In this essay I address the immense popular enthusiasm that characterized the South's reaction to secession and the outbreak of the American Civil War in 1861. This powerful phenomenon, I argue, was a crucial component of the war's origins; it did not cause the conflict, but it created an atmosphere in which dissent was virtually unheard of, without which the war could not have begun as it did. Typically, textbook-style explanations of the Civil War's causes - such as that put forward by Irwin Unger in his comprehensive work These United States - tend to trace the political origins of conflict, elucidate the nuanced positions of key Democrats, Whigs, and Republicans, and cite debates from Congress over slavery legislation.
Without a doubt, this version of history describes an essential component in the outbreak of the Civil War. At the same time, though, explanations of this kind often fail to emphasize the role of average individuals, whose opinions become lost in the sea of grand political events, surfacing only briefly on election days. To pay attention to the opinions prevalent in the communities that would go to war, as opposed to the views of their political leaders, is to consider the war from an entirely different angle, allowing us to look beyond the immediate sparks that caused the war, and instead study the nature of the powder that was ignited.
The state of Virginia was a veritable arsenal of this powder. By focussing on one particular Virginian county, Augusta, I seek to account for the almost instant popularity of the war by appealing to several mutually reinforcing factors: the county's stake in slavery ensured the general alignment of its politically-minded citizens, such that the concept of states' rights became a rallying cry in the community's political sphere; the bulk of the county's population was unified by an unsophisticated urge to defend family and community from perceived Northern aggression; nationalism and patriotism were potent ideals that fuelled war enthusiasm, powerful enough to command loyalty yet sufficiently localized to be transposed intact from the American nation to the Confederacy; well-known myths of the relatively recent American Revolution blended seamlessly with strong religious sentiment and feelings of moral superiority, contributing to a prevailing sense of purpose and understanding of the roles that each individual would fill; and, finally, widely accepted gender stereotypes helped to solidify these roles, guiding young men to the recruiting stations.
Though Virginia's Augusta County was home to many staunch critics of secession before the war, pro-Unionist sentiment evaporated almost overnight after hostilities commenced at Fort Sumter on April 12th, 1861. Historian Edward Ayers exclaims that Virginia's decision to secede from the Union on April 17th “came with stunning rapidity, given all the months, all the years of talk and vacillation that had come before.”
Augusta County's alacrity was no exception. For example, the Staunton Spectator was a focal point for pro-Union arguments before the war, contending in December of 1860 that the North recognized Southern rights, and continuing to praise Colonel John Baldwin's efforts to preserve the Union as late as April 2nd, 1861; but by April 23rd, not even a week after Virginia seceded, the paper warned Northern Republicans that they “should consider the consequences of attempting to coerce the seceded states by force,” and by the time of its next issue a week later the Spectator printed a letter stating that Virginia “has not only seceded, but has on this morning, an army in the field, to defend our rights and institutions, that will carry terror to the hearts” of those who stood opposed to it. The speed of the Spectator's conversion from a pro-Union stance to a militant secessionist position following the incident at Fort Sumter is a striking indicator of how rapidly public opinion fell into alignment.
Indeed, not only did the Spectator quickly switch to towing a militant Confederate line, but ordinary people of Augusta rushed to support the drive to battle as well, in both their words and actions. In a letter to the Republican Vindicator dated April 22nd, 1861, William Baylor of the 5th Regiment at Harper's Ferry fiercely declared: “Great enthusiasm animates all, and should the vicegerent of the arch-fiend dare send his minions to Old Virginia, we will repel them, or leave the memory of brave men for our friends to revere.” Powerful responses to the outbreak of war such as this were commonplace in Augusta, but even more formidable was the number of volunteers for military service. In a letter to her brother, Mary Smiley modestly admitted that “Augusta has done pretty well in sending soldiers,” referring to 1,200 volunteers and a number of companies still being formed. Augusta's high volunteer rates were reflected throughout the fledgling nation, where Southern men, in the words of historian David Donald, “rushed to enlist, fearing the fighting would be over before they could get to the front.”
