Public ledger. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1865-1893, 1867-10-02
Recollections OF the Last Council Board
Of the Southern Confederacy.

| oOutnern Oontederacy, from which we
select the following;
The fall Of Richmond was the fatal
event of the Confederacy. The black
banner which the smoke from its confla.
grafton set in the sky signaled from the
Potomac to the Mississippi the end of
the war, the despair and submission of
the South. 1t was under that sign that
the army of General Lee commenced its
toilsome retreat, and the train of officials
set out to find some theater of the war
beyond Virginia, some remnant of a
government, the annihilation of which
they had not yet fully realized. We
have said that in these last painful days
of the Confederacy there was but little of
dramatic scene TO highten and adorn
the last act of the tragedy. A tat.
tered and travel stained army moved
through the woods and on blind
roads, with struggling, distressed trains,
its march dotted with dead and famished
soldiers, until, broken down by toll and
hunger, it quietly surrendered, and with
a mere instrument of writing laid down
its arms at Appomatox Courthouse.
Richmond had been deserted without a
conference there had been no final
scene at the council.board, no high de-
bate, no official speech or inspiration
that could properly mark the great his
| torical interest of the event 1t was q
vulgar tumult to which the Confederate
capital had been abandoned. Tame and
unworthy were the last days of an empire
whose prowess had once challenged the
admiration Of the world, whose arms had
twice penetrated the enemy's territory,
whose two hundred cannon had beloved
for peace on the nights of Gettysburg,
whose camp fires had more than once
been lighted in the very foreground of
Washington.
But in this poverty of scenery aud
incident in which the Southern Confed
eracy perished, there was yet one re-
markable interview or council which has
heretofore been lost to the current and
popular histories of the war-a scene
which, though taking place on a small
and obscure theater, veiied from public
knowledge, is of intense dramatic inter-
est, and is likely yet to furnish the last
illuminated page to some artistic his
torian of the war, who like Macaulay
ouuii piOuuOC tuC NOl vi buC pdob
along with the record of events. 1t was
the last interview, the last conference of
Jefferson Davis and his officers. 1t
took place in little town in South
Carolina; it was known only to the few
men who assembled there with their
fugitive chief; yet it was properly the
last scene Of the wars great drama. 1t
had dignity that had not yet appeared
in the final chapter of misfortune, and it
is memorable alike for its artistic effects
and its historical importance.
The ex-President OF the Confederacy
had issued at Danville, Virginia, an in
which possibly might have aroused his
countrymen TO further efforts in the war,
had not the effusion been checked by the
news of Gen. Lees surrender This
event appeared to determine the last
hopes of the Southern people, to con-
vince them that further prosecution of
the war was useless, and even criminal
in fruitless consumption of human life.
Not so with Mr. Davis. He was re-
markable for sanguine temperament;
he had that disposition, at once imperi-
GUS and weak, which, demanding that all
things must be as it wishes, believes them
so and what the world thought the
swollen boasts of desperate and failing
leader, were really the sincere illusions
of proud man who never, indeed, fully
realized the extremity of his cause until
"the iron entered his soul' in the case
mates of Fortress Monroe. In bis
strangely deliberate and lesurely retreat
through the Carolinas, he had not ap-
peared for moment to realize
that he was fugitive, and he looked
with complacency upon the dissolved
fragments of the army that had gathered
on the line of his flight, and that pur-
sued it with a vague and uncertain
design. An officer who was constantly
in his company in what might be thought
days of anguish aud despair to the fallen
chief testi6es: Mr.. Davis was appar
emily untouched by any of the demoral-
ization which prevailed-he was very
affable, digni6ed, and looked the very
personifcation of high and undaunted
courage" He yet persisted that the
cause was not lost, although Lee had
surrendered, although Johnston had
furled his banners without battle, and
although what was visible of the great
armies that had stood from Richmond to
Augusta, on the dominant lines of the
war, were less than one thousand |
soldiers, fragments Of brigades that
assembled around him at Abbeville, |
South Carolina, when he paused there |
for final council with his Generals
There is something curious, even pain
ful, in this delusion, yet admirable and
sublime. The ex-President refused to
read the word failure" which the pub
lie had pronounced against him, and
which he might have seen written in the |
faces of the slouched and dispirited
soldiers who yet attended him. His
glittering eye was not yet quenched |
his slackened nerves we're strung up with |
a new resolution and hope he was prac-
ticing that most difficult art of life, which
maintains even manners in sudden sd-
versity, and with the trained gamblers
steady challenge, coolly aud deliberately
tries the last resource of fortune. But
even that last resource was denied him,
and with the sharp pain Of the gamester,
who prepares for the last chance, and
then finds he has miscounted, and has
not means even to try that, the man who
had bargained for empire, and played
with the destinies Of whole communities
suddenly found himself without a single
soldier at his command, and q hunted
fugitive in peril of his life
In the little town Of Abbeville, Mr..
Davis summoned his officers to council;
he was determined to try their resolution,
and ascertain the spirit Of their men.
The only full Generals who yet attended
him we're Bragg, his military adviser"
and Breckinridge, lately Secretary Of
Var There were FIVE hrinade com