On getting up this morning everything appeared very
uncertain, and a thousand contradictory reports and rumours were flying about.
At 8 o'clock I called on Captain Matthews, and told him my
earnest desire to get on towards Johnston's army at all risks. He kindly
introduced me to the conductor of a locomotive, who offered to take me to
within a few miles of Jackson, if he was not cut of by the enemy, which seemed
extremely probable.
At 9 A.M. I seated myself, in company with about twenty
soldiers, on the engine, and we started towards Jackson.
On reaching Crystal Springs, half-way to Jackson, we found
General Loring's division crossing the railroad and marching east. It had been
defeated, with the loss of most of its artillery, three days before, and was
now cut off from General Pemberton.
At 5 P.M. the conductor stopped the engine, and put us out
at a spot distant nine miles from Jackson; and as I could procure no shelter,
food, or conveyance there, I found myself in a terrible fix.
At this juncture a French boy rode up on horseback, and
volunteered to carry my saddlebags as far as Jackson, if I could walk and carry
the remainder.
Gladly accepting this unexpected offer, I started with him
to walk up the railroad, as he assured me the Yankees really had gone; and
during the journey, he gave me a description of their conduct during the short
time they had occupied the city.
On arriving within three miles of Jackson, I found the
railroad destroyed by the enemy, who, after pulling up the track, had made
piles of the sleepers, and then put the rails in layers on the top of these
heaps; they had then set fire to the sleepers, which had caused the rails to
bend when red hot; the wooden bridges had also been set on fire, and were still
smoking.
When within a mile and a half of Jackson I met four men, who
stopped and questioned me very suspiciously, but they at length allowed me to
proceed, saying that these “were curious times.”
After another mile I reached a mild trench, which was
dignified by the name of the fortifications of Jackson. A small fight had taken
place there four days previous, when General Johnston had evacuated the city.
When I got inside this trench I came to the spot on which a
large body of the Yankees had recently been encamped; they had set fire to a
great quantity of stores and arms, which they had been unable to carry away
with them, and which were still burning, and were partially destroyed. I
observed also great numbers of pikes and pikeheads amongst the debris.
At the entrance to the town the French boy took me to the
house of his relatives, and handed me my saddlebags. These French people told
me they had been much ill-treated, notwithstanding their French nationality.
They showed me their broken furniture, and they assured me that they had been
robbed of everything of any value.
I then shouldered my saddlebags, and walked through the
smoking and desolate streets towards the Bowmont House Hotel.
I had not proceeded far before a man with long grey hair and
an enormous revolver rode up to me, and offered to carry my saddlebags. He then
asked me who I was; and after I told him, he thought a few moments, and then
said, “Well, sir, you must excuse me, but if you are a British officer, I can't
make out what on earth you are doing at Jackson just now.” I could not but
confess that this was rather a natural idea, and that my presence in this
burning town must have seemed rather odd, more especially as I was obliged to
acknowledge that I was there entirely of my own free will, and for my own
amusement.
Mr Smythe, for so this individual was named, then told me,
that if I was really the person I represented myself, I should be well treated
by all; but that if I could not prove myself to be an English officer, an event
would happen which it was not difficult to foresee, and the idea caused a disagreeable
sensation about the throat.
Mr Smythe then gave me to understand that I must remain a
prisoner for the present. He conducted me to a room in the Bowmont House Hotel,
and I found myself speedily surrounded by a group of eager and excited
citizens, who had been summoned by Smythe to conduct my examination.
At first they were inclined to be disagreeable. They
examined my clothes, and argued as to whether they were of English manufacture.
Some, who had been in London, asked me questions about the streets of the
metropolis, and about my regiment. One remarked that I was “mighty young for
a lootenant-colonel.”
When I suggested that they should treat me with proper
respect until I was proved to be a spy, they replied that their city had been
brutally pillaged by the Yankees, and that there were many suspicious
characters about.
Everything now looked very threatening, and it became
evident to me that nothing would relieve the minds of these men so much as a
hanging match. I looked in vain for some one to take my part, and I could not
even get any person to examine my papers.
At this critical juncture a new character appeared on the
scene in the shape of a big heavy man who said to me, “My name is Dr Russell;
I'm an Irishman, and I hate the British Government and the English nation; but
if you are really an officer in the Coldstream Guards there is nothing I won't
do for you; you shall come to my house and I will protect you.”
I immediately showed Dr Russell my passport and letters of
introduction to General Johnston and other Confederate officers; he pronounced
them genuine, promised to stand by me, and wanted to take me away with him at
once.
But observing that the countenances of Smythe and his
colleagues did not by any means express satisfaction at this arrangement, I
announced my determination to stay where I was until I was released by the
military authorities, with whom I demanded an immediate audience.
A very handsome cavalry officer called Captain Yerger,
shortly afterwards arrived, who released me at once — asked me to his mother's
house, and promised that I should join a brigade which was to march for General
Johnston's camp on the following morning.
All the citizens seemed to be satisfied by the result of my
interview with Captain Yerger, and most of them insisted on shaking hands and “liquoring
up,” in horrible whisky.
Smythe, however, was an exception to this rule. He evidently
thought he had effected a grand capture, and was not at all satisfied at the
turn of affairs. I believe to his dying day he will think I am a spy; but it
was explained to me that his house had been burnt down by the Yankees two days
before, which had made him unusually venomous.
They told me that Dr Russell had saved his property from
pillage in the following manner: — He had seated himself in his verandah, with
a loaded double-barrelled gun on his knees, and when the pillagers approached,
he addressed them in the following manner: “No man can die more than once, and
I shall never be more ready to die than I am now: there is nothing to prevent
your going into this house, except that I shall kill the first two of you who
move with this gun. Now then, gentlemen, walk in.” This speech is said to have
saved Dr Russell from further annoyance, and his property from the ruin which
overtook his neighbours.
Jackson, the capital of the State of Mississippi, is a place
of great importance. Four railroads meet here, and have been destroyed in each
direction for a distance of from three to five miles. All the numerous
factories have been burnt down by the enemy, who were of course justified in
doing so; but during the short space of thirty-six hours, in which General
Grant occupied the city, his troops had wantonly pillaged nearly all the
private houses. They had gutted all the stores, and destroyed what they could
not carry away. All this must have been done under the very eyes of General
Grant, whose name was in the book of the Bowmont House Hotel.
I saw the ruins of the Roman Catholic church, the priest's
house, and the principal hotel, which were still smoking, together with many
other buildings which could in no way be identified with the Confederate
Government. The whole town was a miserable wreck, and presented a deplorable
aspect.
Nothing could exceed the intense hatred and fury with which
its excited citizens speak of the outrages they have undergone — of their
desire for a bloody revenge, and of their hope that the Black Flag might be
raised.*
I had previously heard the Jacksonians spoken of as not
being particularly zealous in the war. Heaven knows General Grant had now
converted them into good and earnest rebels.
At 8 P.M. I called at Captain Yerger's house and found him
with General Gist and another officer lying flat on their stomachs poring over
a map. Captain Yerger then introduced me to the ladies of his family, who were
extremely pretty, very amiable, and highly patriotic.
The house is charming, and, being outside the town, it had
by good luck escaped destruction and pillage.
After supper, the ladies played and sang, and I ended an
eventful day in a very agreeable manner.
General Gist promised that I should accompany his brigade
to-morrow on its march towards General Johnston, and Mrs Yerger insisted that I
should pass the night at her house.
In this part of the country the prospects of the Confederacy
appeared to be very gloomy. General Joseph Johnston, who commands the whole Western
Department, only arrived from Tennessee last Wednesday, and on the following
day he found himself obliged to abandon Jackson to an overwhelming Northern
army, after making a short fight to enable his baggage to escape.
General Pemberton, who had hitherto held the chief command,
is abused by all. He was beaten on Saturday at Baker's Creek, where he lost the
greater part of his artillery. He had retired into Vicksburg, and was now
completely shut up there by the victorious Grant.
General Maxey's brigade, about 5000 strong, was near
Brookhaven, and was marching east when I was there. General Loring's force, cut
off from Pemberton, was near Crystal Springs. General Johnston, with about 6000
men, was supposed to be near Canton. General Gist's troops, about 5500 strong,
were close by, having arrived from South Carolina and Georgia, just too late to
defend Jackson.
The enemy, under General Grant, in vastly superior force,
was pressing Vicksburg very hard, and had now completely invested that
fortress.
The great object of the Confederates must, of course, be to
unite their scattered forces under so able a general as Johnston, and then
relieve Vicksburg.
_______________
* Since this date, the unfortunate city of Jackson has been
again subjected to pillage by the Federals after the capture of Vicksburg.
SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three
Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 103-12
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