Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: May 18, 1864

Surely we have fallen upon evil times! Last night we received intelligence of the very severe battle at or near New Market, between Breckenridge and Seigle; the latter was repulsed, and is retreating, pursued by Breckenridge. The Cadets asked to be permitted to take the front; they were allowed to do so. (Later, this is doubtful, but General B. says, “They behaved splendidly!”) Five of them were killed, and forty-five wounded, some of them very badly. For a while we did not know but that Frank or Preston Cocke or William Lewis were among the killed; but when the list came, we could not find their names! Thank God for sparing them! But they are pushing the enemy on; another battle will probably ensue, and then their turn may come. We received a Richmond paper, the first for ten days, and find that a fight has taken place near Sister's; thirty killed; and there she is, alone on her plantation; her three only sons in battle. How do we ever live through such scenes as are daily coming to our notice! The reserve is ordered out all over the State. Matters are touching the point of desperation. All seems to depend upon the final throw. We will soon have attained “the zenith point of hope,” or “the nadir of despair.”

Father and J. do not begin to conceive what we go through here. How should they? Thank God they do not!

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 180-1

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: May 11, 1864

We surely “dwell in the midst of alarms.” We were roused from our beds this morning at five o'clock by an order for the impressment of our horses to haul the Institute cannon: then came Frank, Preston Cocke, and William Lewis for a hurried breakfast, and provision for their haversacks; ordered towards Winchester, where is Seigle with a large Yankee force. They left at seven o'clock; all the Home Guard is ordered out too; so Lexington is left without men. Last night firing was heard by a great many persons, more distinctly they say than ever before. They suppose it to be at Richmond. I'm thankful my husband is away, on the errand of God's Church, and so escapes going to Winchester. He will regret it no little!

I was very much struck, a few weeks ago, in listening to my children at play. They dramatized that familiar passage in Childe Harold as closely as if it had been explained to them, —

“There was a sound of revelry by night,” &c.

Of course they had never even heard it read; but they got their “Mammy” to cut paper soldiers and ladies; then they had a “party,” and made the soldiers and ladies dance together. While they were busy dancing, came a shout from George: “The enemy — the Yankees — they are coming! Your guns! Your guns!” So the soldiers tore themselves away. “There was mounting in hot haste,” and they made them rush to battle, leaving the poor paper ladies scattered disconsolately about the floor. The thought of war is never out of our minds. If it could be, our children would bring it back by their plays! For they are almost wholly of a military character. Oh! when will the end come! No mail last night; but news by stage that Pickett has been successful above Petersburg.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 179-80