Strange True Stories of Louisiana
Page 48
III.
Tribulation.
_April 25, 1861._--Yesterday I went with Cousin E. to have her picturetaken. The picture-galleries are doing a thriving business. Many companiesare ordered off to take possession of Fort Pickens (Florida), and all seemto be leaving sweethearts behind them. The crowd was in high spirits; theydon't dream that any destinies will be spoiled. When I got home Edith wasreading from the daily paper of the dismissal of Miss G. from her place asteacher for expressing abolition sentiments, and that she would be orderedto leave the city. Soon a lady came with a paper setting forth that shehas established a "company"--we are nothing if not military--for makinglint and getting stores of linen to supply the hospitals.
My name went down. If it hadn't, my spirit would have been wounded as withsharp spears before night. Next came a little girl with a subscriptionpaper to get a flag for a certain company. The little girls, especiallythe pretty ones, are kept busy trotting around with subscription lists. Agentleman leaving for Richmond called to bid me good-bye. We had a serioustalk on the chances of his coming home maimed. He handed me a rose andwent off gaily, while a vision came before me of the crowd of cripplesthat will be hobbling around when the war is over. It stayed with me allthe afternoon while I shook hands with one after another in their shininggray and gold uniforms. Latest of all came little Guy, Mr. F.'s youngestclerk, the pet of the firm as well as of his home, a mere boy of sixteen.Such senseless sacrifices seem a sin. He chattered brightly, but lingeredabout, saying good-bye. He got through it bravely until Edith's husbandincautiously said, "You didn't kiss your little sweetheart," as he alwayscalled Ellie, who had been allowed to sit up. He turned suddenly, brokeinto agonizing sobs and ran down the steps. I went right up to my room.
Suddenly the midnight stillness was broken by the sound of trumpets andflutes. It was a serenade, by her lover, to the young lady across thestreet. She leaves to-morrow for her home in Boston, he joins theConfederate army in Virginia. Among the callers yesterday she came andastonished us all by the change in her looks. She is the only person Ihave yet seen who seems to realize the horror that is coming. Was thispallid, stern-faced creature, the gentle, glowing Nellie whom we hadwelcomed and admired when she came early last fall with her parents toenjoy a Southern winter?
_May 10, 1861_.--I am tired and ashamed of myself. Last week I attended ameeting of the lint society to hand in the small contribution of linen Ihad been able to gather. We scraped lint till it was dark. A paper wasshown, entitled the "Volunteer's Friend," started by the girls of the highschool, and I was asked to help the girls with it. I positively declined.To-day I was pressed into service to make red flannel cartridge-bags forten-inch columbiads. I basted while Mrs. S. sewed, and I felt ashamed tothink that I had not the moral courage to say, "I don't approve of yourwar and won't help you, particularly in the murderous part of it."
_May 27, 1861._--This has been a scenic Sabbath. Various companies aboutto depart for Virginia occupied the prominent churches to have their flagsconsecrated. The streets were resonant with the clangor of drums andtrumpets. E. and myself went to Christ Church because the WashingtonArtillery were to be there.
_June 13._--To-day has been appointed a Fast Day. I spent the morningwriting a letter on which I put my first Confederate postage-stamp. It isof a brown color and has a large 5 in the center. To-morrow must bedevoted to all my foreign correspondents before the expected blockade cutsus off.
_June 29._--I attended a fine luncheon yesterday at one of the publicschools. A lady remarked to a school official that the cost of provisionsin the Confederacy was getting very high, butter, especially, being scarceand costly. "Never fear, my dear madame," he replied. "Texas alone canfurnish butter enough to supply the whole Confederacy; we'll soon begetting it from there." It's just as well to have this sublime confidence.
_July 15, 1861_.--The quiet of midsummer reigns, but ripples of excitementbreak around us as the papers tell of skirmishes and attacks here andthere in Virginia. "Rich Mountain" and "Carrick's Ford" were the last."You see," said Mrs. D. at breakfast to-day, "my prophecy is coming truethat Virginia will be the seat of war." "Indeed," I burst out, forgettingmy resolution not to argue, "you may think yourselves lucky if this warturns out to have any seat in particular."
So far, no one especially connected with me has gone to fight. How glad Iam for his mother's sake that Rob's lameness will keep him at home. Mr.F., Mr. S., and Uncle Ralph are beyond the age for active service, andEdith says Mr. D. can't go now. She is very enthusiastic about otherpeople's husbands being enrolled, and regrets that her Alex is not strongenough to defend his country and his rights.
_July 22_.--What a day! I feel like one who has been out in a high wind,and cannot get my breath. The news-boys are still shouting with theirextras, "Battle of Bull's Run! List of the killed! Battle of Manassas!List of the wounded!" Tender-hearted Mrs. F. was sobbing so she could notserve the tea; but nobody cared for tea. "O G.!" she said, "three thousandof our own, dear Southern boys are lying out there." "My dear Fannie,"spoke Mr. F., "they are heroes now. They died in a glorious cause, and itis not in vain. This will end it. The sacrifice had to be made, but thosekilled have gained immortal names." Then Rob rushed in with a new extra,reading of the spoils captured, and grief was forgotten. Words cannotpaint the excitement. Rob capered about and cheered; Edith danced aroundringing the dinner bell and shouting, "Victory!" Mrs. F. waved a smallConfederate flag, while she wiped her eyes, and Mr. D. hastened to thepiano and in his most brilliant style struck up "Dixie," followed by "MyMaryland" and the "Bonnie Blue Flag."
"Do not look so gloomy, G.," whispered Mr. S. "You should be happyto-night; for, as Mr. F. says, now we shall have peace."
"And is that the way you think of the men of your own blood and race?" Ireplied. But an utter scorn choked me, and I walked out of the room. Whatproof is there in this dark hour that they are not right? Only theemphatic answer of my own soul. To-morrow I will pack my trunk and acceptthe invitation to visit at Uncle Ralph's country-house.
_Sept. 25, 1861._ (_Home again from "The Pines."_)--When I opened the doorof Mrs. F.'s room on my return, the rattle of two sewing-machines and ablaze of color met me.
"Ah! G., you are just in time to help us; these are coats for JeffThompson's men. All the cloth in the city is exhausted; theseflannel-lined oilcloth table-covers are all we could obtain to makeovercoats for Thompson's poor boys. They will be very warm andserviceable."
"Serviceable, yes! The Federal army will fly when they see those coats! Ionly wish I could be with the regiment when these are shared around." YetI helped make them.
Seriously, I wonder if any soldiers will ever wear these remarkable coats.The most bewildering combination of brilliant, intense reds, greens,yellows, and blues in big flowers meandering over as vivid grounds; and asno table-cover was large enough to make a coat, the sleeves of each wereof a different color and pattern. However, the coats were duly finished.Then we set to work on gray pantaloons, and I have just carried a bundleto an ardent young lady who wishes to assist. A slight gloom is settlingdown, and the inmates here are not quite so cheerfully confident as inJuly.