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Authors: Owen Parry, Ralph Peters
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after which it might ambush me without mercy.
“Yes, sir, yes, sir! ” Our host smacked his lips. “Heresy it may be to some, but I myself have been more than content to sacrifice the romance of our glorious cause for a good cup of coffee. Never saw this city so glum, as when your blockade cut down on our coffee supply. No, sir. Our dear General Beauregard hadn’t reckoned on that.”
Tutting over the breadth of mankind’s foibles, he told us, “Young man, now, he likes a little excitement before he settles down. And a war tends to sound like just the thing to those who haven’t been in one. That’s all it’s about, tell the truth. High spirits and stupidity. The rest is just pompous bluster. One cause’ll do as well as another, for a young man, Major Jones. They were all just looking for a scrap. And now they’ve got more of a scrap than they reckoned on. Yes, sir. My family’s seen the French and the Spanish come and go, then come and go again. Then the Americans came courting, and they wouldn’t take no for an answer. But one master’s good as another. Hardly matters, say what people will.”
He laughed. “All this fuss over whether it’s folks up in Washington or over in Richmond who pretend they’re governing us. Or in Paris, for that matter. Doesn’t make a spit of difference, except in the quality of the provisions. No, sir. I measure the success of a government by the quality of the coffee beans on offer.”
The entire room seemed to vibrate along with his jollity. “Tell you a little secret, Major Jones. Tiny picayune of a secret. Folks in this city never were happier than while your General Butler was strutting amongst us last year, favoring us with his follies. Especially our ladies. Oh, I don’t doubt that you’ve heard to the contrary. You’ll hear more. But the fact is that nothing makes a denizen of this lovely city happier, more positively joy ous, than having somebody they can hate with an unrestrained passion. No, cher. Spoons Butler gave us somebody to blame for the sunshine or the rain in equal parts. He’ll be missed for years to come.”
I began to see that our host’s merriment had inflections, that it changed like the light on a field of rye on a cloudy, windswept day. A bit of shadow crept upon us now.
“But your General Banks, cher. He has been a terrible disappointment. Too much of a gentleman. We’re having trouble finding something we can hate about him and make stick. We like our Yankees rude and larcenous, thank you. But my fellow citoyens feel as if they ought to almost like General Banks. I dread to think what’s to become of us, if he doesn’t hurry up and excite our outrage. It’s been building up inside us, ever since General Butler’s recall. I fear to think of the explosion that’s on the way.”
He gobbled a biscuit of the sort they call a macaroon, a confection of sugar and coconut. Tasty affairs, those served to us were of a quality that would not have disgraced my dear wife’s kitchen. I fear I ate too many, which was rude. And foolish, too. The sweetness would carry a penalty, as the many forms of sweetness often do.
“I have to wonder, Major Jones,” our host resumed, as he licked the crumbs from the landscape surrounding his mouth, “why you didn’t come to call on me before this? Most folks passing through come on by to say hello. You’ve been a guest among us how long now? Week? Two? Almost unfriendly, I’m inclined to judge it. But I suppose you’ve been busy with your Miss Peabody.” As he spoke, one eyebrow had been rising, whilethe flesh around the other eye congealed. “Water downriver now. Consider yourself forgiven. But there’s one thing I have to ask you, pardon my forwardness.”
I was just draining my coffee cup and had not time to reply before he continued.
“Why on this here earth of ours did you go chasing Marie Venin halfway down Chartres Street, only to get yourself shut up in an old slave pen? Starting a fire,
“Yes, sir, yes, sir! ” Our host smacked his lips. “Heresy it may be to some, but I myself have been more than content to sacrifice the romance of our glorious cause for a good cup of coffee. Never saw this city so glum, as when your blockade cut down on our coffee supply. No, sir. Our dear General Beauregard hadn’t reckoned on that.”
Tutting over the breadth of mankind’s foibles, he told us, “Young man, now, he likes a little excitement before he settles down. And a war tends to sound like just the thing to those who haven’t been in one. That’s all it’s about, tell the truth. High spirits and stupidity. The rest is just pompous bluster. One cause’ll do as well as another, for a young man, Major Jones. They were all just looking for a scrap. And now they’ve got more of a scrap than they reckoned on. Yes, sir. My family’s seen the French and the Spanish come and go, then come and go again. Then the Americans came courting, and they wouldn’t take no for an answer. But one master’s good as another. Hardly matters, say what people will.”
He laughed. “All this fuss over whether it’s folks up in Washington or over in Richmond who pretend they’re governing us. Or in Paris, for that matter. Doesn’t make a spit of difference, except in the quality of the provisions. No, sir. I measure the success of a government by the quality of the coffee beans on offer.”
The entire room seemed to vibrate along with his jollity. “Tell you a little secret, Major Jones. Tiny picayune of a secret. Folks in this city never were happier than while your General Butler was strutting amongst us last year, favoring us with his follies. Especially our ladies. Oh, I don’t doubt that you’ve heard to the contrary. You’ll hear more. But the fact is that nothing makes a denizen of this lovely city happier, more positively joy ous, than having somebody they can hate with an unrestrained passion. No, cher. Spoons Butler gave us somebody to blame for the sunshine or the rain in equal parts. He’ll be missed for years to come.”
I began to see that our host’s merriment had inflections, that it changed like the light on a field of rye on a cloudy, windswept day. A bit of shadow crept upon us now.
“But your General Banks, cher. He has been a terrible disappointment. Too much of a gentleman. We’re having trouble finding something we can hate about him and make stick. We like our Yankees rude and larcenous, thank you. But my fellow citoyens feel as if they ought to almost like General Banks. I dread to think what’s to become of us, if he doesn’t hurry up and excite our outrage. It’s been building up inside us, ever since General Butler’s recall. I fear to think of the explosion that’s on the way.”
He gobbled a biscuit of the sort they call a macaroon, a confection of sugar and coconut. Tasty affairs, those served to us were of a quality that would not have disgraced my dear wife’s kitchen. I fear I ate too many, which was rude. And foolish, too. The sweetness would carry a penalty, as the many forms of sweetness often do.
“I have to wonder, Major Jones,” our host resumed, as he licked the crumbs from the landscape surrounding his mouth, “why you didn’t come to call on me before this? Most folks passing through come on by to say hello. You’ve been a guest among us how long now? Week? Two? Almost unfriendly, I’m inclined to judge it. But I suppose you’ve been busy with your Miss Peabody.” As he spoke, one eyebrow had been rising, whilethe flesh around the other eye congealed. “Water downriver now. Consider yourself forgiven. But there’s one thing I have to ask you, pardon my forwardness.”
I was just draining my coffee cup and had not time to reply before he continued.
“Why on this here earth of ours did you go chasing Marie Venin halfway down Chartres Street, only to get yourself shut up in an old slave pen? Starting a fire,
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