Date: Sun, 11 Dec 2011 23:59:19 +0000
From: Lance Kyle <lokiaga@austin.rr.com>
Subject: Rue Dauphine Part 1

Ministers' sons are infamously bad.  It's probably compensation for
unreasonably high, pious expectations of others.  Scott Barnes was the only
child of the Reverend Solomon and Ruella Barnes, and he had that
reputation, even if not entirely deserved.  When he was caught in the hay
barn with the younger daughter of a senior deacon of the Rev. Barnes's
congregation, that seemed like the last straw in a series of what were, to
tell the truth, not very serious pecadilloes.  Thank God, Scott thought,
his furtive experiments with boys had gone undetected.

At any rate, not much seemed like enough, and his parents packed him off to
a small college in nearby Jackson, Mississippi, to study what was assumed
to be his path in life: theology and philosophy in preparation for the
ministry.  Scott bade farewell to his parents, saluted their aging servants
Hecuba and Sampson, and boarded the stage for Jackson, his worldly
possessions piled high in trunks on top.  The year was 1850, and he had
just turned eighteen.

Scott settled into a careful life, the scrutiny of the pious college
officials always upon him.  He was actually warming to his studies,
although he could not conceive of actually entering the ministry, when at
the end of his first year the news came that would change his life.

His mother's only sibling, Balthazar Griffin, had been ill for some time.
Scott was but dimly aware of it.  His mother did not speak of her brother
much.  Old Balthazar, some fifteen years her senior, had never married, and
led a distant life in the French Quarter of New Orleans.  The family
assumption, conveyed in hints and euphemisms, was that he was a "confirmed
bachelor," and unlikely ever to marry, much less have children.  What he
did in his private life was far better done off in the dissolute city of
New Orleans rather than the godly towns of Mississippi where he began.  But
the news came that he was decling...then that he had fallen seriously
ill...then that he was in hospital...and Scott was reading Aristotle when
the news came that Uncle Balthazar had died.  A week later, he was reading
St. Augustine when the news came that Scott was his uncle's sole heir.

The elder Barneses offered to take Scott's affairs in hand and manage them
for him.  Scott thought about this for perhaps ten minutes, then declined.
His uncle had left him a house in New Orleans on Rue Dauphine, and a
sizable fortune in secure investments.  He was of legal age to manage his
affairs.  He packed his Aristotle and St. Augustine, sent some instructions
on to the lawyer in New Orleans, bade farewell to his college cordially,
and once again packed his belongings onto a coach for the city, studying
legal documents and other information that had been sent to him.  The trip
took three days, first by coach and then by riverboat.

Looking at the bustling, busy port as his boat docked, Scott was determined
not to appear like the rube he felt himself to be.  He had never seen such
a metropolis.  Nor had he seen so many black slaves.  Of course there were
Sampson and Hecuba at home, and he was friends with those who held large
numbers of slaves to work the fields, but his direct experience of these
dark people was limited.  A minister's family was unlikely to own many
slaves.  Directing the transfer of his belongings to a carriage, he was
fascinated by the smooth, glistening dark skins of the men loading his
trunks.  Free people of color, the shade of café au lait or even lighter,
passed by, dressed even better than he.  The laboring half naked men and
boys avoided eye contact with him, which allowed him to stare as he
pleased.  His head was churning with thoughts and fantasies.

The carriage took him directly to his new home on the Rue Dauphine, where
he expected his lawyer to meet him within a couple of hours.  He did not
yet have a key, but he also expected the house to be unlocked and open, and
as the carriage pulled up he discovered it was.  Drawing up in front of the
house he paused to take it in.  It was a graceful structure, typical of the
French Quarter houses, with a porch and railing on a second floor.  His eye
momentarily caught the drawing of a curtain across the street.  Looking
quickly he saw the curtain dropped back again.  Ah well, he thought,
someone checking out the new neighbor. Alighting from the carriage, Scott
directed the unloading of his belongings and then knocked on the door,
which was open a crack.  It swung inward.  Within moments, a large mocha
colored woman wearing a serviceable dress and a cloth around her head
bustled up from the twilight within.

"I am Scott Barnes," he announced, "the new owner.  I am awaiting Lawyer
Toogood here, within an hour or so.  You must be..."  "I am Mrs. L'Enfant,
Master," said the middle aged woman, offering something between a bow and a
curtsy.  But not a servile one.  Scott surmised she was a free black.  "We
have been cleaning as much as we can.  Aiyee, such dust!" "Was my uncle not
careful in keeping house?" asked Scott, stepping into the darkened
interior.  "Oh well, sir, in his later years he retired to just a few rooms
in the house.  Covered everything in the other rooms with cloths and left
them to gather dust and cobwebs. And then nobody cared for the house during
his final illness," she said.

"Did my uncle not have servants?" Scott asked, walking into the main foyer
of the house.  His eyes became accustomed to the twilight, and discovered
that some opened windows actually did let the bright May sun into the
interior. On either side of a wide passageway rose two staircases up to the
higher levels.  He caught the slight pause in Mrs. L'Enfant's reply.  "Yes,
Master, he did.  I helped to clean and I did his laundry, although I am
free," she said, drawing herself up with a little pride.  "And he had an
old cook and...another servant."  Did Scott sense some unease in
Mrs. L'Enfant's brief explanation, especially in reference to this last
slave?  She hurried on, "But they are gone, sold with the disposition of
the property," she said.  She seemed to glance quickly and apprehensively
through the opened door onto the street, and then brought her attention
back.  "But at any rate, sir, my two assistants and I will have this
central block of the house aired and cleaned for you by the end of the
day."

Scott expressed his thanks, and immediately heard another carriage pull up
outside.  A formally dressed middle aged white man entered through the open
door.  "Ah!" he cried, "you must be Mr. Barnes! Eldred Toogood, your
servant" he said, advancing with hand extended.  They exchanged
pleasantries for a moment, as the carriage driver and his helper hauled
Scott's belongings up the staircases at the direction of Mrs. L'Enfant.
"Well sir, have you examined the property?"  "No sir, I have just arrived,"
Scott replied.  "Then allow me to give you a tour," said the lawyer.  "I
visited your uncle here a few times on business.  He was quite proud of
this house.  Perhaps you knew that your uncle was quite advanced in his
thinking, and followed the latest scientific and practical engineering
ideas of our day?" he asked as he began to mount the stairs, Scott
following.  "I did not, sir," replied the younger man.  "I did not know my
uncle very well," said.  "He and my parents were, regrettably, somewhat
distant."  "I see," nodded the lawyer, as if nothing else were to be
expected.  Leading the way up the stairs, the attorney immediately entered
a room off the landing, into which Scott's trunks were being taken.

"This is the master's bedroom," Toogood explained.  "Come to the window,
sir, so I may give you the whole picture at once."  The two men crossed the
room and the lawyer threw open a window, flooding the room with light.
They were on the side away from the street, and from that perspective they
could see the whole structure. "Now, sir, as you can see..." began the
lawyer, who commenced to lay the whole plan of the house before his client.

The house was larger than it appeared from the street, being in the shape
of a U.  Each wing was two stories, with dormer windows looking out from
what must have been finished attics above.  Closing off the opening of the
U was a single story stone building, set off by itself with sturdy stone
walls on either side connecting to the sides of the U.  This stone building
was clearly the kitchen, set apart from the rest of the building in case of
fire.  In the tiny square created by this arrangement was what could have
been a pretty garden had it not been neglected.  Scott could see that the
central wing, in which he stood, and the utility building were receiving
the attentions of Mrs. L'Enfant and her crew today.  Windows stood open and
the smell of cleaning supplies wafted upward.

"Now observe, sir, some of your uncle's advanced ideas.  I don't know where
he got them, but I know he read constantly and received scientific journals
and newspapers," said Toogood.  Craning out the window, he pointed upward.
"You will observe, sir, that the drainage pipes from the roofs of all three
buildings empty into a cistern kept in the attic of this building."  Scott
could see it was true.  A well tended system of pipes carried water from
the slate roof of each building into the attic above him.  "And THAT
cistern, sir," said Toogood, now almost bouncing with enthusiasm, "carries
water to the rest of the house.  Clean water, sir, given by God in the form
of rain, none of this malarial stuff from our swamps!  Now observe sir,
this external structure, added to the outside of this central building by
your uncle."  Scott looked out and saw that a thick kind of shaft, perhaps
eight feet on each side, had indeed been added from top to bottom of the
central building he was in.  "Come, sir!" cried the attorney and going out
onto the landing he led the way down the short hallway, stopping opposite
the place where the external shaft must lie.  "Voila!" he cried, opening a
door.  Peering in, Scott saw what appeared to be an outhouse seat, but set
in a marble bench.  He looked puzzled.

"It is what you think, sir" hooted the lawyer!  "You see, one relieves
oneself here, and the, uh, matter falls down a shaft to the floor below.
Just beneath us is a similar contrivance, sir, on the ground floor.  And
now watch!" he said, turning a spigot just above the toilet seat.  A stream
of water gurgled around the zinc lining below the seat, and vanished into
the depths below.  Clapping his hands, the lawyer turned in the tight space
to what seemed to be a kind of tiny closet within the same room.  He turned
a similar spigot there, and water fell from a kind of hose coming down from
the ceiling, then out of a drain the floor.  "They call it a bath shower,
sir, your uncle was wonderfully advanced and hygienic in his thinking!  Of
course, all the water comes from the cistern, kept refreshed by our
constant rain.  Oh, and I have had the cistern cleaned of all unsavory
material within the last day sir.  Pigeons," he explained, sotto voce.
Scott examined these conveniences in wonder.  Of course they were largely
unknown in the country home from which he came, and were indeed still new
and innovative even in New Orleans.

Mrs. L'Enfant had made herself busy in Scott's bedroom, they discovered
upon reentering the hallway, directing the disposition of his clothes and
other belongings.  A door on the other side of the hallway led to the porch
over the street.  Scott opened the door briefly and looked out.  There it
was again, a curtain pulled back in the house across the street--then
dropped back quickly.  Lawyer Toogood was practically tugging on his
sleeve, though, to show him the rest of the house.  That floor of the
central building contained two more bedrooms.  Closed doors led to the
perpendicular wings on each side.  Opening one, Scott peered into dimly lit
darkness; these other wings had, as Mrs. L'Enfant explained, not been used
in quite a while.  Going downstairs the men examined a sitting room, a
dining room, and to Scott's delight, a library.  He had only a brief moment
to scan the volumes, which ran a wide range of interests. Scott noted with
interest a large collection of philosophical and metaphysical volumes; he
would have to explore these later.  On this ground floor, behind a discrete
door, was a somewhat larger version of the shower bath room above.  Here
the faucet from the ceiling also drained into a bathtub, so one could
shower or bathe, as inclined.  Peering into the toilet, Scott asked, "Where
does it all go?"

"Your uncle caused a deep shaft to be created that drops into the ground
water here.  It all goes below and dissolves in good time," said the
lawyer.  Scott noticed tubs in this room into which soiled cloths were
deposited, evidently from Mrs. L'Enfant's cleaning.  The lawyer explained
that these were depositories for the laundry, which Mrs. L'Enfant would
come and collect if Scott so desired.  The men exited this building into
the unkempt courtyard, and crossed it to the kitchen building behind.
Passing through, Scott observed the windows of the central building and the
kitchen were flung out to air the structures; the other two wings remained
behind closed shutters.

Returning to the library, Barnes and Toogood worked for a while at the
table in the library to sign documents and establish Scott's affairs.
Details of his fortune were explained, and when he glanced at the bankbooks
handed to him Scott was pleasantly startled at the size of his fortune.
Coming to an agreement as to the arrangement of his affairs, Scott bade the
lawyer farewell.

The day was advancing on and the journey had been long.  Scott left
Mrs. L'Enfant with instructions for provisioning the kitchen with bread,
fruit, ham and smoked sausage, beer and wine; enough to keep him going for
a while.  Then he walked down the street to a nearby café.  That curtain
was parted again; really, he must make his introductions there some time.

Returning to the house, he saw that Mrs. L'Enfant her assistants, two
elderly mocha colored women, were completing their cleaning of the central
building and the kitchen.  "Will you...will you have servants, sir?"
Mrs. L'Enfant asked Scott.  "Yes, in fact I will secure some tomorrow," he
replied.  Mrs. L'Enfant offered a number of domestic services between
herself and her cronies.  Scott arranged with her to remove the laundry
every other day, and to keep the kitchen building stocked with food and
drink. Sooner or later, he explained his intention to open the other wings,
and the need for her to clean them.  Making sure she had a key to the
house, he bade her farewell, and out she went into the street that was
darkening into twilight.

Scott secured the house, including the kitchen building, first peering out
the back door into the alley that ran behind it.  He secured the ground
floor windows and, lighting a lantern, went upstairs to his bedroom.  He
just sat in a large chair there, looking out through the window into the
scented night, deeply happy in his own home.  He used the bathroom on that
floor, delighted at the innovative technical contraption his uncle had
devised.

Scott fell asleep immediately, and early.  His dreams were not troubled,
but they were busy.  He dreamed someone was talking to him, insistently.
Voice, voices.  He startled awake, momentarily disoriented in the strange
room, then remembering where he was in the moonlight that flooded in.
But--the voices continued.  From outside his room.  Not loud, more like
echoes.  He lit a candle and stepped into the hallway.  Were they coming
from that wing on the right?  Hard to place, now a little lighter, now like
the sound of the wind speaking to him.  He went to the door to the wing and
flung it open, the door creaking a bit on its unused hinges.  He thought he
saw a glimmer of light in the hallway, but convinced himself it was his
candle.  The voices had ceased.  He stood a moment, smelling the dust and
musk of the unused wing.  Then he closed the door and returned to his room.
He fell asleep and dreamed no more of voices.  Instead, he dreamed about
what awaited him in the morning: slaves.  He would go buy a slave to keep.
And he knew just what he would look for.  Through the night, his pleasant
dreams were haunted by smooth, black bodies.

More action in part two.
Comments welcome
lokiaga@austin.rr.com