a rifle-pit gave place to a relief. Occasionally out of the blank darkness a rebel gun would crack, to be answered by a score of Union rifles aimed at the rosy flash. A feeling grew in each army that the end was near. On the night of the 2d the word was passed around that a final assault was to be made on the 4th. The batteries were to open with a salute of a hundred guns in honor of the day, and continue until further orders. The advance guard was told to let the enemy know this.
This order produced vast excitement within the gray lines. The news went to Pemberton. He knew his men could not stand an assault such as Grant could now make. His lines were pierced in a number of places. He was out of food, out of ammunition. His men were lean, weary, and dispirited. He despaired of any help from Johnston. On the morning of the 3d of July, a white flag appeared on the Confederate works. Again a Southern general asked for commissioners to arrange for terms of surrender. Again Grant replied, "I have no terms other than unconditional surrender," but added that the brave men within the works would be treated with all the respect due to prisoners of war.
General Bowen, the blindfold messenger of peace, asked Grant to meet Pemberton between the lines, and supposing this to be General Pemberton's wish, he consented, and at mid-afternoon a wondrous scene unfolded. At about three p.m. General Grant rode forward to the extreme Union trenches, dismounted, and walked calmly and slowly toward the center of the lines. At about the same time General Pemberton left his lines and, accompanied by General Bowen and several of his staff, advanced to meet Grant.[1]
Then from the hitherto silent, motionless, ridged, and ravaged hills, grimy heads and dusty shoulders rose, till every embankment bristled with bayonets. It was as if at some unheard signal an army of gnomes had suddenly risen from their secret run-ways. The under-ground suddenly became of the open air. The inexorable burrowing of the Northern army ceased.
A shiver of excitement ran over the men of both sides, and all eyes were fixed upon that fateful figure advancing toward the enemy, unexcitedly, with bent head, treading the ground so long traversed only by the wing of the bullet and the shadow of the shell. What he felt could not be divined by any action of his. His visage was never more inscrutable in its stern, calm lines.
The man who advanced to meet him was an old comrade in arms, the same Pemberton, indeed, who had conveyed to Lieutenant Grant at San Cosme Gate the compliments of General Worth. He came to this conference laboring under profound excitement. Grant greeted him as an old acquaintance, but waited for him to begin. There was an awkward silence. Grant waited insistently, for his understanding was that Pemberton stood ready to make the first advance. Pemberton at last began arrogantly.
"General Grant, I was present at the surrender of many fortresses in Mexico, and in all cases the enemy was granted terms and conditions. I think my army as much entitled to these favors as a foreign foe."
"All the terms I have are stated in my letter of this morning," Grant replied.
Pemberton drew himself stiffly erect. "Then the conference may as well terminate and hostilities begin."
"Very well," replied Grant. "My army was never in better condition to prosecute the siege."
Pemberton's eyes flashed: "You'll bury a good many more men before you get into Vicksburg."
This seemed to end the meeting, but General Bowen intervened, urged a further conference, and while he and General A. J. Smith conversed apart, Grant and Pemberton went and sat down on a bank under a low oak tree. Pemberton was trembling with emotion, but Grant sat with bent head, one hand idly pulling up grass blades. Suddenly the boom of cannons began again from the gunboats.
Grant's face showed concern for the first time. He rose.
"This is a mistake. I will send to Admiral Porter and have that stopped."
"Oh, never mind. Let it go on," said Pemberton contemptuously. "It won't hurt anybody. The gunboats never hurt anybody."
"I'll go home and write out the terms," Grant finally said, as he rose to go.
The terms were exceedingly fair. Pemberton was to give possession at 8 a.m., July 4th; "and as soon as rolls are made out and paroles signed by officers and men, you will be allowed to march out of our lines, the officers taking with them side-arms and clothing, and the field, staff,
- ↑ Generalized from reports of eye-witnesses.
