I owe the discovery of this book to serendipity, as it is the result of browsing the used book shop at the public library in downtown Asheville, NC, which is just down the street from one of my favorite book stores, Malaprop’s, and which is well worth the visit to anyone with an interest in military history, as it is obvious a war buff died and his estate unloaded a fine collection onto the library shop.
As to Benjamin, I’ve long known of him as a war-long member of the Confederate cabinet, but would probably never have pursued any additional information on my own, so I am glad to have had the book jump into my hands, as it were, because it is a relatively well-balanced, well-written biography. When I say “relatively,” I mean that it contains a little too much breathless Confederate hero worship for my Tennessee scalawag tastes. Why, for example, spend so much time on Stonewall Jackson (especially the drawn-out grieving over his death) when he is entirely tangential to the story? Another peculiar aspect of the book is that Evans decided to make it a quasi-parallel biography of Benjamin and Jefferson Davis. This seems to me to be a questionable editorial decision. There are advantages in that it helps to heighten the stark contrast in talent and temperament between the two men and to inform the unique, courtier’s closeness that Benjamin had with Davis’s wife Varina, but on the other hand it drags in more Davis baggage than a Benjamin biography needs and winds up padding the book.
That said, author Evans limns a penetrating and memorable portrait of Benjamin, a brilliant lawyer as well a fascinating character who was recognized by many contemporaries, North and South, as having the sharpest mind in the Confederacy. The breadth of his legal knowledge was such that, after the war, he absconded to Great Britain where in just a few years he was a top barrister pleading in the House of Lords.
Evans is also excellent on the subject of Benjamin’s Jewishness — non-observant and probably secular, he married a Catholic woman but did not assimilate into Christianity — and on the virulent, American anti-semitism that snarled at his steps even if it did not prevent his political ascent to the US Senate (from Louisiana) and to the Confederate cabinet. The electoral component is probably best explained by the narrowness of the path to the senate, since at the time election was by the state legislature, where Benjamin’s political-machine allegiance and anti-democratic Whiggery could run a manageable deck (he was also apparently a sharp poker player).
The best reason to read a book like this, in my mind, is that it uses the words of the history makers themselves to explain their actions. In the case of the Civil War, this has the salutary effect of clarifying that the purpose of the Confederacy was to establish a republic the sine qua non of which was African-American slavery.
Two examples:
1. Benjamin’s farewell address to the US Senate, as he prepared to leave for his breakaway republic. It was in terms of public awareness a high point of his career. Varina Davis wrote that “he held his audience spellbound for over an hour.” His words foreshadow the future intransigence of the South in regards to the status of it African-Americans: “[T]he fortunes of war may be adverse to our arms, you may carry desolation into our peaceful land, and with torch and fire you may set our cities in flame … but you never can subjugate us; you never can convert the free sons of the soil into vassals, paying tribute to your power; and you never, never can degrade them to the level of an inferior and servile race. Never! Never!”
2. It is widespread among Neo-Confederates these days to claim that thousands of African-Americans fought as soldiers for the Confederacy. This book reveals that notion to be poppycock. As the war rather quickly revealed the huge disparity in military manpower available to the two contenders, and as the downward curve for the Confederacy became more acute after Gettysburg and Vicksburg, Benjamin himself began surreptitiously and objectively to consider how black men might help fill the gap. His first step was to develop — as a lawyer might — a brief outlining the pros and cons of the various ways of accomplishing it. Buy them? No, then we’d have to sell them again (“odious”) or free them (“to the great detriment of the country”). Hire them? No, because “negro men command readily $30 a month all through Virginia … and what would be the effect on the poorer classes of whites in the army, if informed the negroes were paid $30 a month, while the white man receives only $11.” Use them as a local militia? No, it’d be too easy for them to desert en masse. No, best stay where we are by using them for labor, rather than “imitate our enemies by using them in military organizations.”
As the war continued and things got worse and worse, Benjamin — as Secretary of State — began to consider last-ditch, desperate measures to bring Great Britain and France in on the side of the Confederacy. This would require —particularly in the case of Britain — emancipation. If the North won, slavery was done for anyway (the Emancipation Proclamation preparing the way), and depending on the details, the South might gain some wiggle room as to the timing and the eventual breadth of the action. Of Benjamin’s conjectures at the time, Evans writes that he “knew that neither Jefferson Davis nor the Congress would even consider emancipation unless it looked like the only way to avoid defeat, Even then, Benjamin wasn’t sure that they would not rather lose the war.” [p. 263]
Finally, as it happened, they would rather lose the war. Even though the Confederate Congress finally passed a “negro enlistment bill,” it was too little (there was a numerical cap, the men had to be volunteers allowed to join by their masters, and there was no mention of emancipation), too late (a month before the final fall of the Confederacy).
Black soldiery of a scale to make a difference was simply unacceptable, and Evans gives voice to the Confederates explaining why:
Howell Cobb, former Governor of Georgia: “Use all the Negroes you can get, for the purpose for which you need — but don’t arm them. The day you make soldiers out of them is the beginning of the end of the revolution. If slaves will make good soldiers our whole theory of slavery is wrong.”
Robert Toombs, also of Georgia, and one of the Confederacy’s fireating apologists: “[T]he worst calamity that could befall us would be to gain our independence by the valor of our slaves. … The day that the army of Virginia allows a Negro regiment to enter their lines as soldiers they will be degraded, ruined, and disgraced.”
Benjamin himself lent some credence to the notion that the introduction of black soldiers would be fatal to the Confederate army. In a letter to Robert E. Lee — who desperately needed men for the defense of Richmond — Benjamin weighed the pros and cons in a lawyerly way and allowed as how “opponents of the measure are producing a strong impression against it by asserting it would disband the army by reason of the violent aversion of troops to have Negroes in the field with them.”
Not that Union soldiers did not have that violent aversion as well. But it didn’t matter. What the army wanted, the army got. It seems ironic that, in a supposedly “free” democratic republic, such an inherently dictatorial institution as the army should be the vehicle first for introducing African-American soldiers, and then, almost 100 years later, for integrating the rank and file before any similar, civil action of a national scale.