Richmond, Virginia
October 1863
Jefferson Davis was frowning, brow furrowed, gaze distant. It was a look that came easily to him. He didn’t like hosting meetings in which the outcome was in doubt, and he was about to host such a meeting.
A quick look at his enormous clock and Davis noted that his guest was late. But he was coming from the field, and there had been rain, and you never knew about the roads in autumn.
A knock at the office door, and an aide announced, “General Longstreet.”
Davis rose from his chair and greeted the general warmly.
“General Longstreet. Pete. Thank you for coming and congratulations on the grand victory at Gettysburg. Your Corps delivered the blow. Please sit.”
Longstreet scowled as he took his seat. “As you might guess, Mr. President, I advised General Lee against the assault on Cemetery Ridge. I recommended that we wheel south and threaten Washington. But the general was determined. And against all odds George—General Pickett—took that hill and damn near destroyed an entire corps. If we had followed up, you and I would be having this meeting in Mr. Lincoln’s office.”
That’s Pete. Never bask in success when you can blame someone for failure, thought Davis. It was Davis’ decision to let Meade escape, and to bring Lee’s army back to its current location between Washington City and Richmond, and Longstreet knew it. I’m the strategist, thought Davis, and you sir, follow orders. This isn’t a war of conquest. It’s a battle for survival.
Davis examined his old friend and found him unchanged. Dressed for the field, comfortable, direct, bordering on sullen. But unfettered by the manners and style that weighed so heavily on many of his comrades, including Robert E. Lee.
“General, I’m sure you know why I asked you to come this morning. General Lee has decided, on his own accord, to, uh, to end his service as commander of the Army of Northern Virginia. He has recommended that you succeed him, and I can think of no man more able to do so than you. I would like to offer you command of the Army, and I would implore you to accept.”
Longstreet, legs crossed, had seemingly been staring out the window as Davis spoke. He seemed in no hurry to answer, and in fact it wasn’t clear to Davis that he’d been listening.
“General.”
“Mr. President, the only man who can replace General Lee, in terms of audacity and tactical genius, and in terms of inspiring the men, is General Jackson. I understand he has nearly recovered from the wound he received at Chancellorsville. And, if I may, we both know what the public reaction will be if I’m named as Lee’s replacement. You won’t have that problem with Jackson. The public can’t get enough of him. Maybe if I had a nickname other than ‘Pete.’ And if not Jackson, George Pickett. The man of the hour. How he got his men up that damn hill I can’t explain.”
Davis pondered. Longstreet and Pickett. Dear friends. But Pickett last in his class at West Point, Longstreet three from the bottom. Is there an inverse relationship between academic and martial success? A question for another time. Well, General Lee would certainly never joke in a situation like this.
Davis had made up his mind. If the times ever called for another invasion of the north, Jackson might be the man. Pickett? Never. But for defending Richmond and the territorial integrity of the Confederacy, Longstreet was by far the best choice. There’s no point in being president if you can’t give orders.
“General, we all look forward to General Jackson’s full recovery, which will indeed excite the public. And I am certain you will make full use of his considerable talents upon his return to the Army. And perhaps General Pickett is ready for command of a corps. But General, I will this afternoon sign the order designating you general in chief of the Army of Northern Virginia. You will have full authority to choose your corps and division commanders. I very much look forward to our close consultation and cooperation on matters regarding the strategic deployment of troops. And General, would you please read this letter from Prime Minister Palmerston, which lays out the terms under which Britain has joined our cause.”
Longstreet was still staring out the window as Davis offered the letter.