On the beautiful Sunday morning of April, a messenger hurriedly entered St.

Pauls Church,
walked to the Presidents pew and handed him a slip of paper. He rose and quietly left. Not a
rumor had reached the city of Lees broken lines. In fact a false rumor had been published of a
great victory which his starving army had achieved the day before. The report of the
evacuation of Richmond fell on incredulous ears. The streets were usually quiet. Beyond the
James the fresh green of the spring clothed the fields in radiant beauty. The rumble of no
artillery
disturbed the quiet. Scarcely a vehicle of any kind could be seen. The church bells were still
ringing their call to the house of God.
The straight military figure entered the Executive office. A wagon dashed down Main Street
and backed up in front of the Custom House door. Boxes were hurried from the Presidents
office and loaded into it. A low hum and clatter began to rise from the streets. The news of
disaster and evacuation spread like lightning and disorder grew. The streets were crowded
with fugitives making their way to the depot pale women with disheveled hair and tearstained
faces leading barefooted children who were crying in vague terror of something they could
not understand. Wagons were backed to the doors of every department of the Confederate
Government. As fast as they could be loaded they were driven to the Danville depot.
All was confusion and turmoil. Important officers were not to be seen and when they were
found would answer no questions. Here and there groups of meanvisaged loafers began to
gather with ominous looks toward the houses of the better class. The halls of the silent
Capitol building were deserted a single footfall echoed with hollow sound. The Municipal
Council gathered in a dingy little room to consider the surrender of the city. Mayor Mayo
dashed in and out with the latest information he could get from the War Department.
He was slightly incoherent in his excitement, but he was full of pluck and chewed tobacco
defiantly. He announced that the last hope was gone and that he would maintain order with
two regiments of militia. He gave orders to destroy every drop of liquor in the stores, saloons
and warehouses and establish a patrol. The militia slipped through the fingers of their officers
and in a few hours the city was without a government.
Disorder, pillage, shouts, revelry and confusion were the order of the night. Black masses of
men swayed and surged through the dimlylighted streets, smashing into stores and
warehouses at will. Some of them were carrying out the Mayors orders to destroy the liquor.
Others decided that the best way to destroy it was to drink it. The gutters ran with liquor and
the fumes filled the air. To the rear guard of Lees army under Ewell was left the task of
blowing up the vessels in the James, and destroying the bridges across the river. The thunder
of exploding mines and torpedoes now shook the earth. The ships were blown the atoms and
the wharves fired. In vain the Mayor protested against the firing of the great warehouses.
Orders were orders, and the soldiers obeyed. The warehouses were fired, the sparks leaped to
the surrounding buildings and the city was in flames. As day dawned a black pall of smoke
obscured the heavens. The suns rays lighted the banks of rolling smoke with lurid glare. The
roar of the conflagration now drowned all other sounds.