The Frozen Train

In January 1864 New Orleans-born pianist Louis Moreau Gottschalk was on a train, making a concert tour of the northern states. Stalled near Harvard, Illinois, and worn by war and weather, he found comfort where he could, as he relates in his diary:

“Even though I had spent the night with my clothes on, with a woolen comforter around my neck and a fur cap on my head, lying all the while under a mountain of covers, when I woke up, my mustache was covered with frost. The thermometer sat at 32 degrees below zero! Our shoes are frozen. Our hats, too, and we have to put them under the stove to thaw them out. An old trapper guarantees a very rough winter to come. The muskrats on the Indian frontier have built their cabins two stories high, he tells us, and all the trout have abandoned the rivers to get to the deep water of the lakes.

“We had a sick young soldier in the car with us. I’m eager to find out how he did during the night. Methodically I wrap myself in furs to go find out if I can do anything to comfort the poor young man. He is very weak. He’s going back to his family.

[“By God’s mercy there are noble hearts in this world of dollars and cents. I have found a young farmer who agrees to take care of him without payment.]

“The engineers and firemen have suffered more than anyone else. They had to stay on the engine all night to keep the fire going or the water in the boilers would surely have frozen. No chance of moving out today. Milwaukee is impossible. I can’t even go back to Chicago.

“I’m told that the ladies passed the night dancing. Somebody found a fiddle in the village. Luckily there’s no piano, so I didn’t have to perform.”