Just heard from W. and S. H. Both places in ruins, except
the dwelling-houses. Large portions of the Federal army were on them for eight
days. S. H. was used as a hospital for the wounded brought from the
battle-fields; this protected the house. At W. several generals had their
head-quarters in the grounds near the house, which, of course, protected it.
General Warren had his tent in the “shrubbery'”, for two days, General Burnside
for a day or two, and those of lesser rank were there from time to time. General
Grant was encamped at S. H. for a time. Dr. B. was at home, with several
Confederate wounded from the battle of “Haw's Shop” in the house. Being absent
a mile or two from home when they arrived, they so quickly threw out pickets,
spread their tents over the surrounding fields and hills, that he could not
return to his house, where his wife and only child were alone, until he had
obtained a pass from a Yankee officer. As he approached the house, thousands
and tens of thousands of horses and cattle were roaming over the fine wheat
fields on his and the adjoining estate, (that of his niece, Mrs. N.,) which
were now ripe for the sickle. The clover fields and fields of young corn were
sharing the same fate. He found his front porch filled with officers. They
asked him of his sentiments with regard to the war. He told them frankly that
he was an original Secessionist, and ardently hoped to see the North and South
separate and distinct nations now and forever. One of them replied that he “honoured
his candour,” and from that moment he was treated with great courtesy. After
some difficulty he was allowed to keep his wounded Confederates, and in one or
two instances the Federal surgeons assisted him in dressing their wounds. At S.
H. the parlour was used for an amputating room, and Yankee blood streamed
through that beautiful apartment and the adjoining passage. Poor M. had her
stricken heart sorely lacerated in every way, particularly when her little son
came running in and nestled up to her in alarm. A soldier had asked him, “Are
you the son of Captain Newton, who was killed in Culpeper?” “Yes,” replied the
child. “Well, I belong to the Eighth Illinois, and was one of the soldiers that
fired at him when he fell,” was the barbarous reply.
On these highly cultivated plantations not a fence is left,
except mutilated garden enclosures. The fields were as free from vegetation
after a few days as the Arabian desert; the very roots seemed eradicated from
the earth. A fortification stretched across W., in which were embedded the
fence rails of that and the adjoining farms. Ten thousand cavalry were drawn up
in line of battle for two days on the two plantations, expecting the approach
of the Confederates; bands of music were constantly playing martial airs in all
parts of the premises; and whiskey flowed freely. The poor servants could not
resist these intoxicating influences, particularly as Abolition preachers were
constantly collecting immense crowds, preaching to them the cruelty of the
servitude which had been so long imposed upon them, and that Abraham Lincoln
was the Moses sent by God to deliver them from the “land of Egypt and the house
of bondage,” and to lead them to the promised land. After the eight days were
accomplished, the army moved off, leaving not a quadruped, except two pigs,
which had ensconced themselves under the ruins of a servant's house, and
perhaps a dog to one plantation; to the other, by some miraculous oversight,
two cows and a few pigs were left. Not a wheeled vehicle of any kind was to be
found; all the grain, flour, meat, and other supplies were swept off, except
the few things hid in those wonderful places which could not be fathomed even
by the “Grand Army.” Scarcely a representative of the sons and daughters of
Africa remained in that whole section of country; they had all gone to Canaan,
by way of York River, Chesapeake Bay, and the Potomac — not dry-shod, for the
waters were not rolled back at the presence of these modern Israelites, but in
vessels crowded to suffocation in this excessively warm weather. They have gone
to homeless poverty, an unfriendly climate, and hard work; many of them to die
without sympathy, for the invalid, the decrepit, and the infant of days have
left their houses, beds, and many comforts, the homes of their birth, the
masters and mistresses who regarded them not so much as property as humble
friends and members of their families. Poor, deluded creatures! I am grieved
not so much on account of the loss of their services, though that it
excessively inconvenient and annoying, but for their grievous disappointment.
Those who have trades, or who are brought up as lady's maids or house servants,
may do well, but woe to the masses who have gone with the blissful hope of
idleness and free supplies! We have lost several who were great comforts to us,
and others who were sources of care, responsibility, and great expense. These
particulars from W. and S. H. I have from our nephew, J. P., who is now a scout
for General W. H. F. Lee. He called by to rest a few hours at his uncle's house,
and says he would scarcely have known the barren wilderness. – The Northern
officers seemed disposed to be courteous to the ladies, in the little
intercourse which they had with them. General Ferrara, who commanded the negro
troops, was humane, in having a coffin made for a young Confederate officer who
died in Dr B's house, and was kind in other respects. The surgeons, too,
assisted in attending to the Confederate wounded. An officer one morning sent
for Mrs. N. to ask her where he should place a box of French china for safety;
he said that some soldiers had discovered it buried in her garden, dug it up
and opened it, but he had come up at this crisis an l had placed a guard over
it, and desired to know where she wished it put. A place of safety of course
was not on the premises, but she had it taken to her chamber. She thanked him
for his kindness. He seemed moved, and said, “Mrs. N., I will do what I can for
you, for I cannot be too thankful that my wife is not in an invaded country.”
She then asked him how he could, with his feelings, come to the South. He
replied that he was in the regular army, and was obliged to come. Many little
acts of kindness were done at both houses, which were received in the spirit in
which they were extended. Per contra: On one occasion Miss D., a young
relative of Mrs. N's, was in one of the tents set aside for the Confederate
wounded, writing a letter from a dying soldier to his friends at home. She was
interrupted by a young Yankee surgeon, to whom she was a perfect stranger,
putting his head in and remarking pertly, “Ah, Miss Maria Dabney, are you
writing? Have you friends in Richmond! I shall be there in a few days, and will
with pleasure take your communications.” She looked up calmly into his face,
and replied, “Thank you; I have no friends in the Libby!” It was heard by his
comrades on the outside of the tent, and Shouts and peals of laughter resounded
at the expense of the discomfited surgeon. The ladies frequently afterwards heard
him bored with the question “Doctor, when do you go to the Libby?”
SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern
Refugee, During the War, p. 276-80
