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.