North Carolina War Between the States Sesquicentennial
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“The Lowest types of “poor buckra”
The
enemy cavalry reached Lancaster, South Carolina on 23 February 1865 as
it continued its feint towards Charlotte. The invader had crossed “the
Catawba at Rocky Mount” known for its scenes of a previous invader and
struggle for American independence. Mrs. Foster’s father had already
lost three of his plantations to enemy depredations – he hesitated about
leaving his home on the approach of the enemy but her “mother insisted
that he should leave us to our fate, and God’s providential care.”
From Mrs. J.H. Foster’s Diary:
“We
awaited the coming of Sherman’s army with the greatest apprehension,
for the reports that preceded its approach of the destruction and
burning of everything in its wake were calculated to arouse the alarm of
any civilized community.
I
was standing in a high back porch, looking towards the old Methodist
Church, when I saw one, two, then several, Yankees riding rapidly to
Main street crossing; then I heard a gun fired, an a Negro girl ran
through the hall and, in great excitement, said: “Lor’, they done killed
old Mr. Jack Crockett.”
He
was an old citizen who was too old to go to the war, to which he gave
his two sons. He was crossing the street just as the Yankees rode into
town, and they fired, without hitting him.
This,
the beginning of the rabble, was rapidly increasing in numbers. They
were entering residences on every hand, and as I turned to enter the
hall, numbers were rapidly entering our front door and, very
unceremoniously walking into bedrooms or other rooms; they asked for
food, proceeded into closets, the storeroom, dairy, smokehouse. If the
keys were not furnished, the butt end of a musket served to shiver the
timbers, that they might gain access.
There
were but few men in town. The white women and children, and their
Negroes, were there to meet the emergency as best they could. As
children, we looked with wonder at all those rude soldiers, going
through closets, cupboards, drawers; desecrating, even by the touch of
their hands, the very Lares and Penates of our household. We could see
that our mother was very much exercised, for she thought best to unlock
every door, drawer, or any place they might suspect her of hiding gold
or silver, of which they seemed to think we had plenty.
Those
Yankees filled their knapsacks with whatever pleased their fancy. The
hams were tied to their saddles, or slung two across, and they ransacked
every nook and cranny of the house. Many of them seemed drunk to me.
They asked for whiskey, but my mother said she had none. They did not
believe her and went searching through everything for it.
Several
of them took the house servants and searched them for the jewelry we
might have hidden on them. Even old mammy was forced to the smokehouse
by threats and the pistol, to give up anything she had concealed. Our
Negroes were too indignant over this treatment ever to have any use for
Yankees. They believed them to be the lowest types of ‘poor
buckra”….and their minds seemed set upon finding treasure.”
(When Sherman Came: Southern Women and the “Great March,” Katherine M. Jones, Bobbs-Merrill, 1964, pp. 230-232)
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