University of Virginia Library

4. IV.

General Lee left Amelia Court-House on the evening of the
5th, and from this time the army was incessantly engaged, particularly
with the Federal cavalry. On the 6th the enemy was
encountered in force; and line of battle was formed to repulse
them, if they advanced upon the trains then moving towards
High Bridge. It was on this evening that Generals Ewell and
Anderson were suddenly attacked and their commands thrown
into great confusion, in the rear of the wagon-trains. These
officers and others—including General Custis Lee, son of the
General—were captured, and the drama seemed about to end
here; but it did not.

To the hostile fate which seemed to be pressing him to his
destruction, General Lee opposed a will as unconquerable as the
Greek Necessity with her iron wedge. The terrible results of
this disorganization of Ewell and Anderson were averted by a
movement of infantry as rapid and unexpected as that of the
Federal cavalry. From the flanking column of Confederate
infantry a brigade was pushed across at a double-quick; and
between the disorganized troops of Ewell and the victorious
enemy rose a wall of bayonets, flanked by cannon. From this
human rock the wave went back; and though the lurid glare
of the signals along the Federal lines in the gathering darkness
seemed the prelude to another attack, none was made.

I have spoken briefly of this scene. It was one of gloomy
picturesqueness and tragic interest. On a plateau, raised above
the forest from which they had emerged, were the disorganized
troops of Ewell and Anderson, gathered in groups, unofficered,

and uttering tumultuous exclamations of rage or defiance.
Rising above the weary groups which had thrown themselves
upon the ground, were the grim barrels of cannon, in battery,
to fire as soon as the enemy appeared. In front of all was the
still line of battle just placed by Lee, and waiting calmly.
General Lee had rushed his infantry over just at sunset, leading
it in person, his face animated, and his eye brilliant with
the soldier's spirit of “fight,” but his bearing unflurried as
before. An artist desiring to paint his picture ought to have
seen the old cavalier at this moment, sweeping on upon his
large iron gray, whose mane and tail floated in the wind; carryling
his field-glass half raised in his right hand; with head
erect, gestures animated, and in the whole face and form the
expression of the hunter close upon his game. The line once
interposed, he rode in the twilight among the disordered
groups above mentioned, and the sight of him raised a
tumult. Fierce cries resounded on all sides; and with hands
clenched violently and raised aloft, the men called on him to
lead them against the enemy. “It's General Lee!” “Uncle
Robert!” “Where's the man who won't follow Uncle Robert?”
I heard on all sides; the swarthy faces, full of dirt and
courage, lit up every instant by the glare of the burning wagons.
Altogether, the scene was indescribable.

This took place on the evening of the 6th of April. The
main body of the Federal army was now closing round Lee,
and it was only by obstinate and persistent fighting that he
was able to continue his retreat. Everywhere the Federal
forces were confronted by his excellently served artillery; and
the thin lines of infantry, marching on the flanks of the trains,
met and repulsed every attack with the old spirit of the Army
of Northern Virginia. In hunger, and thirst, and weariness,
and retreat, these veteran troops stood by their colours without
a murmur, and fought as admirably as when carrying all before
them, and flushed with victory. Others, however, were less
constant; rather, let us say, less physically competent. They
fell out of the ranks by hundreds, overcome by hunger and
exhaustion; or, what was equally bad, they dropped their heavy

guns and cartridge-boxes, and straggled along, a useless, cumbrous
mob. On the morning of the 7th, beyond Farmville, the
Federal cavalry made continuous and desperate onslaughts on
the train, throwing everything into confusion. The teamsters,
always the least soldierly portion of an army, became panic-stricken,
and the terrible roads increased a thousand-fold the
difficulties of the march. Wagons were captured or abandoned
all along, in spite of hard fighting, and from this time
the retreat became a scene of disorder which no longer left any
ground for hope. I intended to describe it, but the subject is
too disagreeable. Let some other eye-witness place upon record
these last scenes of a great tragedy.

On the 7th, General Grant opened his correspondence with
General Lee, stating that the result of the march, so far, must
have convinced him of “the hopelessness of further resistance;”
and this correspondence continued until the morning of the
9th, General Lee refusing to surrender the army. But his condition
was hopeless. The Confederate forces were reduced to
7,800 muskets, and Grant had in General Lee's front 80,000
men, with a reserve of 40,000 or 50,000, which would arrive
in twenty-four hours. These odds were too great; and although
General Gordon drove them a mile with his thin line half an
hour before the surrender, the Federal forces continued to close
in and extend their cordon of infantry, cavalry, and artillery,
until the Southern army was almost completely surrounded.
Lee's line slowly fell back before this overwhelming force, and
the moment seemed to have come when the “Old Guard” of
the Army of Northern Virginia would be called upon to crown
its historic fame by a last charge and a glorious death. These
men would have died with Lee without a murmur, fighting to
the last; but any such wanton sacrifice of human life, without
any imaginable use, was far from the thoughts of the great
soldier. He had fought as long as he could, and done all in his
power to extricate his army from a position in which it had been
placed by no fault of his. Now he did not hesitate in his
course. At first he had recoiled from the idea of surrender
when it was suggested to him by, I think, General Pendleton.

This officer had informed him that his corps commanders were
unanimously of opinion that surrender was inevitable; but he
had exclaimed, greatly shocked, “Surrender! I have too many
good fighting men for that!” Now the current had set too
strongly against him, and he was forced to yield. The army,
with less than eight thousand muskets, a very short supply of
ammunition, and almost nothing to eat, was at Appomattox
Court-House, in the bend of the James—wholly impassable
without pontoons—and on every side the great force of General
Grant was contracting and closing in. A Federal force had
seized considerable supplies of rations, sent down by railroad
from Lynchburg; and this force now took its position in front
of the Confederate army, slowly moving by the left flank toward
James river. General Custer, who seemed to be greatly elated
on this occasion, and to enjoy the result keenly, stated to Confederate
officers that Grant's force amounted to eighty thousand
men, and that a heavy reserve was coming up.

Under these circumstances General Lee determined to surrender
his army, and did so, on condition that the officers and
men should be paroled, to go to their homes and remain undisturbed
by “United States authorities” as long as they remained
quiet and peaceable citizens. Officers and men were to retain
their private property, and the former their side-arms.

Such was the Convention between Lee and Grant.