Part 4
March 20th. * * * * This morning Pa went to Woodlawn to try and make arrangements for carrying us all to Aiken. He has succeeded in hiring three mules, and the present plan is that we are to start on Wednesday in a wagon,--Rather a novel style of making the trip! We are all anxious now to go, but hate so much leaving Grand Pa, and the rest of the family, particularly in Grand Pa’s state of health.
March 21st. We heard rumors to-day of the enemy landing on the banks of the Santee, and coming this way in great force which made Pa decide not to go on Wednesday. * * * * *
March 22nd. We heard to-day from Nina[95] and Cousin James Wilson. * * * Nina writes on the 16th of March from Winnsboro. She had met the enemy there and had not lost much. * * * a good many houses were burned in Winnsboro, also the Episcopal Church, and they were kept in constant fear. Cousin James and family lost everything by fire in Columbia--They had to spend one night in the woods with Nana’s[96] baby only ten days old. How much some people have suffered. We have every cause to be thankful, for we have suffered very little in comparison to others.
We also heard to-day of several battles in which we had been victorious; that France had recognized the Confederacy and the United States had declared war against Mexico,--if it could only be true! We cannot help feeling hopeful anyhow.
Dr. Waring mentioned that a few Yankees had landed, but had gone back to their gun boats, so the Aiken cavalcade is to go off in the morning.
March 23rd. The Club House[97] came down with a crash this evening, or rather the frame, for the Yankees had nearly stripped it of boards and the negroes finished it.
March 24th. The caravan started for Aiken to-day. The negroes are behaving a great deal better now on most of the plantations; they have commenced working again, and most of them that went to town have come back, which I think will have a very good effect on the others. Our scouts have done a great deal of good in making the negroes afraid to go out.
March 25th. Harbin house was burned yesterday about 2:00 o’clock by accident we hear. We have heard no particulars, or what has become of the family. Mr. Myers (the overseer) returned home to-day to join the scouts. He reports that Sherman has been defeated in N. C. and four thousand prisoners taken. He was perfectly surprised to see the state of things here, so different from what they are on the river. We feel very anxious about Henry,[98] for Mr. Myers left him a week ago in Chester quite sick. He was in a cotton house as he could not get private lodgings. We saw a Charleston Courier of 21st of March. The Yankees claim the victories of all the battles that have been fought lately, and say the Rebels are nearly done up! That remains to be proved.
March 26th. This day will long be remembered by the people of Pineville. The Regulators[99] had just returned from Mt. Pleasant with a supply of arms and ammunition--Last night they sent to several of the gentlemen and told them they would hang them the next day, but our scouts surprised them this morning and 27 were killed, eleven right off, and the others in the course of the day. One man was taken who told where their ammunition was hidden, and then he was dispatched. Several made their escape in the woods but the ring-leaders were killed;--15 were killed from Capt. Gourdin’s place. Our force was 56 men; that of the negroes was not known, though supposed to be less. We hear that Col. Ferguson[100] is on his way with 1,500 men, and Major Jenkins with six companies. They will soon put things straight again.
March 30th. * * * Mr. Stevens arrived to-day. He does not appear to think anything of the behavior of his flock; but I know he must feel mortified and disappointed. He will remain and preach for us as long as it is safe for him to do so. To-day has been a regular mail day. Mr. Stevens brought letters from Nina, Mrs. Sams and Auntie,[101] * * * one from Uncle Charlie Snowden saying he had taken possession of our farm, and also mentioning that some of Wheeler’s men had broken into the house, taken all of the carpets, blankets and provisions. * * * This evening Hennie received a long note from Cousin Marianne Porcher; she mentioned that Hardee had been repulsed, but that after that Johnston had defeated Sherman taking 4,000 prisoners.
Press Smith was wounded in both legs, and his brother Porcher in the head; both were doing well; Ravenel Macbeth was wounded and a prisoner. We have heard nothing of our other friends. Cousin Marianne says she heard from negroes that the entire Barker family had taken the oath of allegiance and were preparing to go to the city. We cannot blame them for we do not know how they were situated. Dr. Motte had refused the oath up here, but was carried to Charleston, and there he was made to take it. Mr. Holmes refused to take it and is now a prisoner. I do not know how true all this is, but we must take it for what it is worth. I am very thankful that Pa has gotten away and that we do not live on Cooper river. * * *
March 31st. The Northampton people paid a visit here to-day. Willie Jervey is at home for a short time. We heard a report to-day that Charleston was blockaded by fifty French vessels and that the Yankees were preparing to evacuate the place. It came from a man about here who had gone down to the Gunboat to take the oath of allegiance.
April 1st. The negroes’ freedom was brought to a close to-day. During the morning a party of our scouts rode up and asked if Grand Pa wished them to do anything for him. Grand Pa told them that one of his negroes had been seen with a gun but had said that it belonged to one of Uncle Rene’s men who had gone to town, so the scouts went off. We were very uneasy when we saw them coming, fearing that they might be Yankees. About dinner time another party came up, Edward Dennis, Mr. McTureous and several others. They requested the negroes be called up, and told them they were not free, but slaves, and would be until they died; that the Yankees had no right to free them, and that they were to go to work as they had always done with a driver;[102] that they would be here every two or three days to see that they worked, and the first one caught out without a ticket would be killed. Then they demanded guns from two of them and said they were to be forthcoming. Poor deluded creatures! Their friends the Yankees have done them more harm than good; this day month their freedom was proclaimed. One report to-day is that the white Union soldiers in Savannah united with the citizens and massacred 4,000 blacks on account of their outrageous behavior. Another is that the Gun Boats have left the Santee and the one on Cooper river has gone lower down. About dark after we had shut up the house we heard a loud rap at the front door, and much to our surprise it proved to be your father (Mr. Heyward). He had come all the way from Aiken on horseback to carry Aunt Bet back.
April 2nd. We have been permitted the privilege of again meeting at church to offer our thanks to God for his manifold mercies to us during this terrible time. Nearly every one in the Parish succeeded in getting there, mules supplying the places of all horses that had been taken. It was very pleasant to meet our friends, whom we had not seen for six weeks.
April 4th. Aunt Bet started to-day for Aiken with a carriage, two wagons, one cart, one donkey cart, two cows and an outrider,--quite a cavalcade! We heard today that two of the ring leaders from Pineville went to the Gunboat and told how they had been treated, whereupon the officers had them put in irons and sent to Charleston, and told them, if they had only known it, they would have sent a company to help the white men. We received numerous letters from Aiken this morning by the return wagons. I am sorry to say that Wheeler’s men have done us more damage than the Yankees. I did not mind it at first when I thought they had only taken things they needed, but I do blame them very much for their wanton destruction of property that they ought to protect. It is a shame and they ought to be exposed.
April 6th. The scouts were here again to-day under Lieut. Pettus.[103] Charlie Snowden has joined them. Hennie got them to go to Wampee and send her maid Anette home.
April 8th. We have had another visit to-day from the Yankees. Before breakfast we saw smoke in the direction of Somerset, and the negroes told us they had heard a drum and fife in the night. We thought it was imagination until a servant from Wantoot told us that the Yankees had burnt Somerset house and were coming on. Soon after we saw them coming through the field, and in a very short time the house was full of black Yankees. I remained in the hall to see what they would take there, and to keep a watch on our room door. The first one that came into the room asked for fire arms. I told him they had all been taken. The next one asked for silver. I had no idea of showing him, so told him I was not the lady of the house. He made no reply but went on looking. A number then came in, and the silver was soon found and carried off; 40 small pieces of table silver and soup ladle; these, and one candle stick were the only things taken from the hall. Grand Pa lost all of his clothes that he had out. A box was broken open, some sheets and table cloths taken, the rest flung over the floor interspersed with broken eggs. The safe door was broken open and the ham taken. Several other rooms were entered and things taken; but, I am thankful to say our room was left untouched. All of the horses were taken. Gen’l Hartwell took good care not to come up until the darkies had left. He told his Captain to go and see if he _could_ get the silver and one horse back, which, of course, we knew he did not _mean_ him to do. The object of their visit was to catch the scouts. They said we had brought all of this on ourselves for encouraging the scouts.
Uncle Rene and Uncle William have both been taken prisoners and we hear, are to be carried to Charleston. They took the latter to get information from him,--so they say, but we think they took him because he had entertained the scouts. Uncle Rene had to put himself under the protection of the General as there was a conspiracy detected among the black troops to come back that night and kill him. The Yankees went to Mexico this evening and I suppose will visit all the places up there.
April 10th. Of course there was no service yesterday. Dr. Waring paid a visit and told us that Mr. Stevens was still in the Parish, but keeping close. This morning several of the negro men came to Grand Pa and asked to be allowed to stay here and work; they would do anything he told them. The Yankees told them to go _with them_, but they said they did not want to go. Two of the boys from here have joined the (U. S.?) Army.
April 11th. * * * * Cousin Mazyck Porcher[104] has been taken prisoner. Mexico house and all the out buildings have been burned. Last accounts of the enemy they were at Eutaw Springs.
April 12th. Uncle Rene and Uncle Wm. returned home to-day. We were too thankful to hear of their release. They were carried as far as Eutaw, and then told to “Go Home.”
_Woodlawn, April 14th._ Uncle Rene drove Sister home, and I came back here to take her place. Uncle Rene and Uncle William had a most dreadful experience on the ride from Pineville to Mexico with the Army. At one time they were guarded by only one black soldier, and they could hear others all around trying to bribe their guard to give them up to be killed; but the guard, though a darky, was above bribing.
_Pooshee, April 20th._ I returned here to-day quite unexpectedly. Pa came down last night and went over for me. We are to leave on Monday. We hear the most exaggerated accounts of things here. To-day’s reports are that Lee’s Army, 32,000, has surrendered to Grant, and all the men paroled not to fight again during the war. The other report is that Sumterville and Summerton have both been burnt to the ground; of course we do not believe either of them.
_April 21st._ We hear to-day that there has been a fight on the river, and two regiments of blacks under Potter completely cut up.
_April 22nd._ Today’s news is very cheering; it is that Lincoln and Seward have both been assassinated, and that there is to be an Armistice.
(Here the diary-letter ends without signature.)
REMINISCENCES OF MRS. MARY RHODES (WARING) HENAGAN
(_Written in December, 1917, to be Read at a Meeting of The Girls of the Sixties, Columbia, S. C._)
The evacuation of Charleston, crossing of our soldiers over the Santee river, burning the bridge behind them, left the lower part of the State in the power of the Yankees.
My home was in this deserted region. We knew that our enemies were all around and had visited in no kind manner many of the neighboring plantations, but Chelsea, our plantation and winter home, seemed to be exempted. We learned afterward that this was due to the devotion of our slaves.
At last the Yankees did come. Our home, a big old colonial house built in 1714, was packed with refugees run from the coast from their homes earlier in the war. My mother directed each of us to go to my grandmother’s room as soon as we saw the Yankees coming, and meet them in a body there. My grandmother had passed her eightieth mile-stone and was old for her years.
As day after day passed and no Yankees came we felt more at ease. On one particular day in February, 1865, the young folks were sitting in a room removed from the main body of the house, one reading aloud and the others knitting, when my sister-in-law put her head in at the door and exclaimed, “Girls, the Yankees.” There was a rush for the house and my grandmother’s room. Just as we reached it the house was surrounded by an excited crowd of men calling for the Confederate soldier they had seen enter the house. There was no soldier there and they were so informed, but they insisted there was one for they had seen him. Their officers had some trouble in keeping them from searching the house. One officer stood at the front door with my father, who was the physician of the neighborhood, Dr. Morton Waring, and the other at the back door with my mother and her sister. Just then the excitement was relieved by one of our young negro men walking up with a military cap on.
There was no soldier with us just then, only a boy not yet in service.
Our young horses were gone, for the negro boys had taken them all into the swamp a half mile away as soon as the Yankees were in sight. Some of the soldiers were anxious to take my father’s horses that he used for his practice, but this Captain Hulbert, one of their officers, would not permit, telling his men they might need the services of a doctor and he could not get to them if his horses were gone.
Captain Hulbert told my father that his negroes had represented him as such a kind friend to them that the general in command had directed him not to enter his house or permit any outrages, only to free the negroes, as they thought they were slaves until each plantation was visited and the negroes told they were free.
But the soldiers were not satisfied and meant to have something if possible, so they surrounded the smoke house and told one of our negro men to go up and throw out the meat. Of course he obeyed. As my father and Captain Hulbert walked quickly up one of our negroes stepped up to the captain and said, “Please don’t let your men take our meat. This belongs to us negroes.” This was not strictly true as the meat was for us all, but it had the desired effect. The meat was left.
At this time when we were so anxious and worried our negroes showed themselves true friends by concealing our valuables. Different ones would come at night and offer to take anything we would entrust to them and hide it for us. In this way many valuables were entrusted to them which were taken care of and returned after all was safe, in every case under cover of night. Our silver of course was buried by members of the family.
During this same period we were surprised one day by seeing a buggy coming up with two men in it, one wrapped in a blanket, the other, his son, driving. These were Dr. Peter Snowden and his son Charlie. When they drew up in front of the house and asked for my mother she went to them at once and was accosted by one of these gentlemen, both of whom she knew well. He was one of the scouts and had been wounded and taken refuge at the next plantation, but the Yankees hearing of his hiding place were in pursuit of him, so he came to see if my father could help him. My father was not at home, but my mother never hesitated. She made a bed in a small room where my father had hidden much corn and other provisions, and placed a large press in front of the door which it entirely concealed. In this store room our scout was cared for until he was able to go further. While arrangements were being made for him my grandmother called my mother to her and said, “Anne, do you know what you are doing, you have many helpless ones in your care and this piece of kindness may cost you your home?” My mother replied, “It is my duty to protect him. I will do it. God will do the rest.” When my father reached home he commended her action.
If the Yankees ever knew the wounded scout was with us they certainly made no sign indicating they possessed such knowledge.
There were skirmishes about in our neighborhood between the northern troops passing through on their way to Columbia, Camden and other points, and our scouts. These were men sent back to protect the helpless ones left behind. They used a kind of guerilla warfare, but sometimes they had a real open skirmish. One of these was on a plantation near our home and my father was sent for to dress the wound of one soldier, I think a Yankee, another having been killed in the same fight. The mistress[105] of this plantation had two young nieces with her for companionship. Her husband, of course, was away, and her children very small. The older of these girls carried a pistol in her pocket for protection. One day the pistol discharged its contents into her thigh. Only a flesh wound resulted, but it alarmed the family very much. My father was called and after making her comfortable he persuaded her aunt to let him take her home with him. She improved rapidly and was soon able to walk around. Then she thought best to return to her aunt. We had not seen or heard of any Yankees in the neighborhood for several days so my father thought we might venture the trip of two miles in our carriage. My sister and I went with her. As we were crossing the Santee canal about a mile from our house we saw some soldiers on the bridge. Tom, our coachman, drove quietly on, but as soon as we crossed we were halted and our carriage surrounded by blue coats who were rather inquisitive. We had driven right up to a long line of marching Yankees. A portion of Hartwell’s army on its way to the up country. Some of them recognized our friend, having seen her at Harbin, the home of her aunt, so accosted her with “Halloo Leize and Sallie. There are Leize and Sallie.” They had mistaken me for her sister. My sister in a quiet manner and voice asked to speak to their commanding officer. This caused them to stand back while one went for the officer. After a while, which seemed much longer than it really was, the officer (I believe a colonel) rode up and asked her business. She told him we were on our way to a neighboring plantation to make a friendly visit and return, and asked his protection for the trip. He told her he was obliged to detain us where we were for a time, but we should be protected. That as he had to march on with his command he would leave us in charge of a guard. This he did at once, so that in a very short time our guards were the only soldiers in sight except one that was sent back with a dispatch to the Major of the fifty-fifth. While he was waiting for the major and his men to come up he sat at the root of a large pine and played beautiful music on a very sweet flute that he had stolen from one of the plantations. I had heard that flute so often, it belonged to Rene Jervey. As we were circumstanced it was better to assume a friendliness of manner with our guard who was a very polite Canadian named Alfred Brett. He said he was only fighting for his pay, that he did not care which side whipped.
After listening to his yarns for some hours my sister asked him why he was detaining us and how long he meant to keep us there. He replied “I must keep you until General Hartwell’s division passes. He has many regiments of colored troops and if you should meet them I could not answer for the consequences, they are coming by the same road you are going.” My sister said “But if you will allow us, we will return straight home by the same road we came.” He agreed to this and told Tom to hitch up, which Tom did with the sorry horse he gave in place of our beautiful one he stole. He did not wish the other so let us keep him. This certainly gave us a pair of wretchedly matched horses, one large gray and the other a small red hack that loped all the time in harness that was so large it could scarcely be kept on.
While guarding us Mr. Brett had an eye to self. He asked Tom very particularly about one of my father’s sulky horses, a very fine iron gray named “Beauregard,” where he was kept and so on, and said he wanted him. Tom suspecting mischief consulted with our foreman as soon as we reached home and between them they determined to save the horse, and lost no time about it. They took my father into their confidence.
Not long after we reached home and before the excitement caused by our story had subsided my father came driving slowly home behind an old frame of bones in a much bruised horse hide. They had met him at Woodlawn plantation where he had gone professionally and taken his horse. Zeleka would not stand haltered, so we hoped she would come home. Sure enough that night after she had eaten her oats and all was quiet she slipped her halter and started homeward. She had gone quite a long way when one of our scouts caught her. He used her and took care of her until the troubles were over, then returned her to my father.
Early the morning after our capture the whole plantation was thrown into wild excitement. During the night the stable door was unhinged and Beauregard taken, the news spreading through the neighborhood. The doctor could not visit his patients, both of his horses having been taken. Other persons lost their horses too, so he could only go as best he could to the urgent cases. Then the weary weeks of waiting, we could hear nothing of my brother. All we knew was he was with General Young’s brigade wherever that was. Some of the men from St. John’s Parish had gotten home but none had seen or heard of him. The war was over. The army disbanded, and we were still waiting. One memorable day about the middle of April we were gathered in the parlor trying to be cheerful and busying ourselves with mending when our butler stepped into the room and said in a most joyous voice “Mars John.” O, such a rush for the front door where my mother ahead of the rest had her soldier boy in her arms. It was a happy household that night that gathered around the family altar. Some time after this we were again gathered in the parlor. This time chattering of how we were going to make our little serve for a great deal, when we were attracted by the neighing of a horse at the fence near by and looking up saw Beauregard. What a welcome he received. Tom thought it safe for him to come home so released him from his hiding place in the swamp.
No. 280.
REPORT OF BV’T. BRIG. GEN. ALFRED S. HARTWELL, FIFTY-FIFTH MASSACHUSETTS INFANTRY, OF OPERATIONS, APRIL 5-15.