Strange True Stories of Louisiana
Page 49
IV.
A BELEAGUERED CITY.
_Oct. 22, 1861._--When I came to breakfast this morning Rob was caperingover another victory--Ball's Bluff. He would read me, "We pitched theYankees over the bluff," and ask me in the next breath to go to thetheater this evening. I turned on the poor fellow: "Don't tell me aboutyour victories. You vowed by all your idols that the blockade would beraised by October 1, and I notice the ships are still serenely anchoredbelow the city."
"G., you are just as pertinacious yourself in championing your opinions.What sustains you when nobody agrees with you?"
I would not answer.
_Oct. 28, 1861_.--When I dropped in at Uncle Ralph's last evening towelcome them back, the whole family were busy at a great center-tablecopying sequestration acts for the Confederate Government. The property ofall Northerners and Unionists is to be sequestrated, and Uncle Ralph canhardly get the work done fast enough. My aunt apologized for the roomslooking chilly; she feared to put the carpets down, as the city might betaken and burned by the Federals. "We are living as much packed up aspossible. A signal has been agreed upon, and the instant the armyapproaches we shall be off to the country again."
Great preparations are being made for defense. At several other placeswhere I called the women were almost hysterical. They seemed to lookforward to being blown up with shot and shell, finished with cold steel,or whisked off to some Northern prison. When I got home Edith and Mr. D.had just returned also.
"Alex," said Edith, "I was up at your orange-lots to-day and the souroranges are dropping to the ground, while they cannot get lemons for oursick soldiers."
"That's my kind, considerate wife," replied Mr. D. "Why didn't I think ofthat before? Jim shall fill some barrels to-morrow and take them to thehospitals as a present from you."
_Nov. 10_.--Surely this year will ever be memorable to me for itsperfection of natural beauty. Never was sunshine such pure gold, ormoonlight such transparent silver. The beautiful custom prevalent here ofdecking the graves with flowers on All Saint's day was well fulfilled, soprofuse and rich were the blossoms. On All-hallow Eve Mrs. S. and myselfvisited a large cemetery. The chrysanthemums lay like great masses of snowand flame and gold in every garden we passed, and were piled on everycostly tomb and lowly grave. The battle of Manassas robed many of ourwomen in mourning, and some of these, who had no graves to deck, wereweeping silently as they walked through the scented avenues.
A few days ago Mrs. E. arrived here. She is a widow, of Natchez, a friendof Mrs. F.'s, and is traveling home with the dead body of her eldest son,killed at Manassas. She stopped two days waiting for a boat, and begged meto share her room and read her to sleep, saying she couldn't be alonesince he was killed; she feared her mind would give way. So I read all thecomforting chapters to be found till she dropped into forgetfulness, butthe recollection of those weeping mothers in the cemetery banished sleepfor me.
_Nov. 26, 1861._--The lingering summer is passing into those misty autumndays I love so well, when there is gold and fire above and around us. Butthe glory of the natural and the gloom of the moral world agree not welltogether. This morning Mrs. F. came to my room in dire distress. "Yousee," she said, "cold weather is coming on fast, and our poor fellows arelying out at night with nothing to cover them. There is a wail forblankets, but there is not a blanket in town. I have gathered up all thespare bed-clothing, and now want every available rug or table-cover in thehouse. Can't I have yours, G.? We must make these small sacrifices ofcomfort and elegance, you know, to secure independence and freedom."
"Very well," I said, denuding the table. "This may do for a drummer boy."
_Dec. 26, 1861._--The foul weather cleared off bright and cool in time forChristmas. There is a midwinter lull in the movement of troops. In theevening we went to the grand bazaar in the St. Louis Hotel, got up toclothe the soldiers. This bazaar has furnished the gayest, mostfashionable war-work yet, and has kept social circles in a flutter ofpleasant, heroic excitement all through December. Everything beautiful orrare garnered in the homes of the rich was given for exhibition, and insome cases for raffle and sale. There were many fine paintings, statues,bronzes, engravings, gems, laces--in fact, heirlooms, and bric-a-brac ofall sorts. There were many lovely Creole girls present, in exquisitetoilets, passing to and fro through the decorated rooms, listening to theband clash out the Anvil Chorus.
This morning I joined the B.'s and their party in a visit to the newfortifications below the city. It all looks formidable enough, but ofcourse I am no judge of military defenses. We passed over thebattle-ground where Jackson fought the English, and thinking of how hedealt with treason, one could almost fancy his unquiet ghost stalkingabout.
_Jan. 2, 1862_.--I am glad enough to bid '61 goodbye. Most miserable yearof my life! What ages of thought and experience have I not lived in it.
Last Sunday I walked home from church with a young lady teacher in thepublic schools. The teachers have been paid recently in "shin-plasters." Idon't understand the horrid name, but nobody seems to have any confidencein the scrip. In pure benevolence I advised my friend to get her moneychanged into coin, as in case the Federals took the city she would be in abad fix, being in rather a lonely position. She turned upon me in a rage.
"You are a black-hearted traitor," she almost screamed at me in thestreet, this well-bred girl! "My money is just as good as coin you'll see!Go to Yankee land. It will suit you better with your sordid views and wantof faith, than the generous South."
"Well," I replied, "when I think of going, I'll come to you for a letterof introduction to your grandfather in Yankee land." I said good-morningand turned down another street in a sort of a maze, trying to put myselfin her place and see what there was sordid in my advice.
Luckily I met Mrs. B. to turn the current of thought. She was very merry.The city authorities have been searching houses for fire-arms. It is agood way to get more guns, and the homes of those men suspected of beingUnionists were searched first. Of course they went to Dr. B.'s. He metthem with his own delightful courtesy. "Wish to search for arms?Certainly, gentlemen." He conducted them through all the house withsmiling readiness, and after what seemed a very thorough search bowed thempolitely out. His gun was all the time safely reposing between the canvasfolds of a cot-bed which leaned folded up together against the wall, inthe very room where they had ransacked the closets. Queerly, the rebelfamilies have been the ones most anxious to conceal all weapons. They havedug pits quietly at night in the back yards, and carefully wrapping theweapons, buried them out of sight. Every man seems to think he will havesome private fighting to do to protect his family.