An Englishman's Travels In America: His Observations Of Life And Manners In The Free And Slave States - 1857 - By J. Benwell.
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In Twenty Years From That Time, The National March - Now
Universally Recognized By The Patriots - Inspired The Heroes Of Bunker's
Hill; And, In Less Than Thirty, Lord Cornwallis And His Army Marched
Into The American Lines To The Tune Of "Yankee Doodle."
CHAPTER VII.
"Woe worth the hour when it is crime
To plead the poor dumb bondman's cause,
When all that makes the heart sublime,
The glorious throbs that conquer time,
Are traitors to our cruel laws." - LOWELL
The general appearance of the majority of the coloured people in the
streets of Charleston denoted abject fear and timidity, some of them as
I passed looking with servile dread at me (as they did at almost every
one who happened to pass), so that I could read in many of their looks a
suspicion of interference, which, commiserating their condition as I
did, was quite distressing.
It is impossible to form a correct estimate of what the perpetuators of
slavery have to expect, if once the coloured population obtain a
dominant position. The acknowledged gradual depopulation of the whites
in the slave states, through sickness, exhaustion of the land, and
consequent emigration, united with other causes, there is no doubt will
eventually result in a great preponderance of coloured people, who,
aroused by the iniquitous treatment they undergo, will rise under some
resolute leader, and redress their wrongs. I was quite struck to see in
Charleston such a disproportion of the colours, and, without
exaggerating, I can say, that almost if not quite three-fourths of those
I met in the streets were, if not actually of the negro race, tinged in
a greater or less degree with the hue.
Pursuing my perambulations, I came to the slave and general cotton place
of vendue, to the left of the General Post-office, which building is a
very substantial edifice of stone. Here a dozen or twenty auctioneers
were loudly holding forth to the assembled crowds, and cracking up their
wares in New York style. The most indescribable scene of bustle and
confusion prevailed, the whole street being covered with open bales and
boxes of goods. In one part of the street was a slave warehouse, and
advertisements were placarded outside of the particulars of the various
lots to be offered for competition, and now on view. As the privilege of
viewing in this instance was confined to those who possessed tickets, I
did not apply for one, as I knew that the wish would be attributed to
curiosity, and possibly a worse construction be put upon it, through my
being a stranger in the place.
Passing onwards through the assembled throng, I got into a more secluded
part of the city, and came upon a large burial-ground, in which many of
the monuments erected to the memory of the dead were of a very expensive
description. One in particular attracted my notice; this, on inquiry of
a gentlemanly-looking man, who, like myself, was inclined to "meditate
among the tombs," I ascertained had been erected by the relatives of a
planter, who had resided in an adjoining state, but who had several
cotton plantations within ten miles of Charleston; these he occasionally
visited, but in general confided to the care of an overseer, who lived
with his family on one of them.
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