University of Virginia Library

2. CHAP. II.

Being determined to hold as little communication
as possible with the turbulent spirit of democracy,
the next day, without asking any questions,
I took the stage, crossed a bridge to the north of
Boston, which bestrides the Potomac river, and in
less than half an hour arrived in Charleston, the
capital of the state of North Carolina, a city famous
for eating negroes. It is about three miles from
Boston. There is a navy-yard at this place which
I visited, and saw a ship building there which is
four hundred and twenty yards long, and as Capt.
Hull, the commandant, assured me, would carry

three hundred long forty-two pounders. She is
called a seventy-four! The captain, who is a tall
rough-looking man, with black eyes and immense
whiskers, told me in confidence, that the only way
he could persuade the yankee sailors to stand to
their guns in his engagement with the gallant Dacres,
was by promising them, in case of victory, to
roast the fat black cook of the Constellation, as his
ship was called, for supper. Nothing will make
these cannibal republicans fight like a temptation
of this sort.

Charleston is about the size of Boston, but has
neither pavements nor sidewalks, and alternates between
mud and dust, and dust and mud. In summer
it is all dust, in winter all mud. Indeed I
began to perceive, the moment I arrived here, that
I had got amongst a different sort of people from
those of Boston. There was no one to be seen in
the streets but negroes stark naked as they were
born, with their backs striped like a leopard in
consequence of the frequent application of the lash.
In fact, the principal article for sale here at the
retail shops, is the cow-hide, as it is called, that is,
a hard ox skin, twisted in the shape of a whip.
Almost every man you see has one of these in his
hand, and a spur at his heel, to make people believe
he carries the whip for his horse. But I was
assured by the head waiter at the city hotel, kept
by Mr. Chester Jennings, in Charleston, that it was
for the purpose of beating the slaves. Nothing
indeed will tempt the whites to exert themselves in

this enervating climate, but the luxury “of licking
a fellow,” as they call it, and almost the first thing
I noticed in coming into the city, was a tall, lank,
cadaverous figure, strutting up and down, cutting
and hacking with his cow-hide at every negro man,
woman, and child, that came in his way. I inquired
of the driver what these blacks had been
guilty of. “Guilty,” replied he, “guilty—eh!
—O, lord bless you sir, it's only Judge D—
amusing himself with the niggers.” It made my
heart bleed to see the blood running down their
backs. It was almost as bad as shooting the Irish
peasants for being out after nine o'clock.

I had scarcely been at my hotel an hour when
this same Judge D— called upon me, as a stranger,
and invited me to dinner the next day. My
blood rose up against the brute, but as I wished to
see whether some of the stories told about these
people, and which they deny, were true, I accepted
his invitation. The party consisted of Judge
D—'s wife, two daughters, and about a dozen
of the principal men of the place, among whom
was the governor of South-Carolina, Mr. Heister.
Behind each of the seats, as well the judge's as those
of his lady, and daughters, stood a black boy or girl,
as it happened, perfectly naked, and each of the
guests were provided with a cow-hide, with which
to chastise any neglect of duty on the part of the
slaves. There was cut and come again. The
judge and his guests cut their meat and cut the negroes
ad interim, and I particularly noticed the

dexterity of the young ladies in touching the tender
places with the cow-hide, as well as their infinite
delight in seeing them wince under the application.
One of these poor wretches having the
misfortune to break a plate during dinner, was
taken out, put under the window by the overseer,
and beat so cruelly that her moans were heard
over half the city. When she came in again, the
tears were rolling down her cheeks, and the blood
trickling down her naked back. The indifference
with which every one of the company but myself
beheld all this, convinced me that it was the custom
of the country.

The dinner was, in the main, good enough.
That is to say, there was a plenty of things naturally
good, but what was very remarkable, it was
brought up in wooden dishes, out of which they all
helped themselves with their fingers, knives and
forks not being in use in America, except among
a few English people. There was a very suspicious
dish on the table, which they called terrapin
soup, in which I observed what had exactly the
appearance of the fingers and toes of little negroes.
I afterwards learned that this was actually the case,
and that terrapin is the cant name for black childern,
as papoose is for those of the Indians. During
the dessert, an unlucky slave happened to let
fall a knife to which he was helping his mistress,
who snatched it up in a great passion and gave
him a deep gash in the face. I dropt my knife and
fork in astonishment, but nobody else seemed to
notice this horrible incident.

The next morning I strolled out into the fields
with a view of seeing the system of rural economy
practised in the south. One of the best managed
plantations, I was told, was that of his excellency
Governor Hancock, whose name is signed
to the declaration of independence, said to be written
by one Jefferson, a player belonging to the
Philadelphia theatre. The governor is a brisk,
troublesome little man, about forty. His plantation
is at a place called Merrimack, on the river
of that name. I saw plenty of slaves, and a scarcity
of every thing else. The principal products
are rice, cotton, and tobacco. The rice grows generally
upon the high grounds; but the cotton
requires to be covered with water occasionally.
The best is called Sea Island, because it grows upon
little islands in the mill ponds, which the people
here, according to their universal practice of
hyperbole, call seas. As for the tobacco, this filthy
and unwholesome weed is found to flourish best in
the negro grave-yards, where it is commonly raised,
and where you may every day during the
month of January, when it is ripe, see the children
of the slaves gathering it from the very graves
of their parents. This tobacco is used as food by
men, women, and children, who eat it as we do
sallad. Here I saw the poor negroes working
bare-headed, and I might say bare backed, in the
broiling sun, which sometimes actually sets fire to
their woolly heads, of which I saw several examples
in the course of my travels. Two or three

heads were already beginning to smoke, and I was
told if I staid half an hour longer, I might see them
in a blaze. However, having seen enough to convince
me that the system of farming here was execrable,
and finding it getting rather cold, I returned
home by another route, which gave me an opportunity
of seeing Yale college.

In reconnoitring about, I fell in with one of
the professors, to whom, willing to see whether
the poor man understood Latin, I paid my compliments
in forma pauperis. The professor, after
staring at me with a most ludicrous expression of
ignorant wonder, asked me whence I came, and
upon my answering “last from Charleston, South-Carolina,”
shrugged up his shoulders and replied,
“it was really so far off, that he could not undertake
to direct me,” although the steeples were full
in sight! From this we may judge of the state of
learning and information on this side the Pacific.
Being determined to hoax these poor souls, I filled
a box with pebbles, old mortar, and pieces of brick
bats, which I sent to the faculty as a valuable suite
of American minerals; whereupon they unanimously
bestowed upon me the degree of doctor of
laws. There were some vitrified masses I picked
up near an old glass-house which caused great speculation,
being considered unquestionable volcanic
productions. When questioned as to their locality,
I sent them on a wild goose chase in search of
a burning mountain.

Becoming tired of Charleston, its negroes and turkey

buzzards, (which the turbulent spirit of democracy
has dubbed eagles,) and desirous of getting
to New-Orleans as early as possible, I took a seat
in the stage for Portsmouth, New-Hampshire, and
departed before daylight the next morning. When
it should have been daylight, the fog was so thick
it was impossible to see the leaders, and I expressed
some apprehension. One of the passengers assured
me, however, that as the driver was drunk,
as a matter of course, daylight was of no consequence—it
was trusting to Providence at all events.
Indeed, I am assured by persons of veracity, that
travellers in this country place their chief dependence
on the horses, who, being left pretty much
to themselves, in consequence of the intoxication
of the drivers, acquire a singular discretion, and
seldom run away except when the driver is sober.
Thus we travelled under the guidance of instinct,
till near ten o'clock, when objects gradually became
visible along the road. The driver about
this time waked up, and I was congratulating myself
on his appearing sober; but the same communicative
passenger assured me it was of no consequence,
for he would be drunk again by the time
breakfast was over.

I had heard a great deal about the populousness
of the country in the neighbourhood of Boston;
but I can safely affirm, that during the whole
of this morning's ride, I saw neither house nor
human being along the road. We heard indeed a
deal of barking and howling at no great distance,

which the communicative passenger assured me
was that of various kinds of wild beasts, that abound
in these parts. He told me they frequently surrounded
the stage, devoured the horses, and if
their hunger was not then satisfied, topped off with
the driver and passengers. Indeed, what with
mail robberies, which happened almost every night,
and attacks of wild beasts, there was little hope
of getting to the end of a journey of a dozen miles
alive. “Boutez en avant,” roared out a little
Frenchman in a corner, taking a great pinch of
snuff at the same time. All this, thought I, comes
of the turbulent spirit of democracy.

Breakfasting at a little town, which, like all
other towns in this country, is called the city of
Hartford, I saw a young lady devour thirty-six
cucumbers, moistened with a quart of vinegar.
After which, she sat down, played Lodoiska on
the piano, and then went into the field to pull
onions. Such horrible incongruities are generated
in the rankness of democracy! There was a child
of about eight years old in the room, who called
for an antifogmatic, which he drank off at one
swallow, after which he lighted a cigar and amused
himself with singeing the woolly pate of a little
black boy, or terrapin, as they call them when
made into soup. According to the prediction of
the communicative passenger, the driver was nodding
again on his seat, in less than half an hour after
starting. I was so provoked that I threatened to
lick him, as the naval officer said at Boston. But

the communicative passenger cautioned me against
this, assuring me the driver was a man of great
consequence—a member of congress—judge of the
court—colonel of militia—justice of the peace—
deacon of the church—constable and keeper of the
county jail withal. “So,” continued the communicative
passenger, “he can issue a warrant—
take you in custody—try you for an assault—clap
you in jail—keep watch over you when there—
and finally have you prayed against by the whole
congregation.” “Diable!” exclaimed the little
Frenchman in broken English; “these democrat
yankees have as many offices as their citizen hogs
have hind legs.” “Why, how many legs have
our citizen hogs, as you call them, Monsieur?”
replied the communicative passenger. “Why, eight
at least,” said the other, “or they could never
furnish the millions of hams which I see every
where. Diable! I have breakfasted upon ham—
dined upon ham—and supped upon ham, every
day since I arrived in this country. Yes, sir, it is
certain your pigs must have at least eight hams a
piece;” upon which he politely offered me a pinch
of snuff, which I refused with cold dignity. If I
know myself, I have no national prejudices; but
I do hate Frenchmen.

Though anxious to gain information, I cannot condescend
to mix with these rank republicans, ask
questions, and take the usual means of gaining it.
I wanted to know the reason of such a multiplicity
of offices being united in one person; but it was

enough for me to permit these low-lived scum of
democracy to give me information, without demeaning
myself to ask for it. Luckily the little
Frenchman, like all his detestable countrymen,
was fond of talking. “Pray,” said he, “how
comes it that his honour the colonel, deacon, stage-driver,
has so many offices; or, as you yankees
say, so many irons in the fire? One would think
that men were as scarce in this country, as hams
are plenty.” “Why, the truth is,” replied the
communicative traveller, “that being one of three
persons out of the whole county that can read, it
is necessary he should labour in a variety of vocations,
for the good of his country. Besides, as
every democrat is by nature and habit a drunkard,
a sober man among them, is like a good singer at a
feast; the one is knocked down for all the songs,
and the other is under the necessity of playing a
sort of jack-of-all-trades.” “Diable!” exclaimed
the little Frenchman, “do you call this colonel
stage-driver a sober man?” “Why not exactly,”
replied the other; “but this valuable person has
been drinking so long, and so constantly, that habit
has become second nature, and he is never so
wise, valiant, discreet, and pious, as when he is
full charged with apple brandy.” So much for
the spirit of democracy, thought I.

The country through which we passed, every
where exhibits traces of the lazy, ragged, and dirty
genius of democracy; who prides himself on his
beggary, and riots in the want of all those elegancies

which-civilized nations consider essential
to existence. A few miserable negro huts, without
roof or windows, and a few half-starved, half-naked
negroes, dot the sterile landscape here and there.
The only white people we saw, were a knot of
half-drunken savages, assembled about a log hut,
shooting at a mark. Here we stopped to water
the horses, and I looked about to see the mark at
which they were trying their skill. “You are
curious,” said the communicative traveller, “to
know what they are shooting at. Look at that
little negro. They will tie him to yonder post
anon, and shoot at him till he is torn to atoms, as
they do at turkeys, for sixpence a shot.” Another
proof of the horrible spirit of democracy. The
person who gave me this information added, that
when they had finished this trial of skill, they
would, in all probability, turn to and take a few
shots at each other for mere amusement.

We arrived at Portsmouth, an inland town,
capital of Georgia, where being heartily sick of
this bundling, guessing, tippling den of democracy,
I thought I would, for once, depart from my ordinary
rule, and inquire when I might calculate on
getting to New-Orleans? I accordingly put the
question to the landlord; but the little impatient
Frenchman who was close at my heels took the
word—“New-Orleans! Diable! are you going to
New-Orleans, Monsieur?” Thinking his surprise
might have some connexion with the yellow-fever,
I was thrown off my guard, and before I knew it,

condescended to answer—“Yes, I am,” but with
cold dignity. The little villain took a huge pinch
of snuff, blew his nose like a trumpet, and exclaimed—“To
New-Orleans! You are going to New-Orleans,
and I am going away from it as fast as I
possibly can! One of us must be going the wrong
way, that's certain. Pray,” said he, turning to the
communicative traveller, “will Monsieur be good
enough to tell me whether I am travelling north or
south, to New-Orleans or Passamaquoddy?” “Due
north—in the very eye of the North star—to
Passamaquoddy, and not to New-Orleans, Monsieur,”
answered the other. “Monsieur,” said
the little villain, turning to me, and offering a
pinch of snuff with a low bow—“Monsieur, when
you get into a stage coach, do you ever condescend
to inquire where it is going? I am an old traveller,
and as we are going to part, never perhaps to meet
again, let me conjure you, by the memory of your
ancestors and the victory of Waterloo, never to
set out on a journey without inquiring whither you
are going? However, Monsieur, it is an ill wind
that blows nobody good. I am going no farther
North than this place, shall finish my business
here this afternoon, and to-morrow, if Monsieur
pleases, we will set out for the South, which I assure
you is the very best way to New-Orleans.” “And
I,” said the communicative traveller, “shall also
return in the morning, and mean to go South as
far as the city of Charleston, so that we shall have
the pleasure of each other's company, for a thousand
miles at least.” “A thousand miles!” replied
I, for here again surprise overcame my dignified
reserve—“Why, I thought”—. But I
stopt short, being unwilling to give the little rascal
of a Frenchman another laugh, by letting him into
the secret of a certain blunder which shall be nameless.
“On the whole,” observed the communicative
traveller, “you have not lost much by this
little ride out of your way. You have had an opportunity
of seeing one of the finest and best cultivated
parts of the country; and a portion of the
most moral, as well as enlightened of the people.
And you have lost no time by the little excursion,
for I am credibly informed, such has been the
mortality at New-Orleans, that there is not a single
human being left alive there. Nay, the very
dogs, cats, and parrots are extinct. You may as
well wait, therefore, till it is peopled again, which
will be very soon, for the folks in this country,
particularly the democrats, don't mind dying in
the summer, if they can only have a merry winter
before hand.” Here our conversation was interrupted
by a loud cry of “Help—murder—help!”
proceeding from an adjoining room. On running
in to see what was the matter, we found a son of
the landlord, (who by the way was a general,) about
eight years of age, had thrown his mother down
on the floor, and was beating, biting, scratching,
and mauling her in a dreadful manner, while the
general stood by laughing and clapping his hands
in ecstacy every moment crying out, “That's it
—that's my fine fellow—O! he'll make a brave
republican!” Such are the first lessons of children
in this chosen land of bundling, gouging, drunkenness,
impertinence, impiety—and, to sum up all in
one word, democracy.

Heaven be praised, thought I, the force of democracy
can go no further; but I was mistaken
with a vengeance. Just at this moment we had a
terrible explosion, which I at first thought was the
little Frenchman sneezing—but it turned out, on
inquiry, to be something of a far different nature.
Though my heart sickens at the bare recital, I
shall give the story, for the benefit of all the admirers
of democracy.

It seems a fellow of the name of Ramsbottom, a
man-milliner by trade, and a roaring patriot, had
taken offence at a neighbour, whose name was Higginbottom,
because his wife had attempted to cheapen
a crimped tucker, and afterwards reported that
he sold his articles much dearer than his rival man-milliner
over the way, whose name was Winterbottom,
and whose next door neighbour, one Oddy,
was Winterbottom's particular friend. In the pure
spirit of democracy, Ramsbottom determined to
dirk not only Higginbottom and his wife, and
Winterbottom, and Oddy, and their wives; but
all the young Higginbottoms, Winterbottoms,
Oddys, and little Oddities. It was some years
before Ramsbottom could get them all together,
so as to make one job of it. At last he collected
the whole party at his own house, to spend

their Christmas eve, and determined to execute
his diabolical purpose. It appears, however,
from what followed, that he had previously changed
his mind as to the dirking, probably because it
was too much trouble, (for these democrats hate
trouble above all things.) Just as they were up to
the eyes in a Christmas pye, the explosion took
place which I had just heard, and the whole party,
Ramsbottom, Higginbottom, Winterbottom, and
Oddy, together with their wives, and all the little
Ramsbottoms, Winterbottoms, Higginbottoms, Oddys
and Oddities were all blown into such small
atoms, that not a vestige of them was to be found.
I saw their bodies afterwards, all terribly mangled
and torn to pieces. Such is the intense and neverdying
spirit of vengeance, generated by the turbulent
spirit of democracy, that the desperado,
Ramsbottom, it appears, did not scruple, like the
republican Samson of old, to pull down destruction
on himself, that he might be revenged on his
enemies.