Portland, Ala., July 8, 1863.—My mother ill at her home on the plantation near here—where I have come to see her. But to go back first to my trip home from Flat Rock to Camden. At the station, I saw men sitting on a row of coffins smoking, talking, and laughing, with their feet drawn up tailor-fashion to keep them out of the wet. Thus does war harden people’s hearts.
Met James Chesnut at Wilmington. He only crossed the river with me and then went back to Richmond. He was violently opposed to sending our troops into Pennsylvania: wanted all we could spare sent West to make an end there of our enemies. He kept dark about Vallandigham.[95] I am sure we could not trust him to do us any good, or to do the Yankees any harm. The Coriolanus business is played out.
As we came to Camden, Molly sat by me in the cars. She touched me, and, with her nose in the air, said: “Look, Missis.” There was the inevitable bride and groom—at least so I thought—and the irrepressible kissing and lolling against each other which I had seen so often before. I was rather astonished at Molly’s prudery, but there was a touch in this scene which was new. The man required for his peace of mind that the girl should brush his cheek with those beautiful long eyelashes of hers. Molly became so outraged in her blue-black modesty that she kept her head out of the window not to see! When we were detained at a little wayside station, this woman made an awful row about her room. She seemed to know me and appealed to me; said her brother-in-law was adjutant to Colonel K——, etc.
Molly observed, “You had better go yonder, ma’am, where your husband is calling you.” The woman drew herself up proudly, and, with a toss, exclaimed: “Husband, indeed! I’m a widow. That is my cousin. I loved my dear husband too well to marry again, ever, ever!” Absolutely tears came into her eyes. Molly, loaded as she was with shawls and bundles, stood motionless, and said: “After all that gwine-on in the kyars! O, Lord, I should a let it go ’twas my husband and me! nigger as I am.”
Here I was at home, on a soft bed, with every physical comfort; but life is one long catechism there, due to the curiosity of stay-at-home people in a narrow world.
In Richmond, Molly and Lawrence quarreled. He declared he could not put up with her tantrums. Unfortunately I asked him, in the interests of peace and a quiet house, to bear with her temper; I did, said I, but she was so good and useful. He was shabby enough to tell her what I had said at their next quarrel. The awful reproaches she overwhelmed me with then! She said she “was mortified that I had humbled her before Lawrence.”
But the day of her revenge came. At negro balls in Richmond, guests were required to carry “passes,” and, in changing his coat Lawrence forgot his pass. Next day Lawrence was missing, and Molly came to me laughing to tears. “Come and look,” said she. “Here is the fine gentleman tied between two black niggers and marched off to jail.” She laughed and jeered so she could not stand without holding on to the window. Lawrence disregarded her and called to me at the top of his voice: “Please, ma’am, ask Mars Jeems to come take me out of this. I ain’t done nothin’.”
As soon as Mr. Chesnut came home I told him of Lawrence’s sad fall, and he went at once to his rescue. There had been a fight and a disturbance at the ball. The police had been called in, and when every negro was required to show his “pass,” Lawrence had been taken up as having none. He was terribly chopfallen when he came home walking behind Mr. Chesnut. He is always so respectable and well-behaved and stands on his dignity.
I went over to Mrs. Preston’s at Columbia. Camden had become simply intolerable to me. There the telegram found me, saying I must go to my mother, who was ill at her home here in Alabama. Colonel Goodwyn, his wife, and two daughters were going, and so I joined the party. I telegraphed Mr. Chesnut for Lawrence, and he replied, forbidding me to go at all; it was so hot, the cars so disagreeable, fever would be the inevitable result. Miss Kate Hampton, in her soft voice, said: “The only trouble in life is when one can’t decide in which way duty leads. Once know your duty, then all is easy.”