When did the American Civil War end? We all learned the answer back in high school, didn’t we? April 9, 1865. Appomattox Court House in Virginia, Confederate General Robert E. Lee surrendering to US Army General Ulysses S. Grant. Even Google agrees (though it does qualify its answer by saying the war “effectively ended” on that date, adding that the “final surrender” took place in Texas on June 2). So: asked, answered, and done.
Except that as Michael Vorenberg convincingly argues in his book “Lincoln’s Peace,” identifying ‘when the Civil War ended’ is not simple at all. (I will leave it to be discussed elsewhere whether or not, as many have proposed, the Civil War never truly ended and we are fighting it still, albeit by other than military means.)
Consider some of the complicating factors: The Constitution says that only Congress has the authority to declare war. Should it be inferred from this that only Congress can declare a war ended? Can the President as Commander in Chief of US armed forces decide a war is over? Robert E. Lee knew he didn’t have the authority to end the war. He could only surrender his army. But there were many thousands of troops under the command of other Confederate generals, particularly further to the west and in Texas. Lee had no power over them at all. Most importantly, as President of the Confederacy, it was Jefferson Davis who had the sole power to say the war was over, and he sure as hell had no intention of doing so.
Lest anyone take this to be the kind of question only a historian would care about, Vorenberg opens the book with a US officer named Lewis Grant (no relation to Ulysses, though he did serve under the future president). Awarded the Congressional Medal on Honor, Lewis Grant turned down an offer of a command in the army and became a lawyer. In time he got a position as an attorney in the War Department. In 1890 — some 25 years after Appomattox— a case landed on his desk. An army veteran had been denied a pension on the grounds that he had not served in the Civil War. The vet (his name was John Barleyoung) contested the decision, arguing that the Civil War was in fact not yet over in April 1866 when he first enlisted. For Lewis Grant the claim seemed preposterous but he was a lawyer and he was dealing with a legal claim so he began to research the question — and ran into all manner of competing answers (among them, depending on which government office or document was consulted: May 1, 1865; June 2; July 22; April 2, 1866; even — according to the US Supreme Court — August 20, 1866; or maybe not). By picking one date or another, as Vorenberg put it, the War Department was “winging it”:
Barleyoung was still not going to get a pension. But that was almost beside the point. The more important thing was this: Barleyoung’s claim was not crazy. The Civil War had indeed lasted for at least a year beyond Appomattox. The evidence was everywhere, but the U.S. government, along with most Americans, had stuck with a fiction: the Civil War had ended in the spring of 1865. Grant set down his findings in a long report to his boss, Secretary of War [Redfield] Proctor. It began, ‘When did the War of the Rebellion begin, and when did it end?’ “
Vorenburg travels down a number of fascinating paths to flesh out the stories that complicate pinning down a date for the war’s end. We learn of Confederate officers and soldiers who went south in the hope of finding support from the Mexican government for a resumption of hostilities. Of President Andrew Johnson, who as time went on, moved further and further away from the vision Abraham Lincoln has for post-war Reconstruction. In May 11865, Johnson said that the rebellion had been “almost entirely overcome.” As late as December 1865 Johnson said the rebellion had been “suppressed,” while his Attorney General, James Speed, wrote in January, 1866, “though active hostilities have ceased, a state of war still exists over the territory in rebellion.” The different statements had real world consequences. For one thing, former Confederate president Jefferson Davis (who wanted to escape to Cuba and continue the war from there) was imprisoned at Fort Monroe in Virginia. Speed’s language thus made him a prisoner of war. Many in Congress wanted Davis tried as a traitor, an option not available for a POW.
And until it was decided whether the war was over or not US Army soldiers wouldn’t be mustered out. This question was dealt with in a particularly odious way: white soldiers tended to be discharged from service but Black soldiers had to stay in uniform — and were sent to Texas and elsewhere in the South where they were ambushed. (As Vorenburg notes, by September 1865, 85,000 of the 180,000 volunteers still wearing blue uniforms were Black.) In the meantime, Black men and women in the South were still whipped and killed. It was common for Union administrators in the South to forcibly return freed slaves to their former masters where they were abused as if nothing had changed.
Then there were the important matters that couldn’t be acted on until the matter was decided, like the question of when and how representatives of the former Confederate states would be permitted to take seats in Congress. Or how the Freedman Bureau would be set up, funded, and operated. Whether — and for how long — the South would be occupied. And what to do about the Native American tribes who allied themselves wit the Confederacy? Or the Union soldiers who were sent west to fight Indians while the war was still going on and well after Appomattox?
Meanwhile, the North was split between people who were just plain tired of war (and wanted their husbands/sons/brothers/uncles/employees to come back home) and those who wanted the South to be punished as severely as possible. In the South, there were angry voices who refused to concede, or made sure that surrender changed as little as possible in how they lived. As Vorenburg notes, White women in the South were particularly resistant to taking an oath of loyalty to the Federal government. One of them, for example, Kate Stone of Louisiana, refused “submission” to Yankee rule, and “Negro equality,” and wrote that she expected her comrades to join her in “a bloody unequal struggle to last we know not how long.”
All of this is part of the Civil War history that is widely and undeservedly overlooked. Engaging, clarifying, and filled with fascinating anecdotes and modern analogies, “Lincoln’s Peace” enriches our understanding of the forces that shaped and continue to shape our country even today.