Twilight on the South Carolina Rice Fields
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The Civil War and Reconstruction eras decimated the rice-planting enterprise of the South, and no family experienced the effects of this economic upheaval quite as dramatically as the Heywards of South Carolina, a family synonymous with the wealth of the old rice kingdom in the Palmetto State. Twilight on the South Carolina Rice Fields collects the revealing wartime and postbellum letters and documents of Edward Barnwell "Barney" Heyward (1826–1871), a native of Beaufort District and grandson of Nathaniel Heyward, one of the most successful rice planters and largest slaveholders in the South. Barney Heyward was also the father of South Carolina governor Duncan Clinch Heyward, author of Seed from Madagascar, the definitive account of the rice kingdom's final stand a generation later.

Edited by Margaret Belser Hollis and Allen H. Stokes, the Heyward family correspondence from this transformational period reveals the challenges faced by a once-successful industry and a once-opulent society in the throes of monumental change. During the war Barney Heyward served as a lieutenant in the engineering division of the Confederate army but devoted much of his time to managing affairs at his plantations near Columbia and Beaufort. His letters chronicle the challenges of preserving his lands and maintaining control over the enslaved labor force essential to his livelihood and his family's fortune. The wartime letters also provide a penetrating view of the Confederate defense of coastal South Carolina against the Union forces who occupied Beaufort District. In the aftermath of the conflict, Heyward worked with only limited success to revive planting operations. In addition to what these documents reveal about rice cultivation during tumultuous times, they also convey the drama, affections, and turmoil of life in the Heyward family, from Barney's increasingly difficult relations with his father, Charles Heyward, to his heartfelt devotion to his wife, the former Catherine "Tat" Maria Clinch, and their children.

Twilight of the South Carolina Rice Fields also features an introduction by noted economic historian Peter A. Coclanis that places these letters and the legacy of the Heyward family into a broader historical context.


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Date de parution 07 décembre 2012
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EAN13 9781611172300
Langue English
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Twilight on the South Carolina Rice Fields
Letters of the Heyward Family 1862–1871

Edited by Margaret Belser Hollis and Allen H. Stokes
With the Assistance of Shirley Bright Cook, Janet Hudson, and Nicholas G. Meriwether
Introduction by Peter A. Coclanis
                          The University of South Carolina Press
Published in Cooperation with the South Caroliniana Library with the Assistance of the Caroline McKissick Dial Publication Fund
© 2010 University of South Carolina
Cloth edition published by the University of South Carolina Press, 2010 Ebook edition published in Columbia, South Carolina, by the University of South Carolina Press, 2013
www.sc.edu/uscpress
22  21  20  19  18  17  16  15  14  13      10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1
The Library of Congress has cataloged the cloth edition as follows:
Heyward, Edward Barnwell, 1826–1871.
  Twilight on the South Carolina rice fields : letters of the Heyward family, 1862–1871 / edited by Margaret Belser Hollis and Allen H. Stokes; with the assistance of Shirley Bright Cook, Janet Hudson, and Nicholas G. Meriwether ; introduction by Peter A. Coclanis.       p. cm.   “Published in cooperation with the South Caroliniana Library with the assistance of the Caroline McKissick Dial Publication Fund.”   Includes bibliographical references and index.   ISBN 978-1-57003-894-5 (cloth : alk. paper)   1. Heyward, Edward Barnwell, 1826-1871—Correspondence. 2. Hayward family—Correspondence. 3. Rice farmers—South Carolina—Correspondence. 4. Plantation owners—South Carolina—Correspondence. 5. Aristocracy (Social class)—South Carolina—Correspondence. 6. Rice—South Carolina—History—19th century—Sources. 7. Plantation life—South Carolina—History—19th century—Sources. 8. South Carolina—History—19th century—Sources. 9. South Carolina—Social life and customs—19th century—Sources. 10. South Carolina—Biography. I. Hollis, Margaret Belser. II. Stokes, Allen H. III. Cook, Shirley Bright. IV. Hudson, Janet G., 1959– V. Meriwether, Nicholas G. VI. South Caroliniana Library. VII. Title.   F273.H49T86 2010   975.7'03—dc22                                                                                  2009046446
ISBN 978-1-61117-230-0 (ebook)
To the Heyward family of South Carolina
Contents
List of Illustrations
Editorial Method
Clinch and Heyward Family Members
Introduction     Peter A. Coclanis
Heyward Family Letters
1862
1863
1864
1865
1866
1867
1868
1869
1870
1871
Index
Illustrations
Colonel Daniel Heyward (1720–1777)
Edward Barnwell “Barney” Heyward
Catherine Maria Clinch Heyward
“Miss Mary taking Clinch to ‘La Mont,’ when it is hot”
Pocotaligo Depot in winter 1865
Line of defense between the Ashepoo and Combahee rivers, November 4, 1863
“Richmond Post Office”
Position of Boyd's Neck, Honey Hill, and Devaux's Neck, December 1864
Sherman's XV Corps crossing the South Edisto River
Green Pond Drive station, near the Combahee River
Rose Hill plantation
Editorial Method
This project is the fruit of a long collaboration between Margaret Belser Hollis, a Heyward family descendant, and the South Caroliniana Library of the University of South Carolina. As part of an agreement between Hollis and the library, she convinced her relatives to donate a considerable number of Heyward family papers to the South Caroliniana Library's existing collection of Heyward materials, and as part of its ongoing program of publishing documentary editions of its major collections, the library assembled an editing team to select, transcribe, annotate, and manage the publication of this one-volume edition of the Heyward family papers. Hollis is chief editor. Shirley Bright Cook, retired associate editor of The Papers of John C. Calhoun , transcribed the majority of letters and supervised that work on the remainder. Adopting the editorial method that she and others had employed for more than thirty years at the Calhoun Papers project, Cook verified all transcriptions and established the text of the current volume. Professor Janet Hudson of the University of South Carolina history department worked on annotations along with Allen H. Stokes, director of the South Caroliniana Library who also transcribed documents and verified the complete text. Nicholas Meriwether assisted with the editing and annotations.
The Calhoun Papers' editorial method aimed at verbatim et literatem transcription of complete documents. Emendations were handled through interpolations within the text, set apart in brackets with descriptions of each specific emendation. Accurate identifications of persons and places mentioned in the letters were more often made using interpolations than with annotations or footnotes. The varied placements and forms of datelines, salutations, complimentary closes, and postscripts to letters were regularized, and each document was given a heading that identified the writer and recipient. In these respects, the editorial method employed in Twilight on the Rice Fields may be considered one that concentrates more upon an accurate, intelligible presentation of the documents as bearers of information than upon them as artifacts, the appearances of which are sought to be reproduced in type.
Clinch and Heyward Family Members
E LIZA B AYARD C LINCH A NDERSON (1821–1905), oldest child of Duncan Lamont and Eliza Bayard McIntosh Clinch, married Robert Anderson, U.S. Army officer who remained loyal to the Union and defended Fort Sumter against the April 1861 Confederate attack that began the Civil War.
D UNCAN L AMONT C LINCH (1787–1849), son of Joseph and Mary Lamont Clinch, married Eliza Bayard McIntosh, who bore their five sons and three daughters. Eliza died in April 1835 of scarlet fever. Clinch, a career military officer in the U.S. Army from 1808 to 1836, served in the War of 1812 and the Seminole Wars in the Florida territory. After retiring from the military, Clinch became a rice planter and politician, managing his extensive plantations on the coast of southern Georgia and northern Florida. From 1844 to 1845, he represented Georgia in the U.S. Congress and ran unsuccessfully as the Whig candidate for governor in 1847.
D UNCAN L AMONT C LINCH J R. (1826–?), second-oldest son of Duncan Lamont and Eliza Bayard McIntosh Clinch, married Susan Hopkins and operated Incochee, a Georgia rice plantation. A 1908 graduate of the University of North Carolina, he began his military career in the Mexican War. He attained the rank of colonel in the Confederate army, commanding the Fourth Regiment, Georgia Cavalry, and was severely wounded in February 1864 during the Battle of Olustee in Florida.
H ENRY A. C LINCH (1830–1895), son of Duncan Lamont and Eliza Bayard McIntosh Clinch, was a 1849 graduate of South Carolina College. He served in the First Regiment, Louisiana Heavy Artillery, and eventually reached the rank of lieutenant colonel.
J OHN H OUSTOUN M C I NTOSH C LINCH (1823–1905), oldest son of Duncan Lamont Clinch and Eliza Bayard McIntosh, was a graduate of the University of North Carolina. Houstoun operated Refuge, the Camden County rice plantation on the southern Georgia coast that his father had inherited from John Houstoun McIntosh, Houstoun's maternal grandfather and Duncan's father-in-law.
N ICHOLAS B AYARD C LINCH (1832–1888), seventh child of Duncan Lamont and Eliza Bayard McIntosh Clinch, was a 1849 graduate of South Carolina College, served the Confederacy in the Fourth Regiment, Georgia Cavalry, the unit his brother Duncan commanded.
M ARY L AMONT C LINCH , daughter of Duncan Lamont Clinch and Eliza Bayard McIntosh, never married. She lived and traveled with her stepmother Sophia Gibbs Couper Clinch, both of whom visited Catherine Maria Clinch Heyward during and after the Civil War.
S OPHIA G IBBS C OUPER C LINCH (1812–1903) was the widow of John Couper, Saint Simon Island rice planter. Sophie (her preferred name) was living with her Gibbs relatives on Fort George Island near Jacksonville, Florida, when she met Duncan Lamont Clinch. Twenty-five years his junior, she became Clinch's third wife in February 1846. To honor his new bride, Clinch built Lamont, a summer home near Clarksville in mountainous northern Georgia. Sophie lived half a century after Clinch's death. Sophie and Mary, Clinch's unmarried daughter, lived at Lamont during most of the early correspondence but also visited Savannah, Georgia; New York City; and Greenville, South Carolina, after the Civil War. After Edward Barnwell Heyward and Catherine Maria Clinch Heyward died, Sophie cared for their two sons, Duncan Lamont Clinch Jr. and Bayard Clinch.
A NN E LLEN H EYWARD (1833–1864), daughter of Charles and Emma Barnwell Heyward, never married. Referred to as Ellen, her death is discussed in the correspondence.
B AYARD C LINCH H EYWARD (1867–1949), youngest son of Edward Barnwell and Catherine Maria Clinch Heyward, was four years old when his parents died. He and his brother Duncan Clinch Heyward lived with Sophia Gibbs Couper Clinch and Mary Clinch, Catherine's stepmother and sister. In 1888 he married Frances Campbell, sister of Mary Elizabeth Campbell, who married his brother Duncan Clinch Heyward.
C ATHERINE (T AT ) M ARIA C LINCH H EYWARD (1828–1870), youngest daughter of Duncan Lamont and Eliza Bayard McIntosh Clinch, married Edward Barnwell Heyward on February 17, 1863. They had two sons, Duncan Clinch and Bayard Clinch. Catherine came from a Georgia rice-plantation family. Her father, a career military office, politician, and successful rice planter, inherited Refuge, the Georgia lowcountry rice plantation in her mother's family.
C HARLES H EYWARD (1802–1866), son of Nathaniel and Henrietta Manigault Heyward, in 1824 married Emma Barnwell (1806–1835). Charles and Emma had six children: Henrietta (1824–1847), Edward Barnwell (Barney) (1826–1871), Mary (1828–1830), Joseph Manigault (1830–1862), Elizabeth (1832–1906), and Ann Ellen (1833–1864). Charles attended Princeton University but did not graduate, instead returning to his father's plantation to help run it.
D ANIEL B LAKE H EYWARD (1840–1870), son of Arthur and Maria Louisa Blake Heyward, married Louisa Patience Blake and inherited Bluffs plantation on the Combahee upon his mother's death in 1854. In the correspondence, Edward Barnwell Heyward refers to him as Cousin Blake. Their fathers, Charles and Arthur, were brothers and the youngest sons of Nathaniel Heyward.
D UNCAN C LINCH H EYWARD (1864–1943), son of Edward Barnwell and Catherine Maria Clinch Heyward, was seven years old when his parents died. He and his brother Bayard Clinch Heyward lived with Sophia Gibbs Couper Clinch and Mary Clinch, Catherine's stepmother and sister. On February 11, 1886, he married Mary Elizabeth Campbell, a Virginia native and from 1903 to 1907 served two terms as governor of South Carolina. Duncan wrote Seed from Madagascar , the Heyward family's rice-plantation history.
E DWARD B ARNWELL (B ARNEY ) H EYWARD (1826–1871), son of Charles and Emma Barnwell Heyward, married Lucy Green Izard on November 7, 1850; she died June 20, 1858. Edward and Lucy had one child survive infancy, Walter Izard Heyward. An 1845 graduate of South Carolina College, Edward Barnwell Heyward lived as a gentleman rice planter before the war. On February 17, 1863, he married Catherine Maria Clinch. Edward and Catherine (Barney and Tat) had two sons, Duncan Clinch Heyward and Bayard Clinch Heyward. Late in the war Barnwell received a commission to serve as a lieutenant with the Confederate engineer corps in the South Carolina lowcountry, near his family's rice plantations on the Combahee. After the war and until his death in 1871, Barnwell worked to revive the Combahee rice plantations he inherited from his father.
F RANCIS (F RANK ) W ILLIAM H EYWARD (1844–1907), son of James Barnwell and Maria Hayne Heyward, married Frances Rogers Ferguson (1847–1908). Referred to as Frank in the correspondence, he worked with his father to revive the family rice plantations after the war.
J AMES (C OUSIN J AMES ) B ARNWELL H EYWARD (1817–1886), son of Nathaniel and Esther Hutson Barnwell Heyward, married his first cousin Maria Hayne Heyward in 1841, daughter of William Manigault and Susan Hayne Simmons Heyward. James and Maria had twelve children. James was an 1838 graduate of Harvard College. James and Maria owned plantations on the Combahee River at Hamburg (where they lived), Rotterdam, Copenhagen, Antwerp, and Myrtle Grove. In the correspondence, Edward Barnwell Heyward refers to him as Cousin James. James's brother was Nathaniel Barnwell Heyward (Cousin Nat), and their sister was Esther Barnwell Heyward (Cousin Hetty), who married William Henry Heyward (Cousin William Henry). These cousins were double first cousins—their fathers were brothers and their mothers were sisters. Moreover, the parents of the siblings Nathaniel, James, and Esther died within four months of each other in 1819, when the children were all very young (seven, four, and one, respectively). The children then lived with their maternal grandmother, Mary Wigg Barnwell, who was also Edward Barnwell Heyward's maternal grandmother.
J AMES S MITH H EYWARD (1843–1901), son of Nathaniel Barnwell and Elizabeth Barnwell Smith Heyward, married Caroline Anne Salley in 1874. James directly criticized Edward Barnwell Heyward in a letter to the Charleston, South Carolina, Mercury about the “Combahee Riot.”
J OSEPH M ANIGAULT H EYWARD (1830–1862), son of Charles and Emma Barnwell Heyward, married Maria Henrietta Magruder in 1856. He served as a captain in the Confederacy in the unit commanded by his brother-in-law, General James Trapier. After becoming seriously ill during the war, he went to Greenville, South Carolina, where he died November 7, 1862.
N ATHANIEL B ARNWELL H EYWARD III (1816–1891), son of Nathaniel (1790–1819) and Esther Hutson Barnwell Heyward, married Elizabeth Barnwell Smith in 1838. Nathaniel and Eliza had eleven children. Nathaniel owned White Hall plantation on the Combahee. In the correspondence, Edward Barnwell Heyward refers to him as “Cousin Nat.”
W ALTER I ZARD H EYWARD (1851–1920), son of Edward Barnwell and Lucy Green Izard Heyward, was a graduate of Washington and Lee University School of Law in Virginia. Izard moved to Atlanta and practiced law after his father's death in 1871. In 1872 he married Susannah Greening Brumby. After her death in 1878, he married her sister, Mary Barnes Brumby. He had no children from either marriage.
W ILLIAM H ENRY H EYWARD (1817–1889), son of William Manigault and Susan Hayne Simmons Heyward, married his first cousin Esther Barnwell Heyward, daughter of Nathaniel and Esther Hutson Barnwell Heyward in 1839. William Henry, an 1838 graduate of Harvard College, and Esther owned Clay Hall, Blandford, and Green Point plantations on the Combahee River, south of Edward Barnwell Heyward's plantations and on the west side of the river.
A LLEN C ADWALLADER I ZARD (1834–1901), son of Walter and Mary Cadwallader Green Izard, was the brother of Lucy Green Izard, Edward Barnwell Heyward's first wife. Allen married Julia Davie Bedon in 1856. A graduate of Annapolis, he served as an officer in the Confederate navy. After Edward Barnwell Heyward's death, Allen managed his rice plantations for eighteen years, paying off the debt Barnwell incurred.
E LIZABETH H EYWARD T RAPIER (1832–1906), daughter of Charles and Emma Barnwell Heyward, married General James Heyward Trapier of Georgetown in 1851. Elizabeth and James had two daughters, Emma and Hannah Trapier. Elizabeth was married a second time, to Theodore Dehon Jervey, June 6, 1870. Elizabeth and Theodore had one son, Charles Heyward Jervey.
J AMES H EYWARD T RAPIER (1814–1866), son of Benjamin Foissin and Hannah Shubrick Heyward Trapier, grew up on the Windsor plantation on the Black River near Georgetown. He attended the College of Charleston. He married Elizabeth Heyward in 1851. Trapier, an 1833 graduate of South Carolina College and an 1838 graduate of the Military Academy at West Point, achieved the rank of brigadier general in the Civil War, serving the Confederate army in Florida and South Carolina.
Introduction
Peter A. Coclanis
The Heyward family is virtually synonymous with the history of South Carolina. The first of the Heywards arrived in South Carolina shortly after permanent settlement by Europeans and Africans—perhaps as early as 1672 but certainly by 1684—and members of the family have played prominent roles in South Carolina ever since. The family can claim among its many notables a signer of the Declaration of Independence (Thomas Heyward Jr.), the owner of the most slaves in the history of the American South (Nathaniel Heyward, 1766–1851), a beloved governor of South Carolina (Duncan Clinch Heyward), and a most distinguished novelist/playwright (DuBose Heyward). Like all great families, it included other less well-known but nonetheless fascinating members as well, including Edward Barnwell Heyward, whose papers form the basis of this book. 1
Although no European-style aristocracy ever existed in British North America, the Heyward family came close for a century and a half. Along with a small number of other large slaveholding families in the South, the Heywards not only came to possess the kind of wealth associated with aristocracy but also the kind of social, cultural, and political power needed to support and legitimate the same. 2 Edward Barnwell (Barney) Heyward was not a major figure in the Heyward line, but his short, sad life—lived in difficult times—is most revealing and helps to explain both the bases and the limits of the Heywards' claims to aristocracy. That such claims were intimately connected to plantation agriculture and racial slavery, the linchpins of South Carolina for much of its history, affords an opportunity to say something about these matters as well. In so doing, one can square the circle, as it were, and link the life of Edward Barnwell Heyward, indeed, the saga of the Heyward family, to a larger social narrative that affected not merely South Carolina—not merely the South for that matter—but the nation as a whole.
Edward Barnwell (Barney) Heyward was born on May 4, 1826, on the Rose Hill plantation in the Beaufort District of South Carolina. “Barney's” claims to aristocratic status in the Palmetto State were impeccable, for both of his parents—Charles Heyward (1802–1866) and Emma Barnwell Heyward (1808–1835)—came from elite, lowcountry families that had played powerful roles in South Carolina for generations. Charles Heyward—the son of the aforementioned Nathaniel Heyward, who owned somewhere in the vicinity of two thousand slaves at the time of his death in 1851—was born in Charleston and spent several years at Princeton (without graduating) before returning to South Carolina to help manage his father's vast plantation empire. Upon his return he took up residence at Rose Hill plantation on the Combahee River, which abutted his father's home plantation, the Bluff. Not long afterward, Charles, at the age of twenty-one, married Emma Barnwell, and the marriage produced three sons and four daughters (one daughter died in infancy) before Emma herself died prematurely in 1835 at the age of twenty-nine. After Emma's death, Charles was a widower for the remainder of his life. 3
Charles, like his own father—and indeed, his grandfather Daniel Heyward (1720–1777)—was a serious and committed rice planter who devoted his entire working life to the Heyward family's agricultural operations. And like his father and grandfather, he proved quite successful in the business, continuing to produce rice profitably throughout the entire antebellum period, even after the rice industry in the lowcountry had begun, first, to stagnate, then to decline. Upon his father's death in 1851, Charles inherited four rice plantations on the Combahee River: Rose Hill, an adjacent tract known as Pleasant Hill, and two other units, Lewisburg and Amsterdam, located slightly downriver. It took a large labor force to operate these rice plantations, and at the time of the Civil War, Charles owned around five hundred slaves, which made him one of the largest rice planters and largest slaveholders in the entire South. 4
Rice and slaves provided the economic platform upon which the Heyward fortune was built and enlarged from the 1740s to the 1860s; rice and freedpeople continued to sustain the family at least in part until Duncan Clinch Heyward, Barney's son, planted his last crop on the Combahee in 1913. 5 The Heyward family's inextricable ties to rice and slaves were hardly unique in the lowcountry, for similar links bound other elite, lowcountry families as well. Indeed it would not be overstating things to say that rice and slaves created not just Heyward wealth but also that of the lowcountry itself, and once this platform was destroyed, the region, bluntly put, was left without an economic raison d'etre, condemning the inhabitants therein to generations of poverty—whether genteel or abysmal—and despair.
Both rice and slaves arrived in South Carolina in the late seventeenth century—permanent settlement of the colony began in 1670—and a good bit of scholarly effort and printer's ink have been spent trying to date the first appearance of each in the area. Such exercises are by no means unimportant. For some purposes it is useful to know just how early slaves arrived in South Carolina and just how soon the institution became prevalent in the colony. Similarly, knowing when rice arrived and under whose auspices—European or African—can help answer a range of questions relating to patterns of entrepreneurship, early strategies of economic development, technology transfer, markets for information, and the like. Such questions are not of great moment here, though, for by the early 1740s, when Daniel Heyward began planting rice on a large tract of land on Hazzard's Creek in Saint Helena's Parish, both racial slavery and rice cultivation in South Carolina were deeply entrenched. 6
Rice cultivation was good to Daniel Heyward, if not to his labor force, and he soon became extremely successful. In 1771 the South-Carolina Gazette referred to him as “the greatest Planter in this Province,” which he may well have been. That he owned about one thousand slaves at the time of his death in 1777 certainly supports this point. Nonetheless however impressive Daniel Heyward's record of success as a planter—and from a purely economic perspective it was impressive indeed—his record seemed rather modest in comparison to that achieved by his son Nathaniel, who, as suggested above, became fabulously successful as a rice planter and the largest slaveholder in the history of the South. Building from a relatively modest inheritance, Nathaniel over time increased his holdings to almost unimaginable levels. In 1849, two years before his death, data compiled for the federal census indicate that he owned thirty-five thousand acres of land in the lowcountry, including enough rice land on his twenty-odd plantations (mainly in the Colleton and Beaufort districts) to produce almost 17 million pounds of rough rice in that year. Upon his death in 1851, his total estate, slaves included, was valued at just over $2 million, which figure is equivalent to an estate of over $818 million today. 7 And while Nathaniel Heyward, like his father and like his son and, indeed, like his grandson (this book's protagonist, Barney), had diverse sources of income and wealth, the vast preponderance of both came from rice and slaves, the twin trajectories of which largely determined the economic fates of these Heywards.

Colonel Daniel Heyward (1720–1777). Print Collection, South Caroliniana Library, University of South Carolina
Although rice is often viewed as a minor foodstuff in the West, it is arguably the world's greatest cereal grain. Only wheat and maize have credible counterclaims. Two species of rice were successfully domesticated over time: Oryza sativa , which was first domesticated seven thousand to ten thousand years ago in southern Asia, southeastern Asia, and southern China and Oryza glaberrima , which was first domesticated two or three thousand years ago in West Africa two or three thousand years ago. Of the two species, O. sativa , or Asian rice, has always been dominant, having spread—or, more properly, been spread—across vast reaches of Eurasia and Africa by the end of the first millennium C.E. Both species arrived in the Western Hemisphere along with Europeans and Africans as part of the so-called Columbian exchange of plants, animals, and germs that commenced in the last decade of the fifteenth century. O. sativa quickly became the most important by far in commercial terms in the Western Hemisphere, although small amounts of O. glaberrima were also grown for home consumption by some African and African American populations in the Western Hemisphere at various points in time. If rice accompanied early European and African migrants to the Western Hemisphere, the cereal did not become an important market staple anywhere in the Americas until the South Carolina rice complex was developed in the early eighteenth century. Small quantities of rice were grown much earlier in Brazil, around the Caribbean basin, and even in Virginia, but during this period the cereal was grown in these areas largely for home consumption rather than as a market crop. Both Europeans and Africans likely grew small quantities of rice in South Carolina from the time of initial settlement, but it was not until the 1710s or 1720s that sufficient stocks of labor, capital, entrepreneurship, and “local knowledge” were in place and infrastructure and marketing networks sufficiently developed to support and sustain significant commercial production. 8
As suggested earlier, scholars in recent years have vigorously debated whether Europeans or Africans were primarily responsible for originating rice cultivation in early South Carolina. Suffice it to say here that although there were several plausible transmission routes from the Old World to the New, the preponderance of the evidence suggests that Africans were likely the prime movers in the early days. Rice was commonly grown in several parts of West Africa whence slaves were drawn, and there is convincing evidence that some African risicultural technology was transferred across the Atlantic. That said, it is important to distinguish between the “origins” of rice cultivation and the creation of a rice industry. Regardless of which group first grew rice in South Carolina, it is beyond all doubt that Europeans and European Americans were primarily responsible for creating the rice industry (and attendant export complex) in the colony. 9
As the scholarly battle mentioned above would imply, there is not a lot of extant documentation regarding early rice-production techniques or even production sites in South Carolina. For example, although it is likely that some “wet” or swamp rice was grown from early on, it is probable that for a time at least most of the rice grown in the colony was produced without irrigation on relatively “high” ground. To say that rice was being grown on high ground in South Carolina is not to suggest that it was produced in the interior, much less in the up-country. Researchers have recently demonstrated that surprising quantities of rice were grown in such areas at later points in South Carolina history, especially after the Civil War, and there is no doubt that rice production was always concentrated in the lowcountry. Here, too, though, one must qualify things a bit, for within the lowcountry, rice production came to be distributed quite unevenly. Such unevenness was already apparent by the 1720s when a discrete rice industry began to develop. 10
The establishment of a rice industry in South Carolina entailed, almost by definition, a greater concern for system, method, and productive efficiency, factors that in the case of rice meant a virtually universal shift to irrigated cultivation. Irrigation facilities were quite rudimentary during the early days of the industry, with cultivation centering around inland freshwater swamps in the lowcountry, where water could readily be impounded to be drawn on and off of fields as needed. Rice cultivation in South Carolina remained centered in such inland swamp areas of the lowcountry for a half century or so. During the second half of the eighteenth century, however, the locus of production shifted again, this time from inland freshwater swamps to drained swamps located on, or adjacent to particular stretches of the major tidal rivers in the lowcountry. Once established, this “tidal” zone remained the center of rice cultivation in South Carolina until commercial production died out in the state in the early twentieth century. The tidal rice zone of South Carolina was quite delimited both in geographical and hydrological terms. First of all, prospective planters of rice had to find areas along the lowcountry's rivers and creeks where tidal action was sufficiently strong to allow water systematically to be drawn on and off diked rice fields once established adjacent to such rivers and creeks. Speaking broadly, under tidal-irrigation schemes, water could be harnessed in more predictable ways, leading to more sophisticated, routinized, and calibrated flooding and draining of fields, which at once created better growing conditions for rice and, when done properly, reduced the need for hoeing and weeding. Fair enough, then, but prospective tidal planters faced a second problem as well, that being to find areas where daily tidal action was sufficiently strong to make such schemes work without getting too close to estuaries or the coast where the water flooding the fields would be too brackish or salty for rice. Over time, such places were in fact found, and tidal cultivation became centered along narrow bands stretching from about ten miles inland to twenty miles inland on the five principal tidal rivers of the lowcountry: from north to south, the Santee, the Cooper, the Ashley, the Combahee, and the Savannah. Despite a modest resurgence of inland freshwater swamp production in parts of the lowcountry in the late antebellum period, production remained centered in the tidal zone. Indeed, as rice cultivation spread from South Carolina to other parts of the Southeast, tidal technology won out as well, and production became centered on similar bands of tidal rivers in North Carolina, Georgia, and Florida, stretching north to south from Cape Fear River in southeastern North Carolina to Saint Johns River in northeastern Florida. 11
Rice cultivation in the lowcountry proved extremely arduous, particularly under wet conditions in the area's inland and tidal swamps. Of the major staples produced in the American South, only sugar was more physically demanding on workers, and, in the case of rice, arduous labor demands were compounded by the highly morbid- and mortal-disease environment wherein said demands were levied. To be more specific, once Europeans and Africans established the rice complex in the lowcountry, mosquito-borne diseases of one type or another—various strains of malaria, most notably—quickly became endemic in the area, to the great detriment of human health and yet-another manifestation of the Columbian exchange, then, however lamentable. In light of the above considerations—burdensome work in unhealthy conditions—it is not surprising that it proved difficult for prospective growers to attract, induce, or incent sufficient stocks of free labor to meet their needs. For a variety of reasons, not the least of which related to the facts that many West Africans had had previous experience in risiculture and that Africans and African Americans possessed greater degrees of inherited and acquired immunities to certain mosquito-borne diseases than did whites, the South Carolina rice industry quickly became dominated by black labor—whether enslaved or, in a titular sense, free—and remained so until the end of commercial production in the Palmetto State in the early twentieth century. Indeed, in many ways the swamplands were “more like a negro country,” the white presence therein marginal and/or seasonal for the better part of two hundred years. 12
To say that the white presence in the rice swamps was marginal and/or seasonal is not to suggest that the role of whites in the industry was insignificant. For it was anything but. If whites, generally speaking, found it both rational and expedient to minimize their time in the rice fields, particularly during the sickly summer months, they nonetheless found means to ensure that a reasonable amount of work would be accomplished even in their absence, that such work would be reasonably efficient, and that that their own monitoring and supervisory costs would be reasonably low. Critical to this labor argument was the development of the task system of labor organization, according to which system a slave was responsible for a set amount of work per day rather than being required to labor a set number of hours (sunup to sundown). Indeed, according to scholars of slavery, the establishment or, better yet, enshrinement of the task system in the lowcountry rice industry became one of the industry's most salient features. Here, again a controversy exists regarding matters of origin, in which controversy this writer is a principal. Whether inaugurated by innovative, protoscientific agricultural management or the result of bargaining concessions forced upon a cowed, drastically outnumbered white minority by empowered, if enslaved African and African American laborers matters little in a functional sense for, explain the system as one will, at the end of the day management achieved an outcome it could live with, both figuratively and literally. 13
Toiling in the rice fields of the South Carolina lowcountry under any conceivable system was bound to be taxing for a variety of reasons, ranging from cultivation requirements to climate to disease environment. Wet-rice cultivation has long been known for heavy-labor demands the world over. Not for nothing do the Italians refer to the grain as il riso amaro , the bitter rice. 14 In this same regard note the thematic similarities in the following three songs on rice planting: one originating in a slave song from the lowcountry of South Carolina, an old song from the Philippines, and a traditional one from Vietnam, respectively:
Come listen, all you darkies, come listen to my song,
It am about ole Massa, who use me bery wrong;
In de cole, frosty mornin', it an't so bery nice,
Wid de water to de middle to hoe among de rice.
Planting rice is never fun;
Bent from morn till set of sun;
Cannot stand and cannot sit;
Cannot rest for a little bit.
Oh, my back is like to break,
Oh, my bones with dampness ache,
And my legs are numb and set
From the soaking in the wet.
In the heat of mid-day, I plough my field
My sweat falls drop by drop like rain on the ploughed earth
Oh, you who hold a rice-bowl in your hands
Remember how much burning bitterness there is
In each tender and fragrant grain in your mouth
In the case of the lowcountry, rice cultivation meant a yearlong work calendar, some parts of which were more grueling than others but no parts of which would be mistaken for rural gamboling. Winter meant the building and rebuilding of irrigation works—the “mudwork” so dreaded by the labor force—and the preparation of fields. Spring meant more field preparation, planting (and often transplanting) of the crop, while summer meant intervals of flooding and draining, weeding and hoeing, and, of course, emergency repairs of irrigation works (levees, ditches, culverts, floodgates, and the like) mandated by weather events such as storms and freshets. Fall meant it was harvest time, which, because of weather conditions and/or the chance of overripening, often meant bouts of furious, nearly nonstop activity for days at time. Then, after milling activities of one type or another came preparation of the crop for the market and getting the crop to a Charleston factor's wharf. Then, the annual cycle would begin all over again. 15
As one can see, rice work was arduous, and, of course, many, if not most, laborers were involved to some degree at least in other economic activities as well, particularly in the winter. Rice work in the lowcountry was rendered more rigorous still by climatic and epidemiological factors. According to the most widely accepted climatic-classification scheme—the so-called Köppen scheme—the South Carolina lowcountry falls into the humid subtropical climatic subcategory of the humid, mild-winter, temperate climatic category. The subtropical subcategory is broken down even further, and the lowcountry falls into a subdivision reserved for humid subtropical areas without distinct dry and rainy seasons. To cut to the chase, the principal climatic characteristics of areas such as the lowcountry are hot, humid summers, abundant precipitation throughout the year but especially in the hotter months, and the relatively frequent occurrence of violent weather events such as hurricanes. 16
Climate weighed even more heavily on those who lived and worked in the oozy microclimates of the lowcountry's rice swamps, particularly those that often labored “wid de water to de middle.” In such microclimates, replete as they were with disease vectors of one type or another, most notably, mosquitoes, maladies such as malaria took huge tolls, both in lives lost and in lives impaired or even ruined through debilitation. In brief this was the Carolina rice country, the epicenter of the American industry for well over 150 years.
Although the principal concern in the current volume is with large-volume rice planters such as the Heywards, it is important to keep in mind two facts overlooked by students of the lowcountry rice industry. First, as suggested earlier, rice production was distributed quite unevenly in the region. In 1859, for example, 4,126 farms of three acres or more were in the lowcountry; on only about 39 percent (1,608) of these farms was any rice grown at all. Secondly, among those where rice was grown, many were small operations, and many others, although large enough to be classified as plantations according to standard classification schemes, were not huge. Only a small number were owned and operated by “grandees,” such as the Heywards, who produced large quantities of rice, largely for extraregional markets, on large units of production, staffed by large numbers of laborers working in highly specialized tasks. To be sure, such large-scale producers exercised an outsized influence on the lowcountry rice industry, but in quantitative terms they constituted a distinct minority of growers. 17
South Carolina was the center of rice production in North America for roughly two hundred years, that is to say, from the late seventeenth century until the 1880s when Louisiana surpassed the Palmetto State as a producing area. Although systematic data is lacking on total rice output in the colonial period or during the early national period for that matter (figures on U.S. rice output were not compiled for the U.S. census until 1839), reliable figures are available, courtesy of the British Customs Office, for rice exports on an annual basis from as early as 1698. The export figures of the customs office can give a good sense of the growth of overall rice output. Assuming this correlation, rice output in “Carolina”—South Carolina and North Carolina were included under one rubric by the customs office—grew rapidly over the course of the eighteenth century; exports grew from an average of 268,602 pounds annually between 1698 and 1702 to over 30 million pounds annually between 1738 and 1742 and over 66 million pounds annually on the eve of the American Revolution, from 1768 to 1772. Note that although the rice complex in the Cape Fear region of North Carolina began to register by the middle of the eighteenth century, rice exports from North Carolina never constituted more than a small share of total rice exports from “Carolina.” 18
The vast majority of the rice grown in North America in the eighteenth century came from “Carolina” and neighboring Georgia. Small quantities of rice were also grown in Louisiana and Florida, but these areas were small potatoes, so to speak, in comparison to “Carolina” and Georgia. The dominance of these two producing areas continued in the early national period and in the antebellum era, even with the expansion of the industry. Census data for 1839, 1849, and 1859 reveal that U.S. rice production grew substantially over the course of this period: About 81 million pounds (clean rice) were produced in the United States in 1839, about 144 million pounds in 1849, and about 187 million pounds in 1859. South Carolina and Georgia combined accounted for over 90 percent of total U.S. rice production in each of these years, with South Carolina alone accounting for 75 percent in 1839, 74.3 percent in 1849, and 63.6 percent in 1859. 19
If total rice output in the United States increased a great deal in the period between the American Revolution and the Civil War, rice exports did not. Indeed it is impossible to understand the history of the American rice industry without being cognizant of the fact that U.S. rice exports were basically stagnant between about 1800 and the Civil War. Moreover, if one takes a closer look at U.S. rice-export patterns during this sixty-year period, one finds that U.S. exporters were becoming increasingly marginalized in the biggest and best markets for rice in the West, namely, those in northern Europe. 20 Although few scholars fully appreciate this point even today, it is well worth elaborating upon, for once such appreciation is gained, one gets an entirely new sense of the crisis in the south Atlantic rice industry in the late antebellum period, the true impact of the Civil War on this industry, and, in the aftermath of war, the forces shaping Barney Heyward's world.
The first thing one needs to appreciate in this regard is the market for all of that rice produced in the South Carolina lowcountry and other parts of North America. Where was such rice destined? For what purposes? There are long answers, which are addressed at length by other writers, and there are short answers, which I pursue here. In the eighteenth century, a very high proportion of the rice produced in the lowcountry (and other parts of North America) was exported, particularly to northern Europe, to be used as a cheap and versatile source of complex carbohydrates—bulk calories, in other words—that could complement, supplement, or, in some cases, substitute for more familiar and desirable small grains. In the first half of the nineteenth century, however, market conditions changed in such a way as to render the eighteenth-century pattern increasingly untrue. 21
Until rice from North America began to appear in European markets at the end of the seventeenth century, continental demand for rice was met mainly by rice growers in the northern Italian states of Lombardy and Piedmont. By the middle of the eighteenth century, though, North American rice, almost all of which came from South Carolina, had supplanted Italian rice in the leading markets in northern Europe. Rice from South Carolina and neighboring Georgia dominated these markets for the rest of the century, and rice from this region was exported in smaller quantities to other places as well, southern Europe, the West Indies, and northeastern ports such as Philadelphia, New York, and Boston, most notably. The dominance of North American rice in European markets began to face challenges from the 1790s on, however. In that decade Brazil captured the Portuguese market, and in the first decades of the nineteenth century rice from South Asia and, slightly later, Southeast Asia began to make inroads in the much more important markets in northern Europe. Interestingly, or, better yet, ironically (or even dialectically), the same forces that gave rise to the rice-export complex along the southeast coast of the United States—the expansion and increasing integration of world markets—were now responsible for the growing competitive threat emanating from Asia. For centuries before then, of course, European merchant capital, working with merchants and commercial middlemen of various sorts in Asia had been engaged in a vigorous long-distance, transoceanic trade, but it was only in the early nineteenth century that rice began to figure prominently in the same. Once it did, though, the North American rice industry immediately faced a serious competitive threat, for rice from both South Asia and Southeast Asia was much cheaper than American rice, and in the northern European rice market, generally speaking, buyers sought low prices more than anything else. Carolina rice was widely considered to be of high quality, but given the principal uses to which the cereal was put—feeding workers, soldiers, sailors, and the poor (in addition to swine), as a brewing ingredient, and as a thickening agent in a variety of industries—price trumped quality most every time. And so, between about 1800 or 1810 and the coming of the American Civil War, Asian rice producers—first from Bengal, then from Java, and by the 1850s from Lower Burma—increasingly took market share in northern Europe from South Carolina and Georgia growers. 22 Over the course of this half-century period, demand for rice in Europe grew significantly, with increases in population and income, as well as urbanization and industrialization all playing roles. Despite this growing demand, U.S. rice exports to Europe were far lower in the 1850s than they had been in the 1790s. Indeed, total U.S. rice exports in the 1850s were lower than they had been in the 1790s, another powerful indication that American rice was becoming less and less competitive as Asian rice penetrated the West. More and more, American rice exports were shipped instead to the West Indies, particularly to the late-developing Spanish “sugar and slave” colonies of Cuba and Puerto Rico. 23
The basic scenario outlined above continued in intensified form in the decades after 1860. The period between roughly 1860 or 1870 and World War I is often seen as the apogee of European imperial penetration in South and Southeast Asia, and one manifestation of such penetration was the huge flow of primary commodities (including rice) from this part of Asia to the West. This flow was facilitated by a variety of technological innovations in transportation and communications—the advent of steam shipping, the opening of the Suez Canal, and the laying of the transmarine underwater cable between Europe and Asia, most notably—which, in cutting transport and communications costs, extended the comparative advantage of Asian rice over rice produced in the West. Indeed, in the case of the United States, the gradual antebellum drop-off in rice exports was just the beginning: During the Civil War and for the entire half century thereafter, the United States not only failed as a rice exporter but itself became a significant importer of Asian rice. 24
This, then, was the broad market context within which Barney Heyward had to operate when he began his rice-planting operations in 1866. The loss of comparative advantage, declining export markets, and falling profits. Regarding the last of these considerations, the profit picture, according to Dale E. Swan's econometric study, the average rate of return for South Carolina and Georgia rice plantations and farms in 1859 was not positive at all but an astounding -28.3 percent. A far cry, certainly, from the bonanza years of the pre-Revolutionary era when net rates of return on investment of 25 percent were pretty much standard for South Carolina and Georgia planters. To be sure, large planters such as the Heywards may still have been able to operate profitably in the 1850s, but on the eve of the Civil War, the future did not look good for the lowcountry rice industry. And then the war came. 25
N OTES
1. On the Heyward family, see James B. Heyward, Heyward Family (n.p.: privately printed, 1931?); James B. Heyward, comp., “The Heyward Family of South Carolina,” South Carolina Historical Magazine 59 (July 1958): 143–58 and 59 (October 1958): 206–23; Peter A. Coclanis, introduction, in Duncan Clinch Heyward, Seed from Madagascar , Southern Classics Series (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1993), ix–l. Note that Seed from Madagascar was originally published by the University of North Carolina Press in 1937.
2. See Coclanis, introduction, esp. ix–xxii. On the South Carolina aristocracy, see Chalmers G. Davidson, The Last Foray: The South Carolina Planters of 1860: A Sociological Study (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1971), 1–17 and passim; William Kauffman Scarborough, Masters of the Big House: Elite Slaveholders of the Mid-Nineteenth-Century South (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2003), esp. appendixes C and D, 439–84. On the concept of aristocracy, see, for example, Jonathan Powis, Aristocracy (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1984). On aristocracies and elites more generally, see T. B. Bottomore, Elites and Society , 2nd ed. (London: Routledge, 1993).
3. Coclanis, introduction, xxiii–xxv.
4. Heyward, Seed from Madagascar , 90–106; Scarborough, Masters of the Big House , 476. Suzanne Cameron Linder, Historical Atlas of the Rice Plantations of the ACE River Basin —1860 (Columbia: South Carolina Department of Archives and History for the Archives and History Foundation, 1995), 7–14, 315–19, 519–27.
5. See Coclanis, introduction.
6. On the establishment of an economy based on rice and slaves in South Carolina, see Peter H. Wood, Black Majority: Negroes in Colonial South Carolina from 1670 through the Stono Rebellion (New York: Knopf, 1974); Daniel C. Littlefield, Rice and Slaves: Ethnicity and the Slave Trade in Colonial South Carolina (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1981); Peter A. Coclanis, The Shadow of a Dream: Economic Life and Death in the South Carolina Low Country, 1670–1920 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), esp. 48–110; Phillip D. Morgan, Slave Counterpoint: Black Culture in the Eighteenth-Century Chesapeake and Lowcountry (Chapel Hill: Omohundro Institute of Early American History and Culture by the University of North Carolina Press, 1998); S. Max Edelson, Plantation Enterprise in Colonial South Carolina (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2006).
7. Coclanis, introduction, xxiii. Using the calculation for nominal GDP per capita, generally used to compare the fortunes of the rich, the $2 million in 1851 was in 2008 equivalent to $838.55 million; see “Six Ways to Compute the Relative Value of a U.S. Dollar Amount, 1774 to Present,” Measuring Worth , http://www.measuringworth.com/uscompare/ .
8. See, for example, Peter A. Coclanis, “Distant Thunder: The Creation of a World Market in Rice and the Transformations It Wrought,” American Historical Review 98 (October 1993): 1050–78; Peter A. Coclanis, “Rice,” Encyclopedia of World Trade Since 1450 , 2 vols., ed. John J. McCusker (Detroit, Mich.: Macmillan, 2006), 2:628–32; Peter A. Coclanis, “Rice,” The South Carolina Encyclopedia , ed. Walter B. Edgar (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2006), 791–94; Peter A. Coclanis, “ReOrienting Atlantic History: The Global Dimensions of the ‘Western’ Rice Trade,” in The Atlantic in Global History, 1500–2000 , ed. Jorge Cañizares-Esguerra and Erik R. Seeman (Upper Saddle River, N.J.: Pearson/Prentice-Hall, 2006), 111–27.
9. See Coclanis, “Rice,” South Carolina Encyclopedia , 792. Also see my review of Judith A. Carney's book, Black Rice: The African Origins of Rice Cultivation in the Americas (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2001), in Journal of Economic History 62 (March 2002): 247–48; Edelson, Plantation Enterprise in Colonial South Carolina , 53–125 esp.; David Eltis, Philip D. Morgan, and David Richardson, “Agency and Diaspora in Atlantic History: Reassessing the African Contribution to Rice Cultivation in the Americas,” American Historical Review 112 (December 2007): 1329–58.
10. See Lewis C. Gray, History of Agriculture in the Southern United States to 1860 , 2 vols. (1933; Gloucester, Mass.: Smith, 1958), 1:279–80; Coclanis, “Rice,” South Carolina Encyclopedia , 792–93; Edelson, Plantation Enterprise in Colonial South Carolina , 53–125. On rice production in the interior of South Carolina (and other “inland” areas in the South Atlantic states), see Peter A. Coclanis and John C. Marlow, “Inland Rice Production in the South Atlantic States: A Picture in Black and White,” Agricultural History 72 (Spring 1998): 197–212.
11. See note 10. See also Joyce E. Chaplin, An Anxious Pursuit: Agricultural Innovation and Modernity in the Lower South, 1730–1815 (Chapel Hill: Institute of Early American History and Culture by the University of North Carolina Press, 1993), 227–76; Morgan, Slave Counterpoint , 155–59 esp.
12. See Wood, Black Majority , 35–91; Coclanis, Shadow of a Dream , 38–47; Morgan, Slave Counterpoint , 147–59; Coclanis, “How the Low Country Was Taken to Task: Slave-Labor Organization in Coastal South Carolina and Georgia,” in Slavery, Secession, and Southern History , ed. Robert Louis Paquette and Louis Ferleger (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 2000), 59–78; Edelson, Plantation Enterprise in Colonial South Carolina , 53–125; qtd. in Wood, Black Majority , 132.
13. Coclanis, “How the Low Country Was Taken to Task.” Also see Philip D. Morgan, “Work and Culture: The Task System and the World of Lowcountry Blacks, 1700 to 1880,” William and Mary Quarterly , 3rd series, 39 (October 1982): 563–99; Edelson, Plantation Enterprise in Colonial South Carolina , 81–89 esp.
14. On this point, see Coclanis, “Distant Thunder.”
15. See Gray, History of Agriculture , 2:721–31; Morgan, “Work and Culture”; Mart A. Stewart, “What Nature Suffers to Groe”: Life, Labor, and Landscape on the Georgia Coast, 1680–1920 (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1996), 98–114; Morgan, Slave Counterpoint , 147–59.
16. Coclanis, Shadow of a Dream , 27–47.
17. Coclanis, “Rice,” South Carolina Encyclopedia , 792–93. See also Dale Evans Swan, The Structure and Profitability of the Antebellum Rice Industry 1859 (New York: Arno Press, 1975), 15.
18. Coclanis, Shadow of a Dream , 82–83.
19. Coclanis, Shadow of a Dream , 133–43; Coclanis, “Distant Thunder”; Coclanis, “Rice,” in Encyclopedia of World Trade , 2:628–32; Coclanis, “Rice,” in South Carolina Encyclopedia , 792–93.
20. Ibid.
21. Coclanis, “Distant Thunder”; Coclanis, “Rice,” in Encyclopedia of World Trade , 2:628–32.
22. Ibid. Also see Coclanis, “The Poetics of American Agriculture: The U.S. Rice Industry in International Perspective,” Agricultural History 69 (Spring 1995): 140–62' Coclanis, Shadow of a Dream , 133–43.
23. Coclanis, “Distant Thunder,” 1062–78; Coclanis, “Southeast Asia's Incorporation into the World Rice Market: A Revisionist View,” Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 24 (September 1993): 251–67.
24. Coclanis, The Shadow of a Dream , 133–43, esp. table 4.24. Also see Swan, The Structure and Profitability of the Antebellum Rice Industry 1859 , preface, 75–84.
1862

From R[obert] E. Lee to [Catherine Maria] Tattie [Clinch] Savannah, [Georgia,] 19 Feb. 1862
My dear Miss “Tattie,” I have no way of thanking you for the beautiful “blanket” you have sent me. I stand in need of nothing to remind me of you & if it will bring half the warmth & lightness to my tent which the recollection of you gives, I will want nothing else. Very truly yours, R. E. Lee.
From E[dward] B. [Barnwell “Barney”] Heyward to [Charles Heyward * ] Greenville, S.C. 27th Octob[e]r 1862
My dear Father, [Maria] Henrietta [Magruder Heyward] wrote last home and I am not sure what account she gave of Joseph's [Manigault Heyward] condition. I am quite sure that I try to look on the best side of the case but for the last two or three days I have been made very anxious.
The Doctor is beginning to fear he cannot recover tho' he has'nt told me so exactly. He now has very decidedly dropsy and in spite of all the remedies it continues & the strength is failing. His liver is as healthy as can be but the swelling of the stomach continues the same and today I begin to feel very miserable about him. His appetite is good but he can hardly now sit up in bed and he evidently gets weaker every day. He is emaciated to the last degree and I am very much afraid Dr. [Charles Pinckney] Woodruff was right when he said he did not have vitality enough to recover. It is a sad sight indeed to see so much beauty & manhood gradually decaying before our eyes, but disease seems to have left him to die from exhaustion. For the last four days he has continual pains in the stomach such as he had at first after coming up here and we are obliged to give him morphine which makes everything quiet for a while, but all the time he gets weaker and weaker and I am afraid will soon loose his appetite & then he is gone.
I will write every day for a while & give you accounts of his condition.
I think him in a worse condition today than I have seen him ever before. With more strength it seems as if he could be easily cured but I think his blood is like water and I am very much afraid of the brain now in a day or two. He is perfectly himself at present but terribly nervous and dejected. I shall ask the Dr. more particularly about the case tomorrow & write home. Hoping you are well I remain Yr affec Son, E. B. Heyward.
* Charles Heyward is Edward Barnwell “Barney” Heyward's father. In November 1861 a large Union fleet and twelve thousand troops captured Beaufort and the islands around Port Royal Sound, just south of Charles Heyward's four plantations on the Combahee River. Slaves from the surrounding area soon fled to safety and relative freedom behind Union lines. In March 1862 fifteen of Charles Heyward's slaves, including three women and a child, ran away. In June, Charles Heyward moved with approximately 150 slaves to his son's plantation, Goodwill, in Richland District in the center of the state. Initially only a watchman and a few elderly slaves remained on the Combahee plantations.
From Barney to Tattie Friday 7th day—31th Oct. [18]62
My own darling, Your absence has been a sore trial to me this even'g, tho' I have enjoyed your companionship today so sweetly that I am more patient at loosing you this eveng after tea.
I have spent my little half hour with my Cousin, a very dear friend of mine, & Izards [Walter Izard Heyward's] God Father. I wish I could have introduced him to my “little comfort.” He has a most affectionate heart, and has been so kind to me & my family that I can never forget it. Just such a sad event from the same cause as this loss in yr brother's family gave Cousin Izard an opportunity of showing his love for me at Flatrock many years ago. He has had his trials too and very hard to bear. I did more for his daughter than I dared to tell him of as I found he would not talk of her. Now is'nt there something [more] terrible than death, only think of what affliction disgrace can bring in a family. Poor Cousin I am truly sorry for him but I can do nothing to soothe him.
Your recent loss allows me to remind you that while it seems hard for parents to part with their little loved ones still we must never forget that like all other gifts they come from God alone. He has a right to claim them again and in his mercy he teaches us to feel that he cherishes them as his own for ever. I am sure no one ever looking at a childs face in death has ever doubted its being happy.
And dearest ought not such sad news from home bear some good fruit in our own hearts. As God has seen fit to bring us together thus closely and while our hearts are full of happiness & love for each other let us not forget that it is only by taking up our Saviour's cross lovingly that we can be truly happy & never be separated.
Let us always have Jesus in our home as our constant Companion & friend & let us conform our life to his example and then can we fully enjoy his gifts and if we do come back to the “ old rocks ” may it be with increased love for him & not only for ourselves. Love in this world is but the fore shadow of that in eternity, its purity, sincerity & consolations come from God alone and to him should we always pray that our lives linked together here below may be sanctified by his grace.
Hoping to see my darling well tomorrow I say good night with my blessings on your head. Most fondly yrs, Barney.
From [Barney] to [Tattie] Sat. 8th day Nov. 1st [18]62
Good night my little darling my pen is broken I am sleepy and I can only say I love you.
Sleep my dearest and live to make me happy by your sweet smile. It is a shame I should be so hard worked as I should like [ word illegible ] time for my little comfort and not be weary with watchings. I want my darling to find me all that delights her and I wish her to be always proud of me.
I love to do my duty. I like you to know when I do it. Sweet blessings on yr innocent head. Ever most true yrs, Veldt.
From [Barney] to [Tattie] 9th day—Sunday morn'g 2 Nov[embe]r [18]62
I am stealing no ones time dearest, to write this morning. Mrs. Heyward is yet abed and I have been by her husband's bedside five times during the past night and have my little half hour to myself and I pinch off just a little piece to say to my Tattie that [I] hope she has risen this Sabbath morng happy & well and also to tell her that she is the sweetest little comfort any man ever won in this world.
Kiss your hands darling and press them with my love on those jewel Eyes before you go down to breakfast and I shall be with you, close by, you all day, and should you go to the Communion table today that—but never mind I leave it to Gods wise & merciful spirit to teach you.
My brother [Joseph Manigault Heyward] is no better—in fact I think him worse today. I cannot do more than leave him for one hour while I go myself to the Sac[ra]m[en]t.
I shall look into your jewel eyes for one minute this even'g in a place where my darling looks sweetest and hold that dear hand where it is most trusting, and my little comfort must interest herself with all around her, and mind & be happy.
I suppose yr Sister Mary is delighted now that I am shut up here. I declare it is too mean, never mind. I shall count the days & crossmark them to be compensated for one of these days. Goodbye precious Tattie believe me yours forever, Veldt.
From Barney to Tattie Wateree, S.C. * Tuesday 11th inst. [November] 1862
Dearest Tattie, Safe at home once more darling and find all well. Our journey from Greenville was not mark'd with any important events except we came very near missing the connexion at Cola. I wonder how my poor little darling got through all that crowd of horrid people. I really do feel I should have been there to take care of you.
And where are you now, in Savannah; or Augusta? I know who loves you with all his heart, and I know just exactly where he is, and I will tell you, in his sister Lizzie's Chamber at her desk writing on her paper with his own pen to his dearest little comfort. And let me tell you something else that the mail boy leaves in a few minutes and what have I been doing all morning for it is now nearly mid-day. I will tell you. I have been with my Father alone talking over my poor brother's affairs and you have seen enough to know that some very painful subjects have been introduced & I have not left him till I was prepared to tell the widow sister some little delicate matters. And now dearest you know exactly why my letter has'nt yet been written. Darling I am now getting well. I sleep so sweetly and the children talk so funnily, and I feel I am of so much service to all around and I feel so happy in feeling my being loved & esteemed by such a sensitive, noble, girl as my little Tattie and I wont omit my feeling gratified at the esteem of your Mother & your sister Mary.
But darling now that I am at home & feeling happy & sleeping soundly you dont know how cheerful the feeling is that I am loved. I almost feel gay. I am busy as possible or rather shall be so after this is gone to the mail. I am soon going to Charleston. I dont know how soon to Richmond and when am I to come to See you my little pet. I really want to come very much indeed but if I must speak my mind fairly I should say that what I most want is to have you here with me , where I can really make you happy. I want to see you here. Thinking how proud I will be isn't enough. I want to feel proud actually.
I wish to tell you a little secret. I am coming to Sav. or Augusta sooner than you think & you shant know anything about it. And now comes the horrid post boy & I havn't written a word to your Mother.
Goodbye dearest, I hope I shall hear from yr Mother this even'g but I warn you the correspondence cant stay concealed long. I shall have to write through a friend in Cola., a male friend.
And Tattie are not you going to say something to me in your Mothers letter? Is our relation to be simply what you hear from me? but never mind it makes me happy, more than I deserve to feel I am loved. You can say nothing if you can till I come to see you. Very little satisfies me, when the kind of love is such as my Tattie alone in this world can impart to her own, dearest Barney.
P.S. Dont think I use the word feeling too often, it is, exactly just my condition now and what is just what I want. Feel, feel, feel, love, love, love, Tattie.
* In 1858 Edward Barnwell Heyward purchased the Goodwill plantation on the Wateree River, twenty-two miles south of Columbia, Richland District, South Carolina, hoping that moving from the coast would improve the failing health of his first wife, Lucy Green Izard Heyward, who died June 20, 1858.
From Barney to Tattie Wateree, S.C., 17th Nov. 1862
Dearest Tattie, This I drop at Camden, the last was left in Cola. and this is also sent to Augusta where I hope you will be on Tuesday. I hope in a day or two I shall hear from yr Mother again and be furnished with the name of your hotel in Augusta which I am too provoked with myself for loosing.
And dearest how have you found Savannah? and how are your servants? have they proved faithful and do they look as if they had been behaving themselves well while their mistress was in Greenville, or as the cold weather came on have they like others I know been getting themselves into little scrapes. Darling you dont know how much good coming home has done me. I now really feel well, tho still sleeping badly, but I am so happy in my loving you. When busy I forget you entirely and yet when I am at leisure I go back and find you just in the same old place, and there I commune with you. It has a supporting wholesome effect upon me and you have really already done me a great deal of good. And it is so delicious to wake up every now & then to the reality that I have someone to love me, and I feel so relieved to think that you are such a fine woman. Darling since yesterday I have become more than ever satisfied of the importance of the woman I make my wife being what you and I call “a fine woman.” I drove up to Columbia yesterday & took Izard and for four hours in the buggy he talked to me both going and coming, and I must confess I was very much amused and exceedingly gratified to get at the little fellows character. He really must occupy more of my attention and he well deserves it, his disposition is excellent, very tender hearted & very clever. I asked him if he ever read books and he said “Oh yes ‘that the other day he read Beulah ’ half through.” Now only to think of the little wretch reading “ Beulah .” But it was when coming home that we had a very curious talk. We got singing hymn tunes together they being the only airs we can sing and I told him that at Greenville when his Uncle Joe's coffin was brought in and placed in the chancel that the choir with the organ sang “Home Sweet Home” and I tried to tell him how it sounded. The little fellow seemed quite touched & sniffled a little and said “Papa you think Aunt Henrietta cared much about Uncle Joe?[”] I said “Oh yes.” And then he said “Papa dont you think she will get married again?” and before I could answer he went on to say “And Papa are you going to get married again. I know these people about here said you were going to be married to Miss Mills[”] (one of the extraordinary ideas of these country people, rather a low person), and here Izard blubbered out, [“]I always said I did'nt care but I would never call her Ma because I didnt like her enough.” So I relieved his mind by telling him that I would marry if I could find a lady who would love him & me and that he mustnt mind what people said[,] that I would take care of him and he seemed comforted & soon after fell asleep on my shoulder.
Now my sweetest little darling that little boy will love you just as I do. I know he will. He watches closely, and he has been always fearing I would marry and that it would be somebody he wouldn't love, and am I not blessed in my choice. I am ready and anxious to show my [Tattie] to him, or to anyone, and that drive together yesterday has united us closer than ever and made me feel my responsibilities greater than before. That boy is really an member of the family, there will be three of us & he will amuse you too. But let me ask how you are my little comfort. Has the photograph got smashed yet and how does it look across the Sav. river. Does it look as if it loves you. If it [doesn't,] dont give it to your Mother. Tattie do you know one week is gone, and you dont know how happy I feel, only wanting to see you so much. I do not attempt to ask after your feeling my loved one since you have decided to be silent[.] I do not complain but I only say I feel happy doubting nothing. Sleep on my little blessing. I will watch till you wake and gladden my heart with your voice. Those jewel eyes are closed but I can wait by and look into them again. I do not fear their being ever dim to[o], Yr ever dear, Barney.

Edward Barnwell “Barney” Heyward. From Margaret Belser Hollis, My Mother Was a Heyward
1863

From Barney to Miss C[atherine] M. Clinch Wateree, S.C., Saturday 14th Feb[rua]ry [18]63 *
Dearest Tattie, I reached home from Columbia, late last Eveng, and must write my last letter, before the mail Boy leaves at twelve o'clock.
My business detained me, till dinner time, yesterday in Cola, and Izard and I, had to travel down pretty much all the way after dark, with Izard all the while, whenever in a rather dark place on the road, crying out “mind your other Eye Papa—if that gets hit you will look magnificent. ” I am happy to say however, that my Eye is nearly well .
I am sure, if I had followed all the different remedies, proposed, at home and in Cola., my Eye would have been lost to us . I have only used cold water, and followed my own natural way, and it is well, only a little discolored but believe your Barney, I am not in the least disfigured, so if I send a picture to your Sister Mary, of a man with a patch over his eye, you must'nt mind it. I am only in fun . And remember, darling, the bruise, was on the outside , the Eye itself escaped, but the lid got the blow, and a pretty sharp one too!
With my love to your Sister Mary tell her I think I shall [have] thirteen of my family, at the Church, unless there is some row, on the coast, when, perhaps Izard, and I, alone can come, but I wont suppose such a state of things.
I enclose a note which I would thank your Mother to have sent to the Silver-smiths, under your Hotel, and beg she will excuse, the liberty, I take, but I must make use of my friends, at these times.
Now my own dearest Tattie, you will not think it strange , if, in this my last letter, (you will get it Sunday), your Barney has'nt much to say.
Darling, I cant, collect my thoughts, or rather my feelings cant exactly be expressed, I am coming dearest to take you to myself, proud , happy , [“&” canceled ] but calm, and perfectly myself .
I give below, a few lines, upon an old subject . Take them dearest, and you will by the sentiment of these, and all others, ever written for you, and for you alone, [“have” interlined ] the evidence, of the love, & esteem, of a man, whose heart, and character, you are happy in feeling, will be devoted to you. And I hope your family, as well as yourself, will also feel satisfied, that your choice has fallen, upon one, fully worthy, such a blessing as you must prove, to the man you honour, with your hand. Time will prove all, in the mean time, read my lines, and if you like them, put them in your Book , sacred to Barney, and Tattie's love.
     “ The Boys Bird ”
“Say not t'is useless,” T'is a gift,
     Which God, most kind, and wise,
     Sent down to cheer, a lonely man,
     When placed in, Paradise.
     ————————
Doubt not its' spirit. Pure as that,
     Which floats, in realms above,
     Doubt not it's strength. Man must rely
     Upon, a Woman's Love .
     ————————
So smile not at, our Boy, in verse;
     The Bird is, his Heart's Toy,
     And represents, that richest gift,
     Which man, can e'er enjoy.
     ————————
Now Tattie I am done . I will retire now, and my Muse shall be laid aside till taken out , dusted and, started again, by the tender “ pipings of my Bird ” which will sit to sing, & nod, on the finger of Your ever dearest, Barney.
* Edward Barnwell Heyward and Catherine Maria Clinch were married on February 17, 1863, at the Church of the Atonement, Augusta, Georgia, by the Right Reverend Stephen Elliott, the Episcopal bishop of Georgia.

Portrait of Catherine Maria Clinch Heyward. By Daniel Huntington, ca. 1862. Courtesy of Margaret Belser Hollis
From Tattie to [Sophia Gibbs Couper Clinch (Tat's stepmother) and Mary Lamont Clinch (Tat's sister)] [Wateree, S.C., ca. February 1863]
Dear Hearties, I wont date from any place my darlings for I [am] with you at this very moment. Poor Miss Mary, little woman how are you getting on, without one ray of sun to cheer you. Barney wrote yesterday. I was so worn out. We did not arrive until half past six, and of course I could not sleep, never do, as you know, in the day time, and in a strange place, but thanks to a strong cup of coffee, I had no headache. And slept well last night being utterly tired out, and Barney is so good, to me. You would love him just as much as I do, if you knew all that he has done for me—so considerate so watchful—the whole family so genteel so quiet, so naturally kind. Old Mr. [Charles] Heyward just right , dear hearties (only he did not kiss me) but warm and repeated shakes of the hand. I tried to sleep until near dinner time, then took a bath and dressed in my purple—and the presentation was over in a moment, and I soon felt quite at my ease. The two little [ones] are ‘sweet little things,’ and are highly excited about “Aunt Tattie.” One is sick in bed, but sent for me, and seemed pleased. As for Izard , he is crazy —the first thing that greeted poor me, with the streaming eyes, and broken heart, was in the loudest tone “Pa Ive got two seats for you and Ma. I have fought two soldiers for them.” So he had, they say, to the amusement of the party. He is the strangest and the dearest boy I ever saw, wants to [be] with us all the time, and could you have seen us yesterday evening, before tea, sitting before a fire in my room (such a fire, splendid fire[)] close up to me, with his hand patting mine, and his father lying on the sofa, you would have said, what a picture! I felt as quiet as if I had been in our parlour in Augusta. Oh my own darlings had you only been there! He (Izard) is coming in every [day] about that time (six and seven) so you can imagine us my Lovey's [?]. And don't fret too much for my heart aches at the thought, and if Mr. Heyward said I was happy yesterday don't believe him, poor tired out creature, my heart was full of you . And now for a picture of that room. We are not in the main building, for the house is not large but a tiny step from the other is another house entered by a piazza, then enter two large rooms opening into each other, my room the last. How bright and cheerful it looked, that cold rainy morning. A red and fawn colored carpet, six windows with thin curtains, a large French bedstead beautifully made up a sofa at the foot, plenty of colored engravings with gilt frames, plenty of little pretty things and every thing , a tall glass standing in the corner, a bright fire, and on the bed my darlings was my Mary's blanket. I had it over me all day lying on the sofa. Darlings make your minds easy. The situation of the house is not a pretty one, but every thing else will please you, a beautiful pincushion , and oh sister Mary, in the drawer about a dozen fully boxes, containing every kind of breakfast pins, shawl pins, cuff buttons, vest buttons, you can think of all from Barney. You shall see them very soon . Nothing very handsome, but so very pretty, such a mass. Darlings are you sick? Does my Mary fret her poor eyes, and her Mothers heart by crying. No no, my hearty. I will write tomorrow, for I have plenty more to say. Barney is off to the plantation and the boy will soon go for the mail and bring back a letter from you. With love to all my own ones, ever with many kisses your own, Tattie.
Barney loves you so. He really does, and says he is willing to leave all, and follow us Mother and you. Mother you, and me. Has brother gone. I forgot all about my purse, in that dreadful parting, but send it when you send the trunk, or some time. I don't want it at present. Goodbye hearties.
From Tattie to Mary [Lamont Clinch] Wateree [S.C.,] March 16th 1863
Dear Miss Mary[,] I am sorry you were dissapointed in your letter yesterday, but you will excuse I know when you hear the cause—in some-way I had taken a violent cold, which settled in the bones of my right shoulder, and gave me so much pain that I found I could not write with any degree of comfort. I did not know any-thing so slight could be so very painful, as it was, especially when I lay down at night, but Emily has rubbed me down with Opodeldoc. * Mrs. Jacocks † has bathed it with hot lye, and Barney has dosed me, so I feel quite bright this morning, although he has gone for the day to Columbia on business. Don't imagine I have been sick at all, for I have not even staid in my room. I will indeed take good care of myself, for I want to be quite well, so that I can see my darlings on next Friday or Saturday —Oh I am so glad, & Mr. Heyward told me to write you, that if nothing happened we would leave here on the day train , some day the end of this week. He has gone to Columbia, to make some arrangements. He intends to leave Augusta on Monday, leaving me with you, go down to Savannah, where he may meet the negroes, as he has written to Brother and Dunc[an Lamont Clinch]. He hopes to hear from them both in Augusta. He would rather, if he could, bring them here, by way of Charleston, and return to Augusta for me, but he has not quite decided. It would be pleasant for us all, to take a peep at Savannah, but I know Mother would not go, and I would rather stay, and enjoy you both, besides Barney will probably go farther South. He ought certainly to see Dunc somehow, or hear from, him, as regards the married people .
It seems to me you have made a great bargain, for Francis. Mr. H[eyward] thinks he will take him up along with the others, as he passes through Sav.—say the end of next week. Do you think Mrs. Carter had better be written to at once. I can't imagine what my poor people will look like—the shawls will make the women somewhat decent—but the men ! And children. I had thought of carrying Emily back with me, and not bringing her back again, so that Mother could send her to her husband, as long as you wished to keep Ann, for my dear child, I assure you, I am in no need of a maid . You would laugh if you knew the quantity of servants, that are falling over each other, and Mary who is very capable , is really in want of something to do. Mr. H[eyward] proposed that she should assist Emily , but as I do not dress at all I don't see Emily all day long . The old gentleman's house servants are up here, and also Mrs. [James Heyward] Trapier's, so it makes a large household. It would certainly be no use to have two servants in Augusta so on the whole, I think I will leave Emily here, at least until I get back, and whenever you are ready to send Ann down to see her children, Emily can take her place, for she can leave any day, and get to Augusta that same evening.
I wish Mr. Spencer had not been so polite, although I must confess I would like to have them for Mr. Heyward, but I forget, his are not made for them. I think when a lady has two or three pairs of sleeve buttons—she ought to be content even without a solitaire, especially as the few negroes she has are all naked , my hearty! I don't want them now . If you can just, say I have been supplied—but if you have taken them, I'll keep them. Pshaw! I don't think Monty will grieve much, he always would have rather talked to you. I was quite amused at his coming again .
Mr. H is puzzled to know where to get clothes for Izard. Poor little fellow—his Father told him last night he could not go with us, to Augusta. He bore the dissapointment bravely, but tears would come, into his eyes, and he only said, trying to hide them, “I would liked to have seen Aunt Mary !”—it is too comical!
Goodbye the boy is waiting—to think I may soon see you my dear ones, Your own Tattie C.
* Opodeldoc is camphorated soap liniment with essential oils and alcohol used as a medicated topical rub.
† Mrs. Jaycocks was Barnwell Heyward's housekeeper at Goodwill after the death of Lucy, his first wife. Her son, William Jaycocks, grew up in the Heyward home, helped Barnwell Heyward on his Combahee plantations after the Civil War, and later worked as plantation manager for Barnwell and Catherine's son Duncan Clinch Heyward.
From Tattie to [Sophia Gibbs Couper Clinch and Mary Lamont Clinch] Wateree [S.C.,] March 24th [1863]
I received your “goodbye” letter dearest ones, I mean Miss Mary, and am too sorry, that I should have been the cause of a disappointment to you. The fact is I lost as it were, a day last week. I thought I was writing on Thursday , and said I should write again on Saturday, so that you would get it before you left. The next day I found out my mistake, by some one saying it was Saturday, too late however, for the mail boy had gone. Had I an idea that you would have remained a day longer, I would have written on Monday. I hope you will receive my letter directed to Clarksville. Lamont must look so sweetly. * I think you may be tempted to maroon a while out there. You don't know how glad I was to hear that you had good company on the road. I suppose you took a stage together from Athens, and are nearing Clarksville about this time. You could not have a more lovely day, even in Habersham [Georgia], than it is here. Barney drives me over to Mrs. [Martha Rutledge Kinloch] Singletons place, † in a few——
March 25th
Just as I was writing the word few—in walked Barney, saying the pheaton was ready, so I found I could not finish my dear Mother's letter. We had a very pleasant drive, for the air was delightful, and brought home a good many roses, although I saw nothing very rare, in bloom yet. It is a beautiful place, in some respects very desirable, but it [is] not healthy in summer, being a few miles away from the belt of sand-hills. Mrs. Singleton and her daughter will be here next Tuesday, so we will have the pleasure of seeing her I suppose. The house is full again. Ellen, Genl. [James Heyward Trapier] and Mrs. [Elizabeth Heyward] Trapier, children and nurse, all arrived yesterday—and our quiet drives and chess evenings, are over.
The great fight is of course the subject of discussion, and I think I know all about it. I wish poor Bayard could get off as easily, if he ever carries out his scheme. ‡ I confess I am [concerned] about him, only I dont think he [“will” interlined ] finish it. Little Emma [Trapier] is still weak, and her voice is affected from debility, but I suppose, She will soon recover up here. The old gentleman is sick again today, with rheumatic gout but nothing very serious. Genl. Trapier seems to be a very genteel (excessively!) quiet kind of a man, talks quite well. He does not stay here very long, his health requiring a little change. Charleston of course is safe for the future, no other attack being apprehended. I imagined your being in Clarksville, last night, and thought of your being all alone, without me . My heart filled up, and suddenly, I commenced to cry, much to Barney's surprise, but he was very good to me. I am sure if he was not, I don't know what I should do, I so long to see you sometimes. Oh you must come to live near me, for at least part of the year, if you can give up Lamont. Do tell me how the views looks, after my cutting down so many trees. I do believe I used to be more “in love” with that place, than with any-thing or any body else. I wish I could transport the situation here, But this place can be made very pretty. Barney and I are planning constantly the situation of the new house, and yesterday, coming from the Singletons, he carried me round in a out of the way road, to show what a handsome approach, could be had to the new house, and showing off the hill, on which we now are. When mounting a short hill, [“when mounting” canceled ] the swingletree broke, and it took Francis and himself some time to repair matters, so as to get home. Fortunately the horses are extremely gentle.

Taking Clinch to La Mont. Ink drawing by Edward Barnwell Heyward. Heyward Family Papers, South Caroliniana Library, University of South Carolina
I hope to take Barney up to Lamont and [Tallulah] Falls, one of these days, so as to show him what beautiful scenery we have in Georgia. If it was in the autumn, I would get you to send me some white pines, but they would not grow now. Now that you are up in Habersham I think you may stay there, longer than you first expected for a little rest. I rather wonder you went up there at all now , as the Tattnalls did not want the house. I sometimes think, you and Mother might fancy to stay at Lamont , for a while. Should you want another servant, you had better let me send Emily to you, for I can get on very well without her. I was amused with her the other day, fearing she might be a little discontented at her long stay, I said something about her going to you, as soon as she had got through my sewing. She says in answer—“please don't apoligise to me Miss Tattie, I am very well contented to stay as long as you want.” And so she seems to be. She seems to enjoy the large society of coloured folks on the hill, and is really very useful to me in sewing. Mr. H likes her more, and more every day. You had [better] make up your minds to keep Ann all summer, and take her down with you, to Savannah in the fall. I really hate the time to come, when she will be seperated from her children, so completely as she will be here, and she will not be as useful to me now, as Emily is, not being able to do fine sewing. I have not made up my bodics yet, although Emily has tucked them very nicely. Thank you both for the promise of the white spenser. They will be all I will have to depend on, but I don't think I will want more. I am anxious to know if you are comfortable, and everything about you.
I think I could scribble on for ever. This cool day makes me think of Habersham and you, and as Barney has taken Genl Trapier, down to the plantation I have time to think of [you] (I am always doing that) and long to have my eyes rest upon you both. God bless you. Your own, Tattie. I have written to Brother and tried to be explicit.
* Lamont was a 140-acre summer residence near Clarkesville, Georgia, in Habersham County, built by General Duncan Lamont Clinch, Catherine's father, after his marriage to Sophia Gibbs Couper. Known for its healthy climate, this mountainous region of northeastern Georgia attracted many wealthy lowcountry planters, who built summer homes in the area.
† The Singleton place along the Wateree River of Richland County was known as Kensington Plantation, built by Martha's husband, Matthew Richard Singleton, who died in 1854 just as he completed the twelve-thousand-square-foot house. International Paper, formerly Union Camp, acquired Kensington in 1981 and restored the house.
‡ Nicholas Bayard Clinch, Catherine's brother.
From Barney to Tattie Savannah Ga. Monday 30th inst. [March 1863]
Dearest Tattie, I will, or rather must, give a few spare moments, left me, from my labour of arranging, for the negroes' arrival and leaving by the R.R., to write you a few lines. * A letter, you scarcely can expect, though you deserve a long one, full of love, of Barney's love, (worth having, I can tell you), in return, for your sweet little note, of yesterday, which I have just rec'd. Oh my sweet little one, it warmed up my poor heart again. I actually did kiss it , yes I did. Don't tell yr sister Mary. I am glad to hear, you are well, and have, really, some hopes of seeing you, next Wednesday, at 4 o'clock in the afternoon.
I have been hard at work, since breakfast, & thus far, I have fully succeeded in getting others to agree to my plans, which I always find, rather hard to do. My chief difficulty, was to know what to do with the people, when they came here, this afternoon. I cant bring them to the Pulaski, of course and the poor things, cant stay in the street all night. So I got from Mr. Miller, a letter introducing me to, Mr. [Richard R.] Cuyler Pres. of the Central R.R. and from him, again, a note to the Transportation agent, at that Depot, and thus furnished, I bolted up, on foot, and saw the man, and asked him, to let the negroes come over, and stay, in the Cars all night in his depot , (the C. & Sav. R.R. use that Depot,) to save me, a great deal of trouble, but he refused positively, and I felt like choking him. He gave all sorts of reasons, fear of fire, & theft, and all sorts of risks. I told him, I would come and sleep there myself , but nothing could move his compassion, and I left with a heavy heart, and was about leaving, the yard, when to my surprise, he suddenly called me back, and gave his consent . What changed his mind I cant tell, but I was glad enough, as you may suppose. I then rushed off to an Irishman named Moran, in some dark corner of your muddy town, found him, and his wife at home. I am always at home, with Irish people, (sorter kinfolk you know) and engaged, six drays to transport, the peoples “ plunder ,” across this even'g, I promising to be there myself, only [“one” interlined ] woman, asked, to bring her poultry . Catherine[,] besought me to allow her to bring only four, “ jes for de breed .” They hav'nt much, poor things, having made one move, already.
I have also telegraphed, to Charleston, about Cars, on the So. Ca. R.R. for Tuesday night, & also to Jones at Gadsden, to meet me, early Wednesday, got my Pass , bought the shawl for Fanny's baby, and torn about generally. I think the quiet people here, begin to know me, and wonder, seeing me rush about, in all parts of the City, the hunting up the shawl, carried me into, some horrid Jew shops.
I am going to tell you something now, which will “ shame ” you. I have had to ask the Chambermaid (Irish of course), we are great friends, to mend my glove .
In Augusta, somebody promised to do it, but did not, and the hole grew so big that my thumb, was nearly out , and I could hardly have gone to Church, yesterday unless I put my thumb in my mouth , which would'nt have looked well, in the Waldberg pew . The glove is really well mended, and I can go up and down Bull St at my ease. Oh I know the town well. I have seen your house on ‘Oglethorpe Square,’ and been every where, pushing about, by myself. Mr. Miller was very much amused, at my account, of my searching for the house , and not finding it, or my way home. You know strangers in a City always seem so funny , not knowing any places, even the most public. I had a most confused idea, of the part of the town, your house was in, but yet I found it, and thought it a nice looking place, a tenement house is'nt it? with front door close to the ground?
I have seen Francis, & Judy. I have written to Mrs. Carter allowing her to keep Francis till the end of his month, the 14th proxmo.
Judy, I find, is bound by yr contract for two years longer to Mr. Stephens, and will therefore, have to stay . Francis seems growing very fast , he has on a magnificent last year's buttoned-up jacket and looked rather seedy, but behaved himself very well, tho' George says , and of course George knows what is right , that “ he dont think that Francis had better stay , as his manners will be spoiled , that even he fears his will be injured where he is.” Oh George is my amusement, tho' less puppyish, than I supposed, he is very sensible, and has really been, of much service to me, but his pretensions are too funny. He has a very good face, and I daresay, is well disposed.
I was not well pleased with Judy's manners . She will have to be worked up over again for she is not civil, as you have [“taught” interlined ] your other people to be, being too young , before leaving home and she has contracted a bad style . I wish, I could have carried her, along with the others, for she says she is learning to cook . You ought to see George screw up his mouth at the idea of her cooking . He brought her round to see me & she was scared to death, at first, even Francis caught his breath a little, but soon got at ease with his new “Massa.”
Darling, you never told me, that, old Bella, belonged to us . I have taken no notice of her and, George pretends to know nothing about her, so I have said nothing on that subject.
I spent a part of last even'g very pleasantly, in company with Gen'l [Benjamin] Huger, a Judge [McQueen] McIntosh of Florida, who asked after you, very kindly, and, with Mr. Sadler, and my Sunday even'g passed away nicely enough.
The hotel is really, a very nice one, the servants are so clean, and the fare is good. I take my meals, in the ladys ordinary.
Once started tomorrow, I will have a rough time, on the road having so little to eat I dont intend, to sleep till I can press my darling, once more, to my heart and hear her call me “her dearest Barney” again. I cant write again unless stopped on the road.
Tell yr sister Mary I am coming , and that my heart is as hard as ever.
Sweet precious one I am afraid, Barney has'nt seemed to thank you, enough , for your note just rec'd. You dont know how funny I felt, when it was handed, to me, down stairs. I am as much your lover , dearest Tattie, [“as ever” interlined ] and trust, I shall always deserve, your esteem, & a little bit of your own heart.
Give love to all. I have had enough of Savannah for this time, and want to get back home. No news at all.
Goodbye darling. You see, I have nearly written a letter after all. I must now put it in the P.O., attend to a few matters, and then dress for dinner , on your account— not that I care one single part of a cent how I look. I am as ever yr own dearest Barney.
* Edward Barnwell Heyward had been dispatched by his father to escort Charles Heyward's slaves on Combahee plantations to Goodwill plantation in Richland District.
From Barney to Tattie Savannah Ga. Tuesday 31st inst. [March 1863]
Dearest Tattie, Altho' a very great happiness, to have again, an opportunity, of writing to you again, you can well understand, what a disappointment it is to me, to be kept a day longer in this place, and I cant say how much longer from you, (thee it ought to be to sound fine , but I am mad today, and cant write anything sentimental [)]. The bad weather I must suppose alarmed the overseer, and he never sent the people. The Conductor tells me, there not at the depot at Quitman. Perhaps Mr. Lynes was prudent, but he has no idea, of how great importance their coming on the day, appointed was to me. Lynes is a very trifling fellow , and between ourselves, a very unfit man to take care of your negroes, and I am very glad, to be able, to remove them. Your brother Duncan [Lamont Clinch Jr.], is very much put out with him, and is quite in trouble, to know what to do with his own people.
Mr. Morley, his neighbour, & friend , he finds is also quite a humbug , and Dunc is quite disgusted with him, promising everything, and too selfish, to do anything for anyone. I found no provisions on the place, and I hardly know what I would have done, if the people staid there any longer. I am sure notwithstanding the rain, on Sunday, I could have got the people over safely, but I cant be like the Irishman's bird, “in two places at once,” so I must rest satisfied, in having done all I could, and go again, this afternoon. I am also grieved to tell you, that my friend Moran, the Irish drayman, who was so civil in the morning, when promising to “ obleige the gentl'man ,” got very angry when the people did'nt come, and made such a fuss , that I had to promise to pay him half price , to satisfy him. I am afraid darling, our Irish blood is'nt what we boast it, tho my Veldt comes from Normandy, and got to Ireland by mistake. It is very chilly, and perhaps on the whole, if the people exposed in the rain, had got wet, the cool weather, might have made some sick, so I have to keep quiet, and hope for the best. I have been obliged to telegraph, to change my appointments, over the whole route , which is the most annoying part. I have also directed, that Izard , shall not come with Mr. Jones, as before determined, so that, I shall have to go home for him . It is too cold , and wet, for him to be coming over to Gadsden, at night, and perhaps staying there, twelve hours waiting for me. So my darling, I cant say when you shall see me. If I come by night train, which I will inform you by telegraph, do try, and get a small room near by ours, for Izard, and I can stow him away, when arriving at day light at the Hotel. Also I wish you to return to your room to meet me , as I shall be disappointed not to meet my wife to welcome me. So sleep in your own room the night I come, and if possible let my tap at the door wake you up. Do so, dearest pet, only to oblige me , tho' I do not fear, your remaining a moment away from me . You need'nt come out , to see after Izard, I will do all myself, but mind you be in bed asleep if I come at night, which is very probable, now that I have to go for Izard.
I expect you will think, I am having enough of Savannah. It is tiresome enough of course, but I contrive to kill the time pretty well. Last even'g, I was, rather cross being put out, at the people's not coming , but I had a long talk, with your famous Gen'l [Henry Rootes] Jackson, a very clever, & agreeable man. We sit opposite at table, and last even'g, we sat long after others were gone from table, talking about all sorts of things.
I got up to my room about eight, and instead of moping about, I cheered up and wrote letters, to Aunt Alice, & Cousin Georgie, answers long since due, and at half after nine, I turned in, and slept till seven this morning. I went to breakfast at nine, and since then have been walking about , to get warm.
I go straight up Bull St to the Park , and walk round & round , and through till I am tired . I then come back at Eleven, and write to my little precious one, who I am happy in knowing, is enjoying herself, at home, and “not forgetting Barney.” I will go out again about one, to the Depot to engage a car for the people, to Charleston, tomorrow, buy a book to read, go to see Bishop [Stephen] Elliott, who has returned, and after dinner, I shall read, till half after five oclock, and then go to meet the people, and be busy with them, till bed time. The papers seem to think an attack on Charleston, probable this week. If so, I shall instead of returning to Augusta, go the whole way, back, to Quitman, and give Lynes a good choking, for his having detained the people, and given me so much anxiety.
I have found two Prayer-books, for you to give to I[zard], & Billy, very nice, at two and a half , smaller than my green one, but of the same publisher, really very neat and appropriate, & cheaper, than, any you have seen in Augusta. I am getting rather ha[r]d pushed for clean clothes , as you may suppose, and I am afraid, I shall look pretty shabby, before getting back, tho' I can replenish, when going for Izard.
I am sorry to tell your Mother, that Duncan, has never got his ‘ Battle Flag,’ she sent him. He got Bayard to ask about it, at the Pulaski, but he could learn nothing. But as Duncan says “Bayard is a better hand at loosing than finding things,[”] he got me to ask, and I find that a paste board Box was rec'd for Col Clinch, staid here a week, and was given to someone , for yr brother the Col, and that is all, we can learn. I don't know if that was the Flag, but certain it is Duncan, has'nt got it.
Do you know dearest that your brother Duncan, in some respects, reminds me of you . I will explain it, when with you.
He is a great hand at taking up , for others, and is softhearted, and impulsive just like you, and very thoughtless too, like somebody I know. I like him very much, and he seemed quite drawn to me .
I think dearest, your family, will, all, like me, and I know it will be a great satisfaction to you for it to be so. Poor Houstoun, has' nt half a chance , with such a wife. Now dont you tell, but I know she dont like your Sister Mary. I have never in my life seen, two more opposite characters, and am not surprised at your Sisters, not appreciating her. They never can assimulate. Oh, I have such funny things to tell you. I begin to understand you all so well, and can explain, all your peculiarities. And let me tell you, something I see very clearly , that Lizzie has by her selfishness, forced her husband, to desert his position as Father of the family , and to appear in the light of a tyrant . He nearly let it slip out to me, the other day, when he said Oh “yes Tat will listen to your advice .” I could so well have asked him “Why she never would listen to his,” and he knows why well enough. I am too sorry; for he is really a fine hearted fellow, but his wife, will change him for the worse. Oh, these wive's, they twist a fellow round, like a baby. See what a, cold hearted, ferocious, creature you have already made me, you sweet darling, little Angle. Goodbye love to all and kiss for you from Yr ever dearest Barney.
From Barney to Mary [Lamont Clinch] Wateree S.C. 14th April 1863
My dear Mary, I take Tat's place, and write for the mail tomorrow, taking the opportunity of her being engaged in the drawing-room, with Izard at the chessboard, and my Father looking on. She is quite well, and till today which is rainy, has been out of doors with me regularly. We find driving in the phaeton, a most profitable way of passing, our ‘ honey-moon ,’ having no misgivings, on the score of selfishness , while we are alone in the house. But such uninterrupted existence, cannot last long, and we must soon exchange, our dashing phaeton; top thrown back, Tat with Hat, and white & black plume, footman behind (a little nigger without shoes) for the old family barouche, with other changes of passengers, conversation & & &ctra, not much to our taste. But, you may be sure, we are making hay, while the sun shines.
But, in the meanwhile, I am often reminded, that in another quarter there is no “glorious summer” or no hay to make, and Tat's regrets do not surpass mine, at hearing, that you have been made ill, at being again separated from your darling.
I know too well, the wound is deep, but I must be allowed to believe, time will cure it, and that as we all love each other, we will yet invent some plan by which, we shall all be joined, once again.
I know how you love Tat, and can easily conceive, that in your broken heart, you are ready to exclaim” For where thou art, there is the world itself ,
With every several pleasure in the world;
And [“where” interlined ] thou art not, desolation! But I am not too self-relying, when I beg you, to follow Tat's example and let your happiness depend on me. I am a man of wonderful resources, and can bring things to pass, which will astonish you. But I promise nothing, I never do. I did promise Bishop Elliott to love Tat but I can love you, if you will let me, without promising.
I owe you very great obligations, and nothing can ever make me forget them, or alter my disposition to repay them, gracefully and acceptably .
While Tat is making my heart glad with unknown joy, and our son happy, in her motherly care, and all of our family, to rejoice in the possession of such a blessing, as her pure heart, and bright face, have brought to us, surely I can never forget those we have left behind. I must turn, and whisper, to you as if close by, ‘be patient and all will come right,’ we shall all be happy again, your “joy” will return, and tho’ it may be some months before your “morning” will come, you may be very sure, it will come, and I shall make it at [“as” interlined ] an early a date as possible. Our late success on the coast, encourages me very much, in the hope of being with you in some corner , (you cant hide from us), by the middle of the summer, and I trust the time will pass quickly to both your dear Mother, and yourself. Somewhat like yourself, I do not like to look very far into the future, everything is so unsettled, I can form no plans, but with grateful heart enjoy only the present.
Tattie continues beloved, and admired amongst us all. It has become so much the habit with us all, that we may be excused not noticing it, only when my Father brings home a bouquet, from the woods of crab apple blossoms, and presents them to her, and might have been asked to come in the room—but it was in confusion ‘ fixing her things ’ that we are reminded that some hearts have been moved & made happy. With love to your Mother believe me dear Mary ever yr affec' brother Barney.
From S[tephen] H. Boineau * to Chas. Heyward, Gadsden P.O., Richland Dis., So. Ca. Combahee [S.C.,] April 21st 1863
Mr. Heyward, In reply to the inquiry, how many more hands can be fead at Combahee for the ballance of the year I give you a statement I have just made and I think you will find it correct. We have about 1,800 bushels of provisions, which is to be fed away to 24 head of mules and horses[,] 144 head of hogs & 62 hands or people to eat, not including myself & family. 81 bushels pr week is what the whole will consume then counting five months, or 21 weeks @ 81 bus. pr week brings it in round numbers to 1,700 bushels, to the 1st of October. You see thear is not much left. However I think we could feed a few more people say the wives of the men I can name. I have no doubt but, that they will be thankful to have their familys, with them. Albert, Tom, July, Lewis[,] Richard[,] Samson & Pompey. And while I think of it I will remind you of their cloths which they say are left at Wateree expecting soon to return when they came away. I hope you will not suppose that I am presuming to dictate to you what negroes to send to Comb. I only suggest those because I have heard some express a desire to have their family with them.
I will now make you a return of the rice which was sold during the past winter also the number of bushels thrashed. Before any was thrashed thear was a remnant of about 250 or 300 bushels to begin with, then thrashed Thrashed the Lewisburg rice 3,330 bushels Gibbs Savannah  1,150' Creek & Blake fields 2,020 ' total 6,500' I disposed of 3,197' to individuals about the neighborhood @ $1.00
I sold to a Mr. Swift @ $2.00 pr bus. 400 bushels & at another time to the same man 120 ' Making 3,717 bus. then sent to Middleton & Co 2,007 ' making a total of 5,724 Bus.
Subtract 5,724 from 6,500 leaves 776 Bushels of rice, then add the remnant 250 or 300, leaves us about 1000 bush as I have before stated.
I have deposited with Mess. Bee & Co 2,000 dollars the ballance 1,997 I still have but will send it to Mess Bee & Co by the first safe opportunity. †
Mr. Swift paid me 800 dollar cash for 400 bus. of rice. He then [“wrote” interlined ] for 120 Bus. more, which I sent and directed him to pay over to Mess. Bee & Co 240 doll. He done so & they have acknowledged the receipt which makes a sum total of 4,237 dollars. I am afraid you will not understand the above badly arranged affair yet I believe it is correct.
Some time next week we will plant the rice land which was prepared for rice about 45 acres. I have planted all the corn land except 20 acres and will plant that early in May. The late planted Corn is not yet up having had no rain upon it since it was planted. The weather now is very dry indeed. We had two days of exceedingly hot suns thermometer went up to 92 dgrs[?]. The first planted Corn is up though not a good stand. It has been replanted. As my supply of writing [“of writing” canceled ] paper is nearly exhausted I shall not be able to write you so often until I can get more.
We are all well just now. I remain Respectfully Yours S.H. Boineau.
* Stephen H. Boineau identified himself to a Mr. Boynton, a Confederate government procurement agent, as the property manager of Charles Heyward's Combahee River plantations in letters dated December 28, 1863, and January 25, 1864. [S. H. Boineau to Charles Heyward, 12/28/63 and 1/25/64]. Charles Heyward, Barnwell's father, inherited four rice plantations on the Combahee River—Amsterdam, Lewisburg, Rose Hill, and Pleasant Hill—from his father Nathaniel Heyward. Prior to 1862 Charles resided in Charleston during the summer and at Rose Hill during the winter.
† William C. Bee, a prominent Charleston commission merchant, headed the firm W. C. Bee and Company and helped found the Importing and Exporting Company of South Carolina, a blockade-running firm informally known as the “Bee Company.”
From Tattie to [Mary Lamont Clinch] Wateree [S.C.,] April 28th [1863?]
My dear darling[,] I hope to receive a long letter from you tonight, it seems so long since I have had the satisfaction of reading one. According to my calculations you have been there three days, and I often wonder if you are having a decent time. I wish you had gone down to Savannah, first, and then paying a short visit to them all down below, had gone up to Habersham, and been somewhere near us, the rest of the summer. As it is so cool here, I am afraid you will find it too much so, where you are. I hope you carried your winter clothes.
We are “getting on” very quietly. I never hear from any one but you, not writing very often to any one you know. My “Par” is still sick, at least he is in his room with a swelled hand, and I pay him a visit during the day—although as the family is so large now, he has plenty to go and see him—the children are running in and out all day. Genl. Trapier goes to-morrow, and I will be quite sorry, as he is quite a pleasant talker, although intensely English in all his opinions, which caused some discussion, Barney and I being decidedly not . He does not expect to be back again before July or August.
We have had a hard rain last night, which comes in good time for the crop. I will know a good deal about farming, soon as Barney makes me his constant companion. There was a heavy thunder storm last night, and he and I were rather ashamed, to confess we had heard it not—it shows that your Tattie sleeps well does it not my dear ones? How does my Mother sleep now. The shade trees around the “Farm” becomes darker and darker, and I long for the good time to come, and tremble whenever I hear the “Trapier's” admire it—but Barney says it is “ ours ”—besides it would not suit them as they would require a larger place. They like the climate so much, that I would not be surprised if they bought up here. It is raining now and I can't take a drive with Barney. I hope you won't have bad weather there, you cannot do much at Lamont. If it was in the Autumn, I would get you to bring down some raspberrie bushes. They grow very well here, but they are only black , which are not worth much, [“but” canceled ] they will not bear transplanting in Spring.
My dressing room is almost finished, which is a comfort—the noise is not very agreeable. Oh dear I wish the war was over, and so does Barney. He is as anxious to have you near us as I am, almost!! Izard sends his love to Aunt Mary, and begs me to say (without the slightest hesitation) if you have any scraps of blue or black velvet, please to send it to him, as he wants a cap made. I told him you have nothing of the kind, but I cant deny him the pleasure of sending the message. It will be soon too warm for a tight little cap. I suppose the idea will soon pass out of his head. You don't know how quick he has been about chess —he really plays quite well, and says I must tell you, that he beat me last night, (after a fashion).
Barney has the check now ready to send, but I think I shall wait to hear from you. He had no idea there would be any difficulty in getting it and feels quite annoyed about it.
Do tell me where Ella is for I would like to write her sometimes. I will write her soon. Poor Dunc I [fear?] he is as reckless as ever. Barney says he spoke of giving up his place. I suppose the Owens will stay late in Savannah. Is Mrs. John at Ginna's.
Bob of the firm of Davy, Polly an[d] Co, was married last night to one of the Wateree belles. Don't you think he was in haste. Francis is quite satisfied knocking about the stable. I wish you had him at Lamont, for a while. Do my darlings, let me hear from you as often as you can, and wishing that Barney and I were with you ever believe me, your own dearest Tattie.
Contrary to my expectations, they are a good many very pretty roses here. I have a bouquet presented every day for my breast pin, and a flower stand for the parlour, and the “side board” in my parlour . I wish Mother could see a very pretty yellow one, called the Harlison rose. Tattie.
From Tattie to [Sophia Gibbs Couper Clinch and Mary Lamont Clinch] Wateree [S.C.,] May 13th 1863
I have been fortunate my dearest ones in two letters on successive evenings, Mothers on Monday, and Miss Mary's on Tuesday. Where Mother, yours had been to remains a mystery, for the only post mark it had, was Duane Street, Ga. written on it, but, it came safely and I thank you for it Lovey. You write such nice long letters, it is a treat to me to get them, I mean, you both.
I was sorry to see by Miss Mary letter that it was still raining at Lamont, but I hope you are now enjoying the sunshine. It rained a good deal here, last week—now we are having a spell of dry weather. I have no doubt you are wise, in remaining at home for a time. I wish you had gone to Savannah for a month, and then had come up to Lamont for the summer, with the Owens. My Miss Mary would not then have been lonely, in her walks, and besides I want you to spend next winter in Sav[annah], and you could have made your arrangements to do so.
So you don't think you can give give [ sic ] up Lamont , it would be selfish in me to urge you to do so, as it is a home dear Mother which is certainly your own, and if you could spend all but three or four months in the winter there, it would do very well—and if your debts were only paid dear Mother, it would not take much to make it a lovely spot. Just see how I am demolishing my castles which give me many an hour of delightful anticipation, but I know my dear ones it would be too much country , for you to be at Lamont all summer, and here in the winter. Perhaps you may spend part of your winter with me, and board for a little while in Sav[annah], the rest—but I won't talk of it. The little Farm with its pretty grove, has been given to me, and will remain unimproved unless you take it—and I shall go on dreaming my dreams until the war is over, and then we shall see what will be the best to do. Don't talk Miss Mary of my not seeing you for many months! I can't think of it myself—and you my darling Mother had better stop scolding me for fretting for Barney don't— and you have your hands full with Miss Mary, although you say she has turned out to be so good. I advise her however never to part with her Mut, but by all means have a double ceremony performed.
By this time you have heard of Stonewall's [Thomas J. Jackson's] death. * Is it not too great a loss, and I think Genl Lee has paid dearly for his great victory. I suppose there will be some [“more” interlined ] heartaches [ missing section ] could have been with them, and I expect they will turn up. I will write to Bayard tomorrow. Edward (the little dwarf) is come for the mail, so goodbye my dearest ones, unbar your parlor windows, and be not afraid.
God bless you both. Your own Tattie.
I sent the check to you by last mail, do burn my horrid looking letter.
* Lieutenant General Thomas J. “Stonewall” Jackson died May 10, 1863, from infection and pneumonia, complications that resulted from wounds he received during the Battle of Chancellorsville, Virginia, May 2–4.
From Tattie to Mary Wateree [S.C.,] May 18th 1863
Your letter dearest Miss Mary, reached me, on Saturday evening, having been written just a week, what becomes of them on the road, I can't imagine, and what ever becomes of mine, will ever remain a mysterious mystery. I repeat again, that I am faithful to you about writing. In fact it has become such a pleasure, I would not like to forego it. It is too bad, that you do not get them regularly. I feel mad, even now, at your being disappointed. I can well imagine you, in that dining-room—but my dear children, you must excuse me, I think you quite foolish to be so afraid. I see plainly you miss me very much. I gave you one or two nights to have some timidity, but it is too funny, to keep the windows barred up. Poor children you can't take care of yourselves, and will have to come under Barney's wing at the [ word illegible ] House, for after the war, the people that return will be horrible —think of them thirsting for blood —and my two lambs at their mercy! Thank you for Mary Jones' letter—she writes very well, I think. I don't think she will ever come back west. They say [General Pierre Gustave Toutant] Beauregard wrote to [President Jefferson] Davis, and he said “Vicksburg was more important than Charleston ,” which insults them—not this family though—they laugh at such things a good deal. I wish I could send you some papers, but they would be so old . I know my dear Miss Mary cried when she heard of Stonewall's Death. I would not be surprised if the “Mut” did too, but I don't think I felt it as much as poor [General Albert Sidney] Johnston's death. * Jackson was so successful, and got his reward on Earth—but what a loss for us. Don't mind my nonsense about the white pines, and raspberries. I write anything, that I am thinking of at the time. My dear Mother, I don't think I cut down any trees, in the direction of Ervin's[?] farm. I thought it was only on the slope. Don't imagine for a minute, that I am not thinking of you all the time . We go early tomorrow morning in the phaeton to Columbia, Izard on horseback. Barney was there the other day, and may say we must spend the night, as it will be too tiresome for me to come back. I will try to look well and to do well, and write you about it—if back in time will write you on Wednesday. We will start early so as to avoid the sun. Three months yesterday since that eventful day . It does seem longer than five weeks since I have seen my own dear ones. God bless you—take care of each other, until we meet. Your own Tattie.
Howdye to Ann. What do you think had better be done about Maum Bella? I expect she gets on somehow . Have you heard who bought George's wife? Barney says it is impossible to get any change for five dollars in S.C. money. It does seem ridiculous. I will send it by next mail, as this is too bulky already. What a fat letter you sent, for ten cents . I wish I could write you funny letters to amuse you my dear ones.
The plans are very pretty. I will make Barney send you his plan. He has drawn it for you, but there is some little mistake and he laid it aside.
* General Albert Sidney Johnston died April 6, 1862, from a bullet wound received during the Battle of Shiloh, in southwestern Tennessee.
From Tattie to [Sophia Gibbs Couper Clinch and Mary Lamont Clinch] Friday Wateree [S.C.,] June 5th 1863
I have had no letter dearest Mother since I last wrote on Wednesday, not expecting any until Saturday—tomorrow evening. I hope dear ones you are both quite well this morning. I wish I could catch a glimpse of you, to see for myself.
I'm afraid it is getting too warm now, for you, to and particularly Miss Mary to run after “Tony.” I have just returned from a walk, round the orchard, and found it quite warm, although I was a little cold, before I started. I never go out now in the mornings, but always when the weather permits take a drive with Barney in the afternoon. I wish you had some way of jogging about, for I know walking does not agree with you, but if the Doctor says you must take exercise, do my dear child, go out with the Miss Mary every day. I can scarcely realize that this is the 5th of June —time flies certainly when nothing happens to break the daily routine. There is nothing late from Vicksburg, and I trust ere this, your minds have been relieved, as to its fall. After such a splendid defence, I don't think [General Joseph Eggleston] Johnston will allow them to be eaten up by the Yankees. I'm glad to see [Lieutenant General John C.] Pemberton is coming out in victorious colours. I think he has been picked at, enough—although I really think he goes pretty far when he says he will starve out the last man before he yields. I am thinking of our Henry [A. Clinch], but I like the speech, and hope you have seen it. The last news from the Combahee River in S.C. is rather startling to the family here. The Yankees have devastated the plantations[,] six or seven of them, by their raid the other day, carrying off six or seven hundred negroes. * Mr. William C. Heyward, whose Mother is the old lady in New York, is, it is supposed ruined, and Mr. Charles Lowndes and Mr. [Walter] Blake are the next great sufferers. These gentlemen, have rather boasted, that their plantations were going on as usual, and that they were planting their full crop—rather smiled at Mr. Heyward's moving his Fathers people. It is believed that it was all planned, for five of Mr. W. C. Heyward's negroes, went down 5, or 6 days ago, and told them, that a good many soldiers had been removed, and brought them up to their master's place. A letter from the old gentleman's overseer, on one of his places, that he [“is” interlined ] planting, says that as soon as Mr. Blake's people heard that they had come , they left their work in gangs, and fled to them, evidently expecting them. They did not get up as far, as any of his places, but he saw the burning buildings, and expecting [“them” interlined ] every moment, he did not lose any of his people. The fact is the old gentleman could not bear to “give up” Rose Hill the place where he lived, and kept an overseer and people down there—actually sent some more down the other day, and talked of going there on a visit himself, but I think this will rather check him. It is a pity that people will be so obstinate, for it does the country harm. Mr. [Joshua] Nichols Mr. [William L.] Kirkland's, step Father, and he, himself both suffered very much.
Poor Miss Withers, is not very happily married anyhow—they say she is so cross . Do you think Brother ever sent in Georges name? I search the “Republican” daily, before it goes in the parlor, so afraid am I, that any thing will be there about him. I think it strange his name was not mentioned when, Drysdale's, was.
My dears, do you hear nothing of the Hodgson's movements? I don't want you to go off by yourselves. You must go with them.
What has my Miss Mary to read? She ought to borrow from Owens and Kollocks, “Great Expectations” by Dickens is now in the house, but it is too much like his other works.
I enjoy this little chat with you my dear ones, although, it may be trying to you to read this no sense letter—put me down on the list with Lizzie, I expect. Never mind[,] on Monday, if nothing happens, you shall have something better. Edward has made his appearance sooner than usual, so I must say Goodbye. God bless you my dearest ones, and keep you from all harm, but my Miss Mary must have more Faith .
How do you like Mr. Eppes? Howdye to Ann. Barney is at the plantation. Tattie.
* On June 3, 1863, the 2nd South Carolina Volunteers, a company made up of former Sea Island slaves and based in Union-controlled Beaufort, staged a successful raid on several Combahee River plantations. A white officer, Colonel James Montgomery, commanded the company, and Harriet Tubman, famed “conductor” on the Underground Railroad, served as guide for the expedition. The 250 soldiers burned houses and outbuildings, flooded fields of corn and rice, and transported approximately 750 slaves to the relative freedom of Beaufort.
From Tattie to [Sophia Gibbs Couper Clinch and Mary Lamont Clinch] Wateree [S.C.,] Monday, June 22nd 1863
Saturday night my dear ones, brought me Miss Mary's letter at last , and my Mother's also, and you may be sure it was quite time for me to get one or the other, for I was thinking of running away to Habersham with Emily, before Barney came back. All my fears however vanished, before the sight of the maternal's handwriting—and they were such nice long letters too. I wish I could get just such every evening. The poor Mother must indeed have been very sick , although not worse than my imagination depicted. Oh I am so glad that all is, I hope, right now—until the next time she does something imprudent. Oh Mother dear do be careful of yourself. I can imagine how you felt Miss Mary. I am so thankful the fever did not continue—and give a pleasant thought even to Dr. Earle for they were his pills after all that cured her. I could almost laugh now , at you, my dear Sister for being so worried, over your letter not going. My dear child, I would rather have twice the suspense than you should fret, for I know it always does you harm. I am going to tell you something now, that will make you mad . I have never got your long letter that you speak of. I could like little Tony set up a “howl of grief.” That was the missing letter of last week, for I only got two—somebody was tempted I suppose at its exceeding fatness. What about little Rainey Hamiltons neck-tie. Did he send me one all the way from England? Do tell me all that you said in it my dear sister for I know that I lost much.
Today is just such a day as you describe in your last. We have had showery weather for some time past, without doing the plantation any good, but now today it is steadily pouring down—a very dull day it is, and I am afraid I cannot send you as long a letter as I wish, as Master Izard, being unable to go out is disporting himself, in these two rooms, and perhaps you don't know how many times his “Ma” sounds in my ears. Talking to him, has caused these two blots to come, which you must excuse.
Barney will I hope be here early tomorrow morning—by 5 oclock. I have been brave enough to sleep in a big room by myself, but last night I had a night - mare , and I missed my Miss Mary dreadfully.
Barney is always talking of writing to you both, but when he comes in from the plantation, he is usually somewhat tired, and as we dine late, it makes the afternoon very short. He says he wants to see you both very much, and I think he would enjoy a reunion as—almost as much as anyone. The Mut says in her letter that she will not stay much longer at Lamont. Do you know I do think it a pity that you should go away until the fall. You will have a good deal of society up there and if you could “hold on” and be comfortable for two months or so, longer, you might join us somewhere in the fall—before very long, I could tell you where . To be boarding from this time through the winter, will be such an expense to you and if you two could manage to scramble along, I think you will find it in the end better . Do my darlings think over it. The Owens will soon be up, and they can carry and bring your mail. I am sure it is no obligation. Barney is quite a mail distributator (is that spelled [“right” interlined ])—his mail bag, contains letters for a dozen people around, and letters are even directed to his care. Of course darlings you know best, and it must be very inconvenient for you to live as you do. We will not leave here until September, and then anywhere among the mountains will perhaps be too far for us to go. In the course of a few weeks, we will form our plans, and tell you of them. Any-how I trust we shall see each other, before very long, my dear ones. The months fly by, very rapidly, and if Heaven preserves us, September will soon come.
Don't think I have not got enough to occupy my time. My dresses are not all fixed yet, and I read while Barney is away in the mornings, but my dear children you are some-thing to be missed . Barney is with me all the time when at home, and lets nothing interfere with my afternoon drive, but, because I have the best man in the world, it does not follow that I must not be anxious to have with me, the two, that belong to me, just as much as he does. That Farm would settle this business exactly, and I have not given it up yet.
Do you see that Mary Couper is now a widow ? What could have been the matter, with Mr. Low. It is too sad to think of three young widows in that one family.
Genl. Trapier is now in command at Georgetown. Fearing I suppose some more raids on the coast. I think the aspect of things look like peace, although the Mut don't think so. How boldly they talk of it at the North, and of Vicksburg. Perhaps all will be well. Old [Abraham] Lincoln will hardly let another administration make peace , when he sees it will be the only thing to save himself—don't be down-hearted my dear Mut.
Barney wrote to Henrietta [Joseph Heyward's widow], and sent it to Mr. Bee, to go by a blockade vessel but I suppose it was read—he has only written once, which I suppose she will think very dreadful. Tell Mother I will write her a model letter by next mail. I will take her advice about the paper, but it is only Barney's paper, so I don't care . Mine is all gone, but a few sheets which I reserve.
I am glad the old fellow will be here tomorrow. Goodbye my dear ones until Wednesday. I hope you are both well at this moment. Give my love to all “enquiring friends” including Ann . If you [go] either to Greenville or Ashville, I suppose I can't ask you to come so far out of your way. It must be a good deal shorter by your route. With much love and a kiss to each other, I am ever your own, Tattie C.
[P.S.]I have heard nothing of “the family” since I last wrote, but I agree with you that Liza had better leave Waynesville. She might get a fright at any rate. Many thanks to dear Mother for the nightgowns, but I think “charity ought to commence at home.” Izard sends his noisy love, to his Aunt and Grandma. He is very tractable though, and thinks it his duty to be more devoted than ever during his Fathers absence. T.
From Tattie to [Sophia Gibbs Couper Clinch and] Mary [Lamont Clinch] Wateree [S.C.,] Friday, June 26th 1863
As I take up your long letter to read dear Miss Mary, before answering, it revives the feeling of delight which I had last Tuesday evening, and which I always have whenever a letter from Lamont is handed me. I have had my two this week, therefore do not expect another until tomorrow—Saturday afternoon. I think I like it better to have regular evenings for receiving my letters, I don't so often get dissapointed. It was strange that you should have got one of mine before the usual day. Your letters seem to have so much more in them than mine, that is your interest in me alone, that make them bearable. My insinuations in my last have I expect given you a scare , but don't my dear ones think any more of it, just now—above all, don't whisper it aloud . If I was not thinking so much of you, perhaps I should not have mentioned [“it” interlined ] then, but I thought it might make some difference in your future arrangements. I will write about it soon again, in the meantime I am perfectly well, and sometimes can't imagine why I have such an idea. Another reason again why I mentioned it, by every mail I expect to hear of your flying off to some distant region, and the idea of entrusting such a secret to unknown post-masters was insupportable—so my darlings don't worry about me but call to mind the strange experiences of our friends, and perhaps—however no one will know it but you and the “Mut”—that['s] a comfort.
I have just written to Sue, I think it would be a pity for her not to accept Mother's offer of the house, at Lamont. Even if they brought up their provisions and servants, there would be no necessity for you to leave if you did not wish to— That is if you could stand it . Sue might come up with the children. I rather think the old Lady would like to be left alone to take care of Dunc. * I would certainly tell her to bring up her table and bed linen. I am thinking my dear ones of the bare possibility of our taking a house somewhere together for six months—say Columbia for instance. Almost every thing could be easily furnished from this place except that—with such a family precious little will be forth-coming. This is only a hint , my dear children—say nothing about it in your letters, for it is most certainly taking “time by the forelock.” We are quite excited here about Lee's advance into the enemy's country, but the mail brings us no news, except accounts of the awful fight they are in. † I suppose you have read an account of it before this. Barney says he will be very glad to get raspberries cuttings. He got a few from Columbia not knowing they were red . They are so young they did not bear well, but one or two has convinced him, how nice they are. Always having seen the “blacks” he had no faith in raspberries at all.
We are having cloudy weather and quite damp for this place, and really June has nearly disappeared with only a day or two of real warm weather. Barney is rather surprised at the dear maternal's thinking I am lazy, and have not enough to do. He says I am busily engaged in making him happy (of course) and keeping the rooms in the nicest order. May Owens would say a la slim again—by his caricature of himself which I suppose you have by this time, you can see I have been very industrious and have certainly met with great success, but I expect you will think it all imaginary. I don't think I would like it if I was successful—I would rather have him just so . Seriously though dear Mother, I find no want of occupation and it would be better if I would not be so lazy about sewing. As for the piano, I don't know if I would value it now. I have the guitar, which I seldom touch. I should get on famously if I could only see you my children sometimes, and did not feel so anxious about almost all the members of my family. I suppose you have seen Mrs. Waldburg by this time. I am afraid she will not feel at peace, even at Richmond Hill—what a strange time she has had of it, since the war. I have written to Hetty Kel at last, and made some lame excuse, for not writing before. I see the “Alabama” has taken about seventy four vessels since she went out. The “handsome John” will be a rich man. Barney did not see little Mrs. Betty—someone met her, and thought her “quite pretty.” Do tell the people in Habersham, not to frighten you any more. I see no sense in it, and please don't eat mulberries. We don't have any huckle berries here, at least I have seen none. Barney hopes Mother is taking better care of herself. You are very smart about getting Mrs. Owens['s] driver to take your mail. Miss Mary is not to be foiled in anything. Goodbye my dear ones, I hope to hear from you tomorrow. Your own Tattie.
* Dunc and the Old Lady are Duncan Lamont Clinch Jr. and Susan Hopkins Clinch, Catherine's brother and sister-in-law.
† Lee's advance and the awful fight are references to General Robert E. Lee's Maryland Campaign, leading to Gettysburg.
From Tattie to [Sophia Gibbs Couper Clinch and Mary Lamont Clinch] Wateree [S.C.,] Wednesday, July 1st 1863
I received dearest Mother my usual letters—one on Monday and one again last evening, and I thank Miss Mary very much for them. I am too sorry dear child that you are still not well , why is it? Do dear Mother be very careful of what you eat. But I suppose it is cold. I don't think Lamont agrees with you, and am very glad you have at last decided on Greenville. I think the climate not as changeable, as among the mountains—perhaps Miss Mary if she is not sick will have a more quiet time, at least until I get up there. You will be much nearer me, my dear ones, and if you are there, during this month, we hope to send you, some nice peaches, which are just commencing to ripen. We had all our plans arranged, about meeting you at Kingsville and accompanying you to Col., but, I think your plan of going by Walhalla is [“so” interlined ] much more preferable, that there can be no hesitation about it at all. You will not find it so warm, and as you say, it will not be much of a trip. Only you must engage a careful stage-driver my dear ones. Barney's Aunt Alice [Izard Heyward] is at Walhalla, but she is I believe keeping house with her nephew, Mr. Arthur Middleton. She has that tin box, which I do want to get very much. Oh I am too, too sorry that it is really Mary Low. I was so confident that it was Mr . Andrew Low['s] name that I saw in the notice, that even when I saw her name, on the list of interments, I thought it was perhaps the name of some common person that we did not know. Poor Mary. I am very sorry that I never shall see her again—her Mother indeed must be heartbroken, and I wonder she was not sent for before. Poor girl, I think I see her now, the night she came with Genl Lee. I expect he will be sorry. I see they are doing much damage in Pen[nsylvania] among the bridges and iron works. I must confess it gives me the heart-ache to see such splendid works destroyed —not that they do not deserve it and more, but I am clearly for leaving vengeance with God. I think he has has [ sic ] blessed our cause in every way, because we have been merciful. Is not Mr. Coleman's Iron property somewhere near Harrisburg—what a strange position she and her children are in. I suppose she regrets not being in her little cottage, but it would not have been pleasant, for a southern woman to be found by our army there. I suppose they have been supplying the northern army with iron to build their ships.
I don't know what to think about Vicksburg, or about Johnston, we must only have faith and hope. I was going to ask you about Col. Williams. I have no doubt it is the same man; how his relations must feel. I hope the Hodgsons, will go to Greenville. I feel relieved that you will be among friends, and so near. I don't like my poor Miss Mary to say she feels sad or worried. I truly hope a letter I wrote a week ago, will not make her feel more so. I feel so well, that I think I am a humbug —especially as I have not judged according to usual rules . I think my old enemy Gastralgia , is visiting me in a modified form. If so, I don't, Mother dear, think you will call me a “Solon” a[gain]—in the mean-time I [ ms. torn; “will”?] take good care of myself, much to Barney's amusement and mystification. I think it will be rather pleasant to pay a visit to Greenville in Sept. but oh my dear Mother please get well, and be well, for it makes me low-spirited too to think that you are in any way sick. I see you cannot be comfortable at Lamont, and will be too glad to receive my first letter from Greenville. Today is the first of July, so I would not be surprised if you were making your arrangements to leave. You have been at Lamont, two months and a half, I think. I suppose you have had as yet, no answer from Sue. I think Dr. Ford, has his house, and hands full. I will write to Ella tomorrow. Ellen [Ann Heyward, 1833–1864] has just given me “No name [ ms. torn; words missing ]. I wish I could transfer it to your hands and Miss Marys. I can hear you laughing now, over that picture! Tell Miss Molly I do use th[ ms. torn; words missing ]n my own hair which is falling out as usual, and on his too, with what benefit you must judge for yourself. I would rather have him so . Ann must not forget my catfish oil. Emily is now well, and goes on as quietly as if she was to live here forever. You will of course take Ann to Greenville—if you think so, we can exchange our maidens when we meet. Little Edward has come for the mail. God bless you, my dear Mother and Sister. Your own Tattie.
From Tattie to [Sophia Gibbs Couper Clinch and Mary Lamont Clinch] Wateree [S.C.,] Wednesday, July 8th 1863
Sure enough, my dearest ones, the answer to the letter came yesterday afternoon, as I expected. By this time you have had so many others from me, your minds have been quite relieved about me, but I don't think you have gained much satisfaction from them. I have no doubt, my dear Mother, you say—“they are just like Tattie.” I thank you both so much for your letters, they made me feel very funny , while reading them. I declare my children dear, I don't know if I am humbugging you or not—time will show I suppose. In the meantime don't worry over me; and as for the “layette,” that is funny, even to think of it —my mind is prepared for any emergency of that kind. My poor little Mother, don't you even speculate on that subject, I won't allow it. Miss Mary must not say, that I have deceived her about my health. I have said to Barney a dozen [“of” canceled ] times, that I never was better. For the last two or three days, I have not been very well, for I find that peaches disagree with me, in a most unaccountable manner, giving me violent pain in the “ pitt ”—remember Tony! As I have learned not to touch them, however tempting they may be, I am now well, but it is aggravating . Barney went to Columbia yesterday, and brought me some nice vanilla candy, which was very acceptable. I see a carriage just driving up, with some of the “cousins” Heyward who are now down here on their place, with Julia Parker , so I suppose my letter will have to be cut short. My dear ones, I will mind every-thing you say, and thank you over and over again for telling [me] to behave myself. Barney, says (he guesses but says it is all “nonsense”—“he might as well accuse Emma or Hannah”)—that he takes as good care of me, as if I had a cork leg —he does indeed. He has always had a bench—he has now a chair , to get in and out of the buggy. He brought such glorious news with him, from Columbia—That Lee had won a great battle at Martinsburg[, Maryland], and had taken 40,000 prisoners—now for Washington and peace. I hope dearest Mother you are feeling “all well” again. I wont get Miss Mary's long letter until Saturday. Do give my love to the Waldburgs. Goodbye I have to close, dear Sister and Mother. Your own Tattie.
[P.S.]Why did Miss Mary cry? Would you laugh at hearing it was a case “Waldburg.” Please dont go to Greenville by Athens—Poor peoples! “no meat and no milk,” why you will be skeletons. My next letter to you dear Mother will I hope be a very long one. Goodbye.
From Tattie to [Sophia Gibbs Couper Clinch and Mary Lamont Clinch] Wateree [S.C.,] Friday, July 10th 1863
Well how has my Miss Mary stood this last blow from the hands of the Yankees? Vicksburg has fallen! I can't realize it—and think it a very hard case, that it should yield from starvation, when it could not be taken by fighting. That is the only comfort in it. I believe the Government, and Genl [Joseph Eggleston] Johnston knew it all this time. I am in a fever of anxiety to hear something of our dear Henry [A. Clinch]. If he is well I truly hope he will be able to come on at once to his family, and would I not like to see him! But I suppose there is no chance of that, at least for the present—poor fellow, he has had a hard time of it, and I know he will feel bitterly, that he has again to give up his batteries, with the hated enemy still unconquered. I expect his “ parole ” was a very ugly pill for him—however if he is only safe and well, we should rejoice, and I am only afraid that now he may be exchanged and sent into the field. I'm afraid too our news from Virginia is not so glorious as we first heard. We hear nothing now of the 40,000 prisoners taken by Lee. * If he does not succeed, the Yankees will hold up their heads again, and the peace party will lower theirs—but let us hope for the best, my dear ones, and don't my dear Miss Mary fret about Vicksburg. I wish you were safe at Greenville. I am tired of thinking about you scuffling along, and lonely at Lamont. I suppose my letter tomorrow will give me the day on which you leave. I expect you will feel inclined to go by the way of Augusta just to see Henry, but you had better wait first dear ones, to see if he can come home. I would write to Dr. Ford, to ask him if he has hea[r]d any-thing, but do not like to trouble him. As Ella is in Charleston my only way of hearing anything is through you , so I suppose I must have patience. I hope you both are quite well since the weather has cleared, and Miss Mary can trot about. The weather is not as warm here as I thought it would be. It has never but once got above 83 (thermometer), and I don't think that is so very warm. We spent the evening yesterday, at Mr. William H. Heyward's—Julia Parker, is a very large girl like her Mother—her chief attractions consist in her youth, high spirits. She has a little round fat face, very unlike her brother we saw in Augusta. She enquired after you, although she did not remember either of us. I saw in the Savannah paper, the funereal invitation of Mary Scriven—poor thing—just as she was commencing to enjoy life. I was prepared for it, as you had written me she was very sick. How changed Savannah society will be. I should think the Owens would leave Sav[annah]—as there is so much sickness.
I suppose I ought to write to Lizzie again, but I don't feel much like it—I have so little to say except to you. I don't feel very well just now . I suffer just as much as I always have done, which is very aggravating , for I certainly think appearances are in favor of “Waldburg” but I will not harrow up your minds any-more, which such an uncertainty, but leave it to time to decide—besides it is rather dangerous to trust any-thing to letters, these days. I hope now, we will have some dry weather for a time. The rain has done immense harm among the peaches. They have decayed so fast, they had to be carried from the orchard by bushel loads, which is very provoking as we had sett our hearts, on sending them to you, and they were such beauties.
I had hoped to have written you a very long letter, but as I told you already dear ones, although quite well, I don't feel very bright this morning. I will make up for it on Monday, after I get your long letter, but I expect this will be my last to Habersham. Barney has gone to the plantation—it gives him a hot ride, as he has to go three miles before he gets to the plantation. Take care of each other dear ones. God bless you both. Your loving Tattie.
[P.S.] Julia Parker says Mrs. Reed is living in the Pine lands somewhere near Georgetown. The Parkers are not far from here, at Statesburg [Stateburg]. If you go soon, tell me how I must direct my letters. Love to all “enquiring” friends. Yours T.
* This figure was from a premature, erroneous report about Gettysburg.
From T[attie] to Mary [Lamont Clinch and Sophia Gibbs Couper Clinch] Wateree [S.C.,] Monday, July 20th 1863
On Saturday afternoon dear Miss Mary, I received two letters from you—one dated Sunday[?] and the other Tuesday the 14th—so I had four letters from you last week, consequently I suppose I cannot get one this afternoon (my usual day) but don't you see the malice of your friend the Augusta postmaster, all this time—by some accident he has sent your letter on at once and I got it in four days. Otherwise I would not have received your letter written last Tuesday, until this afternoon. Oh well, his ears must burn him, if I did not already think they had been cut off, I should be sorry for him. Of course my dear ones, you should have received my letter. I suppose you had two by the next mail.
I tried to warn you about fretting after Vicksburg , but I suppose you did not get my letter in time. I suppose you had another pang about Port Hudson, with its five thousand prisoners but it is of no use. We have to take the evil with the good, and bear our share of ill fortune. I must say I was consistent about Lee's going into Pennsylvania. I forboded evil, and now that he is back again, I am sure it was not worth the valuable lives, that were lost. I don't think God means us to take vengeance in our own hands. Things have not gone straight with us since then, and now that he is on Virginia soil again comes a most cheering piece of intelligence for us—an account of the terrible insurrection in New York city. * You will have heard about it before you get this. I expect Sister and her family were among those who left the city. Imagine her reading an account of it in the Herald at breakfast, one whole column taken up with that caption in large letters—so they say it was. I rather think her heart quaked. I wish she and her family were over in Europe. I received a letter from Sally May, too on Saturday. They had received a telegram from Henry, she said Ella was about to write to you, so I suppose you know all about him. I am afraid he will not be able to come to Georgia, which will be a dreadful disappointment to us all, for although I don't suppose I shall see him, yet I am so anxious that he should come home to recruit, and that you should see him, my dear ones. I am glad you, will see our friends the Owens, I don't know that you will enjoy their society however, the atmosphere you have been in lately, has been so different, you will have to get used to it again. I know small hints will be thrown out, but alas the mystery has become still more mysterious , and I am not going to allow myself to think any-thing more about it, until I see my dear ones [ ms. pages possibly missing ] old man with a wooden leg, yet he is the one that took Stonewall's place. † Has he lost an arm too [?] I am glad Kitty Stiles is so polite. What has become of the new Mrs. Stiles. “Daddy long legs” has a chance for distinction at last. His company is on Morris Island. I have not missed any of your letters lately, but “ that one ” has never turned up. My dearest Miss Mary, you must not worry when you receive no letter, but always know you will get it the next mail. I would write any-how, and if I could not, Barney would. He is off today on some business—always after something, but generally most of his worries are on other people's affairs. Goodbye my precious ones. I am truly thankful dear Mother is better. I think you both seem better in spite of the rain, but it has cleared up now, and I hope [ ms. page missing .]
Do bring down my little cups Miss Gelston gave me to grace my empty side-board, and don't forget Emily's trunk. I have never put the question squarely to her, if she would rather go to Greenville, for suppose she says yes. She seems very contented though—but perhaps Friday[?] may be an attraction.
* The New York City draft riots, led by Irish laborers, began on July 13 and continued through July 15, 1863.
† Lieutenant General Richard Stoddert Ewell lost a leg at the Battle of Groveton in the Second Manassas Campaign in August 1862. Ewell succeeded Stonewall Jackson as commander of the Second Corps of the Army of Northern Virginia after Jackson's death in May 1863.
From R[obert] W. Barnwell * to J[ames] A. Seddon Hillside Near Graniteville [S.C.,] Sept. 21st 1863
Hon. J. A. Seddon Sec. of War, Richmond Va. My dear Sir, I write to introduce to your acquaintance my relative E. Barnwell Heyward of S.C. Mr. Heyward found it necessary to devote his time and attention hitherto, to the rescue by removal from our coast a very large number of negroes, the property of his Father, and placing them in a position to render their labour, available, a business of much difficulty. He has in accomplishing this object, exhibited great energy and excellent judgement. He now desires to enter the military service of the country, and thinks he can be most useful in the Engineer Dept. for which his talents, energy, education and judgement, in my opinion give him high qualifications. I recommend him earnestly to you, for an appointment, and shall feel much gratified personally, and for the sake of the service also, if he receives one.
I know that you will agree with me, in the opinion, that a planter of Education[,] judgement and energy, is in our country, almost essential for the erection of Fortifications, or any military work. The late Langdon Cheves, in my opinion accomplished more good service in this Department, that any other officer in our service in South Carolina. I remain my dear Sir very truly, and Respectfully R. W. Barnwell.
* Robert Woodward Barnwell, Beaufort native, lawyer, planter, and seasoned politician, served in the South Carolina House, the U.S. House and U.S. Senate before the Civl War. He was president of South Carolina College from 1835 to 1841. Barnwell served as a secession commissioner in December 1860 and represented South Carolina in the Confederate Senate from 1861 to 1865.
From [Stephen H. Boineau to Charles] Heyward Combahee [S.C.,] 1 Oct. 1863
Mr. Heyward, You will find enclosed in this letter your Tax rect. It is pretty heavy on account of having to return all the sheaf rice that was on the plantation. I could not avoid making the return. I was questioned rather [“too” interlined ] closely to evade. I told them that the rice was in rather a damaged condition and that it was a difficult matter to arrive at any thing like a fair estimate but that as soon as the rice was thrashed out a fair return would be rendered in. They objected to the proposal and said that I would be obliged to make a return to the best of my opinion as to the probable number of bushels of sound grain. I done so and named 5,000 bushels as my candid opinion. 500 bushels thrashed at R[ose] Hill 350 bush. of corn & 10,000 lbs of old blades. 50 bus. of corn was allowed for family use. The rice & corn was valued at $2.00 pr bus. & the blades at $2.00 pr M, all at 8 pr ct. amounted to the sum—the receipt for [“of” canceled ] which you have. A few days after the tax was payed some coloured butchers from Charleston was in the neighbourhood buying up beef cattle. I sold them five of our oldest oxen, for the sum of 1,000 dollars, which payed your taxes and Left $48.00 in your favour subject to your order. I done the best I could and hope it will be satisfactory to you. The next collection will be tax in kind, a tenth of [“all” interlined ] that we have produced the present year. Corn, fodder, peas, potatoes, rice, ground peas, &ct constitutes all that we plant except a little patch of Cotton for the purpose of spining thread to make plough lines & to sew up bags for plantation use. I expect to make about 100 bus. of g[round] nuts. What shall I do with them? It was my intention to sell them and to supply the plantation with salt. The ballance will help pay taxes. I have been offered 600 dollars for the two Old Gray horses. Let me know what you will take for them. I have not yet sent the old band leather & bag[g]ing but will do so soon. I will be glad to get 12 yds. of the bag[g]ing if you can spare so much of it. I dont know how many yds. is in the piece. I have been gathering G nuts for the last week and on Saturday will begin to house corn.
The rice is yet in the field. I am not in a hurry to get it out, as I expect to put it in the rice house at P[leasant] Hill or fill the house at least. In that case it is not well to put it in such a bulk until the heating process is over. The flatting of the rice from the Swamp is of course suspended until we hous the crop. All that was flat[t]ed up is in houses at R. Hill securely put away. Mr. [James Barnwell Heyward] declined taking any of the rice from the Swamp.
From [Stephen H. Boineau to Charles] Heyward Combahee [S.C.,] 26 Nov. 1863
Mr. Heyward, I have received the salt 16 bush. at 25 dollars pr bus. amounting to $400 dollars. It is very good salt I think. The Ground nuts I sold for $406. I am keeping a strict account of every article sold or purchased for you, as I expect to render to acct. to you of all I have done.
With regard to the stock of hogs cattle & sheep I herewith send you a list. Milch cows or breeding cows 58 head, calves 45, Beef Cattle 17, three year old Steers & heifers 19, two year old Steers & heifers 19, Bulls 2, working oxen 12 head, making a total of 172 head of Cattle. Hogs 156 head. I think about 50 will be for bacon. I will see better when we are selecting those for the slaughter pens, and let you know. Sheep 104 head, during the year 8 have died, and 10 killed for the use of the overseer and negroes on the plantation. No beef has been killed by me, but two pigs were killed for my use, during the year 14 head of hogs & pigs have died from disease.
I send you enclosed in this the return your son made to the assessor. It will explain itself better than I can, yet I believe a blunder has been made with regard to the sweet potatoes and the fodder. The tenth of the potatoes should be 95 bu. and the fodder 4,000 lbs. instead of 400, as I understand it to be. However you will see for yourself and be the better judge. You will please instruct me how to make the return of stock &c. which is to be made some time in December.
The conduct of the young man Isaac [“who” interlined ] one of the men lately sent down is very strange. He with [“three” canceled ] two others were ordered to go for a flat which I borrowed from Mr. Hains. He did not go as ordered, but was seen hiding in the high grass near the bays at the Swamp. It was evidently his purpose to make a dash from the plantation, but was rather slow. He is now a prisoner in the plantation jail where he must remain until I hear from you. If you wish him to be returned to Wateree, Mr. Addison Jones expects to meet his two sons at Branchville to take them on to Georgia early next week. He says he has no objection to carry the man or anything else you may want sent up to Wateree. As your Son wants the brown mare taken up to him Mr. Jones will also take her a long together with the poultry you are in want of. Whatever you conclude upon please let me hear from you as early as possible, as Mr. Jones expects to leave next week. We are now flat[t]ing [ here this incomplete manuscript ends .]
From S[tephen] H. Boineau to [Charles] Heyward Combahee [S.C.,] Dec. 1863
Mr. Heyward, On last Monday I met the Assessors Farmer & Price at the B[lue] House and made your return of Cattle & Horses. Milch Cows & three year old were put in one lot making 77 head, Calves 45, Beef Cattle 17, and two years old 19, making a total of 158 head. You will notice the beef Cattle 17 head. I would not have you suppose that they are fine large fat beeves. They are quite ordinary looking lean & small, and are three years old only. The horses four. Your two year old Grays Hector & Buncom, your saddle Horse, then the brown mare belonging to the Estate of Jos. Heyward valued at 500 dollars. The four horses were assessed @ 1,000. That matter is now all settled and the Collec[tor] will come early in January to receive the money a trifle over 100 dollars. I have more than that amt. in my hand belonging to you, so that you may not concern yourself about it. I will pay the Tax take a rect. and send it to you. The tenth of the rice Straw made this year is also called for, and is estimated, every 100 bus. of rice will yield 500 lbs of straw. Allowing that to be correct the weight of Straw from 1,800 bushels of rice will be 9,000 lbs and a tenth of that is 900 lbs which belongs to the goverment. It will cost us no little trouble & perplexity to get our tith[e]s to the goverment. The Corn & peas is all shelled out long since, and I would have hauled over to Pocotaligo the Blades & potatoes as I proposed but just at that time the Bridge over Saltketcher broke down and prevented my hauling. The bridge is being repared, but was not complete when I last heard. They are now building a Store House at Saltketcher Depot for the reception of all the produce in this neighborhood but when the building is to be finished no one can say. But I assure you I will get away from the plantation as soon as I can all that belong to the goverment. When your son was here he said something about paying a portion of the tithe for Wateree from our corn house. I told him I thought I could spare on a pinch 500 bushels of corn for that purpose but since I have thought of the matter over and over. I cant see how it is to be done with safety, unless the hogs are to be fed on rice. Hogs consume a large quantity of the provisions made on a plantation, for unless they are well fed they cant be raised. I of course leave that matter to you and will do as you say. I only mention it.

Pocotaligo Depot in winter 1865. From Harper's Weekly , February 28, 1865
I began to thrash rice on Wednesday. Done but little else than mend bands. Got out 250 bus only. The next day got 750, and on Friday was baulked by rain. Got 450, making 1450 bus in all. I yet think we shall get 5,000 from the Swampt. It is all flat[t]ed and is in the building at the landing. It is of fine quality & tast[e]s as good as new rice. Now & then a grain of Moburn * is to be seen, but when pounded I presume it will not be seen. In flatting the rice was assorted at the stacks, and all the care used as was possible. You may be sure the wastage is large as a portion of a great many sheafs were damaged. Consequently it had to be throw[n] by as damaged rice. It will answer for hog feed very well. I was obliged to use the nice lard for mill greese having no other greese. We had a ten goallon keg filled and suppose it will consume the best portion of it, if not all. Last season we used the entrail lard for the mill, and used it all. Our tallow is quite low in the barrel. I have not yet killed any hogs but will begin as soon as the weather changes [“warm” canceled ] cold. It is now quite warm and rainy. I regret exceedingly to have to inform you that four of the negro houses got burned down at Lewisburg [Plantation]. Bob says he was hoeing & cleaning up the settlement at Lewisburg, and after hoeing he set fire to the grass around, but the wind suddenly sprin[g]ing up in a contrary direction set the hay on fire, & the sparks dropping upon the dry shingles set them on fire and having no assistance, four of the negro houses burned down. The grass & high weeds grow so fast it is difficult to keep it down. I have told Bob to make the old people assist him in keeping down the weeds, but he says they wont help him. The old people have burned and used up all the railing & hen houses and have burned some of the boards from the houses. If the war lasts much longer I expect they will burn up the whole settlement of houses. I have warned & threatened from time to time but they seem not to heed my threats.
We are all quite well. Hoping all are well at Wateree. Mr. W. S. Green is yet very ill. He is very low indeed. One of his sons is now down with the same disease. That case is the 17 case upon Mr. Greens premises. I remain yours Respectfully S. H. Boineau.
* Moburn was apparently an inferior form of rice or foreign seed. Planters made great efforts to reduce inferior “volunteer” rice breeds from their fields.
From S[tephen] H. Boineau to [Charles] Heyward Combahee [S.C.,] 24 Dec. 1863
Mr. Heyward, Your son left here on yesterday who will report the affairs relating to the plantation better & more satisfactorily than I could on paper. I had not quite finished thrashing the Swamp rice when he left, but did finish late in the afternoon. The yield is 5,500 bushels besides some little dirt & scrapings which will probbably amount to 100 bushels more. I notice some few grains of Moburn, but is too trifling to effect the Sale of the article. I presume buyers are not so particular nowadays. The quality of the rice I think is fair. The preparation of the rice for Market is rather not so good as it is in general, owing to the straw being old and easily broken. It seamed impossible for the mill to clean it as it should have been cleaned. However we done the best that could be done under the circumstances. As soon as the Christmas is over weather purmiting, we shall haul the rice from P[leasant] Hill and have it thrashed out all but the seed which must be thrashed with the flail. You advise[d] me to thrash out the damaged rice which is in the mill at No. 2. It will consume much precious time in flatting it up here and then thrashing it out. If you will leave it to me I prefer hauling it from the Swamp directly to [the] Calf pen and throw it into the hog pens by the Sheaf. With the hands I now have I expect to plant 150 acres of rice besides 100 acres of Corn potatoes &c as usual. Up to this time no preperation is made for a crop. The rice fields are very rough ditches badly filled up [“up” canceled ] with mud & no manure yet hauled out. It will require all our industry from this time to the planting season to prepare the lands for a crop for the next year. The loss of time in bag[g]ing[,] hauling & Shipping of the rice will necessarily consume much time to say nothing of the loss of time in waiting at the R. Road for the cars which are very uncertain in their movements at any time, but at this time it is terrible.
The mill worked tolerably. The cow hide lacing soon cuts out and does not answer the purpose so well, but we must submit to many inconveniences, and congratulate ourselves that it is as well with us as it is. The best days work was 800 bushels, but we must remember the rice has been too much handled from place to place to make a good yield for the mill. I am confident she will do better when our rice is [“being” interlined ] thrashed.
With regard to the butter I assure you that we are only making a little lump every other day. I think it will require too much food to admit of making the article for sale. I will send you the furkin of butter (in shuck) as you direct. The use of Lard for the engine does very well as the warmth melts it readily but for the other portion of the machinery the lard cools as soon as it comes in contact with the iron and does not penetrate into every part as it should, but as I said before[,] we must make out with it by being more particular in the application.
You have no doubt heard of the death of Mr. Green. It has cast a gloom over the neighborhood. He will be very much missed by the whole neighborhood as an upright & good citizen.
I will distribute to the negroes such rations as you have always allowed on Christmas and will endeavour myself to spend [“it” canceled ] as cheerfully as the times and trying circumstances will admit of. Wishing you all a pleasant time. I remain your very Respectfully S. H. Boineau
From S[tephen] H. Boineau to Chas. Heyward Gadsden P. Off., Richland Dis., So. Ca., Combahee[,] 28 Dec. 1863
Mr. Heyward, Christmas is now over and we are again at work. Today being quite a rainy [“day” canceled ] day the hands are thrashing corn.
My principal object in writing is to inform you that notice is given me to be prepared to deliver over to the goverment of all the cattle belonging to you at Combahee. A detachment of men will be sent this week to receive and drive them off allowing 35 cts pr lb for all the slaughtered cattle. This is only a begin[n]ing. The agt. who made the demand says he is instructed to leave only cattle sufficient for family use. Stock are being driven off from all the planters on the river and of course your turn must come. With the help of Stepney I will select all the best milch cows, and I think we had better hold on to the working oxen. However I hope to hear from you before the cattle are driven off and get your instructions.
A great many troops are now placed on the line of the C & S R Road. At Green Pond alone a soldier told me they had to feed 3000 horses belonging to Genl. [Beverly Holcombe] Rober[t]son['s] brigade. During Christmas several trains of Cars passed with troops to be placed on the line between Pocotaligo & Savannah. An attack at some point is hourly expected. Genl. [Jeremy Francis] Gilmer has taken command along the line of R Road, his head quarters to be [“at” interlined ] Gramhamville I believe.
I will further inform you that a call has been twice made on me to sell blades to the Goverment. I told them you had no blades for sale, but they say blades they must have and if it is not sold to them, that the article will be impressed. I requested to be allowed to confer with you before such harsh means was resorted to. They promised a few days only before another call would be made. It is certainly very annoying indeed, and gives me much concern. I tell them the propperty belongs to you and that I am simply acting as overseer for the propperty, and that I must be allowed to have your instructions in every case before I can dispose of or allow any thing to be taken from the premises. Although they are always quite civil, yet they seem to think very lightly of the whole matter.
I wrote to Mr. Craddock at your request but have not heard from him. Probbably he is away from home gathering up cattle for the use of the troops. I think you had better not send any more hands to Combahee yet. Wait a while and see what are the movements of the enemy. In the mean time I will go on to prepare the lands for an other crop.
Please let me hear from you as soon as you receive this. I am Yours Resply S. H. Boineau.
1864

From Barney to Tat Richmond Va. Monday 18th Inst. [Jan. 1864]
Dearest Tat, I send this with a small pkge for you my darling just for your own dear self. Maj [J. G.] Clarke whose wife lives near us goes home today & has kindly offered to take any thing for the family. I have just to oblige him sent this with a letter which I regret to say must be very short today. The Maj [is] leaving very soon & I have just returned from pattering about in the rain, doing nothing.

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