Conspiracy Scares

Philip D. Morgan

A FREE black man rises to prominence in Charleston. Taking advantage of the opportunities available in an urban setting, he makes his mark on both water and land. He learns a skill and distinguishes himself in his craft. He earns a considerable amount of money and is reputed to be worth a small fortune. An ambitious and independent man, he is both bold and militant. Although free, he is said to identify with slaves. Eventually, he is charged with organizing them to revolt. Seemingly fired by the ideals of the Revolutionary Age, he envisages a rebellious role for blacks, with himself as "the Chief Command." He dies on the gallows apparently without remorse or confession. The governor of South Carolina believes his trial was rigged, that the testimony of "terrified" slaves was extracted under duress, and they were "easily induced to accuse themselves and others."	1
The man in question? It could have been Denmark Vesey but in fact was Thomas Jeremiah, and the year was 1775, not 1822. This "forward," outspoken free black, "puffed up by prosperity, ruined by Luxury and debauchery, and grown to an amazing pitch of vanity and ambition," in the words of one hostile critic, was in an especially vulnerable position in Charleston's brittle slave society. A free black who ascended to surprising heights and took on airs lived dangerously; he could easily be made a scapegoat for whites' suspicion (patriots were particularly keen to intimidate black harbor pilots, of whom Jeremiah was one, so that they did not assist the British) and blacks' incrimination (Jeremiah's brother-in-law, a slave named Jemmy, testified against him). No matter what his intent, Jeremiah became a pawn fought over by contending political forces--as was Denmark Vesey almost fifty years later. The parallels in the stories of these two free blacks in Charleston society should give historians pause before finding either one guilty of leading a slave rebellion. After all, in addition to everything else, both men protested their innocence.1	2
In fact, the truly haunting aspect of Michael P. Johnson's extraordinary tour de force on the Denmark Vesey slave conspiracy is the complicity of historians in accepting the corrupt verdict of a kangaroo court. Johnson persuasively characterizes almost all previous historians who have written about Vesey, with the notable exception of Richard C. Wade, as "unwitting co-conspirators" (p. 916) with the Charleston Court of Magistrates and Freeholders. It is chilling to read how the court intimidated slave witnesses, silenced the majority who claimed innocence, and then produced a so-called official report of its proceedings, which, at best, airbrushed the truth and, at worst, blatantly lied about what had transpired. Most depressing and humbling is the realization that so many historians have simply taken the court's propaganda and/or lies at face value and built whole books on questionable, coerced testimony. William W. Freehling, who apparently got much of the story wrong, had the good sense to recognize that "no one who values democratic justice can be altogether sure" of the conspiracy's reality. Yet, after Johnson's remarkable investigative work, it will be nigh impossible to believe a conspiracy existed. Brave talk among slaves and free blacks undoubtedly occurred, but no revolt was in the offing in Charleston in the summer of 1822.2	3
Three recent books on Vesey take a completely different tack and offer glowing accounts of Vesey's attributes and the reality of not just a plot but an impending revolt. David Robertson has his hero organizing the "most elaborate and well-planned slave insurrection in the history of the United States." To wit: Vesey recruited "perhaps nine-thousand slaves in his cause," prepared six infantry and cavalry companies of armed slaves, organized "an exclusively Ibo company within his rebel army," preached "the doctrine of negritude," perhaps "met and talked with the most extraordinary Muslim slave [Omar Ibn Said] in South Carolina history," corresponded with the president of Haiti, and was on the eve of having the governor of South Carolina and other important state officials assassinated, when the plot was discovered. Even in his mid-fifties, Vesey was of "such physical strength" that he sometimes traveled on foot as far as eighty miles in his recruiting efforts, and he also had seven wives over the course of his lifetime. Vesey was an extraordinary athlete as well as leader.3	. . .