William Gilmore Simms to William Porcher Miles, probably January 13, 1861

Sunday¹ Night, 12 P. M.

I am sleepless, my dear Miles, and must write. If you should be sleepless also, it is not improbable but that my letters will help you to a soporific condition. It seems to me that you will have a little respite. The opening fire upon the Star of the West changes materially the aspect of things to the Federal government, and they will hardly think to send supplies to Sumter except under cover of armed vessels, which is the inauguration of open war upon the State, which the President and cabinet will hardly attempt unless under authority of Congress. Congress alone, I believe, has the power to declare war. There is no telling, however, what may be done when the power is under the hands of a weak administration, counseled and governed, in fact, by a person whose whole training has endowed [him] with military ideas as paramount to all.² We must, of course, prepare for two dangers, treachery and assault. But it strikes me that the unexpected fire of Fort Morris will compel a pause in the Federal councils, for the better maturing of plans, and some respite for preparation will be allowed you. Not an hour should be lost in preparation. To have numerous guns, to bear equally upon an assailing squadron and Fort Sumter, seems to be the necessity. Looking at the map, I note that Mount Pleasant is distant from Fort Sumter some two miles, while I estimate Moultrie to be some one and a quarter. A battery at Mount Pleasant, cutting the western angle of Sullivan's Island, seems to be in direct range with Sumter, and if within reach of heavy cannon, then a battery of earth at this point, with half a dozen thirty-two pounders, might operate successfully against it, at all events compel a very useful diversion of its fires. So I find that on the sandhills below Fort Johnson, and on the sandhills at the extreme western verge of Fort Morris, batteries of say three heavy cannon each might face Fort Sumter, framed of logs faced with iron and filled in with sand, which could contribute largely to its distraction, if not its injury. On these sandhills, also, you possess an advantage in their elevation, which will tend to reduce the superiority of Sumter in height. Two or three batteries along these hills and at these points, mere bastions, having two or three guns each of heavy calibre, could be thrown up very suddenly, assuming, as I do, that you can command, from the popular patriotism, any amount of slave labor. I would have them so planted as not to face the portholes of Sumter, yet be able to take them at an angle. Shot entering a porthole obliquely would be more mischievous, perhaps, than if direct, since the zigzag course they would pursue would be likely to kill every man on one side or other of the guns, besides abrading the embrasure very seriously. In reference to Wappoo Cut, let me mention that, as the obvious entrance to that cut is by the Stono, there is an old fort, once thought a pretty strong one, at the mouth of the Stono, on Cole's Island. This might be manned by volunteers from the precinct, officered by some good military man. It covers Bird Key [?] and is very well placed, though still, I think, it would be good policy to stop up Wappoo Cut, or keep an armed schooner in Ashley River, at the mouth of it. I am writing, you perceive, without the slightest knowledge of what has been done; and it is quite probable that all my suggestions have been anticipated. If, however, you fancy there is anything in them, communicate with Jamison and any military friends on whose judgment you rely. Ranging timbers properly mortised might be prepared by the mechanics of the city, and the iron bars laid on, if desired, before shipment to the desired points. It is my impression that old Fort Johnson ranges Moultrie in the same line with Sumter. If so, it is a question how far it would be proper to use the former place with heavy cannon which might range across the strait. You should employ all the heavy cannon you can. Jamison told me that you had an abundance. Unless Fort Morris has numerous pieces, she could hardly play any efficient game with many assailing vessels. I do not know where Fort Morris is placed, but suppose it to be fronting equally the Ship and the Twelve-feet channel. In that event, unless the sandhills interpose, it is under the range of Fort Sumter, provided the distance be within three miles, as I suppose it to be. I should have said four, but for the threat of Anderson to fire on Fort Morris. A battery between Fort Morris and the Lighthouse, on the edge of the sandhills, might rake the Ship Channel with a plunging fire, yet I should think be out of range and even sight of Fort Sumter. I think I said, in a previous letter, that in sighting the guns for long distances telescopes should be used; of course, I meant only the ordinary ship spyglasses, of which a sufficient number for each battery could be obtained in the city. With another battery to second Fort Morris, each of twelve guns at least, and heavy ones, you could give a telling account of all entering vessels. They might all be sunk with good gunnery. But two shot only taking effect out of eighteen fired, would seem to show that the gunnery was not sufficiently practiced. I write only from report. To-night, I learn that (on dit) there has been a mutiny in Fort Sumtsr, and that Anderson has had to shoot one of his men, and put ten more in irons; and that this was the reason why he did not fire on Forts Morris and Moultrie. By the “Mercury” it is said that some negotiations are on foot which will prevent bloodshed. The inference is that Fort Sumter will be given up. This is hardly probable. I suspect treachery. We should suspect nothing else. Anderson wishes communication with the city. If opportunity is allowed him to see what we are doing, or to hear of it, or if he is allowed to corrupt mercenaries, we shall have worse mischief. We must not be too confiding, too easy of faith, too courteous, even to an enemy, who, if he had the right feeling, would at once resign his command and throw up his position on the distinct ground of his Southern birth and associations. He should be kept corked up closely, until we are quite ready to draw him off. If he still keep his position, and we are to have an attempt by the war steamers, Fort Sumter must and will take part in it; the vital point is how to neutralize his action in the engagement. I see but the one suggested, to keep as many batteries at work on him, breaching and otherwise, and a cloud of vessels and men ready for scaling, as will effectively divert his regards from those forts which are designed for the defense of the harbor. And unless Fort Morris be made strong in guns, I see that vessels of heavy draft in deep water may shell it ad libitum, while the smaller craft passes in. I am very doubtful whether a fort on the east end of Sullivan's can do more than cover the Maffit and Rattlesnake channels, if these. It can hardly do much mischief to vessels entering the Ship Channel. Something will depend upon the calibre of its guns. Do, if you can spare a half hour, write me, in charity, how we stand, and with what degree of preparation, and believe me

W. GlLMORE SlMMS

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¹ Probably the Sunday that followed the firing on the Star of the West, i. e. January 13, 1861.

² It seems plain that Simms here alludes to General Winfield Scott. Cass had had a military training, hut he had resigned from the Cabinet when the above was written.

SOURCE: William Peterfield Trent, William Gilmore Simms, p. 255-60

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: April 20, 1861

CAMDEN, S. C. — Home again at Mulberry. In those last days of my stay in Charleston I did not find time to write a word.

And so we took Fort Sumter, nous autres; we — Mrs. Frank Hampton, and others — in the passageway of the Mills House between the reception-room and the drawing-room, for there we held a sofa against all comers. All the agreeable people South seemed to have flocked to Charleston at the first gun. That was after we had found out that bombarding did not kill anybody. Before that, we wept and prayed and took our tea in groups in our rooms, away from the haunts of men.

Captain Ingraham and his kind also took Fort Sumter — from the Battery with field-glasses and figures made with their sticks in the sand to show what ought to be done.

Wigfall, Chesnut, Miles, Manning, took it rowing about the harbor in small boats from fort to fort under the enemy's guns, with bombs bursting in air.

And then the boys and men who worked those guns so faithfully at the forts — they took it, too, in their own way. Old Colonel Beaufort Watts told me this story and many more of the jeunesse dorée under fire. They took the fire easily, as they do most things. They had cotton bag bomb-proofs at Fort Moultrie, and when Anderson's shot knocked them about some one called out “Cotton is falling.” Then down went the kitchen chimney, loaves of bread flew out, and they cheered gaily, shouting, “Breadstuffs are rising.”

Willie Preston fired the shot which broke Anderson's flag-staff. Mrs. Hampton from Columbia telegraphed him, “Well done, Willie!” She is his grandmother, the wife, or widow, of General Hampton, of the Revolution, and the mildest, sweetest, gentlest of old ladies. This shows how the war spirit is waking us all up.

Colonel Miles (who won his spurs in a boat, so William Gilmore Simms¹ said) gave us this characteristic anecdote. They met a negro out in the bay rowing toward the city with some plantation supplies, etc. “Are you not afraid of Colonel Anderson's cannon?” he was asked. “No, sar, Mars Anderson ain't daresn't hit me; he know Marster wouldn't 'low it.”

I have been sitting idly to-day looking out upon this beautiful lawn, wondering if this can be the same world I was in a few days ago. After the smoke and the din of the battle, a calm.

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¹ William Gilmore Simms, the Southern novelist, was born in Charleston in 1806. He was the author of a great many volumes dealing with Southern life, and at one time they were widely read.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 42-3