Browsing named entities in An English Combatant, Lieutenant of Artillery of the Field Staff., Battlefields of the South from Bull Run to Fredericksburgh; with sketches of Confederate commanders, and gossip of the camps.. You can also browse the collection for French or search for French in all documents.

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tatement he has made can be fully substantiated; he would esteem it unmanly, unsoldierly, and degrading, to speak untruly of these events. The real source of Northern prosperity has been misunderstood; so, in the author's opinion, has the real character of the Yankee people. The nasal-toned, tobacco-chewing, and long-limbed gentleman of the present day inhabiting the New-England States, speaks the English language, it is true, in his own peculiar way, but Indian, Canadian, Irish, Dutch, French, and other bloods, course through his veins; and from his extraordinary peculiarities of habit and character displayed in this present war, it is extremely difficult to imagine which caste or shade predominates in him. He is a volatile, imaginative, superficial, theatrically-inclined individual, possessing uncommon self-confidence, and is very self-willed, arrogant, and boastful. His self-conceit is boundless: any one who disputes his ideas is a fool. The peculiarities of Yankee charact
ing that many of the enemy were so affected by liquor as to be scarcely able to walk. I heard one of the Zouaves, sitting by the roadside, bathing his leg in a mud-puddle, swear he had shot four men that day, and would not grant quarter at all: their cry was, Orleans and Butler the beast! They gave no quarter, and expected none. One Louisianian, while drinking at a spring, was shot at; the Yankee missed fire, and then approached to surrender. I do not understand you, said the Creole, in French, and despatched the unfortunate Dutchman with the bayonet. This sort of thing occurred several times during the day; the Louisianians were so exasperated at the thought that their homes were possessed by the enemy, that they all seemed to be blind with passion and revenge. Longstreet personally presented a fine battle-flag to this battalion a few days since, in highly complimentary terms. The South-Carolinians deserve praise, remarked some one, and I am glad that Jenkins displaye
ng worth attention was carried off. Although the enemy claim to have captured thousands of arms and dozens of cannon, I need not add that this, for the most part, was all imagination. McClellan's loss has been placed at twelve thousand killed, wounded, and missing; and I think the estimate below reality. Among his killed were Generals Mansfield, Richardson, Hartsuff, and others; and among a fearful list of generals wounded were Sumner, Hooker, Meagher, Duryea, Max Weber, Dana, Sedgwick, French, Ricketts, Rodman, and others. It is almost unnecessary for me to say that McClellan claimed this battle as a great victory for the Union cause, but did not do so until fully assured of our retreat into Virginia. Why his boastful despatch to Washington was not penned before our retreat from Sharpsburgh is evidence sufficient to show that he still feared, and would not shout until he was out of the woods. In truth, the Northern press acknowledged that with an inferior force we had thras
Hill, which Cobb had so well defended from behind the stone fence. It appeared that a heavy body of the enemy had quietly ascended up the banks of the Hazel under cover of the evening, and thought to seize that position, thus getting into the rear of Marye's Hill; but they were received so coolly, and with such a destructive fire, that they retreated with the utmost expedition and in the greatest confusion. Thus the slaughter at Fredericksburgh closed. Sumner, Hooker, Wilcox, Meagher, French, and a host of other leaders, had been routed on our centre and left — Franklin, Meade, Jackson, Bayard, and Stoneman, had met with a fearful repulse on the right; for miles their dead and wounded lined the front of our works, and were scattered up and down the valley in great profusion; but even nature seemed shocked at such frightful carnage, and mercifully threw a veil of fog and darkness over the crimsoned valley. Cold and bitter as was that bleak December night-cheerless and sad to