THE FIRST SHOT
The first month of the new administration passed in a strange peace that
proved to be the calm before the storm. On the first day of April, All
Fool's Day, Mr. Seward decided to bring to a definite issue the question
of supreme authority in the government. That Abraham Lincoln was the
nominal President was true, of course. Mr. Seward generously decided to
allow him to remain nominally at the head of the Nation and assume
himself the full responsibilities of a Dictatorship.
The Secretary of State strolled leisurely into the executive office more
careless in dress than usual, the knot of his cravat under his left ear,
a huge lighted cigar in his hand. He handed the President a folded sheet
of official paper, bowed carelessly and retired.
He had drawn up his proclamation under the title:
SOME THOUGHTS FOR THE PRESIDENT'S CONSIDERATION.
In this remarkable document he proposed to assume the Dictatorship and
outlined his policy as director of the Nation's affairs.
He would immediately provoke war with Great Britain, Russia, Spain and
France!
The dark-visaged giant adjusted his glasses and read this paper with a
smile of incredulous amazement. He wiped his glasses and read it again.
And then without consultation with a single human being, and without a
moment's hesitation he wrote a brief reply to the great man and his
generous offer. There was no bluster, no wrath, no demand for an apology
to his insulted dignity, but in the simplest and friendliest and most
direct language he informed his Secretary that if a dictator were needed
to save the country he would undertake the dangerous and difficult job
himself inasmuch as he had been called by the people to be their
Commander-in-Chief, and that he expected the coöperation, advice and
support of _all_ the members of his Cabinet.
He did not even refer to the wild scheme of plunging the country into
war with two-thirds of the civilized world. The bare announcement of
such a suggestion would have driven the Secretary from public life. The
quiet man who presided over the turbulent Cabinet never hinted to one of
its members that such a document had reached his hands.
But as the shades of night fell over the Capitol on that first day of
April, 1861, there was one distinguished statesman within the city who
knew that a real man had been elected President and that he was going to
wield the power placed in his hands without a tremor of fear or an
instant's hesitation.
It took many months for other members of his Cabinet to learn this--but
there was no more trouble with his Secretary of State. He became at once
his loyal, earnest and faithful counsellor.
On April the 6th, the fleet was sent to sea under sealed orders to
relieve Fort Sumter in the harbor of Charleston, South Carolina. The
President had been loath to commit the act which must inevitably provoke
war--unless the whole movement of Secession in the South was one of
political bluff. The highest military authority of the country had
advised him that the fort could not be held by any force at present
visible, and that its evacuation was inevitable in any event.
His Cabinet, with two exceptions, were against any attempt to relieve
it. The sentiment of the people of the North was bitterly opposed to war
on the South.
On April the 7th, the fleet was at sea on its way to the Southern coast,
its guns shotted, its great battle flags streaming in the wind.
In accordance with the amenities of war the President notified General
Beauregard, Commander of the Southern forces in Charleston Harbor, that
he had sent his fleet to put provisions into Sumter, but not at present
to put in men, arms or ammunition, _unless the fort should be attacked_.
On the night this message was dispatched Roger A. Pryor, of Virginia,
made a speech in Charleston, from the balcony of the Mills Hotel to
practically the entire white population of the city. Its message was
fierce, direct, electric. It was summed up in a single sentence:
"Strike the first armed blow in defense of Southern rights and within
one hour by Shrewsbury clock, old Virginia will stand, her battle flags
flying, by your side!"
On the morning of the 11th General Beauregard sent Pryor as a special
messenger to Major Anderson demanding the surrender of Fort Sumter, and
on his refusal, which was a matter of course, instructed him to go at
once to the nearest battery and order its Commander to open fire.
The formalities at Sumter quickly ended, Pryor repaired to Battery
Johnson, met the young Captain of artillery in command and presented his
order.
With a shout the Captain threw his arms around the messenger and with
streaming eyes cried:
"Your wonderful speech last night made this glorious thing possible! You
shall have the immortal honor of firing the first gun!"
And then a strange revulsion of fooling--or was it a flash of foreboding
from the hell-lit, battle-scorched future! The orator hesitated and
turned pale. It was an honor he could not now decline and yet he
instinctively shrank from it.
He mopped the perspiration from his brow and looked about in a helpless
way. His eye suddenly rested on a grey-haired, stalwart sentinel passing
with quick firm tread. He recognized him immediately as a distinguished
fellow Virginian, a man of large wealth and uncompromising opinions on
Southern rights.
When Virginia had refused to secede, he cursed his countrymen as a set
of hesitating cowards, left the State and moved to South Carolina. He
had volunteered among the first and carried a musket as a private
soldier in spite of his snow-white hairs.
Pryor turned to the Commandant:
"I appreciate, sir, the honor you would do me, but I could not think of
taking it from one more worthy than myself. There is the man whose
devotion to our cause is greater than mine."
He introduced Edmund Ruffin and gave a brief outline of his career. The
boyish Commandant faced him:
"Will you accept the honor of firing the first shot, sir?"
The square jaw closed with a snap:
"By God, I will!"
The old man seized the lanyard and waited for the Captain and messenger
to reach the front to witness the effect of the shot.
They had scarcely cleared the enclosure when the first gun of actual
civil war thundered its fateful message across the still waters of the
beautiful Southern harbor.
They watched the great screaming shell rise into the sky, curve downward
and burst with sullen roar squarely over the doomed fort.
The deed was done!
Instantly came the answering cry of fierce, ungovernable wrath from the
millions of the North. The four remaining Southern States wheeled into
line, flung their battle flags into the sky, and the bloodiest war in
the history of the world had begun.