"Captain [Edward] Barnwell came to see us. We had a dinner for them at Mulberry—out of the Bloomsbury air. Stephen Elliot was there. He said when people began at him with Sherman or Potter raids, &c&c, he clapped his hands to his ears. He was so tired of it. ...
He gave us an account of his father's plantation at Beaufort [South Carolina], from which he has just returned.
'Our negroes are living in great comfort. They were delighted to see me and treated me with overflowing affection. They waited on me as before, gave me beautiful breakfasts, splendid dinners, &c&c. But they firmly and respectfully informed me: "We own this land now. Put it out of your head that it will ever be yours again."'"
Showing posts with label Mulberry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mulberry. Show all posts
Sunday, November 8, 2015
Friday, November 6, 2015
7 May 1865, 'Mulberry,' South Carolina
"Mrs Bartow drove with me to our house at Mulberry. On one side of the house every window was broken, every bell torn down, every piece of furniture destroyed, every door smashed in. The other side intact.
Maria Whitaker and her mother, who had been left in charge, explained this odd state of things.
'They were busy as beavers. They were working like regular carpenters, destroying everything, when the general came in. He said it was a shame, and he stopped them. Said it was a sin to destroy a fine old house like that whose owner was over ninety years old. He would not have done it for the world. It was wanton mischief.' He told Maria soldiers at such times were so excited, so wild and unruly.
They carried off sacks of our books. Unfortunately there were a pile of empty sacks lying in the garret. Our books, our papers, our letters, were strewed along the Charleston road. Somebody said they found some of them as far away as Vance's Ferry.
This was Potter's raid.* Sherman took only our horses. Potter's raid, which was after Johnston's surrender, ruined us finally, burning our mills and gins and a hundred bales of cotton. Indeed nothing is left now but the bare land and debts made for the support of these hundreds of negroes during the war."
*A Federal expeditionary force under Brig. Gen. Edward E. Potter spent three weeks in April 1865 destroying Confederate supplies and railroad lines around Camden, South Carolina.
Maria Whitaker and her mother, who had been left in charge, explained this odd state of things.
'They were busy as beavers. They were working like regular carpenters, destroying everything, when the general came in. He said it was a shame, and he stopped them. Said it was a sin to destroy a fine old house like that whose owner was over ninety years old. He would not have done it for the world. It was wanton mischief.' He told Maria soldiers at such times were so excited, so wild and unruly.
They carried off sacks of our books. Unfortunately there were a pile of empty sacks lying in the garret. Our books, our papers, our letters, were strewed along the Charleston road. Somebody said they found some of them as far away as Vance's Ferry.
This was Potter's raid.* Sherman took only our horses. Potter's raid, which was after Johnston's surrender, ruined us finally, burning our mills and gins and a hundred bales of cotton. Indeed nothing is left now but the bare land and debts made for the support of these hundreds of negroes during the war."
*A Federal expeditionary force under Brig. Gen. Edward E. Potter spent three weeks in April 1865 destroying Confederate supplies and railroad lines around Camden, South Carolina.
Friday, October 30, 2015
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."
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."
Friday, September 11, 2015
June 1862,
Gen. Winfield Scott (ret.) weighs in
"General Scott on Southern soldiers. He says we have élan, courage, woodcraft, consummate horsemanship, endurance of pain equal to the Indians, but that we will not submit to discipline. We will not take care of things or husband our resources. Where we are, there is waste and destruction. If it could all be done by one wild desperate dash, we would do it. But he does not think we can stand the long blank months between the acts—waiting! We can bear pain without a murmur, but we will not submit to be bored, &c&c&c.
Now for the other side. They can wait. They can bear discipline. They can endure forever—losses in battle nothing to them, resources in men and materials of war inexhaustible. And if they see fit they will fight to the bitter end.
Nice prospect for us—as comforting for us as the old man's croak at Mulberry, 'Bad times, worse coming.'
Old Mr Chesnut says, 'We could not have kept slavery here a day, but the powerful government of the U.S.A. protected it for us.'"
Now for the other side. They can wait. They can bear discipline. They can endure forever—losses in battle nothing to them, resources in men and materials of war inexhaustible. And if they see fit they will fight to the bitter end.
Nice prospect for us—as comforting for us as the old man's croak at Mulberry, 'Bad times, worse coming.'
Old Mr Chesnut says, 'We could not have kept slavery here a day, but the powerful government of the U.S.A. protected it for us.'"
June 1862,
the concerns of Molly
"Molly all in tears because I asked her if she were going to turn against me.
No, she would follow me to the ends of the earth—that is, she would if it warn't for her children. But this is the reason she was out. Jonathan is her father, and he is driver, headman of the colored people (she never says 'negroes'—the only 'nigger' is the devil—that's her idea). Overseer and Claiborne, head of the plows, connive to cheat master 'outin everything. Marster—the best marster the lord ever send.' So much lying, cheating, on a plantation—no wonder she came back outer sorts. 'Overseer's wife gotten so fat on yo' substance she can't git through the little gate—have to open the wagon gate for her. Sometimes of Sundays two hams is put on their table—de 'oman sho' to die of fat.'
So Molly and I are reconciled, and she is as good and as attentive as ever. All the same, she was awfully stuck up when she first came back."
No, she would follow me to the ends of the earth—that is, she would if it warn't for her children. But this is the reason she was out. Jonathan is her father, and he is driver, headman of the colored people (she never says 'negroes'—the only 'nigger' is the devil—that's her idea). Overseer and Claiborne, head of the plows, connive to cheat master 'outin everything. Marster—the best marster the lord ever send.' So much lying, cheating, on a plantation—no wonder she came back outer sorts. 'Overseer's wife gotten so fat on yo' substance she can't git through the little gate—have to open the wagon gate for her. Sometimes of Sundays two hams is put on their table—de 'oman sho' to die of fat.'
So Molly and I are reconciled, and she is as good and as attentive as ever. All the same, she was awfully stuck up when she first came back."
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
17 November 1861,
'Mulberry,' South Carolina
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| Mulberry Plantation Kershaw County, South Carolina |
"Our life here would be very pleasant if there were no Yankees.
Old Mr Chesnut's library is on the first floor. My husband's, a beautiful room in the third story, overlooking this beautiful lawn and grand old oaks up here—all is my very own. Here I sit and make shirts for the soldiers, knit, or read or write journal, as I see fit. Under my own vine and fig tree—and none to make me afraid. Out of the way of all callers or intruders—all that goes on downstairs."
Old Mr Chesnut's library is on the first floor. My husband's, a beautiful room in the third story, overlooking this beautiful lawn and grand old oaks up here—all is my very own. Here I sit and make shirts for the soldiers, knit, or read or write journal, as I see fit. Under my own vine and fig tree—and none to make me afraid. Out of the way of all callers or intruders—all that goes on downstairs."
12 November 1861
"Went to the turnout at Mulberry for Mr C. Met only Minnie Frierson.* She says they are hanging negroes in Louisiana and Mississippi, like birds in the trees, for an attempted insurrection. But out there they say the same thing of South Carolina, and we know it is as quiet as the grave here and as peaceful, except that one spot—Beaufort. We have no reason to suppose a negro knows there is a war. I do not speak of the war to them. On that subject they do not believe a word you say.
'How do I know that?'
'Watch the sudden deadening of their faces. The utter want of any possible expression as soon as one of these men has in his mouth a word that comes now so often—"Damn Yankee."'"
*Mary Chesnut "Minnie" Frierson was the wife of Sumter District planter James J. Frierson and niece of Mary Boykin Chesnut's husband.
'How do I know that?'
'Watch the sudden deadening of their faces. The utter want of any possible expression as soon as one of these men has in his mouth a word that comes now so often—"Damn Yankee."'"
*Mary Chesnut "Minnie" Frierson was the wife of Sumter District planter James J. Frierson and niece of Mary Boykin Chesnut's husband.
Monday, August 31, 2015
19 September 1861, 'Mulberry,' South Carolina
"The high and disinterested conduct our enemies seem to expect of us is involuntary and unconscious praise.
They pay us the compliment to look for from us—a degree of virtue they were never able to practice themselves. A word of our crowning misdemeanor, holding in slavery still those Africans they brought here from Africa or sold to us when they found they did not pay. They gradually slided (or slid?) them off down here. Freed them prospectively, giving themselves years to get rid of them in a remunerative way. We want to spread them, too—west and south—or northwest, where the climate would free them or kill them, improve them out of the world as they do Indians. If they had been forced to keep them in New England, I daresay they would have shared the Indians' fate. For they are wise in their generation, these Yankee children of light. Those pernicious Africans!
Result of the conversation between Mr C and Uncle John—both ci-devant Union men. Now utterly for states rights."
They pay us the compliment to look for from us—a degree of virtue they were never able to practice themselves. A word of our crowning misdemeanor, holding in slavery still those Africans they brought here from Africa or sold to us when they found they did not pay. They gradually slided (or slid?) them off down here. Freed them prospectively, giving themselves years to get rid of them in a remunerative way. We want to spread them, too—west and south—or northwest, where the climate would free them or kill them, improve them out of the world as they do Indians. If they had been forced to keep them in New England, I daresay they would have shared the Indians' fate. For they are wise in their generation, these Yankee children of light. Those pernicious Africans!
Result of the conversation between Mr C and Uncle John—both ci-devant Union men. Now utterly for states rights."
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