Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Wednesday, March 8, 1865

We started at 9 a. m. and marched seventeen miles, going into camp for the night at Floral College, North Carolina. It rained all day and the roads became very muddy. The First Brigade on guard with the supply trains is in camp about six miles in the rear. We entered the state of North Carolina about 10 a. m. and received orders that there should be no burning of property; that any soldier caught in the act of starting a fire should be shot on the spot.¹

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¹ This was a proper order, for the war was about over, and the order was generally respected. — A. G. D.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 260

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: March 19, 1862

Camp Hayes, Raleigh, Virginia. — Before breakfast. A lovely day. Captain Haven returned last night after an extensive scout; burned seven empty houses — occupants gone bushwhacking. Burned none with women in them.

About noon a gentleman rode up and inquired for the colonel commanding. He turned out to be Clifton W. Tayleure, a local editor, formerly of Baltimore American, lately of Richmond Enquirer. Left Richmond a week ago to avoid the draft. All between eighteen and forty-five to be drafted to fill up the old regiments; all between sixteen and eighteen and forty-five and fifty-five to be enrolled as home guards to protect the homes and guard the slaves. He is a South Carolinian by birth; lived there until he was fifteen; came North; has been a “local” in various cities since; has a family in Baltimore; went to Richmond to look after property in August last; couldn't get away before; got off by passes procured by good luck, etc., etc.; is a Union man by preference, principle, etc., etc. This is his story. He is about thirty-three years of age, of prepossessing appearance, intelligent and agreeable. Gives us interesting accounts of things in the Capital of Secession. Says the trades-people are anxious for peace — ready for the restoration of the old Union. He seems to be truthful. I shall give him a pass to General Cox there to be dealt with as the general sees fit. — Will he visit them (Colonel Jones and General Cox) and report himself, or will he hurry by?

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 212-3

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Thursday, February 9, 1865

We remained in camp until noon, when we moved forward again about ten miles and went into bivouac on the east bank of the Edisto river. The First Division waded the river to drive the rebels back so that the engineers with our corps could lay the pontoons for the corps to cross. The Fifteenth Corps crossed the river about a mile above. A great deal of property is being destroyed by our army on this raid. The familiar clouds of smoke are becoming more numerous every day, while out on the left we can count from ten to twenty of the red clouds in the heavens every night.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 251-2

Brigadier-General James Chesnut Jr., to Mary Boykin Chesnut, February 28, 1865

Camp Near Charlotte, February 28.

I thank you a thousand, thousand times for your kind letters. They are now my only earthly comfort, except the hope that all is not yet lost. We have been driven like a wild herd from our country. And it is not from a want of spirit in the people or soldiers, nor from want of energy and competency in our commanders. The restoration of Joe Johnston, it is hoped, will redound to the advantage of our cause and the reestablishment of our fortunes! I am still in not very agreeable circumstances. For the last four days completely water-bound.

I am informed that a detachment of Yankees were sent from Liberty Hill to Camden with a view to destroying all the houses, mills, and provisions about that place. No particulars have reached me. You know I expected the worst that could be done, and am fully prepared for any report which may be made.

It would be a happiness beyond expression to see you even for an hour. I have heard nothing from my poor old father. I fear I shall never see him again. Such is the fate of war. I do not complain. I have deliberately chosen my lot, and am prepared for any fate that awaits me. My care is for you, and I trust still in the good cause of my country and the justice and mercy of God.

SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 355-6

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Tuesday, January 10, 1865

Our division moved out to the front about five miles and went into camp again. We had to move because we had burned up all the fallen timber around our camp, while at the new camp we will have plenty. It rained quite hard this afternoon and then turned colder at night. The country through which we passed is on a dead level, and the plantations lie idle. All of the buildings and fences were burned by our armies operating in this part of the state before our arrival.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 246

Diary of Sarah Morgan: August 21, 1862

Miriam and mother are going to Baton Rouge in a few hours, to see if anything can be saved from the general wreck. From the reports of the removal of the Penitentiary machinery, State Library, Washington Statue, etc., we presume that that part of the town yet standing is to be burnt like the rest. I think, though, that mother has delayed too long. However, I dreamed last night that we had saved a great deal, in trunks; and my dreams sometimes come true. Waking with that impression, I was surprised, a few hours after, to hear mother's sudden determination. But I also dreamed I was about to marry a Federal officer! That was in consequence of having answered the question, whether I would do so, with an emphatic “Yes! if I loved him,” which will probably ruin my reputation as a patriot in this parish. Bah! I am no bigot! — or fool either. . . .

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 184

Diary of Sarah Morgan: August 17, 1862

Another Sunday. Strange that the time, which should seem so endless, flies so rapidly! Miriam complains that Sunday comes every day; but though that seems a little too much, I insist that it comes twice a week. Let time fly, though; for each day brings us so much nearer our destiny, which I long to know.

Thursday, we heard from a lady just from town that our house was standing the day before, which somewhat consoled us for the loss of our silver and clothing; but yesterday came the tidings of new afflictions. I declare we have acted out the first chapter of Job, all except that verse about the death of his sons and daughters. God shield us from that! I do not mind the rest. “While he was yet speaking, another came in and said, ‘Thy brethren and kinsmen gathered together to wrest thine abode from the hand of the Philistines which pressed sore upon thee; when lo! the Philistines sallied forth with fire and sword, and laid thine habitation waste and desolate, and I only am escaped to tell thee.’” Yes! the Yankees, fearing the Confederates might slip in unseen, resolved to have full view of their movements, so put the torch to all eastward, from Colonel Matta's to the Advocate. That would lay open a fine tract of country, alone; but unfortunately, it is said that once started, it was not so easy to control the flames, which spread considerably beyond their appointed limits. Some say it went as far as Florida Street; if so, we are lost, as that is a half-square below us. For several days the fire has been burning, but very little can be learned of the particulars. I am sorry for Colonel Matta. Such a fine brown stone front, the finest in town. Poor Minna! poverty will hardly agree with her. As for our home, I hope against hope. I will not believe it is burnt, until somebody declares having been present on that occasion. Yet so many frame houses on that square must have readily caught fire from the sparks.

Wicked as it may seem, I would rather have all I own burned, than in the possession of the negroes. Fancy my magenta organdie on a dark beauty! Bah! I think the sight would enrage me! Miss Jones's trials are enough to drive her crazy. She had the pleasure of having four officers in her house, men who sported epaulets and red sashes, accompanied by a negro woman, at whose disposal all articles were placed. The worthy companion of these “gentlemen” walked around selecting things with the most natural airs and graces. “This,” she would say, “we must have. And some of these books, you know; and all the preserves, and these chairs and tables, and all the clothes, of course; and yes! the rest of these things.” So she would go on, the “gentlemen” assuring her she had only to choose what she wanted, and that they would have them removed immediately. Madame thought they really must have the wine, and those handsome cut-glass goblets. I hardly think I could have endured such a scene; to see all I owned given to negroes, without even an accusation being brought against me of disloyalty.¹ One officer departed with a fine velvet cloak on his arm; another took such a bundle of Miss Jones's clothes, that he had to have it lifted by some one else on his horse, and rode off holding it with difficulty. This I heard from herself, yesterday, as I spent the day with Lilly and mother at Mr. Elder's, where she is now staying. Can anything more disgraceful be imagined? They all console me by saying there is no one in Baton Rouge who could possibly wear my dresses without adding a considerable piece to the belt. But that is nonsense. Another pull at the corset strings would bring them easily to the size I have been reduced by nature and bones. Besides, O horror! Suppose, instead, they should let in a piece of another color? That would annihilate me! Pshaw! I do not care for the dresses, if they had only left me those little articles of father's and Harry's. But that is hard to forgive.

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¹ The Act of July 16th, 1862, authorized the confiscation of property only in the cases of rebels whose disloyalty was established. — W. D.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 176-9

Diary of Sarah Morgan: August 12, 1862

Linwood.

Another resting-place! Out of reach of shells for the first time since last April! For how long, I wonder? For wherever we go, we bring shells and Yankees. Would not be surprised at a visit from them out here, now!

Let me take up the thread of that never-ending story, and account for my present position. It all seems tame now; but it was very exciting at the time.

As soon as I threw down bonnet and gloves, I commenced writing; but before I had halfway finished, mother, who had been holding a consultation downstairs, ran up to say the overseer had advised us all to leave, as the place was not safe; and that I shall not soon forget them. Mr. Cain told mother he believed he would keep me; at all events, he would make an exchange, and give her his only son in my place. I told him I was willing, as mother thought much more of her sons than of her daughters.

I forgot to say that we met General Allen's partner a mile or two from Dr. Nolan's, who told us it was a wise move; that he had intended recommending it. All he owned had been carried off, his plantation stripped. He said he had no doubt that all the coast would be ravaged, and they had promised to burn his and many other houses; and Dr. Nolan's — though it might possibly be spared in consideration of his being a prisoner, and his daughter being unprotected — would most probably suffer with the rest, but even if spared, it was no place for women. He offered to take charge of us all, and send the furniture into the interior before the Yankees should land, which Phillie gladly accepted.

What a splendid rest I had at Mrs. Cain's! I was not conscious of being alive until I awaked abruptly in the early morning, with a confused sense of having dreamed something very pleasant.

Mr. Cain accompanied us to the ferry some miles above, riding by the buggy; and leaving us under care of Mr. Randallson, after seeing us in the large flat, took his leave. After an hour spent at the hotel after landing on this side, we procured a conveyance and came on to Mr. Elder's, where we astonished Lilly by our unexpected appearance very much. Miriam had gone over to spend the day with her, so we were all together, and talked over our adventures with the greatest glee. After dinner Miriam and I came over here to see them all, leaving the others to follow later. I was very glad to see Helen Carter once more. If I was not, I hope I may live in Yankee-land! — and I can't invoke a more dreadful punishment than that.

Well! here we are, and Heaven only knows our next move. But we must settle on some spot, which seems impossible in the present state of affairs, when no lodgings are to be found. I feel like a homeless beggar. Will Pinckney told them here that he doubted if our house were still standing, as the fight occurred just back of it, and every volley directed towards it. He says he thought of it every time the cannon was fired, knowing where the shot would go.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 170-4

Diary of Sarah Morgan: August 11, 1862

At Randallson's Landing, August 11th.

I don't mean those ladies were, but that I am at present. I’ll account for it after I have disposed of the stampede. Imagine no interruption, and continue — in the carriage urging Uncle Will to hurry on, and I had hardly time to thrust my sack under their feet before they were off. Lilly and Miss Walters were already in the buggy, leaving Ginnie and me to follow on horseback. I ran up after my riding-skirt, which I was surprised to find behind a trunk, and rolled up in it was my running-bag, with all my treasures! I was very much provoked at my carelessness; indeed, I cannot imagine how it got there, for it was the first thing I thought of. When I got back, there was no one to be seen except Ginnie and two negroes who held our horses, and who disappeared the instant we were mounted; with the exception of two women who were running to the woods, we were the only ones on the lot, until Mr. Watson galloped up to urge us on. Again I had to notice this peculiarity about women — that the married ones are invariably the first to fly, in time of danger, and always leave the young ones to take care of themselves. Here were our three matrons, prophesying that the house would be burnt, the Yankees upon us, and all murdered in ten minutes, flying down the Guerrilla Lane, and leaving us to encounter the horrors they foretold, alone.

It was a splendid gallop in the bright moonlight, over the fields, only it was made uncomfortable by the jerking of my running-bag, until I happily thought of turning it before. A hard ride of four miles in about twenty minutes brought us to the house of the man who so kindly offered his hospitality. It was a little hut, about as large as our parlor, and already crowded to overflowing, as he was entertaining three families from Baton Rouge. Can't imagine where he put them, either. But it seems to me the poorer the man, and the smaller the house, the greater the hospitality you meet with. There were so many of us that there was not room on the balcony to turn. The man wanted to prepare supper, but we declined, as Phillie had sent back for ours which we had missed. I saw another instance of the pleasure the vulgar take in the horrible. A Mr. Hill, speaking of Dr. Nolan, told Phillie “he had no doubt he had been sent to New Orleans on the Whiteman, that carried General Williams's body; and that every soul had gone down on her.” Fortunately, just then the overseer brought a letter from him saying he had gone on another boat, or the man's relish of the distressing might have been gratified.

It was so crowded there that we soon suggested going a short distance beyond, to Mr. Lobdell's, and staying there for the night, as all strenuously objected to our returning home, as there was danger from prowling Yankees. So we mounted again, and after a short ride we reached the house, where all were evidently asleep. But necessity knows no rules; and the driver soon aroused an old gentleman who came out and invited us in. A middle-aged lady met us, and made us perfectly at home by leaving us to take care of ourselves; most people would have thought it indifference; but I knew it was manque de savoir faire, merely, and preferred doing as I pleased. If she had been officious, I would have been embarrassed. So we walked in the moonlight, Ginnie and I, while the rest sat in the shade, and all discussed the fun of the evening, those who had been most alarmed laughing loudest. The old gentleman insisted that we girls had been the cause of it all; that our white bodies (I wore a Russian shirt) and black skirts could easily have caused us to be mistaken for men. That, at all events, three or four people on horseback would be a sufficient pretext for firing a shell or two. “In short, young ladies,” he said, “there is no doubt in my mind that you were mistaken for guerrillas, and that they only wanted to give you time to reach the woods where they heard they have a camp, before shooting at you. In short, take my advice and never mount a horse again when there is a Yankee in sight.” We were highly gratified at being mistaken for them, and pretended to believe it was true. I hardly think he was right, though; it is too preposterous.

Pourtant, Sunday morning the Yankees told a negro they did not mean to touch the house, but were shooting at some guerrillas at a camp just beyond. We know the last guerrilla left the parish five days ago.

Our host insisted on giving us supper, though Phillie represented that ours was on the road; and by eleven o'clock, tired alike of moonlight and fasting, we gladly accepted, and rapidly made the preserves and batter-cakes fly. Ours was a garret room, well finished, abounding in odd closets and corners, with curious dormer windows that were reached by long little corridors. I should have slept well; but I lay awake all night. Mother and I occupied a narrow single bed, with a bar of the thickest, heaviest material imaginable. Suffocation awaited me inside, gnats and mosquitoes outside. In order to be strictly impartial, I lay awake to divide my time equally between the two attractions, and think I succeeded pretty well. So I spent the night on the extreme edge of the bed, never turning over, but fanning mother constantly. I was not sorry when daybreak appeared, but dressed and ascended the observatory to get a breath of air.

Below me, I beheld four wagons loaded with the young Mrs. Lobdell's baggage. The Yankees had visited them in the evening, swept off everything they could lay their hands on, and with a sick child she was obliged to leave her house in the night and fly to her father-in-law. I wondered at their allowing her four wagons of trunks and bundles; it was very kind. If I were a Federal, I think it would kill me to hear the whisper of “Hide the silver” wherever I came. Their having frequently relieved families of such trifles, along with negroes, teams, etc., has put others on their guard now. As I sat in the parlor in the early morning, Mrs. Walters en blouse volante and all échevelée, came in to tell me of Mr. Lobdell's misfortunes. “They took his negroes [right hand up]; his teams [left hand up]; his preserves [both hands clutching her hair]; they swept off everything, except four old women who could not walk! they told him if he didn't come report himself, they'd come fetch him in three days! They beggared him!” [Both eyes rolling like a ship in a storm.] I could not help laughing. Mr. Bird sat on the gallery, and had been served in the same way, with the addition of a pair of handcuffs for a little while. It was not a laughing matter; but the old lady made it comical by her gestures.

When we suggested returning, there was another difficulty. All said it was madness; that the Yankees would sack the house and burn it over our heads; we would be insulted, etc. I said no one yet had ever said an impudent thing to me, and Yankees certainly would not attempt it; but the old gentleman told me I did not know what I was talking about; so I hushed, but determined to return. Ginnie and I sat an hour on horseback waiting for the others to settle what they would do; and after having half-roasted ourselves in the sun, they finally agreed to go, too, and we set off in a gallop which we never broke until we reached the house, which to our great delight we found standing, and not infested with Yankees.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 165-70

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Saturday, December 3, 1864

We started off on our railroad destroying this morning at 7 o'clock. Our corps destroyed about ten miles of road, from Millen down to Station No. 70, where we went into camp for the night. The Fourteenth and Twentieth Corps are off on our left, destroying the railroad from Millen toward Augusta. At Millen there was located one of those hell-holes, a rebel prison, where the rebels kept about thirteen hundred of our men as prisoners. They rushed them off on the train for Charleston, South Carolina, just before our army arrived. I never saw a feed-yard looking so filthy and forsaken as this pen.¹ We burned everything here that a match would ignite.

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¹ The treatment which our soldiers received in the Confederate prisons is the one dark, damnable stain that the South of that time will always have to carry. The North can forgive, but it cannot forget. — A. G. D.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 234

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: July 3, 1863

The scarcity of blank-books, and the very high prices, make them unattainable to me; therefore I have determined to begin another volume of my Diary on some nice wrapping-paper which I happen to have; and though not very pleasant to write on, yet it is one of the least of my privations.

We are still worried by reports that the Yankees are very near us, and we are constantly expecting them to raid upon Ashland. We have a good force at “The Junction,” and at the bridge just above us, which they may respect, as they are dreadfully afraid of our forces.

Spent yesterday in the hospital; the wounded are getting on well. The city was put into a blaze of excitement by the report that General Dix was marching on it from the White House. I dare say they think that General Lee has left it undefended, in which surmise they are vastly mistaken. Our troops seem to be walking over Pennsylvania without let or hindrance. They have taken possession of Chambersburg, Carlisle, and other smaller towns. They surrendered without firing a gun. I am glad to see that General Lee orders his soldiers to respect private property; but it will be difficult to make an incensed soldiery, whose houses have in many instances been burned, crops wantonly destroyed, horses stolen, negroes persuaded off, hogs and sheep shot down and left in the field in warm weather — it will be difficult to make such sufferers remember the Christian precept of returning good for evil. The soldiers in the hospital seem to think that many a private torch will be applied “just for revenge.” It was in vain that I quoted to them, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.” One stoutly maintained that he would like to go North “just to burn two good houses: one in return for my own house on Mississippi River; the other for that of my brother-in-law, both of which they burned just after landing from their boat, with no pretence at an excuse for it; and when I think of my wife and children homeless, I feel as if I could set all Yankeedom in a blaze.” Poor fellow! he became so excited that he arose in his bed, as if impatient to be off and at his work of vengeance. I am glad to hear that quantities of horses and fat cattle are driven into Virginia.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 225-6

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: June 7, 1863

We are living in fear of a Yankee raid. They have a large force on York River, and are continually sending parties up the Pamunky and Mattapony Rivers, to devastate the country and annoy the inhabitants. Not long ago a party rode to the house of a gentleman on Mattapony; meeting him on the lawn, the commander accosted him: “Mr. R., I understand you have the finest horses in King William County?” “Perhaps, sir, I have,” replied Mr. R. “Well, sir,” said the officer, “I want those horses immediately.” “They are not yours,” replied Mr. R, “and you can't get them.” The officer began to curse, and said he would burn every house on the place if the horses were not produced. Suiting the action to the word, he handed a box of matches to a subordinate, saying, “Burn!” In half an hour Mr. R. saw fourteen of his houses in a light blaze, including the dwelling, the kitchen, corn-houses and barn filled with grain, meat-house filled with meat, and servants' houses. Scarcely any thing was saved, not even the family clothes. But he did not get the horses, which were the objects of his peculiar wishes; the faithful servants had carried them away to a place of safety. How strange it is that we can be so calm, surrounded as we are by danger!

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 222

Diary of Sarah Morgan: July 10, 1862

A proclamation is out announcing that any one talking about the war, or present state of affairs, will be “summarily” dealt with. Now, seems to me “summarily” is not exactly the word they mean, but still it has an imposing effect. What a sad state their affairs must be in, if they can't bear comment. An officer arrived day before yesterday, bringing the surprising intelligence that McClellan had captured Richmond and fifty thousand prisoners; that is the time they talked. But when we received yesterday confirmation of his being finally defeated by our troops, and the capture of his railroad train twelve miles in length, they forbid further mention of the subject. I wonder if they expect to be obeyed? What a stretch of tyranny! O free America! You who uphold free people, free speech, free everything, what a foul blot of despotism rests on a once spotless name! A nation of brave men, who wage war on women and lock them up in prisons for using their woman weapon, the tongue; a nation of free people who advocate despotism; a nation of Brothers who bind the weaker ones hand and foot, and scourge them with military tyrants and other Free, Brotherly institutions; what a picture! Who would not be an American? One consolation is, that this proclamation, and the extraordinary care they take to suppress all news except what they themselves manufacture, proves me our cause is prospering more than they like us to know. I do believe day is about to break!

If our troops are determined to burn our houses over our heads to spite the Yankees, I wish they would hurry and have it over at once. Ten regiments of infantry are stationed at Camp Moore, and Scott's cavalry was expected at Greenwell yesterday, both preparing for an attack on Baton Rouge. If we must be beggars, let it come at once; I can't endure this suspense.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 111-3

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: March 15, 1863

Weather dark and cloudy. We had a good congregation in our little church. Mr. ––– read the service. The Bishop preached on “Repentance.” Richmond was greatly shocked on Friday, by the blowing up of the Laboratory, in which women, girls, and boys were employed making cartridges; ten women and girls were killed on the spot, and many more will probably die from their wounds. May God have mercy upon them! Our dear friend Mrs. S. has just heard of the burning of her house, at beautiful Chantilly. The Yankee officers had occupied it as head-quarters, and on leaving it, set fire to every house on the land, except the overseer's house and one of the servants' quarters. Such ruthless Vandalism do they commit wherever they go! I expressed my surprise to Mrs. S. that she was enabled to bear it so well. She calmly replied, “God has spared my sons through so many battles, that I should be ungrateful indeed to complain of any thing else.” This lovely spot has been her home from her marriage, and the native place of her many children, and when I remember it as I saw it two years ago, I feel that it is too hard for her to be thus deprived of it. An officer (Federal) quartered there last winter, describing it in a letter to the New York Herald, says the furniture had been “removed,” except a large old-fashioned sideboard; he had been indulging his curiosity by reading the many private letters which he found scattered about the house; some of which, he says, were written by General Washington, “with whom the family seems to have been connected.” In this last surmise he was right, and he must have read letters from which he derived the idea, or he may have gotten it from the servants, who are always proud of the aristocracy of their owners; but not a letter written by General Washington did he see, for Mrs. S. was always careful of them, and brought them away with her; they are now in this house. The officer took occasion to sneer at the pride and aristocracy of Virginia, and winds up by asserting that “this establishment belongs to the mother of General J. E. B. Stuart,” to whom she is not at all related.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 198-9

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Sunday Morning, June 12, 1864

A day I will never forget. I slept undisturbed during the night, but was called down stairs early this morning by the servants, who told me the throng of soldiers could not be kept out of the house. I went down and appealed to them as a lone woman who had nobody to protect her.

[M]ight as well have appealed to the bricks. I had left the smokehouse door open, to let them see that every piece of meat was taken (I had some hid under the porch, which as yet they have not found). They came into the dining-room, and began to carry away the china, when a young fellow from Philadelphia (he said) took the dishes from them, and made them come out. I told them all I was a Northern woman, but confessed that I was ashamed of my Northern lineage when I saw them come on such an errand. They demanded to be let into the cellar, and one fellow threatened me with the burning of the house if I did not give them just what they demanded. I said, “Yes, we are at your mercy — burn it down — but I won't give you the key.” They then demanded arms; we got the old shot guns and gave them; these they broke up, and left parts of them in the yard; broke into the cellar; carried off a firkin of lard hidden there; a keg of molasses, and whatever they could find; but did not get the bacon. They asked me if we had no more than this: I answered “Yes, but it is in the mountains.” Sent to Gen. Crooke for a guard. At last they pressed into the house, and two began to search my dressing room. What they took I don't know. They seized our breakfast, and even snatched the toasted bread and egg that had been begged for the sick man's breakfast. My children were crying for something to eat; I had nothing to give them but crackers. They set fire to the Institute about nine o'clock; the flames are now enveloping it; the towers have fallen; the arsenal is exploding as I write. Governor Letcher's house has been burned down, and they told me that all the V. M. I. professors' houses were to be burned, Col. Preston's among them. At last old Dr. McClung came, and Phoebe asked him to go to Averill's Head Quarters with her (Averill has his Head Quarters in Dr. White's yard); she went; did not see the General, but found a young man there (from Philadelphia!) who came back with her and ordered the men off. By and by an officer came, and asked for me; told me he had heard we were annoyed; said he was mortified, and would send a guard, though he had no authority to do so.  . . . Let me note here, and I do it with chagrin and shame, that the only really civil men have been those from Western Virginia and these two Philadelphians. Invariably those from Virginia were polite; one offered silver for some bread; I had nothing but crackers, which I gave him, remarking that he was on the wrong side for a Virginian. He looked decidedly ashamed.

It was twelve o'clock before we could get any breakfast. They carried off the coffee pot and every thing they could lay their hands on, and while the guard, a boy of 17, was walking around the house, emptied the corn-crib. I asked Dr. P. to take the library for his medical stores, which he agreed to do; he was really polite. We asked him if they were going to burn our house; he said “not if it is private property.” Gen. Hunter has ordered the burning of all the V. M. I. professors' houses. Mrs. Smith plead for hers to be spared, on account of her daughter, who lies there desperately ill; that alone saved it. Hunter has his Head Quarters in it. This has been an awful day, and it may be worse before night. One cavalryman told me that if they all talked as I did, they would fire the entire town.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 189-91

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Monday, June 7, 1864 - First Entry

This has been one of the most exciting days we have ever had here. At half past six we gave the soldiers breakfast, and filled their haversacks. But at breakfast we heard of Gen. Elzey's arrival in town, and of the burning of the woollen factory of which Mr. P. is part owner, at Port Republic. After breakfast, we all went down street, to see the passage of the troops, 1700 men; G.'s company among them. Poor fellows! It was melancholy to see them with the bouquets with which the ladies had saluted them, in their hands. Such a mockery in the fresh, brilliant-looking flowers, and their soiled, jaded appearance. I knew they were marching to meet the enemy, and must be brought into action at once, and I could not but know that many of them would soon lie down in death. A courier arrived, as they came through the place, with news of an engagement a few miles from Staunton, in which Gen. Jones was killed. He had just reached the place — had only a small portion of his command with him, but he collected parts of some scattered commands, and attempted to withstand the enemy. His own troops fought bravely, but the others ran shamefully: Jones threw himself into the thickest of the fight to rally them, and fell dead. It is a great loss; he was esteemed a fine officer; was an attached friend of Gen. Jackson.

All has been wild excitement this afternoon. Stages and wagons loaded with negroes poured in from Staunton. Everybody was in alarm. In the midst of it, after hearing that the enemy was in possession of Waynesboro and Staunton both, we went to the daily prayer meeting. There Dr. White calmed the people by a succinct statement of facts, so far as it was possible to obtain them. . . .

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 183-4

Diary of Luman Harris Tenney: April 22, 1862

General Doubleday and bodyguard and a few officers came. In the evening a man came in saying Union man was shot by jayhawkers. Thirty men of Co. "D", Major, Adjutant, Assistant Surgeon and I, with three or four others started at noon for Horse Creek, twenty miles away. Took a backwoods road. Found no enemy. Orders from the General to burn the house. Major gave the wife and two daughters at home time to take out their valuables. Wife was sick. Declared her husband's innocence. Finally concluded for the women's sake not to burn the house. The scene of the women crying and the desolation the boys were spreading about the premises was painful. Two men from Price's rebel army came up and were taken prisoners. Their horses and arms were taken and they were told to leave. When not more than three rods off, the boys, instigated by Major Purington, commenced shooting at them. They ran. Boys mounted and gave chase, shooting. Lieutenant Pike probably fired the fatal shot. One of the fellows not killed, was brought into the house. Two daughters — one married. Feared her husband was killed. At 8 P. M. we started back. Arrived in camp at 3:30 A. M. Wednesday morning.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 12

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Josephine Shaw, October 9, 1863

Fairfax, Oct. 9, 1863.

I saw that paragraph in the “Herald,” — it is not true. I had orders from Heintzelman to clear out the whole country inside of Manassas Junction more than a month ago. I began it, and the parties arrested were sent back from Washington almost as fast as I sent them there. I also had orders to burn the houses of all persons actively assisting Mosby or White. I have burnt two mills and one dwelling-house, the latter belonging to a man who can be proved to have shot a soldier in cold blood the day after the battle of Bull Run, and to have afterwards shot a negro who informed against him. This man was taken at his house at midnight in rebel uniform, with two other soldiers; he claimed to belong to a Virginia Cavalry regiment and to be at the time absent on furlough, and denied being one of Mosby's men; he had no furlough to show, however, and we knew that he had been plundering sutlers and citizens for more than a month. I therefore ordered his house to be burned; it was done in the forenoon and our men assisted in getting out his furniture. I wrote Mosby saying that it was not my intention to burn the houses of any men for simply belonging to his command ; that houses would be burnt which were used as rendezvous; that that particular house was burnt because it harboured a man who was apparently a deserter and was known to be a horse-thief and highwayman, a man obnoxious equally to both of us (officers acting under orders) and to all citizens. I shall probably have to burn other houses, but it will be done with all possible consideration. You must not feel badly, not more badly than is inevitable,  — I hope you will always write about such things: it will make me more considerate, and in such cases one cannot be too considerate.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 311-3

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Friday, July 15, 1864

There is nothing new. We have very poor food here in the hospital, but we have good water. Rome was selected for our field hospital because of the good water and because it was on high, rolling ground, thus affording drainage. There are very few citizens living in Rome, they having gone before our army took possession of the town, some going to the North, others to the South. There was no burning of property here, our officers having placed guards about town to prevent it.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 205

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Friday, June 10, 1864

Our entire army moved forward early this morning. The teams were all left in the rear. We advanced our division about ten miles and went into bivouac at a place called Big Shanty. Our front drove in the pickets and did some brisk skirmishing and cannonading. The railroad station at Big Shanty and the houses have all been burned. Our army is prepared for a big fight. There is no news from Grant's army, but at last accounts things were working fine.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 195