III.
THE EMBARKATION.
You see, my dear child, at that time one post-office served for threeparishes: St. James, St. John the Baptist, and St. Charles. It was veryfar from us, at the extremity of St. John the Baptist, and the mail camethere on the first of each month.
We had to pay--though the price was no object--fifty cents postage on aletter. My father received several journals, mostly European. There wasonly one paper, French and Spanish, published in New Orleans--"TheGazette."[9] To send to the post-office was an affair of state. Ourfather, you see, had not time to write; he was obliged to come to ushimself. But such journeys were a matter of course in those days.
"And above all things, my children," said my father, "don't have too muchbaggage."
I should not have thought of rebelling; but Suzanne raised loud cries,saying it was an absolute necessity that we go with papa to New Orleans,so as not to find ourselves on our journey without traveling-dresses, newneckerchiefs, and a number of things. In vain did poor papa endeavor toexplain that we were going into a desert worse than Arabia; Suzanne puther two hands to her ears and would hear nothing, until, weary of strife,poor papa yielded.
Our departure being decided upon, he wished to start even the very nextday; and while we were instructing our sisters Elinore and Marieconcerning some trunks that we should leave behind us, and which they mustpack and have ready for the flatboat, papa recommended to mamma a greatslaughter of fowls, etc., and especially to have ready for embarkation twoof our best cows. Ah! in those times if the planter wished to live well hehad to raise everything himself, and the poultry yard and the dairy weresomething curious to see. Dozens of slaves were kept busy in themconstantly. When my mother had raised two thousand chickens, besidesturkeys, ducks, geese, guinea-fowls, and pea-fowls, she said she had losther crop.[10] And the quantity of butter and cheese! And all this withoutcounting the sauces, the jellies, the preserves, the gherkins, the syrups,the brandied fruits. And not a ham, not a chicken, not a pound of butterwas sold; all was served on the master's table, or, very often, given tothose who stood in need of them. Where, now, can you find such profusion?Ah! commerce has destroyed industry.
The next day, after kissing mamma and the children, we got into the largeskiff with papa and three days later stepped ashore in New Orleans. Weremained there a little over a week, preparing our traveling-dresses.Despite the admonitions of papa, we went to the fashionable modiste of theday, Madame Cinthelia Lefranc, and ordered for each a suit that cost onehundred and fifty dollars. The costume was composed of a petticoat of_camayeu_, very short, caught up in puffs on the side by a profusion ofribbons; and a very long-pointed black velvet jacket (_casaquin_), lacedin the back with gold and trimmed on the front with several rows of giltbuttons. The sleeves stopped at the elbows and were trimmed with lace.Now, my daughter, do you know what camayeu was? You now sometimes see animitation of it in door and window curtains. It was a stuff of greatfineness, yet resembling not a little the unbleached cotton of to-day, andover which were spread very brilliant designs of prodigious size. Forexample, Suzanne's petticoat showed bunches of great radishes--not theshort kind--surrounded by long, green leaves and tied with a yellow cord;while on mine were roses as big as a baby's head, interlaced with leavesand buds and gathered into bouquets graced with a blue ribbon. It was tendollars an ell; but, as the petticoats were very short, six ells wasenough for each. At that time real hats were unknown. For driving or forevening they placed on top of the high, powdered hair what they called a_catogan_, a little bonnet of gauze or lace trimmed with ribbons; andduring the day a sun-bonnet of silk or velvet. You can guess that neitherSuzanne nor I, in spite of papa's instructions, forgot these.
Our traveling-dresses were gray _cirsacas_,--the skirt all one, short,without puffs; the jacket coming up high and with long sleeves,--asunbonnet of cirsacas, blue stockings, embroidered handkerchief or bluecravat about the neck, and high-heeled shoes.
As soon as Celeste heard of our arrival in New Orleans she hastened to us.She was a good creature; humble, respectful, and always ready to serve.She was an excellent cook and washer, and, what we still more prized, alady's maid and hairdresser of the first order. My sister and I were gladto see her, and overwhelmed her with questions about Carlo, theirchildren, their plans, and our traveling companions.
"Ah! Momzelle Suzanne, the little Madame Carpentier seems to me a finelady, ever so genteel; but the Irish woman! Ah! _grand Dieu!_ she puts mein mind of a soldier. I'm afraid of her. She smokes--she swears--shecarries a pistol, like a man."
At last the 15th of May came, and papa took us on board the flatboat andhelped us to find our way to our apartment. If my father had allowedCarlo, he would have ruined himself in furnishing our room; but papastopped him and directed it himself. The flatboat had been divided intofour chambers. These were covered by a slightly arching deck, on which theboat was managed by the moving of immense sweeps that sent her forward.The room in the stern, surrounded by a sort of balcony, which MonsieurCarpentier himself had made, belonged to him and his wife; then came ours,then that of Celeste and her family, and the one at the bow was theIrishwoman's. Carlo and Gordon had crammed the provisions, tools, carts,and plows into the corners of their respective apartments. In the roomwhich our father was to share with us he had had Mario make two woodenframes mounted on feet. These were our beds, but they were supplied withgood bedding and very white sheets. A large cypress table, on which we sawa pile of books and our workboxes; a washstand, also of cypress, but wellfurnished and surmounted by a mirror; our trunks in a corner; threerocking-chairs--this was all our furniture. There was neither carpet norcurtain.
All were on board except the Carpentier couple. Suzanne was all anxiety tosee the Irishwoman. Poor Suzanne! how distressed she was not to be able tospeak English! So, while I was taking off my _capotte_--as the sun-bonnetof that day was called--and smoothing my hair at the glass, she hadalready tossed her capotte upon papa's bed and sprung up the ladder thatled to the deck. (Each room had one.) I followed a little later and hadthe satisfaction of seeing Madame Margaretto Gordon, commonly called"Maggie" by her husband and "Maw" by her son Patrick. She was seated on acoil of rope, her son on the boards at her feet. An enormous dog crouchedbeside them, with his head against Maggie's knee. The mother and son weresurprisingly clean. Maggie had on a simple brown calico dress and anapron of blue ticking. A big red kerchief was crossed on her breast andits twin brother covered her well combed and greased black hair. On herfeet were blue stockings and heavy leather shoes. The blue ticking shirtand pantaloons and waistcoat of Master Pat were so clean that they shone;his black cap covered his hair--as well combed as his mother's; but he wasbarefooted. Gordon, Mario, and Celeste's eldest son, aged thirteen, werebusy about the deck; and papa, his cigar in his mouth and his hands in hispockets, stood looking out on the levee. I sat down on one of the roughbenches that had been placed here and there, and presently my sister cameand sat beside me.
"Madame Carpentier seems to be a laggard," she said. She was burning tosee the arrival of her whom we had formed the habit of calling "the littleFrench peasant."
[Presently Suzanne begins shooting bonbons at little Patrick, watching theeffect out of the corners of her eyes, and by and by gives that smile, allher own,--to which, says Francoise, all flesh invariably surrendered,--andso became dumbly acquainted; while Carlo was beginning to swear "fit toraise the dead," writes the memoirist, at the tardiness of the Normanpair. But just then--]
A carriage drove up to within a few feet of our _chaland_ and JosephCarpentier alighted, paid the driver, and lifted from it one so delicate,pretty, and small that you might take her at first glance for a child often years. Suzanne and I had risen quickly and came and leaned over thebalustrade. To my mortification my sister had passed one arm around thewaist of the little Irishman and held one of his hands in hers. Suzanneuttered a cry of astonishment. "Look, look, Francoise!" But I was looking,with eyes wide with astonishment.
The gard
ener's wife had alighted, and with her little gloved hand shookout and re-arranged her toilet. That toilet, very simple to the eyes ofMadame Carpentier, was what petrified us with astonishment. I am going todescribe it to you, my daughter.
We could not see her face, for her hood of blue silk, trimmed with a lightwhite fur, was covered with a veil of white lace that entirely concealedher features. Her traveling-dress, like ours, was of cirsacas, but ourswas cotton, while hers was silk, in broad rays of gray and blue; and asthe weather was a little cool that morning, she had exchanged theunfailing casaquin for a sort of _camail_ to match the dress, and trimmed,like the capotte, with a line of white fur. Her petticoat was very short,lightly puffed on the sides, and ornamented only with two very longpockets trimmed like the camail. Below the folds of the robe were twoCinderella feet in blue silk stockings and black velvet slippers. It wasnot only the material of this toilet that astonished us, but the way inwhich it was made.
"Maybe she is a modiste. Who knows?" whispered Suzanne.
Another thing: Madame Carpentier wore a veil and gloves, two things ofwhich we had heard but which we had never seen. Madame Ferrand hadmentioned them, but said that they sold for their weight in gold in Paris,and she had not dared import them, for fear she could not sell them inLouisiana. And here was the wife of a laboring gardener, who avowedhimself possessor of but two thousand francs, dressed like a duchess andwith veil and gloves!
I could but notice with what touching care Joseph assisted his wife onboard. He led her straight to her room, and quickly rejoined us on deck toput himself at the disposition of his associates. He explained to Mariohis delay, caused by the difficulty of finding a carriage; at which Carlolifted his shoulders and grimaced. Joseph added that madame--I noticedthat he rarely called her Alix--was rather tired, and would keep her roomuntil dinner time. Presently our heavy craft was under way.
Pressing against the long sweeps, which it required a herculean strengthto move, were seen on one side Carlo and his son Celestino, or 'Tino, andon the other Joseph and Gordon. It moved slowly; so slowly that it gavethe effect of a great tortoise.
FOOTNOTES:[9] Another error easy to make. For "Gazette" read "Moniteur"; "TheGazette" appeared a little later.--TRANSLATOR.[10] The translator feels constrained to say that he was not on the spot.
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