APRIL 10th, 1865.—General Lee has surrendered the Army of Northern Virginia. Oh, I wish we were all dead! It is as if the very earth had crumbled beneath our feet. In our minds all is chaos and confusion and yet, outwardly there is no difference. The skies are just as blue, the flowers just as bright; the mockingbirds are flitting in and out teaching their young ones how to fly and tonight they will be singing just as gayly as if this crushing sorrow had not come to us.
Father walked the floor all night long, I do not know if Mother slept but I know that not one of us went to bed, though I fell asleep for a little while but Father’s ceaseless tramp followed me even when I slept and he is still walking to and fro, from the front door to the back. He does not say a word and I can see Mother feels very uneasy. She is coming now with a cup of coffee and I am wondering if she can get him to take it. Father was so sure we would succeed.
April 1st, 1865.—More distressing news of our dear boys at the front. In Virginia and in the army now slowly falling back before Sherman, starvation is staring them in the face. Johnston’s men are fighting almost inch by inch; every foot of the way is contested. In Virginia, “Lee’s Invincibles,” are falling from the ranks, fainting from lack of food. This is heart-breaking, and yet our people are hopeful of final success. I know I am as true to “The Cause” as any but it seems to me there is but little hope. “Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth and scourgeth every son whom He would receive.”
March 18th, 1865.—Do not think we have been neglecting either the knitting, the spinning and weaving or the sewing, while this excitement is going on. Lulu takes my work for me when I go away and she is more capable than I, where the sewing is concerned, though she is not so good at the spinning wheel. My knitting I always take with me, no matter where I may go. I have learned to knit in the dark and that is a very necessary accomplishment these candleless nights. My first diary was a small red morocco book, the pages were not ruled and I had great trouble writing straight. When I needed another I bought a book twice as large, from Mr. McDougal’s bookstore. That one lasted until the war and the blockade had made paper of all kinds very scarce. In 1863 I needed another diary and this, in which I now write, is of the coarse, thick, rough paper, almost like wall-paper. I have to use a pencil because in the first place we have no ink, and in the next place the paper would blot if I tried to use it. We have learned to do without so many things we used to consider necessities. We make a substitute for ink but it fades in a short time and we have not been able, as yet, to make a fast color. So, as I am writing this, for my great-grandchildren, I am using a “No. 1” drawing pencil. Brother Amos got me a dozen in Augusta and advised me to hide them away where nobody could find them. I have taken his advice for I have become so attached to you, my Diary, I would really be distressed to give you up.
March 15th, 1865.—I am afraid we have the swell-head because we repulsed the enemy and made him take to his gun-boats. It seems to have put new life and hope in us all. The news from the armies is a mixture of good and bad; more funds are needed for the hospitals and Leon County is preparing for a concert, in which the entire musical talent will be called out and great things are expected. It will take some time to get this elaborate entertainment ready for the public, so the 9th of April has been appointed as the most suitable time.
Cousin Bettie will play “Une Pluie du Perle” and cousin Fannie Nash will play “Sleeping I Dreamed Love.” Sister Mart and Cousin Jennie are practising a beautiful German duet. If I knew German I would tell the name but I cannot even be sure I would spell it right and I know I could never pronounce it. Everybody who is at all musical is in this concert but I am only a listener.
These arrangements were made yesterday. Cousin Jewel is going to play a lovely Nocturne. She is a genius in music and she thinks they are taking too much time in preparing for the concert. Isn’t it funny how people differ even in little matters like this?
Father’s fever patients are well again and returned today to camp but Mr. Blount and Mr. Clendenning will never be well again. The enemy have possession of the home, in the Valley of the Shenandoah, where Mr. Blount used to live and Mr. Clendenning’s mother lived in Atlanta, until the Yankees burned her out. Father will keep them until they want to make a change.
March 10th, 1865.—Not one of the cadets was hurt. Not many went, because none were permitted to go without a written permit from their parents and those who went are so proud and those who did not go are so chagrined. It is funny to hear them talk it over.
Charley says, “we stayed right behind General Miller and his staff all the time.”
“Why was that, Charley?” I asked.
“So we could protect him,” was the proud answer.
I did not dare to tell the dear little fellow that the commanding officer was supposed to occupy the safest position.
March 7th, 1865.—Today Captain Simmons was buried in the Tallahassee Cemetery. His poor wife came from her home and fainted at the grave. How horrible war is!
I had an invitation to go on a picnic to Natural Bridge today. How awful! I do not understand such curiosity. General Miller says dead negroes were actually piled upon one another in places and the river was covered with their floating bodies. General Newton commanded the Federals, one of his orders, picked up on the battle field this morning is horrible beyond belief. Let us thank God they were not allowed the opportunity to carry it out.
March 6th, 1865.—The battle is on and since daylight we have been listening to the booming of cannon. Natural Bridge, where the two armies met, is only eighteen miles (as the crow flies) from Tallahassee and these big guns can be heard plainly. This is our first experience in warfare at first hand and I do not feel quite as bad as I expected. I am so hot with anger, I would like to take part in the fighting myself. Now, while I am scribbling this, we are waiting at the depot, for there are no telegraph lines, no way to hear from the battle except by courier or by train.
Mother has been sending the nicest lunches to us to be sent down to Natural Bridge, for distribution among the soldiers; others are doing this same thing and I hope none will go hungry. Dick Long rode in a few minutes ago with a dispatch for the Governor. Of course we do not know what it is but we will waylay the messenger on the return and, if possible, stop him long enough to hear the news. There he comes now. It was impossible to get anything out of Dick. He positively would not tell us one thing, except how well “Yannie” behaved in the fight. Then he and Yannie were off like a flash. Well, I suppose that is the way for a courier to do his part.
It is night, the battle is over and we have some news at last. God has been good to us and the enemy was completely routed, though we were outnumbered four to one. All the troops were negroes but the officers were white, if we had not been reinforced at the critical moment, things might have been different but a Regiment of Georgians rushed in and the enemy fled, not knowing how many more might be coming. We lost two men, Captain Simmons and a private whose name I have not yet ascertained. Poor Mrs. Simmons, she has a little two weeks’ old baby and has been very ill. After the terrible excitement of the last forty-eight hours Tallahassee should sleep well tonight.
We have a ten-mile ride before us but it would not be right to stay in town when Father and Mother will be anxious to hear the full account of the battle, before they sleep.
March 5th, 1865.—It seems we are not to be captured by McCook after all. Over the signal stations between the Light House and Tallahassee a message came this morning. Gunboats are around the light house and colored troops are landing and are now on the way to Tallahassee via Newport. Such excitement I never saw; Captain Brokaw called in the Home Guards and they came, from the farm, the stores, from all places, where old men were employed, they came hurrying in. Soldiers at home on furlough, (there are very few of these) came forward to take their places in the ranks of Tallahassee’s defenders. The cadets from the seminary, west of the Suwanee, offered their services and there was even some talk of a company of women, to organize and help to hold the enemy at bay. It is four o’clock now and these hastily marshalled troops are gone. Tallahassee waits, waits for news of the morrow.
March 4th, 1865.—We went yesterday and it was just too funny. Jordan came to the door at eight o’clock and sent Robert in, to tell us he was ready to take us to town. We were sitting at breakfast table but made haste to go and when we reached the carriage, Sister Mart declared she would not ride behind such a team. She was willing to ride behind mules, but not such mules as those which had been selected. Father said these were the only perfectly safe ones and we must use them. It was fun enough to watch those mules. One is a large yellow mule, quite the largest I have ever seen, the other is a very small one, rejoicing in the name of “Kits.” She is of a shiny black contrasting well with Robert’s dirt-colored sides. “Kits” and “Robert,” in place of the sleek, satiny steeds of two days ago. Kits has a striking peculiarity, she has unusually long ears and they always point in opposite directions. Jordan had attempted to make the harness fit but it did not speak well for his skill. At last Sister Mart was induced to get in the carriage and off we went. Our team traveled well and we were becoming somewhat reconciled, when we reached town and were opposite the postoffice. Here our new horses (?) met a wagon from Horse-shoe Plantation, drawn by some of their acquaintances. Such a greeting as they gave them, such braying, such rapid movements of Kit’s long ears and the answer from the plantation team, woke the echoes. By this time a crowd had collected and Sister Mart burst into tears. I was sorry for her but my sympathies are mostly for Mother. She, for the first time in her life has no horses. I understand that Mother’s pets are to serve in Houstoun’s Battery.
Every day brings us news of fresh atrocities in Georgia. We come next, what our fate will be none may know. Last week, near La Grange, an old gentleman, over eighty, was taken from his home and carried miles away to a swamp. Here he was found two days later, bound hand and foot to a sapling, which had been bent and allowed to spring back. The poor old man was almost dead when he was cut down and died before they reached a place where a doctor could be had. This gentleman’s only offense was, that he would not tell where his daughter’s jewels were hidden, she was not at home and when she returned she found her house in ashes and her father dead. Why cannot the Yankees act in an honorable manner as General Lee’s men do?
March 2nd, 1865.—This is a sad day for all of us, dear Mother feels it most of all. When she was a child she had her little pony, “Winnie Wiggin”, to ride to school, and after that she always had a horse which was all her own. Grandpa loved fine horses and mother did, too. When mother married, she knew she was marrying a young doctor, who had his way to make in the world but he found he could provide her with all she needed. For five years now, she has been driving, to her especial carriage, a fine pair of glossy bays, “Tom” and “Charley.” These horses are the joy of Jordan’s life and he spends much time in brushing and currying his beautiful pets. At the beginning of the war there were horses a plenty for the army, but, as time wore on more and more were needed and all we had were given up to the Confederacy; that is, all but Mother’s carriage horses. We were spending the day at Live Oak and Jordan had brought the carriage to the door to carry us home, when Mr. Elkins came riding up and ordered the horses taken from the carriage. Jordan asked if he could not be allowed to take his mistress home? To this Mr. Elkins agreed but told him to have the horses ready for him at nine o’clock next morning.
They are gone now and of course it is right for our country to have them, but Mother will miss them very much. Since the other horses were impressed we have had Jordan to carry us to town twice a week for our music and French lessons, tomorrow is the day, I wonder if we can go? Father says we can have a pair of mules, that is if a gentle pair can be found.
