Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: Monday, May 18, 1863

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

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: August 29, 1864

I take my hospital duty in the morning. Most persons prefer afternoon, but I dislike to give up my pleasant evenings. So I get up at five o'clock and go down in my carriage all laden with provisions. Mrs. Fisher and old Mr. Bryan generally go with me. Provisions are commonly sent by people to Mrs. Fisher's. I am so glad to be a hospital nurse once more. I had excuses enough, but at heart I felt a coward and a skulker. I think I know how men feel who hire a substitute and shirk the fight. There must be no dodging of duty. It will not do now to send provisions and pay for nurses. Something inside of me kept calling out, “Go, you shabby creature; you can't bear to see what those fine fellows have to bear.”

Mrs. Izard was staying with me last night, and as I slipped away I begged Molly to keep everything dead still and not let Mrs. Izard be disturbed until I got home. About ten I drove up and there was a row to wake the dead. Molly's eldest daughter, who nurses her baby sister, let the baby fall, and, regardless of Mrs. Izard, as I was away, Molly was giving the nurse a switching in the yard, accompanied by howls and yells worthy of a Comanche! The small nurse welcomed my advent, no doubt, for in two seconds peace was restored. Mrs. Izard said she sympathized with the baby's mother; so I forgave the uproar.

I have excellent servants; no matter for their shortcomings behind my back. They gave me all thought as to household matters, and they are so kind, attentive, and quiet. They must know what is at hand if Sherman is not hindered from coming here — “Freedom! my masters!” But these sphinxes give no sign, unless it be increased diligence and absolute silence, as certain in their action and as noiseless as a law of nature, at any rate when we are in the house.

That fearful hospital haunts me all day long, and is worse at night. So much suffering, such loathsome wounds, such distortion, with stumps of limbs not half cured, exhibited to all. Then, when I was so tired yesterday, Molly was looking more like an enraged lioness than anything else, roaring that her baby's neck was broken, and howling cries of vengeance. The poor little careless nurse's dark face had an ashen tinge of gray terror. She was crouching near the ground like an animal trying to hide, and her mother striking at her as she rolled away. All this was my welcome as I entered the gate. It takes these half-Africans but a moment to go back to their naked savage animal nature. Mrs. Izard is a charming person. She tried so to make me forget it all and rest.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 324-6

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: May 16, 1863

We were aroused this morning before daylight, by reports that the Yankees were making a raid, and were very near this place. We all dressed hastily, and the gentlemen went out to devise means to stop the trains which were to pass through. Though within five miles of us, they became aware that notice had been given of their purpose, and they immediately turned their steps to some more private place, where they might rob and plunder without molestation. The miserable poltroons, when on one of their raids, will become frightened by the sudden rising of a covey of partridges, and be diverted from their course; then they will ride bravely to a house, where they know they will only find women and children; order meals to be prepared; search the house; take the valuables; feed their horses at the barns; take off the horses from the stables; shoot the pigs, sheep, and other stock, and leave them dead in the fields; rob the poultry-yards; then, after regaling themselves on the meals which have been prepared by force, with the threats of bayonets and pistols, they ride off, having pocketed the silver spoons and forks, which may have unwittingly been left in their way.

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. 213-4

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: April 18, 1863

A letter from our son J. to-day; full of pleasant feeling at finding himself again in the Army of Northern Virginia. He is just established near General Jackson's head-quarters, as Surgeon of the First Virginia Battalion; had just breakfasted with Stonewall, and is filled with enthusiastic admiration for the great Christian soldier and patriot.

The enemy seems to have left Charleston. The Northern papers, after much circumlocution, prevarication, and boasting of a successful reconnoissance, acknowledge that they were greatly injured by their last attack on it. “All quiet on the Rappahannock,” continues to be reported. God grant that it may continue so!

Yesterday spent in the hospital; some of the men are very ill. I go back to-morrow.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 208

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: August 2, 1864

Sherman again. Artillery parked and a line of battle formed before Atlanta. When we asked Brewster what Sam meant to do at Atlanta he answered, “Oh — oh, like the man who went, he says he means to stay there!” Hope he may, that's all.

Spent to-day with Mrs. McCord at her hospital. She is dedicating her grief for her son, sanctifying it, one might say, by giving up her soul and body, her days and nights, to the wounded soldiers at her hospital. Every moment of her time is surrendered to their needs.

To-day General Taliaferro dined with us. He served with Hood at the second battle of Manassas and at Fredericksburg, where Hood won his major-general's spurs. On the battle-field, Hood, he said, “has military inspiration.” We were thankful for that word. All now depends on that army at Atlanta. If that fails us, the game is up.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 317

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: April 15, 1863

Spent yesterday in the hospital. I am particularly interested in two very ill men. One is a youth of seventeen years, who has been seventeen months in service. Poor boy! he is now sinking with consumption, and has lately been brought to our hospital from another. His case elicits great sympathy and kindness. His name is Stansberry, and he is from Baltimore. We have reason to hope that he is prepared to meet his God.

Letters (underground) from the Valley to-day. Millroy is doing his worst among the dear people there. It is grievous to think how much of Virginia is down-trodden and lying in ruins. The old State has bared her breast to the destroyer, and borne the brunt of battle for the good of the Confederacy, and this too after long and vain efforts for peace. Her citizens, young and old, are doing what they can. Her sons have bled and died, and are still offering themselves willing sacrifices on the country's altar. Her daughters are striving in their vocation in this hallowed cause, all looking to God for his blessing upon our efforts.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 207

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: April 4, 1863

Spent to-day in Richmond, attending on the wounded. The mob of women came out yesterday, but in smaller numbers, and was easily put down by military authority. To-day a repetition was expected, and the cannon was in place to rake the streets, but they thought discretion the better part of valour, and staid at home. The riot, it is ascertained, was not caused by want; it was no doubt set on foot by Union influences. I saw the Rev. Mr. Peterkin, who is perhaps more thoroughly acquainted with the state of the poor than any man in the city. He says that they are admirably attended to. Large sums of money are put in the hands of the clergy for their benefit; this money is disbursed by ladies, whose duty and pleasure it is to relieve the suffering. One gentleman gave as much as $5,000 last winter. Besides this, the industrious poor are supplied with work by the Government, and regularly paid for it.

The Bishop set off this morning for his spring visitations, which are becoming, alas! very circumscribed — so much of the diocese is in the hands of the enemy.

Mr. C., of Georgetown, Captain Norton, of New Orleans, and Mr. A. S. are with us. The first of these gentlemen ran the blockade from his home some months ago, finding he was to be arrested for opinion's sake, and now holds a Confederate office in Richmond. He very rarely hears from his wife and children. Flag-of-truce letters seldom reach their destination, and when they do, letters of one page, written to be inspected by strangers, are very unsatisfactory. An occasional “underground” communication comes to him, like water in a thirsty land. I often look at his calm countenance with sympathy, knowing that there must be deep sorrow and anxiety underneath.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 203-4

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: November 12, 1862

Spent yesterday at the hospital — very few patients. Our army in the Valley falling back; and the two armies said to be very near each other, and much skirmishing. Our dear W. B. N. had his horse shot under him a few days ago. This is fearful. Our country is greatly afflicted, and our dear ones in great peril; but the Lord reigneth — He, who stilleth the raging of the seas, can surely save us from our enemies and all that hate us — to Him do we look for help.

A Baltimore paper of the 11th gives an account of McClellan having been superseded by Burnside. We are delighted at this, for we believe McC. to be the better general of the two. It is said that he was complained of by Halleck for not pushing the army on, and preventing the capture of Harper's Ferry and the 11,000. McC. knew it could not be done, for he had General Jackson to oppose him! His removal was an unexpected blow to the North, producing great excitement. Oh that the parties there would fight among themselves! The Northern papers are insisting upon another “On to Richmond,” and hint that McC. was too slow about every thing. The “Young Napoleon” has fallen from his high estate, and returns to his family at Trenton! The Yankees are surely an absurd race, to say the least of them. At one moment extolling their generals as demi-gods, the next hurling them to the dust — none so poor as to do them reverence. “General McClellan is believed to have passed through Washington last night,” is the announcement of a late Yankee paper, of the idol of last week.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 170-1

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: November 4, 1862

A letter from my dear S. at Winchester. She says she is wearing herself down in the Confederate service; but there are so many soldiers in the hospitals that she is too much interested to give up nursing them even for a day. Our army still at Bunker's Hill. We are expecting daily to hear that it is falling back. When they leave the Valley all the sick that can be moved will be brought down to the Richmond hospitals, which are now comparatively empty.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 169

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: October 19, 1862

Ashland. — We are now snugly fixed in Ashland. Our mess consists of Bishop J. and family, Major J. and wife, Lieutenant J. J. and wife (our daughter,) Mrs. S. and daughter, of Chantilly, Mr. –––, myself, and our two young daughters — a goodly number for a cottage with eight small rooms; but we are very comfortable. All from one neighbourhood, all refugees, and none able to do better, we are determined to take every thing cheerfully. Many remarks are jestingly made suggestive of unpleasant collisions among so many families in one house; but we anticipate no evils of that kind; each has her own place, and her own duties to perform; the young married ladies of the establishment are by common consent to have the housekeeping troubles; their husbands are to be masters, with the onerous duties of caterers, treasurers, etc. We old ladies have promised to give our sage advice and experience, whenever it is desired. The girls will assist their sisters, with their nimble fingers, in cases of emergency; and the clerical gentlemen are to have their own way, and to do their own work without let or hindrance. All that is required of them is, that they shall be household chaplains, and that Mr. ––– shall have service every Sunday at the neglected village church. With these discreet regulations, we confidently expect a most pleasant and harmonious establishment. Our young gentlemen are officers stationed in Richmond. Mr. and themselves go in every morning in the cars, after an early breakfast, and return to dinner at five o'clock. Julia Johns and myself have free tickets to go on the cars to attend to our hospital duties. I go in twice a week for that purpose.

A dispatch just received from General Bragg, claiming a signal victory at Perryville; but in consequence of the arrival of large reinforcements to the enemy, he had fallen back to Cumberland Gap. These victories without permanent results do us no good, and so much blood is spilled. There seems to be a revolution going on at the North. Ohio, Indiana, and Pennsylvania have given the Democrats a large majority for Congress! So may it be!

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 168-9

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: September 25, 1862

The tables were turned on Saturday, as we succeeded in driving a good many of them into the Potomac. Ten thousand Yankees crossed at Shepherdstown, but unfortunately for them, they found the glorious Stonewall there. A fight ensued at Boteler's Mill, in which General Jackson totally routed General Pleasanton and his command. The account of the Yankee slaughter is fearful. As they were re-crossing the river our cannon was suddenly turned upon them. They were fording. The river is represented as being blocked up with the dead and dying, and crimsoned with blood. Horrible to think of 1 But why will they have it so? At any time they might stop fighting, and return to their own homes. We do not want their blood, but only to be separated from them as a people, eternally and everlastingly. Mr. —, Mrs. D., and myself, went to church this evening, and after an address from Mr. K. we took a delightful ride.

A letter from B. H. M., the first she has been able to write for six months, except by “underground railroad,” with every danger of having them read, and perhaps published by the enemy. How, in the still beautiful but much injured Valley, they do rejoice in their freedom! Their captivity — for surrounded as they were by implacable enemies, it is captivity of the most trying kind — has been very oppressive to them. Their cattle, grain, and every thing else, have been taken from them. The gentlemen are actually keeping their horses in their cellars to protect them. Now they are rejoicing in having their own Southern soldiers around them; they are busily engaged nursing the wounded; hospitals are established in Winchester, Berryville, and other places.

Letters from my nephews, W. B. N. and W. N. The first describes the fights of Boonesborough, Sharpsburg, and Shepherdstown. He says the first of these was the severest hand-to-hand cavalry fight of the war. All were terrific. W. speaks of his feelings the day of the surrender of Harper's Ferry. As they were about to charge the enemy's intrenchments, he felt as if he were marching into the jaws of death, with scarcely a hope of escape. The position was very strong, and the charge would be up a tremendous hill over felled timber, which lay thickly upon it — the enemy's guns, supported by infantry in intrenchments, playing upon them all the while. What was their relief, therefore, to descry the white flag waving from the battlements! He thinks that, in the hands of resolute men, the position would have been impregnable. Thank God, the Yankees thought differently, and surrendered, thus saving many valuable lives, and giving us a grand success. May they ever be thus minded!

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 157-8