Confederate bonds and scrip were most plenteous, and but a small amount of currency was in circulation with which to purchase the common necessaries of life. For this cause thousands were thrown upon the charity of the government for daily subsistence. Nor was it confined to the colored people; it was no uncommon sight to meet daily in the streets many of the former enemies of the government, loaded with its injustice (!) to them in the form of a huge basket of subsistence received from the quartermaster’s department, and in many instances assisted by some former chattel, who in several known cases, afterwards, with true negro generosity, divided their own portion with them. Such was their position after the evacuation of the city. Never before in the history of Anglo-Saxon civilization were there such manifestations of genuine charity and forbearance towards an unscrupulous and implacable foe, as indicated by the actions of government. “I was hungry and ye gave me meat, naked and ye clothed me,” were literally proven by these recipients of its immense charities. This gave promise of more converts than the sword. While the great concourse of people, gathered for rations at different places, attracted thither the curious visitor, he would turn from this to the many evidences of the unerring precision of the batteries of Morris Island, which met his gaze on every hand, suggestive of the tales of horror, and in many instances of retributive justice, through which they had so recently passed. Much property was destroyed and but few lives during the siege.
There were incidents related of marvellous escapes from the reach of these shells, and also deaths of a most appalling character on being overtaken by them,—the greater portion of the latter being colored persons, the innocent sharing a worse fate than the guilty.
One case of sad interest happened at midnight, while the siege was at its height, occurring in a family representing the wealth, culture, and refinement of the respectable colored citizens of the city. The father of this family, a man of great mechanical genius, accumulated considerable property and established for himself a well-earned reputation as a skilful machinist throughout the state. They were aroused one night by the noise which usually precedes the near approach of a shell, which was seen by a member of the family to fall within a few feet of the house, who, occupying the third story of the building, attempted to escape below with his wife; but before either could escape from the room, a second report was heard, followed almost immediately by the appearance of a shell entering the roof above them, crashing through the ceilings, which, in covering the latter with its débris, preserved her life, the fragments scattering, one of the pieces falling into the front room beneath, only disfiguring a bedstead, but not injuring its occupants, while another piece, more remorseless, taking another direction, entered the back room, burying itself in the side of an interesting boy of twelve years, the little grandson of the old gentleman. The child, startled from its sleep by the double shock of the explosion and terrible wound, rushed from the room, exclaiming, in his agony, “Mother! mother! I am killed!” It was eleven days of the most excruciating agony before the angel of death relieved little Weston McKenlay. Never did Christianity and true womanhood beam more beauteously than at the moment when the mother of that child, relating the wild confusion of that night, laying aside her own personal sorrow, said, “It was God’s will that the deliverance of the South should cost us all something.” Major Delany, in speaking of this class of Charlestonians, as well as the colored people generally, says, “Their courtesy and natural kindness I have never seen equalled, while instances of their humanity to the Union prisoners at the risk of their own lives, speak in trumpet tones to their credit, of which the country is already cognizant.” On Tuesday after his arrival, an immense gathering greeted him at Zion’s Church, the largest in the city, indescribable in enthusiasm and numbers. In the church were supposed to be upwards of three thousand, while the yard and street leading to the church were densely packed.
The resolutions passed on this memorable occasion by them we present here, embodying a testimony of their gratitude for their signal deliverance from a conflagration which threatened to involve them in a general desolation, and of their patriotism, setting aside forever the error that the sympathies of the free colored citizens were enlisted on the side of their enemies, and not that of the Union, for many they were who participated in this meeting. We reproduce it also as expressive of the sentiments gushing from the hearts of a people for the first time in their history holding a political meeting on the soil of Carolina, with open doors, with none to condemn it as “an unlawful assemblage,” amenable to law for the act.
Brevet Major General Saxton, and other distinguished officers were present, and freely took part in the proceedings. Here Major Delany, for the first time, introduced the subject foremost in his mind, that of raising an armée d’Afrique, which subject met the enthusiastic approval of his auditors, and the movement for its organization soon became popular.
The eventful 14th of April, which was so eagerly awaited, came, and the earliest beams of the morning found the “City of the Sea” alive with preparations for the brilliant scene at Sumter, unconscious of its fearful tragic close at Washington. The city was almost deserted during the ceremony in the harbor, for all were anxious to witness the flag in its accustomed place, with its higher, truer symbol, placed there by the same hands which were once compelled to lower it to a jubilant but now conquered foe, maddened prior to their destruction. As the old silken bunting winged itself to its long-deserted staff, thousands of shouts, and prayers fervent and deep, accompanying, greeted its reappearance.
Major Delany embarked to witness the ceremony on the historical steamer Planter, with its gallant commander, Robert Small, whose deeds will live in song and story, whose unparalleled feat and heroic courage in the harbor of Charleston, under the bristling guns of rebel batteries, bearing comparison with the proudest record of our war, will remain, commemorative of negro strategy and valor.
On the quarter-deck of the steamer the major remained an interested witness. Beside him stood one, whose father, believing and loving the doctrine that all men were born free and equal, and within sight of the emblem of freedom as it floated from the battlements of Sumter, dared to aim a blow by which to free his race. Betrayed before his plans were matured, the scaffold gave to Denmark Vesey and his twenty-two slave-hero compatriots in Charleston, South Carolina, in 1822, the like answer which Charlestown, Virginia, gave John Brown in 1859.
Virginia was free, and black soldiers were now quartered in the citadel of Charleston, and garrisoned Fort Sumter. The martyred reformers had not died in vain.
The excitement attending the scene continued during the week, occasioned by the presence of the distinguished company who came to participate in the restoration of the flag at Fort Sumter. There were seen the veterans of the anti-slavery cause, the inspired and dauntless apostle of liberty, William Lloyd Garrison, the time-honored Joshua Leavitt, the eloquent George Thompson of England; then the glorious young editor of the Independent, the able and accomplished orator of the day, Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, Judge Kellogg, and others, all anxious to tell the truths of freedom to these hungry souls. The colored schools paraded the streets to honor these visitors, flanked by thousands of adults, marshalled by their superintendent and assistants, and led by stirring bands discoursing martial music, the citadel square densely crowded, and the great Zion’s Church packed to overflowing. There were speakers on the stands erected on the square—speakers at the church. There were shouts for liberty and for the Union, shouts for their great liberator, shouts for the army, rousing cheers for the speakers, for their loved General Saxton, and for the “black major;” the people swayed to and fro like a rolling sea.