The bearer of General Sherman's message was an unwelcome visitor at the
headquarters of Gen. Johnston. Johnston was powerless. He could neither
fight nor retreat, his army was deserting him hourly. Already more than
ten thousand of his followers had left him, with their guns, horses,
mules and wagons. He must either disperse his army or surrender it on
the terms proposed by Gen. Sherman on the 25th. He invited Sherman to
another conference, with a view to surrender. Gen. Grant being the
ranking officer, then present, it was his province to take the lead in
the negotiations, but he preferred that the entire business should be
consummated by Gen. Sherman. Write it down in letters of gold, that
there was one man, at least, at those times, who was a man by nature,
and carried a man's heart in his bosom. Thank God! that in our day and
generation, we do stumble across men, although farther apart than many
mile stones, who are willing to give "the spoils to the victor."
Accordingly another interview was arranged to take place at the hour
designated for the termination of the truce. Final terms were conducted
at this conference, substantially the same as given to Lee, and the
second grand army of the cotton aristocracy was surrendered to the
United States. The number of men surrendered and paroled was in the
neighborhood of 25,000; 108 pieces of artillery were parked, with
limbers, caissons, etc., complete; little ammunition was captured. About
15,000 small arms were given up. On the 26th day of April, 1865, the
surrender of the last rebel organization was effected, peace brought to
the land, and the horrible war, which was conceived in sin and brought
forth in iniquity, was over. Fellow soldiers, you who wore the gray,
shake hands, you were brave boys, you were brought into this unholy and
unrighteous war by men who were so unscrupulous as to the means whereby
they attained their ambitious projects, that your heart's blood was but
as water in their sight. All honor to your dead, your valor, and your
bravery. To your leaders, to the men who by their specious talk and
winsome flattery moved you to the struggle, we have nothing to say,
leaving to the God of nations and of worlds their record. He in His own
good time will settle with every one for the deeds done in the body,
whether they be good or whether they be evil.
Well, for us the war was over, and like Othello, "our occupation was
gone." By easy marches we at last reached Richmond, the "city of the
hills," that like ancient Rome, as thought the hearts of many of her
citizens, at the breaking out of the war, "should rule the world." And
as we marched through her streets the thought came into our mind why
"_we_ are Romans." It was but a momentary thought, that we came as
conquerors, and was soon swept from our minds by the idea that we were
merely a large body of police. There had been a big riot, the biggest
kind of a fuss, and we had come to bring the offenders to justice, and
that was the end of it. Brothers and comrades, is that all of it? No!
comes up the voice of the century. Do you call the striking of the
fetters from off 4,000,000 slaves nothing? Do you call the blotting out
of our children's school atlases the "Mason and Dixon's line," which
they used to read there and wonder what it meant, nothing? Do you call
the establishment of our government and free institutions on a rock as
firm as the "Rock of Ages," nothing? Do you call the evidence we have
given to the world, that we are a free and enlightened people, nothing?
Hold on, let us rest at that a moment. The war did amount to something,
didn't it, you old hardtack eater. Shake hands over the trouble and
thank God that we are home at last.
We are almost done now, we have come all the way from Danville,
Illinois, through Kentucky, with her neutrality; through Tennessee with
her splendid water, apple-jack and loyalty in the eastern part, but the
middle and western were bad; through Georgia, with her rice, and
pea-nuts; through South Carolina, with her sweet-potatoes: through North
Carolina, with her tobacco and tar; through Virginia, with her clay
hills and murmuring waters, until we have at last arrived at Washington
with her red tape and capitol airs, but, all the same, the seat of
government of the United States of America, the land of the free and of
the oppressed. But we will stop, we hear some one calling to us to pull
that eagle in. We obey, as a good soldier always does. After taking part
in the grand review at Washington, our regiment "struck tents" for the
last time and went to Chicago.