and served only to demonstrate how far gone off the edge of reason America had fallen.
Slavery, without a doubt, was the driving force that led to the American Civil War. But was it really the cause of war? Was slavery the “causus belli” issue that drove millions of Americans to take up arms against one another?
History suggests, and evidence supports, that it was not.
The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines “cause” (noun) as a motive, or the reason for an action or condition, while “motive” is defined as something that causes a person to act.
History shows that slavery alone was not motive enough to cause the North to act against the South, or for the South to act against the North.
As stated earlier, many Northerners, while detesting the institution of slavery, were willing to let it exist in the Old South if it meant tempering the sectional conflict and averting violent confrontation. What Northerners opposed, though, was the expansion of slavery into the new territories west of the Mississippi River and north of the 36-30 parallel, as well as slavery’s unencumbered invasion of the free North via the federal Fugitive Slave Act.
Although slavery was the impetus of conflict between North and South, expansion appeared to be the catalyst of tensions that accelerated and later hurtled the nation imminently toward formal, open war.
While expansion could not have sparked war without slavery, likewise slavery could not have caused war without expansion.
Slavery was the defining issue of America’s first eighty years. It was the foundation upon which sectional differences between North and South were established. And, slavery was the impetus, the engine behind all other issues that worked together to drive America to Civil War.
Slavery was indeed the cause of differences and conflict between North and South; but it alone did not hurtle America into open war and bloodshed.
Shortly after Eli Whitney’s patenting of the cotton gin, slavery became known North to South as that “peculiar institution” upon which the United States economy, North to South, depended.
As despicable as the institution came to be in the American North, slavery was still largely tolerated where it currently existed. Many Northerners were willing to leave the institution alone in the South, knowing perhaps what the repercussions of summarily ending involuntary labor would mean to the economy in the North, where most textile mills and factories processing cotton and tobacco were located. Northerners were also sensitive to the impact that slave-picked cotton had on international markets.
As such, there was a general angst among Northerners about abolishing slavery altogether, and immediately, as many abolitionists demanded.
The American North, however, was overwhelmingly united in its opposition to the expansion of slavery into the new territories west of the Mississippi River. While Americans in the North, by and large, tolerated the existence of slavery in the Old South, they were not prepared to tolerate its perpetuation into newly acquired territories, where it would exist in direct (and unfair) competition with free labor.
Northerners generally felt that a peaceful end to slavery was not only possible, but probable, if limited to the Old South. The institution would be gradually phased out by both agricultural and economic conditions.
But the North’s insistence on restricting slavery in the new West only antagonized the South, which perceived a Yankee conspiracy to destroy the Southern economy and culture.
Tensions over slavery really began to tighten in 1820 when Congress enacted the Missouri Compromise, a law that prohibited slavery in the territories above the 36-30 parallel and allowed Missouri to enter the Union as a slave state.
Things only got worse in 1846 when Mexico declared war against the United States over Texas, which the latter had annexed as a state in late 1845. Antislavery factions in the North accused the federal government of going to war to protect Southern slave-holding interests, because Texas was being admitted as a slave state. Meanwhile, Southern pro-slavery interests wanted Texas’ representation in Congress.
Southern statesmen like Sen. John C. Calhoun of South Carolina argued that if Southern interests did not expand into the new territories, representation in Congress would remain indefinitely in favor of Northern interests. The North, Calhoun pointed out, held the lion’s share of population and, therefore, had the most Congressional districts in the House of Representatives. The South’s only hope for fair and equitable representation, Calhoun reasoned, rested in the Senate. As such, every new territory seeking statehood represented an opportunity for Southern interests to increase their numbers—and their influence—in Congress. Thus, this was the heart and core of the state’s rights argument. But that is a topic for further discussion elsewhere.
The point is that the Mexican-American War was a contentious issue between Northern antislavery and Southern pro-slavery movements because of the prospect of expansion.
The acquisition of former Mexican territories—California, in particular—further broadened the divide between northern and southern interests as settlers from both regions emigrated into the new territories and vied to establish them as either slave or free. The Compromise of 1850 was a temporarily effective measure meant to appease both sides and avoid escalating the sectional conflict into bloodshed. In effect, it banned slavery in parts of the newly annexed Mexican territories—namely California—while allowing by vote of popular sovereignty in others, such as New Mexico and Utah. The Compromise also created a stronger, more expansive Fugitive Slave Act, which satisfied the South, but enraged the North.
As such, sectional conflict was merely avoided for the time being, while tensions between the two regions only continued to grow and relations worsened.
But no other westward expansion became as volatile or did as much to accelerate America closer to bloodshed than the settlement of the Kansas and Nebraska territories in the 1850s.
At issue was the 36-30 north parallel designated by the Missouri Compromise of 1820. Pro-slavery interests contended that this law was unconstitutional, because it banned the owning of slave property, which was argued to be unconstitutional per the Fourth and Fifth Amendments to the U.S. Constitution.
The territories of Kansas and Nebraska were split by the line between slave and free. The Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854, proposed by Democratic Sen. Stephen Douglas of Illinois, essentially repealed the provisions of the Missouri Compromise, allowing popular sovereignty to decide the issue of slavery in the Kansas and Nebraska territories.
Unfortunately, the act resulted in far-reaching repercussions and tragic consequences. Political shenanigans and bully tactics of pro-South border ruffians from Missouri enraged free-soil (antislavery) settlers, some of whom responded with bloodshed.
John Brown was the most infamous example of violence in what became known as “Bleeding Kansas.” His active, leading role in committing the cold-blooded murders of the Pottawatomie Massacre in 1856 was a microcosm of the level that sectional conflict had reached in America, and offered a grim glimpse into the future of what lay ahead for the nation.
Abolitionists in the North conveniently spun the Massacre as killing in self-defense, thus justifying the deaths of the pro-Southern settlers. Both the Massacre and abolitionist societies’ defense of it enraged the South.
Both sides ultimately felt violated by the Kansas-Nebraska Act: The North, because the Missouri Compromise was repealed and because popular sovereignty left the unsettled issue of slavery open to all sorts of political tom foolery. And the South, because the same popular sovereignty it had supported ended up fueling the hatred of murderers like John Brown, who took out his wrath on pro-Southern settlers.
Brown would take his antislavery crusade into Virginia three years later in a maniacal plot to arm the slaves and lead a massive, violent revolt across the entire South. His near success at seizing the federal arsenal at Harper’s Ferry, Virginia, caused high alarm among many Southerners, whose foremost fear was not Yankee (Northern) invasion, but unrest and revolt among the millions of slaves in the South.
The South was no stranger to slave uprisings. Several took place in the early Nineteenth Century. Some were thwarted before any harm could come from them, while others, like the rebellion led by slave Nat Turner in Virginia, resulted in the murders of dozens of Southern whites.
The very last thing the South was going to stand for was Northern support for a slave uprising. It was one thing for the North to oppose the South’s peculiar institution, but quite another to actually encourage a rebellion among the slave population.
Hesitation among Northerners to condemn John Brown for wanting to end slavery convinced the South that this wasn’t going to be the last time that a slave uprising would be enabled by the North. As such, secession talk started up yet again, but this time more heated, more passionate, more insistent, and more defiant than ever before.
In the North, slavery abolition also became more passionate—and more important to the national debate—than it had ever been before.
The stage was set not for an inevitable war, but an imminent one. America had passed a point of no return with the John Brown-Harper’s Ferry incident, which was really a residual extension of the “Bleeding Kansas” conflict.
It was the last straw for both the North and the South. From that point on, all other attempts at compromise—including the Crittenden Compromise in December 1860—were futile, at best. They no longer delayed conflict, and served only to demonstrate how far gone off the edge of reason America had fallen.
Slavery, without a doubt, was the driving force that led to the American Civil War. But was it really the cause of war? Was slavery the “causus belli” issue that drove millions of Americans to take up arms against one another?
History suggests, and evidence supports, that it was not.
The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines “cause” (noun) as a motive, or the reason for an action or condition, while “motive” is defined as something that causes a person to act.
History shows that slavery alone was not motive enough to cause the North to act against the South, or for the South to act against the North.
As stated earlier, many Northerners, while detesting the institution of slavery, were willing to let it exist in the Old South if it meant tempering the sectional conflict and averting violent confrontation. What Northerners opposed, though, was the expansion of slavery into the new territories west of the Mississippi River and north of the 36-30 parallel, as well as slavery’s unencumbered invasion of the free North via the federal Fugitive Slave Act.
Although slavery was the impetus of conflict between North and South, expansion appeared to be the catalyst of tensions that accelerated and later hurtled the nation imminently toward formal, open war.
While expansion could not have sparked war without slavery, likewise slavery could not have caused war without expansion.
The mortality of American slavery
The final ratification of the United States Constitution on September 17, 1787 meant the protection of America’s slavery institution by virtue of the Fourth and Fifth Amendments, the language of which protected private property rights, one of the Age of Enlightenment’s fundamental rights of man. Several framers and founding fathers lamented slavery’s existence in the new nation, acknowledging the practice as, in the words of Thomas Jefferson, an "abominable crime," a "moral depravity," a "hideous blot," and a "fatal stain" that deformed "what nature had bestowed on us of her fairest gifts."
A number of the enlightened founders—among them Jefferson and George Washington, both of whom were slaveowners themselves—considered slavery contrary to the laws of nature, which decreed that everyone had a right to personal liberty.
And yet, slavery was protected under the U.S. Constitution because slaves were property.
In all their wisdom, the founders and framers of the United States of America were at a loss on what exactly to do about the issue of African slavery.
Some, like Jefferson and Washington, clung to a hope that involuntary servitude would eventually fade away and cease to exist because of economics, changes in social attitudes, or both.
Unfortunately, patenting of the cotton gin by Eli Whitney of Massachusetts in 1793 changed everything from the economic outlook to the entire social order built around slavery, which then became more than just a socioeconomic practice. Rather, it evolved into a peculiar cultural institution.
Before 1793 early Americans—including plantation slaveowners like Jefferson and Washington—were embracing Enlightenment principles of essential liberty for all men created equal, and thus were also trending toward emancipation. Attitudes were already changing about African slavery.
Attitudes and economics nearly doomed slavery in early America. But economics ultimately sustained the institution, while radically changing attitudes ensured its perpetuation.
The cotton gin revolutionized the process of separating cotton fibers from seeds, a tedious task when done by hand and one that was making the cash crop of short staple cotton increasingly unprofitable and unpopular among planters. But the gin made the work easier, so more cotton could be picked and processed faster and in greater quantities. This allowed cotton plantations to meet the rising demand for cotton both in New England and in Europe.
Consequently, planters expanded their operations by purchasing more land and buying more slaves to work it. From that point on, slavery was reborn as an institution, stronger than it had ever been before. It would take a lot longer for economic or even social factors alone to phase it out as the founders had hoped.
Not only did Whitney’s patent change the economic climate and the fortunes of the American South, but the cotton gin also actually ended up changing its social culture.
Southern attitudes about slavery began to shift dramatically away from the Enlightenment views of Jefferson and Washington. Slaveholders, in particular, rationalized the use of servile labor as being right and just, because the institution was not only ideally suited for inferior races like the Africans, but it also protected them from certain destruction. The Enlightenment principle of universal liberty was being swiftly replaced by a more subjective and paternalistic notion that liberty and freedom were meant for the superior races, but not the inferior ones.
Southern slave owners also increasingly relied on what they believed to be a Biblical ordination of slavery. Because the Bible did not condemn the practice, but rather appeared to condone it, the South actually began defending the institution as moral.
As such, a social order was established around the slavery institution. Servitude was the lot of the bonded African; share-cropping, subsistence farming or hired labor the lot of the impoverished white or free black; modest farming, planting, skilled trades and mercantilism the lot of the middle class; and land ownership and large scale planting the lot of the upper class gentry.
As history happened, though, slavery came to an end in the South during the American Civil War, courtesy of the Emancipation Proclamation, and shortly thereafter nationwide with the passage of the Fourteenth Amendment.
One thought-provoking question, however, tends to weigh on the minds of some historians and many historical prognosticators: Would slavery have ended peacefully on its own without intervention? Such a question has stirred intense debate over the years, and continues to do so today.
In order to arrive at a reasonable answer, we need to look at all of the facts first. The lion’s share of farmland in the antebellum American South was owned by a minority of wealthy planters, whose cash was often quickly spent on more land and more slaves. The plantation gentry were generally cash poor for this reason.
Rather than rotate their crops and fields, planters found it easier and more cost effective just to purchase more land with the profits earned from the sale of the previous crop. More land also meant more of a particular cash crop, such as cotton or tobacco. In the planter’s mind, he was maximizing his profit potential by purchasing more land with which to plant his cash crop, and buying more slaves to work the new fields.
As such, planters tended to buy more land every season. Some plantations became enormous in size, encompassing thousands of acres of used fields and virgin farmland alike. Consequently, much of the American South was owned by a few.
However, there was only so much land available between the Atlantic shore and the Mississippi River. Until 1803, everything west of the Mississippi was owned or claimed by other foreign nations.
So, when Thomas Jefferson brokered the Louisiana Purchase in 1803, suddenly the prospect of plantation expansion took on a completely new life. The United States of America became the owner of millions of acres of virgin frontier territory west of the Mississippi River.
Unfortunately, only a small percentage of this new territory was really suited for plantation agriculture. The climate and the landscape of much of this new West were harsh and unforgiving. It was unsuitable for the signature cash crops of the South: short staple cotton, tobacco, rice and sugar cane primarily. Only Missouri, parts of Texas, California and Oregon had the kind of temperate climates appropriate for plantation cash crops.
In all likelihood, the bulk of Southern plantation slavery would have eventually run into a dead end without new land and expansion. Most of the United States territory acquired in the first half of the Nineteenth Century was unsuitable for Southern cash crops, so most planters would have been able to expand only so far before all suitable land was used up.
It is plausible that planters may have resigned themselves to crop rotation in order to maximize the use of the lands they already planted. But most successful planters tended to plant only one cash crop. As such, crop rotation would have been moot and without benefit to planters, whose only practical hope was expansion.
Statistics show that in the years leading up to the American Civil War, much of the land in the South was devoted to singular cash crops by region: Rice along the Carolina coasts; sugar cane along the Louisiana gulf coast; tobacco in the upper South; and cotton everywhere else.
The growth of food staples like corn and hogs also declined significantly during the cash crop boom years, rendering the South essentially food poor, but commodity rich. Because of the soaring demand for cotton and tobacco, most notably, there was little incentive for planters to diversify their planting to include even food staples. As such, crop rotation would have been of little benefit to much of the antebellum South.
Even the few planters who did grow more than one type of crop would have faced gradual and eventual soil depletion over time because the same crop would have been planted in the same place multiple times. Eventually and over time, the nutrient levels would have become depleted to such a degree that the soil would be rendered worthless to any substantive crop at all.
So, without expansion, even the most diversified plantation faced gradual and eventual extinction. The very nature of planting was to maximize crop yield by drawing as many nutrients from the soil in a given season as possible, leaving the field spent and depleted the following season. Expansion was a necessity to planting, and with only a finite amount of suitable land between the Atlantic and the Pacific, the planting of familiar cash crops also had a finite life to it.
Southern planters may have found other cash crops to grow in harsher climates, but as history showed, this never happened. Most planters were resistant to change: be it social, political, economic, cultural or even agricultural. Few, if any, really seemed interested or intent on changing from the cash crops of short staple cotton or tobacco to something else that might have grown better across the Great Plains, prairies and high deserts of the new West.
For instance, the Oregon Territory boasted hundreds of thousands of acres of prime timberland; but planters failed to take advantage of lumber’s growing commodity even in the South, where trees used for lumber were abundant. Tree farming certainly could have developed, even if it took several years for a tree to reach maturity; but with cotton and tobacco at the pinnacle of global demand, there was little interest in changing cash crops just for the sake of expansion into the new territories.
Consequently, the general unwillingness to change was poised to doom plantation culture as well.
Some prognosticators suggest that planters would simply have expanded their operations out of the United States, to such areas as Cuba or South America, in an effort to continue their plantation culture and extend the peculiar institution of slavery.
But history shows that this did not happen, either. Individual planters would have had to negotiate with foreign governments, and potentially without United States support or cooperation. In all likelihood, the vast majority of efforts to this end would have failed, and planters would once again be facing an inevitable end to their way of life.
The question then becomes, how much longer could slavery have existed in the South without land expansion? The answer would have depended upon the vitality and viability of the soil that had already been planted. Once crop yield began to significantly decline, the cash profits would also decrease significantly, leaving planters at a financial loss and with outstanding debt. Without a means to pay their creditors, planters would have been forced to liquidate their assets; namely property, and including slaves.
History shows that most planters, even the wealthy gentry, were often cash poor. They purchased land and slaves on credit, using the profits from cash crops to pay their mortgages.
A financial loss, therefore, was devastating to a planter, who then had to negotiate an extension of his debt with his creditors. Too many consecutive losses, though, would doom the planter.
An overabundance of poor, depleted soil was destined to spell doom for the plantation culture of the American South, because the results would have likely meant decline after decline in the quality and quantity of cash crops, leading to decrease after decrease in profits, eventually equaling chronic loss.
Considering that most banks and plantation financiers were located in the northeast United States, where antislavery sentiment was strongest, it is unlikely that creditors would have been particularly understanding or generous with their debtors after a series of major losses; or even a single one, for that matter.
Seizure of lands and other property, including slave chattel, would have been inevitable. If the financiers were antislavery minded (and in the Northeast the likelihood was great) then the human chattel might well have been freed upon seizure—with just compensation provided, of course, by an increasingly antislavery federal government—or sold to foreign interests that still practiced slavery, such as Cuba and South America. Thus, an end to the peculiar institution would have been forced.
Some suggest that because slavery had become an institution in the South—meaning a part of the cultural mind-set—upon which Southern whites depended greatly and in which they believed so deeply for economic and social stability, that it likely would have persisted through the Nineteenth Century and well into the next one.
However, without a substantial industry with which to use bonded labor, maintaining slavery just for the sake of keeping Africans in their place would have been an expensive fool’s errand.
Slaves were property and chattel, first and foremost. This means that they were “things” of market value and equal to monetary assets. If a planter could not pay his debts with his crops, then the creditor took the debt out of his property; including slaves. There would have been little incentive to keep slaves if a planter was faced with selling property in order to settle his debts. It is not realistic to expect planters to have held onto their slaves at all costs just for the sake of culture and social order.
While human chattel was as valuable as land, it was also just as expendable when push came to shove.
As such, I can see little reason to support the notion that slavery would have long persisted into the next century had it not been for the American Civil War. The very life of the soil that planters depended upon was finite and short-lived after a growing cycle, simply because of the intensity with which cash crops absorbed vital nutrients.
This may indeed be the reason why Southern planters were so insistent upon expansion into the new West as early as the first quarter of the Nineteenth Century.
The Missouri Compromise was enacted in 1820 to appease pro-slavery and antislavery expansion interests. So, even as early as the “Era of Good Feelings,” the American South was feeling the pinch of limited land and soil resources, and thus sought expansion west of the Mississippi River.
By the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, which ceded much of the American Southwest to the United States from Mexico, the situation of Southern expansion had become so desperate that the South perceived any attempt by the North to limit slavery in the new territories as an act of antagonism warranting secession and potentially even “causus belli.”
A series of compromises and Congressional acts followed suit in an effort to stave off the inevitable and unappealing conclusion of an intense sectional conflict. Unfortunately, these compromises succeeded only in making matters between North and South worse, widening the divide instead of bridging it.
After John Brown’s failed attempt to lead a slave revolt through Virginia and the rest of the South, the United States passed a point of no return toward division and war. Abolitionist fervor, having spread extensively throughout the North since the 1830s, condemned Brown’s execution and elevated him to martyred sainthood. The South, in response, now feared more than ever that a violent overthrow of its culture was not only brewing in the North, but wholly present, prevalent, endorsed and promoted.
Consequently, secession and armed conflict were no longer possible or even probable; they were imminent.
The rest is history, to borrow a phrase. Slavery was ended, in part, by bloodshed. But evidence points to conditions in the South that likely would have brought an end to the practice had America somehow avoided war.
If not for the issue of expansion, and the need for Southern planters to buy more land to continue their planting, the issue of slavery may not have elevated to a point of such contention as to equate to sectional hatred or to support war.
Evidence suggests that many in the North, despite widespread antislavery sentiment, were willing to leave slavery where it was. They just weren’t willing to see it spread, prosper and perpetuate in the new territories. This is probably because Northerners knew even then that plantation practices were contrary to sustainable farming and that soil life was thus limited. The notion being that without expansion, plantation agriculture was doomed to an economic death by virtue of its poor soil management and wasteful practices.
As planting went in the South, so, too, went the institution of slavery with it. Failure of the plantation system ultimately meant the failure and end of slave labor.
Since most slaves owned in the South worked on plantations, if the planting system succumbed, then the slavery institution would have collapsed right along with it.
A number of the enlightened founders—among them Jefferson and George Washington, both of whom were slaveowners themselves—considered slavery contrary to the laws of nature, which decreed that everyone had a right to personal liberty.
And yet, slavery was protected under the U.S. Constitution because slaves were property.
In all their wisdom, the founders and framers of the United States of America were at a loss on what exactly to do about the issue of African slavery.
Some, like Jefferson and Washington, clung to a hope that involuntary servitude would eventually fade away and cease to exist because of economics, changes in social attitudes, or both.
Unfortunately, patenting of the cotton gin by Eli Whitney of Massachusetts in 1793 changed everything from the economic outlook to the entire social order built around slavery, which then became more than just a socioeconomic practice. Rather, it evolved into a peculiar cultural institution.
Before 1793 early Americans—including plantation slaveowners like Jefferson and Washington—were embracing Enlightenment principles of essential liberty for all men created equal, and thus were also trending toward emancipation. Attitudes were already changing about African slavery.
Attitudes and economics nearly doomed slavery in early America. But economics ultimately sustained the institution, while radically changing attitudes ensured its perpetuation.
The cotton gin revolutionized the process of separating cotton fibers from seeds, a tedious task when done by hand and one that was making the cash crop of short staple cotton increasingly unprofitable and unpopular among planters. But the gin made the work easier, so more cotton could be picked and processed faster and in greater quantities. This allowed cotton plantations to meet the rising demand for cotton both in New England and in Europe.
Consequently, planters expanded their operations by purchasing more land and buying more slaves to work it. From that point on, slavery was reborn as an institution, stronger than it had ever been before. It would take a lot longer for economic or even social factors alone to phase it out as the founders had hoped.
Not only did Whitney’s patent change the economic climate and the fortunes of the American South, but the cotton gin also actually ended up changing its social culture.
Southern attitudes about slavery began to shift dramatically away from the Enlightenment views of Jefferson and Washington. Slaveholders, in particular, rationalized the use of servile labor as being right and just, because the institution was not only ideally suited for inferior races like the Africans, but it also protected them from certain destruction. The Enlightenment principle of universal liberty was being swiftly replaced by a more subjective and paternalistic notion that liberty and freedom were meant for the superior races, but not the inferior ones.
Southern slave owners also increasingly relied on what they believed to be a Biblical ordination of slavery. Because the Bible did not condemn the practice, but rather appeared to condone it, the South actually began defending the institution as moral.
As such, a social order was established around the slavery institution. Servitude was the lot of the bonded African; share-cropping, subsistence farming or hired labor the lot of the impoverished white or free black; modest farming, planting, skilled trades and mercantilism the lot of the middle class; and land ownership and large scale planting the lot of the upper class gentry.
As history happened, though, slavery came to an end in the South during the American Civil War, courtesy of the Emancipation Proclamation, and shortly thereafter nationwide with the passage of the Fourteenth Amendment.
One thought-provoking question, however, tends to weigh on the minds of some historians and many historical prognosticators: Would slavery have ended peacefully on its own without intervention? Such a question has stirred intense debate over the years, and continues to do so today.
In order to arrive at a reasonable answer, we need to look at all of the facts first. The lion’s share of farmland in the antebellum American South was owned by a minority of wealthy planters, whose cash was often quickly spent on more land and more slaves. The plantation gentry were generally cash poor for this reason.
Rather than rotate their crops and fields, planters found it easier and more cost effective just to purchase more land with the profits earned from the sale of the previous crop. More land also meant more of a particular cash crop, such as cotton or tobacco. In the planter’s mind, he was maximizing his profit potential by purchasing more land with which to plant his cash crop, and buying more slaves to work the new fields.
As such, planters tended to buy more land every season. Some plantations became enormous in size, encompassing thousands of acres of used fields and virgin farmland alike. Consequently, much of the American South was owned by a few.
However, there was only so much land available between the Atlantic shore and the Mississippi River. Until 1803, everything west of the Mississippi was owned or claimed by other foreign nations.
So, when Thomas Jefferson brokered the Louisiana Purchase in 1803, suddenly the prospect of plantation expansion took on a completely new life. The United States of America became the owner of millions of acres of virgin frontier territory west of the Mississippi River.
Unfortunately, only a small percentage of this new territory was really suited for plantation agriculture. The climate and the landscape of much of this new West were harsh and unforgiving. It was unsuitable for the signature cash crops of the South: short staple cotton, tobacco, rice and sugar cane primarily. Only Missouri, parts of Texas, California and Oregon had the kind of temperate climates appropriate for plantation cash crops.
In all likelihood, the bulk of Southern plantation slavery would have eventually run into a dead end without new land and expansion. Most of the United States territory acquired in the first half of the Nineteenth Century was unsuitable for Southern cash crops, so most planters would have been able to expand only so far before all suitable land was used up.
It is plausible that planters may have resigned themselves to crop rotation in order to maximize the use of the lands they already planted. But most successful planters tended to plant only one cash crop. As such, crop rotation would have been moot and without benefit to planters, whose only practical hope was expansion.
Statistics show that in the years leading up to the American Civil War, much of the land in the South was devoted to singular cash crops by region: Rice along the Carolina coasts; sugar cane along the Louisiana gulf coast; tobacco in the upper South; and cotton everywhere else.
The growth of food staples like corn and hogs also declined significantly during the cash crop boom years, rendering the South essentially food poor, but commodity rich. Because of the soaring demand for cotton and tobacco, most notably, there was little incentive for planters to diversify their planting to include even food staples. As such, crop rotation would have been of little benefit to much of the antebellum South.
Even the few planters who did grow more than one type of crop would have faced gradual and eventual soil depletion over time because the same crop would have been planted in the same place multiple times. Eventually and over time, the nutrient levels would have become depleted to such a degree that the soil would be rendered worthless to any substantive crop at all.
So, without expansion, even the most diversified plantation faced gradual and eventual extinction. The very nature of planting was to maximize crop yield by drawing as many nutrients from the soil in a given season as possible, leaving the field spent and depleted the following season. Expansion was a necessity to planting, and with only a finite amount of suitable land between the Atlantic and the Pacific, the planting of familiar cash crops also had a finite life to it.
Southern planters may have found other cash crops to grow in harsher climates, but as history showed, this never happened. Most planters were resistant to change: be it social, political, economic, cultural or even agricultural. Few, if any, really seemed interested or intent on changing from the cash crops of short staple cotton or tobacco to something else that might have grown better across the Great Plains, prairies and high deserts of the new West.
For instance, the Oregon Territory boasted hundreds of thousands of acres of prime timberland; but planters failed to take advantage of lumber’s growing commodity even in the South, where trees used for lumber were abundant. Tree farming certainly could have developed, even if it took several years for a tree to reach maturity; but with cotton and tobacco at the pinnacle of global demand, there was little interest in changing cash crops just for the sake of expansion into the new territories.
Consequently, the general unwillingness to change was poised to doom plantation culture as well.
Some prognosticators suggest that planters would simply have expanded their operations out of the United States, to such areas as Cuba or South America, in an effort to continue their plantation culture and extend the peculiar institution of slavery.
But history shows that this did not happen, either. Individual planters would have had to negotiate with foreign governments, and potentially without United States support or cooperation. In all likelihood, the vast majority of efforts to this end would have failed, and planters would once again be facing an inevitable end to their way of life.
The question then becomes, how much longer could slavery have existed in the South without land expansion? The answer would have depended upon the vitality and viability of the soil that had already been planted. Once crop yield began to significantly decline, the cash profits would also decrease significantly, leaving planters at a financial loss and with outstanding debt. Without a means to pay their creditors, planters would have been forced to liquidate their assets; namely property, and including slaves.
History shows that most planters, even the wealthy gentry, were often cash poor. They purchased land and slaves on credit, using the profits from cash crops to pay their mortgages.
A financial loss, therefore, was devastating to a planter, who then had to negotiate an extension of his debt with his creditors. Too many consecutive losses, though, would doom the planter.
An overabundance of poor, depleted soil was destined to spell doom for the plantation culture of the American South, because the results would have likely meant decline after decline in the quality and quantity of cash crops, leading to decrease after decrease in profits, eventually equaling chronic loss.
Considering that most banks and plantation financiers were located in the northeast United States, where antislavery sentiment was strongest, it is unlikely that creditors would have been particularly understanding or generous with their debtors after a series of major losses; or even a single one, for that matter.
Seizure of lands and other property, including slave chattel, would have been inevitable. If the financiers were antislavery minded (and in the Northeast the likelihood was great) then the human chattel might well have been freed upon seizure—with just compensation provided, of course, by an increasingly antislavery federal government—or sold to foreign interests that still practiced slavery, such as Cuba and South America. Thus, an end to the peculiar institution would have been forced.
Some suggest that because slavery had become an institution in the South—meaning a part of the cultural mind-set—upon which Southern whites depended greatly and in which they believed so deeply for economic and social stability, that it likely would have persisted through the Nineteenth Century and well into the next one.
However, without a substantial industry with which to use bonded labor, maintaining slavery just for the sake of keeping Africans in their place would have been an expensive fool’s errand.
Slaves were property and chattel, first and foremost. This means that they were “things” of market value and equal to monetary assets. If a planter could not pay his debts with his crops, then the creditor took the debt out of his property; including slaves. There would have been little incentive to keep slaves if a planter was faced with selling property in order to settle his debts. It is not realistic to expect planters to have held onto their slaves at all costs just for the sake of culture and social order.
While human chattel was as valuable as land, it was also just as expendable when push came to shove.
As such, I can see little reason to support the notion that slavery would have long persisted into the next century had it not been for the American Civil War. The very life of the soil that planters depended upon was finite and short-lived after a growing cycle, simply because of the intensity with which cash crops absorbed vital nutrients.
This may indeed be the reason why Southern planters were so insistent upon expansion into the new West as early as the first quarter of the Nineteenth Century.
The Missouri Compromise was enacted in 1820 to appease pro-slavery and antislavery expansion interests. So, even as early as the “Era of Good Feelings,” the American South was feeling the pinch of limited land and soil resources, and thus sought expansion west of the Mississippi River.
By the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, which ceded much of the American Southwest to the United States from Mexico, the situation of Southern expansion had become so desperate that the South perceived any attempt by the North to limit slavery in the new territories as an act of antagonism warranting secession and potentially even “causus belli.”
A series of compromises and Congressional acts followed suit in an effort to stave off the inevitable and unappealing conclusion of an intense sectional conflict. Unfortunately, these compromises succeeded only in making matters between North and South worse, widening the divide instead of bridging it.
After John Brown’s failed attempt to lead a slave revolt through Virginia and the rest of the South, the United States passed a point of no return toward division and war. Abolitionist fervor, having spread extensively throughout the North since the 1830s, condemned Brown’s execution and elevated him to martyred sainthood. The South, in response, now feared more than ever that a violent overthrow of its culture was not only brewing in the North, but wholly present, prevalent, endorsed and promoted.
Consequently, secession and armed conflict were no longer possible or even probable; they were imminent.
The rest is history, to borrow a phrase. Slavery was ended, in part, by bloodshed. But evidence points to conditions in the South that likely would have brought an end to the practice had America somehow avoided war.
If not for the issue of expansion, and the need for Southern planters to buy more land to continue their planting, the issue of slavery may not have elevated to a point of such contention as to equate to sectional hatred or to support war.
Evidence suggests that many in the North, despite widespread antislavery sentiment, were willing to leave slavery where it was. They just weren’t willing to see it spread, prosper and perpetuate in the new territories. This is probably because Northerners knew even then that plantation practices were contrary to sustainable farming and that soil life was thus limited. The notion being that without expansion, plantation agriculture was doomed to an economic death by virtue of its poor soil management and wasteful practices.
As planting went in the South, so, too, went the institution of slavery with it. Failure of the plantation system ultimately meant the failure and end of slave labor.
Since most slaves owned in the South worked on plantations, if the planting system succumbed, then the slavery institution would have collapsed right along with it.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Admiration for Lincoln
Of all 44 U.S. presidents, Abraham Lincoln is one that I admire most.
I am fascinated with his person, and devote much of my study of the American Civil War to his biography. I have a genealogical connection to the Lincolns, too, and that makes my fascination with the Sixteenth President of the United States even more personal.
But it is the enigma of the man that has drawn me closer to him over the years.
Abraham Lincoln personally opposed slavery, but he ultimately opposed federal efforts to end it. He wanted to give Southern states their chance to end it themselves.
In fact, as a frontier lawyer in Illinois, Lincoln had been known to represent the interests of Missouri slave owners, who were pursuing escaped slaves north. He sided with the Fugitive Slave Law, and ended up defending the rights of slave owners more than he did any intrinsic rights of slaves.
That isn't to say that Lincoln was pro-slavery; he was not. But, as an attornery, he was pro-law. And he tended to be a moderate, a compromiser, on the contentious issue of slavery.
Neither the secessionists nor the abolitionists liked or supported Abraham Lincoln as a candidate for president. Both polarized sides had their own candidates in mind representing their views exclusively.
For Northern abolitionists, Lincoln wasn't staunch enough against slavery. After all, he favored keeping slavery where it already existed and simply opposed its expansion into Western territories. He wasn't willing to go far enough to stop it.
And for the Southern secessionists, well, Lincoln was just altogether the wrong man, because he campaigned on the notion of preserving the Union at all costs. They also resented the fact that Lincoln favored limiting slavery to where it already existed in the South and keeping it out of the new territories. This wasn't good enough, either.
The funny thing was that Abraham Lincoln could not appease either of the two sides, and yet, he won an electoral college landslide over a split Democratic ticket in the general election. Although he failed to win a majority of the popular vote in any state, he received enough popular votes to claim a majority of state electoral votes. Across the country, Lincoln proved to be the most reasonable candidate in a period of extreme, irrational contentiousness; and enough of the most reasonable people of the time turned out to vote for him.
But as we know from history, the reasonable people, including Lincoln, did not ultimately win. The extremists on both sides did. They got their way and plunged America into a bloody Civil War that left socio-economic scars still visible today.
The secessionists hastily voted to secede shortly after Lincoln's election victory in November 1860, just as they promised they would. And the abolitionists edged them on.
While the Southern firebrands were building their garrisons around federal property in the South, the Northern firebrands raised their voices in a call to arms to put down the insurrection.
Both extremes wanted war in the worst way, so they could make the other side pay for its years of defiance and opposition to them.
President Lincoln, like much of the rest of the country, was caught in the middle, trying to deal with fires on either side of him. It was a futile position to be in, and a losing effort.
Lincoln staved off the warhawks as long as he could; until duty compelled him on April 12, 1861 with the Confederate artillery assault on Fort Sumter.
As commander-in-chief, whose sworn duty it is to preserve and protect the United States of America, Abraham Lincoln had no choice but to declare war.
He suffered through three years of embarrassing military defeats and a narrow reelection bid before events began to turn in his favor.
If Abaham Lincoln had one character flaw, one weakness, it was using poor judgment in selecting his army commanders.
Between 1861 and 1864, the U.S. Army of the Potomac, charged with protecting official Washington, D.C., from rebel assaults, was commanded by seven different generals-in-chief. Only at No. 7 did Lincoln finally get it right.
The appointment of Ulysses S. Grant to general-in-chief of the entire United States Army turned out to be the edge that the Union needed to outlast the Confederacy and eek out a victory.
But this came after two disappointing stints with George B. McClellan, who actually ended up challenging Lincoln in the 1864 general election, and a string of failures in between.
As a result of the Union Army's incompetence in the Eastern Theater, the United States very nearly lost the war. Commanders prior to Grant were either more interested in stroking their own egos or building their political resumes than winning a war that desperately needed an end to it.
By the time Grant took over, the Union Army hadn't made any progress in the one hundred miles that lay between Washington, D.C., and Richmond, Virginia. In effect, it had succeeded only in chasing its own tail and running around in circles.
President Lincoln was at the end of his emotional rope when he chose Grant to be his Gen. Lee.
And if there was one thing President Lincoln was good at it was performing under pressure. His timely decision to place Grant in charge helped to breathe new life into the Union war effort and lifted the spirits of the troops, many of whom were well aware of U.S. Grant's exploits out west.
After the Wilderness campaign, the Union Army had taken its last backward step. Instead of retreating as many of his predecessors had grown accustomed to doing, Grant pressed forward, further South, and maintained pressure on Confederate commander Robert E. Lee to defend the Confederate capital. Within a year of Grant's appointment, the Union had the Confederacy up against the ropes, on its heels, and desperate to end the conflict.
Unfortunately, Abraham Lincoln did not live to do the work he proposed at war's end: to heal the wounds of the nation with malice toward none and charity for all.
I sincerely believe that Reconstruction was when Lincoln was needed most.
No other man could have facilitated or orchestrated the kind of transition only he could have envisioned. His compassion toward the South could have saved her from the Northern carpetbaggers who ended up devouring her the way hyenas attack a carcass.
His Christian charity might have helped the country move forward, instead of stepping backward in savagery and brutality.
As it is, though, Lincoln died before his dream of a reunified nation could be fulfilled. In fact, reunification took nearly a decade to accomplish under the Johnson and Grant Administrations, whereas Lincoln in his final three years might have been able to bring the Southern states back into the fold in less time due to his desire to rebuild, rather than to punish the South for the war.
Lincoln understood that both sides shared the blame, and thus, shared the costs of the war. He refused to regard the South as an enemy. But others in the North had plans to make the South bleed even more. All they needed was an excuse.
And that came in the form of an assassin's bullet on April 14, 1865 at Ford's Theater in Washington. President Abraham Lincoln died early the next morning and a nation fell into shock and mourning.
I doubt Lincoln would have approved of the retributionists turning him into a martyr, but that is exactly what was done.
Because of the reckless audacity of John Wilkes Boothe, the South was about to feel the full wrath of the North. Largely because of Lincoln's assassination, Reconstruction was more about retribution than reunification and healing.
Had Lincoln survived the bullet wound and lived, the extremists in the North may not have gotten their way to exact revenge on the South.
But, unfortunately, even in death, Lincoln had a profound effect on the outcome of the war.
In the 220 years that our nation has elected a president, none faced the daunting task that Lincoln did. From the time he was elected up to his assassination, either the war, the threat of it, or its aftermath consumed the man. He scarcely saw any peace time between his first inauguration and his assassination, save for the month between his first day in office and the firing on Ft. Sumter.
And yet, somehow, he kept the nation going and intact; the Southern states notwithstanding, of course.
In the end, Abraham Lincoln helped to preserve a nation determined to destroy itself. And he helped preserve not only a country, but its ideals, values and principles as well.
No other president faced the kind of challenges that Lincoln did.
While Franklin D. Roosevelt helped to hold the country together in a time of great depression and world war, and even as Reagan was instrumental in bringing down the Iron Curtain of the Soviet Union, none had the same daunting task to preserve a crumbling nation and save it from utter ruin as Lincoln was charged with.
Where George Washington is considered the father of our country, Abraham Lincoln may well be its Sentinel. Without his steadfast determination to preserve the Union, and ultimately his example in leading the nation toward living up to its principles--namely life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness to all men created equal--there is no telling what America would be like today, if even at all.
I am fascinated with his person, and devote much of my study of the American Civil War to his biography. I have a genealogical connection to the Lincolns, too, and that makes my fascination with the Sixteenth President of the United States even more personal.
But it is the enigma of the man that has drawn me closer to him over the years.
Abraham Lincoln personally opposed slavery, but he ultimately opposed federal efforts to end it. He wanted to give Southern states their chance to end it themselves.
In fact, as a frontier lawyer in Illinois, Lincoln had been known to represent the interests of Missouri slave owners, who were pursuing escaped slaves north. He sided with the Fugitive Slave Law, and ended up defending the rights of slave owners more than he did any intrinsic rights of slaves.
That isn't to say that Lincoln was pro-slavery; he was not. But, as an attornery, he was pro-law. And he tended to be a moderate, a compromiser, on the contentious issue of slavery.
Neither the secessionists nor the abolitionists liked or supported Abraham Lincoln as a candidate for president. Both polarized sides had their own candidates in mind representing their views exclusively.
For Northern abolitionists, Lincoln wasn't staunch enough against slavery. After all, he favored keeping slavery where it already existed and simply opposed its expansion into Western territories. He wasn't willing to go far enough to stop it.
And for the Southern secessionists, well, Lincoln was just altogether the wrong man, because he campaigned on the notion of preserving the Union at all costs. They also resented the fact that Lincoln favored limiting slavery to where it already existed in the South and keeping it out of the new territories. This wasn't good enough, either.
The funny thing was that Abraham Lincoln could not appease either of the two sides, and yet, he won an electoral college landslide over a split Democratic ticket in the general election. Although he failed to win a majority of the popular vote in any state, he received enough popular votes to claim a majority of state electoral votes. Across the country, Lincoln proved to be the most reasonable candidate in a period of extreme, irrational contentiousness; and enough of the most reasonable people of the time turned out to vote for him.
But as we know from history, the reasonable people, including Lincoln, did not ultimately win. The extremists on both sides did. They got their way and plunged America into a bloody Civil War that left socio-economic scars still visible today.
The secessionists hastily voted to secede shortly after Lincoln's election victory in November 1860, just as they promised they would. And the abolitionists edged them on.
While the Southern firebrands were building their garrisons around federal property in the South, the Northern firebrands raised their voices in a call to arms to put down the insurrection.
Both extremes wanted war in the worst way, so they could make the other side pay for its years of defiance and opposition to them.
President Lincoln, like much of the rest of the country, was caught in the middle, trying to deal with fires on either side of him. It was a futile position to be in, and a losing effort.
Lincoln staved off the warhawks as long as he could; until duty compelled him on April 12, 1861 with the Confederate artillery assault on Fort Sumter.
As commander-in-chief, whose sworn duty it is to preserve and protect the United States of America, Abraham Lincoln had no choice but to declare war.
He suffered through three years of embarrassing military defeats and a narrow reelection bid before events began to turn in his favor.
If Abaham Lincoln had one character flaw, one weakness, it was using poor judgment in selecting his army commanders.
Between 1861 and 1864, the U.S. Army of the Potomac, charged with protecting official Washington, D.C., from rebel assaults, was commanded by seven different generals-in-chief. Only at No. 7 did Lincoln finally get it right.
The appointment of Ulysses S. Grant to general-in-chief of the entire United States Army turned out to be the edge that the Union needed to outlast the Confederacy and eek out a victory.
But this came after two disappointing stints with George B. McClellan, who actually ended up challenging Lincoln in the 1864 general election, and a string of failures in between.
As a result of the Union Army's incompetence in the Eastern Theater, the United States very nearly lost the war. Commanders prior to Grant were either more interested in stroking their own egos or building their political resumes than winning a war that desperately needed an end to it.
By the time Grant took over, the Union Army hadn't made any progress in the one hundred miles that lay between Washington, D.C., and Richmond, Virginia. In effect, it had succeeded only in chasing its own tail and running around in circles.
President Lincoln was at the end of his emotional rope when he chose Grant to be his Gen. Lee.
And if there was one thing President Lincoln was good at it was performing under pressure. His timely decision to place Grant in charge helped to breathe new life into the Union war effort and lifted the spirits of the troops, many of whom were well aware of U.S. Grant's exploits out west.
After the Wilderness campaign, the Union Army had taken its last backward step. Instead of retreating as many of his predecessors had grown accustomed to doing, Grant pressed forward, further South, and maintained pressure on Confederate commander Robert E. Lee to defend the Confederate capital. Within a year of Grant's appointment, the Union had the Confederacy up against the ropes, on its heels, and desperate to end the conflict.
Unfortunately, Abraham Lincoln did not live to do the work he proposed at war's end: to heal the wounds of the nation with malice toward none and charity for all.
I sincerely believe that Reconstruction was when Lincoln was needed most.
No other man could have facilitated or orchestrated the kind of transition only he could have envisioned. His compassion toward the South could have saved her from the Northern carpetbaggers who ended up devouring her the way hyenas attack a carcass.
His Christian charity might have helped the country move forward, instead of stepping backward in savagery and brutality.
As it is, though, Lincoln died before his dream of a reunified nation could be fulfilled. In fact, reunification took nearly a decade to accomplish under the Johnson and Grant Administrations, whereas Lincoln in his final three years might have been able to bring the Southern states back into the fold in less time due to his desire to rebuild, rather than to punish the South for the war.
Lincoln understood that both sides shared the blame, and thus, shared the costs of the war. He refused to regard the South as an enemy. But others in the North had plans to make the South bleed even more. All they needed was an excuse.
And that came in the form of an assassin's bullet on April 14, 1865 at Ford's Theater in Washington. President Abraham Lincoln died early the next morning and a nation fell into shock and mourning.
I doubt Lincoln would have approved of the retributionists turning him into a martyr, but that is exactly what was done.
Because of the reckless audacity of John Wilkes Boothe, the South was about to feel the full wrath of the North. Largely because of Lincoln's assassination, Reconstruction was more about retribution than reunification and healing.
Had Lincoln survived the bullet wound and lived, the extremists in the North may not have gotten their way to exact revenge on the South.
But, unfortunately, even in death, Lincoln had a profound effect on the outcome of the war.
In the 220 years that our nation has elected a president, none faced the daunting task that Lincoln did. From the time he was elected up to his assassination, either the war, the threat of it, or its aftermath consumed the man. He scarcely saw any peace time between his first inauguration and his assassination, save for the month between his first day in office and the firing on Ft. Sumter.
And yet, somehow, he kept the nation going and intact; the Southern states notwithstanding, of course.
In the end, Abraham Lincoln helped to preserve a nation determined to destroy itself. And he helped preserve not only a country, but its ideals, values and principles as well.
No other president faced the kind of challenges that Lincoln did.
While Franklin D. Roosevelt helped to hold the country together in a time of great depression and world war, and even as Reagan was instrumental in bringing down the Iron Curtain of the Soviet Union, none had the same daunting task to preserve a crumbling nation and save it from utter ruin as Lincoln was charged with.
Where George Washington is considered the father of our country, Abraham Lincoln may well be its Sentinel. Without his steadfast determination to preserve the Union, and ultimately his example in leading the nation toward living up to its principles--namely life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness to all men created equal--there is no telling what America would be like today, if even at all.
Choosing sides
When discussing the American Civil War, the one question that inevitably gets asked is, "What side would you choose?"
I was asked a similar question recently by a spectator at a Civil War reenactment. The young woman was writing a graduate paper for her master's degree and she was interviewing reenactors to get some of her information.
I was dressed in my Confederate chaplain's uniform when she approached me and began asking questions. Near the end of the interview, she asked, "Why did you choose the Confederate side? Is it because they were the underdog?"
I considered my answer for a long moment.
Frankly, it is a question I have pondered and asked of myself many times before while studying the Civil War, and the most honest answer I could come up with was just plain, old "I don't know."
I explained to the woman that my decision to portray a Southern soldier had much to do with my ancestry. Much of my kin from that time period resided in Texas, Virginia, Kentucky and North Carolina.
I also have gained an appreciation over the years for the points of view of and the causes fought for by the common, average Southerner of the time.
For the majority of Confederate soldiers, the war was not about defending or preserving the vile and debauched institution that is slavery; although that was a collective purpose of the Confederate government and its army.
For a few wealthy aristocrats and plantation owners, the war certainly was about keeping what belonged to them, including and especially their slaves. But not for the common foot soldier, who more often than not was a simple, poor farmer afraid of losing his land--often the only thing of value he had, not to mention his family's livelihood--either to an army of invading Yankees or a mob horde of free-roaming slaves on the rampage.
Sure, there were propagandists in the South spreading lies, rumors and exaggerations about the average Yankee, as well as fear about inevitable slave uprisings, but the same could be said about the North, and the influence of the abolitionist movement on popular opinion.
A noteworthy example is the cover-up of John Brown's Kansas raid in the spring of 1856. Many antislavery societies covered up the truth about the Pottowatomie Massacre that occurred May 24-25, 1856. Violent abolitionist John Brown went on an overnight murderous spree through Franklin County, Kansas, killing in cold blood five unarmed pro-Southern settlers in supposed retribution for a pro-slavery sack of the abolitionist community of Lawrence, Kansas, just days earlier. But abolitionist propaganda back east reported that Brown had acted in self-defense, and that his killing of the pro-slavery men was, therefore, a just, righteous and defensible act. This was nowhere near the truth, of course, but it is an example of the kind of propaganda that Northerners were subjected to by antislavery hardliners.
Long before the firing of Fort Sumter, the secession of South Carolina, the election of Abraham Lincoln, and even Harper's Ferry, there was a prevailing Northern opinion of Southerners that they typically resembled slave master Simon Legree from "Uncle Tom's Cabin."
To the educated and uneducated alike in the North, the wealthy plantation owner personified the South; and as far as many Northerners were concerned, the South was filled with them.
The truth is that only about three or four percent of the white population in the South at the time owned even a single slave. And less than five percent of those who did own slaves owned more than one.
So, of all the tens of thousands of African slaves residing in the Antebellum South, a mere fraction of the white population owned them. The rest of the South was made up predominantly of poor white farmers, who unfortunately bought into the propaganda of secessionist firebrands that the North was meaning to come down and lead a slave revolt, and then seize the land. They believed their small tracts of dirt were threatened to be bought out from under them or taken over by force by zealous, money-grubbing Yankees. They also feared a large, angry slave uprising that threatened their lives, as well as a vast, blue army marching through the South, across their fields, and burning everything in sight; all in an effort to subjugate the South and force it to do the North's will.
Thusly, why so many poor white farmers turned out in droves to serve their state militias and the Confederate Army.
And the fact is, a great many Northern soldiers turned out in service to their state militias, too. Service to one's state at the time was a greater calling than service to one's country. Most people never ventured beyond the county of their birth, so their communities were literally filled with family and friends. The state in which they lived meant more to them than just political borders and boundaries; a state represented a person's home, one which contained everything important to that person.
So, a large part of my decision to join the Confederate ranks had to do with understanding the point of view of my Southern ancestors.
I'm also sympathetic to the states' rights argument, because the period banner really referred to individual rights more than state government rights. This is evidenced by the language of the Tenth Amendment to the United States Constitution, which says, "The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people." The people, in other words, were commensurate with the states.
Former U.S. Senator and statesman John C. Calhoun of South Carolina insisted that the federal government recognize southerners' rights to private property, which is guaranteed in both the Fourth and Fifth Amendments to the Constitution. He and others rallying around the states' rights banner insisted that federal efforts to ban slavery in the new territories west of the Mississippi River were unconstitutional, because they were deliberate attempts to prevent southern slaveowners from expanding and settling in the new west with their property. Such federal restrictions, then, violated the constitutional rights of southern slaveholders and, ultimately, discriminated against the South, in general.
But, where things went sour for the South, in my opinion, was basing a states' rights argument on protecting the morally depraved institution of slavery.
And that is where I part ways with the South, too.
I can confidently serve as a Confederate, knowing that I fight for my home, my piece of ground, my loved ones, pride in my state, and for my Constitutional property rights, because that is what most Confederate soldiers fought for.
They weren't fighting individually to preserve slavery. In fact, most commoners were either indifferent to the institution or else resented it.
Having said all of this, I cannot say with certainty that I would have fought for the South had I lived back in the time of the Civil War.
In all likelihood, I would have; but I also have ancestors who traveled with the Lincolns from Kentucky to Illinois. And some of them wore blue.
I think if I had been alive during the 1850s or 60s and living in Illinois, I would have most assuredly sided with the Union. Why? Mostly because my state was part of the Union, and my family lived there.
I would have been fighting for much the same reasons that the common, average Southerner was fighting for; just on opposite sides of the Mason-Dixon Line.
When I think about the question of "which side," I honestly have to give two different answers. The first, what side would I choose now, with 20/20 hindsight? And the second, what side would I have chosen had I lived back then?
Well, I've already answered the latter, which would have depended on where I was born and raised at the time.
As far as the former, my honest answer is both.
Had slavery been the reason why individual Southerners chose to take up arms against other American brethren, then I could not in good conscience side with the Confederacy today. I am an abolitionist at heart; but not necessarily a Yankee.
Knowing what I do about the Civil War, I am as proud to call myself a Confederate as I am to call myself a Unionist.
I was asked a similar question recently by a spectator at a Civil War reenactment. The young woman was writing a graduate paper for her master's degree and she was interviewing reenactors to get some of her information.
I was dressed in my Confederate chaplain's uniform when she approached me and began asking questions. Near the end of the interview, she asked, "Why did you choose the Confederate side? Is it because they were the underdog?"
I considered my answer for a long moment.
Frankly, it is a question I have pondered and asked of myself many times before while studying the Civil War, and the most honest answer I could come up with was just plain, old "I don't know."
I explained to the woman that my decision to portray a Southern soldier had much to do with my ancestry. Much of my kin from that time period resided in Texas, Virginia, Kentucky and North Carolina.
I also have gained an appreciation over the years for the points of view of and the causes fought for by the common, average Southerner of the time.
For the majority of Confederate soldiers, the war was not about defending or preserving the vile and debauched institution that is slavery; although that was a collective purpose of the Confederate government and its army.
For a few wealthy aristocrats and plantation owners, the war certainly was about keeping what belonged to them, including and especially their slaves. But not for the common foot soldier, who more often than not was a simple, poor farmer afraid of losing his land--often the only thing of value he had, not to mention his family's livelihood--either to an army of invading Yankees or a mob horde of free-roaming slaves on the rampage.
Sure, there were propagandists in the South spreading lies, rumors and exaggerations about the average Yankee, as well as fear about inevitable slave uprisings, but the same could be said about the North, and the influence of the abolitionist movement on popular opinion.
A noteworthy example is the cover-up of John Brown's Kansas raid in the spring of 1856. Many antislavery societies covered up the truth about the Pottowatomie Massacre that occurred May 24-25, 1856. Violent abolitionist John Brown went on an overnight murderous spree through Franklin County, Kansas, killing in cold blood five unarmed pro-Southern settlers in supposed retribution for a pro-slavery sack of the abolitionist community of Lawrence, Kansas, just days earlier. But abolitionist propaganda back east reported that Brown had acted in self-defense, and that his killing of the pro-slavery men was, therefore, a just, righteous and defensible act. This was nowhere near the truth, of course, but it is an example of the kind of propaganda that Northerners were subjected to by antislavery hardliners.
Long before the firing of Fort Sumter, the secession of South Carolina, the election of Abraham Lincoln, and even Harper's Ferry, there was a prevailing Northern opinion of Southerners that they typically resembled slave master Simon Legree from "Uncle Tom's Cabin."
To the educated and uneducated alike in the North, the wealthy plantation owner personified the South; and as far as many Northerners were concerned, the South was filled with them.
The truth is that only about three or four percent of the white population in the South at the time owned even a single slave. And less than five percent of those who did own slaves owned more than one.
So, of all the tens of thousands of African slaves residing in the Antebellum South, a mere fraction of the white population owned them. The rest of the South was made up predominantly of poor white farmers, who unfortunately bought into the propaganda of secessionist firebrands that the North was meaning to come down and lead a slave revolt, and then seize the land. They believed their small tracts of dirt were threatened to be bought out from under them or taken over by force by zealous, money-grubbing Yankees. They also feared a large, angry slave uprising that threatened their lives, as well as a vast, blue army marching through the South, across their fields, and burning everything in sight; all in an effort to subjugate the South and force it to do the North's will.
Thusly, why so many poor white farmers turned out in droves to serve their state militias and the Confederate Army.
And the fact is, a great many Northern soldiers turned out in service to their state militias, too. Service to one's state at the time was a greater calling than service to one's country. Most people never ventured beyond the county of their birth, so their communities were literally filled with family and friends. The state in which they lived meant more to them than just political borders and boundaries; a state represented a person's home, one which contained everything important to that person.
So, a large part of my decision to join the Confederate ranks had to do with understanding the point of view of my Southern ancestors.
I'm also sympathetic to the states' rights argument, because the period banner really referred to individual rights more than state government rights. This is evidenced by the language of the Tenth Amendment to the United States Constitution, which says, "The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people." The people, in other words, were commensurate with the states.
Former U.S. Senator and statesman John C. Calhoun of South Carolina insisted that the federal government recognize southerners' rights to private property, which is guaranteed in both the Fourth and Fifth Amendments to the Constitution. He and others rallying around the states' rights banner insisted that federal efforts to ban slavery in the new territories west of the Mississippi River were unconstitutional, because they were deliberate attempts to prevent southern slaveowners from expanding and settling in the new west with their property. Such federal restrictions, then, violated the constitutional rights of southern slaveholders and, ultimately, discriminated against the South, in general.
But, where things went sour for the South, in my opinion, was basing a states' rights argument on protecting the morally depraved institution of slavery.
And that is where I part ways with the South, too.
I can confidently serve as a Confederate, knowing that I fight for my home, my piece of ground, my loved ones, pride in my state, and for my Constitutional property rights, because that is what most Confederate soldiers fought for.
They weren't fighting individually to preserve slavery. In fact, most commoners were either indifferent to the institution or else resented it.
Having said all of this, I cannot say with certainty that I would have fought for the South had I lived back in the time of the Civil War.
In all likelihood, I would have; but I also have ancestors who traveled with the Lincolns from Kentucky to Illinois. And some of them wore blue.
I think if I had been alive during the 1850s or 60s and living in Illinois, I would have most assuredly sided with the Union. Why? Mostly because my state was part of the Union, and my family lived there.
I would have been fighting for much the same reasons that the common, average Southerner was fighting for; just on opposite sides of the Mason-Dixon Line.
When I think about the question of "which side," I honestly have to give two different answers. The first, what side would I choose now, with 20/20 hindsight? And the second, what side would I have chosen had I lived back then?
Well, I've already answered the latter, which would have depended on where I was born and raised at the time.
As far as the former, my honest answer is both.
Had slavery been the reason why individual Southerners chose to take up arms against other American brethren, then I could not in good conscience side with the Confederacy today. I am an abolitionist at heart; but not necessarily a Yankee.
Knowing what I do about the Civil War, I am as proud to call myself a Confederate as I am to call myself a Unionist.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Five reasons why the Union won
The American Civil War was perhaps the single, most pivotal period in our nation's history. There was a lot at stake: from slavery to individual sovereignty to the Republic itself.
Although I've come to understand and even appreciate the Confederate point of view, I truly believe that the Union's preservation was Divine Providence.
The Union was victorious because God wanted to preserve it for His glory. He had bigger, grander and more divine plans for the United States of America, requiring her to remain "One Nation Under God" instead of several.
I've determined that the Union's triumph was nothing short of God's Will. And below I've given five reasons why I think the Union was poised for victory.
1. Bigger was better.
This is not always the case, of course, and the South very nearly proved this axiom wrong. The American Colonies certainly debunked that assumption by defeating the mightiest army in the world and winning their independence from the world's most powerful empire 80 years earlier.
But, in the end, the North was bigger and stronger. In a war of attrition, the weaker foe usually succumbs first. The armies of the United States were routinely bigger by a sizable margin than their Confederate counterparts in either theater of the war. The Union's Army of the Potomac quite often outnumbered the Army of Northern Virginia by a 2:1 and sometimes 3:1 ratio. In a shortened war, the odds were fairly even, because the Confederates made up in spirit and heart what they may have lacked in numbers.
But the longer the war dragged on, the less likely the South was to outlast the North. What started to be a war of ideas eventually became a war of attrition that the Confederacy was not equipped to win.
2. He who had the most toys won.
Not only was the Confederacy grossly out-manned and outnumbered, but it was vastly out-supplied, too. Where the North was becoming an industrial giant, the South remained agrarian.
Factories up North churned out goods that kept the Union Army well supplied and stocked. This became crucial once Gen. Grant took over command of the Army of the Potomac.
At Petersburg, he simply waited out the remainder of the war. He did to Lee what he had done to Vicksburg in 1863: He laid siege to it and waited for the enemy to surrender from attrition.
The Union could afford to do this because of the vast wealth of industry it had access to in the North.
The South, on the other hand, had virtually no industry apart from agriculture, so it could ill afford a single defeat after Gettysburg.
In fact, by late 1864, during Grant's siege of Petersburg, the Confederate ranks were shrinking swiftly due to starvation. Union Gen. Phillip Sheridan had cut off the Confederacy's bread basket in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia; a Union naval blockade had been in place since the beginning of the war, bottling up every major Confederate port and preventing large amounts of imported goods from getting into Confederate hands; and the Union seized control of the Mississippi River after the fall of Vicksburg, effectively cutting the Confederacy off from supplies in the West.
Moreover, the South could not afford to even keep its soldiers properly shod, much less clothed. A great many Confederate foot soldiers marched without shoes, a microcosm of a greater supply shortage problem.
3. Double trouble.
Many Civil War historians will agree that Gettysburg proved to be the pivotal engagement of the war. Leading up to that battle, the Army of Northern Virginia had been bolstered by routes of the Union at Fredericksburg the previous winter and Chancellorsville that spring. Gen. Lee inspired substantial confidence in the Confederate army and he led them on an ambitious northern advance into Union territory. Had things gone differently for Robert E. Lee and the Army of Northern Virginia at Gettysburg, there's no telling how much longer the war would have lasted and if we would still be a divided country today.
As it is, the Confederates lost the Battle of Gettysburg, handing the Union a much needed shot in the arm, both for morale of the troops and support from the American public.
But while Gettysburg was arguably the fulcrum point of the war, the fact that a Union victory there coincided with a victory at Vicksburg in the West at exactly the same time made the Confederate losses all the more significant.
Not only had the Confederate army shown its own mortality at Gettysburg, but with the fall of Vicksburg came the loss of the Mississippi River as a means for transporting supplies from Texas to the rest of the Confederacy, which suddenly found itself cut off.
Vicksburg proved to be the South's undoing much more so than Gettysburg, because its loss meant a loss of supplies, putting the Confederacy at an even greater disadvantage in a war of attrition.
So, Gettysburg and Vicksburg were double blows to the Confederacy, and also double victories for the Union. After July 1863, the South became twice as weak as it had been before, and the North twice as strong.
4. Grant.
Up until Gettysburg, Union victories in the eastern theater were sparse to none. While in the West, the Union army under the command of Gen. Ulysses S. Grant had already notched significant victories at Fort Donelson and Shiloh. Then came Vicksburg at the same time as Gettysburg.
Behind virtually every major Union victory was the man affectionately called Sam Grant. He was the reason that the Army of the Potomac kept on fighting in the east, in spite of itself.
If not for the victories in the West, the Union's morale would have plunged to such depths that a cease fire may have been imminent simply because the North's heart was no longer in the fight.
But Grant kept the North going.
And he not only kept it going after assuming command of the Army of the Potomac in 1864, but he also gave it ultimate victory.
Lieutenant General Grant, as general-in-chief of the entire Union Army, along with Lt. Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman, Grant's subordinate and commander of the Union Army of Tennessee, formed a vice that squeezed the Confederacy to death.
Upon the subjugation of the Mississippi River in 1863, Union forces were able to move gradually inland and east through Tennessee. By Christmas of 1864, Sherman had marched, burned and sacked his way through Atlanta, Georgia, and to the edge of the continent at Savannah.
His (in)famous "march to the sea" successfully cut the Confederacy further in half. (This had first been done a year earlier with the fall of Vicksburg, which cut Texas off from the rest of the South.)
Sherman was then able to march northward, chasing the forces of Gen. Joseph E. Johnston, in an effort to link up with Grant in Virginia and squeeze the Confederate Army into submission.
For his part, Confederate Lt. Gen. Robert E. Lee had gotten used to the soft commanders of the Army of the Potomac. He could always count on them running with their tails between their legs when he'd out-foxed them. Time and again, Lee outsmarted his counterparts in blue.
But everything changed once Grant took command in the East.
Suddenly, the Union wasn't running away to lick its wounds as it had before. Instead, it continued to press and pursue Lee like a hungry predator, wearing down its prey until it was too tired to run anymore.
And that's exactly what happened after the siege at Petersburg. The Army of Northern Virginia had simply run out of steam. It was out of fuel and unable to run anymore.
Grant didn't outsmart Lee as his predecessors had tried to do; he simply outlasted him.
5. The moral edge.
Even a Southern-sympathizing historian like myself must admit that when it came to moral superiority, the South dropped the ball big time. It unwisely chose to base its states' rights argument on the morally depraved institution of slavery. The South was right to insist on states' rights (i.e., namely individual property rights) as guaranteed by the United States Constitution and to stand against efforts to deny those rights to Southerners. But it was wrong to defend slavery, not only because it made the South's arguments for freedom lack credibility, but also because slavery represented the very antithesis of liberty itself. To propagate slavery was to violate the very premise agreed upon by America's founders: The self-evident truth that God created all men equal to pursue life, liberty and happiness.
If the Confederacy hadn't been controlled and ultimately run by the plantation aristocracy, but rather by common Southern Americans, then it might have had a real chance of succeeding.
But the ugly reality is that slavery held the South back in the moral, social and economic dark ages. It prevented the Confederacy from diversifying and expanding its industries, all because of a few wealthy plantation aristocrats who owned or controlled the vast majority of lands in the South. And they weren't giving up their lands for progress; no way, no how.
Consequently, the South's stubborn hold on slavery was its ultimate undoing. Maintaining slave labor prevented the Confederacy from being able to compete with the North in manufacturing and production by discouraging the diversification of industries. But most of all, slavery ended up vilifying the South for generations afterward as it found itself on the losing end of a moral battle of wills.
Although I've come to understand and even appreciate the Confederate point of view, I truly believe that the Union's preservation was Divine Providence.
The Union was victorious because God wanted to preserve it for His glory. He had bigger, grander and more divine plans for the United States of America, requiring her to remain "One Nation Under God" instead of several.
I've determined that the Union's triumph was nothing short of God's Will. And below I've given five reasons why I think the Union was poised for victory.
1. Bigger was better.
This is not always the case, of course, and the South very nearly proved this axiom wrong. The American Colonies certainly debunked that assumption by defeating the mightiest army in the world and winning their independence from the world's most powerful empire 80 years earlier.
But, in the end, the North was bigger and stronger. In a war of attrition, the weaker foe usually succumbs first. The armies of the United States were routinely bigger by a sizable margin than their Confederate counterparts in either theater of the war. The Union's Army of the Potomac quite often outnumbered the Army of Northern Virginia by a 2:1 and sometimes 3:1 ratio. In a shortened war, the odds were fairly even, because the Confederates made up in spirit and heart what they may have lacked in numbers.
But the longer the war dragged on, the less likely the South was to outlast the North. What started to be a war of ideas eventually became a war of attrition that the Confederacy was not equipped to win.
2. He who had the most toys won.
Not only was the Confederacy grossly out-manned and outnumbered, but it was vastly out-supplied, too. Where the North was becoming an industrial giant, the South remained agrarian.
Factories up North churned out goods that kept the Union Army well supplied and stocked. This became crucial once Gen. Grant took over command of the Army of the Potomac.
At Petersburg, he simply waited out the remainder of the war. He did to Lee what he had done to Vicksburg in 1863: He laid siege to it and waited for the enemy to surrender from attrition.
The Union could afford to do this because of the vast wealth of industry it had access to in the North.
The South, on the other hand, had virtually no industry apart from agriculture, so it could ill afford a single defeat after Gettysburg.
In fact, by late 1864, during Grant's siege of Petersburg, the Confederate ranks were shrinking swiftly due to starvation. Union Gen. Phillip Sheridan had cut off the Confederacy's bread basket in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia; a Union naval blockade had been in place since the beginning of the war, bottling up every major Confederate port and preventing large amounts of imported goods from getting into Confederate hands; and the Union seized control of the Mississippi River after the fall of Vicksburg, effectively cutting the Confederacy off from supplies in the West.
Moreover, the South could not afford to even keep its soldiers properly shod, much less clothed. A great many Confederate foot soldiers marched without shoes, a microcosm of a greater supply shortage problem.
3. Double trouble.
Many Civil War historians will agree that Gettysburg proved to be the pivotal engagement of the war. Leading up to that battle, the Army of Northern Virginia had been bolstered by routes of the Union at Fredericksburg the previous winter and Chancellorsville that spring. Gen. Lee inspired substantial confidence in the Confederate army and he led them on an ambitious northern advance into Union territory. Had things gone differently for Robert E. Lee and the Army of Northern Virginia at Gettysburg, there's no telling how much longer the war would have lasted and if we would still be a divided country today.
As it is, the Confederates lost the Battle of Gettysburg, handing the Union a much needed shot in the arm, both for morale of the troops and support from the American public.
But while Gettysburg was arguably the fulcrum point of the war, the fact that a Union victory there coincided with a victory at Vicksburg in the West at exactly the same time made the Confederate losses all the more significant.
Not only had the Confederate army shown its own mortality at Gettysburg, but with the fall of Vicksburg came the loss of the Mississippi River as a means for transporting supplies from Texas to the rest of the Confederacy, which suddenly found itself cut off.
Vicksburg proved to be the South's undoing much more so than Gettysburg, because its loss meant a loss of supplies, putting the Confederacy at an even greater disadvantage in a war of attrition.
So, Gettysburg and Vicksburg were double blows to the Confederacy, and also double victories for the Union. After July 1863, the South became twice as weak as it had been before, and the North twice as strong.
4. Grant.
Up until Gettysburg, Union victories in the eastern theater were sparse to none. While in the West, the Union army under the command of Gen. Ulysses S. Grant had already notched significant victories at Fort Donelson and Shiloh. Then came Vicksburg at the same time as Gettysburg.
Behind virtually every major Union victory was the man affectionately called Sam Grant. He was the reason that the Army of the Potomac kept on fighting in the east, in spite of itself.
If not for the victories in the West, the Union's morale would have plunged to such depths that a cease fire may have been imminent simply because the North's heart was no longer in the fight.
But Grant kept the North going.
And he not only kept it going after assuming command of the Army of the Potomac in 1864, but he also gave it ultimate victory.
Lieutenant General Grant, as general-in-chief of the entire Union Army, along with Lt. Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman, Grant's subordinate and commander of the Union Army of Tennessee, formed a vice that squeezed the Confederacy to death.
Upon the subjugation of the Mississippi River in 1863, Union forces were able to move gradually inland and east through Tennessee. By Christmas of 1864, Sherman had marched, burned and sacked his way through Atlanta, Georgia, and to the edge of the continent at Savannah.
His (in)famous "march to the sea" successfully cut the Confederacy further in half. (This had first been done a year earlier with the fall of Vicksburg, which cut Texas off from the rest of the South.)
Sherman was then able to march northward, chasing the forces of Gen. Joseph E. Johnston, in an effort to link up with Grant in Virginia and squeeze the Confederate Army into submission.
For his part, Confederate Lt. Gen. Robert E. Lee had gotten used to the soft commanders of the Army of the Potomac. He could always count on them running with their tails between their legs when he'd out-foxed them. Time and again, Lee outsmarted his counterparts in blue.
But everything changed once Grant took command in the East.
Suddenly, the Union wasn't running away to lick its wounds as it had before. Instead, it continued to press and pursue Lee like a hungry predator, wearing down its prey until it was too tired to run anymore.
And that's exactly what happened after the siege at Petersburg. The Army of Northern Virginia had simply run out of steam. It was out of fuel and unable to run anymore.
Grant didn't outsmart Lee as his predecessors had tried to do; he simply outlasted him.
5. The moral edge.
Even a Southern-sympathizing historian like myself must admit that when it came to moral superiority, the South dropped the ball big time. It unwisely chose to base its states' rights argument on the morally depraved institution of slavery. The South was right to insist on states' rights (i.e., namely individual property rights) as guaranteed by the United States Constitution and to stand against efforts to deny those rights to Southerners. But it was wrong to defend slavery, not only because it made the South's arguments for freedom lack credibility, but also because slavery represented the very antithesis of liberty itself. To propagate slavery was to violate the very premise agreed upon by America's founders: The self-evident truth that God created all men equal to pursue life, liberty and happiness.
If the Confederacy hadn't been controlled and ultimately run by the plantation aristocracy, but rather by common Southern Americans, then it might have had a real chance of succeeding.
But the ugly reality is that slavery held the South back in the moral, social and economic dark ages. It prevented the Confederacy from diversifying and expanding its industries, all because of a few wealthy plantation aristocrats who owned or controlled the vast majority of lands in the South. And they weren't giving up their lands for progress; no way, no how.
Consequently, the South's stubborn hold on slavery was its ultimate undoing. Maintaining slave labor prevented the Confederacy from being able to compete with the North in manufacturing and production by discouraging the diversification of industries. But most of all, slavery ended up vilifying the South for generations afterward as it found itself on the losing end of a moral battle of wills.
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