House Divided

by Ben Ames Williams

  Till Dolly departed, Tilda was uneasy for fear the girl might change her mind. The day after Christmas, Captain Pew arrived in Richmond; and though he did not lodge with them, he was often at the house. He and Redford Streean one night entertained a company of gentlemen at the Spottswood. Tilda was still awake when Streean came late home. He was in a loquacious mood, and he told her, hiccoughing slightly, that the dinner had been a rousing success. “Champagne at a hundred dollars the bottle; sherry and Madeira at almost as much. That dinner will cost us fully three thousand dollars —Confederate.” He laughed triumphantly. “Think of me spending half of three thousand dollars on a dinner! My dear, your husband is a rich man! The Dragonfly’s last voyage showed a profit of over two hundred thousand dollars—and she’ll sail again within the week. Yes, a rich man; a rich man!”

  Tilda had not lost her relish for his success, and long after he was asleep she lay awake with her thoughts. Why, her husband was probably one of the richest men in Richmond! As his wife, she had a certain position to maintain; and since Dolly’s madcap ways might at any time cause some scandal or other, it was a very good thing that the girl was going off to the Plains for a while. The fact that the night before Dolly’s departure Captain Pew came to supper and said he himself would leave for Wilmington on the same train gave Tilda no uneasiness. He might be of use on the journey as far as Wilmington, and Dolly would see the last of him there.

  Captain Pew said that Darrell would go with him on the Dragonfly to Nassau. “At least, he plans to. He’s meeting me in Wilmington. But he may change his mind. A group of young Englishmen have taken a big yellow house up on Market Street. They’re agents for the English companies that are running the blockade; half-pay naval officers, younger sons, a wild lot. It’s the liveliest house in Wilmington, with cocking mains even on Sundays, nigger minstrels, balls, gaming. Darrell finds their company to his taste, and he may prefer it to Nassau for a while.”

  Dolly cried: “Oh, could you take me to a cockfight, Captain? We’ll probably stay overnight in Wilmington anyway, between trains.”

  “Ladies don’t attend cockfights, Miss Dolly.”

  “I could wear some of Darrell’s clothes and no one would know.”

  Tilda said sharply: “Dolly, behave yourself!”

  “But, Mama, if no one knew it was me——

  “Hush!” Tilda could silence Dolly when she must. “Captain Pew, I’m glad you and Darrell will be there to see Dolly and Jenny and the children on the train for Camden.”

  After Dolly’s departure, Tilda had much to do. General Morgan, the heroic Kentuckian who when he and his raiders were captured in Ohio had been imprisoned in Columbus and treated shamefully till his audacious escape, was now expected in Richmond; and the city had voted him the honors that were his due. Tilda arranged that a throng should be at the station when he and Mrs. Morgan and his staff arrived, and she had overseen the preparation of the rooms at the Ballard which they would occupy. The reception at City Hall was managed by Mayor Mayo; but there was to be a great ball in the General’s honor at the Ballard Saturday night, and that needed her feminine hand.

  She went to ask Vesta and Cinda to help. Cinda was at Chimborazo Hospital when Tilda reached the house; but Brett and Vesta were there. When Tilda spoke of her errand Brett said, half-seriously:

  “Pshaw, Tilda! Why make such a hero of General Morgan, just because the Yankees cut off his hair! If he’d been with the army where he should have been, instead of rampaging around Ohio and getting himself captured, Bragg needn’t have been beaten at Chattanooga.”

  “Oh, Cousin Brett, you’re as bad as Trav! Enid says he always finds fault when she admires any of our heroes.”

  “Too much admiration’s bad for them,” Brett retorted. “We think they’re irresistible; but General Grant out West doesn’t seem to agree, no matter how many receptions and balls we give them. Let General Morgan go teach Grant to admire him.”

  “Oh, you’re just teasing,” she protested. “Vesta, make him come to the ball! And I’m counting on you, of course.”

  Vesta shook her head. “I’ve promised to go to Mrs. Semmes’s for the charades tonight, and they say General Morgan will be there; but even if he isn’t, one party a week is enough for me. I’m housekeeper, you know. With flour two hundred dollars a barrel, I haven’t time for balls.”

  “You’re silly to pay those robber prices. Let Mr. Streean buy for you from the commissary. Why, two weeks ago he sent home a barrel of flour and some potatoes and rice and salt beef and a peck of salt, and all that only cost sixty dollars.”

  Brett said laughingly: “If it’s flour you want, Vesta, I’ll buy you a few barrels! I’m rich now, you know. Soldiers’ pay has been raised to eighteen dollars a month.”

  Vesta did not smile. “That’s not so funny for poor people, Papa! Eighteen dollars won’t buy three needles, these days, much less three square meals.”

  Tilda protested: “Cousin Brett, you should have made them give you a commission long ago.”

  “We have to have some privates.’

  “That’s ridiculous! And besides, when you have friends it’s sill not to let them help you. Everyone else does!” Feeling Brett’s unspoken criticism, she struck out blindly: “And as far as food is concerned, I didn’t see that you starved yourselves on Christmas! If you feel so bad about the poor hungry soldiers, why didn’t you turn all the food Jenny brought right over to the commissary?”

  “Giving food to the commissary doesn’t mean it reaches the army,” Brett reminded her. “The department has too many friends to feed.” He added warningly: “You know, Tilda, the poor people here in Richmond won’t go hungry forever. Captain Warner told me today that we’re likely to see another food riot, and that if the mob catches Colonel Northrop they’ll hang him!”

  “Nonsense!” Yet Tilda felt a cold touch of fear. Mr. Streean might be wise to resign his government post. He was making so much money in so many other ways that he could do so as well as not. “People willing to work have plenty to eat,” she declared. “It’s just the lazy ones that stir up trouble.”

  But Vesta made an angry sound, and Brett smiled without mirth, and she knew they blamed her. Walking homeward she tried to tell herself that she did not care! When the war was over and Mr. Streean was rich and they were poor, they would not be so high and mighty. Yet she did want their good opinion. So many people hated Redford, hated everyone who made money out of the war. That was one reason why he and she had not been invited to Mrs. Semmes’s charades tonight. Probably Dolly too would have been left out, even if she had been here. They were all tainted with the Streean name. But perhaps at the Plains some fine young man would love Dolly for herself alone, would woo and win and marry her and take her away from Richmond —and from the shadows of her father’s disrepute.

  The ball for General Morgan was a fine success; and at church on Sunday one or two of the ladies congratulated Tilda on her part in the arrangements, and she treasured their kindly words. But next day a letter from Jenny brought disturbing news.

  Dear Aunt Tilda—I must let you know that Dolly changed her mind about coming to the Plains. Probably she has written you, but in case she hasn’t, I don’t want you to be worried. I enclose her note to me . . .

  Tilda hastily picked up the enclosure, in Dolly’s sprawling hand. There were only a few lines, scribbled straight away with no punctuation, badly blotted.

  Dear Jenny Darling Captain Pew and I met Darrell at the theatre and Darrell wants me to go to Nassau with them and the Dragonfly is all ready to sail and come back in two or three weeks and maybe land in Charleston and Ill come right straight to the Plains so don’t worry because Darrell will take care of me and Ive always been simply crazy to go to Nassau and Darrells gone with a boy to get my boxes so please forgive me but dont tell mama but its going to be such fun and Ill be at the Plains in no time. Much love.

  Dolly

  Tilda uttered an exasperated sound and turned back to Jenny’s letter.


  ... I enclose her note to me. She says not to tell you but of course I must. We reached Wilmington too late for the Wednesday train. There was horrible sleet and snow all the way from Petersburg and we were a day and a half behindhand. We were supposed to get in at 4½ in the morning, but it was evening when we got here. Captain Pew got rooms for us at the Carolina Hotel on Market street. His ship was at a dock only about two blocks away. He invited us to go to the theatre. It was Douglas Jerrold’s nautical drama—I’m copying off the advertisement—‘Black-Eyed Susan with Miss Katie Estelle and Mr. James Harrison’, and the advertisement says ‘singing and dancing and the conjugal lesson, conjugal lesson, conjugal lesson’. Three times. I might have gone, though it didn’t sound very nice, but Janet had eaten something that disagreed with her, and Clayton was upset, so Anarchy and I had our hands full. But Dolly went. Her room was across the hall from mine, but I must have been asleep when her note came, because it was just pushed under my door and I didn’t see it till Janet woke in the morning with a stomach ache. I sent Banquo, first thing, to find Dolly, but the Dragonfly had sailed.

  Please don’t worry. Banquo says the Dragonfly got through the blockading steamers all right, and I’m sure Dolly will have an exciting time; and of course she has Darrell to protect her.

  Tilda took some reassurance from that fact, but she was furious with Dolly for this escapade. If it were ever known, it would ruin the child’s chances to make a good marriage! Ladies did not go off through the blockade just for adventure.

  But perhaps no one need ever know. She wrote to Jenny: “Dolly’s always so headstrong. She’d begged to go on one of those dreadful voyages and I had told her she mustn’t. Of course she’s with her brother, so I suppose it’s all right; but I hope no one knows but you and me. So many people would not understand.” Jenny would keep a discreetly silent tongue; but Tilda thought she would not have a moment’s peace till Dolly was safely at the Plains. In fact, she would never have an easy mind till the child was married.

  During the days that followed she almost forgot Dolly in the pleasant gaieties contrived in General Morgan’s honor, of which for once she found herself a part. Mrs. Randolph, with whom her work brought her in contact, invited her and Streean to an evening of charades. She thought he would refuse to go, but to her surprise he consented. President and Mrs. Davis were there, and most of the members of the Cabinet. Tilda watched the charades in happy delight, and guessed “Penitent”, though she had not courage to say so, long before anyone else. She thought she was stupid not to guess “Matrimony” too, and might have done so if in the “Money” scene the turnstile on which Miss Cary was sitting had not collapsed and thrown them all into a hilarious amusement. General Stuart, in some way Tilda did not quite understand, was responsible for that mishap. Before the evening was over, Tilda had the tremulous honor of meeting the great cavalryman, and the happiness of receiving one of the gracious compliments that he was always so ready to bestow.

  She went with Mr. Streean to the President’s reception the night after someone, presumably bribed by Yankees, made a stupid attempt to set fire to the White House of the Confederacy. Everybody was thankful that the fire was discovered in time so that no one was hurt and little damage done. Richmond during these winter months was very gay, and someone suggested the fire might have been set by poor people resenting the many dances and parties; but General Lee himself had approved the dancing, declaring that when his officers had a chance to enjoy themselves, young ladies were quite right to entertain them.

  Tilda enjoyed the reception. She saw in the throng many acquaintances, and felt a deep pleasure when ladies nodded or spoke to her and sometimes even engaged her in conversation. Why, they seemed to respect and to like her; and it was a part of her small triumph to see that Streean was left very much to himself, standing for most of the evening with two or three intimates in a corner of the room. Mrs. Grant, who had been a Crenshaw before her marriage and had converted her handsome home next door to the White House into a House of Mercy for wounded soldiers, herself presented Tilda to Mrs. Davis, and spoke of the useful work Tilda had done; and Mrs. Davis was pleasantly gracious. Tilda was left swimming in a sea of happy pride.

  Judge Tudor spoke to her. His home was diagonally across Twelfth Street, only a few steps away. She asked why Julian and Anne had not come, and he said Julian kept away from crowds. “He and Anne are at home.” He added, with a smile: “Anne was reading aloud to Julian out of Blackstone’s Commentaries when I left them.” Tilda had never heard of Blackstone’s Commentaries, so she said hurriedly that this was a beautiful house, wasn’t it, and Judge Tudor agreed. “Dr. Brockenbrough built it, forty or fifty years ago,” he said. “There weren’t any railroad tracks down in the ravine then, so the lot was more attractive than it is now. Mrs. Brockenbrough laid out a beautiful garden on the slope on that side. She had been Mrs. Randolph of Tuckahoe. When Dr. Brockenbrough retired, he sold the house to Mr. Morson; but Mr. Morson sold it to Miss Bruce—she was Mrs. Morson’s sister, and a great belle before she married Mr. Seddon.” Tilda listened blissfully to these great names. “Mr. Seddon added the third story, and then he sold it to Mr. Crenshaw, and the city bought it from him, and the Confederacy rented it as a residence for Mr. Davis.” He added with a chuckle: “Mrs. Davis thinks it too small, but she keeps filling it with children.”

  Brett and Cinda joined them; and when to Judge Tudor’s question Brett said he would return to duty on Monday, Tilda suggested to Cinda that they all come to Sunday dinner.

  “We don’t see each other as much as I wish we did,” she pointed out. “I think families ought to be together more than ever now, don’t you?”

  Cinda readily agreed. “Only, don’t try to have too much, Tilda. Starvation parties are the thing now, you know. Even on Sunday!”

  Tilda promised, but Redford Streean when he heard they were coming said no one would go hungry in his house unless it were from choice, and took the matter out of Tilda’s hands. She was disturbed, fearing Cinda’s opinion and Brett’s if Redford were too lavish; and before Sunday came she wished it were possible to withdraw her invitation, for she had a second letter from Jenny.

  “I’m awfully sorry, Aunt Tilda,” Jenny wrote. “But before your letter came I’d already written Mama that Dolly didn’t come on with me. And I told Rollin Lyle. He had heard she was coming and he was visiting in Columbia and rode over to call on her and I had to explain to him.”

  If Cinda knew of Dolly’s headstrong folly she would have told Brett, and probably Vesta too; so Tilda dreaded what she would see in their eyes, and prepared a defiant answer to any spoken criticism. After all, there was no reason why Dolly should not go to Nassau with Darrell if she wanted to.

  But when they appeared at the house on Sunday there was nothing in their manner to suggest that they knew. Julian and Anne, since Anne’s baby would be born in April, did not come, nor did Judge Tudor; but Tilda had invited Enid and the children as well as Brett and Cinda and Vesta. They sat down to a lavish board: oysters, a haunch of venison, a platter of partridges, hot biscuits of white flour, rice, salad, ices for dessert. Enid was exclamatory with delight.

  “I declare, Cousin Redford, I think you’re wonderful to find all these lovely good things.”

  “It only needs a little management.” Streean turned to Brett. “There’s more wild game in the markets than I’ve ever seen. The shop keeper who furnished this venison had eight deer hanging up; and wild turkeys, wild geese, ducks, fish, everything.”

  “The prices scare me,” Vesta confessed. “Even venison is three dollars a pound.”

  Streean smiled. “That sounds like a high price, but you have to remember that Confederate money isn’t worth what it used to be.” His eye met Brett’s again. “Congress has passed a law to stop your banker friends speculating in Federal money. They’ve been making some enormous profits, but of course they hurt our currency in doing so.”

  Tilda saw Brett’s face harden, but he on
ly said mildly that money had no heart. “It’s always greedy. Money loves nothing but money.”

  “Well, in the long run that’s true of everything,” Streean remarked. “The instinct to survive includes the instinct to perpetuate, and at no matter what cost to others. Right now, for instance, each state is trying to take care of itself, even if that means ruining us all. Governor Vance has exempted twenty-five thousand men from service in the army, and keeps them at home to defend North Carolina; and Georgia and South Carolina and the other states are almost as bad. And Vance keeps a huge supply of uniforms and coats and shoes on hand, and lets the rest of the army go barefoot.”

  Lucy said: “I had a letter from Papa, and he says Governor Vance sent them fourteen thousand uniforms. But the soldiers in Tennessee have to make their own shoes out of the skins of the cattle they slaughter.”

  Streean chuckled. “Your friend Longstreet’s turning his army into cobblers, Brett. Probably that’s why they don’t do more fighting. People are calling him ‘Slow Pete.’ ”

  Tilda stirred uneasily, feeling Brett’s anger; and Vesta may have felt this too, for she said with a quick laugh: “Making shoes is fun! All you need is some old canvas and a strong needle, and then ask a shoemaker to put soles on them. The ones I make aren’t very handsome, but it’s better than paying a hundred dollars a pair.”

  Tilda thought they were on safer ground, but Streean persisted. “It’s all right for North Carolina to send things to her men, but the states can’t all do that. Texas can’t send anything this far, so her men are ragged and barefoot, while North Carolina men have more than they need. All that ought to be handled by the Quartermaster’s department.”