By ERIC C. RODENBERG
Antique Week Associate Editor RICHMOND, Va. — For 147 years, the small glass vial – a relic from the Siege of Vicksburg – never gave up its secret.
Not at least until a determined museum official, a former CIA code breaker and a historical conservator finally “broke the case.”
The strange glass vial, cork still in place, set undisturbed within the Museum of the Confederacy since 1896 when it was donated to the institution by a former Confederate officer. All that time, no one had been curious as to what was written on the rolled piece of paper – tied with a string – and placed inside the 1 3/16-inch vial.
At least, not until Catherine M. Wright became collections manager of the museum about two-and-a-half years ago.
“It had been on exhibit forever,” she says. “I asked the head curator whether anyone knew what was in the bottle. He said, ‘no’ … I thought, well shouldn’t we know what’s in it? … I guess I’m a little bit snoopy.”
Adding to the curiosity was a .38-caliber bullet in the bottom of odd little vial.
“It was a real curiosity,” Wright says, “finally, we said, let’s just go ahead and go for it.”
But, such undertakings take great care.
Wright went to local art conservator Scott Nolley, who looked at the bottle under an electron microscope and discovered that salt had bonded the cork tightly to the bottle’s mouth. He put the bottle on a hotplate to expand the glass, used a scalpel to loosen the cork, and gently plucked the paper out with scissors.
The rolled message was then taken to a paper conservator, who very methodically and slowly, unfurled the message.
“That took about two weeks,” Wright recalls, “and I was sitting on pins and needles just waiting to see what it said. Finally, one day he e-mails me the results – a picture of the paper. Here I am all expecting to read this revolutionary message and it was just a random batch of letters. It made no sense at all. I was dumbfounded, and disappointed … there was only one word in the whole message that made any sense.”
The message was encoded.
From there, Wright contacted retired CIA code breaker, and Civil War buff, David Gaddy.
“It took him several weeks, but he broke it,” Wright says.
An independent decoding by a Navy cryptologist confirmed Gaddy’s interpretation to the letter.
The message starts out: “Gen’l Pemberton: You can expect no help from this side of the river.”
Dated July 4 (1863), the dispatch shows the desperation within the Confederate command on the day of Lt. Gen. John C. Pemberton’s surrender to Union forces led by Ulysses S. Grant. The “author” of the dispatch is thought to be Maj. Gen. John G. Walker, who was commanding troops on the west side of the Mississippi River.
Unable to stop Grant’s sweep through Mississippi and unwilling to let Sherman flank him, Pemberton pulled his Confederate forces back into Vicksburg. His 18,500 troops faced 35,000 Union troops under Grant. Vicksburg survived numerous assaults and a prolonged siege, which included shelling, hunger and illness.
Pemberton had, in a very real sense, put himself – and his troops – into such a predicament. Ignoring Gen. Joseph E. Johnston’s order to leave the city before it was too late; now he hoped for reinforcements or deliverance.
The encrypted, six-line message dashed all those hopes. The message further said: “Let Gen’l Johnston know, if possible, when you can attack the same point on the enemy’s line. Inform me also and I will endeavor to make a diversion. I have sent some caps. I subjoin despatch from Gen. Johnston.”
“He’s saying, ‘I can’t help you. I have no troops, no supplies. I have no way to get over there,’” Wright says. “He’s saying, ‘you’re on your own.’”
Determining that his ranks were decimated by disease and hunger, and threatened by demoralization, Pemberton finally offers to surrender on July 4.
The message was dispatched during an especially harsh time in Vicksburg. Grant had been unsuccessful in defeating Pemberton’s troops on two earlier occasions. Frustrated and incensed the Union general decided to encircle the city and block the flows of supplies and support into the city.
The effect on the Vicksburg was devastating, not only for the doomed troops but also the residents. To avoid enemy fire, the citizens of Vicksburg began digging caves to hunker down from attacks. During the latter days of the siege the populace resorted to eating cats, dogs and chewing on leather out of hunger and desperation.
The Siege left deep scars on the city; the residents of Vicksburg would not celebrate July 4 as Independence Day for the following 80 years.
As for the message in the bottle, it is doubtful the dispatch was ever delivered. Dispatched on the day of Pemberton’s surrender, it became a moot point. One can see the Confederate messenger approaching the river’s edge and seeing a U.S. flag flying over the city; and, at that point, slipping the bottle into his pocket and returning to Gen. Walker’s staff.
From there, it was one of Walker’s staff officers who donated the bottle to the Museum of the Confederacy.
And what about the bullet in the bottle?
It is surmised that in case of Union interception of the bottle, it could be thrown into the river where it would sink to the bottom.
So what does it all mean?
It’s an undelivered message, sent too late to effect any change.
“It doesn’t tell us anything we didn’t know about the period,” Wright concedes. “But, it does lay this texture over the history. It, again, makes history alive. It speaks to how desperate the situation was … it didn’t change anything; but it’s valuable in that it offers that special insight. It highlights the sheer desperation of the times.”
Contact: 804-649-1861 or online at www.moc.org |
