[From the Richmond, Va., Dispatch, February 3, 1902.]

THE FALL OF RICHMOND.

Graphic Description of Events of Evacuation-Day.

SURPRISE AND CONSTERNATION.

Faith in Lee and His Men so Great That Both Citizens and Officals Were Unprepared for Abandonment of City-From Gay to GraveBoys and Their Plunder—Searching for “Bev.” Tucker— Personal Recollections of General Meade.

The following personal reminiscences of the evacuation of Richmond are contributed to the Dispatch's Confederate Column by Rev. Dallas Tucker, now of Bedford City:

In this article do not propose to describe any of the military operations which led up to the evacuation of Richmond, nor, of course, what occurred in connection with it in official circles. Of these, I was then too young a lad to know really anything, and I am not now sufficiently informed or competent to write on these subjects. What I shall record here will be, as the title indicates, reminiscences of things which came under my personal observation, and in which, as a youngster, I took part. Years, indeed, have passed since these things occurred, but the tremendous impression they made upon me has never been effaced, and is to-day as fresh in my mind as though they were of yesterday.

As I recall that period, nothing seems more remarkable to me than the absolute surprise the fall of Richmond caused in Richmond itself. Whether or not it was anticipated by the government, I do not know; but there can be no doubt that outside of official circles— that is, to almost every one in the city-the announcement came with the unexpectedness and surprise of an earthquake. My father,* who, at the commencement of the struggle, entered the Confederate army as a surgeon, was at the time in charge of or connected with the medical department of Libby Prison, and, from both his official

* Dr. David Hunter Tucker, son of Hon. Henry St George Tucker and grandson of Judge St. George Tucker; Medical Author and Emeritus Professor, Medical College of Virginia.

position and social standing, had more than usual opportunity for
observing and knowing the trend of events. But I am sure neither
he nor one of his associates who lived with us had the least idea that
the end, if near, was at all so imminent as it proved to be. Among
the people generally I do not think it was seriously thought of, cer-
tainly, boys like myself did not do so. The fact is, though several
times threatened by raiders, and although we had often heard the
сгу, The Yankees are coming," yet, Richmond had come to be
regarded, through its long practical siege, as an impregnable Gibral-
tar, and the army defending it as invincible as a Grecian phalanx.
Time and again "Uncle Bob," as the soldiers lovingly and famil-
iarly called General Lee, had hurled back the advancing forces of
the Federal army, and it was felt that as long as Lee stood for the
defence of Richmond, Richmond was safe. I remember, indeed,
that as a boy I felt some anxiety when the conqueror of Vicksburg
was placed in command of the Army of the Potomac; but it never
seriously occurred to me, or to any one else, that Lee could not suc-
cessfully cope with General Grant, and this conviction grew steadily
stronger as the former defeated the latter in battle after battle, from
the Wilderness to the Crater before Petersburg. On the other hand,
the people little realized with what an ever-increasing superior force
General Lee had to contend, how attenuated his lengthened line of
defence had become, and how decimated and nearly starved his
army was. But however explained, the fact remains-I am sure it
was a fact among my playmates-that as late as Sunday morning,
April 3, 1865-the fatal day-there was hardly a thought among the
the people that such a thing as the evacuation of the city was either
near or probable. Final success was expected. Confidence pre-
vailed. A sense of security remained, except, as may have been
the case, in high official circles. Mr. Davis, of course, must have
known much of which I and 10,000 like me were absolutely igno-
rant; but even Mr. Davis was in church on that eventful day, seem-
ingly as placid and confident as others, and certainly as attentive to
the services as any one present. As there was nothing, so far at least
as the people generally knew, in either the political or military condi-
tion of things to betoken the approaching collapse, neither did ex-
ternal nature suggest-supposing it to have such power-anything
of the kind. There were no physical portends for superstition to
feed on.
On the contrary, the day was as perfect a day as Richmond
had ever seen; the budding trees, the flowers of spring, the balmy
atmosphere, the clear sky, bright sunlight, all combining to make it

a spring-day of unsurpassed loveliness. Then, too, it was Sunday; and this, strange as it may seem, added somewhat to its quiet, sweet brightness. Richmond had enough during those four years to make it sad, and there were, indeed, many mourners and much sorrow.

STARVATION PARTIES.

But in the midst of all this there was, as I recollect, much gayety also. This was not merely rejoicing over a victory which seemed to bring final success nearer, but that social gayety which nature demands, and in which, it would seem, a people must indulge, even when otherwise heavily oppressed. Thus it was that crowds promenaded on the Capitol Square, afternoon after afternoon, to music furnished by the government or city, walking, talking, and laughing. In house after house the young people met at what were called starvation parties" to enjoy "the feast of reason and the flow of soul," to dance and make merry, and to do, indeed, everything usual on such occasions, except eat. Food was the severest problem in those days. Richmond laughed while it cried, and sang while it endured, and suffered and bled. With all the suffering in and around it, Richmond was yet not a sad place during the war. And of all days, taking it as a whole, there was none during which, in at least some respects, life assumed a more stirring and animated appearance than on Sunday. On this day the streets, especially in the resident portion of the city, were thronged with people, variously dressed, but all dressed in their best, going to some church, for Richmond was then, and still is, for aught I know, a great churchgoing place. Among these churches to which, perhaps, an unusually large crowd might have been seen going on Sunday. April 3, 1865, ́none was more popular and has become so historically interesting as St. Paul's. Architecturally, this church always seemed to me a rather strange combination of the Greek temple surmounted by a tall, graceful spire. But, nevertheless, it is a noble, dignified building, at the corner of Ninth and Grace streets, near the main gate of the Capitol Square, and within almost a stone's throw of the Washington monument. Its rector then, and for years before and after, was Rev. Charles Minnigerode, a German by birth, who had come to this country in consequence of some revolutionary complications in the Fatherland. He was a small man, striking in personal appearance, of great learning, earnest religious faith, strongly southern in his patriotism, eloquent in the use of the English language, which, however, he spoke with a slight German accent. If it be said this

church was the fashionable one of the city, nothing more is intended than that a large percentage of the wealth, the refinement, the culture of Richmond was found among its members. Moreover, officialism for the most part found its religious home in this church. Here General Lee worshipped when in the city, and here also Mr. Davis and his family were seen Sunday after Sunday, and many others whose names stood high in both the legislative and executive departments of the Confederate Government.

In this church, it was my privilege to be brought up, and its dear old rector was my father in the faith, as ever Paul was such to Timothy. With boys of that day-certainly with me-it was as customary to go to church on Sunday as it was to go to school during the week, and this memorable Sunday found me in my proper place, and yet, by a strange accident, not exactly in my place either. Our famliy pew was No. 15, and here along with the family I usually sat, but on this particular Sunday, for some reason I cannot now recall, I was allowed to go up into the gallery, which I well remember to have considered a great privilege and liberty. The church on that day was thronged as usual, and my seat on the front row of pews was on exact line with the President's pew down stairs, so that I not only saw him, but had a full view of the congregation except that portion immediately beneath me. It was inspiring to look down on that throng of beautiful women and fine-looking men assembled to worship Almighty God. But this was as nothing compared to the scene destined to take place then and there. For it was here that Mr. Davis was notified that General Lee's lines had been broken, and Richmond would have to be abandoned. How can I describe how this was done, and the wild. terrific scene which followed. The morning service proper had been concluded, and Dr. Minnigerode was delivering one of his stirring and fervid communion addresses (for the communion was to follow), when the sexton of the church was seen to walk up the aisle. He was a large, pompous, swaggering kind of a fellow, whose Sunday costume at the time was a faded blue suit with brass buttons and a shirt with waving ruffles at the bosom and wrists. His supreme delight, aside from keeping us boys in order, was seemingly to walk up the aisle with a message for some On this occasion his manner was in perfect keeping with his usual consequential air, only it was more so, for this time he was the bearer of a message to the President of the Southern Confederacy. Gently and respectfully touching Mr. Davis on the shoulder, he handed him something, whereupon the latter immediately arose and

one.

His

left the church. I have often thought since then that moment must have been the most trying one in Mr. Davis's remarkable career. Yet, whatever his feelings, and they must have been excruciating, his self-control was perfect, and he withdrew from the sacred edifice with a quiet grace and dignity that was not only superb, but well calculated to disarm suspicion and allay excitement. I can see now his lithe, erect, stately figure as it disappeared down the aisle, and I shall never forget it, for it was the last time I ever saw him. withdrawal was so quiet that the service was in no wise interrupted, and I believe it would have been concluded in the usual way but for what followed. Hardly had Mr. Davis disappeared than the sexton came in again and spoke to General Joseph R. Anderson, who at once went out. This made people look up and shoot inquiring glances at each other. Then the sexton came again, and the excitement became manifest. But when the sexton appeared the fourth time, all restraint of place and occasion yielded, and the vast congregation rose en masse and rushed towards the doors. I sat still for a moment, wondering and withal listening to the preacher's earnest appeal to the people to remember where they were and be still. Good Dr. Minnigerode, he might just as well have tried to turn back the waters of Niagara Falls. Something had happened, and the congregation knew it without being told, and nothing could have kept the people in the church. At any rate nothing did, and I went along with the crowd, excited and alarmed. If the scene in the church was all excitement, outside the vast crowd that thronged the spacious church porch and the pavement beyond was standing for the most part in dumb, bewildered silence. I shall never forget the first thing which met my eyes as I gained the open street. Just across the street in a large house there were a number of government offices, and before these, in the middle of the street, were several piles of government documents burr.ing their way to destruction. I think these burning papers were the first intelligent intimation the people had of what was occurring. They told me, as they told others, and it was pathetic to see that crowd melt away, too full of forebodings and anguish to express the surprise and despair which possessed every mind.

I have no recollection how the rest of that Sunday was spent, but I do remember that before it closed there was a widespread impression that the rumors and fears of the early morning were false. When my father's friend, Dr. Harrison, came home that night. he told us it was a false alarm; that there had been a crisis, but it was