Strange True Stories of Louisiana
Page 46
I.
SECESSION.
_New Orleans, Dec. 1, 1860_.--I understand it now. Keeping journals is forthose who can not, or dare not, speak out. So I shall set up a journal,being only a rather lonely young girl in a very small and hated minority.On my return here in November, after a foreign voyage and absence of manymonths, I found myself behind in knowledge of the political conflict, butheard the dread sounds of disunion and war muttered in threatening tones.Surely no native-born woman loves her country better than I love America.The blood of one of its revolutionary patriots flows in my veins, and itis the Union for which he pledged his "life, fortune, and sacred honor"that I love, not any divided or special section of it. So I have beenreading attentively and seeking light from foreigners and natives on allquestions at issue. Living from birth in slave countries, both foreignand American, and passing through one slave insurrection in earlychildhood, the saddest and also the pleasantest features of slavery havebeen familiar. If the South goes to war for slavery, slavery is doomed inthis country. To say so is like opposing one drop to a roaring torrent.This is a good time to follow St. Paul's advice that women should refrainfrom speaking, but they are speaking more than usual and forcing others tospeak against their will.
_Sunday, Dec.--, 1860_.--In this season for peace I had hoped for a lullin the excitement, yet this day has been full of bitterness. "Come, G.,"said Mrs. F. at breakfast, "leave _your_ church for to-day and come withus to hear Dr. ---- on the situation. He will convince you." "It is good tobe convinced," I said; "I will go." The church was crowded to suffocationwith the elite of New Orleans. The preacher's text was, "Shall we havefellowship with the stool of iniquity which frameth mischief as a law?" ...The sermon was over at last and then followed a prayer ... Foreverblessed be the fathers of the Episcopal Church for giving us a fixedliturgy! When we met at dinner Mrs. F. exclaimed, "Now, G., you heard himprove from the Bible that slavery is right and that therefore secessionis. Were you not convinced?" I said, "I was so busy thinking howcompletely it proved too that Brigham Young is right about polygamy thatit quite weakened the force of the argument for me." This raised a laugh,and covered my retreat.
_Jan. 26, 1861_.--The solemn boom of cannon today announced that theconvention have passed the ordinance of secession. We must take a reef inour patriotism and narrow it down to State limits. Mine still sticks outall around the borders of the State. It will be bad if New Orleans shouldsecede from Louisiana and set up for herself. Then indeed I would be"cabined, cribbed, confined." The faces in the house are jubilant to-day.Why is it so easy for them and not for me to "ring out the old, ring inthe new"? I am out of place.
_Jan. 28, Monday_.--Sunday has now got to be a day of special excitement.The gentlemen save all the sensational papers to regale us with at thelate Sunday breakfast. Rob opened the battle yesterday morning by sayingto me in his most aggressive manner, "G., I believe these are yoursentiments"; and then he read aloud an article from the "Journal desDebats" expressing in rather contemptuous terms the fact that France willfollow the policy of non-intervention. When I answered: "Well, what do youexpect? This is not their quarrel," he raved at me, ending by adeclaration that he would willingly pay my passage to foreign parts if Iwould like to go. "Rob," said his father, "keep cool; don't let thatthreat excite you. Cotton is king. Just wait till they feel the pinch alittle; their tone will change." I went to Trinity Church. Some Unionpeople who are not Episcopalians go there now because the pastor has notso much chance to rail at the Lord when things are not going to suit: butyesterday was a marked Sunday. The usual prayer for the President andCongress was changed to the "governor and people of this commonwealth andtheir representatives in convention assembled."
The city was very lively and noisy this evening with rockets and lights inhonor of secession. Mrs. F., in common with the neighbors, illuminated. Wewalked out to see the houses of others gleaming amid the dark shrubberylike a fairy scene. The perfect stillness added to the effect, while themoon rose slowly with calm splendor. We hastened home to dress for asoiree, but on the stairs Edith said, "G., first come and help me dressPhoebe and Chloe [the negro servants]. There is a ball to-night inaristocratic colored society. This is Chloe's first introduction to NewOrleans circles, and Henry Judson, Phoebe's husband, gave five dollars fora ticket for her." Chloe is a recent purchase from Georgia. Wesuperintended their very stylish toilets, and Edith said, "G., run intoyour room, please, and write a pass for Henry. Put Mr. D.'s name to it.""Why, Henry is free," I said.--"That makes no difference; all coloredpeople must have a pass if out late. They choose a master for protectionand always carry his pass. Henry chose Mr. D., but he's lost the pass hehad." When the pass was ready, a carriage dashed up to the back-gate andthe party drove off in fine style.
At the soiree we had secession talk sandwiched everywhere; between thesupper, and the music, and the dance; but midnight has come, and silence,and a few too brief hours of oblivion.