CHAPTER VI.
CHARLESTON.
First Visit to Charleston.—Jail Yard.—Bombardment of the City.—Roper Hospital.—Charleston During the War.—Secession of South Carolina.—Attack and Surrender of Fort Sumter.—Blockade of the Harbor.—Great Fire of 1861.—Capitulation in 1865.—First Settlement of the City.—Battles of the Revolution.—Nullification Act.—John C. Calhoun.—Population of the City.—Commerce and Manufactures.—Charleston Harbor.—"American Venice."—Battery.—Streets, Public Buildings and Churches.—Scenery about Charleston.—Railways and Steamship Lines.—An Ancient Church.—Magnolia Cemetery.—Drives near the City.—Charleston Purified by Fire.
My first introduction to the city of Charleston can scarcely be said to have been under propitious circumstances. True, a retinue of troops conducted my companions and myself, with military pomp, to our quarters in the city. But these quarters, instead of being any one of its fine hotels, were none other than the Charleston Jail Yard, for the year was 1864, and we were prisoners of war.
After a varied experience of prison life at Richmond, Danville, Macon and Savannah, I had been sent, with a number of others, to Charleston, South Carolina, to be placed under the fire of our batteries, which were then bombarding the city. We had received more humane treatment at Savannah than at any previous place of detention; therefore it was with a sinking of the heart that we found ourselves, when we arrived at our destination, thrown into the jail yard at Charleston, which was the grand receptacle of all Union prisoners in that city. The jail was a large octagonal building, four stories high, surmounted by a lofty tower. A workhouse and a gallows also occupied the yard. The jail building was for the accommodation of criminals, military prisoners, and Federal and Rebel deserters, all of whom at least had the advantage of shelter from sun and storm. The war prisoners were permitted the use of the yard only, which was in the most filthy condition conceivable, having been long used as a prison-pen, without receiving any cleaning or purification whatever. The only shelter afforded us were the remnants of a few tents, which had been cut to pieces, more or less, by former prisoners, to make themselves clothing.
This jail yard was in the southeastern portion of the city, and apparently directly under the fire of our batteries on Morris Island. But though the shells came screaming over our heads, and proved a subject of interest, discussion, and even mathematical calculation among the prisoners, who were thankful for anything which should take their minds, even momentarily, from the misery which they endured, so carefully were they aimed, not to do us mischief, that though they exploded all about us—in front, behind, and on either side—not one of them fell within the prison enclosure. The scene at night was of peculiar beauty. These messengers of death presented the spectacle of magnificent fireworks, and every explosion sounded as the voice of a friend to us, assuring us that the great Northern army was still exerting itself to crush out the rebellion and open our prison doors and set us free.
VIEW ON THE BATTERY, CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA.
