Edward Alfred Pollard, The lost cause; a new Southern history of the War of the Confederates ... Drawn from official sources and approved by the most distinguished Confederate leaders.

[679]

Chapter 41:

• Gen. Lee's lines around Richmond and Petersburg.
-- comparison of his force with that of the enemy. -- Gen. Lee's sentiment about surrender. -- dull condition of the populace in Richmond. -- extravagant rumours. -- story of the French messenger. -- the Fortress Monroe conference. -- Mr. Blair's visit to Richmond. -- notes of presidents Davis and Lincoln. -- conversation of the former with Alexander II. Stephens. -- official narrative of the conference in Hampton Roads. -- a rhetorical appeal to the people of the Confederacy. -- a day of speeches in Richmond. -- President Davis' speech at the African Church. -- its extravagant and swollen tone. -- a remark on the temper and vanity of the President. -- battle of Hare's Hill. -- design of the action on the part of Gen. Lee. -- the general disposition of his forces. -- capture of Fort Steadman. -- the Confederates falter. -- what the day proved. -- the last battles around Petersburg. -- why Grant hurried the final operations. -- the preliminary expedition of Sheridan's cavalry. -- what it accomplished. -- the attempt upon Lee's right. -- desperate resource of the Confederate commander. -- battle of five Forks. -- Misbehaviour of the Confederates. -- Gen. Lee's reproach.Bombardment of the Petersburg lines. -- the assault. -- the Confederates' lines broken. -- defence of Fort Gregg. -- a thrilling scene of self-devotion. -- the Confederates forced back upon Petersburg. -- death of Gen. A. P. Hill. -- evacuation of Richmond. -- the city unprepared for the news. -- fright and disorder in the streets. -- a curious scene in the Capitol. -- Gen. Ewell's withdrawal from the city.-lie fires a number of warehouses. -- a frightful conflagration. -- scenes of sublime horrour. -- grand entree of the Federals. -- Ravages of the fire. -- exultation in Northern cities. -- stuff of Yankee newspapers. -- due estimate of Grant's achievement in the fall of Richmond. -- definition of generalship. -- the qualities of mind exhibited by the North in the war

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In the first months of 1865 Gen. Lee held both Richmond and Petersburg with not more than thirty-three thousand men. At this time Grant's strength, as rated at the War Department in Washington, exceeded one hundred and sixty-thousand men. Such was the disparity of force in the final array of the contest for Richmond. Gen. Lee's lines stretched from below Richmond on the north side of the James to Hatcher's Run away beyond Petersburg on the south side. He had forty miles of defence; and it may well be imagined that with his little force posted over such a distance, [680] his line of battle was almost as thin as a skirmish line. Duty was incessant; it was fatiguing in the greatest degree; the Confederates had no reserves, and when a brigade was taken to assist at some threatened point, the position it left was endangered. But even in this extreme situation, Gen. Lee had not yet despaired of the cause of the Confederacy. He was gravely sensible of the danger; in frequent conference with committees of the Congress at Richmond, he stated frankly his anxiety, but urged levies of negro troops, held out what hope he could, and expressly and firmly discountenanced any surrender of the Confederate cause by premature negotiations with Washington. On one of these occasions he made the personal declaration for himself that he had rather die on the battle-field than surrender — a sentiment which provoked the sneer of a well-known “Union” man in Richmond, and the remark that “Gen. Lee talked like a school-girl.”

The populace of Richmond was but little aware of the terrible decrease of Gen. Lee's army; and indeed the people of the Confederacy were studiously kept in the dark as to all details of the military situation. So reticent had the Government become, that the newspapers were forbid publishing anything of military affairs beyond the scanty doles of information and the skeleton telegrams furnished to the reporters by an official authority, and copied at the desks of the War Department. It thus happened that while there was a general despondency of the public mind, there were few outside the severe official circles of Richmond who knew the real extremities to which the arms and affairs of the Confederacy had fallen. There was a dull expectation of what was next to happen; there was a vague condition of the public mind, in which, although not able to discover any substantial and well-defined ground of hope, it yet plodded on under the shadow of old convictions, and with a dim anticipation of something favourable in the future. While every one affirmed that the affairs of the Confederacy were in a bad way, and while every one appeared to have a certain sense of approaching misfortune, there were very few who knew the real condition and numbers of the armies of the Confederacy, and realized how far had been undermined its system of defence. It was difficult indeed to believe that the Army of Northern Virginia--that army, whose name had been for four years as the blast of victory-had declined to a condition in which it was no longer capable of offensive operations. It was difficult indeed to abandon altogether the idea that the happy accident of a victory somewhere in the Confederacy might not, after all, put a new aspect on affairs. Even if the conclusion of subjugation had become probable, its day was at least uncertain, distant; and the opinion of Gen. Lee was quoted in the streets of Richmond that in any event the Southern Confederacy was likely to last another year's campaign. Many lived in the circle of each day; the idea of Independence was yet in the [681] loose conversations of the people; and the favourite cantatrice of the Richmond Theatre sung to nightly plaudits, “Farewell forever to the star-spangled banner!” Then there were those rumours of extravagant fortune, always indicative of a weak and despairing condition of the public mind; among them endless stories of peace negotiations and European “recognition.” A few weeks before Richmond fell, the report was credited for the space of three or four days by the most intelligent persons in the city, including some of the editors of the newspapers and President Davis' pastor, that a messenger from France had arrived on the coast of North Carolina, and was making his way overland to Richmond, with the news of the recognition of the Southern Confederacy by the Emperour Napoleon!

But in this dull condition of the public mind there came a well-defined rumour of “peace;” an event in which another and last appeal was to be made to the resolution of the South.

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The Fortress Monroe conference.

At different periods of the war the ambition of individuals on both sides had attempted certain propositions of peace, and sought to bring the parties at Richmond and Washington into such a position that they could not avoid negotiations, without subjecting themselves to the injurious imputation of preferring war. In pursuance of this diplomatic errantry, Mr. Francis P. Blair, a skilful politician, in January, 1865, obtained a passport from President Lincoln to go through the Federal lines, visited Richmond, and while disclaiming any official instructions or countenance from Washington, sought to prevail upon President Davis to send, or receive, commissioners to treat of peace between the contending parties. On the 19th January, Mr. Blair returned to Washington, taking with him a written assurance, addressed to himself, from President Davis, of his willingness to enter into negotiations for peace, to receive a commissioner whenever one should be sent, and of his readiness, whenever Mr. Blair could promise that he would be received, to appoint such a commissioner, minister, or other agent, and thus “renew the effort to enter into a conference with a view to secure peace between the two countries.” The reply of Mr. Lincoln was no less diplomatic. He wrote that he was “ready to receive any agent whom Mr. Davis or any other influential person now resisting the national authority, may informally send me, with a view of securing peace to the people of our common country.”

While the intermediation of Mr. Blair was taking place in Richmond, a number of Congressmen and leading politicians of the Confederacy had been exerting themselves to use the peculiar influence of the Vicedent, [682] Alexander H. Stephens, in a negotiation with Washington, and for this purpose to bring him and President Davis to a friendly understanding. There had long been a coolness between these two high officers. Mr. Stephens had blown hot and cold in the war. At the beginning of the contest he opposed secession; after the great battles of 1862 around Richmond, he was intensely Southern, and thought the death of every individual in the Confederacy preferable to subjugation; at later periods of the war he squinted at “reconstruction,” and dallied with the “Union” faction in the South. The reputation of this man is a striking example of how difficult it is in all parts of America for the people to distinguish between a real statesman and an elaborate demagogue. Mr. Stephens had a great idea of his personal consequence; he was touchy and exacting in his intercourse with other public men; and he refused to pass a word with President Davis until he had obtained from him the concession of a circuitous message that “the President would be glad to see Mr. Stephens.” In the interview which took place, President Davis remarked graciously, but with a tinge of sarcasm in his tone, that he knew of “no one better calculated to conduct a peace negotiation with the North than Mr. Alexander H. Stephens.” In the statement of his views the President was remarkably liberal. He allowed Mr. Stephens to name for himself the associate commissioners, who were R. M. T. Hunter of Virginia, and J. A. Campbell of Alabama; he burdened him with no detail of instructions; he said: “I give you a carte-blanche, only writing on it the one word, ‘Independence.’ ”

The anxiously expected conference did not take place until the 3d of February. It was attended on the Federal side by President Lincoln himself, accompanied by his Secretary of State, Mr. Seward; the presence of the Northern President having been induced by an earnest telegram from Gen. Grant, expressing his personal belief that the Confederate commissioners, who had passed through his lines, were sincere in their desire for peace, and his strong conviction that a personal interview with them on the part of Mr. Lincoln was highly desirable. The Confederate commissioners were entertained on board of a steamer lying in Hampton Roads. The conference was studiously informal; there were no notes of it; there was no attendance of secretaries or clerks; there was an irregular conversation of four hours, enlivened by two anecdotes of Mr. Lincoln; but there being absolutely no basis of negotiation between the two parties, not even a single point of coincidence between them, they separated without effect. The Confederate commissioners obtained only from the interview the distinct, enlarged, and insolent demand of Mr Lincoln, that the South should submit unconditionally to the rule of the Union, and conform to the advanced position of the Federal Executive on the subject of slavery, which included an amendment to the Constitution abolishing this domestic institution [683] of the South, a bill establishing a Freedmen's Bureau, and other measures looking to a new construction of relations between the black and white populations of the country.

The report of the conference and its results was made in the following message from President Davis, sent in to the Confederate Congress on the 5th February:

It was doubtless calculated by President Davis that the issue of the Fortress Monroe Conference would give a flat answer to the party in the Confederacy that had been clamouring for peace negotiations, and make an opportunity to excite anew the spirit and indignation of the Southern people. It was indeed a powerful appeal to the heart of the South; it had displayed the real consequences of subjugation; it had declared what would be its pains and penalties and humiliation; it was the ultimatum of an enemy calculated to nerve the resolution of a people fighting for liberty, and to make them devote anew labour and life for the great cause of their redemption. It was thought in Richmond that the last attempt at negotiation would date a new era of resolution and devotion in the war. On the return of the commissioners a day was appointed for an imposing expression of public opinion on the event of the conference; all business was suspended in Richmond; at high noon processions were formed to the different places of meeting; and no less than twenty different orators, composed of the most effective speakers in Congress and the Cabinet, and the most eloquent divines of Richmond, took their stands in the halls of legislation, in the churches and the theatres, and swelled the eloquence of this last and grand appeal to the people and armies of the South. Two of the returned commissioners, Messrs. Hunter and Campbell, were among the orators of the day. Mr. Stephens had been urged to speak; but he had a demagogue's instinct of danger in the matter; it was an awkward occasion in which he might say too much or too little; and so he plead ill-health, and escaped to Georgia. It was an extraordinary day in Richmond; vast crowds huddled around the stands of the speakers or lined the streets; and the air was vocal with the efforts of the orator and the responses of his audience. It appeared indeed that the blood of the people had again been kindled. But it was only the sickly glare of an expiring fame; there was no steadiness in the excitement; there was no virtue in [685] huzzas; the inspiration ended with the voices and ceremonies that invoked it; and it was found that the spirit of the people of the Confederacy was too weak, too much broken to react with effect, or assume the position of erect and desperate defiance.

A few days before this popular convocation in Richmond, and just on the return of the commissioners, President Davis himself had addressed a popular audience in the African Church. He was attended to the stand by the Governor of Virginia. He made a powerful and eloquent address; but in parts of it he fell into weak and bombastic speech, and betrayed that boastfulness characteristic of almost all his oral utterances in the war. As a writer, Mr. Davis was careful, meditative, and full of dignity; but as a speaker, he was imprudent, and in moments of passion, he frequently blurted out what first came into his mind. On this occasion he was boastful, almost to the point of grotesqueness. He declared that the march which Sherman was then making would be “his last,” and would conduct him to ruin; he predicted that before the summer solstice fell upon the country it would be the North that would be soliciting peace; he affirmed that the military situation of the Confederacy was all that he could desire; and drawing up his figure, and in tones of scornful defiance, heard to the remotest parts of the building, he remarked that the Federal authorities who had so complacently conferred with the commissioners of the Confederacy, “little knew that they were talking to their master!” Such swollen speeches of the President offended the sober sense of the Confederacy; and it was frequently said that he attempted to blind the people as to the actual condition of affairs, and never dealt with them in a proper spirit of candour. But this estimate of President Davis is probably a mistaken one. He was not insincere; in all his strange and extravagant utterances of confidence he probably believed what he spoke; and to the last he appears never to have apprehended the real situation. He was blinded by his own natural temper; in the last moment he was issuing edicts, playing with the baubles of authority, never realizing that he was not still the great tribune; he was sustained by a powerful self-conceit, and a sanguine temperament; and he went down to ruin with the fillet of vanity upon his eyes.

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Battle of Hare's Hill.

In the last days of March, 1865, Gen. Lee made his last offensive demonstration, which ended in failure, and plainly and painfully revealed the condition of his troops. He determined to try Grant's lines south of the Appomattox; the attack being immediately directed by Gen. Gordon on the enemy's works at Hare's Hill. The project of assault was bold its [686] promises were large; one success might lead to another; and if the troops once got possession of a part of the enemy's line, in the flush of success they might be carried to the capture of the neighbouring works, and Gen. Lee might even venture on the great enterprise of getting possession of Grant's military road and cutting his entire right from its base at City Point and from the army north of the James.

The disposition of Gen. Lee's force was generally as follows: Longstreet commanded the Confederate left, across the James, and his right division extended to within a few miles of Petersburg. Gordon came next, with his three divisions, reduced by arduous and fatiguing marches and bloody battles in the Shenandoah Valley, to the dimensions of only respectable brigades. He commanded just in front of Petersburg, from the Appomattox to a small stream to the right of the city. It was along this line, almost its entire length,. that a continuous struggle for months had been kept up, and in some places the opposing forces were but a few yards apart. A. P. Hill, with his three divisions, held the right, extending to Hatcher's Run, while the cavalry guarded either flank.

The assault of the 25th March was made two miles south of the Appomattox and just to the left of the Crater. Massing two divisions, Gordon, in the early light of the morning dashed on the Federal works. The enemy was surprised; the sharpshooters of Grimes' division, composing the advance, succeeded in driving the Federal troops from their works, and the Confederates occupied their breastworks for a distance of a quarter of a mile, with comparatively a slight loss and with the loss to the enemy of one principal fort (Steadman), and some five hundred prisoners. Had this opportunity been taken advantage of, there is no telling the result; but the troops could not be induced to leave the breastworks they had taken from the enemy, and to advance beyond them and seize the crest in rear of the line they had occupied. They hugged the works in disorder until the enemy recovered from his surprise; and soon the artillery in the forts to the right and left began their murderous fire on them. When fresh troops were brought up by the enemy, their advance was almost unresisted, and an easy recapture of the fort was obtained, the Confederates retiring under a severe fire into their old works. Nearly two thousand men took shelter under the breastworks they had captured, and surrendered when the enemy advanced, and the result was a Confederate loss much greater than that of the foe. This affair demonstrated to all that the day of offensive movements on the part of the Confederates was gone. The experiment had entailed a loss that could be ill afforded by Gen. Lee; and one more such disaster might have been irreparable.

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[687]

The last battles around Petersburg.

Gen. Grant had at first designed to await the junction of Sherman's forces for his final operations upon Richmond, so as to complete his assurance of victory. But he feared that if Sherman crossed the Roanoke river, Johnston would take the alarm, and move to Lee's lines; and as the circumspect Federal commander was careful to risk nothing, even approaching to an equal match of force, he determined to dispatch his final movement upon Richmond, and to make his experiment upon Lee's little army with no further occasions of delay. The area of critical operations in the Confederacy was now within close and narrow boundaries. Its fate was to be practically decided in operations taking place between the Roanoke and James Rivers in one direction, and the Atlantic Ocean and the Alleghany Mountains in the other. In this circumscribed space Richmond was the prominent figure, the critical point, and Lee's army the chief contestant.

The usual preliminary to a great action of the Federals--a movement of cavalry — was directed by Gen. Grant before the time assigned for a general movement of the armies operating against Richmond. The immediate object was to cut off all communications with the city north of James River; and on the 27th February, Sheridan moved from the Shenandoah Valley with two divisions of cavalry, numbering about ten thousand sabres. On the 1st March he secured the bridge across the middle fork of the Shenandoah, entered Staunton the next day, and thence pushed on towards Waynesboroa, where Early, with less than twelve hundred men, disputed the debouche; of the Blue Ridge. This force — a remnant of the Army of the Valley — was posted on the banks of a stream, with no way open for retreat; and Sheridan's magnificent cavalry easily ran over it, and took more than nine hundred prisoners. Gen. Early, with two of his staff officers, escaped by taking to the woods. The next day Charlottesville was surrendered; and here Sheridan paused to await the arrival of his trains, busy meanwhile in destroying the railroads towards Richmond and Lynchburg. His instructions prescribed that he should gain Lynchburg on the south bank of the James. From that point he was to effectually break up those main branches of Lee's communications, the Lynchburg railroads and James River Canal, after which he was to strike southward through Virginia to the westward of Danville and join Sherman. But moving towards the James River, between Richmond and Lynchburg, Sheridan found himself confronted by a swollen and impassable stream. He fell back, rounded the left wing of Lee's army, crossed the Pamunkey River at the White House, and on the 25th March joined Gen. Grant in the lines before Petersburg. He had not completed the circuit designed [688] for him; but he had traversed thirteen counties, and done enormous damage. The damage to the canal was almost irreparable; every lock had been destroyed as far as Dugaldsville, twenty miles from Lynchburg; and as for the railroads radiating from Charlottesville to Waynesboro, Amherst Court-house and Louisa Court-house and extending from the South Anna to Chesterfield Station and the Chickahominy river, every bridge, nearly every culvert, and scores of miles of the rail itself had been completely destroyed.

Sheridan's cavalry, diverted back from its intended tour to North Carolina, proved a timely and important accession to Grant's strength in his final encounter. There were indications that that encounter was near at hand. There had been days of painful expectation along the Confederate line. In the vicinity of Petersburg the heavy booming of guns was occasionally heard away on the right sounding like distant thunder. Again sounds of conflict would open on the extreme left and the rattle of musketry and the beat of artillery would scarcely leave doubt of a battle in earnest; but after a few impulsive volleys strife would cease and a profound quiet prevail. The increasing signs of activity inside the enemy's lines indicated plainly enough preparations for attack or movement of some sort; but it was impossible to say where the blow would fall and how it would be delivered. In the words of one of their officers “each night the Confederates unfolded their blankets and unloosed their shoestrings in uncertainty.”

The movement designed by Gen. Grant may be briefly described as an attempt upon Lee's right and vulnerable flank by a turning column which contingently embraced his whole army and included a heavy operation of cavalry. On the day that Sheridan reached his lines, three divisions of what was called the Army of the James on the north side of the river, were withdrawn from Longstreet's front without attracting his attention, and were transferred to a position near Hatcher's Run. The Second and Fifth corps, which had held this part of the enemy's entrenched lines, were now foot-loose to manoeuvre by the left; and co-operating with Sheridan's cavalry (about twenty-five thousand men in all), they were directed to move to the right of Lee's entrenched line, and threaten his communication by the Southside Railroad. The movement commenced on the 29th March.

To secure the defence of his right against this powerful column which Grant had thrust out by the left, was the immediate necessity that stared Gen. Lee in the face, for it was vitally important to secure the lines whereon his troops depended for their daily food; but it was at the same time indispensable that he should maintain the long entrenched line that covered Petersburg and Richmond. There was no resource but the desperate one of stripping his entrenchments to secure his menaced right and contest the [689] prize of the Southside Railroad. In the night of the 29th, Gen. Lee, having perceived Grant's manoeuvre, despatched Pickett's and Bushrod Johnson's divisions, Wise's and Ransom's brigade, Huger's battalion of infantry, and Fitzhugh Lee's division, in all about seventeen thousand men, to encounter the turning column of the enemy.

The right of the Confederate entrenched line crossed Hatcher's Run at the Boydton plank road, and extended some distance along the White Oak road. Four miles beyond the termination of this line there was a point where several roads from the north and south converged on the White Oak road, forming what is known as the Five Forks. It was an isolated position, but one of great value, as it held the strategic key that opened up the whole region which Lee was now seeking to cover. In the evening of the 29th, Sheridan occupied Dinwiddie Court-house, six miles southwest of where the two co-operating corps of infantry lay on their arms and about eight miles south of Five Forks.

A heavy rain the next day prevented further operations; but on the 31st Sheridan pushed forward to Five Forks, where he encountered two divisions of infantry under Pickett and Johnson. In the afternoon of the day this Confederate force, which had been moved down by the White Oak road, made a determined charge upon the whole cavalry line of the enemy, forced it back, and drove it to a point within two miles of Dinwiddie Court-house.

On the morning of the 1st April, Sheridan, now reinforced by the Fifth Corps, commanded by Warren, advanced boldly again in the direction of Five Forks, having ascertained that the Confederates during the night had withdrawn all but a mask of force from his front. In the afternoon, Pickett and Johnson found themselves confined within their works at the Five Forks, and flanked by a part of the Fifth corps, which had moved down the White Oak road. The Confederate troops having got the idea that they were entrapped, and finding themselves pressed front, flank and rear, mostly threw down their arms. Five thousand men surrendered themselves as prisoners. The remnants of the divisions of Pickett and Johnson fled westward from Five Forks routed, demoralized, and past control; and Gen. Lee found that his right, wrenched violently from his centre, was turned almost without a battle, and that what he had counted as the bulk of his army was no longer of any use. It was the only occasion on which the Confederate commander ever exhibited anything like reproof in the field. He remarked that the next time the troops were to be taken into action, he would put himself at the head of them; and turning to one of his brigadiers, he ordered him, with singular emphasis and severity, to gather and put under guard “all the stragglers on the field,” making a plain reference to the conduct of his officers.

But even if the shameful misfortune of Five Forks had not befallen [690] Gen. Lee, the result would not have been materially different; for the fate of Petersburg and Richmond was decided without this event. In massing upon his right, Gen. Lee had reduced the force defending Petersburg to two incomplete corps, Gordon's and Hill's; and these strung over nine miles of breastworks, made little more than sentinels. Before Longstreet, who commanded on the other side of the river, was made aware of the situation, and could obey Lee's orders for troops, Grant had descried the weakness of the Confederate lines before Petersburg, and determined the easy task of breaking them.

On the night of the 1st April, Grant celebrated the victory of Five Forks, and performed the prelude of what was yet to come by a fierce and continuous bombardment along his lines in front of Petersburg. Every piece of artillery in the thickly studded forts, batteries, and mortar-beds joined in the prodigious clamour; reports, savagely, terrifically crashing through the narrow streets and lanes of Petersburg, echoed upwards; it appeared as if fiends of the air were engaged in the sulphurous conflict. As dawn broke, Grant prepared for the attack, which was made in double column at different points on the Confederate line.

The assault was opened from the Appomattox to Hatcher's Run. The most determined effort was made on Gordon's lines, and here the enemy succeeded in taking a portion of the breastworks near the Appomattox. But they could not use the advantage which they had struggled so hard to obtain, the Confederates holding an inner cordon of works, and the position which the enemy had taken being exposed to a raking fire of artillery on the right and left. But while this contest was going on to the left of the “Crater,” the enemy massed heavily against Hill's left opposite a position the weakest in the line, from which McGowan's brigade had been transferred the day previous, leaving only artillerists in the trenches and the picket in front. The Confederate skirmishers were driven with impunity, the batteries were carried in a moment, and a loud huzza that drowned the sound of battle on other parts of the line, proclaimed that the enemy had obtained an important success.

Just in rear, some two or three hundred yards, on many parts of the Confederate line, heavy forts had been erected to guard against just such results as had ensued. In rear of the line of works captured by the enemy were batteries Alexander and Gregg; and these two works were all that now prevented the enemy from completely cutting the Confederate lines in two to the Appomattox. After getting in order, the enemy moved on these works — on Fort Alexander first, taking it with a rush, although the gunners stood to their guns to the last, and fired their last shot while the Federal troops were on the ramparts.

In Fort Gregg there was a small and mixed garrison. Capt. Chew, of the 4th Maryland battery of artillery, was in command of the work. There [691] was added to his battery of two 3-inch rifles and thirty men, a body of men known, in the vulgar parlance of soldiers, as “Walker's mules,” dismounted drivers to whom were given muskets. These men were Virginians and Louisianians who belonged to Walker's artillery brigade, and amounted in round numbers, to about one hundred. The remainder of the garrison, about one hundred and twenty, were some men from Harris' Mississippi brigade, and some North Carolinians. Both of these commands, the Mississippians and North Carolinians, had been driven back from the picket lines, and had fled into Fort Gregg for shelter.

Having run over Fort Alexander, the enemy moved on Fort Gregg with cheers. Confidently, in beautiful lines and in all the majesty of overpowering numbers, did the Federal troops advance upon the devoted work. They had got within fifty yards of it, and not the flash of a single rifle had yet defied them. The painful thought passed through the ranks of their comrades who watched in the distance that the garrison was about to surrender. But instead of a white flag, there was a white puff of smoke; and artillery and infantry simultaneously opened on the confident assailants, who, staggering and reeling under the death-dealing volley, at last gave way, and retreated in masses under cover. A loud and wild cheer rang out from the Confederate lines, and was answered in exultant tones by the heroic little garrison in Fort Gregg. But reinforcements were hastening from the lines of the enemy. There were none to send to the succour of the garrison; every Confederate soldier was needed at his post, and no reserves were at hand. As the enemy again came up in battle array, the troops moved forward in serried ranks, and soon the fort was canopied in smoke. It seemed by mutual consent that the conflict ceased on other parts of the line, while both sides stood silent and anxious spectators of the struggle at the fort. As the smoke lifts it is seen that the Federals have reached the ditch. Those in the distance could descry lines of blue uniforms swarming up the sides of the works; and as the foremost reached the top, they reeled and fell upon their comrades below. Once, twice, and thrice they reached the top, only to be repulsed; and yet they persevered while the guns in the embrasures continued to fire in rapid succession. Presently the sound of artillery ceased, and the Federals mounted the work, and poured a rapid fire on the defenders within. Many of the garrison, unwilling to surrender, used their bayonets, and clubbed their guns in an unequal struggle. But such resistance could be of short duration; and soon loud huzzas of the enemy told that the fort had been taken, and with it the Confederate army cut in two. But the event had been marked by a heroic self-immolation; of the two hundred and fifty men who defended the fort there were not more than thirty survivors; and to the illumined story of the Army of Northern Virginia, Fort Gregg gave a fitting conclusion, an ornament of glory that well clasped the record of its deeds. [692]

As soon as the fort was captured, cannonading and sharpshooting were renewed on other parts of the line. In a moment heavy bodies of cavalry, emerging from the enemy's former lines, poured rapidly over the captured works, and galloped in squadrons towards the Appomattox, which was some four or five miles distant. Their track could be traced by the heavy columns of black smoke that rose from the various farm-houses on their route, which had been set on fire. The infantry, which had succeeded in capturing the fort, formed line fronting the Confederate right flank, and appeared as if they intended marching by the rear into Petersburg.

New dispositions were now made along the Confederate line. The protracted resistance offered by Fort Gregg enabled Gen. Lee to establish what of force remained to him in the manner best availing for the defence of Petersburg. Longstreet, accompanied by a small brigade (Benning's) of Fields' division, had arrived from the north side of the James in time to check the advance of the enemy long enough to enable fresh troops to hurry up in his rear, and to form a fresh line in front of Petersburg. Meanwhile Heth's division of A. P. Hill's corps regained some ground, and re-established their lines. But in the execution of the movement was lost the valuable life of Gen. Hill, who had seen his first service at the famous field of Manassas as Colonel of the Thirteenth Virginia regiment in Gen. Johnston's army, had passed rapidly through all the gradations of rank to Lieutenant-General, and had borne a constant and distinguished part in the four years defence of the Confederate capital. Desiring to obtain a near view of a portion of the enemy's line, he had ridden forward, accompanied by a single orderly, when he unexpectedly came upon a party of six Federal soldiers concealed in a ravine. Gen. Hill wore only the stars of a colonel on a rough citizen's coat. He advanced upon the party, and commanded their surrender; they consented; but he neglected to disarm them, and reassured by finding there was no body of troops in the vicinity, they fired a treacherous volley, and shot him through the heart.

The line on which Gen. Lee had now closed around Petersburg was not intended for a renewal of battle, which was now hopeless, but merely to gain time for the execution of another purpose. A little while after the fall of Fort Gregg, ominous columns of smoke arose from numberless depots and warehouses of Petersburg. It was eleven o'clock in the morning when Gen. Lee wrote a hasty telegram to the War Department, advising that the authorities of Richmond should have everything in readiness to evacuate the capital at eight o'clock the coming night, unless before that time despatches should be received from him to a contrary effect I

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[693]

Evacuation of Richmond.

A small slip of paper, sent up from the War Department to President Davis, as he was seated in his pew in St. Paul's Church, contained the news of the most momentous event of the war.

It is a most remarkable circumstance that the people of Richmond had remained in profound ignorance of the fighting which had been taking place for three days on Gen. Lee's lines. There was not a rumour of it in the air. Not a newspaper office in the city had any inkling of what was going on. Indeed for the past few days there had been visible reassurance in the Confederate capital; there were rumours that Johnston was moving to Lee's lines and a general idea that the combined force would take the offensive against the enemy. But a day before Grant had commenced his heavy movement a curious excitement had taken place in Richmond. The morning train had brought from Petersburg the wonderful rumour that Gen. Lee had made a night attack, in which he had crushed the enemy along his whole line. John M. Daniel, the editor of the Richmond Examiner, died the same day under the delusion that such a victory had been won; and John Mitchel, who wrote his obituary in the morning papers, expressed the regret that the great Virginian had passed away just as a decisive victory was likely to give the turning point to the success of the Southern Confederacy! The circumstance shows how little prepared the people of Richmond were on the bright Sabbath morning of the 2d of April for the news that fell upon them like a thunder-clap from clear skies, and smote the ear of the community as a knell of death.

The report of a great misfortune soon traverses a city without the aid of printed bulletins. But that of the evacuation of Richmond fell upon many incredulous ears. One could see the quiet streets stretching away, unmolested by one single sign of war; across the James the landscape glistened in the sun; everything which met the eye spoke of peace, and made it impossible to picture in imagination the scene which was to ensue. There were but few people in the streets; no vehicles disturbed the quiet of the Sabbath; the sound of the church-going bells rose into the cloudless sky, and floated on the blue tide of the beautiful day. How was it possible to imagine that in the next twenty-four hours, war, with its train of horrours, was to enter the scene; that this peaceful city, a secure possession for four years, was at last to succumb; that it was to be a prey to a great conflagration, and that all the hopes of the Southern Confederacy were to be consumed in one day, as a scroll in the fire!

As the day wore on, clatter and bustle in the streets denoted the progress of the evacuation, and convinced those who had been incredulous of [694] its reality. The disorder increased each hour. The streets were thronged with fugitives making their way to the railroad depots; pale women and little shoeless children struggled in the crowd; oaths and blasphemous shouts smote the ear. Wagons were being hastily loaded at the Departments with boxes, trunks, etc., and driven to the Danville depot. In the afternoon a special train carried from Richmond President Davis and some of his Cabinet. At the Departments all was confusion; there was no system; there was no answer to inquiries; important officers were invisible, and every one felt like taking care of himself. Outside the mass of hurrying fugitives, there were collected here and there mean-visaged crowds, generally around the commissary depots; they had already scented prey; they were of that brutal and riotous element that revenges itself on all communities in a time of great public misfortune.

The only convocation, the only scene of council that marked the fall of Richmond, took place in a dingy room in a corner of the upper story of the Capitol Building. In this obscure chamber assembled the City Council of Richmond, to consult on the emergency, and to take measures to secure what of order was possible in the scenes about to ensue. It appeared to represent all that was left of deliberation in the Confederate capital. It was a painful contrast to look in upon this scene; to traverse the now almost silent Capitol House, so often vocal with oratory, and crowded with the busy scene of legislation; to hear the echo of the footstep; and at last to climb to the dismal show of councilmen in the remote room where half a dozen men sat at a rude table, and not so many vacant idlers listened to their proceedings. At the head of the board sat an illiterate grocer of the name of Saunders, who was making his last exhibition of Southern spirit, and twenty-four hours thereafter was subscribing himself to some very petty Federal officer, “most respectfully, your most obedient servant.” Here and there, hurrying up with the latest news from the War Department, was Mayor Mayo, excited, incoherent, chewing tobacco defiantly, but yet full of pluck, having the mettle of the true Virginian gentleman, stern and watchful to the last in fidelity to the city that his ancestors had assisted in founding, and exhibiting, no matter in what comical aspects, a courage that no man ever doubted. When it was finally announced by the Mayor that those who had hoped for a despatch from Gen. Lee contrary to what he had telegraphed in the morning, had ceased to indulge such an expectation, and that the evacuation of Richmond was a foregone conclusion, it was proposed to maintain order in the city by two regiments of militia; to destroy every drop of liquor in the warehouses and stores; and to establish a patrol through the night. But the militia ran through the fingers of their officers; the patrols could not be found after a certain hour; and in a short while the whole city was plunged into mad confusion and indescribable horrours. [695]

But the horrours of that night in the Confederate capital were to be studiously veiled from the eyes of the enemy. The Federal force on the north side of James River consisted of three divisions under the command of Gen. Weitzel; while Gen. Ewell covered this approach to the capital with a force about four thousand strong. The Confederates were silently withdrawn from Weitzel's front, their rear-guard traversing the city before daybreak. Weitzel had been instructed to push on, whenever satisfied of his ability to enter Richmond. During the whole day that Grant had been engaged in front of Petersburg, the entire lines north of the James were perfectly quiet. Weitzel's command had orders to make as great a show as possible. He fired no gun during the day, but as darkness came on, he set all his bands of music to work upon national airs. The Confederates vied with the musical entertainment; for many hours the night was filled with melodious strains. But about midnight a complete and absolute silence fell upon the lines. It was a dead quiet; a close mask to what was taking place in the doomed city; and not until the morning hours did the direful blazon in the sky proclaim to Weitzel that his hour had come and that Richmond was at his mercy.

There had been but little sleep for the people of Richmond in the night which preceded their great misfortune. It was an extraordinary night; disorder, pillage, shouts, mad revelry of confusion. In the now dimly-lighted city could be seen black masses of people, crowded around some object of excitement, besieging the commissary stores, destroying liquor, intent perhaps upon pillage, and swaying to and fro in whatever momentary passion possessed them. The gutters ran with a liquor freshet, and the fumes filled the air. Some of the straggling soldiers passing through the city, easily managed to get hold of quantities of the liquor. Confusion became worse confounded; the sidewalks were encumbered with broken glass; stores were entered at pleasure and stripped from top to bottom; yells of drunken men, shouts of roving pillagers, wild cries of distress filled the air, and made night hideous.

But a new horrour was to appear upon the scene and take possession of the Community. To the rear-guard of the Confederate force on the north side of James River, under Gen. Ewell, had been left the duty of blowing up the iron-clad vessels in the James and destroying the bridges across that river. The Richmond, Virginia, and an iron ram, were blown to the winds; the little shipping at the wharves was fired; and the three bridges that spanned the river were wrapped in flames, as soon as the last troops had traversed them. The work of destruction might well have ended here. But Gen. Ewell, obeying the letter of his instructions, had issued orders to fire the four principal tobacco warehouses of the city; one of them — the Shockoe warehouse-situated near the centre of the city, side by side with the Gallego flour mills, just in a position and circumstances [696] from which a conflagration might extend to the whole business portion of Richmond. In vain Mayor Mayo and a committee of citizens had remonstrated against this reckless military order. The warehouses were fired; the flames seized on the neighbouring buildings and soon involved a wide and widening area; the conflagration passed rapidly beyond control; and in this mad fire, this wild, unnecessary destruction of their property the citizens of Richmond had a fitting souvenir of the imprudence and recklessness of the departing Administration.

Morning broke on a scene never to be forgotten. It was a strange picture-impossible to describe — the smoke and glare of fire mingled with the golden beams of the rising sun. The great warehouse on the Basin was wrapped in flames; the fire was reaching to whole blocks of buildings; and as the sun rose majestically above the horizon, it burnished the fringe of smoke with lurid and golden glory. Curious crowds watched the fire. Its roar sounded in the ears; it leaped from street to street; pillagers were busy at their vocation, and in the hot breath of the fire were figures as of demons contending for prey.

The sun was an hour or more above the horizon, when suddenly there ran up the whole length of Main street the cry of “Yankees!” “Yankees I” The upper part of this street was choked with crowds of pillagers --men provided with drays, others rolling barrels up the street, or bending under heavy burdens, and intermixed with them women and children with smaller lots of plunder in bags, baskets, tubs, buckets, and tin-pans. As the cry of “Yankees” was raised, this motley crowd tore up the street, cursing, screaming, trampling upon each other, alarmed by an enemy not yet in sight, and madly seeking to extricate themselves from imaginary dangers. Presently, beyond this crowd, following up the tangled mass of plunderers, but not pressing or interfering with them, was seen a small body of Federal cavalry, riding steadily along. Forty Massachusetts troopers, despatched by Gen. Weitzel to investigate the condition of affairs, had ridden without let or hindrance into Richmond. At the corner of Eleventh street they broke into a trot for the public square, and in a few moments their guidons were planted on the Capitol, and fluttered there a strange spectacle in the early morning light.

A few hours thereafter, and Weitzel's troops were pouring through the streets of the city. A lady, who witnessed the grand Federal entree, and has given a very graphic account of it, thus describes a portion of the scene: “Stretching from the Exchange Hotel to the slopes of Church Hill, down the hill, through the valley, up the ascent to the hotel, was the array, with its unbroken line of blue, fringed with bright bayonets. Strains of martial music, flushed countenances, waving swords, betokened the victorious army. As the line turned at the Exchange Hotel into the upper street, the movement was the signal for a wild burst of cheers [697] from each regiment. Shouts from a few negroes were the only responses. Through throngs of sullen spectators; along the line of fire; in the midst of the horrours of a conflagration, increased by the explosion of shells left by the retreating army; through curtains of smoke; through the vast serial auditorium convulsed with the commotion of frightful sounds, moved the garish procession of the grand army, with brave music, and bright banners and wild cheers. A regiment of negro cavalry swept by the hotel As they turned the street corner they drew their sabres with savage shouts, and the blood mounted even in my woman's heart with quick throbs of defiance.” ¹

Meanwhile the fire raged with unchecked fury. The entire business part of the city was on fire; stores, warehouses, manufactories, mills, depots, and bridges-all, covering acres; the continuous thunder of exploding shells sounded in the sea of fire; and in the midst of it was the long, threatening, hostile army entering to seize its prey. All during the forenoon, flame and smoke and burning brands and showers of blazing sparks filled the air, spreading still further the destruction, until it had swept before it every bank, every auction store, every insurance office, nearly every commission house, and most of the fashionable stores. The atmosphere was almost choking; men, women, and children crowded into the square of the Capitol for a breath of pure air; but it was not to be obtained even there, and one traversed the green slopes blinded by cinders and struggling for breath. Already piles of furniture had been collected here, dragged from the ruins of burning houses; and in uncouth arrangements, made with broken tables and bureaus, were huddled women and children, with no other home, with no other resting place in Heaven's great hollowness.

Some tardy attempts were made to arrest the conflagration; in the afternoon the military authorities organized the crowds of negroes as a fire corps; but the few steam-engines that played upon the flames were not sufficient to check their progress. It was late in the evening when the fire had burned itself out. It had consumed the most important part of Richmond. Commencing at the Shockoe warehouse, the fire radiated from and rear, and on two wings, burning down Main street, half way between Fourteenth and Fifteenth streets, and back to the river, through Cary and all the intermediate streets. Westward, on Main, the fire was stayed at Ninth street, sweeping back to the river.. On the north side of Main the flames were stayed between Thirteenth and Fourteenth streets. From this point the flames raged on the north side of Main up to Eighth street, and back to Bank street. The pencil of the surveyor could not have more distinctly marked out the business portion of the city.

The evening breezes had turned the course of the fire; and as these [698] still continued, heavy mist-clouds hung upon the horizon, or streamed upwards on the varying current of the winds. As night came on, there was a painful reaction after the day's terrible excitement; a strange quiet fell upon the blackened city and its scenes of destruction. It was the quiet of a great desolation. Groups of women and children crawled under shelters of broken furniture in the Capitol square; hundreds of homeless persons laid down to sleep in the shadows of the ruins of Richmond; and worn out by excitement, exhausted as by the spasm of a great battle, men watched for the morrow with the dull sense that the work of years had been ruined, and that all they possessed on earth had been swept away.

While Richmond was filled with horrour and destruction, and the smoke of its torment ascended to the skies, very different scenes were taking place far away in the cities of the North. It was a strange reverse to the picture we have been contemplating. With those fervours and shows characteristic of the Northern mind, Washington and New York were celebrating the downfall of the Confederate capital. Bells were rung; wild and enthusiastic congratulations ran along the street; and vast crowds collected, whose fantastic exhibitions of joy, not content with huzzas, cheers, and dancing in the streets, broke out into a blasphemous singing of hymns of the church. In New York twenty thousand persons in the open air sung the doxology. There was, of course, an unlimited display of flags; and as evidence of this characteristic exhibition it is said that half an hour after the news of the fall of Richmond was known, not a single large flag in the whole city of New York was left unpurchased. These symbols of loyalty not only floated over houses, but were fastened to carts, stages and wagons. The newspapers were mostly occupied with spread-eagles and maps of Richmond. The World expressed the opinion that the event of the day “more fully justified exuberant rejoicing than any previous achievement in the history of the war.” The New York Herald-the organ par excellence of Yankee wind-went further, and declared that the taking of Richmond was “one of the grandest triumphs that had crowned human efforts — for centuries.”

Such stuff was characteristic of Northern newspapers. But looking to facts we shall find a more precise language in which to describe the achievement of Gen. Ulysses S. Grant in the fall of Richmond.

It was simply the consummation of the disgrace of this commander — that he should have taken eleven months to capture a position at no time held by more than one third of his forces, having lost in the enterprise in killed and wounded more than double the numbers actually in arms against him! This sentence may grate on Northern pride; but it is founded upon plain, unyielding figures; it is the inexorable statement of the law of proportions; it can be no more contested than a mathematical demonstration. As long as the intelligent of this world are persuaded of [699] the opinion that a great General is he who accomplishes his purposes with small, but admirably drilled armies; who defeats large armies with small ones; who accomplishes great military results by strategy, more than by fighting, who makes of war an intellectual exercise rather than a match of brute force, that title will be given to Robert E. Lee above all men in America, and the Confederate commander will be declared to have been much greater in defeat than Grant in his boasted victory.

The adulation of partisans has no permanent place in the records of glory. The office of the historian is to reduce the exaggerations of the present, and that without reference to the passionate criticisms of the times in which he lives. If the fact be that the North has produced no great General in this war; that the exhibitions of generalship, chivalry, humanity, and all that noble sentimentalism that properly belongs to the state of war have been more largely on the Confederate side; that the Northern people have exhibited gross materialism in the war, have excluded that noble spirituality common to the great conflicts of civilized nations, and worshipped the grossest types of physical power, the fault is in themselves, and not in the pen that writes these things.