Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: March 25, 1864

Raining moderately.

Yesterday Mr. Miles, member of Congress from South Carolina, received a dispatch from Charleston, signed by many of the leading citizens, protesting against the removal of 52 companies of cavalry from that department to Virginia. They say so few will be left that the railroads, plantations, and even the City of Charleston will be exposed to the easy capture of the enemy; and this is “approved” and signed by T. Jordan, Chief of Staff. It was given to the Secretary of War, who sent it to Gen. Bragg, assuring him that the citizens signing it were the most influential in the State, etc.

Gen. Bragg sent it back with an indignant note. He says the President gave the order, and it was a proper one. These companies of cavalry have not shared the hardships of the war, and have done no fighting; more cavalry has been held by Gen. Beauregard, in proportion to the number of his army, than by any other general; that skeleton regiments, which have gone through fire and blood, ought to be allowed to relieve them; and when recruited, would be ample for the defense of the coast, etc. Gen. Bragg concluded by saying that the offense of having the military orders of the commander-in-chief, etc. exposed to civilians, to be criticised and protested against—and “approved” by the Chief of Staff—at such a time as this, and in a matter of such grave importance—ought not to be suffered to pass without a merited rebuke. And I am sure poor Beauregard will get the rebuke; for all the military and civil functionaries near the government partake of something of a dislike of him.

And yet Beauregard was wrong to make any stir about it; and the President himself only acted in accordance with Gen. Lee's suggestions, noted at the time in this Diary.

Gen. Polk writes from Dunapolis that he will have communications with Jackson restored in a few days, and that the injury to the railroads was not so great as the enemy represented.

Mr. Memminger, the Secretary of the Treasury, is in a black Dutch fury. It appears that his agent, C. C. Thayer, with $15,000,000 Treasury notes for disbursement in Texas, arrived at the mouth of the Rio Grande in December, when the enemy had possession of Brownsville, and when Matamoras was in revolution. He then conferred with Mr. Benjamin's friend (and Confederate States secret agent) Mr. Quintero, and Quartermaster Russell, who advised him to deposit the treasure with P. Milmo & Co.—a house with which our agents have had large transactions, and Mr. M. being son-in-law to Gov. Vidurri—to be shipped to Eagle Pass via Monterey to San Antonio, etc.

But alas! and alas! P. Milmo & Co., upon being informed that fifteen millions were in their custody, notified our agents that they. would seize it all, and hold it all, until certain alleged claims they held against the Confederate States Government were paid. Mr. Quintero, who sends this precious intelligence, says he thinks the money will soon be released—and so do I, when it is ascertained that it will be of no value to any of the parties there.

Mr. Memminger, however, wants Quartermaster Russell cashiered, and court-martialed, and, moreover, decapitated

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 176-7

Statement of Messrs. Miles And Keitt, of what Transpired Between the President and the South Carolina Delegation, between January 1 & 14, 1861

In compliance with the request of the Convention, we beg leave to make the following statement:

On Saturday, the 8th of December, several of the South Carolina delegation, including ourselves, waited upon the President. At this time, there was a growing belief that reinforcements were on the eve of being sent to the forts in Charleston harbor. It was known that the subject was frequently and earnestly discussed in the Cabinet. It was rumored that General Cass and Mr. Holt were urgent that reinforcements should be sent. Upon our being announced, the President, who was then in Cabinet Council, came out to us in the ante-room. We at once entered into a conversation upon the topic, which was so closely occupying his thoughts as well as ours. The President seemed much disturbed and moved. He told us that he had had a painful interview with the wife of Major Anderson, who had come on from New York to see him. She had manifested great anxiety and distress at the situation of her husband, whom she seemed to consider in momentary danger of an attack from an excited and lawless mob. The President professed to feel a deep responsibility resting upon him to protect the lives of Major Anderson and his command. We told him that the news that reinforcements were on their way to Charleston, would be the surest means of provoking what Mrs. Anderson apprehended, and what he so much deprecated. We said, further, that we did not believe that Major Anderson was in any danger of such an attack; that the general sentiment of the State was against any such proceeding. That, prior to the action of the State Convention, then only ten days off, we felt satisfied that there would be no attempt to molest the forts in any way. That, after the Convention met, — while we could not possibly undertake to say what that body would see fit to do, — we yet hoped and believed that nothing would be done until we had first endeavored, by duly accredited Commissioners, to negotiate for a peaceful settlement of all matters, including the delivery of the forts, between South Carolina and the Federal Government. At the same time, we again reiterated our solemn belief that any change in the then existing condition of things in Charleston harbor, would, in the excited state of feeling at home, inevitably precipitate a collision. The impression made upon us was, that the President was wavering, and had not decided what course he would pursue. He said he was glad to have had this conversation with us, but would prefer that we should give him a written memorandum of the substance of what we had said. This we did on Monday, the 10th. It was in these words:

Commissioners of the State of South Carolina to James Buchanan, December 9, 1860

The President did not like the word “provided,” because it looked as if we were binding him while avowing that we had no authority to commit the Convention. We told him that we did not so understand it. We were expressing our convictions and belief, predicated upon the maintenance of a certain condition of things, which maintenance was absolutely, and entirely in his power. If he maintained such condition, then we believed that collision would be avoided until the attempt at a peaceable negotiation had failed. If he did not, then we solemnly assured him that we believed collision must inevitably, and at once, be precipitated. He seemed satisfied, and said it was not his intention to send reinforcements, or make any change. We explained to him what we meant by the words '”relative military status,” as applied to the forts; mentioned the difference between Major Anderson's occupying his then position at Fort Moultrie, and throwing himself into Fort Sumter. We stated that the latter step would be equivalent to reinforcing the garrison, and would just as certainly as the sending of fresh troops, lead to the result which we both desired to avoid. When we rose to go, the President said in substance, “After all, this is a matter of honor among gentlemen. I do not know that any paper or writing is necessary. We understand each other.” One of the delegation, just before leaving the room, remarked, “Mr. President, you have determined to let things remain as they are, and not to send reinforcements; but, suppose that you were hereafter to change jour policy for any reason, what then? That would put us, who are willing to use our personal influence to prevent any attack upon the forts before Commissioners are sent on to Washington, in rather an embarrassing position.” “Then,” said the President, “I would first return you this paper.” We do not pretend to give the exact words on either side, but we are sure we give the sense of both.

The above is a full and exact account of what passed between the President and the delegation. The President, in his letter to our Commissioners, tries to give the impression that our “understanding” or “agreement” was not a “pledge.” We confess, we are not sufficiently versed in the wiles of diplomacy to feel the force of this “distinction without a difference.” Nor can we understand how, in “a matter of honor among gentlemen,” in which “no paper or writing is necessary,” the very party who was willing to put it on that high footing can honorably descend to mere verbal criticism, to purge himself of what all gentlemen and men of honour must consider a breach of faith. The very fact that we (the representatives from South Carolina) were not authorized to commit or “pledge” the State, were not treating with the President as accredited ministers with full powers, but as gentlemen assuming, to a certain extent, the delicate task of' undertaking to foreshadow the course and policy of the State, should have made the President the more ready to strengthen our hands to bring about and carry out that course and policy which he professed to have as much at heart as we had. While we were not authorized to say that the Convention would not order the occupation of the forts immediately after secession, and prior to the sending on of Commissioners, the President, as Commander-in-chief of the Army and Navy of the United States, could most positively say, that so long as South Carolina abstained from attacking and seizing the forts, he would not send reinforcements to them, or allow their relative military status to be changed. We were acting in the capacity of gentlemen holding certain prominent positions, and anxious to exert such influence as we might possess, to effect a peaceful solution of pending political difficulties, and prevent, if possible, the horrors of war. The President was acting in a double capacity; not only as a gentleman, whose influence in carrying out his share of the understanding, or agreement, was potential, but as the head of the army, and, therefore, having the absolute control of the whole matter of reinforcing or transferring the garrison at Charleston. But we have dwelt long enough upon this point. Suffice it to say, that considering the President as bound in honor, if not by treaty stipulation, not to make any change in the forts, or to send reinforcements to them, unless they were attacked, we of the delegation who were elected to the Convention, felt equally bound in honor to do everything on our part to prevent any premature collision. This Convention can bear us witness as to whether or not we endeavored honorably to carry out our share of the agreement.

The published debates at the very commencement of the session, contain the evidence of our good faith. We trusted the President. We believed his wishes concurred with his policy, and that both were directed to avoiding any inauguration of hostilities. We were confirmed in our confidence, and reassured in our belief by a significant event which took place subsequent to our interview. He allowed his premier Cabinet officer, an old and tried friend to resign, rather than yield to his solicitations for the reinforcement of the garrison at Charleston. We urged this as a convincing proof of his firmness and sincerity. But how have we been deceived! The news of Major Anderson's coup produced a sudden and unexpected change in the President's policy. While declaring that his withdrawal from Fort Moultrie to Fort Sumter was “without orders, and contrary to orders,” he yet refused, for twelve hours, to take any action in the matter. For twelve hours, therefore, without any excuse, he refused to redeem his plighted word. No subsequent acts on the part of our State — no after reasons — can wipe away the stain which he suffered to rest upon his “honor as a gentleman,” while those hours, big with portentous events, rolled slowly by. His Secretary of War, impatient of a delay, every moment of which he felt touched his own honor, resigned. He did so solely on the ground that the faith of the government — solemly pledged — was broken, if it failed promptly to undo what had been done contrary to its wishes — against its settled policy — and in violation of its distinct agreement. The President accepted his resignation without comment. He did not attempt to disabuse the mind of his Secretary as to what was the true position of the Government. What a spectacle does the President's vacillating and disingenuous course present! He allows one Secretary to resign rather than abandon a policy which he has agreed upon. Scarcely have a few short weeks elapsed, and he accepts the resignation of another, rather than adhere to that very policy. He makes an agreement with gentlemen which, while he admits that they have faithfully kept it on their part, he himself evades and repudiates. And this he does rather than redress a wrong — correct an error — what he himself considers an error — committed by a subordinate, without his orders, and contrary to his wishes! It was at least due to Mr. Floyd, who, as one of his Cabinet, had officially and personally stood by his administration from its very commencement — through good report, and through evil report — to have explained to him that he was, in the President's opinion, laboring under a misapprehension. At least, to have said to him, “you are mistaken about this matter — do not leave me on a false issue.” But no; he coldly, ungraciously, yet promptly, receives the resignation without a syllable of remonstrance, and thus tacitly, but unequivocally, accepts without shame the issue presented. He does not deny that the faith of his government is pledged, but he deliberately refuses to redeem it.

WM. PORCHER MILES.

LAURENCE M. KEITT.

SOURCE: The Correspondence Between the Commissioners of the State of So. Ca. to the Government at Washington and the President of the United States, p. 21-6, Published in The Richmond Daily Dispatch, Richmond, Virginia, January 14, 1861, p. 1

Commissioners of the State of South Carolina to James Buchanan, December 9, 1860

To His Excellency James Buchanan,

President of the United States:

In compliance with our statement to you yesterday, we now express to you our strong convictions that neither the constituted authorities, nor any body of the people of the State of South Carolina, will either attack or molest the United States Forts, in the harbor of Charleston, previously to the action of the Convention, and we hope and believe, not until an offer has been made, through an accredited representative, to negotiate for an amicable arrangement of all matters between the State and the Federal Government, provided that no reinforcements shall be sent into those forts, and their relative military status shall remain as at present.

Jno. Mcqueen,

Wm. Porcher Miles,

M. L. BonHam,

W. W. BOYCE,

LAWRENCE M. KEITT.

Washington, 9th Dec, 1860.

SOURCE: The Correspondence Between the Commissioners of the State of So. Ca. to the Government at Washington and the President of the United States, p. 7

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: August 20, 1863

A few weeks ago Gen. Cooper wrote to Bragg, suggesting that he advance into Middle Tennessee, reinforced by Gen. Johnston, and attack Rosecrans; Gen. Bragg replied (8th inst.) that with all the reinforcements he could get from Johnston, he would not have more than 40,000 effective men, while Rosecrans has 60,000, and will be reinforced by Burnside with 30,000 more — making 90,000 against 40,000 — and as a true patriot he was opposed to throwing away our armies in enterprises sure to terminate disastrously. He said, moreover, that the enemy could starve him out, if he were to advance to the place designated, and thus destroy his army without a battle. Gen. Cooper sent this response to the President, asking if Bragg should not be ordered to fight under such circumstances. But the President paused, in following the guidance of this Northern man at the head of all our Southern generals — and to-day sent back the paper indorsed that “only a suggestion could be given to a commanding general to fight a battle; but to order him to fight when he predicted a failure in advance, would be unwise.”

A paper from Beauregard intimates that even if batteries Wagner and Gregg should be taken by the enemy, he has constructed another which will render that part of Morris Island untenable. But he relied upon holding Sumter; and there is a vague rumor to-day that Sumter must surrender—if indeed it has not already been reduced.

Hon Wm. Porcher Miles writes another most urgent letter, demanding reinforcements of seasoned troops. He says Charleston was stripped of troops against the remonstrances of Beauregard to send to Mississippi — to no avail — which invited this attack; and now he asks that Jenkins's brigade of South Carolinians be sent to the defense; that South Carolinians are fighting in Virginia, but are not permitted to defend their native soil in the hour of extremity; and that if the enemy, with overwhelming numbers, should take James's Island, they would, from thence, be able to destroy the city. We are looking with anxiety for further news from Charleston.

Gen. Maury writes from Mobile that he has seized, in the hands of Steever (who is he ?), receipts for 4000 bales of cotton — orders for 150 bonds, each £225 sterling, and two bags of coin, $10,000. The President indorses on the paper that the money had better be turned over to the Secretary of the Treasury. What is all this?

The Secretary sent a paper to the President relating to some novel action performed or proposed, asking his “instructions.” The President returned it to-day indorsed, “The Secretary's advice invited.” How in the mischief can such non-committalists ever arrive at a conclusion?

Hon. E. S. Dargan writes that if Pemberton be restored to command (as he understands this to be the government's purpose), our cause is ruined beyond redemption. I say so too. When he made up his mind to surrender, it is unpardonable that he did not destroy the 50,000 stand of arms before he made any overture. I shall never forgive him!

The signal officers report that three large ocean steamers passed down the Potomac day before yesterday, having on board 1000 men each; and that many large steamers are constantly going up —perhaps for more.

Brig.-Gen. Roger A. Pryor, after dancing attendance in the ante-rooms for six months, waiting assignment to a command, has resigned, and his resignation has been accepted. He says he can at least serve in the ranks as a private. The government don't like aspiring political generals. Yet Pryor was first a colonel, and member of Congress — resigned his seat — resigned his brigadier-generalship, and is now a private.

Our cause is dim in Europe, if it be true, as the Northern papers report, that the Confederate loan has sunken from par to 35 per cent, discount since the fall of Vicksburg.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 19-20

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: August 5, 1863

A letter from Hon. W. Porcher Miles to the Secretary of War, received the 15th July, urging the government to send some long-range Brooke guns for the salvation of Charleston, and saying that the President had once promised him that they should be sent thither, being sent by the Secretary to the President, was, to-day, August 5th, returned by the President, with a paper from the Secretary of the Navy, showing that, at the time Mr. Miles says he was promised the Brooke guns, there were really none on hand. Thus Mr. Miles has been caught by the President, after the lapse of twenty days! It is not denied, even by the Secretary of the Navy, that long-range guns were on hand at the time — but there were no Brooke guns, simply. Thus while Charleston's fate hangs trembling in the balance, and the guns are idle here, twenty days are fruitlessly spent. Mr. Miles appears to be a friend of Beauregard. Every letter that general sends to the department is sure to put twenty clerks at work in the effort to pick flaws in his accuracy of statement.

A report of the ordnance officers of Bragg's army shows that in the late retreat (without a battle) from Shelbyville to Chattanooga, the army lost some 6000 arms and between 200,000 and 300,000 cartridges!

Our naval commanders are writing that they cannot get seamen —and at Mobile half are on the sick list.

Lee writes that his men are in good fighting condition — if he only had enough of them. Of the three corps, one is near Fredericksburg (this side the river), one at Orange C. H., and one at Gordonsville. I doubt if there will be another battle for a month. Meantime the Treasury notes continue to depreciate, and all the necessaries of life advance in price — but they do not rise in proportion.

The Examiner had a famous attack on the President to-day (from the pen, I think, of a military man, on Gen. Scott's staff, when Mr. Davis was Secretary of War), for alleged stubbornness and disregard of the popular voice; for appointing Pemberton, Holmes, Mallory, etc., with a side fling at Memminger.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 5-6

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 20, 1863

Nothing from Lee or from Johnston, except that the latter has abandoned Jackson. From Bragg's army, I learn that a certain number of regiments were moving from Chattanooga toward Knoxville — and I suspect their destination is Lee's army.

But we have a dispatch from Beauregard, stating that he has again repulsed an attack of the enemy on the battery on Morris Island with heavy loss — perhaps 1500 — while his is trifling.

A thousand of the enemy's forces were in Wytheville yesterday, and were severely handled by 130 of the home guards. They did but little injury to the railroad, and burned a few buildings.

An indignant letter has been received from the Hon. W. Porcher Miles, who had applied for a sub-lieutenancy for Charles Porcher, who had served with merit in the 1st South Carolina Artillery, and was his relative. It seems that the President directed the Secretary to state that the appointment could not be given him because he was not 21 years of age. To this Mr. M. replies that several minors in the same regiment have been appointed. I think not.

Governor Brown writes a long letter, protesting against the decision of the Confederate States Government, that the President shall appoint the colonel for the 51st Georgia Regiment, which the Governor says is contrary to the Confederate States Constitution. He will resist it.

A Mrs. Allen, a lady of wealth here, has been arrested for giving information to the enemy. Her letters were intercepted. She is confined at the asylum St. Francis de Sales. The surgeon who attends there reports to-day that her mental excitement will probably drive her to madness. Her great fear seems to be that she will be soon sent to a common prison. There is much indignation that she should be assigned to such comfortable quarters — and I believe the Bishop (McGill) protests against having criminals imprisoned in his religious edifices. It is said she has long been sending treasonable letters to Baltimore — but the authorities do not have the names of her letter-carriers published. No doubt they had passports.

A letter from Lee's army says we lost 10,000 in the recent battle, killed, wounded, and prisoners. We took 11,000 prisoners and 11 guns.

Thank Heaven! we have fine weather after nearly a month's rain. It may be that we shall have better fortune in the field now.

Some of the bankers had an interview with the government today. Unless we can achieve some brilliant success, they cannot longer keep our government notes from depreciating, down to five cents on the dollar. They are selling for only ten cents now, in gold. In vain will be the sale of a million of government gold in the effort to keep it up.

Gen. Morgan, like a comet, has shot out of the beaten track of the army, and after dashing deeply into Indiana, the last heard of him he was in Ohio, near Cincinnati. He was playing havoc with steam-boats, and capturing fine horses. He has some 3000 men we cannot afford to lose — but I fear they will be lost.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 383-4

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 19, 1863

We have no news this morning. But a rumor prevails, which cannot be traced to any authentic source, that Texas has put herself under the protection of France. It is significant, because public sentiment seems to acquiesce in such a measure; and I have not met with any who do not express a wish that it may be so. Texas, Louisiana, and Arkansas are now isolated, and no protection or aid can be given them by the government here; and it is natural, after the fall of New Orleans and Vicksburg, for the people to hope that the invaders may be deprived of their prey just at the moment when they anticipated a realization of its enjoyment.

Hon.Wm. Porcher Miles writes that, after consultation, the officers have decided that it would be impracticable to hold Morris Island, even if the enemy were driven from it at the point of the bayonet. Therefore they call loudly for Brooke guns of long range, and guns of large calibre for Sumter, so that the fort may prevent the enemy from erecting batteries in breaching distance. They say, in their appeal, that since the fall of Vicksburg there is no other place (but one) to send them. They are now idle in Richmond. I understand the Secretary of War, etc. are in consultation on the subject, and I hope the President will, at last, yield to Gen. Beauregard's demands.

Gen. Maury also writes for guns and ordnance stores for the defense of Mobile, which may be attacked next. He will get them.

If the insurrection in New York lives, and resistance to conscription should be general in the North, our people will take fresh hope, and make renewed efforts to beat back the mighty armies of the foe — suffering, and more than decimated, as we are.

But if not — if Charleston and Richmond and Mobile should fall, a peace (submission) party will spring up. Nevertheless, the fighting population would still resist, retiring into the interior and darting out occasionally, from positions of concentration, at the exposed camps of the enemy.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 382-3

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: May 19, 1863

A dispatch from Gen. Johnston says a battle has been fought between Pemberton and Grant, between Jackson and Vicksburg, Mississippi, which lasted nine hours. Pemberton was forced back. This is all we know yet.

Another letter, from Hon. W. Porcher Miles, remonstrating against the withdrawal of Beauregard's troops, was received today. He apprehends the worst consequences.

The government is buying 5000 bales of cotton for the Crenshaw scheme. Jas. R. Crenshaw, of this city, is at Charleston on this business. Why not arrange with Lamar?

Gov. Shorter forwards another strongly written memorial from Mobile, against the traffic of cotton with the enemy, and, indeed, against all blockade-running.

Gov. Jno. Milton, of Florida, also writes a powerful denunciation of the illicit traffic, which it seems the policy of the government has been to encourage. They all say this traffic is doing the work of subjugation more effectually than the arms of the enemy.

The President is too ill again to come to the Executive Office. His messenger, who brought me some papers this morning, says he is in a “decline.” I think he has been ill every day for several years, but this has been his most serious attack. No doubt he is also worried at the dark aspects in his own State — Mississippi.

If Vicksburg falls, and the Valley be held by the enemy, then the Confederacy will be curtailed of half its dimensions Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Arkansas, Missouri, Arizona, New Mexico, all the Indian country, Kentucky, half of Tennessee, one-third of Virginia, Eastern North Carolina, and sundry islands, etc. of South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida, will be wrested from us. What will remain of the Confederacy? Two-thirds of Virginia, half of Tennessee, the greater part of North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, and the whole of Alabama, — less than six States! But still the war will go on, as long as we have brave armies and great generals, whether the President lives or dies.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 327-8

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: May 14, 1863

We have been beaten in an engagement near Jackson, Miss., 4000 retiring before 10,000. This is a dark cloud over the hopes of patriots, for Vicksburg is seriously endangered. Its fall would be the worst blow we have yet received.

Papers from New York and Philadelphia assert most positively, and with circumstantiality, that Hooker recrossed the Rappahannock since the battle, and is driving Lee toward Richmond, with which his communications have been interrupted. But this is not all: they say Gen. Keyes marched a column up the Peninsula, and took Richmond itself, over the Capitol of which the Union flag “is now flying.” These groundless statements will go out to Europe, and may possibly delay our recognition. If so, what may be the consequences when the falsehood is exposed? I doubt the policy of any species of dishonesty.

Gov. Shorter, of Alabama, demands the officers of Forrest's captives for State trial, as they incited the slaves to insurrection.

Mr. S. D. Allen writes from Alexandria, La., that the people despair of defending the Mississippi Valley with such men as Pemberton and other hybrid Yankees in command. He denounces the action also of quartermasters and commissaries in the Southwest.

A letter from Hon. W. Porcher Miles to the Secretary of War gives an extract from a communication written him by Gen. Beauregard, to the effect that Charleston must at last fall into the hands of the enemy, if an order which has been sent there, for nearly all his troops to proceed to Vicksburg, be not revoked. There are to be left for the defense of Charleston only 1500 exclusive of the garrisons!

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 324

Official Reports of the Operations in Charleston Harbor, S. C., December 20, 1860 – April 14, 1861: No. 26. – Joint reports of Maj. D. R. Jones, Assistant Adjutant-General, C. S. Army; and Col. Charles Allston, jr., Commander H. T. Hartstene, C. S. Navy, and Messrs. William Porcher Miles and Roger A. Pryor, aides-de-camp

No. 26.

Joint reports of Maj. D. R. Jones, Assistant Adjutant-General, C. S. Army; and Col. Charles Allston, jr., Commander H. T. Hartstene, C. S. Navy,  and Messrs. William Porcher Miles and Roger A. Pryor, aides-de-camp.

CHARLESTON, April 15, 1861.

SIR: We, the undersigned, beg leave to submit the following report of our visit to Fort Sumter, and of our interview with Major Anderson, on Saturday, the 13th instant, in obedience to your orders.

We arrived at the fort about a quarter to 3 o'clock p.m.; were met at the wharf by Captain Seymour, and were at once conducted to the presence of Major Anderson. We informed him that we came from you to say that, on learning the fort was in flames, and his flag down, you had sent Colonels Miles and Pryor and Captain Lee, members of your staff, to offer any assistance in your power, and that as soon as his flag of truce was hoisted you sent us to receive any propositions he might wish to make. Major Anderson said an exceedingly disagreeable and embarrassing mistake had occurred; that his flagstaff had been shot down, but that as soon as it could be done his flag was again hoisted.

Just at this time it was reported to him that General Wigfall was outside the fort demanding to see the commanding officer. Major Anderson said that he went out and met General Wigfall, who told him that he came from General Beauregard to demand the surrender of the fort, and urged Major Anderson to haul down his flag and run up a flag of truce; that General Beauregard would give him the same terms offered before the conflict began. Major Anderson then stated that he was much surprised to learn from Colonels Miles and Pryor and Captain Lee, who had arrived at the fort soon after he had lowered his flag, that although General Wigfall was on the staff of General Beauregard, he had been two days away from him, and was acting on the staff of some general on Morris Island; that as soon as he (Major Anderson) learned this, he told Captain Lee that he would immediately run up his flag and recommence his firing.

Major Anderson then read to us a note which he had sent to you by the hands of Captain Lee, in which he said that he would surrender the fort on the same terms offered by you in your letter to him on the 11th instant. On learning this we told him that we were authorized to offer him those terms, excepting only the clause relating to the salute to the flag, to which Major Anderson replied it would be exceedingly gratifying to him, as well as to his command, to be permitted to salute their flag, having so gallantly defended the fort under such trying circumstances, and hoped that General Beauregard would not refuse it, as such a privilege was not unusual. We told him we were not authorized to grant that privilege, and asked him what his answer would be if not permitted to salute his flag. He said he would not urge the point, but would prefer to refer the matter again to you, and requested us to see you again and get your reply.

Major Anderson requested us to say to Governor Pickens and yourself that, as an evidence of his desire to save the public property as much as possible, he had three times on Friday and twice on Saturday sent his men up to extinguish the fire under the heavy fire of our batteries, and when the magazines were in imminent danger of being blown up.

We then returned to the city and reported to you substantially as above.

We have the honor to be, general, very respectfully, your obedient servants,

D. R. JONES,

Assistant Adjutant-General.

CHAS. ALLSTON, JR.,

Colonel and A. D.C.

Brig. Gen. G. T. BEAUREGARD,

Commanding Provisional Army.

_______________

CHARLESTON, S.C., April 14, 1861.

GENERAL: In accordance with your order we have the honor to take the following report:

On Saturday, April 13, at about 7 o'clock p.m., we proceeded to Fort Sumter by your order to arrange finally the conditions of the evacuation. We presented your communication to Major Anderson, who, after perusing it, read it aloud to his officers, all of whom, we believe, were present. The major expressed himself much gratified with the tenor of the communication and the generous terms agreed to by you. We inquired of Major Anderson when he desired to leave, He said as soon as possible, and suggested 9 o'clock the next morning. It was arranged that the Catawba or some other steamer should convey the major and his command either directly to New York or put them on board the United States fleet then lying outside the bar, according as one or the other plan might be agreed upon after a conference with the commander of the fleet. Major Anderson requested us to take Lieutenant Snyder down to the fleet for the purpose of arranging the matter. This Captain Hartstene undertook to do.

We have the honor to be, very respectfully, your obedient servants,

D. R. JONES,

Assistant Adjutant-General.

WM. PORCHER MILES,

R. A. PRYOR,

H. J. HARTSTENE, C. S. N,

Aides-de-Camp.

Brigadier-General BEAUREGARD,

Comdg. Provisional Army, C. S. A.

SOURCES: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 1 (Serial No. 1), p. 64-6; This report is quoted in Samuel Wylie Crawford’s The Genesis of the Civil War: The Story of Sumter, 1860-1861, p. 442.

Diary of William Howard Russell: April 21, 1861

In the afternoon I went with Mr. Porcher Miles to visit a small farm and plantation, some miles from the city, belonging to Mr. Crafts. Our arrival was unexpected, but the planter's welcome was warm. Mrs. Crafts showed us round the place, of which the beauties were due to nature rather than to art, and so far the lady was the fitting mistress of the farm.

We wandered through tangled brakes and thick Indian-like jungle, filled with disagreeable insects, down to the edge of a small lagoon. The beach was perforated with small holes, in which Mrs. Crafts said little crabs, called “fiddlers” from their resemblance in petto to a performer on the fiddle make their abode; but neither them nor “spotted snakes” did we see. And so to dinner, for which our hostess made needless excuses. “I am afraid I shall have to ask you to eke out your dinner with potted meats, but I can answer for Mr. Crafts giving you a bottle of good old wine.” “And what better, madam,” quoth Mr. Miles, “what better can you offer a soldier? What do we expect but grape and canister?”

Mr. Miles, who was formerly member of the United States Congress, and who has now migrated to the Confederate States of America, rendered himself conspicuous a few years ago when a dreadful visitation of yellow fever came upon Norfolk and destroyed one half of the inhabitants. At that terrible time, when all who could move were flying from the plague-stricken spot, Mr. Porcher Miles flew to it, visited the hospitals, tended the sick; and although a weakly, delicate man, gave an example of such energy and courage as materially tended to save those who were left. I never heard him say a word to indicate that he had been at Norfolk at all.

At the rear of the cottage-like residence (to the best of my belief built of wood), in which the planter's family lived, was a small enclosure, surrounded by a palisade, containing a number of wooden sheds, which were the negro quarters; and after dinner, as we sat on the steps, the children were sent for to sing for us. They came very shyly, and by degrees; first peeping round the corners and from behind trees, oftentimes running away in spite of the orders of their haggard mammies, till they were chased, captured, and brought back by their elder brethren. They were ragged, dirty, shoeless urchins of both sexes; the younger ones abdominous as infant Hindoos, and wild as if just caught. With much difficulty the elder children were dressed into line; then they began to shuffle their flat feet, to clap their hands, and to drawl out in a monotonous sort of chant something about the “River Jawdam,” after which Mrs. Crafts rewarded them with lumps of sugar, which were as fruitful of disputes as the apple of discord. A few fathers and mothers gazed at the scene from a distance.

As we sat listening to the wonderful song of the mockingbirds, when these young Sybarites had retired, a great, big, burly red-faced gentleman, as like a Yorkshire farmer in high perfection as any man I ever saw in the old country, rode up to the door, and, after the usual ceremony of introduction and the collating of news, and the customary assurance “They can't whip us, sir!” invited me then and there to attend a féte champétre at his residence, where there is a lawn famous for trees dating from the first settlement of the colony, and planted by this gentleman's ancestor.

Trees are objects of great veneration in America if they are of any size. There are perhaps two reasons for this. In the first place, the indigenous forest trees are rarely of any great magnitude. In the second place, it is natural to Americans to admire dimension and antiquity; and a big tree gratifies both organs — size and veneration.

I must record an astonishing feat of this noble Carolinian. The heat of the evening was indubitably thirst-compelling, and we went in to “have a drink.” Among other things on the table were a decanter of cognac and a flask of white curaçoa. The planter filled a tumbler half full of brandy. “What's in that flat bottle, Crafts?” “That's white curaçoa.” The planter tasted a little, and having smacked his lips and exclaimed “first-rate stuff,” proceeded to water his brandy with it, and tossed off a full brimmer of the mixture without any remarkable ulterior results. They are a hard-headed race. I doubt if cavalier or puritan ever drank a more potent bumper than our friend the big planter.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 125-7

Diary of William Howard Russell: April 20, 1861

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

Diary of William Howard Russell: April 16, 1861

Early next morning [the 16th], soon after dawn, I crossed the Cape Fear River, on which Wilmington is situated, by a steam ferry-boat. On the quay lay quantities of shot and shell. “How came these here?” I inquired. “They're anti-abolition pills,” said my neighbor; “they've been waiting here for two months back, but now that Sumter's taken, I guess they won't be wanted.” To my mind, the conclusion was by no means legitimate. From the small glance I had of Wilmington, with its fleet of schooners and brigs crowding the broad and rapid river, I should think it was a thriving place. Confederate flags waved over the public buildings, and I was informed that the forts had been seized without opposition or difficulty. I can see no sign here of the “affection to the Union,” which, according to Mr. Seward, underlies all “secession proclivities.”

As we traversed the flat and uninteresting country, through which the rail passes, Confederate flags and sentiments greeted us everywhere; men and women repeated the national cry; at every station militia-men and volunteers were waiting for the train, and the everlasting word “Sumter” ran through all the conversation in the cars.

The Carolinians are capable of turning out a fair force of cavalry. At each stopping-place I observed saddle-horses tethered under the trees, and light driving vehicles, drawn by wiry muscular animals, not remarkable for size, but strong-looking and active. Some farmers in blue jackets, and yellow braid and facings, handed round their swords to be admired by the company. A few blades had flashed in obscure Mexican skirmishes — one, however, had been borne against “the Britishers.” I inquired of a fine, tall, fair-haired young fellow whom they expected to fight. “That's more than I can tell,” quoth he. “The Yankees ain't such cussed fools as to think they can come here and whip us, let alone the British.” “Why, what have the British got to do with it?” “They are bound to take our part: if they don't, we'll just give them a hint about cotton, and that will set matters right.” This was said very much with the air of a man who knows what he is talking about, and who was quite satisfied “he had you there.” I found it was still displeasing to most people, particularly one or two of the fair sex, that more Yankees were not killed at Sumter. All the people who addressed me prefixed my name, which they soon found out, by “Major” or “Colonel” — “Captain” is very low, almost indicative of contempt. The conductor who took our tickets was called “Captain.”

At the Pedee River the rail is carried over marsh and stream on trestle work for two miles. “This is the kind of country we'll catch the Yankees in, if they come to invade us. They'll have some pretty tall swimming, and get knocked on the head, if ever they gets to land. I wish there was ten thousand of the cusses in it this minute.” At Nichol's station on the frontiers of South Carolina, our baggage was regularly examined at the Custom House, but I did not see any one pay duties. As the train approached the level and marshy land near Charleston, the square block of Fort Sumter was seen rising above the water with the “stars and bars” flying over it, and the spectacle created great enthusiasm among the passengers. The smoke was still rising from an angle of the walls. Outside the village-like suburbs of the city a regiment was marching for old Virginny amid the cheers of the people — cavalry were picketed in the fields and gardens — tents and men were visible in the by-ways.

It was nearly dark when we reached the station. I was recommended to go to the Mills House, and on arriving there found Mr. Ward, whom I had already met in New York and Washington, and who gave me an account of the bombardment and surrender of the fort. The hotel was full of notabilities. I was introduced to ex-Governor Manning, Senator Chestnut, Hon. Porcher Miles, on the staff of General Beauregard, and to Colonel Lucas, aide-de-camp to Governor Pickens. I was taken after dinner and introduced to General Beauregard, who was engaged, late as it was, in his room at the Head-Quarters writing despatches. The General is a small, compact man, about thirty-six years of age, with a quick, and intelligent eye and action, and a good deal of the Frenchman in his manner and look. He received me in the most cordial manner, and introduced me to his engineer officer, Major Whiting, whom he assigned to lead me over the works next day.

After some general conversation I took my leave; but before I went, the General said, “You shall go everywhere and see everything; we rely on your discretion, and knowledge of what is fair in dealing with what you see. Of course you don't expect to find regular soldiers in our camps or very scientific works.” I answered the General, that he might rely on my making no improper use of what I saw in this country, but, “unless you tell me to the contrary, I shall write an account of all I see to the other side of the water, and if, when it comes back, there are things you would rather not have known, you must not blame me.” He smiled, and said, “I dare say we'll have great changes by that time.”

That night I sat in the Charleston Club with John Manning. Who that has ever met him can be indifferent to the charms of manner and of personal appearance, which render the ex-Governor of the State so attractive? There were others present, senators or congressmen, like Mr. Chestnut and Mr. Porcher Miles. We talked long, and at last angrily, as might be between friends, of political affairs.

I own it was a little irritating to me to hear men indulge in extravagant broad menace and rodomontade, such as came from their lips. “They would welcome the world in arms with hospitable hands to bloody graves.” “They never could be conquered.” “Creation could not do it,” and so on. I was obliged to handle the question quietly at first — to ask them “if they admitted the French were a brave and warlike people!” “Yes, certainly.” “Do you think you could better defend yourselves against invasion than the people of France?” “Well, no; but we'd make it pretty hard business for the Yankees.” “Suppose the Yankees, as you call them, come with such preponderance of men and materiel, that they are three to your one, will you not be forced to submit?” “Never.” “Then either you are braver, better disciplined, more warlike than the people and soldiers of France, or you alone, of all the nations in the world, possess the means of resisting physical laws which prevail in war, as in other affairs of life.” “No. The Yankees are cowardly rascals. We have proved it by kicking and cuffing them till we are tired of it; besides, we know John Bull very well. He will make a great fuss about non-interference at first, but when he begins to want cotton he'll come off his perch.” I found this was the fixed idea everywhere. The doctrine of “cotton is king,” — to us who have not much considered the question a grievous delusion or an unmeaning babble — to them is a lively all-powerful faith without distracting heresies or schisms. They have in it enunciated their full belief, and indeed there is some truth in it, in so far as we year after year by the stimulants of coal, capital, and machinery have been working up a manufacture on which four or five millions of our population depend for bread and life, which cannot be carried on without the assistance of a nation, that may at any time refuse us an adequate supply, or be cut off from giving it by war.

Political economy, we are well aware, is a fine science, but its followers are capable of tremendous absurdities in practice. The dependence of such a large proportion of the English people on this sole article of American cotton is fraught with the utmost danger to our honor and to our prosperity. Here were these Southern gentlemen exulting in their power to control the policy of Great Britain, and it was small consolation to me to assure them they were mistaken; in case we did not act as they anticipated, it could not be denied Great Britain would plunge an immense proportion of her people — a nation of manufacturers — into pauperism, which must leave them dependent on the national funds, or more properly on the property and accumulated capital of the district.

About 8:30, P. M., a deep bell began to toll. “What is that?” "It's for all the colored people to clear out of the streets and go home. The guards will arrest any who are found out without passes in half an hour.” There was much noise in the streets, drums beating, men cheering, and marching, and the hotel is crammed full with soldiers.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 95-8

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: September 7, 1863

Major Edward Johnston did not get into the Confederacy until after the first battle of Manassas. For some cause, before he could evade that potentate, Seward rang his little bell and sent him to a prison in the harbor of New York. I forget whether he was exchanged or escaped of his own motion. The next thing I heard of my antebellum friend he had defeated Milroy in Western Virginia. There were so many Johnstons that for this victory they named him Alleghany Johnston.

He had an odd habit of falling into a state of incessant winking as soon as he became the least startled or agitated. In such times he seemed persistently to be winking one eye at you. He meant nothing by it, and in point of fact did not know himself that he was doing it. In Mexico he had been wounded in the eye, and the nerve vibrates independently of his will. During the winter of 1862 and 1863 he was on crutches. After a while he hobbled down Franklin Street with us, we proud to accommodate our pace to that of the wounded general. His ankle continued stiff; so when he sat down another chair had to be put before him. On this he stretched out his stiff leg, straight as a ramrod. At that time he was our only wounded knight, and the girls waited on him and made life pleasant for him.

One night I listened to two love-tales at once, in a distracted state of mind between the two. William Porcher Miles, in a perfectly modulated voice, in cadenced accents and low tones, was narrating the happy end of his affair. He had been engaged to sweet little Bettie Bierne, and I gave him my congratulations with all my heart. It was a capital match, suitable in every way, good for her, and good for him. I was deeply interested in Mr. Miles's story, but there was din and discord on the other hand; old Edward, our pet general, sat diagonally across the room with one leg straight out like a poker, wrapped in red carpet leggings, as red as a turkey-cock in the face. His head is strangely shaped, like a cone or an old-fashioned beehive; or, as Buck said, there are three tiers of it; it is like a pope's tiara.

There he sat, with a loud voice and a thousand winks, making love to Mary P. I make no excuse for listening. It was impossible not to hear him. I tried not to lose a word of Mr. Miles's idyl as the despair of the veteran was thundered into my other ear. I lent an ear to each conversationalist. Mary can not altogether control her voice, and her shrill screams of negation, “No, no, never,” etc., utterly failed to suppress her wounded lover's obstreperous asseverations of his undying affection for her.

Buck said afterward: “We heard every word of it on our side of the room, even when Mamie shrieked to him that he was talking too loud. Now, Mamie,” said we afterward, “do you think it was kind to tell him he was forty if he was a day?”

Strange to say, the pet general, Edward, rehabilitated his love in a day; at least two days after he was heard to say that he was “paying attentions now to his cousin, John Preston's second daughter; her name, Sally, but they called her Buck—Sally Buchanan Campbell Preston, a lovely girl.” And with her he now drove, rode, and hobbled on his crutches, sent her his photograph, and in due time cannonaded her, from the same spot where he had courted Mary, with proposals to marry him.

Buck was never so decided in her “Nos” as Mary. (“Not so loud, at least” — thus in amendment, says Buck, who always reads what I have written, and makes comments of assent or dissent.) So again he began to thunder in a woman's ears his tender passion. As they rode down Franklin Street, Buck says she knows the people on the sidewalk heard snatches of the conversation, though she rode as rapidly as she could, and she begged him not to talk so loud. Finally, they dashed up to our door as if they had been running a race. Unfortunate in love, but fortunate in war, our general is now winning new laurels with Ewell in the Valley or with the Army of the Potomac.

I think I have told how Miles, still “so gently o'er me leaning,” told of his successful love while General Edward Johnston roared unto anguish and disappointment over his failures. Mr. Miles spoke of sweet little Bettie Bierne as if she had been a French girl, just from a convent, kept far from the haunts of men wholly for him. One would think to hear him that Bettie had never cast those innocent blue eyes of hers on a man until he came along.

Now, since I first knew Miss Bierne in 1857, when Pat Calhoun was to the fore, she has been followed by a tale of men as long as a Highland chief's. Every summer at the Springs, their father appeared in the ballroom a little before twelve and chased the three beautiful Biernes home before him in spite of all entreaties, and he was said to frown away their too numerous admirers at all hours of the day.

This new engagement was confided to me as a profound secret. Of course, I did not mention it, even to my own household. Next day little Alston, Morgan's adjutant, and George Deas called. As Colonel Deas removed his gloves, he said: “Oh! the Miles and Bierne sensation — have you heard of it?” “No, what is the row about?” “They are engaged to be married; that's all.” “Who told you?” “Miles himself, as we walked down Franklin Street, this afternoon.” “And did he not beg you not to mention it, as Bettie did not wish it spoken of?” “God bless my soul, so he did. And I forgot that part entirely.”

Colonel Alston begged the stout Carolinian not to take his inadvertent breach of faith too much to heart. Miss Bettie's engagement had caused him a dreadful night. A young man, who was his intimate friend, came to his room in the depths of despair and handed him a letter from Miss Bierne, which was the cause of all his woe. Not knowing that she was already betrothed to Miles, he had proposed to her in an eloquent letter. In her reply, she positively stated that she was engaged to Mr. Miles, and instead of thanking her for putting him at once out of his misery, he considered the reason she gave as trebly aggravating the agony of the love-letter and the refusal. “Too late!” he yelled, “by Jingo!” So much for a secret.

Miss Bierne and I became fast friends. Our friendship was based on a mutual admiration for the honorable member from South Carolina. Colonel and Mrs. Myers and Colonel and Mrs. Chesnut were the only friends of Mr. Miles who were invited to the wedding. At the church door the sexton demanded our credentials. No one but those whose names he held in his hand were allowed to enter. Not twenty people were present — a mere handful grouped about the altar in that large church.

We were among the first to arrive. Then came a faint flutter and Mrs. Parkman (the bride's sister, swathed in weeds for her young husband, who had been killed within a year of her marriage) came rapidly up the aisle alone. She dropped upon her knees in the front pew, and there remained, motionless, during the whole ceremony, a mass of black crape, and a dead weight on my heart. She has had experience of war. A cannonade around Richmond interrupted her marriage service — a sinister omen — and in a year thereafter her bridegroom was stiff and stark — dead upon the field of battle.

While the wedding-march turned our thoughts from her and thrilled us with sympathy, the bride advanced in white satin and point d'Alençon. Mrs. Myers whispered that it was Mrs. Parkman's wedding-dress that the bride had on. She remembered the exquisite lace, and she shuddered with superstitious forebodings.

All had been going on delightfully in-doors, but a sharp shower cleared the church porch of the curious; and, as the water splashed, we wondered how we were to assemble ourselves at Mrs. McFarland's. All the horses in Richmond had been impressed for some sudden cavalry necessity a few days before. I ran between Mr. McFarland and Senator Semmes with my pretty Paris rose-colored silk turned over my head to save it, and when we arrived at the hospitable mansion of the McFarlands, Mr. McFarland took me straight into the drawing-room, man-like, forgetting that my ruffled plumes needed a good smoothing and preening.

Mrs. Lee sent for me. She was staying at Mrs. Caskie's. I was taken directly to her room, where she was lying on the bed. She said, before I had taken my seat: “You know there is a fight going on now at Brandy Station?”¹ “Yes, we are anxious. John Chesnut's company is there, too.” She spoke sadly, but quietly. “My son, Roony, is wounded; his brother has gone for him. They will soon be here and we shall know all about it unless Roony's wife takes him to her grandfather. Poor lame mother, I am useless to my children.” Mrs. Caskie said: “You need not be alarmed. The General said in his telegram that it was not a severe wound. You know even Yankees believe General Lee.”

That day, Mrs. Lee gave me a likeness of the General in a photograph taken soon after the Mexican War. She likes it so much better than the later ones. He certainly was a handsome man then, handsomer even than now. I shall prize it for Mrs. Lee's sake, too. She said old Mrs. Chesnut and her aunt, Nellie Custis (Mrs. Lewis) were very intimate during Washington's Administration in Philadelphia. I told her Mrs. Chesnut, senior, was the historical member of our family; she had so much to tell of Revolutionary times. She was one of the “white-robed choir” of little maidens who scattered flowers before Washington at Trenton Bridge, which everybody who writes a life of Washington asks her to give an account of.

Mrs. Ould and Mrs. Davis came home with me. Lawrence had a basket of delicious cherries. “If there were only some ice,” said I. Respectfully Lawrence answered, and also firmly: “Give me money and you shall have ice.” By the underground telegraph he had heard of an ice-house over the river, though its fame was suppressed by certain Sybarites, as they wanted it all. In a wonderfully short time we had mint-juleps and sherry-cobblers.

Altogether it has been a pleasant day, and as I sat alone I was laughing lightly now and then at the memory of some funny story. Suddenly, a violent ring; and a regular sheaf of telegrams were handed me. I could not have drawn away in more consternation if the sheets had been a nest of rattlesnakes. First, Frank Hampton was killed at Brandy Station. Wade Hampton telegraphed Mr. Chesnut to see Robert Barnwell, and make the necessary arrangements to recover the body. Mr. Chesnut is still at Wilmington. I sent for Preston Johnston, and my neighbor, Colonel Patton, offered to see that everything proper was done. That afternoon I walked out alone. Willie Mountford had shown me where the body, all that was left of Frank Hampton, was to be laid in the Capitol. Mrs. Petticola joined me after a while, and then Mrs. Singleton.

Preston Hampton and Peter Trezevant, with myself and Mrs. Singleton, formed the sad procession which followed the coffin. There was a company of soldiers drawn up in front of the State House porch. Mrs. Singleton said we had better go in and look at him before the coffin was finally closed. How I wish I had not looked. I remember him so well in all the pride of his magnificent manhood. He died of a saber-cut across the face and head, and was utterly disfigured. Mrs. Singleton seemed convulsed with grief. In all my life I had never seen such bitter weeping. She had her own troubles, but I did not know of them. We sat for a long time on the great steps of the State House. Everybody had gone and we were alone.

We talked of it all — how we had gone to Charleston to see Rachel in Adrienne Lecouvreur, and how, as I stood waiting in the passage near the drawing-room, I had met Frank Hampton bringing his beautiful bride from the steamer. They had just landed. Afterward at Mrs. Singleton's place in the country we had all spent a delightful week together. And now, only a few years have passed, but nearly all that pleasant company are dead, and our world, the only world we cared for, literally kicked to pieces. And she cried, “We are two lone women, stranded here.” Rev. Robert Barnwell was in a desperate condition, and Mary Barnwell, her daughter, was expecting her confinement every day.

Here now, later, let me add that it was not until I got back to Carolina that I heard of Robert Barnwell's death, with scarcely a day's interval between it and that of Mary and her new-born baby. Husband, wife, and child were buried at the same time in the same grave in Columbia. And now, Mrs. Singleton has three orphan grandchildren. What a woful year it has been to her.

Robert Barnwell had insisted upon being sent to the hospital at Staunton. On account of his wife's situation the doctor also had advised it. He was carried off on a mattress. His brave wife tried to prevent it, and said: “It is only fever.” And she nursed him to the last. She tried to say goodby cheerfully, and called after him: “As soon as my trouble is over I will come to you at Staunton.” At the hospital they said it was typhoid fever. He died the second day after he got there. Poor Mary fainted when she heard the ambulance drive away with him. Then she crept into a low trundle-bed kept for the children in her mother's room. She never left that bed again. When the message came from Staunton that fever was the matter with Robert and nothing more, Mrs. Singleton says she will never forget the expression in Mary's eyes as she turned and looked at her. “Robert will get well,” she said, “it is all right.” Her face was radiant, blazing with light. That night the baby was born, and Mrs. Singleton got a telegram that Robert was dead. She did not tell Mary, standing, as she did, at the window while she read it. She was at the same time looking for Robert's body, which might come any moment. As for Mary's life being in danger, she had never thought of such a thing. She was thinking only of Robert. Then a servant touched her and said: “Look at Mrs. Barnwell.” She ran to the bedside, and the doctor, who had come in, said, “It is all over; she is dead.” Not in anger, not in wrath, came the angel of death that day. He came to set Mary free from a world grown too hard to bear.

During Stoneman's raid² I burned some personal papers. Molly constantly said to me, “Missis, listen to de guns. Burn up everything. Mrs. Lyons says they are sure to come, and they'll put in their newspapers whatever you write here, every day.” The guns did sound very near, and when Mrs. Davis rode up and told me that if Mr. Davis left Richmond I must go with her, I confess I lost my head. So I burned a part of my journal but rewrote it afterward from memory — my implacable enemy that lets me forget none of the things I would. I am weak with dates. I do not always worry to look at the calendar and write them down. Besides I have not always a calendar at hand.

_______________

1 The battle of Brandy Station, Va., occurred June 9, 1863.

2 George S. Stoneman, a graduate of West Point, was now a Major-General, and Chief of Artillery in the Army of the Potomac. His raid toward Richmond in 1863 was a memorable incident of the war. After the war, he became Governor of California.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 232-9

John McQueen et al to James Buchanan, December 9, 1860

To His Excellency James Buchanan,

President of the United States.

In compliance with our statement to you yesterday, we now express to you our strong convictions that neither the constituted authority nor any body of the people of the State of South Carolina will either attack or molest the United States forts in the harbor of Charleston previous to the act of the Convention, and, we hope and believe, not until an offer has been made through an accredited representative to negotiate for an amicable arrangement of all matters between the State and the Federal Government; provided that no reinforcement shall be sent into those forts, and their relative military status shall remain as at present.

(Signed.)

john Mcqueen.

William Porcher Miles.

M. L. Bonham.

W. W. Boyce.

Lawrence M. Keitt.

Washington, 9th December, 1860.

SOURCE: Samuel Wylie Crawford, The Genesis of the Civil War: The Story of Sumter, 1860-1861, p. 38-9

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