few items, to see how many will prove false. First, we have taken
Baltimore without firing a gun; Maryland has risen _en masse_ to join
our troops; Longstreet and Lee are marching on Washington from the
rear; the Louisiana troops are ordered home to defend their own
State--thank God! if it will only bring the boys back! Then comes
tidings of nine gunboats at Baton Rouge; Ponchatoula on the railroad
taken by Yankees; Camp Moore and three batteries, ditto. Not so
cheering! If that is so, Clinton lies within reach, being thirty-five
miles off.
Leaving much the most valuable portion of our clothing here, the
Yankees will probably appropriate what little they spared us and leave
us fairly destitute; for we take only summer clothes to Linwood. I have
plenty of underclothes, but the other day, when I unpacked the large
trunk from Dr. Enders's, I found I had just two dresses for winter; a
handsome blue silk I bought just two years ago last spring, and one
heavy blue merino that does not fit me. What an outfit for winter!
Miriam has two poplins and a black silk, and mother a wine-colored
merino, only. But each of us is blessed with a warm cloak, and are
correspondingly grateful. I was confident I had saved my green, dark
blue, and brown silk dresses, but the Yankees saved them instead, for
me, or their suffering sweethearts, rather. On the other hand, taking
so many necessary articles to Linwood, the risk of losing them is the
same. An attack on Port Hudson is apprehended, and if it falls, General
Carter's house will be decidedly unsafe from Yankee vengeance. The
probability is that it will burn, as they have been daily expecting
ever since the Yankees occupied Baton Rouge. The risk seems equal,
either way. Go or stay, the danger seems the same. Shall we go, then,
for variety, or die here of stagnation while waiting for the Yankees to
make up their minds? I would rather be at neither place, just now; in
fact I could hardly name the place I should like to be in now, unless
it were Europe or the Sandwich Islands; but I love Linwood and its dear
inhabitants, and under other circumstances should be only too happy to
be there. I was regretting the other day that our life was now so
monotonous; almost longed for the daily alarms we had when under Yankee
rule in Baton Rouge. Stirring times are probably ahead.
LINWOOD,
September 17th, Wednesday.
Still floating about! This morning after breakfast, General Carter made
his appearance, and in answer to his question as to whether we were
ready to leave with him, Miriam replied, "Yes, indeed!" heartily, glad
to get away from Clinton, where I have detained her ever since the day
Theodore returned home, to her great disgust. As our trunk was already
packed, it did not take many minutes to get ready; and in a little
while, with a protracted good-bye, we were on our way to the depot,
which we reached some time before the cars started. Though glad to
leave Clinton, I was sorry to part with mother. For ten days she has
been unable to walk, with a sore on her leg below the knee; and I want
to believe she will miss me while I am away. I could not leave my bird
in that close, ill-ventilated house. He has never sung since I
recovered him; and I attribute his ill health or low spirits to that
unhealthy place, and thought Linwood might be beneficial to him, too;
so brought him with me, to see what effect a breath of pure air might
have.
We were the only ladies on the cars, except Mrs. Brown, who got off
halfway; but in spite of that, had a very pleasant ride, as we had very
agreeable company. The train only stopped thirteen times in the twenty
miles. Five times to clear the brushwood from the telegraph lines, once
running back a mile to pick up a passenger, and so on, to the great
indignation of many of the passengers aboard, who would occasionally
cry out, "Hello! if this is the 'clearing-up' train, we had better send
for a hand-car!" "What the devil's the matter now?" until the General
gravely assured them that it was an old habit of this very
accommodating train, which in summer-time stopped whenever the
passengers wished to pick blackberries on the road.
Many soldiers were aboard on their way to Port Hudson, to rejoin their
companies. One gallant one offered me a drink of water from his
canteen, which I accepted out of mere curiosity to see what water from
such a source tasted of. To my great surprise, I found it tasted just
like any other. The General introduced a Mr. Crawford to us, who took
the seat next to me, as the one next to Miriam was already occupied,
and proved a very pleasant and talkative _compagnon de voyage_. General
Carter's query as to my industry since he had seen me, brought my
acknowledgment of having made two shirts, one of which I sent
yesterday. Who to? was the next question. I gave the name, adding that
I did not know the gentleman, and he was under the impression that it
was made by mother. "I'll see that he is undeceived!" cried the
General. "Hanged if I don't tell him!" "Thirtieth Louisiana, you say?"
queried Mr. Crawford. "That is the very one I am going to! I will tell
him myself!" So my two zealous champions went on, the General ending
with "See to it, Crawford; Mrs. Morgan shall not have the credit!" as
though there was any great merit in sewing for one's countrymen! Our
new acquaintance handed me from the cars as we reached Linwood, and
stood talking while the accommodating train slowly rolled out its
freight. He told me he was going to send me a tiny sack of coffee,
which proposition, as it did not meet with the slightest encouragement,
will of course never be thought of again.
I noticed, too, on the train, one of the Arkansas's crew. The same who,
though scarcely able to stand on a severely wounded foot, made such a
fuss about riding in a carriage while "real ladies" had to walk. Of
course he did not recognize us, any more than we would have known him
if Dr. Brown had not pointed him out. I hear all of them are at Port
Hudson. Anna told me, as we got here, that Dr. Addison (the one I
disliked because he was so scrupulously neat while the others were
dressed, or rather undressed, for working) was here yesterday, and
inquired for the Miss Morgans, saying they were the most charming young
ladies he had ever met. On what he founded his opinion, or how he
happened to inquire for us in this part of the country, I cannot
imagine.
The General brings news of the boys from Jackson. He there met an
officer who left Stonewall Jackson's command on the 2d inst., and says
Gibbes was unhurt, God be praised! Another saw George a week ago in
Richmond, still lame, as the cap of his knee had slipped in that fall
last spring. Of Jimmy we hear not a word, not even as to where he is.
It seems as though we are destined never to hear again.
September 20th, Saturday.
General Carter has just received a letter from Lydia, which contains
what to me is the most melancholy intelligence--the news of the death
of Eugene Fowler,[10] who was killed on the 22d of August, in some
battle or skirmish in Virginia. Poor Eugene!... Does it not seem that
this war will sweep off all who are nearest and dearest, as well as
most worthy of life, leaving only those you least care for, unharmed?
[10] A cousin.
September 21st.
After supper last night, by way of variety, Anna, Miriam, and I came up
to our room, and after undressing, commenced popping corn and making
candy in the fireplace. We had scarcely commenced when three officers
were announced, who found their way to the house to get some supper,
they having very little chance of reaching Clinton before morning, as
the cars had run off the track. Of course, we could not appear; and
they brought bad luck with them, for our corn would not pop, and our
candy burned, while to add to our distress the odor of broiled chicken
and hot biscuit was wafted upstairs, after a while, in the most
provoking way. In vain we sent the most pathetic appeals by each
servant, for a biscuit apiece, after our hard work. Mrs. Carter was
obdurate until, tired out with our messages, she at last sent us an
empty jelly-cup, a shred of chip beef, two polished drumsticks, and
half a biscuit divided in three. With that bountiful repast we were
forced to be content and go to bed.
At sunrise this morning, Mrs. Carter left to go down to her father in
Iberville, to see her stepmother who is expected to die. Scarcely had
she gone when six more officers and soldiers came in from the still
stationary cars to get their breakfast. We heard that Mr. Marsden, too,
was down there, so the General sent him a nice breakfast, and I sent my
love with it; but he had already breakfasted at Mr. Elder's. As soon as
they left, we prepared for church, and just as we were ready, Captain
Brown and Mr. Addison were announced. The Doctor greeted us with an
elegant bow, but they did not remain long, as we were about going out.
* * * * *
Many officers were in church, and as I passed out, Colonel Breaux
joined me, and escorted Miriam and me to the carriage, where we stood
talking some time under the trees before getting in. He gave us a most
pressing invitation to name a day to visit the camp that he might "have
the pleasure of showing us the fortifications," and we said we would
beg the General's permission to do so. Charming Colonel Breaux! Like
all nice men, he is married, of course. He and another officer drove
just behind our carriage in coming home, until we came to the fork of
the road. Then, leaning from their buggy, both gentlemen bowed
profoundly, which we as cordially returned. Two more behind followed
their example, and to our great surprise, ten, who were seated in a
small wagon drawn by two diminutive mules, bowed also, and, not content
with that, rose to their feet as the distance between the two roads
increased, and raised their caps, though in the most respectful
silence. Rather queer; and I would have said impertinent had they been
any others than Confederates fighting for us, who, of course, are
privileged people.
September 24th.
Yesterday the General saluted us with "Young ladies, if you will ride
in a Confederate carriage, you may go to dress parade this evening."
Now, in present phraseology, "Confederate" means anything that is
rough, unfinished, unfashionable, or poor. You hear of Confederate
dresses, which means last year's. Confederate bridle means a rope
halter. Confederate silver, a tin cup or spoon. Confederate flour is
corn meal, etc. In this case the Confederate carriage is a Jersey wagon
with four seats, a top of hickory slats covered with leather, and the
whole drawn by mules. We accepted gladly, partly for the ride and
sight, partly to show we were not ashamed of a very comfortable
conveyance; so with Mrs. Badger as chaperon, we went off in grand
style. I must say I felt rather abashed and wished myself at home as we
drove into town, and had the gaze of a whole regiment riveted on us.
But soon the men fell in line, and I did not feel so painfully
conspicuous. I was amused at a contrast near by, too. There was but one
carriage present, besides ours, though there were half a dozen ladies
on horseback. This carriage was a very fine one, and in it sat three of
the ugliest, dowdiest, worst dressed females I ever saw. We three girls
sat in our rough carriage as comfortable as could be, dressed--well, we
could not have been dressed better--and looking our very best. _Sans
mentir_, I think the Confederates were much the most respectable.
And what a sad sight the Fourth Louisiana was, that was then parading!
Men that had fought at Shiloh and Baton Rouge were barefooted. Rags was
their only uniform, for very few possessed a complete suit, and those
few wore all varieties of colors and cuts. Hats could be seen of every
style and shape, from the first ever invented down to the last one
purchased evidently some time since. Yet he who had no shoes looked as
happy as he who had, and he who had a cap had something to toss up,
that's all.
Four or five that we knew gathered around our vehicle and talked to us.
Mr. Heuston told me he heard I had been thrown, severely injured, had a
narrow escape, etc. Was not thrown! Saddle turned. A few steps off we
recognized Mr. Scales. He would stare very hard at us, and if we turned
towards him, would look quickly the other way as though afraid to meet
our gaze. Presently he gave us an opportunity, and we bowed. He came
forward eagerly, blushing deeply, and looking very much pleased, and
shook hands with us, and remained some time talking. He said he had not
heard of our arrival, but would call as soon as possible. Mr. Talbot
had joined Breckinridge.
Having seen the last of that parade, he invited us to see that of his
sailors, which was next; but it was too far; so we turned off to see
Colonel Breaux's, a mile away. His, the Thirtieth Louisiana, is a
beautiful encampment on a large open common. Parade was almost over as
we reached there, and soon the Colonel came to meet us. I did not look
at the drill. I was watching the hundreds of tents--it looked like a
great many--and was wondering how men could live in such places, and
was trying to fancy what George's or Gibbes's looked like. It was
pleasant to watch the barefoot soldiers race around like boys let loose
from school, tossing caps and chips at two old gray geese that flew in
circles around the encampment, just as though they had never had more
earnest work. One gray-headed man stood in the door of his tent, while
a black-headed young one danced before him, to his own whistle, with
his arms akimbo. Altogether it was a very pretty picture; but poor men!
how can they be happy in these tents?
September 26th, Friday.
_Sarah Morgan._ X.
My mark finds me at Linwood, though I had not the slightest idea that
it would. Wonder where twenty pages beyond will find me? At home, I
hope and pray, though I am as happy here as I could possibly be in any
place on earth.
Stirring news from our armies comes pouring in. Sunday, Colonel Breaux
told me of Wool's defeat, and the great number of prisoners, cannon,
and the large supplies of stores and ammunition that we had captured.
Then Tuesday we heard of three great battles in Maryland, the third one
still continuing; but no particulars of any of them. Yesterday came
tidings of our having recrossed the Potomac, and to-day we hear that
McClellan's army has been cut to pieces; but whether it is the same old
fight or a new one, I cannot as yet learn; for reliable information is
not easily obtained in America at this period.
Did I ever record how little truth there was in any of that last
Clinton news? It speaks for itself, though. Not a boat lay at Baton
Rouge; Camp Moore was not even threatened; Ponchatoula Station was
burned, but the one battery was retaken by our men the same night.
[Illustration: LINWOOD]
But still these false reports cannot equal the Yankees'. Take, for
instance, the report of the Captain of the Essex. I give General Carter
as my authority. The Captain reports having been fired on by a battery
of thirty-six large guns, at Port Hudson, some weeks ago, when he
opened fire and silenced them, one after the other, from the first to
the last. Not a shot from the "rebel" batteries reached them, and not a
casualty on their side occurred. But the loss of the Confederates must
have been awful. He came within--I forget how many--yards from the
shore, and there was not a live man to be seen. He did not mention if
there were any dead ones! Now for the other side. There were but four
guns mounted there at the time. Shot and shell from those four
certainly reached something, for one was seen to enter a porthole, from
whence issued frightful shrieks soon after, and it is well known that
the Essex is so badly injured by "something" as to be in a sinking
condition, and only kept afloat by a gunboat lashed on either side. If
she is uninjured, why did she not return and burn Natchez as she
announced? In leaving Port Hudson, where "not a live man was to be
seen" (nor a dead one to be found), she stopped at Mr. Babin's, just
below Dr. Nolan's, where she remained the rest of the day. After she
left, being curious to discover the reason of her short stay, Mr. Babin
walked to the place where she had been, and discovered sixteen fresh
graves on the bank. If they buried them as they did at Baton Rouge and
Vicksburg, four in a grave, how many would they be? But granting there
were but sixteen, would that prove the veracity of the Captain? Poor
man! Perhaps he is related to Pope, and cannot help himself.
September 27th.
I often wonder how lies first came into the world, and whether those
who originate them do not believe them as firmly as any one else would
believe truth. Lying seems to be the common creed of children and
servants.
Anna told me of having heard Lennice telling the other servants that
she knew there were spirits, because I often talked to them. Every
morning and evening I walked to the graveyard with a basket of flowers,
and would sit by father's and Harry's graves and call their spirits to
me; and they would all fly to me, and talk and sing with me for hours
until I would tell them good-bye and go home, when they would go away
too. I suppose the ignorant girl, having foundation enough from my
frequent visits there, which were most often alone, made up the rest to
account for my never seeming to like company out there. The fervent
"Good Lord" with which the tale was received by the other servants, and
the full credence they gave it, might have proved unpleasant if further
circulated; and I believe some members of the family found it necessary
to put an end to it at once.
And speaking of the graveyard recalls something I heard for the first
time last night. Miriam was telling me that Tiche had asked if we knew
that Mr. Sparks had visited Harry's grave? That he had got a basket of
flowers from the Davidsons, and had made their driver carry it for him.
And the man had told her that, after filling the vases with roses, and
spreading them over the grave, he had thrown himself on it with a
shriek of despair, calling on Harry to forgive him; that it was only
because forced by his father that he had killed him; and calling on God
to prove that he would give his life gladly to recall Harry's. The man
thought him a raving maniac and fled in terror. Miriam asked Fanny if
it was true, and she said yes; she had gathered the flowers for him
herself.
I saw them there, but little knew whose hand had brought them. I
perceived at once that they were not mine, and touched even to tears by
so silent an offering from an unknown person, I said, "It is some
woman's work; God bless the hand that laid them there." I cannot say
how much that little tribute affected me. And, Mr. Sparks, I do not
retract the blessing now. No! "God have mercy on him!" has been my
prayer ever since I knew what an awful loss you had caused us. God
knows that I never even desired this revenge--remorse standing over his
grave. It has ever been, "God pity and forgive!"--never yet for an
instant, "God pursue and avenge!"
September 28th.
We were roused up at four o'clock last night by the arrival of Lydia
and Eugene Carter,[11] the first from Virginia and the second from
Tennessee; and, of course, there was very little sleep for any of us,
so anxious were we to hear the news they brought. First I learned that
Gibbes was safe up to the 17th; that George, in spite of the advice of
his surgeon, had rejoined Stonewall Jackson in Maryland; and Jimmy was
midshipman on the ironclad Palmetto State at Charleston. How thankful I
was to hear that much, I need not say. Lydia said they all three looked
remarkably well; Jimmy handsomer than ever. After that, news of all
kinds came indiscriminately. The boys were very anxious about us, but
had no idea of our misfortunes or whereabouts. They believed us still
in Baton Rouge, and feared we had been there during the battle. Lydia
only heard of our house having been plundered when she reached Alabama,
so of course they are still ignorant of it. They were all very
homesick, but said that we were their only trouble.
[11] Lydia, daughter of General Carter and wife of Captain Thomas
Gibbes Morgan; Eugene, eldest son of General Carter, and husband
of Helen mentioned in the Diary.
A few of the C----s' stories had reached them through brother officers;
and George swore to make himself understood by those ladies if he ever
saw them again. A gentleman from Cooper's Wells told Lydia that they
never tired of repeating their stories to every new arrival; and no man
was suffered to depart without having heard a few. If a gentleman
friend of ours or the boys inquired if they knew the Miss Morgans of
Baton Rouge, "Oh, yes!" would be the answer, "intimately! But you know
they have turned Yankee. Received Federal officers every day, and
placed all their property under Yankee protection. I" (or "my sister,"
as it happened who was retailing the lie, meaning Mrs. S----) "slept in
their house when it was surrounded by a Yankee guard. Oh, they are
perfectly in favor of the Yankees," and so on. Think of a common, low
soldier who stopped for buttermilk somewhere where Anna was,
introducing the subject. "It is all false!" Anna interrupted. The man
answered, "Oh, Miss! you don't suppose we believe it? We would not
believe such stories of any young ladies, much less these; for if they
are true, their conduct must have been perfectly disgraceful. But
though we know these stories to be lies, it does not prevent their
being discussed in camp."...
Lydia saw Mr. McG----, too, at Lynchburg, who sent me his "regards."
Poor fellow! He says he still has "dreams"! He told her a few, but she
says they were chiefly about meeting me at a ball, when I always
treated him with the most freezing coldness. The same old nightmare.
How often he has told me of that same dream, that tormented him
eighteen months ago. He says he often thinks of me now--and he still
"dreams" of me! "Dreams are baseless fabrics whose timbers are mere
moonbeams." Apply your own proverb!...
A clatter of hoofs down the road! And bent over the window-sill which
is my desk, my fingers are not presentable with the splattering of this
vile pen in consequence of my position. Two hours yet before sundown,
so of course I am not dressed. They come nearer still. Now I see them!
Dr. Addison and Mr. M----! I shall not hurry my toilet for them. It
will take some time to comb my hair, too. Wish I could remain up here!
Tuesday, September 30th.
It required very little persuasion to induce those gentlemen to stay
to supper, the other evening, and it was quite late before they took
their leave. Dr. Addison I was very much pleased with, and so were all
the rest. Mr. M----, none of us fell desperately in love with. He is
too nonchalant and indifferent, besides having a most peculiar
pronunciation which grated harshly on my ears, and that no orthography
could fully express. "Garb," for instance, was distorted into "gairb,"
"yard" into "yaird," "Airkansas," and all such words that I can only
imitate by a violent dislocation of my lower jaw that puts Anna into
convulsions of laughter--only she would laugh the same if it was _not_
funny. This Kentuckian pronunciation grates "hairshly" on my Southern
ears. Miriam addressed herself exclusively to the Doctor, so I was
obliged to confine my attention entirely to neglected Mr. M----, in
which pious duty I was ably and charitably seconded by the General.
Speaking of the bravery and daring displayed by the Southern soldiers
during this war, Mr. M---- mentioned the dangerous spot he had seen us
in the first day we went down to the "Airkansas" and said that, lying
directly across the point from the Essex, they expected every instant
to see one of her shells explode among us, and were very uneasy about
our position, as we did not seem to know the danger. I asked him if he
had observed anything peculiar among the dozen planters and overseers
standing a short distance from us, when the Captain sent us word that
our position was a very dangerous one, as they expected the Essex to
open fire every instant, and we had best stand below the levee, higher
up, where we would be safe from shells. "I noticed that before any of
you understood your position, every man had disappeared as though by
magic." Now I had noticed that myself. When I turned, under shelter of
the levee, our gallant planters were galloping off in the distance.
While Ginnie and I looked and laughed, we suddenly found ourselves the
sole objects on the horizon; the other girls were in the road below,
going carelessly toward the carriage; so we followed, having lost sight
of the brave representatives of Southern chivalry, being the last to
leave the supposed field of danger. To my former remark, let me add
that there is only one set who take better care for their safety than
married women; and that set is composed exclusively of the "Home
Guard." Timid girls, either through ignorance or fun, compose the
majority of the brave "men" that the volunteer service has not
absorbed.
October 1st, Wednesday.
Just after sunset yesterday, Anna and I were walking down the road
towards the sugar-house, she reading occasionally from Abbott's
"Napoleon," and then pausing for me to explain the _very_ difficult
passages she could not understand, when we suddenly became aware of the
approach of a horse, and raising our bowed heads, beheld Colonel Breaux
and another before us, to our infinite surprise and astonishment. The
Colonel sprang from his horse and advanced on foot; his companion
slowly followed his example, and was introduced as Captain Morrison. We
adjourned our historical fit for some future period, and walked home
with the gentlemen. Miriam did not get back from her excursion to the
cane-patch until it was quite late; when after sitting down a few
moments, she ran upstairs to change her dress. She had just put it on
an hour before, but nothing would do but she must dress up fine; so she
put on her handsomest organdie. In vain I pointed to my simple pink
muslin with a white body that I had worn all day, and begged she would
not make the contrast between us more striking than ever, as I felt I
could not change it without exciting remark. She was obdurate; dressed
herself in gorgeous array, and, as usual, I looked like her lady's
maid.
Colonel Breaux paid my hair the most extravagant compliments. He said
he could not say his prayers for looking at it in church, Sunday before
last. Perhaps that is the reason St. Paul said a woman should not
worship in church with her head uncovered! But as the Yankees stole my
bonnet, I am reduced to wearing my black straw walking-hat with its
curled brim, trimmed in black ribbon with golden sheaves of wheat. Two
years ago this fall, father threw me a banknote at table, and I
purchased this with it. Now it is my only headgear, except a sunbonnet.
Before leaving, which was not until quite late, this evening was named
for our ride to the fortifications, to our infinite delight, as we have
dreamed and talked of nothing else for a week....
A dispatch just received from Gibbes, from Mobile, on his way home. I
am so happy! But what can bring him? I fear--
Lydia has gone to Clinton to meet him at Lilly's.
October 2d, Thursday.
With what extraordinary care we prepared for our ride yesterday! One
would have thought that some great event was about to take place. But
in spite of our long toilet, we stood ready equipped almost an hour
before Colonel Breaux arrived. I was standing in a novel place--upon
the bannisters looking over the fields to see if he was coming--and,
not seeing him, made some impatient exclamation, when lo! he appeared
before me, having only been concealed by the wood-pile, and O my
prophetic soul! Captain Morrison was by his side!
There was quite a cavalcade of us: Mr. Carter and his wife, Mrs. Badger
and Mrs. Worley, in two buggies; the three boys, who, of course,
followed on horseback, and the two gentlemen, Miriam, Anna, and I,
riding also. It was really a very pretty sight, when Captain Morrison
and I, who took the lead going, would reach the top of one of the steep
hills and look down on the procession in the hollow below. Fortunately
it was a very cloudy evening; for, starting at four, it would have been
very unpleasant to ride that distance with the sun in our faces.
As we reached the town we heard the loud report of two cannon which
caused the elder ladies to halt and suggest the propriety of a return.
But if it was a gunboat, that was the very thing I was anxious to see;
so we hurried on to the batteries. It proved to be only practicing,
however. At the first one we stopped at, the crew of the Arkansas were
drilling. After stopping a while there, we followed the river to see
the batteries below. It was delightful to ride on the edge of a high
bluff with the muddy Mississippi below, until you fancied what would be
the probable sensation if the horse should plunge down into the waters;
then it ceased to be so pleasant. The great, strong animal I rode could
have carried me over without a protest on my part; for the ridiculous
bit in his mouth was by no means suited to his strength; and it would
require a more powerful arm than mine to supply the deficiency. Miriam
had generously sacrificed her own comfort to give him to me; and rode
fiery Joe instead of her favorite. But it was by no means a comfort to
me. Then Anna was not reconciled to her pony while I was on such a fine
horse, until I proposed an exchange, and gladly dismounted near an old
mill two miles and a half below Port Hudson, as we returned home.
In leaving the town, we lost sight of the buggies, as there was no
carriage road that might follow the bluff; and though there was one
just back, we never saw our buggies again. Once, following a crescent,
far below us lay the water battery concealed by the trees that grew by
the water's edge, looking, from where we stood, like quite a formidable
precipice. Then still beyond, after leaving the river, we passed
through a camp where the soldiers divided their attention equally
between eating their supper and staring at us in the most profound
silence. Then, through an old gate, down a steep hill, past a long line
of rifle-pits, a winding road, and another camp where more men stared
and cooked their supper, we came to the last battery but one, which lay
so far below that it was too late to visit it. We returned highly
delighted with what we had seen and our pleasant ride. It was late when
we got back, as altogether our ride had been some fifteen miles in
length. As soon as we could exchange our habits for our evening
dresses, we rejoined our guests at the supper-table, where none of us
wanted for an appetite except poor Captain Morrison, who could not be
tempted by the dishes we so much relished. After supper, Colonel Breaux
and I got into a discussion, rather, _he_ talked, while I listened with
eyes and ears, with all my soul.... What would I not give for such
knowledge! He knows everything, and can express it all in the clearest,
purest language, though he says he could not speak a word of English at
fourteen!
The discussion commenced by some remark I made about physiognomy; he
took it up, and passed on to phrenology--in which he is no great
believer. From there he touched on the mind, and I listened, entranced,
to him. Presently he asserted that I possessed reasoning faculties,
which I fear me I very rudely denied. You see, every moment the painful
conviction of my ignorance grew more painful still, until it was most
humiliating; and I repelled it rather as a mockery. He described for my
benefit the process of reasoning, the art of thinking. I listened more
attentively still, resolving to profit by his words.... Then he turned
the conversation on quite another theme. Health was the subject. He
delicately alluded to my fragile appearance, and spoke of the necessity
of a strong constitution to sustain a vigorous mind. If the mind
prevailed over the weak body, in its turn it became affected by decay,
and would eventually lose its powers. It was applicable to all cases;
he did not mean that I was sickly, but that my appearance bespoke one
who had not been used to the exercise that was most necessary for me.
Horseback rides, walks, fresh air were necessary to preserve health. No
man had greater disgust for a freckled face than he; but a fair face
could be preserved by the most ordinary precautions and even improved
by such exercise. He illustrated my case by showing the difference
between the flower growing in the sunshine and that growing in a
cellar. Father's own illustration and very words, when he so often
tried to impress on me the necessity of gaining a more robust frame
than nature had bestowed! And a letter he had made Hal write me,
showing the danger of such neglect, rose before me. I forgot Colonel
Breaux; I remembered only the ardent desire of those two, who seemed to
speak to me through his lips. It produced its effect. I felt the guilt
I had incurred by not making greater efforts to gain a more robust
frame; and putting on my sunbonnet as I arose from the breakfast-table
this morning, I took my seat here on the wide balcony where I have
remained seated on the floor ever since, with a chair for a desk,
trying to drink an extra amount of fresh air.
I was sorry when Colonel Breaux arose to take his leave. As he took my
hand, I said earnestly, "Thank you for giving me something to think
about." He looked gratified, made some pleasant remark, and after
talking a while longer, said good-night again and rode off. While
undressing, Miriam and I spoke of nothing else. And when I lay down,
and looked in my own heart and saw my shocking ignorance and pitiful
inferiority so painfully evident even to my own eyes, I actually cried.
Why was I denied the education that would enable me to be the equal of
such a man as Colonel Breaux and the others? He says the woman's mind
is the same as the man's, originally; it is only education that creates
the difference. Why was I denied that education? Who is to blame? Have
I exerted fully the natural desire To Know that is implanted in all
hearts? Have I done myself injustice in my self-taught ignorance, or
has injustice been done to me? Where is the fault, I cried. Have I
labored to improve the few opportunities thrown in my path, to the best
of my ability? "Answer for yourself. With the exception of ten short
months at school, where you learned nothing except arithmetic, you have
been your own teacher, your own scholar, all your life, after you were
taught by mother the elements of reading and writing. Give an account
of your charge. What do you know?" Nothing! except that I am a fool!
and I buried my face in the sheet; I did not like even the darkness to
see me in my humiliation.
October 4th, Saturday.
While Anna and Miriam went out riding last evening, just as I put down
my pen, I went out for a solitary walk down the road that Gibbes would
have to pass; but saw nothing of the carriage. When I got back, they
told me he was wounded. My fears were well founded, then. With what
anxiety we waited for his coming it would be impossible to describe.
Every wagon rattling through the fields made us stop and listen; every
canestalk waving in the moonlight brought us to our feet.
At last, after supper, far off in the clear light we saw the carriage.
I could not sit still. I walked down the steps and stood under the tree
in front, followed by Anna. I did not like her to stand nearer the spot
where it would stop than I, even. All the rest remained on the balcony.
We did not know how serious the wound might be; we must be careful.
Eugene Carter advised caution for more reasons than one. "Look out!" he
cried; "suppose it should be Colonel Breaux?" "Then I am afraid the
Colonel will get a kiss," I answered nervously, shuffling from one foot
to the other. "But suppose it is Mr. M----?" he persisted. "Oh, thank
you for the caution! I will look carefully before I greet him!" I
returned, moving to the other side, for nearer around the circle moved
the carriage. I heard his voice.
"O Gibbes, where is it?" "Left shoulder; mere scratch," he answered.
The carriage stopped, "Gibbes! Gibbes!" I cried. "My darling!" and he
had his great strong arm around me; the left was hanging in a sling.
Slowly the others moved down the steps towards him. What a meeting! My
heart was in my throat, I was so happy. Every one caught the well hand
and kissed him again and again, and every one shrunk from that left
side. I had almost forgotten my "gear Lygia" in my excitement. We
followed him on the balcony and put him in a chair near the steps. I
pulled off his hat and coat, and knelt in front of him with my arm
across his lap, to get near enough. Miriam stood on the steps with his
arm around her shoulder, and Lydia near. The others stood around;
altogether, it was a happy group that performed in the tableau of "The
Soldier's Return." Presently the negroes gathered too. "How is you,
Mass' Gibbes?" in all imaginable keys and accents was heard, while the
Captain shook hands with each and inquired into their own state of
health.
But even wounded soldiers can eat; so supper was again prepared. I am
afraid it gave me too much pleasure to cut up his food. It was very
agreeable to butter his cornbread, carve his mutton, and spread his
preserves; but I doubt whether it could be so pleasant to a strong man,
accustomed to do such small services for himself. We listened to him
talk, but though it was evident from his slow, deliberate speech, so
different from his ordinary habit, that he was suffering, yet I felt
impatient when he was interrupted by any commonplace observation by one
of us. I wanted to learn something of his exploits. Much knowledge I
obtained! He was wounded at Sharpsburg on the 17th September, at nine
in the morning. That is all the information I got concerning himself.
One would imagine that the seventeen months that have elapsed since we
last met had been passed in a prolonged picnic. Concerning others, he
was quite communicative. Father Hubert told him he had seen George in
the battle, and he had come out safe. Gibbes did not even know that he
was in it, until then. Our army, having accomplished its object,
recrossed the Potomac, after what was decidedly a drawn battle. Both
sides suffered severely. Hardly an officer on either side escaped
unhurt. Mr. McGimsey is wounded, and Major Herron reported killed. I
expect the list will contain the names of many friends when it comes.
* * * * *
I have just come from seeing Gibbes's wound dressed. If that is a
scratch, Heaven defend me from wounds! A minié ball struck his left
shoulder strap, which caused it to glance, thereby saving the bone.
Just above, in the fleshy part, it tore the flesh off in a strip three
inches and a half by two. Such a great raw, green, pulpy wound, bound
around by a heavy red ridge of flesh! Mrs. Badger, who dressed it,
turned sick; Miriam turned away groaning; servants exclaimed with
horror; it was the first experience of any, except Mrs. Badger, in
wounds. I wanted to try my nerves; so I held the towel around his body
and kept the flies off while it was being washed. He talked all the
time, ridiculing the groans of sympathy over a "scratch," and oh, how I
loved him for his fortitude! It is so offensive that the water
trickling on my dress has obliged me to change it.
October 6th.
Last night, I actually drew from Gibbes the outlines of Jackson's
campaign. He told me of some heroic deeds of his fellow soldiers; but
of his own, not a word. I have seen his name too often in the papers,
to believe that he has no deeds of his own to relate, if he only would.
October 9th, Thursday.
It is astonishing what a quantity of fresh air has been consumed by me
since I formed that wise resolution. The supply must be largely
increased, to keep up with the demand; perhaps that is the cause of all
these clouds and showers; I must be making a severe drain on the
economy of heaven. From breakfast to dinner I remain on the balcony,
and read aloud several chapters of the "Mémoires" of Dumas, by way of
practice. A dictionary lies by me, and I suffer no word to pass without
a perfect definition. Then comes my French grammar, which I study while
knitting or sewing, which takes very nearly until dinner-time. After
that, I do as I please, either reading or talking, until sunset when we
can ride or walk; the walk being always sweetened with sugar-cane. The
evening we always spend on the balcony. Is that _grand air_ enough? _O
mon teint! je serai joliment brune!_
We three girls occupy the same room, since Gibbes's arrival, and have
ever so much fun and not half enough sleep. I believe the other two
complain of me as the cause; but I plead not guilty. I never was known
to laugh aloud, no matter how intense might have been my mirth; "it
won't come," as Gibbes murmured last night while reading aloud Artemus
Ward's last letter, when we discovered it was suppressed laughter,
rather than suppressed pain, that caused him to writhe so. On the other
hand, Anna and Miriam laugh as loud and lustily as daughters of the
Titans--if the respectable gentlemen had daughters. I confess to doing
more than half the talking, but as to the laugh that follows, not a
bit. Last night I thought they would go wild, and I too laughed myself
into silent convulsions, when I recited an early effusion of my poetic
muse for their edification. Miriam made the bedstead prance, fairly,
while Anna's laugh sounded like a bull of Bashan with his head in a
bolster case.
Saturday, October 11th.
Miriam went off to Clinton before daylight yesterday, with Mr. Carter
and Mrs. Worley. She would not let me go for fear mother should keep
us. At midnight they got back last night, tired, sleepy, and
half-frozen, for our first touch of cool weather came in a strong north
wind in the evening which grew stronger and stronger through the night,
and they had worn only muslin dresses. I shall never cease to regret
that I did not go too. Miriam says mother is looking very sad. Sad, and
I am trying to forget all our troubles, and am so happy here! O mother,
how selfish it was to leave you! I ask myself whether it were best to
stay there where we would only be miserable without adding anything to
your comfort or pleasure, or to be here, careless and happy while you
are in that horrid hole so sad and lonesome. According to my theory,
Miriam would remind me that I say it is better to have three miserable
persons than two happy ones whose happiness occasions the misery of the
third. That is my doctrine only in peculiar cases; it cannot be applied
to this one. I say that if, for example, Miriam and I should love the
same person, while that person loved only me, rather than make her
unhappy by seeing me marry him, I would prefer making both him and
myself miserable, by remaining single. She says "Fudge!" which means, I
suppose, nonsense. But our happiness here does not occasion mother's
unhappiness. She would rather see us enjoying ourselves here than
moping there. One proof is, that she did not suggest our return. She
longs to get home, but cannot leave poor Lilly alone, for Charlie is in
Granada. Oh, how willingly I would return to the old wreck of our home!
All its desolation could not be half so unendurable as Clinton. But
Lilly cannot be left. Poor Lilly! When I look at her sad young face, my
heart bleeds for her. With five helpless little children to care for,
is she not to be pitied? I think that such a charge, in such dreadful
days, would kill me. How patiently she bears it!
Thursday, October 16th.
It seems an age since I have opened this book. How the time has passed
since, I have but a vague idea, beyond that it has passed very
pleasantly.... Once since, I have been with Mrs. Badger to a Mr.
Powell, who has started quite an extensive shoe-making establishment,
in the vain attempt to get something to cover my naked feet. I am so
much in need that I have been obliged to borrow Lydia's shoes every
time I have been out since she returned. This was my second visit
there, and I have no greater satisfaction than I had at first. He got
my measure, I got his promise, and that is the end of it, thus far. His
son, a young man of about twenty-four, had the cap of his knee shot off
at Baton Rouge. Ever since he has been lying on his couch, unable to
stand; and the probability is that he will never stand again. Instead
of going out to the manufactory, Mrs. Badger has each time stopped at
the house to see his mother (who, by the way, kissed me and called me
"Sissie," to my great amusement) and there I have seen this poor young
man. He seems so patient and resigned that it is really edifying to be
with him. He is very communicative, too, and seems to enjoy company, no
matter if he does say "her'n" and "his'n." Wonder why he doesn't say
"_shisen_" too? The girls are highly amused at the description I give
of my new acquaintance, but still more so at Mrs. Badger's account of
the friendship of this poor young cripple, and his enjoyment of my
visits. Of course it is only her own version, as she is very fond of
jokes of all kinds.
Night before last Lydia got playing the piano for me in the darkened
parlor, and the old tunes from her dear little fingers sent me off in a
sea of dreams. She too caught the vision, and launched off in a
well-remembered quadrille. The same scene flashed on us, and at each
note, almost, we would recall a little circumstance, charming to us,
but unintelligible to Anna, who occupied the other side. Together we
talked over the _dramatis personæ_. Mrs. Morgan, Jr., in dark blue silk
with black flounces, a crimson chenille net on her black hair, sits at
the piano in her own parlor. On the Brussels carpet stands, among
others, Her Majesty, Queen Miriam, in a lilac silk, with bare neck and
arms save for the protection afforded by a bertha of _appliqué_ lace
trimmed with pink ribbon, with hair _à la_ madonna, and fastened low on
her neck. Is she not handsome as she stands fronting the folding doors,
her hand in tall Mr. Trezevant's, just as she commences to dance, with
the tip of her black bottine just showing? Vis-à-vis stands pretty
Sophie, with her large, graceful mouth smiling and showing her pretty
teeth to the best advantage. A low neck and short-sleeved green and
white poplin is her dress, while her black hair, combed off from her
forehead carelessly, is caught by a comb at the back and falls in curls
on her shoulders. A prettier picture could not be wished for, as she
looks around with sparkling eyes, eager for the dance to begin. There
stands calm Dena in snuff-colored silk, looking so immeasurably the
superior of her partner, who, I fancy, rather feels that she is the
better man of the two, from his nervous way of shifting from one foot
to the other, without saying a word to her. Nettie, in lilac and white,
stands by the mantel laughing undisguisedly at her partner, rather than
with him, yet so good-humoredly that he cannot take offense, but rather
laughs with her. Lackadaisical Gertrude, whose face is so perfect in
the daytime, looks pale and insipid by gaslight, and timidly walks
through the dance. Stout, good-natured Minna smiles and laughs, never
quite completing a sentence, partly from embarrassment, partly because
she hardly knows how; but still so sweet and amiable that one cannot
find fault with her for so trifling a misfortune. At this point, Lydia
suggests, "And Sarah, do you forget her?" I laugh; how could I forget?
There she stands in a light blue silk checked in tiny squares, with
little flounces up to her knee. Her dress fits well, and she wears very
pretty sleeves and collar of _appliqué_. Lydia asks if that is all, and
how she looks. The same old song, I answer. She is looking at Miriam
just now; you would hardly notice her, but certainly her hair is well
combed. That is all you can say for her. Who is she dancing with? A
youth fond of "dreams"; futile ones, at that, I laughingly reply. He
must be relating one just now, for there is a very perceptible curl on
her upper lip, and she is looking at him as though she thought she was
the tallest. Lydia dashes off into a lively jig. "Ladies to the right!"
I cried. She laughed too, well knowing that that part of the dance was
invariably repeated a dozen times at least. She looked slyly up: "I am
thinking of how many hands I saw squeezed," she said. I am afraid it
did happen, once or twice.
Eighteen months ago! What a change! One who was prominent on such
occasions--Mr. Sparks--they tell me is dead. May God have mercy on his
soul, in the name of Jesus Christ! I did not ask even this revenge.
October 18th, Saturday.
Last night mother arrived from Clinton with Gibbes and Lydia, who had
gone there the day before to get her to go to Baton Rouge.
CLINTON,
October 19th, Sunday.
What an unexpected change! I am surprised myself! Yesterday as the
Baton Rouge party were about leaving, Miriam thought Lilly would be
lonesome alone here with her sick baby, and decided that we should
leave by the cars, and stay with her until mother returned. There was
no time to lose; so dressing in haste, we persuaded Anna to accompany
us, and in a few moments stood ready. We walked down to the overseer's
house to wait for the cars, and passed the time most agreeably in
eating sugar-cane, having brought a little negro expressly to cut it
for us and carry our carpet-bag. Three young ladies, who expected to be
gone from Saturday until Wednesday, having but one carpet-bag between
them! Can it be credited? But, then, we knew we had clothes here, and
depended upon them for supplies, when we now find they are in the trunk
and mother has the key.
We walked aboard alone, in the crowded train, and found ourselves in
the only car reserved for ladies, which was already filled with a large
party returning from Port Hudson, consisting of the fastest set of
girls that I have seen for some time. Anna and I had to content
ourselves with a seat on a small box between the benches, while Miriam
was established on the only vacant one, with a sick soldier lying at
her feet. The fast girls talked as loud as possible and laughed in a
corresponding style in spite of the sick man. They must have been on a
picnic, from the way they talked. One in a short dress complained that
she had not seen her sweetheart. A pert little miss of thirteen cried,
"You can bet your head I never went to any place where I did not see
one of _my_ sweethearts." One of about seventeen, a perfect beauty,
declared she would die of thirst. "So will I! and I don't want to die
before I get a husband!" exclaimed her vis-à-vis. They evidently
expected to produce an impression on us. At every "brilliant" remark
("stupid" understood), they looked at us to see what we thought. All of
them sat with bare heads in the strong light, an unfailing proof of _la
basse classe_ on steamers and cars. Every time my veil blew aside, they
made no difficulty about scanning my features as though they thought it
might be agreeable. I must confess I was equally impolite in regard to
the Beauty; but then her loveliness was an excuse, and my veil
sheltered me, besides. While this young Psyche was fascinating me, with
her perfect face and innocent expression, one of her companions made a
remark--one that I dare say is made every day, and that I never
imagined could be turned into harm. My Beauty uttered a prolonged "Oh!"
of horror, and burst out laughing, followed by all the others. My
disgust was unspeakable. Mock modesty is always evident. A modest girl
could not have noticed the "catch"; the immodest, on the lookout for
such an opportunity, was the only one who could have perceived it.
Well! after all, no one can be perfect; this may be the single stain on
my Beauty, though I confess I would rather have any other failing than
this, almost.
Putting this aside, I hardly know which I was most amused by: the
giddy, lively girls to my right, or the two ladies to my left who were
as cross and ill-natured as two old cats and railed unmercifully at the
silly creatures behind them, and carried their spite so far as to
refuse to drink because the conductor (the husband of one of them) gave
the young ladies water before passing it to their two elders. Didn't
the poor man get it! She wouldn't taste a drop of that nasty dirty
drippings, that she wouldn't! Might have had the decency to attend to
his kinsfolks, before them creatures! And why didn't he wait on those
two young ladies behind her? He did ask them? Well, ask them again!
they must want some! Poor Henpecked meekly passed the can again, to be
again civilly declined. I confess the "drippings" were too much for me
also, though I did not give it as my excuse. Mrs. Hen recommenced her
pecking; poor Mr. Hen at last surlily rejoined, "For Heaven's sake,
don't make a fuss in the cars," with an emphasis on the last word that
showed he was accustomed to it at home, at least. With my veil down, I
leaned against the window, and remembering Colonel Breaux's remarks two
nights before concerning cross people, I played his "little
philosopher" for the remainder of the journey.
At sunset we walked in at Lilly's gate, and astonished her by standing
before her as she sat alone with her poor sick little Beatrice in her
arms....
Wednesday, 22d October,
LINWOOD.
We left Clinton this morning, and have just now arrived by the cars.
Charlie came in last evening, to our great surprise, so we did not
scruple to leave Lilly....
The Baton Rouge party returned late this evening. In spite of all
preparation, Gibbes was horrified at the appearance of home.
Friday, October 24th.
A letter from Jimmy, the first we have received since New Orleans fell.
It was dated the 10th inst., and he spoke of being on the eve of
running the blockade, and going to Liverpool "to represent our
unfortunate navy," as he says, though I am at loss to imagine what he
can mean. He speaks of a kind friend, a Mr. George Trenholm,[12] whose
kindness has been perfectly extraordinary. He has befriended him in
every way.
[12] Secretary of the Treasury of the Confederate States. Later,
Colonel James Morris Morgan ("Jimmy" in the Diary), married Mr.
Trenholm's daughter Helen, whose portrait appears on an issue of
Confederate bank notes.
Charlie has just come by the railroad, bringing other letters from him,
to mother and Lilly. In mother's is his last good-bye on the 12th.
Again Mr. Trenholm is the theme. I could not help crying over my dear
little brother's manly, affectionate letter. He says he is sure God
will still care for him, He has raised him up friends wherever he has
been. He says he lost all his clothing in going to Charleston. There,
among other kind people, he met this gentleman, who carried him to his
house, where he has kept him ever since, treating him like his son, and
forced him to accept a magnificent outfit as a present from him. He
procured the appointment which sends Jimmy abroad (I wish Jimmy had
been more explicit concerning it; we hardly know what it is, or how
long it will keep him). The money he received to pay Jimmy's passage
(received from the Government) he in turn obliged Jimmy to accept, as
he sails in one of Mr. Trenholm's steamers; and not satisfied with
that, gives him _carte blanche_ on his house in England, to be filled
up with any amount he chooses to name.
Mother went back to Clinton with Charlie that evening, to my great
distress; for she hates that odious place as much as I.
I know the life will kill her if it lasts six months longer. How happy
I would be, if it were not for the thought of her uncomfortable
position there! Lilly agrees with me that, once out of it, she never
wishes to see the vile place again. Margret says that when the Lord had
finished all the world and all the people, he had some scraps left, and
just thought he'd "batch up" Clinton with them. Perhaps she is right.
Sunday, 26th October.
This place is completely overrun by soldiers passing and repassing.
Friday night five stayed here, last night two more, and another has
just gone. One, last night, a bashful Tennesseean, had never tasted
sugar-cane. We were sitting around a blazing fire, enjoying it hugely,
when in answer to our repeated invitations to help himself, he
confessed he had never eaten it. Once instructed, though, he got on
remarkably well, and ate it in a civilized manner, considering it was a
first attempt.
Everything points to a speedy attack on Port Hudson. Rumors reach us
from New Orleans of extensive preparations by land and water, and of
the determination to burn Clinton as soon as they reach it, in revenge
for the looms that were carried from Baton Rouge there, and which can
soon be put in working order to supply our soldiers, negroes, and
ourselves with necessary clothing. Of two evils, if Baton Rouge is to
be overrun by Yankees, and Clinton burned, I would rather await them at
home.
Sunday, November 2d.
Yesterday was a day of novel sensations to me. First came a letter from
mother announcing her determination to return home, and telling us to
be ready next week. Poor mother! she wrote drearily enough of the
hardships we would be obliged to undergo in the dismantled house, and
of the new experience that lay before us; but _n'importe_! I am ready
to follow her to Yankeeland, or any other place she chooses to go. It
is selfish for me to be so happy here while she leads such a
distasteful life in Clinton. In her postscript, though, she said she
would wait a few days longer to see about the grand battle which is
supposed to be impending; so our stay will be indefinitely prolonged.
How thankful I am that we will really get back, though! I hardly
believe it possible, however; it is too good to be believed.
The nightmare of a probable stay in Clinton being removed, I got in
what the boys call a "perfect gale," and sang all my old songs with a
greater relish than I have experienced for many a long month. My heart
was open to every one. So forgiving and amiable did I feel that I went
downstairs to see Will Carter! I made him so angry last Tuesday that he
went home in a fit of sullen rage. It seems that some time ago, some
one, he said, told him such a joke on me that he had laughed all night
at it. Mortified beyond all expression at the thought of having had my
name mentioned between two men, I, who have thus far fancied myself
secure from all remarks good, bad, or indifferent (of men), I refused
to have anything to say to him until he should either explain me the
joke, or, in case it was not fit to be repeated to me, until he
apologized for the insult. He took two minutes to make up a lie. This
was the joke, he said. Our _milkman_ had said that that Sarah Morgan
was the proudest girl he ever saw; that she walked the streets as
though the earth was not good enough for her. My milkman making his
remarks! I confess I was perfectly aghast with surprise, and did not
conceal my contempt for the remark, or his authority either. But one
can't fight one's milkman! I did not care for what he or any of that
class could say; I was surprised to find that they thought at all! But
I resented it as an insult as coming from Mr. Carter, until with tears
in his eyes fairly, and in all humility, he swore that, if it had been
anything that could reflect on me in the slightest degree, he would
thrash the next man who mentioned my name. I was not uneasy about a
milkman's remarks, so I let it pass, after making him acknowledge that
he had told me a falsehood concerning the remark which had been made.
But I kept my revenge. I had but to cry "Milk!" in his hearing to make
him turn crimson with rage. At last he told me that the less I said on
the subject, the better it would be for me. I could not agree. "Milk" I
insisted was a delightful beverage. I had always been under the
impression that we owned a cow, until he had informed me it was a
milkman, but was perfectly indifferent to the animal so I got the milk.
With some such allusion, I could make him mad in an instant. Either a
guilty conscience, or the real joke, grated harshly on him, and I
possessed the power of making it still worse. Tuesday I pressed it too
far. He was furious, and all the family warned me that I was making a
dangerous enemy.
Yesterday he came back in a good humor, and found me in unimpaired
spirits. I had not talked even of "curds," though I had given him
several hard cuts on other subjects, when an accident happened which
frightened all malicious fun out of me. We were about going out after
cane, and Miriam had already pulled on one of her buckskin gloves,
dubbed "old sweety" from the quantity of cane-juice they contain, when
Mr. Carter slipped on its mate, and held it tauntingly out to her. She
tapped it with a case-knife she held, when a stream of blood shot up
through the glove. A vein was cut and was bleeding profusely.
He laughed, but panic seized the women. Some brought a basin, some
stood around. I ran after cobwebs, while Helen Carter held the vein and
Miriam stood in silent horror, too frightened to move. It was, indeed,
alarming, for no one seemed to know what to do, and the blood flowed
rapidly. Presently he turned a dreadful color, and stopped laughing. I
brought a chair, while the others thrust him into it. His face grew
more deathlike, his mouth trembled, his eyes rolled, his head dropped.
I comprehended that these must be symptoms of fainting, a phenomenon I
had never beheld. I rushed after water, and Lydia after cologne.
Between us, it passed away; but for those few moments I thought it was
all over with him, and trembled for Miriam. Presently he laughed again
and said, "Helen, if I die, take all my negroes and money and prosecute
those two girls! Don't let them escape!" Then, seeing my long face, he
commenced teasing me. "Don't ever pretend you don't care for me again!
Here you have been unmerciful to me for months, hurting more than this
cut, never sparing me once, and the moment I get scratched, it's 'O Mr.
Carter!' and you fly around like wild and wait on me!" In vain I
represented that I would have done the same for his old lame dog, and
that I did not like him a bit better; he would not believe it, but
persisted that I was a humbug and that I liked him in spite of my
protestations. As long as he was in danger of bleeding to death, I let
him have his way; and, frightened out of teasing, spared him for the
rest of the evening.
Just at what would have been twilight but for the moonshine, when he
went home after the blood was stanched and the hand tightly bound, a
carriage drove up to the house, and Colonel Allen was announced. I
can't say I was ever more disappointed. I had fancied him tall,
handsome, and elegant; I had heard of him as a perfect fascinator, a
woman-killer. Lo! a wee little man is carried in, in the arms of two
others,--wounded in both legs at Baton Rouge, he has never yet been
able to stand.... He was accompanied by a Mr. Bradford, whose assiduous
attentions and boundless admiration for the Colonel struck me as
unusual.... I had not observed him otherwise, until the General
whispered, "Do you know that that is the brother of your old
sweetheart?" Though the appellation was by no means merited, I
recognized the one he meant. Brother to our Mr. Bradford of eighteen
months ago! My astonishment was unbounded, and I alluded to it
immediately. He said it was so; that his brother had often spoken to
him of us, and the pleasant evenings he had spent at home.
November 4th, 1862.
O what a glorious time we had yesterday! First, there were those two
gentlemen to be entertained all day, which was rather a stretch, I
confess, so I stole away for a while. Then I got the sweetest letter
from Miss Trenholm, enclosing Jimmy's photograph, and she praised him
so that I was in a damp state of happiness and flew around showing my
picture to everybody, Mr. Bradford included, who pronounced him a noble
boy, and admired him to my satisfaction. Then came a letter from Lilly,
saying mother had decided to remain in Clinton, and wanted us to join
her there. O my prophetic soul! My heart went below zero! Then Colonel
Allen sent to Port Hudson for the band to serenade us, and raised my
spirits in anticipation of the treat. While performing my toilet in the
evening, Waller Fowler arrived, on his way to Vicksburg, bringing a
letter to Miriam from Major Drum! Heaven only knows how it got here!
Such a dear, kind letter, dated 6th of August, only! Affairs were very
different then, and he said that Lavinia's distress about us was such
that he must try to send her nearer to us. And such an unexpected piece
of news! Oh, my heart fails me! I cannot fancy Lavinia a mother.
Slowly I dressed myself, and still more slowly I combed Anna. I could
think of nothing else until I heard Miriam and Mr. Bradford call us to
take a walk, when we hurried down to them. A race down to the railroad,
a merry talk standing on the track mingled with shouts of laughter in
which I tried to drown fears for Lavinia, made the early sunset clouds
pass away sooner than usual, to us, and moonlight warned us to return.
Mrs. Worley passed us in her buggy, coming to stay all night; and
halfway a servant met us, saying two soldiers had come to call on us.
Once there, I was surprised to find that one was Frank Enders, the one
I least expected to see. The other was a Mr. Harold. I need not
describe him, beyond this slight indication of his style. Before half
an hour was over, he remarked to Anna that I was a _very_ handsome
girl, and addressed me as--_Miss Sally_! That is sufficient.
Then Will Carter came in, and joined our circle. His first aside was,
"If you only knew how much I liked you last night, you would never be
cruel to me again. Why, I thought you the greatest girl in the world!
Please let's part friends to-night again!" I would not promise, for I
knew I would tease him yet; and at supper, when I insisted on his
taking a glass of milk, his face turned so red that Mrs. Carter pinched
my arm blue, and refused to help me to preserves because I was making
Will _mad_! But Waller helped me, and I drank my own milk to Mr.
Carter's health with my sweetest smile. "Confound that milkman! I wish
he had cut his throat before I stumbled over him," he exclaimed after
tea. But I had more amusing game than to make him angry then; I wanted
to laugh to get rid of the phantom that pursued me, Lavinia.
The evening passed off very pleasantly; I think there were some
eighteen of us in the parlor. About ten the General went to the
sugar-house (he commenced grinding yesterday) and whispered to me to
bring the young people down presently. Mr. Bradford and I succeeded in
moving them, and we three girls retired to change our pretty dresses
for plain ones, and get shawls and _nuages_, for our warm week had
suddenly passed away, and it was quite cold out. Some of the gentlemen
remarked that very few young ladies would have the courage to change
pretty evening dresses for calico, after appearing to such advantage.
Many would prefer wearing such dresses, however inappropriate, to the
sugar-mill. With his droll gravity, Gibbes answered, "Oh, our girls
don't want to be stuck up!"
There was quite a string of us as we straggled out in the beautiful
moonlight, with only Mrs. Badger as an escort. Mr. Enders and I had a
gay walk of it, and when we all met at the furnace, we stopped and
warmed ourselves, and had a laugh before going in. Inside, it was
lighted up with Confederate gas, in other words, pine torches, which
shed a delightful light, neither too much nor too little, over the
different rooms. We tried each by turns. The row of bubbling kettles
with the dusky negroes bending over in the steam, and lightly turning
their paddles in the foamy syrup, the whole under the influence of
torchlight, was very interesting; but then, Mr. Enders and I found a
place more pleasant still. It was in the first purgery, standing at the
mouth of the chute through which the liquid sugar runs into the car;
and taking the place of the car as soon as it was run off to the
coolers, each armed with a paddle, scraped the colon up and had our own
fun while eating. Then running along the little railroad to where the
others stood in the second room over the vats, and racing back again
all together to eat sugar-cane and cut up generally around our first
pine torch, we had really a gay time.
Presently "Puss wants a corner" was suggested, and all flew up to the
second staging, under the cane-carrier and by the engine. Such racing
for corners! Such scuffles among the gentlemen! Such confusion among
the girls when, springing forward for a place, we would find it already
occupied! All dignity was discarded. We laughed and ran as loud and
fast as any children, and the General enjoyed our fun as much as we,
and encouraged us in our pranks. Waller surpassed himself, Mr. Bradford
carried all by storm, Mr. Enders looked like a schoolboy on a frolic,
Mr. Carter looked sullen and tried lazily not to mar the sport
completely, while Mr. Harold looked timidly foolish and half afraid of
our wild sport. Mrs. Badger laughed, the General roared, Anna flew
around like a balloon, Miriam fairly danced around with fun and frolic,
while I laughed so that it was an exertion to change corners. Then
forfeits followed, with the usual absurd formalities in which Mr.
Bradford sentenced himself unconsciously to ride a barrel, Miriam to
make him a love speech going home, Mr. Enders to kiss my hand, and I to
make him (Mr. Enders) a declaration, which I instantly did, in French,
whereby I suffered no inconvenience, as Miriam alone comprehended. Then
came more sugar-cane and talk in the purgery, and we were horrified
when Mrs. Badger announced that it was twelve o'clock, and gave orders
to retire.
O the pleasant walk home! Then, of course, followed a last good-night
on the balcony, while the two young men mounted their horses and Frank
Enders vowed to slip off every time he had a chance and come out to see
us. Then there was a grand proposition for a ride to Port Hudson on
horseback, and in order to secure a pledge that we would pass by
General Beale's headquarters, Mr. Enders wrapped my _nuage_ around his
throat, declaring that I would be obliged to stop there for it, though,
if prevented, he would certainly be obliged to bring it back himself.
This morning, however, the married ladies made so much difficulty about
who should go, and how, that we were forced to abandon it, much as we
would have enjoyed it.
I am afraid to say how late it was when we got to bed. I know it was
almost ten when we left the breakfast-table this morning, so I suppose
it must have been quite late before we retired. To Colonel Allen's, as
well as to our own great disappointment, the band could not come on
account of sickness.
November 6th.
We three girls fancied a walk last evening, and immediately after
dinner prepared to walk to Mrs. Breaux's, only a mile, and get her to
come to the sugar-house. But as we put on our bonnets, Captain
Bradford, brother of the one who left in the morning, was announced,
and our expedition had to be abandoned. This is the third of the five
brothers that I have met, and if it were not for the peculiarity in
their voices, I should say that there was not the most distant
relationship existing between them. This one is very handsome, quiet,
and what Dickens calls "in a high-shouldered state of deportment." He
looks like a moss-covered stone wall, a slumbering volcano, a--what you
please, so it suggests anything unexpected and dangerous to stumble
over. A man of indomitable will and intense feeling, I am sure. I
should not like to rouse his temper, or give him cause to hate me. A
trip to the sugar-house followed, as a matter of course, and we showed
him around, and told him of the fun we had those two nights, and taught
him how to use a paddle like a Christian. We remained there until
supper-time, when we adjourned to the house, where we spent the
remainder of the evening very pleasantly. At least I suppose he found
it so, for it was ten o'clock before he left.
* * * * *
Just now I was startled by a pistol shot. Threatening to shoot her, Mr.
Carter playfully aimed Miriam's pistol at her, and before he could take
fair aim, one barrel went off, the shot grazing her arm and passing
through the armoir just behind. Of course, there was great
consternation. Those two seem doomed to kill each other. She had played
him the same trick before. He swore that he would have killed himself
with the other shot if she had been hurt; but what good would that do
her?
Sunday, November 9th.
I hardly know how these last days have passed. I have an indistinct
recollection of rides in cane-wagons to the most distant field, coming
back perched on the top of the cane singing, "Dye my petticoats," to
the great amusement of the General who followed on horseback. Anna and
Miriam, comfortably reposing in corners, were too busy to join in, as
their whole time and attention were entirely devoted to the consumption
of cane. It was only by singing rough impromptus on Mr. Harold and
Captain Bradford that I roused them from their task long enough to join
in a chorus of "Forty Thousand Chinese." I would not have changed my
perch, four mules, and black driver, for Queen Victoria's coach and
six.
And to think old Abe wants to deprive us of all that fun! No more
cotton, sugar-cane, or rice! No more old black aunties or uncles! No
more rides in mule teams, no more songs in the cane-field, no more
steaming kettles, no more black faces and shining teeth around the
furnace fires! If Lincoln could spend the grinding season on a
plantation, he would recall his proclamation. As it is, he has only
proved himself a fool, without injuring us. Why, last evening I took
old Wilson's place at the bagasse shoot, and kept the rollers free from
cane until I had thrown down enough to fill several carts, and had my
hands as black as his. What cruelty to slaves! And black Frank thinks
me cruel, too, when he meets me with a patronizing grin, and shows me
the nicest vats of candy, and peels cane for me. Oh! very cruel! And so
does Jules, when he wipes the handle of his paddle on his apron, to
give "Mamselle" a chance to skim the kettles and learn how to work!
Yes! and so do all the rest who meet us with a courtesy and "Howd'y,
young Missus!" Last night we girls sat on the wood just in front of the
furnace--rather Miriam and Anna did, while I sat in their laps--and
with some twenty of all ages crowded around, we sang away to their
great amusement. Poor oppressed devils! Why did you not chunk us with
the burning logs instead of looking happy, and laughing like fools?
Really, some good old Abolitionist is needed here, to tell them how
miserable they are. Can't Mass' Abe spare a few to enlighten his
brethren?
November 10th, Monday.
In spite of its being Sunday, no sooner was dinner concluded yesterday
than we adjourned, as usual, to the sugar-house to see how much damage
we could do. Each took from a negro his long paddle, and for more than
half an hour skimmed the kettles industriously, to the amazement of
half a dozen strange soldiers who came to see the extraordinary process
of sugar-making. At one time the two boys taking possession of the two
other paddles, not a negro was at the kettles, but stood inspecting our
work. The hardest part we found to be discharging the batteries, which
none of us could do without their assistance.
We had no sooner relinquished our paddles than some one announced two
gentlemen at the house. While we were discussing the possibility of
changing our dresses before being seen, enter Mr. Enders and Gibbes
Morgan[13] of Fenner's battery. No retreat being possible, we looked
charmed and self-possessed in spite of plain calicoes and sticky
hands.... Mr. Enders very conveniently forgot to bring my _nuage_. He
says he started expressly to do so, but reflecting that I might then
have no inducement to pay that visit to Port Hudson, he left it for
another time.... We arranged a visit to Gibbes, and Mr. Enders made me
promise to call at General Beale's headquarters for a pass. "They will
want you to go to the Provost Marshal's for it, but you just come to
General Beale's, and send a courier for me, and I will bring it
myself!"--and half in fun, half in earnest, I promised.
[13] H. Gibbes Morgan, a cousin.
November 12th, Wednesday.
Once more a cripple and consigned to my bed, for how long, Heaven only
knows. This is written while in a horizontal position, reposing on my
right arm, which is almost numb from having supported me for some
sixteen hours without turning over. Let me see if I can remember how it
happened.
Last evening we started out to see Gibbes, just Miriam and Anna in one
buggy, and Mrs. Badger and I in the other. Gibbes proper, that is, the
Captain, and the General both approved, but neither could accompany us.
It is useless to say how much I objected to going without a gentleman.
Indeed, when we reached the road which formed the fourth side of the
square formed by Colonel Breaux's, Captain Bradford's, and Captain
Fenner's camps, I thought I should die of terror on finding myself in
such a crowd of soldiers on parade. My thick veil alone consoled me,
but I made a vow that I would not go through it again, not if I never
saw Gibbes, Jr., again on earth.
His camp lay far off from the road, so that we had to drive out to it
between the other two, and asked a soldier to tell him that we were
there. Presently he came up, looking so pleased that I was almost glad
that we had come; and then Captain Fenner appeared, looking charmed,
and Lieutenant Harris, who looked more alarmed and timid than I.
Captain Fenner exerted himself to entertain us, and seeing how
frightened I was, assured me that it was an everyday occurrence for
young ladies to visit them in parties without gentlemen, and that it
was done all through the Confederacy; which, however, did not comfort
me for the hundreds of eyes that were looking at us as our small party
stood out in front of the encampment around a cannon. I think he can
throw more expression into his eyes than any one I ever saw. Miriam
suggested sending Gibbes to the Provost to get our pass in order to
avoid the crowd that might be there. Eager to leave the present one for
a more retired spot, I exclaimed, "Oh, no! let us go ourselves! We
can't get in a worse crowd!" I meant a _greater_; but Captain Fenner
looked so comically at me that I could scarcely laugh out an apology,
while he laughed so that I am sure he did not listen to me. What a
comical mouth! I liked him _very_ much, this time. He promised to come
out to-day or to-morrow, and have a game of "Puss wants a corner" in
the sugar-house. But now I can't join in, though it was to me the
promise was made.
But to the catastrophe at once.
As we left, we insisted on taking Gibbes to get our pass, and made him
get into Miriam's buggy, where there was space for him to kneel and
drive. I was to carry out my promise to Mr. Enders. We had to pass just
by the camp of the First Alabama, Colonel Steadman's, where the whole
regiment was on parade. We had not gone thirty yards beyond them when a
gun was discharged. The horse instantly ran off. I don't believe there
could be two cooler individuals than Mrs. Badger and I were. I had
every confidence in her being able to hold him so long as the bridle
lasted. I had heard that there was more danger in jumping at such
moments than in remaining quiet, so I sat still. There was nothing to
hold to, as it was a no-top, or what I call a "low-neck," buggy; so my
hands rested quietly in my lap. Presently I saw the left rein snap
close to the horse's mouth. I knew all was over then, but did not utter
a word. Death seemed inevitable, and I thought it was as well to take
it coolly. The horse turned abruptly; I felt that something impelled me
out, followed the impulse, saw Mrs. Badger's white cape fluttering
above me, received a blow on the extremity of my spine that I thought
would kill me before I reached the ground, landing, however, on my left
hip, and quietly reclining on my left elbow, with my face to an upset
buggy whose wheels spun around in empty air. I heard a rush as of
horses; I saw men galloping up; I would have given worlds to spring to
my feet, or even to see if they were exposed; but found I could not
move. I had no more power over my limbs than if they were iron; only
the intense pain told me I was still alive. I was perfectly conscious,
but unable to move. My only wonder was why Miriam, who was in front,
did not come to me.
My arm was giving away. Dimly, as through a haze, or dream, I saw a
soldier bending over me, trying to raise me. The horse he had sprung
from rushed up to his master, and reared up over me. I saw the iron
hoofs shining above my body; death was certain this time, but I could
not move. He raised his arm and struck him, and obedient to the blow
the animal turned aside and let his feet fall without crushing me. Mrs.
Carter, when she heard it described, offered a fabulous sum for a
correct drawing of that most interesting tableau, the gallant Alabamian
supporting a helpless form on one arm, while he reined in a fiery
charger with the other. I was not aware of the romance; I was conscious
only of the unpleasant situation.
Dozens crowded around, and if I had been a girl for display, here was
an opportunity, for thirty pair of soldier arms were stretched out to
hold me. "No! Gibbes! Gibbes!" I whispered, and had the satisfaction of
being transferred from a stranger's to my cousin's arms. Gibbes
trembled more than I, but with both arms clasped around me, held me up.
But for that I would have returned to my original horizontal position.
"Send for the doctor!" cried one. "A surgeon, quick!" cried another.
"Tell them no!" I motioned. I was conscious of a clatter of hoofs and
cloud of dust. One performed a feat never heard of before. He brought a
glass of water at full gallop which I instantly drained by way of
acknowledgment. I think I felt the unpleasant situation more than the
pain. Not being accustomed to being the centre of attraction, I was by
no means pleased with the novel experience. Miriam held my hand, and
questioned me with a voice tremulous with fear and laughter. Anna
convulsively sobbed or giggled some question. I felt the ridiculous
position as much as they. Laughing was agony, but I had to do it to
give them an excuse, which they readily seized to give vent to their
feelings, and encouraged by seeing it, several gold-band officers
joined in, constantly endeavoring to apologize or check themselves with
a "Really, Miss, it may seem unfeeling, but it is impossible"--the rest
was lost in a gasp, and a wrestle between politeness and the desire to
laugh.
I don't know what I was thinking of, but I certainly paid very little
attention to what was going on. I only wanted to get home, away from
all those eyes; and my most earnest wish made me forget them. The first
remark I heard was my young Alabamian crying, "It is the most beautiful
somerset I ever saw! Indeed, it could not be more gracefully done! Your
feet did not show!" Naïf, but it was just what I wanted to know, and
dared not ask. Some one ran up, and asked who was hurt, and I heard
another reply, "I am afraid the young lady is seriously injured, only
she won't acknowledge it. It is worth while looking at her. She is the
coolest, most dignified girl you ever saw"; and another was added to
the already too numerous audience. Poor Mrs. Badger, having suffered
only from torn clothing, received very little sympathy, while I got
more than my share. I really believe that the blow I received was from
her two hundred and forty pound body, though the Alabamian declares he
saw the overturning buggy strike me as I fell.
To her and others I am indebted for the repetition of many a remark
that escaped me. One bold soldier boy exclaimed, "Madame, we are all
warriors, but we can't equal that! It is braver than any man!" I had to
laugh occasionally to keep my spirits up, but Miriam ordered me to
quit, saying that I would go off in hysterics. I had previously
repeatedly declared to the Doctor that I was not hurt, and seeing him
idle, and hearing Miriam's remark, the Alabamian--I am told--cried, "O
Doctor! Doctor! can't you do something? Is she going to have
hysterics?" "Really," said the Doctor, "the young lady objects to being
examined; but as far as I can judge, she has no limbs broken."
Everybody ordered me to confess at once my injury; but how was I to
inform a whole crowd that I had probably broken the tip of my backbone,
and could not possibly sit down? So I adhered to my first affirmation,
and made no objection when they piled the cushions up and made Gibbes
put me down; for I knew he must be tired.
I am told I remained there an hour. I know they talked to me, and that
I answered; but have not an idea of the subject. A gentleman brought a
buggy, and offered to drive me home; but a Captain Lenair insisted on
running after the ambulance. Arrived there, Mr. Enders says he rushed
in, crying, "For God's sake, General Beale, lend me the ambulance!
There is a dreadful accident, and I am afraid the young lady will die!"
Coming back he exclaimed, "By Jove! boys, if you want to see a sight,
run down and see her hair! The prettiest auburn (?) you ever looked at,
and sweeps the ground! I wouldn't mind such a fall if I had such hair
to show. Come look at it, do!" Mr. Enders says he was sure that it was
I, as soon as hair was mentioned, and started out as soon as he had
finished a duty he had to perform. My garter, a purple silk ribbon, lay
in the centre of the ring. By the respectful silence observed, I saw
they recognized its use, so, unwilling to leave such a relic behind, I
asked aloud for my "ribbon," whereupon Anna says the officers pinched
each other and smiled. Up came the ambulance, and I was in imminent
danger of being carried to it, when with a desperate effort I regained
my feet with Gibbes's help, and reached it without other assistance.
Beyond, I could do no more.
Captain Lenair got inside, and several others lifted me up to him, and
I sank motionless on the floor. All bade me good-bye, and my little
Alabamian assured me that he was proud of having been the first to
assist me. President Miller whispered to Mrs. Badger for permission to
accompany us, which she readily granted, and raising me on the seat, he
insisted on putting his arm around me to hold me up. It was useless to
decline. "Now, Miss Morgan, I assure you I am an old married man! I
know you are suffering! Let me have my way!" and the kind old gentleman
held me so comfortably, and broke the force of so many jolts, that I
was forced to submit and acknowledge that had it not been for him I
could not have endured the rough road. At the gate that leads to
General Beale's headquarters, I saw half a dozen figures standing. One
was Frank Enders, who hailed the driver. "Hush!" said one I recognized
as Captain Lenair. "The young lady is in there, and the Provost, too!"
"I don't care if it is Jeff Davis, I'll find out if she is hurt!" he
answered. Miriam and Anna recognized him, as they followed behind us,
and called to him. Without more ado, he jumped into their buggy,
finding them alone, and drove them home. He asked me something as he
passed, but I could not answer.
The road was dreadful. Once the driver mistook it and drove us within
two steps of an embankment six feet high, but discovered the mistake
before the horses went over.
What I most dreaded was explanations when we should arrive. Miriam
stepped out an instant before, and I heard her telling the accident.
Then everybody, big and little, white and black, gathered around the
ambulance. The Provost thought himself privileged to carry me, Gibbes
insisted on trying it with his one arm, when the General picked me up
and landed me on the gallery. He wanted me to lie down in old Mrs.
Carter's room, but confident that once there I could not get up, and
feeling that perhaps the gentlemen would take advantage of its being on
the ground floor to suggest calling on me, I struggled upstairs with
Helen's assistance. A dozen hands undressed me, and laid me on my face
in bed, which position I have occupied up to the present, 3 P.M....
Unable to turn, all night I lay awake, lying on my face, the least
comfortable of positions; but though the slightest motion tortured me,
I had to laugh as we talked it over.
Of course, this has been written in scratches, and in my same position,
which will account for many blots. This morning I was interrupted by
mother's unexpected arrival, she having come with Dellie and Morgan to
spend the day. Of course, she is horrified at the accident of that
"unfortunate Sarah"!
Saturday, November 15th.
I think I grow no better rapidly. Fortunately on Wednesday night they
succeeded in turning me over; for my poor elbows, having lost all their
skin, were completely used up. Now, if I go slowly and carefully, I can
turn myself at the cost of some little suffering....
Yesterday Colonel Steadman, of the First Alabama, called with his
father. He sent me many messages of condolence, and the rather
unpleasant advice to be cupped and scarified. His profession was that
of a physician before he became colonel. His surgeon, whose name is
Madding, told him he was satisfied that I was seriously injured, though
I had not complained. The Colonel is the same who called when we were
in Clinton. They readily accepted our invitation to dinner, and
remained until late in the afternoon, when Captain Bradford came in.
More messages of condolence and sympathy upstairs, which produced no
visible effect on my spine, though very comforting to the spirit.
November 16th.
I was interrupted yesterday morning by Mrs. Badger, who wished to apply
a few dry cups to my back, to which I quietly submitted, and was unable
to move afterwards without pain, as a reward for my patience. But
towards sunset came two dear letters that made me forget what I had
suffered, one from George, and one from Jimmy, dated Bermudas. For the
first time I know what my dear little brother suffered during those
long months when we could not hear if he were dead or alive. He kept
the secret until he no longer needed either friends or money; and now
he tells it with a simplicity that made me cry fit to break my heart
when I was left alone in the twilight with no one to see.... George
comforts me with hopes of Peace, and a speedy return. If it could only
be!...
This morning the boom of Yankee guns reached my ears; a sound I had
hoped never to hear again. It is only those poor devils (I can afford
to pity them in their fallen state) banging away at some treasonable
sugar-houses that are disobedient enough to grind cane on the other
side of the river. I hear that one is at Mrs. Cain's. The sound made my
heart throb. What if the fight should come off before I can walk? It
takes three people to raise me whenever it is necessary for me to move;
I am worse than helpless.
Tuesday, November 18th.
A note just came from mother, telling me that the most awful Yankees
were coming to burn Linwood and take Port Hudson, and so this evening I
must walk down to the cars with a chair to rest in until they came, and
must certainly be in Clinton to-night. Delightful arrangement! I wrote
to ask if she knew that my legs were of no more service to me than to
her? Dr. Dortch has again been murdering me ... says perhaps I can
stand by Sunday. If the Yankees come before--
Friday night, November 21st.
Lying on my face, as it were, with my poor elbows for a support, I try
to pass away these lonely hours. For with the exception of old Mrs.
Carter, who is downstairs, and the General, who is elsewhere, Anna and
I are the only white people on the place. The cause of this heartless
desertion is a grand display of _tableaux vivants_ at Jackson, for
the benefit of the Soldiers' Hospital, and of course it would be sinful
to stay away, particularly as Anna is a great deal better, and I need
no care....
Thursday, December 4th.[14]
It would be only the absurd tableaux I agreed to, with plenty of fun,
and nothing more. So I tried to be merry and content, and so I should
have been, for there was plenty to talk about, and every one was so
solicitous for my comfort; and there was Mr. Enders who would wheel my
chair for me wherever I wished it, and was as kind and attentive as a
brother. Surely my first trip should have been a gay one! Miriam sat
down by the piano, Mr. Enders drew me by her, and we three sang until
dark together. A Mr. Morse, his wife, and mother, who are spending a
week here, were our audience. The first two retired at candle-light,
while the latter, present at the play the night before, remained to the
last. But while we sang, every noise at the parlor door caused us to
turn with the apprehension of we hardly knew what. A dozen times Mr.
Enders consulted his watch, and telegraphed his fears to me, though I
persisted in thinking it only the fun that had been intended.
[14] A page is here torn from the Diary. It evidently related the
beginning of an incident of which my sister and I have often
heard our mother tell: how, after the Jackson tableaux, our aunt
Miriam laughingly staked herself in a game of cards with Will
Carter--and lost. The sequel follows, the scene at the house of
his uncle, General Carter, beginning in the middle of a
sentence.--W. D.
Half-past six came, and with it, Mrs. Worley. Now, she knew better. For
Dr. Dortch had come to see me, and was guiding me in my game of euchre
in which I was not even as wise as my partner, Mr. Enders, when her
note came. Instantly we put down our cards, while Miriam begged him to
write and tell her the true story. He wrote and we all read it. Not
only that, but Miriam added a postscript which I think was this, word
for word: "Mrs. Worley, it is only a bet at cards, intended as the
merest joke. There is not a word of truth in it, and I will consider it
the greatest favor if you will contradict the report whenever you may
hear it!" Explicit enough, one would think; but still she came, and
sent word into the parlor that one of the ladies present when Will made
the announcement had sent her contribution to the evening's fun. It
turned out to be a complete bridal suit, worn by the lady a year ago!
That was too serious a jest. Miriam went into the other room to speak
to Mrs. Worley, who, cold as an icicle, refused to receive or make
explanation, beyond "I won't kiss you; this is too cruel." There was
nothing to do; she returned laughing, but certainly feeling herself the
injured one, and so she was.
In fifteen minutes, another stir. I held my breath with expectation.
Lydia introduced--Mr. G----. Ten miles he had ridden through mud and
water that freezing evening, at Will Carter's request, to perform the
ceremony between him and Miriam. Lydia laughed until she could hardly
introduce him. He, hat in hand, bowed around the convulsed circle with
a countenance shining with the most sublimely vacant expression. O that
man's idiotic face, and solemn, portentous look, brought a writhe even
to my trembling lips! Mr. Enders would have given one an excellent idea
of the effect produced by a real old piney-woods chill; he shook as
with suppressed laughter. But when the tremendous preacher (tremendous
because composed of gigantic Nothing) turned his lugubrious face
towards Mrs. Morse, and addressed her as Mrs. Morgan under the
impression that she had come down to see her daughter married, Miriam's
risibles could no longer stand it, and she flew from the room in time
to avoid a disgraceful explosion.
I was growing frightened. Mr. Enders was leaning over my chair, and
involuntarily it burst from me with a groan, "For God's sake, help me
save her!" "Hush! Lie back in your chair! I will!" he whispered. "But
for the love of Heaven, save my sister!" "I'll do what you will, if you
will only keep still and not hurt yourself. I'll do my best." It was
all whispered, that the minister and Mrs. Morse might not hear. "If it
were your sister, what would you do?" "My God! I'd meet him on the
front gallery and kick him out! Then I'd know one of us must die
to-morrow!" "But under the circumstances it is impossible for Gibbes to
act!" I urged, while we agreed that it was the most unwarrantable piece
of insolence ever perpetrated. While we talked, Gibbes had seized
Miriam and, without interfering or advising further, advised her to
keep her room and not meet Will.
But I skipped the most important part. She came back when she had
recovered her composure, and sat by me. Mr. Enders, when I asked what
was best to do, whispered that to spare Will's feelings, and avoid a
most painful scene, as well as to show that she had no serious
intentions whatever, she should see that the minister was put in full
possession of the facts before it went any farther. He felt keenly his
unpleasant situation, and it was only our earnest request that induced
him to remain, or give his advice. Who should explain? Certainly not
the General. He thought the joke carried too far, and retired to his
room before Mr. G---- came. How take part against his own nephew? Not
Gibbes either, for he had gone upstairs too worried and annoyed to talk
to any one; besides, it was his wife's cousin. Who then? Miriam is one
woman in a thousand. Rising, she crossed the room slowly and as
dignified as though she only meant to warm herself. I think I see her
before me now, as she stood before the fire, facing Mr. G----, looking
so handsome and stylish in her black grenadine with the pale-green
trimming, telling her story. Plainly, earnestly, distinctly, without
hurry or embarrassment, in the neatest, prettiest, most admirable
speech I ever heard, she told everything just as it was. Bravo for
Miriam! There lives not the woman in this State who could do so painful
a thing in such a beautiful way. I felt like hugging her. Oh, it was
magnificent! He heard her in surprise, but when once satisfied of its
truth, he said, "Well, Miss Morgan, when you stand on the floor, when I
ask if you will, it is your privilege to answer, 'No.'" Miriam is not
one to do so cruel a thing; she is too noble to deceive him so far and
wound him so cruelly before all, when he believed himself so near
happiness. She said that it was mockery, she would not suffer him to
believe for an instant that she meant to marry him; if he believed it,
he was deceiving himself wilfully, for he already knew that she had
told him it could never be. He agreed to take it only as a jest,
promised that he would not feel hurt; and with the most admirable tact,
Miriam, the trump (I have been playing euchre, excuse me), settled the
minister, and the wedding, by her splendid behavior, with no trouble.
A rapid step was heard in the hall; the bridegroom had come! I know he
must have killed his horse. He certainly did not leave his house before
one o'clock; it is twenty miles by the road to Clinton; he went there,
procured his license, and was here at seven, in full costume. He
bounded upstairs to meet the bride-elect.
I can fancy him going to Clinton, doubting, fearing, believing against
all evidence, yet trembling; securing the license at last, persuading
himself that she would not dare refuse when the deeds were recorded in
court, and he held them in his hand;--and very few women would have
been brave enough, too; he did not know My Miriam! I can fancy the poor
horse lashed through the heavy mire, tired, foaming, panting, while his
strong arm urged it on, with whip and spur; I can hear the exulting
beating of his heart, that wild refrain that was raging as his
death-knell--"Mine! Mine at last!" I could hear it, I say. It rung in
my ears all night. He held her in his power; she must be his; hastily,
yet carefully he performs his toilet; I dare say he stopped to think
which cravat she liked best. "Mine! Mine!" the song is ringing in every
stroke of his throbbing breast. Mount! Mount! Two miles fly past. He
sweeps through the moonlight like Death riding on a pale horse; yonder
shine lights in the parlor; and that above; is it hers? He throws
himself from his horse; his hour has come, hers too; with the license
and minister, his own adoration--and she must love him too!--he will
win! Show him the way to her! She is his forever now! His? My God! had
I not reason to cry, "In God's name, save her, Frank!" He reaches Mrs.
Carter's room, and triumphantly throws the license on her table. He is
ready now; where is his bride?
Some one meets him. "Will!"
The story is told; she is not to be won by force; she has appealed to
the minister; he has carried the jest too far. The strong man reels; he
falls on the bed in his bridal array in agony too great for tears. I
dare not ask what followed; they tell me it was awful. What madness and
folly, to dream of forcing her to marry him! Why, if she had loved him,
the high-handed proceeding would have roused the lion of her spirit! He
is no mate for her. He has but one thought, and at last words come.
"Miriam! Miriam! Call her, for the love of God!" One word! one look!
Oh, she will take pity on him in his misery. Let her come for one
instant! she cannot be so cruel! she will marry him if only to save him
from death, or worse! And fortunate it was that he was not armed, one
of the two would have died; perhaps both. The heartbroken prayer goes
on. The exulting "Mine! Mine!" has changed to the groan of despair,
"Miriam! for the love of God! come to me!"
And where is the bride? Gibbes has her caged in the next room, this one
where I am now lying. He has advised her not to appear; to go to bed
and say no more. Sent to bed like a baby on her wedding night! She says
that she laughed aloud when the door closed on her. She laughing in
here, he groaning in there, it is to be hoped they each drowned the
voice of the other.... The minister said good-night. He disclaimed all
feeling of pique; he felt chiefly for the young lady--and the
disappointed groom. (Ouf!) I sent to ask Will to come to me alone for a
moment; no, he could not see me; write to him.
Slowly, as though an aged, infirm, tottering man, we heard him
descending the steps. How different from the step that carried him up!
We, conscience-stricken, sat within, with doors closed. He was off. He
has again mounted his horse, and the broken-hearted man, hardly less
cruel than the expectant bridegroom, dashes the rowel in his side and
disappears like a whirlwind.
* * * * *
I can fancy mother's and Lilly's agony, when they hear of the wedding.
All Clinton knew it last night, and if they did, too, I know there was
as little sleep for them as for us. I know mother shrieked, "My child!
My child!" while Lilly cried. How could he believe she meant to marry
him, without even sending word to mother when he was going to the very
town? Bah! What a jolly go if those two got hysterics about the
supposed Moral Suicide! Glad I was not at the tea-party! Well, fearing
the effect of such a shock in mother's nervous state, Gibbes advised
Miriam to go on the cars this evening, and convince her that it had not
occurred, court records and licenses and minister to the contrary
notwithstanding; so my duck, my angel, she whom I call my Peri with the
singed wings (children who play in the fire must expect to be burned),
set off on her pious errand, without the protecting arm of her
bridegroom.
Sunday, 7th December.
I have had a shock! While writing alone here (almost all have gone to
church), I heard a step ascending the stair. What, I asked, if it
should be Will? Then I blamed myself for supposing such a thing
possible. Slowly it came nearer and nearer, I raised my head, and was
greeted with a ghastly smile. I held out my hand. "Will!" "Sarah!"
(Misery discards ceremony.) He stood before me the most woebegone,
heartbroken man I ever saw.
With a forced laugh he said, "Where is my bride? Pshaw! I know she has
gone to Clinton! I have come to talk to _you_. Wasn't it a merry
wedding?" The hollow laugh rang again. I tried to jest, but failed.
"Sit down and let me talk to you," I said. He was in a wayward humor;
cut to the heart, ready to submit to a touch of silk, or to resist a
grasp of iron. This was the man I had to deal with, and get from him
something he clung to as to--not his life, but--Miriam. And I know so
little how to act in such a case, know so little about dealing gently
with wild natures!
He alarmed me at first. His forced laugh ceased; he said that he meant
to keep that license always. It was a joke on him yesterday, but with
that in his possession, the tables would be turned on her. He would
show it to her occasionally. It should keep her from marrying any one
else. I said that it would be demanded, though; he must deliver it. The
very devil shot in his eye as he exclaimed fiercely, "If any one dares
demand it, I'll die before giving it up! If God Almighty came, I'd say
no! I'll die with it first!" O merciful Father, I thought; what misery
is to come of this jest. He must relinquish it. Gibbes will force him
into it, or die in the attempt; George would come from Virginia....
Jimmy would cross the seas.... And I was alone in here to deal with
such a spirit!
I commenced gently. Would he do Miriam such a wrong? It was no wrong,
he said; let him follow his own will. "You profess to love her?" I
asked. "Profess? Great God! how can you? I adore her! I tell you that,
in spite of all this, I love her not more--that is impossible,--but as
much as ever! Look at my face and ask that!" burst from him with the
wildest impulse. "Very well. This girl you _love_, then, you mean to
make miserable. You stand forever between her and her happiness,
because you love her! Is this love?" He was sullenly silent. I went on:
"Not only her happiness, but her honor is concerned. You who love her
so, do her this foul injury." "Would it affect her reputation?" he
asked. "Ask yourself! Is it quite right that you should hold in your
hands the evidence that she is Mrs. Carter, when you know she is not,
and never will be? Is it quite honorable?" "In God's name, would it
injure Miriam? I'd rather die than grieve her."
My iron was melted, but too hot to handle; I put it on one side,
satisfied that I and I only had saved Miriam from injury and three
brothers from bloodshed, by using his insane love as a lever. It does
not look as hard here as it was in reality; but it was of the hardest
struggles I ever had--indeed, it was desperate. I had touched the right
key, and satisfied of success, turned the subject to let him believe he
was following his own suggestions. When I told him he must free Miriam
from all blame, that I had encouraged the jest against her repeated
remonstrances, and was alone to blame, he generously took it on
himself. "I was so crazy about her," he said, "that I would have done
it anyhow. I would have run any risk for the faintest chance of
obtaining her"; and much more to the same purpose that, though very
generous in him, did not satisfy my conscience. But he surprised me by
saying that he was satisfied that if I had been in my room, and he had
walked into the parlor with the license, she would have married him.
What infatuation! He says, though, that I only prevented it; that my
influence, by my mere presence, is stronger than his words. I don't say
that is so; but if I helped save her, thank Heaven!
It is impossible to say one half that passed, but he showed me his
determination to act just as he has heretofore, and take it all as a
joke, that no blame might be attached to her. "Besides, I'd rather die
than not see her; I laugh, but you don't know what I suffer!" Poor
fellow! I saw it in his swimming eyes.
At last he got up to go before they returned from church. "Beg her to
meet me as she always has. I told Mrs. Worley that she must treat her
just the same, because I love her so. And--say I go to Clinton
to-morrow to have that record effaced, and deliver up the license. I
would not grieve her; indeed, I love her too well." His voice trembled
as well as his lips. He took my hand, saying, "You are hard on me. I
could make her happy, I know, because I worship her so. I have been
crazy about her for three years; you can't call it a mere fancy. Why
are you against me? But God bless you! Good-bye!" And he was gone.
Why? O Will, because I love my sister too much to see her miserable
merely to make you happy!
Friday, 12th December.
My cripple friend that I mentioned so far back continues to send me the
most affecting messages. "He is really wretched about me; never was
more distressed; thinks of nothing else"; and so on through the whole
list. To cap the climax, he sends me word that he can now walk on
crutches, and the first time he can venture in a buggy, means to call
on me. _Que le ciel m'en préserve!_ What could we talk about? "His'n"
and "her'n" several misfortunes? That's too bad! Every one teases me
unmercifully about my new conquest. I can't help but be amused; and
yet, beware, young girls, of expressing sympathy, even for soldiers!
There is no knowing what effect it may produce.
Sunday, December 14th.
Yesterday evening, some time before sunset, Mr. Enders was announced,
to our great surprise, as we knew he had been in Clinton all the week,
having been transferred there instead of to Jackson, as he threatened.
He was the most miserable, unhappy creature one could possibly imagine;
even too melancholy for me to laugh at him, which expresses the last
degree of wretchedness. To all our questions, he had but one answer,
that he had had the most dreadful attack of "blues" ever since he was
here Sunday; that he had waited every evening at the cars, expecting
us, and at last, seeing that we had no intention of coming, he could no
longer stand the temptation, so got permission to come down for a day
to Port Hudson so he could come out to see us.... Before we could
fairly get him cheerful, Will Carter and Ned Badger, who returned only
this week from Kentucky, entered. Will was in a bad humor, and wanted
to vent it on us; so after waiting some time, he proposed that the two
young men should go with him, pocketing at the same moment the cards
which had won Miriam and saying they would have a nice game together,
and just the rarest old whiskey! He looked around to see the effect
produced. We girls did not move, but Mr. Enders said he must really
return immediately to Port Hudson, and start for Clinton from there in
the night. Will thought it would be such a triumph over us to carry him
off, that he insisted. They'd have a fine time! cure the blues! etc.
Ned was more than willing; and at last Mr. Enders said, Well! he felt
just so desperate that he did not care what he did; he believed he
would go. I saw he was in a reckless humor, and that Will knew it, too,
and I promised to make at least an effort to save him.
Miriam spoke to him apart, but he said he had promised now; he must go.
Will ran down triumphant to mount his horse, calling him to follow. All
ran out to see him off, when Frank came back to tell me good-bye. I
seized the opportunity, and didn't I plead! I told him I would not ask
him to stay here, though he knew we would be happy to have him stay;
and begged him to go back to the camp, and leave Will alone.... I
suggested other resources; talked of his mother whom he idolizes,
pleaded like a grandmother; and just as I wound up, came Will's voice
from below, "Why the devil don't you come, Enders? Hurry!" He moved a
step, looked at me; I dropped my head without a word. Here I must
confess to the most consummate piece of acting; I am sorry, but as long
as it saved him from doing what I knew he would have cause to regret, I
am not ashamed of having tried it. Will called impatiently again, as he
stood hesitating before me; I did not say, "Stay," I just gave the
faintest sigh imaginable.... He went down and told Will he would not
go! Of course, Will went off in a rage with us.
Friday, December 26th, 1862.
Monday Dr. Woods and Mr. Van Ingen stopped, just from their regiment in
Kentucky and on their way home, and I begged so hard to see the Doctor,
and promised so faithfully to retire if I suffered too much, that Mrs.
Badger yielded, like an angel, and I carried my point. The Doctor! We
looked in vain at each other; I for my dandy friend in irreproachable
broadcloth, immaculate shirt bosoms and perfect boots; he for the
brusque, impulsive girl who in ordinary circumstances would have run
dancing into the parlor, would have given him half-glad,
half-indifferent greeting, and then found either occasion to laugh at
him or would have turned elsewhere for amusement. We looked, I say, in
vain. Before me stood my pattern of neatness in a rough uniform of
brown homespun. A dark flannel shirt replaced the snowy cambric one,
and there was neither cravat nor collar to mark the boundary line
between his dark face and the still darker material. And the dear
little boots! O ye gods and little fishes! they were clumsy, and
mud-spattered! If my mouth twitched with laughter as I silently
commented, the Doctor's did not! I, who always danced on my way, came
in lying back on my pillows, and wheeled in by a servant. The Doctor's
sympathy was really touching, and poor consolation he gave when he
heard the story. "You will recover, to a certain extent; but will feel
it more or less all your life."
* * * * *
I am the ruin of all these puns; the gentlemen will hate me; I must
learn to ignore their conundrums until they answer them themselves, and
to wait patiently for the pun instead of catching it and laughing
before it is half-spoken. Why can't I do as the others do? There was
Mr. Van Ingen with his constant stream of them, that I anticipated
several times. He said to me, "If I were asked what town in Louisiana I
would rather be in this evening, what would my answer be?" I should
have looked perfectly innocent, and politely inquisitive; but I did
neither. I saw the answer instantly, and laughed. "Ah, you have
guessed! I can see it in your eyes!" he said. Of course I had, but I
told him I was afraid to say it, for fear he might think I was
flattering myself. Then we both laughed. The place he referred to was
_Bayou, Sarah_....
Yesterday, being a beautiful day, I was carried down in honor of
Christmas, to meet Captain Fenner and Mr. Duggan who were to dine with
us. The cars had brought Miriam a beautiful little set of collars and
cuffs from Dellie, and the oddest, sweetest little set for me, from
Morgan, for our Christmas gift. It is all Lilly....
We had an exquisite Christmas gift the night before, a magnificent
serenade, a compliment from Colonel Breaux. It very singularly happened
that Miriam, Anna, and Ned Badger were sitting up in the parlor,
watching alone for Christmas, when the band burst forth at the steps,
and startled them into a stampede upstairs. But Gibbes, who came with
the serenaders, caught them and brought them back into the parlor,
where there were only _eight_ gentlemen; and in this novel, unheard-of
style, only these two girls, with Gibbes to play propriety, entertained
all these people at midnight while the band played without....
I commenced writing to-day expressly to speak of our pleasant
Christmas; yet it seems as though I would write about anything except
that, since I have not come to it yet. Perhaps it is because I feel I
could not do it justice. At least, I can say who was there. At sunset
came Captain Bradford and Mr. Conn, the first stalking in with all the
assurance which a handsome face and fine person can lend, the second
following with all the timidity of a first appearance.... Again, after
a long pause, the door swung open, and enter Mr. Halsey, who bows and
takes the seat on the other side of me, and Mr. Bradford, of Colonel
Allen memory, once more returned to his regiment, who laughs, shakes
hands all around, and looks as happy as a schoolboy just come home for
the holidays, who has never-ending visions of plumcakes, puddings, and
other sweet things. While all goes on merrily, another rap comes, and
enter Santa Claus, dressed in the old uniform of the Mexican War, with
a tremendous cocked hat, and preposterous beard of false hair, which
effectually conceal the face, and but for the mass of tangled short
curls no one could guess that the individual was Bud. It was a device
of the General's, which took us all by surprise. Santa Claus passes
slowly around the circle, and pausing before each lady, draws from his
basket a cake which he presents with a bow, while to each gentleman he
presents a wineglass replenished from a most suspicious-looking black
bottle which also reposes there. Leaving us all wonder and laughter,
Santa Claus retires with a basket much lighter than it had been at his
entrance.... Then follow refreshments, and more and more talk and
laughter, until the clock strikes twelve, when all these ghosts bid a
hearty good-night and retire.
January 1st, Thursday, 1863.
1863! Why I have hardly become accustomed to writing '62 yet! Where has
this year gone? With all its troubles and anxieties, it is the shortest
I ever spent! '61 and '62 together would hardly seem three hundred and
sixty-five days to me. Well, let time fly. Every hour brings us nearer
our freedom, and we are two years nearer peace now than we were when
South Carolina seceded. That is _one_ consolation....
I learn, to my unspeakable grief, that the State House is burned down.
Sunday, January 4th.
One just from Baton Rouge tells us that my presentiment about our house
is verified; Yankees do inhabit it, a Yankee colonel and his wife. They
say they look strangely at home on our front gallery, pacing up and
down.... And a stranger and a Yankee occupies our father's place at the
table where he presided for thirty-one years.... And the old lamp that
lighted up so many eager, laughing faces around the dear old table
night after night; that with its great beaming eye watched us one by
one as we grew up and left our home; that witnessed every parting and
every meeting; by which we sang, read, talked, danced, and made merry;
the lamp that Hal asked for as soon as he beheld the glittering
chandeliers of the new innovation, gas; the lamp that all agreed should
go to me among other treasures, and be cased in glass to commemorate
the old days,--our old lamp has passed into the hands of strangers who
neither know nor care for its history. And mother's bed (which, with
the table and father's little ebony stand, alone remained uninjured)
belongs now to a Yankee woman! Father prized his ebony table. He said
he meant to have a gold plate placed in its centre, with an
inscription, and I meant to have it done myself when he died so soon
after. A Yankee now sips his tea over it, just where some beau or
beauty of the days of Charles II may have rested a laced sleeve or
dimpled arm....[15]
[15] This "little ebony table"--which happened to be mahogany so
darkened with age as to be recognized only by an expert many
years after the war--and a mahogany rocking-chair are the two
pieces of furniture which survived the sacking of Judge Morgan's
house and remain to his descendants to-day. Such other furniture
as could be utilized was appropriated by negroes.--W. D.
Give the devil his due. Bless Yankees for one thing; they say they
tried hard to save our State House.
[Illustration: ANTE-BELLUM HOME OF JUDGE THOMAS GIBBES MORGAN, ON
CHURCH STREET, BATON ROUGE, LA.]