arrival. A gentleman had walked into camp, asking if a Mr. Halsey was
there. He signified that he was the gentleman, whereupon the other drew
out my note, saying a young lady on the cars had requested him to
deliver it. Instantly recognizing the chirography, he asked where I
was. "Hammond. This is her name," replied the other, extending to him
my card. Thinking, as he modestly confessed, that I had intended it
only for him, Mr. Halsey coolly put it into his pocket, and called for
his horse. Mr. Howard lingered still, apparently having something to
say, which he found difficult to put in words. At last, as the other
prepared to ride off, with a tremendous effort he managed to say, "The
young lady's card is mine. If it is all the same to you, I should like
to have it returned." Apologizing for the mistake, Mr. Halsey returned
it, feeling rather foolish, I should imagine, and rode on to the
village, leaving, as he avers, Mr. Howard looking enviously after the
lucky dog who was going to see _such_ a young lady.
He told me something that slightly disgusted me with Captain Bradford.
It was that when he reached the bivouac the next morning after leaving
Linwood, the Captain had put him under arrest for having stayed there
all night. It was too mean, considering that it is more than probable
that he himself remained at Mrs. Fluker's. We discovered, too, that we
had missed two letters Mr. Halsey had written us, which, _of course_,
is a great disappointment. One, written to both, the other, a short
note of ten pages, for me, which I am sure was worth reading.
It was not until after sunset that we exhausted all topics of conversation,
and Mr. Halsey took his leave, promising to see us in the morning.
And, to be sure, as soon as I was dressed on Saturday, he again made
his appearance, followed soon after by the carriage. Taking a cordial
leave of Mrs. Cate, with many thanks for her hospitality, we entered
our conveyance, and with Mr. Halsey riding by the side of the carriage,
went on our way. He was to accompany us only as far as Ponchatoula--some
six miles; but the turning-point in his journey seemed to be an
undetermined spot; for mile after mile rolled away--rather the wheels
rolled over them--and still he rode by us, talking through the window,
and the sprays of wild flowers he would pick for me from time to time
were growing to quite a bouquet, when he proposed an exchange with the
farmer who was driving us, and, giving him his horse, took the reins
himself.
I think Miriam and I will always remember that ride. The laughter, the
conversation, the songs with the murmuring accompaniment of the wheels,
and a thousand incidents pleasant to remember though foolish to speak
of, will always form a delightful tableau in our recollections. I have
but one disagreeable impression to remember in connection with the
trip, and that occurred at a farmhouse two miles from here, where we
stopped to get strawberries. I preferred remaining in the carriage, to
the trouble of getting out; so all went in, Mr. Halsey dividing his
time equally between Miriam in the house and me in the carriage,
supplying me with violets and _pensées_ one moment, and the next
showing me the most tempting strawberries at the most provoking
distance, assuring me they were exquisite. The individual to whom the
carriage belonged, who had given up the reins to Mr. Halsey, and who,
no doubt, was respectable enough for his class in his part of the
country, would allow no one to bring me my strawberries, reserving the
honor for himself. Presently he appeared with a large saucer of them
covered with cream. I was naturally thankful, but would have preferred
his returning to the house after he had fulfilled his mission. Instead,
he had the audacity to express his admiration of my personal
appearance; without a pause gave me a short sketch of his history,
informed me he was a widower, and _very_ anxious to marry again, and
finally,--Lares and Penates of the house of Morgan ap Kerrig, veil your
affronted brows! You will scarcely credit that the creature had the
insolence to say that--he would marry me to-morrow, if he could, and
think himself blessed; for the jewel of the soul must be equal to the
casket that contained it! Yes! this brute of a man had the unparalleled
audacity to speak to me in such a way! Just then, mother, remembering
her invalid, came to the gallery and asked how I was enjoying my lunch.
"I'm courting her!" cried the wretch. "Glad she did not go in! Swear
she's the prettiest girl I _ever_ saw!" At that moment Mr. Halsey
came sauntering out with a handful of violets for me, and, turning my
shoulder to the creature, I entered into a lively discussion with him,
and at last had the satisfaction of seeing the wretch enter the house.
A drive through the straggling, half-deserted town brought us here to
Mrs. Greyson's, a large, old-fashioned-looking house so close to the
Tchefuncta (I think that is the name of the river) that I could throw a
stone in it from my bed, almost.
Mrs. Greyson herself would require two or three pages to do her
justice. Fancy the daughter of Sir Francis Searle, the widow of General
Greyson, the belle of New Orleans in her young days, settled down into
a hotel-keeper on a small scale, with stately ladies and gentlemen
looking down in solemn surprise at her boarders from their rich
portrait frames on the parlor wall! Fallen greatness always gives me an
uncomfortable thrill. Yet here was the heiress of these shadows on the
wall, gay, talkative, bustling, active; with a word of caution, or a
word of advice to all; polite, attentive, agreeable to her guests,
quarreling and exacting with her servants, grasping and avaricious with
all; singing a piece from "Norma" in a voice, about the size of a
thread No. 150, that showed traces of former excellence; or cheapening
a bushel of corn meal with equal volubility. What a character! Full of
little secrets and mysteries. "Now, my dear, I don't ask you to tell a
_story_, you know; but if the others ask you if you knew it, just look
surprised and say, 'Oh, dear me, when did it happen?' 'Cause I promised
not to tell; only you are such favorites that I could not help it, and
it would not do to acknowledge it. And if any one asks you if I put
these candles in here, just say you brought them with you, that's a
love, because they will be jealous, as I only allow them lamps."
Eccentric Mrs. Greyson! Many an hour's amusement did she afford me.[19]
[19] This paragraph, which occurs retrospectively in the Diary
under date of New Orleans, Sunday, May 24th, 1863, is inserted
here for the sake of clearness.--W. D.
A ride of twenty-six miles bolt upright in the carriage, over such bad
roads, had almost used me up; I retired to bed in a state of collapse,
leaving Miriam to entertain Mr. Halsey alone. After supper, though, I
managed to put on my prettiest dress, and be carried down to the parlor
where I rejoined the rest. Several strange ladies were present, one of
whom has since afforded me a hearty laugh. She was a horrid-looking
woman, and ten minutes after I entered, crossing the room with a most
laughable look of vulgarity attempting to ape righteous scorn, jerked
some articles of personal property from the table and retired with the
sweep of a small hurricane. I thought her an eccentric female; but what
was my amazement yesterday to hear that she sought Mrs. Greyson, told
her it was impossible for her to stay among so many elegantly dressed
ladies, and that she preferred keeping her room. Next day, she told her
that she was entirely too attentive to us, and rather than be neglected
in that way for other people, would leave the house, which she did
instantly.
There was a singular assembly of odd characters in the parlor Saturday
night, six of whom looked as though they were but so many reflections
of the same individual in different glasses, and the seventh differed
from the rest only in playing exquisitely on the banjo--"Too well to be
a gentleman," I fear. These were soldiers, come to "call" on us. Half
an hour after we arrived, a dozen of them took possession of the bench
on the bank of the river, one with his banjo who played and sang
delightfully. Old Mrs. Greyson, who is rather eccentric, called, "Ah,
Mr. J----! Have you heard already of the arrival of the young ladies?
You never serenaded _me_!" The young man naturally looked foolish; so
she went out and asked him to come around after dark and play for the
young ladies. So after a while he came, "bringing six devils yet worse
than himself," as the old Scriptural phrase has it, all of whom sat on
the same side of the room, and looked at us steadily when they thought
we were not looking. All had the same voice, the same bow, the same
manner--that is to say none at all of the latter; one introduced an
agreeable variety, saying as he bowed to each separately, "Happy to
make your acquaintance, ma'am." Mr. Halsey just managed to keep his
face straight, while I longed for a Dickens to put them all together
and make one amusing picture out of the seven. I troubled myself very
little about them, preferring Mr. Halsey's company, not knowing when we
would meet again. It would not have been quite fair to leave him to
himself after he had ridden such a distance for us; so I generously
left the seven to Miriam, content with one, and rather think I had the
best of the bargain. The one with the banjo suggested that we should
sing for them before he played for us, so Miriam played on the piano,
and sang with me on the guitar half a dozen songs, and then the other
commenced. I don't know when I have been more amused. There was an odd,
piney-woods dash about him that was exceedingly diverting, and he went
through comic, sentimental, and original songs with an air that showed
his whole heart was in it. Judging from the number of youth too timid
to venture in, who peeped at us from the windows, I should say that
young ladies are curiosities just now in Madisonville.
Tuesday, April 14th.
Ah! another delightful glimpse of society has been offered to our
charmed view. Such a treat has not often fallen to our lot. Good Mrs.
Greyson, in her anxiety to make all around her happy, determined we
should have a dance. I should say "Miriam"; for Mrs. Bull and Mrs. Ivy
never indulge in such amusements, and I can't; so it must have been for
Miriam alone. Such a crew! The two ladies above mentioned and I almost
laughed ourselves into hysterics. Poor Miriam, with a tall, slender
Texan who looked as though he had chopped wood all his life, moved
through the dance like the lady in "Comus"; only, now and then a burst
of laughter at the odd mistakes threatened to overcome her dignity. We
who were fortunately exempt from the ordeal, laughed unrestrainedly at
the mêlée. One danced entirely with his arms; his feet had very little
to do with the time. One hopped through with a most dolorous expression
of intense absorption in the arduous task. Another never changed a
benign smile that had appeared on entering, but preserved it unimpaired
through every accident. One female, apparently of the tender age of
thirty, wore a yellow muslin, with her hair combed rigidly _à la
chinoise_, and tightly fastened at the back of her head in a knot whose
circumference must have been fully equal to that of a dollar. In
addition to other charms, she bore her neck and chin in a very peculiar
manner, as though she were looking over the fence, Mr. Christmas
remarked. Mr. Christmas had ridden all the way from Ponchatoula to see
us, and if it had not been for him, Mr. Worthington, and Dr.
Capdevielle, who came in after a while, I think I should have expired,
and even Miriam would have given up in despair. The Doctor was an old
friend of Harry's, though we never met him before.
Thursday, April 16th.
Mr. Halsey brought us each a little tortoise-shell ring he had made for
us by his camp-fire, as a keepsake, and of course we promised to wear
them for him, particularly as they make our hands look as white as
possible. Towards sunset, in spite of prayers and entreaties from
Miriam, who insisted that I was too feeble to attempt it, I insisted on
walking out to the bench by the river to enjoy the cool breeze; and was
rather glad I had come, when soon after Dr. Capdevielle made his
appearance, with two beautiful bouquets which he presented with his
French bow to us; and introducing his friend, Mr. Miltonberger, entered
into one of those lively discussions about nothing which Frenchmen know
how to make so interesting....
No sooner had they left than, to our infinite surprise, the immortal
seven of Saturday night walked in. Wonder what fun they find in coming?
I see none. For we rarely trouble ourselves about their presence; there
are but two I have addressed as yet; one because I am forced to say yes
or no to his remarks, and the other because I like his banjo, which he
brought again, and feel obliged to talk occasionally since he is so
accommodating, and affords me the greatest amusement with his comic
songs. I was about retiring unceremoniously about twelve o'clock,
completely worn out, when they finally bethought themselves of saying
good-night, and saved me the necessity of being rude. Wonder if that is
all the fun they have? I should say it was rather dry. It is mean to
laugh at them, though; their obliging dispositions should save them
from our ridicule. Last evening Mr. Halsey succeeded in procuring a
large skiff, whereupon four or five of them offered to row, and took us
'way down the Tchefuncta through the most charming scenery to a spot
where Echo answered us in the most remarkable way; her distinct
utterance was really charming. Not being aware of the secret, I thought
the first answer to the halloo was from pickets. Mr. Halsey has a
magnificent voice; and the echoes came back so full and rich that soon
we appointed him speaker by mutual consent, and were more than repaid
by the delightful sounds that came from the woods. The last ray of the
sun on the smooth waters; the soldiers resting on their oars while we
tuned the guitar and sang in the still evening, until twilight, slowly
closing over, warned us to return, forms another of those pictures
indescribable though never to be forgotten.
BONFOUCA,
Saturday, April 18th.
When I paused on Thursday to rest a few moments, how little idea I had
that the rest I was taking would soon be required for another journey!
It was agreed among us, with our fellow travelers, Mrs. Bull and Mrs.
Ivy, whom we met at Mrs. Greyson's, endeavoring to reach the city like
ourselves, that we would wait there until we could receive our
passports from General Pemberton. When this journey was first seriously
contemplated, Miriam wrote to Colonel Szymanski representing mother's
state of health and my unfortunate condition, the necessity of medical
advice for both, and the impossibility of remaining in famishing
Clinton, and asked him to apply to the General for a pass to go to
Brother. The Colonel sent word through Eugene La Noue that we should
obtain it in a few days, and advised us to go by way of Ponchatoula.
Tired of delay, and hearing that we could pass as readily on General
Gardiner's order, we obtained one and started off without waiting for
the other. The first news on arriving at Madisonville was that no one
should pass except on General Pemberton's order.
Pleasant intelligence for those who had come that far without! The
other two ladies were in the same dilemma. They were told that they
should have a pass if they would wait. Waiting at the expense of four
dollars a day for each,--Mrs. Ivy with two very sick babies, Mrs. Bull
with all her property in New Orleans at stake, Tiche with her broken
foot, mother with a powerless hand, and I with an injured spine,--was
anything but agreeable under the circumstances; though nothing could be
more pleasant, apart from this sense of restriction, than our stay at
Madisonville. General Pemberton took his leisure about the affair,
which is not surprising, as our Generals have more weighty matters than
women's passports to attend to. Still, pleased as we were with our
residence there, it was necessary to get on as soon as possible. So as
I rested from labors about one o'clock on Thursday, Mrs. Bull came in
to suggest a new plan to mother. It was to leave immediately for a
plantation called Bonfouca, thirty miles off, where schooners came
twice a week, and where we would be allowed to embark without a pass.
Carriages that had just brought a party of ladies from Mandeville were
waiting on the other side of the river, which could take us off
immediately, for there was not a moment to lose.
Instantly we resolved to hazard the undertaking.
About three we got into the large scow to cross the Tchefuncta, in a
party numbering five ladies, four children, and four servants. One of
the devoted pickets, after setting me carefully in the most comfortable
place, asked permission to accompany me as far as the carriage; he was
sure he could assist me more carefully than the drivers. And without
further parley, he followed. Before we turned the point, Mr.
Worthington[20] ... the dim distance, rowing up the stream in the
direction of Madisonville. What if he had perceived us, and was
hastening after us, deeming it his duty to arrest us for trying to get
away without General Pemberton's order? As the idea was suggested,
there was rather a nervous set of ladies on board. The half-mile that
we had to go before reaching our landing-place was passed over in
nervous apprehension. At last the spot was reached. Mr. Worthington had
not appeared, and we reached _terra firma_ without being "nabbed," as
we confidently expected. The obliging picket put me into the carriage,
bade me a most friendly adieu, and returned to the village, leaving us
with every prospect of getting off without serious difficulty, in spite
of our serious apprehensions.
[20] The torn edge of a page has obliterated several words, which
might, to judge by the context, have been "was seen in."
With two little children and Tiche with me, our carriage started off
some time before the others. Two or three miles from our
starting-point, I perceived three gentlemen riding towards us, one of
whom I instantly recognized as Dr. Capdevielle. Instantly I stopped the
carriage to speak to him. His look of astonishment when satisfied of my
identity rather amused me; but my amusement was changed to a slight
feeling of disappointment when he commenced talking. Was it possible I
was leaving Madison? Oh, how distressed he was! He was promising
himself so much pleasure! And to leave so unexpectedly! He had just
come with his friends from--somewhere. They had planned a surprise
party at Mrs. Greyson's for us that evening, and had been after the
supper they had procured--somewhere, as I before observed, and were
just now returning. And now we were deserting them! He had invited
Monsieur Berger, Monsieur Pollock, Monsieur ---- _Mais enfin des
Messieurs!_ he exclaimed with a comical emphasis and smile that brought
vivid recollections of the other party before my eyes, by force of
contrast, I suppose. And wasn't I sorry we had left! We fairly condoled
with each other. Twenty minutes had elapsed before I had so far
recovered from the disappointment as to bethink myself of the propriety
of continuing my journey. And then with the assurance of being mutually
_désolée_, we parted with a hearty good-bye, and he rode on to rejoin
his companions, while I went the way he had come.
Two miles beyond, I met three others of the six gentlemen he had
mentioned, riding in a little dogcart which contained champagne baskets
in which the supper was evidently packed, each gentleman elegantly
dressed, holding between them a little basket of bouquets that my
prophetic soul told me was intended for Miriam and me. I was not
personally acquainted with the gentlemen, or I should have told them of
the disappointment that awaited them. It _must_ have been a
disappointment!
In the midst of profound reflections about fate, vanity of human wishes
and calculations, friendships formed on the roadside in the journey
through life (or from Clinton), I raised my eyes to behold Lake
Ponchartrain, and to find myself in Mandeville, just seven miles from
the Tchefuncta. Looking at the dreary expanse of water, which suggested
loneliness and desolation, first recalled my own situation to me. Here
I was in this straggling place, with Tiche, a cripple like myself, and
two little children under my care, without an idea of where we were to
go. Any one as timid and dependent as I to be placed in such a position
as pioneer to such a tremendous company would feel rather forlorn. But
some step had to be taken, so I consulted the driver as to where we
could obtain board, and followed his suggestion. One house after the
other we stopped at, and with my veil down and my heart beating as
though I were soliciting charity, or some other unpleasant favor, I
tried to engage rooms for the company, without success. At last we were
directed to a Frenchman, who, after the usual assurance of "nothing to
eat" (which we afterwards found to be only too true), consented to
receive us. "Taking possession" seemed to me such a dreadful
responsibility that for some time I remained in the carriage, afraid to
get out before the others arrived. But there was still no sign of them;
so I gathered my children and Tiche, and prepared to dismount with the
Frenchman's assistance.
I have read descriptions of such houses and people, but I have not
often seen them. The man and his wife were perfect specimens of the low
Canadian, speaking only French. No sooner had they discovered that I
was "blessée," as they supposed, than each seized an arm and with
overwhelming exclamations of sympathy, halfway dragged me into the
room, where they thrust me into a chair. Their family seemed to consist
only of cats and dogs who seemed to agree most harmoniously, and each
of whom conceived the liveliest affection for us. As we were leaving
Mrs. Greyson's, a stranger just from the city, brought to our room a
paper of ham, tongue, and biscuits for "the sick young lady" (Heaven
only knows how she heard of her), saying she had just traveled the road
herself, and knew I would find nothing to eat; so she would insist on
putting this in our basket. It was done in a manner that put all
refusal out of the question; so it had to be accepted. I was feeding
little Jenny Ivy and Minna Bull on this lunch for want of something
else to do, when the affection of the cats and dogs became
overpowering. Six of them jumped at us, licked Jenny's face, eat
Minna's ham, and what with sundry kicks and slaps I had exercise enough
to last a week, and was rapidly losing all my strength, when the woman
came to my rescue and called her pets off just as the rest of the party
drove up to find me almost exhausted.
Such a bedroom! There was a narrow single bed in which mother, Jenny,
and I slept, a decrepit table on which stood a diseased mirror, a
broken lounge without a bottom, and a pine armoir filled with--corn! In
the centre stood the chief ornament, a huge pile of dirt, near which
Miriam's mattress was placed, while the sail of a boat flanked it in on
the other side, arranged as a bed for Tiche. The accommodations in the
other bedroom were far inferior to ours. Then the mosquitoes swarmed
like pandemonium on a spree, and there was but one bar in the house,
which the man declared should be only for me. I would rather have been
devoured by the insects than enjoy comforts denied to the others; so I
made up my mind it should be the last time.
Our supper was rare. "Nothing like it was ever seen in Paris," as
McClellan would say. It consisted of one egg apiece, with a small
spoonful of rice. A feast, you see! Price, one dollar each, besides the
dollar paid for the privilege of sleeping among dirt, dogs, and fleas.
Sunday, April 19th.
Friday morning we arose and prepared to resume our journey for
Bonfouca, twenty-three miles away. The man walked in very unceremoniously
to get corn from the armoir as we got up, throwing open the windows and
performing sundry little offices usually reserved for _femmes-de-chambre_;
but with that exception everything went on very well. Breakfast being a
luxury not to be procured, we got into the carriages before sunrise,
and left this romantic abode of dogs and contentment. Again our road
lay through piney woods, so much like that from Hammond to Ponchatoula
that involuntarily I found myself looking through the window to see if
Mr. Halsey was there. It lacked only his presence to make the scene all
in all the same. But alas! this time the driver picked me wild flowers,
and brought us haws. Mr. Halsey, in blissful ignorance of our
departure, was many and many a mile away. The drive was not half as
amusing. The horse would not suffer any one except Miriam to drive, and
at last refused to move until the driver got down and ran along by the
carriage. Every time the poor boy attempted to occupy his seat, the
obstinate animal would come to a dead stop and refuse to go until he
dismounted again. I am sure that he walked nineteen miles out of the
twenty-three, out of complaisance to the ungrateful brute.
All equally fatigued and warm, we reached this place about twelve
o'clock. Mrs. Bull had arrived before us; and as the carriage stopped,
her girl Delia came to the gate the personification of despair, crying,
"You can't get out, ladies. They say we can't stop here; we must go
right back." The panic which ensued is indescribable. Go back when we
were almost at our journey's end, after all the money we had spent, the
fatigue we had undergone, to be turned back all the way to Clinton,
perhaps! "With my sick babies!" cried Mrs. Ivy. "With my sick child!"
cried mother. "Never! You may turn me out of your house, but we will
die in the woods first! To go back is to kill my daughter and these
babies!" This was to the overseer who came to the carriage. "Madam, I
have orders to allow no one to pass who has not written permission.
Lieutenant Worthington sent the order two days ago; and I am liable to
imprisonment if I harbor those who have no passport," the man
explained. "But we have General Gardiner's order," I expostulated.
"Then you shall certainly pass; but these ladies cannot. I can't turn
you away, though; you shall all come in and stay until something can be
determined on."
This much granted was an unlooked-for blessing. He showed us the way to
a large unfurnished house, one room of which contained a bed with one
naked mattress, which was to be our apartment. Mrs. Bull sat down in a
calm, dignified state of despair; little Mrs. Ivy dissolved in tears;
we all felt equally disconsolate; the prospect of getting off was not
so pleasant when we thought we should be obliged to leave them behind.
Our common misfortunes had endeared us to each other, strangers as we
were a week ago. So we all lamented together, a perfect _Jérémiade_ of
despair. The overseer is very tender-hearted; he condoled, comforted,
and finally determined that if there was any way of getting them off,
they should go. A glimpse of sunshine returned to our lowering sky, and
cheerfulness reigned once more, to be violently dethroned some hours
later. Three of the Madisonville pickets were announced approaching the
house. Of course, they were coming after us! Oh, that vile Mr.
Worthington! We always _did_ hate him! There was such a sneaky look
about him. Hypocrite! we always felt we should hate him! Oh, the
wretch! "I won't go back!" cried mother. "I shall not," said quiet Mrs.
Bull. "He shall pay my expenses if he insists on taking me back!"
exclaimed Mrs. Ivy. "Spent all my money! Mrs. Bull, you have none to
lend me, remember, and Mrs. Morgan _shan't_! Oh, that Worthington!
Let's make him pay for all!" We smothered our laughter to sit trembling
within as the pickets stepped on the gallery. I believe we commenced
praying. Just think! Thus far, our journey has cost mother two hundred
and twenty dollars. It would cost the same to get back to blessed
Clinton, and fancy our spending that sum to settle there again!
Besides, we gave away all our clothes to our suffering friends; and
what would we do there now?
After half an hour of painful suspense, we discovered that it would
have been as well to spare poor Mr. Worthington; for the pickets were
not after us, but had come to escort Mrs. R----, a woman who was taking
the body of her son, who was killed at Murfreesboro, to the city for
interment. Poor woman! she rode all this distance sitting on her
child's coffin. Her husband was one of those who with B---- stole that
large sum of money from father which came so near ruining him. She
speaks of her husband as of a departed saint. I dare say she believes
him innocent of the theft in spite of his public confession. The grave
has wiped out even the disgrace of the penitentiary where he expiated
his offense.... When I told Tiche who the woman was, she clasped her
hands, saying, "The Lord is good! Years and years master suffered while
she grew rich, and now _her_ time comes! The Lord don't forget!" I
can't feel that way. It is well for the narrow-minded to look for God's
judgment on us for our sins; but mine is a more liberal faith. God
afflicted her for some wise purpose; but if I thought it was to avenge
father, I should be afraid of her. As it is, I can be sorry, oh, _so_
sorry for her!
As usual I find myself taken care of at the expense of the others.
There are but two bars on the place; one, the overseer said, should be
for me, the other for the children. Sheets were scarce, covers scarcer
still. Tired of being spoiled in this way, I insisted on being allowed
to sleep on a mattress on the floor, after a vigorous skirmish with
mother and Miriam, in which I came off victorious. For a bar, I
impressed Miriam's grenadine dress, which she fastened to the doorknob
and let fall over me à la Victoria tester arrangement. To my share fell
a double blanket, which, as Tiche had no cover, I unfolded, and as she
used the foot of my bed for a pillow, gave her the other end of it,
thus (tell it not in Yankeeland, for it will never be credited)
actually sleeping under the same bedclothes with our black, shiny negro
nurse! We are grateful, though, even for these discomforts; it might
have been so much worse! Indeed, I fear that our fellow travelers do
not fare as well. Those who have sheets have no bars; those who have
blankets have no sheets; and one woman who has recently joined us has
nothing except a mattress which is to do the duty of all three. But
then, we got bread! Real, pure, wheat bread! And coffee! None of your
potato, burnt sugar, and parched corn abomination, but the
unadulterated berry! I can't enjoy it fully, though; every mouthful is
cloyed with the recollection that Lilly and her children have none.
As usual, as Mrs. Greyson says, the flowers follow us; yesterday I
received three bouquets, and Miriam got one too. In this out-of-the-way
place such offerings are unexpected; and these were doubly gratifying
coming from people one is not accustomed to receiving them from. For
instance, the first was from the overseer, the second from a servant,
and the third from a poor boy for whom we have subscribed to pay his
passage to the city.
Wednesday, April 22d,
NEW ORLEANS.
Yesterday we arrived; I thought we should never get here. Monday we had
almost given up in despair, believing the schooner would never return.
But in the evening, when all were gathered in our room discussing our
hopes and fears, a sail was perceived at the mouth of the bayou,
whereupon every one rushed out to see the boat land. I believe that I
have not mentioned that this Bonfouca is on a bayou of the same name
that runs within a few yards of this house. It is an Indian name
signifying Winding River, which struck us as very appropriate when we
watched the schooner sailing now to the left, now to the right,
apparently through the green fields; for the high grass hid the course
of the stream so that the faintest line was not perceptible, except
just in front of the house. All was now bustle and confusion, packing,
dressing, and writing last words to our friends at home, until
half-past eleven, when we embarked.
This is my first experience of schooners, and I don't care if I never
behold another. The cabin where Mr. Kennedy immediately carried me, was
just the size of my bed at home (in the days I had a home) and just
high enough to stand in. On each side of the short ladder, there was a
mattress two feet wide. One of them Mrs. R---- had possession of
already, the other was reserved for me. I gave the lower part of mine
to Minna and Jennie, who spent the rest of the night fighting each
other and kicking me.
Just before twelve we "weighed anchor" and I went on deck to take a
last look at Dixie with the rest of the party. Every heart was full.
Each left brothers, sisters, husband, children, or dear friends behind.
We sang, "Farewell dear land," with a slight quaver in our voices,
looked at the beautiful starlight shining on the last boundary of our
glorious land, and, fervently and silently praying, passed out of
sight.
God bless you, all you dear ones we have left in our beloved country!
God bless and prosper you, and grant you the victory in the name of
Jesus Christ.
I returned to my mattress, and this is the way we spent the night.
Mrs. R----, rocking and moaning as she sat up in bed, whined out her
various ills with a minute description of each, ceasing the recital
only to talk of her son's body which lay on deck. (Yesterday morning
she was sitting crying on his coffin while a strange woman sat on its
head eating her bread and cheese.) Mrs. Bull, one of the most
intelligent and refined ladies I have yet met, who is perfectly devoted
to me, sat by me, laughing and talking, trying her best to make every
one comfortable and happy in her unobtrusive way. Mother talked to Mrs.
R---- and cried at the thought of leaving her children fighting and
suffering. The space between the two beds was occupied by three
Irishwomen and Mrs. Ivy's two babies. The babies had commenced
screaming as they were brought into the pen, at which I was not
surprised. Having pitched their voices on the proper key, they never
ceased shrieking, kicking, crying, throwing up, and going through the
whole list of baby performances. The nurses scolded with shrill voices
above the bedlam that had hushed even Mrs. R----'s complaints; Jennie
and Minna quarreled, kicked, and cried; and as an aggravation to the
previous discomforts, a broad-shouldered, perspiring Irishwoman sat
just by my head, bracing herself against my pillow in the most
unpleasant style. I endured it without flinching until about half-past
three, when the condensed odor of a dozen different people and children
became unendurable, and I staggered up on deck where Miriam and Mrs.
Ivy had been wise enough to remain without venturing below. They laid
me on a bench in the stern, rolled me up in shawls to keep off the
heavy dew, and there I remained until daylight with them, as wide awake
as ever.
At daylight there was a universal smoothing of heads, and straightening
of dresses, besides arrangements made for the inspection of baggage.
Being unwilling for any Christian to see such a book as this, I passed
a piece of tape through the centre leaves, and made Miriam tie it under
her hoops. At sunrise we were in sight of the houses at the lake end.
It seemed as though we would never reach land.
I forgot to speak of our alarm as we got in the lake. No sooner had we
fairly left the bayou than the sky suddenly became threatening. The
captain shook his head and spoke of a very ugly night for the lake,
which sent everybody's heart to their throats, and alarmed us
immeasurably. We got talking of the sailor's superstition of crossing
the water with a corpse, until we persuaded ourselves that it was more
than probable we would founder in the coming storm. But the severest
storm we met was the one in the cabin; and all night the only wind was
a head breeze, and the spicy gale from below.
When we at last entered the canal, I beheld the animal now so long
unseen, the Yankee. In their dark blue uniforms, they stood around, but
I thought of the dear gray coats, and even the pickets of Madisonville
seemed nobler and greater men than these. Immediately a guard was
placed on board, we whispering before he came, "Our dear Confederates,
God bless them."
We had agreed among ourselves that come what would, we would preserve
our dignity and self-respect, and do anything rather than create a
scene among such people. It is well that we agreed. So we whispered
quietly among ourselves, exhorting each other to pay no attention to
the remarks the Yankees made about us as we passed, and acting the
martyr to perfection, until we came to Hickock's Landing. Here there
was a group of twenty Yankees. Two officers came up and asked us for
papers; we said we had none. In five minutes one came back, and asked
if we had taken the oath. No; we had never taken _any_. He then took
down our names. Mother was alone in the coop. He asked if there was not
another. The schooner had fifteen passengers, and we had given only
fourteen names. Mother then came up and gave her name, going back soon
after.
While one went after our passes, others came to examine our baggage. I
could not but smile as an unfortunate young man got on his knees before
our trunk and respectfully handled our dirty petticoats and stockings.
"You have gone through it before," he said. "Of course, the
Confederates searched it."--"Indeed, they did not touch it!" I
exclaimed. "They never think of doing such work."--"Miss, it is more
mortifying to me than it can be to you," he answered. And I saw he was
actually blushing. He did his work as delicately as possible, and when
he returned the keys, asked if we had letters. I opened my box and put
them into his hand. One came near getting me into serious trouble. It
was sent by some one I never saw, with the assurance that it contained
nothing objectionable. I gave it sealed to the man, who opened it, when
it proved to be rather disagreeable, I judged from his language. He
told me his captain must see it before he could let me have it, and
carried it off. Presently he came back and told me it could not be
returned. I told him to burn it then, as I neither knew the writer, the
contents, nor those it was written to. "I may save you some difficulty
if I destroy it," he remarked, whereupon he tore it up and flung it
into the canal. I have since found I had cause to be grateful; for just
after came an officer to see the young lady who brought that letter. I
showed the pieces in the water, saying the young man had torn it up,
which seemed to annoy him; it was to be sent to headquarters, he said.
Then came a bundle of papers on board carried by another, who standing
in front of us, cried in a startling way, "Sarah Morgan!"--"Here" (very
quietly).--"Stand up!"--"I cannot" (firmly).--"Why not?"--"Unable"
(decisively). After this brief dialogue, he went on with the others
until all were standing except myself, when he delivered to each a
strip of paper that informed the people that Miss, or Mrs. So-and-So
had taken and subscribed the oath as Citizen of the United States. I
thought that was all, and rejoiced at our escape. But after another
pause he uncovered his head and told us to hold up our right hands.
Half-crying, I covered my face with mine and prayed breathlessly for
the boys and the Confederacy, so that I heard not a word he was saying
until the question, "So help you God?" struck my ear. I shuddered and
prayed harder. There came an awful pause in which not a lip was moved.
Each felt as though in a nightmare, until, throwing down his blank
book, the officer pronounced it "All right!" Strange to say, I
experienced no change. I prayed as hard as ever for the boys and our
country, and felt no nasty or disagreeable feeling which would have
announced the process of turning Yankee.
Then it was that mother commenced. He turned to the mouth of the
diminutive cave, and asked if she was ready to take the oath. "I
suppose I _have_ to, since I belong to you," she replied. "No, madam,
you are not obliged; we force no one. Can you state your objections?"
"Yes, I have three sons fighting against you, and you have robbed me,
beggared me!" she exclaimed, launching into a speech in which Heaven
knows _what_ she did not say; there was little she left out, from her
despoiled house to her sore hand, both of which she attributed to the
at first amiable man, who was rapidly losing all patience. Faint with
hunger, dizzy with sleeplessness, she had wrought on her own feelings
until her nerves were beyond control. She was determined to carry it
out, and crying and sobbing went through with it.
I neither spoke nor moved.... The officer walked off angrily and sent
for a guard to have mother taken before General Bowens. Once through
her speech, mother yielded to the entreaties of the ladies and
professed herself ready to take the oath, since she was obliged to.
"Madam, I did not invite you to come," said the polite officer, who
refused to administer the oath; and putting several soldiers on board,
ordered them to keep all on board until one could report to General
Bowens. Mother retired to the cabin, while we still kept our seats
above.
Oh, that monotonous, never-ending canal! We thought it would go on
forever. At last we came to the basin in the centre of the city. Here
was a position for ladies! Sitting like Irish emigrants on their
earthly possessions, and coming in a schooner to New Orleans, which a
year ago would have filled us with horror. Again the landing was
reached, and again we were boarded by officers. I don't know how they
knew of the difficulty mother had made, but they certainly did, and
ordered that none should leave until the General's will was made known.
Mrs. Bull and Mrs. Ivy, after a long delay and many representations, at
last prepared to leave. I was sitting in the spot I had occupied ever
since before daylight, with nothing to support me above my hips. All of
us had fasted since an early and light supper the night before; none
had slept. I was growing so weak from these three causes, and the
burning sun (for it was now twelve), that I could hardly speak when
they came to tell me good-bye. Alarmed at my appearance, Mrs. Bull
entreated the officer to allow me to leave the boat. No, he said; it
was impossible; we should remain on board until General Bowens could
come. We may get an answer in half an hour, or we may not get it for
some time; and there we must stay until it came. "But this young lady
has been ill for months; she is perfectly exhausted, and will faint if
she is not removed immediately," pleaded Mrs. Bull. She did not know my
powers of control. Faint! I would have expired silently first! The
officer said those were his orders; I could not leave. "Do you think
you are performing your duty as a gentleman and a Christian? This young
lady has obtained her pass already, without the slightest difficulty,"
she persisted. Still he said he was acting according to orders. Not to
be baffled, she begged that she might be allowed to take me to Brother,
telling him who he was, while our trunk, Miriam, Tiche, and mother
would remain as hostages. Then he gave a reluctant consent on condition
I left my number, so he could go after me when I was wanted.
I don't know what good came of the consent, for there I was to remain
until something, I don't know what, happened. I only know I was growing
deathly sick and faint, and could hardly hold myself up, when some time
after Mrs. Bull and Mrs. Ivy left (under the impression that I was to
go immediately), a gentleman in citizen's clothes came to me and said
he had obtained permission for me to wait General Bowens's orders in
his office, a few steps from the schooner. Thankful for so much, I
accepted his arm and slowly dragged myself along to the first shelter I
had seen that day. By some wonderful condescension Miriam and mother
were allowed to follow; and with the guard at the door, we waited there
for half an hour more until our sentence could be received.
Miriam had written a line to Brother as soon as possible, telling him
of the situation, and while we were waiting in this office, I half dead
with fatigue, a carriage dashed up to the door, and out of it stepped
Brother. I felt that all our troubles were over then. He looked so glad
to see us that it seemed a pity to tell the disagreeable story that yet
remained to be told. But once heard, he made all go right in a few
moments. He got into the carriage with mother, to take her to General
Bowens, while we got into another to come to the house. I saw no more
of the guard or officer.
When we arrived, Sister was too astonished to speak. She did not
believe we would come when it was ordered that all should take the oath
on entering. If we had only realized it I don't think we would, either.
In half an hour mother got back. Supported by Brother's presence, she
had managed to hold up her right hand and say "Yes" to the oath--which
was more than any of us had done.
* * * * *
Brother found an officer at the door who had been ordered (before he
took mother to the General) to arrest her and confine her in the
Custom-House. I suppose Miriam and I would have shared the imprisonment
with her. But Brother has a way of making all these things right; and
the man was sent back without accomplishing his mission.
Sunday, April 26th.
I am getting well! Bless the Lord, O my soul! Life, health, and
happiness dawn on my trembling view again!... Dr. Stone came to see me
a few hours after I arrived; two days after, he called again; this
morning I walked out to meet him when he was announced, and he asked me
how my sister was. When I told him I was myself, "God bless my soul!
You don't say so!" he exclaimed, evidently astonished at the
resurrection.
Thursday, April 30th.
Was not the recollection of this day bitter enough to me already? I did
not think it could be more so. Yet behold me crying as I have not cried
for many and many a day. Not for Harry; I dare not cry for him. I feel
a deathlike quiet when I think of him; a fear that even a deep-drawn
breath would wake him in his grave. And as dearly as I love you, O Hal,
I don't want you in this dreary world again....
Talk of the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes! Talk of Louis XIV!
Of--pshaw! my head is in such a whirl that history gets all mixed up,
and all parallels seem weak and moderate in comparison to this infamous
outrage. To-day, thousands of families, from the most respectable down
to the least, all who have had the firmness to register themselves
enemies to the United States, are ordered to leave the city before the
fifteenth of May. Think of the thousands, perfectly destitute, who can
hardly afford to buy their daily bread even here, sent to the
Confederacy, where it is neither to be earned nor bought, without
money, friends, or a home. Hundreds have comfortable homes here, which
will be confiscated to enrich those who drive them out. "It is an ill
wind that blows no one good." Such dismal faces as one meets
everywhere! Each looks heartbroken. Homeless, friendless, beggars, is
written in every eye. Brother's face is too unhappy to make it pleasant
to look at him. True, he is safe; but hundreds of his friends are going
forth destitute, leaving happy homes behind, not knowing where the
crust of bread for famishing children is to come from to-morrow. He
went to General Bowens and asked if it were possible that women and
children were included in the order. Yes, he said; they should all go,
and go in the Confederacy. They should not be allowed to go elsewhere.
Penned up like sheep to starve! That's the idea! With the addition of
forty thousand mouths to feed, they think they can invoke famine to
their aid, seeing that their negro brothers don't help them much in the
task of subjugating us.
* * * * *
Don't care who knows I smuggled in a dozen letters! Wish I had had
more!
June 9th, Tuesday.
My dear Brother, who is always seeking to make somebody happy, arranged
a dinner-party at the lake for us Saturday. There was quite a number of
us, as, besides ourselves and the five children, we had Mrs. Price and
her children, Mrs. Bull, and three nurses.... There are no Southern
young men left in town, and those who remain would hardly be received
with civility by Miriam and myself. Of the Yankees, Brother has so much
consideration for us that he has never invited one to his house since
we have been here, though he has many friends among them who visited
here before our arrival. Such delicacy of feeling we fully appreciate,
knowing how very few men of such a hospitable nature would be capable
of such a sacrifice. Thinking we need company, Brother frequently
invites what he calls "a safe old Secessionist" (an old bachelor of
fifty-three who was wounded at Shiloh) to dine with us; thinking it a
fair compromise between the stay-at-home youth and Yankees, neither of
whom this extremely young man could be confounded with.
Sunday, June 14th.
The excitement about Port Hudson and Vicksburg is intense. When I heard
on Friday that the last attack was being made on the former place, I
took to my prayers with a delirium of fervor. If I was a man, if I had
the blessed privilege of fighting, I would be on the breastworks, or
perchance on the water batteries under Colonel Steadman's command. But
as I was unfortunately born a woman, I stay home and pray with heart
and soul. That is all I can do; but I do it with a will. In my
excitement, I was wishing that I was a Catholic, that I might make a
vow for the preservation of Port Hudson, when a brilliant idea struck
me. It was this: though vows are peculiar to Catholics, mosquitoes are
common to all sects. From that arose this heroic scheme: I said, "Hear
me, Miriam, thou who knowest I have slept undisturbed but three nights
out of seventeen, four hours out of each of the other fourteen having
been spent in destroying my insatiable foe. Thou seest that nightly
vigils are torturing me pale and weak, thou knowest what unspeakable
affection I have for the youth yclept by the ancients Morpheus. Yet
listen to my vow: If Port Hudson holds out, if our dear people are
victorious, I offer up myself on the altar of my country to mosquitoes,
and never again will I murmur at their depredations and voracity." Talk
of pilgrimages, and the ordinary vow of wearing only the Virgin's
colors (the most becoming in the world); there never was one of greater
heroism or more sublime self-sacrifice than this. And as if to prove my
sincerity, they have been worse than ever these last two nights. But as
yet I have not murmured; for the Yankees, who swore to enter Port
Hudson before last Monday night, have not yet fulfilled their promise,
and we hold it still. _Vivent_ vows and mosquitoes, and forever may our
flag wave over the entrenchments! We will conquer yet, with God's
blessing!
A week or ten days ago came a letter from Lydia, who is placed within
the lines by this recent raid. She writes that the sugar-house and
quarters have been seized for Yankee hospitals, that they have been
robbed of their clothing, and that they are in pursuit of the General,
who I pray Heaven may escape them. She wrote for clothing, provisions,
and a servant, and after we had procured them all, and were ready to
send them, we discovered that they would not be allowed to pass; so I
hardly know what the poor child will do unless she accepts Brother's
invitation to come down to him immediately, if she thinks it right.
June 17th.
I must write something somewhere, I don't care if dinner is ready, and
Brother's "safe old Secesh" downstairs! Lydia has another boy! Letter
has just come, and I am demented about my new godchild! There now! feel
better!
One more word--it shall be called "Howell." Dear, blessed little baby!
how I shall love it!
Sunday, June 21st.
How about that oath of allegiance? is what I frequently ask myself, and
always an uneasy qualm of conscience troubles me. Guilty or not guilty
of perjury? According to the law of God in the abstract, and of
nations, Yes; according to my conscience, Jeff Davis, and the peculiar
position I was placed in, No. Which is it? Had I had any idea that such
a pledge would be exacted, would I have been willing to come? Never!
The thought would have horrified me. The reality was never placed
before me until we reached Bonfouca. There I was terrified at the
prospect; but seeing how impossible it would be to go back, I placed
all my hopes in some miracle that was to intervene to prevent such a
crime, and confidently believed my ill health or something else would
save me, while all the rest of the party declared they would think it
nothing, and take forty oaths a day, if necessary. A forced oath, all
men agree, is not binding. The Yankees lay particular stress on this
being voluntary, and insist that no one is solicited to take it except
of their own free will. Yet look at the scene that followed, when
mother showed herself unwilling! Think of being ordered to the
Custom-House as a prisoner for saying she supposed she would _have_ to!
_That's_ liberty! that is free will! It is entirely optional; you have
only to take it quietly or go to jail. That is freedom enough,
certainly! There was not even that choice left to me. I told the
officer who took down my name that I was unwilling to take the oath,
and asked if there was no escaping it. "None whatever" was his reply.
"You have it to do, and there is no getting out of it." His rude tone
frightened me into half-crying; but for all that, as he said, I had it
to do. If perjury it is, which will God punish: me, who was unwilling
to commit the crime, or the man who forced me to it?
Friday, June 26th.
O praise the Lord, O my soul! Here is good news enough to make me happy
for a month! Brother is so good about that! Every time he hears good
news on our side, he tells it just as though it was on his side,
instead of on ours; while all bad news for us he carefully avoids
mentioning, unless we question him. So to-day he brought in a budget
for us.
Lee has crossed the Potomac on his way to Washington with one hundred
and sixty thousand men. Gibbes and George are with him. Magruder is
marching on Fort Jackson, to attack it in the rear. One or two of our
English ironclads are reported at the mouth of the river, and Farragut
has gone down to capture them. O Jimmy! Jimmy! suppose he should be on
one of them? We don't know the name of his ship, and it makes us so
anxious for him, during these months that we have heard nothing of his
whereabouts.
It is so delightful to see these frightened Yankees! One has only to
walk downtown to be satisfied of the alarm that reigns. Yesterday came
the tidings of the capture of Brashere City by our troops, and that a
brigade was fifteen miles above here, coming down to the city. Men
congregated at corners whispering cautiously. These were evidently
Confederates who had taken the oath. Solitary Yankees straggled along
with the most lugubrious faces, troubling no one. We walked down to
Blineau's with Mrs. Price, and over our ice-cream she introduced her
husband, who is a true blue Union man, though she, like ourselves, is a
rank Rebel. Mr. Price, on the eve of making an immense fortune, was
perfectly disconsolate at the news. Every one was to be ruined;
starvation would follow if the Confederates entered; there was never a
more dismal, unhappy creature. Enchanted at the news, I naturally asked
if it were reliable. "Perfectly! Why, to prove how true, standing at
the door of this salon five minutes ago, I saw two young ladies pass
with Confederate flags, which they flirted in the face of some Federal
officers, unrebuked!" Verily, thought I, something is about to happen!
Two days ago the girls who were "unrebuked" this evening would have
found themselves in jail instead.
July 10th.
Shall I cry, faint, scream, or go off in hysterics? Tell me which,
quickly; for to doubt this news is fine and imprisonment, and if I
really believe it I would certainly give way to my feelings and commit
some vagaries of the kind. My resolution is formed! I will do neither;
I won't gratify the Yankees so much. I have been banging at the piano
until my fingers are weary, and singing "The Secret through Life to be
Happy" until my voice is cracked; I'll stand on my head if necessary,
to prove my indifference; but I'll never believe this is true until it
is confirmed by stronger authority.
Day before yesterday came tidings that Vicksburg had fallen on the 4th
inst. The "Era" poured out extras, and sundry little popguns fizzled
out salutes. All who doubted the truth of the report and were brave
enough to say so were fined or imprisoned; it has become a penal
offense to doubt what the "Era" says; so quite a number of arrests were
made. This morning it was followed up by the announcement of the
capture of Port Hudson. The guns are pealing for true, and the Yankees
at headquarters may be seen skipping like lambs, for very joy. And I
still disbelieve! Skeptic! The first thing I know that "Era" man will
be coming here to convert me! But I don't, can't, won't believe it!
_If_ it is true,--but I find consolation in this faith: it is either
true, or not true,--if it is true, it is all for the best, and if it is
_not_ true, it is better still. Whichever it is, is for some wise
purpose; so it does not matter, so we wait, pray, and believe.
5 o'clock, P.M.
I don't believe it? What am I crying about then? It seems so hard! How
the mighty are fallen! Port Hudson gone! Brother believes it. That is
enough for me. God bless him! I cry hourly. He is so good and
considerate. He told me, "Name your friends, and what can be done for
them shall be attended to. The prisoners will be sent here. Maybe I
cannot do much; but food and clothing you shall have in abundance for
them when they arrive." God bless him for his kindness!
O dear, noble men! I am afraid to meet them; I should do something
foolish; best take my cry out in private now. May the Lord look down in
pity on us! Port Hudson does not matter so much; but these brave, noble
creatures! The "Era" says they had devoured their last mule before they
surrendered.
Saturday, July 10th, 10 o'clock P.M.
I preach patience; but how about practice? I am exasperated! there is
the simple fact. And is it not enough? What a scene I have just
witnessed! A motley crew of thousands of low people of all colors
parading the streets with flags, torches, music, and all other
accompaniments, shouting, screaming, exulting over the fall of Port
Hudson and Vicksburg. The "Era" will call it an enthusiastic
demonstration of the loyal citizens of the city; we who saw it from
upper balconies know of what rank these "citizens" were. We saw crowds
of soldiers mixed up with the lowest rabble in the town, workingmen in
dirty clothes, newsboys, ragged children, negroes, and even _women_
walking in the procession, while swarms of negroes and low white women
elbowed each other in a dense mass on the pavement. To see such
creatures exulting over our misfortune was enough to make one scream
with rage. One of their dozen transparencies was inscribed with "A dead
Confederacy." Fools! The flames are smouldering! They will burst out
presently and consume you! More than half, much more, were negroes. As
they passed here they raised a yell of "Down with the rebels!" that
made us gnash our teeth in silence. The Devil possessed me. "O Miriam,
help me pray the dear Lord that their flag may burn!" I whispered as
the torches danced around it. And we did pray earnestly--so earnestly
that Miriam's eyes were tightly screwed up; but it must have been a
wicked prayer, for it was not answered.
Dr. S---- has out a magnificent display of black cotton grammatically
inscribed with "Port Hudson and Vicksburg _is_ ours," garnished with a
luminous row of tapers, and, drunk on two bits' worth of lager beer, he
has been shrieking out all Union songs he can think of with his horrid
children until my tympanum is perfectly cracked. Miriam wants to offer
him an extra bottle of lager for the two places of which he claims the
monopoly. He would sell his creed for less. Miriam is dying to ask him
what he has done with the Confederate uniform he sported before the
Yankees came. His son says they are all Union men over there, and will
"lemonate" (illuminate) to-night. A starving seamstress opposite has
stuck six tallow candles in her window; better put them in her stomach!
And I won't believe Vicksburg has surrendered! Port Hudson I am sure
has fallen. Alas, for all hopes of serving the brave creatures! the
rumor is that they have been released on parole. Happily for them; but
if it _must_ go, what a blessed privilege it would have been to aid or
comfort them!
Wednesday, July 15th.
It is but too true; both have fallen. All Port Hudson privates have
been paroled, and the officers sent here for exchange. Aye! Aye! I know
some privates I would rather see than the officers! As yet, only ten
that we know have arrived. All are confined in the Custom-House. Last
evening crowds surrounded the place. We did something dreadful, Ada
Peirce, Miriam, and I. We went down to the confectionery; and unable to
resist the temptation, made a détour by the Custom-House in hope of
seeing one of our poor dear half-starved mule and rat fed defenders.
The crowd had passed away then; but what was our horror when we emerged
from the river side of the building and turned into Canal, to find the
whole front of the pavement lined with Yankees! Our folly struck us so
forcibly that we were almost paralyzed with fear. However, that did not
prevent us from endeavoring to hurry past, though I felt as though
walking in a nightmare. Ada was brave enough to look up at a window
where several of our prisoners were standing, and kept urging us to do
likewise. "Look! He knows you, Sarah! He has called another to see you!
They both recognize you! Oh, look, please, and tell me who they are!
They are watching you still!" she would exclaim. But if my own dear
brother stood there, I could not have raised my eyes; we only hurried
on faster, with a hundred Yankees eyes fixed on our flying steps.
My friend Colonel Steadman was one of the commissioners for arranging
the terms of the capitulation, I see. He has not yet arrived.
* * * * *
Dreadful news has come of the defeat of Lee at Gettysburg. Think I
believe it all? He may have been defeated; but not one of these reports
of total overthrow and rout do I credit. Yankees jubilant, Southerners
dismal. Brother, with principles on one side and brothers on the other,
is correspondingly distracted.
Saturday, July 18th.
It may be wrong; I feel very contrite; but still I cannot help thinking
it is an error on the right side. It began by Miriam sending Mr. Conn a
box of cigars when she was on Canal the other day, with a note saying
we would be delighted to assist him in anyway. Poor creature! He wrote
an answer which breathed desolation and humility, under his present
situation, in every line. The cigars, an unexpected kindness, had
touched a tender cord evidently. He said he had no friends, and would
be grateful for our assistance.
But before his answer arrived, yesterday morning I took it into my head
that Colonel Steadman was also at the Custom-House, though his arrival
had not been announced, the Yankees declining to publish any more names
to avoid the excitement that follows. So Miriam and I prepared a lunch
of chicken, soup, wine, preserves, sardines, and cakes, to send to him.
And, fool-like, I sent a note with it. It only contained the same offer
of assistance; and I would not object to the town crier's reading it;
but it upset Brother's ideas of decorum completely. He said nothing to
Miriam's, because that was first offense; but yesterday he met Edmond,
who was carrying the basket, and he could not stand the sight of
another note. I wish he had read it! But he said he would not assume
such a right. So he came home very much annoyed, and spoke to Miriam
about it. Fortunately for my peace of mind, I was swimming in the
bathtub in blissful unconsciousness, else I should have drowned myself.
He said, "I want you both to understand that you shall have everything
you want for the prisoners. Subscribe any sum of money, purchase any
quantity of clothing, send all the food you please, but, for God's
sake, don't write to them! In such a place every man knows the other
has received a letter, and none know what it contains. I cannot have my
sisters' names in everybody's mouth. Never do it again!" All as kind
and as considerate for us as ever, and a necessary caution; I love him
the better for it; but I was dismayed for having rendered the reproof
necessary. For three hours I made the most hideous faces at myself and
groaned aloud over Brother's displeasure. He is so good that I would
rather bite my tongue off than give him a moment's pain. Just now I
went to him, unable to keep silence any longer, and told him how
distressed I was to have displeased him about that note. "Don't think
any more about it, only don't do it again, dear," was his answer. I was
so grateful to him for his gentleness that I was almost hurried into a
story. I began, "It is the first time--" when I caught myself and said
boldly, "No, it is not. Colonel Steadman has written to me before, and
I have replied. But I promise to you it shall not occur again if I can
avoid it." He was satisfied with the acknowledgment, and I was more
than gratified with his kindness. Yet the error _must_ have been on the
right side!
Colonel Steadman wrote back his thanks by Edmond, with heartfelt
gratitude for finding such friends in his adversity, and touching
acknowledgments of the acceptable nature of the lunch. His brother and
Colonel Lock were wounded, though recovering, and he was anxious to
know if I had yet recovered. And that was all, except that he hoped we
would come to see him, and his thanks to Brother for his kind message.
Brother had sent him word by one of the prisoners that though he was
not acquainted with him, yet as his sisters' friend he would be happy
to assist him if he needed money or clothing. There was no harm in
either note, and though I would not do it again, I am almost glad I let
him know he still had friends before Brother asked me not to write.
And as yet we can't see them. A man was bayoneted yesterday for waving
to them, even. It only makes us the more eager to see them. We did see
some. Walking on Rampart Street with the Peirces yesterday, in front of
a splendid private house, we saw sentinels stationed. Upon inquiry we
learned that General Gardiner and a dozen others were confined there.
Ada and Miriam went wild. If it had not been for dignified Marie, and
that model of propriety, Sarah, there is no knowing but what they would
have carried the house by storm. We got them by without seeing a gray
coat, when they vowed to pass back, declaring that the street was not
respectable on the block above. We had to follow. So! there they all
stood on the balcony above. We thought we recognized General Gardiner,
Major Wilson, Major Spratley, and Mr. Dupré. Miriam was sure she did;
but even when I put on a bold face, and tried to look, something kept
me from seeing; so I had all the appearance of staring, without
deriving the slightest benefit from it. Wonder what makes me such a
fool?
Mr. Conn writes that Captain Bradford is wounded, but does not say
whether he is here.
Thursday, July 23d.
It is bad policy to keep us from seeing the prisoners; it just sets us
wild about them. Put a creature you don't care for in the least, in a
situation that commands sympathy, and nine out of ten girls will fall
desperately in love. Here are brave, self-sacrificing, noble men who
have fought heroically for us, and have been forced to surrender by
unpropitious fate, confined in a city peopled by their friends and
kindred, and as totally isolated from them as though they inhabited the
Dry Tortugas! Ladies are naturally hero-worshipers. We are dying to
show these unfortunates that we are as proud of their bravery as though
it had led to victory instead of defeat. Banks wills that they remain
in privacy. Consequently our vivid imaginations are constantly occupied
in depicting their sufferings, privations, heroism, and manifold
virtues, until they have almost become as demigods to us. Even horrid
little Captain C---- has a share of my sympathy in his misfortune!
Fancy what must be my feelings where those I consider as gentlemen are
concerned! It is all I can do to avoid a most tender compassion for a
very few select ones. Miriam and I are looked on with envy by other
young ladies because some twenty or thirty of our acquaintance have
already arrived. To know a Port Hudson defender is considered as the
greatest distinction one need desire. If they would only let us see the
prisoners once to sympathize with, and offer to assist them, we would
never care to call on them again until they are liberated. But this is
aggravating. Of what benefit is it to send them lunch after lunch, when
they seldom receive it? Colonel Steadman and six others, I am sure, did
not receive theirs on Sunday. We sent with the baskets a number of
cravats and some handkerchiefs I had embroidered for the Colonel.
Brother should forbid those gentlemen writing, too. Already a dozen
notes have been received from them, and what can we do? We can't tell
them not to. Miriam received a letter from Major Spratley this morning,
raving about the kindness of the ladies of New Orleans, full of hope of
future successes, and vows to help deliver the noble ladies from the
hands of their oppressors, etc. It is a wonder that such a patriotic
effusion could be smuggled out. He kindly assures us that not only
those of our acquaintance there, but all their brother officers, would
be more than happy to see us in their prison. Position of affairs
rather reversed since we last met!