Lawrence says Miss Chesnut is very proud of the presence of
mind and cool self-possession she showed in the face of the enemy. She lost,
after all, only two bottles of champagne, two of her brother's gold-headed
canes, and her brother's horses, including Claudia, the brood mare, that he
valued beyond price, and her own carriage, and a fly-brush boy called Battis,
whose occupation in life was to stand behind the table with his peacock
feathers and brush the flies away. He was the sole member of his dusky race at
Mulberry who deserted “Ole Marster” to follow the Yankees.
Now for our losses at the Hermitage. Added to the
gold-headed canes, and Claudia, we lost every mule and horse, and President
Davis's beautiful Arabian was captured. John's were there, too. My light dragoon,
Johnny, and heavy swell, is stripped light enough for the fight now. Jonathan,
whom we trusted, betrayed us; and the plantation and mills, Mulberry house,
etc., were saved by Claiborne, that black rascal, who was suspected by all the
world. Claiborne boldly affirmed that Mr. Chesnut would not be hurt by
destroying his place; the invaders would hurt only the negroes. “Mars
Jeems," said he, "hardly ever come here and he takes only a little
sompen nur to eat when he do come.'”
Fever continuing, I sent for St. Julien Ravenel. We had a
wrangle over the slavery question. Then, he fell foul of everybody who had not
conducted this war according to his ideas. Ellen had something nice to offer
him (thanks to the ever-bountiful Childs!), but he was too angry, too anxious,
too miserable to eat. He pitched into Ellen after he had disposed of me. Ellen
stood glaring at him from the fireplace, her blue eye nearly white, her other
eye blazing as a comet. Last Sunday, he gave her some Dover's powders for me;
directions were written on the paper in which the medicine was wrapped, and he
told her to show these to me, then to put what I should give her into a
wine-glass and let me drink it. Ellen put it all into the wine-glass and let me
drink it at one dose. “It was enough to last you your lifetime,” he said. “It
was murder.” Turning to Ellen: “What did you do with the directions?” "I
nuwer see no d'rections. You nuwer gimme none.” “I told you to show that paper
to your mistress.” “Well, I flung dat ole brown paper in de fire. What you
makin' all dis fuss for? Soon as I give Missis de physic, the stop frettin' an'
flingin' 'bout, she go to sleep sweet as a suckling baby, an' she slep two days
an' nights, an' now she heap better.” And Ellen withdrew from the controversy.
“Well, all is well that ends well, Mrs. Chesnut. You took
opium enough to kill several persons. You were worried out and needed rest. You
came near getting it — thoroughly. You were in no danger from your disease. But
your doctor and your nurse combined were deadly.” Maybe I was saved by the
adulteration, the feebleness, of Confederate medicine.
SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin
and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 364-6
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