Wherein Captain Galligasken sums up the magnificent Results of the Capture of Vicksburg, and starts with the illustrious Soldier for Chattanooga, after his Appointment to the Command of the combined Armies of the Tennessee, the Cumberland, and the Ohio.
Vicksburg had fallen! The nation was thrilled by the news. Grant's name rang throughout the land. The loyal people blessed him for the mighty deed he had done. The news flashed through the country, kindling up a joyous excitement, such as had not been known since the commencement of the war. The boasted stronghold of the rebels, the veritable Gibraltar of the West, had crumbled and fallen. Possibilities became facts. The decline of the Southern Confederacy had commenced.
Vicksburg had fallen! The news seemed too good to be true, and the waiting patriots of the nation trembled lest the vision of peace which it foreshadowed should be dissolved; but the telegraph flashed full confirmation, and every loyal heart beat firmer and truer than ever before.
Vicksburg had fallen! While the nation raised a pæan of grateful thanksgiving for the victory, and hailed Grant as the mightiest man of the Rebellion, the victorious general seemed hardly to be elated by his brilliant success, or to be conscious that he had achieved anything worthy of note. He smoked his cigar, calm and unmoved by the tempest of applause which began to reach him from the far North. It was hard to tell which was the more amazing—the magnitude of the victory or the modesty of the victor.
On the 4th of July—hallowed anew by this crowning victory—the rebel army marched out of the works it had so bravely defended, stacked their arms, and laid down their colors, returning prisoners of war. Thirty-one thousand six hundred men were surrendered to Grant, including two thousand one hundred and fifty-three officers, fifteen of whom were generals. One hundred and seventy-two cannons were captured with the place. It was the largest capture of men and guns ever made, not only in this war, but in the history of the world. Ulm surrendered to Napoleon, with thirty thousand men and sixty guns; but this event transcended the capitulation of Ulm, which Alison declares was a spectacle unparalleled in modern warfare; more men, and nearly three times as many guns, were taken at Vicksburg.
Grant and his staff, at the head of Logan's division, rode into the city, where the rebel soldiers gazed curiously at their conqueror, but manifested no disrespect; wherein they exhibited a more chivalrous spirit than did their officers. The general rode to the headquarters where the principal rebel officers were assembled. No one extended to him any act of courtesy, or behaved with even common decency. As no one came out to receive him, he dismounted, and walked up to the porch where Pemberton and his high-toned generals sat. They saluted him coldly, but no one proffered him a chair. By the grace of Grant they wore their swords; but not even this fact spurred them up to the simplest act of courtesy.
Pemberton himself was as crabbed and sour as a boor whose hen-coop had been robbed. His manner was morose and ungentlemanly, and his speech cold and curt. At last one of the party, with higher notions of chivalry than his companions, brought a chair for Grant. The day was hot and dusty, and the general asked for a glass of water. He was rudely informed that he could find water in the house. He entered, and searched the premises till a negro appeared, who supplied his want. Returning to the porch, he found his seat had been taken; and, during the rest of the interview, which lasted half an hour, he remained standing, in the company of these conquered rebels, who kept their seats in his presence!
In the light of this remarkable interview, I am inclined to believe that my friend Pollard, who denounces Pemberton as an imbecile, was more than half right in his estimate of the man; for no decent person, under such circumstances, would have been guilty of such flagrant discourtesy, as ridiculous as it was gross.
Grant was a Christian. He did not even resent this incivility. "If thine enemy hunger, feed him." Grant did so, literally; for at this interview Pemberton requested him to supply his garrison with rations. He did not say, "Let the dead bury their dead," as less magnanimous men than he might have done, after the contemptuous impoliteness of the rebels. Grant immediately consented; but probably there was not "chivalry" enough left in the bantam general to feel the heat of the "coals of fire upon his head."
