The Sun.
London, England, 1865-03-07 00:00:00

Rather more than 100 years ago there was con-
structed of English brick and stone in the loyal city
of Charleston a church the lofty spire of which was
for years the chief landmark of ships approaching
the city from the sea. In the humid climate engen-
dered by the extensive salt marshes which surround
this low lying city and permeate the sea islands on
its flanks it has often been remarked that church
bells acquire a rare richness and mellowness of tone,
and the chimes of St. Michael's have long been pro-
verbial for their musical sweetness. In the Revolu-
tionary War these bells were sent as trophies to
England when the city fell into Sir Henry Clinton's
hands in 1780, and were subsequently purchased by
London merchants, who restored them when Ame-
' rican Independence was secured, as a pledge of good
will, to the inhabitants of South Carolina, which
had long been a pet colony of Great Britain. In
1761 the church of St. Michael's was for the first
time thrown open for public worship. In 1861 from
this same spire the bursting of the first shell over
Fort Sumter was watched by eager eyes, and the
inauguration of a war which has already proved
more fertile of horrors, suffering, and bloodshed
than any of this century, was witnessed by specta-
tors, as unconscious as the bricks under their feet of
the magnitude of the stupendous revolution which
was opening beneath their gaze. From this same
spire, looking down as it has for the last 18 months
upon silent streets and deserted homes, one solitary
bell, the sole survivor of its seven tuneful helpmates,
which had been removed months ago for safety's
sake, still rings out its musical greeting, and at night
before its echoes are hushed the Confederate watch-
man raises hour after hour the muezzin cry of " All's
well," while all around him Federal shells from
Morris Island have saved and shrieked and scattered
destruction. Nor can any one who visits Charleston
to-day be blind to the possibility that before the
13th of April, 1865, arrives—the fourth anniver-
sary of the commencement of this unnatural strife,
a Federal watchman may from this same spire gaze
down upon the sun-lit harbour and city beneath
him, gloat over the stars and stripes as they float
once more over the crumbling historical ruin, the
congeries of shattered bricks, concrete, and sand
which is still dignified by the name of Fort Sumter.

It is hard for the visitor who comes to Charleston
fresh from Richmond and Virginia to understand
that the non-combatant population of South Caro-
lina is homogeneous with the inhabitants of Rich-
mond, and nominally of the same flesh and blood as
the indomitable rank and file of General Lee's army.
In Richmond there was, one month ago, no more
thought of submission or faintheartedness than in
the breast of Walker and his heroic associates at
Londonderry, in 1690, or in the intrepid ranks
which garrisoned Saragossa in 1808. In Charles-
ton, the fountain head of Secession, the nest of re-
bellion, the cherished, holy city of the " Gamecock
State"—in Charleston, which should draw its inspi-
ration from the grim walls of dilapidated but still
defiant old Sumter, and set an example of iron-
hearted resolution to the associates whom it preci-
pitated into rebellion, there is croaking and dismay,
infirmity of purpose and irresolution. Many are the
original Secessionists—the " fire-eaters" of the New
York Tribune—who once mocked at old Virginia
because she was slow to tread the thorny path to
which Carolina lured her on, but who now faint by
the way and prattle of the " best terms that can be
obtained from a magnanimous foe," while upon some
lips the ominous word " reconstruction" is audibly
breathed. I wish to be understood as not including
in this category the gallant little band which still
unshrinkingly holds Fort Sumter and mans the bat-
teries upon James and Sullivan's Islands. There is
in the breasts of the garrison of Charleston the same
Virginian spirit which animates the army of General
Lee, and it were well for them if they had no contact
with the timorous submissionists or the querulous
faultfinders who abound in these streets. 'There is still
to be found stuff among the men of Forts Sumter,
Moultrie, and Johnson, which, if rightly handled,
and promptly supported from Richmond, will gain
for their commander celebrity in connexion with
Charleston as just and as enduring as Saragossa
conferred upon Palafox and Badajos upon Philip-
pon. But it must be confessed that, speaking gene-
rally, and especially in reference to Virginia, the
Confederate banner is most proudly and stubbornly
upheld by men who trod the path of Secession
slowly and reluctantly, and that, according to the
law of nature, the momentum of those bodies which
were with difficulty set in motion is sustained and
irresistible when once they get under way.

To what shall I compare the city of Charleston
this day, as it lies for the most part silent and de-
serted, and yet instinct with the impress of life, of
which the sudden flight of its inhabitants has not yet
been able to rob it ? It is not unlike the city of Lon-
don between the hours of 12 and 6 on a fine Sunday
in Midsummer. It is more like one of those Chinese
cities lately described in the columns of the Times,
which have reverted to the possession of the Empe-
ror of China after having for years been in the waste-
ful and ruin-breeding hands of the Taeping rebels.
It is like the Florence which Boccaccio paints locked
in the death embrace of the plague. But most of all,
its vacant verandahs and deserted sun balconies, its
palmettoes and japonicas, its magnolias and helio-
tropes, its stately white houses and ample gardens,
its exquisite sea front, and the blue waves that
softly lave the foot which the fair city delicately
extends to their embrace, recall the description of
Genoa in 1800, when the Strada Balbi and the
Strada Nuova, no less than the vilest tenements and
hovels, were deserted every morning by their inha-
bitants, and ladies of the highest rank mingledwith
the humblest peasants, and repaired under the grip-
ing mandates of hunger to the hillsides within Mas-
sena's lines, gathering the commonest weeds of the
Riviera, and bearing them home as the choicest of trea-
sures. Upon the houses which constitute or adjoin the
street called " the Battery" (which is the sea-front
of Charleston), and which are nearest to the enemy's
" swamp angels" and Parrot guns upon Morris
Island, it is astonishing to perceive how slight is the
injury inflicted by 18 months of shelling. At the
lower end of Meeting-street most of the houses are
intact ; nor would the casual observer detect any
evidence of war except the desolation of the streets
and a hastily constructed barricade or breastwork