Immerse yourself in the beauty and tragedy of the Lost Cause – The Confederate Museum
Beautiful, glorious Charleston was in bloom as the War Between the States began in her harbor April 12, 1861. White star jasmine, now known as “Confederate,” dazzled the streets with her heady perfume as the rice planter aristocracy celebrated what they believed was the start of a quick and easy war. As four long, costly years fell away, so did the hopes and dreams of the once glittering matriarch of southern cities. The War started here, to be certain – as much in the drawing rooms and courtyards as upon the walls at Fort Johnson and the other batteries, staring out at Union-held Fort Sumter with acrid, burning smoke of cannon fire stinging a Confederate soldier’s eyes.
Everywhere a visitor turns in Charleston, memories, portals and misty dreamscapes of the past whisper and beckon to the curiosity-seeker. An often overlooked, hidden-in-plain sight jewel of the Historic District is the Confederate Museum on the bustling corner of Market and Meeting Streets. The museum is on display at the city market building, c. 1841 – perhaps best noted by the words “Daughters of Confederacy” inscribed above the massive wooden doors.
The market building was where young Confederate boys and men flocked from all over the state to enlist as war fever burned through South Carolina that gentle spring, some reporting later in their diaries of hearing the first shots of the war as they came into the city. As you enter the museum, an 1861 rifled cannon sits with quiet clarity, a silent witness to their era. A row of shoes sits low in the glass counter, one pair showing its crude wooden soles. By the end of the war, many men prayed for shoes; others wore theirs even if the sizing wasn’t right, just to have something, marching until their feet bleed.
There are dozens of clothing samples of men, women and infants, including a child’s dress made out of a South Carolina flag; lace, leather saddlebags and delicate wooden pieces of fan. A tiny, thumb-sized box of matches, with sulphur still intact on the head, is on display; close scrutiny reveals that this belonged to General P.G.T. Beauregard, commanding Confederate officer during the bombardment on Fort Sumter. He watched the war begin that early April morning from the piazza at the Edmonston-Alston House on East Battery (also a public museum). He would later seize command unexpectedly at the bloody battle of Shiloh after General Albert Sidney Johnston was mortally wounded in the leg.
At the outset of the war in Charleston, Beauregard was friends with Major Robert Anderson in command at Fort Sumter. They had known each other since West Point, and their relationship was an eerie foretelling of the intertwined lives and loyalties of the war. Item 268 at the Confederate Museum is a small piece of white flag used by Anderson to surrender Fort Sumter.
There are several cases of weapons, including the sword owned by General Bernard Bee, who was born and raised on Tradd Street. During Gettysburg, Bee was overheard saying Confederate commander Thomas Jackson’s performance as that of a “stone wall” – and the legendary moniker “Stonewall Jackson” was coined. There is also a glass lantern slide, group photo of Stonewall Jackson, Albert Sidney Johnston and Robert E. Lee at the museum.
In one case lies six nails and a wooden piece of General Nathan Bedford Forrest’s log cabin. Forrest was the “Wizard of the Saddle,” utilizing cavalry and deception to become a bane to the Union army. General William T. Sherman once said Forrest must be killed, at any price, “even if it costs the lives of 10,000 men and bankrupts the National Treasury.” Forrest lived until 1877 and when General Robert E. Lee was asked, “Who was the greatest commander of the war on either side?” his unequivocal reply was “A man I have never seen…his name is Forrest.”
The humanistic side of the Confederate cause is stained upon the artifacts, with timelessness as well as blood. An intact looking glass is here; there, drumsticks taken from the hand of a small boy after Battle of Battery Wagner on Morris Island. Perhaps the most requested item in the museum is the small circlet of General Robert E. Lee’s hair, that tangible connection to one of the most beloved and respected figures of his grand, sad era and an archetype of Confederate duty and determination. “I told these people at the outset of this conflict that I was bitterly opposed to it,” he once wrote in a letter to his son, “and that they would live to repent it.” As the war dragged on, his sentiments deepened. “What a cruel thing war is…to fill our hearts with hatred instead of love for our neighbors.”
The flag of Bachman’s Battery, Hampton Legion, Army of Northern Virginia lies in state here. It was carried by A.W. Jager, who after the conflict brought the flag to every reunion, allowing no one else to carry it. It was donated in 1963.
Considered by many to be the crown jewel of the collection is the flag that flew at Fort Sumter that dusky April dawn in 1861; five bullet holes are stark testament to what the coming years would bring. Its somber presence fills the viewer with multitudes of emotion – hope, pride, sadness, anger and regret. It is the symbol of both youthful passion and harsh lesson. There also sits the inkwell, pen and blotter that was used to secede from the Union on December 20, 1860 in the collection, and the ghostlike murmur of hopeful voices intoxicated with promise seem to roar in the quietude of the room.
Immerse yourself in the beauty and tragedy of the Lost Cause. The Confederate Museum is open Tuesday-Saturday, 11:00-3:30. Admission: Adults $5, Children $3.