Authors: Steve Sheinkin

Two Miserable Presidents (21 page)

BOOK: Two Miserable Presidents

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T
he war was not over yet. But in Washington, D.C., Abraham Lincoln and members of Congress were already making plans for Reconstructionâthe long process of putting the country back together again. In January 1865, for example, Congress approved the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution. This amendment forever banned slavery everywhere in the United States.

“I have felt, ever since the vote, as if I were in a new country,” said George Julian, a member of Congress from Indiana.

At his inauguration ceremony in March, Lincoln also looked to
the future. As he often did so well, he put very big ideas into just a few words:

“With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.”

Frederick Douglass was impressed by Lincoln's words. Douglass, who had grown up in slavery, had seen amazing changes in his life. And now he did something that would have been unthinkable just a few years before. There would be a party that night at the White House to celebrate Lincoln's inauguration. No African American had ever been invited to the president's home. Douglass decided to go.

Things did not go smoothly.

“On reaching the door,” Douglass later said, “two policemen stationed there took me rudely by the arm and ordered me to stand back, for their directions were to admit no persons of my color.”

Douglass knew this order did not come from Lincoln. “I shall not go out of this building till I see President Lincoln,” he told the guards.

The argument continued until someone finally recognized Douglass and told the police to let him in. Douglass saw Lincoln standing inside, towering over a crowd of supporters.

“Here comes my friend Douglass,” Lincoln announced.

The men shook hands and had this conversation:

Lincoln:
I'm glad to see you. I saw you in the crowd today, listening to my inaugural address; how did you like it?

Douglass:
Mr. Lincoln, I must not detain you with my poor opinion, when there are thousands waiting to shake hands with you.

Lincoln:
No, no, you must stop a little, Douglass; there is no man in the country whose opinion I value more than yours. I want to know what you think of it?

Douglass:
Mr. Lincoln, that was a sacred effort.

Lincoln:
I'm glad you liked it!

Lincoln and Douglass were looking forward to a better future. But the process of Reconstruction couldn't really begin yet, for one simple reason. The South was still determined to win this war.

Empty Stomachs and Brave Hearts

T
hat was going to be a problem.

After suffering through winter in their trenches in Petersburg, Lee's army was growing weaker and weaker. The South was so short on metal to make weapons, soldiers were given rewards for chasing after Union bombs and bringing in pieces of them. The metal was then recycled into new weapons. But food remained the real problem. After months of hunger, soldiers simply could not continue to do their jobs. Their bodies began to break down, and they became dizzy and exhausted after just a few minutes of work.

To make things worse, many of Lee's men were getting desperate letters from home. Families were running out of food too, and they begged their husbands and sons to come home and help. One soldier got a letter from his wife that began: “Edward, unless you come home we must die.”

Could you resist a letter like that? Thousands of men couldn't, and in the early months of 1865, Lee's army began to melt away.

On April 1, Lee decided his army was no longer strong enough to continue protecting Richmond. Lee had one last hopeâmarch west and try to join up with what was left of Joseph Johnston's army. Together, the armies might have enough men to continue fighting.

Lee's men moved “with empty stomachs and brave hearts,” remembered Carlton McCarthy. Some soldiers actually slept as they walked. All that was left for food was dried-out corn meant for the horses. The men roasted the stuff and chewed it till their gums bled. They stumbled on, all the while being chased and bombed by Grant's army.

Waking from the Nightmare

B
ack in Richmond, Agnes Pryor was sitting in church on April 2. She saw a messenger tiptoe up to Jefferson Davis. “A note was handed to President Davis.” she said. “He rose instantly, and walked down the aisleâhis face set, so we could read nothing.”

Something was very wrong. And the news soon spread: Lee's army was heading west. Richmond was wide open to Grant's army.

Davis and the rest of the Confederate government packed up and rushed out of town. But first they destroyed everything they couldn't carryâtheir remaining supplies of weapons and the Confederate ships in the harbor.

Before sunrise on April 3, Union soldiers near Richmond woke to the sounds of those weapons and ships blowing up. “We were startled by heavy explosions,” remembered an African American soldier named John C. Brock. “There was also a great light seen in the direction of Richmond, which led us to suppose there was something more than usual going on.”

A few hours later, Brock was among thousands of Union soldiers marching into a city out of control. “Richmond was literally a sea of flame,” one soldier said. Bombs were bursting in warehouses, sparks were shooting from ships on the river, bells were clanging, people were jumping out of burning buildings, and thieves were breaking out of jail and running around looting stores and homes. But the most amazing part of the scene was that black soldiers were among the first Union troops to march into the Confederate capital. Men and. women who had been slaves the day before lined the streets, shouting and cheering and crying. John C. Brock described the scene: “Old men and women, tottering on their canes, would make their way to a Union soldier, catch him by the hand, and exclaim, âThank God, honey, that I have lived to see this day!'”

Lincoln felt the same. “Thank God I have lived to see this,” he said when he heard that Richmond had finally been captured. “It seems to me that I have been dreaming a horrid dream for four years, and now the nightmare is gone.” Then, as if to make sure the dream really was over, he said, “I want to see Richmond.”

Lincoln showed up the next dayâthough the ship of marines that was supposed to guard him got lost on the river. With only a few sailors for guards, he walked through the streets of Richmond. Freed African Americans cheered and sang, while white residents watched Lincoln from the windows of their homes. Lincoln continued two miles to the Confederate White House, went inside, and sat down in Jefferson Davis's chair. Happy and exhausted, he turned to one of the sailors and said: “I wonder if I could get a glass of water?”

Meeting at Appomattox

O
n April 9, Lee's small army reached the small town of Appomattox Court House. Grant soon had him surrounded. Lee had no choice now but to surrender. He put on a fancy new uniform and said: “There is nothing left for me to do but to go and see General Grant, and I would rather die a thousand deaths.”

The enemy generals agreed to meet at a nearby house. But unlike Lee, Grant didn't think to change into a clean uniform. As he walked into the house, Grant noticed that his clothes were dusty and wrinkled. It was a little embarrassing. “In my rough traveling suit,” he said, “I must have contrasted very strangely with a man so handsomely dressed, six feet high and of faultless form.”

The whole meeting was fairly awkward. Lee and Grant began by chatting about the fine weather, and about the Mexican War, in which both men had served long ago. Grant was too polite to bring
up the reason they were there, so he just kept making small talk. Lee finally had to break in.

“I have come to meet you,” Lee said, “about the surrender of my army.”

Then they got down to businessâand quickly agreed on an official surrender.

As the news sped though Grant's camp, soldiers erupted in cheers and started throwing hats, boots, knapsacks, and everything else into the air. One soldier remembered the scene:

“They fall on each other's necks and laugh and cry by turns. Huge, lumbering, bearded men embrace and kiss like schoolgirls, then dance and sing and shout, stand on their heads and play leapfrog with each other.”

Stephen Minot Weld

Union gunners began firing cannons in celebration, but Grant ordered the noisy party to stop. “The war is over,” he told his army. “The rebels are our countrymen again.”

Everyone was silent at the surrender ceremony as Lee's men marched out to stack up their guns. Tears ran down the cheeks of Southern soldiers as they laid down the bullet-torn flags they had carried into so many deadly fights. Men on both sides seemed to be in shockâthey had begun to believe they would be fighting forever.

Joshua Chamberlain (who had led Union troops to victory on Little Round Top at Gettysburg) was thinking the same thing men on both sides were thinking: “It is by miracles that we have lived to see this dayâany of us standing here.”

600,000 Plus One

T
he remaining Southern armies surrendered over the next few weeks, bringing the war to an end. More than 600,000 soldiers died in the Civil War, making it by far the deadliest conflict in American history. And when you count up the Civil War dead, you really have to include Abraham Lincoln.

On April 11, Lincoln stood on the balcony of the White House and spoke to a small crowd about his plans for Reconstruction. In the crowd was a twenty-six-year-old actor from Virginia named John Wilkes Booth. “That is the last speech he will ever make,” Booth muttered.

Plenty of Southerners hated Lincoln, but Booth took it to an extreme. A few months before, he had quit his successful acting career to focus full-time on trying to kidnap the president. His first plan was to grab Lincoln from a balcony in a theater, tie him to his chair, and lower him with ropes to the ground. But this was just too complicated. Booth decided it would be simpler to shoot Lincoln.

On April 14, newspapers announced that Abraham and Mary Lincoln, along with their guests Ulysses and Julia Grant, would be attending the play
Our American Cousin
at Ford's Theatre that night. Booth decided this was his chance.

Lincoln was in a good mood that day. He took a carriage ride with Mary, and they looked forward to better days ahead. “We must both be more cheerful in the future,” he said. “Between the war and the loss of our darling Willie, we have been very miserable.”

Lincoln was disappointed when Grant announced that he and his wife were going to skip the play. They wanted to go visit their children in New Jersey, Grant explained, and their train was leaving in a few hours. Lincoln decided he didn't want to go to the play either. But the papers had announced he would be there, and he didn't want to disappoint people by not showing up.

By the time the Lincolns got to the theater, the play had already started. The actors stopped acting, though, and everyone cheered the president and his wife as they settled into their seats. Then the play continued.

John Wilkes Booth knew this theater well from his acting days. At about ten p.m. he walked up to the balcony and silently opened the door of Lincoln's private box. A policeman was supposed to be guarding the boxâbut he found the play boring, so he went across the street to get a drink. Booth was able to walk right in, pull out a small pistol, and shoot Lincoln in the back of the head.

Then Booth leaped down from the balcony, breaking his left leg as he slammed into the stage below. The entire audience watched in shock as Booth limped out the side door. He got on his horse and rode away.

A doctor named Charles Leale rushed to Lincoln's box and inspected Lincoln's wound. Leale was only twenty-three, but he had experience as an army surgeonâhe knew bullet wounds. “I can't save him,” Leale said. “It is impossible for him to recover.”

Lincoln died at 7:22 the next morning.

“Now he belongs to the ages,” said the secretary of war, Edwin Stanton.