This morning we had the gratification of a short visit from
General Lee. He called and breakfasted with us, while the other passengers in
the cars breakfasted at the hotel. We were very glad to see that great and good
man look so well and so cheerful. His beard is very long, and painfully gray,
which makes him appear much older than he really is. One of the ladies at
table, with whom he is closely connected, rallied him on allowing his beard to
grow, saying, “Cousin R., it makes you look too venerable for your years.” He
was amused, and pleaded as his excuse the inconvenience of shaving in camp. “Well,”
she replied, “if I were in Cousin Mary's place (Mrs. L’s) I would allow it to remain now, but I would take it
off as soon as the war is over.” He answered, while a shade passed over his
bright countenance, “When the war is over, my dear L., she may take my beard
off, and my head with it, if she chooses.” This he said as the whistle summoned
him to his seat in the cars, not meaning to depress us, or imagining for an
instant that we would think of it again; but it proved to us that he knew that
the end was not yet, and disappointed us, for after every great victory we
cannot help hoping that the Federal Government may be tired of war and
bloodshed, rapine and murder, and withdraw its myriads to more innocent
pursuits.
Yesterday evening we were agreeably surprised by a call from
W. B. C., just recovered from his dreadful wound, received at Fredericksburg
last winter. He is an infantry captain of the Stonewall Brigade, and is just
returning to his company. Alas! alas! his great Captain has passed away during
his absence, which makes his return very sad. He thinks that General Ewell is
the man of all others to put in his place, though no man can fill it. General
Ewell, he says, is one of General Jackson's most enthusiastic admirers,
believing him to have been almost an inspired man. General E. relates an
incident of him, when on their victorious march through the Valley last summer,
which is beautifully characteristic of General J. One night, when it was
evident that there must be a battle next day, he (General E.) went to General
Jackson for his plans. General J. replied that he would give them to him next
morning, as they had not yet been formed. General E. felt uneasy and restless,
and could not sleep. About midnight he arose, and, passing through the sleeping
multitudes, he reached General Jackson's tent, and was about to raise the
curtain to enter it, when his attention was arrested by the voice of prayer.
General Jackson was praying fervently for guidance through the coming day.
General E. remarked to a friend that he had never before heard a prayer so
devout and beautiful; he then, for the first time, felt the desire to be a
Christian. He retired to his tent quietly, without disturbing General J.,
feeling assured that all would be well. The next morning a fight came off,
replete with victory. General Ewell was subsequently wounded at the second
battle of Manassas, and it is said that he has since become a Christian. God
grant that it may be so!
I have been in Richmond for two days past, nursing the
wounded of our little hospital. Some of them are very severely injured, yet
they are the most cheerful invalids I ever saw. It is remarked in all the
hospitals that the cheerfulness of the wounded in proportion to their suffering
is much greater than that of the sick. Under my care, yesterday, was one poor
fellow, with a ball embedded in his neck; another with an amputated leg; one
with a hole in his breast, through which a bullet had passed; another with a
shattered arm; and others with slighter wounds; yet all showed indomitable
spirit; evinced a readiness to be amused or interested in every thing around
them; asked that the morning papers might be read to them, and gloried in their
late victory; and expressed an anxiety to get well, that they may have another
“chance at them fellows.” The Yankees are said to have
landed at West Point, and are thence sending out raiding parties over the
country. Colonel Davis, who led the party here on the third, has been severely
wounded by a scouting party, sent out by General Wise towards Tunstall's
Station. It is said he has lost his leg. So may it be!
SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern
Refugee, During the War, p. 214-6
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