_Assassination of Lincoln--The Return March--A Homeless Confederate--Not
Destroyed by the Yankees--The Goddess of Liberty--The Grand
Review--Grant's Final Order._
[Illustration: 9218]
HE news of the assassination of Lincoln reached us at Burkesville
Junction--the crossing of the Richmond and Danville and the Southside
railroads--April 15, 1865. The terrible intelligence came over the
military telegraph wire about midnight of the fourteenth, I think,
but it was not promulgated to the troops until after reveille in the
morning. Secretary Seward had been dangerously wounded by one of the
assassins, and the Head of the Nation had been murdered by J. Wilkes
Booth, who as he was escaping from the theater at Washington where the
President was shot, brandished a dagger on the stage and shouted, “_Sic
semper tyrannis!_” and “the South is avenged!”
As the details of the dastardly plot were made known, the army was
informed that the assassin intended to take the life of Gen. Grant.
Battle-scarred and stern-faced veterans who had fought from the first
Bull Run to Appomattox turned pale and set their teeth as the dispatches
were read to the men drawn up in line. It was difficult to believe
at first that Abraham Lincoln, the great and noble and tender-hearted
President whom we had seen only a few days before near Petersburg, was
dead. Yet the sad news was confirmed as later dispatches came to hand.
The Union soldiers again began to look after their cartridge boxes. They
knew not what to expect next. This was a new phase of warfare. But in
spite of the declaration of the assassin that the South was avenged, a
majority of the rank and file of Grant's army as they recovered from the
first shock of the dreadful calamity, were ready to exonerate the men
who had laid down their arms at Appomattox from any complicity in the
plot that struck down the noble Lincoln at the very moment that the
glorious sun of peace was rising above the dark clouds that had hung
like a pall over the nation for four long years.
Lincoln was murdered on the fourth anniversary of the capture of Fort
Sumter by the rebels. The traitors who directed the firing on the flag
waving over that fortress four years before, and who had set on foot
and carried forward the wickedest rebellion ever inaugurated, were
responsible for the death of the martyr Lincoln and the thousands who
fell on both sides of that sanguinary conflict.
A few days after the assassination we continued our march to Richmond,
camping for a day or two in Manchester on the opposite side of the
James. The ruin and havoc made by the rebels when evacuating their
capital, subjected the inhabitants to great hardships. A large portion
of the city was burned.
I witnessed the return of a veteran in butternut to his home in
Richmond. He came down the hill from the State House and turned into a
street leading toward the river. His right arm was in a sling. He had
been wounded early in the morning of the day that Lee surrendered. The
disbanded Confederate was literally in rags and the uppers of his
shoes had seceded from the soles. Yet his face was beaming with joyful
anticipation, for he was nearing his home.
But as he reached what had been the corner of another street and turned
to the right, his serviceable hand was raised and his knees trembled
as he looked in vain for the dwelling he had left when last he bade his
little family good-by and hastened away to help build the breastworks in
front of Petersburg. The dwellings that had stood in that neighborhood
were now a mass of blackened ruins. The poor fellow sank down in the
street and a colored man hastened to his assistance.
“I declar, it's Massa John,” exclaimed the negro as he raised the head
of the soldier. “Doan' you know me, Massa?”
[Illustration: 8221]
“Is it Pomp?”
“Deed an' 'tis Pomp, Massa.”
“Where is your mistress and the children?”
“Dey's ober on the odder side de bridge, Massa; how glad dey'll be to
see you. We all 'spected de Yankees dun kill you, shuah nuff.”
Just then a woman came hurriedly from around the corner and stopped for
a moment as she surveyed the scene before her.
“Who is it, Pomp?” she eagerly inquired, as she advanced toward the
party in the street.
“Bress de Lawd, it's Massa John.”
In another moment husband and wife were in each other's arms, their
tears flowing freely.
“And the children, Mary?”
“Safe and well, praise God.”
“Amen. Praise God you are all alive.”
“But you are wounded?”
“Yes, dear; I'll be unable to use my right arm for a few months; but
when it gets well we will rebuild the home which the Yankees have
destroyed for us.”
“But, my dear, our home was not destroyed by the Yankees. The city was
fired by our own men as they left us. The fire was raging terribly when
the Yankees came in and did all they could to prevent the spread of the
flames.”
“Is that so? Then I have fought for years, lost the use of my right
arm and returned to find my home destroyed by order of one of our
own generals. Surely, wife, the hand of God has been against the
Confederacy. We were taught to believe that we were fighting for
liberty, but we were mistaken. I love the stars and bars. I have fought
and bled for our flag, yet I begin to feel that secession was not right.
Our leaders were wrong, and it follows that we must suffer for it.”
“What shall we do, John?”
“Do? Well, the outlook is not bright, I'll admit. But we'll not get
discouraged. I have a brother in Boston who has money, you know, and
I believe he'll help us out. He told me not to go into the Confederate
army. He said we would get whipped, but I didn't believe it then.
Brother was right, and I'll send him a letter next mail.”
Then the wounded Confederate and his better half started off to meet
their children at the house of a friend. I gave him the contents of my
haversack and several other troopers who were with me also gave our late
foe what they had with them.
“Thank you, boys; I'm glad it's over,” he said, as he handed the
provisions to Pomp, who “toted” it to their friend's residence over the
bridge.
From Richmond we marched to Washington, enjoying the trip greatly. On
the way we passed over many of the Virginia battlefields. Here and there
farmers were plowing and preparing to put in grain where the opposing
armies had recently been in camp. The column was in the best of spirits.
The war was over. Our side had gained the victory and we were homeward
bound. As we came to the brow of Arlington Heights and caught our first
glance of the Capitol in the distance, cheer after cheer was given. The
bands played martial tunes and the rejoicing was general.
“The Goddess has been put on top of the dome,” said one of the boys of
Company I.
“Yes; but poor Taylor isn't with us to see the grand sight,” remarked
another.
We went into camp on Arlington Heights, and the bulk of the Army of
the Potomac soon arrived. It was a grand reunion. The soldiers visited
through the bivouacs and in Washington. Relatives and friends from home
came down to see the boys and to congratulate the victorious army.
Then came the gallant army that had marched from Atlanta to the sea
commanded by Gen. Sherman. The two armies fraternized for the first
time. And it was a glorious meeting. Volumes could be written of
interesting incidents of those last days of army life around Washington.
Before the troops were disbanded they participated in a general review
in Washington; the Army of the Potomac, May 23, and Sherman's army, May
24, 1865. It was the grandest military display ever seen. Orders for
the review were promulgated several days in advance, and so thoroughly
disciplined were the troops, that in all that vast aggregation of
military organizations there was no break during the two days of
parading. Everything moved with clocklike regularity.
The first day--Army of the Potomac day--found Companies C and D, First
Massachusetts cavalry, in line before reveille. The boys had been all
night polishing their sabers and other equipments. No one could sleep
on such an occasion. We were to ride before the President, governors of
loyal States and other dignitaries, and we were anxious to do honor to
the event--the event of a lifetime.
I had the honor to be one of three soldiers of the escort to ride next
to Gen. Meade on the grand review. The general was the first military
man to ride by the reviewing stand at the White House.
The headquarters flag of the Army of the Potomac was carried by a
sergeant of our company. On the right of the sergeant, who was a few
paces in the rear of Gen. Meade, rode a trooper of Company D, and I
rode on the sergeant's left; we were three abreast. It was a position of
honor, and we felt it, although we did not appropriate to ourselves all
the homage paid to the head of the column. We were willing to admit that
some of the cheering was intended for the grand old hero of Gettysburg,
George Gordon Meade.
As the escort and staff of the Army of the Potomac arrived at the
Capitol building, thousands of schoolgirls dressed in white appeared.
The bands played “Hail to the Chief,” and one of the prettiest of the
larger girls came forward to present Gen. Meade an evergreen wreath,
beautifully festooned with roses, and neatly tied with satin ribbon. The
general's horse “flaxed around” so that he could not reach the wreath,
and he called me to receive it, which I did, and passed it over my
shoulder, wearing it like a sash on the review. The bands played again,
and we took up the line of march on Pennsylvania Avenue. On to the turn
at the Treasury Building; another turn, this time to the left, and we
were in front of the White House.
On either side the avenue was packed, and we looked into a great sea
of faces all the way. And how the people did cheer and shout. Never was
such another scene presented.
All the buildings along the line of march were decorated. Flags, banners
and bunting waved from every edifice. Across the south face of the
Capitol an inscription standing out in large letters declared:
“The Only National Debt We Can Never Pay is the Debt We Owe To the
Victorious Union Soldiers.” Gen. Meade after passing the reviewing stand
rode into the gate in front of the White House, dismounted and joined
Grant and other distinguished people on the platform. The color
sergeant, the D Company orderly and myself remained mounted near the
gate inside the yard, and witnessed the review of the gallant Army of
the Potomac, sixty-five thousand strong, marching by, company front.
It was a magnificent spectacle. There we sat for six hours and more, as
the proud Union soldiers marched triumphantly before the representatives
of the Government. So well planned was the movement of the troops, that
some of the brigades, after passing the reviewing stand, marched to
camp, were dismissed, and the soldiers returned to the city and joined
the thousands of citizens witnessing the parade. And while the leading;
divisions were marching in review, some of those which came into column
later in the day, were back in their bivouacs, cooking coffee for a
lunch before falling into line.
The second day, May 24, Sherman's splendid army was reviewed. Gen. Meade
occupied a seat on the reviewing stand, and his two orderlies sat on
their horses near the gate in the White House yard, as they had done the
day before.
Sherman's “bummers” came in for a good share of the applause as they
marched behind the regiments to which they belonged, and here and there
a Georgia contraband also attracted attention. The review ended, we
returned to our camp on the south side of the Potomac, on Arlington
Heights.
June 2, 1865, came Grant's final order to the Union soldiers. It was
read to the troops, and concluded as follows:
“In obedience to your country's call, you left your homes and families,
and volunteered in its defense. Victory has crowned your valor, and
secured the purpose of your patriotic hearts, and with the gratitude
of your countrymen and the highest honors a great and free nation can
accord, you will soon be permitted to return to your homes and families,
conscious of having discharged the highest duties of American citizens.
“To achieve the glorious triumphs, and secure to yourselves, your
fellow-countrymen and posterity the blessings of free institutions,
tens of thousands of your gallant comrades have fallen, and sealed the
priceless legacy with their lives. The graves of these a grateful nation
bedews with tears, honors their memories, and will ever cherish and
support their stricken families.”