When Will This Cruel War Be Over? Read online

  Tuesday, May 24, 1864

  Cousin Rachel and I talked in my room again this evening.

  Saturday, May 28, 1864

  Aunt Caroline and I spent the better part of the day preparing bandages that are to be brought to the church. Our sick and wounded soldiers are being cared for there.

  I talked to Aunt Caroline for the first time about how frightened I was this past winter while Mother was confined to bed — how diligently I prayed each night that Mother would get well and how disturbed I was that she remained pale, thin, and weak. And how I imagine her still walking about the house, seeing that everything was proceeding smoothly, just the way she always did.

  Aunt Caroline has been patient and loving and no one could ask for more. But no one can ever replace Mother. I miss her terribly. O wicked day. Sometimes I feel as if I will be overwhelmed by sadness. But this is no time for tears, as Mother said.

  Sunday, May 29, 1864

  There is talk of a terrific battle just east of here — near Spotsylvania Courthouse. Terrible casualties are feared on both sides.

  Monday, May 30, 1864

  I must write tonight. I confess that I do not feel up to the task. I wonder if every Monday will be blue, for that is the day that Mother bid us good-bye forever.

  Friday, June 3, 1864

  No one dresses prettily anymore. I thought about this because I was considering what to wear this morning and saw my white cambric dress, the one with the roses on it, the one I wore when I met Tally.

  Monday, June 6, 1864

  Reports are that there has been a ferocious battle at Cold Harbor, near Richmond. Although it is thought that the cost was great, General Lee’s army has, it is believed, emerged victorious.

  Despite the heat I have tried to tend to the garden.

  Tuesday, June 7, 1864

  Cousin Rachel has a very bad sore throat — perhaps if she talked less her throat would not be under such strain. It is no wonder she has a raging fever. Doctor Harris says there is nothing to be concerned about, but of course Doctor Harris also counseled that Mother would recover with the proper care and rest. Cousin Rachel is miserable, and Aunt Caroline is in and out of her room with tea and honey.

  I gave Baby Elizabeth her bath again this evening.

  Thursday, June 9, 1864

  Mr. and Mrs. Garlington paid a visit. He is very grave, while she says little. They talked in the parlor all morning in hushed tones. It scares me.

  Tuesday, June 14, 1864

  Cousin Rachel lectured me again today about boys. When I brought her breakfast she told me it was important not to be taken in by them, because they are fickle. Cousin Rachel seems old beyond her years, and in some ways bitter.

  All the boys are gone now

  Thursday, June 16, 1864

  A letter from Father.

  Aunt Caroline read the letter aloud in the parlor. In attendance were Mr. and Mrs. Garlington, Doctor Harris, and Mrs. Broyles, with Lily and Lucy. Cousin Rachel barely said a word to them, which made me quite unhappy. Cousin Rachel can be quite discourteous at times. They were all very eager for any news about the fighting. Mrs. Broyles is quite concerned about the condition of her sons.

  Father says he wishes he could be with us but he does not think that will happen soon. He writes about how important it is to have faith in our just cause and how important it is not to let the Abolitionists subjugate us and take away our country. He says he is on a glorious mission and he will not rest until the vandals are driven from our soil. His spirits are good, for he believes the Lord is with us.

  He said it was his painful duty to inform us of the death of Captain Rawlings. They were crossing a river and his horse threw him and, evidently, Mr. Rawlings could not swim. Before Father could offer any assistance, Captain Rawlings had drowned. They did all they could to bring him back to life but it was to no avail. He requested that Aunt Caroline break the news to Mrs. Rawlings and the children. Poor Mrs. Rawlings. I am sure she has only just recovered from the death of her baby girl. The baby was so ill following her premature arrival that Mrs. Rawlings decided not to have the dear, sweet child christened. The baby survived until the third week in February and then was laid in her tiny coffin. Mrs. Rawlings was nearly demented with grief.

  Father does not sound as hopeful as he once did, despite his brave words. It seems to me that things have changed. No longer do we turn out waving handkerchiefs and f lags, dressed in our finery to bid our brave boys good-bye. All the boys are gone now.

  Friday, June 24, 1864

  All talk is about Yankees.

  There is no more salt, and Dolphy says she hardly has enough needles for sewing. Aunt Caroline says that a barrel of flour costs $70.

  Saturday, June 25, 1864

  I slept very late this morning and had breakfast in my room. At times the sadness about Mother overwhelms me.

  The Broyles brothers continue to suffer terribly from the wounds they received in battle. Tom lost both legs, which were shattered by balls from Yankee rifles and had to be amputated immediately, without the benefit of chloroform or morphine. Robert’s wounds are less severe. Needless to say, Mrs. Broyles is quite beside herself.

  Lily and Lucy tend to their brothers as best they can.

  O what a strange war it is

  Tuesday, June 28, 1864

  I received a letter from Tally today — dear Tally. I miss him terribly.

  He complains that the war is going badly and the men are discouraged and tired of seeing things so unspeakable that he can not commit them to paper. He believes our efforts are futile and curses the politicians who got us into this war — politicians who stay home while his comrades are falling in gruesome sacrifice.

  He says it rained most of last week and they had no tents. All around them is mud, mud, mud.

  They are hungry and many of the boys are returning home to protect their families. He will continue to fight because he does not want to abandon his comrades.

  Tally told about coming upon some Yankees at a place where they were separated only by a creek. They were so close they could holler to each other, and one of the Yankees proposed that they put down their arms and meet midway. They agreed to bargain, and built a raft and met in the middle of the creek, where they traded for canteens, coffee, and tobacco. Tally misses coffee more than anything else, besides sleep.

  O what a strange war it is.

  Tally asks that we send him clothing — his are in rags. He could use new boots, a hat, some undershirts, and socks. I have not told him about Mother, so he still sends his greetings to her. He signs his letter affectionately yours. I miss him terribly.

  Saturday, July 2, 1864

  Cousin Rachel was injured yesterday riding Tempest, who, it appears, was frightened by something and threw her ten feet in the air. She fell upon her left side and was knocked insensible. Amos found her and she is now in bed, unable to move. Doctor Harris examined her and she does not have a fracture, which is a relief to us all.

  In the morning I brought Cousin Rachel buttermilk and biscuits for breakfast. She did not drink the buttermilk, but did eat one of the biscuits. For lunch I brought ham, green apples, and cheese, although I fear that is the last of the ham.

  I asked her if she would like me to stay so we could have a chat and she said she did. I continued to knit the socks and gloves I am going to send Tally.

  I am going to bring Cousin Rachel her breakfast each morning and try to cause her to be less gloomy.

  She had barely recovered from her sore throat and probably should not have been out riding. Besides, there is too much danger about.

  Those eyes haunted me

  Monday, July 4, 1864

  To celebrate — hardly the word — Aunt Caroline and I brought as much food as we could spare — some apples, nuts, grapes, a bottle of Father’s good wine — and roses from Mother’s garden to the poor Broyles boys, who have still not recovered from their grievous wounds. You could see that it lifted their hearts, although they l
ooked so wistful and forlorn. Their eyes followed us as we left their house. Those eyes haunted me later, resulting in a restless night.

  Aunt Caroline placed a small Confederate f lag on the dinner table to mark the day.

  Thursday, July 7, 1864

  I am trying to be more pleasant in my daily conversations with Cousin Rachel. She can be quite trying at times. Mother always believed it was an art I should practice — not sheer flattery. That is nonsense. But she said I must pay more attention to pleasing people, conversing about the things they wished to converse about. She told me from time to time that I was too willful and that sometimes I should not express my thoughts so freely.

  Friday, July 8, 1864

  There is talk of the Negroes leaving. Mr. Garlington said he overheard Nelson telling one of the younger ones which way to go when they ran off to join the Yankees. Nelson is surely one of the more clever Negroes we have ever had. Father believes he requires careful watching.

  We have always treated Nelson as one of our family. When he was a little boy Mother nursed him back to health when he was ill with the fever. I am surprised at his ingratitude if indeed Mr. Garlington can be believed. He thinks they have forgotten their place. It is hard for me to judge.

  Saturday, July 9, 1864

  My watch is broken.

  Monday, July 11, 1864

  Cousin Martha and Bettie visited today. They have fully recovered from the measles, which plagued the entire family for weeks. Cousin Martha says the Yankees will not rest until they have killed every one of us.

  Tuesday, July 12, 1864

  Mr. Garlington and his wife visited today. They say the Yankees are different creatures than we are, that they do not worship the same Lord. We are, Mr. Garlington says, like oil and water and will not mix. It is best, he says, we go our separate ways — that is the Lord’s will.

  Cousin Rachel appears to be recovering from her fall. She is walking about and is able to join Aunt Caroline, Baby Elizabeth, and me for breakfast. The baby is growing each day, and her various utterances are sounding more like words. Today is her first birthday. We celebrated by singing and playing the piano in the parlor.

  I pray that the Yankees will soon leave our land

  Friday, July 15, 1864

  Aunt Caroline, Cousin Rachel, and I have been working all day cutting and sewing shirts and making bandages for our valiant boys. I pray that providence will watch over them. I pray that the Yankees will soon leave our land and allow us to resume our lives.

  Wednesday, July 20, 1864

  One of the Negroes — a little girl named Cinda — has been taken violently ill with scarlet fever.

  Saturday, July 23, 1864

  Cinda died today.

  The moonlight last night reminded me of Tally, the night we met at Aunt Caroline’s.

  Sunday, July 24, 1864

  The weather is quite warm today.

  Monday, July 25, 1864

  Aunt Caroline, Mrs. Broyles, and Mr. Garlington and his wife talked in hushed tones in the parlor nearly all day. They do not want Cousin Rachel and me to hear, but we slip in unnoticed when the conversation is especially heated and silently settle upon the sofa under the window. The talk is, of course, about the war. There is disagreement about how it is going. Mr. Garlington is certain that we will emerge victorious, but the others are not so optimistic. They fear our boys are tired to the bone. The talk is all dark and dreadful.

  Tuesday, July 26, 1864

  One of the Negroes was run over by a wagon. We expect he will recover.

  Wednesday, July 27, 1864

  Aunt Caroline and I visited the Broyles boys today. Cousin Rachel declined to accompany us. They are sorely in need of food and are, I fear, doing poorly, especially Tom. It is quite distressing to see those valiant boys lying there in such discomfort.

  Tom called out in his delirium that he was going home now, and sat up and began trying to put on his shoes.

  The air is filled with restlessness

  Thursday, July 28, 1864

  Tom Broyles has died. May the Lord protect us. I try to keep my faith in Him.

  Friday, July 29, 1864

  Bless our Negroes for they are very faithful. Everyone is complaining about their Negroes, although I cannot see much change in ours. They still appear to me to be cheerful, loyal, and well behaved. Amos still takes me for rides and teaches me all the little tricks he knows. Some of the Negroes are lazy — but, then again, I think that was always the case with some. Sometimes I wonder what goes on behind their masks.

  Saturday, July 30, 1864

  Cousin Rachel and I were excused after dinner. The talk in the parlor seemed particularly heated. The air is filled with restlessness. All we can do is await our fate.

  Cousin Rachel talked again, at length, about missing school. She seems quite distressed and talks for hours at a time, and then lapses into silence for days.

  Everyone talks as if they were just tables and chairs

  Tuesday, August 2, 1864

  It is impossible for me to tell if the Negroes understand what is taking place — they come and go as usual, serving dinner while everyone talks as if they were just tables and chairs.

  I am not sure Mother would permit this if she were here. Mr. Garlington believes they are wiser than we think — “we” means Aunt Caroline, who seems in constant disagreement with him and Doctor Harris. He thinks they are simply biding their time, waiting for the Yankees to set them free.

  Wednesday, August 3, 1864

  I spend more and more time tending Mother’s garden. I picked some red roses to place on the dinner table.

  The house is so quiet. It used to be filled with visitors. The second- and third-floor guest rooms were nearly always occupied. Now the house is empty and we rattle about.

  I sat in my window, well after everyone was asleep, dreaming of days gone by and wondering if we will ever laugh again.

  Thursday, August 4, 1864

  I am reading Jane Eyre, which helps occupy my mind. I am enjoying it more than anything in recent memory. Jane Eyre certainly has a sharp eye. Her descriptions of those around her are precise and unforgiving.

  Friday, August 5, 1864

  Aunt Caroline — with her soft, sweet, soothing voice; her graceful, caring ways; and her bright blue eyes that seem to peer into your very soul — has been a constant comfort to me these past three and a half months. Like Mother she assures me that the Lord will not forsake us. I try to keep my faith.

  I have done my best to help her take Mother’s place and run the house. I owe her much, and I hope I have not disappointed her. At times I am tempted to sink into melancholy, but then I remember Mother’s last words — tears will do us all no good — and I fight back those tears and help Aunt Caroline with the tasks at hand.

  I continue to imagine Mother once again descending the stairs, greeting Iris, dispatching Denise, sitting with Dolphy, and seeing to it that all the little things are set about in an orderly fashion and making sure that everything is just so.

  Aunt Caroline and I are doing the best we can. Our servants have, I think, done their share. Especially Iris.

  Of all my students, Dinah is the most attentive. She always arrives promptly, eager to begin her lessons. At times I am able to sit with Dinah later in the week and go over her writing and spelling, which she seems most concerned about and, I must confess, I feel most comfortable teaching.

  I think a great deal of Dinah’s attitude is due to her mother’s persistent urging. I am proud of them both. I know Iris appreciates my efforts and that helps me continue.

  At times I imagine Mother’s happy face beaming down. How I long for her praise. When Mother was pleased I could feel a warm glow about me.

  The newspapers are filled with woeful reports

  Saturday, August 6, 1864

  So much of what is me comes from Mother. Just reading again reminds me of that. Everyone always knew that the best gift to give Mother was a book. One of my lasting images is o
f Mother peacefully reading her book in the parlor while Father read his papers or played dominoes with Brother Cole.

  Like Mother, I too would read during those long, serene evenings. I hope I am thought of like Mother when I have my own family.

  This morning I rose at first light, eager to continue the story of Jane Eyre. I feel so badly for her — she seems so lonely, with little to raise her spirits — yet she bears up so well. I have a growing respect for her perseverance in the face of grave adversity.

  However, I am trying not to spend too much time reading in my room, as I think it worries Aunt Caroline, who has enough to do taking care of Baby Elizabeth and keeping a watchful eye on Cousin Rachel.

  Sunday, August 7, 1864

  There are nothing but Negroes all around us. All the men, except, of course, Mr. Garlington and Doctor Harris, have gone off to war.

  Mr. Garlington thinks our Negroes are spoiled, but I think they just have good manners. Maybe it is merely an act and I am being fooled — that is what Cousin Rachel thinks — but I am afraid she always sees the worst in people.

  Spent a good portion of the day tending to the horses, who, I fear, have been neglected. Falla’s colt is growing quite steadily.

  Monday, August 8, 1864

  I spent a quiet day reading in my room. Aunt Caroline is in the parlor, and I have not seen Cousin Rachel.

  Robert Broyles has disappeared. His mother thinks he may have headed south, but no one knows.

  Tuesday, August 9, 1864

  I am not recording all the rumors that are about. The newspapers are filled with woeful reports.

  Wednesday, August 10, 1864