I sent men to that hellhole, Libby Prison, where thousands of our men have died of starvation and disease and torture; they are to be freed from that tobacco warehouse cesspool.
Riding in a carriage we saw the devastation of the city, ashes and memories. Five years ago today there were three million slaves.
Palm Sunday
1865
In the salon of the River Queen I met with my guests as we sailed up the Potomac, the river calm and the air fresh. We talked of the ruins of Richmond, the looters, the burned buildings, the wounded in tent hospitals. I saw a general feeling of sympathy.
During the afternoon, a military band played for us—the “Marseillaise” for my special guest, the Marquis de Chambrun; we had “Dixie” and Foster melodies for the congressmen and their wives.
As we sailed by Mount Vernon someone asked me about Springfield: did I think of returning after my second term? I thought it proper to say that my home was no Mount Vernon but I looked forward to returning.
The meals on our flagship were excellent. Tad was always hungry. Mary did not relish the food, or enjoy some of the guests. All of us know the war is winding down. General Lee has lost 19,000 men, as prisoners to Grant.
I can’t remember when I have felt so encouraged.