Diary of Mary Brockenbrough Newton: June 9, 1862

Yankee wagons about all day, looking for corn and fodder. I am thankful to say that M. has none for them, the flood of last year having destroyed W's corn crop. I felt to-day our short-sightedness; what they considered a calamity when the flood came, we feel now to be a blessing, as we are not able to furnish food for our foes. God forgive me for my feelings towards them; but when I see insolent fellows riding around and around our dwellings, seeking what they may devour, every evil feeling of my heart is kindled against them and their whole nation. They, the murderers of our husbands, sons, fathers, thinking themselves at liberty to riot over our homesteads! They got their wagons filled from my brother's barn, aid in return pretended to give a bond, which they know is not worth the paper on which it is written. One had the assurance to tell C. that her husband would be paid if he took the oath of allegiance. She told him that he would not do that for all the corn in the Southern Confederacy. Within two or three days they have become very bold; they ride up and demand the key of the corn-house or meat-house, and if it is not immediately given, they break open the door and help themselves.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 141

Diary of Mary Brockenbrough Newton: June 8, 1862

The New York Herald reports a bloody fight on the 31st of May and 1st of June. They acknowledge from 3,000 to 4,000 killed and wounded — give us credit for the victory on the first day, but say that they recovered on the second day what they lost on the first. I have no doubt, from their own account, that they were badly whipped; but how long shall this bloody work continue? Thousands and thousands of our men are slain, and we seem to be no nearer the end than at first.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 140-1

Diary of Mary Brockenbrough Newton: June 7, 1862

We have been now surrounded by the enemy for two weeks, cut off from every relative except our two households. Our male relations, who are young enough, are all in the army, and we have no means of hearing one word from them. The roar of artillery we hear almost every day, but have no means of hearing the result. We see the picket-fires of the enemy every night, but have, so far, been less injured by them than we anticipated. They sometimes surround our houses, but have never yet searched them.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 140

Diary of Mary Brockenbrough Newton: June 1, 1862

We heard very heavy firing all day yesterday, and again to-day. At one time the roar was so continuous that I almost fancied I heard the shouts of the combatants; the firing became less about twelve o'clock, and now (night) it has ceased entirely. Dr. N. and Dr. T. have been accused by the Yankees of having informed our people of their meditated attack the other day. They were cross-examined on the subject, and of course denied it positively. They were threatened very harshly, the Yankees contending that there was no one else in the neighbourhood that could have done it. Poor little W. was not suspected at all — they little know what women and children can do.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 140

Diary of Mary Brockenbrough Newton: May 30, 1862

This morning two horsemen rode up, and seeing our cold looks, said, “Ladies, do you take us for Yankees?” “Of course we do—are you not Yankees?” “Oh, no; we belong to the Augusta troop, and want to hear something of the movements of the enemy.” We pointed to their pickets, and implored them to go at once. We, of course, filled their haversacks, and they were scouting about the woods for some time. Oh, how our hearts go out towards our own people!

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 139-40

Diary of Mary Brockenbrough Newton: May 28, 1862

Now our mail is broken up, and we feel that we are indeed in the hands of the enemy. Oh, how forsaken and forlorn we are! yet we do what we can to cheer each other, and get on right well.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 139

Diary of Mary Brockenbrough Newton: May 27, 1862

Last night I could not sleep, in consequence of a threat made by one of the Yankee soldiers in our kitchen. He said that 30,000 soldiers had been ordered to the Court-House to-day, to “wipe out” our people. Were our people ignorant of this, and how should we let them know of it? These were questions that haunted me all night. Before day I formed my plan, and awakened S. to consult her on the subject. It was this: To send W. S. to the Court-House, as usual, for our letters and papers. If the Yankee pickets stopped him, he could return; if he could reach our pickets, he could give the alarm. She agreed to it, and as soon as it was day we aroused the child, communicated to him our plan, (for we dared not write;) he entered into the spirit of it, and by light he was off. I got up and went down to the yard, for I could not sit still; but what was my consternation, after a short time had elapsed, to see at the gate, and all along the road, the hated red streamers of our enemy, going towards the Court House! S. and myself were miserable about W. M. and C. gave us no comfort; they thought it very rash in us to send him — he would be captured, and “Fax” (the horse) would certainly be taken. We told them that it was worth the risk to put our people on their guard; but, nevertheless, we were unhappy beyond expression. Presently a man with a wretched countenance, and, from his conversation, an abolitionist of the deepest dye, rode in to inquire if the artillery had passed along. My fears about W. induced me to assume a bland countenance and manner, and I told him of having sent a little boy for the mail, and I wanted him to see that he came home safely; he said that the boy would not be allowed to pass, and promised, gruffly, to do what he could for him; but at the same time made such remarks as made our blood boil; but, remembering W's danger, we made no reply. He said he was aid to General Warren. Before he left our gate, what was our relief to see W. ride in, escorted by fourteen lancers, he and his horse unmolested! The child had gone ahead of the Yankees, reached our picket, told his story, and a vidette had immediately been sent with the information to head-quarters. I then for the first time took my seat, with my heart full of gratitude for W's safety, and feeling greatly relieved that I had done what I could. At three o'clock the firing commenced; it was very heavy for some hours; we knew they were fighting, and knew, too, that our force at the Court-House was not large. Oh, what anxious moments we have experienced this day! The firing has now ceased, and the Yankees are constantly straggling in, claiming a great victory; but we have learned to believe nothing they say.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 138-9

Diary of Mary Brockenbrough Newton: Monday, May 26, 1862

A cry of "Yankees," this morning, sent us to the windows; there we saw a regiment of Lancers, one of regulars, one of rifles, and another of zouaves, composed of the most dreadful-looking creatures I ever beheld, with red caps and trowsers; also two guns. They were on their way to the Wyoming bridge, which they destroyed, and then made a reconnoissance of the Court House road. On their return they called here, boasting that they had killed one of our men; they advised M. to hang out a white flag to protect her house, which she, of course, declined doing.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 137-8

Diary of Mary Brockenbrough Newton: May 24, 1862

We were aroused this morning at an early hour, by the servants rushing in, exclaiming: “The house is surrounded by Yankees, and they are coming into the house.” I rushed to the window, and there they were. An officer in the front porch, and a squad of cut-throat-looking fellows on the steps; while a number, with their red streamers and lances, were dashing hither and thither; some at the stable, some at the kitchen, others around the servants' quarters and at the barn, while the lane was filled with them. Dr. Talley had spent the night with little L., who is ill with scarlet fever. I knocked at his door, and asked him to go down and see what the people wanted. We dressed as rapidly as possible. C. and M. had been up all night with L., and were soon ready to go down. They quickly returned, to say that the officer was Colonel Rush, of Philadelphia, and demanded that my little son Edward should be sent down immediately. It was in vain that they told him that Edward was a mere child — he had evidently heard that he was a young man, and demanded his presence. The child was aroused from his sleep, and hastily dressed himself, but not quickly enough for our impatient Colonel, who walked to the staircase and began to ascend, when C. called to him, “Colonel Rush, do you mean to go to a lady's chamber before she is dressed? The boy is in his mother's room.” Somewhat abashed, he stepped back. I soon descended, accompanied by Edward Newton and Willoughby Smith There on the mat before me stood a live Yankee colonel, with an aid on either side. I approached; he pointed to Willoughby Smith, saying, “Is that Edward Newton?” “No,” said I; “that is my grandson; this is Edward Newton” He said, “I want the boys to go with me.” Looking him full in the eye, I said, “Sir, will you take these children prisoners?” His eye fell, and with many grimaces he replied, “Oh, no; I only want to ask the boys a few questions.” He then took them across the lawn, I all the time watching them; asked them many questions, but finding that he could get nothing out of them, he sent them back, calling them “little rebels,” etc. The Colonel had seen defiant looks enough while in the house, and did not return. He asked M. to let him give her a remedy for scarlet fever, which Mrs. Colonel Huger had given him. “Mrs. General Huger you mean?” replied M. “Thank you, I have perfect confidence in Dr. Talley” In the meantime his commissary went to the meat-house, demanded the key, and looking in, said, “I want three hundred pounds of this bacon, and shall send for it this evening.” Another man went to the stable, took Dr. Talley’s horse, saddle, and bridle, and went off with them. The Colonel was immediately informed of it, seemed shocked, and said, “Impossible;” but on ordering it to be brought back, it was soon returned. Presently the Quartermaster rode up to the door, calling out, “Mrs. Newton, three horses were in your stable last night, and they are not there now; the Colonel wishes their absence accounted for.” “Perhaps, sir,” replied M., “they have been stolen, as the other was; but as you get your information from the servants, I refer you to them.” He rode off, and the whole party returned to their camp.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 136-7

Diary of Mary Brockenbrough Newton: May 23, 1862

The enemy's pickets gradually encroaching upon us. A squad of their cavalry has been in the Hanover Town lane all day; five or six lancers, with their red streamers, rode slowly by our gate this evening. Catherine encountered them in her walk home, and had a conversation with an officer, Major Doyle, who made many professions of friendship!

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 135-6

Diary of Mary Brockenbrough Newton: May 22, 1862

Papers from Richmond to-day. We are not yet in the enemy's lines.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 135

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: August 30, 1862

A package arrived last night from our sisters, with my sister [Mary's] diary, for my amusement. It was kept while our dear ones of [William] and S. H. were surrounded by McClellan's army. I shall use my leisure here in copying it, that our children's children may know all that our family suffered during this cruel war. During the six weeks that they were surrounded by the foe, we only heard from them through letters written to their husbands in Richmond. These letters were captured by the enemy, and published in a New York paper; and one was republished in the Richmond Enquirer, where we were most delighted to find it. In that way [William B. Newton], then incarcerated in the walls of Fort Delaware, heard from his mother, wife, and children, for the first time since he was captured, in March.

Mrs. [Newton’s] diary begins:

May 18, 1862

May 22, 1862

May 23, 1862

May 24, 1862

May 26, 1862

May 27, 1862

May 28, 1862

May 30, 1862

June 1, 1862

June 7, 1862

June 8, 1862

June 9, 1862

June 11, 1862

June 13, 1862

June 14, 1862

June 15, 1862

June 16, 1862

June 17, 1862

June 18, 1862

June 20, 1862

June 21, 1862

June 22, 1862

June 24, 1862

June 25, 1862

June 27, 1862

June 28, 1862

July 1, 1862

July 2, 1862

July 4, 1862

I quote no further from Mrs. N's diary, as the next page was devoted to the visits of those dear ones whom God had preserved amid strife and carnage. She mentions the return of our dear W. B. N. from Fort Delaware on the 5th of August, where he had been for several months. He asked but five days' furlough to be with his family, and then returned to his regiment, (Fourth Cavalry.) His reception by his company was most gratifying. As soon as he got to camp, it drew up in line, and requested him to come to the front, when the “Orderly” came up, leading a very handsome bay horse, elegantly equipped, which he presented to his “Captain,” in the name of the company.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 134-149

Diary of Mary Brockenbrough Newton: May 18, 1862

S. H., Hanover County, Va. C. M. and myself set off yesterday morning for church. At my brother's gate we met Dr. N., who told us that there were rumours of the approach of the enemy from the White House. We then determined not to go to our own church, but in another direction, to the Presbyterian church. After waiting there until the hour for service had arrived, an elder came in and announced to us that the minister thought it prudent not to come, but to have the congregation dismissed at once, as the enemy were certainly approaching. We returned home in a most perturbed state, and found that my husband had just arrived, with several of our sons and nephews, to spend a day or two with us. In a short time a servant announced that he had seen the Yankees that morning at the “Old Church.” Then there was no time to be lost; our gentlemen must go. We began our hurried preparations, and sent for the carriage and buggy. We were told that the driver had gone to the Yankees. After some discussion, one of the gentlemen determined to drive, and they were soon off. It was then eleven o'clock at night, and the blackness of darkness reigned over the earth. It was the most anxious night of my life. Surrounded by an implacable foe, our gentlemen all gone, we knew not how long we should be separated, or what might not happen before we met, and the want of confidence in our servants, which was now for the first time shaken, made us very nervous. This morning we went to W., and took leave of our sister, Mrs. C., and daughters. Her sons are in the army, and being a refugee, she says she must follow the army, and go where she can reach them if they are wounded. We found C. busily dividing her year's supply of bacon among the servants, that each may take care of his own. As the enemy never regards locks, she knows that her meat-house will be unsafe; we secreted two guns, which had been inadvertently left, and returned, feeling desolate, but thankful that our gentlemen were safely off.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 134-5