Eighteen Hundred and Sixty-three—A Popular Prophecy—Gen. Burnside relieved and Gen. Hooker appointed—Battle of Chancellorsville—The Rebels invade Pennsylvania—Battle of Gettysburg—Lincoln’s Speech at Gettysburg—Grant takes Vicksburg—Port Hudson—Battle of Chattanooga—New York Riots—The French in Mexico—Troubles in Missouri.

There was, during the rebellion, a popular rhyme declaring that “In Sixty-one, the war begun; in Sixty-two, we’ll put it through; in Sixty-three, the nigger’ll be free; in Sixty-four, the war’ll be o’er—and Johnny come marching home.” The predictions were substantially fulfilled. On January 1st, 1863, nearly 4,000,000 slaves who had been merchandise became men in the sight of the law, and the war, having been literally “put through” with great energy, was beginning to promise a definite success to the Federal cause. But the Union owed this advance less to its own energy than to the great-hearted, patient, and honest man who was at its head, and who was more for his country and less for himself than any one who had ever before waded through the mud of politics to so high a position. That so tender-hearted a man should have been so firm in great trials, is the more remarkable when we remember that his gentleness often interfered with justice. When the rebels, by their atrocities to the black soldiers who fell into their hands, caused him to issue an order (July 30th, 1863), declaring that “for every soldier of the United States killed in violation of the laws of war a rebel soldier shall be executed, and for every one sold into slavery a rebel soldier shall be placed at hard labour,” it seemed as if vigorous retaliation was at last to be inflicted. “But,” as Ripley and Dana state, “Mr. Lincoln’s natural tender-heartedness prevented him from ever ordering such an execution.”

Lincoln having discovered in the case of M‘Clellan that incompetent or unlucky generals could be “relieved” without endangering the country, General Burnside, after the disaster of Fredericksburg, was set aside (January 24th, 1863), and General Joseph Hooker appointed in his place to command the army of the Potomac. From the 27th of April, General Hooker advanced to Kelly’s Ford, and thence to Chancellorsville. A force under General Stoneman had succeeded in cutting the railroad in the rear of the rebels, so as to prevent their receiving reinforcements from Richmond, General Hooker intending to attack them flank and rear. On the 2nd May, he met the enemy at Chancellorsville, where, after a terrible battle, which continued with varying success for three days, he was compelled to withdraw his army to the north bank of the Rappahannock, having lost nearly 18,000 men. The rebel loss was also very large. General Stonewall Jackson was killed through an accidental shot from one of his own men. Inspired by this success, the Confederate General Lee resolved to move into the enemy’s country. On the 9th June, he advanced north-west to the valley of the Shenandoah. On the 13th, the rebel General Ewell, with a superior force, attacked and utterly defeated General Milroy at Winchester. On the 14th July, the rebel army marched into Maryland, with the intention of invading Pennsylvania. A great excitement sprung up in the North. In a few days the President issued a proclamation, calling for 120,000 troops from the states most in danger. They were promptly sent, and, in addition to these, thousands formed themselves into improvised companies and hurried off to battle—for in those days almost every man, at one time or another, had a turn at the war, the writer himself being one of those who went out in this emergency. The danger was indeed great, and had Lee been the Napoleon which his friends thought him, he might well enough have advanced to Philadelphia. That on one occasion three of his scouts came within sight of Harrisburg I am certain, having seen them with my own eyes, though no one then deemed it credible. But two years after, when I mentioned it to a wounded Confederate Colonel who had come in to receive parole in West Virginia, he laughed, and assured me that, on the day of which I spoke, three of his men returned, boasting that they had been in sight of Harrisburg, but that, till he heard my story, he had never believed them. And this was confirmed by another Confederate officer who was with him. On the evening of that day on which I saw the scouts, there was a small skirmish at Sporting Hill, six miles south of Harrisburg, in which two guns from the artillery company to which I belonged took part, and this was, I believe, the only fighting which took place so far north during the war.

And now there came on the great battle of Gettysburg, which proved to be the turning-point of the whole conflict between North and South. For our army, as soon as the rebels advanced north, advanced with them, and when they reached Hagerstown, Maryland, the Federal headquarters were at Frederick City, our whole force, as Raymond states, being thus interposed between the rebels and Baltimore and Washington. On that day, General Hooker was relieved from command of the army, and General Meade appointed in his place. This was a true-hearted, loyal soldier and gallant gentleman, but by no means hating the rebels so much at heart as to wish to “improve them all away from the face of the earth,” as General Birney and others of the sterner sort would have gladly done. General Meade at once marched towards Harrisburg, upon which the enemy was also advancing. On the 1st July, Generals Howard and Reynolds engaged the Confederates near Gettysburg, but the foe being strongly posted, and superior in numbers, compelled General Howard to fall back to Cemetery Hill, around which all the corps of the Union army soon gathered. About three o’clock, July 2nd, the rebels came down in terrible force and with great fury upon the 3rd Corps, commanded by General Sickles, who soon had his leg shot off. As the corps seemed lost, General Birney, who succeeded him, was urged to fall back, but he, as one who knew no fear—being a grim fanatic—held his ground with the most desperate bravery till reinforced by the 1st and 6th Corps. The roar of the cannon in this battle was like the sound of a hundred thunderstorms, when, at one o’clock on the 3rd July, the enemy opened an artillery fire on us from 150 guns for two hours, we replying with 100; and I have been assured that, on this occasion, the wild rabbits, losing all fear of man in their greater terror at this horrid noise, ran for shelter, and leaped into the bosoms of the gunners. Now the battle raged terribly, as it did the day before, when General Wadsworth, of New York, went into fight with nearly 2000 men and came out with 700. Hancock was badly wounded. The rebels fought up to the muzzles of our guns, and killed the artillery horses, as many can well remember. And the fight was hand-to-hand when Sedgwick came up with his New Yorkers, who, though they had marched thirty-two miles in seventeen hours, dashed in desperately, hurrahing as if it were the greatest frolic in the world. And this turned the fight. The rebel Ewell now attacked the right, which had been weakened to support the centre, and the fighting became terrible; but the 1st and 6th again came to the rescue, and drove them back, leaving great heaps of dead. Of all the soldiers I ever found these New Yorkers the most courteous in camp and the gayest under privations or in battle. On the 4th July, General Slocum made an attack at daybreak on Ewell, who commanded Stonewall Jackson’s men, but Ewell, after a desperate resistance, was at length beaten.

The victory was complete, but terrible. On the Union side were 23,000 killed, wounded, and missing, and the losses of the rebels were even greater, General Lee leaving in our hands 13,621 prisoners. Lee was crushed, but General Meade, in the words of Arnold, “made no vigorous pursuit. Had Sheridan or Grant commanded in place of Meade, Lee’s army would never have recrossed the Potomac.” It is said that President Lincoln was greatly grieved at this oversight, and once, when asked if at any time the war might have been sooner terminated by better management, he replied, “Yes, at Malvern Hill, where M‘Clellan failed to command an immediate advance upon Richmond; at Chancellorsville, when Hooker failed to reinforce Sedgwick; and at Gettysburg, when Meade failed to attack Lee in his retreat at the bend of the Potomac.”

It is said that General Meade did not know, until long after Lee had crossed (July 14th, 1863), or late in the morning, that he had done so. Now I knew, as did all with me, at two o’clock the day before (July 13th), when General Lee would cross. We knew that we could not borrow an axe from any country house, because the rebels had taken them all to make their bridge with; for I myself went to several for an axe, and could not get one. During the night, I was awake on guard within a mile or very little more of the crossing, and could hear the thunder and rattle of the rebel ambulances and caissons in headlong haste, and the groans of the wounded, to whom the rebels gave little care. If General Meade knew nothing of all this, there were hundreds in his army who did. But the truth is, that as General Meade was one who would never strike a man when he was down, so, in the entire chivalry of his nature, he would not pursue a flying and conquered foe. This was to be expected from one who was the Sidney of our war, and yet it was but mistaken policy for an enemy which wore ornaments made of the bones of Federal soldiers, whose women abused prisoners, and whose programme, published before the war began, advocated the shooting of pickets. Such a foe requires a Cromwell, and in Grant they got him.

During this summer of 1863, a part of the battle-field was bought by the State of Pennsylvania, and kept for a burial-ground for those who had fallen in the fight. On November 19th, 1863, it was duly consecrated with solemn ceremonies, on which occasion President Lincoln made a brief address, which has been thought, perhaps not without reason, to be the finest ever delivered on such an occasion.

“Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that the nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate—we cannot consecrate—we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus so far nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honoured dead we take increased devotion to the cause for which they here gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that the dead shall not have died in vain—that the nation shall, under God, have a new birth of freedom—and that the Government of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

These simple yet grand words greatly moved his hearers, and among the thousands could be heard sobs and broken cheers. On this occasion, Edward Everett, “New England’s most polished and graceful orator,” also spoke. And this was the difference between them—that while Everett made those present think only of him living in their admiration of his art, the listeners forgot Lincoln, and wept in thinking of the dead. But it is to Mr. Everett’s credit that on this occasion, speaking to the President, he said, “Ah! Mr. Lincoln, how gladly would I exchange my hundred pages to have been the author of your twenty lines.”

Meanwhile, the army of the West had been far from idle. The great Mississippi, whose arms reach to sixteen states, was held by the rebels, who thus imprisoned the North-West. Those who ask why the Confederacy was not allowed to withdraw in peace, need only look at the map of North America for an answer. And to President Lincoln belongs specially the credit of having planned the great campaign which freed the Mississippi. He was constantly busy with it; “his room,” says Arnold, “was ever full of maps and plans; he marked upon them every movement, and no subordinate was at all times so completely a master of the situation.” He soon appreciated the admirable qualities of the unflinching Grant, and determined that he should lead this decisive campaign in the West. General Grant had many enemies, and some of them accused him of habits of intemperance. To one of these, endeavouring to thus injure the credit of the General, President Lincoln said, “Does Grant get drunk?” “They say so,” was the reply. “Are you quite sure he gets drunk?” “Quite.” There was a pause, which the President broke by gravely exclaiming, “I wonder where he buys his whiskey!” “And why do you want to know?” was the astonished answer. “Because if I did,” replied Mr. Lincoln, “I’d send a barrel or two of it round to some other Generals I know of.”

In January, 1863, Generals M‘Clernand and Sherman, commanding the army of the Mississippi, acting with the fleet under command of Admiral Porter, captured Arkansas Post, with 7000 prisoners and many cannon. On the 2nd February, General Grant arrived near Vicksburg. His object was to get his army below and behind this city, and the difficulties in the way were enormous, as the whole vicinity of the place “was a network of bayous, lakes, marshes, and old channels of streams.” For weeks the untiring Grant was baffled in his efforts to cut a channel or find a passage, so as to approach the city from the ridge in the rear. He was, as Washburne said, “terribly in earnest.” He had neither horse, nor servant, nor camp chest, nor for days even a blanket. He fared like the commonest soldier under his command, partaking the same rations, and sleeping on the ground under the stars. After many failures, the General, “with a persistence which has marked his whole career, conceived a plan without parallel in military history for its boldness and daring.” This was briefly to march his army to a point below Vicksburg, “then to run the bristling batteries of that rebel Gibraltar, exposed to its hundreds of heavy guns, with his transports, and then to cross the Mississippi below Vicksburg, and, returning, attack that city in the rear.” The crews of the very frail Mississippi steamboats, aware of the danger, with one exception, refused to go. But when Grant called for volunteers, there came from his army such numbers of pilots, engineers, firemen, and deck-hands, that he had to select by lot those who were to sail on this forlorn hope. And they pressed into the desperate undertaking with such earnestness, that great numbers offered all their money for a chance in this lottery of death, as much as 100 dollars in United States currency being offered and refused by those who had had the luck to get what seemed to be a certainty to lose their lives. And these men truly rode into the jaws of death, believing long beforehand that there was very little hope for any one to live. Into the night they sailed in dead silence, and then, abreast of the city, there came from the batteries such a blaze of fire and such a roar of artillery as had seldom been seen or heard in the war. The gunboats fired directly on the city; the transports went on at full speed, and the troops were landed. But this was only the first step in a tremendous drama. The battle at the taking of Fort Gibson was the next. Now Grant found himself in the enemy’s country, between two fortified cities, with two armies, greatly his superior in numbers, against him. Then followed battle after battle, and “rapid marches, brilliant with gallant charges and deeds of heroic valour, winning victories in quick succession—at Raymond on the 12th, at Jackson the capital of Mississippi on the 14th, at Baker’s Creek on the 16th, at Big Block River on the 17th, and finally closing with driving the enemy into Vicksburg, and completely investing the city.” The whole South was in terror, and Jefferson Davis sent messages far and wide, imploring every rebel to hasten to Vicksburg. It was all in vain. After desperately assaulting the city without success, Grant resolved on a regular siege. “Then, with tireless energy, with sleepless vigilance night and day, with battery and rifle, with trench and mine, the army made its approaches, until the enemy, worn out with fatigue, exhausted of food and ammunition, and driven to despair, finally laid down their arms,” Grant sternly refusing, as was his wont, any terms to the conquered. By this capture, with its accompanying engagements, the rebels lost 37,000 prisoners and 10,000 killed and wounded. The joy which this victory excited all through the Union was beyond description. President Lincoln wrote to General Grant a letter which was creditable to his heart. In it he frankly confessed that Grant had understood certain details better than himself. “I wish to make personal acknowledgment,” he said, “that you were right and I was wrong.”

In this war the rebels set the example of greatly encouraging irregular cavalry and guerillas, having always an idea that the Northern army would be exterminated in detail by sharp-shooters, and cut to pieces with bowie-knives. This, more than any other cause, led to their own ruin, for all such troops in a short time became mere brigands, preying on friends as well as foes. On both sides there were dashing raids, and at first the rebels, having better cavalry, had the best of it. But as the war went on, there were great changes. Cavalry soldiers from horses often came to mules, or even down to their own legs; while infantry, learning that riding was easier than walking, and horse-stealing as easy as either, transformed themselves into cavalry, without reporting the change to the general in command, and if they had done so, the chances are ten to one he and all his staff would have been found mounted on just such unpaid-for steeds. If the rebels Ashley, Morgan, and Stewart set fine examples in raiding, they were soon outdone by Phil Sheridan and Kilpatrick—who was as good an orator as soldier, and who once, when surprised by the rebels, fought and won a battle in his shirt—or Custer and Grierson, Dahlgren and Pleasanton. Of this raiding and robbing it may be truly said that, while the South taught the trick, it did, after all, but nibble at the edges of the Northern cake, while the Federals sliced theirs straight through.

General Banks, who had succeeded General Butler in the Department of the Gulf, invested Port Hudson. The siege lasted until May 8th, and during the attack, the black soldiers, who had been slaves, fought with desperate courage, showing no fear whatever. In America we had been so accustomed to deny all manliness to the negro, that few believed him capable of fighting, though many thought otherwise near Nashville in 1864, when they saw whole platoons of black soldiers lying dead in regular rows, just as they had been shot down facing the enemy. Even the common soldiers opposed the use of black troops, until the idea rose slowly on their minds that a negro was not only as easy to hit as a white man, but much more likely to attract a bullet from the chivalry. As I once heard a soldier say, “I used to be opposed to having black troops, but yesterday, when I saw ten cart-loads of dead niggers carried off the field, I thought it better they should be killed than I.” Of this tender philanthropy, which was willing to let the negro buy a place in the social scale at the expense of his life, there was a great deal in the army, especially among the Union-men of the South-West, who, while brave as lions or grizzly bears, were yet prudent as prairie-dogs, as all true soldiers should be. This charge of the Black Regiment at Port Hudson was made the subject of a poem by George H. Boker, which became known all over the country.

On the 9th July, Port Hudson surrendered to General Banks, yielding over 5000 prisoners and fifty pieces of artillery. And now, from the land of snow to the land of flowers, the whole length of the Mississippi was once more beneath the old flag, and free.

Meanwhile, there was hard fighting in Tennessee. After a battle at Murfreesboro’, and the seizure of that place, the Union General Rosencranz (January 5th, 1863) remained quiet, till, in June, he compelled General Bragg to retreat across the Cumberland Mountains to Chattanooga. By skilful management, he compelled the Confederates to evacuate this town. They had thus been skilfully drawn from East Tennessee, which was occupied by General Burnside. Both Rosencranz and the rebel Bragg were now largely reinforced, the former by General Hooker. At Vicksburg, Grant had taken 37,000 prisoners, which he had set free on parole, on condition that they should not fight again during the war; but these men were promptly sent to reinforce Bragg. September 19, these opposing forces began the battle of Chicamauga, in which the Union troops achieved a dearly-bought victory, though the enemy retreated by night. The Federal loss was 16,351 killed, wounded, and missing; that of the rebels, as stated in their return, was 18,000.

October 19th, 1863, General Grant assumed full command of the Departments of Tennessee, the Cumberland, and Ohio, Thomas holding under him the first, and Sherman the second. After the desperate battle of Chicamauga, Thomas followed Rosencranz to Chattanooga, and the rebels invested the place. In October, Rosencranz was relieved. Grant arrived on the 18th, and found the enemy occupying the steep and rocky Missionary Ridge and Lookout Mountain, on whose summit they sat like eagles. Grant had under him General Thomas, the invincible Sheridan, Hooker—who, as a hard-fighting corps-commander, was without an equal—Howard and Blair. This battle of Chattanooga, in which the Union army charged with irresistible strength, and the storming of Lookout Mountain, formed, as has been said, the most dramatic scene of the war. There was desperate fighting above the clouds, and advancing through the mist, made denser by the smoke of thousands of guns. The Union loss in this battle was 5286 killed and wounded, and 330 missing; that of the Confederates about the same, but losing in prisoners 6242, with forty cannon. Thus Tennessee was entirely taken, in gratitude for which President Lincoln issued a proclamation, appointing a day of thanksgiving for this great victory.

In the July of this year, John Morgan, the guerilla, made a raid, with 4000 men, into Ohio—not to fight, but to rob, burn, and murder. He did much damage; but before he could recross the river, his men were utterly routed, and the pious Colonel Shackelford announced in a despatch, “By the blessing of Almighty God, I have succeeded in capturing General John Morgan, Colonel Chike, and the remainder of the command.” President Lincoln, when informed soon after of the death of this cruel brigand, said, “Well, I wouldn’t crow over anybody’s death, but I can take this as resignedly as any dispensation of Providence.”

A draft for militia had been ordered (March 3rd, 1863), and passed with little trouble, save in New York, where an immense number of the dangerous classes and foreigners of the lowest order, headed by such demagogues as Fernando Wood, sympathised with the South, and controlled the elections. There was a wise and benevolent clause in this draft, which exempted from conscription any one who would pay to Government 300 dollars. The practical result of this clause was that plenty of volunteers were always ready to go for this sum, which fixed the price of a substitute and prevented fraud; and in all the wards, the inhabitants, by making up a joint fund, were able to exempt any dweller in the ward from service, as there were always poor men enough glad to go for so much money. But in New York the mob was stirred up to believe that this was simply an exemption for the rich, and a terrible riot ensued, which was the one effort made by the Copperheads during the war to assist their Confederate friends by violence. During the four days that it lasted, the most horrible outrages were committed, chiefly upon the helpless blacks of the city, though many houses belonging to prominent Union-men were burned or sacked. As all the troops had been sent away to defend the Border and repel the rebels, there was no organised force to defend the city. After the first day the draft was forgotten, and thousands of the vilest wretches of both sexes gave themselves up simply to plunder, outrage, and murder. The mob attacked the coloured half-orphan asylum, in which nearly 800 black children were sheltered, and set fire to it, burning thirty of the children alive, and sadly abusing the rest. Insane with cruelty, they caught and killed every negro they could find. In one case, they hung a negro, and then kindled a fire under him. This riot was stirred up by rebel agents, who hoped to make a diversion in the free states in favour of their armies, and influence the elections. It did cause the weakening of the army of Meade, since many troops were promptly sent back to New York. There was also a riot in Boston, which was soon repressed. The rebels, while following out the recommendation of Jefferson Davis, had gone too far, even for his interest. He had urged pillage and incendiarism; but the Copperheads of New York found out that a mob once in motion plunders friend and foe indiscriminately. The Governor of New York, Seymour, was in a great degree responsible for all these outrages by his vigorous opposition to the draft, and by the feeble tone of his remonstrances, which suggested sympathy and encouragement for the rioters. The arrival of troops at once put a stop to the riots.

One of the most annoying entanglements of 1863 for the Government of the United States was the presence of a French army in Mexico, ostensibly to enforce the rights of French citizens there, but in reality to establish the Archduke Maximilian as its emperor. It was given out that permanent occupation was not intended; but as it became apparent to Mr. Dayton, our Minister at Paris, that the French actually had in view a kingdom in Mexico, and as it had always been an understood principle of American diplomacy that the United States would avoid meddling in European affairs, on condition that no European Government should set up a kingdom on our continent, the position of our Administration was thus manifested—

“The United States have neither the right nor the disposition to intervene by force on either side in the lamentable war which is going on between France and Mexico. On the contrary, they practise, in regard to Mexico, in every phase of that war, the non-intervention which they require all foreign powers to observe in regard to the United States. But, notwithstanding this self-restraint, this Government knows full well that the inherent normal opinion of Mexico favours a government there, republican in its form and domestic in its organisation, in preference to any monarchical institutions to be imposed from abroad. This Government knows also that this normal opinion of the people of Mexico resulted largely from the influence of popular opinion in this country, and is continually invigorated by it. The President believes, moreover, that this popular opinion of the United States is just in itself, and eminently essential to the progress of civilisation on the American continent, which civilisation, it believes, can and will, if left free from European resistance, work harmoniously together with advancing refinement on the other continents.... Nor is it necessary to practise reserve upon the point that if France should, upon due consideration, determine to adopt a policy in Mexico adverse to the American opinion and sentiments which I have described, that policy would probably scatter seeds which would be fruitful of jealousies which might ultimately ripen into collision between France and the United States and other American republics.”

The French Government was anxious that the United States should recognise the Government of Maximilian, but its unfriendly and unsympathetic disposition towards the Federal Government was perfectly understood, and “the action of the Administration was approved of by the House of Representatives in a resolution of April 4th, 1864.”

Eighteen hundred and sixty-three had, however, much greater political trouble, the burden of which fell almost entirely on President Lincoln. The Emancipation principles were not agreeable to the most ultra Abolitionists, who were willing at one time to let the South secede rather than be linked to slavery, and who at all times, in their impatience of what was undeniably a terrible evil, regarded nothing so much as the welfare of the slaves. Time has since shown that Emancipation, which in its broad views included the interests of both white and black, was by far the wisest for both. In Missouri, these differences of opinion were fomented by certain occurrences into painful discord among the Union-men. In 1861, General Fremont, having military command of the state, proclaimed that he assumed the administrative power, thus entirely superseding the civil rulers. General Fremont, it will be remembered, also endeavoured, by freeing the slaves, to take to himself functions belonging only to the President. He, like General M‘Clellan, affected great state, and before his removal (November 2nd, 1863), was censured by the War Office for lavish and unwarranted expenditures, which was significant indeed in the most extravagantly expensive war of modern times. Fremont’s removal greatly angered his friends, especially the Germans. On the other hand, General Halleck, who succeeded General Hunter—who had been locum tenens for only a few days after Fremont’s removal—made bad worse by excluding fugitive slaves from his lines. All this was followed by dissensions between General Gamble, a gradual Emancipationist, and General Curtis, who had been placed in command (September 19th, 1863) when the states of Missouri, Kansas, and Arkansas were formed into a military district. During the summer, the Union army being withdrawn to Tennessee, Kansas and Missouri were overrun by bands of guerillas, under an infamous desperado named Colonel Quantrill, whose sole aim was robbery, murder, and outrage, and who made a speciality of burning churches. This brigand, acting under Confederate orders, thus destroyed the town of Lawrence, Kansas. For this, Government was blamed, and the dissensions grew worse. Therefore, General Curtis was removed, and General Schofield put in his place, which gave rise to so many protests, that President Lincoln, at length fairly roused, answered one of these remonstrances as follows:—

“It is very painful to me that you in Missouri can not or will not settle your factional quarrel among yourselves. I have been tormented with it beyond endurance, for months, by both sides. Neither side pays the least respect to my appeals to your reason. I am now compelled to take hold of the case.

“A. Lincoln.”

These unreasonable quarrels lasted for a long time, and were finally settled by the appointment of General Rosencranz. No fault was found with General Schofield—in fact, in his first order, General Rosencranz paid a high tribute to his predecessor, for the admirable state in which he found the business of the department. So the difficulties died. In the President’s letter to General Schofield, when appointed, he had said, “If both factions, or neither, abuse you, you will probably be about right. Beware of being assailed by one and praised by the other.” Judged by his own rule in this case, says Holland, the President was as nearly right as he could be, for both sides abused him thoroughly. It may be added that, having scolded him to their hearts’ content, and declared him to be a copy of all the Neros, Domitians, and other monsters of antiquity, the Missouri Unionists all wheeled into line and voted unanimously for him at the next Presidential election, as if nothing had happened.