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WHAT WOULD HAPPEN TO A FAT PHONY COM-SYMP SON OF A BITCH LIKE ED SCHULZ IN THE GOOD OLD DAYS

A few days after my arrival, while standing in the vestibule of my hotel, my attention was drawn to a loud altercation going on at the bar, and as it was evident, from the manner of the parties, that some public question was being discussed, I listened, and ascertained that an obnoxious citizen had been seized for perpetrating a petty act of revenge on a neighbour by damaging his horse, and was that day to be publicly tarred, feathered, and escorted out of the city, as they said, bag and baggage. Having ascertained the spot selected for the scene, I determined to witness it.

Accordingly, at noon, the appointed hour, I repaired to an open spot of building-land on the Carondelet side of the city. Here I found assembled a motley assemblage of citizens, negroes, steamboat-hands, and the general riff-raff of the place. Although the crowd was not so great, the meeting strongly reminded me of those scenes of infamy and disgrace in England—public executions; the conduct of the assembled throng on this occasion being the more decorous of the two.

Precisely at twelve, the mob made a rush towards one corner of the open space, from which direction I saw the culprit advancing, in charge of thirty or forty well-dressed people (the committee appointed for the occasion being among the number). He was a stout man, and described to me as a great bully; but now he looked completely crest-fallen. As the party came on, he was hissed by the mob, who, however, kept at a good distance from his guard.

A man, with a large tin can of smoking pitch, a brush of the kind used in applying the same, and a pillow of feathers under his arm, followed immediately behind the prisoner, vociferating loudly.

Arrived at the spot, the poor wretch was placed on a stool, and a citizen, who had taken a very prominent part in front of the procession, and who, I was told, was the chief cause of this outrage, stepped in front of him, and pulling out a sheet of paper, read a lecture on the enormity of his crime, which wound up with the sentence about to be enforced. When this was finished, the man who carried the tar-vessel stepped up, and began, with a scissors, to cut off the culprit’s hair, which he did most effectually, flinging portions amongst the crowd, who scrambled after them. As soon as this was finished, and the man was stripped to the waist, the brush was dipped into the pitch, and the upper part of his person lathered therewith.

Not a word escaped him, but the individual who had taken so prominent a part in the punishment, kept giving directions to the operator to put it on thick. Even his eyes and ears were not spared. As soon as this part of the operation was complete, the bag of feathers was ripped open by a by-stander, and the contents stuck thickly on the parts besmeared with tar, amidst the deafening cheers of the spectators, who were by this time in such frantic excitement that I began to fear a tragedy would ensue, especially as many of them shouted, “Now hang the varmint! hang him!”

This proposal was eagerly seconded by the mob. This was, however, resolutely overruled by his keepers. The appearance presented by the victim, in this peculiarly American dress, was ludicrous in the extreme, and looked very comfortable. As soon as this part of the exhibition was finished, a man, with a small drum, followed by the mob, with yells and execrations drove the culprit before them at a run. The poor wretch ran like a deer from his pursuers, who followed at his heels, shouting frantically, until he reached the brink of the river, where a boat was waiting to take him off. He dashed into it, and was at once rowed into the middle of the stream, out of reach of his tormentors, who, I quite believe, would have administered more severe lynch-law if they could have got hold of him, for their passions were wrought up to the highest pitch of excitement.

One feature in the scene I could not help remarking—the negroes all appeared in high glee, and many of them actually danced with joy. I did not wonder at this, for the negroes always seemed to exult if a white man was in disgrace; which, after all, is no more than might be expected from a class of men tyrannized over as the coloured people are there, and is one of the results of the oppressive system that exacts everything that human labour can furnish, without remuneration, and without (in by far the greater number of instances) any approach to sympathy or grateful feeling.

This alone, without taking into consideration the outrages inflicted on the race by their cruel oppressors, supplies a sufficient cause for such a tendency, if every other were wanting.—J Benwell