THERE are three institutions in Charleston-either of which would be a stain upon the name of civilization-standing as emblems of the time-established notions of a people, and their cherished love for the ancestral relics of a gone-by age. Nothing could point with more unerring aim than these sombre monuments do, to the distance behind the age that marks the thoughts and actions of the Charlestonians. They are the poor-house, hospital, and jail; but as the latter only pertains to our present subject, we prefer to speak of it alone, and leave the others for another occasion. The workhouse may be said to form an exception-that being a new building, recently erected upon a European plan. It is very spacious, with an extravagant exterior, surmounted by lofty semi-Gothic watch-towers, similar to the old castles upon the Rhine. So great was the opposition to building this magnificent temple of a workhouse, and so inconsistent, beyond the progress of the age, was it viewed by the “manifest ancestry,” that it caused the mayor his defeat at the following hustings. “Young Charleston” was rebuked for its daring progress, and the building is marked by the singular cognomen of “Hutchinson's Folly.” What is somewhat singular, this magnificent building is exclusively for negroes. One fact will show how progressive has been the science of law to govern the negro, while those to which the white man is subjected are such as good old England conferred upon them some centuries ago. For felonious and burglarious offences, a white man is confined in the common jail; then dragged to the market-place, stripped, and whipped, that the negroes may laugh “and go see buckra catch it;” while a negro is sent to the workhouse, confined in his cell for a length of time, and then whipped according to modern science,—but nobody sees it except by special permission. Thus the negro has the advantage of science and privacy.
The jail is a sombre-looking building, with every mark of antiquity standing boldly outlined upon its exterior. It is surrounded by a high brick wall, and its windows are grated with double rows of bars, sufficiently strong for a modern penitentiary. Altogether, its dark, gloomy appearance strikes those who approach it, with the thought and association of some ancient cruelty. You enter through an iron-barred door, and on both sides of a narrow portal leading to the right are four small cells and a filthy-looking kitchen, resembling an old-fashioned smoke-house. These cells are the debtors'; and as we were passing out, after visiting a friend, a lame “molatto-fellow” with scarcely rags to cover his nakedness, and filthy beyond description, stood at what was called the kitchen door. “That poor dejected object,” said our friend, “is the cook. He is in for misdemeanor-one of the peculiar shades of it, for which a nigger is honored with the jail.” “It seems, then, that cooking is a punishment in Charleston, and the negro is undergoing the penalty,” said we. “Yes!” said our friend; “but the poor fellow has a sovereign consolation, which few niggers in Charleston can boast of-and none of the prisoners here have-he can get enough to eat.”
The poor fellow held out his hand as we passed him, and said, “Massa, gin poor Abe a piece o' 'bacca'?” We freely gave him all in our possession.
On the left side, after passing the main iron door, are the jailer's apartments. Passing through another iron door, you ascend a narrow, crooked stairs and reach the second story; here are some eight or nine miserable cells-some large and some small-badly ventilated, and entirely destitute of any kind of furniture: and if they are badly ventilated for summer, they are equally badly provided with means to warm them in winter. In one of these rooms were nine or ten persons, when we visited it; and such was the morbid stench escaping from it, that we were compelled to put our handkerchiefs to our faces. This floor is appropriated for such crimes as assault and battery; assault and battery, with intent to kill; refractory seamen; deserters; violating the statutes; suspicion of arson and murder; witnesses; all sorts of crimes, varying from the debtor to the positive murderer, burglar, and felon. We should have enumerated, among the rest, all stewards, (colored,) whether foreign or domestic, who are committed on that singular charge, “contrary to law.” And it should have been added, even though cast away upon our “hospitable shores.” Among all these different shades of criminals, there must be some very bad men. And we could recount three who were pointed out to us, as very dangerous men, yet were allowed the favor of this floor and its associations. One was an Irish sailor, who was sentenced to three years and nine months' imprisonment by the United States court, for revolt and a desperate attempt to murder the captain of a ship; the next was a German, a soldier in the United States army, sentenced to one year and eight months' imprisonment for killing his comrade; and the third was an English sailor, who killed a woman-but as she happened to be of doubtful character, the presiding judge of the sessions sentenced him to a light imprisonment, which the Governor very condescendingly pardoned after a few weeks.
The two former acted as attendants, or deputy jailers; with the exception of turning the key, which privilege the jailer reserved for himself exclusively. The principle may seem a strange one, that places men confined upon such grave charges in a superior position over prisoners; and may be questionable with regard to the discipline itself.
From this floor, another iron door opened, and a winding passage led into the third and upper story, where a third iron door opened into a vestibule, on the right and left of which were grated doors secured with heavy bolts and bars. These opened into narrow portals with dark, gloomy cells on each side. In the floor of each of these cells was a large iron ring-bolt, doubtless intended to chain refractory prisoners to; but we were informed that such prisoners were kept in close stone cells, in the yard, which were commonly occupied by negroes and those condemned to capital punishment. The ominous name of this third story was “Mount Rascal,” intended, no doubt, as significant of the class of prisoners it contained. It is said that genius is never idle: the floor of these cells bore some evidence of the fact in a variety of very fine specimens of carving and flourish work, done with a knife. Among them was a well-executed crucifix; with the Redeemer, on Calvary-an emblem of hope, showing how the man marked the weary moments of his durance. We spoke with many of the prisoners, and heard their different stories, some of which were really painful. Their crimes were variously stated, from that of murder, arson, and picking pockets, down to the felon who had stolen a pair of shoes to cover his feet; one had stolen a pair of pantaloons, and a little boy had stolen a few door-keys. Three boys were undergoing their sentence for murder. A man of genteel appearance, who had been sentenced to three years imprisonment, and to receive two hundred and twenty lashes in the market, at different periods, complained bitterly of the injustice of his case. Some had been flogged in the market, and were awaiting their time to be flogged again and discharged; and others were confined on suspicion, and had been kept in this close durance for more than six months, awaiting trial. We noticed that this worst of injustice, “the law's delay,” was felt worse by those confined on the suspicion of some paltry theft, who, even were they found guilty by a jury, would not have been subjected to more than one week imprisonment. Yet such was the adherence to that ancient system of English criminal jurisprudence, that it was almost impossible for the most innocent person to get a hearing, except at the regular sessions, “which sit seldom, and with large intervals between.” There is indeed a city court in Charleston, somewhat more modern in its jurisprudence than the sessions. It has its city sheriff, and its city officers, and holds its terms more frequently. Thus is Charleston doubly provided with sheriffs and officials. Both aspire to a distinct jurisdiction in civil and criminal cases. Prisoners seem mere shuttlecocks between the sheriffs, with a decided advantage in favor of the county sheriff, who is autocrat in rei over the jail; and any criminal who has the good fortune to get a hearing before the city judge, may consider himself under special obligation to the county sheriff for the favor.
We noticed these cells were much cleaner than those below, yet there was a fetid smell escaping from them. This we found arose from the tubs being allowed to stand in the rooms, where the criminals were closely confined, for twenty-four hours, which, with the action of the damp, heated atmosphere of that climate, was of itself enough to breed contagion. We spoke of the want of ventilation and the noxious fumes that seemed almost pestilential, but they seemed to have become habituated to it, and told us that the rooms on the south side were lighter and more comfortable. Many of them spoke cheerfully, and endeavored to restrain their feelings, but the furrows upon their haggard countenances needed no tongue to utter its tale.
Hunger was the great grievance of which they complained; and if their stories were true—and we afterward had strong proofs that they were—there was a wanton disregard of common humanity, and an abuse of power the most reprehensible. The allowance per day was a loaf of bad bread, weighing about nine ounces, and a pint of thin, repulsive soup, so nauseous that only the most necessitated appetite could be forced to receive it, merely to sustain animal life. This was served in a dirty-looking tin pan, without even a spoon to serve it. One man told us that he had subsisted on bread and water for nearly five weeks-that he had lain down to sleep in the afternoon and dreamed that he was devouring some wholesome nourishment to stay the cravings of his appetite, and awoke to grieve that it was but a dream. In this manner his appetite was doubly aggravated, yet he could get nothing to appease its wants until the next morning. To add to this cruelty, we found two men in close confinement, the most emaciated and abject specimens of humanity we have ever beheld. We asked ourselves, “Lord God! was it to be that humanity should descend so low?” The first was a forlorn, dejected-looking creature, with a downcast countenance, containing little of the human to mark his features. His face was covered with hair, and so completely matted with dirt and made fiendish by the tufts of coarse hair that hung over his forehead, that a thrill of horror invaded our feelings. He had no shoes on his feet; and a pair of ragged pantaloons, and the shreds of a striped shirt without sleeves, secured around the waist with a string, made his only clothing. In truth, he had scarce enough on to cover his nakedness, and that so filthy and swarming with vermin, that he kept his shoulders and hands busily employed; while his skin was so incrusted with dirt as to leave no trace of its original complexion. In this manner he was kept closely confined, and was more like a wild beast who saw none but his keepers when they came to throw him his feed. Whether he was kept in this manner for his dark deeds or to cover the shame of those who speculated upon his misery, we leave to the judgment of the reader.
We asked this poor mortal what he had done to merit such a punishment? He held his head down, and motioned his fevered lips. “Speak out!” said we, “perhaps we can get you out.” “I had no shoes, and I took a pair of boots from the gentleman I worked with,” said he in a low, murmuring tone,
“Gracious, man!” said we, “a pair of boots! and is that all you are here for?”
“Yes, sir! he lives on the wharf, is very wealthy, and is a good man: 't wasn't his fault, because he tried to get me out if I'd pay for the boots, but they wouldn't let him.”
“And how long have you been thus confined?” said we.
“Better than five months-but it's because there a'n't room up stairs. They've been promising me some clothes for a long time, but they don't come,” he continued.
“And how much longer have you to stop in this condition?”
“Well, they say 'at court sets in October; it's somethin' like two months off; the grand jury'll visit the jail then, and maybe they'll find a bill' against me, and I'll be tried. I dont't care if they only don't flog me in that fish-market.”
“Then you have not been tried yet? Well, may God give that man peace to enjoy his bounty, who would consign a poor object like thee to such cruelty!” said we.
“I was raised in Charleston-can neither read nor write-I have no father, and my mother is crazy in the poor-house, and I work about the city for a living, when I'm out!” said he. There was food for reflection in this poor fellow's simple story, which we found to be correct, as corroborated by the jailer.
“Do you get enough to eat?” we asked.
“Oh no, indeed! I could eat twice as much-that's the worst on't: 't wouldn't be bad only for that. I git me loaf' in the mornin', and me soup at twelve, but I don't git nothin' to eat at night, and a feller's mighty hungry afore it's time to lay down,” said he.
We looked around the room, and not seeing any thing to sleep upon, curiosity led us to ask him where he slept.
“The jail allows us a blanket-that's mine in the corner: I spread it at night when I wants to go to bed,” he answered, quite contentedly. We left the poor wretch, for our feelings could withstand it no longer. The state of society that would thus reduce a human being, needed more pity than the calloused bones reduced to such a bed. His name was Bergen.
The other was a young Irishman, who had been dragged to jail in his shirt, pantaloons, and hat, on suspicion of having stolen seven dollars from a comrade. He had been in jail very near four months, and in regard to filth and vermin was a counterpart of the other. A death-like smell, so offensive that we stopped upon the threshold, escaped from the room as soon as the door opened, enough to destroy a common constitution, which his emaciated limbs bore the strongest evidence of.
The prisoners upon the second story were allowed the privilege of the yard during certain hours in the day, and the debtors at all hours in the day; yet, all were subjected to the same fare. In the yard were a number of very close cells, which, as we have said before, were kept for negroes, refractory criminals, and those condemned to capital punishment. These cells seemed to be held as a terror over the criminals, and well they might, for we never witnessed any thing more dismal for the tenement of man.
IT is our object to show the reader how many gross abuses of power exist in Charleston, and to point him to the source. In doing this, the task becomes a delicate one, for there are so many things we could wish were not so, because we know there are many good men in the community whose feelings are enlisted in the right, but their power is not coequal; and if it were, it is checked by an opposite influence.
The more intelligent of the lower classes look upon the subject of politics in its proper light—they see the crashing effect the doctrine of nullification has upon their interests; yet, though their numbers are not few, their voice is small, and cannot sound through the channels that make popular influence. Thus all castes of society are governed by impracticable abstractions.
The jail belongs to the county—the municipal authorities have no voice in it; and the State, in its legislative benevolence, has provided thirty cents a day for the maintenance of each prisoner. This small sum, in the State of South Carolina, where provision is extremely high, may be considered as a paltry pittance; but more especially so when the magnificent pretensions of South Carolina are taken into consideration, and a comparison is made between this meagre allowance and that of other States. Even Georgia, her sister State, and one whose plain modesty is really worthy of her enterprising citizens, takes a more enlightened view of a criminal's circumstances-allows forty-four cents a day for his maintenance, and treats him as if he was really a human being. But for this disparity and the wanton neglect of humane feelings South Carolinians excuse themselves upon the ground that they have no penitentiary; nor do they believe in that system of punishment, contending that it creates an improper competition with the honest mechanic, and gives countenance to crime, because it attempts to improve criminals. The common jail is made the place of confinement, while the whipping-post and starvation supply the correctives.
The sheriff being created an absolute functionary, with unlimited powers to control the jail in all its varied functions, without either commissioners or jail-committee, what state of management may be expected? The court gives no specific direction as to the apartment or mode of confinement when sentencing a criminal; consequently, it becomes an established fact that the legislative confidence deposed in the sheriff is used as a medium of favors, to be dispensed as best suits the feelings or interests of the incumbent. Such power in the hands of an arbitrary, vindictive, or avaricious man, affords unlimited means of abuse, and without fear of exposure.
It may be inferred from what we have said that the jailer was relax in his duty. This is not the case, for we have good authority that a more kind-hearted and benevolent man never filled the office. But his power was so restricted by those in absolute control, that his office became a mere turnkey's duty, for which he was paid the pittance of five hundred dollars a year or thereabouts. Thus he discharged his duty according to the instructions of the sheriff, who, it was well known, looked upon the jail as a means of speculation; and in carrying out his purposes, he would give very benevolent instructions in words, and at the same time withhold the means of carrying them out, like the very good man who always preached but never practised.
Now, how is it? What is the regimen of this jail-prison and how is it provided? We will say nothing of that arduous duty which the jailer performs for his small sum; nor the report that the sheriff's office is worth fourteen thousand dollars a year: these things are too well established. But the law provides thirty cents a day for the prisoner's maintenance, which shall be received by the sheriff, who is to procure one pound of good bread, and one pound of good beef per day for each man. Now this provision is capable of a very elastic construction. The poor criminal is given a loaf of bad bread, costing about three cents, and a pound of meat, the most unwholesome and sickly in its appearance, costing five cents. Allowing a margin, however, and we may say the incumbent has a very nice profit of from eighteen to twenty cents per day on each prisoner. But, as no provision is made against the possibility of the criminal eating his meat raw, he is very delicately forced to an alternative which has another profitable issue for the sheriff; that of taking a pint of diluted water, very improperly called soup. Thus is carried out that ancient law of England which even she is now ashamed to own. Our feelings are naturally roused against the perpetration of such abuses upon suffering humanity. We struggle between a wish to speak well of her whose power it is to practise them, and an imperative duty that commands us to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves.
These things could not exist if the public mind was properly enlightened. It is unnecessary to spend many words in exposing such palpable abuses, or to trace the cause of their existence and continuance. One cause of this is the wilful blindness and silly gasconade of some of those who lead and form public opinion. With South Carolinians, nothing is done in South Carolina that is not greater than ever was done in the United States-no battles were ever fought that South Carolina did not win-no statesman was ever equal to Mr. Calhoun-no confederacy would be equal to the Southern, with South Carolina at its head-no political doctrines contain so much vital element as secession, and no society in the Union is equal to South Carolina for caste and elegance-not excepting the worthy and learned aristocracy of Boston.
A will to do as it pleases and act as it pleases, without national restraint, is the great drawback under which South Carolina sends forth her groaning tale of political distress. Let her look upon her dubious glory in its proper light-let her observe the rights of others, and found her acts in justice!—annihilate her grasping spirit, and she will find a power adequate to her own preservation. She can then show to the world that she gives encouragement to the masses, and is determined to persevere in that moderate and forbearing policy which creates its own protection, merits admiration abroad, instead of rebuke, and which needs no gorgeous military display to marshal peace at the point of the bayonet.
IT was nearly eleven o'clock as they ascended the jail steps and rang the bell for admittance. The jailer, a stout, rough-looking man, opened the iron door, and as Manuel was about to step over the stone sill, Dunn gave him a sudden push that sent him headlong upon the floor. “Heavens! what now?” inquired the jailer with a look of astonishment, and at the next moment Dunn raised his foot to kick Manuel in the face.
“You infernal beast!” said the jailer, “you are more like a savage than a man-you are drunk now, you vagabond,” and jumped in between them to save him from the effect of the blow. As he did this, the gentleman who accompanied them from the “corner-shop,” as a protection against Dunn's cruelty, fetched Dunn a blow on the back of the neck that made him stagger against a door, and created such confusion as to arouse the whole jail. Turning to Manuel, he, with the assistance of the jailer, raised him from the ground and led him into the jail-office. “Mister jailer,” said Dunn, “the prisoner is mine until such times as you receipt the commitment, and I demand protection from you against this man. He has committed two violent assaults upon me, when I'd be doing me duty.”
“You have violated all duty, and are more like an incarnate fiend. You first decoy men into rum-shops, and then you plunder and abuse them, because you think they are black and can get no redress. You abused that man unmercifully, because you knew his evidence was not valid against you!” said the gentleman, turning to the jailer, and giving him the particulars of what he saw in the “corner-shop,” and what cruelties he had seen practised by Dunn on former occasions.
The jailer looked upon Manuel with commiseration, and handed him a chair to sit down on. The poor fellow was excited and fatigued, for he had eaten nothing that day, and been treated more like a brute than a human being from the time, he left the ship until he arrived at the jail. He readily accepted the kind offer, and commenced to tell the story of his treatment.
“You need' not tell me,—I know too much of that man already. It has long been a mystery to me why he is retained in office.”—
Here Dunn interrupted. “Sure it's yer master I'd obey and not yerself, an' I'd do what I'd plase with prisoners, and, it's his business and not yeers. If ye had yer way, sure you'd be makin' white men of every nigger that ye turned a key upon.”
“Give me none of your insolence,” said the jailer. “You have no authority beyond my door. Your brutal treatment to prisoners has caused me an immense deal of trouble-more than my paltry pay would induce me to stay for. Suppose you were indicted for these outrages? What would be the result?” asked the jailer.
“Sure it's meself could answer for the sheriff, without yer bothering yerself. I'd not work for yer, but for him; and he's yer master anyhow, and knows all about it. Give me the receipt, and that's all I'd ax yer. When a nigger don't mind me, I just makes him feel the delight of a hickory stick.”
“Yes, if you had the shame of a man in you, you'd not make a beast of yourself with liquor, and treat these poor stewards as if they were dogs,” said the jailer.
“Indeed, ye might learn a thing or two if ye was a politician like meself, and belonged to the secession party. An' if his honor the sheriff-for he's a dacent man-knew ye'd be preachin' in that shape, ye wouldn't keep the jail f'nent the morning. Be letting me out, and make much of the nigger; ye have him there.”
The jailer unlocked the door and allowed him to pass out, with a pertinent rebuke. This was but a trifling affair in Dunn's ear, for he knew his master's feelings too well, and was backed by him in his most intolerable proceedings. Returning to the office, he looked at the commitment, and then again at Manuel. “This is a 'contrary to law' case, I see, Mr. Manuel; you are a likely fellow too, to come within that,” said he.
“Yes. If I understand him right, he's a shipwrecked sailor, belonging to a foreign vessel that was driven in here in distress,” said the man. “It's a hard law that imprisons a colored seaman who comes here voluntarily; but it seems beyond all manner of precedent to imprison a shipwrecked man like this, especially when he seems so respectable. There are no circumstances to warrant the enforcement of such a law.” Thus saying, he left the jail.
Be it said of the jailer, to his honor, so far as personal kindness went, he did his utmost—brought him water to wash himself, and gave him some clean clothes. After which, he was registered upon the criminal calendar as follows:—
“March 24, 1852.—Manuel Peirire.—[Committed by] Sheriff—Sheriff. Crime—Contrary to law.”
Now the jailer had done his duty, so far as his feelings were concerned; but, such were the stern requirements of the law, and his functions so restricted by Mr. Grimshaw, that he dare not make distinctions. He called Daley, one of the criminal assistants, and ordered him to show the prisoner his room.
“Here, my boy, take yer blanket,” said Daley; and throwing him a coarse, filthy-looking blanket, told him to roll it up and follow him. “It's on the second floor we'll put ye, among the stewards; there's a nice lot on 'em to keep yer company, and ye'll have a jolly time, my boy.” Manuel followed through the second iron door until he came to a large door secured with heavy bolts and bars, which Daley began to withdraw and unlock. “Don't be takin' it amiss; it's a right good crib, savin' the' bed, an' it's that's the worst of it. Bad luck to old Grimshaw, an' himself thinks everybody's bones be's as tuf as his own,” said Daley, and threw open the heavy doors, sending forth those ominous prison sounds. “All here? Ah! yer a pretty set of lambs, as the British consul calls yees. Have ye ever a drop to spare?” At this, three or four respectable-looking black men came to the door and greeted Manuel. “Come, talk her out, for th' auld man'll be on the scent.” At this, one of the confined stewards, a tall, good-looking mulatto man, ran his hand into a large opening in the wall, and drew forth a little soda-bottle filled with Monongahela whisky. Without giving reasonable time for politeness, Daley seized the bottle, and putting it to his mouth, gauged about half its contents into his homony dept, smacked his lips, wiped his mouth with his cuff, and, passing the balance back, shut and rebolted the door, after saying, “Good luck till yees, an' I wish yees a merry time.” The reader may imagine what provision the State or the sheriff had made for the comfort of these poor men, one of whom was imprisoned because it was “contrary to law” to be driven into the port of Charleston in distress, and the rest, peaceable, unoffending citizens belonging to distant States and countries, and guilty of no crime, when we describe the room and regimen to which they were subjected. The room was about twenty-six feet long and ten feet wide. The brick walls were plastered and colored with some kind of blue wash, which, however, was so nearly obliterated with dirt and the damp of a southern climate, as to leave but little to show what its original color was. The walls were covered with the condensed moisture of the atmosphere, spiders hung their festooned network overhead, and cockroaches and ants, those domesticated pests of South Carolina, were running about the floor in swarms, and holding all legal rights to rations in superlative contempt. Two small apertures in the wall, about fourteen inches square, and double-barred with heavy flat iron, served to admit light and air. The reader may thus judge of its gloomy appearance, and what a miserable unhealthy cell it must have been in which to place men just arrived from sea. There was not the first vestige of furniture in the room, not; even a bench to sit upon, for the State, with its gracious hospitality, forgot that men in jail ever sit down; but it was in keeping with all other things that the State left to the control of its officials.
“Am I to be punished in this miserable place? Why, I cannot see where I'm going; and have I nothing to lay down upon but the floor, and that creeping with live creatures?” inquired Manuel of those who were already inured to the hardship.
“Nothing! nothing! Bring your mind to realize the worst, and forget the cruelty while you are suffering it; they let us out a part of the day. We are locked up to-day because one of the assistants stole my friend's liquor, and he dared to accuse him of the theft, because he was a white man,” said a tall, fine-looking mulatto man by the name of James Redman, who was steward on board a Thomastown (Maine) ship, and declared that he had visited Charleston on a former occasion, and by paying five dollars to one of the officers, remained on board of the ship unmolested.
“And how long shall I have to suffer in this manner?” inquired Manuel. “Can I not have my own bed and clothing?”
“Oh, yes,” said Redman; “you can have them, but if you bring them here, they'll not be worth anything when you leave; and the prisoners upon this floor are so starved and destitute, that necessity forces them to steal whatever comes in their way; and the assistants are as much implicated as the prisoners. You'll fare hard; but just do as we do in a calm, wait for the wind to blow, and pray for the best. If you say any thing, or grumble about it, the sheriff will order you locked, up on the third story, and that's worse than death itself. The first thing you do, make preparations for something to eat. We pay for it here, but don't get it; and you'd starve afore you'd eat what they give them poor white prisoners. They suffer worse than we do, only they have cleaner rooms.”
“I pray for my deliverance from such a place as this.”
His manners and appearance at once enlisted the respect of those present, and they immediately set to work, with all the means at hand, to make him comfortable. Joseph Jociquei, a young man who had been taken from a vessel just arrived from Rio, and was more fortunate than the rest, in having a mattrass, seeing Manuel's weak condition, immediately removed it from its place, and spreading it upon the floor, invited him to lay down. The invitation was as acceptable as it was kind on the part of Jociquei, and the poor fellow laid his weary limbs upon it, and almost simultaneously fell into a profound sleep. Manuel continued to sleep. His face and head were scarred in several places; which were dressed and covered with pieces of plaster that the jailer had supplied. His companions, for such we shall call those who were confined with him, sat around him, discussing the circumstances that brought him there, and the manner in which they could best relieve his suffering. “It's just as I was sarved,” said Redman. “And I'll bet that red-headed constable, Dunn, brought him up: and abused him in all them Dutch shops. I didn't know the law, and he made me give him three dollars not to put the handcuffs upon me, and then I had to treat him in every grog-shop we came to. Yes, and the last shop we were in, he throw'd liquor in me face, cursed the Dutchman that kept the shop, kick'd me, and tried every way in the world to raise a fuss. If I hadn't know'd the law here too well, I'd whipt him sure. I have suffered the want of that three dollars since I bin here. 'Twould sarved me for coffee. We have neither coffee nor bread to-night, for we gave our allowance of bad bread to the white prisoners, but we must do something to make the poor fellow comfortable. I know the constable has kept him all day coming up, and he'll be hungry as soon as he awakes.”
“Won't he receive his allowance to-day like another prisoner?” inquired Copeland, a thick-set, well made, dark-skinned negro steward, who had formerly conducted a barber shop in Fleet street, Boston, but was now attached to the schooner Oscar Jones, Kellogg, master.
“Oh! no, sir,” said Redman, “that's against the rules of the jail-every thing is done by rule here, even to paying for what we don't get, and starving the prisoners. A man that don't come in before eleven o'clock gets no ration until the next morning. I know, because I had a fuss with the jailer about it, the first day I was brought in; but he gin me a loaf out of his own house. The old sheriff never allows any thing done outside the rules, for he's tighter than a mantrap. 'T a'n't what ye suffers in this cell, but it's what ye don't get to eat; and if that poor feller a'n't got money, he'll wish himself alongside the caboose again 'fore he gets out.” The poor fellows were driven to the extreme of providing sustenance to sustain life. They mustered their little means together, and by giving a sum to the sheriff's black boy, (a man more intelligent, gentlemanly, and generous-hearted than his master,) had a measure of coffee, sugar, and bread brought in. Necessity was the mother of invention with them, for they had procured a barrel for twenty-five cents, and made it supply the place of a table. With a few chips that were brought to them by a kind-hearted colored woman that did their washing, and bestowed many little acts of kindness, they made a fire, endured the annoyance of a dense smoke from the old fire-place, and prepared their little supper. As soon as it was upon the table, they awoke Manuel, and invited him to join in their humble fare. The poor fellow arose, and looking around the gloomy, cavern-like place, heaved a deep sigh. “It's hard to be brought to this for nothing!” said he; “and my bones are so sore that I can scarcely move. I must see the Captain and consul.”
“That won't do any good; you might as well keep quiet and drink your coffee. A prisoner that says the least in this jail is best off,” returned Redman.
Manuel took his bowl of coffee and a piece of bread, eating it with a good appetite, and asking what time they got breakfast. “It's the first time I was abused in a foreign country. I'm Portuguese, but a citizen of Great Britain, and got my protection.-When it won't save me, I'll never come to South Carolina again, nor sail where a flag won't protect me. When I go among Patagonians, I know what they do; but when I sail to United States or be cast away on them, I don't know what they do, because I expect good people.” * * *
“Never mind, my good fellow,” said Redman; “cheer up, take it as a good sailor would a storm, and in the morning you'll get a small loaf of sour bread and a bucket of water for breakfast, if you go to the pump for it. Be careful to moderate your appetite when you breakfast according to the State's rules; for you must save enough to last you during the day, and if you can keep “banyan day,” as the Bluenose calls it, you're just the man for this institution, and no mistake. Come, I see you're hungry; drink another bowl of coffee, and eat plenty of bread; then you'll be all right for another good sleep.”
“Yes, but I don't expect to be in here long. But tell me, do we get nothing more than a loaf? didn't the jail give us this supper?” he inquired with surprise.
“Supper, indeed!—it's against the rules for prisoners to have coffee; that's our private fixings; but you'll get a pound of bloody neck-bone, they call beef, in the morning. I have twice thrown mine to the dog, but he doesn't seem to thank me for it; so I told the cook he needn't trouble his steelyards for me again.”
Redman's conversation was interrupted by a noise that seemed to be a ring of the prison bell, and an anxious expression which Manuel gave utterance to, indicated that he expected somebody would come to see him. He was not disappointed, for a few minutes after, the bolts were heard to withdraw and the heavy door swung back. There, true to his charge, was little Tommy, in his nicest blue rig, tipped off a la man-o'-war touch, with his palmetto-braid hat,—a long black ribbon displayed over the rim,—his hair combed so slick, and his little round face and red cheeks so plump and full of the sailor-boy pertness, with his blue, braided shirt-collar laid over his jacket, and set off around the neck, with a black India handkerchief, secured at the throat with the joint of a shark's backbone. He looked the very picture and pattern of a Simon-Pure salt. He had wended his way through strange streets and lanes, with a big haversack under his arm, which Daley had relieved him of at the door, and brought into the room under his arm. As soon as Manuel caught a glimpse of him, he rose and clasped the little fellow in his arms with a fond embrace. No greeting could be more affecting. Manuel exulted at seeing his little companion; but Tommy looked grieved, and asked, “But what has scarred your face so, Manuel? You didn't look that way when you left the brig. We have had a site o' folks down to see us to-day.”
“Oh, that's nothing!—just a little fall I got; don't tell the Captain: it'll all be well to-morrow.”
“Here, Jack, take your knapsack; did yer bring ever a drop o' liquor for the steward?” said Daley, addressing himself to Tommy, and putting the package upon the floor.
“Yes, Manuel!” said Tommy, “the Captain sent you some nice bread and ham, some oranges and raisins, and a bottle of nice claret,—for he was told by the consul that they didn't give 'em nothing to eat at the jail. And I had a tug with 'em, I tell you. I got lost once, and got a good-natured black boy to pilot me for a Victoria threepence,—but he did not like to carry the bundle to the jail, for fear of his master. Captain 'll be up first thing in the morning, if he can get away from business,” said the little tar, opening the haversack and pulling out its contents to tempt the hungry appetites of those around him.
Daley very coolly took the bottle of claret by the neck, and holding it between himself and the light, took a lunar squint at it, as if doubting its contents; and then, putting it down, exclaimed, “Ah! the divil a red I'd give you for your claret. Sure, why didn't ye bring a token of good old hardware?” “Hardware! what is hardware?” inquired Manuel. “Ah! botheration to the bunch of yees—a drap of old whiskey, that 'd make the delight cum f'nent. Have ye ne'er a drap among the whole o' yees?” Receiving an answer in the negative, he turned about with a Kilkenny, “It don't signify,” and toddled for the door, which he left open, to await Tommy's return. Redman knew Daley's propensity too well, and having ocular proof that he had wet t'other eye until it required more than ordinary effort to make either one stay open, he declined recognising his very significant hint.
As soon as Daley withdrew, Manuel invited his companions to partake of the Captain's present, which they did with general satisfaction.
WHILE the scenes we have described in the foregoing chapter were being performed, several very interesting ones were going through the course of performance at the consul's office and other places, which we must describe. The British Government, in its instructions to Mr. Mathew, impressed upon him the necessity of being very cautious lest he should in any manner prejudice the interests of the local institutions within his consular jurisdiction; to make no requests that were incompatible with the local laws; but to pursue a judicious course in bringing the matter of Her Majesty's subjects properly to the consideration of the legal authorities, and to point to the true grievance; and as it involved a question of right affecting the interests and liberties of her citizens, to ask the exercise of that judicial power from which it had a right to expect justice. The main object was to test the question whether this peculiar construction given to that local law which prohibits free colored men from coming within the limits of the State, was legal in its application to those who come into its ports connected with the shipping interests, pursuing an honest vocation, and intending to leave whenever their ship was ready. The consul was censured by the press in several of the slaveholding States, because he dared to bring the matter before the local legislature. We are bound to say that Consul Mathew, knowing the predominant prejudices of the Carolinians, acted wisely in so doing. First, he knew the tenacious value they put upon courtesy; secondly, the point at issue between South Carolina and the Federal Government, (and, as a learned friend in Georgia once said, “Whether South Carolina belonged to the United States, or the United States to South Carolina;”) and thirdly, the right of State sovereignty, which South Carolina held to be of the first importance. To disregard the first, would have been considered an insult to the feelings of her people; and if the question had first been mooted with the Federal Government, the ire of South Carolinians would have been fired; the slur in placing her in a secondary position would have sounded the war-trumpet of Abolition encroachments, while the latter would have been considered a breach of confidence, and an unwarrantable disregard of her assertion of State rights. The Executive transmitted the documents to the Assembly, that body referred them to special committees, and the Messrs. Mazyck and McCready, reported as everybody in South Carolina expected, virtually giving the British consul a very significant invitation to keep his petitions in his pocket for the future, and his “black lambs” out of the State, or it might disturb their domesticated ideas. Thus was the right clearly reserved to themselves, and the question settled, so far as the State Legislature was concerned. The next course for Mr. Mathew was to appeal to the Judiciary, and should redress be denied, make it the medium of bringing the matter, before the Federal courts.
We cannot forbear to say, that the strenuous opposition waged against this appeal of common humanity arose from political influence, supported by a set of ultra partisans, whose theoretical restrictions, assisted by the voice of the press, catered to the war-spirit of the abstractionists.
The British consul, as the representative of his government, knowing the personal suffering to which the subjects of his country were subjected by the wretched state of the Charleston prison, and its management, sought to remove no restriction that might be necessary for protecting their dangerous institutions, but to relieve that suffering. He had pointed the authorities to the wretched state of the prison, and the inhuman regimen which existed within it; but, whether through that superlative carelessness which has become so materialized in the spirit of society—that callousness to misfortune so strongly manifested by the rich toward the industrious poor and the slaves-or, a contempt for his opinions, because he had followed out the instructions of his government, things went on in the same neglected manner and no attention was paid to them.
Now, we dare assert that a large, portion of the excitement which the question has caused has arisen from personal suffering, consequent upon that wretched state of jail provisions which exists in South Carolina, and which, to say the least, is degrading to the spirit and character of a proud people. If a plea could be made, for excuse, upon the shattered finances of the State, we might tolerate something of the abuse. But this is not the case; and when its privileges become reposed in men who make suffering the means to serve their own interests, its existence becomes an outrage.
A stronger evidence of the cause of these remonstrances on the part of the British Government, is shown by the manner in which it has been submitted to in Georgia. The British consul of the port of Savannah, a gentleman whose intelligence and humane feelings are no less remarkable than Mr. Mathew's, has never had occasion to call the attention of the Executive of Georgia to the abuse of power consequent upon the imprisonment of colored seamen belonging to the ships of Great Britain in that port. The seaman was imprisoned, consequently deprived of his liberty; but there was no suffering attendant beyond the loss of liberty during the stay of the vessel; for the imprisonment itself was a nominal thing; the imprisoned was well cared for; he had good, comfortable apartments, cleanly and well ordered, away from the criminals, and plenty of good, wholesome food to eat. There was even a satisfaction in this, for the man got what he paid for, and was treated as if he were really a human being. Thus, with the exception of the restriction on the man's liberty, and that evil, which those interested in commerce would reflect upon as a tax upon the marine interests of the port to support a municipal police, because it imposes a tax and burdensome annoyance upon owners for that which they have no interest in and can derive no benefit from, the observance of the law had more penalty in mental anxiety than bodily suffering. We have sometimes been at a loss to account for the restriction, even as it existed in Georgia, and especially when we consider the character of those controlling and developing the enterprising commercial affairs of Savannah.
But we must return to South Carolina. If we view this law as a police regulation, it only gives us broader latitude. If a community has that within itself which is dangerous to its well-being, it becomes pertinent to inquire whether there is not an imperfect state of society existing, and whether this policy is not injurious to the well-being of the State. The evil, though it be a mortifying fact, we are bound to say, arises from a strange notion of caste and color, which measures sympathy according to complexion. There is no proof that can possibly be adduced, showing that colored seamen have made any infections among the slaves, or sought to increase the dangers of her peculiar institution.