Part 3

After the evacuation of Savannah we were very anxious to get to Aiken, but Pa[67] thought it best not to go until we were certain of Sherman’s movements. We heard from time to time that Charleston could not be held, and yet we heard on every side that Augusta was his destination. Several events occurred which would have prevented our going up if it had been our intention, the freshet then too Henry’s[68] illness and last of all the cutting of the railroad, which effectually cut us off.

We got newspaper accounts of Sherman’s movements on Orangeburg, and then there was a report that he was marching down the State Road to Charleston and of course we believed it. Every day report brought them nearer. Hennie had the silver packed ready for interment. On Wed’y evening the 10th of Feb’y. a note came from Aunt Ria[69] saying the Yankees were not far from Walworth, that they had burnt two houses on the river, and that all the men and boys in the upper Parish were leaving home, and going to a place of safety. This made us very uneasy on Harry’s account, for he was very weak. That night we got a note from Pa who was staying at Indianfield, asking Hennie to send for them very early the next morning, he said Uncle Rene’s[70] horses would be used for something else as there was no time to be lost, and telling her to have the silver ready, we thought the note very mysterious, but were not at all alarmed by it, for on the 16th the next day, Grand Pa[71] sent off for salt, and sent one of the servants to town for some things we needed.

After breakfast I was quietly reading “The Queens of England,” when we heard a horse racing up the avenue, Cousin Henrietta[72] had sent word to say that the Yankees were at Moorfield, and asked two of us for pity sake go and stay with her. You can never imagine our feelings when we heard it and thought of Aunt Ria by herself, my first impulse was to burn my letters and to put on a suit of good clothes in case the others should be taken. By that time the carriage came from Indianfield, and Pa came in; he was in such a hurry that he never said “Good morning,” but told us to come and help him pack. He then went in and told Harry that he must go right off; fright seemed to make us all strong, for two of us nearly ran with Harry’s trunk down one flight of stairs and up another. Pa and Harry went off in the carriage loaded with all kinds of things and Uncle Rene went on horse back. Though it was a relief to get them off it was a very sad parting, for we did not know when we would meet again, and the excitement in Harry’s weak state made him so nervous we were very uneasy about him.

Soon after they got off we remembered the wine up-stairs, and though we did not know at what moment the Yankees would be here, we made the attempt to bring it down, and then we had time to seal the bottles and have them buried in the garden. By that time a wagon came from Moorfield with some of Aunt Ria’s things; we were very much relieved to hear that the enemy was not at Moorfield, but near Walworth. A carriage then came from Indianfield, and you would have been amused to see the number of people in it, four nurses and eight children. The house was in confusion all day. Belle and Aunt Ria both moving over, and Grand Pa moving provisions into the house, we all worked so hard that we were completely worn out by night. Aunt Ria came that evening and told us how the mistake had been made, she had written to Sarrazins exactly what she wrote us the evening before; the family there sent word to the driver at Brunswick that the Yankees were near Moorfield, and he must give out the corn to the negroes; the driver sent word to Northampton that they were at Moorfield. As everything was so quiet Emily[73] and I went to spend the night with Cousin Henrietta we had not been frightened enough for one day, for after supper, Mr. Jervey’s[74] entire family came down. They had heard that the raiders had burnt Mr. Parker’s house near them; they had intended coming down the next day, but this news brought them at once. Emily had gone to bed with a headache, and wanted to get up and come home, but I persuaded her they could not get there before the next day, though I was so frightened I could scarcely stand. So much for one day of Yankee fright!

Febr’y. 17. We were quite relieved to hear that the enemy had taken the State Road, and gone down to Summerville. They had visited several places and taken what they pleased. On our way home we met Belle[75] and Sister[76] who told us of a report that the Yankees were at The Rocks Church and the plantation on their way to Belle Isle. I did not believe it, but thought it better to be prepared, so buried a few things. Aunt Ria received a note from Cousin Edward[77] saying there was no truth in the reports we had heard, that there was not a Yankee this side of Orangeburg. We were not left quiet for long, for that evening Capt. Guerard, from Savannah, rode up to say that he had come to notify the planters that all of their corn was to be impressed by our government to feed the army on its retreat from Charleston, and that planters would be obliged to remove their property beyond the lines. This was the first intimation we had that the evacuation had commenced. We then held a council of war, and decided that we must send and let the gentlemen know what we had heard; fortunately we had found out that they were at the Eady’s. We all felt very blue for we heard that our army was crossing as fast as possible at St. Stephens, and then the bridge was to be burned.

Febr’y. 18th. By breakfast time, the hiding party arrived. At first Pa said it was impossible to stay here; that we must leave, if we had to walk, but upon deliberation he concluded we could not go, for the railroad being cut, our only way was by Orangeburg, which we knew had been in the hands of the enemy, and besides, we did not know if we had a house to go to, for we had heard nothing definite from Aiken. We had three of our soldiers to spend the night, and they cheered us up a great deal, and said it was best to stay at home.

Feb’y. 19th. I have never spent such a Sunday, and hope I never will spend such another; we were in confusion from the time we got up until we went to bed. Aunt Bet[78] moved over, and Mr. Gignilliat came with her to spend a few hours.

I had just been hoping that some of the soldiers we knew would stop here. That night after we had all retired, Tom Heyward came up, his feet all blistered from marching. On the 20th. Tom Heyward, Tom Porcher Ravenel, and Samuel Ravenel all left to join their respective commands, Tom Porcher having joined Mr. Gignilliat’s battery. We were very anxious that Harry should go along with them, but he was by no means strong enough.

Nothing occurred of any consequence except our soldiers coming in continually, until the 24th, when we heard that there was fighting down at Biggin Church. Uncle Thomas,[79] who was at home, hurried off, and Belle[80] moved her family to Pineville to secure a summer home. About dinner time a party of horsemen rode up; for a time we thought them Yankees, but soon found out they were a squad under Lieut. Miller from Colcock’s cavalry. On the 25th just at dinner time, Dr. Waring[81] drove up to say that Uncle Thomas would pass through in a few moments on his way to St. Stephens and that our pickets were retreating before the enemy. In a very short time a number of our men passed through the yard. We felt as if our last friends had left us, and that we would never see a Confederate soldier again, and to add to our discomfort Dr. Waring told us that the Yankees had visited Gippy, taken all they wished, and then given out everything else to the negroes. Cousin Catherine’s[82] clothes were thrown out, her bed clothes, towels, &c., burnt; her person was guarded; that was all. Of course this put us in a state of mind. That night Pennie[83] and myself sat up until 2:00 o’clock putting away things in a mattress. We opened the cotton and put the things between. Though the next day was Sunday we found a hiding place in our room and put away a great many things. That evening we heard that Mr. Harvey[84] had been visited, but not very badly treated. Just as we had gone up stairs a servant of Uncle Rene’s came in to say that the Yankees were all along the road from Fairspring to Wantoot. We all slept in our clothes that night for we were certain they would be here before morning. On the 27th about midday the alarm was given that “the Yankees were coming” but we had our fright for nothing, for they turned out to be some of our scouts under Lieut. Bright. They had four prisoners taken near Mr. Westcoat’s place with a cart full of things. Two of our men said they wanted to kill the prisoners but the others would not let them. They stayed that night, and the next at Harbin, or a part of the next, for a servant betrayed and they were taken so much by surprise that two of these men were killed, two wounded and Bright and two of his men taken prisoners. The Yankees fired several times into the house thinking men were there. They then gave out everything to the negroes, which they all brought back to Cousin Jane.[85]

The 1st of March is a day which we will never forget; everything went on as usual until nine o’clock at night when we heard several pistol shots in the negro yard. I ran up stairs to tell Pennie who had gone to bed and by the time I got back we heard a noise at the back door; our hearts sank when we heard them talking, for they were negroes without an officer, what we had always dreaded. They asked for the master of the house, and when Grand Pa went out, they asked in the most insolent manner for his horses, wagons, meat and poultry. They then asked if there were any fire arms in the house, and told there was none but a plantation gun. They said they would not believe that such a house could be without a gun and that they would have it or shed blood. They then went off into the yard to get the things. They emptied the smokehouse; took what poultry they wanted, and then went to the store room under the house, took a few things from there and told the negroes to go in and take the rest;--which they did, cleaning out the store room and meat room. There were a great many things there for Aunt Bet had moved over her provisions. The plantation negroes took about twenty bushels of salt; twenty of rice; fifteen of grist, besides several jars of lard, molasses; all of Hennie’s soap, a box of Pineland crockery and a good many other things. They left us with one quart of salt in the house and would not bring any of it back, until Pa stated the case to a _white Yankee_, the next day and he went around and made them bring some of it back. When the negro soldiers first went to the store room they sent for Grand Pa. It made our blood curdle to hear our aged relative spoken to in the manner they did. We were all in the hall and could hear everything that went on below. After some very impudent language we heard a gun click. I will never forget that moment as long as I live. The wretch had his gun pointed at Grand Pa, and though we found out afterwards that they did not dare to take life, we did not know it at the time. After this they called up the negroes and told them they were free, and if they worked for Grand Pa again they would shoot them. They then went off with three horses, a wagon and a buggy. They told the negroes that the army would be through the next day to take our clothes and other things. Three of us sat up in the hall for the rest of the night, and though the others retired to their rooms there was rest for no one. It must have been too mortifying to poor Grand Pa for his negroes to behave as they did, taking the bread out of our mouths. I thought better of them than that. I have attempted to describe that dreadful night, but nothing can come up to the reality. The next morning everything looked so desolate that it made us feel sad, most of the house servants came in crying, and said they were willing to do for us, but were afraid. Of course we would not put them in any danger, so sent them all off. We sat down to breakfast to a plate of hominy and cold corn bread that had been cooked the day before for one of our soldiers. The very night before we had sat down to an elaborate supper;--such are the fortunes of war! We cleaned up the house and cooked dinner, looking all the time for our _friends_ for such we considered the officers. Just as our dinner was put on the table a party rode up; we were so glad to see them that we all went in the piazza. The officer came forward and bowed very politely. Pa then told him how we had been treated the night before and asked what guarantee we would have against such treatment in the future.

Capt. Hurlbut who was in command of the party said that the black soldiers had no authority to come without an officer and if found, they would be punished. He said that Gen’l. Potter would be along soon and we might get a protection from him, but afterwards he said that he would write a paper which might do us good, and certainly would do no harm. I do not remember the words; but, the sense of it was, that we had very wisely remained at home, while many had flocked to other parts of the Confederacy. He said that everything had already been taken from us, and he would advise that we would not be further molested. He then spoke to the negroes, told them they were free and could either go away or stay at home, but if they remained on the place, they must work, for no one could live without working. He told them they would be better off if they stayed at home.

Soon after Col. Hartwell and staff arrived. They all agreed in saying that the marauders would be punished and the Colonel signed the paper. One of his staff got quite familiar; played with Aunt Ria’s baby, little Maria, and ended by kissing her. We laugh and tell the baby she has caught a Yankee beau, and she always laughs and seems to enjoy the joke. In a very short time Gen’l Potter and his staff came up in the piazza. Then the army commenced passing through the yard, about three regiments of infantry, one white and two colored passed through, besides artillery and cavalry. Each one stopped (_sic_) and the men ran in every direction after poultry. They marched the colored regiments right by the piazza; I suppose as an insult to us. The negroes were collected in the yard and cheered them on, Hennie[86] and Sister[87] asked the General if he could not leave us a guard that night, but, he said there was no use; his army did not straggle, and that he could not leave a guard at every place he passed. The General did not make a favorable impression on us;[88] he was very short in his manner, but his staff were very polite. One of them told us to try the General again.

You must not be too surprised at our staying out in the piazza with so many men, for there were a great many of us to keep company, and then we had never seen such a sight in our lives before. The last of the army had not left the yard before we saw the General returning; he said he had determined to take up his headquarters here that night. We were all of course, delighted for we could not have been better guarded. They had the parlor for their sitting room, and one chamber for the General. The wagon train camped just in front of the house, and two regiments in the field in front. There was a sentinel at the front and one at the back door all night. The camp fires looked very pretty at night. Did we ever imagine that Pooshee would be headquarters for a Yankee army? About two hundred head of poultry and a great many sheep were killed; the negroes’ own did not escape! We recognized one of the prisoners (that our scouts had here the first of the week) driving a cart, and Lieut. Bright and his men were prisoners that night in the wash room, one of them asked to be allowed to speak to some of the girls who were at the back door; he seemed to be a gentleman.

During the course of the next day soldiers were continually passing through. Our protection paper was of great use, for we were not molested again and from that day to this 9th of March we have been in comparative quiet.

Wantoot[89] house has been burned, also seven unoccupied houses in Pineville. Some of the residents there were shamefully treated, even their clothes taken from them. Uncle Rene was among the fortunate ones; he only had a ham stolen from his house but all of his poultry. They went into the house at Woodboo, though a Mrs. Williams was living there to protect it, opened every drawer and box in the house; dressed themselves in Uncle Thomas’s and the boys’ new clothes, leaving their old ones behind.

At Northampton they were told by the negroes that a good many things were hid in the house, so made a thorough search. They actually threatened to hang Mr. Jervey, and had the rope brought. For some time they had been told (that treasure?) had been buried. The people about here would not have suffered near as much if it had not been for these negroes; in every case they have told where things have been hidden and they did most of the stealing. The negroes here have behaved worse than any I have heard of yet.

Daddy Sandy is as faithful as ever. He is sorry that the Yankees have been here. George still comes about the house, but does not do much. Daddy Billy, who we all thought so much of, has not come in since they were made free. He pretends to be hurt because Hennie told him he could go if he wanted to. Hennie’s maid Annette has taken herself off. Kate comes in regularly to attend in the bed rooms night and morning.

We have to do our own cooking now, and you don’t know how nicely we do it. * * * * * We take it by turns to cook dinner in the pantry, two going together every day. * * * I have not touched my needle for a week; would you believe that? The field negroes are in a dreadful state; they will not work, but either roam the country, or sit in their houses. At first they all said they were going, but have changed their minds now. Pa has a plan to propose to them by which they are to pay Grand Pa so much for the hire of the land and houses; but they will not come up to hear it. I do not see how we are to live in this country without any rule or regulation. We are afraid now to walk outside of the gate. * * * * *

We have just heard a report that Charlie Porcher has been taken prisoner in a fight near Aiken, and fear it is true. Do let me tell you a smart trick of Cephas, Grand Pa’s carpenter! It is worthy of the Yankees. Before (the minds of the) Moorfield negroes had been poisoned, he went there and told the servant Robert that Aunt Ria had sent him for a cart, five turkeys and a sheep. He then came here at night, took up his wife Adela and traveled off to Charleston. One of Aunt Ria’s negroes who had always been sick got one mule from Moorfield, another mule and carriage from some other place, went to Pinopolis and took all of Mr. Stevens’s[90] books. The next day he went for the piano. He told some of the negroes that he had been playing on it already. The negroes are in the most lawless and demoralized state imaginable. If this is what the Yankees intended they have made their work complete. We have to keep everything under lock and key, and can call nothing our own now.

Grand Pa seems completely broken down, tho’ he tries to keep up. It must be too hard for one of his age to have everything so changed from what he has been accustomed to all of his life.

The day that the Yankees left here, George brought in an envelope which he found in the prison (the wash-house). It was directed to “Miss Carrie Cribbs,” Tuscaloosa, Ala. On the back was a Confederate stamp, and inside a blank sheet of paper folded. At first we did not think anything of it; but the idea soon struck Aunt Bet that it was left here with an object, which was that we should write and let the young lady know what had become of him. We heard afterward that one of the prisoners’ name was “Cribbs,” so that settled all doubts we had on the subject. We will send the letter off the first opportunity we hear of, tho’ I can’t say when that will be, for we are entirely cut off from the world and almost entirely from neighborhood news.

March 10. We received notes from White Hall and Sarrazins and also a letter from Alice Palmer, quite a _treat_. The White Hall negroes behaved shamefully; they rushed into the house; tore down the curtains, carried off bedding, blankets and trunks, and are grumbling now that they have not enough. We hear that one man asked Cousin Marianne[91] to step out and take a dance, that they were on equality now.

March 11. Uncle Rene dined here to-day. It was really refreshing to see some one out of the house. He says there is a report that Sherman has been defeated with heavy loss, and is going down to Georgetown. I fear it is too good to be true. Uncle Rene also brought the news that fighting was going on at Blue Hole, Uncle Charles Snowden’s place. I suppose it can only be a skirmish. How composedly we can be talking of fighting in our very midst!

One item of news, which I must not forget to tell you, is that Newport has taken the cooking, and we are all ladies again.

March 13th. Dr Waring[92] came in to-day and told us the particulars of the affair at Blue Hole. On Thursday four Yankee negroes, with a good many plantation negroes, armed, went to Moorfield. There they found a quantity of wine. A good many men joined them from there and Cedar Grove, mounted on anything they could find, and in a drunken state they all rode up the Parish. When they reached Blue Hole, Charlie Snowden, who was there on a visit, went off and informed our scouts. They killed two or three of the negroes, and took several prisoners, which I do not think they kept long. After they left, the negro soldiers made the negroes move everything out of the house, and the family had to go into the kitchen. The next day our scouts came up again to assist Aunt Harrie[93] in recovering her things; but, she begged them to go away; that they had been the cause of her trouble, so they left in not at all a good humor, and we have heard nothing more. I hope young Charlie Snowden has succeeded in getting out of the way. Several of the people about here have put up the white flag, because the Yankees told them it would be a sign that they had already been visited. Our scouts did not like it; they said it looked as if the country had submitted, so they have all been taken down. I am so glad we never had one up.

March 14th. We all went to Northampton this morning to pay a visit; quite an era in our own monotonous lives. Pa rode on horse-back and we closed up the ranks on foot.

March 15th. Aunt Ria left us this morning to stay a while at Woodlawn. She went in the buggy with the baby and Maum Mary; the two boys followed in the cart.

March 16th. Dr. White[94] dined here to-day; he had just crossed the river. He had not seen a paper for some time, so, of course, could not tell us much news. Sherman had not been defeated and was avoiding a battle.

March 17th. Drs. White and Waring paid visits here to-day. We are not as much cut off as we expected at first. Dr. Waring told us he heard that the oath of allegiance was to be offered to every man in the country. This is the worst news we have heard of for some time. Pa and Harry will try and get out of the way, but Grand Pa will be compelled to take it.

March 18th. Mr. Cain and Anna Maria were here to-day; the old gentleman seems to feel his loss very much.