August 6, 1862-
I know that you are just a small notebook, but I already feel a strange
connection between us. I hope my heart can open up to you as if you
were human and standing right before me. I will begin as if you were
a stranger.
August 7, 1862-
Hello, my name is Squire Pleasant Conway. I have six children
and am happily married to my beloved, Louisa Christian Conway. God
has blessed me with a wonderful family, full of love. Our house is
just south of Princeton, Kentucky, where we hope to live the rest of our
lives. Louisa and I settled here in 1848 after we wed. We left
our families back in Virginia reluctantly, but have not regretted it.
I am saddened to put you down, but I must, Mina (our cook) has just finished
cooking dinner.
August 7, 1862- (later)
Oh, just thinking about how much I ate makes me very displeased with
myself. Mina is the best cook my family has ever owned. I am
glad that I do not treat slaves as if they are inhuman. I have never
beaten, starved, or verbally abused a slave. I feel that slaves are
a vital part of my plantation, but I do not misuse them. In the past,
bonds have grown between my slaves and i. I had one slave in particular
that stayed with me no matter where I went; his name was Amos. Sometimes
when I lay awake at night I can picture his face. Amos always had
wise words to give and always knew what to do in times of trouble.
I wish I could tell him one more time how much he did for me.
August 8, 1862-
I am upset with myself for not telling you about my flute. My
beloved flute, which I have had for may years, was purchased for me at
the age of nine. I was in love with my grandfather’s flute and wanted
to own it so very badly. I had played the flute several times, including
when he taught me to play. The flute seemed to be so special even
though, it wasn’t pretty. It was my grandfather’s. I began
to save up my money so that I could buy a flute of my own. When my
house burned down because of a brush fire, my money that was hidden under
my straw mattress also burned. I was discouraged and gave up hope
of ever owning a flute. That Christmas, my grandfather gave me his
flute. I could not believe that I was the new owner of the flute.
For so long I had yearned to own this flute. So when I really did
own it, my heart felt as if it could soar above the clouds. Later
that year my grandfather died. I felt that when he died, his flute
did also. I buried the flute along with him, as a tribute to him.
Right away I borrowed money from my father to buy a new flute. My
father told me that a friend of his owned a sixteenth century flute.
When he said this, he had a mischievous smile on his face. He asked
the man if he would be willing to sell the instrument. The man reluctantly
agreed to sell it to me, on one condition: that I would never even think
of mistreating it, and always hold it close to my heart. When I agreed
to the condition, I thought it was almost humorous. As time went
on and I began to become attached to the flute, I understood what he meant.
The first time I saw the flute, it was the most beautiful instrument I
had ever seen. The wood that it was made out of was flawless, and
seemed to shimmer and glow in the darkness. I was immediately, emotionally,
and physically, attracted to the flute; I could not set it down.
I continued to work with my father to pay him back the money I had borrowed.
I had completely paid my father back within three weeks of hard laborious
work. I enjoyed the work because I felt like I was earning my right
to play such a beautiful instrument. I must go now because Louisa
is calling me.
August 9, 1862-
Today I am writing to you from the big oak tree on the east field of
my plantation. I have been playing the flute on my horse for hours
now. My throat is dry and the weather is devastatingly hot.
As I am looking at all the slaves working, I am beginning to think
about the war in our country. My plantation is located on the boundary
line for the North and South. I am obviously for the South, because
I have slaves. Many people do not understand what the War is over.
We are not fighting against the ownership of slaves, but against the government.
We came from England in search for freedom and the liberty to do what we
choose. The North has become just like the British. They have
set up strict rules that we are to follow. They have fancy machinery
to use. People in the South have to use slaves in order to make a
living; otherwise, we would not be able to produce enough crops to sell.
I must not bore you with my opinions (which are correct), so I am going
to get a drink from the spring.
August 9, 1862- (later)
Today as I went down to the spring, I heard an unusually large number
of horses galloping my way. I turned around just in time to see twenty
Yankee soldiers coming right towards me. They grabbed me by the hand
and jerked he over to the oak tree. One of them told me to get my
things, because we had a long journey ahead of us. At that, I cringed
with fear. I could not imagine what they wanted from me. I
began to think optimistically, but the questions began to flow through
my mind like a river’s current. Yes, I had slaves, but I had never
voiced my opinion on the matter to anyone of importance. I was thrown
on the back of one of the soldier’s horse. The soldier, trying to
intimidate me, said that they were seeking their way to Bowling Green and
I was to show them the way. What he said did the trick. I am
completely and utterly terrified of what they might do to me now.
I am only getting this opportunity to write to you because they are eating.
They gave me a bit of bread and I had to drink out of the tepid creek.
Little do they know, but in my sac I have my flute, a blanket, two apples,
and a small loaf of bread. I always take out extra things when I
go out to oversee the plantation. I do this so that I can take a
nap if I am tired and I can eat if I am hungry. I must go now, they
are finished eating.
August 11, 1862-
I am sitting on the bank of a stream. I know the way to Bowling
Green by heart. I have traveled there so many times to shop or trade
slaves. I would never have guessed that one day I would be taken
hostage and forced to show someone the way. I shutter to think that
I might never see my family again. I am hungry and exhausted, however
I continue to play my flute. More than ever, it is a window to escape
my troubles.
August 12, 1862-
Today a man hit me with the back of his hand. When they stopped
for a bite to eat, I stumbled from dehydration. I accidentally bumped
into one of the younger soldiers. He hit me and made me fall to the
ground. I began to cry because I was in such misery. The soldiers
then began to make fun and mock me. I then understood that they were
breaking me down in order to get pleasure from my pain. I stood up
and walked over to a tree to regain what I had lost, confidence.
I walked down to the stream, and got a drink, I felt the uneasiness of
eyes watching me, but I did not care. I then walked back over to
the tree and sat. I took out the flute and began to play a hymn.
I felt God’s presence fall upon me like a summer rain. I continue
to play every day on our journey, since I am not allowed to steer the horse.
I think Bowling Green is no more than four days away right now, to my relief.
Hope I am right.
August 13, 1862-
I pray that Louisa is not ill. I also pray for each of my children
and the struggles they may have in life. I do not know if I will
ever see them again. Oh, how I long to see my beloved Louisa again.
If I think hard enough I can see the dark hair that frames her flawless
face. I can also see the emptiness in her eyes. I know the
emptiness in my eyes matches hers. As I lay here under the dark sky,
a blanket of stars my only protection, my body aches for home.
August 14, 1862-
Today, we reached a small town. We stopped and while the soldiers
bathed in the creek, I went through one of the local stores. I knew
better than to try an escape, they also knew I knew better. With
the little money I had, I bought a piece of pecan pie and milk. I
decided that if I was only going to live for a little while longer, I should
try to enjoy it as much as I possibly could. I consumed the food
slowly, wanting to enjoy every bite as much as possible. The soldiers
came in to the little store where I sat. They jerked me out of my
seat and led me outside where they stripped me of all my possessions.
The only thing they did not take from me was my flute. The General
insisted that I keep it, because to him, the flute and I were both worthless.
I did not care what they thing, as long as I get to keep my flute.
August 15, 1862-
Every night before I go to sleep I play hymns on my flute. Every
night I hear the general singing. I just came to the conclusion that
the general is singing along with my hymns! The reason that he did
not want to take away my flute was because he enjoyed it. I know
my fate does not change, but I know that even in the midst of Hell, music
is still loved.
August 17, 1862-
I did not write in you yesterday because I was so exhausted. I
am physically and mentally tired. We go to bed late and wake up before
dawn. I was so scared that I would lead them in the wrong direction
because of a foolish mistake. I was constantly on guard for familiar
landforms. The general said he would like to speak to me. I
pray for my family: that I have lead them in the way of Christ, and I have
instructed them enough so they can continue their lives, without me by
their side.
August 17, 1862- (later)
The general told me to go! He said that he went to sleep every
night tot he music of my flute. He could hear the emotion and heart
that I put into every note. He could not bear to live with himself after
taking such a “fine man” away from his children. I wondered how he
knew about my children. However, not for one second did I question
his decision. He began to cry as he told me about his son who played
the flute. He did not like being away from him and when I played,
it made him think of his little boy. He dismissed me as he returned
my sac. He also told me that I could take one of the horses but to
hurry. He was going to tell the soldiers that I had escaped during
the night. I am overwhelmed with joy. This is a most unusual
situation. I must hurry now; I long to see my family.
August 17, 1862- (later)
As I rode down the familiar road to my home, happiness fell upon me.
I do not know the words to describe what I was feeling the moment I stopped
in front of my house. I immediately saw Louisa on the front porch;
she was in a rocking chair with her knitting needles in her lap.
She was looking off at something, though I could not tell what. A
look of unhappiness and emptiness did fill her eyes. For a moment,
I forgot where I was; I was too wrapped up in the sorrow of her feelings,
I did not thing to correct them. I jumped off my horse the moment
I came to reality. I ran up onto the porch and picked her up, even
before she realized who I was. She looked deep into my eyes, a look
of questions, relief, and love. I hugged her with emotion that I
had never felt before. She was eager to tell everyone about my homecoming,
even more than I was to see them. For a while, she did not even ask
where I had been. She seemed to know that when I was ready to tell,
I would. The moment I saw my children, questions flew everywhere.
Where had I been? Who was I with? Why did they take me?
Did they hurt me? I almost did not even want to talk about what had
happened. I wanted everything to be in the past, I could heal in
my own time. I am going to play my flute now.
August 18, 1862-
I have decided to pass my flute down to my granddaughter Dimple, Francis’s
daughter of whom I am extremely fond. The flute had given me security,
through that security; I have been able to get through challenges that
have come my way, large and small. I think it would be selfish of
me to continue to keep the flute in my possession. I hope she will never
ever think of mistreating that flute, and always hold it close to her heart
as I have.
October 29, 2003-
Today the flute resides in Caldwell County, Kentucky. It is in
the ownership of Lynn Hurt, my maternal grandmother. Pleasant Conway
is her second great grandfather, and my fourth. I am eager to acquire
the flute myself, as are my sisters and cousins. The first person
to learn how to play the flute will forever keep it in their possession.
Since I am presently perusing the violin, I will have to wait before I
seek the trials of learning a new instrument.
The flute is very dear to my family, and to everyone who hears this
interesting, but true story. My wish is to continue the legacy of
Squire Pleasant Conway and his flute to future generations.
Olivia
North Marshall Middle School