Mine is a painful, self-imposed task: but why write when I
have nothing to chronicle but disaster?1 So I read instead: First,
Consuelo, then Columba, two ends of the pole certainly, and then a translated
edition of Elective Affinities. Food enough for thought in every one of this
odd assortment of books.
At the Prestons', where I am staying (because Mr. Chesnut
has gone to see his crabbed old father, whom he loves, and who is reported
ill), I met Christopher Hampton. He tells us Wigfall is out on a warpath; wants
them to strike for Maryland. The President's, opinion of the move is not given.
Also Mr. Hampton met the first lieutenant of the Kirkwoods, E. M. Boykin. Says he
is just the same man he was in the South Carolina College. In whatever company
you may meet him, he is the pleasantest man there.
A telegram reads: “We have repulsed the enemy at Williamsburg.”2
Oh, if we could drive them back “to their ain countree!” Richmond was hard
pressed this day. The Mercury of to-day says, “Jeff Davis now treats all men as
if they were idiotic insects.”
Mary Preston said all sisters quarreled. No, we never
quarrel, I and mine. We keep all our bitter words for our enemies. We are frank
heathens; we hate our enemies and love our friends. Some people (our kind) can
never make up after a quarrel; hard words once only and all is over. To us
forgiveness is impossible. Forgiveness means calm indifference; philosophy,
while love lasts. Forgiveness of love's wrongs is impossible. Those dutiful
wives who piously overlook — well, everything — do not care one fig for their
husbands. I settled that in my own mind years ago. Some people think it
magnanimous to praise their enemies and to show their impartiality and justice
by acknowledging the faults of their friends. I am for the simple rule, the
good old plan. I praise whom I love and abuse whom I hate.
Mary Preston has been translating Schiller aloud. We are
provided with Bulwer's translation, Mrs. Austin's, Coleridge's, and Carlyle's,
and we show how each renders the passage Mary is to convert into English. In
Wallenstein at one point of the Max and Thekla scene, I like Carlyle better
than Coleridge, though they say Coleridge's Wallenstein is the only translation
in the world half so good as the original. Mrs. Barstow repeated some beautiful
scraps by Uhland, which I had never heard before. She is to write them for us.
Peace, and a literary leisure for my old age, unbroken by care and anxiety!
General Preston accused me of degenerating into a
boarding-house gossip, and is answered triumphantly by his daughters: “But,
papa, one you love to gossip with full well.”
Hampton estate has fifteen hundred negroes on Lake
Washington, Mississippi. Hampton girls talking in the language of James's
novels: “Neither Wade nor Preston — that splendid boy! — would lay a lance in
rest — or couch it, which is the right phrase for fighting, to preserve slavery.
They hate it as we do.” “What are they fighting for?” “Southern rights — whatever
that is. And they do not want to be understrappers forever to the Yankees. They
talk well enough about it, but I forget what they say.” Johnny Chesnut says: “No
use to give a reason — a fellow could not stay away from the fight — not well.”
It takes four negroes to wait on Johnny satisfactorily.
It is this giving up that kills me. Norfolk they talk of
now; why not Charleston next? I read in a Western letter, “Not
Beauregard, but the soldiers who stopped to drink the whisky they had captured
from the enemy, lost us Shiloh.” Cock Robin is as dead as he ever will be now;
what matters it who killed him?
_______________
1 The Siege of Yorktown was begun on April 5,
1862, the place being evacuated by the Confederates on May 4th.
2 The battle of Williamsburg was fought on May 5,
1862, by a part of McClellan's army, under General Hooker and others, the
Confederates being commanded by General Johnston.
SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin
and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 161-3
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