When Will This Cruel War Be Over? Page 5

Last night I stayed up very late reading Jane Eyre; although tired, I could not wait to see what the next chapter would bring. Her life, like my own, seems to become more complicated with every turn in the road.

  Spent a quiet day sewing shirts with Dolphy, who delights in my progress with needle and thread.

  Another week — not a word from Tally.

  Friday, August 12, 1864

  After breakfast I fixed my hair. It has been such a long time since I did that — I honestly cannot remember when I have spent that much time before the mirror. I fixed it the way Aunt Caroline fixes hers. I plaited it down my back and have worn it that way all day.

  I am happy my hair is long.

  At dusk I went to the garden and gathered some sweet-smelling roses.

  As Jane Eyre says, “Even for me life had its gleams of sunshine.”

  Sunday, August 14, 1864

  Aunt Caroline has suggested that she and Cousin Rachel play together. Cousin Rachel has not played her f lute since she arrived, although I know she brought it with her.

  Cousin Rachel does not seem to be very happy these days, and we no longer talk as frequently as we did, which, I believe, is largely due to her melancholy moods.

  She declined Aunt Caroline’s invitation and so Aunt Caroline played in the parlor — she prefers that piano to the others in the house — while I read Jane Eyre, which I am liking much more than Wuthering Heights.

  Aunt Caroline plays beautifully, her long, slender fingers — her pinkie is as long as her ring finger — lightly dancing over the keys, her head bowed in concentration. At times I can hear her humming the tune as she plays.

  Monday, August 15, 1864

  Cousin Rachel seems to be practicing her f lute for the first time. I can hear her in the early evenings, up in her room. She plays quite nicely and I hope she continues, as I believe it will help keep up her spirits.

  She has kept much to herself these past few weeks, but yesterday she returned to her former self and is once again speaking from great heights on any number of issues — the war, Negroes, and especially, marriage.

  Her health is suffering once again. She was confined to bed due to a weak stomach and a touch of dysentery. Perhaps it was something she ate.

  Tuesday, August 16, 1864

  Cousin Rachel dropped her scissors today and they stuck in the floor, which she said is a sign that we would be getting a visitor. She says we all should prepare ourselves.

  I think Aunt Caroline is quite concerned about her, although she has not said anything to me.

  Wednesday, August 17, 1864

  Miss Sally Robbins visited today. It has been a long time since we saw her. She is engaged to Lieutenant Charles Jones and is constantly concerned with his well being. It has been weeks since she’s heard from him. Sally Robbins is rather staid, and Cousin Rachel was quite put off by her.

  After dinner Cousin Rachel went on — quite at length — lecturing Sally Robbins about her views on marriage, most of which, of course, I am quite familiar with.

  Cousin Rachel is quite critical of Sally and states that rushing headlong into marriage is a dreadful path to trod. She spoke at length about the evils of submitting to men and said that it was important for young girls like ourselves to enjoy our lives rather than find ourselves bound to a life of toil and trouble. She says that when we — Sally and me, I suppose — are older we will see that when your heart is broken you will not wish to have it so again.

  It was quite a trial for everyone to sit through this discourse politely. Aunt Caroline was so disturbed that she excused herself saying that she wanted to see that the baby was sleeping soundly. The baby had a slight cough all day.

  Cousin Rachel’s speech was particularly vexing, as she and Sally Robbins are the same age. It was also curious because Cousin Rachel appears to be shielding something from her past. I would have asked her to tell me why she seems so troubled, but it appears that the topic still weighs heavily on her soul so I decided to remain silent.

  Thursday, August 18, 1864

  While I was working in the garden, Cousin Rachel joined me and continued the conversation of last evening as if we had never parted. She confided that she was becoming quite melancholy and believes she has gone into a steep decline. She says that it is only now and again that she is able to regain her composure. It seems this is not the first time this has happened to her, and it is quite a trial for her.

  She said that life is a bitter cup from which we are all forced to drink.

  Saturday, August 20, 1864

  Another week has passed and still not one word from Tally.

  Sunday, August 21, 1864

  I must confess that at times I simply wish Cousin Rachel would learn to conduct herself in a more appealing fashion. Her behavior with Sally Robbins was quite embarrassing.

  Wednesday, August 24, 1864

  I spent the evening alone, reading Jane Eyre in my room. Her thoughts eerily mirror my own:

  It is a very strange sensation to inexperienced youth to feel itself quite alone in the world, cut adrift from every connection, uncertain whether the port to which it is bound can be reached, and prevented by many impediments from returning to that it has quitted….

  I will do my best: it is a pity that doing one’s best does not always answer.

  The war is at our door

  Thursday, August 25, 1864

  All talk is of Atlanta. The Yankees are rumored to be preparing to invade the city. There is an air here of hopelessness. Many of our friends and neighbors are coming to bid us farewell — perhaps forever.

  Sunday, August 28, 1864

  Last night I looked out my window and saw men in the trees watching the house. I trembled with fear and felt a chill, despite the heat.

  The war is at our door.

  Monday, August 29, 1864

  The Yankees have invaded the Broyleses’ house. When Mrs. Broyles woke, the garden was filled with soldiers, their bayonets glistening in the early morning sunlight. They broke the window, stole food, and within minutes the house was filled with rough men and no officer in attendance.

  Then they left just as suddenly as they had come. Mrs. Broyles was too frightened to stay there, and took Lily and Lucy and began the journey to our house. She was fortunate enough, when they were three miles away, to see Amos, who gave them a ride in his cart. Amos was good enough to provide umbrellas so they did not suffer from the intense heat.

  Mrs. Broyles says she was so startled by the intrusion that she imagines any noise now to be a recurrence, and she cannot stop her heart from palpitating so fearfully that it frightens her. She said one of the Yankees told her that they were not going to let Rebels sleep comfortably in their homes while their own wounded and sick men suffered.

  All of the Negroes welcomed the Yankees with open arms. The Negroes told the Yankees about the bloodhound Mr. Broyles used to track down runaways and then went with them to shoot him. The Negroes whooped and hollered in their quarters when they heard the shots and the dog’s pitiful howls.

  Tuesday, August 30, 1864

  As I read late into the night, once again Jane Eyre uncannily has put my feelings into words I possess not the wisdom to conjure:

  I was in my own room as usual — just myself, without obvious change … where was the Jane Eyre of yesterday? Where was her life? Where were her prospects?

  This is all some horrible dream

  Thursday, September 1, 1864

  Early this morning we learned that the Broyleses’ house was taken over by Yankees. A Yankee officer came by and advised us that his troops would not injure anyone but that the house was required for a hospital to tend to his wounded men.

  We are all quite startled by this turn of events, but Aunt Caroline has cautioned that we must remain calm. I am doing my utmost to live up to her expectations, although part of me yearns to believe that this is all some horrible dream from which I will soon awake.

  Saturday, September 3, 1864

  Today, at daw
n, a Yankee soldier came to our house and asked me if I would tell him where our troops are. I refused — although, of course, I have no information as to their whereabouts. The soldier said he was tired of the war and wished to go home, and if I would tell him where they could be found, it would help him make his escape. He said he had been willing to fight to save the Union but that now the war was being fought by Abolitionists who want to free the slaves — he wished to fight no more.

  I said I knew nothing that could help him, and the man rode off. He seemed quite agitated, and Cousin Rachel says he was drunk. We were all quite shaken by the ordeal. Our troops are nowhere to be seen. It is thought that they have been forced to withdraw in the face of Yankee advances.

  When we sat down to breakfast the house was surrounded by Yankees, who threatened to destroy everything if food was not given to them. Cousin Rachel, quite beside herself, ran to lock the front and back doors but they broke down the library door and smashed windows and entered the kitchen and the pantry and carried off all the food they could find.

  Monday, September 5, 1864

  Everyone is shocked by what is happening to us, but there is little we can do about it.

  There are reports that Atlanta is being evacuated and the Yankees are about to capture the city. It is, however, impossible to be certain of anything.

  Tuesday, September 6, 1864

  One of Mrs. Jane Allen’s Negroes ran off with her diamond ring and other jewelry. Mrs. Allen was distraught because the ring belonged to her husband’s mother. Mr. Allen was killed earlier this year. She reported the theft to one of the Yankee officers, but he said nothing could be done about it.

  Nothing seems safe anymore

  Friday, September 9, 1864

  I have not written for three days because there has been no time and only bad news to report. Wednesday a Yankee officer presented himself to Aunt Caroline and informed her that our house was to be handed over immediately to him so that it could be turned into a headquarters for the Federal troops in the area. We were to move all our belongings into the third-floor guest rooms or, if we preferred, he would furnish wagons that would carry us wherever we liked.

  Aunt Caroline asked him just where he suggested we go. He said he could not help her with that but he was willing to provide conveyances that would carry us, our household articles, and personal possessions.

  Aunt Caroline told him we would prefer to stay, and he said he would be returning by midday and to please make sure that everything was attended to. I was so proud of Aunt Caroline. Cousin Rachel burst into tears and ran to her room and locked the door. Mrs. Broyles was not much use either. She simply sat in the kitchen and wept.

  Aunt Caroline and I had no other choice but to begin moving everything into the third-floor bedrooms.

  Iris called Nelson and Amos and somehow they collected most of what had to be moved. Nelson had to break down Cousin Rachel’s door so we could move her things. Cousin Rachel and I are in one room, Aunt Caroline and the baby in another, and the Broyles family in a third.

  At midday, while the Yankees were elsewhere, we began hiding the silver and Mother’s jewelry. Everything was hidden in the garret. We hope they will be safe — although nothing seems safe anymore.

  We had to step around Cousin Rachel, who appears quite beside herself and was sitting on the stairs sobbing uncontrollably because she had been deprived of her room.

  Monday, September 12, 1864

  The news is bad all over. Mrs. Cornelia Finch’s house has been set aflame. The Yankees came shortly after breakfast and informed Mrs. Finch that she should remove everything from the house — which she did — although it was quite a chore since she has five small children and all her Negroes have run off. There was no one to help her except her invalid brother, who was at least able to hold the baby.

  While they were leaving, the Yankees were pouring liquid all over the house, and as they drove away they turned to see the house go up in flames. Amos reports that the house has been burned to the ground.

  Tuesday, September 13, 1864

  Finishing Jane Eyre has left me breathless and thirsting for more.

  Her story relieved me of so many of my current concerns — if only for a brief time. She too seemed to exist in the eye of a storm.

  I have developed the highest regard for her character: her steadfastness to principle; her concern for others less fortunate than herself — this despite her own numerous misfortunes; her integrity, even in the face of dire consequences.

  I hope someday to be able to emulate these character traits.

  I am trying not to feel blue

  Wednesday, September 14, 1864

  Mrs. Broyles is refusing to eat and is not looking well. She remains in her room, with Lucy, who seems afraid to leave her side. Fortunately, Lily has proved to be a great help. She has grown quite attached to the baby and helps me tend to her, which is something I have done with more frequency in order to help Aunt Caroline. I do enjoy playing with Baby Elizabeth, who grows more responsive to me with each day. I have been applying oil dutifully to her hair on a daily basis, in hopes that it will curl, but to no avail.

  At night I hold her in my arms and sing “Hush-a-Bye, Baby,” which has become her favorite song. She falls asleep in my arms after a few minutes, and I lay her quietly in her crib, as my thoughts turn to Jane Eyre:

  I watched the slumber of childhood … so passionless, so innocent — and waited for the coming of the day.

  Friday, September 16, 1864

  Aunt Caroline has decided that the silver and the jewelry will not be safe in the garret. Early this morning, after the Yankees had departed, we took everything and put them in holes we dug in the ground behind the garden where the grass slopes down to the pond.

  Saturday, September 17, 1864

  My birthday.

  Aunt Caroline gave me a shawl she had secretly been knitting and a gold thimble and some pins she said belonged to Mother. Denise was able to somehow find enough f lour to bake me a cake, and she put a rose on it, because she knew it would remind me of Mother. And Dinah gave me a card she wrote out all by herself. I shall treasure it forever.

  I am trying not to feel blue — although it is quite impossible. It is my first birthday without Mother.

  I see little hope

  Monday, September 19, 1864

  A letter from Father.

  He says we should not be discouraged, and assures us that the Yankees are an inferior breed, and that the Lord will watch over us and not allow the wicked Abolitionists to prevail. We are locked in what will be a long, valiant struggle but we must have faith in the Lord.

  Father maintains that the Abolitionists would like to destroy our country and see the Negroes set free so they could live just like white people, and he is certain that that is not the Lord’s plan. He is sure that setting them free would ruin their lives as well as ours.

  They are about to move camp, although they have no orders yet, because there is a big battle looming, and it is believed that the Yankees are quite near. The men are steadfast in their determination.

  He complains that he has not received a letter recently and wonders what is the reason.

  I dearly hope that where he is, the situation is better than here, for I see little hope for us.

  Wednesday, September 21, 1864

  Everywhere there is turmoil. The Yankees are roaming the countryside, at times drunk. Mr. Garlington says that a rowdy band of Yankees — not commanded by any officer — is demanding five hundred dollars or they threaten to set the house on fire. Some families have paid only to find, sometimes just hours later, another wild band right behind them, making the same demands. There is little one can do. I must confess we have been spared great travail because of the troops who now make their headquarters here at our house. Colonel Davenport has done his utmost to maintain order and keep the soldiers behaving properly. Of course, daily life now has become quite a chore. Putting together a meal is a problem not only because
of the scarcity of food — I cannot even remember the last time we had beef — but we have to scurry about the pantry before the soldiers are awake and fix breakfast by candlelight and then bring everything upstairs to the third floor.

  Aunt Caroline and I see to it that the baby and Mrs. Broyles are fed first. Mrs. Broyles is looking quite poorly and continues to spend all day in her room, attended by Lucy.

  I wonder if he and Father are fighting the same war

  Saturday, September 24, 1864

  A letter from Tally.

  O how glorious I feel even in the midst of the trials of our daily life. Just to know that he is alive is enough to fill me with hope.

  I wonder if he and Father are fighting the same war. He says he is so tired of marching and fighting that at times he just throws himself on the hard ground. He has never been so exhausted in all his life. The flies swarm like bees and are an abomination.

  He writes that he has never seen so many dead, wounded, and broken men, that this war is taking a dreadful toll. The wounded suffer terribly and the doctors kill more men than they cure. Some suffer dreadful complications from their wounds, and he watches helplessly while they endure their private tortures only to die in the end. Many of them are thirsty and their throats are parched and cracked, their faces blackened with smoke and powder, and they are hungry all the time. He longs for something good to eat.

  He writes that one of his friends was captured during a recent skirmish but escaped two days later, making his way to a nearby stream. He was able to remain underwater as the Yankees fired all around him. Believing, at last, that he must be dead, they left, and he returned to camp wet as a rat and covered with mud.

  Tally says he has become hardened to the sight of death — a cornfield where one battle was fought had so many dead bodies that he could have walked over it without stepping on the ground. The Yankees outnumber them and have better rifles, which are treasured when they are captured. During a recent fight the Yankees retreated in such haste that they were unable to bury their dead. He has seen enough of war and hopes never to witness it again.