XI.
WILD TIMES IN MISSISSIPPI.
This morning there was a most painful scene. Annie's father came intoVicksburg, ten miles from here, and learned of our arrival from Mrs. C.'smessenger. He sent out a carriage to bring Annie and Max to town that theymight go home with him, and with it came a letter for me from friends onthe Jackson Railroad, written many weeks before. They had heard that ourvillage home was under water, and invited us to visit them. The letter hadbeen sent to Annie's people to forward, and thus had reached us. Thisdecided H., as the place was near New Orleans, to go there and wait thechance of getting into that city. Max, when he heard this from H., lostall self-control and cried like a baby. He stalked about the garden in themost tragic manner, exclaiming:
"Oh! my soul's brother from youth up is a traitor! A traitor to hiscountry!"
Then H. got angry and said, "Max, don't be a fool!"
"Who has done this?" bawled Max. "You felt with the South at first; whohas changed you?"
"Of course I feel _for_ the South now, and nobody has changed me but thelogic of events, though the twenty-negro law has intensified my opinions.I can't see why I, who have no slaves, must go to fight for them, whileevery man who has twenty may stay at home."
I, also, tried to reason with Max and pour oil on his wound. "Max, whatinterest has a man like you, without slaves, in a war for slavery? Even ifyou had them, they would not be your best property. That lies in yourcountry and its resources. Nearly all the world has given up slavery; whycan't the South do the same and end the struggle? It has shown you whatthe South needs, and if all went to work with united hands the South wouldsoon be the greatest country on earth. You have no right to call H. atraitor; it is we who are the true patriots and lovers of the South."
This had to come, but it has upset us both. H. is deeply attached to Max,and I can't bear to see a cloud between them. Max, with Annie and Reeney,drove off an hour ago, Annie so glad at the prospect of again seeing hermother that nothing could cloud her day. And so the close companionship ofsix months, and of dangers, trials, and pleasures shared together, isover.
_Oak Ridge, July 26, 1862, Saturday._--It was not till Wednesday that H.could get into Vicksburg, ten miles distant, for a passport, without whichwe could not go on the cars. We started Thursday morning. I had to rideseven miles on a hard-trotting horse to the nearest station. The day wasburning at white heat. When the station was reached my hair was down, myhat on my neck, and my feelings were indescribable.
On the train one seemed to be right in the stream of war, among officers,soldiers, sick men and cripples, adieus, tears, laughter, constantchatter, and, strangest of all, sentinels posted at the locked car-doorsdemanding passports. There was no train south from Jackson that day, so weput up at the Bowman House. The excitement was indescribable. All theworld appeared to be traveling through Jackson. People were besieging thetwo hotels, offering enormous prices for the privilege of sleepinganywhere under a roof. There were many refugees from New Orleans, amongthem some acquaintances of mine. The peculiar style of [women's] dressnecessitated by the exigencies of war gave the crowd a very strikingappearance. In single suits I saw sleeves of one color, the waist ofanother, the skirt of another; scarlet jackets and gray skirts; blackwaists and blue skirts; black skirts and gray waists; the trimming chieflygold braid and buttons, to give a military air. The gray and gold uniformsof the officers, glittering between, made up a carnival of color. Everymoment we saw strange meetings and partings of people from all over theSouth. Conditions of time, space, locality, and estate were all loosened;everybody seemed floating he knew not whither, but determined to be jolly,and keep up an excitement. At supper we had tough steak, heavy,dirty-looking bread, Confederate coffee. The coffee was made of eitherparched rye or cornmeal, or of sweet potatoes cut in small cubes androasted. This was the favorite. When flavored with "coffee essence,"sweetened with sorghum, and tinctured with chalky milk, it made a curiousbeverage, which, after tasting, I preferred not to drink. Every one elsewas drinking it, and an acquaintance said, "Oh, you'll get bravely overthat. I used to be a Jewess about pork, but now we just kill a hog and eatit, and kill another and do the same. It's all we have."
Friday morning we took the down train for the station near my friend'shouse. At every station we had to go through the examination of passes, asif in a foreign country.
The conscript camp was at Brookhaven, and every man had been ordered toreport there or to be treated as a deserter. At every station I shiveredmentally, expecting H. to be dragged off. Brookhaven was also the stationfor dinner. I choked mine down, feeling the sword hanging over me by asingle hair. At sunset we reached our station. The landlady was pouringtea when we took our seats and I expected a treat, but when I tasted it itwas sassafras tea, the very odor of which sickens me. There was a generalsurprise when I asked to exchange it for a glass of water; every one wasdrinking it as if it were nectar. This morning we drove out here.
My friend's little nest is calm in contrast to the tumult not far off.
Yet the trials of war are here too. Having no matches, they keep fire,carefully covering it at night, for Mr. G. has no powder, and cannot flashthe gun into combustibles as some do. One day they had to go with thechildren to the village, and the servant let the fire go out. When theyreturned at nightfall, wet and hungry, there was neither fire nor food.Mr. G. had to saddle the tired mule and ride three miles for a pan ofcoals, and blow them, all the way back, to keep them alight. Crockery hasgradually been broken and tin-cups rusted out, and a visitor told me theyhad made tumblers out of clear glass bottles by cutting them smooth with aheated wire, and that they had nothing else to drink from.
_Aug. 11, 1862_.--We cannot get to New Orleans. A special passport must beshown, and we are told that to apply for it would render H. very likely tobe conscripted. I begged him not to try; and as we hear that activehostilities have ceased at Vicksburg, he left me this morning to return tohis uncle's and see what the prospects are there. I shall be in miseryabout conscription till he returns.
_Sunday, Sept. 7_., (Vicksburg, Washington Hotel)--H. did not return forthree weeks. An epidemic disease broke out in his uncle's family and twochildren died. He staid to assist them in their trouble. Tuesday eveninghe returned for me and we reached Vicksburg yesterday. It was my firstsight of the "Gibraltar of the South." Looking at it from a slightelevation suggests the idea that the fragments left from world-buildinghad tumbled into a confused mass of hills, hollows, hillocks, banks,ditches, and ravines, and that the houses had rained down afterwards. Overall there was dust impossible to conceive. The bombardment has done littleinjury. People have returned and resumed business. A gentleman asked H. ifhe knew of a nice girl for sale. I asked if he did not think it impoliticto buy slaves now.
"Oh, not young ones. Old ones might run off when the enemy's linesapproach ours, but with young ones there is no danger."
We had not been many hours in town before a position was offered to H.which seemed providential. The chief of a certain department was inill-health and wanted a deputy. It secures him from conscription, requiresno oath, and pays a good salary. A mountain seemed lifted off my heart.
_Thursday, Sept. 18, 1862. (Thanksgiving Day.)_--We staid three days atthe Washington Hotel; then a friend of H.'s called and told him to come tohis house till he could find a home. Boarding-houses have all been brokenup, and the army has occupied the few houses that were for rent. To-day H.secured a vacant room for two weeks in the only boarding-house.
_Oak Haven, Oct. 3_.--To get a house in V. proved impossible, so we agreedto part for a time till H. could find one. A friend recommended this quietfarm, six miles from ---- (a station on the Jackson Railroad). On lastSaturday H. came with me as far as Jackson and put me on the other trainfor the station.
On my way hither a lady, whom I judged to be a Confederate "blockaderunner," told me of the tricks resorted to to get things out of NewOrleans, including this: A very large doll was emptied of its bran, filledwith quinine, an
d elaborately dressed. When the owner's trunk was opened,she declared with tears that the doll was for a poor crippled girl, and itwas passed.
This farm of Mr. W.'s[33] is kept with about forty negroes. Mr. W.,nearly sixty, is the only white man on it. He seems to have been wiser inthe beginning than most others, and curtailed his cotton to make room forrye, rice, and corn. There is a large vegetable garden and orchard; he hasbought plenty of stock for beef and mutton, and laid in a large supply ofsugar. He must also have plenty of ammunition, for a man is kept huntingand supplies the table with delicious wild turkeys and other game. Thereis abundance of milk and butter, hives for honey, and no end of pigs.Chickens seem to be kept like game in parks, for I never see any, but thehunter shoots them, and eggs are plentiful. We have chicken for breakfast,dinner, and supper, fried, stewed, broiled, and in soup, and there is afamily of ten. Luckily I never tire of it. They make starch out ofcorn-meal by washing the meal repeatedly, pouring off the water and dryingthe sediment. Truly the uses of corn in the Confederacy are varied. Itmakes coffee, beer, whisky, starch, cake, bread. The only privations hereare the lack of coffee, tea, salt, matches, and good candles. Mr. W. isnow having the dirt-floor of his smoke-house dug up and boiling from itthe salt that has dripped into it for years. To-day Mrs. W. made tea outof dried blackberry leaves, but no one liked it. The beds, made out ofequal parts of cotton and corn-shucks, are the most elastic I ever sleptin. The servants are dressed in gray homespun. Hester, the chambermaid,has a gray gown so pretty that I covet one like it. Mrs. W. is nowarranging dyes for the thread to be woven into dresses for herself and thegirls. Sometimes her hands are a curiosity.
The school at the nearest town is broken up and Mrs. W. says the childrenare growing up heathens. Mr. W. has offered me a liberal price to give thechildren lessons in English and French, and I have accepted transiently.
_Oct. 28, 1862_.--It is a month to-day since I came here. I only wish H.could share these benefits--the nourishing food, the pure aromatic air,the sound sleep away from the fevered life of Vicksburg. He sends me allthe papers he can get hold of, and we both watch carefully the movementsreported, lest an army should get between us. The days are full of usefulwork, and in the lovely afternoons I take long walks with a big dog forcompany. The girls do not care for walking. In the evening Mr. W. begs meto read aloud all the war news. He is fond of the "Memphis Appeal," whichhas moved from town to town so much that they call it the "Moving Appeal."I sit in a low chair by the fire, as we have no other light to read by.Sometimes traveling soldiers stop here, but that is rare.
_Oct. 31_.--Mr. W. said last night the farmers felt uneasy about the"Emancipation Proclamation" to take effect in December. The slaves havefound it out, though it had been carefully kept from them.
"Do yours know it?" I asked.
"Oh, yes. Finding it to be known elsewhere, I told it to mine with fairwarning what to expect if they tried to run away. The hounds are not faroff."
The need of clothing for their armies is worrying them too. I never sawMrs. W. so excited as on last evening. She said the provost-marshal at thenext town had ordered the women to knit so many pairs of socks.
"Just let him try to enforce it and they'll cow-hide him. He'll get nonefrom me. I'll take care of my own friends without an order from him."
"Well," said Mr. W., "if the South is defeated and the slaves set free,the Southern people will all become atheists, for the Bible justifiesslavery and says it shall be perpetual."
"You mean, if the Lord does not agree with you, you'll repudiate him."
"Well, we'll feel it's no use to believe in anything."
At night the large sitting-room makes a striking picture. Mr. W., spare,erect, gray-headed, patriarchal, sits in his big chair by the odorous fireof pine logs and knots roaring up the vast fireplace. His driver brings tohim the report of the day's picking and a basket of snowy cotton for thespinning. The hunter brings in the game. I sit on the other side to read.The great spinning wheels stand at the other end of the room, and Mrs. W.and her black satellites, the heads of the elderly women in brightbandanas, are hard at work. Slender and auburn-haired, she steps back andforth out of shadow into shine following the thread with gracefulmovements. Some card the cotton, some reel it into hanks. Over all thefirelight glances, now touching the golden curls of little John toddlingabout, now the brown heads of the girls stooping over their books, now theshadowy figure of little Jule, the girl whose duty it is to supply thefire with rich pine to keep up the vivid light. If they would only let thechild sit down! But that is not allowed, and she gets sleepy and stumblesand knocks her head against the wall and then straightens up again. Whenthat happens often it drives me off. Sometimes while I read the brightroom fades and a vision rises of figures clad in gray and blue lying paleand stiff on the blood-sprinkled ground.
_Nov. 15, 1862_.--Yesterday a letter was handed me from H. Grant's armywas moving, he wrote, steadily down the Mississippi Central and might cutthe road at Jackson. He has a house and will meet me in Jackson to-morrow.
When Bessie J. and I went in to dinner to-day, a stranger was sitting byMr. W.; a dark, heavy-looking man who said but little. I excused myself tofinish packing. Presently Bessie rushed upstairs flushed and angry.
"I shall give Mr. W. a piece of my mind. He must have taken leave of hissenses!"
"What is the matter, Bessie?"
"Why, G., don't you know whom you've been sitting at table with?"
"That stranger, you mean; I suppose Mr. W. forgot to introduce him."
"Forgot! He knew better than to introduce him! That man is anigger-chaser. He's got his bloodhounds here now."
"Did you see the dogs?"
"No, I asked Hester if he had them, and she said, 'Yes.' Think of Mr. W.bringing him to table with us. If my brothers knew it there would be arow."
"Where are your brothers? At college still?"
"No, in the army; Pa told them they'd have to come and fight to save theirproperty. His men cost him twelve to fifteen hundred dollars apiece andare too valuable to lose."
"Well, I wouldn't worry about this man, he may be useful some day to savethat kind of property."
"Of course, you can take it easily, you're going away; but if Mr. W.thinks I'm going to sit at table with that wretch he's vastly mistaken."
_Nov. 20, 1862_. (_Vicksburg_.)--A fair morning for my journey back toVicksburg. The autumn woods were shining through a veil of silvery mistand the spicy breezes blew cool and keen from the heart of the pines, afriend sat beside me, a husband's welcome awaited me. General Pemberton,recently appointed to the command at Vicksburg, was on the train; also thegentleman who in New Orleans had told us we should have all the butter wewanted from Texas. On the cars, as elsewhere, the question of foodalternated with news of the war.
When we ran into the Jackson station H. was on the platform, and I gladlylearned that we could go right on. A runaway negro, an old man, ashycolored from fright and exhaustion, with his hands chained, was beingdragged along by a common-looking man. Just as we started out of Jacksonthe conductor led in a young woman sobbing in a heart-broken manner. Hergrief seemed so overpowering, and she was so young and helpless, thatevery one was interested. Her husband went into the army in the opening ofthe war, just after their marriage, and she had never heard from himsince. After months of weary searching she learned he had been heard of atJackson, and came full of hope, but found no clue. The sudden breakingdown of her hope was terrible. The conductor placed her in care of agentleman going her way and left her sobbing. At the next station theconductor came to ask her about her baggage. She raised her head to tryand answer. "Don't cry so, you'll find him yet." She gave a start, jumpedfrom her seat with arms flung out and eyes staring. "There he is now!" shecried. Her husband stood before her.
The gentleman beside her yielded his seat, and as hand grasped hand ahysterical gurgle gave place to a look like Heaven's peace. The low murmurof their talk began, and when I looked round at the next station they hadbought pies
and were eating them together like happy children.
Midway between Jackson and Vicksburg we reached the station near whereAnnie's parents were staying. I looked out, and there stood Annie with alittle sister on each side of her, brightly smiling at us. Max had writtento H., but we had not seen them since our parting. There was only time fora word and the train flashed away.
FOOTNOTES:[33] On this plantation, and in this domestic circle, I myself afterwardsojourned, and from them enlisted in the Confederate army. The initialsare fictitious, but the description is perfect.--G.W.C.
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