The president began his journey up the James River, along with his son Tad and his bodyguard William Crook, at about ten o'clock in the morning. The Malvern also made the trip, but Lincoln and his party were aboard the River Queen.
April 4 was Tad Lincoln's birthday, his twelfth. A trip to Richmond aboard a side-wheeler was the best birthday president a twelve-year-old could ever hope for, much better than birthday cake back at the White House. As soon as he came on board, Tad went belowdecks and began inspecting the ship and talking to the crew. His father remained on deck, where he and William Crook ate the contents of a large bowl of apples.
During the night and into the next morning, torpedo boats (which would be known as minesweepers in another era) cleared away the torpedoes, or sea mines, that had been blocking the channel. When Admiral Porter's flagship, USS Malvern, ran aground, the admiral decided that it would be best, and safest, for the president and his party if they continued on to Richmond in his own barge. The barge had a much shallower draft than the Malvern, and was rowed by twelve sailors, who would also accompany President Lincoln on shore. Commander Barnes was right behind the president's barge in a smaller boat.
In spite of all the precautions that had been taken to insure the president's safety, William Crook recalled that the trip was “exciting enough.” There were still too many threats and hazards to suit him and his bodyguard's sense of security: “On either side dead horses, broken ordinance, wrecked boats floated near our boat, and we passed so close to torpedoes that we could have put out our hands and touched them.”8
When Lincoln finally arrived on shore, the situation involving Lincoln's safety did not improve. Commander Barnes watched as the president “finally made a landing on the edge of town.”9 When the commander came ashore himself a few minutes after the president, he saw that Lincoln was being accompanied by “a few sailors, armed with carbines,” and also that he was surrounded by “a dense mass of men, women, and children, mostly negroes.” But in addition, Barnes noticed that the president's “tall form and high beaver hat towered above the crowd,” which made him an excellent target for any snipers who happened to be in the vicinity.
William Crook was a lot more concerned about snipers and assassins than Commander Barnes—it was his job to protect the president. He was also very much aware that Lincoln was a very tall and inviting target. In an attempt to arrange some sort of defensive escort, Crook formed two lines of armed sailors, six in front of Lincoln and six behind him. Admiral Porter and Captain Penrose were to the president's right, while Crook and Tad were to his left. Crook had armed himself with a Colt revolver. “We looked more like prisoners than anything else as we walked up the streets of Richmond not thirty-six hours after the Confederates had evacuated.”10
When the president first arrived, there were not very many people out on the streets except for a good many recently freed slaves—“Richmond was black with negroes,” Crook remembered, and thought that they must have heard about Lincoln's entry into the city “through some sort of underground telegraph.”11 They were very glad to see President Lincoln, and went out of their way to show their enthusiasm. “By the time we were on shore hundreds of black hands were outstretched to the President.” Lincoln shook hands with some of them, and thanked everyone for their wholehearted welcome.
As the president and his party made their way into Richmond, and as word of his arrival spread, more and more white residents of the city came out to see Lincoln. Crook said that the streets “were alive with spectators,” and also noted, “Wherever it was possible for a human being to find a foothold there was some man or woman or boy straining his eyes after the President. Every window was crowded with heads.”12
But it was an eerie and silent crowd—no one spoke or shouted or made a sound. To William Crook, there was something strange and oppressive about thousands of spectators looking on in complete silence as the president passed by. This was an unfriendly crowd. Unlike the freed slaves who had welcomed Lincoln when he first came ashore, these people were not glad to see the president. Lincoln was also aware of the hostility. According to William Crook, the president had the expression “of a brave man when he is ready for whatever may come.”13
The president had not proceeded very far into the city when Crook noticed the blinds on the second story window of a house open slightly. A man dressed in gray came to the window and pointed something that looked like a gun directly at President Lincoln. Crook immediately dropped Tad's hand and stepped in front of the president—“I was sure he meant to shoot.”14
Everyone in the president's following, including the president himself, was well aware of the danger. A mounted Union cavalryman was spotted at a nearby street corner; he was summoned and informed that “President Lincoln wishes for assistance.”15 The soldier galloped off to get help. A few minutes later “a small squadron of mounted men” rode up. The first thing the cavalry unit did was to clear the street. Afterward, they escorted the president and his party to General Weitzel's headquarters.
William Crook breathed a sigh of relief that Lincoln had not been shot. “It seems to me nothing short of miraculous that some attempt on his life was not made,” he declared. “It is to the everlasting glory of the South that he was permitted to come and go in peace.”16
When the president reached General Weitzel's headquarters, which he had established in Jefferson Davis's former residence, everyone realized that they were finally among friends. The house was made of stucco, and had a garden in the back. A black servant said that Mrs. Davis had ordered her staff to have the house in good condition for the Yankees when they arrived.
The Davis residence has been referred to as the Confederate White House, but Commander Barnes described it as “a modest and unpretentious building, brown in color, with small windows and doors.”17 The president entered the house via the front door and was escorted into Jefferson Davis's reception room. The room was “plainly but comfortably furnished.” Commander Barnes noticed a print of the Confederate ironclad Sumter on one of the walls. Years later, the naval officer remembered that the picture of the warship “excited my covetousness.”
While Commander Barnes was examining the room, President Lincoln sat down in President Davis's chair. Everyone in the room recognized the significance and the symbolism of the moment. Abraham Lincoln was seated in the chair that had only two days before belonged to Confederate president Jefferson Davis—Commander Barnes commented that he was “seated in the chair almost warm from the pressure of the body of Jefferson Davis.”18 Some gathered by the door to look at the sight. Not much was said by anyone.
President Lincoln did not say very much, either. “There was no triumph in his gesture or attitude.”19 He leaned back in the chair, “like a tired man whose nerves had carried him beyond his strength,” and asked for someone to bring him a drink of water. He seemed satisfied just to sit and relax for a few minutes and drink a glass of water before returning to the business of running the war.
President Lincoln congratulated General Weitzel on having captured Richmond, and a small celebration was held. One of the servants brought a tall, black bottle up from the cellar. Everyone who wanted a drink helped themselves as the bottle was passed around. The president was the only person in the room who decided that he did not want a drink.
General Weitzel asked President Lincoln what should be done with the “conquered people.” The president replied that he did not want to issue any orders to the general regarding that particular subject, but he did give his wholehearted opinion. “If I were in your place I'd let ’em up easy,” he said, “let ’em up easy.”20
Following the celebration, a large carriage, which was described as an officer's ambulance, was driven up to the door. President Lincoln, Admiral Porter, General Weitzel, and some of his staff, along with Captain Penrose and Tad, climbed aboard—they were to be driven to several places that might be of interest in the Confederate capital. After everyone was on board, it was discovered that there
was no room in the vehicle for Lincoln's bodyguard, William Crook. The president insisted that Crook accompany him on the tour of Richmond, which meant that a horse had to be produced at short notice. Crook took up a position alongside the ambulance, on the same side of the vehicle as the president. With Crook at Lincoln's side, the president and his party proceeded on their way.
As President Lincoln was driven through the city, he could see evidence of the war everywhere he looked. Hundreds of buildings and houses had been destroyed by fire. “The streets were crowded with furniture and every description of wares,” a news reporter wrote, “dashed down to be trampled in the mud or burned up where it lay.”21 Among the landmarks they passed was the infamous Libby Prison, where hundreds of Union prisoners had been held in captivity. Crowds continued to turn out in large numbers to see Lincoln as he drove by, which made traveling slow and difficult. Some of the people actually cheered the president, especially in working-class districts. In the wealthier areas, the blinds remained closed and the residents stayed indoors, silent and forbidding.
The only stop made by the president and his entourage was at the former Confederate capitol, where the Confederate congress had convened. President Davis's cabinet room, which was in a very rundown and derelict condition, was the only room they visited. “The furniture was completely wrecked; the coverings of desks and chairs had been stripped off by relic-hunters, and the chairs were hacked to pieces,” was William Crook's description of the cabinet chamber.22 Official government documents were scattered all over the floor, along with now-worthless $1,000 Confederate bonds. Seeing Jefferson Davis's house might have been very inspiring and encouraging for Lincoln and his party, but the inside of the capitol was a depressing sight.
While he was in Richmond, President Lincoln met with former assistant justice, and Confederate assistant secretary of war, John A. Campbell, the only government official to remain in Richmond after the capital was evacuated. In fact, Campbell had informed John C. Breckinridge, the Confederate secretary of war, that he did not intend to leave Richmond. His explanation was that “I should take an opportunity to see President Lincoln on the subject of peace.”23 The president was in full agreement with this point of view, and was more than willing to discuss peace with Campbell.
Judge Campbell, as he was frequently called, had talked peace terms with President Lincoln once before, at Hampton Roads, in February 1865. Confederate senator Robert M. T. Hunter of Virginia, Confederate vice-president Alexander H. Stephens, and Campbell met with Lincoln and Secretary of State Seward aboard the River Queen to discuss the possibility of reaching an agreement that would secure peace. The meeting, which went on for several hours, ended without results; the participants could not agree on terms that would be acceptable to both sides.
In his discussion with the president, Campbell's main concern was with the treatment of the former Confederate states by Lincoln and his government in the aftermath of the war, and he asked the president to treat them with “moderation, magnanimity, and kindness.”24 He also had anxieties over the civil liberties of the citizens of Richmond, and requested that no “requisitions” or restraints be made on the citizens “save as to police and preservation of order,” and that there should be no interference regarding churches or religion.25
President Lincoln had no objection to these conditions. He had every intention of treating the South with magnanimity and generosity, and had no intention of interfering with civil liberties. As John A. Campbell succinctly stated, “He assented to this,” and went on to say that General Weitzel also “cordially” assented.26
From President Lincoln's standpoint, the meeting was certainly encouraging. Campbell seemed to be in basic agreement with him regarding the future of the postwar South, although they had not gone into any details. The president invited Campbell to join him aboard the USS Malvern in the morning to continue the discussion. Campbell agreed, and suggested that the president also confer with some moderate political leaders at that time, if he could persuade them to come. Lincoln was only too willing to go along with the idea.
Following his meeting with John Campbell, the president was taken back to the wharf by ambulance. By this time, Admiral Porter's flagship, USS Malvern, had made her way to Richmond; President Lincoln was taken out to the flagship by tugboat, along with Admiral Porter, Tad, and William Crook. “It was with a decided sign of relief that we saw the president safe on board,” Lincoln's bodyguard noted.27
The president spent the night aboard the Malvern, which would be starting back to City Point the next day. While on board the Malvern, President Lincoln received a visit from “a newspaperman, [and] an ardent rebel” named Duff Green.28 The visit was not a pleasant one, but it did give Lincoln some idea of what lay ahead of him, as well as the rest of the Union, in dealing with the postwar South.
Duff Green came on board to see the president about a personal matter—he wanted a pass to visit a friend across the Confederate lines. As he approached the president, Lincoln held out his hand. Green refused to take it, announcing, “I did not come here to shake hands.”29 Lincoln chose to ignore the snub, and both men sat down. As soon as they both were seated, “Mr. Green began to abuse Mr. Lincoln for the part he had taken in the struggle between the North and the South.” Admiral David Porter, who was present at the meeting, remembered that Green accused the president of cutting the throats “of thousands of my people,” of traveling to Richmond “to gloat over the ruin and desolation you have caused,” and of coming “to triumph over a poor, conquered town with only women and children in it.”30 According to William Crook, Green's last words were, “I do not know how God and your conscience will let you sleep at night after being guilty of the notorious crime of setting the niggers free.”31
President Lincoln sat through this verbal barrage without showing any emotion and without saying a word. If he was angry about what Green had just said to him, he did not show it. After he finished his outburst, Green calmly told the president, “I would like, sir, to go to my friends.” Lincoln turned to General Weitzel and said, just as calmly, “General, please give Mr. Green a pass to go to his friends.”32 Mr. Green was given his pass, went ashore, and was never seen again.
The incident probably bothered the president more than he let on. That night, he dropped in to see if Tad was all right and accidentally woke William Crook out of a sound sleep. When he realized that his bodyguard was awake, Lincoln stopped to talk for a few minutes. And the main topic on his mind was Duff Green's outburst. “The old man is pretty angry,” he said, “but I think he will get over it.”33 After a while, he said goodnight and went back to his stateroom, probably still thinking about Green and what he had said that afternoon.
President Lincoln realized that Duff Green's point of view was not unique. There were millions of Duff Greens throughout the South, not only in Virginia but also in Mississippi, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Missouri, and every other state throughout the former Confederacy, all of whom shared his inflammatory opinion. There was a pervasive resentment and hatred of Southerners toward the Federal troops who were occupying their cities, and revulsion toward President Lincoln for freeing the slaves. Winning the war was vital, but Lincoln could see that securing the peace would be something else again, and would be just as demanding.
John Wilkes Booth was among the Southerners who were despondent over the fall of Richmond. He had been depressed during the past few weeks over the Confederacy and its dismal future, as well as over its chances of winning the war. Whenever he spoke about the war, the subject made him either angry or dejected. He was every bit as incensed as Duff Green by the occupation of Richmond and by the freeing of the slaves, and he had no use at all for Abraham Lincoln. In Booth's opinion, Lincoln was a tyrant who was responsible for all of the South's troubles, and he thought something should be done to silence him permanently.
During the course of a conversation with a couple of friends, Booth announced that something astonishing would happen during the
next two weeks. One of his friends was not impressed. “What are you going to do,” he asked, “kill Jefferson Davis, take Richmond, or play Hamlet a hundred nights?”34 But what John Wilkes Booth had in mind would turn out to be a lot more astonishing and shocking than any of these things.
Unifying the country and showing charity for the South were becoming increasingly central to President Lincoln. But his most pressing concern was putting an end to the war, as quickly as possible and with as little additional loss of life as possible. He recognized that General Grant was in close pursuit of General Lee and his army and also that the Confederates were downhearted and dispirited—senior officers, including General Grant, reported that morale among Lee's troops was low. But he also knew that they were still not willing to give up the fight. The fighting and the killing could still go on for several more weeks.
“April 4 was another active day,” Colonel Horace Porter wrote, “the troops were made to realize that this campaign was to be won with legs.”35 They were competing in a “great walking-match” with General Lee's “demoralized army”;36 success now depended upon which army could out-walk the other. As Colonel Porter remarked, “success depended upon which army could make the best distance record.”
General Grant was not nearly as casual about his pursuit of General Lee and his “demoralized army” as Colonel Porter. On the morning of April 4, Grant was informed that Lee was moving farther west, still intending to make his way to Danville and join forces with General Johnston. To counter this movement, Grant immediately ordered General Philip Sheridan to move his forces into a position where he would be able to stop Lee from getting any rations or supplies. He also ordered General George Meade to join forces with the Army of the James, and to look for any opportunity to attack Lee and his army. General Grant's exact orders were that General Meade should make a “forced march,” which was not exactly the same thing as Colonel Porter's “great walking-match.”37
The Last Weeks of Abraham Lincoln Page 15
