God Speed It!

All hail! the Confederated States. All honour to gallant South Carolina, who gave the first impulse to the Revolution which brought the new nation into being. All gratitude to the benign Providence that darkened the understandings of men in power and converted seeming obstacles into tremendous agencies for hastening and perfecting the great and good work consummated at Montgomery. Wisely, nobly have the Confederated States chosen their leaders. Valour and Statesmanship are at the helm. The new keel cuts the waters of a glorious sea. It is morning. Angry clouds are near at hand, and soon the thunder of battle will be bellowing in the skies. But the not distant azure is all serene and fair; resplendent with fresh light and the dewy tints of roses and of gold. The ship will outride the storm. Already we catch the balmy breath of the tropics. There is our haven.

Pity and shame! that the Border States prefer not to share the proud destiny of the new Republic. But they have chosen. They would be slaves. Virginia grovels in the dust at SEWARD’S feet. The sons of patriots lick the coarse hand of an ill-bred, foul-mouthed fanatical tyrant. The children of ANDREW JACKSON clutch tremblingly the knees of ANDREW JOHNSON. The descendants of DANIEL BOONE are pleading like frightened women for peace. It is their right. Let no one disturb them.

The Confederate States remain a fixed, unalterable fact. Civil liberty has found a house of refuge, a home, safe forever alike from the tyranny of kings and from the despotism of agrarian mobs and lawless democracies! The eyes fill and the heart swells with exceeding joy at the thought. ‘Tis a grand achievement, a mighty Revolution. Humanity is exalted by this bold and unparalleled stroke for freedom. Man’s capability of self-government is vindicated by this daring exercise of the right of that government. Henceforth the name of Southerner shall be the synonym of liberty. To the Confederate States, as to the last and only permanent abode of Republican institutions, the best and bravest blood, the loftiest spirits, and the most cultivated intellects on this continent, will surely repair. The very cream and excellence of American life will be compacted in the new nation. For highminded independent people, for fertile soil, for genial climate, for magnificent destiny, the peer of this youthful nation will not be found in all the world. God speed it!

Southern Literary Messenger, Volume 32, Issue 3, Mar 1861; p. 340.

The Union Is Dissolved

The State of South Carolina has recorded herself before the universe. In reverence before God, fearless of man, unawed by power, unterrified by clamor, she has cut the Gordian knot of colonial dependence upon the North — cast her fortune upon her right, and her own right arm, and stands ready to uphold alike her independence and her dignity before the world.

Charleston Mercury, 21 December 1860.

The Seal of South Carolina.


To dissolve the union between the State of South Carolina and other States united with her under the compact entitled “The Constitution of the United States of America.”

We, the people of the State of South Carolina, in convention assembled, do declare and ordain, and it is hereby declared and ordained,

That the ordinance adopted by us in convention on the twenty-third day of May, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and eighty-eight, whereby the Constitution of the United States of America was ratified, and also all acts and parts of acts of the General Assembly of this State ratifying amendments of the said Constitution, are hereby repealed; and that the union now subsisting between South Carolina and other States, under the name of the “United States of America,” is hereby dissolved.

Done at Charleston the twentieth day of December, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty.


Henry Timrod.


The despot treads thy sacred lands,
Thy pines give shelter to his bands,
Thy sons stand by with idle hands,
He breathes at ease thy airs of balm,
He scorns the lances of thy palm;
Oh! who shall break thy craven calm,
Thy ancient fame is growing dim,
A spot is on thy garment’s rim;
Give to the winds thy battle-hymn,


Call on thy children of the hill,
Wake swamp and river, coast and rill,
Rouse all thy strength and all thy skill,
Cite wealth and science, trade and art,
Touch with thy fire the cautious mart,
And pour thee through the people’s heart,
Till even the coward spurns his fears,
And all thy fields, and fens, and meres,
Shall bristle like thy palm, with spears,


Hold up the glories of thy dead;
Say how thy elder children bled,
And point to Eutaw’s battle-bed,
Tell how the patriot’s soul was tried,
And what his dauntless breast defied;
How Rutledge ruled, and Laurens died,
Cry! till thy summons, heard at last,
Shall fall, like Marion’s bugle-blast,
Re-echoed from the haunted past,


I hear a murmur, as of waves
That grope their way through sunless caves,
Like bodies struggling in their graves,
And now it deepens; slow and grand
It swells, as rolling to the land
An ocean broke upon the strand,
Shout! let it reach the startled Huns!
And roar with all thy festal guns!
It is the answer of thy sons,


They will not wait to hear thee call;
From sachem’s head to Sumter’s wall
Resounds the voice of hut and hall,
No! thou hast not a stain, they say,
Or none save what the battle-day
Shall wash in seas of blood away,
Thy skirts, indeed, the foe may part,
Thy robe be pierced with sword and dart;
They shall not touch thy noble heart,


Ere thou shalt own the tyrant’s thrall,
Ten times ten thousand men must fall;
Thy corpse may hearken to his call,
When by thy bier, in mournful throngs,
The women chant thy mortal wrongs,
‘Twill be their own funereal songs,
From thy dead breast, by ruffians trod,
No helpless child shall look to God;
All shall be safe beneath thy sod,


Girt with such wills to do and bear,
Assured in right, and mailed in prayer,
Thou wilt not bow thee to despair,
Throw thy bold banner to the breeze!
Front with thy ranks the threatening seas,
Like thine own proud armorial trees,
Fling down thy gauntlet to the Huns,
And roar the challenge from thy guns;
Then leave the future to thy sons,

Her Baptism of Blood

Deus, repulisti nos, et destruxisti nos; iratus es, et misertus es nobis. Commovisti terram, et conturbasti eam; sana contritiones ejus, quia commota est. Ostendisti populo tuo dura; potasti nos vino compunctionis. Dedisti metuentibus te significationem, ut fugiant a facie arcus; ut liberentur dilecti tui, salvum fac dextera tua, et exaudi me.

Psalmus lix. 4-7.

During the progress of this relentless war, our enemies have wrested from us the great river of the west, which once bore upon its waters the commerce of half a continent; and though its possession has proved nearly valueless to them, its loss to us severs the connexion between portions of the Confederacy, and renders active cooperation betwixt them almost impossible. They have placed the heel of oppression upon the queenly city which, within the embraces of this imperial stream, once filled her horn with plenty, and danced gaily to the sound of the viol and harp. They have trodden down and defiled other noble towns and cities, once the abodes of affluence, the seats of learning and science, whose ancient families handed down from father to son a proud, ancestral name. Their mailed ships beleaguer our coast, and seek to seal our ports against the commerce of the world. They have massed their numerous armies and driven them, like a wedge, nearer and nearer to the heart of the land; exulting in the hope of speedily riving it in sunder, as the axeman of the forest rives the gigantic but fallen oak. They have stirred up the resentment of the civilized world against our social organization, and pointed their prejudices, like poisoned spears, against our cause, that our strength may dry up within our bones in this state of dreadful seclusion. In all history there is nothing more grandly sublime than the perfect isolation in which the Southern Confederacy is now battling for those rights which are so dear to the human heart. The nations of the earth have no eye of pity for our distress, no tear of sympathy for our wrongs. They turn away in cold indifference, and leave us to grapple with a superior foe, whose malice feeds upon the memories of past brotherhood, and can be satiated only by drinking the life of a people to whom they were once bound by the most sacred of covenants. Yet all alone, this young nation, strong only in her consciousness of right, girds herself for the mighty struggle. Like the fabled Antoeus, she gathers strength from the very reverses which bring her to the ground, and rises with new energy to the conflict. She drops a tear over the tombs of her martyrs, and then goes patiently again under her baptism of blood. All alone, she lifts an eye of faith to Heaven above, and beneath the shadow of Jehovah’s throne, strikes again for liberty and life. All alone, with God for her avenger, she treads danger beneath her feet, and moves forward to the triumph which an assured faith reveals steadily to her gaze. Like David in the text, she stands upon the trembling earth, and whilst drinking the wine of astonishment mingled in her cup, she recognizes a commission from the God of Heaven which binds her to duty in the face of trial, and receives at His hands a banner which she must display because of the truth. Let us, my hearers, read the inscriptions upon this banner; and then throw its folds anew to the breeze, in testimony of the principles which we are called this day to confess before the nations of the world.

— Benjamin M. Palmer, D. D., A Discourse before the General Assembly of South Carolina, Day of Fasting, Humiliation, and Prayer, 10 December 1863.

Baffled Avarice, Malignant Fanaticism, and Moral Turpitude

Now, gentlemen, notwithstanding these facts I have endeavored to group before you–notwithstanding this labor, this long-suffering, this patience I have endeavored to show you she has practiced–throughout this whole land, over all Christendom, my State has been accused of “rash precipitancy.” Is it rash precipitancy to step out of the pathway when you hear the thunder-crash of the falling avalanche? Is it rash precipitancy to seek for shelter when you hear the hissing of the coming tempest, and see the storm-cloud close down upon you? Is it rash precipitancy to raise your hands to protect your heart?

I venture to assert, that never, since liberty came into the institutions of man, have a people borne with more patience, or forborne with more fortitude, than have the people of these Southern States in their relations with their confederates. As long as it was merely silly fanaticism or prurient philanthropy which proposed our destruction, we did nothing–scarcely complained. Even when partial and most oppressive taxation, continued for years, ground us into the dust of poverty, save for a moment of convulsive struggle, we bore it patiently; even when many of our confederates, by State and municipal regulations, violated provisions of our compact vital to us, and hordes of their people, under the sanction of these regulations, robbed our property and murdered our citizens; even when, under the same sanction, bands of wild fanatics invaded slave States, and proclaimed the destruction of slavery by the annihilation of the slaveholder, and States and cities erected shrines to the memory of the felons; when one confederate demanded that we must be driven from the civilization of the age in which we live, and another sent its chief representative to defame us before the civilized world; beneath all these enormities, we continued to give our blood, our gold and our sweat to build up the grandeur and maintain the power of that Republic. And when there was added to this all that baffled avarice, malignant fanaticism and moral turpitude could devise to vilify, wrong and irritate us, we still gave our blood and treasure, and offered our hands, and called them brethren. I draw no fancy picture, I use no declamatory assertions.

There is not a man in this Convention who may not cite twenty cases to meet every item of this catalogue. But when, at last, this fanaticism and eager haste for rapine, mingling their foul purposes, engendered those fermenting millions who have seized the Constitution and distorted its most sacred form into an instrument of our ruin, why then longer submission seemed to us not only base cowardice, but absolute fatuity. In South Carolina we felt that, to remain one hour under such a domination, we would merit the destruction earned by our own folly and baseness. We felt that if there was one son of a Carolina sire who would counsel such submission, there was not a hill-side or a plain, from Eutaw to the Cowpens, from which the spirit of his offended sire would not start forth to shame him from the land he desecrated. We did not find air enough in that little State to give breath to such counsel; there was not firm earth enough there for one such counsellor to stand upon.

— Address of Hon. John S. Preston, Commissioner from South Carolina, to the Convention of Virginia, 19 February 1861.

Relegated to Oblivion


I desire to supplement the article in the July VETERAN with the above title by answers to criticisms made and doubts cast upon the charges therein.

As to the charge that at the burning of the large cotton mills at Roswell, Ga., General Sherman caused all the operatives of those mills (a few men, but mostly women and children over twelve years) to be collected, loaded onto freight trains, transported to Louisville, and dumped out at the freight yards without food or money and with few husbands or fathers to look after them: On making inquiry recently from old residents of Louisville and Lexington, Ky., these charges are corroborated in every detail, these operatives having been dumped out from freight cars, it is charged, to the number of nearly one thousand, the number probably being overestimated.

These facts were published in the papers at the time, and the charitable people of Louisville and all the contiguous region of Kentucky responded nobly to this sudden tax on their charity. It is said that H. D. Newcomb and Nicholas Coleman, of Louisville, owning cotton mills in Kentucky or Indiana, took quite a number of them, giving them employment. The noble Sisterhood of Nuns of Nazareth, near Bardstown, Ky., came over there and took many of the children. The remainder were distributed throughout the country wherever homes could be found. The fathers and husbands and brothers of these unfortunates were at the time in the Confederate army, and could not look up their children until peace came. As an instance, one of these fathers came to Lexington in search of his child, but up to that time had been unsuccessful. He had followed a clue up into Vermont and had found one of these children; but it was not his, but a child of his brother.

Supposing the destruction of the Roswell mills was within the usages of civilized warfare, can there be given one valid reason for the sudden deportation of these unfortunates from the comforts and protection of home? The act being that of one who was a father himself can only have had its origin in a bad heart. Was it too much to say, “These acts will be forever a stain upon the character of the Federal commander,” Sherman?

Some doubt has been cast as to my authority for making other charges contained in that article, and it is simply necessary to state that during all the operations connected with these events I was a staff officer of Lieut. Gen. W. I. Hardee. I heard the first shell thrown by the Federal artillery into Atlanta, and am familiar with the correspondence between General Hood and General Sherman in regard thereto, as also in regard to the depopulation of Atlanta. It so happened that while this depopulation was going on I was at General Hood’s headquarters as a member of a court of inquiry, and was familiar, through the staff officer having the matter in charge, with each day’s progress with that movement. Soon after the fall of Atlanta General Hardee was, at his request, relieved by the President of the command of his old corps in the Army of Tennessee and given the command of the Department of South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida. I was transferred with him, and was present at all the operations around Savannah and, on its evacuation, at the transfer of its small army to the vicinity of Charleston. I had charge of the flag of truce on the steamer that met the transport steamer off the harbor of Charleston containing the officers’ wives and refugees, sent around by sea by General Sherman (about five hundred souls). During their transfer and for several days thereafter, until they scattered to their several destinations, I mingled freely with them. They all agreed as to the threats freely published by General Sherman as to what would be done when South Carolina soil was reached and as to the time of his leaving Savannah. That these threats came from Sherman’s headquarters is proven by the fact that the threats were literally carried out.

On the advent of Sherman’s army on its northerly march through South Carolina it became a matter of the utmost importance to prognosticate its destination. On the solution of this problem depended the policy of the evacuation of Charleston and its defenses or the contrary. From the latter part of January to the 12th of February I was kept almost continuously in Sherman’s front, reporting any information obtained by myself or from Wheeler’s Cavalry by telegraph each day. More than once my reconnoissance was so close to Sherman’s front that his position could be closely located by those black pillars of smoke. In some cases families, in terror from the threats sent out from Savannah, would desert their plantations, in which case they were almost invariably fired. From the accounts of refugees there were few dwellings saved. The most of them were burned, and even in the presence of weeping women and children. On the approach of Sherman’s army to the vicinity of Orangeburg, S. C., its destination was sufficiently developed to justify the evacuation of all the defenses around Charleston, for which preparations had been made, and the transfer of the small army under Hardee to North Carolina, his rear guard skirmishing with the advance of Sherman’s army on the evacuation of Cheraw, S. C.

Your correspondent from Georgia thinks my commendation of General Grant as to his soldierly and gentlemanly bearing toward noncombatants was misplaced, as he gave Sheridan positive orders by telegraph to devastate the Shenandoah Valley in the manner it was done. Your correspondent is certainly mistaken. Sheridan acted from his own heart and brain. If his savagery in that matter is correctly outlined in that famous “crow-fly” dispatch of exultation to Grant, his name should be coupled with that of Sherman, and both names should go down in history coupled with that of Hanan, that Austrian general who made reputation along the same lines in the war between Austria and Hungary, and who on his first appearance in London was mobbed by the bakers. A friend “would suggest Attila instead of Hanan.” But I say no. Attila was a savage. The horde of Asiatics and Slavs he precipitated upon Central Europe were savages, and it was to be expected that they were to carry on war as savages. Not so with these two officers. Born and reared under Christian influences, they were graduates from West Point, an institution not excelled by any institution of its age in the world in the number of distinguished soldiers it has turned out from its portals—distinguished alike for their valor and ability in command of armies, as well as for all the qualities that adorn the Christian gentleman.

It is impossible for an army commander to march a large army through a hostile country without more or less hardships to the noncombatant population. My information as to Grant’s campaigns in the Southwest is that he was kind to noncombatants and protected them in their noncombatant rights. So it was with Gen. Don Carlos Buell, General Rosecrans, and General Macpherson. General Buell marched a large army nearly a thousand miles through North Alabama and Tennessee, and, if it were possible, partially demoralized, by his kindness and protection to noncombatants, those people. The death of General Macpherson, on July 22, 1864, was heard of with genuine regret by those Confederate soldiers familiar with his record around Vicksburg. All of these army commanders are remembered with the kindliest feelings by the Southern people. On the contrary, the name of Sherman is recalled with a feeling akin to horror; that of Sheridan only in a lesser degree.

For the sake of the many brave officers and soldiers of Sherman’s army who condemned and deplored those acts of wandalism that famous song, “Marching through Georgia,” so often heard in the past, should be consigned to eternal oblivion. To me and most Southern people conversant with that famous “march” it brings to mind visions of those columns of black smoke against the sky, the gaunt outlines of lonely chimney stacks against the moonlight, reminders of the destruction of happy homes and the weeping of women and children. I shall never forget the last time that famous piece was heard by me and the rebuke that was administered against its performance from the throats of over twenty thousand of the patriotic citizens of New York and surrounding States.

This occurred during the celebration of the centennial of the inauguration of the first President in the vicinity of New York City in the year 1889. The first day was given up to the naval display in the harbor. The second day was given up to the parade and review of the National Guard of most of the States, together with all of the regular army that it was convenient to have present, including the West Point Cadet Battalion. At least forty thousand troops passed in review before the President, as fine a body of soldiery as could be organized in any country, most of whom were thrown into the city within eighteen hours from leaving their barracks. The reviewing stand was on Madison Square, facing Fifth Avenue (I believe). Having been one of the commissioners appointed by Governor Moonlight to represent the then Territory of Wyoming, I was given a good position on this stand near the President, and had an excellent opportunity of seeing the parade as well as everything else that transpired. The sidewalks below as well as the street, as far as the police would allow, were a dense mass of humanity. The opposite block of buildings, five or six stories high, with their awnings, every window, and the roofs of the houses, were
simply black with people. Moreover, that mass of people were fully enthused with the amenities of the occasion. There had not been one allusion to the past. All the pictures in the shops and all the flags displayed were of the Revolution and the Continental army. Patriotism and fraternity were in the air. There had been no allusion to that conflict between the sections. There appeared again a reunited country.

The troops from each State passed as per a regular programme, headed by its Governor, with a full military band preceding him. As it turned out, there had been stationed on the sidewalks a band, cocked and primed by some contemptible character for its rôle. In proper rotation the Georgia Battalion appeared, headed by its Governor, John B. Gordon. As soon as he had advanced far enough to be recognized that band struck up that then well-known air, “Marching through Georgia.” As soon as the situation was realized that vast crowd appeared to be stunned into impenetrable silence. The silence was painful, the intended insult was so marked. Suddenly a band just in the rear of the Georgia troops struck up that soul-inspiring air, “Dixie” (that music that Mr. Lincoln claimed “we have captured”). The tension was broken, and from the twenty-five to thirty thousands of throats there came a roar that shook the earth, accompanied with the waving of flags and handkerchiefs and every demonstration of good fellowship, all indicating a determination to administer a stunning rebuke to the thought that sought to humiliate and insult the guests of a great State and maybe a guest of the nation. These cheers and demonstrations of good fellowship followed Gordon and his men until they disappeared from the reviewing stand. Gordon and his troops thoroughly appreciated this ovation. Gordon, always handsome and graceful, appeared at his best as he gracefully acknowledged the plaudits of that immense and congenial multitude. The President, Mr. Benjamin Harrison, appeared to enter into the spirit of the occasion, and it seemed to me was unusually gracious as he acknowledged Gordon’s salute. I shall always recollect that splendid, patriotic, and enthusiastic multitude. I shall always recall Gordon’s gallant bearing as he acknowledged his thanks.

Then let that song be relegated to oblivion; but let the name of the man who gave cause for its origin be held up in the “lime light” of a Christian civilization until history shall have forced him “to lie in the bed he has made for himself.” Let the children and their children be taught of this name. But, on the other hand, let them be taught to treat with respect and esteem the names of those other army commanders of the West who, soldiers and gentlemen themselves, carried on the war in accordance with the usages and rules of Christian civilization. I speak of Ulysses S. Grant, Don Carlos Buell, William S. Rosecrans, and J. B. Macpherson. But, above all, let them be taught to revere the flag of the now reunited nation.

Confederate Veteran, vol. XIV, no. 9, September 1906.

Animis Opibusque Parati

The Arms (Great Seal) of South Carolina, from Mitchell, Henry (1876) The State Arms of the Union, Boston: L. Prang & Co.
The Arms (Great Seal) of South Carolina, from Mitchell, Henry (1876) The State Arms of the Union, Boston: L. Prang & Co.

Inscribed among the calends of the world — memorable in time to come — the 20th day of December, in the year of our Lord 1860, has become an epoch in the history of the human race. A great Confederated Republic, overwrought with arrogant and tyrannous oppressions, has fallen from its high estate amongst the nations of the earth. Conservative liberty has been vindicated. Mobocratic license has been stricken down. Order has conquered, yet liberty has survived. Right has raised his banner aloft, and bidden defiance to Might. The problem of self-government under the check-balance of slavery, has secured itself from threatened destruction.

South Carolina has resumed her entire sovereign powers, and, unshackled, has become one of the nations of the earth.

On yesterday, the 20th of December, 1860, just before one o’clock, p.m., the Ordinance of secession was presented by the Committee on “the Ordinance,” to the Convention of the people of South Carolina. Precisely at seven minutes after one o’clock, the vote was taken upon the Ordinance — each man’s name being called in order. As name by name fell upon the ear of the silent assembly, the brief sound was echoed back, without one solitary exception in that whole grave body — Aye!

At 1:15 o’clock, p.m. — the last name was called, the Ordinance of Secession was announced to have been passed, and the last fetter had fallen from the limbs of a brave, but too long oppressed people.

The Convention sat with closed doors. But upon the announcement outside, and upon the MERCURY bulletin board, that South Carolina was no longer a member of the Federal Union, loud shouts of joy rent the air. The enthusiasm was unsurpassed. Old men went shouting down the streets. Cannon were fired, and bright triumph was depicted on every countenance.

But before the Great Seal of the State was affixed to the Ordinance of Secession, and the names of the Delegates to the Convention were signed, it was proposed that this ceremony should be postponed until 7 o’clock that evening; when the Convention should reassemble and move in procession from the St. Andrew’s Hall, where they then sat, to the great Secession Hall; and that there, before the assembled citizens of the State, the Great Seal of the State should be set, and each signature made. The proposition was favorably received.

At 6 1/2 o’clock p.m., the Convention reassembled at St. Andrew’s Hall. At 6 3/4 o’clock p.m., they formed in procession and moved forward in silence to Secession Hall.

The building was filled to overflowing, and they were received by some three thousand people in the Hall.

The Convention was called to order. The scene was one profoundly grand and impressive. There were a people assembled through their highest representatives — men most of them upon whose heads the snows of sixty winters had been shed — patriarchs in age — the dignitaries of the land — the High Priests of the Church of Christ — reverend statesmen — and the wise judges of the law. In the midst of deep silence, an old man, with bowed form, and hair as white as snow, the Rev. Dr. BACHMAN, advanced forward, with upraised hands, in prayer to Almighty God, for His blessing and favor in this great act of his people, about to be consummated. The who assembly at once rose to its feet, and with hats off, listened to the touching and eloquent appeal to the All Wise Dispenser of events. At the close of the prayer the President advanced with the consecrated parchment upon which was inscribed the decision of the State, with the Great Seal attached. Slowly and solemnly it was read unto the last word — “dissolved” — when men could contain themselves no longer, and a shout that shook the very building, reverberating, long-continued, rose to Heaven, and ceased only with the loss of breath. In proud, grave silence, the Convention itself waited the end with beating hearts.

The President then requested the Delegates (by previous decision) to step forward as they were called in the alphabetical order of the Districts which they represented, and sign the Ordinance. Two hours were occupied in this solemn ceremony — the crowd waiting patiently the end. As the delegation from St. Phillip’s and St. Michael’s came forward, again, the hall was filled with applause. And as the Hon. R.B. RHETT advanced to the parchment, the shouts became deafening, long-continued, until he had seated himself, signed and retired. It was a proud and worthy tribute, gracefully paid, and appreciated. The same special compliment was paid to our Ex-Governor GIST, who recommended in his message to the extra session, the immediate secession of South Carolina from the Union.

At the close of the signatures the President, advancing to the front of the platform, announced that the Seal of the State had been set, the signatures of the Convention put to the Ordinance, and he thereby proclaimed the State of South Carolina a separate, independent nationality.

To describe the enthusiasm with which this announcement was greeted, is beyond the power of the pen. The high, burning, bursting heart alone can realize it. A mighty voice of great thoughts and great emotions spoke from the mighty throat of one people as a unit.

The State of South Carolina has recorded herself before the universe. In reverence before God, fearless of man, unawed by power, unterrified by clamor, she has cut the Gordian knot of colonial dependence upon the North — cast her fortune upon her right, and her own right arm, and stands ready to uphold alike her independence and her dignity before the world. Prescribing to none, she will be dictated to by none willing for peace, she is ready for war. Deprecating blood, she is willing to shed it. Valuing her liberties, she will maintain them. Neither swerved by frowns of foes, nor swayed by timorous solicitations of friends, she will pursue her direct path, and establish for herself and for her posterity, her rights, her liberties and her institutions. Though friends may fail her in her need, though the cannon of her enemies may belch destruction among her people, South Carolina, unawed, unconquerable, will still hold aloft her flag, “ANIMIS OPIBUSQUE PARATI.” [“READY IN SPIRIT AND DEEDS”]

— Charleston Mercury, 21 December 1860.

A Political Paradox

It is certainly not a little remarkable, that what has been so often asserted to be impossible,—for a State to be both in and out of the Union at the same time,—so far from being true, is the very reverse,—the only true and constitutional position of a State being precisely that which the argument supposes to be impossible. A State is at all times, so long as its proper position is maintained, both in and out of the Union ;—in, for all constitutional purposes,— and out, for all others ;—in, to the extent of the delegated powers, and out, to that of the reserved. Any other position would be either consolidation on the one side, or disunion on the other; and the argument, if it be good for any thing, would prove that our federated system, which is justly our pride and boast, is but a political paradox. Nor would it be much short of an equal paradox, if the States, in truth, possessed no right—as those who maintain the argument contend—to resist an attempt to force them from their true federative, constitutional position,—of being in and out, into that of being entirely in, or entirely out, either of which (the disease—and the only admitted remedy, according to this view without withdrawing from the Union), would be equally destructive of the system. And yet, by a strange confusion of ideas, this very right of resisting an attempt to force a State from its constitutional position, and which is indispensable to the preservation of the system, is considered as incompatible with its existence!

John C. Calhoun, Report prepared for the Committee on Federal Relations of the Legislature of South Carolina, at its Session in November 1831.

How to Enjoy the Springs and Stay at Home

White Sulphur Spring, Montgomery County from Album of Virginia; or, Illustration of the Old Dominion, Richmond, Virginia [but Dresden & Berlin, Germany]: Edward Beyer [but printed by Rau & Son of Dresden and W.Loeillot of Berlin], 1858.
White Sulphur Spring, Montgomery County from Album of Virginia; or, Illustration of the Old Dominion, Richmond, Virginia [but Dresden & Berlin, Germany]: Edward Beyer [but printed by Rau & Son of Dresden and W.Loeillot of Berlin], 1858.

How to Enjoy the Springs and Stay at Home

Now that the tide of summer absentees is returning, the following racy burlesque upon the leading Springs, taken from the Southern Literary Messenger, will be keenly relished:

White Sulphur.–Tie a roll of brimstone under your nose, and drink freely of thick warm water. Break some doubtful eggs in your pocket, and run round till you are exhausted. Procure a second-hand diabetes, change your linen six times a day, and strut loftily under a tree.

Old Sweet.–Get a large tub, and put some white pebbles in the bottom. Sit down in it and blow soap-bubbles. Dress your best, and don’t know anybody.

Red Sweet.–Obtain some iron fillings, paint ’em red, put ’em in a tin-pan or pitcher, and look at ’em in solitary silence. Eat much mutton, and go to bed early. Whisky julep eight times a day.

Salt Sulphur.–Call yourself a South Carolinian, and take things easy. Live well. Stay in one place a long time. Tincture of brimstone occasionally.

Montgomery White.–Wear a loose sack coat and look at mulattos frequently. Eat a great variety of raw meats and undone vegetables. Play at faro and draw poker.

Yellow Sulphur.–Get good living on the top of a hill, where you can’t see anything whatever. Dominoes, draughts and backgammon.

Alleghany.–Sit down in a hard chair in a deep, hot hole, and drink citrate of magnesia and epsom salts. Gamble some with dyspeptics.

Coyner’s.–Take the Lynchburg papers, and gaze with melancholy pertinacity at the side of a naked hill. Whist and religious tracts.

Rockbridge Allum.–Select some cases of cancer on the face, with a few necks scrofulously raw, and dine with them daily on indifferent victuals. Then catch the drippings of the caves of a very old house, in a tin cup with a long handle, thicken the drippings with powdered nutgalls, and drink three times a day.

All Healing Springs.–Throw a green blanket in a shallow pond, and wallow on it. Cut off a strip of blanket and clap it to your ribs. Read old novels and talk to pious old ladies about deaths and chronic diseases of the digestive tube.

Warm Springs.–Diet yourself on the unadulterated juice of the tea-kettle.

Hot Springs.–Wear a full suit of mustard plasters, and walk about in the sunshine at noon day, swearing you have got the rheumatism.

Berkley Springs.–Keep your shin [skin?] clear, and know nothing but Baltimore ten pins.

Peaks of Otter.–Climb a high pole on a cold day at sunrise. Shut your eyes and whistle.

Weir’s Cave.–Go into the cellar at midnight–feel the edges of things, and skin your shins against the coal scuttle. Sit down on a pile of anthracite, with a tallow candle, and wonder.

Old Point Comfort.–Build a hog pen in a mud-puddle; fill it with cockle-burs and thistles, and call it surf-bathing. Drink bad brandy. Don’t sleep. Lie down with your windows wide open, and no clothing on. Come home with a fishbone in your throat, and oyster shell in your head, a pain in your stomach, and ten thousand mosquito bites in your body.

Cape May.–Penetrate an immense crowd of male and female rowdies, drop some salt water in both eyes. Shoot pistols. Eat some ice cream and claret, and send up one sky rocket every night. Have yourself insulted often by niggers. At mid-day smell of an oven with a dead pig in it. Fill your pockets with cut glass broken into minute fragments.

Yankee Watering Places Generally.–Keep a stale codfish under each arm, live on onions and pumpkins, go in strong for the Union and freesoil, and dance the round dances in big breeches.

Charleston Mercury, 6 October 1860, p. 4, c. 2.

The Glorious Little State of South Carolina

Flag of the Palmetto Guard, raised over Fort Sumter, on the parapet facing Charleston, by Private John Styles Bird, Jr., 14 April 1861. Later that day, this flag was replaced with that of the Confederate States.
Flag of the Palmetto Guard, raised over Fort Sumter, on the parapet facing Charleston, by Private John Styles Bird, Jr., 14 April 1861. Later that day, this flag was replaced with that of the Confederate States.

When the proper time had come, when I knew we were prepared, there was not a moment that I was not ready to strike the blow for my State and the independence of my country, let it lead to what it might, even if it led to blood and ruin. Thank God the day is come; thank God the war is open and we will conquer or perish. They have vauntingly arrayed their millions of men against us; they have exultingly also arrayed their navy, and they have called us but a handful of men, a weak and isolated State, full of pride and what they call chivalry, and with the hated institution of slavery, as they supposed a source of weakness, too, which in fact is a source of strength in war, and they have defied us. But we have rallied, […] we have met them and we have conquered. We have defeated their twenty millions, and we have made the proud flag of the Stars and Stripes, that never was lowered before to any nation on this earth, we have lowered it in humility before the Palmetto and the Confederate flags, and we have compelled them to raise by their side the white flags, and ask for an honorable surrender. […] We have humbled the flag of the United States. I can here say to you, it is the first time in the history of this country that the Stars and Stripes have been humbled. It has triumphed for seventy years, but today, on the thirteenth day of April, it has been humbled, and humbled before the glorious little State of South Carolina.

Speech given by Governor Pickens from the balcony of the Charleston Hotel.

Nomenclature of Our Southern Armies

Sheet music cover for the piano piece entitled Beauregard's March, published by Miller & Beacham, Baltimore, c. 1861.
Sheet music cover for the piano piece entitled Beauregard’s March, published by Miller & Beacham, Baltimore, c. 1861.

The North Carolinians are called “Tar Heels;” South Carolinians, “Rice Birds;” Georgians, “Goober Grabbers;” Alabamians, “Yaller Hammers;” Texans, “Cow Boys;” Tennesseans, “Hog Drivers;” Louisianians, “Tigers;” Floridians, “Gophers;” Virginians, “Tobacco Worms;” Arkansians, “Tooth-picks;” Missourians, “Border Ruffians;” Kentuckians, “Corn Crackers;” and Mississippians, “Sand Lappers.” The Cavalry, “Buttermilk Rangers;” Infantry, “Webfoot.” A regiment of deserters from the Federal Army, kept behind by us to build forts, “Galvanized Rebs.” The Federals called us “Johnnies;” we called them “Yanks” and “Blue Bellies.”

Battles and Sketches of the Army of Tennessee, Journal of B. L. Ridley, Lieut. General A. P. Stewart’s Staff, C.S.A.

ἐν τούτῳ νίκα

Confederate soldiers and the new Southern Flag within the fallen Fort Sumter, South Carolina, April 1861; salted paper print, Gilder Lehrman Collection.
Confederate soldiers and the new Southern Flag within the fallen Fort Sumter, South Carolina, April 1861; salted paper print, Gilder Lehrman Collection.

The fourth day of March was an eventful day in the Provisional Capital of the Confederate States of America, as well as in Washington. At half past three P.M., on yesterday, the Flag of the Confederate States of America was flung out to the breeze from the staff of the Capitol and as its proud folds gradually unclosed, it seemed to wave defiance to the Northern wind that came rushing down from the Potomac laden with threats of Abolition coercion. A large concourse of spectators had assembled on Capitol Hill, and the number would doubtless have been trebled had it been possible to have given an earlier announcement of the ceremony, Miss L.C.T. Tyler, one of the fair descendants of the Old Dominion, and a granddaughter of the venerable Ex-President of the late United States, had been selected to perform the principal part upon this occasion. When the time had arrived for raising the banner, Miss Tyler steadily and with heart throbbing with patriotic emotion, elevated the flag to the summit of the staff, cannon thundered forth a salute, the vast assemblage rent the air with shouts of welcome, and the people of the South had for the first time a view of the Southern flag. Ere there was time to take one hasty glance at the national ensign, the eyes of all were upturned to gaze at what would perhaps at any time have attracted unusual attention; but on this occasion seemed really a Providential omen. Scarcely had the first report from the salute died away, when a large and beautifully defined circle of blue vapor rose slowly over the assemblage of Southern spirits there assembled to vow allegiance to the Southern banner, rested for many seconds on a level with the Flag of the Confederate States, then gradually ascended until lost in the gaze of the multitude. It was a most beautiful and auspicious omen, and those who look with an eye of faith to the glorious future of our Confederacy, could not but believe that the same God that vouchsafed to the Christian Emperor the cross in the heavens as a promise of victory, had this day given to a young nation striving for Liberty a Divine augury of hope and national durability.

The Flag of the Confederate States was the work of the Committee appointed by Congress, none of the designs sent by individuals as models having been thought suitable. It consists of three bars of red and white. The upper red, middle white, and lower red. The lower bar extends the whole width of the flag, and just above it, next to the staff on the upper left hand corner of the flag is a blue Union with the seven stars in a circle. The design is simple, easily recognized, and sufficiently distinct from the old Gridiron. Long may it wave over a free prosperous and United people.

Montgomery Weekly Advertiser, 6 March 1861.