Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Postscript

DURING my voyage home in the China I had an opportunity of discussing with many intelligent Northern gentlemen all that I had seen in my Southern travels. We did so in a very amicable spirit, and I think they rendered justice to my wish to explain to them without exaggeration the state of feeling amongst their enemies. Although these Northerners belonged to quite the upper classes, and were not likely to be led blindly by the absurd nonsense of the sensation press at New York, yet their ignorance of the state of the case in the South was very great.

The recent successes had given them the impression that the last card of the South was played. Charleston was about to fall; Mobile, Savannah, and Wilmington would quickly follow; Lee's army, they thought, was a disheartened, disorganised mob; Bragg's army in a still worse condition, fleeing before Rosecrans, who would carry everything before him.

They felt confident that the fall of the Mississippian fortresses would prevent communication from one bank to the other, and that the great river would soon be open to peaceful commerce.

All these illusions have since been dispelled, but they probably still cling to the idea of the great exhaustion of the Southern personnel.

But this difficulty of recruiting the Southern armies is not so great as is generally supposed. As I have already stated, no Confederate soldier is given his discharge from the army, however badly he may be wounded; but he is employed at such labour in the public service as he may be capable of performing, and his place in the ranks is taken by a sound man hitherto exempted. The slightly wounded are cured as quickly as possible, and are sent back at once to their regiments. The women take care of this. The number actually killed, or who die of their wounds, are the only total losses to the State, and these form but a small proportion of the enormous butcher's bills, which seem at first so very appalling.

I myself remember, with General Polk's corps, a fine-looking man who had had both his hands blown off at the wrists by unskilful artillery-practice in one of the early battles. A currycomb and brush were fitted into his stumps, and he was engaged in grooming artillery horses with considerable skill. This man was called an hostler; and, as the war drags on, the number of these handless hostlers will increase. By degrees the clerks at the offices, the orderlies, the railway and post-office officials, and the stage-drivers, will be composed of maimed and mutilated soldiers. The number of exempted persons all over the South is still very large, and they can easily be exchanged for worn veterans. Besides this fund to draw upon, a calculation is made of the number of boys who arrive each year at the fighting age. These are all “panting for the rifle,” but have been latterly wisely forbidden the ranks until they are fit to undergo the hardships of a military life. By these means, it is the opinion of the Confederates that they can keep their armies recruited up to their present strength for several years; and, if the worst comes to the worst, they can always fall back upon their negroes as a last resort; but I do not think they contemplate such a necessity as likely to arise for a considerable time.

With respect to the supply of arms, cannon, powder, and military stores, the Confederates are under no alarm whatever. Augusta furnishes more than sufficient gunpowder; Atlanta, copper caps, &c. The Tredegar works at Richmond, and other foundries, cast more cannon than is wanted; and the Federal generals have always hitherto proved themselves the most indefatigable purveyors of artillery to the Confederate Government, for even in those actions which they claim as drawn battles or as victories, such as Corinth, Murfreesborough, and Gettysburg, they have never failed to make over cannon to the Southerners without exacting any in return.

My Northern friends on board the China spoke much and earnestly about the determination of the North to crush out the Rebellion at any sacrifice. But they did not show any disposition to fight themselves in this cause, although many of them would have made most eligible recruits; and if they had been Southerners, their female relations would have made them enter the army whether their inclinations led them that way or not.

I do not mention this difference of spirit by way of making any odious comparisons between North and South in this respect, because I feel sure that these Northern gentlemen would emulate the example of their enemy if they could foresee any danger of a Southern Butler exercising his infamous sway over Philadelphia, or of a Confederate Milroy ruling with intolerable despotism in Boston, by withholding the necessaries of life from helpless women with one hand, whilst tendering them with the other a hated and absurd oath of allegiance to a detested Government.

But the mass of respectable Northerners, though they may be willing to pay, do not very naturally feel themselves called upon to give their blood in a war of aggression, ambition, and conquest; for this war is essentially a war of conquest. If ever a nation did wage such a war, the North is now engaged, with a determination worthy of a more hopeful cause, in endeavouring to conquer the South; but the more I think of all that I have seen in the Confederate States of the devotion of the whole population, the more I feel inclined to say with General Polk — “How can you subjugate such a people as this?” and even supposing that their extermination were a feasible plan, as some Northerners have suggested, I never can believe that in the nineteenth century the civilised world will be condemned to witness the destruction of such a gallant race.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 312-6

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Tuesday, July 14, 1863

At breakfast this morning two Irish waiters, seeing I was a Britisher, came up to me one after the other, and whispered at intervals in hoarse Hibernian accents — “It's disgraceful, sir. I've been drafted, sir. I'm a Briton. I love my country. I love the Union Jack, sir.” I suggested an interview with Mr Archibald, but neither of them seemed to care about going to the Counsel just yet These rascals have probably been hard at work for years, voting as free and enlightened American citizens, and abusing England to their hearts' content.

I heard every one talking of the total demoralisation of the Rebels as a certain fact, and all seemed to anticipate their approaching destruction. All this sounded very absurd to me, who had left Lee's army four days previously as full of fight as ever — much stronger in numbers, and ten times more efficient in every military point of view, than it was when it crossed the Potomac to invade Maryland a year ago. In its own opinion, Lee's army has not lost any of its prestige at the battle of Gettysburg, in which it most gallantly stormed strong intrenchments defended by the whole army of the Potomac, which never ventured outside its works, or approached in force within half a mile of the Confederate artillery.

The result of the battle of Gettysburg, together with the fall of Vicksburg and Port Hudson, seems to have turned everybody's head completely, and has deluded them with the idea of the speedy and complete subjugation of the South. I was filled with astonishment to hear people speaking in this confident manner, when one of their most prosperous States had been so recently laid under contribution as far as Harrisburg and Washington, their capital itself having just been saved by a fortunate turn of luck. Four-fifths of the Pennsylvanian spoil had safely crossed the Potomac before I left Hagerstown.

The consternation in the streets seemed to be on the increase; fires were going on in all directions, and the streets were being patrolled by large bodies of police followed by special constables, the latter bearing truncheons, but not looking very happy.

I heard a British captain making a deposition before the Consul, to the effect that the mob had got on board his vessel and cruelly beaten his coloured crew. As no British man-of-war was present, the French Admiral was appealed to, who at once requested that all British ships with coloured crews might be anchored under the guns of his frigate.

The reports of outrages, hangings, and murder, were now most alarming, and terror and anxiety were universal. All shops were shut; all carriages and omnibuses had ceased running. No coloured man or woman was visible or safe in the streets, or even in his own dwelling. Telegraphs were cut, and railroad tracks torn up. The draft was suspended, and the mob evidently had the upper hand.

The people who can't pay $300 naturally hate being forced to fight in order to liberate the very race who they are most anxious should be slaves. It is their direct interest not only that all slaves should remain slaves, but that the free Northern negroes who compete with them for labour should be sent to the South also.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 308-11

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: May 30, 1863

Shooting at each other had begun to be regarded more as a pastime than otherwise, but the enemy did not seem to regard it in that light, and had come to be quite shy, so that our men could hardly get a mark to shoot at, but when they did, five or six bullets would fly at it, and it would be strange indeed if all of them missed. Today one of our shells dismounted a rebel gun.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 67

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: May 27, 1863

Early in the morning before sunrise the First Louisiana was ordered into line of battle. Companies B, H, and E, were ordered “as skirmishers.” My company was well posted in the skirmish drill, and I had no fear about them. A dense forest in which was hidden a powerful foe lay between us and his strong fortification, the fearful nature of whose armament we had already been made sensible by the destructive missiles he had previously hurled crashing through the trees at us. But not much time was allowed for these reflections. We were quickly deployed, and Lieutenant Gardner being in command of Company E gave the command of the first platoon to me, and the second to Lieutenant Koblin. Colonel Holcomb was acting Brigadier General and he quickly gave the command “Forward.” Flushed as we were with success, having been continually seeing the enemy fleeing before us for the last two months whenever we came up with them, victory had come to be almost a matter of course with us. So the boys expected a real “picnic,” and it may as well be said that they got it before the day was over. We had not proceeded more than two hundred yards before the grey coats of our enemies appeared among the trees, and they made their presence further known by a shower of bullets. The men returned the fire with interest and a sharp fight was kept up for a few minutes when the rebs gave way. I ordered the men to move forward as rapidly as possible, and not halt to load, but to load and fire as they marched. They had practiced this on the drill ground and knew how. In the excitement of the moment we entirely overlooked the necessity of keeping in line with the rest of the skirmishers and we soon found ourselves alone with one platoon of soldiers. The woods were so dense I could not see the length of my platoon. I was afraid to be in the rear for the danger of firing into them, and if we were forward of them they would fire into us. I could see no remedy, so we kept on our way, loading and firing into the bushes ahead as rapidly as possible, I could hear the stentorian voice of Colonel Holcomb as he gave the command, “Forward on the right!”

This I expected was intended for Company H as I feared they were in my rear: So I reiterated the command and kept up a continual fire into the woods in front. I think when I reiterated the command to “Forward on the right” it drew the fire of the whole rebel picket line on us, immediately in our front. But our fire soon silenced them and they disappeared entirely. This gave us a clear passage so far as the rebels were concerned. But we kept up the fire and pushed forward as fast as the nature of the ground would admit. We continued our course in this way for about a mile and a half, when we arrived at a small creek known as Thompsons creek, crossing this, we ascended a steep bluff. About half way up I halted the skirmishers and myself and another sergeant crept to the top to reconnoiter. About two hundred yards from the top of the bluff across an old cotton field was the rebel breast works. To the right was a deep basin of about seventy-five acres of felled timber commanded by a battery of two guns. Everything was silent and scarcely a man was to be seen, I believed the enemy was concealed behind the breastworks and did not deem it prudent to approach any nearer until support arrived. I told the sergeant next in rank to remain there and I would see if I could find any of the rest of the skirmishers. At the foot of the bluff I found Colonel Holcomb sitting on the bank wounded and Captain George, Company F, near by in command of the reserve. The Colonel said to me, “Sergeant where are your skirmishers?” I saluted him and said “Colonel they are up there (pointing up the bluff). We are in front of the rebel breast works and cannot go further until we have reinforcements.” He said, “I am wounded and cannot go further. A piece of shell struck me on the hip and I am disabled. But you go and tell Captain Parsons to charge on that gun that is firing down on us and take it.” “Very well,” I said, I went out to the right in the direction Captain Parson ought to be but could find nothing of him. I did not look long, and returned to report to the Colonel. But he had gone to the rear. I then returned to my command. I found the remainder of the line of skirmishers had arrived and taken up their positions along the bluff. We had not been there long when the enemy seeing we were not going to make a charge, opened upon us with a terriffic volley of grape canister and musketry splitting the limbs of the trees above our heads into splinters. I had my men stationed in a gully cut out from the side of the bluff by the action of the water, so that the fire of the enemy could not reach us. One poor fellow carelessly exposed himself and was shot through the brain and fell at my feet. I looked down at him. He gasped once, and was dead. His comrades took him away. The firing ceased and I looked round and discovered we were alone. I said to the men, “What does this mean?” One of them said somebody started a report that the rebels had come out from their works and were flanking us.” I said it was all nonsense. “The rebels dare not come out from there works; and we will hold the position until we are compelled to leave it. It has cost us too much hard fighting to abandon it.” So I said to one of the men, “How many cartridges have you got?” “One,” he replied, “besides the one in my gun.” I asked another, and he said, “Four.” This I found was the average number among the men. I said to them, “This is a bad state of things, but I think we can deceive them for a while at any rate.” I told them that there was no possible danger of being captured if we only kept a good lookout so that they could not surprise us. I told them further to fire occasionally when a good mark presented itself, so as to keep the enemy informed that we were there. I then went around to the right of where Company H was posted and found Captain Parsons of Company I and Lieutenant Jenner of Company D with their commands. I told them of my condition and that we were out of ammunition. Lieutenant Jenner generously gave me a few packages of cartridges and I returned to our heroic little band, after promising Captain Parsons and Lieutenant Jenner that I would hold the position to the last extremity. The sight of the cartridges inspired the men, and whenever a mark presented itself it was attended to. The retreat happened at about 12 m. We held the position until 2 p. m., when they returned. Company H, B, and the second platoon of Company E retreated. They had been back to our starting point in the morning. They all felt chagrined that they had retreated so rashly, the officers in particular. One said, “Sergeant Smith, where have you been?” I replied that I had been right there all the time. He said, “You have not.” I replied that I had, and appealed to the men of my command to prove my statement. He became convinced, and said, “Well, by G—d, I would give a thousand dollars to be in your boots.” I did not know before that I was doing anything more than my duty. They brought a supply of ammunition, and I believe some grub, but I don't quite remember about the last. At 5 p. m. a flag of truce was displayed from the breastworks of the enemy. A tremendous cheering was heard all along the line, and contending parties of both sides laid aside their arms and rushed out to see each other as though they had been friends long parted. Two officers met, the flag of truce was found to be a mistake, the two disappointed armies retired behind their breastworks, and the firing begun again. But the truce showed me that I was right in my calculation that there was a large force behind the breastworks in front of us, where we charged up the bluff; for no sooner was the truce proclaimed than the rebel soldiers swarmed out on the parapet like ants on an ant hill. If all the forces in that immediate vicinity had combined and attempted to charge across that plateau, there was force enough there to have swept it away like chaff from the summer threshing floor, or ever they could possibly reach the breastworks. I have thought sometimes that it was a blessing in disguise that Colonel Holcomb was disabled on that morning, or that I failed to find Captain Parsons to deliver his message.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 58-66

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: May 25, 1863

[In the morning] we marched three miles further round towards the enemy's right, in the rear of some woods where the 91st New York deployed as skirmishers, and the First Louisiana fell into line as a reserve. The skirmishers had penetrated the woods but a short distance when they encountered the enemy's pickets and a sharp engagement was commenced, but the enemy soon gave way before advancing skirmishers. After pursuing them about half a mile, they obtained our range with three heavy guns from their works and we were obliged to fall back to their old encampment. We were not yet out of range, but the ground falling off in the opposite direction, his shot and shells flew harmlessly, hissing over our heads. After dark a serious catasttrophe happened on our left. The 31st Massachusetts stationed there mistook the 91st N. Y. on picket guard for the enemy, and fired into them. It cost the life of a captain of the 31st Massachusetts, but none of the 91st New York was injured.

The union line of investment was said to be seven miles long, from the river above Port Hudson to the river below. General Banks had most all the forces in the Department of the Gulf there; and were all stationed ready to invest the works preparatory to an assault. One in my position could not of course be expected to know much more than what was transacted directly under his own observation, so that those who desire a more extended view of the operations of the army during this siege must consult those who had better opportunities for observation than the writer of these pages.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 56-8

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: May 24, 1863

3 a. m. we were in Bayou Sara, and at 7 o'clock the First Louisiana and the 91st New York forded the Bayou and marched to the rear of Port Hudson. A part of the 19th corps had anticipated us and at 8 p. m. were engaging the enemies' outposts.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 56

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: May 23, 1863

We arrived [at Simsport]. This place is simply a point where the Red River road crosses the Atchaffalaya Bayou. There are two or three houses in sight. On the way heavy cannonading was heard in the direction of Port Hudson, and an orderly came back and reported that Vicksburg had fallen and Port Hudson was on fire and about ready to surrender. So the army halted in the road under a broiling sun, and the band played “The Star Spangled Banner,” and the army cheered to the echo. Many negroes had collected here from the surrounding plantations. At 8 p. m. the First Louisiana embarked on the St. Maurice bound for Bayou Sara. Stayed up until we passed into Red River, thence into the Mississippi, when I retired.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 55-6

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: May 6, 1863

Lieutenant Dwight, the General's brother, was shot by a guerilla. He had been to the rear with dispatches and when returning, in passing a wood, he was shot from behind the trees. One of the fellows was caught, not the one that fired the shot, but they were together so he had to die for it. The army started at 5 a. m., marched about a mile and halted. A grave had been dug. The prisoner was brought out and kneeling beside the grave, facing the firing party, the warrant was read, and the command given to fire. He fell forward on his face. I thought I heard some pistol shots afterward, but I had seen all I wanted to, and the army was again in motion. At night we entered Alexandria, said to be thirty miles from the place where we started in the morning. The army marched through the town and camped in a ploughed field. In passing through the streets there was a house with a bright fire on the hearth. A girl was standing in the door, and I heard her say, “See the scabs.” I was too weary to reply, but I gathered from it that we were not very welcome. As soon as the companies broke ranks I gathered some sticks and weeds, made a cup of coffee, ate some hard tack and salt junk, took a good smoke, laid down between two hummocks, and I was soon in the arms of Morpheus.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 51-2

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: Sunday, March 15, 1863

Terriffic cannonading begun at mid-night and continued until four o'clock in the morning, reveille was sounded at five o'clock, when all the troops fell into line and remained until daylight. A bright light was seen in the direction of Port Hudson. It seemed to be a terrific conflagration. But presently the scene changed, suddenly the light flashed up as bright as day. I could see to pick up a pin on the ground. I looked again toward Port Hudson. The heavens were in a light blaze and streams of fire could be seen leaping among the clouds. What seemed to be pieces of timber were flying through the air amid the flames. But this was only for a moment and all was dark. Then came a long deep heavy roar like the heaviest thunder, and the earth shook. I tried to look into the faces of my comrades but all was silence and darkness, no one moved or spoke. The scene had stupified them. They were smitten with awe. Soon after daylight pieces or fragments of a wreck came floating down the river, and the figure head of the sloop of war Mississippi appeared. At the same time a boat load of her crew came down and told the sad tale.

Story of The Boat's Crew.

At about midnight Admiral Farragut with the Hartford, Mississippi and two other gunboats had undertaken to run the batteries at Port Hudson. The Hartford and Albatross succeeded but the remainder were forced to retire. The Mississippi in endeavoring to haul around to bring her broadside to bear on the works ran aground directly under the batteries. For half an hour did that noble crew under one of the most terrific fires of shot and shell endeavor to haul her off, but seeing her in flames and her deck slippery with blood set a match to her magazine and removing the wounded abandoned her to her fate. A portion of her crew escaped in the boats. Many jumped overboard and were drowned and a few were taken prisoners, The vessel after burning away a portion of her upper works raised up from the sand and swung around into the stream: but in doing so her heated guns went off directly at the enemies batteries, as if this noble ship meant, like a brave warrior to die fighting. Seeing this and knowing the immense amount of amunition stored in her magazine, the mortar fleet below hoisted anchor and turned their prows down stream. Meanwhile the Mississippi floated seven or eight miles down the river, when the fire reached her magazine and with her flag flying very soon nothing remained of that noble ship save a few shriveled and blackened timbers floating on the water. Thus passed away one of the finest naval war vessel ever built in this or any other country. Her history was closely connected with that of the nation, and was at once our pride and glory. Her keel had ploughed every sea and ocean and was admired in every land. She perished in the defense of her country, and was buried in the noble river whose proud name she bore.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 40-3

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: March 14, 1863

At 3 a.m. long roll sounded and the First Louisiana fell into line. Colonel Holcomb gave instructions to be ready to embark at the earliest possible moment and ordered the troops to break ranks. Soon bon-fires were in every company street and beds, camp furniture and everything the soldiers could not carry in their knapsacks was going up in smoke. As soon as daylight came the good people of Donaldsonville began to find out what was going on and came flocking into camp. A kind of intimacy or friendship had sprung up between the citizens and soldiers of the First Louisiana and on this occasion the sentiment was exhibited in its full light. Many good byes were said and many affectionate leave takings were seen. I noticed it was the home of many of the members of the regiment and reminded me of a regiment leaving home in the North land for the seat of war. At 11 o'clock a. m., the regiment was all on board the good steamer Iberville, and to the tune of the “Mocking Bird” by the band, and amid the waving of handkerchiefs and other manifestations of friendship we bade adieu perhaps forever to Donaldsonville. At 5 p. m. we landed in Baton Rouge, disembarked and marched about a mile in rear of the town and camped in the tents of the Thirtieth Massachusetts regiment. The main forces had arrived before we did and had been disposed in line of battle: the right resting in rear of Port Hudson and the left at Baton Rouge, a distance of eighteen miles.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 39-40

Diary of 4th Sergeant John S. Morgan: Monday, July 20, 1863

11.00 Port Hudson prisoners go up. 117 Ill return 15 Memphis.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 7, January 1923, p. 493

Diary of 4th Sergeant John S. Morgan: Monday, July 13, 1863

Officially reported that Port Hudson has fallen and the great Mississippi is ours

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 7, January 1923, p. 493

Diary of 4th Sergeant John S. Morgan: Tuesday, July 14, 1863

A Salute of guns from forts in honor of our victory at Port Hudson. Major Moster and 2 private of 33d Mo. with about a doz. negroes, gobbled in a field below town

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 7, January 1923, p. 493

Diary of 4th Sergeant John S. Morgan: Saturday, June 27, 1863

Night very stormy. Day rainy. Bought watch of In Bitner. rumored Port Hudson taken only camp report, not so well.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 7, January 1923, p. 492

Mrs. Ann Ware Winsor* To Charles L. Bartlett, June 10, 1863

June 10, 1863.

My Dear Sir: — I have dates to-day to the 30th. I suppose you have the same, but give extracts: —

“May 28. Colonel Bartlett got a ball in left wrist, which I took out; the bone is broken, but I am sanguine in the opinion that his arm and hand can be saved. His pluck was splendid, and he thought far more of his regiment than of himself. He is on his way to Baton Rouge. Lieut-colonel got a ball in the shoulder, but no bones broken.”

“May 29. General Augur said every officer there was brave, but Colonel Bartlett the bravest, and one of his best colonels.”

“May 30, 7½ A. M. Colonel Bartlett was hit in left wrist by round musket ball, which went through from one side to the other, where I took it out. The hand will be saved.”

_______________

* Wife of Frederick Winsor, Surgeon of the 49th Massachusetts Infantry.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 86-7

Diary of Colonel William F. Bartlett: Sunday, March 22, 1863

A beautiful morning, quite cool. Banks went to New Orleans yesterday; his staff remains here still. A prisoner was brought in by my pickets this morning. He just came from Port Hudson. Says they have fifty thousand men there. They think we have about sixty thousand here. If they knew that we only had sixteen thousand fighting men here, perhaps they would drop in on us some morning.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 80-1

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Thursday, May 14, 1863

The officers and soldiers, about thirty in number, who came down the Wachita in my company, determined to proceed to Natchez today, and a very hard day's work we had of it.

As the Louisianian bank of the Mississippi is completely overflowed at this time of year, and the river itself is infested with the enemy's gunboats, which have run past Vicksburg and Port Hudson, the passage can only be made by a tedious journey in small boats through the swamps and bayous.

Our party left Trinity at 6 A.M. in one big yawl and three skiffs. In my skiff were eight persons, besides a negro oarsman named “Tucker.” We had to take it in turns to row with this worthy, and I soon discovered to my cost the inconvenience of sitting in close proximity with a perspiring darkie. This negro was a very powerful man, very vain, and susceptible of flattery. I won his heart by asking him if he wasn't worth 6000 dollars. We kept him up to the mark throughout the journey by plying him with compliments upon his strength and skill. One officer declared to him that he should try to marry his mistress (a widow) on purpose to own him.

After beating up for about eight miles against one of three streams which unite at, and give its name to, Trinity, we turned off to the right, and got into a large dense swamp. The thicket was so tangled and impenetrable that we experienced the greatest difficulty in forcing our way through it; we were often obliged to get into the water up to our middles and shove, whilst most of the party walked along an embankment.

After two hours and a half of this sort of work we had to carry our boats bodily over the embankment into a bayou called Log Bayou, on account of the numerous floating logs which had to be encountered . We then crossed a large and beautiful lake, which led us into another dismal swamp, quite as tangled as the former one. Here we lost our way, and got aground several times; but at length, after great exertions, we forced ourselves through it, and reached Lake Concordia, a fine piece of water, several miles in extent, and we were landed at dusk on the plantation of a Mr Davis.

These bayous and swamps abound with alligators and snakes of the most venomous description. I saw many of the latter swimming about exposed to a heavy fire of six-shooters; but the alligators were frightened away by the leading boat.

The yawl and one of the skiffs beat us, and their passengers reached Natchez about 9 P.M., but the other skiff, which could not boast of a Tucker, was lost in the swamp, and passed the night there in a wretched plight.

The weather was most disagreeable, either a burning sun or a downpour of rain.

The distance we did in the skiff was about twenty-eight miles, which took us eleven hours to perform.

On landing we hired at Mr Davis's a small cart for Mr Douglas (the wounded Missourian) and our baggage, and we had to finish the day by a trudge of three miles through deep mud, until, at length, we reached a place called Vidalia, which is on the Louisianian bank of the Mississippi, just opposite Natchez.

At Vidalia I got the immense luxury of a pretty good bed, all to myself, which enabled me to take off my clothes and boots for the first time in ten days.

The landlord told us that three of the enemy's gunboats had passed during the day; and as he said their crews were often in the habit of landing at Vidalia, he cautioned the military to be ready to bolt into the woods at any time during the night.

There were two conscripts on board my skiff to-day, one an Irishman and the other a Pole. They confessed to me privately their extreme dislike of the military profession; but at the same time they acknowledged the enthusiasm of the masses for the war.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 95-7

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Sunday, May 10, 1863

I spent a very rough night in consequence of the badness of the road, the jolting of the carriage, and having to occupy a centre seat.

In the morning we received news from every one we met of the fall of Alexandria.

The road to-day was alive with negroes, who are being “run” into Texas out of Banks's way. We must have met hundreds of them, and many families of planters, who were much to be pitied, especially the ladies.

On approaching Munroe, we passed through the camp of Walker's division (8000 strong), which was on its march from Arkansas to meet Banks. The division had embarked in steamers, and had already started down the “Wachita” towards the Red River, when the news arrived of the fall of Alexandria, and of the presence of Federal gunboats in or near the Wachita itself. This caused the precipitate return and disembarkation of Walker's division. The men were well armed with rifles and bayonets, but they were dressed in ragged civilian clothes. The old Matagorda man recognised his son in one of these regiments — a perfect boy.

Munroe is on the “Wachita” (pronounced Washtaw), which is a very pretty and wide stream. After crossing it we arrived at the hotel after dark.

Universal confusion reigned there; it was full of officers and soldiers of Walker's division, and no person would take the slightest notice of us.

In desperation I called on General Hebert, who commanded the post. I told him who I was, and gave him a letter of introduction, which I had fortunately brought from Kirby Smith. I stated my hard case, and besought an asylum for the night, which he immediately accorded me in his own house.

The difficulty of crossing the Mississippi appeared to increase the nearer I got to it, and General Hebert told me that it was very doubtful whether I could cross at all at this point. The Yankee gunboats, which had forced their way past Vicksburg and Port Hudson, were roaming about the Mississippi and Red River, and some of them were reported at the entrance of the Wachita itself, a small fort at Harrisonburg being the only impediment to their appearance in front of Munroe.

On another side, the enemy's forces were close to Delhi, only forty miles distant.

There were forty or fifty Yankee deserters here from the army besieging Vicksburg. These Yankee deserters, on being asked their reasons for deserting, generally reply, — “Our Government has broken faith with us. We enlisted to fight for the Union, and not to liberate the G-d d----d niggers.” Vicksburg is distant from this place about eighty miles.

The news of General Lee's victory at Chancellorsville had just arrived here. Every one received it very coolly, and seemed to take it quite as a matter of course; but the wound of Stonewall Jackson was universally deplored.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 85-7

Diary of Colonel William F. Bartlett: Sunday, March 22, 1863

A beautiful morning, quite cool. Banks went to New Orleans yesterday; his staff remains here still. A prisoner was brought in by my pickets this morning. He just came from Port Hudson. Says they have fifty thousand men there. They think we have about sixty thousand here. If they knew that we only had sixteen thousand fighting men here, perhaps they would drop in on us some morning.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 80-1

Diary of Colonel William F. Bartlett: Wednesday, March 18, 1863

Slept on my gridiron of rails till late this morning, not feeling well. Three hours of a cool northern breeze, and a good dinner at home or at Parker's, would make me all right. What must it be here in July! We are likely to find out, I guess. When we came away from Baton Rouge I left my little leather-covered pocket flask on my bed. It was dark and no one saw it, to bring it along. I would not have lost it for anything, I have had it so long. Some nigger picked it up after we had gone, probably. While we were lying in the shade this afternoon, trying to keep cool, I began to make up some verses on the subject of the present expedition. It reminded me, our marching up to Port Hudson and then turning about and marching back again without fighting, of the

"King of France with twenty thousand men

Marched up the hill and then marched down again."

Perhaps I will send them to you, if you won't show them. We tried to make them absurd. You can't understand all the “hits.”

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 79