When it comes to the life and trial of Denmark Vesey, about the only thing most people agree on is that little about him is actually known, though much is rumored or alleged. Still, “[t]he Vesey affair, though failed,” opined Converse College Professor William I. Kimball in a 1975 issue of Sandlapper Magazine, “was one marker of the beginning of the end of a way of life, and helped launch a series of events which, 39 years later, led to the bombardment of Fort Sumter.”
The historic figure we know as Denmark Vesey was born with the name Telemaque – after the son of Odysseus – sometime around 1767, probably of an enslaved mother on the Caribbean Dutch island of St. Thomas, though some scholars believe he was born in Africa and brought to St. Thomas as a young child.
The first documentation of Telemaque’s life was that he was purchased in 1781 by Capt. Joseph Vesey, a Bermudian slave trader who took onboard 390 slaves at St. Thomas, including Telemarque who would have been about 14. An intelligent teenager with a personal charisma, Telemarque became popular with the crew and was allowed run of the ship. Some speculate this was when his name changed to Denmark Vesey – Denmark because he came from a Danish colony and Vesey after the ship’s captain.
Along with the other enslaved people aboard Vesey’s ship, Denmark was sold at St. Domingue (modern Haiti). His purchaser later complained that the young man suffered from epileptic fits (perhaps feigned) and insisted Capt. Vesey buy him back, which he did. Denmark soon became Capt. Vesey’s right hand, assisting him in nearly all aspects of the trade. Doing so gave Denmark the opportunity to educate himself, including a thorough understanding of the mercantile business and how to read and write in several languages, including English, French, and Spanish.
Capt. Vesey retired from seafaring after the American Revolution, settling in Charleston. No longer needing Denmark’s mercantile skills, Capt. Vesey hired his slave out to others as a carpenter, another trade in which Denmark was skilled. This allowed Denmark to earn his own money, though a percentage was paid back to Capt. Vesey.
On Sept. 30, 1799, Denmark bought ticket number 1884 in the East Bay Lottery. Sure enough, he hit the jackpot on Nov. 9, winning $1,500, $600 of which he used to buy his freedom from Capt. Vesey. Some historians suggest this was when he changed his name to Denmark Vesey.
Denmark then sought to buy his wife, Beck, and their children’s freedom but their owner refused to sell them. Under South Carolina’s slave codes, Vesey had no standing as the children’s father, as children born to enslaved women were owned by her owner. Though Vesey was rumored to have had marital relationships with as many as seven women (some at the same time), he never got over losing Beck, and his anger festered.
A successful carpenter who had amassed about $8,000 in cash and property, Vesey then became a minister to the enslaved congregants of Second Presbyterian Church on Meeting Street. In 1818, he was among the founders of Charleston’s first African Methodist Episcopal Church (AME), a denomination founded in Philadelphia two years earlier. This Black “satellite congregation” of Second Presbyterian grew quickly, becoming the nation’s second-largest congregation of the new denomination.
The church was briefly closed soon after its founding for breaking the state’s slave codes, which forbade Blacks from holding services after sundown, a practice some believed might promote talk of rebellion. Nearly 150 church leaders, both free and enslaved, were arrested and many corporally punished, fostering resentment among the congregation. When the church reopened, Vesey’s sermons capitalized on these feelings of injustice, citing Biblical passages and arguments from America’s own Declaration of Independence to condemn slavery.
The church was shut down again in 1821 for allegations of breaking another of the slave codes – this time for teaching enslaved people to read and write.
These incidents, along with his anger at not being allowed to buy his wife and children’s freedom, weighed heavily on Vesey. His ministry focused on lessons from the Old Testament, a harsher “eye for an eye” theology than that of the grace found in the New Testament. He often compared Charleston’s enslaved people with the Israelites held in bondage by Egyptians in the 14th century BCE.
From here on, most of Vesey’s story becomes one of allegations, which claim that in 1821, he began planning what Kimball called “the most elaborate insurrectionary project ever formed by American slaves,” suggesting Vesey was inspired by the successful 1791 slave uprising in St. Domingue. Known for his bold and persuasive oratory skills from the pulpit, Vesey undoubtedly must have had a great deal of influence with many Black Charlestonians, both free and enslaved.
Allegedly he selected six men of intelligence, courage, and resolve to join him in planning a rebellion to free Lowcountry slaves: brothers Ned and Rolla Bennett, trusted personal servants of S.C. Gov. Thomas Bennett; Jack Purcell, who shared Vesey’s zealous enthusiasm for the cause; Peter Poyas, who operated a shipyard at 35 South Bay (today South Battery); Gullah Jack, who many superstitious Blacks believed communed with spirits; and Monday Gell, an enslaved man who operated a livery stable at 127 Church St.
Some estimate as many as 30 leaders played key roles in organizing the revolt, recruiting slaves from plantations as far away as Georgetown, Goose Creek, St. John’s Colleton Parish, and Dorchester. Perhaps as many as 9,000 enslaved people agreed to join the rebellion.
The rebellion’s date was set for July 14, 1822, a summer Sunday when most White families would be vacationing in cooler climes in the mountains or New England. Setting the date on a Sunday also meant that large numbers of rural Blacks could come into the city – supposedly for church services – without raising alarm.
According to allegations, the rebels were to set multiple fires in the city and in the resulting chaos kill every White person they found, including women and children, without exception. The same fate awaited any Blacks, free or enslaved, who had refused to join their cause. Afterward, they would depart from Peter Poyas’ shipyard for St. Dominque, where they would be free.
As one might expect with a secret shared by so many, rumors of the rebellion began to leak, especially among slaves who chose not to be a part of the uprising. On May 25, a slave named William confided details of the plan to another named Peter, owned by Col. John C. Prioleau. After several days of reflection and seeking counsel from others, Peter told the colonel what he had heard. Prioleau notified the city’s mayor, who called an emergency meeting of the city council. An intensive inquiry began.
Following Peter Poyas’ arrest for questioning, Vesey allegedly advanced the revolt’s date to June 16. Meanwhile, each rumor that went around became more exaggerated than the one before it, and Whites began viewing every Black person as a suspect.
Ten slaves, including Peter Poyas and Ned and Rolla Bennett, were brought before a “special court” consisting of seven civic leaders appointed by the City Council. Here the accuracy of the historical details is blurred even further, as three versions of the court proceedings exist. In addition to the “official” record by the court, Mayor James Hamilton wrote a 46-page narrative that seemed to present the record as city officials wished it to be told, detailing how narrowly a bloodbath was avoided by their swift and decisive action. Alternatively, Gov. Thomas Bennett Jr., who owned at least three of the accused, wrote an account downplaying the alleged crimes.
Meanwhile, Gov. Bennett’s brother-in-law, U.S. Justice William Johnson, expressed strong concerns about the speed at which the trial was moving, compromising the defendants’ rights to due process. Court was unlawfully held in secret and the public barred access, nor were the accused allowed to face their accusers. Conflicting testimonies were given under threat of torture or even death, some against men not even charged.
Outside of these accusations, no concrete evidence of the plot was ever found, including a purported cache of arms hidden by the conspirators. Nor was any written documentation of the plan ever found, which an educated man such as Vesey would undoubtedly have created.
Nevertheless, by the end of June, more than 130 Black men, enslaved and free, were arrested. Though exact numbers vary according to accounts, about 37 were publicly hanged over a seven-day period, 31 sold in Cuba (including Vesey’s daughter), 27 acquitted, 11 acquitted but exiled from Charleston, one whipped and jailed, and 38 released after questioning. Four White men were also arrested as part of the conspiracy and fined.
On July 2, Vesey and five of his inner circle, including Rolla, Ned and Batteau Bennett, Peter Poyas, and Jesse Blackwood, were hanged in the early morning hours in an undisclosed location with no public notification. Gullah Jack was arrested on July 5 and executed seven days later. None of the condemned ever confessed or named others involved.
Whether the rebellious plot had been real or conjured up by suspicious and frightened officials, Charleston was never the same afterward. What tentative trust had existed between the races evaporated. Everyone lived in a heightened fear of each other. Newspapers in New York and Philadelphia decried the trial and convictions as a “bloody sacrifice” and those who died as “striking for liberty.” Thus, the alleged Denmark Vesey plot further frayed relationships between the North and South, laying the groundwork for the American Civil War.
