In the Sabbath evening twilight, the train, with the fugitive government, its stolen bullion, and its Doctors of Divinity on board, moved out from the city.

At the same hour the Governor of Virginia, William Smith, and the Legislature, embarked in a ca.n.a.l-boat, on the James River and Kanawha Ca.n.a.l, for Lynchburg. On all the roads were men, women, and children, in carriages of every description, with mult.i.tudes on horseback and on foot, flying from the Rebel capital. Men who could not get away were secretly at work, during those night-hours, burying plate and money in gardens; ladies secreted their jewels, barred and bolted their doors, and pa.s.sed a sleepless night, fearful of the morrow, which would bring in the despised "Vandal horde of Yankee ruffians"; for such were the epithets they had persistently applied to the soldiers of the Union throughout the war.

But the government was not quite through with its operations in Richmond. General Ewell remained till daylight on Monday morning to clear up things,-not to burn public archives in order to destroy evidence of Confederate villany, but to add to the crime already committed another so atrocious that the stanchest friends of the Confederacy recoiled with horror even from its contemplation.

It was past midnight when the Mayor learned that Ewell had issued orders for firing the government buildings and the tobacco warehouses. He sent a deputation of prominent citizens to remonstrate. They were referred to Major Melton, who was to apply the torch.

"It is a cowardly pretext on the part of the citizens, trumped up to save their property for the Yankees," said he.

The committee endeavored to dissuade him from the act.

"I shall execute my orders," said he.

They went to General Ewell, who with an oath informed them that the torch would be applied at daylight. Breckenridge was there, who said that it would be a disgrace to the Confederate government to endanger the destruction of the entire city. He was Secretary of War, and could have countermanded the order. Will not history hold him accountable?

To prevent the United States from obtaining possession of a few thousand hogsheads of tobacco, a thousand houses were destroyed by fire, the heart of the city burnt out,-all of the business portion, all the banks and insurance-offices, half of the newspapers, with mills, depots, bridges, founderies, workshops, dwellings, churches,-thirty squares in all, swept clean by the devouring flames. It was the final work of the Confederate government. Inaugurated in heat and pa.s.sion, carried on by hate and prejudice, its end was but in keeping with its career,-the total disregard of the rights of person and property.

In the outskirts of the city, on the Mechanicsville road, was the almshouse, filled with the lame, the blind, the halt, poor, sick, bed-ridden creatures. Ten rods distant was a magazine containing fifteen or twenty kegs of powder, which might have been rolled into the creek near at hand, and was of little value to a victorious army with full supplies of ammunition; but the order of Jeff Davis to blow up the magazines was peremptory and must be executed.

"We give you fifteen minutes to get out of the way," was the sole notice to that crowd of helpless beings lying in their cots, at three o'clock in the morning. Men and women begged for mercy; but their cries were in vain. The officer in charge of the matter was inexorable. Clotheless and shoeless, the inmates ran in terror from the spot to seek shelter in the ravines; but those who could not run while the train to fire it was being laid, rent the air with shrieks of agony. The match was applied at the time. The concussion crushed in the broad side of the house as if it had been pasteboard. Windows flew into flinders. Bricks, stones, timbers, beams, and boards were whirled through the air. Trees were twisted off like withes in the hands of a giant. The city was wrenched and rocked as by a volcanic convulsion. The dozen poor wretches whose infirmities prevented their leaving the house wore horribly mangled; and when the fugitives who had sought shelter in the fields returned to the ruins they found only the bruised and blackened remains of their fellow-inmates.

Let us take a parting glance at the Rebel army as it leaves the city.

The day is brightening in the east. The long line of baggage-wagons and the artillery has been rumbling over the bridges all night. The railroad trains have been busy in conveying the persons and property of both the government and the people; but the last has departed, and still a disappointed crowd is left at the depot. The roads leading west are filled with fugitives in all sorts of vehicles, and on horseback and on foot.

Men are rolling barrels of tar and turpentine upon the bridges. Guards stand upon the Manchester side to prevent the return of any soldier belonging to Richmond. Custis Lee's division has crossed, and Kershaw's division, mainly of South Carolinians, follows. The troops march silently; they are depressed in spirit. The rabble of Manchester have found out what fine times their friends in Richmond are having, and old women and girls are streaming across the bridges laden with plunder,-webs of cloth, blankets, overcoats, and food from the government storehouses. The war-worn soldiers, ragged and barefoot, behold it, and utter curses against the Confederate government for having deprived them of clothing and food.

General Ewell crosses the bridge, riding an iron-gray horse. He wears an old faded cloak and slouch hat. He is brutal and profane, mingling oaths with his orders. Following him is John Cabel Breckenridge, the long, black, glossy hair of other days changed to gray, his high, broad forehead wrinkled and furrowed. He is in plain black, with a talma thrown over his shoulders. He talks with Ewell, and gazes upon the scene. Suddenly a broad flash of light leaps up beyond the city, accompanied with a dull, heavy roar, and he sees the air filled with flying timbers of the hospital, whose inmates, almost without warning, and without cause or crime, are blown into eternity.

The last division has crossed the river. The sun is up. A match is touched to the turpentine spread along the timbers, and the bridges are in flames; also the tobacco warehouses, the flouring-mills, the a.r.s.enals, and laboratory. The Rebel troops behold the conflagration as they wind along the roads and through the green fields towards the southwest, and memory brings back the scenes of their earlier rejoicing. It is the 2d of April, four years lacking two weeks since the drunken carousal over the pa.s.sage of the ordinance of Secession.

Ruins of Richmond.

It was a little past four o'clock when Major A. H. Stevens of the Fourth Ma.s.sachusetts cavalry, and Provost Marshal of the Twenty-Fifth Army Corps, with detachments from companies E and H, started upon a reconnoissance of the enemy's intrenchments. He found them evacuated and the guns spiked. A deserter piloted the detachment safely over the torpedoes which had been planted in front of them. A mile and a half out from the city, Major Stevens met a barouche and five men mounted bearing a white flag. The party consisted of the Mayor, Judge Meredith of the Confederate States Court, and other gentlemen, who tendered the surrender of the city. He went into the city and was received with joy by the colored people, who shouted their thanks to the Lord that the Yankees had come. He proceeded to the Capitol, ascended the roof, pulled down the State flag which was flying, and raised the guidons of the two companies upon the building.

The flames were spreading, and the people, horror-struck and stupefied by the events of the night, were powerless to arrest them. On, on, from dwelling to warehouse, from store to hotel, from hotel to banks, to the newspaper offices, to churches, all along Main Street from near the Spottswood Hotel to the eastern end of the town; then back to the river, to the bridges across the James, up to the large stone fire-proof building, erected by the United States for a post-office, full of Confederate shinplasters, around this, on both sides of it, up to Capitol Square, the flames roared and leaped and crackled, consuming all the business part of the city. In the a.r.s.enal were several thousand sh.e.l.ls, which exploded at intervals, throwing fragments of iron, burning timbers, and blazing brands and cinders over the surrounding buildings, and driving the people from their homes.

Major Stevens ordered the fire-engines into position, posted his soldiers to preserve order, and called upon the citizens to work the engines, and did what he could to stop the progress of the devouring element.

General Weitzel triumphantly entered the city at eight o'clock, the colored soldiers singing the John Brown song. With even ranks and steady step, colors waving, drums beating, bands playing, the columns pa.s.sed up the streets, flanked with fire, to the Capitol. Then stacking their guns, and laying aside their knapsacks, they sprang to the engines, or mounted the roofs and poured in buckets of water, or tore down buildings, to stop the ravages of the fire kindled by the departing Rebels,-emulating the n.o.ble example of their comrades in arms at Charleston; like them manifesting no vindictiveness of spirit, but forgetting self in their devotion to duty, forgetting wrong and insult and outrage in their desire to serve their oppressors in their hour of extremity.

The business portion was a sea of flame when I entered the city in the afternoon. I tried to pa.s.s through Main Street, but on both sides the fire was roaring and walls were tumbling. I turned into a side street, rode up to the Capitol, and then to the Spottswood Hotel. Dr. Reed's church in front was in flames. On the three sides of the hotel the fire had been raging, but was now subdued, and there was a fair prospect that it would be saved.

"Can you accommodate me with a room?"

"I reckon we can, sir, but like enough you will be burnt out before morning. You can have any room you choose. n.o.body here."

I registered my name on a page which bore the names of a score of Rebel officers who had left in the morning, and took a room on the first floor, from which I could easily spring to the ground in case the hotel should be again endangered by the fire.

Throwing up the sash I looked out upon the scene. There were swaying chimneys, tottering walls, streets impa.s.sable from piles of brick, stones, and rubbish. Capitol Square was filled with furniture, beds, clothing, crockery, chairs, tables, looking-gla.s.ses. Women were weeping, children crying. Men stood speechless, haggard, wobegone, gazing at the desolation.

In Charleston the streets echoed only to the sound of my own footsteps or the snarling of hungry curs. There I walked through weeds, and trod upon flowers in the gra.s.sy streets; but in Richmond I waded through Confederate promises to pay, public doc.u.ments, and broken furniture and crockery.

Granite columns, iron pillars, marble facades, broken into thousands of pieces, blocked the streets. The Bank of Richmond, Bank of the Commonwealth, Traders' Bank, Bank of Virginia, Farmers' Bank, a score of private banking-houses, the American Hotel, the Columbian Hotel, the Enquirer and the Dispatch printing-offices, the Confederate Post-Office Department, the State Court-House, the Mechanics' Inst.i.tute, all the insurance offices, the Confederate War Department, the Confederate a.r.s.enal, the Laboratory, Dr. Reed's church, several founderies and machine-shops, the Henrico County Court-House, the Danville and the Petersburg depots, the three bridges across the James, the great flouring-mills, and all the best stores of the city, were destroyed.

Soldiers from General Devens's command were on the roof of the Capitol, Governor's house, and other buildings, ready to extinguish the flames. The Capitol several times caught fire from cinders.

"If it had not been for the soldiers the whole city would have gone," said a citizen.

The colored soldiers in Capitol Square were dividing their rations with the houseless women and children, giving them hot coffee, sweetened with sugar,-such as they had not tasted for many months. There were ludicrous scenes. One negro had three Dutch-ovens on his head, piled one above another, a stew-pan in one hand and a skillet in the other. Women had bags of flour in their arms, baskets of salt and pails of mola.s.ses, or sides of bacon. No miser ever gloated over his gold so eagerly as they over their supply of provisions. They had all but starved, but now they could eat till satisfied.

How stirring the events of that day! Lee retreating, Grant pursuing; Davis a fugitive; the Governor and Legislature of Virginia seeking safety in a ca.n.a.l-boat; Doctors of Divinity fleeing from the wrath they feared; the troops of the Union marching up the streets; the old flag waving over the Capitol; Rebel ironclads blowing up; Richmond on fire; the billows rolling from square to square, unopposed in their progress by the bewildered crowd; and the Northern Vandals laying down their arms, not to the enemy in the field, but the better to battle with a foe not more relentless, but less controllable with the weapons of war. Weird the scenes of that strange, eventful night,-the glimmering flames, the clouds of smoke hanging like a funeral pall above the ruins, the crowd of homeless creatures wandering the streets.

"Such resting found the soles of unblest feet!"

In the morning I visited the Capitol building, which, like the Confederacy, had become exceedingly dilapidated, the windows broken, the carpets faded, the paint dingy.

General Weitzel was in the Senate Chamber issuing his orders; also General Shepley, Military Governor, and General Devens.

The door opened, and a smooth-faced man, with a keen eye, firm, quick, resolute step, entered. He wore a plain blue blouse with three stars on the collar. It was the hero who opened the way to New Orleans, and who fought the battle of the Mobile forts from the masthead of his vessel,-Admiral Farragut. He was accompanied by General Gordon of Ma.s.sachusetts, commanding the Department of Norfolk. They heard the news Monday noon, and made all haste up the James, landing at Varina and taking horses to the city. It was a pleasure to take the brave Admiral's hand, and answer his eager questions as to what Grant had done. Being latest of all present from Petersburg, I could give him the desired information. "Thank G.o.d, it is about over," said he of the Rebellion.

It was a little past noon when I walked down to the river bank to view the desolation. While there I saw a boat pulled by twelve rowers coming up stream, containing President Lincoln and his little son, Admiral Porter, and three officers. Forty or fifty freedmen-sole possessors of themselves for twenty-four hours-were at work on the bank of the ca.n.a.l, under the direction of a lieutenant, securing some floating timber; they crowded round the President, forgetting work in their wild joy at beholding the face of the author of the great Emanc.i.p.ation Proclamation. As he approached I said to a colored woman,-

"There is the man who made you free."

"What, ma.s.sa?"

"That is President Lincoln."

"Dat President Link.u.m?"

"Yes."

She gazed at him a moment in amazement, joy, rapture, as if in supernal presence, then clapped her hands, jumped and shouted, "Glory! glory! glory!"

Farragut at Mobile.

"G.o.d bless you, Sah!" said one, taking off his cap and bowing very low.

"Hurrah! hurrah! President Link.u.m hab come! President Link.u.m hab come!" rang through the street.

The lieutenant found himself without men. What cared those freedmen, fresh from the house of bondage, for floating timber or military commands? Their deliverer had come,-he who, next to the Lord Jesus, was their best friend! It was not a hurrah that they gave so much as a wild, jubilant cry of inexpressible joy.

They pressed round the President, ran ahead, and hovered upon the flanks and rear of the little company. Men, women, and children joined the constantly increasing throng. They came from all the streets, running in breathless haste, shouting and hallooing, and dancing with delight. The men threw up their hats, the women waved their bonnets and handkerchiefs, clapped their hands, and shouted, "Glory to G.o.d! glory! glory! glory!"-rendering all the praise to G.o.d, who had given them freedom, after long years of weary waiting, and had permitted them thus unexpectedly to meet their great benefactor.

"I thank you, dear Jesus, that I behold President Link.u.m!" was the exclamation of a woman who stood upon the threshold of her humble home, and with streaming eyes and clasped hands, gave thanks aloud to the Saviour of men.