Oh, for one single port! If the Alabama had had in the whole
wide world a port to take her prizes to and where she could be refitted, I
believe she would have borne us through. Oh, for one single port by which we
could get at the outside world and refit our whole Confederacy! If we could
have hired regiments from Europe, or even have imported ammunition and food for
our soldiers!
“Some days must be dark and dreary.” At the mantua-maker's,
however, I saw an instance of faith in our future: a bride's paraphernalia, and
the radiant bride herself, the bridegroom expectant and elect now within twenty
miles of Chattanooga and outward bound to face the foe.
Saw at the Laurens's not only Lizzie Hamilton, a perfect
little beauty, but the very table the first Declaration of Independence was
written upon. These Laurenses are grandchildren of Henry Laurens, of the first
Revolution. Alas! we have yet to make good our second declaration of
independence — Southern independence — from Yankee meddling and Yankee rule.
Hood has written to ask them to send General Chesnut out to command one of his
brigades. In whose place?
If Albert Sidney Johnston had lived! Poor old General Lee
has no backing. Stonewall would have saved us from Antietam. Sherman will now
catch General Lee by the rear, while Grant holds him by the head, and while
Hood and Thomas are performing an Indian war-dance on the frontier. Hood means
to cut his way to Lee; see if he doesn't. The “Yanks” have had a struggle for
it. More than once we seemed to have been too much for them. We have been so
near to success it aches one to think of it. So runs the table-talk.
Next to our house, which Isabella calls “Tillytudlem,” since
Mr. Davis's visit, is a common of green grass and very level, beyond which
comes a belt of pine-trees. On this open space, within forty paces of us, a
regiment of foreign deserters has camped. They have taken the oath of
allegiance to our government, and are now being drilled and disciplined into
form before being sent to our army. They are mostly Germans, with some Irish,
however. Their close proximity keeps me miserable. Traitors once, traitors
forever.
Jordan has always been held responsible for all the foolish
proclamations, and, indeed, for whatever Beauregard reported or proclaimed. Now
he has left that mighty chief, and, lo, here comes from Beauregard the silliest
and most boastful of his military bulletins. He brags of Shiloh; that was not
the way the story was told to us.
A letter from Mrs. Davis, who says: “Thank you, a thousand
times, my dear friend, for your more than maternal kindness to my dear child.”
That is what she calls her sister, Maggie Howell. “As to Mr. Davis, he thinks
the best ham, the best Madeira, the best coffee, the best hostess in the world,
rendered Columbia delightful to him when he passed through. We are in a sad and
anxious state here just now. The dead come in; but the living do not go out so
fast. However, we hope all things and trust in God as the only one able to
resolve the opposite state of feeling into a triumphant, happy whole. I had a
surprise of an unusually gratifying nature a few days since, I found I could
not keep my horses, so I sold them. The next day they were returned to me with
a handsome anonymous note to the effect that they had been bought by a few
friends for me. But I fear I can not feed them. Strictly between us, things
look very anxious here."
SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin
and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 330-2
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