PREPARING FOR A VISIT TO RICHMOND,
THE CAPITAL OF THE LOST CONFEDERACY
“In giving freedom to the slave we assure freedom to the
free.”--Abraham Lincoln.
A few days after the evacuation and capture of Richmond, a small
party led by Mr. J. Yates Peek, of Brooklyn, still superintendent
of the Sanitary Commission at City Point, arranged to make an
early start on the morning of April 11th, to see the smoking city.
Everything must be arranged over night, and I planned so as to jump
quickly into my clothing, placing my only pair of good boots on a
near-by chair, to lose no time. But in the morning, almost at the
last moment, the boots were missing. When all had joined in the
search, to no effect, the mystery increased.
We had a boy orderly, named Jack, who was more officious than
useful, and often much in the way, and he volunteered in the
search. Returning to my little room after a moment’s absence, to
my astonishment I beheld the boy on the floor with his head in my
trunk, which he had had the temerity to unlock. He was rummaging and
disarranging everything as if with a pudding stick. I exclaimed:
“Jack, what are you doing?” in no pleasant tone of voice.
“I thought the shoes might be in the trunk,” he quite coolly
replied, “but I’ve been through every darned thing in it and they
ain’t there.”
Words were, at that hurried moment, quite inadequate. An explanation
of the loss of the shoes came later. We had removed a small stove and
left the pipe hole open on the side between two tents, and during the
night some ambitious contraband probably had squeezed into the small
space between the tents, and with a long stick had “gobbled” my only
pair of decent shoes.
What could I do? I must go somewhere, as the party were not willing
to go without me. Fortunately, Miss Dupee, assistant in the Maine
State Agency, had a pair which fitted quite well and she very kindly
loaned them to me. One of the pleasant associations of agency life
in camp was the camaraderie that made all things in common, just as
the soldier shared his last ration or his last dollar with another
comrade in the field.
Owing to this delay, we were barely able to catch the boat as it was
pushing off at City Point Dock. A pleasant sail on the James River
brought us to the dock of the Seven-Hilled City, directly into the
burned and still smoking district.
The fleeing citizens in their short-sighted frenzy, had determined
to destroy the whole city. But thanks to the efforts of the Federal
soldiers, chiefly colored, the greater part of the city was saved for
them, while the factories and warehouses continued to smoke and burn
for many weeks.
It was this same obstructed wharf and destroyed dock over which
the President climbed, holding little Tad by the hand. They passed
through the burned district, against the protest of a small escort,
while jostled by a rough crowd.
Blessed by the grateful negroes crowding around the great
Emancipator, some kneeling and kissing the hem of his coat, he strode
fearlessly on among enemies and friends.
A significant fact to be forever cherished by the freed race is that
General Weitzel, with the 25th Corps d’ Afric, took possession of
the conquered city; and further that a colored soldier carried the
President’s United States flag before him into the heart of Richmond,
where it was raised over the Capitol, and Richmond was once more and
forever in the Union.
The Capitol, a modest building with white columns and dome, was
uninjured. There were many comfortable-looking detached houses, with
yards or gardens pleasant to see after the bare tent life at City
Point Hospital.
We dined at Spotswood Hotel, still managed by a Confederate host,
where we greatly enjoyed fresh peas and corn. We were rather
disappointed by the plainness of the gray mastic front of the
three-storied double medium house of Jefferson Davis, both inside and
out, with only a door yard in front, where I gathered some leaves
which are still in my possession.
We saw the entrance to the tunnel that was dug by starving, desperate
Yankee prisoners, almost in full view of the guards, quite near
Libby prison, and by which many had escaped to freedom, thus bringing
more deprivation and abuse upon the despairing prisoners left behind.
All was now changed in the city. The inhabitants finding they were
not pursued or in any way molested, were gradually returning to their
homes and buildings that they had not succeeded in destroying.
[Illustration: LIBBY PRISON]
Libby Prison remained; a weather-stained brick tobacco storehouse,
the former scene of so much suffering and indignity. But the tables
were now turned. The brutal turnkey, Captain Richard Turner, by name,
I think, was now himself a prisoner. He was a stocky, brutal-looking
fellow. All people were allowed to pass and look through a small
open window at the miserable wretch, while he defiantly mounted a
stool in the middle of the room to show himself more conspicuously.
That morning a former prisoner had cajoled him into coming close to
the small window, where the man struck through and felled him to the
ground as he said: “Take that for the pail of filth you threw over me
while I was a helpless prisoner.”
[Illustration: GENERAL ULYSSES GRANT]
It was a fine commentary upon the discipline and forbearance of many
liberated victims, that they did not kill or shoot this monster for
his atrocities, instead of merely gazing and glaring at him silently
through the small opening.
[Illustration: GENERAL LEE]
PEACE
When the formal announcement of the final surrender of General Lee
to General Grant, at Appomattox, on the 9th of April, 1865, was
confirmed in the camp, all knew that at last the “cruel war” was
over. There was great rejoicing in the hospital, and all began to
prepare to go North, or home again, after so many weary years of
struggle. Some wept for joy as they wrote to the weary waiting
watchers at home; some were to carry to their friends and neighbors
the last words and deeds of the many who slept beneath the soil of
Virginia, or further south, while their comrades “went marching on.”
The workers of the Agencies and the Commissions had so long labored
in the same spirit that we were much like a large united family; and
until we departed one by one for our homes, we did not realize how
close was the bond of sympathy and affection, that could never be
forgotten.