CHAPTER V

BATTLES AND SIEGES: DECEMBER, 1862-DECEMBER, 1863


The clouds of gloom and discouragement, which shut so heavily about the
President in the autumn of 1862, did not disperse as winter advanced.
That dreary season, when nearly all doubted and many despaired, is
recognized now as an interlude between the two grand divisions of the
drama. Before it, the Northern people had been enthusiastic, united, and
hopeful; after it, they saw assurance of success within reach of a
reasonable persistence. But while the miserable days were passing, men
could not see into the mysterious future. Not only were armies beaten,
but the people themselves seemed to be deserting their principles. The
face and the form of the solitary man, whose position brought every part
of this sad prospect fully within the range of his contemplation, showed
the wear of the times. The eyes went deeper into their caverns, and
seemed to send their search farther than ever away into a receding
distance; the furrows sank far into the sallow face; a stoop bent the
shoulders, as if the burden of the soul had even a physical weight. Yet
still he sought neither counsel, nor strength, nor sympathy from any
one; neither leaned on any friend, nor gave his confidence to any
adviser; the problems were his and the duty was his, and he accepted
both wholly. "I need success more than I need sympathy," he said; for it
was the cause, not his own burden, which absorbed his thoughts. The
extremists, who seemed to have more than half forgotten to hate the
South in the intensity of their hatred of McClellan, had apparently
cherished a vague faith that, if this procrastinating spirit could be