General Murat resided at the time in this neighbourhood; he is the brother of Jehoiachin, ex-king of Naples, and owns a large plantation, and, I was told, upwards of two hundred negroes, who were described as being humanely treated by him.  This, however, is a very indefinite term, where all slave-owners profess to do the same, though the poor wretches over whom by law they impiously assume God’s heritage, in ninety cases out of every hundred, are scantily clothed, worse fed than horses or mules, and worked to the utmost extent of human endurance, the humanity being, in most cases, left to the tender mercies of a brutal overseer, who exacts all he can.  If the poor, tattered, squalid-looking beings I saw in Tallahassee be a fair specimen of the “humane treatment” I have referred to, heaven help them.

General Murat, some years ago, married an American lady, who delighted in being called the “princess,” a little piece of vanity quite in keeping with the aristocratical prejudices of American females in the south, who are devoted worshippers of lordly institutions and usages.  I did not see the general myself, but was told he was often to be met lounging about the bars of the principal hotels (being quite Americanized in this respect).  He was described as a very garrulous old gentleman, extremely fond of recounting his adventures, particularly his escape when the allied troops entered Paris, about the year of Bonaparte’s subjugation.

After remaining a few days in Tallahassee, I took the conveyance to Macon in Georgia, intending to pursue my route overland to Charleston in South Carolina.  In the diligence (a clumsy apology for a coach) from Tallahassee to Macon, were several loquacious passengers.  One of these amused and disgusted us by turns; for, after giving an epitome of his career, which was a chequered one, he related an incident that had recently occurred on a plantation he had been visiting, and, as it presents a novel feature in the asserted rights of slave-holders—­how profane, I will not stop to inquire—­I think it worth recording.  After a recital of a drunken debauch, in which he had taken a part, described by him as a frolic, and which had been kept up for several days, his host, he said, anxious to show the high sense he entertained of the honour of the visit by making almost any sacrifice (this was said with great conceit), proposed to put a negro up with an apple on his head, in imitation of the ordeal imposed on William Tell, the Swiss patriot, declaring that he who divided the apple, or perforated it with a rifle-ball, should own the slave.  This proposal, the gentleman very facetiously observed, the party jumped at, expecting some good sport; but added, “The fellow spoilt it, for he refused to stand still, although we ‘used up’ a cowhide over him for his obstinacy.”  The frivolous manner in which this intended outrage was related, filled me and my fellow-passengers with disgust.  I thought it was not safe to remark on the proceeding, for I could see he was a very strenuous upholder of that disgraceful system of oppression, which stigmatizes and degrades the Americans as a people, and will continue to do so, until it is utterly abrogated, and their characters retrieved.