Published by Charleston Voice
LAND AND YEAR OF JUBILEE - South Carolina
I
The little capital is in a sorry state of debilitation, pigs grunting in the unpaved streets, the blackened ruins of flame-gutted buildings here and there, and near the town the pillars of the portico of what had once been the baronial mansion of the Hamptons. The town is teeming with negroes, in from the plantations to enjoy their freedom, and a visit to their quarter reveals them living in one-room log cabins, with wooden shutters and mud chimneys, and lolling and strolling in the sunny streets, some clothed in gunny sacks, and not a few of the children stark naked. In the fashionable section of the fallen society, which had impressed the cultivated LeConte as 'one of the most refined and cultivated' he had ever known, the fine houses are strangely silent now, little merriment floating out of the open windows on the night. A new society has displaced it, and there is no merging of the two. The wives and daughters of the officers at the barracks are sternly frowned upon by the women of Columbia. The new society, mixed in color, and composed largely of carpetbaggers, has gathered about the barracks, and this, known as the 'Gig Society,' parades the barracks grounds in its finery in the evening listening to the band, while politicians gather in groups in eager discussion of the latest swag.
Near by, we find the grounds of the university so recently presided over by the brilliant and eloquent Preston, but the buildings are now in desperate need of repair, and the grounds are tragically sad, like a deserted garden overrun by weeds. The Legislature of 1869, illiterate and corrupt, had seized upon the old institution for reasons of pillage, and soon the trustees had been involved in charges of corruption. A few poorly dressed underpaid professors and a handful of students are all that are left of the once flourishing university.
Driving down the fine, wide street back of the State House, with its great spreading oaks, where the aristocracy had blossomed inthe old days, we find the blinds of the houses drawn. Occasionally we pass a scion of the old families on his blooded horse, the last of his luxuries, but it is the speculator and carpetbagger, sweeping by a little insolently behind a dashing team, that compels our notice. At length we reach the beautiful white marble State House surrounded by a rough wooden fence, the grounds littered with all kinds of filth.Here let us enter and pay our respects to his Excellency Robert K. Scott of Ohio, by the grace of bayonets Governor of South Carolina.
Even Scott was not without his weakness, for had he not signed hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of fraudulent convertible bonds in the room in the old St. James Hotel in New York under the persuasive influence of women and liquor? His reluctance had been overcome by the ringsters through the notorious Pauline Markham, of the burlesque stage, who had consented to seduce him for a percentage of the commission on the bonds. Saturated with wine and whiskey, lie had signed and sealed while I he delectable charmer counted and piled the bonds.
Enter now a third 'loyal' man, ironically known among the thieves as 'Honest' John Patterson, an alleged protégé of Simon Cameron, with a discolorful record in the Pennsylvania Legislature, who had been denounced by his brother-in--law as a 'swindler and cheat,' and had distinguished himself as pay-master in the army by stealing the money of the soldiers of an Ohio regiment. Thus had he qualified for the new statesmanship, and he is now looking forward to a seat in the United States Senate. 'Patterson will do what he says.' a friend explains. apropos of his sobriquet 'If he promises to pay you, he'll do it; if he promises to steal for you, he will do it.'
But it is time for us to leave - the three pillars of their party must confer.
Governor Scott and his lady had thrown open their official entertainments to whites and blacks alike, and the races had mingled cordially at the mansion, to the delight of the educational director of the Freedmen's Bureau, who had reported enthusiastically to Washington. There had been some defiance of the equality law in Charleston, which 'The Nation' thought natural, if not proper, but Columbia was the political center and white men there bowed low over the hands of colored women, and found their way to the salon of a brown-skinned Madame Roland. Let us follow the fashion.
Once more we ride under the spreading oaks of the widestreet near the State House, recalling the stories we have heard of the young women we are soon to meet. The Rollin sisters, Katherine, Euphrosyne, Marie Louise, and Charlotte, daughters of a Frenchman by a colored mother, were concededly pretty, their complexion that of a mixture of the white and the mulatto. Inordinately proud of their French blood, they preferred to be known as 'Mesdemoiselles'; and in their exuberant moments with white callers dwelt mournfully on the pre-war days when slaves danced attendance on their pleasures. Two of the sisters had attended a school in Boston with a niece of Wendell Phillips, and Louise had gone to a convent school in Philadelphia. Carpetbaggers and negro politicians spoke admiringly of their learning as well as their beauty. True, one of the sisters had married the coal-black head of the militia, but the ladies of the salon spoke of her as of one dead. They could not abide her husband because of his color. Many amazing tales we have heard of the Rollin sisters. The talk ofthe lobby, romanticists insisted they really directed the destiny of the State through their relations with Scott and Moses; others declared their salon a mere clearing-house for the lobby. But here we are, at the house.
We draw up before a respectable white frame dwelling, to be met at the door by Marie Louise, the youngest, and conducted into a room and seated at an open window overlooking a garden in which a fountain is playing. A striking girl, with lustrous almond-shaped eyes, dimpled chin and teeth white and shapely that flash in smiles. On a table, we observe Byron's poems, the books of Gail Hamilton, some of Miss Alcott's stories, a copy of the 'Atlantic Monthly.' . . .
Almost immediately Charlotte Rollin enters, she of whom we have heard as the 'Madame de Tench of South Carolina,' reputed to possess uncanny power over the statesmen of the new régime. The same voluptuous figure and lustrous eyes, but more at ease than the younger sister. Do we speak French? she inquires musically. Ah, it is the language of poetry, she thinks. But the papers, the dreadful papers, how dare they publish such stories about her and her sisters?
We venture to ask if the Rollin ménage really did determine the legislative policies of the State. Mademoiselle Charlotte smiles faintly, preferring to treat the suggestion as flattery. Then the lady bristles. What an outrage! - that report that she had written a letter to Frank Moses in the interest of a questionable claim. Of course she had done nothing of the sort. Moses might have forged one. And that absurd story that her sister Katherine was a major on the staff of Moses and got a salary. A joke, of course, perpetrated by Elliott when in charge of the enrollment of militia, and by Moses, 'then our intimate friend.' The lady of the salon chuckles reminiscently. 'He used to write us a number of notes' - and she smiled. Pleased with the memories, she produces a letter from Moses informing her that he was getting her a salary as a clerk in his office as a personal compliment, and because of her sister's marriage to the negro militia chief. The lady grimaces at the mention of his name. Her family did not condescend to notice the brother-in-law or Elliott - they were negroes; her people were French.
In glides Katherine, aged twenty-four, slender, graceful, her black silk rustling, her large black eyes shining, her long straight hair coiled behind. 'I just came from the reception at Governor Scott's,' she says enthusiastically, 'and had a very pleasant time there; he is a great friend of ours and we hope to see him President. He is a noble man, indeed.' Whereupon the three ladies of the salon draw their chairs in a semicircle about us, and forthwith we are in the midst of a literary conversation. Did we like Byron? 'What a dear reckless fellow he was, to be sure!' exclaims Mademoiselle Charlotte. 'I love Mrs. Browning above all the poets, and I like Victor Hugo... but Whittier I adore.
But we must leave this literary atmosphere for the Legislature.
On one side a small group of whites, Democrats, representing the shadow of the old régime, 'good-looking, substantial citizens... men of weight and standing in the communities they represent,' sit 'grim and silent.' Without influence here, they have even less in Washington. Mingling with the negroes we see ferret-faced carpetbaggers, eager for spoils; and, in the rear, 'Honest' John Patterson, vulture-eyed, calculating the prices of members. Two years hence he will reassure his kind with his classic statement that 'there are five years more of good stealing in South Carolina.'
Moses is hammering for order, members are shouting to one another, ridiculing the man speaking, asking silly questions. Ordered to their seats, the disturbers flop down with uproarious laughter, their feet upon their desks. Then, like a jack-in-the-box, up again. It is a lark, a camp meeting. The oily carpetbaggers simulate a share in the hilarity, 'Honest' John smiles approvingly, the little group of native whites exchange melancholy glances.
And now a negro orator is speaking, fluently, with many-syllabled words, ludicrously misplaced, flowing mellifluously, and there is cheering, laughing. And then, silence, for the most able and eloquent of the negroes, of whom we have heard in the salon, is on his feet. Men listened to Robert Brown Elliott, idol of the negroes, who did much to inflame their ambition and cupidity with disturbing speeches on social equality. Even the carpetbaggers are obsequious. Moses had barely defeated him for the Speakership, but patience, he will yet preside.
Meanwhile, his cunning and eloquence are being converted into money. His domination of the Railroad Committee had stood him in good stead, and rumor bruited it abroad that large bribes from the railroads had found their way into his rapacious pockets. An able man, educated in England, with morals as low as those of Moses, a power in the State. But Elliott was an exception, for most of the negroes were illiterate, their intellectual level 'that of a bevy of fresh converts at a negro camp-meeting.' Some laboriously had learned to sign their names; many made their mark. When 'The Nation' asserted that eighty per cent could neither read nor write, and Tilton, of 'The Independent,' and the 'Charleston Daily Republican' protested, 'The Nation' asked the latter to 'inform us plumply what number of members were... able to read a page of the "Pilgrim's Progress" decently or intelligently.'
Meanwhile, amid the cracking of peanuts, the shouting, laughing, stamping, members are seen leaving and returning in a strange state of exaltation - they come and go in streams. Let us follow the trail to the room adjoining the office of the clerk of the Senate. We learn that it is open from eight in the morning till two or four the next morning, and now, as we push in, it is crowded. A bar-room! Solons are discussing politics over sparkling glasses of champagne, supplied by taxpayers. Here gallons of wine and whiskey are consumed daily. Members enter blear-eyed in the early morning for an eye-opener or a nightcap - some are too drunk to leave at 4 A.M. Champagne? Wine? Whiskey? Gin? Porter? Ale? - and the member orders to his taste. Does a special brand of liquor or fine cigars appeal especially? Boxes are ordered to the member's hotel or boardinghouse.
'One box of champagne, one box port wine, one box whiskey, one box brandy, one box sherry wine, three boxes cigars' - this the order for one negro member. When the chairman of the Claims Committee found one box of wine delivered to his lodgings, he indignantly wrote: This is a mistake; the order calls for two boxes of wine. Please send the other.' None but the finest brand of cigars was tolerated, and members, leaving, usually filled their pockets. Because of the visitors, lobbyists, State officials, enough liquor was consumed to have given each member a gallon daily, with no less than a dozen cigars.
Since even 'good men and true' could not live on wine alone, the State was taxed to supply the refreshment-room with Westphalia hams, bacon, cheese, smoked beef, buffalo tongue, nuts, lemons, oranges, cherries, peaches - much of which found its way to hotels and boarding-houses and the homes of the mistresses. 'The State has no right to be a State unless she can afford to take care of her statesmen,' said Senator C. P. Leslie. Yes, and their wives and sweethearts, too.
Thus much of the taxpayers' money went into tapestries, rugs, table linen, imported chignons, ladies' hoods, ribbons, hooks and eyes, extra long stockings, bustles, rich toilet sets; and white and dusky sirens found the Golden Age.
A clubby crowd, too, these 'loyal men' of South Carolina; for when Speaker Moses and Whipper, a negro member who owned fast horses, arranged a race on a thousand-dollar bet, and Moses lost, did not the Legislature within three days vote a gratuity to the Speaker to cover his loss, 'for the dignity and ability with which he has presided'?
Now that darkness has come, we must see the night life of Columbia. Bar-rooms and dance-halls are crowded with negroes, and a sprinkling of whites. In hotels and boarding-houses, sharpfaced men converse with legislators in low tones; in rooms behind locked doors, legislation is being determined. The open sesame to legislative favor is the rattle of coin. Let us listen at the keyhole of one of the locked rooms, where the lawyer of a mining company is explaining to a negro member that he wants a charter for a mine. It will be good for the State and help the people, he explains. 'What is (lie thing worth?' asks the member. 'It has not yet been tried, hut we hope to make it profitable.' A burst of incredulous laughter from the legislator. 'You are green; I mean what are you willing to pay to get the thing through?' 'I am not willing to pay anything,' replies the lawyer. 'You are legislating for our people and we demand our rights.' The member explodes with laughter and the lawyer rises indignantly and makes for the door.' Clearly the mail was 'green,' as Honest' John Patterson could have told him. 'How did you get your money?' asked James Pike of a legislator. 'I stole it,' was the brazen reply. It was safe to make such admissions in South Carolina with Federal bayonets to sustain the system.
When one of these was charged with stealing, he replied, 'Let them prove it.' 'The Nation' was informing the North that South Carolina was 'almost completely at the mercy of white and black corruptionists.'
To sustain the system a party press was required; the corruptionists created one, and then stole public funds to subsidize it. These papers got public printing at outrageous rates, and then collected more than was called for by the contracts.
Thus the 'Charleston Republican' should have received $24,538.20 under the rates, and received $60,982.14; the 'Columbia Daily Record' should have received $17,174.05, and was paid $59,987.64. Enough was squandered on the party press to have furnished each voter with a bound volume of the laws. When the 'Columbia Union-Herald' found itself neglected, it blackmailed the Ring into including it in the loot.'
The corruption in State bonds, criminally issued and divided among official gangsters, mounted into the millions, but bribery and bond-looting was not enough for this avaricious horde, which had recourse to the pay certificate steals.
With thirty-five attachés in the Senate, pay certificates were issued for three hundred and fifty. Senators demanded and received these 'for friends and party workers' in their counties, who had never pressed the sidewalks of Columbia.
When Moses, the Speaker, required more funds for his debauchery and made out a pay certificate for twenty-five hundred dollars, Lieutenant-Governor Ransier refused to approve unless included. A conference followed, and the five thousand dollars made out to 'John Gershon,' for 'room rent, fees, etc., for the Joint Investigating Committee in New York,' was divided between the presiding deities of the two houses.
When bribery, illegal bonds, pay certificates did not suffice, the thieves bethought themselves of furnishing the State House. Within four years a people on the verge of bankruptcy was forced to pay out more than two hundred thousand dollars for the purpose. There was a $750 mirror to reflect the dissipated face of Moses, docks for members in their private rooms at $480, and two hundred cuspidors at eight dollars each, for the use of one hundred awl twenty-four members. The quarters of Moses at Mrs. Randall's rooming-house were elegantly furnished at the State's expense. And yet, on the expulsion of the Radicals from power, there was less than eighteen thousand dollars in furniture to account for the two hundred thousand dollars spent; the rest was in the homes of the members and their mistresses.
Meanwhile, the North knew precisely what was going on, and when the Charleston Board of Trade served notice that bonds issued by the criminals would be repudiated, 'The Nation,' commenting, said that 'any one who takes these bonds not only helps to sustain a pack of thieves . . . but takes a thoroughly bad security.' Even Horace Greeley, a bit disturbed, was accusing carpetbaggers of preying on the credulity of the negroes.
And how did the corruptionists sustain themselves? The election of 1870 gives the answer. Because of the preponderance of negroes, South Carolina from the first had been the happy hunting ground of the Northern bandits. In 1870 there were 415,814 negroes to 289,667 whites. In Charleston there were 26,173 negroes; in Columbia, 5291. Thesewere not uniform in intelligence. Those on the coast and rivers were little above the intellectual level of the mules they drove.
Even their jargon was unintelligible to the stranger. With abysmal ignorance and strong passions, they were easily organized and used by the Leagues and carpetbaggers.In Charleston, negroes with mechanical skill had accumulated property, and this was true in a less degree in Columbia. This more intelligent class sought to improve itself economically, and, in a meeting called for the purpose four years before, politics had not been mentioned. It was not with these that the Radicals dealt. They soon found among the negroes men of cunning, cupidity, and some ability, with whom they affiliated for the control of the great mass of ignorance, and this mass dominated the State. The political power of Charleston was nullified through the merging of its vote with that of the swamp negroes within a radius of thirty miles. When Governor Scott entered his second campaign in 1870, his chief reliance was on the blacks. On these he could depend, for woe to the negro who, retaining respect for the native whites, dared give them political favor. Negroes supporting the Democrats were constantly assaulted.
When Stephen Riley, a former slave, joined the Democrats in 1868, he was repeatedly mobbed and beaten, and the Radicals chanted their contempt through the streets.
'Oh Riley, he am straight and tall,
He hab no bone in de back,
He bend and scrape to de white folks all,
An' forget dat he amblack.'But 1870 developed some disaffection under the leadership of Senator R. H. Cain, a Northern black, artful in mimicking the Southern negro. A preacher, he had made himself a power through the 'Missionary Record' he edited, and his vigorous personality, unbounded energy, and organizing capacity.' No one had appealed more shamelessly to the lowest passions of his race or made more incendiary attacks upon the whites. Usually corrupt, though destined to be a Bishop, he pretended to he shocked by the scandals of the Scott régime, albeit his real grievance was the subordination of the negro to the carpetbagger. 'These long lank sharp-nosed gents may prepare for defeat,' he told his black audiences. 'The colored people have been sold often enough.' To offset this flank attack, Scott had with him on the ticket as candidate for Lieutenant-Governor, A. J. Ransier, a negro with no prejudices against pillage. Another advantage he had, too -James Lawrence Orr, a distinguished Carolinian, once Speaker of the National House of Representatives, and former Governor, went over to the Republicans in the vain hope that the corruptionists would reform themselves. He was to be rewarded with the mission to Russia, where he was to die, and tire flag of the Union League Club of New York was to be lowered to half-mast when his remains reached New York.
Even so the bitterness of a degraded people had become appalling - they were as a smouldering volcano. 'There is one recourse when all is lost - I mean the sword,' wrote Dr. Myron Baruch from Camden. 'What boots it to live under such a tyranny, such moral and physical oppression, when we can be much happier in the consciousness of dying for such a cause?'' The contempt for the scalawags had become cruel. Describing the deathbed of one of these, 'his couch not cheered by sympathizing friends or even loving relatives,' Dr. Baruch confessed to a feeling of sadness 'to see men made completely callous to the call of humanity by political differences.'
An amazing campaign, with Scott silent, depending on the guns. The negro nominee stumped the State with belligerent demands for social equality. An appointee of the Governor exhorted the blacks to 'defend their rights' with the suggestion that 'matches are cheap.' 'Taxes too high' said Beverly Nash, negro, to an audience of thousands. 'I tell you they are not high enough.' Colored men opposing Scott were beaten and divorced, for the women had been enlisted. The result was inevitable -- Scott, reelected by thirty thousand majority, plunged deeper than ever into pillage. It was after this that the railroad and furniture scandals reached their peak. Senator Robertson was reelected to the Senate - the purchase price about forty thousand dollars.
Such was South Carolina - let us hurry on to Louisiana.
Louisiana I: LAND & YEAR of JUBILEE
