26 February 1865, Lincolnton, North Carolina

"I am bodily comfortable, if somewhat dingily lodged, and I daily part with my raiment for food. We find no one who will exchange eatables for Confederate money. So we are devouring our clothes."

25 February 1865, regarding slavery

"Mrs Johnston said she would never own slaves.

'I might say the same thing. I never would. Mr Chesnut does, but he hates slavery, especially African slavery.'

'What do you mean by African?'

'To distinguish that form from the inevitable slavery of the world. All married women, all children, and girls who live in their father's houses are slaves.'"

February 1865, Charleston. Wilmington. Columbia.

Ruins in Columbia, South Carolina, 1865
albumen silver print

"Charleston and Wilmington—surrendered. I have no further use for a newspaper. I never want to see one as long as I live.
Wade Hampton lieutenant general—too late. If he had been Lieutenant general and given the command in South Carolina six months ago, I believe he would have saved us. Achilles was sulking in his tent—at such a time!
Shame, disgrace, beggary—all at once. Hard to bear.
Grand smash—
Rain—rain outside—inside naught but drowning floods of tears.
I could not bear it, so I rushed down in that rainstorm to the Martins. He met me at the door.
'Madame, Columbia is burned to the ground.'
I bowed my head and sobbed aloud.
'Stop that,' he said, trying to speak cheerfully. 'Come here, wife. This woman cries with her whole heart—just as she laughs.' But in spite of his words, his voice broke down—he was hardly calmer than myself."

23 February 1865, Lincolnton, North Carolina, The mercurial General Johnston

Gen. Joseph E. Johnston
(1807-1891)

"...Isabella [Martin] and I were taking a walk. General Joseph E. Johnston joined us. He explained to us all of Lee and Stonewall Jackson's mistakes. He was radiant and joyful. We had nothing to say. How could we? He always impresses me with the feeling that all his sympathies are on the other side. Still, he was neither gruff nor rude today—as he can be when he chooses. He said he was very angry to be ordered to take command again. He might well be in a genuine rage. This on-and-offing is enough to bewilder the coolest head."

16 February 1865, Lincolnton, North Carolina, "those last days"

"My ideas of those last days are confused.
The Martins left Columbia the Friday before I did. And their mammy, the negro woman who had nursed them, refused to go with them. That daunted me. Then Mrs McCord, who was to send her girls with me, changed her mind. She sent them upstairs in her house—and actually took away the staircase—that was her plan.
Then I met Mr Christopher Hampton arranging to take off his sisters. They were flitting—but only as far as Yorkville. He said it was time to move on. Sherman at Orangeburg was barely a day's journey from Columbia, and that he left a track as bare and blackened as a fire in the prairies.
So my time had come, too. My husband urged me to go home. He said Camden would be safe enough. They had no spite to that old town—as they have to Charleston and Columbia. Molly, weeping and wailing, came in while we were at table, wiping her red-hot face with her cook's grimy apron. She said I ought to go among our own black people on the plantation. They would take care of me better than anyone else. So I agreed to go to Mulberry or the Hermitage plantation and sent Laurence with a wagon load of my valuables.
Then a Miss Patterson called—a refugee from Tennessee. She had been in a country overrun by Yankee invaders—and she described so graphically all the horrors to be endured by those subjected to fire and sword and rapine and plunder that I was fairly scared and determined to come here. This is a thoroughly out-of-all-routes place. And yet I can go to Charlotte. I am halfway to Kate at Flat Rock. And there is no Federal army between me and Richmond."

January 1865, Columbia, South Carolina, "Sam" Hood returns

Lt. Gen. John Bell "Sam" Hood
(1831-1879)

" [John Bell] Hood came yesterday. He is staying at the Prestons' with Jack. They sent for us.
What a heart-full greeting he gave us! He can stand well enough without his crutch, but he does very slow walking. How plainly he spoke out these dreadful words: 'My defeat and discomfiture'—'My army is destroyed'—'My losses'—&c&c. He said he had nobody to blame but himself."

January 1865

"... And she picked up her last parcel—and as I followed her and stood at the gate, I cried:

'Stonewall—and Albert Sydney Johnston—death guards their fame. Thank God. They are safe in their graves.'"

January 1865, Columbia, South Carolina

"Yesterday I broke down—gave way to abject terror. The news of Sherman's advance—and no news of my husband. Today—wrapped up on the sofa—too dismal for moaning, even. There was a loud knock. Shawls and all, I rushed to the door. Telegram from my husband.
'All well—be at home on Tuesday.' It was dated from Adams Run.*
I felt as lighthearted as if the war were over.
Then I looked at the date—Adams Run. It ends as it began. Bulls Run—from which their first sprightly running astounded the world. Now if we run—who are to run? They ran full-handed. We have fought until maimed soldiers and women and children are all that is left to run."

*A point on the Charleston and Savannah Railroad about fifty miles west of Charleston.

November 1864, Columbia, South Carolina

"A thousand dollars has slipped through my fingers already this week. At the commissaries I spent five hundred today for sugar, candles, a lamp, &c. Tallow candles are bad enough, but of them there seems to be an end, too. Now we are restricted to smoky terebene lamps—terrabene is a preparation of turpentine. When the chimney of the lamp cracks, as crack it will, we plaster up the place with paper, thick letter paper, preferring the highly glazed kind. In that hunt queer old letters come to light.
No wonder Mr Peterkin said our provisions could be carried in a porte-monnaie, and our money to buy them required a market basket to hold it. If you could see the pitiful little bundles this five hundred dollars bought. . . ."

October 1864, tragedy at Petersburg

"Preston Hampton rode recklessly into the hottest fire.* His father [Cavalry Lt. Gen. Wade Hampton III] sent his brother Wade [IV] to bring him back. Wade saw him reel in the saddle and galloped up to him. General Hampton followed. As young Wade reached him, Preston fell from his horse. And as he stooped to raise him was himself shot down. Preston recognized his father but died without speaking a word. Young Wade, though wounded, held his brother's head up. Tom Taylor and others hurried up. The general took his dead son in his arms, kissed him, and handed his body to Tom Taylor and his friends—made them take care of Wade—and then rode back to his post. At the head of his troops in the thickest of the fray he directed the fight for the rest of the day. Until night he did not know young Wade's fate. He might be dead, too.
Now he says no son of his must be in his command. When Wade recovers he must join some other division.
The agony of that day—and the anxiety and the duties of the battlefield—it is all more than a mere man can bear. ...
Preston was not yet twenty."

*On October 27, Hampton's cavalry prevented Federal troops from flanking the Confederate defenses at Petersburg and severing Richmond's southern lines of communication.

21 September 1864

"The end has come. No doubt of the fact. Our army has so moved as to uncover Macon and Augusta.
We are going to be wiped off the face of the earth.
What is there to prevent Sherman taking General Lee in the rear? We have but two armies. And Sherman is between them now."

September 1864, Atlanta falls

Atlanta, Georgia, Union Depot,
destroyed by Sherman's troops, September 1864

"The battle is raging at Atlanta—our fate hanging in the balance.
Atlanta gone. Well—that agony is over. Like David when the child was dead. I will get up from my knees, will wash my face and comb my hair. No hope. We will try to have no fear."

19 August 1864, Wayside Hospital, Columbia, South Carolina

"Today we gave wounded men...their breakfast. Those who are able to come to the table do so. The badly wounded remain in wards prepared for them, where their wounds are dressed by nurses and surgeons, and we take bread and butter, beef, ham, &c&c, hot coffee, to them there.
One man had hair as long as a woman's. A vow, he said. He has pledged himself not to cut his hair until war [was] declared [over] and our Southern country free. 
Four of them had made this vow. All were dead but himself. One was killed in Missouri, one in Virginia, and he left one at Kennesaw Mountain. This poor creature had one arm taken off at the socket. When I remarked that he was utterly disabled and ought not to remain in the army, he answered quickly.
'I am First Texas. If old Hood can go with one foot, I can go with one arm. Eh?'"

10 August 1864

"Misery upon misery.
Mobile going as New Orleans went.* Those western men have not held their towns as we have held and hold Charleston, or as the Virginians hold Richmond. And they call us frill-shirt, silk-stocking chivalry, a set of dandy Miss Nancys. They fight desperately in their bloody street brawls. We bear privation and discipline best. Brag is a good dog. Holdfast, a better."

*Victories by U.S. Admiral David Farragut preceded the fall of both New Orleans and Mobile. At the battle of Mobile Bay on August 5, Farragut steamed past Confederate shore batteries to enable Union troops to besiege forts protecting the city.

May 1864, prisoners and mortality

"John Boykin died in a Yankee prison. He had on a heavy flannel shirt. They were lying on an open platform car, on their way to their cold prison on the lakes. A Federal soldier wanted this shirt. Prisoners have no right, so John had to strip it off and hand it to him. So that was his death. In two days he was dead of pneumonia. Maybe frozen to death.
One man said, 'They are taking us there to freeze.' But then their men will find our hot sun in August and July as deadly as their cold Decembers &c&c are to us. Their snow and ice finish our prisoners at a rapid rate, they say. Napoleon's soldiers found out all that in the Russian campaign."

May 1864

"General Lee was to have a grand review the very day we left Richmond, and quantities of people were to go up by rail to see it. Turner McFarland writes, 'They did go, but they came back faster than they went. They found the army drawn up in battle array.'*
How many of the brave and gay spirits that we saw so lately have taken flight—the only flight they know—and their bodies left dead upon the battlefield."

*At Gordonsville, Virginia, on April 29, 1864, General Lee reviewed the First Corps of the Confederate army, commanded by Longstreet. Three days later, Union troops under General Grant crossed the Rapidan River and, on May 5, the battle of the Wilderness began.

24 March 1864, comic relief

"Miss Page Waller married Captain Leigh Page the other day. Now she is Mrs Page Page. Someone said she had turned over a new leaf—still, she was the same Page."

19 March 1864, Richmond, "the toy boy"

"C. C. also told us of a new toy—Fitz Lee's new-found joy—a little negro boy. This toy, when wound up, danced Ethiopian minstrel fashion. Fitz Lee sings corn-shucking tunes and the toy boy dances. C. C. has already made the little black boy two suits of clothes. He is the delight of Richmond salons and is so much handled his dress soon grows shabby."

12 March 1864, Richmond, the truth be told

"Went to see Mrs E of the Treasury. She related with an air of great amusement what she called the first truth ever told in Clarendon. A man said he would not go into the army for fear of being killed.
Then the lamentations of his mother-in-law: 'To have him stay at home—an overseer of negroes—and to give as a reason that he is afraid!'
We admired this lady's delightful candor."

26 February 1864

"Finegan in Florida and Stephen Lee in Mississippi each claim a victory. On account of the latter success, no fears are now felt for Mobile. Our papers are now jubilant. The mud keeps all armies quiet. Beneficent mud! No killed or killing on hand. No rumbling of wagons laden with dead or dying.
We enjoy this reprieve. We snatch a fearful joy. It is a brief interlude of comparative peace."

18 December 1863, Richmond

"[J. C.] came straight home and found the party in full blast.
He did not know a word about it. How could he? It grew up after he left home. I trembled in my shoes.
He behaved beautifully, however.
If he had refused to dine at the president's because he wished to attend a party at my house, he could not have done better. He seemed to enjoy the whole thing amazingly. Played casino with Mrs Lawson Clay, looked after Hood, &c&c.
Today he spoke. I was very penitent, subdued, submissive, humble. And I promised not to do so anymore.
'No more parties,' he said. 'The country is in danger. There is too much levity here.'
So he laid down the law."

9 December 1863, Richmond

James Chesnut, Jr
(1815-1885)

"J. C. laid down the law last night. I felt it to be the last drop in my full cup.
'No more feasting in this house. This is no time for junketing and merrymaking. There is a positive want of proper feeling in the life you lead.'
'And you said you brought me here to enjoy one winter before you took me home and turned my face to a dead wall.'
He is master of the house—to hear is to obey."

5 December 1863, Richmond

"Spent seventy-five dollars today for a little tea and sugar. Have five hundred dollars left. J. C.'s pay has never paid for the rent of our lodgings since the war began."

Stonewall Jackson, in hindsight

Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson
(21 January 1824-10 May 1863)

"And now that they begin to see a few years more of Stonewall Jackson would have freed us from the yoke of the hateful Yankees, they deify him. They are so proud to have been one of the famous Stonewall brigade.
Like to be a brick from that wall.
But to be sure, it was bitter hard work to keep up with Stonewall Jackson, as all know full well who ever served with him. He gave his orders rapidly and distinctly and rode away. Never allowing answer or remonstrance.
'Look here. See that place. Take it.' When you failed, you were apt to be put under arrest. When you reported the place taken, he only said 'Good.'"