Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: July 12, 1863

Whole army marched down the bayou, about four miles where they met the rebels in force. Lieutenant Koblin and myself were in command of the guard. Stationed the guard in a cornfield. Next morning the two forces had an artilery duel, and our forces fell back again under the protection of the guns of the fort. I never really understood the purpose or necessity of that movement. After the fall of Vicksburg and Port Hudson the control of the Mississippi river was forever lost to the enemy as they could never expect to gain another foot hold on its banks with the whole United States Navy on its waters: so it was not a good or safe place for a hostile army to remain long near its shores. In a few days the rebel army went away to the Teche country in Western Louisiana and they never troubled that mighty highway again.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 88-9

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: July 7, 1863

This was the gloomest day to me I remember since the war begun. But it need not have been so, bad I known the true condition of affairs. As I saw it then the situation was as follows. General Banks had been besieging Port Hudson about six weeks with no better prospect so far as I could see of taking it than when the siege first begun and so far as I knew Vicksburg was in about the same condition. Besides a large army from Texas and Arkansas had occupied all the territory in Western Louisiana and the Red river we had conquered, planted their batteries on the Mississippi river ten miles below cutting off communication with New Orleans and were besieging Fort Butler at Donaldson, threatening to cross the river and attact Banks in rear of Port Hudson. No wonder I felt blue. A steamboat came from Baton Rouge for the four companies of the First Louisiana and they were on board at 10 a. m. We had proceeded about six miles up the river, when we received a volley of musketry from the shore. There was a small six pound mountain Howetzer on the cabin deck with which we opened on them with shells, besides a lively play of musketry. A shell happened to burst inside a house where they had taken refuge and they were last seen fleeing to the cornfields in the rear. Off against, Plaquimine, an ocean steamer, the St. Mary passed and hailed us but we did not understand what she said. She was at Baton Rouge when we arrived. We asked them what they had tried to tell us and they replied “Vicksburg had fallen.” Helo: this was a bright beam of light let in through the dark clouds of our hopes. The soldiers sent up cheer after cheer in the exurberance of their joy. But some felt that it was too good to be true. On arriving at Springfield Landing the news was confirmed. Staid here all night.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 85-7

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 4th Sergeant John S. Morgan: Wednesday, July 8, 1863

Guns fireing at sunrise for salute, big speeches from 9. to 12. in honor of victories here and Vicksburg big time visited Rev Mr Roberts this evening.

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

Diary of Sarah Morgan: Saturday, July 10, 1863, 10 o’clock P.M.

I preach patience; but how about practice? I am exasperated! there is the simple fact. And is it not enough? What a scene I have just witnessed! A motley crew of thousands of low people of all colors parading the streets with flags, torches, music, and all other accompaniments, shouting, screaming, exulting over the fall of Port Hudson and Vicksburg. The “Era” will call it an enthusiastic demonstration of the loyal citizens of the city; we who saw it from upper balconies know of what rank these “citizens” were. We saw crowds of soldiers mixed up with the lowest rabble in the town, workingmen in dirty clothes, newsboys, ragged children, negroes, and even women walking in the procession, while swarms of negroes and low white women elbowed each other in a dense mass on the pavement. To see such creatures exulting over our misfortune was enough to make one scream with rage. One of their dozen transparencies was inscribed with “A dead Confederacy.” Fools! The flames are smouldering! They will burst out presently and consume you! More than half, much more, were negroes. As they passed here they raised a yell of “Down with the rebels!” that made us gnash our teeth in silence. The Devil possessed me. “O Miriam, help me pray the dear Lord that their flag may burn!” I whispered as the torches danced around it. And we did pray earnestly—so earnestly that Miriam's eyes were tightly screwed up; but it must have been a wicked prayer, for it was not answered.

Dr. S––– has out a magnificent display of black cotton grammatically inscribed with “Port Hudson and Vicksburg is ours,” garnished with a luminous row of tapers, and, drunk on two bits' worth of lager beer, he has been shrieking out all Union songs he can think of with his horrid children until my tympanum is perfectly cracked. Miriam wants to offer him an extra bottle of lager for the two places of which he claims the monopoly. He would sell his creed for less. Miriam is dying to ask him what he has done with the Confederate uniform he sported before the Yankees came. His son says they are all Union men over there, and will “lemonate” (illuminate) to-night. A starving seamstress opposite has stuck six tallow candles in her window; better put them in her stomach!

And I won't believe Vicksburg has surrendered! Port Hudson I am sure has fallen. Alas, for all hopes of serving the brave creatures! the rumor is that they have been released on parole. Happily for them; but if it must go, what a blessed privilege it would have been to aid or comfort them!

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 396-8

Diary of Sarah Morgan: July 10, 1863

Shall I cry, faint, scream, or go off in hysterics? Tell me which, quickly; for to doubt this news is fine and imprisonment, and if I really believe it I would certainly give way to my feelings and commit some vagaries of the kind. My resolution is formed! I will do neither; I won't gratify the Yankees so much. I have been banging at the piano until my fingers are weary, and singing “The Secret through Life to be Happy” until my voice is cracked; I’ll stand on my head if necessary, to prove my indifference; but I’ll never believe this is true until it is confirmed by stronger authority.

Day before yesterday came tidings that Vicksburg had fallen on the 4th inst. The “Era” poured out extras, and sundry little popguns fizzled out salutes. All who doubted the truth of the report and were brave enough to say so were fined or imprisoned; it has become a penal offense to doubt what the “Era” says; so quite a number of arrests were made. This morning it was followed up by the announcement of the capture of Port Hudson. The guns are pealing for true, and the Yankees at headquarters may be seen skipping like lambs, for very joy. And I still disbelieve! Skeptic! The first thing I know that “Era” man will be coming here to convert me! But I don't, can't, won't believe it! If it is true, — but I find consolation in this faith: it is either true, or not true, — if it is true, it is all for the best, and if it is not true, it is better still. Whichever it is, is for some wise purpose; so it does not matter, so we wait, pray, and believe.

5 o'clock, P.M. I don't believe it? What am I crying about then? It seems so hard! How the mighty are fallen! Port Hudson gone! Brother believes it. That is enough for me. God bless him! I cry hourly. He is so good and considerate. He told me, “Name your friends, and what can be done for them shall be attended to. The prisoners will be sent here. Maybe I cannot do much; but food and clothing you shall have in abundance for them when they arrive.” God bless him for his kindness!

O dear, noble men! I am afraid to meet them; I should do something foolish; best take my cry out in private now. May the Lord look down in pity on us! Port Hudson does not matter so much; but these brave, noble creatures! The “Era” says they had devoured their last mule before they surrendered.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 394-5

A Woman's Diary Of The Siege Of Vicksburg: July 4, 1863

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

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Josephine Shaw, July 9, 1863

July 9th (?).

What glorious news about Vicksburg! — and I am particularly glad to have that and Gettysburg come so near the 4th of July — a year ago on that day Jimmy died in a farmhouse on the battlefield of Glendale. The little fellow was very happy, — he thought the war would soon be over, that everything was going right, and that everybody was as high-minded and courageous as himself. For Mother's sake, I wish you had known him, — he was a good son and a pure and wise lover of his Country, — with Father and Mother, I shall never fill his place, nor in the Commonwealth either, I fear.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 275

Governor Samuel J. Kirkwood to Major General Ulysses S. Grant, July 15, 1863

Executive Office, Iowa,

Iowa City, July 15, 1863.

Major-General U. S. Grant, Com'd'g. Army of the Tennessee:

General — Permit me to congratulate you upon your great triumph in the capture of Vicksburg. Your campaign resulting in that great success stands unrivaled in the history of this war for boldness of plan, thoroughness of execution and brilliancy of success.

In the name of the people of Iowa, whose brave boys aided in achieving this great result, I tender you their hearty thanks.

Very respectfully.

Your obedient servant,

Samuel J. Kirkwood

SOURCE: Henry Warren Lathrop, The Life and Times of Samuel J. Kirkwood, Iowa's War Governor, p. 244

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Eliza Walter Smith, July 11, 1863

VlCKSBURG, July 11, 1863.

My Dear Mother:

I have just debarked on my return from Port Hudson and finished my report to General Grant. I am ordered back to Natchez, for which point I shall start at eight o'clock in the morning, so have brief time for communication with you. On the 1st inst., by order of General Grant, I reported to Admiral Porter for transportation to Port Hudson, whither I was going as bearer of despatches and oral communication from General Grant to General Banks. You are probably not aware of what a flagship is or the sort of style they preserve on board of one. The Black Hawk, Admiral Porter's, is probably behind none of them in point of elegance, and the Admiral, who is a special friend of mine, always receives me with all the honors.

From the flagship I reported to General Dennis at Young's Point, and then procured an ambulance to take us around by land to where the gunboat Arizona was lying, the vessel that had been assigned to me. I have had command before of a good many steamboats, but never of a vessel of war. The Arizona is a beautiful little craft, a yacht, elegantly fitted up, trim built, with everything ship-shape in real man-of-war style. She was formerly of the Southern Steamship Line between New Orleans and Galveston, seized by the rebels in 1861, ran the blockade to Havana with a cargo of cotton, recaptured by Admiral Farragut's squadron in 1862 off Mobile—at this time running under Confederate colors and called the Carolina, and commanded by Captain Forbes. On seeing the Admiral, Captain Forbes claimed to be bound to Matamoras, but the Admiral remarked to him, “I do not take you for running the blockade, but for your damned poor navigation. Any man bound to Matamoras from Havana and coming within twelve miles of Mobile light has no business to have a steamer.” Accordingly, she was sent to Philadelphia as a prize, being purchased by the government for 86,000 dollars. She was speedily altered into a gunboat and early in 1863 was put in commission. Leaving Philadelphia she captured a prize of about $140,000 in value on the fourth day out. Arrived at New Orleans on April 1st, she sailed for Brashear City on the 6th, took two regiments of Major-General Banks on board and landed them at Grand Lakes, the next morning fought and destroyed the Queen of the West, and the day after proceeded to the wreck and recovered all the guns, two fine Parrott rifles, and three twelve-pounder Porterfield pieces, brass. On April 20th attacked, in company with the Clifton, the fortifications at Butte La Rose, silenced the battery in twelve minutes, capturing the guns, ammunition, 114 prisoners, and the small arms. On the . . . day of . . ., attacked, in company with the Albatross, and repulsed the enemy's gunboats at Fort de Russy, but owing to some misunderstanding of orders was not permitted to remain and destroy them. The day after proceeded upon the expedition with Admiral Porter towards Alexandria, and on the . . . day of . . ., the city surrendered to Captain Upton, a very wealthy citizen and one of influence there, and a grandson of Putnam of revolutionary memory; he who killed the wolf in the cave, and about that anecdote the boys may read. I have been somewhat prolix in describing the boat and her commander, because my relations with both have been very intimate the last ten days, and because she is again assigned to me to go to Natchez. I lay on her with the fleet under the guns of Vicksburg till the 22d inst.; early in the morning weighed anchor and down stream, destroying all river transportation as we passed along — all boats, skiffs, flats, etc. Met the gunboat Louisville at Grand Gulf, got some news from below, most favorable, touched at St. Joseph, and put off Mrs. Rodgers. Her meeting with her daughter and under such circumstances, was a scene affecting in the extreme. They had not seen each other for more than four years — are ladies of the greatest refinement. Taking advantage of circumstances while the scene was transpiring, ordered the men to load the boat with vegetables, meats and poultry; in other words, foraged extensively. Such is war. Got under weigh, and steamed down to the next plantation, where we stopped all night, it being too dark to move. Here we called at the house and found a pretty and interesting young lady, much chit chat and quarrelling about the war, and while we quarrelled, my men drove brisk trade with the negroes for honey, tomatoes, melons, fowl, etc. Under weigh at eight o'clock, steaming down, still destroying as we go. Touched at Mrs. Duncan's plantation, abandoned, and in the hands of negroes; will endeavor to send with this some memento of the occasion. As we reached Natchez, discovered cattle in large numbers that had just crossed the river; ordered shell from twelve-pound howitzer thrown among them; cattle scattered and drivers fled. Ordered the boat to round to and sent a missive to the civil authorities that if they permitted the transit of cattle or other munitions of war for the use of the enemy, I would burn and destroy the city. To that missive I received the following reply:

Mayor's Office, Natchez, July 3, 1863.

Sir:

Your communication of this date is duly at hand. The city authorities regret that you conceive it necessary to inflict such a penalty as you name upon the defenceless inhabitants of this city for acts of which they are innocent and over which the city authorities have no control. To avert the calamity, however, we will represent your demand to the military authorities without delay. At the same time we would observe with due deference, that we are at a loss to understand how the destruction of the city will accomplish the object you have in view.

Respectfully, your obt. Servant,

W. Dix, Mayor.

Thos. Kilby Smith,

Colonel . . .

Not liking the tone of the above despatch, I proceeded to carry my threat into execution, when down came the marshal and begged like a dog. I gave my opinion and ipse dixit in no very measured terms, and taking a promise, wended my way, destroying, however, some sixty skiffs and fleets at that point. Anchored in stream at nine o'clock, July 4th; under way at twelve o'clock; touched at plantation for wood and forage, vegetables, etc. Nine o'clock reached Port Hudson and reported to Commodore Palmer on board sloop-of-war Hartford, anchored off stream. Commodore stiff old salt of the old school — about as stiff I suppose as Uncle Hunter was on board ship. Took on, however, in behalf of the army, about the same quantity of airs as he took for the navy, and imagine he did not make much by the interview in the way of airs. Next day, July 5th, reported to steamer Albatross, the captain of which sent ashore for horses for me, and about ten o'clock got mounted, with my orderly, on a sorry jade said to have belonged to a Secesh colonel who had been taken prisoner. Set off for General Banks's headquarters, about twenty miles distant. Sun blazing hot, waded swamp, passed by bayou, and lagoon, and through dense forests, heard the alligators barking like young puppies. Saw sugar cane growing for the first time, passed sugar mills, close to enemy's pickets, and just enough of danger to make the jaunt spicy and interesting. Sun broiling; wore cloth cap and felt it; should have been sunstruck, but adopted my old precaution of stuffing the crown with fresh green leaves every now and then — a most cooling application to the head. Glad enough to reach General Banks’s headquarters at two o’clock, after a ride of four hours; dismounted thirsty and exhausted. General met me with great courtesy — bottle of champagne and plenty of ice, cool goblet; oh, how refreshing!  . . . felt sufficiently better to take a nap of an hour, and then the General, by way of amusement, invited me to ride with him and staff over the left of his lines; gave me a good mount, and off we started for a thirty miles’ ride and about five miles’ walk through the saps and mines of his approaches upon the fortifications, back at eleven o'clock, supped and laid down at twelve. Clothes wet through with sweat, did not sleep well, rose, however, early in the morning, July 6th.  . . . Breakfast over, General invited me to ride on the right, horses saddled and off at seven. Rode far and walked through more miles of sap and made close investigation of mines; two men shot through the head by rifle balls close by my side; sharpshooters on both sides vigilant and alert. Called upon one or two generals, back to camp and dinner by two o'clock. Admiral Farragut made his appearance before dinner was through. . . . I imagine rather a clever man and a fine officer. . . .

July 7th received despatches of the fall of Vicksburg, per telegraph, despatch boat Price having got aground on her way down; much enthusiasm. Army fired salutes of an hundred guns; also navy; drank General Grant's health; took good care to have a despatch intercepted by the enemy, and devoted the afternoon to close investigation of saps, mines, and approaches on the right of our lines, in company with General Banks; back to camp, and late to bed; hardly asleep before General Banks made his appearance at my bedside in shirt and drawers to advise me that General Gardner had sent flag of truce, and to ask if what he had heard in reference to the fall of Vicksburg was true. Symptomatic; immediately volunteered to go with flag of truce myself and make proper reply. Rode out at one o'clock, nine miles; passed our pickets, sounded bugle call, and shortly afterwards was met by enemy's flag with lanthorn. Their party consisted of two colonels and their aides-de-camp; had with them much parley; flag returned, to consult with General Gardner; agreed to wait for them two hours. Flag again appeared with despatches for General Banks and overtures for surrender. Back to headquarters at great speed. General Gardiner writes that he has defended his post as long as he considers his duty and offers terms and to appoint commissioners to meet outside of breastworks to arrange conditions. Accordingly, General Banks appointed Brigadier-General Stone, Brigadier-General Dwight, and Colonel Burge commissioners, with instructions to demand unconditional surrender. They were met by Colonel Miles, Col. Marshall Smith, and Colonel Steadman, on behalf of the enemy. All the day passed tediously, waiting the action of the commissioners. Finally, at nightfall, they made their report. Garrison to be surrendered at seven o'clock the following morning, and a rough estimate of results of the Port Hudson capture is as follows:

• Upwards of five thousand prisoners, including one major-general, one brigadier-general, four colonels, and large number of field and company officers.
• Thirty-one field cannon;
• Twenty S. C. and siege cannon;
• Major-Gen. Frank Gardner, formerly U. S. A.;
• Brigadier-General William Beale;
• Colonel Miles;
• Col. Marshall Smith, formerly U. S. Navy;
• Colonel Steadman;
• Major A. Marchent, formerly U. S. Artillery.

Despatches were at once prepared for me, and at nine o'clock, with escort, I set off to ride over the same road. I came to place of hail of gunboats. It was intensely dark and raining hard; some miles of road through dense and muddy swamp; had to search for pathway by aid of lantern; guide at fault and way lost; outside of picket lines, and great danger of capture; found way and reached Mississippi shore at three o'clock in morning. Hailed Hartford, and got aboard; reported to Commodore Palmer; had Arizona assigned me; got aboard of her by the light of the wild-eyed dawn, and at four o'clock laid down with intense headache to court sleep, which had been a stranger to me for two days and two nights. I had been much exposed to sun and feared sickness. I lay still for one hour and am then called upon by naval officers anxious for news; a thousand questions about Port Hudson; no rest; under weigh at eight o'clock, and shortly afterwards breakfast. . . . The captain has a pet, a beautiful doe, with whom I made friends coming down, and as I returned, with her large black dreamy eyes, she was apparently glad to see me and gave me welcome by licking my hand. She walks all over the ship perfectly tame, and it seems strange to me that an animal so wild and timid by nature should become so fond and gentle. The day is calm and perfectly beautiful, the bright blue sky dappled with fleecy clouds, the rapid motion of the boat stirs the atmosphere till it fans the cheek with voluptuous freshness. Fatigue passes away. I am the bearer of glad tidings of great joy, and with heart elate sail triumphant. For the time being, brief as it may seem, I govern on the quarterdeck of the yacht, and save for the presence of Cleopatra, rival Antony. The day wears on, and at six I am invited to dinner. The captain and I mess alone, but with the strictest formality. . . .

Anchored in the stream at eleven o'clock; too dark to run. Friday, July 10th, weigh anchor, and steam up at four o' clock; pass Natchez at 9 A.m. Many cattle on the bank — evidently have been crossed for the use of the rebel army — some two thousand head. Heave a dozen shell and send some rifle balls among them. Crowds of men and women gather on the bluffs of Natchez to see us pass. We take on negroes from point to point as they rush to the river side, stalwart men seeking liberty under the folds of the American flag. We hail a skiff containing six parolled prisoners from Vicksburg; they have floated down the river and are seeking their homes at Natchez and up the river. Much cannon practice from our vessel I propose, to prevent all crossing of the river, and to dismay the inhabitants. I find my hearing much affected by close proximity the past two or three months to heavy guns while being rapidly discharged. We meet many vessels from Vicksburg, seven gunboats; the Mississippi is open.

I hold to-day conversation with captain's Calcutta servant, an Hindostanee; speaks and writes Arabic, is a follower of Mahomet. If my memory serves me right, the first Mussulman I have made acquaintance with, tall, not quite black, straight nose, thin lips, handsome. I hear the Arabic language spoken in its purity, I believe, for he is educated, and also the Hindostanee. He has travelled throughout China; perfectly familiar with Canton, Calcutta, Paris, London, Boston, New Orleans, New York, Philadelphia, Australia, the South Sea and Pacific Islands, San Francisco, and the Havannah, and for the most part North America; was a follower of Nana Sahib, and is not twenty years old.

Saturday, July 11th, anchor at four o'clock, having moved all night opposite Mrs. Fanars, at the town of St. Joseph; called upon the ladies, who are in great distress, husbands and fathers being all under arrest at Alton . . . Comfort the poor women all I can, and here I may say to-night I have got an order from General Grant to release their poor devils of husbands—so that must be set to my credit, if I am a fiend and a " damned Yank." To-day meet more gunboats, more parolled prisoners in skiffs. Day cool and pleasant.

Abner Read was shot and mortally wounded the day I left Port Hudson; he was badly shot, and could not possibly recover. He was commander and a good deal thought of by the navy. Wife will remember him; he was a brother of the judge.

Well, we arrived at Vicksburg about four o'clock this afternoon; reported to the Admiral and to General Grant; both glad to see me back and hear my news, and on the strength of my report am ordered to take some transports and some troops and garrison Natchez. I shall set sail for that point in the morning at eight o'clock, and am writing for dear life to-night in order to get ready.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 315-23

Diary of Alexander G. Downing: Sunday, July 5, 1863

We came in this morning at 10 o'clock from an all night picket along the Big Black river. We were relieved by General Tuttle's Brigade. Our brigade then fell back a mile and went into bivouac in heavy timber. The rebels all left last night, it is thought, for Jackson, Mississippi, with the forces of Sherman and Ord in pursuit of them. Sherman passed us, crossing the Big Black at Messenger's ford, while Ord's army crossed the river over the railroad bridge. There is great rejoicing in camp over the fall of Vicksburg and the boys are singing songs and celebrating.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 127

Diary of Alexander G. Downing: Saturday, July 4, 1863

A despatch came that Vicksburg has been taken and that Pemberton has made an unconditional surrender to General Grant. The terms include the surrender of his army of twenty-seven thousand men, one hundred siege guns, one hundred and twenty-eight field guns, and eighty thousand small arms.¹ Early in the day the rebels drove some of our skirmishers in, but in the afternoon we commenced to shell them and they withdrew. They surrendered soon after. Our company went out on picket this evening. This has been a hard Fourth of July; I don't want to see another such a Fourth.

__________

¹ There were no provisions to give up and General Grant Issued Government rations to all the prisoners taken. — A. G. D.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 125

Diary of Judith W. McGuire, Saturday, July 11, 1863

Vicksburg was surrendered on the 4th of July. The terms of capitulation seem marvellously generous for such a foe. What can the meaning be?

General Lee has had a most bloody battle near Gettysburg. Our loss was fearful. We have heard of no casualties except in general officers. General Richard Garnett, our friend and connection, has yielded up his brave spirit on a foreign field. He was shot through the head while standing on the fortifications, encouraging his men and waving them on to the fight. How my heart bleeds to think of his hoary-headed father, of whom he was the stay! General Barksdale, of Mississippi, is another martyr. Also General Armstead, of Virginia. Generals Kemper and Pender wounded. I dread to hear of others. Who of our nearest kin may have ceased to live? When I think of probabilities and possibilities, I am almost crazy. Some of our men are reported wounded and in the enemy's hands. They took many prisoners. The cars are rushing up and down with soldiers. Two trains with pontoons have gone up within the last two days. What does it all portend?

SOURCE: McGuire, Judith W., Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 229

Diary of Judith W. McGuire, Wednesday, July 8, 1863

Accounts from Gettysburg very confused. Nothing seems to be known certainly; but Vicksburg has fallen!  So says rumour, and we are afraid not to believe. It is a terrible loss to us; but God has been so good to us heretofore that we can only say, “It is the Lord.” A victory is announced to the War Department gained by General Loring in the West; and another gained by General Richard Taylor over Banks. For these successes I thank God from my heart. Many troops have passed here to-day, for what point we know not. Our anxiety is very great. Our home is blessed with health and comfort.

SOURCE: McGuire, Judith W., Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 229

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: Portland, Alabama, July 8, 1863

My mother ill at her home on the plantation near here — where I have come to see her. But to go back first to my trip home from Flat Rock to Camden. At the station, I saw men sitting on a row of coffins smoking, talking, and laughing, with their feet drawn up tailor-fashion to keep them out of the wet. Thus does war harden people's hearts.

Met James Chesnut at Wilmington. He only crossed the river with me and then went back to Richmond. He was violently opposed to sending our troops into Pennsylvania: wanted all we could spare sent West to make an end there of our enemies. He kept dark about Vallandigham.¹  I am sure we could not trust him to do us any good, or to do the Yankees any harm. The Coriolanus business is played out. As we came to Camden, Molly sat by me in the cars. She touched me, and, with her nose in the air, said: “Look, Missis.” There was the inevitable bride and groom — at least so I thought — and the irrepressible kissing and lolling against each other which I had seen so often before. I was rather astonished at Molly's prudery, but there was a touch in this scene which was new. The man required for his peace of mind that the girl should brush his cheek with those beautiful long eyelashes of hers. Molly became so outraged in her blue-black modesty that she kept her head out of the window not to see! When we were detained at a little wayside station, this woman made an awful row about her room. She seemed to know me and appealed to me; said her brother-in-law was adjutant to Colonel K, etc. Molly observed, “You had better go yonder, ma'am, where your husband is calling you.” The woman drew herself up proudly, and, with a toss, exclaimed: “Husband, indeed! I'm a widow. That is my cousin. I loved my dear husband too well to marry again, ever, ever!” Absolutely tears came into her eyes. Molly, loaded as she was with shawls and bundles, stood motionless, and said: “After all that gwine-on in the kyars! O, Lord, I should a let it go ‘twas my husband and me! nigger as I am.”

Here I was at home, on a soft bed, with every physical comfort; but life is one long catechism there, due to the curiosity of stay-at-home people in a narrow world. In Richmond, Molly and Lawrence quarreled. He declared he could not put up with her tantrums. Unfortunately I asked him, in the interests of peace and a quiet house, to bear with her temper; I did, said I, but she was so good and useful. He was shabby enough to tell her what I had said at their next quarrel. The awful reproaches she overwhelmed me with then! She said she '”was mortified that I had humbled her before Lawrence.”

But the day of her revenge came. At negro balls in Richmond, guests were required to carry “passes,” and, in changing his coat Lawrence forgot his pass. Next day Lawrence was missing, and Molly came to me laughing to tears.  “Come and look,” said she.  “Here is the fine gentleman tied between two black niggers and marched off to jail.” She laughed and jeered so she could not stand without holding on to the window. Lawrence disregarded her and called to me at the top of his voice: “Please, ma'am, ask Mars Jeems to come take me out of this. I ain't done nothin'.”

As soon as Mr. Chesnut came home I told him of Lawrence's sad fall, and he went at once to his rescue. There had been a fight and a disturbance at the ball. The police had been called in, and when every negro was required to show his “pass,” Lawrence had been taken up as having none. He was terribly chopfallen when he came home walking behind Mr. Chesnut. He is always so respectable and well-behaved and stands on his dignity. I went over to Mrs. Preston's at Columbia. Camden had become simply intolerable to me. There the telegram found me, saying I must go to my mother, who was ill at her home here in Alabama. Colonel Goodwyn, his wife, and two daughters were going, and so I joined the party. I telegraphed Mr. Chesnut for Lawrence, and he replied, forbidding me to go at all; it was so hot, the cars so disagreeable, fever would be the inevitable result. Miss Kate Hampton, in her soft voice, said: “The only trouble in life is when one can't decide in which way duty leads. Once know your duty, then all is easy.”

I do not know whether she thought it my duty to obey my husband. But I thought it my duty to go to my mother, as I risked nothing but myself. We had two days of an exciting drama under our very noses, before our eyes. A party had come to Columbia who said they had run the blockade, had come in by flag of truce, etc. Colonel Goodwyn asked me to look around and see if I could pick out the suspected crew. It was easily done. We were all in a sadly molting condition. We had come to the end of our good clothes in three years, and now our only resource was to turn them upside down, or inside out, and in mending, darning, patching, etc. Near me on the train to Alabama sat a young woman in a traveling dress of bright yellow; she wore a profusion of curls, had pink cheeks, was delightfully airy and easy in her manner, and was absorbed in a flirtation with a Confederate major, who, in spite of his nice, new gray uniform and two stars, had a very Yankee face, fresh, clean-cut, sharp, utterly unsunburned, florid, wholesome, handsome. What more in compliment can one say of one's enemies? Two other women faced this man and woman, and we knew them to be newcomers by their good clothes. One of these women was a German. She it was who had betrayed them. I found that out afterward. The handsomest of the three women had a hard, Northern face, but all were in splendid array as to feathers, flowers, lace, and jewelry. If they were spies why were they so foolish as to brag of New York, and compare us unfavorably with the other side all the time, and in loud, shrill accents?  Surely that was not the way to pass unnoticed in the Confederacy. A man came in, stood up, and read from a paper, “The surrender of Vicksburg.”² I felt as if I had been struck a hard blow on the top of my head, and my heart took one of its queer turns. I was utterly unconscious: not long, I dare say. The first thing I heard was exclamations of joy and exultation from the overdressed party. My rage and humiliation were great. A man within earshot of this party had slept through everything. He had a greyhound face, eager and inquisitive when awake, but now he was as one of the seven sleepers. Colonel Goodwyn wrote on a blank page of my book (one of De Quincey's — the note is there now), that the sleeper was a Richmond detective.

Finally, hot and tired out, we arrived at West Point, on the Chattahoochee River. The dusty cars were quite still, except for the giggling flirtation of the yellow gown and her major. Two Confederate officers walked in. I felt mischief in the air. One touched the smart major, who was whispering to Yellow Gown. The major turned quickly. Instantly, every drop of blood left his face; a spasm seized his throat; it was a piteous sight. And at once I was awfully sorry for him. He was marched out of the car. Poor Yellow Gown's color was fast, but the whites of her eyes were lurid. Of the three women spies we never heard again. They never do anything worse to women, the high-minded Confederates, than send them out of the country. But when we read soon afterward of the execution of a male spy, we thought of the “major.”

At Montgomery the boat waited for us, and in my haste I tumbled out of the omnibus with Dr. Robert Johnson's assistance, but nearly broke my neck. The thermometer was high up in the nineties, and they gave me a stateroom over the boiler. I paid out my Confederate rags of money freely to the maid in order to get out of that oven. Surely, go where we may hereafter, an Alabama steamer in August lying under the bluff with the sun looking down, will give one a foretaste, almost an adequate idea, of what's to come, as far as heat goes. The planks of the floor burned one's feet under the bluff at Selma, where we stayed nearly all day — I do not know why. Met James Boykin, who had lost 1,200 bales of cotton at Vicksburg, and charged it all to Jeff Davis in his wrath, which did not seem exactly reasonable to me. At Portland there was a horse for James Boykin, and he rode away, promising to have a carriage sent for me at once. But he had to go seven miles on horseback before he reached my sister Sally's, and then Sally was to send back. On that lonely riverside Molly and I remained with dismal swamps on every side, and immense plantations, the white people few or none. In my heart I knew my husband was right when he forbade me to undertake this journey. There was one living thing at this little riverside inn — a white man who had a store opposite, and oh, how drunk he was! Hot as it was, Molly kept up a fire of pine knots. There was neither lamp nor candle in that deserted house. The drunken man reeled over now and then, lantern in hand; he would stand with his idiotic, drunken glare, or go solemnly staggering round us, but always bowing in his politeness. He nearly fell over us, but I sprang out of his way as he asked, “Well, madam, what can I do for you?”

Shall I ever forget the headache of that night and the fright? My temples throbbed with dumb misery. I sat upon a chair, Molly on the floor, with her head resting against my chair. She was as near as she could get to me, and I kept my hand on her. “Missis,” said she, “now I do believe you are scared, scared of that poor, drunken thing. If he was sober I could whip him in a fair fight, and drunk as he is I kin throw him over the banister, ef he so much as teches you. I don't value him a button!”

Taking heart from such brave words I laughed. It seemed an eternity, but the carriage came by ten o'clock, and then, with the coachman as our sole protector, we poor women drove eight miles or more over a carriage road, through long lanes, swamps of pitchy darkness, with plantations on every side. The house, as we drew near, looked like a graveyard in a nightmare, so vague and phantom-like were its outlines. I found my mother ill in bed, feeble still, but better than I hoped to see her. “I knew you would come,” was her greeting, with outstretched hands. Then I went to bed in that silent house, a house of the dead it seemed. I supposed I was not to see my sister until the next day. But she came in some time after I had gone to bed. She kissed me quietly, without a tear. She was thin and pale, but her voice was calm and kind. As she lifted the candle over her head, to show me something on the wall, I saw that her pretty brown hair was white. It was awfully hard not to burst out into violent weeping. She looked so sweet, and yet so utterly brokenhearted. But as she was without emotion, apparently, it would not become me to upset her by my tears. Next day, at noon, Hetty, mother's old maid, brought my breakfast to my bedside. Such a breakfast it was! Delmonico could do no better. “It is ever so late, I know,” to which Hetty replied: “Yes, we would not let Molly wake you.” “What a splendid cook you have here.” “My daughter, Tenah, is Miss Sally's cook. She's well enough as times go, but when our Miss Mary comes to see us I does it myself,” and she courtesied down to the floor. “Bless your old soul,” I cried, and she rushed over and gave me a good hug. She is my mother's factotum; has been her maid since she was six years old, when she was bought from a Virginia speculator along with her own mother and all her brothers and sisters. She has been pampered until she is a rare old tyrant at times. She can do everything better than any one else, and my mother leans on her heavily. Hetty is Dick's wife; Dick is the butler. They have over a dozen children and take life very easily. Sally came in before I was out of bed, and began at once in the same stony way, pale and cold as ice, to tell me of the death of her children. It had happened not two weeks before. Her eyes were utterly without life; no expression whatever, and in a composed and sad sort of manner she told the tale as if it were something she had read and wanted me to hear:

“My eldest daughter, Mary, had grown up to be a lovely girl. She was between thirteen and fourteen, you know. Baby Kate had my sister's gray eyes; she was evidently to be the beauty of the family. Strange it is that here was one of my children who has lived and has gone and you have never seen her at all. She died first, and I would not go to the funeral. I thought it would kill me to see her put under the ground. I was lying down, stupid with grief when Aunt Charlotte came to me after the funeral with this news: ‘Mary has that awful disease, too.’ There was nothing to say. I got up and dressed instantly and went to Mary. I did not leave her side again in that long struggle between life and death. I did everything for her with my own hands. I even prepared my darling for the grave. I went to her funeral, and I came home and walked straight to my mother and I begged her to be comforted; I would bear it all without one word if God would only spare me the one child left me now.''

Sally has never shed a tear, but has grown twenty years older, cold, hard, careworn. With the same rigidity of manner, she began to go over all the details of Mary's illness. “I had not given up hope, no, not at all. As I sat by her side, she said: ‘Mamma, put your hand on my knees; they are so cold.’ I put my hand on her knee; the cold struck to my heart. I knew it was the coldness of death.” Sally put out her hand on me, and it seemed to recall the feeling. She fell forward in an agony of weeping that lasted for hours. The doctor said this reaction was a blessing; without it she must have died or gone mad. While the mother was so bitterly weeping, the little girl, the last of them, a bright child of three or four, crawled into my bed. “Now, Auntie,” she whispered, “I want to tell you all about Mamie and Katie, but they watch me so. They say I must never talk about them. Katie died because she ate blackberries, I know that, and then Aunt Charlotte read Mamie a letter and that made her die, too. Maum Hetty says they have gone to God, but I know the people saved a place between them in the ground for me.”

Uncle William was in despair at the low ebb of patriotism out here. “West of the Savannah River,” said he, “it is property first, life next, honor last.” He gave me an excellent pair of shoes. What a gift! For more than a year I have had none but some dreadful things Armstead makes for me, and they hurt my feet so. These do not fit, but that is nothing; they are large enough and do not pinch anywhere. I have absolutely a respectable pair of shoes!!

Uncle William says the men who went into the war to save their negroes are abjectly wretched. Neither side now cares a fig for these beloved negroes, and would send them all to heaven in a hand-basket, as Custis Lee says, to win in the fight.

General Lee and Mr. Davis want the negroes put into the army. Mr. Chesnut and Major Venable discussed the subject one night, but would they fight on our side or desert to the enemy? They don't go to the enemy, because they are comfortable as they are, and expect to be free anyway. When we were children our nurses used to give us tea out in the open air on little pine tables scrubbed as clean as milk-pails. Sometimes, as Dick would pass us, with his slow and consequential step, we would call out, “Do, Dick, come and wait on us.” “No, little missies, I never wait on pine tables. Wait till you get big enough to put your legs under your pa's mahogany.”

I taught him to read as soon as I could read myself, perched on his knife-board. He won't look at me now; but looks over my head, scenting freedom in the air. He was always very ambitious. I do not think he ever troubled himself much about books. But then, as my father said, Dick, standing in front of his sideboard, has heard all subjects in earth or heaven discussed, and by the best heads in our world. He is proud, too, in his way. Hetty, his wife, complained that the other men servants looked finer in their livery. “Nonsense, old woman, a butler never demeans himself to wear livery. He is always in plain clothes.” Somewhere he had picked that up.

He is the first negro in whom I have felt a change. Others go about in their black masks, not a ripple or an emotion showing, and yet on all other subjects except the war they are the most excitable of all races. Now Dick might make a very respectable Egyptian Sphinx, so inscrutably silent is he. He did deign to inquire about General Richard Anderson. “He was my young master once,” said he. “I always will like him better than anybody else.”

When Dick married Hetty, the Anderson house was next door. The two families agreed to sell either Dick or Hetty, whichever consented to be sold. Hetty refused outright, and the Andersons sold Dick that he might be with his wife. This was magnanimous on the Andersons' part, for Hetty was only a lady's-maid and Dick was a trained butler, on whom Mrs. Anderson had spent no end of pains in his dining-room education, and, of course, if they had refused to sell Dick, Hetty would have had to go to them. Mrs. Anderson was very much disgusted with Dick's ingratitude when she found he was willing to leave them. As a butler he is a treasure; he is overwhelmed with dignity, but that does not interfere with his work at all. My father had a body-servant, Simon, who could imitate his master's voice perfectly. He would sometimes call out from the yard after my father had mounted his horse: “Dick, bring me my overcoat. I see you there, sir, hurry up.” When Dick hastened out, overcoat in hand, and only Simon was visible, after several obsequious “Yes, marster; just as marster pleases,” my mother had always to step out and prevent a fight. Dick never forgave her laughing. Once in Sumter, when my father was very busy preparing a law case, the mob in the street annoyed him, and he grumbled about it as Simon was making up his fire. Suddenly he heard, as it were, himself speaking, “the Hon. S. D. Miller — Lawyer Miller,” as the colored gentleman announced himself in the dark — appeal to the gentlemen outside to go away and leave a lawyer in peace to prepare his case for the next day. My father said he could have sworn the sound was that of his own voice. The crowd dispersed, but some noisy negroes came along, and upon them Simon rushed with the sulky whip, slashing around in the dark, calling himself “Lawyer Miller,” who was determined to have peace. Simon returned, complaining that “them niggers run so he never got in a hundred yards of one of them.”

At Portland, we met a man who said: “Is it not strange that in this poor, devoted land of ours, there are some men who are making money by blockade-running, cheating our embarrassed government, and skulking the fight?”

__________

¹ Clement Baird Vallandigham was an Ohio Democrat who represented the extreme wing of Northern sympathizers with the South. He was arrested by United States troops in May, 1863, court-martialed and banished to the Confederacy. Not being well received in the South, he went to Canada, but after the war returned to Ohio

² Vicksburg surrendered on July 4, 1863. Since the close of 1862, it had again and again been assaulted by Grant and Sherman. It was commanded by Johnston and Pemberton, Pemberton being in command at the time of the surrender. John C. Pemberton was a native of Philadelphia, a graduate of West Point, and had served in the Mexican War.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 216-26

Major General William T. Sherman to Ellen Ewing Sherman, July 5, 1863

CAMP NEAR BLACK RIVER,

20 miles east of Vicksburg, July 5, 1863.

You will have heard all about the capitulation of Vicksburg on the 4th of July, and I suppose duly appreciate it. It is the event of the war thus far. Davis placed it in the scale of Richmond, and pledged his honor that it should be held even if he had to abandon Tennessee. But it was of no use. and we are now in full possession. I am out and have not gone in to see, as even before its surrender Grant was disposing to send me forth to meet Johnston who is and has been since June 15th collecting a force about Jackson, to raise the siege. I will have Ord's corps, the 13th (McClernand's), Sherman's 15th and Parkes' 9th. All were to have been out last night, but Vicksburg and the 4th of July were too much for one day and they are not yet come. I expect them hourly. I am busy making three bridges to cross Black River, and shall converge on Bolton and Clinton, and if not held back by Johnston shall enter Jackson and there finish what was so well begun last month and break up all the railroads and bridges in the interior so that it will be impossible for armies to assemble again to threaten the river.

The capture of Vicksburg is to me the first gleam of daylight in this war. It was strong by nature, and had been strengthened by immense labor and stores. Grant telegraphs me 27,000 prisoners, 128 field guns and 100 siege pieces. Add to these 13 guns and 5,000 prisoners at Arkansas Post, 18 guns and 250 prisoners at Jackson, 5 guns and 2,000 prisoners at Port Gibson, 10 heavy guns at Grand Gulf, 60 field guns and 3,500 prisoners at Champion Hill and 14 heavy guns at Haines' Bluff, beside the immense amounts of ammunition, shot, shells, horses, wagons, etc., make the most extraordinary fruits of our six months' campaign. Here is glory enough for all the heroes of the West, but I content myself with knowing and feeling that our enemy is weakened by so much, and more yet by failing to hold a point deemed by them as essential to their empire in the Southwest. We have ravaged the land, and have sent away half a million of negroes, so that this country is paralyzed and cannot recover its lost strength in twenty years.

Had the eastern armies done half as much war would be substantially entered upon. But I read of Washington, Baltimore and Philadelphia being threatened and Rosecrans sitting idly by, writing for personal fame in the newspapers, and our government at Washington chiefly engaged in pulling down its leaders, — Hooker now consigned to retirement. Well, I thank God we are free from Washington and that we have in Grant not a 'great man' or a 'hero,' but a good, plain, sensible, kind-hearted fellow. Here are Grant and Sherman, and McPherson, three sons of Ohio, [who] have achieved more actual success than all else combined, and I have yet to see the first kindly notice of us in the state, but on the contrary a system of abuse designed and calculated to destroy us with the people and the army; but the Army of the Tennessee, those who follow their colors and do not skulk behind in the North, at the hospitals and depots far to the rear, know who think and act, and if life is spared us our countrymen will realize the truth. I shall go on through heat and dust till the Mississippi is clear, till the large armies of the enemy in this quarter seek a more secure base, and then I will renew my hopes of getting a quiet home, where we can grow up among our children and prepare them for the dangers which may environ their later life. I did hope Grant would have given me Vicksburg and let some one else follow up the enemy inland, but I never suggest anything to myself personal, and only what I deem necessary to fulfil the purposes of war. I know that the capture of Vicksburg will make an impression the world over, and expect loud acclamations in the Northwest, but I heed more its effect on Louisiana and Arkansas. If Banks succeed, as he now must, at Port Hudson, and the army in Missouri push to Little Rock, the region west of the Mississippi will cease to be the theatre of war save to the bands of robbers created by war who now prefer to live by pillage than honest labor. Rosecrans' army and this could also, acting in concert, drive all opposing masses into the recesses of Georgia and Alabama, leaving the Atlantic slopes the great theatre of war.

I wish Halleck would put a guard over the White House to keep out the committees of preachers, grannies and Dutchmen that absorb Lincoln's time and thoughts, fill up our thinned ranks with conscripts, and then handle these vast armies with the single thought of success regardless of who shall get the personal credit and glory.

I am pleased to hear from you that occasionally you receive kindness from men out of regard to me. I know full well there must be a large class of honest people North who are sick of the wrangling of officers for power and notoriety, and are sick of the silly flattery piled by interested parties on their favorites. McClernand, the only sample of that sort with us, played himself out, and there is not an officer or soldier here but rejoices he is gone away. With an intense selfishness and lust of notoriety he could not let his mind get beyond the limits of his vision, and therefore all was brilliant about him and dark and suspicious beyond. My style is the reverse. I am somewhat blind to what occurs near me, but have a clear perception of things and events remote. Grant possesses the happy medium and it is for this reason I admire him. I have a much quicker perception of things than he; but he balances the present and remote so evenly that results follow in natural course.

I would not have risked the passing the batteries at Vicksburg and trusting to the long route by Grand Gulf and Jackson to reach what we both knew were the key points to Vicksburg. But I would have aimed to reach the same points by Grenada.¹

But both aimed at the same points, and though both of us knew little of the actual ground, it is wonderful how well they have realized our military calculations.

As we sat in Oxford last November we saw in the future what we now realize, and like the architect who sees developed the beautiful vision of his brain, we feel an intense satisfaction at the realization of our military plans. Thank God, no President was near to thwart our plans, and that the short-sighted public could not drive us from our object till the plan was fully realized.

Well, the campaign of Vicksburg is ended, and I am either to begin anew or simply make complete the natural sequences of a finished job. I regard my movement as the latter, though you and others may be distressed at the guesses of our newspaper correspondents on the spot (Cairo) and made to believe I am marching on Mobile, on Chattanooga, or Atlanta. . . .

__________

¹ In a letter of August 20, 1863, Sherman wrote: "I confess to feel some pride that I have linked my name with Grant's in achieving one of the stupendous works of this war." In his Personal Memoirs (I, 543 n.) Grant wrote: "Sherman gave the same energy to make the campaign a success that he would or could have done if it had been ordered by himself."

SOURCES: M. A. DeWolfe Howe, Editor, Home Letters of General Sherman, p. 269-72.  A full copy of this letter can be found in the William T Sherman Family papers (SHR), University of Notre Dame Archives (UNDA), Notre Dame, IN 46556, Folder CSHR 2/06.

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: Monday, July 13, 1863

The Enquirer says the President has got a letter from Gen. Lee (why not give it to the people?) stating that his operations in Pennsylvania and Maryland have been successful and satisfactory, and that we have now some 15,000 to 18,000 prisoners, besides the 4000 or 5000 paroled. Nonsense!

Lee and Meade have been facing each other two or three days, drawn up in battle array, and a decisive battle may have occurred ere this. The wires have been cut between Martinsburg and Hagerstown.

Not another word have we from either Charleston or Jackson; but we learn that monitors, gun-boats, and transports are coming up the James River.

Altogether, this is another dark day in our history. It has been officially ascertained that Pemberton surrendered, with Vicksburg, 22,000 men! He has lost, during the year, not less than 40,000! And Lovell (another Northern general) lost Fort Jackson and New Orleans. When will the government put “none but Southerners on guard?”

Letters to-day from the Governors of South Carolina, Alabama, and North Carolina show that all are offended at the Confederate government. Judge Campbell's judicial profundity (and he is the department's correspondent) is unfortunate at this crisis, when, not great principles, but quick and successful fighting, alone can serve.

It appears that President Lincoln has made a speech in Washington in exultation over the fall of Vicksburg, and the defeat of an army contending against the principle that all men were created equal. He means the negro — we mean that white men were created equal — that we are equal to Northern white people, and have a right, which we do not deny to them, of living under a government of our own choice.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 377-8

President Abraham Lincoln to Major General Henry W. Halleck, July 7, 1863 - Never Sent

\

War Department

Washington City,

July 7 1862

Major Genl Halleck

We have certain information that Vicksburg surrendered to General Grant on the 4th of July. Now, if Gen. Meade can complete his work so gloriously prosecuted thus far, by the litteral [sic] or substantial destruction of Lee’s army, the rebellion will be over.

 Yours truly,

 A. LINCOLN

SOURCE: National Archives & Records Administration, Washington D.C.

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: Thursday, July 9, 1863

The sad tidings from Vicksburg have been confirmed by subsequent accounts. The number of men fit for duty on the day of capitulation was only a little upwards of 7000. Flour was selling at $400 per barrel! This betrays the extremity to which they had been reduced.

A dispatch to-day states that Grant, with 100,000 men (supposed), is marching on Jackson, to give Johnston battle. But Johnston will retire — he has not men enough to withstand him, until he leads him farther into the interior. If beaten, Mobile might fall.

We have no particulars yet — no comments of the Southern generals under Pemberton. But the fall of the place has cast a gloom over everything.

The fall of Vicksburg, alone, does not make this the darkest day of the war, as it is undoubtedly. The news from Lee's army is appalling. After the battle of Friday, the accounts from Martinsburg now state, he fell back toward Hagerstown, followed by the enemy, fighting but little on the way. Instead of 40,000 we have only 4000 prisoners. How many we have lost, we know not. The Potomac is, perhaps, too high for him to pass it — and there are probably 15,000 of the enemy immediately in his rear! Such are the gloomy accounts from Martinsburg.

Our telegraph operators are great liars, or else they have been made the dupes of spies and traitors. That the cause has suffered much, and may be ruined by the toleration of disloyal persons within our lines, who have kept the enemy informed of all our movements, there can be no doubt.

The following is Gen. Johnston's dispatch announcing the fall of Vicksburg:

“JACKSON, July 7th, 1863.

“HON. J. A. SEDDON, SECRETARY OF WAR.

“Vicksburg capitulated on the 4th inst. The garrison was paroled, and are to be returned to our lines, the officers retaining their side-arms and personal baggage.

“This intelligence was brought by an officer who left the place on Sunday, the 5th.

“J. E. JOHNSTON, General.”

We get nothing from Lee himself. Gen. Cooper, the Secretary of War, and Gen. Hill went to the President's office about one o'clock. They seemed in haste, and excited. The President, too, is sick, and ought not to attend to business. It will kill him, perhaps.

There is serious anxiety now for the fate of Richmond. Will Meade be here in a few weeks? Perhaps so — but, then, Lee may not have quite completed his raid beyond the Potomac.

The Baltimore American, no doubt in some trepidation for the quiescence of that city, gets up a most glowing account of "Meade's victory" — if it should, indeed, in the sequel, prove to have been one. That Lee fell back, is true; but how many men were lost on each side in killed, wounded, and prisoners — how many guns were taken, and what may be the result of the operations in Pennsylvania and Maryland — of which we have as yet such imperfect accounts — will soon be known.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 374-5