CONCEPTION

It was an uneasy night in August 1814. Enduring the hottest summer anyone could remember and plagued by the malarial swamps surrounding the city, Washington's residents awoke on August 24 to hear that thousands of battle-hardened veterans of the Napoleonic Wars were marching from the Chesapeake Bay and their arrival was imminent. With the capital's defenses in hopeless disrepair, Washington's prospects looked grim, and half the city fled in advance of the British Expeditionary Force.

By midafternoon on the twenty-fourth, 4,500 British troops were just miles from the city when a combined force of U.S. Army regulars, marines and militia tried one final stand at the town of Bladensburg, Maryland. President James Madison and most of his cabinet were in attendance as the Americans opened the engagement with artillery and small arms fire. The Americans were soon thrown back by the Forty-fourth Regiment of Foot, and the American lines soon crumbled and fell away. Though Commodore Joshua Barney's flotilla men and Captain Samuel Miller's marines tried to rally, by four o'clock, the Americans were finished.

As darkness approached, General Robert Ross's Expeditionary Force reconnoitered at the outskirts of Washington. After a brief pause to organize his forces, Ross sent word to the city's residents to surrender. When his terms were answered with musket fire from a nearby window, this "breach of the law of nations, roused the indignation of every individual, from the General himself down to the private soldier." All those found where the shots were fired were executed, and the house was torched. As the sun edged below the horizon, British forces marched to Capitol Hill and proceeded to destroy "everything in the most distant degree connected with government." British soldier George Robert Gleig reported that his compatriots arrived to see that "the sky was brilliantly illuminated." He recalled:

The blazing of houses, ships, and stores, the report of exploding magazines, and the crash of falling roofs informed them, as they proceeded, of what was going forward. You can conceive nothing finer than the sight which met them as they drew near to the town ... a dark red light was thrown upon the road, sufficient to permit each man to view distinctly his comrade's face.

As the British troops delighted in burning Washington's public buildings, another detachment was sent to "Mr. Madison's house," where they found the White House dinner table prepared for forty guests, though "lately and precipitately abandoned." After sitting down to enjoy wine and a meal served on the president's finest plate, "they finished by setting fire to the house which had so liberally entertained them."

With Washington in ruins and the country heading toward insolvency, the United States was undoubtedly taking a beating. But where the Republic failed on the battlefield, it would triumph in a sort of strategic default. The British could burn Washington and "chastise the savages," but outright victory over the Americans could only be accomplished by mobilizing tens of thousands of Napoleonic Wars veterans. While the British press called for complete "submission," after calculating the logistical difficulties and political risks, British policymakers decided that the strategic accounting didn't add up.

Looking to end the war, both sides met in Belgium and signed the Treaty of Ghent on December 24, 1814. Recognizing the United States as an equal of sorts, Great Britain relinquished claim to the Northwest Territory and accepted most of the American demands. Adding insult to injury, or perhaps vice versa, on January 8, 1815, Major General Andrew Jackson's combined force of American Regulars, Choctaws, frontiersmen, African American freemen, marines and sailors routed eight thousand British Expeditionary troops as they marched on New Orleans. In under an hour, the Americans turned the British columns into a bloody wreck, killed commanding officer Major General Sir Edward Pakenham — brother-in-law to the Duke of Wellington — and forced a British officer to surrender to a private of the Seventh Infantry as the American troops laughed. Jackson's dramatic victory not only avenged the burning of Washington but also prophesied a new empire that would, as one contemporary put it, "give quiet to the world."

With the War of 1812 over, the country faced no imminent security threats. But soon, the French and British would get back to killing someone, and it was best to plan to plan for that eventuality. England was determined to maintain a powerful military presence in the Western Hemisphere, making it inevitable that the two countries' imperial ambitions would create new conflict. For their part, the French proved capable of trouncing all comers save the Russian winter, and their endless squabbles with the British always threatened to drag the United States into war. Even the Spanish Empire, then in precipitous decline, still endangered not only the Republic's "security, tranquility, and commerce" but also, as Thomas Jefferson warned, its very "destiny" to "give the law to our hemisphere." Senator Henry Clay cautioned that unless Americans wanted to "abandon the Ocean; surrender all your commerce; give up all your prosperity," it would be necessary to prepare for "foreign collision."

Speaking to the danger, President Madison went to Congress on December 5, 1815, and declared:

The character of the times particularly inculcates the lesson that, whether to prevent or repel danger, we ought not to be unprepared for it. This consideration will sufficiently recommend to Congress a liberal provision for the immediate extension and gradual completion of the works of defense, both fixed and floating, on our maritime frontier.

Late in 1816, President Madison instructed Secretary of War George Graham to form a special board of officers to create a "permanent" and "comprehensive plan" of coastal defense. The War Department enlisted the help of Simon Bernard, a French military engineer who previously served as head of the French topographical bureau and brigadier general and aide-de-camp to Napoleon. Recommended by the Marquis de Lafayette, a hero of the American Revolution — and in need of new job after the Grande Army was routed at Waterloo — Bernard was given a brevet commission in the same grade and served as the president of the board of engineers. The "Bernard Board" consisted of one U.S. Navy engineer and two U.S. Army engineers, including brevet Lieutenant Colonel Joseph G. Totten. Despite Bernard's prominence in the early years, before the board finished its work, Totten had become one the world's foremost experts on seacoast fortifications and America's greatest military engineer.

Though the board focused on fortifications, the original plan was far more comprehensive, including "several interrelated elements — a navy, fortifications, avenues of communication in the interior, and a regular army and well-organized militia." Traveling the American coastline, the board consulted with local military planners and engineers to devise an integrated fortification system, determining the relative importance of each site and designing fortifications based on the best planning and construction standards of the early nineteenth century.

Five years after its formation, the board recommended that the navy take primary responsibility for coastal defense. Selected fortification sites were augmented by nearby naval bases, repair yards and anchorages to protect vital commercial seaports. Military planners knew Congress loathed spending money on defense during peacetime, so only eighteen defensive works were considered "urgent" in 1821. An additional thirty-two sites were recommended as possibilities for the future.

Since military planners were most concerned with fortifying new territories in Florida and Louisiana, Charleston Harbor was neglected in the first congressional appropriation for the Third System. However, the city was an important commercial port, and consequently, in 1826, the board of engineers began to survey the Charleston Harbor and discovered a shallow shoal opposite Fort Moultrie that to that point had been a navigation hazard submerged at high tide. The engineering board felt if the sandbar were built up to be a man-made island, the defense of Charleston's Harbor "may be considered as an easy simple problem."

Though forts existed in Charleston, the guns located at Fort Moultrie on Sullivan's Island could not reach a ship hugging the ship channel's southern edge. Fort Johnson and Castle Pinckney could add fire, yet engineers thought them insufficient to command the channel, even when working in unison. What they needed was a way to create an interlocking field of fire, and that could only be accomplished by building another fort at the harbor's center.

In 1827, Secretary of War John C. Calhoun, a South Carolina native, a soon-to-be powerful proponent of nullification and an implacable enemy of the Federal government, approved the construction of a new fort in Charleston Harbor. It was eventually named in honor of Revolutionary War hero Brigadier General Thomas "the Gamecock" Sumter. Plans were drawn up, and in 1828, Congress made the first appropriation for building the fort. Fort Sumter would be "a pentagonal, three-tiered, masonry fort with truncated angles that was to be built on the shallow shoal extending from James Island."

Engineers at Fort Sumter decided to use masonry not only because it was resistant to erosion but also because using brick allowed engineers to include casemate emplacements. Built into a wall or rampart, the casemate is a vaulted chamber for gun emplacements with openings known as embrasures. The casemates allowed engineers to maximize the number of guns at the fortification.

There was one problem with the use of brick at Fort Sumter. Since Bamburgh Castle succumbed to a sustained artillery barrage during the War of the Roses in 1464, military planners knew that vertical masonry walls could be battered down by concentrated cannon fire. Therefore, building the fort with high walls of brick was counterintuitive; but when the military planners were conceptualizing the fort, it was assumed that any incoming fire would come from light cannon fired from the gun ports of a boat. If the ordnance coming from enemy ships lacked the accuracy to hit the same spot repeatedly, then individual projectiles, which lacked the destructive power of land-based guns, would be unable to breach the walls. Experiments by Joseph Totten also proved to military planners that masonry could withstand solid cannon shot fired at close range.

Standing on a sandbar that would slip beneath an incoming tide, Lieutenant Henry Brewerton, supervisory engineer for Fort Sumter's construction, knew he faced a daunting task. The shoal shifted and reformed after storms, rendering it necessary to build a substantial foundation to stabilize the spot. Brewerton had to secure the materials necessary to build such a foundation and looked in New York and New England for quarries capable of providing "30,000 tons of stone, in irregular masses, weighing between 50 and 500 pounds." In September 1829, Brewerton accepted a proposal for 30,000 tons of stones at $2.45 per ton from Ralph Berkley in New York, provided that they were delivered on time and of a suitable quality, size and weight.

After the contractor managed to deliver only one thousand tons in a year, Brewerton instructed his chief engineer, Brigadier General Charles Gratiot, to cancel the contract. Another deal was secured with a quarry in Baintree, Massachusetts, for stone at $2.11 a ton. The plan was to create a semicircle of rock called a "mole." The open spot in the rocks would allow ships to enter the site at high tide to drop cargo on the shoal without being pounded by wind and waves. By 1834, the mole was completed, and Brigadier General Charles Gratiot reported to the board of engineers that fifty thousand tons of rough granite, stretchers and cut stone (for cisterns) had been delivered.

THE LAVAL CLAIM AND THE NULLIFICATION CRISIS

By November 3, 1834, the Federal government had spent about $200,000 constructing Fort Sumter, and the foundation of the fort was taking shape. All seemed to be proceeding as planned when, in the same month, Brewerton received a letter from local resident Major William Laval that read:

Sirs: You are hereby notified that I have taken out, from under the seal of the State, a grant of all those shoals opposite and below Fort Johnson, on one of which the new work called Fort Sumter, is now erecting. You will consider this as notice of my right to the same; the grant is recorded in the office of the secretary of state of this State, and can be seen by reference to the records of that office. W. Laval.

The claim was sent to the "Engineer Superintending" in Charleston Harbor, Lieutenant T.S. Brown, who was away from the fort at the time. The letter was received by Dr. Robert Lebby, a civilian doctor under contract to provide for the medical needs of those working on the site's construction, and then forwarded to Brigadier General Gratiot.

By November 19, 1834, the Army Corps of Engineers had reviewed the claim and found that the 870-acre "plantation" was eight to ten feet below water. No doubt, the engineers knew what Laval's claim was about — South Carolina's doctrine of nullification, which held that states could defy Federal actions and "internal improvements" by declaring them invalid or simply ignoring them. For Sandlappers, the clearest example of the metastasizing power of the Federal government was under construction at the mouth of the Charleston Harbor. By the early 1830s, Governor Robert Y. Hayne was searching for a way to stop the construction of Fort Sumter and began to rally the state for a potential showdown with the Federal government. In a message to the South Carolina legislature in 1833, Hayne warned about the "usurpation of the Federal Government" and talked openly about a separate "Confederation of states." He then informed the legislature that he was appointing Major William Laval, the very man who would lay claim to Fort Sumter, as comptroller general for the state.

Born in Charleston on May 27, 1788, Major Laval was described by one contemporary as "six feet high, very erect in person" with a "very striking and military appearance." He began his military career in October 1808 as an ensign stationed in Charleston Harbor at Forts Moultrie and Johnson. Serving as first lieutenant and later captain in the Creek Wars — leaving the fight only briefly to return home to participate in that most Charleston of pastimes, dueling — Laval was wounded at the siege of Pensacola, an injury that caused to him walk on crutches the remainder of his life.

Following military service, Laval returned to Charleston as secretary of state of South Carolina and sheriff of Charleston and eventually as assistant treasurer of the United States under President James Polk and treasurer of the state of South Carolina. But it was Major Laval's brief stint as an officer in the Customs House that led him into the politics of nullification. When Laval used his position to enforce a South Carolina law to invalidate the tariffs of 1828 and 1832 and prevented Federal officials from collecting the tariffs, he was removed, as Governor Hayne put it, "from a lucrative position at the Customs House as punishment for his loyalty to his native state." Even his "services and suffering ... under the eye of General Jackson" during the War of 1812 had proven insufficient "to shield him from that ruthless spirit of prescription which serves to consider fidelity to the State as incompatible with the duty of the Union." For this loyalty, Laval was rewarded with the comptroller general position. It was also in this position that he could twist the construction of Fort Sumter into legal knots while South Carolina argued over the legitimacy of the Land Frontier and Seacoast Program.

Although work ground to a halt in Charleston Harbor, tensions in South Carolina continued to increase. The pressure built for a decade as South Carolina faced a series of shocks that radicalized a state not known for its moderation. The first occurred in the spring of 1819, when cotton prices collapsed as overproduction pushed prices sharply lower. Worse still for South Carolina, many of the state's planters were picking up and moving west, leaving behind exhausted fields and gangs of slaves who could not be profitably put to work. Not only did cotton prices drop in South Carolina, but Charleston also lost enormous revenues as Mobile and New Orleans emerged as the South's most important ports. By 1828, the chamber of commerce reported that the city "has for several years past retrograded ... Her land estate has within eight years depreciated in value one half. Industry and business talent ... have sought employment elsewhere. Many of her houses are tenantless and the grass grows uninterrupted in some of her chief business streets."