University of Virginia Library

XVI
RICHMOND, VA.

XVI. November 28, 1863—April 11, 1864

RICHMOND, Va., November 28, 1863.—Our pleasant
home sojourn was soon broken up. Johnny had to
go back to Company A, and my husband was ordered
by the President to make a second visit to Bragg's
Army.[1]

So we came on here where the Prestons had taken apartments
for me. Molly was with me. Adam Team, the overseer,
with Isaac McLaughlin's help, came with us to take
charge of the eight huge boxes of provisions I brought from
home. Isaac, Molly's husband, is a servant of ours, the only
one my husband ever bought in his life. Isaac's wife belonged
to Rev. Thomas Davis, and Isaac to somebody else.
The owner of Isaac was about to go West, and Isaac was
distracted. They asked one thousand dollars for him. He
is a huge creature, really a magnificent specimen of a colored
gentleman. His occupation had been that of a stage-driver.
Now, he is a carpenter, or will be some day. He is
awfully grateful to us for buying him; is really devoted to
his wife and children, though he has a strange way of showing
it, for he has a mistress, en litre, as the French say,
which fact Molly never failed to grumble about as soon as
his back was turned. "Great big good-for-nothing thing
come a-whimpering to marster to buy him for his wife's

sake, and all the time he an—" "Oh, Molly, stop that!"
said I.

Mr. Davis visited Charleston and had an enthusiastic
reception. He described it all to General Preston. Governor
Aiken's perfect old Carolina style of living delighted
him. Those old gray-haired darkies and their noiseless, automatic
service, the result of finished training—one does
miss that sort of thing when away from home, where your
own servants think for you; they know your ways and your
wants; they save you all responsibility even in matters of
your own ease and well doing. The butler at Mulberry
would be miserable and feel himself a ridiculous failure
were I ever forced to ask him for anything.

November 30th.—I must describe an adventure I had in
Kingsville. Of course, I know nothing of children: in point
of fact, am awfully afraid of them.

Mrs. Edward Barnwell came with us from Camden.
She had a magnificent boy two years old. Now don't expect
me to reduce that adjective, for this little creature is
a wonder of childlike beauty, health, and strength. Why
not? If like produces like, and with such a handsome pair
to claim as father and mother! The boy's eyes alone would
make any girl's fortune.

At first he made himself very agreeable, repeating nursery
rhymes and singing. Then something went wrong.
Suddenly he changed to a little fiend, fought and kicked
and scratched like a tiger. He did everything that was
naughty, and he did it with a will as if he liked it, while his
lovely mamma, with flushed cheeks and streaming eyes,
was imploring him to be a good boy.

When we stopped at Kingsville, I got out first, then
Mrs. Barnwell's nurse, who put the little man down by me.
"Look after him a moment, please, ma'am," she said. "I
must help Mrs. Barnwell with the bundles," etc. She
stepped hastily back and the cars moved off. They ran
down a half mile to turn. I trembled in my shoes. This

child! No man could ever frighten me so. If he should
choose to be bad again! It seemed an eternity while I
waited for that train to turn and come back again. My little
charge took things quietly. For me he had a perfect contempt,
no fear whatever. And I was his abject slave for
the nonce.

He stretched himself out lazily at full length. Then he
pointed downward. "Those are great legs," said he solemnly,
looking at his own. I immediately joined him in admiring
them enthusiastically. Near him he spied a bundle.
"Pussy cat tied up in that bundle." He was up in a second
and pounced upon it. If we were to be taken up as
thieves, no matter, I dared not meddle with that child. I
had seen what he could do. There were several cooked
sweet potatoes tied up in an old handkerchief—belonging
to some negro probably. He squared himself off comfortably,
broke one in half and began to eat. Evidently he had
found what he was fond of. In this posture Mrs. Barnwell
discovered us. She came with comic dismay in every feature,
not knowing what our relations might be, and whether
or not we had undertaken to fight it out alone as best we
might. The old nurse cried, "Lawsy me!" with both
hands uplifted. Without a word I fled. In another moment
the Wilmington train would have left me. She was
going to Columbia.

We broke down only once between Kingsville and Wilmington,
but between Wilmington and Weldon we contrived
to do the thing so effectually as to have to remain
twelve hours at that forlorn station.

The one room that I saw was crowded with soldiers.
Adam Team succeeded in securing two chairs for me,
upon one of which I sat and put my feet on the other.
Molly sat flat on the floor, resting her head against my chair.
I woke cold and cramped. An officer, who did not give his
name, but said he was from Louisiana, came up and urged
me to go near the fire. He gave me his seat by the fire,

where I found an old lady and two young ones, with two
men in the uniform of common soldiers.

We talked as easily to each other all night as if we had
known one another all our lives. We discussed the war, the
army, the news of the day. No questions were asked, no
names given, no personal discourse whatever, and yet if
these men and women were not gentry, and of the best sort,
I do not know ladies and gentlemen when I see them.

Being a little surprised at the want of interest Mr.
Team and Isaac showed in my well-doing, I walked out to
see, and I found them working like beavers. They had been
at it all night. In the break-down my boxes were smashed.
They had first gathered up the contents and were trying
to hammer up the boxes so as to make them once more available.

At Petersburg a smartly dressed woman came in, looked
around in the crowd, then asked for the seat by me. Now
Molly's seat was paid for the same as mine, but she got up
at once, gave the lady her seat and stood behind me. I am
sure Molly believes herself my body-guard as well as my
servant.

The lady then having arranged herself comfortably in
Molly's seat began in plaintive accents to tell her melancholy
tale. She was a widow. She lost her husband in the
battles around Richmond. Soon some one went out and a
man offered her the vacant seat. Straight as an arrow she
went in for a flirtation with the polite gentleman. Another
person, a perfect stranger, said to me, "Well, look yonder.
As soon as she began whining about her dead beau I knew
she was after another one." "Beau, indeed!" cried another
listener, "she said it was her husband." "Husband
or lover, all the same. She won't lose any time. It won't
be her fault if she doesn 't have another one soon."

But the grand scene was the night before: the cars
crowded with soldiers, of course; not a human being that I
knew. An Irish woman, so announced by her brogue, came

in. She marched up and down the ear, loudly lamenting
the want of gallantry in the men who would not make way
for her. Two men got up and gave her their seats, saying
it did not matter, they were going to get out at the next
stopping-place.

She was gifted with the most pronounced brogue I ever
heard, and she gave us a taste of it. She continued to say
that the men ought all to get out of that; that car was
"shuteable" only for ladies. She placed on the vacant
seat next to her a large looking-glass. She continued to harangue
until she fell asleep.

A tired soldier coming in, seeing what he supposed to
be an empty seat, quietly slipped into it. Crash went the
glass. The soldier groaned, the Irish woman shrieked. The
man was badly cut by the broken glass. She was simply a
mad woman. She shook her fist in his face; said she was a
lone woman and he had got into that seat for no good purpose.
How did he dare to?—etc. I do not think the man
uttered a word. The conductor took him into another car
to have the pieces of glass picked out of his clothes, and she
continued to rave. Mr. Team shouted aloud, and laughed
as if he were in the Hermitage Swamp. The woman's unreasonable
wrath and absurd accusations were comic, no
doubt.

Soon the car was silent and I fell into a comfortable
doze. I felt Molly give me a gentle shake. "Listen, Missis,
how loud Mars Adam Team is talking, and all about ole
marster and our business, and to strangers. It's a shame."
"Is he saying any harm of us?" "No, ma'am, not that.
He is bragging for dear life 'bout how ole ole marster is
and how rich he is, an' all that. I gwine tell him stop." Up
started Molly. "Mars Adam, Missis say please don't talk
so loud. When people travel they don't do that a way."

Mr. Preston's man, Hal, was waiting at the depot with a
carriage to take me to my Richmond house. Mary Preston
had rented these apartments for me.

I found my dear girls there with a nice fire. Everything
looked so pleasant and inviting to the weary traveler. Mrs.
Grundy, who occupies the lower floor, sent me such a real
Virginia tea, hot cakes, and rolls. Think of living in the
house with Mrs. Grundy, and having no fear of "what Mrs.
Grundy will say."

My husband has come; he likes the house, Grundy's, and
everything. Already he has bought Grundy's horses for
sixteen hundred Confederate dollars cash. He is nearer to
being contented and happy than I ever saw him. He has
not established a grievance yet, but I am on the lookout
daily. He will soon find out whatever there is wrong about
Cary Street.

I gave a party; Mrs. Davis very witty; Preston girls
very handsome; Isabella's fun fast and furious. No party
could have gone off more successfully, but my husband decides
we are to have no more festivities. This is not the
time or the place for such gaieties.

Maria Freeland is perfectly delightful on the subject
of her wedding. She is ready to the last piece of lace, but
her hard-hearted father says "No." She adores John
Lewis. That goes without saying. She does not pretend,
however, to be as much in love as Mary Preston. In point
of fact, she never saw any one before who was. But she is
as much in love as she can be with a man who, though he is
not very handsome, is as eligible a match as a girl could
make. He is all that heart could wish, and he comes of
such a handsome family. His mother, Esther Maria Coxe,
was the beauty of a century, and his father was a nephew
of General Washington. For all that, he is far better looking
than John Darby or Mr. Miles. She always intended to
marry better than Mary Preston or Bettie Bierne.

Lucy Haxall is positively engaged to Captain Coffey,
an Englishman. She is convinced that she will marry him.
He is her first fancy.

Mr. Venable, of Lee's staff, was at our party, so out of

spirits. He knows everything that is going on. His depression
bodes us no good. To-day, General Hampton sent
James Chesnut a fine saddle that he had captured from the
Yankees in battle array.

Mrs. Scotch Allan (Edgar Allan Poe's patron's wife)
sent me ice-cream and lady-cheek apples from her farm.
John E. Thompson,[2] the sole literary fellow I know in
Richmond, sent me Leisure Hours in Town, by A Country
Parson.

My husband says he hopes I will be contented because
he came here this winter to please me. If I could have been
satisfied at home he would have resigned his aide-de-campship
and gone into some service in South Carolina. I am a
good excuse, if good for nothing else.

Old tempestuous Keitt breakfasted with us yesterday.
I wish I could remember half the brilliant things he said.
My husband has now gone with him to the War Office.
Colonel Keitt thinks it is time he was promoted. He wants
to be a brigadier.

Now, Charleston is bombarded night and day. It fairly
makes me dizzy to think of that everlasting racket they are
beating about people's ears down there. Bragg defeated,
and separated from Longstreet. It is a long street that
knows no turning, and Rosecrans is not taken after all.

November 30th.—Anxiety pervades. Lee is fighting
Meade. Misery is everywhere. Bragg is falling back before
Grant.[3] Longstreet, the soldiers call him Peter the
Slow, is settling down before Knoxville.

General Lee requires us to answer every letter, said Mr.
Venable, and to do our best to console the poor creatures
whose husbands and sons are fighting the battles of the
country.

December 2d.—Bragg begs to be relieved of his command.
The army will be relieved to get rid of him. He
has a winning way of earning everybody's detestation.
Heavens, how they hate him! The rapid flight of his army
terminated at Ringgold. Hardie declines even a temporary
command of the Western army, Preston Johnston has been
sent out post-haste at a moment's warning. He was not
even allowed time to go home and tell his wife good-by or,
as Browne, the Englishman, said, "to put a clean shirt into
his traveling bag." Lee and Meade are facing each other
gallantly.[4]

The first of December we went with a party of Mrs.
Ould's getting up, to see a French frigate which lay at
anchor down the river. The French officers came on board
our boat. The Lees were aboard. The French officers were
not in the least attractive either in manners or appearance,
but our ladies were most attentive and some showered bad
French upon them with a lavish hand, always accompanied
by queer grimaces to eke out the scanty supply of French
words, the sentences ending usually in a nervous shriek.
"Are they deaf?" asked Mrs. Randolph.

The French frigate was a dirty little thing. Doctor
Garnett was so buoyed up with hope that the French were
coming to our rescue, that he would not let me say "an
English man-of-war is the cleanest thing known in the
world." Captain—said to Mary Lee, with a foreign
contortion of countenance, that went for a smile, "I's
bashlor." Judge Ould said, as we went to dinner on our
own steamer, "They will not drink our President's health.
They do not acknowledge us to be a nation. Mind, none
of you say 'Emperor,' not once." Doctor Garnett interpreted
the laws of politeness otherwise, and stepped forward,
his mouth fairly distended with so much French, and
said: "Vieff l'Emperor." Young Gibson seconded him
quietly, "À la santé de l'Empereur." But silence prevailed.
Preston Hampton was the handsomest man on
board—"the figure of Hercules, the face of Apollo," cried
an enthusiastic girl. Preston was as lazy and as sleepy as
ever. He said of the Frenchmen: "They can't help not
being good-looking, but with all the world open to them, to
wear such shabby clothes!"

The lieutenant's name was Rousseau. On the French
frigate, lying on one of the tables was a volume of Jean
Jacques Rousseau's works, side by side, strange to say, with
a map of South Carolina. This lieutenant was courteously
asked by Mary Lee to select some lady to whom she might
introduce him. He answered: "I shuse you," with a bow
that was a benediction and a prayer.

And now I am in a fine condition for Hetty Cary's starvation
party, where they will give thirty dollars for the
music and not a cent for a morsel to eat. Preston said contentedly,
"I hate dancing, and I hate cold water; so I will
eschew the festivity to-night."

Found John R. Thompson at our house when I got home
so tired to-night. He brought me the last number of the
Cornhill. He knew how much I was interested in Trollope's
story, Framley Parsonage.

December 4th.—My husband bought yesterday at the
Commissary's one barrel of flour, one bushel of potatoes,
one peck of rice, five pounds of salt beef, and one peck of
salt—all for sixty dollars. In the street a barrel of flour
sells for one hundred and fifteen dollars.

December 5th.—Wigfall was here last night. He began
by wanting to hang Jeff Davis. My husband managed him
beautifully. He soon ceased to talk virulent nonsense, and
calmed down to his usual strong common sense. I knew it
was quite late, but I had no idea of the hour. My husband
beckoned me out. "It is all your fault," said he.
"What?" "Why will you persist in looking so interested
in all Wigfall is saying? Don't let him catch your eye.
Look into the fire. Did you not hear it strike two?"

This attack was so sudden, so violent, so unlocked for,
I could only laugh hysterically. However, as an obedient
wife, I went back, gravely took my seat and looked into the
fire. I did not even dare raise my eyes to see what my husband
was doing—if he, too, looked into the fire. Wigfall
soon tired of so tame an audience and took his departure.

General Lawton was here. He was one of Stonewall's
generals. So I listened with all my ears when he said:
"Stonewall could not sleep. So, every two or three nights
you were waked up by orders to have your brigade in
marching order before daylight and report in person to the
Commander. Then you were marched a few miles out and
then a few miles in again. All this was to make us ready,
ever on the alert. And the end of it was this: Jackson's
men would go half a day's march before Peter Longstreet
waked and breakfasted. I think there is a popular delusion
about the amount of praying he did. He certainly preferred
a fight on Sunday to a sermon. Failing to manage
a fight, he loved best a long Presbyterian sermon, Calvinistic
to the core.

"He had shown small sympathy with human infirmity.
He was a one-idea-ed man. He looked upon broken-down

men and stragglers as the same thing. He classed all who
were weak and weary, who fainted by the wayside, as men
wanting in patriotism. If a man's face was as white as
cotton and his pulse so low you scarce could feel it, he
looked upon him merely as an inefficient soldier and rode
off impatiently. He was the true type of all great soldiers.
Like the successful warriors of the world, he did not value
human life where he had an object to accomplish. He
could order men to their death as a matter of course. His
soldiers obeyed him to the death. Faith they had in him
stronger than death. Their respect he commanded. I
doubt if he had so much of their love as is talked about
while he was alive. Now, that they see a few more years
of Stonewall would have freed them from the Yankees,
they deify him. Any man is proud to have been one of the
famous Stonewall brigade. But, be sure, it was bitter hard
work to keep up with him as all know who ever served under
him. He gave his orders rapidly and distinctly and
rode away, never allowing answer or remonstrance. It
was, 'Look there—see that place—take it!' When you
failed you were apt to be put under arrest. When you reported
the place taken, he only said, 'Good!'"

Spent seventy-five dollars to-day for a little tea and
sugar, and have five hundred left. My husband's pay never
has paid for the rent of our lodgings. He came in with
dreadful news just now. I have wept so often for things
that never happened, I will withhold my tears now for a
certainty. To-day, a poor woman threw herself on her dead
husband's coffin and kissed it. She was weeping bitterly.
So did I in sympathy.

My husband, as I told him to-day, could see me and
everything that he loved hanged, drawn, and quartered
without moving a muscle, if a crowd were looking on; he
could have the same gentle operation performed on himself
and make no sign. To all of which violent insinuation he
answered in unmoved tones: "So would any civilized man.

Savages, however—Indians, at least—are more dignified in
that particular than we are. Noisy, fidgety grief never
moves me at all; it annoys me. Self-control is what we all
need. You are a miracle of sensibility; self-control is what
you need." "So you are civilized!" I said. "Some day I
mean to be."

December 9th.—"Come here, Mrs. Chesnut," said Mary
Preston to-day, "they are lifting General Hood out of his
carriage, here, at your door." Mrs. Grundy promptly had
him borne into her drawing-room, which was on the first
floor. Mary Preston and I ran down and greeted him as
cheerfully and as cordially as if nothing had happened
since we saw him standing before us a year ago. How he
was waited upon! Some cut-up oranges were brought him.
"How kind people are," said he. "Not once since I was
wounded have I ever been left without fruit, hard as it is
to get now." "The money value of friendship is easily
counted now," said some one, "oranges are five dollars
apiece."

December 10th.—Mrs. Davis and Mrs. Lyons came. We
had luncheon brought in for them, and then a lucid explanation
of the chronique scandaleuse, of which Beck J.
is the heroine. We walked home with Mrs. Davis and met
the President riding alone. Surely that is wrong. It must
be unsafe for him when there are so many traitors, not to
speak of bribed negroes. Burton Harrison[5] says Mr. Davis
prefers to go alone, and there is none to gainsay him.

My husband laid the law down last night. I felt it to
be the last drop in my full cup. "No more feasting in this
house," said he. "This is no time for junketing and merrymaking."
"And you said you brought me here to enjoy
the winter before you took me home and turned my face to

a dead wall." He is the master of the house; to hear is
to obey.

December 14th.—Drove out with Mrs. Davis. She had
a watch in her hand which some poor dead soldier wanted
to have sent to his family. First, we went to her mantua-maker,
then we drove to the Fair Grounds where the band
was playing. Suddenly, she missed the watch. She remembered
having it when we came out of the mantua-maker's.
We drove back instantly, and there the watch was lying
near the steps of the little porch in front of the house. No
one had passed in, apparently; in any case, no one had
seen it.

Preston Hampton went with me to see Conny Cary. The
talk was frantically literary, which Preston thought hard
on him. I had just brought the St. Denis number of Les
Misérables.

Sunday, Christopher Hampton walked to church with
me. Coming out, General Lee was seen slowly making his
way down the aisle, bowing royally to right and left. I
pointed him out to Christopher Hampton when General Lee
happened to look our way. He bowed low, giving me a
charming smile of recognition. I was ashamed of being so
pleased. I blushed like a schoolgirl.

We went to the White House. They gave us tea. The
President said he had been on the way to our house, coming
with all the Davis family, to see me, but the children became
so troublesome they turned back. Just then, little Joe
rushed in and insisted on saying his prayers at his father's
knee, then and there. He was in his night-clothes.

December 19th.—A box has come from home for me,
Taking advantage of this good fortune and a full larder,
have asked Mrs. Davis to dine with me. Wade Hampton
sent me a basket of game. We had Mrs. Davis and Mr. and
Mrs. Preston. After dinner we walked to the church to see
the Freeland-Lewis wedding. Mr. Preston had Mrs. Davis
on his arm. My husband and Mrs. Preston, and Burton

THE DAVIS MANSION IN RICHMOND, THE "WHITE HOUSE" OF THE CONFEDERACY.

Now the Confederate Museum.

Harrison and myself brought up the rear. Willie Allan
joined us, and we had the pleasure of waiting one good
hour. Then the beautiful Maria, loveliest of brides, sailed
in on her father's arm, and Major John Coxe Lewis followed
with Mrs, Freeland. After the ceremony such a
kissing was there up and down the aisle. The happy bridegroom
kissed wildly, and several girls complained, but he
said: "How am I to know Maria's kin whom I was to kiss?
It is better to show too much affection for one's new relations
than too little."

December 21st.—Joe Johnston has been made Commander-in-chief
of the Army of the West. General Lee
had this done, 'tis said. Miss Agues Lee and "little Robert"
(as they fondly call General Lee's youngest son in this
hero-worshiping community) called. They told us the
President, General Lee, and General Elzey had gone out to
look at the fortifications around Richmond. My husband
came home saying he had been with them, and lent General
Lee his gray horse.

Mrs. Howell, Mrs. Davis's mother, says a, year ago on
the cars a man said, "We want a Dictator." She replied,
"Jeff Davis will never consent to be a Dictator." The
man turned sharply toward her "And, pray, who asks
him? Joe Johnston will be made Dictator by the Army of
the West," "Imperator" was suggested. Of late the
Army of the West has not been in a condition to dictate to
friend or foe. Certainly Jeff Davis did hate to put Joe
Johnston at the head of what is left of it. Detached from
General Lee, what a horrible failure is Longstreet! Oh,
for a day of Albert Sidney Johnston out West! And
Stonewall, could he come back to us here!

General Hood, the wounded knight, came for me to
drive. I felt that I would soon find myself chaperoning
some girls, but I asked no questions. He improved the time
between Franklin and Cary Streets by saying, "I do like
your husband so much." "So do I," I replied simply.

Buck was ill in bed, so William said at the door, but she
recovered her health and came down for the drive in black
velvet and ermine, looking queenly. And then, with the top
of the landau thrown back, wrapped in furs and rugs, we
had a long drive that bitter cold day.

One day as we were hieing us home from the Fair
Grounds, Sam, the wounded knight, asked Brewster what
are the symptoms of a man's being in love. Sam (Hood
is called Sam entirely, but why I do not know) said for his
part he did not know; at seventeen he had fancied himself
in love, but that was "a long time ago." Brewster spoke
on the symptoms of love: "When you see her, your
breath is apt to come short. If it amounts to mild strangulation,
you have got it bad. You are stupidly jealous, glowering
with jealousy, and have a gloomy fixed conviction
that she likes every fool you meet better than she does you,
especially people that you know she has a thorough contempt
for; that is, you knew it before you lost your head,
I mean, before you fell in love. The last stages of unmitigated
spooniness, I will spare you," said Brewster, with a
giggle and a wave of the hand. "Well," said Sam, drawing
a breath of relief, " I have felt none of these things so
far, and yet they say I am engaged to four young ladies, a
liberal allowance, you will admit, for a man who can not
walk without help."

Another day (the Sabbath) we called on our way from
church to see Mrs. Wigfall. She was ill, but Mr. Wigfall
insisted upon taking me into the drawing-room to rest
a while. He said Louly was there; so she was, and so was
Sam Hood, the wounded knight, stretched at full length on
a sofa and a rug thrown over him. Louis Wigfall said to
me: "Do you know General Hood?" "Yes," said I, and
the General laughed with his eyes as I looked at him; but
he did not say a word. I felt it a curious commentary
upon the reports he had spoken of the day before. Louly
Wigfall is a very handsome girl.

December 24th.—As we walked, Brewster reported a
row he had had with General Hood. Brewster had told
those six young ladies at the Prestons' that "old Sam"
was in the habit of saying he would not marry if he could
any silly, sentimental girl, who would throw herself away
upon a maimed creature such as he was. When Brewster
went home he took pleasure in telling Sam how the ladies
had complimented his good sense, whereupon the General
rose in his wrath and threatened to break his crutch over
Brewster's head. To think he could be such a fool—to go
about repeating to everybody his whimperings.

I was taking my seat at the head of the table when the
door opened and Brewster walked in unannounced. He
took his stand in front of the open door, with his hands in
his pockets and his small hat pushed back as far as it could
get from his forehead.

"What!" said he, "you are not ready yet? The generals
are below. Did you get my note?" I begged my
husband to excuse me and rushed off to put on my bonnet
and furs. I met the girls coming up with a strange man.
The flurry of two major-generals had been too much for me
and I forgot to ask the new one's name. They went up to
dine in my place with my husband, who sat eating his dinner,
with Lawrence's undivided attention given to him,
amid this whirling and eddying in and out of the world militant.
Mary Preston and I then went to drive with the
generals. The new one proved to be Buckner,[6] who is also
a Kentuckian. The two men told us they had slept together
the night before Chickamauga. It is useless to try: legs
can't any longer be kept out of the conversation. So General
Buckner said: "Once before I slept with a man and he
lost his leg next day." He had made a vow never to do so

again. "When Sam and I parted that morning, we said:
'You or I may be killed, but the cause will be safe all the
same.'"

After the drive everybody came in to tea, my husband
in famous good humor, we had an unusually gay evening.
It was very nice of my husband to take no notice of my conduct
at dinner, which had been open to criticism. All the
comfort of my life depends upon his being in good humor.

Christmas Day, 1863.—Yesterday dined with the Prestons.
Wore one of my handsomest Paris dresses (from
Paris before the war). Three magnificent Kentucky generals
were present, with Senator Orr from South Carolina,
and Mr. Miles. General Buckner repeated a speech of
Hood's to him to show how friendly they were. "I prefer a
ride with you to the company of any woman in the world,"
Buckner had answered. "I prefer your company to that of
any man, certainly," was Hood's reply. This became the
standing joke of the dinner; it flashed up in every form.
Poor Sam got out of it so badly, if he got out of it at all.
General Buckner said patronizingly, "Lame excuses, all.
Hood never gets out of any scrape—that is, unless he can
fight out." Others dropped in after dinner; some without
arms, some without legs; von Borcke, who can not speak because
of a wound in his throat. Isabella said: "We have
all kinds now, but a blind one." Poor fellows, they laugh
at wounds. "And they yet can show many a scar."

We had for dinner oyster soup, besides roast mutton,
ham, boned turkey, wild duck, partridge, plum pudding,
sauterne, burgundy, sherry, and Madeira. There is
life in the old land yet!

At my house to-day after dinner, and while Alex
Haskell and my husband sat over the wine, Hood gave
me an account of his discomfiture last night. He said
he could not sleep after it; it was the hardest battle he
had ever fought in his life, "and I was routed, as it were;
she told me there was no hope; that ends it. You know at

Petersburg on my way to the Western army she half-promised
me to think of it. She would not say 'Yes,' but she did
not say 'No'—that is, not exactly. At any rate, I went off
saying, 'I am engaged to you,' and she said, 'I am not engaged
to you.' After I was so fearfully wounded I gave it
up. But, then, since I came," etc.

"Do you mean to say," said I, "that you had proposed
to her before that conversation in the carriage, when you
asked Brewster the symptoms of love? I like your audacity."
"Oh, she understood, but it is all up now, for she
says, 'No!'"

My husband says I am extravagant. "No, my friend,
not that," said I. "I had fifteen hundred dollars and I
have spent every cent of it in my housekeeping. Not one
cent for myself, not one cent for dress nor any personal
want whatever." He calls me "hospitality run mad."

January 1, 1864.—General Hood's an awful flatterer—
I mean an awkward flatterer. I told him to praise my husband
to some one else, not to me. He ought to praise me
to somebody who would tell my husband, and then praise
my husband to another person who would tell me. Man
and wife are too much one person—to wave a compliment
straight in the face of one about the other is not graceful.

One more year of Stonewall would have saved us.
Chickamauga is the only battle we have gained since Stonewall
died, and no results follow as usual. Stonewall was
not so much as killed by a Yankee: he was shot by his own
men; that is hard. General Lee can do no more than keep
back Meade. "One of Meade's armies, you mean," said I,
"for they have only to double on him when Lee whips one
of them."

General Edward Johnston says he got Grant a place—
esprit de corps, you know. He could not bear to see an old
army man driving a wagon; that was when he found him
out West, put out of the army for habitual drunkenness.
He is their right man, a bull-headed Suwarrow, He don't

care a snap if men fall like the leaves fall; he fights to win,
that chap does. He is not distracted by a thousand side
issues; he does not see them. He is narrow and sure—sees
only in a straight line. Like Louis Napoleon, from a battle
in the gutter, he goes straight up. Yes, as with Lincoln,
they have ceased to carp at him as a rough clown, no gentleman,
etc. You never hear now of Lincoln's nasty fun; only
of his wisdom. Doesn 't take much soap and water to wash
the hands that the rod of empire sway. They talked of Lincoln's
drunkenness, too. Now, since Vicksburg they have
not a word to say against Grant's habits. He has the disagreeable
habit of not retreating before irresistible veterans.
General Lee and Albert Sidney Johnston show blood and
breeding. They are of the Bayard and Philip Sidney order
of soldiers. Listen: if General Lee had had Grant's resources
he would have bagged the last Yankee, or have had
them all safe back in Massachusetts. "You mean if he
had not the weight of the negro question upon him?"
"No, I mean if he had Grant's unlimited allowance of the
powers of war—men, money, ammunition, arms."

Mrs. Ould says Mrs. Lincoln found the gardener of the
White House so nice, she would make him a major-general.
Lincoln remarked to the secretary: " Well, the little
woman must have her way sometimes."

A word of the last night of the old year. "Gloria Mundi"
sent me a cup of strong, good coffee. I drank two cups
and so I did not sleep a wink. Like a fool I passed my
whole life in review, and bitter memories maddened me
quite. Then came a happy thought. I mapped out a story
of the war. The plot came to hand, for it was true. Johnny
is the hero, a light dragoon and heavy swell. I will call it
F. F.'s, for it is the F. F.'s both of South Carolina and
Virginia. It is to be a war story, and the filling out of the
skeleton was the best way to put myself to sleep.

January 4th.—Mrs. Ives wants us to translate a French
play. A genuine French captain came in from his ship on

the James River and gave us good advice as to how to make
the selection. General Hampton sent another basket of
partridges, and all goes merry as a marriage bell.

My husband came in and nearly killed us. He brought
this piece of news: " North Carolina wants to offer terms
of peace! " We needed only a break of that kind to finish
us. I really shivered nervously, as one does when the first
handful of earth comes rattling down on the coffin in the
grave of one we cared for more than all who are left.

January 5th.—At Mrs. Preston's, met the Light Brigade
in battle array, ready to sally forth, conquering and to
conquer. They would stand no nonsense from me about
staying at home to translate a French play. Indeed, the
plays that have been sent us are so indecent I scarcely know
where a play is to be found that would do at all.

While at dinner the President's carriage drove up with,
only General Hood. He sent up to ask in Maggie Howel's
name would I go with them? I tied up two partridges between
plates with a serviette, for Buck, who is ill, and then
went down. We picked up Mary Preston. It was Maggie's
drive; as the soldiers say, I was only on " escort
duty." At the Prestons', Major Venable met us at the door
and took in the partridges to Buck. As we drove off Maggie
said: " Major Venable is a Carolinian, I see." "No;
Virginian to the core." " But, then, he was a professor in
the South Carolina College before the war." Mary Preston
said: " She is taking a fling at your weakness for all South
Carolina."

Came home and found my husband in a bitter mood. It
has all gone wrong with our world. The loss of our private
fortune the smallest part. He intimates, " with so much
human misery filling the air, we might stay at home and
think." "And go mad!" said I. "Catch me at it! A
yawning grave, with piles of red earth thrown on one side;
that is the only future I ever see. You remember Emma
Stockton! She and I were as blithe as birds that day at

Mulberry. I came here the next day, and when I arrived
a telegram said: ' Emma Stockton found dead in her bed.'
It is awfully near, that thought. No, no. I will not stop
and think of death always."

January 8th.—Snow of the deepest. Nobody can come
to-day, I thought. But they did! My girls, first; then
Constance Cary tripped in—the clever Conny. Hetty is
the beauty, so called, though she is clever enough, too; but
Constance is actually clever and has a classically perfect
outline. Next came the four Kentuckians and Preston
Hampton. He is as tall as the Kentuckians and ever so
much better looking. Then we had egg-nog.

I was to take Miss Cary to the Semmes's. My husband
inquired the price of a carriage. It was twenty-five dollars
an hour! He cursed by all his gods at such extravagance.
The play was not worth the candle, or carriage, in this instance.
In Confederate money it sounds so much worse
than it is. I did not dream of asking him to go with me
after that lively overture. " I did intend to go with you,"
he said, " but you do not ask me." "And I have been
asking you for twenty years to go with me, in vain. Think
of that! " I said, tragically. We could not wait for him to
dress, so I sent the twenty-five-dollar-an-hour carriage back
for him. We were behind time, as it was. When he
came, the beautiful Hetty Cary and her friend, Captain
Tucker, were with him. Major von Borcke and Preston
Hampton were at the Cary's, in the drawing-room when
we called for Constance, who was dressing. I challenge
the world to produce finer specimens of humanity than these
three: the Prussian von Borcke, Preston Hampton, and
Hetty Cary.

We spoke to the Prussian about the vote of thanks
passed by Congress yesterday—" thanks of the country to
Major von Borcke. "The poor man was as modest as a
girl—in spite of his huge proportions." That is a compliment,
indeed! "said Hetty." Yes. I saw it. And the

happiest, the proudest day of my life as I read it. It was
at the hotel breakfast-table. I try to hide my face with
the newspaper, I feel it grow so red. But my friend he has
his newspaper, too, and he sees the same thing. So he looks
my way—he says, pointing to me—' Why does he grow so
red? He has got something there!' and he laughs. Then
I try to read aloud the so kind compliments of the Congress
—but—he—you—I can not—" He puts his hand to his
throat. His broken English and the difficulty of his enunciation
with that wound in his windpipe makes it all very
touching—and very hard to understand.

The Semmes charade party was a perfect success. The
play was charming. Sweet little Mrs. Lawson Clay had a
seat for me banked up among women. The female part of
the congregation, strictly segregated from the male, were
placed all together in rows. They formed a gay parterre,
edged by the men in their black coats and gray uniforms.
Toward the back part of the room, the mass of black and
gray was solid. Captain Tucker bewailed his fate. He was
stranded out there with those forlorn men, but could see us
laughing, and fancied what we were saying was worth a
thousand charades. He preferred talking to a clever woman
to any known way of passing a pleasant hour. "So do
I," somebody said.

On a sofa of state in front of all sat the President and
Mrs. Davis. Little Maggie Davis was one of the child actresses.
Her parents had a right to be proud of her; with
her flashing black eyes, she was a marked figure on the
stage. She is a handsome creature and she acted her part
admirably. The shrine was beautiful beyond words. The
Semmes and Ives families are Roman Catholics, and understand
getting up that sort of thing. First came the "Palmers
Gray," then Mrs. Ives, a solitary figure, the loveliest of
penitent women. The Eastern pilgrims were delightfully
costumed; we could not understand how so much Christian
piety could come clothed in such odalisque robes. Mrs.

Ould, as a queen, was as handsome and regal as heart could
wish for. She was accompanied by a very satisfactory
king, whose name, if I ever knew, I have forgotten. There
was a resplendent knight of St. John, and then an American
Indian. After their orisons they all knelt and laid
something on the altar as a votive gift.

Burton Harrison, the President's handsome young secretary,
was gotten up as a big brave in a dress presented to
Mr. Davis by Indians for some kindness he showed them
years ago. It was a complete warrior's outfit, scant as that
is. The feathers stuck in the back of Mr. Harrison's head
had a charmingly comic effect. He had to shave himself as
clean as a baby or he could not act the beardless chief,
Spotted Tail, Billy Bowlegs, Big Thunder, or whatever his
character was. So he folded up his loved and lost mustache,
the Christianized red Indian, and laid it on the altar,
the most sacred treasure of his life, the witness of his most
heroic sacrifice, on the shrine.

Senator Hill, of Georgia, took me in to supper, where
were ices, chicken salad, oysters, and champagne. The
President came in alone, I suppose, for while we were talking
after supper and your humble servant was standing between
Mrs. Randolph and Mrs. Stanard, he approached,
offered me his arm and we walked off, oblivious of Mr. Senator
Hill. Remember this, ladies, and forgive me for recording
it, but Mrs. Stanard and Mrs. Randolph are, the
handsomest women in Richmond; I am no older than they
are, or younger, either, sad to say. Now, the President
walked with me slowly up and down that long room, and
our conversation was of the saddest. Nobody knows so well
as he the difficulties which beset this hard-driven Confederacy.
He has a voice which is perfectly modulated, a comfort
in this loud and rough soldier world. I think there is
a melancholy cadence in his voice at times, of which he is
unconscious when he talks of things as they are now.

My husband was so intensely charmed with Hetty Cary

that he declined at the first call to accompany his wife home
in the twenty-five-dollar-an-hour carriage. He ordered it
to return. When it came, his wife (a good manager)
packed the Carys and him in with herself, leaving the other
two men who came with the party, when it was divided into
"trips," to make their way home in the cold. At our door,
near daylight of that bitter cold morning, I had the pleasure
to see my husband, like a man, stand and pay for that
carriage! To-day he is pleased with himself, with me, and
with all the world; says if there was no such word as "fascinating"
you would have to invent one to describe Hetty
Cary.

January 9th.—Met Mrs. Wigfall. She wants me to take
Halsey to Mrs. Randolph's theatricals. I am to get him up
as Sir Walter Raleigh. Now, General Breckinridge has
come. I like him better than any of them. Morgan also is
Here.[7] These huge Kentuckians fill the town. Isabella says,
"They hold Morgan accountable for the loss of Chattanooga."
The follies of the wise, the weaknesses of the
great! She shakes her head significantly when I begin to
tell why I like him so well. Last night General Buckner
came for her to go with him and rehearse at the Carys' for
Mrs. Randolph's charades.

The President's man, Jim, that he believed in as we all
believe in our own servants, "our own people," as we call
them, and Betsy, Mrs. Davis's maid, decamped last night.
It is miraculous that they had the fortitude to resist the
temptation so long. At Mrs. Davis's the hired servants all
have been birds of passage. First they were seen with gold
galore, and then they would fly to the Yankees, and I am
sure they had nothing to tell. It is Yankee money wasted.

I do not think it had ever crossed Mrs. Davis's brain that
these two could leave her. She knew, however, that Betsy
had eighty dollars in gold and two thousand four hundred
dollars in Confederate notes.

Everybody who comes in brings a little bad news—not
much, in itself, but by cumulative process the effect is depressing,
indeed.

January 12th.—To-night there will be a great gathering
of Kentuckians. Morgan gives them a dinner. The city of
Richmond entertains John Morgan. He is at free quarters.
The girls dined here. Conny Cary came back for more
white feathers. Isabella had appropriated two sets and
obstinately refused Constance Cary a single feather from
her pile. She said, sternly: " I have never been on the stage
before, and I have a presentiment when my father hears of
this, I will never go again. I am to appear before the footlights
as an English dowager duchess, and I mean to rustle
in every feather, to wear all the lace and diamonds these
two houses can compass "—(mine and Mrs. Preston's).
She was jolly but firm, and Constance departed without any
additional plumage for her Lady Teazle.

January 14th.—Gave Mrs. White twenty-three dollars
for a turkey. Came home wondering all the way why she
did not ask twenty-five; two more dollars could not have
made me balk at the bargain, and twenty-three sounds odd.

January 15th.—What a day the Kentuckians have had!
Mrs. Webb gave them a breakfast; from there they proceeded
en masse to General Lawton's dinner, and then came
straight here, all of which seems equal to one of Stonewall's
forced marches. General Lawton took me in to supper. In
spite of his dinner he had misgivings. " My heart is
heavy' said he, " even here. All seems too light, too careless,
for such terrible times. It seems out of place here in
battle-scarred Richmond." "I have heard something of
that kind at home," I replied. " Hope and fear are both
gone, and it is distraction or death with us. I do not see

how sadness and despondency would help us. If it would
do any good, we would be sad enough."

We laughed at General Hood. General Lawton thought
him better fitted for gallantry on the battle-field than playing
a lute in my lady's chamber. When Miss Giles was electrifying
the audience as the Fair Penitent, some one said:
"Oh, that is so pretty!" Hood cried out with stern reproachfulness:
"That is not pretty; it is elegant."

Not only had my house been rifled for theatrical properties,
but as the play went on they came for my black velvet
cloak. When it was over, I thought I should never get
away, my cloak was so hard to find. But it gave me an
opportunity to witness many things behind the scenes—that
cloak hunt did. Behind the scenes! I know a little what
that means now.

General Jeb Stuart was at Mrs. Randolph's in his cavalry
jacket and high boots. He was devoted to Hetty Cary.
Constance Cary said to me, pointing to his stars, "Hetty
likes
them that way, you know—gilt-edged and with stars."

January 16th.—A visit from the President's handsome
and accomplished secretary, Burton Harrison. I lent him
Country Clergyman in Town and Elective Affinities. He
is to bring me Mrs. Norton's Lost and Saved.

At Mrs. Randolph's, my husband complimented one of
the ladies, who had amply earned his praise by her splendid
acting. She pointed to a young man, saying, "You see
that wretch; he has not said one word to me!" My husband
asked innocently, "Why should he? And why is he
a wretch?" "Oh, you know!" Going home I explained
this riddle to him; he is always a year behindhand in
gossip. "They said those two were engaged last winter,
and now there seems to be a screw loose; but that sort of
thing always comes right." The Carys prefer James Chesnut
to his wife. I don't mind. Indeed, I like it. I do, too.

Every Sunday Mr. Minnegerode cried aloud in anguish
his litany, "from pestilence and famine, battle, murder,

and sudden death," and we wailed on our knees, "Good
Lord deliver us," and on Monday, and all the week long,
we go on as before, hearing of nothing but battle, murder,
and sudden death, which are daily events. Now I have a
new book; that is the unlooked-for thing, a pleasing incident
in this life of monotonous misery. We live in a huge
barrack. We are shut in, guarded from light without.

At breakfast to-day came a card, and without an instant's
interlude, perhaps the neatest, most fastidious man
in South Carolina walked in. I was uncombed, unkempt,
tattered, and torn, in my most comfortable, worst worn,
wadded green silk dressing-gown, with a white woolen
shawl over my head to keep off draughts. He has not been
in the war yet, and now he wants to be captain of an engineer
corps. I wish he may get it! He has always been my
friend; so he shall lack no aid that I can give. If he can
stand the shock of my appearance to-day, we may reasonably
expect to continue friends until death. Of all men,
the fastidious Barny Heywood to come in. He faced the
situation gallantly.

January 18th.—Invited to Dr. Haxall's last night to
meet the Lawtons. Mr. Benjamin[8] dropped in. He is a
friend of the house. Mrs. Haxall is a Richmond leader of
society, a ci-devant beauty and belle, a charming person
still, and her hospitality is of the genuine Virginia type.
Everything Mr. Benjamin said we listened to, bore in mind,
and gave heed to it diligently. He is a Delphic oracle, of
the innermost shrine, and is supposed to enjoy the honor of
Mr. Davis's unreserved confidence.

Lamar was asked to dinner here yesterday; so he came
to-day. We had our wild turkey cooked for him yesterday,
and I dressed myself within an inch of my life with the best
of my four-year-old finery. Two of us, my husband and I,
did not damage the wild turkey seriously. So Lamar enjoyed
the réchauffé, and commended the art with which
Molly had hid the slight loss we had inflicted upon its
mighty breast. She had piled fried oysters over the turkey
so skilfully, that unless we had told about it, no one would
ever have known that the huge bird was making his second
appearance on the board.

Lamar was more absent-minded and distrait than ever.
My husband behaved like a trump—a well-bred man, with
all his wits about him; so things went off smoothly enough.
Lamar had just read Romola. Across the water he said it
was the rage. I am sure it is not as good as Adam Bede or
Silas Marner. It is not worthy of the woman who was to
" rival all but Shakespeare's name below." "What is the
matter with Romola?" he asked. "Tito is so mean, and
he is mean in such a very mean way, and the end is so repulsive.
Petting the husband's illegitimate children and
left-handed wives may be magnanimity, but human nature
revolts at it." "Woman's nature, you mean!" "Yes,
and now another test. Two weeks ago I read this thing
with intense interest, and already her Savonarola has faded
from my mind. I have forgotten her way of showing Savonarola
as completely as I always do forget Bulwer's
Rienzi."

" Oh, I understand you now! It is like Milton's
devil—he has obliterated all other devils. You can't fix
your mind upon any other. The devil always must be of
Miltonic proportions or you do not believe in him; Goethe's
Mephistopheles disputes the crown of the causeway with
Lucifer. But soon you begin to feel that Mephistopheles
to be a lesser devil, an emissary of the devil only. Is
there any Cardinal Wolsey but Shakespeare's! any Mirabeau

but Carlyle's Mirabeau? But the list is too long of
those who have been stamped into your brain by genius.
The saintly preacher, the woman who stands by Hetty and
saves her soul; those heavenly minded sermons preached
by the author of Adam Bede, bear them well in niind while
I tell you how this writer, who so well imagines and depicts
female purity and piety, was a governess, or something of
that sort, and perhaps wrote for a living; at any rate, she
had an elective affinity, which was responded to, by George
Lewes, and so she lives with Lewes. I do not know that she
caused the separation between Lewes and his legal wife.
They are living in a villa on some Swiss lake, and Mrs.
Lewes, of the hour, is a charitable, estimable, agreeable,
sympathetic woman of genius."

Lamar seemed without prejudices on the subject; at
least, he expressed neither surprise nor disapprobation. He
said something of " genius being above law," but I was not
very clear as to what he said on that point. As for me I
said nothing for fear of saying too much. "You know
that Lewes is a writer, "said he." Some people say the
man she lives with is a noble man." "They say she is kind
and good if—a fallen woman." Here the conversation
ended.

January 20th.—And now comes a grand announcement
made by the Yankee Congress. They vote one million of
men to be sent down here to free the prisoners whom they
will not take in exchange. I actually thought they left all
these Yankees here on our hands as part of their plan to
starve us out. All Congressmen under fifty years of age
are to leave politics and report for military duty or be conscripted.
What enthusiasm there is in their councils!
Confusion, rather, it seems to me! Mrs. Ould says " the
men who frequent her house are more despondent now than
ever since this thing began."

Our Congress is so demoralized, so confused, so depressed.
They have asked the President, whom they have

so hated, so insulted, so crossed and opposed and thwarted
in every way, to speak to them, and advise them what to do.

January 21st.—Both of us were too ill to attend Mrs.
Davis's reception. It proved a very sensational one. First,
a fire in the house, then a robbery—said to be an arranged
plan of the usual bribed servants there and some escaped
Yankee prisoners. To-day the Examiner is lost in wonder
at the stupidity of the fire and arson contingent. If they
had only waited a few hours until everybody was asleep;
after a reception the household would be so tired and so
sound asleep. Thanks to the editor's kind counsel maybe
the arson contingent will wait and do better next time.

Letters from home carried Mr. Chesnut off to-day.
Thackeray is dead. I stumbled upon Vanity Fair for myself.
I had never heard of Thackeray before. I think it
was in 1850. I know I had been ill at the New York Hotel,[9]
and when left alone, I slipped down-stairs and into a bookstore
that I had noticed under the hotel, for something to
read. They gave me the first half of Pendennis. I can recall
now the very kind of paper it was printed on, and the
illustrations, as they took effect upon me. And yet when
I raved over it, and was wild for the other half, there were
people who said it was slow; that Thackeray was evidently
a coarse, dull, sneering writer; that he stripped human nature
bare, and made it repulsive, etc.

January 22d.—At Mrs. Lyons's met another beautiful
woman, Mrs. Penn, the wife of Colonel Penn, who is making
shoes in a Yankee prison. She had a little son with her,
barely two years old, a. mere infant. She said to him,
"Faites comme Butler." The child crossed his eyes and
made himself hideous, then laughed and rioted around as
if he enjoyed the joke hugely.

Went to Mrs. Davis's. It was sad enough. Fancy having
to be always ready to have your servants set your house
on fire, being bribed to do it. Such constant robberies, such
servants coming and going daily to the Yankees, carrying
one's silver, one's other possessions, does not conduce to
home happiness.

Saw Hood on his legs once more. He rode off on a fine
horse, and managed it well, though he is disabled in one
hand, too. After all, as the woman said, "He has body
enough left to hold his soul," "How plucky of him to ride
a gay horse like that." "Oh, a Kentuckian prides himself
upon being half horse and half man!" "And the girl who
rode beside him. Did you ever see a more brilliant beauty?
Three cheers for South Carolina! !"

I imparted a plan of mine to Brewster. I would have a
breakfast, a luncheon, a matinee, call it what you please,
but I would try and return some of the hospitalities of this
most hospitable people. Just think of the dinners, suppers,
breakfasts we have been to. People have no variety in war
times, but they make up for that lack in exquisite cooking.

" Variety? " said he. " You are hard to please, with
terrapin stew, gumbo, fish, oysters in every shape, game,
and wine—as good as wine ever is. I do not mention juleps,
claret cup, apple toddy, whisky punches and all that. I
tell you it is good enough for me. Variety would spoil it.
Such hams as these Virginia people cure; such home-made
bread—there is no such bread in the world. Call yours a
' cold collation.'" "Yes, I have eggs, butter, hams, game,
everything from home; no stint just now; even fruit."

" You ought to do your best. They are so generous and
hospitable and so unconscious of any merit, or exceptional
credit, in the matter of hospitality." "They are no better
than the Columbia people always were to us." So I fired
up for my own country.

January 23d.—My luncheon was a female affair exclusively.
Mrs. Davis came early and found Annie and Tudie

making the chocolate. Lawrence had gone South with my
husband; so we had only Molly for cook and parlor-maid.
After the company assembled we waited and waited. Those
girls were making the final arrangements. I made my way
to the door, and as I leaned against it ready to turn the
knob, Mrs. Stanard held me like Coleridge's Ancient Mariner,
and told how she had been prevented by a violent attack
of cramps from running the blockade, and how providential
it all was. All this floated by my ear, for I heard
Mary Preston's voice raised in high protest on the other
side of the door. " Stop! " said she. " Do you mean to
take away the whole dish? " "If you eat many more of
those fried oysters they will be missed. Heavens! She is
running away with a plug, a palpable plug, out of that
jelly cake! "

Later in the afternoon, when it was over and I was safe,
for all had gone well and Molly had not disgraced herself
before the mistresses of those wonderful Virginia cooks,
Mrs. Davis and I went out for a walk. Barny Heyward and
Dr. Garnett joined us, the latter bringing the welcome
news that " Muscoe Russell's wife had come."

January 25th.—The President walked home with me
from church (I was to dine with Mrs. Davis). He walked
so fast I had no breath to talk; so I was a good listener for
once. The truth is I am too much afraid of him to say very
much in his presence. We had such a nice dinner. After
dinner Hood came for a ride with the President.

Mr. Hunter, of Virginia, walked home with me. He
made himself utterly agreeable by dwelling on his friendship
and admiration of my husband. He said it was high
time Mr. Davis should promote him, and that he had told
Mr. Davis his opinion on that subject to-day.

Tuesday, Barny Heyward went with me to the President's
reception, and from there to a ball at the McFarlands'.
Breckinridge alone of the generals went with us.
The others went to a supper given by Mr. Clay, of Alabama.

I had a long talk with Mr. Ould. Mr. Benjamin, and
Mr. Hunter, These men speak out their thoughts plainly
enough. What they said means "We are rattling down
hill, and nobody to put on the brakes." I wore my black
velvet, diamonds, and point law. They are borrowed for
all. "theatricals." but I wear them whenever they are
at home.

February 1st.—Mrs. Davis gave her " Luneheon to Ladies
Only " on Saturday. Many more persons there than
at any of these luncheons which we have gone to before.
Gumbo, ducks and olives, chickens in jelly, oysters, lettuce
salad, chocolate cream, jelly cake, ela ret. champagne, etc.,
were the good things set before us.

To-day, for a pair of forlorn shoes I have paid $85.
Colonel Ives drew my husband's pay for me. I sent Lawrence
for it (Mr. Chesnut ordered him back to us; we needed
a man servant here). Colonel Ives wrote that he was
amazed I should be willing to trust a darky with that great
bundle of money, but it came safely. Mr. Petigru says you
take your money to market in the market basket, and bring
home what you buy in your pocket-book.

February 5th.—When Lawrence handed me my husband's
money (six hundred dollars it was) I said: "Now I
am pretty sure you do not mean to go to the Yankees, for
with that pile of money in your hands you must have known
there was your chance." He grinned, but said nothing.

At the President's reception Hood had a perfect ovation.
General Preston navigated him through the crowd, handling
him as tenderly, on his crutches, as if he were the
Princess of Wales's new-born baby that I read of to-day.
It is bad for the head of an army to be so helpless. But old
Blücher went to Waterloo in a carriage, wearing a bonnet
on his head to shade his inflamed eyes—a heroic figure,
truly; an old, red-eyed, bonneted woman, apparently, back
in a landau. And yet, "Blücher to the rescue!"

Afterward at the Prestons', for we left the President's

at an early hour. Major von Boreke was trying to teach
them his way of pronouncing his own name, and reciting
numerous travesties of it in this country, when Charles
threw open the door, saying, "A gentleman has called for
Major Bandbox." The Prussian major acknowledged this
to be the worst he had heard yet.

Off to the Ives's theatricals, I walked with General
Breckinridge. Mrs. Clay's Mrs. Malaprop was beyond our
wildest hopes. And she was in such bitter earnest when she
pinched Conny Cary's (Lydia Languish's) shoulder and
called her " an antricate little huzzy," that Lydia showed
she felt it, and next day the shoulder was black and blue.
It was not that the actress had a grudge against Conny, but
that she was intense.

Even the back of Mrs. Clay's head was eloquent as
she walked away. "But," said General Breckinridge,
"watch Hood; he has not seen the play before and Bob
Acres amazes him." When he caught my eye, General
Hood nodded to me and said, "I believe that fellow Acres
is a coward." "That's better than the play," whispered
Breckinridge, "but it is all good from Sir Anthony down
to Fag."

Between the acts Mrs. Clay sent us word to applaud.
She wanted encouragement; the audience was too cold.
General Breckinridge responded like a man. After that
she was fired by thunders of applause, following his lead.
Those mighty Kentuckians turned claqueurs, were a host in
themselves. Constance Cary not only acted well, but
looked perfectly beautiful.

During the farce Mrs. Clay came in with all her feathers,
diamonds, and fallals, and took her seat by me. Said
General Breckinridge, " What a splendid head of hair you
have." "And all my own," said she. Afterward she said,
they could not get false hair enough, so they put a pair of
black satin boots on top of her head and piled hair over
them.

We adjourned from Mrs. Ives's to Mrs. Ould's, where
we had the usual excellent Richmond supper. We did not
get home until three. It was a clear moonlight night—almost
as light as day. As we walked along I said to General
Breckinridge, " You have spent a jolly evening." "I do
not know," he answered." I have asked myself more than
once to-night, ' Are you the same man who stood gazing
down on the faces of the dead on that awful battle-field?
The soldiers lying there stare at you with their eyes wide
open. Is this the same world? Here and there? ' "

Last night, the great Kentucky contingent came in a
body. Hood brought Buck in his carriage. She said she
"did not like General Hood," and spoke with a wild excitement
in those soft blue eyes of hers—or, are they gray or
brown? She then gave her reasons in the lowest voice, but
loud and distinct enough for him to hear: "Why?
He spoke so harshly to Cy, his body-servant, as we got out
of the carriage. I saw how he hurt Cy's feelings, and I
tried to soothe Cy's mortification."

" You see, Cy nearly caused me to fall by his awkwardness,
and I stormed at him," said the General, vastly
amused. " I hate a man who speaks roughly to those who
dare not resent it," said she. The General did own himself
charmed with her sentiments, but seemed to think his
wrong-doing all a good joke. He and Cy understand each
other.

February 9th.—This party for Johnny was the very
nicest I have ever had, and I mean it to be my last. I sent
word to the Carys to bring their own men. They came
alone, saying, " they did not care for men." "That means
a raid on ours," growled Isabella. Mr. Lamar was devoted
to Constance Cary. He is a free lance; so that created no
heart-burning.

Afterward, when the whole thing was over, and a success,
the lights put out, etc., here trooped in the four girls,
who stayed all night with me. In dressing-gowns they

stirred up a hot fire, relit the gas, and went in for their supper;
réchauffé, was the word, oysters, hot coffee, etc. They
kept it up till daylight.

Of course, we slept very late. As they came in to
breakfast, I remarked, "The church-bells have been going
on like mad. I take it as a rebuke to our breaking the Sabbath.
You know Sunday began at twelve o'clock last
night." "It sounds to me like fire-bells," somebody said.

Soon the Infant dashed in, done up in soldier's clothes:
" The Yankees are upon us! " said he. " Don't you hear
the alarm-bells? They have been ringing day and night! "
Alex Haskell came; he and Johnny went off to report to
Custis Lee and to be enrolled among his " locals," who are
always detailed for the defense of the city. But this time
the attack on Richmond has proved a false alarm.

A new trouble at the President's house: their trusty
man, Robert, broken out with the smallpox.

We went to the Webb ball, and such a pleasant time we
had. After a while the P. M. G. (Pet Major-General) took
his seat in the comfortable chair next to mine, and declared
his determination to hold that position. Mr. Hunter and
Mr. Benjamin essayed to dislodge him. Mrs. Stanard said:
" Take him in the flirtation room; there he will soon be captured
and led away," but I did not know where that room
was situated. Besides, my bold Texan made a most unexpected
sally: "I will not go. and I will prevent her from
going with any of you." Supper was near at hand, and Mr.
Mallory said: "Ask him if the varioloid is not at his
house. I know it is." I started as if I were shot, and I took
Mr. Clay's arm and went in to supper, leaving the P. M. G.
to the girls. Venison and everything nice.

February 12th.—John Chesnut had a basket of champagne
carried to my house, oysters, partridges, and other
good things, for a supper after the reception. He is going
back to the army to-morrow.

James Chesnut arrived on Wednesday. He has been

giving Buck his opinion of one of her performances last
night. She was here, and the General's carriage drove up,
bringing some of our girls. They told her he could not
come up and he begged she would go down there for a moment.
She flew down, and stood ten minutes in that snow,
Cy holding the carriage-door open. " But, Colonel Chesnut,
there was no harm. I was not there ten minutes. I
could not get in the carriage because I did not mean to
stay one minute. He did not hold my hands—that is, not
half the time—Oh, you saw!—well, he did kiss my hands.
Where is the harm of that? " All men worship Buck.
How can they help it, she is so lovely.

Lawrence has gone back ignominiously to South Carolina.
At breakfast already in some inscrutable way he
had become intoxicated; he was told to move a chair, and
he raised it high over his head, smashing Mrs. Grundy's
chandelier. My husband said: "Mary, do tell Lawrence to
go home; I am too angry to speak to him." So Lawrence
went without another word. He will soon be back, and
when he comes will say, "Shoo! I knew Mars Jeems could
not do without me." And indeed he can not.

Buck, reading my journal, opened her beautiful eyes in
amazement and said: " So little do people know themselves!
See what you say of me! " I replied: " The girls
heard him say to you, 'Oh, you are so childish and so
sweet! ' Now, Buck, you know you are not childish. You
have an abundance of strong common sense. Don't let men
adore you so—if you can help it. You are so unhappy
about men who care for you, when they are killed."

Isabella says that war leads to love-making. She says
these soldiers do more courting here in a day than they
would do at home, without a war, in ten years.

In the pauses of conversation, we hear, " She is the noblest
woman God ever made!" "Goodness! " exclaims
Isabella. " Which one?" The amount of courting we hear
in these small rooms. Men have to go to the front, and they

say their say desperately. I am beginning to know all
about it. The girls tell me. And I overhear—I can not
help it. But this style is unique, is it not? "Since I saw
you—last year—standing by the turnpike gate, you know—
my battle-cry has been: ' God, my country, and you! '"
So many are lame. Major Venable says: "It is not 'the
devil on two sticks,' now; the farce is ' Cupid on
Crutches.'"

General Breckinridge's voice broke in: "They are my
cousins. So I determined to kiss them good-by. Good-by
nowadays is the very devil; it means forever, in all probability,
you know; all the odds against us. So I advanced
to the charge soberly, discreetly, and in the fear of the
Lord. The girls stood in a row—four of the very prettiest
I ever saw." Sam, with his eyes glued to the floor, cried:
"You were afraid—you backed out." "But I did nothing
of the kind. I kissed every one of them honestly, heartily."

February 13th.—My husband is writing out some resolutions
for the Congress. He is very busy, too, trying
to get some poor fellows reprieved. He says they are good
soldiers but got into a scrape. Buck came in. She had on
her last winter's English hat, with the pheasant's wing.
Just then Hood entered most unexpectedly. Said the blunt
soldier to the girl: "You look mighty pretty in that hat;
you wore it at the turnpike gate, where I surrendered at
first sight." She nodded and smiled, and flew down the
steps after Mr. Chesnut, looking back to say that she meant
to walk with him as far as the Executive Office.

The General walked to the window and watched until
the last flutter of her garment was gone. He said: " The
President was finding fault with some of his officers in
command, and I said: ' Mr. President, why don't you come
and lead us yourself; I would follow you to the death. ' "
" Actually, if you stay here in Richmond much longer you
will grow to be a courtier. And you came a rough Texan.

Mrs. Davis and General McQueen came. He tells me
Muscoe Garnett is dead. Then the best and the cleverest
Virginian I know is gone. He was the most scholarly man
they had, and his character was higher than his requirements.

To-day a terrible onslaught was made upon the President
for nepotism. Burton Harrison's and John Taylor
Wood's letters denying the charge that the President's cotton
was unburned, or that he left it to be bought by the Yankees,
have enraged the opposition. How much these people
in the President's family have to bear! I have never felt
so indignant.

February 16th.—Saw in Mrs. Howell's room the little
negro Mrs. Davis rescued yesterday from his brutal negro
guardian. The child is an orphan. He was dressed up in
little Joe's clothes and happy as a lord. He was very anxious
to show me his wounds and bruises, but I fled. There
are some things in life too sickening, and cruelty is one of
them.

Somebody said: " People who knew General Hood before
the war said there was nothing in him. As for losing
his property by the war, some say he never had any, and
that West Point is a pauper's school, after all. He has
only military glory, and that he has gained since the war
began."

" Now," said Burton Harrison, " only military glory!
I like that! The glory and the fame he has gained during
the war—that is Hood. What was Napoleon before Toulon?
Hood has the impassive dignity of an Indian chief. He has
always a little court around him of devoted friends. Wigfall,
himself, has said he could not get within Hood's lines."

February 17th,— Found everything in Main Street
twenty per cent dearer. They say it is due to the new currency
bill.

I asked my husband: "Is General Johnston ordered to
reenforce Polk? They said he did not understand the order."

"After five days' delay," he replied. "They
say Sherman is marching to Mobile.[10] When they once get
inside of our armies what is to molest them, unless it be
women with broomsticks? " General Johnston writes that
"the Governor of Georgia refuses him provisions and the
use of his roads." The Governor of Georgia writes: "The
roads are open to him and in capital condition. I have furnished
him abundantly with provisions from time to time,
as he desired them." I suppose both of these letters are
placed away side by side in our archives.

February 20th.—Mrs. Preston was offended by the story
of Buck's performance at the Ive's. General Breckinridge
told her "it was the most beautifully unconscious act he
ever saw." The General was leaning against the wall, Buck
standing guard by him " on her two feet." The crowd
surged that way, and she held out her arm to protect him
from the rush. After they had all passed she handed him
his crutches, and they, too, moved slowly away. Mrs. Davis
said: "Any woman in Richmond would have done the
same joyfully, but few could do it so gracefully. Buck is
made so conspicuous by her beauty, whatever she does can
not fail to attract attention.",

Johnny stayed at home only one day; then went to his
plantation, got several thousand Confederate dollars, and
in the afternoon drove out with Mrs. K—. At the Bee
Store he spent a thousand of his money; bought us gloves
and linen. Well, one can do without gloves, but linen is
next to life itself.

Yesterday the President walked home from church with
me. He said he was so glad to see my husband at church;
had never seen him there before; remarked on how well he

looked, etc. I replied that he looked so well " because you
have never before seen him in the part of ' the right man in
the right place.' " My husband has no fancy for being
planted in pews, but he is utterly Christian in his creed.

February 23d.—At the President's, where General Lee
breakfasted, a man named Phelan told General Lee all he
ought to do; planned a campaign for him. General Lee
smiled blandly the while, though he did permit himself a
mild sneer at the wise civilians in Congress who refrained
from trying the battle-field in person, but from afar dictated
the movements of armies. My husband said that, to
his amazement, General Lee came into his room at the Executive
Office to "pay his respects and have a talk." "Dear
me! Goodness gracious!" said I. "That was a compliment
from the head of the army, the very first man in the
world, we Confederates think."

February 24th.—Friends came to make taffy and stayed
the livelong day. They played cards. One man, a soldier,
had only two teeth left in front and they lapped across each
other. On account of the condition of his mouth, he had
maintained a dignified sobriety of aspect, though he told
some funny stories. Finally a story was too much for him,
and he grinned from ear to ear. Maggie gazed, and then
called out as the negro fiddlers call out dancing figures,
"Forward two and cross over! " Fancy our faces. The
hero of the two teeth, relapsing into a decorous arrangement
of mouth, said: " Cavalry are the eyes of an army;
they bring the news; the artillery are the boys to make a
noise; but the infantry do the fighting, and a general or so
gets all the glory."

February 26th.—We went to see Mrs. Breekinridge,
who is here with her husband. Then we paid our respects
to Mrs. Lee. Her room was like an industrial school: everybody
so busy. Her daughters were all there plying their
needles, with several other ladies. Mrs. Lee showed us a
beautiful sword, recently sent to the General by some Marylanders,

now in Paris. On the blade was engraved, " Aide
ioi et Dieu t'aidera." When we came out someone said,
"Did you see how the Lees spend their time? What a rebuke
to the taffy parties! "

Another maimed hero is engaged to be married. Sally
Hampton has accepted John Haskell. There is a story that
he reported for duty after his arm was shot off; suppose in
the fury of the battle he did not feel the pain.

General Breckinridge once asked, "What's the name of
the fellow who has gone to Europe for Hood's leg?" "Dr.
Darby." "Suppose it is shipwrecked? " "No matter;
half a dozen are ordered." Mrs. Preston raised her hands:
" No wonder the General says they talk of him as if he were
a centipede; his leg is in everybody's mouth."

March 3d.—Hetty, the handsome, and Constance, the
witty, came; the former too prudish to read Lost and Saved,
by Mrs. Norton, after she had heard the plot. Conny was
making a bonnet for me. Just as she was leaving the house,
her friendly labors over, my husband entered, and quickly
ordered his horse. "It is so near dinner," I began. " But
I am going with the President. I am on duty. He goes to
inspect the fortifications. The enemy, once more, are within
a few miles of Richmond." Then we prepared a luncheon
for him. Constance Cary remained with me.

After she left I sat down to Romola, and I was absorbed
in it. How hardened we grow to war and war's alarms!
The enemy's cannon or our own are thundering in my ears,
and I was dreadfully afraid some infatuated and frightened
friend would come in to cheer, to comfort, and interrupt
me. Am I the same poor soul who fell on her knees
and prayed, and wept, and fainted, as the first gun boomed
from Fort Sumter? Once more we have repulsed the enemy.
But it is humiliating, indeed, that he can come
and threaten us at our very gates whenever he so pleases.
If a forlorn negro had not led them astray (and they
hanged him for it) on Tuesday night, unmolested, they

would have walked into Richmond. Surely there is horrid
neglect or mismanagement somewhere'.

March 4th.—The enemy has been reenforced and is
on us again. Met Wade Hampton, who told me my husband
was to join him with some volunteer troops: so I hurried
home. Such a cavalcade rode up to luncheon! Captain
Smith Lee and Preston Hampton, the handsomest, the
oldest and the youngest of the party. This was at the Prestons'.
Smith Lee walked home with me: alarm-bells ringing;
horsemen, galloping; wagons rattling'. Dr. H. stopped
as to say " Beast " Butler was on us with sixteen thousand
men. How scared the Doctor looked! And, after all, it was
only a notice to the militia to torn out and drill.

March 5th.—Tom Fergurson walked home with me. He
told me of Colonel Dahlgren's[11] death and the horrid memoranda
found in his pocket. He came with secret orders to
destroy this devoted city, hang the President and his Cabinet,
and burn the town! Fitzhugh Lee was proud that the
Ninth Virginia captured him.

Found Mrs. Semmes covering her lettuces and radishes
as. calmly as if Yankee raiders were a myth. While
"Beast " Butler holds Fortress Monroe he will make
things lively for us. On the alert must we be now.

March 7th.—Shopping, and paid $30 for a pair of
gloves; $50 for-a pair of slippers; $24 for six spools of
thread; $32 for five miserable, shabby little pocket handkerchiefs.
When I came home found Mrs. Webb. At her
hospital there was a man who had been, taken prisoner by
Dahlgren's party. He saw the negro hanged who had misled

them, unintentionally, in all probability. Ha saw Dahlgren
give a part of his bridle to hang him. Details are melancholy,
as Emerson says. This Dahlgren had also lost a
leg.

Constance Gary, in words too fine for the occasion, described
the homely scene at my house; how I prepared sandwiches
for my husband; and broke, with trembling hand,
the last bottle of anything to drink in the house, a bottle I
destined to go with the sandwiches. She called it a Hector
and Andromache performance.

March 8th.—Mrs. Preston's story. As we walked home,
she told me she had just been to see a lady she had known
more than twenty years before. She had met her in this
wise: One of the chambermaids of the St. Charles Hotel
(New Orleans) told Mrs. Preston's nurse—it was when
Mary Preston was a baby—that up among the servants in
the garret there was a sick lady and her children. The maid
was sure she was a lady, and thought she was hiding from
somebody. Mrs. Preston went up, knew the lady, had
her brought down into comfortable rooms, and nursed her
until she recovered from her delirium and fever. She had
run away, indeed, and was hiding herself and her children
from a worthless husband. Now, she has one son in a Yankee
prison, one mortally wounded, and the last of them
dying there under her eyes of consumption. This last had
married here in Richmond, not wisely, and too soon, for he
was a mere boy; his pay as a private was eleven dollars a
month, and his wife's family charged him three hundred
dollars a month for her board; so he had to work double
tides, do odd jobs by night and by day, and it killed him by
exposure to cold in this bitter climate to which his constitu
tion was unadapted.

They had been in Vicksburg during the siege, and dur
ing the bombardment sought refuge in a cave. The roar of
the cannon ceasing, they came out gladly for a breath of
fresh air. At the moment when they emerged, a bomb burs

there, among them, so to speak, struck the son already
wounded, and smashed off the arm of a beautiful little
grandchild not three years old There was this poor little
girl with her touchingly lovely face, and her arm gone. This
mutilated little martyr, Mrs. Preston said, was really to her
the crowning touch of the woman's affliction. Mrs. Preston
put up her hand, " Her baby face haunts me."

March llth.—Letters from home, including one from
my husband's father, now over ninety, written with his own
hand, and certainly his own mind still. I quote: " Bad
times; worse coming. Starvation stares me in the face.
Neither John's nor James's overseer will sell me any corn."
Now, what has the government to do with the fact that on
all his plantations he made corn enough to last for the
whole year, and by the end of January his negroes had
stolen it all? Poor old man, he has fallen on evil days,
after a long life of ease and prosperity.

To-day, I read The Blithedale Romance. Blithedale
leaves such an unpleasant impression. I like pleasant,
kindly stories, now that we are so harrowed by real life.
Tragedy is for our hours of ease.

March 12th.—An active campaign has begun everywhere,
Kilpatrick still threatens us. Bragg has organized
his fifteen hundred of cavalry to protect Richmond. Why
ean't my husband be made colonel of that? It is a new
regiment. No; he must be made a general!.

"Now," says Mary Preston, "Doctor Darby is at the
mercy of both Yankees and the rolling sea, and I am anxious
enough; but, instead of taking my bed and worrying
mamma, I am taking stock of our worldly goods and trying
to arrange the wedding paraphernalia for two girls."

There is love-making and love-making in this world.
What a time the sweethearts of that wretch, young Shakespeare,
must have had. What experiences of life's delights
must have been his before he evolved the Romeo and Juliet
business from his own internal consciousness; also that delicious

Beatrice and Rosalind. The poor creature that he
left his second best bedstead to came in second best all the
time, no doubt; and she hardly deserved more. Fancy people
wondering that Shakespeare and his kind leave no progeny
like themselves! Shakespeare's children would have
been half his only; the other half only the second best bedstead's.
"What would you expect of that commingling of
materials! Goethe used his lady-loves as school-books are
used: he studied them from cover to cover, got all that
could be got of self-culture and knowledge of human nature
from the study of them, and then threw them aside as if of
no further account in his life.

Byron never could forget Lord Byron, poet and peer,
and mauvais sujet, and he must have been a trying lover;
like talking to a man looking in the glass at himself. Lady
Byron was just as much taken up with herself. So, they
struck each other, and bounded apart.

[Since I wrote this, Mrs. Stowe has taken Byron in hand.
But I know a story which might have annoyed my lord
more than her and Lady Byron's imagination of wickedness
—for he posed a fiend, but was tender and kind. A
clerk in a country store asked my sister to lend him a
book, he " wanted something to read; the days were so
long." "What style of book would you prefer? "she said.
"Poetry." "Any particular poet!" "Brown. I hear
him much spoken of." "Browning?" "No; Brown—
short—that is what they call him." "Byron, you mean."
" No, I mean the poet, Brown."]

" Oh, you wish you had lived in the time of the Shakespeare
creature! " He knew all the forms and phases of
true love. Straight to one's heart he goes in tragedy or
comedy. He never misses fire. He has been there, in slang
phrase. No doubt the man's bare presence gave pleasure to
the female world; he saw women at their best, and he effaced
himself. He told no tales of his own life. Compare
with him old, sad, solemn, sublime, sneering, snarling, faultfinding

Milton, a man whose family doubtless found "les
absences délicieuses." That phrase describes a type of man
at a touch; it took a Frenchwoman to do it.

" But there is an Italian picture of Milton, taken in his
youth, and he was as beautiful as an angel." "No doubt.
But love flies before everlasting posing and preaching—the
deadly requirement of a man always to be looked up to
—a domestic tyrant, grim, formal, and awfully learned.
Milton was only a mere man, for he could not do without
women. When he tired out the first poor thing, who did
not fall down, worship, and obey him, and see God in him,
and she ran away, he immediately arranged his creed so
that he could take another wife; for wife he must have, à
la Mohammedan creed. The deer-stealer never once
thought of justifying theft simply because he loved venison
and could not come by it lawfully. Shakespeare was a better
man, or, may I say, a purer soul, than self-upholding,
Calvinistic, Puritanic, king-killing Milton. There is no
muddling of right and wrong in Shakespeare, and no pharisaical
stuff of any sort."

Then George Deas joined us, fresh from Mobile, where
he left peace and plenty. He went to sixteen weddings and
twenty-seven tea-parties. For breakfast he had everything
nice. Lily told of what she had seen the day before at the
Spottswood. She was in the small parlor, waiting for someone,
and in the large drawing-room sat Hood, solitary, sad,
with crutches by his chair. He could not see them. Mrs.
Buckner came in and her little girl who, when she spied
Hood, bounded into the next room, and sprang into his lap.
Hood smoothed her little dress down and held her close to
him. She clung around his neck for a while, and then,
seizing him by the beard, kissed him to an illimitable extent.
" Prettiest picture I ever saw, " said Lily. " The soldier
and the child."

John R. Thompson sent me a New York Herald only
three days old. It is down on Kilpatrick for his miserable

failure before Richmond. Also it acknowledges a defeat
before Charleston and a victory for us in Florida.

General Grant is charmed with Sherman's successful
movements; says he has destroyed millions upon millions of
our property in Mississippi. I hope that may not be true
and that Sherman may fail as Kilpatrick did. Now, if we
still had Stonewall or Albert Sidney Johnston where Joe
Johnston and Polk are, I would not give a fig for Sherman's
chances. The Yankees say that at last they have scared up
a man who succeeds, and they expect him to remedy all that
has gone wrong. So they have made their brutal Suwarrow,
Grant, lieutenant-general.

Doctor—at the Prestons' proposed to show me a man
who was not an P. F. V. Until we came here, we had never
heard of our social position. We do not know how to be
rude to people who call. To talk of social position seems
vulgar. Down our way, that sort of thing was settled one
way or another beyond a peradventure, like the earth and
the sky. We never gave it a thought. We talked to whom
we pleased, and if they were not comme il faut, we were
ever so much more polite to the poor things. No reflection
on Virginia. Everybody comes to Richmond.

Somebody counted fourteen generals in church to-day,
and suggested that less piety and more drilling of commands
would suit the times better. There were Lee, Longstreet,
Morgan, Hoke, Clingman, Whiting, Pegram, Elzey,
Gordon, and Bragg. Now, since Dahlgren failed to
carry out his orders, the Yankees disown them, disavowing
all. He was not sent here to murder us all, to hang
the President, and burn the town. There is the note-book,
however, at the Executive Office, with orders to hang and
burn.

March 15th.—Old Mrs. Chesnut is dead. A saint is gone
and James Chesnut is broken-hearted. He adored his mother.
I gave $375 for my mourning, which consists of a black
alpaca dress and a crape veil. With bonnet, gloves, and all

it came to $500. Before the blockade such things as I
have would not have been thought fit for a chamber-maid.

Everybody is in trouble. Mrs. Davis says paper money
has depreciated so much in value that they can not live
within their income; so they are going to dispense with their
carriage and horses.

March 18th.—Went out to sell some of my colored
dresses. What a scene it was—such piles of rubbish, and
mixed up with it, such splendid Parisian silks and satins.
A mulatto woman kept the shop under a roof in an out-of-the-way
old house. The ci-devant rich white women sell
to, and the negroes buy of, this woman.

After some whispering among us Buck said: " Sally is
going to marry a man who has lost an arm, and she is proud
of it. The cause glorifies such wounds." Annie said meekly,
" I fear it will be my fate to marry one who has lost his
head." "Tudy has her eyes on one who has lost an eye.
What a glorious assortment of noble martyrs and heroes!"
"The bitterness of this kind of talk is appalling."

General Lee had tears in his eyes when he spoke of his
daughter-in-law just dead—that lovely little Charlotte
Wickham, Mrs. Roony Lee. Roony Lee says " Beast" Butler
was very kind to him while he was a prisoner. The
" Beast " has sent him back his war-horse. The Lees are
men enough to speak the truth of friend or enemy, fearing
not the consequences.

March 19th.—A new experience: Molly and Lawrence
have both gone home, and I am to be left for the first time
in my life wholly at the mercy of hired servants. Mr. Chesnut,
being in such deep mourning for his mother, we see no
company. I have a maid of all work.

Tudy came with an account of yesterday's trip to Petersburg.
Constance Cary raved of the golden ripplas in
Tudy's hair. Tudy vanished in a halo of glory, and Constance
Cary gave me an account of a wedding, as it was
given to her by Major von Borcke. The bridesmaids were

dressed in black, the bride in Confederate gray, homespun.
She had worn the dress all winter, but it had been washed
and turned for the wedding. The female critics pronounced
it "flabby-dabby." They also said her collar was only
"net," and she wore a cameo breastpin. Her bonnet was
self-made.

March 24th.—Yesterday, we went to the Capitol grounds
to see our returned prisoners. We walked slowly up and
down until Jeff Davis was called upon to speak. There I
stood, almost touching the bayonets when he left me. I
looked straight into the prisoners' faces, poor fellows. They
cheered with all their might, and I wept for sympathy, and
enthusiasm. I was very deeply moved. These men were
so forlorn, so dried up, and shrunken, with such a strange
look in some of their eyes; others so restless and wild-looking;
others again placidly vacant, as if they had been dead
to the world for years. A poor woman was too much for
me. She was searching for her son. He had been expected
back. She said he was taken prisoner at Gettysburg. She
kept going in and out among them with a basket of provisions
she had brought for him to eat. It was too pitiful.
She was utterly unconscious of the crowd. The anxious
dread, expectation, hurry, and hope which led her on
showed in her face.

A sister of Mrs. Lincoln is here. She brings the freshest
scandals from Yankeeland. She says she rode with
Lovejoy. A friend of hers commands a black regiment.
Two Southern horrors—a black regiment and Lovejoy.

March 31st.—Met Preston Hampton. Constance Cary
was with me. She showed her regard for him by taking his
overcoat and leaving him in a drenching rain. What boyish
nonsense he talked; said he was in love with Miss Dabney
now, that his love was so hot within him that he was
waterproof, the rain sizzed and smoked off. It did not so
much as dampen his ardor or his clothes.

April 1st.—Mrs. Davis is utterly depressed. She said

the fall of Richmond must come; she would send her children
to me and Mrs. Preston. We begged her to come to us
also. My husband is as depressed as I ever knew him to be.
He has felt the death of that angel mother of his keenly,
and now he takes his country's woes to heart.

April 11th.—Drove with Mrs. Davis and all her infant
family; wonderfully clever and precocious children, with
unbroken wills. At one time there was a sudden uprising
of the nursery contingent. They laughed, fought, and
screamed. Bedlam broke loose. Mrs. Davis scolded,
laughed, and cried. She asked me if my husband would
speak to the President about the plan in South Carolina,
which everybody said suited him. " No, Mrs. Davis," said
I. " That is what I told Mr. Davis," said she. " Colonel
Chesnut rides so high a horse. Now Browne is so much
more practical. He goes forth to be general of conscripts
in Georgia. His wife will stay at the Cobbs's."

Mrs. Ould gave me a luncheon on Saturday. I felt that
this was my last sad farewell to Richmond and the people
there I love so well. Mrs. Davis sent her carriage for me,
and we went to the Oulds' together. Such good things were
served—oranges, guava jelly, etc. The Examiner says Mr.
Ould, when he goes to Fortress Monroe, replenishes his
larder; why not! The Examiner has taken another fling
at the President, as, "haughty and austere with his
friends, affable, kind, subservient to his enemies." I wonder
if the Yankees would indorse that certificate. Both
sides abuse him. He can not please anybody, it seems. No
doubt he is right.

My husband is now brigadier-general and is sent to
South Carolina to organize and take command of the reserve
troops. C. C. Clay and L. Q. C. Lamar are both
spoken of to fill the vacancy made among Mr. Davis's aides
by this promotion.

To-day, Captain Smith Lee spent the morning here and
gave a review of past Washington gossip. I am having

such a busy, happy life, with so many friends, and my
friends are so clever, so charming. But the change to that
weary, dreary Camden! Mary Preston said: "I do think
Mrs. Chesnut deserves to be canonized; she agrees to go
back to Camden." The Prestons gave me a farewell dinner;
my twenty-fourth wedding day, and the very pleasantest
day I have spent in Richmond.

Maria Lewis was sitting with us on Mrs. Huger's steps,
and Smith Lee was lauding Virginia people as usual. As
Lee would say, there " hove in sight " Frank Parker, riding
one of the finest of General Bragg's horses; by his side
Buck on Fairfax, the most beautiful horse in Richmond,
his brown coat looking like satin, his proud neck arched,
moving slowly, gracefully, calmly, no fidgets, aristocratic
in his bearing to the tips of his bridle-reins. There sat
Buck tall and fair, managing her horse with infinite ease,
her English riding-habit showing plainly the exquisite proportions
of her figure. " Supremely lovely," said Smith
Lee. " Look at them both," said I proudly; " can you
match those two in Virginia?" "Three cheers for South
Carolina! " was the answer of Lee, the gallant Virginia
sailor.