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“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.”

The conflagration was at its height when the vanguard of the Federal army entered the city, the cavalry galloping at full speed.

“Which is the way to the Capitol?” they shouted, then dashed up Governor Street, while a bitter wail rose from the people of Richmond. “The Yankees! The Yankees! Oh, the Yankees have taken our city!”

As the cry went up, a United States flag was unfurled over the Capitol. At once General Weitzel took command and ordered the soldiers to stop all pillaging and restore order to the city; but it was many hours before the command could be fully carried out. Then and only then did the exhausted, panic-stricken, heart-sick people fully realize the hideous disaster which had come to their beloved city; only when they saw the destruction and desolation wrought by the fire did they fully grasp the awful meaning of the cry, “On to Richmond!” which for four long years had been the watch-word of the Union forces.

And how fared it with the Federal Spy during those hours of anguish for all true Southerners? Betty Van Lew, who had been in close touch with the Union generals, had for some time foreseen the coming climax of the four years’ struggle, and weeks earlier she had sent north to General Butler for a huge American flag, eighteen feet long by nine wide, which in some unknown way was successfully carried into Richmond without detection by the picket guard, and safely secreted in the hidden chamber under the Van Lew roof.