Here, in the evening, came ex-Senator Yulee—a Hebrew, who, like Belmont, has changed his name. When he represented the Territory of Florida in the House, he was known as Mr. Levy. When Florida was admitted as a State, and he had married into the family of old “Duke Wickliffe,” of Kentucky, he turned up as Senator, under the name of Yulee, and remained in that body till, in 1861, he resigned to enter the Rebellion. Now, with his property in Fernandina confiscated, his office, influence, means of livelihood all gone, the ex-Senator comes out of the Rebellion, and out of the interior, where he has been hiding, to have an interview with the Chief Justice, whom, as fellow-member of the Senate, he had treated as “outside of any healthy political organization.”
Mr. Yulee was, of course, polite and plausible, but it was amusing to see how ignorant he was that during the last four years anything had happened! Slavery was dead—that much was hastily admitted—but what other change the causeless Rebellion could have, or ought to have wrought, he didn’t see. That there was any modification of the old order of things—that Southern men were not to be heeded whenever they stamped their feet—that every Rebel had not the same rights under the Constitution with every loyal man—were things which, in his seclusion in the interior, had never occurred to him. He had been appointed a Commissioner to see whether the Administration would not permit the Governor and Legislature to resume control of the State, and dispense with further military interference! While we were at Hilton Head, General Gillmore had issued an order overturning the effort of the fugitive South Carolina Governor to continue his control of his State; and Senator Yulee had just heard of it. He was greatly disturbed, and begged Mr. Chase to tell him whether it could be possible that the Administration would sustain Gen. Gillmore, and thus, by refusing to recognize the only constitutional authorities of the State, plunge them all into anarchy again!
But worse horrors remained for the sanguine Senator to encounter. He had not recovered from the shock of learning that, instead of being again clothed with the authority of the State, he and his fellow conspirators stood a better chance of being dealt with for treason, when the negro question came up. He was desirous that the State officials should control the freedmen. It was suggested that the freedmen, being in some sections in the majority, and in all having the advantage of loyalty, might better control the State officials. “Why, they’ll all starve. They are shiftless, improvident, idle, and incapable of taking care of themselves.” The experiences of Port Royal were recited. He was incredulous. He didn’t know what the Port Royal negroes were like; but it was exceedingly strange if any negroes could save enough during the summer to support them through the winter.
His desire to be polite, and to avoid committing himself to any unpleasant declarations, made the ex-Senator very cautious; and toward the close he seemed too much surprised and bewildered, by what he heard, to have much to say. He came down to Jacksonville, seeing no reason why he should not run up to Tallahassee, help the Governor engineer the State back into the Union, and, through the elections, patch up some policy for “taking care of the negroes,” and then prepare to resume his seat in the United States Senate at the beginning of the next session. He returns to the country, assured that neither he nor the Governor will be recognized as State officials, and somewhat alarmed lest they may be recognized as traitors.[[21]]
Meanwhile, one of our party, who had been strolling about the town, came in with a curious case. A returned Rebel soldier had found a pretty little cracker girl, scarcely fourteen years old, and not yet emancipated from short dresses and pantalets, to whom he had taken a violent liking, and whom, by promises of toys and a new dress, he had induced clandestinely to marry him. The poor girl’s mother was distressed, took the girl away, and refused to recognize the marriage. The Rebel soldier came into town, found the girl and her mother here, and seized upon the child, vowing that she must straightway come home with him, or he would kill her. The people of the town did not seem to think the affair unusual, or requiring any attention; nobody was going to interfere, and the fellow was about to force away the child from her mother. Perhaps the incident is as good an illustration of the Florida cracker stage of civilization as could have been found.
General Vogdes procured horses, and a party, including one of the Florida ladies, went out riding, just as the sun was going down. The roads were bad; where there was no sand, there were stumps and mud holes; and the country, wherever we rode, was flat, uninteresting and unimproved. Returning, we found the straggling little town had put on new attractions. The trees that belt all its streets had hidden the omnipresent sand; the moonlight, glimmering through the foliage, concealed all the shabbiness and doubled all the beauties of the dilapidated, but shrubbery-embowered houses; the air was delightfully balmy—more than realizing all that has been said of the Florida climate; and, in short, we kept riding about for an hour, by moonlight. Then, how to get back was the question. My companion lived in the town; surely she ought to know its dozen streets, but she didn’t. “There’s our house, just beyond that clump of trees!” We rode up, and found it wasn’t. Protracted searching ensued; then, “Oh, here it is; I know it by the piazza.” But when we rode up, it was found the moonlight and shadows had been deceptive. At last she heard a familiar voice: “Beckie, is that you?” “Laws, missus, what you doin’ out heah. Thort sure yous gwine home an hour ago.” “Beckie, I’m not lost, but I can’t see in the shade, and have just got turned around a little. Which way is our house?” “Haw, haw,” in chorus from half a dozen African females. “Laws, Missus, to think of yous a gittin’ lost in Jacksonville! Why, chile, deres de house right round de cohnah, whar it alius was!”
“Right round de cohnah” we started; but somehow we didn’t get there. I’ve done a good deal of horseback riding, in a good many out-of-the-way places; on prairies where there wasn’t a landmark; in pine woods, where there were so many I couldn’t see; through the labyrinthine mazes of roads cut in the forests by the several advancing brigade trains of a great army; through unfamiliar swamps, without a road, under heavy fire, where I was compelled to rely on my pocket compass, to know how to get out from the sweep of the batteries; but I never got lost before. That sensation was reserved for enjoyment at the village of Jacksonville, and within the corporate (and sandy) limits of the same, in the State of Florida. We rode blindly around, for about two hours, till General Vodges sent out soldiers to look for us. When, at last, we cantered up in grand style, we strenuously declared that the evening was so charming we couldn’t think of coming in sooner.