THE COMING OF LINCOLN
The South did not know that she had a friend in Abraham Lincoln, and the
announcement of his presence in Richmond was not calculated to give
comfort or assurance.
"Abraham Lincoln came unheralded. No bells rang, no guns boomed in salute.
He held no levee. There was no formal jubilee. He must have been heartless
as Nero to have chosen that moment for a festival of triumph. He was not
heartless." So a citizen of Richmond, who was a boy at the time, and out
doors and everywhere, seeing everything, remembers the coming of Lincoln.
One of the women who sat behind closed windows says: "If there was any
kind of rejoicing, it must have been of a very somber kind; the sounds of
it did not reach me." Another who looked through her shutters, said: "I
saw him in a carriage, the horses galloping through the streets at a
break-neck speed, his escort clearing the way. The negroes had to be
cleared out of the way, they impeded his progress so." He was in Richmond
April 4 and 5, and visited the Davis Mansion, the Capitol, Libby Prison,
Castle Thunder and other places.
His coming was as simple, business-like, and unpretentious as the man
himself. Anybody who happened to be in the neighbourhood on the afternoon
of April 4, might have seen a boat manned by ten or twelve sailors pull
ashore at a landing above Rockett's, and a tall, lank man step forth,
"leading a little boy." By resemblance to pictures that had been scattered
broadcast, this man could have been easily recognized as Abraham Lincoln.
The little boy was Tad, his son. Major Penrose, who commanded the escort,
says Tad was not with the President; Admiral Porter, General Shepley and
others say he was.
Accompanied by Admiral Porter and several other officers and escorted by
ten sailors, President Lincoln, "holding Tad's hand," walked through the
city, which was in part a waste of ashes, and the smoke of whose burning
buildings was still ascending. From remains of smouldering bridges, from
wreckage of gunboats, from Manchester on the other side of the James, and
from the city's streets smoke rose as from a sacrifice to greet the
President.
A Northern newspaper man (who related this story of himself) recognizing
that it was his business to make news as well as dispense it, saw some
negroes at work near the landing where an officer was having débris
removed, and other negroes idling. He said to this one and to that: "Do
you know that man?" pointing to the tall, lank man who had just stepped
ashore.
"Who _is_ dat man, marster?"
"Call no man marster. That man set you free. That is Abraham Lincoln. Now
is your time to shout. Can't you sing, 'God bless you, Father Abraham!'"
That started the ball rolling. The news spread like wild-fire. Mercurial
blacks, already excited to fever-heat, collected about Mr. Lincoln,
impeding his progress, kneeling to him, hailing him as "Saviour!" and "My
Jesus!" They sang, shouted, danced. One woman jumped up and down,
shrieking: "I'm free! I'm free! I'm free till I'm fool!" Some went into
the regular Voodoo ecstasy, leaping, whirling, stamping, until their
clothes were half torn off. Mr. Lincoln made a speech, in which he said:
"My poor friends, you are free--free as air. But you must try to deserve
this priceless boon. Let the world see that you merit it by your good
works. Don't let your joy carry you into excesses. Obey God's commandments
and thank Him for giving you liberty, for to Him you owe all things.
There, now, let me pass on. I have little time here and much to do. I want
to go to the Capitol. Let me pass on."
Henry J. Raymond speaks of the President as taking his hat off and bowing
to an old negro man who knelt and kissed his hand, and adds: "That bow
upset the forms, laws and customs of centuries; it was a death-shock to
chivalry, a mortal wound to caste. Recognize a nigger? Faugh!" Which
proves that Mr. Raymond did not know or wilfully misrepresented a people
who could not make reply. Northern visitors to the South may yet see
refutation in old sections where new ways have not corrupted ancient
courtesy, and where whites and blacks interchange cordial and respectful
salutations, though they may be perfect strangers to each other, when
passing on the road. If they are not strangers, greeting is usually more
than respectful and cordial; it is full of neighbourly and affectionate
interest in each other and each other's folks.
The memories of the living, even of Federal officers near President
Lincoln, bear varied versions of his visit. General Shepley relates that
he was greatly surprised when he saw the crowd in the middle of the
street, President Lincoln and little Tad leading, and that Mr. Lincoln
called out:
"Hullo, General! Is that you? I'm walking around looking for Military
Headquarters."
General Shepley conducted him to our White House, where President Lincoln
wearily sank into a chair, which happened to be that President Davis was
wont to occupy while writing his letters, a task suffering frequent
interruption from some one or other of his children, who had a way of
stealing in upon him at any and all times to claim a caress.
Upon Mr. Lincoln's arrival, or possibly in advance, when it was understood
that he would come up from City Point, there was discussion among our
citizens as to how he should be received--that is, so far as our attitude
toward him was concerned. There were several ways of looking at the
problem. Our armies were still in the field, and all sorts of rumors were
afloat, some accrediting them with victories.
A called meeting was held under the leadership of Judge Campbell and Judge
Thomas, who, later, with General Joseph Anderson and others, waited on Mr.
Lincoln, to whom they made peace propositions involving disbandment of our
armies; withdrawal of our soldiers from the field, and reëstablishment of
state governments under the Union, Virginia inaugurating this course by
example and influence.
Mr. Lincoln had said in proclamation, the Southern States "can have peace
any time by simply laying down their arms and submitting to the authority
of the Union." It was inconceivable to many how we could ever want to be
in the Union again. But wise ones said: "Our position is to be that of
conquered provinces voiceless in the administration of our own affairs, or
of States with some power, at least, of self-government." Then, there was
the dread spectre of confiscation, proscription, the scaffold.
Judge Campbell and Judge Thomas reported: "The movement for the
restoration of the Union is highly gratifying to Mr. Lincoln; he will
give it full sympathy and coöperation."
[Illustration: THE WHITE HOUSE OF THE CONFEDERACY, RICHMOND, VA.
Presented to Mr. Davis, who refused it as a gift, but occupied it as the
Executive residence. Now known as the Confederate Museum.]
"You people will all come back now," Mr. Lincoln had said to Judge Thomas,
"and we shall have old Virginia home again."
Many had small faith in these professions of amity, and said so. "Lincoln
is the man who called out the troops and precipitated war," was bitterly
objected, "and we do not forget Hampton Roads."
A few built hopes on belief that Mr. Lincoln had long been eager to
harmonize the sections. Leader of these was Judge John A. Campbell,
ex-Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, and
ex-Assistant Secretary of War of the expiring Confederacy. He had served
with Mr. Hunter and Mr. Stephens on the Hampton Roads Peace Commission,
knew Mr. Lincoln well, had high regard for him and faith in his earnest
desire for genuine reconciliation between North and South. When the
Confederate Government left the city, he remained, meaning to try to make
peace, Mr. Davis, it is said, knowing his purpose and consenting, but
having no hope of its success.
Only the Christmas before, when peace sentiments that led to the Hampton
Roads Conference were in the air, striking illustrations in Northern
journals reflected Northern sentiment. One big cartoon of a Christmas
dinner in the Capitol at Washington, revealed Mr. Lincoln holding wide the
doors, and the seceded States returning to the family love feast. Olive
branches, the "Prodigal's Return," and nice little mottoes like "Come
Home, Our Erring Sisters, Come!" were neatly displayed around the margin.
Fatted calves were not to be despised by a starving people; but the less
said about the pious influences of the "Prodigal's Return" the better.
That Hampton Roads Conference (February, 1865) has always been a sore
spot. In spite of the commissioners' statements that Mr. Lincoln's only
terms were "unconditional surrender," many people blamed Mr. Davis for the
failure of the peace movement; others said he was pusillanimous and a
traitor for sanctioning overtures that had to be made, by Lincoln's
requirements, "informally," and, as it were, by stealth.
"We must forget dead issues," our pacificators urged. "We have to face the
present. The stand Mr. Lincoln has taken all along, that the Union is
indissoluble and that a State can not get out of it however much she
tries, is as fortunate for us now as it was unlucky once."
"In or out, what matters it if Yankees rule over us!" others declared.
"Mr. Lincoln is not in favor of outsiders holding official reins in the
South," comforters responded. "He has committed himself on that point to
Governor Hahn in Louisiana. When Judge Thomas suggested that he establish
Governor Pierpont here, Mr. Lincoln asked straightway, 'Where is Extra
Billy?' He struck the table with his fist, exclaiming, 'By Jove! I want
that old game-cock back here!'"
When in 1862-3 West Virginia seceded from Virginia and was received into
the bosom of the Union, a few "loyal" counties which did not go with her,
elected Francis H. Pierpont Governor of the old State. At the head of
sixteen legislators, he posed at Alexandria as Virginia's Executive, Mr.
Lincoln and the Federal Congress recognizing him. Our real governor was
the doughty warrior, William Smith, nick-named "Extra Billy" before the
war, when he was always asking Congress for extra appropriations for an
ever-lengthening stage-coach and mail-route line, which was a great
Government enterprise under his fostering hand.
Governor Smith had left with the Confederate Government, going towards
Lynchburg. He had been greatly concerned for his family, but his wife had
said: "I may feel as a woman, but I can act like a man. Attend to your
public affairs and I will arrange our family matters." The Mansion had
barely escaped destruction by fire. The Smith family had vacated it to the
Federals, had been invited to return and then ordered to vacate again for
Federal occupation.
Mr. Lincoln said that the legislature that took Virginia out of the Union
and Governor Letcher, who had been in office then, with Governor Smith,
his successor, and Governor Smith's legislature, must be convened. "The
Government that took Virginia out of the Union is the Government to bring
her back. No other can effect it. They must come to the Capitol yonder
where they voted her out and vote her back."
Uncle Randolph was one of those who had formally called upon Mr. Lincoln
at the Davis Mansion. Feeble as he was, he was so eager to do some good
that he had gone out in spite of his niece to talk about the "policy" he
thought would be best. "I did not say much," he reported wistfully. "There
were a great many people waiting on him. Things look strange at the
Capitol. Federal soldiers all about, and campfires on the Square. Judge
Campbell introduced me. President Lincoln turned from him to me, and said:
'You fought for the Union in Mexico.' I said, 'Mr. Lincoln, if the Union
will be fair to Virginia, I will fight for the Union again.' I forgot, you
see, that I am too old and feeble to fight. Then I said quickly, 'Younger
men than I, Mr. President, will give you that pledge.' What did he say? He
looked at me hard--and shook my hand--and there wasn't any need for him to
say anything."
Mr. Lincoln's attitude towards Judge Campbell was one of confidence and
cordiality. He knew the Judge's purity and singleness of purpose in
seeking leniency for the conquered South, and genuine reunion between the
sections. The Federal commanders understood his devotion and integrity.
The newspaper men, in their reports, paid respect to his venerable,
dignified figure, stamped with feebleness, poverty, and a noble sorrow,
waiting patiently in one of the rooms at the Davis Mansion for audience
with Mr. Lincoln.
None who saw Mr. Lincoln during that visit to Richmond observed in him any
trace of exultation. Walking the streets with the negroes crowding about
him, in the Davis Mansion with the Federal officers paying him court and
our citizens calling on him, in the carriage with General Weitzel or
General Shepley, a motley horde following--he was the same, only, as those
who watched him declared, paler and wearier-looking each time they saw
him. Uncle Randolph reported:
"There was something like misgiving in his eyes as he sat in the carriage
with Shepley, gazing upon smoking ruins on all sides, and a rabble of
crazy negroes hailing him as 'Saviour!' Truly, I never saw a sadder or
wearier face in all my life than Lincoln's!"
He had terrible problems ahead, and he knew it. His emancipation
proclamation in 1863 was a war measure. His letter to Greeley in 1862,
said: "If there be those who would not save the Union unless they could at
the same time save slavery, I do not agree with them. If I could preserve
the Union without freeing any slaves, I would do it; if I could preserve
the Union by freeing all the slaves, I would do it.... What I do about the
coloured race, I do because I think it helps to save the Union."
[Illustration: GOVERNOR'S MANSION, RICHMOND, VA.
Erected 1811-13, to succeed a plain wooden structure called the
"Governor's Palace."]
To a committee of negroes waiting on him in the White House, August 14,
1862, Mr. Lincoln named colonisation as the one remedy for the race
trouble, proposing Government aid out of an appropriation which Congress
had voted him. He said: "White men in this country are cutting each
other's throats about you. But for your race among us, there would be no
war, although many men on either side do not care for you one way or the
other.... Your race suffers from living among us, ours from your
presence." He applied $25,000 to the venture, but it failed; New Grenada
objected to negro colonisation.
Two months before his visit to Richmond, some official (Colonel Kaye, as I
remember) was describing to him the extravagancies of South Carolina
negroes when Sherman's army announced freedom to them, and Mr. Lincoln
walked his floor, pale and distressed, saying: "It is a momentous
thing--this liberation of the negro race."
He left a paper in his own handwriting with Judge Campbell, setting forth
the terms upon which any seceded State could be restored to the Union;
these were, unqualified submission, withdrawal of soldiers from the field,
and acceptance of his position on the slavery question, as defined in his
proclamations. The movement gained ground. A committee in Petersburg,
headed by Anthony Keiley, asked permits to come to Richmond that they
might coöperate with the committee there.
"Unconditional surrender," some commented. "Mr. Lincoln is not disposed to
humiliate us unnecessarily," was the reassurance. "He promised Judge
Campbell that irritating exactions and oaths against their consciences are
not to be imposed upon our people; they are to be encouraged, not coerced,
into taking vows of allegiance to the United States Government; Lincoln's
idea is to make allegiance a coveted privilege; there are to be no
confiscations; amnesty to include our officers, civil and military, is to
be granted--that is, the power of pardon resting with the President, he
pledges himself to liberal use of it. Lincoln is long-headed and
kind-hearted. He knows the best thing all around is a real peace. He
wishes to restore confidence in and affection for the Union. That is
plain. He said: 'I would gladly pardon Jeff Davis himself if he would ask
it.'"
I have heard one very pretty story about Mr. Lincoln's visit to Richmond.
General Pickett, of the famous charge at Gettysburg, had been well known
in early life to Mr. Lincoln when Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Johnson, General
Pickett's uncle, were law partners in Illinois. Mr. Lincoln had taken warm
interest in young George Pickett as a cadet at West Point, and had written
him kindly, jovial letters of advice. During that hurried sojourn in
Richmond, Abraham Lincoln took time for looking up Mr. Johnson. His
carriage and armed retinue drew up in front of the old Pickett mansion.
The General's beautiful young wife, trembling with alarm, heard a strange
voice asking first for Mr. Johnson and then about General Pickett, and
finally: "Is General Pickett's wife here?" She came forward, her baby in
her arms. "I am General Pickett's wife." "Madam, I am George's old friend,
Abraham Lincoln." "The President of the United States!" "No," with a
kindly, half-quizzical smile, "only Abraham Lincoln, George's old friend.
And this is George's baby?" Abraham Lincoln bent his kindly, half-sad,
half-smiling glance upon the child. Baby George stretched out his hands;
Lincoln took him, and the little one, in the pretty fashion babies have,
opened his mouth and kissed the President.
"Tell your father," said Lincoln, "that I will grant him a special
amnesty--if he wants it--for the sake of your mother's bright eyes and
your good manners." A short while after that--when Lincoln was dead--that
mother was flying, terror-stricken, with her baby to Canada, where General
Pickett, in fear of his life, had taken refuge.
Mr. Lincoln left instructions for General Weitzel to issue passes to the
legislators and State officials who were to come to Richmond for the
purpose of restoring Virginia to the Union. The "Whig" had sympathetic
articles on "Reconstruction," and announced in due order the meeting of
citizens called "to consider President Lincoln's proposition for
reassembling the Legislature to take Virginia back into the Union." It
printed the formal call for reassembling, signed by the committee and many
citizens, and countersigned by General Weitzel; handbills so signed were
printed for distribution.
General Shepley, whose cordial acquiescence in the conciliation plan had
been pronounced, said in after years that he suffered serious misgivings.
When General Weitzel directed him to issue the passes for the returning
legislators, he inquired: "Have you the President's written order for
this?" "No. Why?" "For your own security you should have it, General. When
the President reaches Washington and the Cabinet are informed of what has
been done and what is contemplated, this order will be rescinded, and the
Cabinet will deny that it has ever been issued."
"I have the President's commands. I am a soldier and obey orders."
"Right, General. Command me and I obey."
Mr. Lincoln's written order reiterating oral instructions came, however.
Admiral Porter, according to his own account, took President Lincoln to
task for his concessions, and told him in so many words that he was acting
outside of his rights; Richmond, being under military rule, was subject to
General Grant's jurisdiction. The Admiral has claimed the distinction of
working a change in the President's mind and of recovering immediately the
obnoxious order from Weitzel, killing, or trying to kill, a horse or so in
the undertaking. He characterised the efforts of Judges Campbell and
Thomas to serve their country and avert more bloodshed as "a clever dodge
to soothe the wounded feelings of the people of the South." The Admiral
adds: "But what a howl it would have raised in the North!"
Admiral Porter says the lectured President exclaimed: "Well, I came near
knocking all the fat in the fire, didn't I? Let us go. I seem to be
putting my foot into it here all the time. Bless my soul! how Seward would
have preached if he had heard me give Campbell permission to call the
Legislature! Seward is an encyclopedia of international law, and laughs at
my horse sense on which I pride myself. Admiral, if I were you, I would
not repeat that joke yet awhile. People might laugh at you for knowing so
much more than the President."
He was acting, he said, in conjunction with military authorities. General
Weitzel was acting under General Grant's instructions. The conciliatory
plan was being followed in Petersburg, where General Grant himself had led
the formal entry.
"General Weitzel warmly approves the plan."
"He and Campbell are personal friends," the Admiral remarked
significantly.
Whatever became of those horses driven out by Admiral Porter's
instructions to be killed, if need be, in the effort to recover that
order, is a conundrum. According to Admiral Porter the order had been
written and given to General Weitzel while Mr. Lincoln was in the city.
According to Judge Campbell and General Shepley, and the original now on
file in Washington, it was written from City Point.
Dated, "Headquarters Department of Virginia, Richmond, April 13, 1865,"
this appeared in the "Whig" on the last afternoon of Mr. Lincoln's life:
"Permission for the reassembling of the gentlemen recently acting as the
Legislature is rescinded. Should any of the gentlemen come to the city
under the notice of reassembling already published, they will be furnished
passports to return to their homes. Any of the persons named in the call
signed by J. A. Campbell and others, who are found in the city twelve
hours after the publication of this notice will be subject to arrest,
unless they are residents. (Signed) E. O. C. Ord, General Commanding the
Department."
General Weitzel was removed. Upon him was thrown the blame of the
President's "blunder." He was charged with the crime of pity and sympathy
for "rebels" and "traitors." When Lincoln was dead, a high official in
Washington said: "No man more than Mr. Lincoln condemned the course
General Weitzel and his officers pursued in Richmond."
In more ways than one General Weitzel had done that which was not pleasing
in the sight of Mr. Stanton. Assistant Secretary of War Dana had let
Stanton know post-haste that General Weitzel was distributing "victuals"
to "rebels." Stanton wired to know of General Weitzel if he was "acting
under authority in giving food supplies to the people of Richmond, and if
so, whose?" General Weitzel answered, "Major-General Ord's orders approved
by General Grant."
Mr. Dana wrote Mr. Stanton, "Weitzel is to pay for rations by selling
captured property." General Weitzel apologised for magnanimity by
explaining that the instructions of General Ord, his superior, were "to
sell all the tobacco I find here and feed those in distress. A great many
persons, black and white, are on the point of starvation, and I have
relieved the most pressing wants by the issue of a few abandoned rebel
stores and some damaged stores of my own." "All receivers of rations must
take the oath," Mr. Stanton wrote back.
In Northern magazines left by Federal soldiers visiting negroes in
Matoaca's yard, black Cato saw caricatures of Southern ladies mixing in
with negroes and white roughs and toughs, begging food at Yankee bureaus.
"Miss Mato'ca," he plead earnestly, "don' go whar dem folks is no mo'. It
will disgrace de fam'ly." She had put pride and conscience in her pocket,
drawn rations and brought home her pork and codfish.
Revocation of permission for the reassembling of the Virginia Legislature
was one of Mr. Lincoln's last, if not his last, act in the War Department.
Stanton gave him no peace till it was written; he handed the paper to Mr.
Stanton, saying: "There! I think that will suit you!" "No," said the Iron
Chancellor of the Union. "It is not strong enough. It merely revokes your
permission for the assembling of the rebel legislators. Some of these men
will come to Richmond--are doubtless there now--in response to the call.
You should prohibit the meeting." Which was done. Hence, the prohibitory
order in the "Whig."
Mr. Lincoln wrote, April 14, to General Van Alen, of New York: "Thank you
for the assurance you give me that I shall be supported by conservative
men like yourself in the efforts I may use to restore the Union, so as to
make it, to use your own language, a Union of hearts as well as of hands."
General Van Alen had warned him against exposing himself in the South as
he had done by visiting Richmond; and for this Mr. Lincoln thanked him
briefly without admitting that there had been any peril. Laconically, he
had thanked Stanton for concern expressed in a dispatch warning him to be
careful about visiting Petersburg, adding, "I have already been there."
When serenaded the Tuesday before his death, he said, in speaking of the
bringing of the Southern States into practical relations with the Union:
"I believe it is not only possible, but easier to do this, without
deciding, or even considering, whether these States have ever been out of
the Union. Finding themselves safely at home, it would be utterly
immaterial whether they had ever been abroad."
His last joke--the story-tellers say it was his last--was about "Dixie."
General Lee's surrender had been announced; Washington was ablaze with
excitement. Delirious multitudes surged to the White House, calling the
President out for a speech. It was a moment for easy betrayal into words
that might widen the breach between sections. He said in his quaint way
that he had no speech ready, and concluded humorously: "I have always
thought 'Dixie' one of the best tunes I ever heard. I insisted yesterday
that we had fairly captured it. I presented the question to the
Attorney-General and he gave his opinion that it is our lawful prize. I
ask the band to give us a good turn upon it." In that little speech, he
claimed of the South by right of conquest a song--and nothing more.
THE LAST CAPITAL