This morning up at six, A.M., bade farewell to our hostess
and Barnwell Island, and proceeded with Trescot back to the Pocotaligo station,
which we reached at 12:20. On our way Mr. Heyward and his son rode out of a
field, looking very like a couple of English country squires in all but hats
and saddles. The young gentleman was good enough to bring over a snake-hawk he
had shot for me. At the station, to which the Heywards accompanied us, were the
Elliotts and others, who had come over with invitations and adieux; and I
beguiled the time to Savannah reading the very interesting book by Mr. Elliott,
senior, on the Wild Sports of Carolina, which was taken up by some one when I
left the carriage for a moment and not returned to me. The country through
which we passed was flat and flooded as usual, and the rail passed over dark
deep rivers on lofty trestle-work, by pine wood and dogwood-tree, by the green
plantation clearing, with mud bank, dike, and tiny canal mile by mile, the
train stopping for the usual freight of ladies, and negro nurses, and young
planters, all very much of the same class, till at three o'clock, P. M., the
cars rattled up along-side a large shed, and we were told we had arrived at
Savannah.
Here was waiting for me Mr. Charles Green, who had already
claimed me and my friend as his guests, and I found in his carriage the young
American designer, who had preceded me from Charleston, and had informed Mr.
Green of my coming.
The drive through such portion of Savannah as lay between
the terminus and Mr. Green's house, soon satisfied my eyes that it had two
peculiarities. In the first place, it had the deepest sand in the streets I
have ever seen; and next, the streets were composed of the most odd, quaint,
green-windowed, many-colored little houses I ever beheld, with an odd
population of lean, sallow, ill-dressed unwholesome-looking whites, lounging
about the exchanges and corners, and a busy, well-clad, gayly-attired race of
negroes, working their way through piles of children, under the shade of the
trees which bordered all the streets. The fringe of green, and the height
attained by the live-oak, Pride of India, and magnolia, give a delicious
freshness and novelty to the streets of Savannah, which is increased by the
great number of squares and openings covered with something like sward, fenced
round by white rail, and embellished with noble trees to be seen at every few
hundred yards. It is difficult to believe you are in the midst of a city, and I
was repeatedly reminded of the environs of a large Indian cantonment — the same
kind of churches and detached houses, with their plantations and gardens not
unlike. The wealthier classes, however, have houses of the New York Fifth
Avenue character: one of the best of these, a handsome mansion of rich
red-sandstone, belonged to my host, who coming out from England many years ago,
raised himself by industry and intelligence to the position of one of the first
merchants in Savannah. Italian statuary graced the hall; finely carved tables
and furniture, stained glass, and pictures from Europe set forth the
sitting-rooms; and the luxury of bath-rooms and a supply of cold fresh water,
rendered it an exception to the general run of Southern edifices. Mr. Green
drove me through the town, which impressed me more than ever with its peculiar
character. We visited Brigadier-General Lawton, who is charged with the
defences of the place against the expected Yankees, and found him just setting
out to inspect a band of volunteers, whose drums we heard in the distance, and
whose bayonets were gleaming through the clouds of Savannah dust, close to the
statue erected to the memory of one Pulaski, a Pole, who was mortally wounded
in the unsuccessful defence of the city against the British in the War of
Independence. He turned back and led us into his house. The hall was filled
with little round rolls of flannel. “These,” said he, “are cartridges for cannon
of various calibres, made by the ladies of Mrs. Lawton's ‘cartridge class.’”
There were more cartridges in the back parlor, so that the house was not quite
a safe place to smoke a cigar in. The General has been in the United States'
army, and has now come forward to head the people of this State in their
resistance to the Yankees.
We took a stroll in the park, and I learned the news of the
last few days. The people of the South, I find, are delighted at a snubbing
which Mr. Seward has given to Governor Hicks of Maryland, for recommending the
arbitration of Lord Lyons, and he is stated to have informed Governor Hicks
that “our troubles could not be referred to foreign arbitration, least of all
to that of the representative of a European monarchy." The most terrible
accounts are given of the state of things in Washington. Mr. Lincoln consoles
himself for his miseries by drinking. Mr. Seward follows suit. The White House
and capital are full of drunken border ruffians, headed by one Jim Lane, of
Kansas. But, on the other hand, the Yankees, under one Butler, a Massachusetts
lawyer, have arrived at Annapolis, in Maryland, secured the “Constitution”
man-of-war, and are raising masses of men for the invasion of the South all
over the States. The most important thing, as it strikes me, is the
proclamation of the Governor of Georgia, forbidding citizens to pay any money
on account of debts due to Northerners, till the end of the war. General Robert
E. Lee has been named Commander-in-Chief of the Forces of the Commonwealth of
Virginia, and troops are flocking to that State from Alabama and other States.
Governor Ellis has called out 30,000 volunteers in North Carolina, and Governor
Rector of Arkansas has seized the United States' military stores at Napoleon.
There is a rumor that Fort Pickens has been taken also, but it is very probably
untrue. In Texas and Arkansas the United States regulars have not made an attempt
to defend any of the forts.
In the midst of all this warlike work, volunteers drilling,
bands playing, it was pleasant to walk in the shady park, with its cool
fountains, and to see the children playing about — many of them, alas! “playing
at soldiers” — in charge of their nurses. Returning, sat in the veranda and
smoked a cigar; but the mosquitoes were very keen and numerous. My host did not
mind them, but my cuticle will never be sting-proof.
SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and
South, p. 149-151
