Offficial Copy: ISAAC HAYNE.
WASHINGTON, April 12, 1865
TO MAJOR-GENERAL SHERMAN:
President Lincoln was murdered, about ten o’clock last night, in his private box at Ford’s Theatre, in this city, by an assassin, who shot him in the head with a pistol ball. At the same hour Mr. Seward’s house was entered by another assassin, who stabbed the Secretary in several places. It is thought he may possibly recover, but his son Fred may possibly die of the wounds he received.
The assassin of the President leaped from the private box, brandishing his dagger and exclaiming: “Sic Semper Tyrannis–VIRGINIA IS REVENGED!” Mr. Lincoln fell senseless from his seat, and continued in that condition until 22 minutes past 10 o’clock this morning, at which time he breathed his last.
Vice President Johnson now becomes President, and will take the oath of office and assume the duties to-day.
[SIGNED,] E. M. STANTON
TO THE CITIZENS OF CHESTER.
CHESTER, S.C., April 22, 1865
FLOUR and MEAL given out to the citizens by order of Major MITCHELL, Chief Commissary of South Carolina, to be returned when called for, is badly wanted to ration General Johnston’s army. Please return the same at once.
E. M. GRAHAM, Agent Subsistence Dep’t.
HEADQUARTERS RESERVE FORCES S. C.
CHESTERVILLE, APRIL 20, 1865
The Brigadier-General Commanding has been informed that, in view of the approach of the enemy, a large quantity of supplies of various kinds were given out by the various Government officers at this post to the citizens of the place. He now calls upon, and earnestly requests all citizens, who may have such stores in their possession, to return them to the several Departments to which they belong. The stores are much needed at this time for the use of soldiers, passing through the place, and for the sick at the Hospital.
By command of Brig. Gen. Chesnut:
M. R. CLARK, Major and A. A. General.
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April 23d. – My silver wedding-day, and I am sure the unhappiest day of my life. Mr. Portman came with Christopher Hampton. Portman told of Miss Kate Hampton, who is perhaps the most thoroughly ladylike person in the world. When he told her that Lee had surrendered she started up from her seat and said, “That is a lie.” “Well, Miss Hampton, I tell the tale as it was told me. I can do no more.”
No wonder John Chesnut is bitter. They say Mulberry has been destroyed by a corps commanded by General Logan. Some one asked coolly, “Will General Chesnut be shot as a soldier, or hung as a senator?” “I am not of sufficient consequence,” answered he. “They will stop short of brigadiers. I resigned my seat in the United States Senate weeks before there was any secession. So I can not be hung as a senator. But after all it is only a choice between drumhead court martial, short shrift, and a lingering death at home from starvation.”
These negroes are unchanged. The shining black mask they wear does not show a ripple of change; they are sphinxes. Ellen has had my diamonds to keep for a week or so. When the danger was over she handed them back to me with as little apparent interest in the matter as if they had been garden peas.
Mrs. Huger was in church in Richmond when the news of the surrender came. Worshipers were in the midst of the communion service. Mr. McFarland was called out to send away the gold from his bank. Mr. Minnegerode’s English grew confused. Then the President was summoned, and distress of mind showed itself in every face. The night before one of General Lee’s aides, Walter Taylor, was married, and was off to the wars immediately after the ceremony.
One year ago we left Richmond. The Confederacy has double-quicked down hill since then. One year since I stood in that beautiful Hollywood by little Joe Davis’s
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grave. Now we have burned towns, deserted plantations, sacked villages. “You seem resolute to look the worst in the face,” said General Chesnut, wearily. “Yes, poverty, with no future and no hope.” “But no slaves, thank God!” cried Buck. “We would be the scorn of the world if the world thought of us at all. You see, we are exiles and paupers.” “Pile on the agony.” “How does our famous captain, the great Lee, bear the Yankees’ galling chain?” I asked. “He knows how to possess his soul in patience,” answered my husband. “If there were no such word as subjugation, no debts, no poverty, no negro mobs backed by Yankees; if all things were well, you would shiver and feel benumbed,” he went on, pointing at me in an oratorical attitude. “Your sentence is pronounced – Camden for life.”
May 1st. – In Chester still. I climb these steep steps alone. They have all gone, all passed by. Buck went with Mr. C. Hampton to York. Mary, Mrs. Huger, and Pinckney took flight together. One day just before they began to dissolve in air, Captain Gay was seated at the table, halfway between me on the top step and John in the window, with his legs outside. Said some one to-day, “She showed me her engagement ring, and I put it back on her hand. She is engaged, but not to me.” “By the heaven that is above us all, I saw you kiss her hand.” “That I deny.” Captain Gay glared in angry surprise, and insisted that he had seen it. “Sit down, Gay,” said the cool captain in his most mournful way. “You see, my father died when I was a baby, and my grandfather took me in hand. To him I owe this moral maxim. He is ninety years old, a wise old man. Now, remember my grandfather’s teaching forevermore – ‘A gentleman must not kiss and tell.’ ”
General Preston came to say good-by. He will take his family abroad at once. Burnside, in New Orleans, owes him some money and will pay it. “There will be no more confiscation, my dear madam,” said he; “they must see that we have been punished enough.” “They do not think
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so, my dear general. This very day a party of Federals passed in hot pursuit of our President.”
A terrible fire-eater, one of the few men left in the world who believe we have a right divine, being white, to hold Africans, who are black, in bonds forever; he is six feet two; an athlete; a splendid specimen of the animal man; but he has never been under fire; his place in the service was a bomb-proof office, so-called. With a face red-hot with rage he denounced Jeff Davis and Hood. “Come, now,” said Edward, the handsome, “men who could fight and did not, they are the men who ruined us. We wanted soldiers. If the men who are cursing Jeff Davis now had fought with Hood, and fought as Hood fought, we’d be all right now.”
And then he told of my trouble one day while Hood was here. “Just such a fellow as you came up on this little platform, and before Mrs. Chesnut could warn him, began to heap insults on Jeff Davis and his satrap, Hood. Mrs. Chesnut held up her hands. ‘Stop, not another ward. You shall not abuse my friends here! Not Jeff Davis behind his back, not Hood to his face, for he is in that room and hears you.’ ” Fancy how dumfounded this creature was.
Mrs. Huger told a story of Joe Johnston in his callow days before he was famous. After an illness Johnston’s hair all fell out; not a hair was left on his head, which shone like a fiery cannon-ball. One of the gentlemen from Africa who waited at table sniggered so at dinner that he was ordered out by the grave and decorous black butler. General Huger, feeling for the agonies of young Africa, as he strove to stifle his mirth, suggested that Joe Johnston should cover his head with his handkerchief. A red silk one was produced, and turban-shaped, placed on his head. That completely finished the gravity of the butler, who fled in helplessness. His guffaw on the outside of the door became plainly audible. General Huger then suggested, as they must have the waiter back, or the dinner could not go on, that Joe should eat with his hat on, which he did.
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XXI. CAMDEN, S. C.
May 2,1865 – August 2, 1865
CAMDEN, S. C., May 2, 1865. – Since we left Chester nothing but solitude, nothing but tall blackened chimneys, to show that any man has ever trod this road before. This is Sherman’s track. It is hard not to curse him. I wept incessantly at first. The roses of the gardens are already hiding the ruins. My husband said Nature is a wonderful renovator. He tried to say something else and then I shut my eyes and made a vow that if we were a crushed people, crushed by weight, I would never be a whimpering, pining slave.