The Victim: A Romance of the Real Jefferson Davis

by Thomas Dixon

  CHAPTER XLI

  THE FALL OF RICHMOND

  The conspirators who had complained most bitterly of Davis for theappointment of Lee to the command of the army before Richmond whenMcClellan was thundering at its gates, now succeeded in passing throughthe Confederate Congress a bill to create a military dictatorship whichthey offered to the man for whose promotion they had condemned thePresident.

  Lee treated this attempt to strike the Confederate Chieftain over hishead with the contempt it deserved. Davis laughed at his enemies by themost complete acceptance of their plans.

  His answer to Senator Barton's committee was explicit.

  "I have absolute confidence in General Lee's patriotism and militarygenius. I will gladly cooeperate with Congress in any plan to place himin supreme command."

  Lee refused to accept the responsibility except with the advice anddirection of the President, and the conspiracy ended in a fiasco.

  From the moment Sherman's army pierced the heart of the South theConfederate President saw with clear vision that the cause of Southernindependence was lost. Lee's army must slowly starve. His one supremepurpose now was to fight to the last ditch for better terms thanunconditional surrender which would mean the loss of billions inproperty and the possible enfranchisement of a million slaves.

  That Lincoln was intensely anxious to stop the shedding of blood he knewfrom more than one authentic source. It was rumored that the NorthernPresident was willing to consider compensation for the slaves. An armyof a hundred thousand determined Southern soldiers led by an indomitablegeneral could fight indefinitely. That it was of the utmost importanceto the life of the South to secure a surrender which would forbid theenfranchisement of the slaves and the degradation of an electorate totheir level, Davis saw with clear vision. From the North now cameovertures of peace. Francis P. Blair asked for permission to visitRichmond.

  Blair proposed to end the war by uniting the armies of the North andSouth for an advance on Mexico to maintain the Monroe Doctrine againstthe new Emperor whom Europe had set upon a throne in the WesternHemisphere.

  The Confederate President received his proposals with courtesy.

  "I have tried in vain, Mr. Blair," he said gravely, "to opennegotiations with Washington. How can the first step be taken?"

  "Mr. Lincoln, I am sure, will receive commissioners--though he wouldgive me no assurance on that point. We must stop this deluge of blood. Icherish the hope that the pride and honor of the Southern States willsuffer no shock in the adjustment."

  The result of this meeting was the appointment by Davis of threeCommissioners to meet the representatives of the United States.Alexander H. Stephens, R. M. T. Hunter and Judge John A. Campbell weresent to this important conference. For some unknown reason they werehalted at Fortress Monroe and not allowed to proceed to Washington. Achange had been suddenly produced in the attitude of the NationalGovernment. Whether it was due to the talk of the men in Richmond whowere trying to depose Davis or whether it was due to the fall of FortFisher and the closing of the port of Wilmington, the last artery whichconnected the Confederacy with the outside world, could not be known.

  The Confederate Commissioners were met by Abraham Lincoln himself andhis Secretary of State, William H. Seward, in Hampton Roads. TheNational Government demanded in effect, unconditional surrender.

  Davis used the indignant surprise with which this startling announcementwas received in Richmond and the South to rouse the people to a lastdesperate effort to save the country from the deluge which the Radicalwing of the Northern Congress had now threatened--the confiscation ofthe property of the whites and the enfranchisement of the negro race. Inhis judgment this could only be done by forcing the National Governmentthrough a prolongation of the war to pledge the South some measure ofprotection before they should lay down their arms.

  Mass meetings were held and the people called to defend their cause withtheir last drop of blood. The President made a speech that night to acrowd in the Metropolitan Hall on Franklin Street in Richmond whichswept them into a frenzy of patriotic passion. Even his bitterest enemy,the editor of the _Examiner_, was spellbound by his eloquence.

  When he first appeared on the speakers' stand and lifted his tall thinfigure, gazing over the crowd with glittering eye, a tremendous cheerswept the assembly. In that moment, he was the incarnate Soul of theSouth. The Chieftain of the men who wore the gray in this hour of solemntrial, stood before them with countenance like the lightning. Cheer oncheer rose and fell with throbbing passion.

  A smile of strange prophetic sweetness lighted his pale haggard face.The ovation he received was the sure promise to his tired soul that whenthe passions and prejudices, the agony and madness of war had passed thepeople would understand all he had tried to do in their service. In thatmoment of divine illumination he saw his place in the hearts of hiscountrymen and was content.

  He spoke with even restrained flow of words, with a mastery of himselfand his audience that is the mark of the orator of the highest genius.His gestures were few. His low, vibrant, musical voice found the heartof his farthest listener. He swayed them with indescribable passion.

  Into the faces of the foe who had demanded unconditional surrender hehurled the defiance of an unconquered and unconquerable soul. He closedwith an historical illustration which lifted his audience to the highestreach of emotion. Kossuth had abandoned Hungary with an army of thirtythousand men in the field. The friends of liberty had never forgiven norcould forgive this betrayal.

  "What shall we say," he cried, "of the disgrace beneath which we shouldbe buried if we surrender with an army in the field more numerous thanthat with which Napoleon achieved the glory of France, an army standingamong its homesteads, an army in which each individual is superior inwarlike quality to the individual who opposes him!"

  When the tumult and applause had died away did he realize in the secretplaces of his heart that the spirit of the South had been broken by theterrible experiences of four years of blood and fire and death? His ironwill gave no sign. To him the manhood of the Southern soldier wasunconquerable, his courage dauntless forever.

  Six months after Sherman's sword had pierced the heart of the South fromAtlanta, Lee's army in the trenches before Petersburg had reached theend of their endurance. Lee wired Davis that his thin line could holdback Grant's hosts but a few days and that Richmond must fall. His menwere living on parched corn.

  The President hurried to the White House and slipped his arm around hiswife.

  "You must leave the city, my dear."

  "Please let me stay with you," she pleaded.

  "Impossible," he answered firmly. "My headquarters must be in thesaddle. Your presence here could only grieve and distress me. You cantake care of our babies. I know you wish to help and comfort me. You cando this in but one way--go and take the children to a place of safety--"

  He paused, overcome with emotion.

  "If I live," he continued slowly, "you can come to me when the struggleis over, but I do not expect to survive the destruction of ourliberties."

  He drew his small hoard of gold from his pocket, removed a five-dollarpiece for himself, and gave it all to his wife together with theConfederate money he had on hand.

  "You must take only your clothing," he said after a moment's silence."The flour and supplies in your pantry must be left. The people are inwant."

  He had arranged for his family to settle in North Carolina. The daybefore his wife left, he gave her a pistol and taught her tremblinghands to load, aim and fire it.

  "The danger will be," he warned, "that you may full into the hands oflawless bands of deserters from both armies who are even now pillagingand burning. You can at least, if you must, force your assailants tokill you. If you cannot remain undisturbed in your own land make for thecoast of Florida and take a ship for a foreign country."

  Their hearts dumb with despair, his wife and children boarded thetrain--or the thing that once had been a train--the roof of the carsleaked and the engin
e wheezed and moved with great distress.

  The stern face of the Southern leader was set in his hour of trial. Hefelt that he might never again look on the faces of those he loved. Hislittle girl clung convulsively to his neck in agonizing prayer that shemight stay. The boy begged and pleaded with tears raining down hischubby face.

  Just outside of Richmond the engine broke down and the heartsick familysat in the dismal day-coach all night. Sleepers had not been invented.They were twelve hours getting to Danville--a week on the way toCharlotte.

  The reign of terror had already begun.

  The President's wife avoided seeing people lest they should becompromised when the invading army should sweep over the State.

  They found everything packed up in the house that had been rented, butWeill, the big-hearted Jew who was the agent, sent their meals from hishouse for a week, refusing every suggestion of pay. He offered his ownpurse or any other service he could render.

  When Burton Harrison had seen them safely established in Charlotte hereturned at once to his duties with the President in Richmond.

  On the beautiful Sunday morning of April 2, 1865, a messenger hurriedlyentered St. Paul's Church, walked to the President's pew and handed hima slip of paper. He rose and quietly left.

  Not a rumor had reached the city of Lee's broken lines. In fact a falserumor had been published of a great victory which his starving army hadachieved the day before.

  The report of the evacuation of Richmond fell on incredulous ears. Thestreets were unusually quiet. Beyond the James the fresh green of thespring clothed the fields in radiant beauty. The rumble of no artillerydisturbed the quiet. Scarcely a vehicle of any kind could be seen. Thechurch bells were still ringing their call to the house of God.

  The straight military figure entered the Executive office. A wagondashed down Main Street and backed up in front of the Custom House door.Boxes were hurried from the President's office and loaded into it.

  A low hum and clatter began to rise from the streets. The news ofdisaster and evacuation spread like lightning and disorder grew. Thestreets were crowded with fugitives making their way to the depot--palewomen with disheveled hair and tear-stained faces leading barefootedchildren who were crying in vague terror of something they could notunderstand. Wagons were backed to the doors of every department of theConfederate Government. As fast as they could be loaded they were drivento the Danville depot.

  All was confusion and turmoil. Important officers were not to be seenand when they were found would answer no questions. Here and theregroups of mean-visaged loafers began to gather with ominous looks towardthe houses of the better class.

  The halls of the silent Capitol building were deserted--a singlefootfall echoed with hollow sound.

  The Municipal Council gathered in a dingy little room to consider thesurrender of the city. Mayor Mayo dashed in and out with the latestinformation he could get from the War Department. He was slightlyincoherent in his excitement, but he was full of pluck and chewedtobacco defiantly. He announced that the last hope was gone and that hewould maintain order with two regiments of militia.

  He gave orders to destroy every drop of liquor in the stores, saloonsand warehouses and establish a patrol.

  The militia slipped through the fingers of their officers and in a fewhours the city was without a government. Disorder, pillage, shouts,revelry and confusion were the order of the night. Black masses of menswayed and surged through the dimly-lighted streets, smashing intostores and warehouses at will. Some of them were carrying out theMayor's orders to destroy the liquor. Others decided that the best wayto destroy it was to drink it. The gutters ran with liquor and the fumesfilled the air.

  To the rear guard of Lee's army under Ewell was left the task of blowingup the vessels in the James, and destroying the bridges across theriver. The thunder of exploding mines and torpedoes now shook the earth.The ships were blown to atoms and the wharves fired.

  In vain the Mayor protested against the firing of the great warehouses.Orders were orders, and the soldiers obeyed. The warehouses were fired,the sparks leaped to the surrounding buildings and the city was inflames.

  As day dawned a black pall of smoke obscured the heavens. The sun's rayslighted the banks of rolling smoke with lurid glare. The roar of theconflagration now drowned all other sounds.

  The upper part of Main Street was choked with pillagers--men with drays,some with bags, some rolling their stolen barrels painfully up thehills.

  A small squadron of Federal cavalry rode calmly into the wild scene.General Weitzel, in command of the two divisions of Grant's army on thenorth side, had sent in forty Massachusetts troopers to investigateconditions.

  At the corner of Eleventh Street they broke into a trot for the Squareand planted their guidons on the Capitol of the Confederacy.

  Long before this advance guard could be seen in the distance the oldflag of the Union had been flung from the top of the house on ChurchHill. Foreseeing the fall of the city Miss Van Lew had sent to theFederal Commander for a flag. Through his scouts he had sent it. AsWeitzel's two grand divisions swung into Main Street this piece ofbunting eighteen feet long and nine feet wide waved from the Van Lewmansion on the hill above them.

  Stretching from the Exchange Hotel to the slopes of Church Hill, downthe hill, through the valley, and up the ascent swept this gorgeousarray of the triumphant army, its bayonets gleaming in the sunlight,every standard, battle flag and guidon streaming in the sky, every bandplaying, swords flashing, and shout after shout rolling from end to endof the line.

  To the roar of the flames, the throb of drum, the scream of fife, thecrash of martial music, and the shouts of marching hosts, was added nowthe deep thunder of exploding shells in the burning arsenals.

  A regiment of negro cavalry swept by the Exchange Hotel and as theyturned the corner drew their sabers with a savage shout.

  An old Virginian with white locks standing in the doorway of the hotelgazed on these negro troops a moment, threw his hands on high, andsolemnly cried:

  "Blow, Gabriel! Blow your trumpet--for God's sake blow!"

  For hours the fire raged unchecked--burned until the entire businesssection of the city lay a smoldering heap of ashes. Crowds of men, womenand children crowded the Capitol Square fighting with smoke and flyingcinders for a breath of fresh air. Piles of furniture lay heaped on itsgreensward. Terror-stricken, weeping women had dragged it from theirhomes. In improvised tents made of broken tables and chairs covered withsheets and bedding hundreds of homeless women and children huddled.

  As night fell the pitiful reaction came from the turmoil and excitementof the day. The quiet of a great desolation brooded over the smokingruins.

  In the rich and powerful North millions were mad with joy. In New Yorktwenty thousand people gathered in Union Square and sang the Doxology.

  Jennie Barton was in Richmond through it all and yet the tragedy made noimpression on her heart or mind. A greater event absorbed her.

  Dick Welford had hurried to Lee's army on the day following Socola'sdeparture from Richmond. He wanted to fight once more. Through all thewhirlwind of death and blood from the first crash with Grant in theWilderness to his vain assaults on Petersburg he had fought without ascratch. His life was charmed. And then in the first day of the finalstruggle which broke the lines of Lee's starving army he fell, leadinghis men in a glorious charge. He reached the hospital in Richmond theday before the city's evacuation.

  Jennie had watched by his bedside every hour since his arrival. But fewwords passed between them. She let him hold her hand for hours insilence, always looking, looking and smiling his deathless love.

  He had not spoken Socola's name nor had she.

  "It's funny, Jennie," he said at last, "I don't hate him any more--"

  The girl's head drooped and the tears streamed down her checks.

  "Please, Dick--don't--"

  "Yes," he insisted, "I want to talk about it and you must hear me--won'tyou?"

  "Of cours
e, if you wish it," she answered tenderly.

  "You see I don't hate these Yankee soldiers any more--anyhow. I saw toomany of them die from the Wilderness to Petersburg--brave manly fellows.The fire of battle has burned the hate out of me. Now I just want you tobe happy, Jennie dear, that's all--good-by--"

  His hand slipped from hers and in a moment his spirit had passed.