University of Virginia Library

Fort Sumter.

The regulars and six months' volunteers provided for by the
Convention were rapidly enlisted or accepted, respectively, and
placed in service in Charleston harbor or on the adjacent islands.
These, together with the volunteer militia from the city of
Charleston (volunteers under the old militia organization. A. A.,
1841), were employed in pressing forward the works projected
for the reduction of Fort Sumter—still held by the Federal Government.
In April, 1861, the batteries being well advanced and
negotiations having failed to secure the delivery of the fortress,
it was determined to take it by force of arms,[1] and vindicate the
fact of secession.

South Carolina's resumption of her separate sovereignty had
been followed by the same act on the part of other Southern
States. Each for herself had dissolved her connection with the
Federal Union, and between themselves had formed a new Confederacy,
with its seat of government at Montgomery. The
operations against Fort Sumter had been carried on by South
Carolina unaided and were continued from her own resources.
Upon application of the State authorities to the Government at
Montgomery, in March, General Beauregard, a distinguished
officer of the army of the Confederate States, had, however, been
assigned to their direction. Now it was desired to have a considerable
body of troops in reserve in and near Charleston. A
large fleet of Federal vessels had sailed for Charleston, and it
was supposed that Sumter would be reinforced, if possible, or
that at least operations in the nature of a diversion would be
undertaken by the Federals. Accordingly, by an order dated
8th of April, several of the regiments raised under the legislative
act of 1860 were ordered to rendezvous at Charleston. This
order was received by the colonel of the First Regiment, at the
hands of a special aide of Governor Pickens, on the evening of
the 8th, and couriers immediately dispatched to extend it. The
First Battalion arrived in the city by railroad at 10 p. m. on
the 11th, and the Second Battalion just before day next morning.
Upon their arrival they were marched to the race track, where
they were at once mustered into the State service, and partially
equipped, being supplied with arms, ammunition, and an
inadequate supply of cooking utensils. At 8 a. m. on the 12th,
the muster rolls were handed in to the State Adjutant-General,
and the Regiment directed to report to General Beauregard. The
bombardment had commenced at 4 a. m. and was then in full
progress. The Regiment received orders to proceed by such
transportation as should be furnished it to Morris Island, and
report to the general then commanding. The Second (12
months') Regiment—Colonel Kershaw's—and a portion of the
Sixth—Colonel Rion's—from the greater railroad facilities of
the country in which they were raised, were enabled to reach
Charleston a few hours sooner, and had been sent over to the
same island directly across the harbor, just before the bombardment
commenced. The Fifth Regiment (Jenkins') arrived later,

and was sent to Sullivan's Island. The Third (Bacon's) and
the Fourth (Sloan's) arrived still later and were held in reserve
on Charleston neck. The other battalion of Rion's Regiment was
placed on Stono.

In consequence of the bombardment being in progress, the
First Regiment was directed to proceed across Ashley River to
Dill's Landing, on James Island; thence across James Island
to Legare Landing upon a creek running into Light House
Inlet, and thence to Morris Island. The quartermaster, Colonel
Hatch, was unable to furnish the transportation across Ashley
River until 3 p. m. that day. The men had been supplied with
neither haversacks nor knapsacks, and were without other camp
equipage than the cooking utensils above referred to. Their
rations had to be transported in bulk, and their baggage was in
trunks, valises and carpetbags with which they had left home.
The movement commenced, as intended, at 3 p. m., and the
Second Battalion was crossed over the Ashley without their
baggage or rations (the boat being unable to carry more than
the men), when the boat broke some of her machinery and the
crossing stopped. A cold, driving rain came up, succeeded for
the balance of the night by a bleak northeast wind. The regiment
bivouacked—one battalion upon the wharf in Charleston,
and the other at Dill's Landing, without food or shelter. Early
next morning the remaining battalion was got across the river,
and by noon the whole had moved across James Island to
Legare's, where deficiency of transportation again delayed them
some hours. Embarking before night, Morris Island was
reached between 10 and 11 o'clock of the night of the 13th. The
regiment was landed near where Battery Wagner subsequently
stood, and bivouacked in the sand hills in rear of the Vinegar
Hill Battery. One company of the Second Battalion (Captain
Graham's) had, however, crossed James Island on the night
of the 12th, and, obtaining transportation at Legare's, arrived
on Morris Island about daylight on the 13th. Much suffering
attended the whole movement. Ten or twelve men fainted on
the wharf in Charleston from exposure and want of food. The
only meal that many of the men obtained from leaving the race
course to the morning of the 14th was at Legare's Landing. It
was difficult to extricate the barrels, in which their rations were,

from the piles of luggage on the stream, and when extricated the
stomach revolted from the wet and soured mess. The proper
equipment of the men with knapsacks and haversacks at the
race course would have greatly mitigated their sufferings. But
in the inception of a revolutionary movement, and with men and
officers fresh from civil life, these troubles were unavoidable.
The bombardment, which had commenced at 4 a. m. on the 12th,
continued until about 1 p. m. on the 13th, when the fort surrendered.
During the passage of the Ashley and the march across
James Island we were in full view of the scene. The tempestuous
weather of the preceding night had been succeeded by a lovely
April day. Negroes were busily at work in the fields of James
Island, the air was vocal with birds, and vegetation was as forward
as it would have been a month later in the middle country
from which the regiment had come. Contrasting strangely with
this lovely rural scenery and continued pursuit of peaceful avocations,
the roar and reverberation of the distant bombardment
called attention to the doomed fortress in the bay. And, indeed,
to eyes unused to the grand spectacles of war, it was full of
sublimity. The bursting of the shells over the fort, marked by
light puffs of smoke, slowly fading out into fantastic wreaths,
the lurid flash from the portholes shooting out low down its level
column of smoke over the water, as the besieged sent back defiance
to the leaguer, the burning barracks, the consciousness that this
was war, with its glories, its terrors, its uncertainties—all tended
to impress vividly the imagination of the beholder. While
we were at Legare's the flagstaff of the fort was shot away, and
its fall was greeted with enthusiastic cheers by the regiment.
These had scarcely subsided when one generous fellow called out,
"Hurrah for Anderson, too," and more than one voice responded
to his call. There was one person, however, a type of her class,
perhaps, who did not take in fully the magnitude of the occasion.
A soldier called to an aged negress, patiently delving with others
in a field by the roadside, "Old woman, what's the matter over
yonder?" "Eh, eh; you no see the house afire?"

The formal evacuation of the fort took place on the 14th, the
garrison withdrawing with the honors of war, and being transferred
to one of the Federal vessels lying in the offing. A vast
concourse of people witnessed it from the shores of the harbor,

and the waters of the bay were alive with boats and sightseers.
Thus fell Fort Sumter. In a military point of view its defense
was contemptible—to realize how contemptible one need only
look to the ruins of the same work held later in the war by Rhett,
Elliott and Mitchell, without a gun to reply to Gilmore's 200
Parrotts, or a casement to shelter them, save such as they themselves
tunnelled in the debris, working under a merciless fire.
The tenacity of purpose which could avail itself of passive
resistance and fight for time had no place in their defense. A
formidable fleet lay idly by and witnessed the bombardment and
surrender without an effort either by force or stratagem to aid
the garrison.

The means at the disposal of the Carolinians to reduce the
fort, vigorously held, were totally inadequate. Their breaching
guns, necessarily placed at extreme range, were old-fashioned
smooth-bores of light caliber, save a rifled 12 dr., which for
such a purpose was a mere toy. From their shells the casements
of the fort were a perfect protection. It is true their hot shots
fired the wooden barracks on the terreplein of the fort, and this,
while burning, may have, as alleged, endangered the magazine,
but the barracks soon burned out. Endangered magazines are
an incident of every siege, and their explosion within beleaguered
forts was no uncommon occurrence on both sides later in the war,
and none were even surrendered in consequence. It is true that
Anderson's means of damaging his assailants, sheltered behind
epaulements, were as limited. He had nothing but smooth-bores,
firing round shot. But neither his ammunition nor commissariat
was exhausted when he surrendered. And photographs of the
work taken at the time forever forbid the assertion that its tenability
was seriously impaired. The walls were injured nowhere;
the projectiles of the nearest batteries had given them the look
of a bad case of smallpox, no more, and not a man had been killed
on either side when Anderson's flag was furled. No wonder that
European spectators smiled at the bombardment and defense.
It had to veteran eyes, which saw only the patent facts, something
of the characteristics of Chinese war. But the truth is
the doctrine of State Sovereignty, with its consequent State
Rights, was not then the exploded heresy which it has since
become. Taught by the most venerated sages of the early

republic, it had constituted the faith of a large majority of the
people, and shaped the course of the government almost uninterruptedly
from its inception. It was still a mighty, living
influence, and gave to the Carolinians the benefit of that morale
which is as potent in armies as is the nervous fluid in the human
frame. It paralyzed the defense, and gave audacity to the
assailant. The whole course of the Federal Government toward
the seceded States had been that of one who admits a right but
seeks to evade its consequences. The Northern press took no
higher ground; and some of its most influential exponents openly
admitted the Southern view of the question. Mr. Lincoln, in the
face of his life-long advocacy of the principles relied upon by
the secessionists, could find no higher ground upon which to put
his continued tenure of Sumter than its character of property—a
character in which the seceded State was more than willing to
consider and account for it in an equitable distribution of assets.
Major Anderson was himself a Democrat of the State's Rights
school, a Kentuckian by birth and a son-in-law of Duncan L.
Clinch, who had tendered his commission to the United States
Government years ago, when its mandates were about to place
him in antagonism to the sovereignty of Georgia.[2] On the other
hand, he was a trained soldier of the regular army, with all of
a soldier's ideas of honor. Thus situated, with his orders, such
as they were, emanating from the tricky and shuffling demagogues
who filled the high places at Washington; himself for
some time cut off from communication with his headquarters,
and the fleet (which was in direct communication with it, and
which was there for nothing if not to assist him) lying idly in
his view, and moving no hand to help him, no wonder that he
made only such a defense as could by possibility warrant an
honorable surrender. Insignificant, however, as was the defense
of Sumter and facile as was its reduction, in its results it was an
event of tremendous consequence. From that period what little
statesmanship and reason had so far marked the controversy,
fled the field, and the baleful passions of civil strife were loosed
for a four years' carnival of blood and ruthless destruction.

The First Regiment remained bivouacked in the sand hills
near Vinegar Hill for four days. It was then moved farther

down the Island to Gadberry Hill, extending its left toward
Vinegar Hill. Here they were again bivouacked. During this
time the fleet was still lying off the bar, and the men were constantly
disturbed at night by false alarms. No camp equipage
was received for ten or twelve days; the weather was again
tempestuous and cold; the exposure, the wretched water dug
from shallow pits in the sand hills, and the inefficient policing
of the camps, soon began to tell upon the health of the men.
Much sickness ensued. We were a week on the island before the
first drill could be had. The men were employed all the time in
endeavoring to obtain such shelter as could be improvised, even
in many instances constructing burrows in the sand hills, and
in the difficult task of getting their rations cooked.

In ten or twelve days, however, our supply of tents, etc., began
to arrive, and the men were enabled to make themselves more
comfortable. Uniforms—a short grey blouse—were distributed,
drilling was diligently prosecuted, and the regiment began to
assume something of discipline and acquaintance with the routine
of camp duty. Brigadier-General Simons (of the Charleston
militia), Major-General Bonham, and afterwards Brigadier-General
Nelson (the two latter of the 12 months' volunteer organization)
were in command. The Charleston militia was soon
after the bombardment relieved from duty. Rion's Battalion
was sent to Stono, and the First and Second 12 months' Regiments,
with a half troop of Charleston Volunteer Dragoons, were
retained on the island until the batteries bearing on the channel
were dismantled, and those bearing on Sumter were demolished.
This work accomplished, they also were withdrawn.

There was one of these batteries that deserves notice, the
"Stevens," or "Iron-Clad," Battery. The following diagram,
drawn from recollection, will give some idea of it. The gun is
"in battery" and ready for firing:

It was a structure of triangular section, presenting one of its
sides at a very obtuse angle to the enemy, and open to the rear.
The frame-work was of heavy timber and the side exposed to fire
was plated with common railroad iron, presenting to the hostile
projectiles a sloping corrugated surface thus: When
the guns were not in battery, the portholes were closed by curtains
similarly plated and worked from the inside by a lever.
It was a crude affair, but sufficient for Anderson's light, smoothbores.
It was struck several times; the only injury it showed
was a broken hinge to one of the curtains of a porthole, and a
partial loosening of one of the iron rails. The interest attaching
to this battery is that it was (the writer believes) the first instance
of the actual use of iron plating for defensive purposes in war.[3]
It was the precursor, if not the germ, of the iron-clad vessels
which played so important a part later in the contest. An ironclad
floating battery had also been attempted by the Carolinians.
It took some part at long range in the bombardment, but was
generally considered a failure. Clement C. Stevens, then cashier
in a bank in Charleston, suggested and executed this work. He
subsequently raised a regiment, (24th S. C. V.), was promoted
to a brigade and died in battle in the Western Army. General
Stevens was a man of high character and intelligence, and
earned the reputation of a most excellent officer. He was brother-in-law
of Barnard E. Bee, who knighted Jackson at Manassas,
dubbing him "Stonewall" a few moments before he himself was
borne from that field mortally wounded. Stevens, in the same
battle, was wounded on Bee's staff.