"WHEN THIS CRUEL WAR IS OVER"
"When this cruel war is over" was the name of one of our war songs. So
many things we planned to do when the war should be over. With the fall of
the Southern Capital the war was over, though we did not know it at once.
Again and again has the story been told of Sunday, April 2, in Richmond.
The message brought into St. Paul's Church from Lee to Davis, saying
Richmond could no longer be defended; the quiet departure of the
President; the noble bearing of the beloved rector, Rev. Dr. Minnegerode;
the self-control of the troubled people remaining; the solemn Communion
Service; these are all a part now of American history of that sad time
when brother strove with brother; a time whose memories should never be
revived for the purpose of keeping rancor alive, but that should be
unfalteringly remembered, and every phase of it diligently studied, that
our common country may in no wise lose the lesson for which we of the
North and South paid so tremendous a price.
Into Dr. Hoge's church a hurried messenger came. The pastor read the note
handed up to him, bowed his head in silent prayer, and then said:
"Brethren, trying scenes are before us; General Lee has suffered reverses.
But remember that God is with us in the storm as well as in the calm. Go
quietly to your homes, and whatever may be in store for us, let us not
forget that we are Christian men and women. The blessing of the Father,
the Son, and the Holy Ghost be with us all. Amen." So other pastors
commended their people.
None who lived through that Sabbath could forget it. Our Government, our
soldiers, hurrying off; women saying goodbye to husband, lover, brother,
or friend, and urging haste; everybody who could go, going, when means of
transportation were insufficient for Government uses, and "a kingdom for a
horse" could not buy one--horses brought that day $1,000 apiece in gold;
handsome houses full of beautiful furniture left open and deserted; people
of all sexes, colors and classes running hither and yon; boxes and barrels
dragged about the streets from open commissary stores; explosions as of
earthquakes; houses aflame; the sick and dying brought out; streets
running liquid fire where liquor had been emptied into gutters, that it
might not be available for invading troops; bibulous wretches in the midst
of the terror, brooding over such waste; drunken roughs and looters, white
and black, abroad; the penitentiary disgorging striped hordes; the ribald
songs, the anguish, the fears, the tumult; the noble calm of brave souls,
the patient endurance of sweet women and gentle children--these are all a
part of American history, making thereon a page blistered with tears for
some; and for others, illumined with symbols of triumph and glory.
And yet, we are of one blood, and the triumph and glory of one is the
triumph and glory of the other; the anguish and tears of one the anguish
and tears of the other; and the shame of one is the shame of both.
The fire was largely due to accident. In obedience to law, Confederate
forces, in evacuating the city, fired tobacco warehouses, ordnance and
other Government stores, gunboats in the James and bridges spanning the
river. A wind, it is said, carried sparks towards the town, igniting first
one building and then another; incendiarism lent aid that pilfering
might go on in greater security through public disorder and distress.
[Illustration: MRS. JEFFERSON DAVIS]
During the night detonations of exploding gunboats could be heard for
miles, the noise and shock and lurid lights adding to the wretchedness of
those within the city, and the anxieties of those who beheld its burnings
from afar; among these, the advancing enemy, who was not without uneasy
speculations lest he find Richmond, as Napoleon found Moscow, in ashes.
General Shepley, U. S. A., has described the scene witnessed from his
position near Petersburg, as a most beautiful and awful display of
fireworks, the heavens at three o'clock being suddenly filled with
bursting shells, red lights, Roman candles, fiery serpents, golden
fountains, falling stars.
Nearly all the young men were gone; the fire department, without a full
force of operatives, without horses, without hose, was unable to cope with
the situation. Old men, women and children, and negro servants fought the
flames as well as they could.
Friends and relatives who were living in Richmond then have told me about
their experiences until I seem to have shared them. One who appears in
these pages as Matoaca, gives me this little word-picture of the morning
after the evacuation:
"I went early to the War Department, where I had been employed, to get
letters out of my desk. The desk was open. Everything was open. Our
President, our Government, our soldiers were gone. The papers were found
and I started homeward. We saw rolls of smoke ahead, and trod carefully
the fiery streets. Suddenly my companion caught my arm, crying: 'Is not
that the sound of cavalry?' We hurried, almost running. Soon after we
entered the house, some one exclaimed:
"'God help us! The United States flag is flying over our Capitol!'
"I laid my head on Uncle Randolph's knee and shivered. He placed his hand
lightly on my head and said: 'Trust in God, my child. They can not be
cruel to us. We are defenseless.' He had fought for that flag in Mexico.
He had stood by Virginia, but he had always been a Unionist. I thought of
New Orleans, Atlanta, Columbia."
An impression obtained that to negro troops was assigned the honor of
first entering Richmond, hauling down the Southern Cross and hoisting in
its place the Stars and Stripes. "Harper's Weekly" said: "It was fitting
that the old flag should be restored by soldiers of the race to secure
whose eternal degradation that flag had been pulled down." Whether the
assignment was made or not, I am unable to say; if it was, it was not very
graceful or wise on the part of our conquerors, and had it been carried
out, would have been prophetic of what came after--the subversion.
White troops first entered Richmond, and a white man ran up the flag of
the Union over our Capitol. General Shepley says that to his aide,
Lieutenant de Peyster, he accorded the privilege as a reward for caring
for his old flag that had floated over City Hall in New Orleans. On the
other hand, it is asserted that Major Stevens performed the historic
office, running up the two small guidons of the Fourth Massachusetts
Cavalry, which were presently displaced by the large flag Lieutenant de
Peyster had been carrying in the holster at his saddle-bow for many a day,
that it might be in readiness for the use to which he now put it.
THE ARMY OF THE UNION