A History of the American People

118611 he declared strict and impartial neutrality.' The North's naval blockade caused much less friction with Britain than the South had hoped, because it conformed strictly to British principles of blockading warfare, which the Royal Navy was anxious to see upheld for future use. The one really serious incident occurred in November 1861, when the famous explorer Captain Charles Wilkes (1798-1877), commanding the USS San Jacinto, stopped the British steamer Trent and seized two Confederate commissioners, John Slidell and James M. Mason. This caused an uproar in Britain, but Seward, as secretary of state, quickly defused the crisis by ordering the men's release, on the ground that Wilkes should have brought the ship into harbor for arbitration. Added to improvident economics and incompetent diplomacy, the South saddled itself with a political system which did not work. It was a martyr to its own ideology of states' rights. Although Davis and his fellow-Southerners were always quoting history, they did not know it. Had they studied the early history of the republic objectively, they would have grasped the point that the Founding Fathers, in drawing up the Constitution, had to insure a large federal element simply because the original provisional system did not work well, in war or in peace. The Confederacy thus went on to repeat many of the mistakes of the early republic. Each state raised its own forces, and decided when and where they were to be used and who commanded them. To many of their leaders, the rights of their state were more important than the Confederacy itself. Men from one state would not serve under a general from another. Senior commanders with troops from various states had to negotiate with state governments to get more men. Davis had to contend with many of the identical difficulties, over men and supplies and money, which almost overwhelmed Washington himself in the 1770s-and he had none of Washington's tact, solidity, resourcefulness, and moral authority. Everyone blamed him, increasing his paranoia. As a former military man and war secretary, he thought he knew it all and tried to do everything himself. When he set up his office, he had only one secretary. His first Secretary of War, Leroy P. Walker, was a cipher. Visitors noticed Davis summoned him by ringing a desk bell, and Walker then trotted inexhibiting a docility that dared not say "nay" to any statement made by his chief.'
Congress refused to take account of any of his difficulties and behaved irresponsibly-it was
composed mainly of vainglorious extremists. Davis had more trouble with his congress than any
Union president, except possibly Tyler. He vetoed thirty-eight Bills and all but one later passed
with Congress overriding his veto. Lincoln had to use the veto only three times, and in each case
it stuck.
But many of Davis' difficulties were of his own making. His constant illnesses did not help, as
during them he became short-tempered and dictatorial. As his absurd row with Scott showed, he
could not distinguish between what mattered and what was insignificant. Virtually all his early
appointments, both Cabinet and army, proved bad. Davis resumed personal vendettas going back
to the Mexican War and even to his West Point days. In the South, everyone knew each other
and most had grudges. In picking senior commanders, Davis favored former West Point
classmates, war-service comrades, and personal friends. Things were made even more difficult
by each state demanding its quota of generals, and by muddles Davis made over army
regulations. A lot of his bitterest rows with colleagues and subordinates had nothing to do with
the actual conduct of the war. The Navy Secretary Stephen Mallory (1813-73), a Trinidadian and
one of the few Confederate leaders who knew what he was doing, deplored the fact that our fate is in the hands of such self-sufficient, vain, army idiots.' Davis was not the man to run difficult generals, and he became almost insensate with rage when he was personally blamed for lack of men and supplies, above all lack of success. Varina admitted:He was abnormally sensitive to
disapprobation. Even a child's disapproval discomposed him ... and the sense of mortification