John Bull in America; or, The new Munchausen

Front matter

Class Book

OR,

THE NEW MUNCHAUSEN.

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as the reader will perceive, it explains very satisfactorily the principal portion of the preceding details, there was nothing in it which could lead directly to a discovery of the name and residence of the unfortunate gentleman, whose fate, although still enveloped in douht, is but too easily anticipated. All that appears certain from the manuscript is, that the stran - ger was an Englishman, travelling to New- Orleans on business, and that he probably was in some way mysteriously made away with by thelittle dark complexioued foreigner, of whom a description has been given, and for whom a reward has been offered in the public papers without effect. His name, as given by himself, in the examination before the magistrate in New- York is probably fictitious*

After mature reflection, it was decided to publish the manuscript, as the best and cheapest mode of extending the inquiry concerning the identity of this unfortunate stranger to all parts of the reading world, and thereby acquiring further information. In addition to this motive it was thought that a work of such extraordinary merit as to style, sentiment, and accuracy of detail, deserved to be made known. Much discussion took place in respect to the selection of a title for a work, which had been omitted in the manuscript. To announce it simply as a book of

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VU travels in America, would have been to place it on a footing with the various romances which have been published under that title within the last thirty years. Of these we have lately had such a profusion that the public is rather tired, as we are informed by the booksellers. Some familiar and striking title-page, no matter whether applicable or not to the^character of the work, was therefore necessary to excite public attention, and it was finally decided to adopt that which appears, and which we will now proceed to explain.

The character of these travels being that of severe and inflexible truth, a title was chosen in direct antithesis, partly in a sportive imitation of the facetious philosopher Lucian, who gave the name of "a true story" to one of the most improbable fictions of antiquity; and partly in allusion to Dr. Jonathan Swift, who in like manner disguised one of the gravest of satires, under the mask of "A Tale of a Tub," than which nothing can be more opposite to its real character. Thus, in like manner, have we availed ourselves of the catachresis on this occasion, not only for the purpose of agreeably surprising the reader into the perusal of a work of incomparable veracity, under the garb of a work of fiction, but also to administer to the

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public taste> which, owing to the witcheries of that mischievous person called the "Great Unknown," hath an unseemly propensity towards romances and the like.

In this we are justified, not only by the foregoing high authorities, but in an especial manner by the example of certain great critics, who place at the head of their articles, by way of title-page, the name of a book about which they say not one word in the whole course of their lucubrations. So, in like manner, may we see certain well-meaning and orthodox writers, publishing what they call " candid examinations," and " cool considerations," of and concerning certain disputed points, which, to say the truth, are neither candid nor cool, but marvellously the contrary. We mention not these things in a spirit of hostility, but to justify our adoption of the figure of the catachresis by their examples. The reader will therefore err most egregiously if he supposes for a moment that the following work, whatever be its title bears the most remote resemblance, or is in any wise tainted with the egregious fictions of the genuine Munchausen.

Touching the real author of this work, whom we may safely pronounce a second and still greater "Great Unknown," we have our sus-

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picions on the subject, suspicions almost amounting to a certainty, which we shall proceed to lay before the reader. At first, for divers good reasons, we were inclined to suppose the author was no less a person than the " Great Unknown" himself, who as is asserted, resided in America some time. But however rich, redundant, and inexhaustible may be the invention of this extraordinary Incognito, no one we think will deny to our author, notwithstanding his general character of severe vera* city, a vigour of fancy and a vein of inventive sportiveness, vastly superior even to the " Great Unknown." We must therefore discard this suggestion, and proceed to put the readefr in possession of our settled conviction on this matter, which as will be seen amounts to next to a certainty.

To come to the point without further circumlocution, we have the best reasons as well as the highest circumstantial testimony to warrant us in the assertion, that the author of this work was, and if living, is still, one of the principal writers of the Quarterly Review — the very person who wrote the masterly review of Faux's Travels in the fifty-eighth number.*

•The reader must consult the English copy for this article, which was so extravagantly complimentary, that even the American bookseller modestly omitted it in his re-publication of the number.

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To arrive at this conclusion it is only necessary to compare the two works, in the articles of style, temper, and feeling, every thing in short which goes to the indication of a personal identity. The style of this work displays the closest resemblance to that of the article on Mr. Faux's Travels, and indeed all the articles relating to the United States, in the Quarterly Review. The same classical severity and mildness of rebuke, where rebuke is necessary — the same happy aptitude in the selection of choice flowers of rhetoric — the same amiable zeal for religion — the same charity to all men — the same principles of universal benevolence — the same gentlemanly observance of the slightest minutiae of high-wrought and refined good breeding runs through each and all of these productions, Nay, the same expressions and peculiar phrases which characterize the reviewer, occur almost in every page of our author. We have the fc turbulent spirit of democracy"—the "wanton violations of the Sabbath"— the "total disregard of religion" — the " spitting, gouging, drinking, duelling, dirking, swearing, strutting republicans" — the " white-robed, levee-going, cow-hiding fine lady's—the "hog-stealing judges" — the "illusions of transatlantic speculation" — the " flippant ferragoes of impiety, malevolence, folly,

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XI and radical trash" — together with an infinite variety of the favourite phrases of the Quarterly repeated over and over again, with a facility, which we think can only be accounted for on the supposition that the author and reviewer are one and the same person.

Again, a perfect similarity of temper as well as style reigns throughout both productions. The same display of candour, good nature, urbanity, morality, piety, orthodoxy, and loyalty—the same inflexible impartiality and love of truth — the same chivalrous gallantry to the ladies — the same high-toned courtesy to the gentlemen of this republic — and the same intense horror of the turbulent spirit of democracy, lives, breathes, and moves in each. It were too great a stretch of credulity, to suppose that one kingdom, one quarter of the world, or even the whole universe, could possibly at one and the same time, contain two persons so highly and so equally gifted with such extraordinary qualifications. It would be too much for one age. W« read, indeed, ef a young Mede, who assured Cyrus that he had two souls; but the idea of two separate persons having one and the same soul, is altogether preposterous. The author of this work, and the superintendent of American affairs in the Quarterly Review, are therefore xii

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manifestly one and the same. This decision acquires additional support from the continual reference to, and quotations from, the latter Work, interspersed throughout the whole of the former. It is scarcely possible to believe that any person but the reviewer himself, could so accurately remember and refer to the most admired passages. Our author, indeed, seems never to have had the Quarterly out of mind, and this circumstance, together with the fact of his always carrying it about with him, and reading it on all occasions, is another decisive proof 5 since we have occasion to know from our own experience, that an author ever pte^ fers his own works to all others, as certainly ad a parent does his own children.

Other symptoms of identity occur in almost every page. Both these productions are equally remarkable for that friendly disposition to the people, the government, and institutions of the United States, which has caused the Quarterly to be so extensively circulated in this country, and patronized by its most distinguished citiaens. It would be absurd to suppose that two persons, and those persons foreigners, should at one and the same time be animated by such disinterested feelings of good will towards the people of this or any other country. We notice, likewise, several

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xiii other striking similarities ; especially an equally accurate knowledge of the geography and history of the United States. The amiable credulity of our author, in occasionally suffering himself to be imposed upon by the relations of others, is also a characteristic of the reviewer, who it must be confessed sometimes stretches his belief into the regions of the marvellous. This credulity is joined with a certain engaging simplicity, which appears, in occasionally exhibiting himself in a ridiculous light, without appearing to be aware of it, and relating things which a more artful and wary person would pass over without notice. This we look upon as the strongest proof of his veracity, and a guaranty for the truth of every thing he advances upon his own authority. In regard to what is told him by others, we would advise the reader to receive it with some grains of allowance.

Having thus, as we presume to imagine, pretty clearly established our position, that the author of the following pages, and the writer of American criticisms in the Quarterly, is one and the same person, we shall proceed to indulge in a few speculations as to the precise individual to whom the people of the United States have so frequently been indebted for such friendly notices.

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It cannot be the laureat, Mr. Southey, be«^ cause we are assured he has lately taken rather a dislike to republicans, on account of their blameable indifference to his epic poems.— Having in one of these taken the trouble to confer upon them a respectable degree of dignity and antiquity, by peopling the country with a colony of Welsh^ commanded by a real prince, with an enormous long pedigree, it is another proof of the ingratitude of republics, that the Americans should be so indifferent on theoccasion. TheLaureatrs dislike is, therefore? however much it may be lamented, not to be wondered at. But besides this, we have occasion to know that the Laureat finds it such a difficult matter to do justice to the gloiies af his present gracious sovereign, that he has been high and dry aground upon a birthday ode for the last nine months, and there is no telling when he will be delivered. It is whispered in the literary circles, that he has called for another butt of sack to float him off. Others say^ that in addition to this, he is engaged upon a second "Vision of Judgment," in which his old antagonist, the late Lord Byron, is condemned to a most unheard-of punishment, to wit, that of reading over all the Laureat's epics, sapphics, &c, not forgetting Wat Ty-*

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It ler, twice a year, till he becomes orthodox^ and belieyes in the divine right of kings.

Neither do we think it can possibly be Mr* D'Israeli, it being generally understood that he is entirely devoted to the ladies, and that his specified duty is to keep an eye upon Lady Morgan, to whose "flippant impieties," &c. his acknowledged orthodoxy is held to be a most sovereign antidote. We remember to have read in the London Morning Chronicle (a most mischievous gossiping paper,) if we

mistake not, that Mr. D was the author

of a certain Review in the Quarterly, in which, like one of Tasso's or Ariosto's gallant knights, he tilted mortally at our Lady Errant, not with lance, but pen, and demonstrated to the satisfaction of the world that the good old Jewish rite had not in the least impaired his manhood.

We had at one time settled it in our minds, that these productions came from the pen of the good-natured creature who has so long presided over the Quarterly, whereby it hath become so renowned throughout all Christendom, for that refined and high-wrought courte* sy, which is only to be acquired in the cabin of a Newcastle collier. — These suspicions were strengthened by our being credibly informed of a little good-tempered old gentleman, who was in this country some time last spring, and

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was so delighted with every thing he saw, that he fell seriously ill of an ecstatic transport, from which he was finally recovered by smelling a bottle of the pure essence of democracy. These facts staggered us a little ; but positive information has since been received^ that the good man was at that time confined to his house, No. 68, Grub-street, with a dyspepsy, accompanied by lowness of spirits, occasioned, as is conjectured, by the late act of parliament abolishing lotteries, whereby his office of comptroller of lottery-offices naturally falls to the ground. It is surmised that the orthodox old gentleman hath it in serious contemplation to abandon the Quarterly, become very wicked, and devote himself to democracy and impiety, unless they bolster up his principles with another sinecure.*

The reader will doubtless give us due credit, when we assure him we have reduced it to a probability, approaching very near to certainty,

* Previous to this act, abolishing Lotteries, Mr. G., it is understood, held two sinecures, to wit, that of paymaster to the" Honourable Band of Gentleman Pensioners," and that to which we have just alluded. The former was given him to support his loyalty, and the latter to maintain his orthodoxy. It is supposed that either his loyalty or religion will be buried under the ruins^ of the lottery offices.

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xtii that the real author of the productions, which have been the subject of this inquiry, is a gen* tleman of great orthodoxy, generally known in England by the appellation of "The Talking Pqtato." We have been at some pains to come at the origin of this whimsical distinction, but upon the whole have not succeeded exactly to our wishes. By some, it is said^ it arose from his talking as if he had a hot potato in his mouth ; by others, that it came from his having a nose wonderfully resembling the Solanum Tuberosum, or red potato. But the most general opinion is, that it originated in his once having had the misfortune to require trepanning, when Sir Astley Cooper, the great surgeon, was astonished to find the entire cavity of the brain occupied by a thumping Irish potato. This fact was communicated to the College of Physicians, but without mentioning the name, and may be found in one of the volumes of their transactions.

This gentleman, besides his holding " something in the nature of a sinecure," is a member of parliament, and, as we are informed, one of the genteelest writers of the Quarterly. Besides all this, he is considered the best joker in the House, with the exception of Mr. Canning. He has not the wit of Mr. Canning, but then, as the country members are wont to

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say in a debate on the causes of agricultural distress, while they are splitting their sides with laughter, "he talks so like a potato.'' It is a state secret with which we have chanced to become possessed, that "the talking potato" did actually come over here sometime in the late recess of Parliament, for the sole purpose of ascertaining the real causes of various naval phenomena which occurred during the late war between England and the United States, a subject which had excited great curiosity among my lords of the admiralty. We understand he ascertained pretty clearly, that the whole secret lay in the trifling circumstances of a superiority of ships, officers, seamen^ and gunnery. This discovery put him in such good humour, that he was wrought upon to compliment the people and country in the polite manner exemplified in the following pages. It is surmised that the result of his mission, in relation to naval matters, will appear in the next edition of Mr. Robert James's Apology for the English Navy. With respect to his object in going to New-Orleans, we have some suspicion that it might have been a part of his mission to account for the wonderful dispaj-ity of loss in the great battle between the British and the stout hero of New-Orleans.

The foregoing contains all the particulars

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xix we have been able to obtain in elucidation of the following work. We cannot, however, refrain from expressing our earnest hopes, that the doubts of his friends, and the fears of his country in regard to the fate of this unfortunate gentleman, may be speedily removed by his re-appearing and claiming this work, to the credit and profits of which he is entirely welcome. Should the contrary be the case, we beg permission to offer our sincere condolements to my lords of the admiralty, to the country members, on the loss of their favourite jester; to the Quarterly Review on the loss of its most classical writer; and to the nation at large on the loss of so useful a person as " The Talking Potato."

Washington, lOth October, 18^4.

OR,

THE NEW MUNCHAUSEN.

*

Chap. I

IMPRESSIONS OF THE AUTHOR PREVIOUS TO HIS ARRIVAL IN AMERICA— EMBARKS FROM LIVERPOOL— VOYAGE — SEA-SERPENT — ARRIVES AT BOSTON, THE CAPITAL OF THE STATE OF KENNEBUNK— ACCOUNT OF THE CITY — MANNERS OF THE PEOPLE— MANSION-HOUSE HOTEL, KEPT BY WILLIAM RENSHAW, AN ENGLISH- MAN—TURBULENT SPIRIT OF DEMOCRACY — NEGROES — EARTHQUAKES— INUNDATIONS — INTEMPERANCE — IG- NORANCE— IMPUDENCE — BARBARITY — ATHENiEUM — LITERATURE— NAVAL OFFICER— TURBULENT SPIRIT OF DEMOCRACY— QUARTERLY PvEVIEW, &c. —LEAVE BOSTON.

Previous to my departure for the Western paradise of liberty, my impressions with regard to the country were, upon the whole, rather of a favourable character. It is true, 1 did not believe a word of the inflated accounts given by certain French revolutionary travellers, such as Brissot,

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JOHN BULL IN AMERICA.

Chastellux, and others ; much less in those of Birkbeck, Miss Wright, Captain Hall, and the rest of the radical fry. I was too conversant with the Quarterly Review, to be led astray by these Utopian romancers, and felt pretty well satisfied that the institutions of the country were altogether barbarous. I also fully believed that the people were a bundling, gouging, drinking, spitting, impious race, without either morals, literature, religion, or refinement ; and that the turbulent spirit of democracy was altogether incompatible with any state of society becoming a civilized nation, Being thus convinced that their situation was, for the present, deplorable, and in the future entirely hopeless, unless they presently relieved themselves from the cumbrous load of liberty under which they groaned, I fell into a sort of compassion for them, such as we feel for condemned criminals, having no hope of espite, and no claim to benefit of clergy.

Under this impression, and with a determination to look to the favourable side of the subject on all occasions; to be pleased with every thing 1 saw, and to make a reasonable allowance for the faults originating in their unhappy situation, I left England. I can safely lay my hand on my heart, and declare to the world, that I was, and still am, as free from prejudice against any nation whatever, as any English traveller who has ever visited this country.

Being fully aware of the superiority of British ships and British sailors, I declined the advice of certain merchants at Liverpool, to embark in one of the line of American packets, and took passage on board the British brig Wellington, for Boston, as my business was principally in New-Orleans, and I wished to arrive at the nearest port. I did not like to go directly for New-Orleans, being apprehensive of the yellow fever, which rages there all the year round, with such virulence that the people all die off there regularly once in two years. Our passage was long and tedious, so much so that the a 2

Packet in which I was advised to sail from Liverpool, arrived at Boston four weeks before the Wellington. But this I am assured was owing more to good fortune than to any superiority either in the ship or sailors, over those of the mistress of the seas. I passed my time both pleasantly and profitably in reading the Quarterly.

On the seventieth day from losing sight of Old England, we made land at Cape Hatteras, which forms the eastern point of Boston Bay, which we entered just before sun-set; and being favoured with a fine fair wind from the north, came up to the wharf in about two hours from entering the Capes. Coming up, we saw the famous sea-serpent, but he was nothing to those I had frequently seen in the Serpentine, so called from its abounding in these articles. Being very anxious to go on shore, I desired one of the sailors to call a hack, which very soon arriving, I ordered the fellow to drive me to the best hotel in the place: accordingly he put me down at the mansion house hotel, kept by William

Renshaw, a place of great reputation throughout theUnited States. The fellow charged me a quarter of a dollar, which is twice as much as I should have paid in London ! Being determined not to be imposed upon, I appealed to the landlord* who assured me it was all right; so I paid him, after giving himself and his horses a hearty malediction.

The landlord, civilly enough, considering the country I was in, desired to know if I wished to have a room for the night. I answered him in the affirmative, and begged, as a particular favour, that he would put me into one with not moreth^n six beds in it. He seemed a little surprised, but assured me my wishes should be gratified. I was accordingly shown into a neat room enough, with a single bed, Ay, ay, thought I, this landlord knows how to distinguish his guests — but my wonder subsided when the waiter, who I was surprised to find was a white man, told me his master was an Englishman.

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Soon after I was called down to supper, where I found twenty or thirty persons, all perfect strangers to me, and who, seeing* I was a stranger I suppose, paid me those little civilities, which, to one who knows the world, are always sufficient to put him on his guard. Accordingly I declined them all, and answered the questions put to me rather short, insomuch that a person, who I took to be a naval officer, seemed inclined to quarrel with me. Nothing indeed can be more disgusting to a stranger than these civilities, from people one does not know; and nothing gave me a more unfavourable impression of the rude manners of these republicans, than the freedom with which they chatted about their private affairs, and joked each other before me, a perfect stranger. It displayed a want of — tact — a familiarity so different from the conduct of people in similar circumstances in London, that I retired to my room in disgust, I afterwards learned that the naval officer threat* ened to '"lick" me, as he called it, for my surly ill manners, as he was pleased to denominate my gentlemanly reserve.

I retired to rest, and found my bed tolerable enough ; but the American goose feathers are by no means as soft as those of London. In the morning I went down to breakfast, determined to keep these forward gentry at a distance, But it did not appear to be necessary, as none of these rude boors took the least notice of me, and if I wanted any thing, I was obliged to call the waiter to bring it to me," for no one offered to hand it about the table; I was exceedingly disgusted at this Gothic want of politeness, which, however, was nothing strange, considering the vulgar habits of equality which prevail in this republic; so I called for a coach, with an air of importance, and rode round the city, with a view of seeing into the character and habits of the people.

The first thing that struck me, was the vast disproportion of negroes, in the streets and every where else. I may affirm, with

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perfect veracity, that nearly one half the inhabitants of Boston are black. Each of these poor creatures has a white man always standing over him, with a large club about the thickness of a man's arm, with which he beats the poor slave for his amusement. I assure you I have seen, I may say, a thousand instances of this kind of a morning. There is hardly a slave here that has not his head covered with scars, and bound up with a handkerchief; and almost every step you take, you perceive the stains of blood upon the pavement^ which, I am assured by Governor Hancock himself, is that of the negroes. I have seen a lady of the first distinction here, walking the Mall, as it is called, with a stout black-fellow behind her, and occasionally amusing herself with turning round, and scratching his face till it was covered with blood. This Mall is a place of about half an acre, covered with dust, with a few rotten elms, and a puddle in the centre. Even the little children here are initiated into human blood almost as

JOHN BULL IN AMERICA.

soon as they are able to walk ; and the common amusement of young persons is to stick pins in their black attendants,, while every boy has a little negro, of about his own age, to torture for his pastime.

The blacks here, as I was assured by his excellency the Governor, whose name is Hancock, have but one meal a day, which is principally potatoes, and fare little better than the miserable Irish or English peasantry at home. The Governor fold me a story of a man, who tied his black servant naked to a stake, in one of the neighbouring cane-brakes, near the city, which abound with a race of moschetoes lhat bite through a boot, Here he was left one night, in the month of December, which is a spring month in this climate, and ihe next morning was found stone dead, without a drop of blood in his body. I asked if this brutal tyrant was not brought to justice ? The Governor shrugged up his shoulders and replied, that he was now a member of Congress !

JOHN BULL IN AMERICA.

To an Englishman, who is only accustomed to see white men in a state of slavery and want, it is shocking to see black ones in a similar situation. My heart bled, with sympathy for the wrongs of this injured race, and I could not sufficiently admire the philanthropy of the members of the holy alliance, who have lately displayed such a laudable compassion for the blacks.

Next to the continual recurrence of these disgusting exhibitions of cruelty, the most common objects seen in the streets of Boston, are drunken men, w omen, and children. I was assured by the mayor Mr. Phillips, one of the most charitable and philanthropic men in the State of Maine, that*on an average, every third person was drunk every day, by nine o'clock in the morning. The women, however, don't get fuddled, he tells me, till after they have cleared the breakfast table, and put the room to rights, when they set to and make merry with the young children, not one in a

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hundred of whom ever see the inside of a school, or a church. The consequences of this mode of life are, that the whole of the people exhibit a ruddy complexion, and what appears at first sight to be a strong muscular figure; but on a closer examination the roses will be found to be nothing more than what is called grogblossoms, and the muscular appearance only bloated intemperance.

Ignorance is the natural result of a want of knowledge, as the Quarterly says. Consequently, where children never go to school, it is not probable that learning will flourish. Accordingly, nothing can equal the barbarous ignorance of both the children and grown up persons in this republican city. 1 happened to be at the house of a judge of one ofthe courts, and was astonished to find, on my giving his son, a boy of about twelve years old, a book to read, that he could not comprehend a single word! The poor mother, who was, I suppose, a little mortified on account of my being a stranger, (they don't mind these things among themselves,) patted the booby on the back, and assured me the poor boy was so bashful! Most of the justices of the peace here, make their mark, instead of signing their names to warrants, &c. and what is difficult to believe, manv of the clerks in the banks can't write their names. I never saw a school while in Boston. There is a college, to be sure, but I was assured the professors did not quite understandEnglish. The Rev. Cotton Mather, one of the most enlightened and popular preachers here, has written a book called the Magnalia, in which he gives a variety of witch stories, such as would be laughed at, even among the Indians, but which they all believe here, as if it were Holy Writ.* The work is just come out and affords apt illustration of the state of the human intellect on this side of the Atlantic.