Grant, meanwhile, had begun his attack on Lee, on the same day that Sherman had marched against Johnston. Starting from a place called Culpepper Court House, Grant's army entered the Wilderness, a tract of country covered with a dense growth of oak and pine, and after much hard fighting closed in around Richmond, laying siege to Petersburg. Bravely Lee and his gallant men resisted the Union forces until April, 1865, when, foreseeing the tragic end ahead, Lee left Richmond and marched westward. Grant followed, and on the ninth of April Lee surrendered his army at Appomattox Court House. Johnston surrendered to Sherman near Raleigh, in North Carolina, about two weeks later, and in May Jefferson Davis was taken prisoner.
This ended the war. The Confederacy fell to pieces, and the Union was saved. "In the hearts of all Union sympathizers was a passionate exultation that the United States was once again under one government; but what a day of sorrowing was that for loyal Southerners!"
It is said that on Sunday, the second of April, when the end was in sight, children took their places in the Sunday Schools, and congregations gathered as usual in the churches, united in their fervent prayers for their country and their soldiers. The worshipping congregation of St. Paul's Church was disturbed by the sight of a messenger who walked up the middle aisle to the pew where Jefferson Davis was sitting, spoke hastily to him, then went briskly out of the church. What could it mean?
"Ah!" says an historian, "the most sadly memorable day in Richmond's history was at hand ... the day which for four long years had hung over the city like a dreadful nightmare had come at last. The message had come from General Lee of the order to evacuate Richmond! Beautiful Richmond to be evacuated! It was like the knell of doom.
"President Davis and the other officers of the Confederate government hastily prepared to leave, and to carry such records and stores as they were able. The officers of the State government and the soldiers were preparing to march. The news of the evacuation swept over the city, spreading dismay and doom as it went. The people began to collect their valuables and hide them or pack them to carry to a place of safety, if any such place could be found; and throughout the city there were scenes of indescribable confusion. The streets were blocked with furniture and other goods which people were trying to move. All government store-houses were thrown open, and what could not be carried away was left to be plundered by those who rushed in to get bacon, clothing, or whatever they could take. The Confederate troops were rapidly moving toward the South.... At one o'clock it became known that under the law of the Confederate Congress all the tobacco and cotton in the city had been ordered burned to keep it out of the hands of the enemy. In vain the Mayor sent a committee to remonstrate against burning the warehouses. No heed was paid to the order, and soon tongues of lurid flame were leaping from building to building, until the conflagration was beyond all control. Men and women were like frenzied demons in their efforts to save property; there was terrific looting. Wagons and carts were hastily loaded with goods; some carried their things in wheel-barrows, some in their arms. Women tugged at barrels of flour, and children vainly tried to move boxes of tobacco. The sidewalks were strewn with silks, satins, bonnets, fancy goods, shoes, and all sorts of merchandise. There was no law and there were no officers; there was only confusion, helpless despair on every side. Before sunrise there was a terrific explosion which shook the whole city; the magazine back of the poorhouse was blown up.... At six o'clock in the morning the evacuation was complete, and the railroad bridges were set on fire."