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body wishes to describe old Carolina at its best, let them try their hands at painting these two people.
Wade Hampton still limps a little, but he is rapidly recovering. Here is what he said, and he has fought so well that he is listened to: “If we mean to play at war, as we play a game of chess, West Point tactics prevailing, we are sure to lose the game. They have every advantage. They can lose pawns ad infinitum, to the end of time and never feel it. We will be throwing away all that we had hoped so much from – Southern hot-headed dash, reckless gallantry, spirit of adventure, readiness to lead forlorn hopes.”
Mrs. Rose is Miss Sarah Parker’s aunt. Somehow it came out when I was not in the room, but those girls tell me everything. It seems Miss Sarah said: “The reason I can not bear Mrs. Chesnut is that she laughs at everything and at everybody.” If she saw me now she would give me credit for some pretty hearty crying as well as laughing. It was a mortifying thing to hear about one’s self, all the same.
General Preston came in and announced that Mr. Chesnut was in town. He had just seen Mr. Alfred Huger, who came up on the Charleston train with him. Then Mrs. McCord came and offered to take me back to Mrs. McMahan’s to look him up. I found my room locked up. Lawrence said his master had gone to look for me at the Prestons’.
Mrs. McCord proposed we should further seek for my errant husband. At the door, we met Governor Pickens, who showed us telegrams from the President of the most important nature. The Governor added, “And I have one from Jeems Chesnut, but I hear he has followed it so closely, coming on its heels, as it were, that I need not show you that one.”
“You don’t look interested at the sound of your husband’s name?” said he. “Is that his name?” asked I. “I supposed it was James.” “My advice to you is to find
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him, for Mrs. Pickens says he was last seen in the company of two very handsome women, and now you may call him any name you please.”
We soon met. The two beautiful dames Governor Pickens threw in my teeth were some ladies from Rafton Creek, almost neighbors, who live near Camden.
By way of pleasant remark to Wade Hampton: “Oh, General! The next battle will give you a chance to be major-general.” “I was very foolish to give up my Legion,” he answered gloomily. “Promotion don’t really annoy many people.” Mary Gibson says her father writes to them, that they may go back. He thinks now that the Confederates can hold Richmond. Gloria in excelsis!
Another personal defeat. Little Kate said: “Oh, Cousin Mary, why don’t you cultivate heart? They say at Kirkwood that you had better let your brains alone a while and cultivate heart.” She had evidently caught up a phrase and repeated it again and again for my benefit. So that is the way they talk of me! The only good of loving any one with your whole heart is to give that person the power to hurt you.
June 24th. – Mr. Chesnut, having missed the Secessionville1 fight by half a day, was determined to see the one around Richmond. He went off with General Cooper and Wade Hampton. Blanton Duncan sent them for a luncheon on board the cars, – ice, wine, and every manner of good thing.
In all this death and destruction, the women are the same – chatter, patter, clatter. “Oh, the Charleston refugees are so full of airs; there is no sympathy for them here!” “Oh, indeed! That is queer. They are not half as exclusive as these Hamptons and Prestons. The airs these people do give themselves.” “Airs, airs,” laughed
1. The battle of Secessionville occurred on James Island, in the harbor of Charleston, June 16, 1862.
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Mrs. Bartow, parodying Tennyson’s Charge of the Light Brigade. “Airs to the right of them, Airs to the left of them, some one had blundered.” “Volleyed and thundered rhymes but is out of place.”
The worst of all airs came from a democratic landlady, who was asked by Mrs. President Davis to have a carpet shaken, and shook herself with rage as she answered, “You know, madam, you need not stay here if my carpet or anything else does not suit you.”
John Chesnut gives us a spirited account of their ride around McClellan. I sent the letter to his grandfather. The women ran out screaming with joyful welcome as soon as they caught sight of our soldiers’ gray uniforms; ran to them bringing handfuls and armfuls of, food. One gray-headed man, after preparing a hasty meal for them, knelt and prayed as they snatched it, as you may say. They were in the saddle from Friday until Sunday. They were used up; so were their horses. Johnny writes for clothes and more horses. Miss S. C. says: “No need to send any more of his fine horses to be killed or captured by the Yankees; wait and see how the siege of Richmond ends.” The horses will go all the same, as Johnny wants them.
June 25th. – I forgot to tell of Mrs. Pickens’s reception for General Hampton. My Mem dear, described it all. “The Governess ” (“Tut, Mem! that is not the right name for her – she is not a teacher.” “Never mind, it is the easier to say than the Governor’s wife.” “Madame la Gouvernante ” was suggested. “Why? That is worse than the other!”) “met him at the door, took his crutch away, putting his hand upon her shoulder instead. “That is the way to greet heroes,” she said. Her blue eyes were aflame, and in response poor Wade smiled, and smiled until his face hardened into a fixed grin of embarrassment and annoyance. He is a simple-mannered man, you know, and does not want to be made much of by women.
The butler was not in plain clothes, but wore, as the
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other servants did, magnificent livery brought from the Court of St. Petersburg, one mass of gold embroidery, etc. They had champagne and Russian tea, the latter from a samovar made in Russia. Little Moses was there. Now for us they have never put their servants into Russian livery, nor paraded Little Moses under our noses, but I must confess the Russian tea and champagne set before us left nothing to be desired. “How did General Hampton bear his honors?” “Well, to the last he looked as if he wished they would let him alone.”
Met Mr. Ashmore fresh from Richmond. He says Stonewall is coming up behind McClellan. And here comes the tug of war. He thinks we have so many spies in Richmond, they may have found out our strategic movements and so may circumvent them.
Mrs. Bartow’s story of a clever Miss Toombs. So many men were in love with her, and the courtship, while it lasted, of each one was as exciting and bewildering as a fox-chase. She liked the fun of the run, but she wanted something more than to know a man was in mad pursuit of her; that he should love her, she agreed, but she must love him, too. How was she to tell? Yet she must be certain of it before she said “Yes.” So, as they sat by the lamp she would look at him and inwardly ask herself, “Would I be willing to spend the long winter evenings forever after sitting here darning your old stockings?” Never, echo answered. No, no, a thousand times no. So, each had to make way for another.
June 27th. – We went in a body (half a dozen ladies, with no man on escort duty, for they are all in the army) to a concert. Mrs. Pickens came in. She was joined soon by Secretary Moses and Mr. Follen. Doctor Berrien came to our relief. Nothing could be more execrable than the singing. Financially the thing was a great success, for though the audience was altogether feminine, it was a very large one.
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Telegram from Mr. Chesnut, “Safe in Richmond”; that is, if Richmond be safe, with all the power of the United States of America battering at her gates. Strange not a word from Stonewall Jackson, after all! Doctor Gibson telegraphs his wife, “Stay where you are; terrible battle1 looked for here.”
Decca is dead. That poor little darling! Immediately after her baby was born, she took it into her head that Alex was killed. He was wounded, but those around had not told her of it. She surprised them by asking, “Does any one know how the battle has gone since Alex was killed?” She could not read for a day or so before she died. Her head was bewildered, but she would not let any one else touch her letters; so she died with several unopened ones in her bosom. Mrs. Singleton, Decca’s mother, fainted dead away, but she shed no tears. We went to the house and saw Alex’s mother, a daughter of Langdon Cheves. Annie was with us. She said: “This is the saddest thing for Alex.” “No,” said his mother, “death is never the saddest thing. If he were not a good man, that would be a far worse thing.” Annie, in utter amazement, whimpered, “But Alex is so good already.” “Yes, seven years ago the death of one of his sisters that he dearly loved made him a Christian. That death in our family was worth a thousand lives.”