An account from my relatives, of the raid of the 19th of
June into the village of Tappahannock, has lately reached me. The village had
been frequently visited and pillaged before, and both sides of the beautiful
Rappahannock, above and below, had been sadly devastated; but the last visit
seems to carry with it more of the spirit of revenge than any before. My aunt
writes:
“About daybreak on that peaceful Sabbath morn six gunboats
were seen returning down the river. A rumour that Hampton was after them, had
driven them from their work of devastation in the country above us to their
boats for safety. By six o'clock six hundred negroes and four hundred cavalry
and marines were let loose upon the defenceless town. The first visit I
received was from six cavalrymen; the pantry-door was unceremoniously broken
open, and a search made for wine and plate; but all such things had been
removed to a place of safety, and when I called loudly for an officer to be
sent for, the ruffians quietly went to their horses and departed. Next came a
surgeon from Point Lookout, to search the house, and deliver the key to Dr. R's
store, which he had sent for as soon as he landed— making a great virtue of his
not breaking open the door, and of his honesty in only taking a few pills. This
dignitary walked through the rooms, talking and murdering the ‘king's English’
most ludicrously. However, he behaved quite well through the day, and was,
under Heaven, the means of protecting us from aggressions by his frequent
visits. In a short time every unoccupied house in the village was forcibly
entered, and every thing taken from them or destroyed. Dr. R's house was
completely sacked. L. had made all necessary preparations for returning home,
but all was swept by the Vandals. Dr. R's surgical instruments, books,
medicines, his own and his sister's clothes, as well as those of their dead
parents, were taken, the officers sharing the plunder with the soldiers. The
furniture, such as was not broken up, was carried off in dray-loads to the
boats, and these two young people were as destitute of domestic comforts as
though a consuming fire had passed over their pleasant residence. My lot was
filled with the creatures going in and out at pleasure, unless the cry, ‘The
Johnnies are coming,’ sent them running like scared beasts to their rendezvous,
and gave us a few moments of quiet. The poor negroes belonging to the town
seemed to lose all power over themselves, and to be bereft of reason. Some
seemed completely brutalized by the suggestions that were constantly whispered
in their ears ; others so frightened by the threats made, that reason deserted
them; others so stupefied that they lost all power to direct themselves, and
gave up to the control of others. It is impossible to describe the madness that
possessed them. For myself, I had but one care left — to keep them from polluting
my house any farther by keeping them out; and this I was enabled to do after
shutting and locking the door in the face of one of them. The most painful
event of the day was when a little coloured girl, a great pet with us, was
dragged from the house. The aunt of the child was determined to take her with
her, but she resisted all her aunt's efforts, and came to the house for
protection. An officer came for her, and after talking with her, and telling
her that he would not ‘trouble her, but she was not old enough to know what was
good for her,’ he went off. About night a white man and the most
fiendish-looking negro I ever saw came for her in the name of the aunt, and
vowed they would have her at all risks.
“The officers had all gone to the boats, and it was in vain
to resist them, and with feelings of anguish we saw the poor child dragged from
us. I cannot think of this event without pain. But night now set in, and our
apprehensions increased as the light disappeared; we knew not what was before
us, or what we should be called on to encounter during the hours of darkness.
We only knew that we were surrounded by lawless banditti, from whom we had no
reason to expect mercy, much less kindness; but above all, there was an eye
that never slumbered, and an arm mighty to defend those who trusted to it, so
we made the house as secure as we could, and kept ready a parcel of sharp
case-knives (don't laugh at our weapons) for our defence, if needed, and
went up-stairs, determined to keep close vigils all night. Our two faithful
servants, Jacob and Anthony, kept watch in the kitchen. Among the many
faithless, those two stood as examples of the comfort that good servants can
give in time of distress. About nine o'clock we heard the sound of horses’
feet, and Jacob’s voice under the window. Upon demanding to know what was the
matter, I was answered by the voice of a gun-boat captain, in broken German,
that they were going to fire over my house at the ‘Rebs’ on the hill, and that
we had better leave the house, and seek protection in the streets. I quietly
told our counsellor that I preferred remaining in my own house, and should go
to the basement, where we should be safe. So we hastily snatched up blankets
and comforts, and repaired to the basement, where pallets were spread, and G's
little baby laid down to sleep, sweetly unconscious of our fears and troubles.
We sent to apprise the Misses G. of the danger, and urge them to come to us.
They came, accompanied by an ensign, who had warded off danger from them several
times during the day. He was a grave, middle-aged man, and was very kind. At
the request of the ladies, he came into the room with us and remained until
twelve o'clock. He was then obliged to return to the gun-boat, but gave us an
efficient guard until daybreak. He pronounced Captain Schultz's communication
false, as they had no idea of firing. We knew at once that the object had been
to rob the house, as all unoccupied houses were robbed with impunity. This
gentleman's name was Nelson. I can never forget his kindness. During the night
our relative, Mrs. B–––m, came to us in great agitation; she had attempted to
stay at home, though entirely alone, to protect her property. She had been
driven from her house at midnight, and chased across several lots to the
adjoining one, where she had fallen from exhaustion. Jacob, hearing cries for
help, went to her, and brought her to us. Our party now consisted of twelve
females of all ages. As soon as the guard left us at daybreak, they came in
streams to the hen-yard, and woe to the luckless chicken who thought itself
safe from robbers! At one o'clock on Monday the fleet of now eight steamers
took its departure. Two of the steamers were filled with the deluded negroes
who were leaving their homes. We felt that the incubus which had pressed so
heavily upon us for thirty hours had been removed, and we once more breathed
freely, but the village was left desolate and destitute.”
SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern
Refugee, During the War, p. 288-91
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