Charlotte Cross Wigfall to Louise Wigfall, May 30, 1861

richmond, May 30th.

After a terribly fatiguing journey we arrived here safely yesterday morning. We left Montgomery on Sunday night, at 8 o'clock, and travelled night and day, until yesterday morning.

The President was everywhere most rapturously received.  . . . I was all packed to start for Texas, when your father found that the President was so unwilling for him to go back at that time, that he determined to accept the position of Aide and at least act in that capacity until the opening of Congress, which will be on the 20th July. So here we are. These Virginians seem likely to overwhelm your father with their attentions and kill him with kindness — for yesterday he had to make no less than four speeches.

The whole country as we came through was like a military camp. The cars crowded with troops, and all as jubilant as if they were going to a frolic, instead of to fight. The President is to take the field; but I don't know the exact programme, and if I did it would not be safe to write it — for there is no telling who may read our letters now-a-days. Your father of course will go with him. It seems strange to me that I don't feel more frightened.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 54-5

From a Friend in Providence, Rhode Island to Charlotte Cross Wigfall, May 13, 1861

May 13th, 1861.

. . . We are always delighted to hear from you — and indeed your letters and Louis's are the only comfort we have in this Yankee land surrounded by people who have no sympathy with us, and who only open their lips to revile the South and utter blood-thirsty threats. This morning an amiable lady wished she had Jeff Davis in front of a big cannon. This feminine wish was uttered in the cars when L. and F. were going in to Boston. We have now sufficient proof of how much stronger hate is than love of country. Where was the patriotism of Massachusetts when the country was at war with the English in 1812? I lived then at the South, and was ashamed of my countrymen who refused to assist in the war. Massachusetts, which was the leading state of New England, refused to let her militia leave the state and when the U. S. troops were withdrawn, to fight in other places, applied to the Federal Government to know whether the expenses of their own militia, who were summoned to defend their own State, would be reimbursed by the Government. When our capitol at Washington was burned with the President's House and Treasury buildings, and other public buildings, why did they not go to meet the British? On the contrary, they rejoiced at the English victories, and put every obstacle they could in the way of the government. Now they are subscribing millions, and urging every man to go and fight their own countrymen. It is not patriotism; it is hatred to the South and woe is me, that I must live here among such people. God grant you success. It is a righteous war and all the bloodshed will be upon the souls of those who brought it on.

. . . I think, however, that you at the South are wrong to undervalue the courage and resources of the Northern States. They are no doubt less accustomed to the use of firearms — there are very few who know how to ride, and they are less fiery in their impulses. They are less disposed to fight, but they are not cowardly where their interests are concerned; and will fight for their money. Where their property is at stake they will not hesitate to risk their lives, and at present there is no lack of money. The women are all roused, and are urging their relatives on; while some of the young ladies are exceedingly anxious to imitate Florence Nightingale, and distinguish themselves in the Army. The boys are parading about with red shirts and guns; and their wise mothers are admiring their military ardor.

I would not advise you of the South to trust too much in the idea that the Northerners will not fight; for I believe they will, and their numbers are overwhelming. You know an army of ants can kill a wounded horse. It is a mistake, too, for you to suppose that it is only the lower orders, who are enlisted. I have heard of a good many of the most respectable young men, who have enlisted for three years. I suppose there are a good many counter jumpers and Irish among them; but still there are many very decent persons who have gone to the wars. I hear that with Gov. Sprague no less persons than W. G. and M. J. have gone. Are you not alarmed? Think of M. Pray keep out of his way! I wonder what his Quaker progenitors would say, could they look out of their graves? He has not an ancestor, on either side, for as far back as they can be traced, who was not a broad brimmed Quaker. Little F. has had some skirmishes with the girls on Politics; but there has been no bloodshed; and the last I heard of it is, they said “anyhow” she was “a smart little thing and talks very well.” L. does not walk out alone: she always goes into Boston with F. or me. By the way — I hear it said they have got enough cotton at the North to supply their factories for a year? Can it be true? If so, I think there has been a great mistake somewhere. The only thing that will bring these people to their senses is to stop the importation. I was surprised to see the other day that a cargo of rice from Savannah was stopped, and the vessel was allowed to sail with a load of cotton!

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 51-4

Charlotte Cross Wigfall to Louise Wigfall, April 26, 1861

montgomery, April 26.

The people here are all in fine spirits, and the streets are so lively and every one looks so happy, that you can scarcely realize the cause of the excitement. No one doubts our success.  . . . I suppose the chief fighting will be in Maryland and Virginia.  . . . This is a beautiful town and much larger than I expected to see it. There are a great many gardens, and as beautiful flowers as I ever saw anywhere. Several bouquets of the most superb flowers were presented to your father the night he spoke here and, of course, I had the benefit of them. The streets are very wide, and five of them unite, and diverge on the square opposite us. Something like Washington.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 49-50

Charlotte Cross Wigfall to Louise Wigfall, April 29, 1861

29th: I have been this morning to witness the opening of Congress, and hear the President's message. It was an admirable one, worthy of his reputation. It gives such a fair and lucid statement of matters, as they now stand, that I am sure it will do good abroad, if not at home.  . . .  This afternoon I went with Mrs. Chesnut to call on Mrs. Davis. I am going tomorrow to her reception.  . . . You allude to reports given in the Northern papers of the Fort Sumter affair. It is only what might have been expected of them, that they would garble and misrepresent the truth; but I must confess that Major Anderson's silence, and the disingenuous bulletin he sent to Cameron have surprised me. He takes care not to tell the whole truth, and any one to read his statement would suppose he had only come out on those conditions, whereas, he surrendered unconditionally — the U. S. Flag was lowered without salute while your father was in the fort. This was seen, not only by your father, but by the thousands who were on the watch, and it was only owing to General Beauregard's generosity (misplaced, it seems, now) that he was allowed to raise it again, and to salute it on coming out of the Fort, and take it with him.  . . . And this conduct too, after the kind and generous treatment he met with from the Carolinians. Judge Ochiltree is here and tells me Tom is a private in a company that Capt. Bass has raised in Marshall.  . . . The drums are beating here all the time, and it really makes me heartsick when I think about it all.

I don't think though that the military enthusiasm can be very high at the North as I see they are offering $20 additional pay to volunteers a month. That fact speaks volumes. I suppose it is to be accounted for in the anxiety to get rid of the mob population who might be troublesome at home.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 50-1

Charlotte Cross Wigfall to Louise Wigfall, Saturday, April 13, 1861

Saturday, April 13.

The news is glorious for us. No one hurt on our side, and no damage of any consequence to our batteries. Your father has been at Morris's Island all yesterday, and all night. He however wrote me not to expect him and I did not feel uneasy, as Captain Hartstein told me it was utterly impossible for boats to land with such a high sea. This morning Fort Sumter is on fire (produced from the shells it is thought). They say the flag is at half mast and has been so all the morning — a sure sign of distress. The fleet will try to relieve him, of course, but it will be in vain, and thus, I trust in God, this business will end. Heaven has favored our side, and we are all grateful to a Kind Providence. I doubt if your father returns before night.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 40

Louis T. Wigfall to Charlotte Cross Wigfall, April 12, 1861

head Quarters,

Morris Island,

April 12th.

. . . I take a moment to write you a line to say that I am well and that all is well. I cannot return till General Beauregard comes. I am very busy examining the position of the different batteries and arranging Infantry to support them in case a landing should be attempted. They are, you know, entirely out of the reach of the guns of Sumter. I have not been to Cummin's Point, but hear a good report. The Iron Battery stands fire admirably, and has dismounted two of Sumter's barbette guns. Not a single accident up to this time on our side. Thought that Sumter suffered this morning from the effect of shells — as Anderson is keeping his men at the casemates. He has thrown no shell, and probably has none; or perhaps, no guns from which to throw them. He has been throwing 32 solid shot at the iron battery, and they break to pieces, and fly off without making the slightest impression. Dr. St. Julien Ravenel has just come in and says that up to this time no one has been hurt. The wind is very high and I cannot hear the firing, but they still keep it up. I have been on the upper part of the Island, and am about to mount my horse again. We have just held a council to distribute the forces for the night, and before mounting I write to make you easy and assure you that all is well.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 39-40

Charlotte Cross Wigfall to Louise Wigfall, April 12, 1861

April 12.

I was awakened about half past four, this morning, by the booming of a cannon, and it has been going on steadily ever since — the firing is constant and rapid — with what results we don't yet know. Your father has gone to Morris's Island to obtain a report from the command there, and in order to avoid the guns of Sumter he has taken Major Whiting's row boat, so as to run in by the Inlets. I don't know how long he will be gone.

11 o'clock. The news we hear so far is good. No one killed on Morris's Island so far — and a breach reported in Fort Sumter. The iron battery is working well and the balls from Sumter have no effect on it. All is excitement of the most painful kind. Another story is that the Harriet Lane which was off the bar last night has been fired into and injured.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 38-9

Charlotte Cross Wigfall to Louise Wigfall, April 11, 1861

charleston, April 11th, 1861.

. . . Your father was gone all night with Captain Hartstein, seeing to placing light boats, with fires of pine wood, in the harbor, for the purpose of detecting the approach of the enemy's boats. He has gone again to-day and will not return until evening.  . . . A demand for the surrender of the Fort was made to-day, but the answer has not yet come. In case of Anderson's refusal (of which there is little doubt), the fire of the batteries on him will open at 8 to-night. God grant the Fort may be surrendered before the arrival of the Fleet, for although I believe General Beauregard is prepared on every side, yet I should feel all danger were over if we had the Fort. It will be a night of intense excitement and although I can't help feeling shivery and nervous, yet I am not as much alarmed as I might be, and something tells me it won't be so bad after all I am going down after a while to walk with Mrs. Chesnut on the Battery and will add more when I hear the answer Anderson returns.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 37-8

Charlotte Cross Wigfall to Louise Wigfall, April 10, 1861

Charleston, April 10, 1861.

You see we are still here and it is quite impossible to say for how long a time. Your father has been with General Beauregard almost constantly since we came, until yesterday, when General Beauregard requested him to go on his staff, and since then he has been actively engaged in carrying out his orders. I suppose you know the condition of things from the papers — that the administration after their professions of peace have determined to re-inforce the Fort at all risks, and we are in hourly expectation of the arrival of the store-ship and the fleet sent to protect it. General Beauregard is only waiting for the arrival of the troops from the country to make the attack on the Fort. He is quite confident of the result, and God grant he may be right. We are all anxious enough as you may suppose.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 35-6

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: April 13, 1861

Nobody has been hurt after all. How gay we were last night. Reaction after the dread of all the slaughter we thought those dreadful cannon were making. Not even a battery the worse for wear. Fort Sumter has been on fire. Anderson has not yet silenced any of our guns. So the aides, still with swords and red sashes by way of uniform, tell us. But the sound of those guns makes regular meals impossible. None of us go to table. Tea-trays pervade the corridors going everywhere. Some of the anxious hearts lie on their beds and moan in solitary misery. Mrs. Wigfall and I solace ourselves with tea in my room. These women have all a satisfying faith. “God is on our side,” they say. When we are shut in Mrs. Wigfall and I ask “Why?” “Of course, He hates the Yankees, we are told. You'll think that well of Him.”

Not by one word or look can we detect any change in the demeanor of these negro servants. Lawrence sits at our door, sleepy and respectful, and profoundly indifferent. So are they all, but they carry it too far. You could not tell that they even heard the awful roar going on in the bay, though it has been dinning in their ears night and day. People talk before them as if they were chairs and tables. They make no sign. Are they stolidly stupid? or wiser than we are; silent and strong, biding their time?

So tea and toast came; also came Colonel Manning, red sash and sword, to announce that he had been under fire, and didn't mind it. He said gaily: “It is one of those things a fellow never knows how he will come out until he has been tried. Now I know I am a worthy descendant of my old Irish hero of an ancestor, who held the British officer before him as a shield in the Revolution, and backed out of danger gracefully.” We talked of St. Valentine's eve, or the maid of Perth, and the drop of the white doe's blood that sometimes spoiled all.

The war-steamers are still there, outside the bar. And there are people who thought the Charleston bar “no good” to Charleston. The bar is the silent partner, or sleeping partner, and in this fray it is doing us yeoman service.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 38-9