I visited the
editors of the “Charleston Mercury” and the “Charleston Courier” to-day at
their offices. The Rhett family have been active agitators for secession, and
it is said they are not over well pleased with Jefferson Davis for neglecting
their claims to office. The elder, a pompous, hard, ambitious man, possesses
ability. He is fond of alluding to his English connections and predilections,
and is intolerant of New England to the last degree. I received from him, ere I
left, a pamphlet on his life, career and services. In the newspaper offices
there was nothing worthy of remark; they were possessed of that obscurity which
is such a characteristic of the haunts of journalism — the clouds in which the
lightning is hiding. Thence to haunts more dingy still where Plutus lives — to
the counting-houses of the cotton brokers, up many pairs of stairs into large
rooms furnished with hard seats, engravings of celebrated clippers,
advertisements of emigrant agencies and of lines of steamers, little flocks of
cotton, specimens of rice, grain, and seed in wooden bowls, and clerks living
inside railings, with secluded spittoons, and ledgers, and tumblers of water. I
called on several of the leading merchants and bankers, such as Mr. Rose, Mr.
Muir, Mr. Trenholm, and others. With all it was the same story. Their young men
were off to the wars — no business doing. In one office I saw an announcement
of a company for a direct communication by steamers between a southern port and
Europe. “When do you expect that line to be opened?” I asked. “The United
States cruisers will surely interfere with it.” “Why, I expect, sir,” replied
the merchant, “that if those miserable Yankees try to blockade us, and keep you
from our cotton, you'll just send their ships to the bottom and acknowledge us.
That will be before autumn, I think.” It was in vain I assured him he would be
disappointed. “Look out there,” he said, pointing to the wharf, on which were
piled some cotton bales; “there's the key will open all our ports, and put us
into John Bull's strong box as well.” I dined to-day at the hotel,
notwithstanding many hospitable invitations, with Messrs. Manning, Porcher
Miles, Reed, and Pringle. Mr. Trescot, who was Under Secretary of State in Mr.
Buchanan's Cabinet, joined us, and I promised to visit his plantation as soon
as I have returned from Mr. Pringle's. We heard much the same conversation as
usual, relieved by Mr. Trescot's sound sense and philosophy. He sees clearly
the evils of slavery, but is, like all of us, unable to discover the solution
and means of averting them. The Secessionists are in great delight with
Governor Letcher’s proclamation, calling out troops and volunteers, and it is
hinted that Washington will be attacked, and the nest of Black Republican
vermin which haunt the capital, driven out. Agents are to be at once despatched
to get up a navy, and every effort made to carry out the policy indicated in
Jeff Davis's issue of letters of marque and reprisal. Norfolk harbor is blocked
up to prevent the United States ships getting away; and at the same time we
hear that the Unites States officer commanding at the arsenal of Harper's Ferry
has retired into Pennsylvania, after destroying the place by fire. How “old
John Brown” would have wondered and rejoiced, had he lived a few months longer!
SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and
South, p. 122-4
