Letters and diary of Laura M. Towne

Written from the Sea islands of South Carolina.

[Diary] July 27.

Mr. Phillips, the new minister, preached, and after church there was a continuation of the examination for baptism. Many of the people said they had desired for years to be baptized, but could not get their masters’ leave.

Written from the Sea islands of South Carolina.

[Diary] July 23.

Nelly was busy all day cleaning and rigging her guns. The men on the place seemed overjoyed at their arrival.

I packed boxes for the Edisto refugees and counted up the produce of the sales. I have on hand over four hundred dollars. Mr. Ruggles stayed last night in place of Mr. Hooper as our protector. He brought us a present of sweet potatoes, watermelons and green apples. We had an apple pie!

Written from the Sea islands of South Carolina.

The Old Penn School

[Diary] July 22.

Our guns have come! Captain Thorndyke brought over twenty and gave Nelly instructions. Commodore Du Pont was here this afternoon. The people came running to the school-room — “Oh, Miss Ellen, de gunboat come!” I believe they thought we were to be shelled out. Ellen, Nelly, and I went down to the bluff and there lay a steamboat in front of Eina’s house, and a gig was putting off with flag flying and oars in time. Presently a very imposing uniformed party landed, and, coming up the bluff, Commodore Du Pont introduced himself and staff. We invited him in. He said he had come to explore the creek and to see a plantation. They stayed only about ten minutes, were very agreeable and took leave. Commodore Du Pont is a very large and fine-looking man. He invited us all to visit the Wabash and seemed really to wish it.

Written from the Sea islands of South Carolina.

[Diary] July 21, Monday.

Captain Randolph and Mr. De la Croix were here to-day. The former says he will speak at headquarters about the guns not being delivered according to General Hunter’s orders, thus preventing the superintendents undertaking the defence of the island and making removal necessary, to the great discomfort and unhappiness of the people, their impoverishment and pauperism, besides abandoning the splendid crop that had already cost Government so much, and that would have been so profitable to it. He, Captain Randolph, is delighted with the working of the system of labor pursued on these islands and at the state of good order and comfort now prevailing.

Written from the Sea islands of South Carolina.

[Diary] July 20, Sunday.

This morning there was no white preacher. After church Father Tom and his bench of elders examined candidates for baptism and asked Ellen to record their names. We stayed. Each candidate, clothed in the oldest possible clothes and with a handkerchief made into a band and tied around the forehead, stood humbly before the bench. Father Tom, looking like Jupiter himself, grave, powerful, and awfully dignified, put the most posing questions, to which the candidates replied meekly and promptly. He asked the satisfactory candidate at last, “How do you pray?” Then the soft, musical voices made the coaxing, entreating kind of prayer they use so much. A nod dismissed the applicant and another was called up. There were sixty or seventy to examine.

We went afterwards to St. Helenaville and stayed at the Jenkins’ house, which was crowded with superintendents.

Mr. Wells, Ellen, and I took a walk along the pretty street under the pines on the high bluff over the water. The passion flowers trailed all over the ground and the crape myrtle was in full bloom. I gave Ellen and Mr. Wells each a berry which I supposed was a “ground berry.” Mr. W. ate his in silence, but Ellen exclaimed that it was intensely bitter. I was alarmed, for I knew that the berry belonged to a poisonous family. We asked some of the people whether they were good to eat, and they said “No — poison.” I then made the two victims hurry back to Mr. Jenkins’ house and drink some strong coffee, besides giving an antidote from my little doctor’s box. No bad effects.

Young Mr. John Alden lay very ill in the house. After a while the people gathered before the porch and sang and tried to get up a “shout,” but this was not encouraged by the leaders. They sang “Happy Morning,” “Down in the Lonesome Valley,” and others.

We rode home in the twilight escorted by Lieutenant Forbes and some other horsemen. Forbes and others of the cavalry are picketed at Wells’, Edding’s Point.

Written from the Sea islands of South Carolina.

St. Helena Island, July 17, 1862.

I do want to let you know the little particulars you speak of very much, but there are always so many great things to tell of here that I have no time. Just now we are going through “history” in the removal from Edisto of all the negroes there, consequent upon the evacuation of the island by our troops. The story is this — General McClellan wanting more soldiers, General Stevens and his regiment went North, and we had not enough soldiers left to guard Edisto, which lies near Charleston. So General Hunter ordered the evacuation of the island, first removing all the negroes who wished our protection, and that was all who were there. They embarked in one or two vessels, sixteen hundred in all, with their household effects, pigs, chickens, and babies “promiscuous.” Last night Captain Hooper went to see that they were comfortably established on this island. They have the fashionable watering-place given up to them, with all their old masters’ houses at their disposal. The superintendents laugh about it. They say the negroes go to St. Helenaville for their healths, and the white folks stay on the plantations. I suppose some of the places will be unhealthy, but ours is fortunately situated, as we have a cool wind from the sea every day. These negroes will be rationed and cared for. They say they will get in the cotton here that had to be abandoned when the black regiment was formed. They are quiet and good, anxious to do all they can for the people who are protecting them. They have not the least desire, apparently, to welcome back their old masters, nor to cling to the soil. They want only what Yankees can give them.

We are going to have another change in this household. Mr. Soule,[1] Mrs. Philbrick’s uncle, is coming to preside. He is just made General Superintendent of these two islands, and this will be his headquarters.

Mr. Pierce’s short visit on his return was very pleasant. He came at midnight, in his usual energetic fashion, and stayed some days. General Saxton, his successor, seems a very fine fellow, and most truly anti-slavery. He is quite interested in Nelly Winsor’s movements and plans, she having taken Eustis’ plantation to oversee, as well as this one. She is paid for this by Government fifty dollars per month. Her salary as teacher from the commission will probably soon cease. Ellen has a fine afternoon school and is doing remarkably well with it. She has two Sunday-School classes, one at church, one here. I help in the Sunday-School here and have a class of thirty-six or so at the church.

I will go over one day — an average day — to let you know how I spend my time. If Captain Hooper has to go to Beaufort by the early ferry, we have to get up by six; but if he does not, we lie till after eight, and we about equally divide the days between early and late rising. After breakfast, I feed my three mocking-birds, — how thankful I should be for a decent cage for them! — and then go to the Boston store or the cotton-house and pack boxes to go off to plantations, or clear up the store, or sell — the latter chiefly on Saturdays, when there is a crowd around the door laughing, joking, scolding, crowding. Ellen always goes to the stores when I do, and will stay, as she says she was commissioned expressly to take care of me and work with me. She makes this an excuse or a reason for insisting upon sharing every bit of work I do. About eleven or twelve I come in, wash, sleep, and lunch whenever my nap is out. In the afternoons I expect to write while Ellen has her school, for I do not help her in it, but so many folks come for clothing, or on business, or to be doctored, that I rarely have an hour. Then comes supper and dinner together at any time between six and ten that Captain Hooper gets here. About sundown, I, with Ellen, walk down the little negro street, or “the hill,” as they call it, — though it is as flat as a pond, — to attend my patients. I am sorry to say that Aunt Bess, whose ulcer I had nearly cured, has another on the same leg, and so my skill seems of less avail than I could hope. We had the prettiest little baby born here the other day that I ever saw, and good as gold. It is a great pet with us all. Indeed, it is almost laughable to see what pets all the people are and how they enjoy it. At church, at home, and in the field their own convenience is the first cared for, and compared to them the poor superintendents are “nowhar.” It is too funny to hear them ordering me around in the store — with real good-natured liking for mischief in it, too.

After dinner we sit awhile and talk in the parlor, but the mosquitoes give us no peace. To-night Ellen and I have taken our writing-desks and candle under our mosquito net. I am glad to have good fare. We have nice melons and figs, pretty good corn, tomatoes now and then, bread rarely; hominy, cornbread, and rice waffles being our principal breadstuffs. We have fish every day nearly, but fresh meat never — now and then turtle soup, though. Living on the “fat of the lamb ” is nothing to ours on the fat of the turtle. Our household servants are four in number, besides my Rina, who washes for me and does my chamber-work, besides waiting at table. She is the best old thing in the world and I hope I can take her North with me. … It is grand to run to my private store for nails and tacks, etc., and the sewing-things are invaluable. The pulverized sugar lasts well. Captain Hooper had a letter from Mr. P., in which he speaks of the pleasant times he had here. He will never have so pleasant again, I believe, because he was doing a good work for no pay, and that is a satisfaction not often to be had. The cotton crop here will be a success, I think, and the corn will be plentiful, unless we have some great storms. I wish you could see the wild flowers, the hedges of Adam’s-needle, with heads of white bells a foot or two through and four feet high; the purple pease with blossoms that look like dogtooth violets — just the size — climbing up the cotton-plant with its yellow flower, and making whole fields purple and gold; the passion flowers in the grass; the swinging palmetto sprays.

I send the music. It is not right, but will give you some idea. “Roll, Jordan, Roll” is the finest song.

[1] Richard Soule, Jr.

Written from the Sea islands of South Carolina.

[Diary] July 14, Monday.

Edisto is evacuated! — and all the negroes brought to these islands. Some time ago the superintendents, Mr. Delacroix being an earnest one, petitioned for guns to arm their negroes. General Hunter granted them, but General Wright, I think that was the name, prevented or delayed their delivery. When the troops from Port Royal went North, General Hunter ordered the withdrawal of the troops occupying Edisto, so as to concentrate his small force. Mr. Bryant and one other went to him and asked him whether he meant to leave them defenceless. He said he could not protect them there — that they might come within our lines, and he would delay the removal of the soldiers till they had time to procure transportation for the people. When Mr. Bryant returned and the negroes were informed of the intended evacuation, they were in great distress. They said at first that they only wanted guns, but when they found that the superintendents were to leave, they made up their minds, after considerable advising, that they had better follow the Yankees. So they collected their fowls and pigs and crowded into the transports. Instead of being only one day going from Edisto to Beaufort, the delay made by their baggage transportation kept them out overnight, hungry, comfortless. A few old people had determined not to leave the home they loved so much, and they waited on shore till the last moment and then came hurrying down to the shore. The people were landed at Beaufort, but that town was overcrowded with refugees already, so, after being disembarked on the wharf, and I think staying there a night, they had to take a steamer again and then were taken to St. Helenaville, where they were settled.

Mr. Barnard had been indefatigable in helping his people and he seemed to suffer all their privations himself and all their sorrow at leaving their home. He made himself almost ill by his over-exertion. The people are but half-sheltered now, and he is so anxious.

The first thing I saw this morning was the yard full of carts and people. Such crowding, hurrying, ordering, competing — all eager for the goods now that they have a little money to purchase with. They kept it up till nearly dark, though I had to pack some boxes.

Mr. Ruggles was here to dinner and the captain of the black regiment and six of his men afterward. Captain Randolph stayed all night.

Written from the Sea islands of South Carolina.

[Diary] July 4.

Up at 4 A.M. We three girls raised our flag. Nelly had had the staff planted the day before. General Saxton and staff breakfasted here. Then we rode to the church — General Saxton in the carriage with us three ladies.

At the Episcopal church Nelly played the organ — “John Brown” and “America.” Then we took our places on the platform under the pines and oaks. First sat General Saxton and the ladies, then the staff and superintendents. A grand, noble flag, supplied by General Saxton, was stretched over the road in full view. The people, marshalled by Mr. Wells on one side, Mr. Gannett on the other, came in procession from below and above the church carrying branches in their hands and singing “Roll, Jordan, Roll.” They formed under the flag and before the platform into a dense mass and sang many of their own songs. At General Saxton’s request, Nelly’s school-children then sang Whittier’s song —

“Now praise and tank de Lord, he come
To set de people free;
Ole massa tink it day ob doom,
But we ob jubilee.”

He made a little speech to the people—manly, straightforward, and encouraging. Mr. Winsor addressed the school-children, and Mr. Philbrick dilated upon work, work, and cotton, cotton. Then there was an unlimited supply of molasses and water, gingered, — with herrings and hard-tack provided by the bounty of Philadelphia, and spread on board tables in the woods. We left them happy as larks, and all the white folks adjourned to the Oaks[1] for a cold lunch — that is, all but General Saxton and staff, who rode to Beaufort. I think the lunch was only tolerably successful, as the melons were green, and the corn-starch soured by the intense heat. General dispersion — the lunch being over. Mr. Sumner, Mr. Brinkerhoff, who made the prayer in the morning, before the addresses, stayed and sang with Nelly on the porch. I came up here to write and Ellen is here with me. She decked the parlors beautifully.

[1] The Government headquarters on St. Helena Island, where Miss Towne was living.

Written from the Sea islands of South Carolina.

[Diary] June 24, Tuesday.

We had a serenade last night. It was given by Holbrook, Fuller, and others. They spoke about it at breakfast and General Hunter laughed heartily as they wanted to know why it was not appreciated by the household. We had a very cosy, sociable, pleasant meal. Mrs. Dibble, or Dibbil, the wife of an officer on Morris Island, who stays with Mrs. Hunter, shared her room with me, and after the serenade we slept well. I had another long talk with General and Mrs. Hunter. I told him of the assault upon Mr. Pierce, and the cotton agents’ evil doings generally. He says he shall burn Charleston if he ever has a chance to take it, but that he has no chance now, for all his troops are withdrawn except barely enough for defence. He is a generous but too impulsive man, kind to a fault to his soldiers, and more anti-slavery than I expected. He wore a loose undress coat made of white cassimir and a straw hat, when walking on the piazza. His manner is very quick and decided, and to his wife, attentive and as if he were much attached to her. He told me how she went with him on all his campaigns and how impossible it was for him to do without her; and she told me how he had suffered with the cut across the cheek and wound in the ankle which he received at Ball’s Bluff, I think, or Bull Run. I spoke of Fremont admiringly, and he blazed up. “I admire his anti-slavery,” I said, “and his proclamation.” “That was well,” he replied, “but his military operations were ridiculous and he came near losing Missouri;” and he said, I think, that he was not trustworthy.

“There’s that guard asleep again,” he said once. “Let him sleep, David,” urged his wife. “How would you like to stand and walk about so long uselessly with a heavy gun on your shoulder in the hot sun? Let him sleep, David.” “Oh, you would keep pretty order in my camp,” he said, laughingly, and let the man sleep.

Mr. French took me back, in the Locust Point, to Beaufort.