David Dixon Porter, Admiral, US Navy
Monday, April 3, 1865.
City Point, VA and Petersburg, VA.
That night, President Lincoln relaxed aboard the Malvern with Union Admiral David Dixon Porter, who wrote in his memoirs:
The night before Richmond was evacuated by the Confederate forces we were sitting on the Malvern’s upper deck, enjoying the evening air. The President, who had been some time quiet, turned to me and said, ‘Can’t the navy do something at this particular moment to make history?’
‘Not much,’ I replied; ‘the navy is doing its best just now holding in utter uselessness the rebel navy, consisting of four heavy ironclads. If those should get down to City Point they would commit great havoc – as they came near doing while I was away at Fort Fisher. In consequence, we filled up the river with stones so that no vessels can pass either way. It enables us to ‘hold the fort’ with a very small force, but quite sufficient to prevent any one from removing obstructions. Therefore the rebels’ ironclads are useless to them.’
‘But can’t we make a noise?’ asked the President; ‘that would be refreshing.’
‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘we can make a noise; and, if you desire it, I will commence.’
‘Well, make a noise,’ he said.
I sent a telegram to Captain Breese, just above Dutch Gap, to commence firing the starboard broadside guns of the vessels above, to have the guns loaded with shrapnel, and to fire in the direction of the forts without attempting any particular aim, to fire rapidly, and to keep it up until I told him to stop. The firing commenced about nine o’clock, the hour when all good soldiers and sailors turn in and take their rest.
The President admitted that the noise was a very respectable one, and listened to it attentively, while the rapid flashes of the guns lit up the whole horizon.
In about twenty minutes there was a loud explosion which shook the vessel.’
The President jumped from his chair. ‘I hope to Heaven one of them has not blown up! He exclaimed. ‘No, sir,’ I replied. ‘My ear detects that the sound was at least two miles farther up the river; it is one of the rebel ironclads. You will hear another in a minute.’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘our noise has done some good; that’s a cheap way of getting rid of ironclads. I am certain Richmond is being evacuated, and that Lee has surrendered, or those fellows would not blow up their ironclads.’
Just then there was a second explosion, and two more followed close after.
‘That is all of them,’ I said; ‘no doubt the forts are all evacuated, and tomorrow we can go up to Richmond. I will telegraph to Captain Breese to take the obstructions up to-night, or at least enough of them to let the Malvern go through.’
The telegram was sent, and the work of moving the obstructions commenced at once. It was completed by eight o’clock the following morning, and several of the smaller vessels went through, got their boats out, and began sweeping the river for torpedoes.7
The trip to Richmond began on April 5.
At 10:35 A.M. on the 4th, River Queen, bearing the president, came alongside the Malvern, and both vessels headed for Richmond, followed by Bat, the transport Columbus, and a tug.Malvern grounded below Richmond, forcing Porter to transfer the president to a barge towed by the tug. Twenty-four marines accompanied the party, and as they neared the city, smoke still curled from the ashes of dozens of warehouses, and fires still burned throughout the city. “9
9.Chester G. Hearn, Admiral David Dixon Porter, p. 311-312.
Admiral Porter recalled:
At daylight it was discovered that all the forts had been set on fire and evacuated, and nothing was to be seen of the ironclads but their black hulls partly out of water.
General Weitzel, who commanded the army on the left of the James, was marching into Richmond, and the whole tragedy was over.
‘Thank God,’ said the President, fervently, ‘that I have lived to see this! It seems to me that I have been dreaming a horrid dream for four years, and now the nightmare is gone. I want to see Richmond.
‘If there is any of it left,’ I added. ‘There is a black smoke over the city, but before we can go up we must remove all the torpedoes; the river is full of them about Hewlit’s Battery.’ It would have been simple destruction to attempt to go up there while the Confederates were in charge, and we could not have accomplished anything without a loss of life and vessels that would have been unjustifiable; it was better as it was, and the only course was to co-operate with the general of the army according to his own desire.
“When the channel was reported clear of torpedoes (a large number of which were taken up), I proceeded up to Richmond in the Malvern, with President Lincoln on board the River Queen, and a heavy feeling of responsibility on my mind, notwithstanding the great care that had been taken to clear the river.
Every vessel that got through the obstruction wished to be the first one up, and pushed ahead with all steam; but they grounded, one after another, the Malvernpassing them all, until she also took the ground. Not to be delayed, I took the President in my barge, and, with a tug ahead with a file of marines on board, we continued on up to the city.
Porter recalled:
There was a large bridge across the James about a mile below the landing, and under this a party in a small steamer were caught and held by the current, with no prospect of release without assistance. These people begged me to extricate them from their perilous position, so I ordered the tug to cast off and help them, leaving us in the barge to go on alone.
Here we were in a solitary boat, after having set out with a number of vessels flying flags at every mast-head, hoping to enter the conquered capital in a manner befitting the rank of the President of the United States, with a further intention of firing a national salute in honor of the happy result.
I remember the President’s remarks on the occasion. ‘Admiral, this brings to mind a fellow who once came to me to ask for an appointment as minister abroad. Finding he could not get that, he came down to some more modest position. Finally he asked to be made a tide-waiter. When he saw he could not get that, he asked me for an old pair of trousers. But tis well to be humble.’
The tug never caught up with us. She got jammed in the bridge, and remained there that tide.11
11.David Dixon Porter, Incidents and Anecdotes of the Civil War, p. 292-312.
Porter later wrote:
I had never been to Richmond before by that route, and did not know where the landing was; neither did the coxswain, nor any of the barge’s crew. We pulled on, hoping to see some one of whom we could inquire, but no one was in sight.
The street along the river-front was as deserted as if this had been a city of the dead. The troops had been in possession some hours, but not a soldier was to be seen.
The current was now rushing past us over and among rocks, on one of which we finally stuck.
‘Send for Colonel Bailey,’ said the President; ‘he will get you out of this.’
‘No, sir, we don’t want Colonel Bailey this time. I can manage it.’ So I backed out and pointed for the nearest landing.
There was a small house on this landing, and behind it were some twelve negroes digging with spades. The leader of them was an old man sixty years of age. He raised himself to an upright position as we landed, and put his hands up to his eyes. Then he dropped his spade and sprang forward. ‘Bress de Lord,’ he said. ‘Dere is de great Messiah! I knowed him as soon as I seed him. He’s bin in my hear fo’ long yeahs, an’ he’s cum at las’ to free his chillun from deir bondage! Glory, Hallelujah!’ And he fell upon his knees before the President and kissed his feet. The others followed his example, and in a minute Mr. Lincoln was surrounded by these people, who had treasured up the recollection of him caught from a photograph, and had looked up to him for four years as the one who was to lead them out of captivity.
It was a touching sight – that aged negro kneeling at the feet of the tall, gaunt-looking man who seemed in himself to be bearing all the grief of the nation, and whose sad face seemed to say, “I suffer for you all, but will do all I can to help you.’
Mr. Lincoln looked down on the poor creatures at his feet; he was much embarrassed at his position. ‘Don’t kneel to me,’ he said. ‘That is not right. You must kneel to God only, and thank him for the liberty you will hereafter enjoy. I am but God’s humble instrument; but you may rest assured that as long as I live no one shall put a shackle on your limbs, and you shall have all the rights which God has given to every other free citizen of this Republic.’
His face was lit up with a divine look as he uttered these words. Though not a handsome man, and ungainly in his person, yet in his enthusiasm he seemed the personification of manly beauty, and that sad face of his looked down in kindness upon these ignorant blacks with a grace that could not be excelled. He really seemed of another world.
All this scene of brief duration, but, though a simple and humble affair, it impressed me more than anything of the kind I ever witnessed. What a fine picture that would have made – Mr. Lincoln landing from a ship-of-war’s boat, an aged negro on his knees at his feet, and a dozen more trying to reach him to kiss the hem of his garments! In the foreground should be the shackles he had broken when he issued his proclamation giving liberty to the slave.
Twenty years have passed since that event; it is almost too new in history to make a great impression, but the time will come when it will loom up as one of the greatest of man’s achievements, and the name of Abraham Lincoln – who of his own will struck the shackles from the limbs of four millions of people – will be honored thousands of years from now as man’s name was never honored before.
It was a minute or two before I could get the negroes to rise and leave the President. The scene was so touching I hated to disturb it, yet we could not stay there all day; we had to move one; so I requested the patriarch to withdraw from about the President with his companions and let us pass on.
‘Yes, Massa,’ said the old man, ‘but after bein’ so many years in de desert widout water, it’s mighty pleasant to be lookin’ at las’ on our spring of life. ‘Scuse us, sir; we means no disrespec’ to Mass’ Lincoln; we means all love and gratitude.’ And then, joining hands together in a ring, the negroes sang the following hymn with melodious and touching voices only possessed by the negroes of the South:
‘Oh, all ye people clap your hands,
And with triumphant voices sing;
No force the mighty power withstands
Of God, the universal King.’
The President and all of us listened respectfully while the hymn was being sung. Four minutes at most had passed away since we first landed at a point where, as far as the eye could reach, the streets were entirely deserted, but now what a different scene appeared as that hymn went forth from the negroes’ lips! The streets seemed to be suddenly alive with the colored race. They seemed to spring from the earth. They came, tumbling and shouting, from over the hills and from the water-side, where no one was seen as we had passed.
The crowd immediately became very oppressive. We needed our marines to keep them off.
I ordered twelve of the boat’s crew to fix bayonets to their rifles and to surround the President, all of which was quickly done; but the crowd poured in so fearfully that I thought we all stood a chance of being crushed to death.16
16.David Dixon Porter, Incidents and Anecdotes of the Civil War, p. 292-312.
Admiral Porter recognized the potential danger too late:
I now realized the imprudence of landing without a large body of marines; and yet this seemed to me, after all, the fittest way for Mr. Lincoln to come among the people he had redeemed from bondage.
What an ovation he had, to be sure, from those so-called ignorant beings. They all had their souls in their eyes, and I don’t think I ever looked upon a scene where there were so many passionately happy faces.
While some were rushing forward to try and touch the man they had talked of and dreamed of for four long years, others stood off a little way and looked on in awe and wonder. Others turned somersaults, and many yelled for joy. Half of them acted as though demented, and could find no way of testifying their delight.
They had been made to believe that they never would gain their liberty, and here they were brought face to face with it when least expected. It was as a beautiful toy unexpectedly given to a child after months of hopeless longing on its part; it was such joy as never kills, but animates the dullest class of humanity.
But we could not stay there all day looking at this happy mass of people; the crowds and their yells were increasing, and in a short time we would be unable to move at all. The negroes, in their ecstasy, could not be made to understand that they were detaining the President; they looked upon him as belonging to them, and that he had come to put the crowning at to the great work he had commenced. They would not feel they were free in reality until they heard from his own lips.18
18.David Dixon Porter, Incidents and Anecdotes of the Civil War, p. 292-312.
Admiral Porter recalled the speech and the scene:
‘My poor friends,’ he said, ‘you are free – free as air. You can cast off the name of slave and trample upon it; it will come to you no more. Liberty is your birthright. God gave it to you as he gave it to others, and it is a sin that you have been deprived of it for so many years. But you must try to deserve this priceless boon. Let the world see that you merit it, and are able to maintain it by your good works. Don’t let your joy carry you into excesses. Learn the laws and obey them; obey God’s commandments and thank him for giving you liberty, for to him you owe all things. There, now, let me pass on; I have but little time to spare. I want to see the capital, and must return at once to Washington to secure to you that liberty which you seem to prize so highly.
The crowd shouted and screeched as if they would split the firmament, though while the President was speaking you might have heard a pin drop. I don’t think any one could do justice to that scene; it would be necessary to photograph it to understand it.
One could not help wondering where all this black mass of humanity came from, or if they were all the goods and chattels of those white people who had for four years set the armies of the Republic at defiance; who had made these people work on their defenses and carry their loads, the only reward for which was the stronger riveting of the chains which kept them in subjection.20
20.David Dixon Porter, Incidents and Anecdotes of the Civil War, p. 292-312.
Porter wrote:
At length we were able to move on, the crowd opening for us with shouts. I got the twelve seamen with fixed bayonets around the President to keep him from being crushed. It never struck me that there was any one in that multitude who would injure him; it seemed to me that he had an army of supporters there who could and would defend him against all the world.
But likely there were scowling eyes not far off; men were perhaps looking on, with hatred in their hearts, who were even then seeking an opportunity to slay him.
Our progress was very slow; we did not move a mile an hour, and the crowd was still increasing.
Many poor whites joined the throng, and sent up their shouts with the rest. We were nearly half an hour getting from abreast of Libby Prison to the edge of the city. The President stopped a moment to look on the horrid bastile where so many Union soldiers had dragged out a dreadful existence, and were subjected to all the cruelty the minds of brutal jailers could devise.
‘We will pull it down,’ cried the crowd, seeing where his look fell.
‘No,’ he said, ‘leave it as a monument.’…He did not say a monument to what, but he meant, I am sure, to leave it as a monument to the loyalty of our soldiers, who would bear all the horrors of Libby sooner than desert their flag and cause.23
Admiral Porter wrote:
We struggled on, the great crowd preceding us, and an equally dense crowd of blacks following on behind – all so packed together that some of them frequently sang out in pain.
It was not a model style for the President of the United States to enter the capital of a conquered country, yet there was a moral in it all which had more effect than if he had come surrounded with great armies and heralded by the booming of cannon.
He came, armed with the majesty of the law, to put his seal to the act which had been established by the bayonets of the Union soldiers – the establishment of peace and good-will between the North and the South, and liberty to all mankind who dwell upon our shores.
We forced our way onward slowly, and, as we reached the edge of the city, the sidewalks were lined on both sides of the streets with black and white alike – all looking with curious, eager faces at the man who held their destiny in his hand; but there was no anger in any one’s face; the whole was like a gala day, and it looked as if the President was some expected guest who had come to receive great honors. Indeed, no man was ever accorded a greater ovation than was extended to him, be it from warm hearts or from simple ceremony.
It was a warm day, and the streets were dusty, owing to the immense gathering which covered every part of them, kicking up the dirt. The atmosphere was suffocating, but Mr. Lincoln could be seen plainly by every man, woman, and child, towering head and shoulders above that crowd; he overtopped every man there. He carried his hat in his hand, fanning his face, from which the perspiration was pouring. He looked as if he would have given his Presidency for a glass of water – I would have given my commission for half that…25
“Now came another phase in the procession. As we entered the city every window flew up, from ground to roof, and every one was filled with eager, peering faces, which turned one to another and seemed to ask, ‘Is this large man, with soft eyes and kind, benevolent face, the one who has been held up to us as the incarnation of wickedness, the destroyer of the South?’ I think that illusion vanished, if it was ever harbored by any one there. I don’t what there was to amuse them in looking on the scene before them, but certainly I never saw a merrier crowd in my life, black or white,” Admiral Porter wrote in his memoirs.
We were brought to a halt by the dense jam before we had gone a square into the city, which was still on fire near the Tredegar Works, and in the structures thereabout, and the smoke, setting our way, almost choked us….
I think the people could not have had a gala day since the Confederates occupied Richmond as headquarters. Judging from present appearances, they certainly were not grieving over the loss of the Government which had just fled.
There was nothing like taunt or defiance in the faces of those who were gazing from the windows or craning their necks from the sidewalks to catch a view of the President. The look of every one was that of eager curiosity – nothing more.
While we were stopped for a moment by the crowd, a white man in his shirt-sleeves rushed from the sidewalk toward the President. His looks were so eager that I questioned his friendship, and prepared to receive him on the point of my sword; but when he got within ten feet of us he suddenly stopped short, took off his hat, and cried out, ‘Abraham Lincoln, God bless you! You are the poor man’s friend!’ Then he tried to force his way to the President to shake hands with him. He would not take ‘No’ for an answer until I had to treat him rather roughly when stood off, with his arms folded, and looked intently after us. The last I saw of him he was throwing his hat in the air.
Just after this a beautiful girl came from the sidewalk, with a large bouquet of roses in her hand, and advanced, struggling through the crowd toward the President. The mass of people endeavored to open to let her pass, but she had a hard time in reaching him. Her clothes were very much disarranged in making the journey across the street.
I reached out and helped her within the circle of the sailors’ bayonets, where, although nearly stifled with the dust, she gracefully presented her bouquet to the President and made a neat little speech, while he held her hand. The beauty and youth of the girl – for she was only about seventeen – made the presentation very touching.
There was a card on the bouquet with these simple words: ‘From Eva to the Liberator of the slaves.’ She remained no longer than to deliver her present; then two of the sailors were sent to escort her back to the sidewalk. There was no cheering that this, nor yet was any disapprobation shown; but it was evidently a matter of great interest, for the girl was surrounded and plied with questions.
I asked myself what all this could mean but that the people of Richmond were glad to see the end of the strife and the advent of a milder form of government than that which had just departed in such an ignoble manner. They felt that the late Government, instead of decamping with the gold of the Confederacy, should have remained at the capital, and surrendered in a dignified manner, making terms for the citizens of the place, guarding their rights and acknowledging that they had lost the game. There was nothing to be ashamed of in such a surrender to a vastly superior force; their armies had fought as people never fought before. ‘They had robbed the cradle and the grave’ to sustain themselves and all that was wanted to make them glorious was the submission of the leaders, with the troops, in a dignified way, while they might have said, ‘We have done our best to win, but you have justice on your side, and are too strong for us; we pledge ourselves to keep the peace.’
At length I got hold of a cavalryman. He was sitting his horse near the sidewalk, blocked by the people, and looking on with the same expression of interest as the others.
He was the only soldier I had seen since we landed, showing that the general commanding the Union forces had no desire to interfere, in any case, with the comfort of the citizens. There was only guard enough posted about the streets to protect property and to prevent irregularities.
‘Go to the general,’ I said to the trooper, ‘and tell him to send a military escort there to guard the President and get him through this crowd!’
‘Is that old Abe?’ asked the soldier, his eyes as large as saucers. The sight of the President was as strange to him as to the inhabitant; but off he went as fast as the crowd would allow him, and some twenty minutes later, I heard the clatter of horses’ hoofs over the stones as a troop of cavalry came galloping and clearing the street, which they did, however, as mildly as if for a parade.
For the first time since starting from the landing we were able to walk along uninterruptedly. In a short time we reached the mansion of Mr. Davis, President of the Confederacy, occupied after the evacuation as the headquarters of Generals Weitzel and Shepley. It was quite a small affair compared with the White House, and modest in all its appointments, showing that while President Davis was engaged heart and soul in endeavoring to effect the division of the States, he was not, at least, surrounding himself with regal style, but was living in a modest, comfortable way, like any other citizen.
Amid all his surroundings the refined taste of his wife was apparent, and marked everything about the apartments.
There was great cheering going on. Hundreds of civilians – I don’t know who they were – assembled at the front of the house to welcome Mr. Lincoln.27
Porter wrote in his memoirs:
General [George F.] Shepley made a speech and gave us a lunch, after which we entered a carriage and visited the State-House – the late seat of the Confederate Congress. It was in dreadful disorder, betokening a sudden and unexpected flight; members’ tables were upset, bales of Confederate scrip were lying about the floor, and many official documents of some value were scattered about. It was strange to me that they had not set fire to the building before they departed, to bury in oblivion every record that might remain relating to the events of the past four years.
After this inspection I urged the President to go on board the Malvern. I began to feel more heavily the responsibility resting upon me through the care of his person. The evening was approaching, and we were in a carriage open on all sides. He was glad to go; he was tired out, and wanted the quiet of the flag-ship.34
Sources:
David Dixon Porter, Incidents and Anecdotes of the Civil War, p. 292-312.
The Naval History of the Civil War by David Dixon Porter
“President Lincoln’s Entry into Richmond” by David Dixon Porter
May 25, 2016 at 14:34
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