to take my bearings. It was a mild spring night, with a cloudy sky,
and the soft mellow smell of earthiness in the atmosphere that not
infrequently portends rain. If rain came then it might retard the
arrival of our infantry, which I knew General Sheridan was most anxious
should reach us at the earliest possible moment. A short distance from
where I stood was the encampment of our headquarters escort, with
its orderlies, grooms, officers’ servants, and horses. Just beyond
it could be seen the dying camp-fires of a cavalry regiment, lying
close in to cavalry corps headquarters. This regiment was in charge
of between six and eight hundred prisoners, who had fallen into our
hands just at dark, as Generals Custer and Devin, at the head of their
respective cavalry commands, had charged into the station and captured
four railway trains of commissariat supplies, which had been sent here
to await the arrival of the Confederate army, together with twenty-six
pieces of artillery. For a few moments the artillery had greatly
surprised and astonished us, for its presence was entirely unexpected,
and as it suddenly opened on the charging columns of cavalry it looked
for a short time as though we might have all unwittingly fallen upon a
division of infantry. However, it turned out otherwise. Our cavalry,
after the first recoil, boldly charged in among the batteries, and the
gunners, being without adequate support, sensibly surrendered. The
whole affair was for us a most gratifying termination of a long day’s
ride, as it must have proved later on a bitter disappointment to the
weary and hungry Confederates pressing forward from Petersburg and
Richmond in the vain hope of escape from the Federal troops, who were
straining every nerve to overtake them and compel a surrender. To-night
the cavalry corps was in their front and squarely across the road to
Lynchburg, and it was reasonably certain, should our infantry get up
in time on the morrow, that the almost ceaseless marching and fighting
of the last ten days were to attain their legitimate result in the
capitulation of General Lee’s army.
As I stood there in the dark thinking over the work of the twelve
preceding days, it was borne in upon me with startling emphasis
that to-morrow’s sun would rise big with the fate of the Southern
Confederacy.
* * * * *
Just before daylight on the morning of the 9th of April, I sat down
to a cup of coffee, but had hardly begun to drink it when I heard
the ominous sound of a scattering skirmish fire, apparently in the
direction of Appomattox Court-house. Hastily swallowing what remained
of the coffee, I reported to General Sheridan, who directed me to go
to the front at once. Springing into the saddle, I galloped up the
road, my heart being greatly lightened by a glimpse of two or three
infantrymen standing near a camp-fire close by the depot--convincing
proof that our hoped-for reinforcements were within supporting distance.
It was barely daylight as I sped along, but before I reached the
cavalry brigade of Colonel C. H. Smith that held the main road
between Appomattox Court-house and Lynchburg, a distance of about two
miles northeast from Appomattox Depot, the enemy had advanced to the
attack, and the battle had opened. When ordered into position late the
preceding night, Colonel Smith had felt his way in the dark as closely
as possible to Appomattox Court-house, and at or near midnight had
halted on a ridge, on which he had thrown up a breastwork of rails.
This he occupied by dismounting his brigade, and also with a section
of horse-artillery, at the same time protecting both his flanks by a
small mounted force. As the enemy advanced to the attack in the dim
light of early dawn he could not see the led horses of our cavalry,
which had been sent well to the rear, and was evidently at a loss to
determine what was in his front. The result was that after the first
attack he fell back to get his artillery in position, and to form a
strong assaulting column against what must have seemed to him a line
of infantry. This was most fortunate for us, for by the time he again
advanced in full force, and compelled the dismounted cavalry to slowly
fall back by weight of numbers, our infantry was hurrying forward from
Appomattox Depot (which place it had reached at four o’clock in the
morning), and we had gained many precious minutes. At this time most
of our cavalry was fighting dismounted, stubbornly retiring. But the
Confederates at last realized that there was nothing but a brigade of
dismounted cavalry and a few batteries of horse-artillery in their
immediate front, and pushed forward grimly and determinedly, driving
the dismounted troopers slowly ahead of them.
I had gone to the left of the road, and was in a piece of woods with
some of our cavalrymen (who by this time had been ordered to fall back
to their horses and give place to our infantry, which was then coming
up), when a couple of rounds of canister tore through the branches just
over my head. Riding back to the edge of the woods in the direction
from which the shots came, I found myself within long pistol range of
a section of a battery of light artillery. It was in position near a
country road that came out of another piece of woods about two hundred
yards in its rear, and was pouring a rapid fire into the woods from
which I had just emerged. As I sat on my horse quietly watching it from
behind a rail fence, the lieutenant commanding the pieces saw me, and
riding out for a hundred yards or more towards where I was, proceeded
to cover me with his revolver. We fired together--a miss on both sides.
The second shot was uncomfortably close, so far as I was concerned,
but as I took deliberate aim for the third shot I became aware that
in some way his pistol was disabled; for using both hands and all his
strength I saw that he could not cock it. I had him covered, and had
he turned I think I should have fired. He did nothing of the sort.
Apparently accepting his fate, he laid his revolver across the pommel
of his saddle, fronted me quietly and coolly, and looked me steadily in
the face. The whole thing had been something in the nature of a duel,
and I felt that to fire under the circumstances savored too much of
murder. Besides, I knew that at a word from him the guns would have
been trained on me where I sat. He, too, seemed to appreciate the fact
that it was an individual fight, and manfully and gallantly forbore
to call for aid; so lowering and uncocking my pistol, I replaced it
in my holster, and shook my fist at him, which action he cordially
reciprocated, and then turning away, I rode back into the woods.
About this time the enemy’s artillery ceased firing, and I again
rode rapidly to the edge of the woods, just in time to see the guns
limber up and retire down the wood road from which they had come. The
lieutenant in command saw me and stopped. We simultaneously uncovered,
waved our hats to each other, and bowed. I have always thought he was
one of the bravest men I ever faced.
I rode back again, passing through our infantry line, intending to go
to the left and find the cavalry, which I knew would be on the flank
somewhere. Suddenly I became conscious that firing had ceased along the
whole line.
I had not ridden more than a hundred yards when I heard some one
calling my name. Turning, I saw one of the headquarters aides, who came
galloping up, stating that he had been hunting for me for the last
fifteen minutes, and that General Sheridan wished me to report to him
at once. I followed him rapidly to the right on the wood-path in the
direction from which he had come.
As soon as I could get abreast of him I asked if he knew what the
General wanted me for.
Turning in his saddle, with his eyes fairly ablaze, he said, “Why,
don’t you know? A white flag.”
All I could say was “Really?”
He answered by a nod; and then we leaned towards each other and shook
hands; but nothing else was said.
A few moments more and we were out of the woods in the open fields. I
saw the long line of battle of the Fifth Army Corps halted, the men
standing at rest, the standards being held butt on earth, and the
flags floating out languidly on the spring breeze. As we passed them
I noticed that the officers had generally grouped themselves in front
of the centre of their regiments, sword in hand, and were conversing
in low tones. The men were leaning wearily on their rifles, in the
position of parade rest. All were anxiously looking to the front, in
the direction towards which the enemy’s line had withdrawn, for the
Confederates had fallen back into a little swale or valley beyond
Appomattox Court-house, and were not then visible from this part of our
line.
We soon came up to General Sheridan and his staff. They were
dismounted, sitting on the grass by the side of a broad country road
that led to the Court-house. This was about one or two hundred yards
distant, and, as we afterwards found, consisted of the court-house, a
small tavern, and eight or ten houses, all situated on this same road
or street.
Conversation was carried on in a low tone, and I was told of the
blunder of one of the Confederate regiments in firing on the General
and staff after the flag of truce had been accepted. I also heard that
General Lee was then up at the little village awaiting the arrival of
General Grant, to whom he had sent a note, through General Sheridan,
requesting a meeting to arrange terms of surrender. Colonel Newhall, of
our headquarters staff, had been despatched in search of General Grant,
and might be expected up at almost any moment.
It was, perhaps, something more than an hour and a half later, to the
best of my recollection, that General Grant, accompanied by Colonel
Newhall, and followed by his staff, came rapidly riding up to where
we were standing by the side of the road, for we had all risen at
his approach. When within a few yards of us he drew rein, and halted
in front of General Sheridan, acknowledged our salute, and then,
leaning slightly forward in his saddle, said, in his usual quiet tone,
“Good-morning, Sheridan; how are you?”
“First-rate, thank you, General,” was the reply. “How are you?”
General Grant nodded in return, and said, “Is General Lee up there?”
indicating the court-house by a glance.
“Yes,” was the response, “he’s there.” And then followed something
about the Confederate army, but I did not clearly catch the import of
the sentence.
“Very well, then,” said General Grant. “Let’s go up.”
General Sheridan, together with a few selected officers of his staff,
mounted, and joined General Grant and staff. Together they rode to Mr.
McLean’s house, a plain two-story brick residence in the village, to
which General Lee had already repaired, and where he was known to be
awaiting General Grant’s arrival. Dismounting at the gate, the whole
party crossed the yard, and the senior officers present went up on to
the porch which protected the front of the house. It extended nearly
across the entire house and was railed in, except where five or six
steps led up the centre opposite the front door, which was flanked by
two small wooden benches, placed close against the house on either side
of the entrance. The door opened into a hall that ran the entire length
of the house, and on either side of it was a single room with a window
in each end of it, and two doors, one at the front and one at the rear
of each of the rooms, opening on the hall. The room to the left, as you
entered, was the parlor, and it was in this room that General Lee was
awaiting General Grant’s arrival.
As General Grant stepped on to the porch he was met by Colonel Babcock,
of his staff, who had in the morning been sent forward with a message
to General Lee. He had found him resting at the side of the road, and
had accompanied him to Mr. McLean’s house.
General Grant went into the house accompanied by General Rawlins,
his chief of staff; General Seth Williams, his adjutant-general;
General Rufus Ingalls, his quartermaster-general; and his two aides,
General Horace Porter and Lieutenant-Colonel Babcock. After a
little time General Sheridan; General M. R. Morgan, General Grant’s
chief commissary; Lieutenant-Colonel Ely Parker, his military
secretary; Lieutenant-Colonel T. S. Bowers, one of his assistant
adjutants-general; and Captains Robert T. Lincoln and Adam Badeau,
aides-de-camp, went into the house at General Grant’s express
invitation, sent out, I believe, through Colonel Babcock, who came
to the hall-door for the purpose, and they were, I was afterwards
told, formally presented to General Lee. After a lapse of a few more
minutes quite a number of these officers, including General Sheridan,
came out into the hall and on to the porch, leaving General Grant and
General Lee, Generals Rawlins, Ingalls, Seth Williams, and Porter,
and Lieutenant-Colonels Babcock, Ely Parker, and Bowers, together with
Colonel Marshall, of General Lee’s staff, in the room, while the terms
of the surrender were finally agreed upon and formally signed. These
were the only officers, therefore, who were actually present at the
official surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia.
After quite a length of time Colonel Babcock came to the door again,
opened it, and glanced out. As he did so he placed his forage-cap
on one finger, twirled it around, and nodded to us all, as much as
to say, “It’s all settled,” and said something in a low tone to
General Sheridan. Then they, accompanied by General E. O. C. Ord, the
commanding general of the Army of the James, who had just ridden up
to the house, entered the house together, the hall-door being partly
closed again after them, leaving quite a number of us staff-officers
upon the porch.
While the conference between Generals Grant and Lee was still in
progress, Generals Merritt and Custer, of the Cavalry Corps, and
several of the infantry generals, together with the rest of General
Sheridan’s staff-officers, came into the yard, and some of them came up
on the porch. Colonel Babcock came out once more, and General Merritt
went back to the room with him at his request; but most, if not all,
of the infantry generals left us and went back to their respective
commands while the conference was still in progress and before it ended.
Just to the right of the house, as we faced it on entering, stood a
soldierly looking orderly in a tattered gray uniform, holding three
horses--one a fairly well-bred-looking gray, in good heart, though
thin in flesh, which, from the accoutrements, I concluded, belonged to
General Lee: the others, a thoroughbred bay and a fairly good brown,
were undoubtedly those of the staff-officer who had accompanied General
Lee, and of the orderly himself. He was evidently a sensible soldier,
too, for as he held the bridles he baited the animals on the young
grass, and they ate as though they needed all they had a chance to pick
up.
I cannot say exactly how long the conference between Generals Grant and
Lee lasted, but after quite a while, certainly more than two hours, I
became aware from the movement of chairs within that it was about to
break up. I had been sitting on the top step of the porch, writing in
my field note-book, but I closed it at once, and stepping back on the
porch leaned against the railing nearly opposite and to the left of the
door, and expectantly waited. As I did so the inner door slowly opened,
and General Lee stood before me. As he paused for a few seconds,
framed in by the doorway, ere he slowly and deliberately stepped out
upon the porch, I took my first and last look at the great Confederate
chieftain. This is what I saw: A finely formed man, apparently about
sixty years of age, well above the average height, with a clear, ruddy
complexion--just then suffused by a deep crimson flush, that rising
from his neck overspread his face and even slightly tinged his broad
forehead, which, bronzed where it had been exposed to the weather,
was clear and beautifully white where it had been shielded by his
hat--deep brown eyes, a firm but well-shaped Roman nose, abundant gray
hair, silky and fine in texture, with a full gray beard and mustache,
neatly trimmed and not over-long, but which, nevertheless, almost
completely concealed his mouth. A splendid uniform of Confederate gray
cloth, that had evidently seen but little service, was closely buttoned
about him, and fitted him to perfection. An exquisitely mounted
sword, attached to a gold-embroidered Russia-leather belt, trailed
loosely on the floor at his side, and in his right hand he carried a
broad-brimmed, soft, gray felt hat, encircled by a golden cord, while
in his left he held a pair of buckskin gauntlets. Booted and spurred,
still vigorous and erect, he stood bareheaded, looking out of the
open doorway, sad-faced and weary: a soldier and a gentleman, bearing
himself in defeat with an all-unconscious dignity that sat well upon
him.
The moment the open door revealed the Confederate commander, each
officer present sprang to his feet, and as General Lee stepped out
on to the porch, every hand was raised in military salute. Placing
his hat on his head, he mechanically but courteously returned it, and
slowly crossed the porch to the head of the steps leading down to the
yard, meanwhile keeping his eyes intently fixed in the direction of
the little valley over beyond the Court-house, in which his army lay.
Here he paused, and slowly drew on his gauntlets, smiting his gloved
hands into each other several times after doing so, evidently utterly
oblivious of his surroundings. Then, apparently recalling his thoughts,
he glanced deliberately right and left, and not seeing his horse, he
called, in a hoarse, half-choked voice, “Orderly! Orderly!”
“Here, General, here,” was the quick response. The alert young soldier
was holding the General’s horse near the side of the house. He had
taken out the bit, slipped the bridle over the horse’s neck, and the
wiry gray was eagerly grazing on the fresh young grass about him.
Descending the steps, the General passed to the left of the house, and
stood in front of his horse’s head while he was being bridled. As the
orderly was buckling the throat-latch, the General reached up and drew
the forelock out from under the brow-band, parted and smoothed it, and
then gently patted the gray charger’s forehead in an absent-minded way,
as one who loves horses, but whose thoughts are far away, might all
unwittingly do. Then, as the orderly stepped aside, he caught up the
bridle-reins in his left hand, and seizing the pommel of the saddle
with the same hand, he caught up the slack of the reins in his right
hand, and placing it on the cantle he put his foot in the stirrup, and
swung himself slowly and wearily, but nevertheless firmly, into the
saddle (the old dragoon mount), letting his right hand rest for an
instant or two on the pommel as he settled into his seat, and as he did
so there broke unguardedly from his lips a long, low, deep sigh, almost
a groan in its intensity, while the flush on his neck and face seemed,
if possible, to take on a little deeper hue.
Shortly after General Lee passed down the steps he was followed by
an erect, slightly built, soldierly looking officer, in a neat but
somewhat worn gray uniform, a man with an anxious and thoughtful
face, wearing spectacles, who glanced neither to the right nor left,
keeping his eyes straight before him. Notwithstanding this, I doubt
if he missed anything within the range of his vision. This officer,
I was afterwards told, was Colonel Marshall, one of the Confederate
adjutants-general, the member of General Lee’s staff whom he had
selected to accompany him.
As soon as the Colonel had mounted, General Lee drew up his reins, and,
with the Colonel riding on his left, and followed by the orderly, moved
at a slow walk across the yard towards the gate.
Just as they started, General Grant came out of the house, crossed the
porch, and passed down the steps into the yard. At this time he was
nearly forty-two years of age, of middle height, not over-weighted
with flesh, but, nevertheless, stockily and sturdily built, with
light complexion, mild, gray-blue eyes, finely formed Grecian nose,
an iron-willed mouth, brown hair, full brown beard with a tendency
towards red rather than black, and in his manner and all his movements
there was a strength of purpose, a personal poise, and a cool, quiet
air of dignity, decision, and soldierly confidence that were very
good to see. On this occasion he wore a plain blue army blouse, with
shoulder-straps set with three silver stars equi-distant, designating
his rank as Lieutenant-General commanding the armies of the United
States; it was unbuttoned, showing a blue military vest, over which and
under his blouse was buckled a belt, but he was without a sword. His
trousers were dark blue and tucked into top-boots, which were without
spurs, but heavily splashed with mud, for once he knew that General Lee
was waiting for him at Appomattox Court-house, he had ridden rapidly
across country, over road and field and through woods, to meet him. He
wore a peculiar, stiff-brimmed, sugar-loaf-crowned, campaign hat of
black felt, and his uniform was partly covered by a light-weight, dark
blue, waterproof, semi-military cloak, with a full cape, unbuttoned and
thrown back, showing the front of his uniform, for while the day had
developed into warm, bright, and beautifully sunny weather, the early
morning had been damp, slightly foggy, and presaged rain.
[Illustration: DEPARTURE OF GENERAL LEE AFTER THE SURRENDER]
As he reached the foot of the steps and started across the yard to the
fence, where, inside the gate, the orderlies were holding his horse and
those of several of his staff-officers, General Lee, on his way to the
gate, rode across his path. Stopping suddenly, General Grant looked up,
and both generals simultaneously raised their hands in military salute.
After General Lee had passed, General Grant crossed the yard and sprang
lightly and quickly into his saddle. He was riding his splendid bay
horse Cincinnati, and it would have been difficult to find a firmer
seat, a lighter hand, or a better rider in either army.
As he was about to go out of the gate he halted, turned his horse, and
rode at a walk towards the porch of the house, where, among others,
stood General Sheridan and myself. Stopping in front of the General, he
said, “Sheridan, where will you make your headquarters to-night?”
“Here, or near here; right here in this yard, probably,” was the reply.
“Very well, then; I’ll know where to find you in case I wish to
communicate. Good-day.”
“Good-day, General,” was the response, and with a military salute
General Grant turned and rode away.
As he rode forward and halted at the porch to make this inquiry, I
had my wished-for opportunity, but my eyes sought his face in vain
for any indication of what was passing in his mind. Whatever may have
been there, as Colonel Newhall has well written, “not a muscle of his
face told tales on his thoughts”; and if he felt any elation, neither
his voice, features, nor his eyes betrayed it. Once out of the gate,
General Grant, followed by his staff, turned to the left and moved off
at a rapid trot.
General Lee continued on his way towards his army at a walk, to be
received by his devoted troops with cheers and tears, and to sit down
and pen a farewell order that, to this day, no old soldier of the Army
of Northern Virginia can read without moistening eyes and swelling
throat.
General Grant, on his way to his field headquarters on this eventful
Sunday evening, dismounted, sat quietly down by the road-side, and
wrote a short and simple despatch, which a galloping aide bore at
full speed to the nearest telegraph station. On its reception in the
nation’s capital this despatch was flashed over the wires to every
hamlet in the country, causing every steeple in the North to rock to
its foundation, and sending one tall, gaunt, sad-eyed, weary-hearted
man in Washington to his knees, thanking God that he had lived to see
the beginning of the end, and that he had at last been vouchsafed the
assurance that he had led his people aright.
THE END
FOOTNOTE:
[1] This explanation is interesting because it represents a view more
prevalent at that time than this. But the historians of to-day would
not give the conflict over slavery as the first and chief cause of the
Civil War. [EDITOR.]
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.