Project Gutenberg's A Woman's Wartime Journal, by Dolly Sumner Lunt
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Title: A Woman's Wartime Journal
An account of the passage over a Georgia plantation of
Sherman's army on the march to the sea, as recorded in the
diary of Dolly Sumner Lunt
Author: Dolly Sumner Lunt
Annotator: Julian Street
Release Date: May 30, 2010 [EBook #32595]
Language: English
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* * * * *
A WOMAN'S WARTIME JOURNAL
[Illustration]
A WOMAN'S WARTIME
JOURNAL
AN ACCOUNT OF THE PASSAGE OVER A GEORGIA
PLANTATION OF SHERMAN'S ARMY ON THE
MARCH TO THE SEA, AS RECORDED
IN THE DIARY OF
DOLLY SUMNER LUNT
(Mrs. Thomas Burge)
With an Introduction and Notes by
JULIAN STREET
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
THE CENTURY CO.
1918
Copyright, 1918, by
THE CENTURY CO.
INTRODUCTION
Though Southern rural life has necessarily changed since the Civil
War, I doubt that there is in the entire South a place where it has
changed less than on the Burge Plantation, near Covington, Georgia.
And I do not know in the whole country a place that I should rather
see again in springtime--the Georgia springtime, when the air is like
a tonic vapor distilled from the earth, from pine trees, tulip trees,
balm-of-Gilead trees (or "bam" trees, as the negroes call them),
blossoming Judas trees, Georgia crab-apple, dogwood pink and white,
peach blossom, wistaria, sweet-shrub, dog violets, pansy violets,
Cherokee roses, wild honeysuckle, azalia, and the evanescent green of
new treetops, all carried in solution in the sunlight.
It is indicative of the fidelity of the plantation to its old
traditions that though more than threescore springs have come and gone
since Sherman and his army crossed the red cottonfields surrounding
the plantation house, and though the Burge family name died out, many
years ago, with Mrs. Thomas Burge, a portion of whose wartime journal
makes up the body of this book, the place continues to be known by her
name and her husband's, as it was when they resided there before the
Civil War. Some of the negroes mentioned in the journal still live in
cabins on the plantation, and almost all the younger generation are
the children or grandchildren of Mrs. Burge's former slaves.
Mrs. Burge (Dolly Sumner Lunt) was born September 29, 1817, in
Bowdoinham, Maine. That she was brought up in New England, in the
heart of the abolitionist movement, and that she was a relative of
Charles Sumner, consistent foe of the South, lends peculiar interest
to the sentiments on slavery expressed in her journal. As a young
woman she moved from Maine to Georgia, where her married sister was
already settled. While teaching school in Covington she met Thomas
Burge, a plantation-owner and gentleman of the Old South, and
presently married him. When some years later Mr. Burge died, Mrs.
Burge was left on the plantation with her little daughter Sarah (the
"Sadai" of the journal) and her slaves, numbering about one hundred.
Less than three years after she was widowed the Civil War broke out,
and in 1864 this cultivated and charming woman saw Sherman's army pass
across her fields on the March to the Sea.
At the time of my visit to the plantation the world was aghast over
the German invasion of Belgium, the horrors of which had but recently
been fully revealed and confirmed.... What, then, I began to wonder,
must life have been in this part of Georgia, when Sherman's men came
by? What must it have been to the woman and the little girl living on
these acres, in this very house? For though Germany's assault was upon
an unoffending neutral state and was the commencement of a base war,
whereas Sherman's March through Georgia was an invasion of what was
then the enemy's country for the purpose of "breaking the back" of
that enemy and thus terminating the war, nevertheless "military
necessity" was the excuse in either case for a campaign of deliberate
destruction--which, in the State of Georgia, was measured by Sherman
himself at one hundred millions.
When, therefore, I learned that Mrs. Burge had kept a journal in which
were related her experiences throughout this period, I became eager to
see it; and I am sure the reader will agree that I did him a good turn
when, after perusing the journal, I begged its author's
granddaughters--Mrs. M.J. Morehouse of Evanston, Ills., and Mrs. Louis
Bolton of Detroit, Mich., my hostesses at the plantation--that they
permit it to be published.
Their consent having graciously been given, I can only wish that the
reader might sit, as I did, perusing the story in the very house, in
the very room, in which it was written. I wish he might turn the
yellow pages with me, and read for himself of events which seem,
somehow, more vivid for the fact that the ink is faded brown with
time. And I wish that when the journal tells of "bluecoats coming down
the road" the reader might glance up and out through the open window,
as I did, and see the very road down which they came.
Imagine yourself in a low white house standing in a grove of gigantic
oaks surrounded by the cottonfields. Imagine yourself in a large
comfortable room in this house, in an old rocking chair by the window.
From the window you may see the white well-house, its roof mottled
with the shadows of branches above; beyond, the garden and the road,
and far away in the red fields negroes and mules at work. Then look
down at the large book resting in your lap and read.
JULIAN STREET.
New York,
MARCH, 1918.
A WOMAN'S WARTIME JOURNAL
A WOMAN'S WARTIME JOURNAL
JANUARY 1, 1864.
A new year is ushered in, but peace comes not with it. Scarcely a
family but has given some of its members to the bloody war that is
still decimating our nation. Oh, that its ravages may soon be stopped!
Will another year find us among carnage and bloodshed? Shall we be a
nation or shall we be annihilated?... The prices of everything are
very high. Corn seven dollars a bushel, calico ten dollars a yard,
salt sixty dollars a hundred, cotton from sixty to eighty cents a
pound, everything in like ratio.
* * * * *
JULY 22, 1864.
[_The day of the battle of Atlanta_]
We have heard the loud booming of cannon all day. Mr. Ward [the
overseer] went over to the burial of Thomas Harwell, whose death I
witnessed yesterday. They had but just gone when the Rev. A. Turner,
wife, and daughter drove up with their wagons, desiring to rest
awhile. They went into the ell [a large back room] and lay down, I
following them, wishing to enjoy their company. Suddenly I saw the
servants running to the palings, and I walked to the door, when I saw
such a stampede as I never witnessed before. The road was full of
carriages, wagons, men on horseback, all riding at full speed. Judge
Floyd stopped, saying: "Mrs. Burge, the Yankees are coming. They have
got my family, and here is all I have upon earth. Hide your mules and
carriages and whatever valuables you have."
Sadai [Mrs. Burge's nine-year-old daughter] said:
"Oh, Mama, what shall we do?"
"Never mind, Sadai," I said. "They won't hurt you, and you must help
me hide my things."
I went to the smoke-house, divided out the meat to the servants, and
bid them hide it. Julia [a slave] took a jar of lard and buried it. In
the meantime Sadai was taking down and picking up our clothes, which
she was giving to the servants to hide in their cabins; silk dresses,
challis, muslins, and merinos, linens, and hosiery, all found their
way into the chests of the women and under their beds; china and
silver were buried underground, and Sadai bid Mary [a slave] hide a
bit of soap under some bricks, that mama might have a little left.
Then she came to me with a part of a loaf of bread, asking if she had
not better put it in her pocket, that we might have something to eat
that night. And, verily, we had cause to fear that we might be
homeless, for on every side we could see smoke arising from burning
buildings and bridges.
Major Ansley, who was wounded in the hip in the battle of Missionary
Ridge, and has not recovered, came with his wife, sister, two little
ones, and servants. He was traveling in a bed in a small wagon. They
had thought to get to Eatonton, but he was so wearied that they
stopped with me for the night. I am glad to have them. I shall sleep
none to-night. The woods are full of refugees.
* * * * *
JULY 23, 1864.
I have been left in my home all day with no one but Sadai. Have seen
nothing of the raiders, though this morning they burned the buildings
around the depot at the Circle [Social Circle, a near-by town]. I have
sat here in the porch nearly all day, and hailed every one that passed
for news. Just as the sun set here Major Ansley and family came back.
They heard of the enemy all about and concluded they were as safe here
as anywhere. Just before bedtime John, our boy, came from Covington
with word that the Yankees had left. Wheeler's men were in Covington
and going in pursuit. We slept sweetly and felt safe.
* * * * *
SUNDAY, JULY 24, 1864.
No church. Our preacher's horse stolen by the Yankees. This raid is
headed by Guerrard and is for the purpose of destroying our railroads.
They cruelly shot a George Daniel and a Mr. Jones of Covington,
destroyed a great deal of private property, and took many citizens
prisoners.
* * * * *
JULY 27, 1864.
Major Ansley and family have remained. We are feeling more settled and
have begun to bring to light some of the things which we had put away.
* * * * *
JULY 28, 1864.
I rose early and had the boys plow the turnip-patch. We were just
rising from breakfast when Ben Glass rode up with the cry: "The
Yankees are coming. Mrs. Burge, hide your mules!" How we were
startled and how we hurried the Major to his room! [The Yankees did
not come that day, but it was thought best to send Major Ansley away.
He left at 2 A.M.]
* * * * *
JULY 29, 1864.
Sleepless nights. The report is that the Yankees have left Covington
for Macon, headed by Stoneman, to release prisoners held there. They
robbed every house on the road of its provisions, sometimes taking
every piece of meat, blankets and wearing apparel, silver and arms of
every description. They would take silk dresses and put them under
their saddles, and many other things for which they had no use. Is
this the way to make us love them and their Union? Let the poor
people answer whom they have deprived of every mouthful of meat and
of their livestock to make any! Our mills, too, they have burned,
destroying an immense amount of property.
* * * * *
AUGUST 2, 1864.
Just as I got out of bed this morning Aunt Julia [a slave] called me
to look down the road and see the soldiers. I peeped through the
blinds, and there they were, sure enough, the Yankees--the blue coats!
I was not dressed. The servant women came running in. "Mistress, they
are coming! They are coming! They are riding into the lot! There are
two coming up the steps!"
I bade Rachel [a slave] fasten my room door and go to the front door
and ask them what they wanted. They did not wait for that, but came
in and asked why my door was fastened. She told them that the white
folks were not up. They said they wanted breakfast, and that quick,
too.
"Thug" [short for "Sugar," the nickname of a little girl, Minnie
Minerva Glass, now Mrs. Joe Carey Murphy of Charlotte, North Carolina,
who had come to pass the night with Sadai] and Sadai, as well as
myself, were greatly alarmed. As soon as I could get on my clothing I
hastened to the kitchen to hurry up breakfast. Six of them were there
talking with my women. They asked about our soldiers and, passing
themselves off as Wheeler's men, said:
"Have you seen any of our men go by?"
"Several of Wheeler's men passed last evening. Who are you?" said I.
"We are a portion of Wheeler's men," said one.
"You look like Yankees," said I.
"Yes," said one, stepping up to me; "we are Yankees. Did you ever see
one before?"
"Not for a long time," I replied, "and none such as you." [These men,
Mrs. Burge says further, were raiders, Illinois and Kentucky men of
German origin. They left after breakfast, taking three of her best
mules, but doing no further injury.]
To-night Captain Smith of an Alabama regiment, and a squad of twenty
men, are camped opposite in the field. They have all supped with me,
and I shall breakfast with them. We have spent a pleasant evening with
music and talk. They have a prisoner along. I can't help feeling
sorry for him.
* * * * *
AUGUST 5, 1864.
Mr. Ward has been robbed by the Yankees of his watch, pencil, and
shirt.
* * * * *
NOVEMBER 8, 1864.
To-day will probably decide the fate of the Confederacy. If Lincoln is
re-elected I think our fate is a hard one, but we are in the hands of
a merciful God, and if He sees that we are in the wrong, I trust that
He will show it unto us. I have never felt that slavery was altogether
right, for it is abused by men, and I have often heard Mr. Burge say
that if he could see that it was sinful for him to own slaves, if he
felt that it was wrong, he would take them where he could free them.
He would not sin for his right hand. The purest and holiest men have
owned them, and I can see nothing in the scriptures which forbids it.
I have never bought or sold slaves and I have tried to make life easy
and pleasant to those that have been bequeathed me by the dead. I have
never ceased to work. Many a Northern housekeeper has a much easier
time than a Southern matron with her hundred negroes.
* * * * *
NOVEMBER 12, 1864.
Warped and put in dresses for the loom. Oh, this blockade gives us
work to do for all hands!
* * * * *
NOVEMBER 15, 1864.
Went up to Covington to-day to pay the Confederate tax. Did not find
the commissioners. Mid [a slave] drove me with Beck and the buggy. Got
home about three o'clock. How very different is Covington from what it
used to be! And how little did they who tore down the old flag and
raised the new realize the results that have ensued!
* * * * *
NOVEMBER 16, 1864.
As I could not obtain in Covington what I went for in the way of dye
stuffs, etc., I concluded this morning, in accordance with Mrs. Ward's
wish, to go to the Circle. We took Old Dutch and had a pleasant ride
as it was a delightful day, but how dreary looks the town! Where
formerly all was bustle and business, now naked chimneys and bare
walls, for the depot and surroundings were all burned by last summer's
raiders. Engaged to sell some bacon and potatoes. Obtained my dye
stuffs. Paid seven dollars [Confederate money] a pound for coffee, six
dollars an ounce for indigo, twenty dollars for a quire of paper, five
dollars for ten cents' worth of flax thread, six dollars for pins, and
forty dollars for a bunch of factory thread.
On our way home we met Brother Evans accompanied by John Hinton, who
inquired if we had heard that the Yankees were coming. He said that a
large force was at Stockbridge, that the Home Guard was called out,
and that it was reported that the Yankees were on their way to
Savannah. We rode home chatting about it and finally settled it in
our minds that it could not be so. Probably a foraging party.
Just before night I walked up to Joe Perry's to know if they had heard
anything of the report. He was just starting off to join the company
[the Home Guard], being one of them.
* * * * *
NOVEMBER 17, 1864.
Have been uneasy all day. At night some of the neighbors who had been
to town called. They said it was a large force moving very slowly.
What shall I do? Where go?
* * * * *
NOVEMBER 18, 1864.
Slept very little last night. Went out doors several times and could
see large fires like burning buildings. Am I not in the hands of a
merciful God who has promised to take care of the widow and orphan?
Sent off two of my mules in the night. Mr. Ward and Frank [a slave]
took them away and hid them. In the morning took a barrel of salt,
which had cost me two hundred dollars, into one of the black women's
gardens, put a paper over it, and then on the top of that leached
ashes. Fixed it on a board as a leach tub, daubing it with ashes [the
old-fashioned way of making lye for soap]. Had some few pieces of meat
taken from my smoke-house carried to the Old Place [a distant part of
the plantation] and hidden under some fodder. Bid them hide the wagon
and gear and then go on plowing. Went to packing up mine and Sadai's
clothes. I fear that we shall be homeless.
The boys came back and wished to hide their mules. They say that the
Yankees camped at Mr. Gibson's last night and are taking all the stock
in the county. Seeing them so eager, I told them to do as they
pleased. They took them off, and Elbert [the black coachman] took his
forty fattening hogs to the Old Place Swamp and turned them in.
We have done nothing all day--that is, my people have not. I made a
pair of pants for Jack [a slave]. Sent Nute [a slave] up to Mrs.
Perry's on an errand. On his way back, he said, two Yankees met him
and begged him to go with them. They asked if we had livestock, and
came up the road as far as Mrs. Laura Perry's. I sat for an hour
expecting them, but they must have gone back. Oh, how I trust I am
safe! Mr. Ward is very much alarmed.
* * * * *
NOVEMBER 19, 1864.
Slept in my clothes last night, as I heard that the Yankees went to
neighbor Montgomery's on Thursday night at one o'clock, searched his
house, drank his wine, and took his money and valuables. As we were
not disturbed, I walked after breakfast, with Sadai, up to Mr. Joe
Perry's, my nearest neighbor, where the Yankees were yesterday. Saw
Mrs. Laura [Perry] in the road surrounded by her children, seeming to
be looking for some one. She said she was looking for her husband,
that old Mrs. Perry had just sent her word that the Yankees went to
James Perry's the night before, plundered his house, and drove off
all his stock, and that she must drive hers into the old fields.
Before we were done talking, up came Joe and Jim Perry from their
hiding-place. Jim was very much excited. Happening to turn and look
behind, as we stood there, I saw some blue-coats coming down the hill.
Jim immediately raised his gun, swearing he would kill them anyhow.
"No, don't!" said I, and ran home as fast as I could, with Sadai.
I could hear them cry, "Halt! Halt!" and their guns went off in quick
succession. Oh God, the time of trial has come!
A man passed on his way to Covington. I halloed to him, asking him if
he did not know the Yankees were coming.
"No--are they?"
"Yes," said I; "they are not three hundred yards from here."
"Sure enough," said he. "Well, I'll not go. I don't want them to get
my horse." And although within hearing of their guns, he would stop
and look for them. Blissful ignorance! Not knowing, not hearing, he
has not suffered the suspense, the fear, that I have for the past
forty-eight hours. I walked to the gate. There they came filing up.
I hastened back to my frightened servants and told them that they had
better hide, and then went back to the gate to claim protection and a
guard. But like demons they rush in! My yards are full. To my
smoke-house, my dairy, pantry, kitchen, and cellar, like famished
wolves they come, breaking locks and whatever is in their way. The
thousand pounds of meat in my smoke-house is gone in a twinkling, my
flour, my meat, my lard, butter, eggs, pickles of various kinds--both
in vinegar and brine--wine, jars, and jugs are all gone. My eighteen
fat turkeys, my hens, chickens, and fowls, my young pigs, are shot
down in my yard and hunted as if they were rebels themselves. Utterly
powerless I ran out and appealed to the guard.
"I cannot help you, Madam; it is orders."
As I stood there, from my lot I saw driven, first, old Dutch, my dear
old buggy horse, who has carried my beloved husband so many miles, and
who would so quietly wait at the block for him to mount and dismount,
and who at last drew him to his grave; then came old Mary, my brood
mare, who for years had been too old and stiff for work, with her
three-year-old colt, my two-year-old mule, and her last little baby
colt. There they go! There go my mules, my sheep, and, worse than all,
my boys [slaves]!
Alas! little did I think while trying to save my house from plunder
and fire that they were forcing my boys from home at the point of the
bayonet. One, Newton, jumped into bed in his cabin, and declared
himself sick. Another crawled under the floor,--a lame boy he
was,--but they pulled him out, placed him on a horse, and drove him
off. Mid, poor Mid! The last I saw of him, a man had him going around
the garden, looking, as I thought, for my sheep, as he was my
shepherd. Jack came crying to me, the big tears coursing down his
cheeks, saying they were making him go. I said:
"Stay in my room."
But a man followed in, cursing him and threatening to shoot him if he
did not go; so poor Jack had to yield. James Arnold, in trying to
escape from a back window, was captured and marched off. Henry, too,
was taken; I know not how or when, but probably when he and Bob went
after the mules. I had not believed they would force from their homes
the poor, doomed negroes, but such has been the fact here, cursing
them and saying that "Jeff Davis wanted to put them in his army, but
that they should not fight for him, but for the Union." No! Indeed no!
They are not friends to the slave. We have never made the poor,
cowardly negro fight, and it is strange, passing strange, that the
all-powerful Yankee nation with the whole world to back them, their
ports open, their armies filled with soldiers from all nations, should
at last take the poor negro to help them out against this little
Confederacy which was to have been brought back into the Union in
sixty days' time!
My poor boys! My poor boys! What unknown trials are before you! How
you have clung to your mistress and assisted her in every way you
knew.
Never have I corrected them; a word was sufficient. Never have they
known want of any kind. Their parents are with me, and how sadly they
lament the loss of their boys. Their cabins are rifled of every
valuable, the soldiers swearing that their Sunday clothes were the
white people's, and that they never had money to get such things as
they had. Poor Frank's chest was broken open, his money and tobacco
taken. He has always been a money-making and saving boy; not
infrequently has his crop brought him five hundred dollars and more.
All of his clothes and Rachel's clothes, which dear Lou gave her
before her death and which she had packed away, were stolen from her.
Ovens, skillets, coffee-mills, of which we had three, coffee-pots--not
one have I left. Sifters all gone!
Seeing that the soldiers could not be restrained, the guard ordered me
to have their [of the negroes] remaining possessions brought into my
house, which I did, and they all, poor things, huddled together in my
room, fearing every movement that the house would be burned.
A Captain Webber from Illinois came into my house. Of him I claimed
protection from the vandals who were forcing themselves into my room.
He said that he knew my brother Orrington [the late Orrington Lunt, a
well-known early settler of Chicago]. At that name I could not
restrain my feelings, but, bursting into tears, implored him to see my
brother and let him know my destitution. I saw nothing before me but
starvation. He promised to do this, and comforted me with the
assurance that my dwelling-house would not be burned, though my
out-buildings might. Poor little Sadai went crying to him as to a
friend and told him that they had taken her doll, Nancy. He begged her
to come and see him, and he would give her a fine waxen one. [The doll
was found later in the yard of a neighbor, where a soldier had thrown
it, and was returned to the little girl. Her children later played
with it, and it is now the plaything of her granddaughter.]
He felt for me, and I give him and several others the character of
gentlemen. I don't believe they would have molested women and children
had they had their own way. He seemed surprised that I had not laid
away in my house, flour and other provisions. I did not suppose I
could secure them there, more than where I usually kept them, for in
last summer's raid houses were thoroughly searched. In parting with
him, I parted as with a friend.
Sherman himself and a greater portion of his army passed my house that
day. All day, as the sad moments rolled on, were they passing not only
in front of my house, but from behind; they tore down my garden
palings, made a road through my back-yard and lot field, driving their
stock and riding through, tearing down my fences and desolating my
home--wantonly doing it when there was no necessity for it.
Such a day, if I live to the age of Methuselah, may God spare me from
ever seeing again!
As night drew its sable curtains around us, the heavens from every
point were lit up with flames from burning buildings. Dinnerless and
supperless as we were, it was nothing in comparison with the fear of
being driven out homeless to the dreary woods. Nothing to eat! I could
give my guard no supper, so he left us. I appealed to another, asking
him if he had wife, mother, or sister, and how he should feel were
they in my situation. A colonel from Vermont left me two men, but
they were Dutch, and I could not understand one word they said.
My Heavenly Father alone saved me from the destructive fire. My
carriage-house had in it eight bales of cotton, with my carriage,
buggy, and harness. On top of the cotton were some carded cotton
rolls, a hundred pounds or more. These were thrown out of the blanket
in which they were, and a large twist of the rolls taken and set on
fire, and thrown into the boat of my carriage, which was close up to
the cotton bales. Thanks to my God, the cotton only burned over, and
then went out. Shall I ever forget the deliverance?
To-night, when the greater part of the army had passed, it came up
very windy and cold. My room was full, nearly, with the negroes and
their bedding. They were afraid to go out, for my women could not
step out of the door without an insult from the Yankee soldiers. They
lay down on the floor; Sadai got down and under the same cover with
Sally, while I sat up all night, watching every moment for the flames
to burst out from some of my buildings. The two guards came into my
room and laid themselves by my fire for the night. I could not close
my eyes, but kept walking to and fro, watching the fires in the
distance and dreading the approaching day, which, I feared, as they
had not all passed, would be but a continuation of horrors.
* * * * *
NOVEMBER 20, 1864.
This is the blessed Sabbath, the day upon which He who came to bring
peace and good will upon earth rose from His tomb and ascended to
intercede for us poor fallen creatures. But how unlike this day to any
that have preceded it in my once quiet home. I had watched all night,
and the dawn found me watching for the moving of the soldiery that was
encamped about us. Oh, how I dreaded those that were to pass, as I
supposed they would straggle and complete the ruin that the others had
commenced, for I had been repeatedly told that they would burn
everything as they passed.
Some of my women had gathered up a chicken that the soldiers shot
yesterday, and they cooked it with some yams for our breakfast, the
guard complaining that we gave them no supper. They gave us some
coffee, which I had to make in a tea-kettle, as every coffee-pot is
taken off. The rear-guard was commanded by Colonel Carlow, who
changed our guard, leaving us one soldier while they were passing.
They marched directly on, scarcely breaking ranks. Once a bucket of
water was called for, but they drank without coming in.
About ten o'clock they had all passed save one, who came in and wanted
coffee made, which was done, and he, too, went on. A few minutes
elapsed, and two couriers riding rapidly passed back. Then, presently,
more soldiers came by, and this ended the passing of Sherman's army by
my place, leaving me poorer by thirty thousand dollars than I was
yesterday morning. And a much stronger Rebel!
After the excitement was a little over, I went up to Mrs. Laura's to
sympathize with her, for I had no doubt but that her husband was
hanged. She thought so, and we could see no way for his escape. We all
took a good cry together. While there, I saw smoke looming up in the
direction of my home, and thought surely the fiends had done their
work ere they left. I ran as fast as I could, but soon saw that the
fire was below my home. It proved to be the gin house [cotton gin]
belonging to Colonel Pitts.
My boys have not come home. I fear they cannot get away from the
soldiers. Two of my cows came up this morning, but were driven off
again by the Yankees.
I feel so thankful that I have not been burned out that I have tried
to spend the remainder of the day as the Sabbath ought to be spent.
Ate dinner out of the oven in Julia's [the cook's] house, some stew,
no bread. She is boiling some corn. My poor servants feel so badly at
losing what they have worked for; meat, the hog meat that they love
better than anything else, is all gone.
* * * * *
NOVEMBER 21, 1864.
We had the table laid this morning, but no bread or butter or milk.
What a prospect for delicacies! My house is a perfect fright. I had
brought in Saturday night some thirty bushels of potatoes and ten or
fifteen bushels of wheat poured down on the carpet in the ell. Then
the few gallons of syrup saved was daubed all about. The backbone of a
hog that I had killed on Friday, and which the Yankees did not take
when they cleaned out my smokehouse, I found and hid under my bed, and
this is all the meat I have.
Major Lee came down this evening, having heard that I was burned out,
to proffer me a home. Mr. Dorsett was with him. The army lost some of
their beeves in passing. I sent to-day and had some driven into my
lot, and then sent to Judge Glass to come over and get some. Had two
killed. Some of Wheeler's men came in, and I asked them to shoot the
cattle, which they did.
About ten o'clock this morning Mr. Joe Perry [Mrs. Laura's husband]
called. I was so glad to see him that I could scarcely forbear
embracing him. I could not keep from crying, for I was sure the
Yankees had executed him, and I felt so much for his poor wife. The
soldiers told me repeatedly Saturday that they had hung him and his
brother James and George Guise. They had a narrow escape, however, and
only got away by knowing the country so much better than the soldiers
did. They lay out until this morning. How rejoiced I am for his
family! All of his negroes are gone, save one man that had a wife here
at my plantation. They are very strong Secesh [Secessionists]. When
the army first came along they offered a guard for the house, but Mrs.
Laura told them she was guarded by a Higher Power, and did not thank
them to do it. She says that she could think of nothing else all day
when the army was passing but of the devil and his hosts. She had,
however, to call for a guard before night or the soldiers would have
taken everything she had.
* * * * *
NOVEMBER 22, 1864.
After breakfast this morning I went over to my grave-yard to see what
had befallen that. To my joy, I found it had not been disturbed. As I
stood by my dead, I felt rejoiced that they were at rest. Never have I
felt so perfectly reconciled to the death of my husband as I do
to-day, while looking upon the ruin of his lifelong labor. How it
would have grieved him to see such destruction! Yes, theirs is the lot
to be envied. At rest, rest from care, rest from heartaches, from
trouble....
Found one of my large hogs killed just outside the grave-yard.
Walked down to the swamp, looking for the wagon and gear that Henry
hid before he was taken off. Found some of my sheep; came home very
much wearied, having walked over four miles.
Mr. and Mrs. Rockmore called. Major Lee came down again after some
cattle, and while he was here the alarm was given that more Yankees
were coming. I was terribly alarmed and packed my trunks with
clothing, feeling assured that we should be burned out now. Major Lee
swore that he would shoot, which frightened me, for he was intoxicated
enough to make him ambitious. He rode off in the direction whence it
was said they were coming. Soon after, however, he returned, saying it
was a false alarm, that it was some of our own men. Oh, dear! Are we
to be always living in fear and dread! Oh, the horrors, the horrors of
war!
* * * * *
NOVEMBER 26, 1864.
A very cold morning. Elbert [the negro coachman] has to go to mill
this morning, and I shall go with him, fearing that, if he is alone,
my mule may be taken from him, for there are still many straggling
soldiers about. Mounted in the little wagon, I went, carrying wheat
not only for myself, but for my neighbors. Never did I think I would
have to go to mill! Such are the changes that come to us! History
tells us of some illustrious examples of this kind. Got home just at
night.
Mr. Kennedy stopped all night with us. He has been refugeeing on his
way home. Every one we meet gives us painful accounts of the
desolation caused by the enemy. Each one has to tell his or her own
experience, and fellow-suffering makes us all equal and makes us all
feel interested in one another.
* * * * *
DECEMBER 22, 1864.
Tuesday, the nineteenth of the month, I attended Floyd Glass's
wedding. She was married in the morning to Lieutenant Doroughty. She
expected to have been married the week after the Yankees came, but her
groom was not able to get here. Some of the Yankees found out in some
way that she was to have been married, and annoyed her considerably by
telling her that they had taken her sweetheart prisoner; that when he
got off the train at the Circle they took him and, some said, shot
him.
The Yankees found Mrs. Glass's china and glassware that she had buried
in a box, broke it all up, and then sent her word that she would set
no more fine tables. They also got Mrs. Perry's silver.
* * * * *
DECEMBER 23, 1864.
Just before night Mrs. Robert Rakestraw and Miss Mary drove up to
spend the night with me. They had started down into Jasper County,
hoping to get back their buggy, having heard that several buggies were
left at Mr. Whitfield's by the Yankees.
Nothing new! It is confidently believed that Savannah has been
evacuated. I hear nothing from my boys. Poor fellows, how I miss them!
* * * * *
DECEMBER 24, 1864.
This has usually been a very busy day with me, preparing for Christmas
not only for my own tables, but for gifts for my servants. Now how
changed! No confectionery, cakes, or pies can I have. We are all sad;
no loud, jovial laugh from our boys is heard. Christmas Eve, which
has ever been gaily celebrated here, which has witnessed the popping
of fire-crackers [the Southern custom of celebrating Christmas with
fireworks] and the hanging up of stockings, is an occasion now of
sadness and gloom. I have nothing even to put in Sadai's stocking,
which hangs so invitingly for Santa Claus. How disappointed she will
be in the morning, though I have explained to her why he cannot come.
Poor children! Why must the innocent suffer with the guilty?
* * * * *
DECEMBER 25, 1864.
Sadai jumped out of bed very early this morning to feel in her
stocking. She could not believe but that there would be something in
it. Finding nothing, she crept back into bed, pulled the cover over
her face, and I soon heard her sobbing. The little negroes all came
in: "Christmas gift, mist'ess! Christmas gift, mist'ess!"
I pulled the cover over my face and was soon mingling my tears with
Sadai's.
* * * * *
[The records in the journal for the year 1865 are full of details of
farm work and reflections on the war. For example]:
JANUARY 30, 1865.
As the moon has changed, Julia [the cook] has gone to making soap
again. She is a strong believer in the moon, and never undertakes to
boil her soap on the wane of the moon. "It won't thicken,
mist'ess--see if it does!" She says, too, we must commence gardening
this moon. I have felt a strong desire to-day that my captured boys
might come back. Oh, how thankful I should feel to see them once more
safe at home!
* * * * *
APRIL 29, 1865.
Boys plowing in old house field. We are needing rain. Everything looks
pleasant, but the state of our country is very gloomy. General Lee has
surrendered to the victorious Grant. Well, if it will only hasten the
conclusion of this war, I am satisfied. There has been something very
strange in the whole affair to me, and I can attribute it to nothing
but the hand of Providence working out some problem that has not yet
been revealed to us poor, erring mortals. At the beginning of the
struggle the minds of men, their wills, their self-control, seemed to
be all taken from them in a passionate antagonism to the coming-in
President, Abraham Lincoln.
Our leaders, to whom the people looked for wisdom, led us into this,
perhaps the greatest error of the age. "We will not have this man to
rule over us!" was their cry. For years it has been stirring in the
hearts of Southern politicians that the North was enriched and built
up by Southern labor and wealth. Men's pockets were always appealed to
and appealed to so constantly that an antagonism was excited which it
has been impossible to allay. They did not believe that the North
would fight. Said Robert Toombes: "I will drink every drop of blood
they will shed." Oh, blinded men! Rivers deep and strong have been
shed, and where are we now?--a ruined, subjugated people! What will be
our future? is the question which now rests heavily upon the hearts of
all.
This has been a month never to be forgotten. Two armies have
surrendered. The President of the United States has been assassinated,
Richmond evacuated, and Davis, President of the Confederacy, put to
grief, to flight. The old flag has been raised again upon Sumter and
an armistice accepted.
* * * * *
[May is full of stories of Confederate soldiers bitterly returning to
their homes, and of apprehension of the Yankee troops encamped in the
neighborhood.]
MAY 7, 1865.
Sunday evening. Had company every day last week, paroled soldiers
returning to their homes. Last night a Mr. and Mrs. Adams, refugees
from Alberta, who have been spending the time in Eatonton, called to
stay all night. I felt as though I could not take them in. I had
purposely kept in the back part of the house all the evening with my
blinds down and door locked, to keep from being troubled by soldiers,
and had just gone into my room with a light, when some one knocked at
the door, and wanted shelter for himself and family. I could not turn
away women and children, so I took them in. Found them very pleasant
people. They had Government wagons along, and he had them guarded all
night. I fear there was something in them which had been surrendered,
and belonged to the United States, but he assured me that with the
exception of the mules and wagon, all belonged to himself. He said
that he left Jeff Davis at Washington in this State, on Thursday
morning last. His enemies are in close pursuit of him, offering a
hundred thousand reward to his captors.
* * * * *
MAY 14, 1865.
Mr. Knowles, our circuit preacher, came. I like him. We agree upon a
good many contested topics. He loves the old flag as well as myself
and would be glad to see it floating where it ever has.
I had a long conversation with my man Elbert to-day about freedom, and
told him I was perfectly willing, but wanted direction. He says the
Yankees told Major Lee's servants they were all free, but they had
better remain where they were until it was all settled, as it would be
in a month's time. We heard so many conflicting rumors we know not
what to do, but are willing to carry out the orders when we know them.
* * * * *
MAY 29, 1865.
Dr. Williams, from Social Circle, came this morning to trade me a
horse. He tells me the people below are freeing their servants and
allowing those to stay with them that will go on with their work and
obey as usual. What I shall do with mine is a question that troubles
me day and night. It is my last thought at night and the first in the
morning. I told them several days ago they were free to do as they
liked. But it is my duty to make some provisions for them. I thank God
that they are freed, and yet what can I do with them? They are old and
young, not profitable to hire. What provision can I make?
* * * * *
[The last two entries of the year 1865, however, supply the journal
with the much-to-be-desired happy ending]:
DECEMBER 24, 1865.
It has been many months since I wrote in this journal, and many things
of interest have occurred. But above all I give thanks to God for His
goodness in preserving my life and so much of my property for me. My
freedmen have been with me and have worked for one-sixth of my crop.
This is a very rainy, unpleasant day. How many poor freedmen are
suffering! Thousands of them must be exposed to the pitiless rain! Oh,
that everybody would do right, and there would not be so much
suffering in the world! Sadai and I are all alone in the house. We
have been reading, talking, and thus spending the hours until she went
to bed, that I might play Santa Claus. Her stocking hangs invitingly
in the corner. Happy child and childhood, that can be so easily made
content!
* * * * *
DECEMBER 25, 1865.
Sadai woke very early and crept out of bed to her stocking. Seeing it
well filled she soon had a light and eight little negroes around her,
gazing upon the treasures. Everything opened that could be divided
was shared with them. 'Tis the last Christmas, probably, that we shall
be together, freedmen! Now you will, I trust, have your own homes, and
be joyful under your own vine and fig tree, with none to molest or
make afraid.
THE END
* * * * *
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