It was a hot chase--a sort of go-as-you-please. Of course when Richmond was evacuated, the boys in blue felt that the end was at hand. When the Confederate commander telegraphed to Jeff Davis that the “enemy” had broken the line in front of Petersburg, it was a cold day for C. S. A.
It is recorded that Jeff Davis was attending church when he received Lee's dispatch, and that he quietly stole away without waiting for the doxology or the benediction. It was a clear case of “every man for himself.” The “president” didn't whisper even to the brother in the next pew that it was time to flee from the wrath to come. No. Perhaps he had heard the echo of that familiar Yankee hymn:
“We'll hang Jeff Davis to a sour apple-tree, As we go marching on.”
The “president” made better time in getting away from the seat of government than was made by the braves in butternut. He did not draw a long breath till he had distanced the retreating Confederates and reached Danville. To stimulate his soldiers to deeds of daring--and to induce them to beat back the Union army if possible till he could make good his escape--Davis declared in a proclamation, issued on the wing at Danville, April 5, 1865, that “Virginia, with the help of the people, and by the blessings of Providence, shall be held and defended.”
“Let us,” he continued, “meet the foe with fresh defiance, and with unconquered and unconquerable hearts.”
Before his signature to the document was dry, Jeff was making a bee-line for Georgia. He was willing to meet the foe face to face on paper. “You hold Grant in check till I can get far enough South to establish a rallying-point,” was the burden of his messages to the rebel general when read between the lines. At all events, the president of the Southern Confederacy took to the woods, and was next heard of at Irwinsville, Georgia, May 11, 1865. Wilson's troopers took the fugitive into camp on that day.
The circumstances of the capture of Jeff Davis have been the subject of heated controversy--in magazine articles and newspaper publications. Whatever may be the fact in respect of his wearing apparel at the time the Yankee cavalrymen overhauled the rebel president--whether he had on his wife's petticoats or was clad in masculine attire--certain it is that in abandoning the “lost cause,” and leaving Lee and his followers to “meet the foe with fresh defiance,” while he skedaddled, the “rebel hero”--still idolized and worshiped by the solid South--made a sorry exhibition of himself.