Last night we took a sunset cruise around Charleston’s harbor. It was a warm, pleasant evening with lots of clouds in the sky, but happily the rain held off and we were able to enjoy a light breeze and the scenery. The cloud banks prevented us from actually seeing the sun drop below the horizon, and instead we were treated to the colorful impact of the dying sunlight on the many clouds. As we sailed along it was like traveling through an ever-changing modern art painting. Pretty spectacular!
Yesterday we walked around the historic section of Charleston, including the beautiful St. Philip’s Church and its adjoining cemetery. The cemetery has some magnificent live oak, magnolia, and myrtle trees and is home to the gravesites of some notable American historical figures, like John C. Calhoun.
There were many horse-drawn carriage tours on the streets of the old section as we meandered along, so our stroll occurred to the accompaniment of the clip-clop sound of horse hooves on stone streets and the smell of large working animals on a warm autumn day. It’s a peaceful sound and smell, especially in comparison to the roar of pickup trucks rumbling by, revving their oversized engines and spewing exhaust. The sight, sound, and smell of passing horses contributed to the historical feel of the area, and made me reflect on the fact that what were common, daily sounds and smells to our ancestors are now sensed so rarely—so rarely that they are a conscious means of creating a historical feel for tourists in an old American city.
I enjoyed hearing that clip-clip sound.
We got a bird’s eye view of the countryside around Charleston, South Carolina as we flew in this morning. It’s easy to see why this area is called the “low country”—it’s as flat as a pancake.
And it’s hard to believe that the ocean that laps up against those sandy beaches is the same Atlantic Ocean that pounds the rocky shores of Maine. Down here the water is a pleasant and warm green; around Stonington it’s blue-grey and even looks icy cold.
The American Civil War was a time of great advances in warfare and technology — sometimes both at the same time. Most people know that the first “ironclads,” the Union’s Monitor and the Confederacy’s Merrimac, appeared during the Civil War, fought to a draw, and foretold the end of the era of wooden warships. Fewer are aware that the War also witnessed the first successful combat submarine — the H.L. Hunley. Now the Hunley can be seen, in full, for the first time in 150 years.
The Hunley was supposed to be one of the Confederacy’s secret weapons, and a way to break the strangling blockade Union warships placed around Confederate ports. It was a 42-foot-long, cast iron cylinder that was powered by a hand-cranked propeller. Built in Mobile, Alabama in 1863, it was transported to Charleston, South Carolina, where it was supposed to move underwater and attach explosive torpedos to the hulls of Union ships.
The submarine turned out to be a death trap. It sank twice in sea trials, killing 13 sailors, but was raised by the Confederacy both times. In 1864, the Hunley and a new 8-member crew left port, traveled four miles out to sea, and successfully attached a torpedo to the Union ship Housatonic, which burned and sank. The Hunley never made it back to port, however, and sank with all hands.
In 2000 the Hunley was raised from the briny deep and deposited in a fresh water tank to leach salt from its iron hull. Since then, scientists have worked on the sub. Inside they found, and then carefully removed, 10 tons of sediment, the remains of the Hunley‘s last crew, and the crew’s belongings, including a gold coin kept by the captain as a good luck piece. Now tourists will be able to see the ship in full, kept in a water tank to prevent rusting.
Although the humble Hunley had a short career, it pointed the way to the modern, nuclear-powered underwater behemoths that prowl the ocean seaways.
It was a time of terrible fear and tension. Even before 1860 had ended, South Carolina had announced that it had seceded from the Union. Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas followed in quick succession, and the first Congress of the Confederate States met in February 1861. By March 4, 1861, when new President Abraham Lincoln was finally inaugurated and took office, he faced a full-fledged rebellion — and a newly self-declared sovereign nation.
Fort Sumter, located in the harbor of Charleston, South Carolina — the epicenter of the rebellion — became one of Lincoln’s first challenges. The day after his inauguration, Lincoln received a message from Major Robert Anderson, the commander of the fort’s garrison of less than 100 men, announcing that Fort Sumter was equipped with only six weeks’ supply of food. Anderson’s message presented the new President with an impossible choice. At the time, many southern states — including important border states like Virginia, North Carolina, and Tennessee — had not yet formally decided whether to secede. If Lincoln withdrew the garrison, wouldn’t that constitute a recognition that the Confederate States were no longer part of the Union and encourage the rebels? And if Lincoln tried to aid the garrison, wouldn’t the confrontation that was likely to result inflame the passions of the citizens of the uncommitted states and throw them over to the Confederate cause?
After weeks of deliberation, on April 8, 1861, Lincoln notified the governor of South Carolina that he would resupply the fort. Events then quickly spiraled out of control. The Confederate government decided to force the evacuation of Fort Sumter rather than permit it to be provisioned. On April 11, the Confederate commander delivered the evacuation ultimatum to Major Anderson, and in the early morning hours of April 12, 1861, the Confederates announced that the bombardment of the fort would begin in one hour.
At 4:30 a.m. on April 12, 1861, the Confederate batteries opened fire. Some citizens of Charleston cheered, others wept and prayed. A few hours later, the Union forces returned fire. The battle continued for more than 30 hours, until buildings inside the fort were aflame and it became clear that restocking the fort would not be permitted. On April 13, Anderson surrendered the fort, and the Battle of Fort Sumter was over. No soldier on either side was killed during the bombardment — although, ironically, one soldier was killed and another mortally wounded during the attempt to complete a 100-gun salute to mark the fort’s surrender. The rest of the garrison then marched out of the fort, undisturbed, and returned to the North where they were welcomed as heroes.
One hundred and fifty years ago today, the American Civil War began.