g Dixie's statesmen, and from
him to Jefferson Davis is a long step downward.

Davis's early life was romantic enough. Born in 1808 in Kentucky, of a
father who had served in the Revolution, appointed to the National
Military Academy by President Monroe; graduating there in 1828 and
serving through the Black Hawk war; then abruptly resigning from the
army to elope with the daughter of Colonel Zachary Taylor, and settling
near Vicksburg, Mississippi, to embark in cotton planting; drawn
irresistibly into politics and sent to Congress, but resigning to accept
command of the First Mississippi Rifles and serving with great
distinction through the war with Mexico; and, finally, in 1847, sent to
the Senate--such was Davis's history up to the time he became involved
in the maelstrom of the slavery question.

From the first, he was an ardent advocate of the state-rights theory of
government, and the right of secession, and for thirteen years he
defended these theories in the Senate, gradually emerging as the most
capable advocate the South possessed. That fiery and impulsive people,
looking always for a hero to worship, found one in Jefferson Davis, and
he soon gained an immense prestige among them. On January 9, 1861, his
state seceded from the Union, and he withdrew from the Senate. Before he
reached home, he was elected commander-in-chief of the Army of the
Mississippi, and a few days later, he was chosen President of the
Confederate States.

From the first, his task was a difficult one, and it grew increasingly
so as the war went on. That he performed it well, there can be no
question. He was the government, was practically dictator, for he
dominated the Confederate Congress absolutely, and its principal
business was to pass the laws which he prepared. Only toward the close
of the war did it, in a measure, free itself from this control, and,
finally, in 1865, it passed a resolution attributing Confederate
disaster to Davis's incompetency as commander-in-chief, a position which
he had insisted on occupying; removing him from that position and
conferring it upon General Lee, giving the latter, at the same time,
unlimited powers in disposing of the army.

But it was too late. Even Lee himself could not ward off the inevitable.
On the morning of Sunday, April 2, 1865, Jefferson Davis sat in his pew
at church in the city of Richmond, when an officer handed him a
telegram. It was from Lee, and read, "Richmond must be evacuated