April 4, 1865---"May I have a glass of water?"

APRIL 4, 1865:                    

“May I have a glass of water?” --- Abraham Lincoln

I

 Robert E. Lee’s army is marching.

The indomitable Army of Northern Virginia continues wending its way west from Richmond and Petersburg under blue skies and in cool weather. Despite the prime marching conditions, the A.N.V. is beginning to show signs of decay. Most of the men in Lee’s four columns have not eaten a square meal in weeks, and almost all of them have eaten nothing in at least 24 hours. Barefoot and ragged they move along, some of them stumbling from weariness. Today, more men will drop out of line --- some will simply pass out from hunger-induced vertigo. The majority, in a mass act of will, will continue to travel forward to the rendezvous point at Amelia Court House where nearly half a million rations await them.

The horses of the army have no such willpower. They are starving. Grain for feed is gone. The new grass is too short to crop. Often, the poor animals simply stop and hang their heads in exhaustion. Cajolery, even beatings, cannot induce them to pull their wagons another inch. Some of the weakest just keel over dead. These are cut from their traces and their emaciated bodies are dragged by main force to the roadsides. The men do not even bother to butcher the bony carcasses for meat. Less horses to pull loads means that wagons must be abandoned as well. The abandoned wagons are stripped of anything crucial that can be easily carried. Most of the precious cargo, already culled from what remained in Richmond and Petersburg, is left behind. 

Lee is deeply troubled. He had estimated that the march to Amelia Court House would take a day and a half, perhaps two at most, but it is taking longer. Not much longer, really, but Lee realizes that he is in a race against time as much as a race against the Union. An army marches on its stomach, it is said, and right now his army has no stomach. His increasingly slow-moving men can march only an hour or two without rest, the dying horses are slowing his wagon trains even more, the need to let the horses forage for anything yet even more, and the Union’s hit-and-run attacks on his columns are a deadly source of delay he simply cannot afford.

As the army moves west, the steep little hills and gullies that have kept Sheridan’s pursuit off Lee’s flanks are turning into a gently rolling plain. Lee knows that once the land opens out the Union army will be able to flank his columns. Already the Union cavalry is moving parallel to the tails of his lines, between his lines much like interlocking fingers.

The Battle of Tabernacle Church:  

A battle breaks out at Tabernacle Church when Union and Confederate cavalry meet near Beaver Pond Creek. Union cavalry are standing directly in front of Lee’s objective of Amelia Court House, and in a sharp engagement are dislodged, freeing the road for passage by Lee’s troops. The Union forces are ordered to nearby Jetersville, which they occupy overnight. 

In 1924, the "new" Amelia Court House replaced the one Lee would have seen

The Confederate columns at last begin to gather in the small town of Amelia Court House late in the day. Finally, their long-awaited rendezvous point is reached.  

Amelia Court House is a small and forgotten place, consisting of a handful of houses, a General Store, an inn or two, and the courthouse itself, which serves Amelia County. The disruptions of war mean that the shelves in the General Store are looking decidedly bare, as are the larders in the inns. So, Lee and his men are relieved to see a government freight train sitting on a siding, waiting for them as planned. Salvation, in the form of food, is at hand.

Lee orders the latches thrown and the boxcar doors opened.    

II

“Glory, Halellujah!” a man cries out midmorning at the Richmond quay known as Rocketts Landing. The man is African-American, and newly-freed from bondage. “Glory! Glory! Glory!” 

As the man drops to his knees, quickly followed by other freedmen, the object of their adoration looks down on them from a great height, speaking kindly but sternly. Stooping to raise the man to his feet he addresses them all. “No. No. No. That is not right. You must not bow to me, nor should you bow now to any mortal man. If you must bend the knee, then do so in respect of the Creator who has brought us all to this great day.” 

The people rise as one at these words, but they continue to cry out: “Glory be! It’s him! I knowed him jest as soon as I seed him! Father Abraham has come down among his children!”  one man shouts. Another sings an old slow Spiritual about Moses and the Promised Land, and soon the tall man in the frock coat and signature stovepipe hat is in the midst of a singing, sobbing, swaying crowd of black folk, some begging to touch his coat, others begging “the Messiah” to be his escorts. “I’d rather see him than see Jesus Christ hisself!” one man calls out excitedly, to which a woman answers calmly, “Christ truly is come unto us this day.” 

The man they call their “Messiah” is deeply moved, and tears start in his eyes. Although the Marine detachment assigned to guard him tries to shoulder aside the pressing throng, their charge raises a hand to stop them. He has no fear, and nothing to fear from this crowd. It is Richmond, late the capital of the Confederacy, and after four years of terrible bloodshed Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States, the Great Emancipator, has come in peace. 

He has come against advice --- Edwin Stanton, his Secretary of War, is right now panicking in Washington D.C., hardly calmed by his President’s peremptory assertion in regard to his own safety:  “I can take care of myself.”  And Admiral David Dixon Porter does not ever want to tell Stanton of the odyssey Lincoln experienced transiting the James River --- an odyssey of dangerous submarine obstructions and deadly floating mines that necessitated the shrinkage of the President’s fleet from an ironclad and two gunboats to an oar-driven open Admiral’s gig. “It is well to be humble,” Lincoln joked as he balanced his hat on his knees trying to keep it dry as the chop and spray of the river brought a little water over the gunwales. 

He has brought his son Tad, who is twelve this day, and is gazing at Richmond as though it is a birthday present. Mrs. Lincoln is absent. After humiliating herself at City Point several days ago, Mary Lincoln chose to make herself scarce, and a frightening dream that the White House was aflame provided her a convenient excuse to return thence. Perhaps, however, she was seeing Richmond in her dream. The badly-damaged city stinks of the aftermath of burning. Smoldering rubble is everywhere, still being wet down by the U.S. firefighting brigades.

 

There are few whites around, and fewer Union troops around, as Lincoln begins strolling Richmond’s city streets. Here and there, Virginia Unionists appear and give their President a warm welcome. One woman, wrapped Columbia-fashion in an American flag, salutes Lincoln as he walks by, and he doffs his hat to her. Most white Richmonders, though, are indoors, regarding the “conqueror” through their shades and shutters with dismay, anger, bemusement, and even a little humor. “I expected to see a monster,” one resident wrote, “but saw only a man. Still, I must admit he is the ugliest man I have ever seen.”  (Lincoln was well aware of his homeliness, and to a fellow attorney who once dismissed him as “two-faced,” Lincoln rejoindered, “Do you really think that if I had two faces I would be wearing this one?”)

There are some calls for the hanging of “The President” by white Richmonders angry at the Confederate-born conflagration who hear at second and third hand that Jefferson Davis has returned to town.

Kate Mason Rowland of Richmond gives vent to some of the worst impulses of 19^th Century humanity when she describes Lincoln as he “harangued a mob of Jews, niggers, and Yankees from the steps of the Presidential Mansion. What a pity it was not burnt too!”   

After Lincoln’s “harangue” he disappears into the Confederate White House. Finding Jefferson Davis’ office, he seats himself gingerly in the chair behind Davis’ desk, tilts it back cautiously, and asks for a glass of water. Taking a long quaff, he settles back contemplatively. It is only thirty-six hours since Davis was in the room, and Lincoln is very conscious of the fact. 

By the time President Lincoln is ready to leave the former Confederate White House, the military has procured a carriage, and Lincoln and Tad ride the rest of the day, with Major General Weitzel at their side. Cheering crowds (mostly comprised of emancipated slaves) line the route, though a few white Southerners are in the crowd as well.

At the grand equestrian statue of George Washington upon Richmond’s Capitol Hill, Lincoln tells his enraptured audience to “Cast off the name of slave, and trample it . . . Liberty is yours from this day forth.” He also advises any listening Unionists to “Let ‘em up easy,” in reference to the Confederates. 

The life-size Lincoln Memorial in Richmond recalls the President's visit with Tad

Even as the President is speaking, his Vice-President, stone cold sober in Washington D.C., is insisting in another speech that “Jeff Davis, and all his nest of traitors needs to be burned out. Hang them!” he cries ten times to a roaring crescendo of approval. When Lincoln hears of Johnson’s speech and its riotous reception, the lines on his face deepen the more. Johnson’s gibbet-strewn vision of a reunited America is not the proud yet wise United States that Abraham Lincoln envisions.   

III

At the Confederacy’s breakfast Cabinet meeting, Jefferson Davis broaches the idea of an invasion of New Orleans by Confederate forces in the Trans-Mississippi. There are any number of problems with the plan, the worst of which is that the Danville government has no way to communicate with their forces in the Trans-Mississippi. Never mind the fact that the Confederates in the Trans-Mississippi are poorly-armed, scattered, and without forceful leadership. 

When this is pointed out to him, Davis begins to hatch a plan to move the Confederate government to Texas. But this will require that Davis --- one of the most recognizable faces of the 19^th Century --- safely cross 1000 miles of the North American heartland, an area divided (in 1865) into a patchwork of Union and Confederate war zones. Even if Davis can make it most of the way without being captured or recognized, he will have to cross the great natural barrier of the Mississippi River --- a Union waterway --- incognito. And carrying on the fight from Texas will mean abandoning the gallant Army of Northern Virginia.  He will have to travel at best with only a few companions. He cannot take along his 3000-man bodyguard. He will have to leave much of what was salvaged from Richmond behind. The Confederacy will, for all intents and purposes, have to start over from scratch. This idea too is tabled.

But it does give birth to another idea, the possibility of establishing a Government-in-Exile in Havana, Cuba. All the Cabinet has to do is travel to Union-held Key West and board a blockade-runner. If they don’t get caught they can make port in Cuba in a few hours. Of course, the Spaniards don’t recognize the Confederacy, and of course this will mean that the C.S.A.’s government will move clear off the continent, but . . .

Sutherlin House in Danville, Virginia was the last "permanent" Confederate White House / Capitol

 . . . maybe Lee will be able to link up with Johnston in a few days . . .

The Cabinet Room / parlor

After much ado about nothing, Davis adjourns the meeting and retires to his upstairs bedroom. The new Confederate Capitol is the William Sutherlin House. Sutherlin, a rabid Confederate, is Provost Marshal of Danville, and a wealthy tobacco planter and merchant who has lent the use of his house to the C.S.A.. The Sutherlin family, along with their slaves (“servants”) remains in residence. 

The Presidential bedroom

Cabinet meetings are usually held in the parlor. Perhaps tellingly, much of the business paperwork of the Confederacy remains aboard the Presidential Train. Davis’ 3000-man detachment is quartered all around town.

IV

Even as Richmond welcomes Lincoln the Civil War goes on unabated elsewhere. 

Although elements of General William Tecumseh Sherman U.S.A.’s armies in North Carolina continue to move toward Raleigh, the State capital, Sherman has established a headquarters for himself at Goldsboro. Today, a delegation of North Carolinians calls on Sherman to ask his help in alleviating the want of local residents. Sherman’s written reply is reproduced below:

Gentlemen: 

 I cannot undertake to supply horses or to encourage peaceful industry in North Carolina until the State shall perform some public act showing that, as to her, the war is over.

 I sympathize with the distress of families, but cannot undertake to extend relief to individuals.

 With respect, your obedient servant,

 W.T. Sherman, Maj. Gen., Com’d’g. 

As yet, that “public act” is wanting. Joseph E. Johnston C.S.A.’s army is not far away, and it is still marching under the Blood-Stained Banner.   

April 3, 1865---"Oh, army of my country! How Glorious your welcome!"

APRIL 3, 1865:                    

“Oh, army of my country! How glorious your welcome!” --- Elizabeth Van Lew

I

United States troops enter Richmond and Petersburg.

The sun rises on a ruined Richmond, still aflame. The fire has abated somewhat, but only because it is running out of fuel. The residential district, comprising nine-tenths of the city is 90% intact. The business district, comprising 10% of the city is nine-tenths burned. 

A map of the Burned District

Just as there is a hint of light in the sky, the pride of the Confederate Navy, the just-launched, unsailed C.S.S. VIRGINIA II, Admiral Raphael Semmes commanding, is scuttled at its moorings in the James River. The ship’s magazine explodes with a roar that rivals the armory, and the ship is blown apart, throwing shrapnel for thousands of feet. Soon, one and then another ironclad follow the VIRGINIA II. Anyone who is managing to sleep in devastated Richmond is ripped from the arms of Morpheus with a heart-arresting suddenness. Windows shatter for miles, doors, ripped from their hinges, fly across rooms and injure shocked householders, and even the tombstones in the cemetery topple. 

The end of the C.S.S. VIRGINIA II

Downtown Richmond is a deadly place. Curious people venturing near downtown are at risk from collapsed and collapsing buildings. They are at risk from sudden flash fires started when smoldering stuff finds fresh air or a new source of fuel. There are still stray rounds popping from the Armory. They are at risk from hungover drunks who have found odd corners of sanctuary. Occasionally a trapped hand will reach beseechingly up through the piles of rubble to grab at a passing ankle or a hem.  Sepulchral voices are calling for help, buried under tons of smoking collapse. The very air is blue from the tons of burned tobacco, and the stench is indescribable. Nonetheless, the looters are still at their work, and gangs of men are stalking the streets with crowbars in their hands. Murderous fights are breaking out. When the remnant of the City Garrison discovers that their buttery is still intact they begin loading wagons with food to be distributed to local civilians. The looters swoop in and steal much of what little there is. The thieving is later blamed on “ludicrous Dutch [Germans], Irish and Negroes” but many of the looters are white and American-born and include even some mustered-out wounded soldiers.

  

Carl Sandburg was much later to write:

 [J]ust after daybreak on April 3, a crowd of thousands of men, women, and children swarmed at the doors of a commissary depot.  They represented that part of the people of Richmond hardest hit by the food scarcity and high prices.  Many of them had not tasted a full, nourishing meal in months.  Behind those depot doors they had heard --- and heard correctly --- were barrels of ham, bacon, whiskey, flour, sugar, coffee.  Why these had not been put into the hands of General Lee and his army weeks ago was a question for responsible officials to answer.  The desperation of rampaging human animals heaved at those depot doors, so long guarded, no longer held by men with rifles.

 

Another Richmonder remembered:

Imagine our condition, left by our own army and anticipating the enemy's; the entire business part of the city on fire—stores, warehouses, manufactories, mills (Gallego's the largest in the world), depots, and bridges—all, covering acres, one sea of flame, and as an accompaniment the continuous thunder of exploding shells, and in the midst of it that long, threatening, hostile army entering to seize its prey—imagine all this, and you will probably conclude that those who were there will not soon forget that third day of April, 1865, in Richmond.

Richmonders on relief. The U.S. Christian Commission, a forerunner of the Salvation Army, fed thousands of struggling Richmonders for weeks after the city was taken

Francis Lawley, a Southern journalist, simply quoted Shakespeare’s “The Tempest”: Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.”

The stunning roar and flash of the Arsenal explosion followed by the shocking concussions of the ironclads being scuttled alerts to Union troops nearby that Richmond was in extremis. The fire can be easily seen from the Union lines and spurs General Grant to radically shift his timetable for the city’s occupation. The explosions settle the matter; Richmond must be occupied now. By 7:15 A.M., Federal infantry is entering the city. 

 

At the city line, they are met by Richmond’s Mayor, the courtly Joseph Mayo, who bows as he hands the Union officers a note: 

To the General Commanding the United States Army in front of Richmond:

General,

The Army of the Confederate Government having abandoned the City of Richmond, I respectfully request that you will take possession of it with an organized force, to preserve order and protect women and children and property.

With that, Richmond returns to the United States.  

Old Glory takes its rightful place above the Virginia State Capitol, nee the Confederate National Capitol, after a flag-raising ceremony that seems almost indifferent, or would, were it not for the many immediate issues facing the Union in assuming control of the city. Major General Godfrey Weitzel, Grant’s choice for Military Governor of Richmond, immediately dispatches a large number of troops to perform firefighting duties. This one arduous and dangerous task alone takes most of the day. Meanwhile, Richmond keeps burning. The fire is not fully extinguished for days. 

Could the Yankees have but known, General E. Porter Alexander C.S.A. and Confederate Secretary of War John C. Breckinridge are watching the Federals’ firefighting efforts from just across the James River. Alexander and Breckinridge are the commanders of demolition team that brings down the last of the James River crossings. It is a very near thing. The last of Lee’s forces make their exit from Richmond just as Grant’s forces are taking possession of the city.    

Aside from firefighting, Weitzel immediately posts guards at the homes of known Unionists, known Confederate leaders, known rebel troublemakers, and at the town home of Mrs. Robert E. Lee. Mrs. Anna Lee, the granddaughter of George Washington, asks that the African-American Private assigned to her be replaced with an officer, as befits her station as General Lee’s wife. In a deft touch, which indicates how Weitzel will manage affairs in the city, he sends a Lieutenant in full dress uniform to stand post beside her door. 

He also sends a detachment to protect Elizabeth “Crazy Bet” Van Lew, a wealthy Unionist, philanthropist and spy, who has acted for the Union in Richmond as Rose Greenhow acted for the Confederacy in Washington, only better (Van Lew was never caught anyway). When the soldiers arrive at Van Lew’s home, it is decorated with an immense Stars and Stripes, and she offers refreshments. In the next few days, her intelligence network will aid Weitzel greatly in establishing and maintaining order. 

The Van Lew house, the center of Union espionage in Richmond

Civility is not universal, but it appears in unlikely, important places. The Medical Director of Richmond’s immense Chimborazo Military Hospital offers mint juleps when Weitzel’s men arrive. They immediately put the doctor back in charge of Chimborazo, and offer him a commission in the Union Army; for the moment he remains a Confederate.  

John A. Campbell, who not long before, met with Lincoln aboard the River Queen, meets the Federals who come to his home on the steps outside, greeting them with grave handshakes and an inquiry after Lincoln’s well-being. The Assistant Secretary of War is the highest ranking Confederate Government official to remain in Richmond. 

John A. Campbell

As the Union troops march into Richmond, hidden Unionists and sudden Unionists hang out the old flag, But most of white Richmond is afraid and angry, expressing their inmost thoughts to their diaries or their likeminded friends. “Alas for our hopes!” writes one woman, and another writes, “Anything would be better than to fall under the United States again!”  Others console themselves that this occupation, by the “Things,” will be only temporary. There are a few acts of open defiance, followed quickly by arrest and incarceration. Weitzel is sensitive to Richmonders’ sensibilities, but he will not tolerate disobedience. A strict curfew is imposed.

A Unionist house in Richmond

Many Richmonders, furiously angry at the Confederate Government for pointlessly burning their fine city, and understanding what is happening, quickly swear allegiance to the United States of America. “The Yankees are not so bad,” opines one city resident, “considering it is them.”   And another says, “The Yankees have put a stop to the looting and put the Negroes back to work. They have put the fire out, and for that at least, we should be grateful.”

The arrival of the United States troops soon puts an end to looting and destruction. Most of the looters are put to work helping fight the fires and begin the cleanup. The city’s slaves --- now Freedmen --- are likewise drafted for the task. 

Striking off the shackles

While most white Richmonders stay indoors, this is not true of black Richmonders, who pour into the streets to see the arriving Union troops. Cheers soon turn to tears as they realize that they are free.  

Former slaves and Unionists greet the Army of The James

The story is told of one young man in a U.S.C.T. unit who while marching in formation spies an older black man standing on a streetcorner weeping. He calls out, “Hey, old man, no tears! Day of Jubilee has come!” and then suddenly falls out of ranks to rush over and embrace the weeping man, who he recognizes as his newly-emancipated father.  

Displaced Richmonders camped out on Richmond's Capitol Hill

A native of Richmond, Reverend Garland White, the Chaplain of the 28^th U.S.C.T. was born a slave but ran away in his youth. He is preaching to a group of ex-slaves gathered in the street, when, as he writes,

I have just returned from the city of Richmond; my regiment was among the first that entered that city. I marched at the head of the column, and soon I found myself called upon by the officers and men of my regiment to make a speech, with which, of course, I readily complied. A vast multitude assembled on Broad Street, and I was aroused amid the shouts of ten thousand voices, and proclaimed for the first time in that city freedom to all mankind. After which the doors of all the slave pens were thrown open, and thousands came out shouting and praising God, and Father, or Master Abe, as they termed him. In this mighty consternation I became so overcome with tears that I could not stand up under the pressure of such fullness of joy in my own heart . . . Among the densely crowded concourse there were parents looking for children who had been sold south of this state in tribes, and husbands came for the same purpose . . . Among the many broken-hearted mothers . . .  was an aged woman . . . inquiring for [her son] . . .   who had been sold . . . when a small boy, and was bought by a lawyer named Robert Toombs . . . Since the war has been going on she has seen Mr. Toombs in Richmond . . . and upon her asking . . . where [the boy] was, {Toombs] replied: "He ran off from me at Washington, and went to 'Canada. I have since learned that he is living somewhere in the State of Ohio." Some of the boys knowing that I lived in Ohio, soon found me and said, "Chaplain, here is a lady that wishes to see you." I quickly turned, following the soldier until coming to a group of colored ladies. I was questioned as follows:

"What is your name, sir?"

"My name is Garland H. White."

"What was your mother's name?"

"Nancy."

"Where was you born?"

"In Hanover County, in this State."

"Where was you sold from?"

"From this city."

"What was the name of the man who bought you?"

"Robert Toombs."

"Where did he live?"

"In the State of Georgia."

"Where did you leave him?"

"At Washington."

"Where did you go then?"

"To Canada."

"Where do you live now?"

"In Ohio."

"This is your mother, Garland, whom you are now talking to, who has spent twenty years of grief about her son."

I cannot express the joy I felt at this happy meeting of my mother and other friends. But suffice it to say that God is on the side of the righteous, and will in due time reward them. I have witnessed several such scenes among the other colored regiments.

Forty miles away, Petersburg surrenders quietly just as units of the Army of Northern Virginia cross over the Appomattox River. There is no fire. There is no looting. And there is no destruction.

II

It is a cool and sunny day. Perfect early Spring weather has finally driven away the cold and the endless rain of the bitter winter of 1865. Still less than 20 miles from Richmond and Petersburg, the four columns of the Army of Northern Virginia find themselves being pursued by four columns of Union troops under the overall command of General Philip Sheridan U.S.A. It is a determined pursuit. Luckily for Robert E. Lee and his men, the countryside they are traversing is one of hills and hollows and narrow paths. Lee’s men sometimes have to walk in single file. The land is playing hell with Sheridan’s pursuit. Forced to follow in single file, he cannot flank Lee, and the vanguard of his army can only gnaw like a rat on the tail of Lee’s army. 

 

Still, the gnawing is costly. Lee’s rearguard is fighting as they march, exchanging gunfire and battling with Sheridan’s pursuit force in little engagements that wound and kill a few men at a time. Lee’s orders are to keep moving, and so the rearguard does not stand and fight, it skirmishes and moves on.

Although the landforms have forced Sheridan’s men into the neck of a funnel, they have done the same to Lee’s men who cannot spread out and fight in ranks. 

Lee had hoped to be much farther along toward Amelia Court House, counting on the vaunted speed and maneuverability of the Army of Northern Virginia, but it is difficult to make speed under these conditions. The men are weak and tired. Each man can only go as fast as the man in front of him. Logistical problems occur when carts do what carts do --- break wheels or crack axles. One broken cart wheel is enough to slow the entire column behind it to a crawl.  The exhausted men use these slowdowns to rest. 

Food is becoming Lee’s biggest problem. Only a little food was available to be distributed as the army marched out, and now that little is gone. Lee has foreseen this, and his plan of march includes sending out foraging parties to gather food. But the hills frustrate the foragers who cannot go far from the line of march. When they do, they battle Yankees working their own way across country. Foraging slows the march even further, and there is little to forage anyway. The trees are just coming into leaf and shoots of young grass are just peeking through the soil. The foragers gather nuts and acorns and shoot at varmints, spending precious ammunition. But a squirrel can feed very few men, and Lee has over 20,000 in his force. The farmsteads along the isolated backroads are just as isolated and the Virginia folk in them have little to spare. The van of the army gets a little something that dwindles to nothing as the long gray line passes by each front door. 

Men are beginning to drop out of line. Hungry, filthy, exhausted, some hand their rifles off and simply sit down along the swales, deciding to wait for the pursuing Yankees and death or imprisonment. Some of the weakest are looked after by friends who stay behind with them. Slowly, a man here and a man there at a time, Lee’s army is becoming dessicated. Still, with a goal in mind, the majority keep marching.

The Battle of Namozine Church:

Namozine Church stands in what amounts to a wide spot in the road being travelled by A.N.V. forces under Fitzhugh Lee (Robert E. Lee’s cousin) and Rooney Lee (Robert E. Lee’s son). It is at this spot that Union forces, led by General George Armstrong Custer, mount a coordinated attack on the Confederate line. It is a test of wills. Blasting the Confederates with artillery, most have to fall back, but rally and counterattack. It is a short and hard-fought engagement.  The Southerners have one battery (most of the big guns have been left behind in Richmond and Petersburg) and use it until it is overrun. The Southerners wring out a watery victory that allows them to move on. 100 Union men die in the attack. Rebel losses are not known, but 350 Confederates are taken prisoner, along with their one remaining cannon.

Lee’s army painfully marches on. Amelia Court House is only one more day away.

III

The first news of the surrender of Richmond and Petersburg reaches the North when President Lincoln, still at City Point, telegraphs the news to Edwin Stanton at the War Department.  

  

A page comes breathlessly to Stanton’s office, and after blurting out the news to the dour Stanton, is amazed to see the Secretary of War bellow, Hallelujah! in a voice to make the welkin ring. He immediately orders that the news be telegraphed throughout the country. In border areas the news spreads to Confederate sympathizers and is carried south where it is likewise telegraphed out.  Since many areas of the South are isolated and the telegraphs are cut it takes several days for the news to travel throughout the Confederacy. 

 

 

Not so the North. Wild celebrations break out everywhere. Newspapers begin running Extras; some run several Extra editions just that afternoon alone, filled with little more news than a blazing headline, THE FALL OF RICHMOND, but with a lot of joyous editorials. 

Offices, factories and shops close early. The flag is hung everywhere; places that are not draped in flags are covered in red, white and blue bunting. Hurried plans are made throughout the country for celebrations and fireworks. 

Northerners, for the moment, let go of their Victorian restraint. They scream and holler, cheer spontaneously, dance in the streets, and kiss utter strangers. In Washington City, cannons boom out in a seemingly endless nine hundred gun salute. Adding to the cacophony, church bells ring out, fire trucks sound their sirens, streetcars clang their bells, and impromptu bands (some not so good) serenade passers-by. There is a feeling in the North that the war is over. Stanton orders that all of Washington be illuminated all night. Similar scenes, along with the clangor, are repeated in New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Chicago, and scores of other towns.

A New Yorker recalled: 

To state that [New Yorkers] howled would sound harsh . . . but it would nevertheless be a simple truth . . . Down on Wall Street a chorus almost made the venerable stones tremble in sympathy . . . More than ten thousand human beings chanted, as with one voice, the . . . anthem ‘Glory Hallelujah!’ 

In the South, where celebrations do occur they are more muted, especially amongst the freedmen who are concerned about the reaction of the whites. 

Even as the old flag flutters above her, Anna Lee remarks to a friend that though Richmond may have fallen, “Richmond is not the Confederacy.”

At City Point, Virginia, President Lincoln is smiling. The lines of worry have begun to ease, the haggard, haunted look in his eyes to vanish. After warmly congratulating his generals, Lincoln shocks them when he says fervently, 'Thank God that I have lived to see this! It seems to me that I have been dreaming a horrid dream for four years, and now the nightmare is gone. I want to see Richmond.”

 

 

IV

One hundred and fifty miles southwest of where President Abraham Lincoln sits, his opposite number, President Jefferson Davis is arriving at the small town of Danville, the new capital of the Confederacy. Despite the rush and disorder of leaving Richmond, Davis is feeling buoyed. Yes, it was a slow train ride with many stops for water and wood, but at every little station Davis gave whistlestop speeches --- defiant perorations on the progress of the war --- to cheering Confederate crowds. There was that one moment when Stoneman’s Federal cavalry nearly caught them, but fate smiled upon the South one more time.

His first act upon reaching Danville is to issue a Presidential Proclamation --- which turns out to be his last --- calling for a “new phase” to the war: 

We have now entered upon a new phase of a struggle, the memory of which is to endure for all ages, and to shed ever increasing lustre upon our country. Relieved from the necessity of guarding cities and particular points, important but not vital to our defence with our army free to move from point to point, and strike in detail the detachments and garrisons of the enemy; operating in the interior of our own country, where supplies are more accessible, and where the foe will be far removed from his own base, and cut off from all succor in case of reverse, nothing is now needed to render our triumph certain, but the exhibition of our own unquenchable resolve. Let us but will it, and we are free. 

"Free to move from point to point"

Guerrilla war. The Southern President is calling for the very thing that makes the Northern President’s blood run cold. Davis also vows not to surrender any Confederate soil --- but the Union has already presented him with a fait accompli in this regard. 

Although many Southern apologists and revisionists point out that nowhere did Davis utter the words “guerrilla war,” the fact is that many Southerners heard exactly that. Among them was Alexander Stephens, the Vice-President of the Confederacy. Stephens and Davis are estranged, and Stephens is not in Danville. Stephens described Davis’ proclamation as "little short of demention".

"Strike in detail"

Perhaps it was not “short of demention” at all. Once Davis and his Cabinet (minus John C. Breckinridge) settle into what little business they have, Davis begins planning a series of Offensives in the Eastern, Western, and Trans-Mississippi Theatres of the war, Offensives for which he has grossly insufficient troops and for which the troops have even less war materiel and supplies. The Confederate President seems bent on ignoring or denying the fact that he has no way to communicate with his nation, far-flung and fragmented as it is.