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Updated: June 7, 2025
Here another janitor barred the way, but my companion again uttered some low words, the door opened; a magnificently lit apartment, with a buffet of liquors, and every edible, presented itself before us; and in the midst of a dozen personages, who were playing furiously, I recognized Mr. Blocque, Mr. Croker, Mr. Torpedo, and Colonel Desperade.
Blocque hastened to receive me, with his most charming smile; I was introduced to the guests, who had all arrived; and ten minutes afterward the folding doors opened, revealing a superb banquet for the word "dinner" would be too common-place. The table was one mass of silver. Waxlights, in candelabra, were already lit; and a host of servants waited, silent and respectful, behind every chair.
My reply was not polite. I drew my pistol at which movement Mr. Blocque disappeared, running, at the corner of St. Paul's. On his heels followed a portly and despairing gentleman Mr. Croaker. "Save my warehouse! it is on fire! I shall be a beggar!" yelled Mr. Croaker. I laughed aloud as the wretched creature rushed by, puffing and panting. Ten minutes afterward I was out of the city.
The colonel smiled, but made no reply. A hundred yards farther I met little Mr. Blocque joyously approaching. In his hand he carried his safeguard, brought him by the gray woman. At his breast fluttered a miniature United States flag. The little gentleman was radiant, and exclaimed as he saw me: "What! my dear colonel! you are going to leave us? Come and dine with me at five o'clock, precisely!"
Heaven grant that he may be ground into his original powder before he is stuck up on our mantel-pieces as a costly vase, in which the choice flowers of our civilization can but wither and die." Admire that grim humor, reader the firm stroke with which this Aristophanes of 1864 drew my friend, Mr. Blocque.
I was laughing to myself quietly, and listening for the expected outbreak, when Mr. Blocque interposed with his winning voice. "What are you discussing, gentlemen?" he said, with his charming smile. "But first tell me your opinion of this Madeira and those cigars. My agent writes me word that he used every exertion to procure the best.
In ten minutes we were all talking like old friends, and the young ladies were making tea. This was soon ready; some bread, without butter, was placed upon the little table; and the meal was the most cheerful and happy imaginable. "Oh, my dear Mr. Blocque!" I could not help saying to myself, "keep your champagne, and canvass-backs, and every luxury, and welcome!
Think, old army comrades, starving on a quarter of a pound of rancid bacon during that summer of '64 think of that magical bill of fare, that array of wonders! Who was the magician who had evoked all this by a wave of his wand? How could smiling Mr. Blocque roll in luxury thus, when everybody else was starving?
As I went along, I thought of the happy circle I had left; and again I could not refrain from drawing the comparison between Judge Conway and Mr. Blocque. At the fine house of the blockade-runner champagne, rich viands, wax-lights, gold and silver, and profuse luxury.
I had dined with Mr. Blocque; two days afterward I went to sup with Judge Conway. Does the reader remember his appearance at Culpeper Court-House, on the night of the ball after the review in June, 1863?
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