Our “peaceful” Sabbath here was one of fearful strife at
Williamsburg. We met and whipped the enemy Oh, that we could drive them from our
land forever! Much blood spilt on both sides; our dear W. B. N. is reported “missing”—oh,
that heart-sinking word! How short a time since that blessed glimpse of his
bright face, as he passed through town, and now he is on his weary way to some
Northern prison; at least we hope so. His poor wife and mother! Our
young friend [George Wever] was killed! How many bright hopes were crushed in
one instant by the fall of that boy! I thank God that he had no mother. General
Johnston still falls back, leaving the revered Alma Mater of our fathers to be
desecrated, perhaps burned. A party of Yankees landed on Sunday at the White
House. That Pamunky country, so fertile, now teeming with grain almost ready
for the sickle, is at their mercy; we can only hope that they have no object in
destroying it, and that they will not do it wantonly. W. and S. H. and their
dear inmates are painfully near them. Richmond, or the croakers of
Richmond, have been in a panic for two days, because of the appearance of
gun-boats on James River. I believe they will not get nearer than they are now.
I sat up last night at the hospital with [Dangerfield Lewis], who is
desperately ill — his mother in the Federal lines. My companion during the
night was Colonel [Mercer], of Maryland. While listening to the ravings of
delirium, two gentlemen came in, announcing heavy firing on the river. We had
been painfully conscious of the firing before, but remembering that Drury's
Bluff was considered impregnable, I felt much more anxious about the patient
than about the enemy. The gentlemen, however, were panic-stricken, and one of
them seemed to think that “sunrise would find gunboats at Rocketts.” Not
believing it possible, I felt no alarm, but the apprehensions of others made me
nervous and unhappy. At daybreak I saw loads of furniture passing by, showing
that people were taking off their valuables.
SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern
Refugee, During the War, p. 110-2
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