Diary of a Southern Refugee During the War by Judith White McGuire

Thursday, 24th.—An account reached us to-day of a severe fight last Monday (21st), at Leesburg—a Manassas fight in a small way. The Federals, under General Stone, came in large force to the river; they crossed in the morning 8,000 or 10,000 strong, under command of Colonel Baker, late Senator from Oregon. They came with all the pomp and circumstance of glorious war, and rushed on as if to certain victory over our small force. “But when the sun set, where were they?” They were flying back to Maryland, that her hills might hide and her rocks shelter them. They crowded into their boats, on their rafts; multitudes plunged into the water and swam over; any thing, any way, that would bear them from “old Virginia’s shore.” Our men were in hot pursuit, firing upon them incessantly, until the blue waters of the Potomac ran red with blood. It was a “famous victory,” as old Caspar would say, and I am thankful enough for it; for if they come to kill us, we must kill or drive them back. But it is dreadful to think of the dead and the dying, the widows and the orphans. Mr. William Randolph, who brought us this account, says there were between five and six hundred prisoners, a number of wounded, and 400 killed and drowned—among them Colonel Baker killed. They had no business here on such an errand ; but who, with a human heart, does not feel a pang at the thought that each one had somebody to grieve for him— somebody who will look long for the return of each one of the four hundred! The account goes on to state with exultation, that we lost but twenty-seven killed. There are but twenty-seven bereaved households in the length and breadth of this Confederacy from this one fight—a great disparity, and very few considering the violence of the fight; but it is difficult to think with composure of the lacerated hearts in those twenty-seven homes!

“The Briars,” October 2d.—We returned yesterday, everybody anxious and apprehensive. Battles seem to be imminent, both in Western Virginia and on the Potomac. Constant skirmishing reported in both places.

General Price, it is said, has taken Lexington, Missouri, with a large number of prisoners. Our army in Fairfax has fallen back from “Munson’s Hill” to the Court-House; thus leaving our dear homes more deeply buried in the shades of Yankeeism than ever. There are many refugees in this neighbourhood, like ourselves, wandering and waiting. Mrs. General Lee has been staying at Annfield, and at Media, sick, and without a home. All Virginia has open doors for the family of General Lee; but in her state of health, how dreadful it is to have no certain abiding place. She is very cheerful, and showed me the other day a picture of “Arlington,” in a number of Harpers’ Magazine, which had mistaken its way and strayed to Dixie. She thought the representation good, as it certainly is of what Arlington was; but it is said that those fine trees are living trees no more—all felled to make room for the everlasting fortifications. She clings to the hope of getting back to it; but I begin to feel that we may all hang our harps upon the willows; and though we do not sit by the waters of a strange land, but among our whole-souled friends in our own Virginia, yet our “vine and fig-tree” is wanting. Home and its surroundings must ever be our chief joy, and while shut out from it and its many objects of interest, there will be a feeling of desolation. The number of refugees increases fearfully as our army falls back; for though many persons, still surrounded by all the comforts of home, ask why they do not stay, and protect their property, my only answer is, “How can they?” In many instances defenceless women and children are left without the means of subsistence; their crops destroyed; their business suspended; their servants gone; their horses and other stock taken off; their houses liable at any hour of the day or night to be entered and desecrated by a lawless soldiery. How can they remain without even the present means of support, and nothing in prospect? The enemy will dole them out rations, it is said, if they will take the oath! But who so base as to do that? Can a Southern woman sell her birthright for a mess of pottage? Would she not be unworthy of the husband, the son, the brother who is now offering himself a willing sacrifice on the altar of his country? And our old men, the hoary headed fathers of heroic sons, can they bear the insults, the taunts of an invading army? Can they see the spot of earth which they have perhaps inherited from their fathers covered with the tents of the enemy; their houses used as head-quarters by officers, while they and their families are forced into the poorest accommodations; ancestral trees laid low, to make room for fortifications, thrown across their grounds, from which cannon will point to the very heart of their loved South? How can the venerable gentlemen of the land stay at home and bear such things? No—let them come out, and in some way help the Confederacy. Our new government will want officers, and the old men had better fill them, and leave the young ones free to swell the army. But I will no longer indulge in this strain; it makes me sad, and it is my duty to give at least the meed of cheerfulness to our kind friends; in truth, we have a right cheerful household. It would be amusing to an observer to see us on mail days. The papers are read aloud, from ” Terms” to “finis,” by N., who, being a good reader, and having the powers of endurance to a great degree, goes on untiringly, notwithstanding the running commentaries kept up throughout from many voices.

25th.—The last two days spent with pleasant friends, one day with Miss M. M., and the other with my old acquaintance, Mrs. Dr. F., of the “White Post.” These ladies, like all others, are busy for the soldiers. To-day I received a copy of ” Headley Vicars,” abridged for the camp, by my friend J. J. Mr. M. will take it to-morrow to the camp, when he goes with the wagon. To-day we have been helping the Bishop to pack a barrel of grapes, and another with tomatoes and other fresh vegetables; and yet another Mrs. M. has packed with bread, biscuit, and a variety of things for the sick.