I was continually at war with the Confederate Americans, galled to extreme bitterness by the right I had of compelling them to take the oath of allegiance before renewing their passports.  Amongst them was a very beautiful woman, a Virginian, and the wife of a commodore in the navy of the United States of America, then on service in the Potomac.  She refused to take the oath, and insulted me in the grossest manner and in public, as an insulter of ladies, etc., etc.  But all the influence she could bring to bear could not get her passport from the police without my visa; and at last, despairing of escape from Rome, she came to make her peace, meeting me at the bank, but unwilling to accept the degradation of coming to the consulate.  “You are not going to make me come to your dirty little consulate, are you?” she said; to which I replied, “Oh, no; my secretary shall administer the oath to you in your bedroom, if you choose;” but, in the end, she had to take the oath and sign it, as did many of her compatriots.  Amongst the Southerners who came under my administration was the wife of General Winfield Scott, commander-in-chief of our army, who actually died under my care, without a friend or relative near her.

This social warfare, the consequence of my official position, had the effect of giving me occupation and excitement, and I was sustained cordially by the loyal Americans in Rome, so that the position, though unremunerative, was rather pleasant than otherwise.  In the course of the summer after my arrival, ex-Governor Randall of Wisconsin came as minister, his appointment being intended to “keep the place warm” for General Rufus King, a personal friend of Seward, to whom the place was promised whenever he should be tired of fighting, or qualified by glory for future political contests.  Randall was a mere party hack; he knew nothing of diplomacy or good manners, or of any language but Western American.  I took for him the house on the Pincian now known as the House of the Four Winds, a magnificent situation for the summer.  He saw the sights, generally in a carriage, with a paper of fruit on the front seat and me as cicerone; was presented at the Vatican, presented me as charge d’affaires, and, having his leave of absence in his pocket, departed for a tour of Europe, bequeathing to me the honor of paying his bills, rent, etc., down to the washing bill, to be settled on his return, and never appeared again.  I was left to pay out of my empty pocket; and I never heard from him, though, a long time after, I succeeded in recovering from the Treasury the amount of those bills I had paid for Randall for which I could show vouchers; those for which I had none I had to put to account of profit and loss, which was, as long as I was in Rome, largely to the loss account, drafts on my brother making up the deficiency.  I was also, until it suspended publication, Roman correspondent of John Bright’s paper, which I think was called the “Star.”