It is evening. All is still. Silence and night are once more
united. I can sit at the table in the parlor and write. Two candles are
lighted. I would like a dozen. We have had wheat supper and wheat bread once
more. H––– is leaning back in the rocking-chair; he says:
"G–––, it seems to me I can hear the silence, and feel
it, too. It wraps me like a soft garment; how else can I express this
peace?" But I must write the history of the last twenty-four hours. About five
yesterday afternoon, Mr. J–––, H–––'s assistant, who, having no wife to keep
him in, dodges about at every change and brings us the news, came to H––– and
said:
“Mr. L–––, you must both come to our cave to-night. I hear
that to-night the shelling is to surpass everything yet. An assault will be
made in front and rear. You know we have a double cave; there is room for you
in mine, and mother and sister will make a place for Mrs. L–––. Come right up;
the ball will open about seven."
We got ready, shut up the house, told Martha to go to the
church again if she preferred it to the cellar, and walked up to Mr. J–––'s.
When supper was eaten, all secure, and ladies in their cave night toilet, it
was just six, and we crossed the street to the cave opposite. As I crossed a
mighty shell flew screaming right over my head. It was the last thrown into
Vicksburg. We lay on our pallets waiting for the expected roar, but no sound
came except the chatter from neighboring caves, and at last we dropped asleep.
I woke at dawn stiff. A draught from the funnel-shaped opening had been blowing
on me all night. Every one was expressing surprise at the quiet. We started for
home and met the editor of the “Daily Citizen.” H––– said:
“This is strangely quiet, Mr. L–––.”
“Ah, sir,” shaking his head gloomily, “I'm afraid (?) the
last shell has been thrown into Vicksburg.”
“Why do you fear so?”
“It is surrender. At six last evening a man went down to the
river and blew a truce signal; the shelling stopped at once.”
When I entered the kitchen a soldier was there waiting for
the bowl of scrapings (they took turns for it).
“Good-morning, madam,” he said; “we won't bother you much
longer. We can’t thank you enough for letting us come, for getting this soup
boiled has helped some of us to keep alive, but now all this is over.”
“Is it true about the surrender?”
“Yes; we have had no official notice, but they are paroling
out at the lines now, and the men in Vicksburg will never forgive Pemberton. An
old granny! A child would have known better than to shut men up in this
cursed trap to starve to death like uselessvermin.” His eyes flashed with an
insane fire as he spoke. “Haven't I seen my friends carted out three or
four in a box, that had died of starvation ! Nothing else, madam! Starved, to
death because we had a fool for a general”
“Don't you think you're rather hard on Pemberton? He thought
it his duty to wait for Johnston.”
“Some people may excuse him, ma'am. Bit we'll curse him to
our dying day. Anyhow, you'll see the blue-coats directly.”
Breakfast dispatched, we went on the upper gallery. What I expected
to see was files of soldiers marching in, but it was very different. The street
was deserted, save by a few people coming home bedding from their caves. Among
these was a group taking home a little creature, born in a cave a few days
previous, and its wan-looking mother. About eleven o'clock a man in blue came
sauntering along, looking about curiously. Then two followed him, then another.
“H–––, do you think these can be the Federal soldiers?”
“Why, yes; here come more up the street.” Soon a group
appeared on the court-house hill, and the flag began slowly to rise to the top
of the staff. As the breeze caught it, and it sprang out like a live thing
exultant, H––– drew a long breath of contentment.
“Now I feel once more at home in mine own country.”
In an hour more a grand rush of people setting toward the
river began, —foremost among them the gentleman who took our cave; all were
flying as if for life.
“What can this mean, H–––?Are the populace turning out to
greet the despised conquerors?"
"Oh," said H–––, springing up. “look. It is the
boats coming around the bend.”
Truly, it was a fine spectacle to see that fleet of
transports sweep around the curve and anchor in the teeth of the batteries so
lately vomiting fire. Presently Mr. J––– passed and called:
“Aren't you coming, Mr. L–––? There's provisions on those
boats: coffee and flour. ‘First come, first served,’ you know.”
“Yes, I'll be there pretty soon,” replied H–––.
But now the new-comers began to swarm into our yard, asking
H––– if he had coin to sell for greenbacks. He had some, and a little bartering
went on with the new greenbacks. H––– went out to get provisions. When he
returned a Confederate officer came with him. H went to the box of Confederate
money and took out four hundred dollars, and the officer took off his watch, a
plain gold one, and laid it on the table, saying, “We have not been paid, and I
must get home to my family.” H––– added a five-dollar greenback to the pile,
and wished him a happy meeting. The townsfolk continued to dash through the
streets with their arms full, canned goods predominating. Towards five Mr. J–––
passed again. “Keep on the lookout,” he said; “the army of occupation is coming
along,” and in a few minutes the head of the column appeared. What a contrast
to the suffering creatures we had seen so long were these stalwart, well-fed
men, so splendidly set up and accoutered. Sleek horses, polished arms, bright
plumes, — this was the pride and panoply of war. Civilization, discipline, and
order seemed to enter with the measured tramp of those marching columns; and
the heart turned with throbs of added pity to the worn men in gray, who were
being blindly dashed against this embodiment of modern power. And now this “silence
that is golden” indeed is over all, and my limbs are unhurt, and I suppose if I
were Catholic, in my fervent gratitude, I would hie me with a rich offering to
the shrine of “our Lady of Mercy.”
SOURCE: George W. Cable, “A Woman's Diary Of The Siege Of
Vicksburg”, The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXX, No.
5, September 1885, p. 774-5
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