CHAPTER XCII.

THE SURRENDER OF JOHNSTON.

A consultation took place at City Point between the President of the United States and certain officers of the army and navy.

Shortly afterward, in interviews held between Generals Sherman and Johnston, terms were suggested for the surrender of all the Confederate armies. They were referred by the former to the government.

The government refused to accede to them. General Grant repaired to Sherman's head-quarters. In another interview between Sherman and Johnston, acceptable terms for the surrender of Johnston's army were agreed upon.

The Secretary of War caused to be published in newspapers statements to General Sherman's disadvantage, and the subordinates of that officer were directed to disregard his orders. An examination of the controversy which ensued sustains that general, both as respects his opinions and his acts.

General Johnston surrendered his army, and that event was soon followed by the surrender of all the other Confederate armies.

The consultation at
City Point.

FOUR persons met in the upper saloon of the steamer "River Queen," at City Point, on the 27th of March, 1865. They were: the President, General Grant, General Sherman, and Admiral Porter. No one else was present.

Lincoln looked care-worn and anxious, as though he had fled from the annoyances and importunities of the politi cians at Washington, to seek for mental rest in the army of Grant. His countenance brightened, however, when the conversation turned on the promising aspect of military affairs.

The interview lasted about an hour and a half. The President was evidently persuaded that the military movements about to ensue would be successful, and was desir ous that the capitulation of the Confederates should be accepted on the most favorable conditions, and as soon as possible.

His heart was full of tenderness.

The intentions of Lincoln.

"As long as the rebels lay down their arms, I don't care how it is done." "Stop this bloodshed; stop this

horrible war; I know I can manage all the rest.” Though sure that his armies were about to conquer, and that the Confederacy was a mere wreck, he wanted peace on any terms. "What signify the terms so long as we get peace? These people only want a good opportunity to give up gracefully."

After hearing Sherman's account of his own position and that of Johnston, Lincoln expressed fears that the latter might escape southward by the railroad, and that Sherman would have to chase him anew. But Sherman said, "He can not move southward without breaking up his army, which, once disbanded, can never again be reunited; and I have destroyed the railroads, so that they can not be used for a long time."

Grant was sitting smoking a cigar a short distance from the President. "What," said he, "is to prevent them laying the rails again?" It was the only remark he made during the interview.

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Why," replied Sherman, "my bummers haven't done things by halves. All the rails have been twisted, and are as crooked as rams' horns. They can never be used again."

The conversation then turned on the terms of surrender which should be allowed to Johnston. Sherman said, "I can command my own terms; Johnston will have to yield." Lincoln said, "Get his surrender on any terms."

It might be inferred that Grant thought the same; for, though he did not make any suggestions, he made no ob jections.

The interview closed, and Sherman returned to Newbern, North Carolina, in the steamer "Bat."

On the 14th of April, Sherman, whose army was then advancing upon Johnston's, received a letter requesting an armistice, and inquiring the terms on which he might surrender. With

Sherman receives

a letter from

Johnston.

out delay, Sherman sent an answer to the effect that he was willing to hold a conference, and would offer the conditions entered into by Grant and Lee at Appomattox Court-house.

Sherman had heard of Lee's surrender the day before he entered Raleigh. His apprehension was that Johnston would retreat into the mountain country of South Carolina and Georgia, break up his army into small bands, and prolong the war indefinitely. He therefore turned the heads of his columns westward, in hope of intercepting Johnston's army before such a plan could be carried into effect. When the letter asking for an interview arrived, he was more than pleased.

All his officers, Howard, Slocum, Logan, Blair, etc., dreaded the consequences of chasing Johnston's army around by the West and back to the South. They urged that the surrender of that army should be procured on any terms. They had "been fighting and marching for four long years, and had had enough of it."

Sherman was at this moment at Raleigh, Johnston at Hillsboro. The lines of the former extended up to Durham's Station, twenty-seven miles. To that point the rails and wires had been repaired.

He hears of the

Lincoln.

Just as he was on the point of leaving Raleigh, a telegraph operator came into the cars, and asked assassination of him to hold the train a few moments, as a cipher dispatch of very great importance was coming over the wires from Morehead City. The train was accordingly held. The dispatch was from the Secretary of War, bringing tidings of Mr. Lincoln's assassination. Sherman had been familiar with death in so many forms that no one, from his words or bearing, suspected what he had learned. The operator, who, however, understood the intelligence, was ordered, on his peril, to keep silence.

The slaveholders' rebellion was ending in the baseness

of assassination. For Lincoln, who had just triumphed over a conspiracy against the nation more audacious than that of Catiline, and which had a deeper policy than the Sicilian Vespers, there had been reserved that euthanasia described and experienced by the greatest of the Romans, who said, "The best death is that which is least expected." It was in reference to this murder of Cæsar that Cicero advised the Roman Senate, "Let the past be forgotten; let every man go free and unquestioned for his share in it. Let there be, not pardon, nor mercy, nor even toleration, but simply oblivion;" and the Senate consented "for the sake of peace."

So, too, the American people consented, "for the sake of peace," that the crimes of those who had brought upon the nation the calamities of the four last fearful years should pass into oblivion-that retribution should not be inflicted; and, anticipating that spirit, their general was going forth to receive Johnston's surrender.

Change in the condition and sentiments of the South.

It was not possible for him to repair to such an interview without reflecting on the position of things. The proud defiance of an overbearing oligarchy had subsided into the murmurs of a ruined faction. The South had learned by bitter experience that, though people may go to war when they will, they can not withdraw from it when they like. The real cause of the end of the conflict had been, not a brilliant battle, covering even the vanquished with glory, but the more dismal process of an utter exhaustion of the warpower of the Confederacy. There was no need to seek the punishment of individuals; a more than ample retribution had been inflicted in putting the arch-traitor Slavery to death. So interwoven had human bondage been with the South that its abolishment was felt at every fireside, and disorganized every family-nay, more, the emancipation of the slave was equivalent to the confiscation of the

land, for of what value is the largest and most fertile estate when the labor necessary for working it is taken away? In the civil commotions which other nations have experienced, there had very commonly been an inherent vitality in the cause, which sustained its abettors after defeat, and lured them into renewals of their attempt. But Slavery, once crushed, had no future; there was left not even an expectation-no, not so much as a hope. The slave-owner could no longer rule Southern society—it must find its leaders in new men. The Roman oligarchy was prostrated by bringing to bear against it the will of the middle classes at the epoch when the government was transformed; and in the South new men were coming on the stage, bringing with them new ideas. The slave-lord, despotic and imperious, who suffered no restraint to be put on his will, was about to be displaced by those who had learned subordination in camps. A clamor for state-rights, which it had suited the fallen rulers to raise, was now to be replaced by something very different. The war had taught the Confederate soldier that he must abandon his petty loyalties, and substitute for his state-the political and physical insignificance of which had become unmistak ably apparent-the conception of a great nation, in the grandeur and power of which he might take a just pride. It had been so in former times in Rome. Local prejudices died away in the vastness of the empire, and men—even soldiers-recognized, with profound satisfaction, that the sentiment of unity is necessarily connected with the sentiment of universal peace—a grand and noble idea.

But not alone had the new men-the soldiery-changed. The Southern people were no longer what they had been. They had lost that enthusiastic courage which arose from the preposterous belief that God was defending their cause. Weary of the struggle they had provoked, crushed down by the disasters they had experienced, they earnestly hoped for peace. The confidence they had reposed in their polit