To Dare, the polit­i­cal cli­mate in South Car­oli­na grew increas­ing­ly volatile in Decem­ber 1860. A con­ven­tion of 169 promi­nent fig­ures, includ­ing for­mer con­gress­men, gov­er­nors, and sen­a­tors, gath­ered in Colum­bia to address the grow­ing issue of seces­sion. These del­e­gates, most of whom were wealthy slave own­ers, were deeply con­cerned about the nation­al debate sur­round­ing slav­ery and the elec­tion of Abra­ham Lin­coln. As South Carolina’s seces­sion seemed inevitable, the atmos­phere in the room was one of pal­pa­ble ten­sion. While there was excite­ment about the idea of dis­union, there were also fears about the reper­cus­sions of such a dras­tic step. The polit­i­cal elite knew that the seces­sion of South Car­oli­na could not be an iso­lat­ed act and would like­ly set off a chain reac­tion, inten­si­fy­ing nation­al con­flicts over slav­ery and states’ rights.

The choice to hold the con­ven­tion in Colum­bia was not with­out con­tro­ver­sy. Some del­e­gates voiced con­cerns that the city could har­bor Union­ist sen­ti­ment, poten­tial­ly under­min­ing their efforts for dis­union. As the debate over where to hold the con­ven­tion inten­si­fied, more con­ser­v­a­tive del­e­gates called for delay­ing the pro­ceed­ings, fear­ing that hasty actions could lead to unin­tend­ed con­se­quences. Despite these con­cerns, the con­ven­tion con­vened at the First Bap­tist Church on Decem­ber 17, with David Flav­el Jami­son being unex­pect­ed­ly elect­ed pres­i­dent over the antic­i­pat­ed Robert Barn­well Rhett. The elec­tion of Jami­son over Rhett indi­cat­ed a deep­er divide with­in the seces­sion­ist fac­tion, with some del­e­gates push­ing for a more cau­tious and diplo­mat­ic approach to seces­sion. In his open­ing speech, Jami­son avoid­ed dis­cussing the future of slav­ery direct­ly but instead focused on a ral­ly­ing cry for bold action, urg­ing del­e­gates to “To dare! and again to dare!” This call to action res­onat­ed with the del­e­gates, fuel­ing their resolve, but the threat of a small­pox out­break led to the swift relo­ca­tion of the con­ven­tion to Charleston, a move seen by some as a sym­bol of weak­ness or cow­ardice.

Upon arriv­ing in Charleston, the del­e­gates were quick to unite behind imme­di­ate seces­sion, putting aside any remain­ing doubts or hes­i­ta­tions. On Decem­ber 20, the seces­sion ordi­nance was passed almost unan­i­mous­ly, for­mal­iz­ing South Carolina’s deci­sion to sev­er ties with the Union. The process was shock­ing­ly swift, with lit­tle debate or hes­i­ta­tion, high­light­ing the urgency of the moment. The cer­e­mo­ny that fol­lowed the vote took on an almost cel­e­bra­to­ry tone, with the del­e­gates view­ing their deci­sion as a bold dec­la­ra­tion of inde­pen­dence, akin to the sign­ing of the Dec­la­ra­tion of Inde­pen­dence itself. How­ev­er, the atmos­phere was marked­ly dif­fer­ent from that his­toric event, as the del­e­gates seemed more focused on tri­umph than reflec­tion. Robert Barn­well Rhett, one of the lead­ing fig­ures in the seces­sion move­ment, basked in the adu­la­tion of the crowds, while the mood inside the con­ven­tion shift­ed to one of joy­ous cel­e­bra­tion. The boom­ing can­non fire and fire­works served as loud sym­bols of their break from the Union, but not all were thrilled by the deci­sion. Fig­ures like James L. Peti­gru, who remained deeply con­nect­ed to the Union cause, acknowl­edged the sever­i­ty of the moment, under­stand­ing that the action tak­en would have far-reach­ing con­se­quences for both South Car­oli­na and the nation as a whole.

While South Carolina’s polit­i­cal lead­er­ship embraced their new­found inde­pen­dence, the wider impli­ca­tions of their actions were quick­ly becom­ing clear. As the state moved toward seces­sion, the rest of the coun­try watched with grow­ing con­cern, know­ing that this would like­ly lead to fur­ther divi­sions between the North and South. Mean­while, Major Ander­son and his men at Fort Moul­trie, sta­tioned just out­side Charleston, observed the cel­e­bra­tions from afar. Ander­son, keen­ly aware of the polit­i­cal and mil­i­tary real­i­ties sur­round­ing him, under­stood that the deci­sion of South Car­oli­na to secede was more than just a polit­i­cal statement—it was a sig­nal of impend­ing con­flict. With the Union los­ing its hold in the South, the ten­sions that had been build­ing for decades were final­ly com­ing to a head. Anderson’s deci­sion to remain at Fort Moul­trie and his grow­ing con­cerns about the fort’s vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty high­light­ed the dif­fi­cult posi­tion in which he found him­self. As South Car­oli­na cel­e­brat­ed its inde­pen­dence, the divide between the Union and the Con­fed­er­a­cy became clear­er, and the prospect of war seemed more like­ly with each pass­ing day.

This chap­ter paints a vivid pic­ture of the ris­ing ten­sion with­in South Car­oli­na dur­ing the days lead­ing up to its seces­sion. The debates, the fer­vor for inde­pen­dence, and the polit­i­cal maneu­ver­ing were all part of the larg­er nar­ra­tive that set the stage for the Civ­il War. Major Anderson’s actions at Fort Moul­trie, cou­pled with the seces­sion­ist fer­vor in Charleston, reflect the grow­ing rift in the nation. The sym­bol­ic cel­e­bra­tion of South Carolina’s break from the Union was only the begin­ning of a broad­er shift that would soon engulf the entire coun­try. As both sides pre­pared for con­flict, the nation stood on the brink of a war that would for­ev­er alter its his­to­ry, with South Carolina’s seces­sion serv­ing as the spark that ignit­ed the flames of divi­sion.