Mrs. Grant and Madame Jule

by Jennifer Chiaverini

  Julia did not approve of John Brown, the white abolitionist who had been hanged for attempting to lead a slave uprising in Virginia a few years before, but it was a stirring tune, and as she listened, she realized that the lyrics were quite different from those she had heard before.

  In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,

  With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me.

  As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,

  While God is marching on.

  Glory, glory, hallelujah!

  Glory, glory, hallelujah!

  Glory, glory, hallelujah!

  While God is marching on.

  • • •

  They were in the midst of the most anxious weeks of the war thus far, Ulys confided to Julia later that evening. The Army of the Tennessee had been ordered to guard all the territory acquired by the fall of Memphis and Corinth, dangerously extending Ulys’s lines. He lacked sufficient reinforcements to form an attack, and guerrillas lurked in copses and hollows in every direction. Julia knew that his restless nature was better suited for waging an offensive campaign than for remaining constantly on guard throughout a tedious siege, but she hoped that having his family near would help him better endure the interminable waiting.

  In July, Major General Halleck was promoted to general in chief of all the Union armies, and when he was called to Washington at the end of the month, Ulys was placed in command of the rebellious territory between the Mississippi and Tennessee Rivers from the Ohio River to northern Mississippi. He was charged with protecting miles of river, railroad, and telegraph lines, even though his forces were steadily diminished by orders to send troops to the East.

  Julia was proud of her husband, certain that his new responsibilities reflected his superiors’ increasing recognition of his worth. Yet her heart sank when Ulys found her in her sitting room one afternoon, invited her to sit beside him on the sofa, and gently told her that he suspected that the change in orders presaged a significant movement of the troops.

  She knew before he spoke another word that he intended to send her away again.

  • • •

  White Haven buzzed with excitement when Julia’s letter arrived announcing that she was bringing the children home for a brief visit. In recent months, Jule had been as close to content as she could have reasonably expected. She and Gabriel were together. The old master regularly hired her out, but only by the day and never to the Slates, so she was earning a little money of her own again. But Julia’s visits home always disrupted the reassuring pattern of Jule’s days, and upon her departure the pieces never quite settled back into their original places.

  Her apprehension eased somewhat when Julia greeted her warmly upon her arrival and the children threw their arms around her and declared that they had missed her terribly. “I missed you too,” she told them sincerely, hugging them in turn. She wondered how much longer they would love her; Dinah had warned her that white children outgrew their affection for their colored nurses over time, yet another heartbreak on her horizon.

  In mid-September, word came of a fierce, bloody battle along a creek called Antietam in the far-off state of Maryland. The Union had declared victory, but most of Julia’s neighbors claimed the battle had ended in stalemate, since Union general McClellan had allowed General Robert E. Lee’s army to withdraw to Virginia without pursuit. Less than a week later, the St. Louis newspapers published a proclamation in which President Lincoln declared that “on the first day of January in the year of our Lord, one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, all persons held as slaves within any State, or designated part of a State, the people whereof shall then be in rebellion against the United States shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free.”

  It was lawyer’s language, the same sort of phrases Jule had heard Mr. Slate intone as he paced in his study preparing for a trial, but she understood enough of it to tuck the discarded newspaper under her skirt and smuggle it out to Gabriel. “What does it mean, exactly?” she asked later, sitting close beside him in the hayloft as he read.

  His eyes shone and a slow smile spread across his face. “It means come the New Year, slaves in rebel territory will be free.”

  “Missouri too?”

  “There were rebel militia in Missouri at the start of the war, and may still be.” He set the paper aside and seized her hands. “Whether freedom comes in January for us or later, it will come. It has to. That’s what General Grant’s fighting for. He’ll win, and when the war’s done, slavery will have to end too, or the fighting never will.”

  “It can’t come too soon,” said Jule, more sharply than she intended. She was tired of waiting for Julia, for the old master, for the president, for whole hosts of other people to decide to set her free.

  Gabriel raised her hand to his lips. “Keep listening, keep reading,” he urged. “Learn all you can about what this means for us.”

  Jule did, and in the days that followed the announcement, she realized that the new law would not affect the status of slaves in loyal Missouri. Even so, the old master and his eldest son, John, were furious that any slaves anywhere would be declared free.

  “This is such an unfortunate development, isn’t it?” Julia lamented one morning as Jule arranged her hair.

  “How so, Miss Julia?”

  “Well, the younger slaves have already been so demoralized since this dreadful rebellion began. What will it do to them to hear that soon, all the old comforts of slavery will pass away forever?”

  Jule paused, but after a moment she resumed arranging Julia’s chignon. “The old comforts of slavery,” she said, a flat echo of her mistress. “You must mean the comforts the master’s family enjoys.”

  “Those exist, certainly, but the comforts I refer to are those bestowed upon your people.” Julia held her gaze in the mirror, her expression all earnest sympathy. “All your life you’ve had someone to look after you, to take care of you. You never need worry where your next meal is coming from, or whether there will be a roof over your head, or how you should spend your days. You need only to do as you’re told, to obey your master or mistress, and all is well in your world.”

  “Unless I’m beaten.” Jule set down the hairbrush, her expression hardening in the mirror above Julia’s. “Unless my children are sold away from me. Unless the master decides to increase his property by getting a baby on me—”

  “Jule,” Julia exclaimed. “What’s gotten into you? I’ll have none of this vulgar talk.”

  The truth was vulgar, and cruel and painful to hear. That didn’t make it any less true. “All I mean is—”

  “How can you say such things? You have no children, and you’ve never been beaten, at least not in this house, and to suggest that Papa would—” Julia pressed her lips together and shook her head, too distressed to continue.

  Jule was careful to keep her voice low and calm. “I was speaking of others and their hardships, Miss Julia, not myself.”

  “I can’t help what goes on in other households. What would you have me do? Tell my neighbors how they should treat their servants?”

  Jule put her head to one side as if she needed to give her mistress’s words serious consideration, and then she nodded sagely. “That would be a good start.”

  “You don’t understand, nor would I expect you to. That sort of thing simply isn’t done.”

  “Shouldn’t it be, though?” Jule countered. “And shouldn’t you be the one to do it? Since your husband’s the general fighting the war to end slavery?”

  Julia clenched her hands together in her lap, a flush rising in her fair cheeks. “General Grant is fighting to preserve the Union. His mission is not to end slavery but to end the rebellion.”

  “Is that what you think or just what you say because it’s expected?” Jule knew she ought to close her mouth and gaze meekly at the
floor, but she had held back the questions and accusations too long, and once the floodgate was opened, she could not close it again. “What happened? Remember our ginger-and-cream days? You used to be the girl who asked questions, who spoke up when you saw wrongdoing.”

  “Jule—”

  “When your papa said you can’t ride this or that horse, you didn’t say, ‘Yes, sir.’ You asked, ‘Why?’ When the missus told you to punish me for learning my letters, you said, ‘I won’t.’ When your papa said you couldn’t marry your lieutenant, you vowed you would someday. What happened to make you close your mind?”

  “Stop it!” Julia bolted to her feet. “I am quite out of patience with you. No more of this, no more. Go call the children inside and be sure they wash before breakfast. As for myself, I have completely lost my appetite.”

  She waved Jule out of the room and shut the door behind her.

  For a moment Jule stood with her hand on the knob, her forehead resting against the door, heart pounding, wondering if she had gone too far, if she should hurry back into the room and beg forgiveness. Then something hardened within her. She had spoken too frankly, but she had said nothing untrue.

  Julia was in the wrong. It was she who ought to beg forgiveness from Jule.

  But instead of an apology, which would have astonished Jule, or a punishment, which she would have expected, Julia acted as if the incident had never happened. Only a new chill in her manner, a distance in her voice when she issued instructions, revealed her displeasure. And yet there was an element of uncertainty too, as if she did not understand the nature of their argument and wished desperately that it had never happened.

  Julia was not so displeased with Jule that she wished to leave her behind when she and the children left White Haven. In late October, after General Grant led his armies to victories at Iuka and Corinth, he established his headquarters at Jackson and sent word for Julia to join him there. “You will accompany me,” Julia told Jule evenly, not quite meeting her eye. “I will leave Fred, Buck, and Nellie in Covington with General Grant’s parents. You will continue on with me to Jackson so you can look after Jesse.”

  “Yes, Miss Julia,” Jule said quietly, for she knew it was pointless to protest.

  On the night before her departure, Jule lay in Gabriel’s arms in the loft, the hay crackling around them beneath the pallet they shared, the chirping of cicadas a forlorn accompaniment to the soft sighing of the autumn winds. Her heart ached with pain and uncertainty, not knowing when she would feel the warmth of his embrace again.

  “Jule?”

  “Yes, Gabriel?”

  “You remember everything that lieutenant told you when he brought you here, everything about Cincinnati and how to find your way north?”

  “Every word.”

  “After you leave here with Miss Julia and the children . . . if you get the chance, run.”

  “Not without you I won’t.”

  “Jule, listen.” He shifted in the darkness, rolling onto his side to gaze into her eyes firmly but lovingly as he traced the lines of her face with his hand. “I’m not likely to ever find myself aboard a steamer to Cincinnati.”

  “When we run, we run together,” she replied. “If we can’t, then I’ll wait until the president frees slaves everywhere. I’m not going without you, so don’t ask me again.”

  • • •

  In Jackson, Ulys had chosen as his headquarters a sprawling old country residence, part frame house and part log cabin, with a long, low piazza on the southern exposure. Julia immediately set about making the unfamiliar place feel more like home, sorting out bedchambers for herself and Ulys, Jesse, and Jule; inspecting the kitchen; and introducing herself to the household staff, a single maid who assured Julia she could cook if need be.

  The domestic flourishes were, perhaps, more for herself and Jesse than for Ulys. He was never one to fuss about his attire, dressing not as a general on parade but as a soldier in the field, a man who could expect exertion and mud and rough weather. His endurance had become legendary among his troops; he could outride every officer on his staff, he could go without food or sleep longer than his youngest and strongest men, and he seemed unaffected by the cold, heat, fatigue, and exposure to the elements that brought other soldiers staggering into shelter. Julia too was impressed by her husband’s extraordinary fortitude, but when she was in camp, she wanted a proper home, even if it was only a tent.

  Julia had not been long in residence when General Rawlins called to pay his respects. After the usual pleasantries, Rawlins said, “I wonder if you would have a word with the general on my behalf.”

  Julia had to laugh. “General, if he won’t take your advice regarding a military matter, he’s hardly likely to accept the same suggestions from me. In fact, that’s more likely to prove to him that his original judgment was sound.”

  “This is too important not to make the attempt.” Rawlins fairly crackled with agitation. “General Rosecrans ought to be relieved of duty.”

  He went on to describe the general’s offenses, including an address he had recently published that had upset his officers, but as Julia listened, nodding, her heart filled with dismay. She liked General William Starke Rosecrans because he was handsome and brave, and because she knew Ulys liked him. To appease Rawlins, however, and in fond remembrance of his late wife, Emily, she agreed to bring his concerns to her husband.

  Ulys hated to linger at the table, so as soon as he sat down to his noon lunch, she quickly passed along his assistant adjutant general’s concerns. “Rosecrans is a brave and loyal soldier with the best of military training, the kind of man we can’t spare,” Ulys replied. “He’s a fine fellow—a bit excited at present, but he’ll soon come around all right.”

  Later, after Julia returned from visiting the soldiers on the sick list, five other officers called on her, echoing Rawlins’s entreaties about General Rosecrans.

  “I’m reluctant to part with him,” Ulys admitted after Julia shared his officers’ confidences. “I know what it’s like to face this sort of criticism.”

  “Not quite this sort,” Julia countered. “You never merited a word of the criticism spoken against you.”

  Ulys thanked her for the compliment, kissed her cheek, and returned to his office, his brow furrowed.

  Not twenty minutes later, he returned to her sitting room, smiling broadly. “This is good news, very good news,” he said, holding up a telegram. “Rosecrans is promoted and ordered to take command of the Army of the Cumberland. Now we can part on cordial terms.”

  Ulys’s officers were pleased that all had been resolved to their satisfaction—and despite Julia’s protests that she had played no part in it, they thanked her profusely for advocating their cause so persuasively. In the days that followed, she realized that she had unwittingly become the favorite intercessor for anyone with a difficult case to plead before the general.

  • • •

  From Jackson, Julia, Jesse, and Jule accompanied Ulys and his army to La Grange, Tennessee, following the line of the Mississippi Central Railroad. A week later, Ulys’s cavalry captured Holly Springs, Mississippi, where, to minimize the risk of long munition and supply lines in enemy territory, he decided to establish a depot.

  Ulys had gone ahead with his army, and Julia’s escort was delayed several days, so by the time her little household arrived in Holly Springs, Ulys had already moved on. He wrote to tell her that he greatly regretted not meeting her, and he promised she could join him in Oxford as soon as the railroad was repaired.

  Holly Springs bustled with activity despite the cold, which had frozen the muddy roads into hard, furrowed avenues where wagon wheels had passed during an icy rainstorm the night before. “Will you see it for me?” Julia asked Jule as they rode along. Jule dutifully described the signs of Ulys’s preparations for the anticipated thrust toward Vicksburg—a long train of boxcars loaded with
clothing and rations ready to be shipped to the field, bales of cotton piled in the court house and the public square, warehouses full almost to overflowing with essential supplies. “It seems a charming sort of place despite all this frenzy,” Jule concluded, with a reassuring smile that told Julia that the ice between them had thawed. “Safe and hospitable, or so it looks to me.”

  Ulys’s staff had arranged very nice lodgings in the fine house of Harvey W. Walter, a lawyer who had left Holly Springs to become a Confederate officer. He had placed his residence, a large, new, Greek Revival mansion with Gothic towers, in the care of a Mrs. Govan, whose husband, son, and brother-in-law had joined the Confederate army. Despite their political differences over secession, Julia found her landlady a fine, noble woman. She and the other ladies of the household—her two daughters and her daughter-in-law, all displaced from their own home after it had been commandeered as a hospital—had waited up late to receive Julia and Jesse upon their arrival, and served them a much welcome supper before showing them to their apartment.

  “Breakfast will be about nine o’clock,” Mrs. Govan said in parting. “I will have it announced to you.”

  Julia slept comfortably and woke refreshed, and in the morning after Jule had tended to their toilets, Julia and Jesse joined the family for breakfast. Jesse was funny and charming, the Govan ladies were excellent conversationalists, and Julia felt herself utterly at home, except for Ulys’s absence. After the servants cleared the dishes away and Jule came for Jesse, Julia rose from the table with the family and, without thinking, turned toward the drawing room where she had been received the night before. Suddenly Mrs. Govan stepped between Julia and the door. “Excuse me, Mrs. Grant,” she said gently, placing a smooth, white hand on the doorknob. “I have set aside another drawing room for your use.”

  For a moment Julia had forgotten that she was not a welcome guest but the wife of the occupying general. She was the enemy. “Thank you,” she managed to say, and waited for Mrs. Govan to indicate the proper sitting room for chagrined Yankee ladies.