I Cross the Father of Waters—Trying to Reach Vicksburg—Dinner with Seven Virgins Seated All in a Row—The Yankees Cut the Railroad—“What on Earth Are You Doing in Jackson Just Now?”—Taken for a Spy—Rescued by an Irishman—How to Save a House from Yankee Raiders—At Joe Johnston’s Headquarters—Honored with the Only Fork in General Johnston’s Mess—The General Collects Wood for a Locomotive—An Engineer Shoots a Passenger—People Are Careful What They Say When a Bullet May Be the Reply
15th May (Friday)—I nearly slept round the clock after yesterday’s exertions. Mr. Douglas and I crossed the father of rivers and landed on the Mississippi bank at 9 A.M.
Natchez is a pretty little town, and ought to contain about 6000 inhabitants. It is built on the top of a high bluff overlooking the Mississippi River, which is about three quarters of a mile broad at this point.
When I reached Natchez I hired a carriage, and, with a letter of introduction which I had brought from San Antonio, I drove to the house of Mr. Haller Nutt, distant from the town about two miles.
The scenery about Natchez is extremely pretty, and the ground is hilly, with plenty of fine trees. Mr. Nutt’s place reminded me very much of an English gentleman’s country seat, except that the house itself is rather like a pagoda, but it is beautifully furnished.
Mr. Nutt was extremely civil, and was most anxious that I should remain at Natchez for a few days. But now that I was thoroughly wound up for traveling, I determined to push on to Vicksburg, as all the late news seemed to show that some great operations must take place there before long.
I had fondly imagined that after reaching Natchez my difficulties would have been over; but I very soon discovered that this was a delusive hope. I found that Natchez was full of the most gloomy rumors. Another Yankee raid seemed to have been made into the interior of Mississippi. More railroad is reported to be destroyed, and great doubts were expressed whether I should be able to get into Vicksburg at all.
However, as I found some other people as determined to proceed as myself, we hired a carriage for $100 to drive to Brookhaven, which is the nearest point on the railroad, and is distant from Natchez 66 miles.
My companions were a fat government contractor from Texas, the wounded Missourian Mr. Douglas, and an ugly woman, wife to a soldier in Vicksburg.
We left Natchez at 12 noon, and were driven by a Negro named Nelson. The carriage and the three horses belong to him, and he drives it for his own profit; but he is, nevertheless a slave, and pays his owner $4.50 a week to be allowed to work on his own account. He was quite as vain as Tucker, and even more amusing. He said he “didn’t want to see no Yanks, nor to be no freer than he is”; and he thought the war had already lasted four or five years.
Every traveler we met on the road was eagerly asked the questions, “Are the Yanks in Brookhaven? Is the railroad open?” At first we received satisfactory replies; but at 6 P.M. we met an officer driving towards Natchez at a great pace. He gave us the alarming intelligence that Jackson was going to be evacuated. Now, as Jackson is the capital city of this state, a great railroad junction, and on the high road to every civilized place from this, our feelings may be imagined, but we did not believe it possible.
On the other hand we were told that General Joseph Johnston had arrived and assumed the command in Mississippi. He appears to be an officer in whom every one places unbounded confidence.
We slept at a farmhouse. All the males were absent at the war, and it is impossible to exaggerate the unfortunate condition of the women left behind in these farmhouses. They have scarcely any clothes, and nothing but the coarsest bacon to eat, and are in miserable uncertainty as to the fate of their relations, whom they hardly ever communicate with. Their slaves, however, generally remain true to them.
Our hostess, though she was reduced to the greatest distress, was well-mannered, and exceedingly well educated; very far superior to a woman of her station in England.
16th May (Saturday)—We started a little before daylight, our team looking so very mean that we expressed doubts as to their lasting—to Mr. Nelson’s great indignation.
We breakfasted at another little farmhouse on some unusually tough bacon, and coffee made of sweet potatoes. The natives, under all their misery, were red-hot in favor of fighting for their independence to the last, and I constantly hear the words, “This is the most unjust war ever waged upon a people by mortal man.” 1
At 11 A.M. we met a great crowd of Negroes, who had been run into the swamps to be out of the way of the Yankees, and they were now returning to Louisiana.
At 2 P.M. a wounded soldier gave us the deplorable information that the enemy really was on the railroad between Jackson and Brookhaven, and that Jackson itself was in his hands. This news staggered us all, and Nelson became alarmed for the safety of his wretched animals; but we all determined to go on at all hazards, and see what turned up.
We halted for dinner at a farmhouse, in which were seven virgins, seated all of a row. They were all good-looking, but shy and bashful to a degree I never before witnessed. All the young women in this country seem to be either uncommonly free-spoken, or else extremely shy. The further we went, the more certain became the news of the fall of Jackson.
We passed the night in the veranda of an old farmer. He told us that Grierson’s Yankee raid had captured him about three weeks ago. He thought the Yankees were about 1500 strong. They took all good horses, leaving their worn-out ones behind. They destroyed railroad, government property, and arms, and paroled all men, both old and young, but they committed no barbarities. In this manner they traversed all the state of Mississippi without meeting any resistance. They were fine-looking men from the Northwestern states.
17th May(Sunday)—We started again at 4:30 A.M., and met five wounded men, who had been captured and paroled by Banks, in Louisiana. They confirmed everything about the fall of Jackson, which made me consider myself particularly unfortunate, and destined apparently to be always intercepted by the Northern troops, which had happened to be at Alexandria, at Harrisonburg, and now again at Jackson.
At 8 A.M. we reached the little town of Brookhaven, which was full of travelers, principally Confederate soldiers, anxious to rejoin their regiments. Maxey’s brigade left this place by road last night to join General Johnston, who is supposed to be concentrating his forces at a place called Canton, not far from Jackson.
I called on Captain Matthews, the officer who commanded at Brookhaven. After introducing myself to him, he promised to assist me, by every means in his power, to join General Johnston.
I then went to a Methodist chapel; a good many soldiers were there, and a great number of women.
At noon, just as I had begun to get in very low spirits about the prospects of getting on, a locomotive arrived from a station called Haslehurst. It brought us the astonishing report that the Yankees had suddenly abandoned Jackson, after destroying all the government, and a good deal of private property.2
This news caused our prospects to look brighter.
18th May (Monday)—On getting up this morning, everything appeared very uncertain, and a thousand contradictory reports and rumors were flying about.
At 8 o’clock I called on Captain Matthews, and told him my earnest desire to get on towards Johnston’s army at all risks. He kindly introduced me to the conductor of a locomotive, who offered to take me to within a few miles of Jackson, if he was not cut off by the enemy, which seemed extremely probable. At 9 A.M. I seated myself, in company with about twenty soldiers, on the engine, and we started towards Jackson.
On reaching Crystal Springs, halfway to Jackson, we found General Loring’s division crossing the railroad and marching east. It had been defeated, with the loss of most of its artillery, three days before, and was now cut off from General Pemberton.3
At 5 P.M. the conductor stopped the engine, and put us out at a spot distant nine miles from Jackson. As I could procure no shelter, food, or conveyance there, I found myself in a terrible fix.
At this juncture a French boy rode up on horseback, and volunteered to carry my saddlebags as far as Jackson, if I could walk and carry the remainder.
Gladly accepting this unexpected offer, I started with him to walk up the railroad, as he assured me the Yankees really had gone. During the journey, he gave me a description of their conduct during the short time they had occupied the city.
On arriving within three miles of Jackson, I found the railroad destroyed by the enemy, who after pulling up the track, had made piles of the sleepers, and then put the rails in layers on the top of these heaps. They had then set fire to the sleepers, which had caused the rails to bend when red-hot. The wooden bridges had also been set on fire, and were still smoking.
When within a mile and a half of Jackson, I met four men, who stopped and questioned me very suspiciously, but they at length allowed me to proceed, saying that these “were curious times.”
After another mile I reached a mild trench, which was dignified by the name of the fortifications of Jackson. A small fight had taken place there four days previous, when General Johnston had evacuated the city.
When I got inside this trench I came to the spot on which a large body of the Yankees had recently been encamped. They had set fire to a great quantity of stores and arms, which they had been unable to carry away with them. These were still burning, and were partially destroyed. I observed also great numbers of pikes and pikeheads amongst the debris.4
At the entrance to the town the French boy took me to the house of his relatives, and handed me my saddlebags. These French people told me they had been much ill-treated, notwithstanding their French nationality. They showed me their broken furniture, and they assured me that they had been robbed of everything of any value. I then shouldered my saddlebags, and walked through the smoking and desolate streets towards the Bowmont House hotel.
I had not proceeded far before a man with long gray hair and an enormous revolver rode up to me, and offered to carry my saddlebags. He then asked me who I was. After I told him, he thought a few moment, and then said, “Well, sir, you must excuse me, but if you are a British officer, I can’t make out what on earth you are doing at Jackson just now.” I could not but confess that this was rather a natural idea, and that my presence in this burning town must have seemed rather odd, more especially as I was obliged to acknowledge that I was there entirely of my own free will, and for my own amusement.
Mr. Smythe, for so this individual was named, then told me that if I was really the person I represented myself, I should be well treated by all; but that if I could not prove myself to be an English officer, an event would happen which it was not difficult to foresee, and the idea caused a disagreeable sensation about the throat.
Mr. Smythe then gave me to understand that I must remain a prisoner for the present. He conducted me to a room in the Bowmont House hotel, and I found myself speedily surrounded by a group of eager and excited citizens, who had been summoned by Smythe to conduct my examination.
At first they were inclined to be disagreeable. They examined my clothes, and argued as to whether they were of English manufacture.5 Some, who had been in London, asked me questions about the streets of the metropolis, and about my regiment. One remarked that I was “mighty young for a lootenant colonel.”
When I suggested that they should treat me with proper respect until I was proved to be a spy, they replied that their city had been brutally pillaged by the Yankees, and that there were many suspicious characters about.
Everything now looked very threatening, and it became evident to me that nothing would relieve the minds of these men so much as a hanging match. I looked in vain for someone to take my part, and I could not even get any person to examine my papers.
At this critical juncture a new character appeared on the scene. He was a big heavy man who said to me, “My name is Dr. Russell; I’m an Irishman, and I hate the British government and the English nation; but if you are really an officer in the Coldstream Guards there is nothing I won’t do for you; you shall come to my house and I will protect you.”
I immediately showed Dr. Russell my passport and letters of introduction to General Johnston and other Confederate officers. He pronounced them genuine, promised to stand by me, and wanted to take me away with him at once.
But observing that the countenances of Smythe and his colleagues did not by any means express satisfaction at this arrangement, I announced my determination to stay where I was until I was released by the military authorities, with whom I demanded an immediate audience.
A very handsome cavalry officer called Captain Yerger, shortly afterwards arrived. He released me at once—asked me to his mother’s house, and promised that I should join a brigade which was to march for General Johnston’s camp on the following morning.
All the citizens seemed to be satisfied by the result of my interview with Captain Yerger, and most of them insisted on shaking hands and “liquoring up,” in horrible whiskey. Smythe, however, was an exception to this rule. He evidently thought he had effected a grand capture, and was not at all satisfied at the turn of affairs. I believe to his dying day he will think I am a spy; but it was explained to me that his house had been burnt down by the Yankees two days before, which had made him unusually venomous.
They told me that Dr. Russell had saved his property from pillage by seating himself in his veranda, with a loaded double-barreled gun on his knees. When the pillagers approached, he addressed them in the following manner: “No man can die more than once, and I shall never be more ready to die than I am now. There is nothing to prevent your going into this house, except that I shall kill the first two of you who move with this gun. Now then, gentlemen, walk in.” This speech is said to have saved Dr. Russell from further annoyance, and his property from the ruin which overtook his neighbors.
Jackson, the capital of the state of Mississippi, is a place of great importance. Four railroads meet here, and have been destroyed in each direction for a distance of from three to five miles. All the numerous factories have been burnt down by the enemy, who were of course justified in doing so; but during the short space of thirty-six hours, in which General Grant occupied the city, his troops had wantonly pillaged nearly all the private houses. They had gutted all the stores, and destroyed what they could not carry away. All this must have been done under the very eyes of General Grant, whose name was in the book of the Bowmont House hotel.
I saw the ruins of the Roman Catholic church, the priest’s house, and the principal hotel, which were still smoking, together with many other buildings which could in no way be identified with the Confederate government. The whole town was a miserable wreck, and presented a deplorable aspect.
Nothing could exceed the intense hatred and fury with which its excited citizens speak of the outrages they have undergone—of their desire for a bloody revenge, and of their hope that the Black Flag might be raised.*
I had previously heard the Jacksonians spoken of as not being particularly zealous in the war. Heaven knows General Grant had now converted them into good and earnest Rebels.
At 8 P.M. I called at Captain Yerger’s house, and found him with General Gist and another officer lying flat on their stomachs poring over a map. Captain Yerger then introduced me to the ladies of his family, who were extremely pretty, very amiable, and highly patriotic. The house is charming, and, being outside the town, it had by good luck escaped destruction and pillage.
After supper, the ladies played and sang, and I ended an eventful day in a very agreeable manner. General Gist promised that I should accompany his brigade tomorrow on its march towards General Johnston, and Mrs. Yerger insisted that I should pass the night at her house.
In this part of the country the prospects of the Confederacy appeared to be very gloomy. General Joseph Johnston, who commands the whole Western Department, only arrived from Tennessee last Wednesday, and on the following day he found himself obliged to abandon Jackson to an overwhelming Northern army, after making a short fight to enable his baggage to escape.
General Pemberton, who had hitherto held the chief command, is abused by all. He was beaten on Saturday at Baker’s Creek, where he lost the greater part of his artillery. He had retired into Vicksburg, and was now completely shut up there by the victorious Grant.6
General Maxey’s brigade, about 5000 strong, was near Brookhaven, and was marching east when I was there. General Loring’s force, cut off from Pemberton, was near Crystal Springs. General Johnston, with about 6000 men, was supposed to be near Canton. General Gist’s troops, about 5500 strong, were close by, having arrived from South Carolina and Georgia, just too late to defend Jackson.
The enemy under General Grant, in vastly superior force, was pressing Vicksburg very hard, and had now completely invested that fortress.
The great object of the Confederates must, of course, be to unite their scattered forces under so able a general as Johnston, and then relieve Vicksburg.
19th May (Tuesday)—The landlord of the Bowmont House gave a breakfast at 7 A.M. to General Gist and his staff, to which I also was invited.
Shortly afterwards I was given a seat in a curious little vehicle belonging to Lieutenant Martino, a Spaniard, in the Confederate Army. This vehicle caused considerable merriment amongst the soldiers, who called it a chicken wagon.
We left Jackson with the leading troops about 8 A.M., amidst a great waving of handkerchiefs and showers of flowers, thrown by the few remaining ladies who were still left in that dilapidated place.
The corps under General Gist consisted of three weak brigades, the leading one composed of Georgians and South Carolinians; the next were Texans, under General Ector; and the last were Arkansians, under General M’Nair. General Gist had twelve good-looking Napoleon guns with him (twelve-pounders). The horses were fine animals, and were in wonderful good condition, considering that they had been ten days on the railroad coming from South Carolina.
The troops were roughly but efficiently clothed; their boots were in good order, and all were armed with Enfield rifles.
The weather was very hot, and we were halted to bivouac for the night, at a spot about seventeen miles from Jackson, on the road towards Vicksburg.
The straggling of the Georgians was on the grandest scale conceivable. The men fell out by dozens, and seemed to suit their own convenience in that respect, without interference on the part of the officers. But I was told that these regiments had never done any marching before, having hitherto been quartered in forts and transported by railroad.
The country is much covered with woods, and is sandy, with very little water.
I did not consider that the troops were marched judiciously; they were halted too long at a time, and not often enough. The baggage was carried on country carts pressed into the service.
We bivouacked in the woods near a very pretty house belonging to a planter called Colonel Robinson. These immense woods make admirable bivouacs.
General States Rights Gist is a South Carolinian, only thirty-two years of age, and although not educated as a soldier, he seems easily to have adapted himself to the military profession. He looks a determined man, and he takes responsibility very coolly. In the early part of the day he was very doubtful as to the exact whereabouts of General Johnston; but about noon a courier arrived, from whom he received important and satisfactory information, otherwise General Gist had made up his mind for some “nasty work” before the junction could be effected. He told me that the present expedition was rather inconvenient to him, as he had only been married three days before he left Charleston. He lent me a magnificent rug, and I slept very comfortably in the open air for the first time since I was in Texas.
20th May (Wednesday)—At 3 A.M. we were awoke by a great bombardment going on at Vicksburg, which lasted about three hours.**
The assembly was beaten at 7 A.M. by an old Negro performing on a cracked drum, and its sound was hailed by the soldiers with loud yells.
General Gist, his staff, and I, breakfasted with Mr. Robinson, whose house is charming, and beautifully furnished, and had not been visited by the Yankees.
We had a crazy old planter, Mr. ——, with us. He insisted upon accompanying the column, mounted on a miserable animal which had been left him by the enemy as not being worth carrying away. The small remains of this poor old man’s sense had been shattered by the Yankees a few days ago. They cleaned him completely out, taking his horses, mules, cows, and pigs, and stealing his clothes and anything they wanted, destroying what they could not carry away. But what “riled” him most was that he had been visited by a Federal officer, disguised in the Confederate uniform. Poor old ——, full of Rebel zeal, had, on being invited to do so, mounted en croupe behind this officer, and unbosomed himself to him. His fury and rage may be imagined at finding himself shortly afterwards in the very midst of the Federal camp; but the Yankee General M’Pherson ordered him to be released; and it appears that the reason of his being kidnapped was to extract from him a large quantity of gold, which he was supposed to have hidden somewhere.
This Mr. (or Major***) ——took a great fancy to me, and insisted on picking some of the silk of Indian corn, which he requested I would present to Queen Victoria to show her how far advanced the crops were in Mississippi. It was almost painful to hear the manner in which this poor old man gloated over the bodies of the dead Yankees at Jackson, and of his intense desire to see more of them put to death.
The column reached the village or town of Livingston at 11 A.M., where I was introduced to a militia general and his pretty daughter. The latter had been married two days before to a wounded Confederate officer, but the happy couple were just on the point of starting for the Yazoo River, as they were afraid of being disturbed in their felicity by the Yankees.
I now heard everyone speaking of the fall of Vicksburg as very possible, and its jeopardy was laid at the door of General Pemberton, for whom no language could be too strong. He was freely called a coward and a traitor. He has the misfortune to be a Northerner by birth, which was against him in the opinion of all here.
General Gist and I cantered on in front of the column, and reached General Johnston’s bivouac at 6 P.M.
General Johnston received me with much kindness, when I presented my letters of introduction, and stated my object in visiting the Confederate armies.7
In appearance, General Joseph E. Johnston (commonly called Joe Johnston) is rather below middle height, spare, soldierlike, and well set up; his features are good, and he has lately taken to wear a grayish beard. He is a Virginian by birth, and appears to be about fifty-seven years old.
He talks in a calm, deliberate, and confident manner. To me he was extremely affable, but he certainly possesses the power of keeping people at a distance when he chooses, and his officers evidently stand in great awe of him. He lives very plainly, and at present his only cooking utensils consisted of an old coffeepot and frying pan—both very inferior articles. There was only one fork (one prong deficient) between himself and staff, and this was handed to me ceremoniously as the “guest.”
He has undoubtedly acquired the entire confidence of all the officers and soldiers under him. Many of the officers told me they did not consider him inferior as a general to Lee or anyone else.
He told me that Vicksburg was certainly in a critical situation, and was now closely invested by Grant. He said that he (Johnston) had 11,000 men with him (which includes Gist’s), hardly any cavalry, and only sixteen pieces of cannon; but if he could get adequate reinforcements, he stated his intention of endeavoring to relieve Vicksburg.
I also made the acquaintance of the Georgian General Walker, a fierce and very warlike fire-eater, who was furious at having been obliged to evacuate Jackson after having only destroyed four hundred Yankees. He told me, “I know I couldn’t hold the place, but I did want to kill a few more of the rascals.”
At 9 P.M. I returned with General Gist to his camp, as my baggage was there. On the road we were met by several natives, who complained that soldiers were quartering themselves upon them and eating everything.
The bivouacs are extremely pretty at night, the dense woods being lit up by innumerable campfires.
21st May (Thursday)—I rejoined General Johnston at 9 A.M., and was received into his mess. Major Eustis and Lieutenant Washington, officers of his staff, are thorough gentlemen, and did all in their power to make me comfortable. The first is a Louisianian of wealth (formerly). His Negro always speaks French. He is brother to the secretary of Mr. Slidell in Paris, and has learnt to become an excellent staff officer.
I was presented to Captain Henderson, who commanded a corps of about fifty “scouts.” These are employed on the hazardous duty of hanging about the enemy’s camps, collecting information, and communicating with Pemberton in Vicksburg. They are a fine-looking lot of men, wild, and very picturesque in appearance.
At 12 noon a Yankee military surgeon came to camp. He had been left behind by Grant to look after the Yankees wounded at Jackson, and he was now anxious to rejoin his general by flag of truce. General Johnston very prudently refused to allow this, and desired that he should be sent to the North via Richmond. By a very sensible arrangement, both sides have agreed to treat doctors as noncombatants, and not to make prisoners of war of them.8
The chief surgeon in Johnston’s army is a very clever and amusing Kentuckian, named Dr. Yandell. He told me he had been educated in England, and might have had a large practice there.
My friend “Major” —— very kindly took me to dine with a neighboring planter, named Harrold, at whose house I met General Gregg, a Texan, who with his brigade fought the Yankees at Raymond a few days ago.
After dinner, I asked Mr. Harrold to take me over the quarters of his slaves, which he did immediately. The huts were comfortable and very clean. The Negroes seemed fond of their master, but he told me they were suffering dreadfully from the effects of the war—he had so much difficulty in providing them with clothes and shoes. I saw an old woman in one of the huts, who had been suffering from an incurable disease for thirteen years, and was utterly useless. She was evidently well cared for, and was treated with affection and care. At all events, she must have benefited largely by the “peculiar institution.”
I have often told these planters that I thought the word “slave” was the most repulsive part of the institution, and I have always observed they invariably shirk using it themselves. They speak of their servant, their boy, or their Negroes, but never of their slaves. They address a Negro as boy or girl, or uncle or aunty.
In the evening I asked General Johnston what prospect he thought there was of early operations, and he told me that at present he was too weak to do any good, and he was unable to give me any definite idea as to when he might be strong enough to attack Grant. I therefore made up my mind to be off in a day or two, unless something turned up. I could not afford to wait for events, I have still so much to see.
General Johnston is a very well-read man, and agreeable to converse with. He told me that he considered Marlborough a greater general than Wellington. All Americans have an intense admiration for Napoleon; they seldom scruple to express their regret that he was beaten at Waterloo.
Remarking upon the extreme prevalence of military titles, General Johnston said, “You must be astonished to find how fond all Americans are of titles, though they are republicans; and as they can’t get any other sort, they all take military ones.”
Whilst seated round the campfire in the evening, one of the officers remarked to me, “I can assure you, Colonel, that nine men out of ten in the South would sooner become subjects of Queen Victoria than return to the Union.” “Nine men out of ten!” said General Johnston—“Ninety-nine out of a hundred; I consider that few people in the world can be more fortunate in their government than the British colonies of North America.”
But the effect of these compliments was rather spoilt when someone else said they would prefer to serve under the Emperor of the French or the Emperor of Japan to returning to the dominion of Uncle Abe; and it was still more damaged when another officer alluded in an undertone to the infernal regions as a more agreeable alternative than reunion with the Yankees.9
22d May (Friday)—The bombardment at Vicksburg was very heavy and continuous this morning.
I had a long conversation with General Johnston, who told me that the principal evils which a Confederate general had to contend against consisted in the difficulty of making combinations, owing to uncertainty about the time which the troops would take to march a certain distance, on account of their straggling propensities.
But from what I have seen and heard as yet, it appears to me that the Confederates possess certain great qualities as soldiers, such as individual bravery and natural aptitude in the use of firearms, strong, determined patriotism, and boundless confidence in their favorite generals, and in themselves. They are sober of necessity, as there is literally no liquor to be got. They have sufficient good sense to know that a certain amount of discipline is absolutely necessary; and I believe that instances of insubordination are extremely rare.
They possess the great advantage of being led by men of talent and education as soldiers who thoroughly understand the people they have to lead, as well as those they have to beat. These generals, such as Lee, Johnston, Beauregard, or Longstreet, they would follow anywhere, and obey implicitly. But, on the other hand, many of their officers, looking forward to future political advancement based on their present military rank, will not punish their men, or are afraid of making themselves obnoxious by enforcing rigid discipline.
The men are constantly in the habit of throwing away their knapsacks and blankets on a long march, if not carried for them, and though actuated by the strongest and purest patriotism, often ignore their obligations as soldiers. In the early part of the war they were often, when victorious, nearly as disorganized as the beaten. Many would coolly walk off home, under the impression that they had performed their share. But they are becoming better in these respects as the war goes on.**** All this would account for the trifling benefits derived by the Confederates from their numerous victories.
General Johnston told me that Grant had displayed more vigor than he had expected, by crossing the river below Vicksburg, seizing Jackson by vastly superior force, and, after cutting off communications, investing the fortress thoroughly, so as to take it if possible before a sufficient force could be got to relieve it. His army is estimated at 75,000 men, and General Johnston has very little opinion of the defenses of Vicksburg on the land side. He said the garrison consisted of about 20,000 men.10
News has been received that the Yankees were getting up the Yazoo River; and this morning General Walker’s division left at 6 A.M. for Yazoo City.
The General and his staff and myself rode into Canton, six miles, and lodged in the house of a planter who owned 700 slaves.
Dr. Yandell is a wonderful mimic, and amused us much by taking off the marriage ceremony, as performed by General Polk in Tennessee—General Morgan of Kentucky notoriety being the bridegroom.*****
One of Henderson’s scouts caused much hilarity amongst the General’s staff this afternoon. He had brought in a Yankee prisoner, and apologized to General Johnston for doing so, saying, “I found him in a Negro quarter, and he surrendered so quick, I couldn’t kill him.” There can be no doubt that the conduct of the Federals in captured cities tends to create a strong indisposition on the part of the Confederates to take prisoners, particularly amongst these wild Mississippians.
General Johnston told me this evening that altogether he had been wounded ten times. He was the senior officer of the old army, who joined the Confederates, and he commanded the Virginian army until he was severely wounded at the battle of “Seven Pines.”******
23d May (Saturday)—General Johnston, Major Eustis, and myself, left Canton at 6 A.M. on a locomotive for Jackson.
On the way we talked a good deal about “Stonewall” Jackson. General Johnston said that although this extraordinary man did not possess any great qualifications as a strategist, and was perhaps unfit for the independent command of a large army, yet he was gifted with wonderful courage and determination, and a perfect faith in Providence that he was destined to destroy his enemy. He was much indebted to General Ewell in the Valley campaigns. “Stonewall” Jackson was also most fortunate in commanding the flower of the Virginian troops, and in being opposed to the most incapable Federal commanders, such as Fremont and Banks.11
Before we had proceeded twelve miles we were forced to stop and collect wood from the roadside to feed our engine. The General worked with so much energy as to cause his “Seven Pines” wound to give him pain.
We were put out at a spot where the railroad was destroyed, at about four miles from Jackson. A carriage ought to have been in waiting for us, but by some mistake it had not arrived, so we had to foot it. I was obliged to carry my heavy saddlebags. Major Eustis very kindly took my knapsack, and the General carried the cloaks. In this order we reached Jackson, much exhausted, at 9:30 A.M.
General Loring came and reported himself soon after. He is a stout man with one arm. His division had arrived at Jackson from Crystal Springs about 6000 strong; Evans’s brigade, about 3000, had also arrived from Charleston; and Maxey’s brigade was in the act of marching into Jackson. I calculate, therefore, that General Johnston must now have nearly 25,000 men between Jackson and the Yazoo.
I took an affectionate farewell of him and his officers, and he returned to Canton at 3 P.M. I shall be much surprised if he is not heard of before long. That portion of his troops which I saw, though they had been beaten and forced to retreat, were in excellent spirits, full of confidence, and clamoring to be led against only double their numbers.
I renewed my acquaintance with Dr. Russell, for whose timely protection I shall always feel myself much indebted. I also sent my love to Smythe by several different people.
At 3:30 P.M. I left Jackson in a government ambulance, in company with Captain Brown, of General Johnston’s staff, who was extremely useful to me. I had taken the precaution of furnishing myself with a pass from Colonel Ewell, the adjutant general, which I afterwards discovered was absolutely necessary. I was asked for it continually, and on the railroad every person’s passport was rigidly examined.
We drove to the nearest point at which the railroad was in working order, a distance of nearly five miles.
We then got into the cars at 6 P.M. for Meridian. This piece of railroad was in a most dangerous state, and enjoys the reputation of being the very worst of all the bad railroads in the South. It was completely worn out, and could not be repaired. Accidents are of almost daily occurrence, and a nasty one had happened the day before.
After we had proceeded five miles, our engine ran off the track, which caused a stoppage of three hours. All male passengers had to get out to push along the cars.
24th May (Sunday)—We reached Meridian at 7:30 A.M., with sound limbs, and only five hours late.
We left for Mobile at 9 A.M., and arrived there at 7:15 P.M. This part of the line was in very good order.
We were delayed a short time, owing to a “difficulty” which had occurred in the up-train. The difficulty was this. The engineer had shot a passenger, then unhitched his engine, cut the telegraph, and bolted up the line, leaving his train planted on a single track. He had allowed our train to pass by shunting himself, until we had done so without any suspicion. The news of this occurrence caused really hardly any excitement amongst my fellow travelers; but I heard one man remark that “it was mighty mean to leave a train to be run into like that.” We avoided this catastrophe by singular good fortune.*******
The universal practice of carrying arms in the South is undoubtedly the cause of occasional loss of life, and is much to be regretted. On the other hand, this custom renders altercations and quarrels of very rare occurrence, for people are naturally careful what they say when a bullet may be the probable reply.
By the intercession of Captain Brown, I was allowed to travel in the ladies’ car. It was cleaner and more convenient, barring the squalling of the numerous children, who were terrified into good behavior by threats from their Negro nurses of being given to the Yankees.
I put up at the principal hotel at Mobile, the “Battlehouse.” The living appeared to be very good by comparison, and cost $8 a day. In consequence of the fabulous value of boots, they must not be left outside the door of one’s room, from danger of annexation by a needy and unscrupulous warrior.
* Since this date, the unfortunate city of Jackson has been again subjected to pillage by the Federals after the capture of Vicksburg.
** I afterwards learnt that this bombardment preceded one of the unsuccessful assaults.
*** Nearly every man in this part of the country has a military title.
**** After having lived with the veterans of Bragg and Lee, I was able to form a still higher estimate of Confederate soldiers. Their obedience and forbearance in success, their discipline under disaster, their patience under suffering, under hardships, or when wounded, and their boundless devotion to their country under all circumstances are beyond all praise.
***** When I was introduced to General Polk in Tennessee I recognized him at once by Dr. Yandell’s imitation, which was most wonderfully accurate.
****** Called “Fair Oaks” by the Yankees.
******* I cut this out of a Mobile paper two days after:
ATTEMPT TO COMMIT MURDER—We learn that while the uptrain on the Mobile and Ohio Railroad was near Beaver Meadow, one of the employees, named Thomas Fitzgerald, went into one of the passenger cars and shot Lieutenant H.A. Knowles with a pistol, the ball entering his left shoulder, going out at the back of his neck, making a very dangerous wound. Fitzgerald then uncoupled the locomotive from the train and started off. When a few miles above Beaver Meadow he stopped and cut the telegraph wires, and then proceeded up the road. When near Lauderdale station he came in collision with the down-train, smashing the engine, and doing considerable damage to several of the cars. It is thought he there took to the woods; at any rate he has made good his escape so far, as nothing of him has yet been heard. The shooting, as we are informed, was that of revenge. It will be remembered that a few months ago Knowles and a brother of Thomas Fitzgerald, named Jack, had a rencounter at Enterprise about a lady, and during which Knowles killed Jack Fitzgerald; afterwards it is stated that Thomas threatened to revenge the death of his brother; so on Sunday morning Knowles was on the train, as stated, going up to Enterprise to stand his trial. Thomas learning that he was on the train, hunted him up and shot him. Knowles, we learn, is now lying in a very critical condition.