The Capture of Richmond and The Death of Our President

The Capture of Richmond and The Death of Our President

April 15, 1865

Richmond ,Virginia

In the past fortnight I have watched my city be burned to flames, been assigned the role of postmaster to this city of ashes and have heard of our president’s death. Let us start from the beginning. On the First day of April it became evident that The Union would reclaim our confederate Capitol and all the land it controlled. On the second there was a great evacuation, and the remainder of our troops set fire to our city and to anything that would be of use to the Union. The Evacuation fire was quenched by the Union Soldiers as our city was surrendered. Immediately I raised the United States flag outside of my home, celebrating with ecstasy that this horrible war was over and that the Union was now whole.

 (Britanica Image Quest)

Aware of my spying efforts and their importance to our victory, General Grant visited for tea. He thanked me for my efforts, and I thanked him. He was quite the gentleman, treating me like a comrade but still making sure to not discard his good breeding. He recognized that both women and men had given their all to end this vicious war. He looked aged by the war, but the quiet joy in his eyes shone like a child’s in wake of this victory. Though it was not glorious as we spin our tales of war to be, there is now peace. He asked me if I would like to serve as Richmond’s post officer, at least to what was left of it. I happily obliged, eager to take on a role typically held by a mand and to have the opportunity to raise and income to support myself. I have begun to worry about expenses. I spent so much of my inheritance on entertaining and freeing slaves during the war I don’t have much to live off of anymore.

I preoccupied myself the next days helping the a few members of the Union army to ensure that the civilians of Richmond were taken care of. I had to offer help to many of my neighbors that had scoffed at me for my views during the war, and called me awful things. I prayed that god would give me patience and forgiveness when interacting with them, but I found myself speaking to them a bit more curtly and triumphantly than I did to others.

Today I heard news that took the sweet taste of victory out of my mouth and replaced it with the bitterness of grief. The president was shot last night, and died a few hours later. Walt Whitman beautifully illustrates the grief of the American people at this moment, at least that of those who do not identify still as confederates. The last verses of the poem are as follows:

“My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

                        Exult O shores, and ring O bells!

                           But I with mournful tread,

                              Walk the deck my Captain lies,

                                 Fallen cold and dead.”

Our Captain has passed as we dock on the shore of peace, our country has ended our war leaderless, and many things must be done to patch these lands together again.