I believe I forgot to mention one little circumstance in my
account of that first night at the Deaf and Dumb Asylum, which at the time
struck me with extreme disgust. That was seeing more than one man who had no
females or babies to look after, who sought there a refuge from the coming
attack. At daylight, one dapper young man, in fashionable array, came stepping
lightly on the gallery, carrying a neat carpet-bag in his hand. I hardly think
he expected to meet two young ladies at that hour; I shall always believe he
meant to creep away before any one was up; for he certainly looked embarrassed
when we looked up, though he assumed an air of indifference, and passed by
bravely swinging his sack — but I think he wanted us to believe he was not
ashamed. I dare say it was some little clerk in his holiday attire; but I can't
say what contempt I felt for the creature.
Honestly, I believe the women of the South are as brave as
the men who are fighting, and certainly braver than the “Home Guard.” I have
not yet been able to coax myself into being as alarmed as many I could name
are. They say it is because I do not know the danger. Soit. I prefer
being brave through ignorance, to being afraid in consequence of my knowledge
of coming events. Thank Heaven, my brothers are the bravest of the brave! I
would despise them if they shrunk back, though Lucifer should dispute the path
with them. Well! All men are not Morgan boys! They tell me cowards
actually exist, though I hope I never met one. The poor men that went to the Asylum
for safety might not have what Lavinia calls “a moral backbone.” No wonder,
then, they tumbled in there! Besides, I am told half the town spent the night
on the banks of the river, on that occasion; and perhaps these unfortunates
were subject to colds, and preferred the shelter of a good roof. Poor little
fellows! How I longed to give them my hoops, corsets, and pretty blue organdie
in exchange for their boots and breeches! Only I thought it was dangerous; for
suppose the boots had been so used to running that they should prance off with
me, too? Why, it would ruin my reputation! Miss Morgan in petticoats is thought
to be “as brave as any other man”; but these borrowed articles might make her
fly as fast “as any other man,” too, if panic is contagious, as the Yankees
here have proved. One consolation is, that all who could go with any propriety,
and all who were worthy of fighting, among those who believed in the South, are
off at the seat of war; it is only trash, and those who are obliged to remain for
private reasons, who still remain. Let us count those young individuals as
trash, and step over them. Only ask Heaven why you were made with a man's
heart, and a female form, and those creatures with beards were made as
bewitchingly nervous?
SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's
Diary, p. 137-9
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