{"id":30985,"date":"2023-07-04T00:00:00","date_gmt":"2023-07-04T05:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/dotcw.com\/?p=1903"},"modified":"2021-03-07T09:53:11","modified_gmt":"2021-03-07T15:53:11","slug":"gibralter-falls","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.cw-chronicles.com\/blog\/gibralter-falls\/","title":{"rendered":"Gibralter Falls."},"content":{"rendered":"

July 4th, 1863<\/em>.\u2014It 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:<\/p>\n

\u201cG., 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?\u201d<\/p>\n

But I must write the history of the last twenty-four hours. About five yesterday afternoon, Mr. J., H.\u2019s assistant, who, having no wife to keep him in, dodges about at every change and brings us the news, came to H. and said:<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. L., you must both come to our cave to-night. I hear that to-night the shelling is to surpass anything 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.\u201d<\/p>\n

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.\u2019s. When supper was eaten, all secure, and the 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 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 the 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 \u201cDaily Citizen.\u201d H. said:<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is strangely quiet, Mr. L.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, sir,\u201d shaking his head gloomily, \u201cI\u2019m afraid the last shell has been thrown into Vicksburg.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy do you fear so?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt is surrender. At six last evening a man went down to the river and blew a truce signal; the shelling stopped at once.\u201d<\/p>\n

When I entered the kitchen a soldier was there waiting for the bowl of scrapings. (They took turns for it.)<\/p>\n

\u201cGood-morning, madam,\u201d he said; \u201cwe won\u2019t bother you much longer. We can\u2019t 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.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs it true about the surrender?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes; 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 useless vermin.\u201d His eyes flashed with an insane fire as he spoke. \u201cHaven\u2019t 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.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you think you\u2019re rather hard on Pemberton? He thought it his duty to wait for Johnston.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSome people may excuse him, ma\u2019am, but we\u2019ll curse him to our dying day. Anyhow, you\u2019ll see the blue-coats directly.\u201d<\/p>\n

Breakfast dispatched, we went on the upper gallery. The street was deserted, save by a few people carrying 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 11 o\u2019clock a man in blue came sauntering along, looking about curiously. Then two followed him, then another.<\/p>\n

\u201cH., do you think these can be the Federal soldiers?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy, yes; here come more up the street.\u201d<\/p>\n

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.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow I feel once more at home in my own country.\u201d<\/p>\n

In an hour more a grand rush of people set in toward the river,\u2014foremost among them the gentleman who took our cave; all were flying as if for life.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat can this mean, H.? Are the populace turning out to greet the despised conquerors?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d said H., springing up, \u201clook! It is the boats coming around the bend.\u201d<\/p>\n

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:<\/p>\n

\u201cAren\u2019t you coming, Mr. L.? There\u2019s provisions on those boats: coffee and flour. \u2018First come, first served,\u2019 you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I\u2019ll be there pretty soon,\u201d replied H.<\/p>\n

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, \u201cWe have not been paid, and I must get home to my family.\u201d 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. \u201cKeep on the lookout,\u201d he said; \u201cthe army of occupation is coming along,\u201d 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,\u2014this 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 \u201csilence that is golden\u201d 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 \u201cour Lady of Mercy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

Note: To protect Mrs. Miller\u2019s job as a teacher in post-civil war New Orleans, her diary was published anonymously, edited by G. W. Cable, names were changed and initials were generally used instead of full names\u2014<\/em>and even the initials differed from the real person\u2019s initials. (Read Dora Richards Miller\u2019s biographical sketch<\/a>.)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

July 4th, 1863.\u2014It 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: \u201cG., […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":21,"featured_media":98518,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-30985","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-war-diary-of-a-union-woman-in-the-south"},"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"http:\/\/www.cw-chronicles.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/12\/Dora-Richards-Miller.jpg","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.cw-chronicles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/30985","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.cw-chronicles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.cw-chronicles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.cw-chronicles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/21"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.cw-chronicles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=30985"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.cw-chronicles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/30985\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.cw-chronicles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/98518"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.cw-chronicles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=30985"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.cw-chronicles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=30985"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.cw-chronicles.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=30985"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}