Governor Manning’s account of Prince Jerome Napoleon: “He is stout and he is not handsome. Neither is he young, and as he reviewed our troops he was terribly overheated.” He heard him say “en avant,” of that he could testify of his own knowledge, and he was told he had been heard to say with unction “Allons” more than once. The sight of the battle-field had made the Prince seasick, and he received gratefully a draft of fiery whisky.
Arrago seemed deeply interested in Confederate statistics, and praised our doughty deeds to the skies. It was but soldier fare our guests received, though we did our best. It was hard sleeping and worse eating in camp. Beauregard is half Frenchman and speaks French like a native. So one awkward mess was done away with, and it was a comfort to see Beauregard speak without the agony of finding words in the foreign language and forming them, with damp brow, into sentences. A different fate befell others who spoke “a little French.”
General and Mrs. Cooper came to see us. She is Mrs. Smith Lee’s sister. They were talking of old George Mason—in Virginia a name to conjure with. George Mason violently opposed the extension of slavery. He was a thorough aristocrat, and gave as his reason for refusing the blessing of slaves to the new States, Southwest and Northwest, that vulgar new people were unworthy of so sacred a right as that of holding slaves. It was not an institution intended for such people as they were. Mrs. Lee said: “After all, what good does it do my sons that they are Light Horse Harry Lee’s grandsons and George Mason’s? I do not see that it helps them at all.”
A friend in Washington writes me that we might have walked into Washington any day for a week after Manassas, such were the consternation and confusion there. But the god Pan was still blowing his horn in the woods. Now she says Northern troops are literally pouring in from all quarters. The horses cover acres of ground. And she thinks we have lost our chance forever.
A man named Grey (the same gentleman whom Secretary of War Walker so astonished by greeting him with, “Well, sir, and what is your business?”) described the battle of the 21st as one succession of blunders, redeemed by the indomitable courage of the two-thirds who did not run away on our side. Doctor Mason said a fugitive on the other side informed him that “a million of men with the devil at their back could not have whipped the rebels at Bull Run.” That’s nice.
There must be opposition in a free country. But it is very uncomfortable. “United we stand, divided we fall.” Mrs. Davis showed us in The New York Tribune an extract from an Augusta (Georgia) paper saying, “Cobb is our man. Davis is at heart a reconstructionist.” We may be flies on the wheel, we know our insignificance; but Mrs. Preston and myself have entered into an agreement; our oath is recorded on high. We mean to stand by our President and to stop all fault-finding with the powers that be, if we can and where we can, be the fault-finders generals or Cabinet Ministers.
August 13th.—Hon. Robert Barnwell says, “The Mercury’s influence began this opposition to Jeff Davis before he had time to do wrong. They were offended, not with him so much as with the man who was put into what they considered Barnwell Rhett’s rightful place. The latter had howled nullification and secession so long that when he found his ideas taken up by all the Confederate world, he felt he had a vested right to leadership.”
Jordan, Beauregard’s aide, still writes to Mr. Chesnut that the mortality among the raw troops in that camp is fearful. Everybody seems to be doing all they can. Think of the British sick and wounded away off in the Crimea. Our people are only a half-day’s journey by rail from Richmond. With a grateful heart I record the fact of reconciliation with the Wigfalls. They dined at the President’s yesterday and the little Wigfall girls stayed all night.
Seward is fêting the outsiders, the cousin of the Emperor, Napoleon III., and Russell, of the omnipotent London Times.
August 14th.—Last night there was a crowd of men to see us and they were so markedly critical. I made a futile effort to record their sayings, but sleep and heat overcame me. To-day I can not remember a word. One of Mr. Mason’s stories relates to our sources of trustworthy information. A man of very respectable appearance standing on the platform at the depot, announced, “I am just from the seat of war.” Out came pencil and paper from the newspaper men on the qui vive. “Is Fairfax Court House burned?” they asked. “Yes, burned yesterday.” “But I am just from there,” said another; “left it standing there all right an hour or so ago.” “Oh! But I must do them justice to say they burned only the tavern, for they did not want to tear up and burn anything else after the railroad.” “There is no railroad at Fairfax Court House,” objected the man just from Fairfax. “Oh! Indeed!” said the seat-of-war man, “I did not know that; is that so?” And he coolly seated himself and began talking of something else.