Of the four most prominent members of the Carr family, mentioned in the foregoing chapters, it is a fact worthy of note that each passed from earth from as many different States. Uncle Horace, the first to go, died near Port Royal, at his humble home on the Weatherford farm, September, 1877.
Rev. Altheus Carr died, after a short illness from fever, at Topeka, Kansas, October, 1886. He had been called to Kansas to assist in a revival, and fell, as it were, at the foot of an unfinished work. His remains were brought back to Tennessee, and laid to rest at Mount Zion, beside those of his father. The burial of no colored citizen in this section was ever so largely attended or greater demonstration of deep sorrow over the[95] passing of a Christian leader, whose place in many respects has never been filled. His funeral orations were delivered by Revs. Houston Metcalfe, of Clarksville, Tenn., and P. Barker, of Guthrie, Ky. The latter afterward went as a missionary to Africa.
Aunt Kitty, after a short illness from pneumonia, died October, 1904, at the home of her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Margaret Manier, of Guthrie, Kentucky.
As before stated, Rev. William Carr died at Savannah, Georgia, August, 1907.
Geographically speaking, their bodies, at dissolution were widely sundered, but their kindred spirits mingled in sweet communion around the same Great White Throne.
Of a family of thirteen children, only two are living, Horace Carr, a good citizen of District No. 1, Montgomery county, Tenn., and his older sister, Mrs. Mary Waters, of Ohio.
The remainder of this chapter will be devoted to the Carneys, a family of colored citizens whose deeds should not be forgotten by those who properly appreciate the loyalty of high class antebellum negroes.
I will first speak briefly of the kind old master. Captain C. N. Carney was born in Halifax county, North Carolina, August 15th, 1782, and came to[96] Tennessee in 1808. He was married March 11th, 1824, to Elizabeth Johnson, of Fortson’s Spring neighborhood, District No. 1, Montgomery county. There were no children by his first marriage. He was married the second time, 1848, to Miss Margaret C. Lynn, of east Montgomery county. Three sons blessed this union, viz: Richard Rodney, Thomas, and Norfleet Lynn. The first and last named still survive, and like their father, rank among the best citizens of the State. To them the writer is indebted for valuable local history gleaned by them from the early settlers of this country, with whom, by ties of blood, they were intimately associated.
The Northingtons, Johnsons, Neblets, etc.
Captain Carney descended from the old Revolutionary stock, being the grandson of General Richard Rodney. The latter’s sword is a cherished heirloom in the family, being owned by his namesake, R. R. Carney, of Port Royal, Tenn., who placed it for safe keeping with his brother, Dr. N. L. Carney, of Clarksville, Tenn.
Hall of Benevolent Treasure No. 7, near Port Royal, Tennessee.
Captain Carney owned a large number of valuable slaves, and a nice plantation on Parson’s Creek, in District No. 5, Montgomery county. He was kind to his negroes, and they in turn were of a high order of principle, that responded to kind treatment. After a short illness from senile[97] infirmities, Captain Carney died January, 1862, leaving his widow and two little boys at the old homestead, unprotected, save by these faithful family servants. Throughout the excitement incident to the Civil War, they stood true to the post of duty, as the following incident will show.
Uncle Isaac Carney, the colored blacksmith on the premises, worked for the surrounding country and people of every type came to his shop. One day a man rode up to the door on a fine young horse, that was tender footed and jaded, almost to the point of falling in its tracks. The rider dismounted and ordered it shod as quickly as possible. After it was done he drew from his purse a $20.00 greenback bill to settle. Not keeping that amount of money at the shop in war times, the bill could not be changed, and the stranger persisted in going to the house for it. Knowing a timid woman would be frightened by the appearance of such a looking stranger, Uncle Isaac accompanied him, with his hammer in his hand. They changed the money, and on their return to the shop they were surprised to find Captain Zachary Grant, Mr. S. H. Northington, and Mr. C. Daniel waiting to arrest the guerilla horse thief, who had stolen the fine horse from a gentleman of Elkton, Ky. He was never again seen, or heard from in this section, and it was[98] supposed they made a proper disposition of him.
Uncle Isaac was born in North Carolina, February 16, 1804, and had a vivid recollection of things that took place soon after coming to Tennessee in 1808. During the war, when Southern homes were looted of valuables, Mrs. Carney entrusted her silverware and all moneys not needed by her, often as much as a thousand dollars, to Uncle Isaac, who dug a hole under his cabin floor and deposited same, which he guarded with vigilant care.
When it seemed necessary for Confederate recruiting officers to remain clandestinely in this section, for weeks at a time, Uncle Isaac often shod their horses, but in no instance was he ever known to betray one. He told of one occasion in which he felt some uneasiness. Late one evening, he was going by way of Sugar Camp branch to Bennett’s distillery for a jug of whiskey when he heard threatening voices from a thick undergrowth near the roadside. A new set of recruiting officers had recently come in, and it happened to be one of these, who first saw him, and thinking he might give out information dangerous to them, they were about to seize him, when one of the older ones, who knew him, came to his rescue, and told them to let him pass on, that he was all right.
[99]Another of Captain Carney’s valuable servants was Peter, whom he brought from Mr. Richard Brown, of McAdoo. Peter was a Presbyterian preacher, of stout build, and ginger cake color. He was a man of very nice manners, and waited on Captain Carney, when he officiated at the musters and military parades. Aunt Sylvia was his wife. They raised a large family of children, only one of whom, Frank Carney, of Port Royal, survives.
On account of certain good qualities, Peter was allowed extra privileges over the average colored citizen of his day. He had what was termed a “general pass,” permitting him to go where and when he pleased, unmolested by patrolers. He owned his own horse, and kept a shot gun. He did the neighborhood marketing, making frequent trips to Clarksville, carrying the produce on his horse, there being but few vehicles in existence. When in Clarksville, he often stopped at Hon. Cave Johnsons, a warm personal friend of his master’s, or with Col. George Smith, proprietor of the old National Hotel, below where the Franklin House now stands. The last trip he ever made to Clarksville, he drove the carriage for Mrs. Carney, and Mrs. Dr. N. L. Northington.
Apropos of colored ministers, Mrs. George F. Adams, one of the best Christian women that[100] ever blessed any community, once remarked to the writer, that she had never witnessed a more impressive antebellum picture, than that of three devout colored divines, all of different denominations, seated side by side one night at old Baker’s camp meeting, listening to a soul-stirring sermon from Dr. Jno. W. Hanner, Sr. Rev. Horace Carr, Baptest; Rev. Martin Grant, Methodist, and Rev. Peter Carney, Cumberland Presbyterian. They cared little for creeds, and in their humble way preached Christ, and Him crucified.
The last record made by Captain C. N. Carney of the birth of his family servants, was that of Aleck, a valuable, bright colored man, born March 30th, 1840. When the Civil War broke out, Aleck was just twenty-one, and a man of fine appearance. In 1863, he and a fellow servant, C?sar Carney, were pressed into service to work on a Federal fort at New Providence, Tenn. They were retained three months. While employed at work raising a steamboat sunk by the Confederates in Harpeth River, C?sar ran away and came home, and through the influence of good friends in Clarksville, who knew Col. Bruce, the Federal officer in command, Mrs. Carney secured the release of Aleck, who gladly returned home and took up his work with Uncle Isaac in the blacksmith shop. Aleck is still in the land of the living; he[101] owns a comfortable little home on the Port Royal road leading to Clarksville, from which, by the assistance of his son, he conducts a successful blacksmith trade, and strange to say, in his shop may be seen many of the tools he bought at the Carney sale, some of which have been in use over a century.
Among the Carney colored people, none ranked above Betsy, Aleck’s sister, a fine looking yellow woman, who married Dennis Neblett, previously mentioned. No kinder heart ever beat in human breast than that of Betsy Carney-Neblett. She was a fine nurse, and would lay aside her home work any day to minister to the afflicted of her neighborhood, and when asked her charges for same, would say, “I make no charges for Christian duty.”
There was an air of dignified independence in her make up, that attracted even the casual observer. For instance, she would go to church dressed in a neat plaid cotton dress, a large housekeeper’s apron, and plain sailor hat, and feel as comfortable as if clad in the finest fabrics. Assisted by her economy, and thrift, her worthy husband was enabled to buy a small farm, a portion of the Carney estate, on Parson’s Creek, known as the Carney Quarter.
When there was all-day meeting and dinner[102] on the ground at Grant’s Chapel, Betsy and Dennis often went along to take charge of the dinner for some special friends, as Miss Ellen Yates, Mrs. Dr. Northington, or some of the Grants. On communion days, when Rev. J. W. Cullom was pastor in charge, he never failed to go to the church door and extend an invitation to the colored people outside to go in and partake of the Lord’s Supper, and it was not uncommon to see Betsy and Dennis walk reverently down the aisle and kneel around the chancel. After a long and useful life, she passed away, ten or fifteen years ago, and her body was laid to rest on the hillside near the scene of her birth.
Henry W. Grady, the South’s greatest orator and statesman, in a speech at Boston, Mass., a few years before his death, gave a battlefield experience that was eloquently pathetic. He said:
“In sad memory I see a young Confederate soldier struck by a fatal bullet, stagger and fall, and I see a black and shambling figure make his way through a throng of soldiers, wind his loving arms about him, and bear him from the field of carnage, and from the pale lips of that dying friend, I hear a feeble voice bidding me to follow that black hero and protect him, if he ever needed protection, and I was true to my promise.”