Louis McLane to George Douglas, Schuyler Livingston, and others, a Committee to Superintend the Public Dinner given to the Hon. D. S. Dickinson, June 19, 1850.

BOHEMIA, NEAR CECILTON, MARYLAND,        

June 19, 1850.

TO GEORGE DOUGLAS, SCHUYLER LIVINGSTON, and others, a Committee to Superintend the Public Dinner given to the Hon. D. S. Dickinson.

GENTLEMEN—Having been called by urgent business to Baltimore during the last week, I only received your letter of the 7th inst. on my return home last night. I have cordially approved the course of your distinguished Senator during the present session of Congress, and I fully participate in the admiration entertained by his Democratic fellow-citizens of New York, of the manly ability and unwavering patriotism with which he has assisted in tranquillizing the public mind and arresting an agitation that, if allowed to continue, would prove fatal to the harmony and preservation of our glorious Union. Under other circumstances it would have given me great pleasure to manifest my feelings by uniting with the Democrats of New York in their patriotic support of the constitutional principles involved in the pending issue.

I can at present, however, only return you my thanks for the invitation with which you have honored me, and assure you of my earnest hope that in the present crisis the support of the Democracy of New York may be as effective in maintaining the principles of the Constitution and the integrity of the Union as it has been on more than one previous occasion. I have the honor to be, gentlemen,

Very respectfully, your fellow-citizen,

LOUIS MCLANE.

SOURCE: John R. Dickinson, Editor, Speeches, Correspondence, Etc., of the Late Daniel S. Dickinson of New York, Vol. 2, p. 443

Julia Gardiner Tyler to Juliana MacLachlan Gardiner, February 4, 1861

BROWN'S HOTEL, February 4, 1861.

MY DEAR MAMMA: I hastily write you a few lines before retiring. The box by express came safely to hand this morning. If I have occasion I will wear the articles mentioned in it, but I cannot say yet what will occur to make it worth while to bring them into use. I have had, as well as the President, a perfect levée all day, and am so tired that I must go to bed to be in good condition for a continuation to-morrow. You ought to hear all the compliments that are heaped upon me. Of course I haven't changed a bit, except to improve, etc., etc.

But the President is the great centre of attraction. Everybody says he is looked to save the Union. Mr. Crittenden told me to-night that he had great hopes through him. Gov. Morehead went off in a strain of eloquence, while in conversation with me, upon the immortality he would achieve for himself if he (the President) could bring all the discordant elements together. They met to-day, but only to appoint committees for the organization of the convention, and then adjourned.

The President has received a most important dispatch this evening from Montgomery, Ala. The convention there has adjourned over to await the action and result of this meeting. This shows a desire to conciliate and do what is right up to the last moment.

Mr. Crittenden tells me that Mrs. Crittenden is laid up with a sprained ankle. Mrs. Yulee and Mrs. Evans have been with me this evening,-also many others whom you would not know,—and our old friend Mr. Greenway has turned up again. Mrs. Yulee tells me her sister, Mrs. Merrick, has also met with the fashionable accident of a sprained ankle. Mrs. Clay, of Alabama, described to me the withdrawing scene in the Senate to-day of the Louisiana senators. She says Mr. Benjamin's speech was perfectly thrilling,—full of feeling and eloquence. . . . . How I wish you were here, but I suppose I must make up my mind to be satisfied with your coming to Sherwood.

In haste. Good night. With love to all.

The President is quite bright, bearing up wonderfully and looking remarkably well.

SOURCE: Lyon Gardiner Tyler, The Letters and Times of the Tylers, Volume 2, p. 597-8

Congressman Rutherford B. Hayes to Sophia Birchard Hayes, January 21, 1866

WASHINGTON, D. C., January 21, 1866.

DEAR MOTHER:— Lucy got here Thursday evening and is, in a quiet way, enjoying life here very much. We have been as yet to no receptions or parties, but find plenty to interest and amuse in the public buildings, courts, and Congress. The weather is bright and bracing. Lucy and I went to the preaching of Mr. Boynton at the Capitol today and heard a good sound talk to a large fine audience. The House makes a beautiful place for worship.

Affectionately,

R.

MRS. SOPHIA HAYES.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 3, p. 14-5

Congressman Rutherford B. Hayes to Sophia Birchard Hayes, January 28, 1866

WASHINGTON, D. C., January 28, 1866.

Dear Mother:—Lucy is still with me. She is very happy. We do not go to parties or receptions much. Went to one. They are all alike; rather a bore generally. We sit at the same table with Vice-Admiral Farragut. A sociable, fine old gentleman — not old in manner, talk, or looks, but near seventy, I think, in fact. He has a kind and polite way and everybody likes him. We mean to go to the President's and General Grant's this week. All well at home when I heard last.

Affectionately,

R.

MRS. SOPHIA HAYES.
        Private.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 3, p. 15

William T. Sherman to George Mason Graham, April 26, 1860

LOUISIANA STATE SEMINARY, Alexandria, April 26,1860.

DEAR GENERAL: I will send as usual for the mail to-day and I suppose you will expect to hear from me. There is nothing new. All things move along. We have a new cadet, No. 61, Cadet Bogan, nephew of Bogan of Alexandria. I expect the Board on Saturday. I have made plans and elevations of a very good house that Mills will undertake to erect by October 15, at $5,000. As this matter is of much importance and interest maybe, if you have room it would be well to pick him up and bring him out. There are one or two slight modifications in his plan that I would make and his assent should be obtained. It will be cutting close to finish well at our figures. We at one time thought of a plan that would admit of additions and alterations as we became better able, but on reflection I concluded it would be wisest to adhere to the idea of finishing absolutely for the money appropriated, as new wants will arise faster than our means.

As for the treasurership, until you intend to employ assistants to mathematics and English to whom could be assigned the duties of treasurer and librarian, I would prefer to wag along as now, getting Dr. Clarke and the drummer to help me in posting. I don't think you can waste a cent on any sinecure office. You know in large bills, there is no trouble in paying — it is in the small items which [are] necessarily innumerable.

Some days ago some cadets handed me a subscription-list for a "May party.” I returned it to them because the sums were unequal and too large – from one dollar to five dollars. I explained to a few of the oldest cadets that I would not oppose a moderate May party on a Saturday or maybe of a Friday night after the week's study was over, but all concerned must be equal, and share alike, and the expense should not exceed a dollar or dollar and half each, but that no further steps should be taken till Saturday that I might submit the financial question to the Board.

Last night Gus Jarreau brought me out a printed copy of the invitation for Friday next two weeks. They are crazy to show their uniforms to the girls and as they have really made good progress in study and drill, and cannot have a party at examination — midsummer — I think we had better permit it. I can control the invitations and expense, and see they are proper and moderate. My opinion is that the studies and military exercises being regular and thorough, relaxation and amusement outside thereof will be salutary. I hope the Board will take this view of it, as it is very important that these cadets when they go forth should be content and enthusiastic in favor of our system. Some may think this wrong but too much study made Jack a dull boy.

Every Friday evening "all hands” attend in the large section room to declaim. After they are through I generally speak half an hour or so on some interesting piece of history. They take great interest in it; next Friday I must in connection with my last, approach and maybe recount the leading events of the Conquest of California. Although not liking a critical audience, if you happen to be here on Friday night, you may be admitted, but if a critical audience ever comes, I'll produce St. Ange, the orator of our institution.

The elegant Black of St. Ange is a "sell.” After his drive to Judge Boyce's and back he struck dead lame. St. Ange is bound to have a lawsuit because he bought under warrantee from one Levy of Alexandria and gave his note, negotiable of course, at six months for two hundred fifty dollars. His letter to Levy is a masterpiece – but I doubt much if it produce any other effect than to give him time to transfer his negotiable paper. I would give one hundred dollars to be free to take Levy's case – put St. Ange on the stand and make him describe his drive to Judge Boyce's and back – he first described the journey as enough to kill any horse, but now that his horse is lame he insists it was a sweet ride and not enough to hurt a colt. There is plenty of fun in the cause. Tell the lawyers the case is worth five hundred dollars cash.

SOURCE: Walter L. Fleming, General W.T. Sherman as College President, p. 209-11

Diary of Gideon Welles: Thursday, April 21, 1864

There was a pleasant party at our house last evening, with an attendance of about three hundred. All passed off pleasantly, and all who expressed themselves seemed much gratified, as we were. It is spoken of as one of the most agreeable parties of the season.

Olcott and Wilson were here on Tuesday. The former is very full of frauds in Boston and is rabid to be at the books of certain parties. The man has an insatiate appetite to get on the track of suspected parties.  He shows not only ken scent but much sagacity.

Mr. Wilson has his charges and specifications against the parties in New York prepared and in the hands of the copyists.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 2: April 1, 1864 — December 31, 1866, p. 15-6

John L. Motley to Anna Lothrop Motley, March 28, 1863

Vienna,

March 28, 1863.

My Dearest Mother: . . . As to your making yourself out so very old, I can't admit that when I see, for example, Lord Palmerston, who is ever so many years older than you, in his eightieth year in fact, shouldering the whole British Empire, and making a joke of it. Our climate, too, so trying to the young, I believe to be exceedingly beneficial to those more advanced in years. Only do go to Nahant next summer; I am sure that the air and sight of that sea-beaten promontory is to you an elixir of youth.

I have little to say of our goings-on here. Lent, which has succeeded a dancing carnival, has been pretty well filled up every evening with soirees. Baron Sina, the minister of the defunct kingdom of Greece, an enormously wealthy man, has given a series of evening parties, in which there was always music by the Italian operatic artists now performing in Vienna. We had Patti last week, who sang delightfully. She has made quite a furore in this place. We have only heard her at the theater once. She is not at the Imperial Opera, where we have a box, but at a smaller one, and the price is altogether too large, as one is obliged to subscribe for the whole engagement. I hope to get a box, however, for next Saturday night, when she is to play Lucia; and this will be sufficient for us. We dined with a large party three days ago at the same Baron Sina's expressly to meet Patti. We had previously dined with her at Baron Rothschild's. She is a dear little unsophisticated thing, very good, and very pretty and innocent. She considers herself as an American, and sang “Home, Sweet Home,” after dinner the other day, because she said she was sure we should like to hear it, and she sang it most delightfully.

Last Wednesday night we gave a great squash of our own. It was our first attempt in the evening-party line, and we were a little nervous about it. You know you don't send out written invitations and receive answers. You merely send a couple of days before a verbal invitation through a servant, without any chance of a reply. At a quarter before ten there were not a dozen people in our rooms, and we began to feel a little fidgety, although we knew the regular habits of the people. But in ten minutes the house was crowded. It was considered a most successful squeeze. All the Liechtensteins, Esterhazys, Trauttmansdorffs, and the other great families of Vienna, together with nearly the whole diplomatic corps, were present, and seemed to amuse themselves as well as at other parties. Talking the same talk with the same people, drinking the same tea and lemonade, and eating the same ices as at other houses, there is no reason why they should not have amused themselves as well. The young ladies are a power in Vienna. At every “rout,” or evening reception, they always have one of the rooms to themselves, which is called the Comtessen Zimmer (no young lady in this society being supposed to be capable of a lower rank than countess), and where they chatter away with their beaus, and sometimes arrange their quadrilles and waltzes for the balls of a year ahead.

Nothing can be more charming than the manners of the Austrian aristocracy, both male and female. It is perfect nature combined with high breeding. A characteristic of it is the absence of that insolence on the one side and of snobbishness on the other which are to be found in nearly all other societies. This arises from the fact that the only passport to the upper society is pedigree, an unquestionable descent on both sides of the house from nobility of many generations. Without this passport a native might as well think of getting into the moon as getting into society. Therefore the society is very small, not more than three hundred or so, all very much intermarried and related; everybody knows everybody, so that pushing is impossible, and fending off unnecessary. The diplomatic corps move among it, of course, officially. They are civil to us, and invite us to their great parties, and come to our houses. As a spectacle of men and women, and how they play their parts, as Washington Irving used to say, I have no objection to spending my evenings thus for a small portion of the year. It does not interfere with my solid work during the daytime. English society is very interesting, because anybody who has done anything noteworthy may be seen in it. But if an Austrian should be Shakspere, Galileo, Nelson, and Raphael all in one, he couldn't be admitted into good society in Vienna unless he had the sixteen quarterings of nobility which birth alone could give him. Naturally it is not likely to excite one's vanity that one goes as a minister where as an individual he would find every door shut against him. But in the way of duty it is important to cultivate social relations where one is placed, and in these times I am desirous that the American legation should be in a line with other missions. Fortunately, evening entertainments only cost the wax candles and the lemonade.

There is not much in this letter, my dear mother, to interest you. But I thought it better to talk of things around me instead of sending my disquisitions about American affairs, in regard to which I am so unfortunate as to differ from those whom you are in the habit of talking with. Best love to my father and all at home.

Ever your most affectionate son,

J. L. M.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 322-5

Diary of Gideon Welles: Friday, February 12, 1864

Incessant employment early and late has prevented me from making entries, and there has been little of public interest to engage me. On Monday evening I attended a party at Admiral Shubrick's which could not be avoided, and was detained later than I intended, but also went at 11 P.M. to Tassara's, the Spanish Minister. Both were very dull, the latter crowded.

Committees and resolutions of inquiry from Congress have flocked in upon the Department. Many of the latter were frivolous, and most of them for mischievous purposes. How little do the outside public know of the intrigues of Congressional demagogues, who, under the guise of great public economists, are engaged in speculating schemes and fraudulent contrivances to benefit themselves, pecuniarily! John P. Hale, who is eminently conspicuous in this class of professed servants and guardians of the public treasury, has been whitewashed for his three-thousand-dollar retainer. The committee excuse him, but propose a law which shall inflict ten thousand dollars' fine and two years' imprisonment on any one who shall again commit the offense.

Little of particular interest in the Cabinet-meeting. Seward left early, and Chase soon followed. I to-day wrote the latter, expressing pretty deliberately and effectually my opinion in regard to permits for cutting ship-timber in North Carolina. It may give offense, but I could do no less than in a mild form object to the favoritism and monopoly that the system engendered.

Blair, who, with Senator Doolittle, was at my house this evening, avers I am a fortunate man above others. He says my opponents are making me great, and that I am fortunate in the attacks and abuses that are bestowed, and repeats an aphorism of Colonel Benton, that "a man is made great by his enemies, and not by his friends." There is doubtless some truth in the remark, but not, I apprehend, as regards myself.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 1: 1861 – March 30, 1864, p. 521-2

Diary of Sergeant Major Luman Harris Tenney: Wednesday January 28, 1863

Went to prayer meeting at nine. Had a nice fall at Goodrich's. Went to Minnie's and played chess. Ellie and Minnie came down. Played battledore. Good time. In the evening by invitation went to Libbie's. Small party. Had a very pleasant time. Pins and backgammon. Got home at 11, in bed by 12.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 54

Diary of Sarah Morgan: Tuesday, June 9, 1863

My dear Brother, who is always seeking to make somebody happy, arranged a dinner-party at the lake for us Saturday. There was quite a number of us, as, besides ourselves and the five children, we had Mrs. Price and her children, Mrs. Bull, and three nurses. . . . There are no Southern young men left in town, and those who remain would hardly be received with civility by Miriam and myself. Of the Yankees, Brother has so much consideration for us that he has never invited one to his house since we have been here, though he has many friends among them who visited here before our arrival. Such delicacy of feeling we fully appreciate, knowing how very few men of such a hospitable nature would be capable of such a sacrifice. Thinking we need company, Brother frequently invites what he calls “a safe old Secessionist” (an old bachelor of fifty-three who was wounded at Shiloh) to dine with us; thinking it a fair compromise between the stay-at-home youth and Yankees, neither of whom this extremely young man could be confounded with.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 389-90

Francis H. Wigfall to Louise Wigfall

Camp near Chesterfield Station.

. . . My home is in a wild pine grove and sweetest melancholy, poesy's child, keeps watch and ward over my innocent spirit. I sit on my bench and muse on the time when the Yank-Yanks shall meet me in battle array and when, “Virginia leaning on her spear,” I shall retire on my laurels with one arm and no legs to some secluded dell to sigh away my few remaining years in blissful ignorance. But a truce to such deep Philosophy. We are all jogging along as usual. All the day I long for night, and all the night I long for its continuance. In fact it is very disagreeable to get up to attend Reveillé rollcall, as I do every fourth morning, and it is vastly more pleasant to remain in my comfortable (?) bed and have no other care upon my mind than that of keeping warm with the least exertion possible. But then comes that inevitable too-diddle-tooty, too-diddle-tooty, &c, &c, &c, and up I have to jump and go out in the cold to hear that Von Spreckelson and Bullwinkle are absent and look at the exciting process of dealing out corn in a tin cup.  . . . The snowing began before daylight yesterday morning and kept it up with scarcely an interval until late last night. It fell to a depth of about nine inches. This morning, the 1st, 4th, and 5th Texas Regiments came by our camp, marching in irregular line of battle, with their colors gotten up for the occasion, and with skirmishers thrown out in advance, and passing us, attacked the camp of the 3rd Arkansas, which is immediately on our right. A fierce contest ensued, snow balls being the weapons. The Texans steadily advanced, passing up the right of the camp; the Arkansians stubbornly disputing their progress, and their shouts and cheers as they would make a charge, or as the fight would become unusually desperate, made the welkin ring. A truce was finally declared and all four regiments marched over the creek to attack Anderson's brigade. After crossing they formed in line, deployed their skirmishers, and at it they went. The Georgians got rather the best of the fight and drove them back to the creek, where they made a stand and fought for some time. They then united and started back across the Massoponax for Genl. Law's brigade. Just before arriving opposite our camp they saw another brigade coming over the top of the hill behind their camp (i. e., Anderson's) and back they went to meet them. How that fight terminated I don't know.  . . . I suppose this rain and snow will retard the movements of the enemy too much for them to attempt to cross for some time to come.  . . . Yesterday and to-day have been lovely days and I trust that the weather will clear up and continue so. I expect Burnside feels very grateful for the interposition of the elements to give him an excuse for deferring a little longer the evil day on which he is forced to attack us or be decapitated.  . . . I saw in my ride the other day a body of Yankees, apparently a Regiment, drawn up in line, firing. They were using blank cartridges I suppose. This looks as though they had some very fresh troops. If that is the case they had better keep them out of the fight, as they will do precious little good in it. . . .

Christmas eve we went to see the Hood's Minstrels perform. One of the best performances was “We are a band of brothers” sung by three make-believe darkies, dressed entirely in black, with tall black hats and crepe hatbands, looking more like a deputation from a corps of undertakers than anything else — and was intended, I suppose, as a burlesque upon Puritanism. At all events it was supremely ridiculous.  . . . I understand that several of the tailors in Charleston have committed suicide lately, driven to it by the ruinously low rates at which their wares (no pun intended) are now selling. They can only obtain two hundred and fifty dollars for a second lieutenant's uniform coat and pantaloons. Poor wretches! They should bear their burdens with more patience, however, and remember that (according to the newspaper) the hardships of this war fall on all alike and must be endured by high and low, rich and poor, equally. I saw Col. Jenifer who told me he had met Papa and Mama at a party at Col. Ives's in the city of Richmond. Isn't that dissipation for you? Do they have cake “and sich” at parties now, or is it merely “a feast of reason and a flow of soul?” And in conclusion tell me of my overcoat. Have you seen it? If not, has anybody else seen it? If not, how long will it be, in all human probability, and speaking well within the mark, before somebody else will see it?  . . . My old one has carried me through two winters and is now finishing the third in a sadly dilapidated condition. There is a sort of “golden halo, hovering round decay,” about it, which may perhaps be very poetical, but is far from being practical as regards its weather resisting qualities. . . .

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 114-7

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: April 11, 1864

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 home 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.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 302-3

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: February 9, 1864

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.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 286-7

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: February 5, 1864

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 Blucher 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, “Blucher to the rescue!”

Afterward at the Prestons', for we left the President's at an early hour. Major von Borcke 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 intricate 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.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 284-6

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: February 1, 1864

Mrs. Davis gave her “Luncheon 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, claret, 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.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 284

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: January 25, 1864

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 lace. They are borrowed for all “theatricals,” but I wear them whenever they are at home.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 283-4

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: January 21, 1864

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,¹ 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.

_______________

¹ The New York Hotel, covering a block front on Broadway at Waverley Place, was a favorite stopping place for Southerners for many years before the war and after it. In comparatively recent times it was torn down and supplanted by a business block.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 281

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: January 8, 1864

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.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 272-5

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Thursday, March 31, 1864

I went to a party this evening, given in honor of the veterans, over at Mr. Hatch's, on Yankee Street.¹ There were not many present, but all enjoyed themselves. I found a new road to travel, a mile from this place — if all goes well. Things are very quiet in this settlement, but almost every young man here is thinking of returning with us to help bring the war to a close. It does us good to see the loyal sentiment among the people at home. The general belief at home is that the war cannot last more than a year longer.

_______________

¹Yankee Street was the name given to an adjoining neighborhood. — A. G. D.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 177