_Jan. 1, 1863._ We started [from R.'s] at ten o'clock with four
oarsmen, under a cloudless sky, which remained undimmed through the
day. The men sang and we sang, as we wound our way through the
marsh-bound creek, reaching the Smith Plantation just as the _Flora_
was landing her first load from the Ferry. We followed the crowd up to
the grove of live-oaks with their moss trimmings, which did not look
so dreary under a winter's sun, but very summer-like and beautiful.
The regiment, which had been drawn up at the wharf to receive the
guests from Beaufort, escorted them to the platform in the middle of
the grove, where we found it--the regiment--in a circle round the
stand, where they remained quiet and orderly as possible through the
whole proceedings, which lasted about three hours. Guests, white and
colored, were admitted within the line, and as ladies we were shown
seats on the platform. The general arrived in his carriage with the
Mission House[90] ladies.
It is simply impossible to give you any adequate idea of the next
three hours. Picture the scene to yourself if you can,--I will tell
you all the facts,--but if I could transcribe every word that was
uttered, still nothing could convey to you any conception of the
solemnity and interest of the occasion. Mr. Judd, General
Superintendent of the Island, was master of ceremonies, and first
introduced Mr. Fowler, the Chaplain, who made a prayer,--then he
announced that the President's Proclamation would be read, and General
Saxton's also, by a gentleman who would be introduced by Colonel
Higginson. And he rose amid perfect silence, his clear rich voice
falling most deliciously on the ear as he began to speak. He said that
the Proclamation would be read "by a South Carolinian to South
Carolinians"--a man who many years before had carried the same glad
tidings to his own slaves now brought them to them, and with a few
most pertinent words introduced Dr. Brisbane, one of the
tax-commissioners here now, who read both proclamations extremely
well. They cheered most heartily at the President's name, and at the
close gave nine with a will for General "Saxby," as they call him.
Mr. Zachos then read an ode he had written for the occasion, which was
sung by the white people (printed copies being distributed, he did not
line it as is the fashion in these parts)--to "Scots wha hae." I
forgot to mention that there was a band on the platform which
discoursed excellent music from time to time. At this stage of the
proceedings Mr. French rose and, in a short address, presented to
Colonel Higginson from friends in New York a beautiful silk flag, on
which was embroidered the name of the regiment and "The Year of
Jubilee has come!"
Just as Colonel Higginson had taken the flag and was opening his lips
to answer (his face while Mr. French was speaking was a beautiful
sight), a single woman's voice below us near the corner of the
platform began singing "My Country, 'tis of thee." It was very sweet
and low--gradually other voices about her joined in and it began to
spread up to the platform, till Colonel Higginson turned and said,
"Leave it to them," when the negroes sang it to the end. He stood with
the flag in one hand looking down at them, and when the song ceased,
his own words flowed as musically, saying that he could give no answer
so appropriate and touching as had just been made. In all the singing
he had heard from them, that song he had never heard before--they
never could have truly sung "my country" till that day. He talked in
the most charming manner for over half an hour, keeping every one's
attention, the negroes' upturned faces as interested as any, if not
quite as comprehending. Then he called Sergeant Rivers and delivered
the flag to his keeping, with the most solemn words, telling him that
his life was chained to it and he must die to defend it. Prince Rivers
looked him in the eye while he spoke, and when he ended with a "Do you
understand?" which must have thrilled through every one, answered most
earnestly, "Yas, Sar." The Colonel then, with the same solemnity, gave
into the charge of Corporal Robert Sutton[91] a bunting flag of the
same size; then stepping back stood with folded arms and bare head
while the two men spoke in turn to their countrymen. Rivers is a very
smart fellow, has been North and is heart and soul in the regiment and
against the "Seceshky." He spoke well; but Sutton with his plain
common sense and simpler language spoke better. He made telling
points; told them there was not one in that crowd but had sister,
brother, or some relation among the rebels still; that all was not
done because they were so happily off, that they should not be content
till all their people were as well off, if they died in helping them;
and when he ended with an appeal to them to above all follow after
their Great Captain, Jesus, who never was defeated, there were many
moist eyes in the crowd.
General Saxton then said a few words, regretting that his flag had not
arrived as he intended, and introduced Mrs. Gage, who spoke to them of
her visit to St. Croix and how the negroes on that island had freed
themselves, and telling them that her own sons were in the army; she
might any day hear of their death, but that she was willing they
should die in the cause and she hoped they were ready to die too.
Quartermaster Bingham led the regiment in singing "Marching Along."
Mr. Judd had written a hymn which he and a few friends sang. Judge
Stickney spoke. The whole regiment then sang "John Brown," and was
dismissed in a few words from the Colonel to the tables for the twelve
roasted oxen,[92] hard bread, and molasses and water, except one
company and certain corporals whom he mentioned, who came to the foot
of the steps to escort the colors.
Lieutenant Duhurst was waiting to escort us to dinner at his
mess-table. We walked into the old fort, part of the walls of which
are still standing, made of oyster-shells and cement, very hard still.
It was built, say the authorities, in 1562, half a century before the
Pilgrims landed.
Miss Forten[93] had a letter from Whittier enclosing a song he had
written for the Jubilee and which they have been teaching the children
to sing at church next Sunday.
After dinner we went up to the camp, and a very nice-looking place it
was. The tents only hold five, so that there were a great many of
them, making the camp look very large. The officers' tents are in a
row opposite the ends of the streets, but with only a narrow street
between. The Adjutant took us into his, which is a double one with two
apartments like the Colonel's, as his wife is coming out to live there
and teach the first sergeants to read, write, and keep their accounts.
As dress-parade was to come off at once, we stayed to see that. Only
the commissioned officers are white; the uniform of the privates is
the same as any others, except that the pantaloons are red,[94] faces
and hands black! The parade was excellent,--they went through the
manual, including, "load in nine times." There were eighteen men
absent without leave, a circumstance not to be wondered at, as they
had kept no guard all day, and a negro thinks to go and see his family
the height of happiness. Colonel Higginson said, "Think of a camp
where there is no swearing, drinking, or card-playing among the
men,--where the evenings are spent praying and singing psalms, and it
is the first sound you hear in the morning!" He is a strong
anti-tobacconist, but he lets the men have all they can get, and helps
them get it.
We started just after sunset, and at the same time with the band, who
were rowed up to Beaufort as we went across the river. They played
"Sweet Home," and the music sounded delightfully, but made Mr.
Williams exclaim, "Now that's too bad, when a fellow is going to an
old South Carolina whitewashed house, with a broken table and chair in
it!" Nevertheless, he was very merry, and we had a fine row. The
sunset was perfectly clear, the sky retained its brightness for a long
time, and the moon was so bright that it did not grow dark. Our delay
made us against tide for the second hour, so the negroes turned out of
the main creek into the narrow creeks among the grass, which at high
tide are deep enough, though very narrow. Our oars were often in the
"mash" on one side, but the men knew their way and brought us safely
through. They grew very much excited as they rowed and sung, shouting
with all their might, and singing song after song the whole way home.
The singing while they row always sounds differently from [that] at
any other time to me, though they always sing the same, religious
songs.
In the following letter Mr. Philbrick begins by defending
himself against the charge of rashness in proposing to buy
land of which the legal title was so insecure as to make it
a most unsafe investment, and the geographical situation
such as to make it unfit for habitation by Northerners. The
point of view of his critic is amusingly different from that
of the good people who subsequently accused him of buying
with the expectation of making large profits.