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 the fighting capacity of the Northern soldier. Our detractors in Europe, who had always predicted that the Northerner would, after having played the braggart, turn out to be a coward in actual conflict, shouted at the top of their voices: “There, now, do you see?” And not a few of our well-wishers anxiously asked themselves: “Can it be that what has been said of the Yankees is, after all, true?” Some of the Spanish newspapers, which had so far treated us with decent respect, began to crack jokes about us. One of the quips current in the cafés was that the battle should be called the battle of “Patassas” (of the feet), instead of battle of Manassas (of the hands). The Spanish army, officers and soldiers, seemed to be especially amused by the speed of the Yankees in running. We were in evident danger of being ridiculous. I could not see a Spaniard smile without suspecting that he was laughing at our Bull Run rout. I noticed that my colleagues of the diplomatic corps, who would have talked with me more or less freely, and perhaps even sympathetically, about an ordinary national misfortune, refrained from mentioning the battle of Bull Run in my presence, as people refrain from mentioning a family disgrace in the presence of the husband or father concerned. The only one who visited me and made inquiries about the event in a tone of a frank and sympathetic friend, was the Prussian Minister, Count Galen. I could not tell him more than he already knew from the public prints, except that I was confident the American Government and people would rise with undaunted determination to the duty of the hour, and thus repair the disaster.

The distress of mind I suffered in those days I cannot describe. Not knowing at that time that, after the battle, the Southern army, too, had been in a state of confusion, rendering a vigorous pursuit impossible, I tormented myself by