The 'Little Landing' in its days of yore

Lewisfield, comprising of 1,000 acres on the river front, adjoining Exeter to the north and Mulberry to the south, was transferred by Sir John Colleton, 4th Baronet, on the 15th of September 1767, to Sedgewick Lewis. At the time of sale, this 1,000 acres is stated to be known as the “Little Landing,” but after passing into Lewis’ hands, it acquired the name of Lewisfield, which it has ever since retained.

Through intermarriage, the place subsequently passed into the Simons family, in whose possession it continued for many years. Johnson’s “Traditions” says that Keating Simons married Miss Sarah Lewis in 1774, and “thereby became possessed of a rice plantation and [African-American slaves], on the western branch of Cooper River, which he called "Lewisfield,” which still retains that name, and was in possession of his grandchildren in 1851.

Keating Simons was the second son of Benjamin Simons of Middleburg. He enlisted in the Militia and was captured when Charleston fell into the hands of the British. Simons became a prisoner on parole, and retired, as he had a right to do by capitulation, to reside on his plantation, Lewisfield (which the enemy was using as a landing).

Many of Simons’ neighbors were unguarded in their expressions of hatred to the British victors. (Mr. Broughton, of Mulberry, was one of these, who for his discipline had a troop of horses quartered on his land.) Shortly after this Lord Cornwallis, passing down — says Dr. Johnson — from Camden to Charleston, sent a courier to announce that he and his “family” would dine with Mr. Simons the day after.

“Accordingly, Mr. Simons provided amply for his reception; killed a lamb for the occasion and poultry and other plantation fare in abundance and arranged his sideboard in accordance. But his lordship had his cook and baggage wagon with him and was well served by those who knew his inclinations. Accordingly, they killed the old ewe, the mother of the lamb; and on Mr. Simons telling the Scotch woman, the cook, that this was unnecessary, and showing the provisions, she replied that his lordship knew how to provide for himself wherever he went.”

The story goes on to show how Mr. and Mrs. Simons were invited to sit at their own table as guests, but Mr. Simons, while accepting for himself, said that “He could not think of his wife becoming a guest instead of presiding at her own table,” and told his lordship that Mrs. Simons was “otherwise engaged.”

At this dinner, a great game was played over the wines, Mr. Simons generously providing some of his best, but again his lordship “enquired of his aides if they did not bring with them some of his old Madeira and called for a bottle or two.” His lordship pretended to enquire the history of it, whether “London particular,” or imported directly from Madeira, and the young gentleman had an answer ready for the occasion. It proved, afterwards, that the wine had been plundered from old Mr. Mazyck’s plantation when visited by Cornwallis.

Mr. Simons remained on parole at Lewisfield waiting to be exchanged, until the middle of July 1781, when General Greene sent his cavalry down into the lower part of the State, even within sight of Charleston, and Colonel Wade Hampton commanded part of this expedition. It seems that the gallant Hampton was at that time courting Mr. Simons’ youngest sister, then living at Lewisfield. “Love rules the court, the camp, the cot,” and “Love-directed-Hampton” came near to Lewisfield. He galloped up the avenue to see his “lady love,” but found instead a party of British from two vessels at the landing, which vessels were fast aground.

Nothing daunted, Hampton (being an elegant horseman, in the habit of galloping his steed and at this speed stooping from his saddle to pick up from the ground his cap, sword, whip or glove) galloped back to the main road, vaulted upright in his saddle, waved his sword over his head and shouted to his command to return.

This they did, and on a ‘spur-of-the-moment’ visit engaged the enemy. Some of the British escaped, although seventy-eight were taken prisoners, and the two boats burned. Suspicion falling on Mr. Simons as being accessary to the surprise and capture, an expedition of Black Dragoons was immediately sent out from Charleston with orders to bring him in dead or alive, but being warned, he did not await their arrival, broke his parole, and joined General Marion in the Swamp, rising eventually to the rank of brigade Major.

The penalty for breaking parole was hanging, a fate he avoided successfully. Meanwhile, his house and plantation was being searched for him, but luckily he was away, and remained with the old Swamp Fox as an aide, to whom he continued firmly attached, not only to the end of the Revolutionary War, but also to the end of his life. At the death of General Marion, Simons’ loyalty was transferred to his family, and at the death of Mrs. Marion (so says Dr. Johnson, from whom all the above narrative is extracted and quoted) she left her plantation and [the slaves] to Mr. Simons’ eldest son, Keating Lewis Simons.

During the Civil (Confederate) War, the landing is said to have been used by Federal troops and gun boats.

In 1903, Lewisfield became the property of Charles Stevens, whose wife was the fascinating Mary Wharton Sinkler, of Belvidere. An amusing story is told that at Lewisfield, during the Civil War, a clever ruse (or trick) was employed by the owner’s family to save their valuables. It was given out that a relative had died in Charleston, and that the body would be interred upon the plantation. Accordingly, a coffin was brought, but in it was secretly placed the family silver, plate, etc. an elaborate funeral was held, and the valuables buried. As the [slaves] never discovered the ruse employed, raiding parties could not extract from them information they did not possess, and the valuables remained hidden safely until after the strife was over and the former owner returned to his home.

One day he decided to recover his buried possessions, taking with him an old [male slave], who had been present at the “funeral” years before, to assist him. The owner waxed so hot in the search that the old [slave], who was helping to dig up the supposed relative, exclaimed: “Lord, Maussa! By dis time you sho mus be unjint ‘um” (unjoint him) (separate or dislocate the joints of)."

As previously stated above, Sedgewick Lewis dowered his daughter with this property in 1767, and seven years later his son-in-law, Keating Simons, erected this fine example of traditional Low Country architecture, built ca. 1774. Simons, the grandson of the builder of Middleburg, chose for a layout, two floors of four rooms each, divided by a central hallway.

Stoney, Simons, and Lapham point out that by the last quarter of the eighteenth century, men were designing buildings for comfort during the hotter months. The country was still considered healthy during the summer, and it was not until about the early 1790’s that the planters began to retreat from “the country fever” to the relative safety of the pineland, seashore, town, or distant spas.

The house at Lewisfield is the regulation square pine or cypress building, facing the river landing. The establishment is set up on a high brick foundation, as a precaution against the rising of the river in freshet times. From the ground, a high flight of steps leads to the wide piazza which forms the front to the lower story of Lewisfield and lying along this piazza are the two front rooms of the place.

There is no “front door” proper, but entrance into the house is made as is oftentimes the case in houses of this section) through long French windows opening directly into these rooms. The only other entry into the house is at the rear, where another flight of steps is found leading to the back hall, which penetrates only half the depth of the house, and affords space for stairs leading to the upper story, while separating the two rooms in the rear.

In all these old plantation places, which are ringed around with rice fields and blue-gum and cypress swamps, the outbuildings are set a little way from the main building in order to dispense with the household offices going forward in the main house. The servants like this arrangement, as it gives them greater freedom, and a little domain all their own.

Many a southern child has looked with delight upon a stolen visit to the servants’ quarters and there learned folk-lore stories akin to those “Uncle Remus” told the “Little Boy.” No one living at Lewisfield in 1921, and the name is being changed (against history) to “Chacan,” (or Chachan) an adjoining place across the river, also owned by the same Stevens family, the very handsome house upon which was unfortunately burned.

Lewisfield became the Lewisfield Club, a hunting retreat, when it was purchased by R.R.M. Carpenter, vice-president of E.I. Dupont de Nemours, in 1937. Senator and Mrs. Rembert C. Dennis acquired the property and moved in in October 1970.

On the grounds are the Simons family cemetery, with markers dating from 1784 to 1880, and a slave cemetery with nineteenth century markers. Also on the property are two frame cottages, dating from ca. 1920 and ca. 1930, respectively, and a frame gate lodge, built ca. 1935.

Lewisfield Plantation was placed on the National Register of Historic Places on May 9, 1973. Five years later, in 1978, an Historic Marker (Number 8-16) was erected by Berkeley County Historical Society, located south of Moncks Corner, at the intersection of Old US Highway 52 and Lewisfield Plantation Road.

History written by Harriette Kershaw Leiding in Historic Houses of South Carolina 1921, edited by Keith Gourdin with resources from Plantations of the Low Country, South Carolina 1697-1865, by William P. Baldwin, Jr., Researched by Agnes L. Baldwin 1985, Historic Ramblin’s Through Berkeley, by J. Russell Cross, Historic Resources of Berkeley County, South Carolina, and South Carolina Department of Archives and History.

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