Post # 15 ~ The Gyascutus Is Broke Loose!

The Tale as told by John Abney Chapman

The story transcribed here is lifted straight from John Abney Chapman's The History of Edgefield County - From the Earliest Settlements to 1897, published in 1897, pages 241-243. Chapman set the story in Hamburg, SC, around 1848. The tale of the Gyascutus was a favorite folk-tale of the time. It didn’t really happen in Hamburg; Chapman was making a point.

It puts me in mind of The King and The Duke

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There is a story or tradition connected with the history of Hamburg that, with propriety, might be related here, as it was a source of great amusement when it was first told. Doubtless
there are many persons now living in the County of Edgefield who never have heard the expression: "The Gyascutus has broke loose." This, like many other slang phrases, such as "That's what's the matter with Hannah," had a great run for awhile, but suddenly died and dropped out of circulation, and passed into that dead region of limbo, where all unrealities are sure to go at some time.

The phrase had its being and birth as follows: Just after the close of the War with Mexico some volunteers from Virginia or North Carolina, who were under General Taylor in the army of the Rio Grande, undertook to make their way home on foot from Texas or from New Orleans. In all that Western country there were few, in fact, I believe no railroads at that time. They found travelling on foot very pleasant, as the weather was good, and they were soldiers and used to foot wear. When they reached Hamburg they found that they were short of funds, in fact, about out, with barely enough to carry them another day's journey. In this extremity they were compelled to resort to some very energetic measures to raise the wind. A caucus to consider ways and means was held, and they came to the conclusion that a tax to defray expenses must be levied upon the citizens of Hamburg and Augusta, and as many of the inhabitants of the adjoining country in Carolina and Georgia as they could reach.

Accordingly they spent a day in Hamburg making preparations. They hired a large hall, gave out that they would have on exhibition there for one night, and for one night only, a very large, strange, and furious animal, such an one as had never been heard of nor seen in that part of the world before. They had caught it, they said, somewhere in the wilderness of the Mississippi swamps, one night when it invaded their camp. It had devoured two of their number and was in the act of swallowing the third, a very large man, when the survivors succeeded in lassoing the monster and binding it so strongly that it could not move. They had it firmly fastened in a large car, or van, drawn by four of the strongest horses. The car would cross the Augusta bridge about 4 o'clock in the afternoon and drive into town in good season to have all ready for the show, which would open about 8 o'clock in the evening. Of course there was great curiosity to see this wonderful beast. The news spread like wild fire over town and country, and long before night the streets of Hamburg were packed and jammed. Such a crowd was never seen in that town before, never has been since, and very probably will never be seen there again.

Sure enough, about 4 in the afternoon the car made its appearance in Augusta in the street leading to the bridge, preceded by a single man on foot, making the air ring with the shrill notes of a fife, playing the tune, "See, the conquering hero comes."

In due time the car drove to the hall and drove into a closed and covered shed in the rear; and the announcement was made that at eight precisely the front door would be opened to the anxious crowd for admission to see this greatest of curiosities the world had ever produced. In the mean time two men at the door were kept busy selling tickets of admission to the show. The price was one dollar each.

The earth rolled on, the sun sank and set, and eight o'clock came. The door was opened and the crowd began to pour in. The hall was well lighted, but there were very few seats. But this made no difference, as there were no ladies present— this strange, fierce animal not being considered altogether proper for ladies to see. Over the far end of the hall a curtain appeared to hang, on which was depicted a likeness of the most uncouth creature ever seen, or that any imagination ever conceived. This was said to be a good likeness of the Gyascutus, which was the name of the monster supposed to be hidden in the rear. The hall was soon packed tight, but the large windows were open to the cool night air, so that there was no danger of suffocation.

As the moment drew near for the curtain to rise, so that the many eyes of the crowd might see this greatest of the world's curiosities, suddenly a deep growl was heard behind the curtain. This was succeeded by an awful roar, followed by a succession of screaming shrieks and hisses, more terrifying than any the lions and tigers and all the beasts of the jungle ever made. To say that the crowd was startled is saying nothing. Many began to move towards the door, some towards the windows, and not too soon, for suddenly a mighty uproar and noise of breaking and crashing timbers was heard, and the climax was reached when the show man, who was near the far end of the hall, cried out with a loud voice: "The Gyascutus is broke loose! The Gyascutus is broke loose!"

You better believe the crowd dispersed speedily. In a short time, not only the hall, but the streets of Hamburg were almost entirely deserted. Some never stopped running until they were safe in Augusta. Some thought they could clear the Savannah at a leap, tried it, and landed safe in the mud on the Carolina side. In a little while the tumult subsided, and the night that followed was the quietest ever known in that part of the country.

In the morning an investigation was had; no damage was found done to the building, but in the rear the very ghost, and a dilapidated one, of a wagon or car was standing solitary and alone a broken wreck; the four fine horses had vanished and were very quietly standing in their stalls in Augusta and eating their oats; the Gyascutus had indeed broken loose and was never seen nor heard of any more, nor were those returned soldiers from the War with Mexico ever seen or found. They left with their pockets full of money, and were far away when the morning broke. Who were they? Perhaps some of Hamburg's own sons with some of the boys of Augusta on a lark.

Ah, old men, contemporaries of this present writer, do you feel sometimes, as he does, that there is no longer any fun in the world? Or is the world what it was then, and has the spirit of fun only evaporated from us? Does the Gyascutus ever break loose now?

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An internet search of old newspapers turned up similar versions of the Gyascutus legend across the rural south in the 1840's. But John Abney Chapman quite purposefully set this story in Hamburg. Now why did he do that? My thoughts: he didn't much like Hamburg; this was his way of applying gentle scorn.

I got the impression, when reading Chapman's History of Edgefield County from the Earliest Settlements to 1897, that he disdained the merchant town. I wondered if he looked down on the parvenu merchants. But Mr. Chapman did not go in for that kind of snobbery. He genuinely admired plenty of humble and hard-working settlers of Edgefield District. 

In my next post I will present one theory of why John Abney Chapman, and many other South Carolinians of the mid-1800s, viewed Hamburg in an unfavorable light.