And thus, after all the terrific cannonading of four years, with the sufferings and death of the long siege, the “accursed city” fell without a battle for its possession. When the Confederate and Palmetto flags were raised on the walls of Fort Sumter in place of the dishonored banner of freedom, in the spring of 1861, the boastful Mayor of Charleston made a flaming speech, declaring that they should wave there forever!—that Southern independence was secure, and her career of glory begun. He assured the enthusiastic people, that if their ensigns were struck down they would be trailed in “a sea of blood!” We may leave him to his meditations while we join in the shouts of victory.
Standing on the walls of Sumter, look away in the direction of General Sherman’s march. From Atlanta to the shattered fortress, in this campaign “our great victories were almost bloodless, and therefore the more joyous and the more memorable. Branchville fell by manœuvre, not by the costly price of heroic troops. The turning of Branchville was the signal for the evacuation of Charleston, and its capture was the capture of Charleston. It was as if Sherman, sixty two miles distant from Hardee, had sent him a telegraphic message to vacate the premises, and the notice was obeyed without question.
“Ordinarily, one would have supposed that the streams which crossed Sherman’s path at every step would have been successfully contested. But he appears to have passed them without a day’s delay at any one. Of such vital importance was time to both parties—to the one, that he might make his combinations and concentrations; to the other, that he might break them—that no sacrifice would have seemed too great on the enemy’s part to ensure delay. But, at the very first show of resistance at a river crossing, our advance, not waiting for support, would dash into it, waist deep, with loud cheers, while the rest of the column hurried to flank the position above and below, and invariably in a few hours the enemy was in hot retreat.
“Indeed, the enthusiasm of our troops, with Sherman as a leader, has known no bounds. They felt themselves invincible, and have laughed at obstacles. Sixty or seventy thousand troops is a large force for such operations, but larger ones have miserably failed. It is large enough, however, when directed by genius and inspired by enthusiasm. On the other hand, the enemy has fled from Sherman’s path as from that of a pestilence. His troops feel that there is little use in opposing our columns, and go as quickly as possible to the rear. The unprejudiced topographer, speculating upon the probable location of that mysterious region, ‘the last ditch,’ would hitherto have assigned it to South Carolina. But the ‘great flanker’ has, in fact, flanked that famous ditch, and it has been evacuated through fear of enfilading. Day after day, the theatrical bills of the Confederacy announce ‘one more and positively the very last ditch;’ and still the comedy is played. Branchville, Columbia, and Charleston fell, but we see no Derry, no Saragossa, no Puebla, in their defence. Lame and impotent conclusion indeed from such bravado of prologue! The chance of becoming the sepulchre of the Confederacy will be taken from South Carolina.”