Baptism by Fire
Abstract and Keywords
This chapter discusses how South Carolina underwent a baptism by fire between 1861 and 1865. In January 1865, the ladies held a great “Bazaar” in the State Legislature to help wounded soldiers. The day after the bazaar, the Confederate Baptist issued an announcement of hope entitled “A Ray of Life.” Following this announcement was a reprint of an editorial from the Mobile Register. Because of this, the people were in a state of near panic. On February 18, 1865, Columbia, the capital now occupied by Sherman and his army, went up in flames. “Sherman” became a general term to cover all Yankee misdeeds and atrocities.
Between 1861 and 1865, South Carolina underwent a baptism by fire. In November 1861 the Great Fire of Charleston swept though the city. During a 587-day siege, Greek fire rained down on the population. On the morning of February 18, 1865, the fate of the city was sealed when the last Confederate troops left. An enormous explosion at the city's Northeastern Depot followed their departure. Caused by children playing, the disaster killed more than one hundred people and injured about an equal number. As Union soldiers entered the city, Confederates rushed to destroy the Palmetto State, the repaired ironclad that had been built by the donations of women and children.
That same day, Columbia, the capital now occupied by Sherman and his army, went up in flames. A collage emerges that shows how women and children responded to these catastrophes.1
Perhaps no other campaign has come to symbolize the victimization of South Carolina than Sherman's rampage through the state. “Sherman” became a general term to cover all Yankee misdeeds and atrocities. An eleven-year-old boy recalled later in life that Sherman and his army were synonymous with death and destruction. Given events in Georgia and the fall of Savannah, it was inevitable that South Carolinians would brace for the worst. In December 1864, Edgefield was “flooded … with Yankee officers who [had] escaped from a prison in Columbia.” They were “making their way to Sherman's Army.” The Upcountry was no longer secure from the fire of the general's wrath.2
In January 1865, a month before its impending disaster, Columbia seemed eerily oblivious. On the seventeenth, the ladies held a great “Bazaar” in the State Legislature to help wounded soldiers. Booths named for Confederate states were brimming with wartime luxuries. Coffee and other delicacies, previously hoarded, were in abundance. Some gifts had come through the blockade from Great Britain, among them a beautiful doll from Liverpool. More than three thousand individuals attended. The frivolity and luxuries created a surrealist aura of decadence. Partygoers forked over $350,000 in what would soon become worthless Confederate currency. Young people enjoyed dressing up and feasting. Some older citizens reverted to long-lost childhood. Romping with the children, they escaped the war but only momentarily. Play turned to (p.93) bedlam. The boys got out of hand; a hundred of them, in packs of a dozen or less, rampaged through the fair.3
Ironically, the day after the bazaar, the Confederate Baptist issued an announcement of hope entitled “A Ray of Life.” This Columbia weekly opined that the tales of horror emanating from Georgia were exaggerated. The religious organ surmised that Sherman, a husband and father, was not “a modern Bluebeard” uttering “fiendish sentiments.” It cautioned, “Hatred and fear sometimes transform an enemy into a demon and people turn pale at the exaggerated stories of his enormities.” To substantiate its claims, the paper reprinted an editorial from the Mobile Register, which declared that those who had passed over Sherman's track through Sparta, Milledgeville, and Macon “saw fewer signs of devastation than … expected.” Stories of “incredible wrong and outrage” were spread to frighten women and children, and to make them leave their homes. The Baptist paper, trying to calm its anxious readers, underestimated the enemy at its gate.4
The gaiety of the Columbia Bazaar was more feigned than real. The people were near panic. Within days many rushed to the railroad depots to depart before the Federals came. This encouraged remaining Confederate troops to despoil vacant homes and loot stores. The shelling of the capital magnified the danger. “Women and children” were “running to escape the terrible missiles that were thrown by the vilest of foes.” The city was ablaze. A number of factors made the burning of Columbia possible, but no historian has fully exonerated the Yankees for the fire or for what happened during the blaze. An officer on Sherman's staff saw drunken soldiers involved in arson and looting. He was moved by the sight of “men, women, and children huddled about a few articles of clothing and household wares … saved from their ruined homes.” An Illinois soldier confessed that such campaigning corroded the discipline of the Union army.5
Parents were worried sick about their children. Mrs. Joseph LeConte was convinced the family home would be burned. She swaddled baby Carrie in a blanket and took her into the back garden where the family stayed most of the night. Sallie Chapin authored the best contemporary fictional narrative of events during the shelling and burning of Columbia. It was designed for children. The author wove accounts from various families into a credible story about the St. Clair family. Mrs. St. Clair did not believe that graduates of West Point, her husband's alma mater, would burn down a town populated by defenseless women and children. Thousands “of women, decrepit old men, and helpless children, with bundles of clothing or baskets of food, were flying wildly in every direction, not knowing where to go for safety and shelter.” Pandemonium turned “into hell.”6
(p.94) Chapin made a direct and sentimental appeal to her young readers in her account of pillage and death. The St. Clair child, May, was “a darling little pet … timid as a bird.” When the shells exploded, she closed her “soft blue” eyes and cried, “Bad! May, tell papa.” A squad of soldiers forced Mrs. St. Clair to give up her wedding ring. Her teenage son Fitz-Hugh wanted to defend her, but the mother said it was not worth losing him over such an item. A “beautiful Afghan—relic of better days” was snatched off the ailing baby May. A second shawl was likewise taken. The child's cheeks “were crimson with fever, and her head was tossed restlessly from side to side. A family servant fell on his knees asking for God to send an angel to help them.” One “ruffian” nearly tore the limbs off May, who was in Fitz-Hugh's arms. The shock killed the baby girl, who had never seen her father.7
The Hanoverian consul seconded Chapin's fictional account. While the fire raged across the city, pale nuns and “trembling school girls” escaped from a burning Ursuline convent. Terrified residents, some with children, lived a nightmare as they fled from raging fires and plunderers who tried to strip them of what possessions they had. Some poor victims were assaulted. By the time Sherman left the city, some 458 buildings had been destroyed, approximately one-third of those in the city. In July 1865, a Union chief quartermaster from the Army of Tennessee described the devastation as “just and righteous retribution.”8
Sherman's troops had established a fairly set routine in Georgia that continued in South Carolina. They searched the houses for weapons and food. Homes faced several waves of invasions. Some men handled their duties with a sense of decency. Others were unnecessarily provocative. Still others, the so-called “bummers,” were outright thieves. The more sadistic did bodily harm. Women were particularly vulnerable to the actions of the soldiers, who sexually intimidated them. The historian, George C. Rable, noted how Sherman's men systematically looted the homes. Beginning in the kitchens and pantries, they ended up in the bedrooms, rifling through personal items and destroying the children's playthings. But it was black women who suffered the most from physical abuse.9
Elite families developed ways to deal with Sherman, beginning in Georgia. They sought him out and requested that his officers provide guards for their homes. Women counted on good feelings, chivalry, and old service ties. One woman appealed to an old friend, Union General John Alexander Logan, who in turn was a longtime friend of Ulysses S. Grant. She received a detail of three soldiers who protected a cow the family needed for milk. The efficacy of a guard depended on the character of the individual soldier. The record is mixed but some won the admiration and gratitude of those they protected. In Anderson, (p.95) at the request of Elijah Brown's wife for a guard, she received an eighteen-year-old youth, who conscientiously performed his duty. He died at a nearby battle and was buried at First Presbyterian Church. Molly Brown always had their children place a U.S. flag on his grave. In some instances, children could act as shields. One black servant suggested that his mistress protect herself and her children by hugging them as close to her body as she could.10
During the horrible night of the fire in Columbia, one woman appealed to Sherman for help. She was the niece of a friend who had served with Sherman in the prewar army. Her husband and the entire family spent the night near the State Lunatic Asylum. The next day they were delivered in an ambulance to Sherman's stately residence, where they had breakfast with the general. Breakfast was tense, especially after Sherman declared things were not nearly as bad as they seemed. Even worse, the general showed an interest in the children (he had lost a young son during the war). At the dining table, the general had the little ones sit with him while he prepared their plates, even cutting their food. Like prisoners of war, the family endured the meal in silence. They remained a second night. Sherman gave the family bags of rice, wheat, and flour.11
Other cities faced similar, if less deadly, versions of the Columbia burning. Camden was singled out, possibly because so many Lowcountry people had streamed there in search of safety. Eliza Fludd, a refugee from Charleston then living in Camden, complained that the Yankees used their bayonets to destroy her furniture and stab the family portraits. They took all the food, leaving her and her four grandchildren desolate. Other households suffered even more. According to Fludd's secondhand accounts, both white and African American women were sexually abused. The Yankees stripped two fair-skinned domestics and then spanked them around the room in front of their mistress. At another household, other soldiers “violated” several domestic servants leaving them “almost dead, unable to move.” Near Charleston, an elderly white woman and her fourteen-year-old granddaughter were “violated” by black Union solders. Although Fludd believed that God had restrained the Union Army and that there were fewer rapes in South Carolina than in Georgia, her description of alleged threats and atrocities committed by the Yankees during the war and Reconstruction foreshadowed the depiction of this era in D. W. Griffith's 1915 film The Birth of a Nation.12
A young woman refugee in Anderson remembered the dread of waiting. She felt powerless. Her aunt had an infant only ten days old. The girl decided to take the small children to the safety of her aunt's room, but a Yankee was already waiting on the top step. One of the little girls trembled at the sight of the soldier. Another Yankee threatened to kill some of the people if they did not hand over gold watches. Soldiers carried the girl's sixty-two-year-old uncle (p.96) into her mother's room and nearly hanged him three times. The women heard his voice, followed by a shot. They thought he was dead, but he survived. However, his ordeal was not over. The soldier hit him on the face with a shovel. They slammed his head against the wall. Realizing he was about to be killed, the old man finally gave them the watch. A little girl from Winnsboro recalled how the Yankees sadistically destroyed what little food they had. The Federal soldiers mixed soap in the family's molasses, rice, flour, meal, corn, and coffee. They slit open the preserves and pickle jars and spat into them.
The very young were not always aware that the incoming soldiers were Yan some embraced them as playmates. The Daniel Brown home in Lancaster became the headquarters for General Hugh Judson Kilpatrick. The family had to stay in one bedroom. This allowed the five-year-old daughter the opportunity to spend time dining with the Yankees in the adjutant general's mess. One young officer hoisted her up on his shoulders; he became her human horse as he ran down the piazza. She soaked up the attention.13
How children reacted to Sherman and the Yankees is difficult to recreate. As the children matured after the war, some were not exactly sure what they had seen. One adult confessed she could no longer distinguish what she saw as a child from what people told her subsequently about the incidents. Her memory became a blur of what she thought she had seen with the adult conversations she had overheard. Rumors of Sherman's approaching troops did not deter boys from playing. Some were fearless and reveled in the excitement of war. Years later they vividly recalled their experiences, which for some were the highlights of their lives. Thomas McMichael remembered how as a five-year-old, he charmed Yankees into giving him money and breakfast. Other youngsters, usually girls, took atrocity stories to heart. They acted out their fears in play. Julia wanted to play the game of Sherman with her friend Fannie, who then bit the head off a doll. She also destroyed the other dolls and toys in the pretty play house. A James Island girl, later a refugee in Sumter, was stricken with anxiety that the Yankees were after her dolls. She quickly hid them in a box with their clothes. She was in such a panic that she could never find where she had buried them. Sallie Parker Truesdale was about nine when she buried her little dolls in a small box with a silver thimble. For years afterward Sallie and other children grew up playing at war by hiding things from the enemy soldiers. Perhaps such activities served as a safety valve to release posttraumatic anxieties, shared by their mothers. Several years later, in one such game of “play Yankees,” Miss Sallie lost her precious silver thimble. The girls' fears were warranted. Union soldiers did pilfer dolls and other toys from children. These cherished items were not just little handmade playthings. Some were expensive European imports obtained at great effort by their fathers. But sometimes (p.97) decency prevailed. One young soldier grabbed May Snowden's elaborate chinahead doll, but another returned it to her.14
Accounts of how the Yankees had invaded household pantries and despoiled the precious food, leaving the families desolate, scarred the psyche of one Camden girl. She was terrified when a Union soldier offered her mother coffee and cream. She was afraid the coffee was poisoned. But the soldier was simply returning a favor; the mother had offered him some Confederate coffee earlier. Generally, though, children took their cues from their mothers. Sarah Bryce was determined to save all she could from Sherman. Her actions did not go unnoticed by her young daughter Mamie, who took as many small bags as she could as she left the house. She, too, had to save something from those bad Yankees. Another girl recalled how the children were given belts to wear so they could carry combs, towels, brushes, and pots and pans.15
Sherman's march through South Carolina left women and girls with nightmares that lingered into their memories. Boys shared these experiences and fears but their behavior at such events as the Columbia Bazaar revealed that war brought them exhilarating freedom. One Fairfield citizen, reminiscing to a local newspaper reporter many years later, recalled the war years as idyllic. The neighborhood boys were free from school to play war, collect Confederate buttons to wear, and even once get close to a skirmish without being detected. Sherman, with his striking red hair and uniform, riding a black stallion followed by his entourage, was the most handsome personage they had ever seen. Girls with their dolls and boys with their souvenirs played war in their own way.
Women felt differently and biamed Sherman for their vulnerability. Grace B. Elmore best summarized such sentiments. Recalling the horrors of Sherman's march into Columbia, she branded his troops as devils and children killers. She prayed that their wives and families would endure similar abuse.16
Charleston faced continual crises, beginning in late 1861 when the blockade began. Rumors of impending dangers alarmed its citizens. In August, stores on King Street were closed by 2:00 p.m. so that men between the ages of sixteen and sixty could drill. On November 7, Union Commodore Samuel F. DuPont seized forts Walker and Beauregard in Port Royal Harbor. Most of the Sea Islands fell into Yankee hands, including some of the state's richest cotton-producing areas. Charleston was now within striking distance. Panic swept through the city. One month later, the port was struck by an inferno, inadvertently started by black refugees. The blaze, swept by gale winds through the downtown area, covered 540 acres and destroyed 575 private homes. The homeless included both rich and poor. Their children were especially vulnerable. “Little children … had been snatched from their beds, with only their (p.98) night garments to cover them from the cold.” Such reports brought help throughout the South. A Nashville resident donated money for “the relief of such little ones as may be suffering from the effects of the late disastrous fire.” The Ladies Aid Association of Camden sent clothing for the destitute, particularly those poor little ones. The refugee children of Charleston presently living in Greenville sent their “pocket money” to help. The area, known as “the burnt district,” drew looters. A few months later, police arrested thieves taking iron from the neighborhood.17
With the Union fleet threatening Charleston, the city established a commission “for the removal of Negroes and other Noncombatants.” In late January 1862 the commission suggested moving some five thousand persons out of harm's way. Depots would be set up in Columbia and other Upstate urban centers to handle them. Railroads would make arrangements to accommodate the mass exodus. By April members of the commission called for removing ten thousand persons to Summerville. A month later martial law was declared. In June all residents, including women, children, and servants, were issued certificates to allow them to travel on railroads at half-fare. Estimates were revised upward. Some fifteen thousand Charlestonians might have to be moved, mostly women and children. Rev. A. Toomer Porter recognized that the evacuation plans were inadequate because they ignored the destitute who could not be moved “except by Military Force.” Moreover, many residents, “especially women and children,” who were not already destitute would become so after the move.18
In 1862 Charleston braced for attack from land and sea. In June more than seven thousand Federal troops arrived on James Island. Union General Quincy A. Gillmore postponed operations, but in his absence, subordinate commander H. W. Bentham launched an ill-considered attack on June 16 against fortifications at Secessionville. The Rebel soldiers, led by General Nathan G. Evans, routed the Union forces, temporarily saving Charleston. In August 1862 the streets were deserted. With the shelling on the lower parts of the city, some affluent citizens moved to the safer upper wards of the city; others left for Camden.19
While things were going badly for the Confederates at Gettysburg and Vicks-burg in 1863, the situation in Charleston stabilized. In April, the fleet of Admiral DuPont failed miserably in its attempt to seize the harbor. In July Confederates at Fort Wagner repulsed two attacks. The last one was by the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts, led by Colonel Robert Shaw. Charleston settled down for a projected siege of 587 days. The defense against DuPont was successful, but the city faced continued bombardment and evacuations.20
(p.99) On August 21, General Gillmore demanded the evacuation of Fort Sumter and Morris Island in four hours; if not, he threatened to commence firing on Charleston. This triggered charges and countercharges on the “barbarity” of the intended shelling. Women and children became a central issue. General P. G. T. Beauregard, wanting at least three days to remove the noncombatants, informed Gillmore, “You now resort to the novel measure of turning your guns against old men, the women and children and the hospitals of a sleeping city.” The British consul in the city supported Beauregard's assertion. He emphasized the danger posed to British subjects, especially women and children. Gillmore, who thought that the city had already been evacuated, granted it a brief reprieve.21
Bombardment began in late August 1863 with Greek fire from the infamous “Swamp Angel.” The sound and fury of artillery was dreadful. Susan Forest Nelson, a slave child, held out “her arms for someone to hold her.” A shell, crashing through the small house, just passed over the head of her sleeping father. In a separate incident, another child also miraculously escaped death. A shell went through a roof into a room on the second floor, “tearing away the bed from under [the] little child,” and landed in the basement. Others were not so lucky. A Confederate report, covering August 21, 1863, to January 5, 1864, described the death of several individuals. Mrs. Hawthorne was wounded by a shell in the side of her body. She died six weeks later. Another woman at the corner of Market and Meeting streets lost her right leg. She died four days later. For safety reasons, the children of the Charleston Orphan House were evacuated to Orangeburg.22
Christening such a terrifying weapon an “Angel” seemed unnecessarily cruel, if not fiendish. Shells bombed indiscriminately. Women and children scrambled to leave the upper part of the city for the outer upper wards. A second great bombardment began in late October 1863, lasting forty-one days. The heaviest shelling occurred on Christmas Day, 1863. By March 1864, Charlestonians began abandoning their houses, especially in districts susceptible to shelling. This left many homes unprotected. A Charleston newspaper urged absentee owners to visit their homes because army prowlers were breaking into them. School-aged boys joined in the looting. The newspaper added: “We regret to see more boys thus prowling who should be at school or at some desk or branch of apprenticeship.”23
In time the Swamp Angel blew up. But even after that, the shelling remained horrific. One Parrott gun alone fired 4,615 rounds into the city. In June, Confederate General Roswell S. Ripley told his Union counterpart that prisoners of war, five Yankee generals and forty-five field officers, would be placed in areas of the city where noncombatants lived, especially women and children. Union (p.100) General A. Schimmelfennig justified the bombardment by claiming the military goal to destroy the arsenals and foundries that provided three ironclads for the Confederacy. The Confederate authorities replied that the barrage was “promiscuously” killing “women and children quietly sleeping in their accustomed beds.” Perceptive citizens such as Porter estimated that the Yankee assault of the city achieved little military purpose. The Episcopal minister condemned a “senseless bombardment [that] killed some eight inoffensive old people, men and women.” For South Carolinians, the bombardment confirmed their perception of Sherman's march through their state as a war on women and children.24
On Wednesday, June 8, 1864, a sea captain presented the city of Charleston with an impressive tribute to Confederate courage. It was a statue of General Thomas J. “Stonewall” Jackson. The monument, over nine feet tall, had been fashioned in Nassau from “the most tasteful and elaborate shell work” by a North Carolinian and a Canadian. City authorities decided that the most fitting place to exhibit the gift was at the Charleston Orphan House. General Jackson's concern for children was well known; the Christian warrior had been a teacher. Next to the monument was placed a contribution box for sick and wounded soldiers. Hundreds of citizens came to admire it and read the inscription, which offered solace for a nation in jeopardy: “Do Your Duty and leave the rest to Providence. All is right.”25
Gradually the bulk of the population managed to go on about its business. Some evacuees returned. Those who remained took pride in their ability to survive. The siege of the city had already lasted longer than that of Vicksburg. Children had miraculously defeated death. For them, war became a game. The “little” ones laughed and defiantly clapped their hands as they saw the missiles fail to hit their targets. The world of play allowed children and their families a respite from the impending doom. In late January 1865, one Lowcountry toddler played hoop and hide (hide and seek) with his aunt and other family members. As they played, the fall of Charleston was imminent. During the night of February 17, and the following morning, the last Confederate forces evacuated the city. The Twenty-first U.S. Colored Troops prepared to enter the city and occupy it.26
In the meantime, crowds of people, black and white, thronged the Northeastern Depot in search of food and whatever else they could take. Some simply engaged in plunder. Unfortunately, the depot was the storage area for about two hundred kegs of gunpowder. Small boys rejoiced in scooping up handfuls of the powder and tossing it on cotton bales that departing Confederate soldiers had set afire. In their merriment, the boys left behind a trickle of the deadly substance, which soon ignited. Their escapade did more killing than the Swamp (p.101) Angel. An explosion rocked the city. More than a hundred people were killed; an equal number wounded. Death records confirm the carnage. Many died from burns, including a thirty-year-old white woman named Ann Beslow, a German-born man, a ninety-one-year-old black male called Ishmael, and Affy, a twenty-two-year-old black female. The blast caused the loss of millions of dollars in property as the fire spread to some of the richest districts. The same day, the Palmetto State went up in flames, and women whose fundraising made the gunboat possible watched in dismay. Observers thought the last plume of smoke formed a palmetto tree. The sight of black troops occupying the city unnerved white women. Boys, ranging in ages from ten to fourteen, helped elderly ladies, carried water for young girls, and ran errands for those women who dreaded going downtown.27
In March 1865 the Northern press painted a rosy picture of the city's recovery. Business had returned to King Street. The South Carolina Railroad was operational. Federal authorities assisted those taking a loyalty oath. Prominent Charlestonians, such as Dr. Albert J. Mackey and William A. Courtenay, were cooperating to curtail random violence. But some South Carolinians pledged, “Their names will not be fragrant hereafter in the nostrils of patriots.” Schoolchildren seemed better able to cope with the new era than their parents. In May 1865 white children, attending the city's public schools, went aboard General Hookerfor an excursion around the harbor, including a visit to Fort Sumter. Union General John P. Hatch, who was in charge of the occupation of the city, sponsored the trip. The children were “delighted.”28
During the summer of 1865, the children of the Charleston Orphan House, who had been evacuated to Orangeburg, returned, another sign of hope. But by now the number of widows and orphans had increased to such a great number as to pose a threatening social problem.
(1.) For more about the ironclad Palmetto State, see chapter 5. Greek fire was “an incendiary material…placed inside a special shell that was designated to explode over a target and start a fire.” The Yankees used two types. See Stephen R. Wise, Gate of Hell: Campaign for Charleston Harbor, 1863 (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1994), 148.
(2.) “A Boy's Memories of War Time and Other Times,” 35; CSW, Reel No. 138, P- 273–1864.
(3.) Charleston Mercury, January 3, 1865; Grace Brown Elmore, A Heritage of War: The Civil War Diary of Grace Brown Elmore, 1861–1868, ed. Marli F. Weiner (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1997), 88–96, 200–201 n. 5; UDC, South Carolina Women in the Confederacy, 1:243–247; Moore, Southern Homefront, 241–246; John Hammond Moore, Columbia and Richland Country: A South Carolina Community, 1740–1990 (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1993), 199.
(4.) Confederate Baptist, Columbia, January 18, 1865.
(5.) Marion Brunson Lucas, Sherman and the Burning of Columbia (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1976), 54, 70–71, 106, 128; Mrs. Emily Caroline Ellis Diary, February 16, 1865, pp. 24–25, SCL; George Ward Nichols, The Story of the Great March: From the Diary of a Staff Officer (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1865), 364; George F. Cram, Soldiering with Sherman: The Civil War Letters of George F. Cram, ed. Jennifer Cain Bohrnstedt (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 2000), 161–162. Charles Royster offered the most vivid and compelling account of the burning of Columbia in The Destructive War: William Tecumseh Sherman, Stonewall Jackson, and the Americans (New York: Knopf, 1991), chapter 1.
(6.) Joseph LeConte, ‘Ware Sherman: A Journal of Three Months’ Personal Experience in the Last Days of the Confederacy (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1937), 140–142; Chapin, Fitz-Hugh St. Clair, chapter 12.
(7.) Chapin, Fitz-Hugh St. Clair, 87, 104–109.
(8.) August Conrad, The Destruction of Columbia, S.C., translated from German by Wm. H. Pleasants (Roanoke, Va.: Stone Printing and Manufacturing Co., 1902), 18–22; Lucas, Sherman and the Burning of Columbia, 128; OR, ser. 1, vol. 53 : 53.
(9.) Rable, Civil Wars, 172; Royster, Destructive War, 342.
(10.) J. S. Middleton, “Reminiscences, ca. 1880s,” SCHS; Chesnut, Mary Chesnut's Civil War, 802.
(11.) Mrs. H. H. Simons Recollection, “The Burning of Columbia,” SCL.
(12.) Notebook, February 1864, Sallie D. McDowall Books; Eliza Fludd to Mrs. Jolliffe, Charleston, September 25, 1865, Eliza Fludd to Sister, Charleston, December 11, 1865, Fludd Papers.
(13.) Smith, Smith, and Childs, Mason Smith Family Letters, 209–212; UDC Recollections, 7: 91–95; UDC, South Carolina Women in the Confederacy, 2: 163–164.
(14.) UDC, South Carolina Women in the Confederacy, 2: 145, 154–156, 163; UDC Recollections, 6: 86–87, 10: 17; Confederate Museum, Charleston, S.C., Item No. 501.
(15.) UDC Recollections, 9: 489–490, 10: 78–80; Sarah H. Bryce, The Personal Experiences of Mrs. Campbell Bryce during the Burning of Columbia, South Carolina, by W. T. Sherman's Army, February 17, 1865 (Philadelphia: J. P. Lippincott Co., 1899), 33.
(16.) Winnsboro Fairfield News and Herald, ca. 1937; Grace B. Elmore Books.
(17.) John Cheesborough to wife, August 7, 1861, John Cheesborough Papers, SHS; Cauthen, South Carolina Goes to War, 137–139; Chesnut, Mary Chesnut's Civil War, 266; Walter J. Fraser, Jr., Charleston! Charleston! The History of a Southern City (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1989), 253–255; Charleston Daily Courier, January 8, (p.162) 9, 1862; Camden Confederate, December 20, 1861; Charleston Police Records, December 1861–March 1863, entry March 8, 1862, CLS.
(18.) Other planned depot centers were Greenville, Spartanburg, Anderson, Pickens, Pendleton, Hamburg, Chester, and York. See City of Charleston Commission Minute Books, 1862–1863, 6–7, 15, 32, 50–51, 59, Commission for the Removal of Negroes and Other Noncombatants from the City of Charleston, SCDAH; S. C. Roberts to sister, May 10, 1862, Woodruff Papers.
(19.) John Cheesborough to wife, August 2, 1862, John Cheesborough Papers; Conner, Letters of General James Conner, 76, 79, 94–95.
(20.) Burton, Siege of Charleston, 144, 163–177; Charleston Daily Courier, August 18, 1863.
(21.) OR, ser. 1, vol. 28, pt. 2 : 57–61.
(22.) Wise, Gate of Hell, 148; Heyward, Confederate Lady Comes of Age, 22–23; OR, ser. 1, vol. 28, pt. 1 : 682–684; Susan L. King, ed., History and Records of the Charleston Orphan House, 1860–1899 (Columbia, S.C.: SCMAR, 1994), 1–5. See also George P. Rawick, ed., The American Slave: A Composite Autobiography, reprint, ser. 1, vol. 2, South Carolina Narratives, pts. 1 and 2; vol. 3, South Carolina Narratives, pts. 3 and 4 (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood, 1972), vol. 3, pt. 3: 214–216.
(23.) Burton, Siege of Charleston, 186, 200, 251–263; Charleston Daily Courier, March 11, 1864.
(24.) Burton, Siege of Charleston, 256; Porter, Led On, 146; OR, ser. 1, vol. 35, pt. 1 : 43, pt. 2 : 43, 131–312, 145, vol. 53 : 105–106.
(25.) Charleston Mercury, June 9, 13, 1864; Charles Reagan Wilson, Baptized in Blood: The Religion of the Lost Cause, 1865–1920 (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1980), 51. The monument was a cenotaph.
(26.) Burton, Siege of Charleston, xvi; Theodore Honour to Becky, August 28, 1863, Honour Papers; Heyward, Confederate Lady Comes of Age, 26–27; UDC, South Carolina Women in the Confederacy, 1: 163; New York Times, February 22, 1865; Holmes, Diary, 396.
(27.) New York Times, March 18, 1865; Charleston Daily Courier, February 20, 1865; Burton, Siege of Charleston, 321; UDC, South Carolina Women in the Confederacy, 1:165–167; Board of Health Death Records, Charleston, vol. 21, October 20, 1861 to June 30, 1866, entries, February 12–25, 1865, CCL; Simkins and Woody, South Carolina During Reconstruction, 6; David Duncan Wallace, South Carolina: A Short History, 1520–1948 (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1984), 554. Initially Northern accounts blamed a Rebel soldier for entering the depot and igniting the gunpowder. This inaccurate report is an example of the kind of propaganda that comes out of the fog of war.
(28.) Reprint in Yorkville Enquirer, March 29, 1865. See also Yorkville Enquirer, April 12, 1865; Fraser, Charleston, 310 (Courtenay); Simkins and Woody, South Carolina During Reconstruction, 30; Charleston Daily Courier, May 2, 1865; King, Charleston Orphan House, 1860–1899, 1–5. Courtenay became one of Charleston's most successful mayors.