We were roused up at four o'clock last night by the arrival
of Lydia and Eugene Carter,1 the first from Virginia and the second
from Tennessee; and, of course, there was very little sleep for any of us, so
anxious were we to hear the news they brought. First I learned that Gibbes was
safe up to the 17th; that George, in spite of the advice of his surgeon, had
rejoined Stonewall Jackson in Maryland; and Jimmy was midshipman on the
ironclad Palmetto State at Charleston. How thankful I was to hear that much, I
need not say. Lydia said they all three looked remarkably well; Jimmy handsomer
than ever. After that, news of all kinds came indiscriminately. The boys were
very anxious about us, but had no idea of our misfortunes or whereabouts. They
believed us still in Baton Rouge, and feared we had been there during the
battle. Lydia only heard of our house having been plundered when she reached
Alabama, so of course they are still ignorant of it. They were all very
homesick, but said that we were their only trouble.
A few of the C–––s’ stories had reached them through brother
officers; and George swore to make himself understood by those ladies if he
ever saw them again. A gentleman from Cooper's Wells told Lydia that they never
tired of repeating their stories to every new arrival; and no man was suffered
to depart without having heard a few. If a gentleman friend of ours or the boys
inquired if they knew the Miss Morgans of Baton Rouge, “Oh,yes!”would be the
answer, “intimately! But you know they have turned Yankee. Received Federal
officers every day, and placed all their property under Yankee protection. I”
(or “my sister,” as it happened who was retailing the lie, meaning Mrs. S–––) “slept
in their house when it was surrounded by a Yankee guard. Oh, they are perfectly
in favor of the Yankees,” and so on. Think of a common, low soldier who stopped
for buttermilk somewhere where Anna was, introducing the subject. “It is all
false!” Anna interrupted. The man answered, “Oh, Miss! you don't suppose we
believe it? We would not believe such stories of any young ladies, much less
these; for if they are true, their conduct must have been perfectly
disgraceful. But though we know these stories to be lies, it does not prevent
their being discussed in camp.” . . .
Lydia saw Mr. McG–––, too, at Lynchburg, who sent me his “regards.”
Poor fellow! He says he still has “dreams”! He told her a few, but she says
they were chiefly about meeting me at a ball, when I always treated him with
the most freezing coldness. The same old nightmare. How often he has told me of
that same dream, that tormented him eighteen months ago. He says he often thinks
of me now — and he still “dreams" of me! “Dreams are baseless fabrics
whose timbers are mere moonbeams.” Apply your own proverb! . . .
A clatter of hoofs down the road! And bent over the
window-sill which is my desk, my fingers are not presentable with the
splattering of this vile pen in consequence of my position. Two hours yet before
sundown, so of course I am not dressed. They come nearer still. Now I see them!
Dr. Addison and Mr. M–––! I shall not hurry my toilet for them. It will take
some time to comb my hair, too. Wish I could remain up here!
_______________
1 Lydia, daughter of General Carter and wife of Captain
Thomas Gibbes Morgan; Eugene, eldest son of General Carter, and husband of
Helen mentioned in the Diary.
SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's
Diary, p. 239-242
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