Letters and diary of Laura M. Towne

The Oaks, St. Helena, December 13, 1863.

I think I see you this Sunday evening all round the stove in the back room upstairs talking over Christmas, and whether I am setting out in the Arago that sails to-morrow is perhaps one of the subjects you are discussing. If nothing detained me like the terrible necessity that does detain me, I suppose I should now have my trunk ready and be sleeping with one eye open so as to watch the dawn and be up in time for the first ferry. But it would be against your approval if I did set out, for it is storming yet, with wind that shakes the house, and lightning; and for several days the sea will be so rough that if I tried it I feel sure I should arrive in Philadelphia more dead than alive. Even after the storm is over the sea will be high, for it is an easterly storm and has lasted now three or four days.

The Oaks, St. Helena, December 10,1863.

Dear Family All: — It is hard for me and for us all, I know, that this letter is all of me that comes by this steamer. I can’t bear to think of what you will say and how you will look when you get it. Don’t be very angry with me (as I think you must be at first), but consider that I am not disregarding all your requests by my free will, but by really cruel circumstances, and that I am bitterly disappointed myself.

I had made every arrangement to go with Rina and Captain Hooper, and was making plans day and night for getting to you and thinking of nothing but the pleasure we should have. But since Miss Ruggles’ death I never dared to dwell with too much certainty upon our meeting at any set time, and it fairly made me tremble to see by your letters how much you were all setting your minds upon it. Though Ellen was still very ill when I wrote last, we had good hopes that she would be well enough for me to leave her by Xmas, and, from General Saxton down to the negro boys in the yard, everybody was helping forward my going. But on the twenty-eighth day of the sickness, the quinine seemed to have lost its effect, or there was some unfavorable circumstance which brought on a relapse. I sent for Dr. Rogers. He thought she must have the wisest medical aid or there was little hope for her. I told him that she had no home at the North and was unwilling to go with me without, or even with, invitation from my friends. Then he said, “You must stay with her; she will die if you leave her.” I asked whether he thought it would be long before I could go, and he said hers must be a tedious convalescence — that the responsibility and risk of taking her North made it better for me not to urge her going, but that he must warn me not to go away till she was in a different state from now. So I have made up my mind to it, and I do not dare to think of Xmas at all. I hope she will get well sooner than he thinks, for she has gone on famously for the last four or five days. I shall set out as soon as she is well enough to go to her mother and do without medicine. Meanwhile I turn Kitty’s ring and say, “Patience! Patience!” . . .

General Saxton received Mr. Furness’ letter and came directly over to see me and order me home, but he went away convinced that there was but one thing to be done. Those who have been of the household know well enough that I did not want any order from General Saxton nor urging from Mr. Furness to take me to home and Christmas, but all agree that there is only one way for me now, and that is to put off going till I can do so without leaving Ellen so ill.

December 11, Friday.

There are some other reasons besides Ellen’s sickness which make it better for me to be here, though I should not have let them detain me. One is the sale of the furniture. I want to buy a cheap table, a chair, a bedstead; or, if I can, I want to claim these things as necessary to me as a teacher. If I am here I may get them granted to me, but if I am away, there is nothing to be done but to buy them when I come back, and I may not be able to do it. Then if the places are leased by January 1st, as is expected, the resident teachers will be able to claim a home, but there would be a small chance for absentees. Ellen will not be at “The Oaks,” nor well enough to attend to my interests. Still, though I should like to keep this home, I would not stop a day to do it, for there would surely be some place for me near the school. A little while ago Mr. Phillips spoke in a way that seemed to threaten our school. He said the church building[1] belonged to private parties, and he interfered with our school arrangements. Colonel Higginson was here at the time and he afterwards spoke to General Saxton about it. General S. said we should be unmolested as long as he was in the department, for that he had rather a hundred such churches as Mr. Phillips’ should be closed than one such school as ours. Harriet is going to open it as soon as we get the stove up. I shall not teach again before I go home, I think. Ellen is not well enough to leave, and I shall rest here and make a business of it, since I cannot go home to rest with you all; though I do not really need any rest, but freedom from anxiety. I suppose the school would add a little to that, and so I shall not begin till I am easy in mind and eager for work once more. We have been having a good deal of company, but I am not housekeeper and don’t care. Colonel Higginson’s nephew is here now, sick, and being cared for by Mr. Tomlinson. He has just sent Ellen and me a half pillowcase full of beautiful Spitzenberg apples from a box he has just received. He occupies Mr. Tomlinson’s room with him. Mr. T. is the kindest of nurses to these sick young officers. He talks of going to Morris Island with good things for the soldiers there for Christmas.

Saturday evening.

It is storming so that I am afraid the ferry will not cross to-morrow morning, and then this letter may be too late for the steamer. This worries me dreadfully, for I am sure that you all will fret if you do not hear from me. I can hardly bear your disappointment, and I feel as if I cannot bear your anxiety on my account. You need not worry about my health. It keeps good and I shall take care of it, for I know how much it is worth. I shall be glad to escape anxiety, but that I could not do by going home now — it would be an incessant care and fear and self-reproach.

I should really fear to leave in such a storm, or after it, my recollection of the one I came through to get here being still vivid.

I have read over my letter and see that it seems cold and heartless and does not let you know at all how I am grieved about disappointing you, and at being separated on this day when we hoped our circle would be complete once more. But I am troubled enough about it, and do all I can not to think or feel too much till I get to you once more. I am in a hard trial on my account and on yours.

Good night! A happy Christmas to you all, and a bright New Year. You must be merry and make believe I am there.

We shall have no Christmas for the school and no school probably. I am so sorry for that. I cannot bear to stop, but must, and so good-night again, and best love to all from far away,

L.

[1] The brick church, in which Miss Towne and Miss Murray had opened their school.

[Diary] Sunday, September 13, 1863.

To-day in church $107 was taken up for a monument on Fort Wagner to Colonel Shaw from black people alone, Ellen and I, however, each putting in something. Mr. Tomlinson told the people that the soldiers on Morris Island were suffering for fresh food, and wanted potatoes. The whole church responded that they would give the potatoes.

[Diary] Tuesday, July 28, 1863.

Brought home from school to-day a heavy load of watermelons. We have decided to distribute the rest of the commission needles and thread in this manner. We give them in exchange for melons or anything eatable that the children have to sell, and that we can send to the hospitals for the wounded soldiers; we sent the fruit to the colored hospitals, because the goods were originally meant for them, and because the other hospitals have more friends to care for them. All the superintendents have melons offered by cartloads by the people, who seem as if they cannot give enough.

[Diary] July 27, 1863.

To-day the Cosmopolitan took North many of the wounded officers — Ned Hallowell, James Pope, and others. Mr. Tomlinson went with them as nurse. Mr. Pierce could not get a permit to go. Hallowell sent me more thanks for the cornstarch, and said it was just the thing. Poor young Shaw was killed and buried in the trench with his soldiers.

Will has gone to nurse at one of the hospitals. He took in from Frogmore an ox-load of watermelons, and Mr. Fairfield took a cart-load from “The Oaks” — offerings from the people to the soldiers, “wounded for we,” they say.

Melons are pouring in from all parts of the island — free gifts — as well as potatoes (sweet), chickens, and everything the people have to give.

[Diary] July 20.

I came home yesterday, and to-day I am summoned by Mr. Pierce to Beaufort to help nurse the wounded soldiers who have come down from Morris Island. They are coming in by hundreds. We hear the guns all day and night. The Fifty-fourth Massachusetts behaved splendidly at the attack on Fort Wagner.¹ They took it, but we cannot hold it, for Fort Sumter commands it and shells our men out. Our young Hallowell was wounded three times. Mr. Pierce nursed him and brought him down. Nearly all the officers of the Fifty-fourth killed or wounded. Colonel Shaw, they say, sprang upon the fort and called to his boys to come on, and was then struck and fell. It is hoped he is a prisoner, and yet his comrades hardly dare to expect much from that, for, commanding black soldiers, will he not be murdered in cold blood? They are all greatly excited about him, hoping, fearing, disregarding their own wounds in their anxiety for him. They love him.²

¹ July 18, 1863. The attack was led by the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts (colored), Colonel Robert Gould Shaw commanding.

² Colonel Robert Gould Shaw was killed in the attack on Fort Wagner.

[Diary] Saturday, July 4.

Up early and off to the Baptist church, after mixing medicine and cooking cornstarch for some of Dr. Brisbane’s surveyors who are ill. The school assembled in the church and we pinned our badges on. It is astonishing how many claimed to be our scholars! Then we marched out and stood under the flag and sang “The Star Spangled Banner.” After this, Mr. Folsom[1] read the Declaration of Independence. Mr. Lynch, the new colored Methodist minister, made an oration. The children sang, “Oh, None in All.” Mr. Pierce then spoke. Children sang “My Country.” Afterwards the people, led by “Billy,” sang many of their own songs, and we, having left our classes, sat on the platform under that noble oak. There were there many officers of the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts (colored), Colonel Shaw,[2] Major Ned Hallowell,[3] and the surgeon, Captain Hooper, Captain Saxton, Mrs. Sanders and others of our department. The people had now molasses and water and hard bread, for which they had a scramble. At “The Oaks” we had a full table. Colonel Shaw did not come, but Ned Hallowell did and others, and especially do I remember the surgeon (I think it was) who was so enthusiastic over the day — so happy that he had seen freedmen so free and well-behaved. We had a little “shout” by the children on the porch. Our Oaks people had loaded us with watermelons for the Fourth.

[1] Charles P. Folsom, of Massachusetts, who had volunteered as a superintendent.

[2] Robert Gould Shaw.

[3] Edward N. Hallowell.

[Diary] July 3.

Mr. Pierce here. We are busy making white rosettes with a tri-colored button, for the Fourth, for our whole school to wear. Our children sing “The Star Spangled Banner” well. All the schools met in the church to practise yesterday. The poor smallpox convalescents were so disappointed when I told them they ought not to come.

[Diary] June 21.

To-day Mr. Fairfield ordered the boy Josie to get off a horse which he had no right to ride, as Mr. F. had forbidden the boys riding after the cows and racing them home, which Josie was doing. Josie refused. Mr. F. then ordered him into the house. When Josie had gotten the cows in the pen, he came to the yard and dismounted. Mr. F. again ordered him in, and when the boy refused and was impudent, he took hold of him and tried to compel him. Josie struggled and both fell. This happened more than once, when Mr. F., getting uppermost, planted his knee on Josie’s chest and caught hold of his throat. Big Jerry was standing near by and was growing more and more threatening. He kept telling Mr. F. to let Josie go, he had no right to choke him. I was afraid Jerry would proceed to blows, so I went down the steps and warned him not to interfere, and said that Mr. F. would not hurt Josie. The boy was finally dragged to the steps, but there got firm hold and Mr. F. could not stir him. He was white and trembling with exertion and rage, and Josie was as angry. Finally, at my persuasions, Josie got up and came into the house of his own accord. Mr. Fairfield shut him up in the cornhouse.