June 1865, in the aftermath

Ruins of Millwood Plantation, Columbia, South Carolina
(family home of Wade Hampton II, father of Gen. Wade Hampton III)
destroyed by fire during Sherman's occupation in February 1865

"New York Herald today quotes General Sherman, who says, 'Columbia was burnt by Hampton's sheer stupidity.' But then, who burnt everything before they got to Columbia and after the Sherman army left it? We came down, for three days' travel, on a road laid bare by Sherman's torches. There were nothing but smoking ruins left in Sherman's track. That I saw with my own eyes–no living thing left, no house left for man or beast. They who burnt the countryside for a belt of forty miles—did they not burn the town? Hampton's stupidity is an afterthought. This Herald announces that Jeff Davis will be hung at once—not so much for treason as for his assassination of Lincoln. 'Stanton,' the Herald says, 'has all the papers in his hands to convict him.'
The Yankees here say: 'The black man must go—as the red man has gone. This is a white man's country.'
The negroes want to run with the hare but hunt with the hounds. They are charming in their profession to us but declare that they are to be paid in lands and mules for having been slaves—by those blessed Yankees.
'They were so faithful to us—why should the Yankees reward them?'
'It would be by way of punishing the rebels only.'"

A Lincolnton recollection, 1865

"One day Isabella [Martin] and I met Mr Clarke from Columbia, and from him I derived my first real idea of the ruin this war had brought—or Sherman, rather. Mr Clarke all unshaven and shorn was brandishing a chair, holding it aloft, like a banner, by its one remaining rung. 'This is all I have left of my Columbia house and all my earthly possessions!' Mr Clarke was one of the rich men of Columbia."

5 March 1865, Columbia in ruins

The Burning of Columbia, South Carolina, 1865,
by William Waud for Harper's Weekly

"Columbia is but dust and ashes—burned to the ground. Men, women, and children left there, houseless, homeless, without one particle of food—picking up the corn left by Sherman's horses in their picket ground and parching it to stay their hunger."

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."

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, 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. . . ."

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?'"

Sally Campbell Buchanan "Buck" Preston

"Buck, the very sweetest woman I ever knew, had a knack of being 'fallen in love with' at sight and of never being 'fallen out of love' with. But then, there seemed a spell upon her lovers—so many were killed or died of the effects of wounds. Ransom Calhoun, Braddy Warwick, Claude Gibson, the Notts.
In Columbia, on hearing the name: 'Shall I answer him? See here.'
Annie, on hearing the name: 'Answer! Did you see the paper today? He is killed.' Annie the practical.
Once she came in and sat on the edge of my bed. In those Columbia days, a cloud had come over her bright face. 'Buck, what makes you so pale, dear—and why have that black mantle around you on this warm day?'
'Why not? I feel so sad—black suits me. Alfred Rhett has killed Cousin Ransom in a duel.' Here she drew the mantle close around her face.

Sally Campbell Buchanan "Buck" Preston
(1842-1880)

... 'What is the matter with Buck? She has been languishing on that sofa, profoundly indifferent to me and the rest of mankind,' said John Darby.
'Don't you know her yet? She would not listen to that poor fellow while he was alive, and now that he is dead she is brokenhearted. Let her alone, she will soon recover,' said Mary C cheerfully.
Johnny was asked if he were not succumbing, too, to Buck's fascinations. It was a road they all traveled.
'No, never.' He looked alarmed at the bare suggestion. 'I dare not. I would prefer to face a Yankee battery. They say So-and-So is awfully in love with Miss S. P. Then I say, look out! You will see his name next in the list of killed and wounded.'
This was very hard on Buck, but our brave young soldiers faced the music gallantly. Let who would die or be killed, there was always a new crop of flourishing dimensions growing vigorously around her. Lovers were never wanting. I think she was loyal to the dead and missing.
The darling! She has her peculiarities. Who can describe her? This I know, I wouldn't have, if I could, anything altered about her mentally, morally, physically. Of how many people can one say that?"

22 February 1862

"What a beautiful [day] for our Confederate president to be inaugurated.* God speed him. God help him. God save him."

*Mary Boykin Chesnut was in Columbia, South Carolina, while writing in her journal on that day. Meanwhile, in Richmond, Virginia, there was a heavy rainstorm for Jefferson Davis's inauguration as president of the permanent government of the Confederate States of America.