The Day of the Confederacy | Page 9

bar to guard against surprise from the sea.
On that Friday night the harbor was swept by storm. But in spite of
torrents of rain East Battery and the rooftops were thronged. "The wind
was inshore and the booming was startlingly distinct." At the height of
the bombardment, the sky above Sumter seemed to be filled with the
flashes of bursting shells. But during this wild night Sumter itself was
both dark and silent. Its casements did not have adequate lamps and the
guns could not be used except by day. When morning broke, clear and
bright after the night's storm, the duel was resumed.
The walls of Sumter were now crumbling. At eight o'clock Saturday
morning the barracks took fire. Soon after it was perceived from the
shore that the flag was down. Beauregard at once sent offers of
assistance. With Sumter in flames above his head, Anderson replied
that he had not surrendered; he declined assistance; and he hauled up
his flag. Later in the day the flagstaff was shot in two and again the flag
fell, and again it was raised. Flames had been kindled anew by red-hot
shot, and now the magazine was in danger. Quantities of powder were
thrown into the sea. Still the rain of red-hot shot continued. About noon,
Saturday, says the Courier, "flames burst out from every quarter of
Sumter and poured from many of its portholes...the wind was from the
west driving the smoke across the fort into the embrasures where the
gunners were at work." Nevertheless, "as if served with a new
impulse," the guns of Sumter redoubled their fire. But it was not in
human endurance to keep on in the midst of the burning fort. This
splendid last effort was short. At a quarter after one, Anderson ceased

firing and raised a white flag. Negotiations followed ending in terms of
surrender--Anderson to be allowed to remove his garrison to the fleet
lying idle beyond the bar and to salute the flag of the United States
before taking it down. The bombardment had lasted thirty-two hours
without a death on either side. The evacuation of the fort was to take
place next day.
The afternoon of Sunday, the 14th of April, was a gala day in the
harbor of Charleston. The sunlight slanted across the roofs of the city,
sparkled upon the sea. Deep and rich the harbor always looks in the
spring sunshine on bright afternoons. The filmy atmosphere of these
latitudes, at that time of year, makes the sky above the darkling,
afternoon sea a pale but luminous turquoise. There is a wonderful soft
strength in the peaceful brightness of the sun. In such an atmosphere
the harbor was flecked with brilliantly decked craft of every description,
all in a flutter of flags and carrying a host of passengers in gala dress.
The city swarmed across the water to witness the ceremony of
evacuation. Wherry men did a thriving business carrying passengers to
the fort.
Anderson withdrew from Sumter shortly after two o'clock amid a salute
of fifty guns. The Confederates took possession. At half after four a
new flag was raised above the battered and fire-swept walls.
Chapter II.
The Davis Government
It has never been explained why Jefferson Davis was chosen President
of the Confederacy. He did not seek the office and did not wish it. He
dreamed of high military command. As a study in the irony of fate,
Davis's career is made to the hand of the dramatist. An instinctive
soldier, he was driven by circumstances three times to renounce the
profession of arms for a less congenial civilian life. His final
renunciation, which proved to be of the nature of tragedy, was his
acceptance of the office of President. Indeed, why the office was given
to him seems a mystery. Rhett was a more logical candidate. And when

Rhett, early in the lobbying at Montgomery, was set aside as too much
of a radical, Toombs seemed for a time the certain choice of the
majority. The change to Davis came suddenly at the last moment. It
was puzzling at the time; it is puzzling still.
Rhett, though doubtless bitterly disappointed, bore himself with the
savoir faire of a great gentleman. At the inauguration, it was on Rhett's
arm that Davis leaned as he entered the hall of the Confederate
Congress. The night before, in a public address, Yancey had said that
the man and the hour were met. The story of the Confederacy is filled
with dramatic moments, but to the thoughtful observer few are more
dramatic than the conjunction of these three men in the inauguration of
the Confederate President. Beneath a surface of apparent unanimity
they carried, like concealed weapons, points of view that were in
deadly antagonism. This antagonism had not