"MisterTheodore Fog, of this Borough, an old practitioner atmore than one bar, having waked up one morning with the idea that he was born to fill the measure of his country's glory, as well as he fills that of his own every night, has conceived the sublime project of running on an independent ticket, in the approaching election. We would whisper in our friend The.'s ear, that he has barked up the wrong tree. Independence is not a word to be found in the New-Light dictionary. The voters of this county can never be seduced from the support of the regular nomination; especially when it is headed by such a man as Agamemnon Flag, whose eloquence, accomplishments, and remarkable Democratic simplicity of manners, as well as his perfect surrender of himself to the cause of his Party, give him the highest claim to the considerationof every right-minded and unadulterated Quod. Verb. sap. sat."
"MisterTheodore Fog, of this Borough, an old practitioner atmore than one bar, having waked up one morning with the idea that he was born to fill the measure of his country's glory, as well as he fills that of his own every night, has conceived the sublime project of running on an independent ticket, in the approaching election. We would whisper in our friend The.'s ear, that he has barked up the wrong tree. Independence is not a word to be found in the New-Light dictionary. The voters of this county can never be seduced from the support of the regular nomination; especially when it is headed by such a man as Agamemnon Flag, whose eloquence, accomplishments, and remarkable Democratic simplicity of manners, as well as his perfect surrender of himself to the cause of his Party, give him the highest claim to the considerationof every right-minded and unadulterated Quod. Verb. sap. sat."
Now, after the meeting of the Sycamore Spring, a new view of matters broke upon Eliphalet's vision. He was certainly taken by surprise at the demonstration which that meeting afforded of Theodore's strength with the voters; and in the account of that event, which appeared in The Whole Hog on the succeeding Saturday, one scarcely knows whether most to commend the sincerity of the writer, or the justness of the tribute paid to the masterly effort of Mr. Fog. Speaking of that effort, the editor employs this language:—
"In regard to our esteemed fellow-townsman, Theodore Fog, the public expectation was more than realized. This unstudied orator, with all the freshness impressed upon his mind by the mint of nature herself, contemning the aid of tinsel show, and presenting himself in the homely habiliments of an unvarnished, and, as our adversaries scoffingly add, of an unwashed New Light, poured forth a resistless flood of native oratory, remarkable for that massive vigor of thought, and that felicity of expression, which are the rare endowments only of genius, trainedamongthe people, and whose soul iswiththe people. He descanted upon the brilliant career of our never-sufficiently-to-be-flattered administration, with an effect that thrilled in the pulse, glowed in the countenance, and broke forth in the reiterated shouts of every warm-hearted, straight-out, lead-following, unagainst-the-wishes-or-commands-of-the luminaries-of-the-party-rebelling New-Light Democrat on the ground. We are happy to add our decidedconviction that the election of this staunch champion of therealNew Lights is placed beyond a doubt."
"In regard to our esteemed fellow-townsman, Theodore Fog, the public expectation was more than realized. This unstudied orator, with all the freshness impressed upon his mind by the mint of nature herself, contemning the aid of tinsel show, and presenting himself in the homely habiliments of an unvarnished, and, as our adversaries scoffingly add, of an unwashed New Light, poured forth a resistless flood of native oratory, remarkable for that massive vigor of thought, and that felicity of expression, which are the rare endowments only of genius, trainedamongthe people, and whose soul iswiththe people. He descanted upon the brilliant career of our never-sufficiently-to-be-flattered administration, with an effect that thrilled in the pulse, glowed in the countenance, and broke forth in the reiterated shouts of every warm-hearted, straight-out, lead-following, unagainst-the-wishes-or-commands-of-the luminaries-of-the-party-rebelling New-Light Democrat on the ground. We are happy to add our decidedconviction that the election of this staunch champion of therealNew Lights is placed beyond a doubt."
The intrepidity of this paragraph will strike every one who reflects that the canvass, at the time this appeared, was far from being brought to a close; and that the result, whatever Eliphalet might have thought of it, was deemed exceedingly doubtful. Indeed, we had subsequently a proof given to us, in The Whole Hog itself, that very serious opinions began to prevail against the possibility of Mr. Fog's carrying the day, in opposition to Flag.
The New-Light Club, with some few and unimportant exceptions, had determined, as they thought themselves in duty bound, to sustain the regular ticket, and for this purpose, when matters were running very strong for Fog, and when, indeed, they began to entertain a well-grounded fear that Andy Grant might slip in by the aid of these divisions, resolved upon having a night procession in the Borough. This expedient we have always resorted to with the happiest effects whenever we have found the hopes of the New Lights beginning to ebb; it serves to animate our friends, by throwing, as it were, a glare over their minds, and to render them more docile to the word of command from those who take upon themselves the labor of judging for the multitude. We now had recourse to this device with a very flattering, though as it turned out in the end, a deceptive manifestation of its influence upon the election. The procession was made; paper lanterns in abundance, bearing a variety of inscriptions of the most encouraging exhortation to the friends of Flag and the Ticket, were procured for the occasion. Everylantern and every banner had written upon itFlam, in the hope thus to identify the ticket with our distinguished representative in Congress, and bring in the aid of his great name to our cause. Mottoes, having reference to "the Old Hero of the Hermitage," were also profusely used, and even the Hickory Tree was reared aloft in the procession, covered with small cup lamps in imitation of its fruit. Every one in Quodlibet supposed that this stroke of the procession settled the matter. It undoubtedly converted the Borough and brought it into the utmost harmony on our side. But the Tumbledownians, among whom Fog's great strength was found, were not there; and from Bickerbray the delegation was not as large as it ought to have been. Still, the evidence of popular support to the ticket was deemed conclusive; so much so, that Eliphalet Fox's next editorial referred to it as "indicative of the stern resolve of the New Lights, once and forever, to crush the insubordinate and rebellious temper with which certain factious and discontented pretenders to the name of Democrats had endeavored to sow discord in the ranks of the faithful, by setting up the absurd doctrine of independent opinion—a doctrine so fatal to the New-Light Democracy wherever it has been allowed. Agamemnon Flag," the editor proceeded to remark, "was not a man to be put down by the frothy, ginger-pop eloquence engendered in the hot atmosphere of cock-tail and julep manufactories. Mr. Fog may now perceive that his secret perambulations to spread dissension in the New-Light ranks, and his hypocritical boast of Independence will be scowled upon by every honest eyeand spurned by every honest tongue which are to be found among the high-minded New-Light yeomanry of Quodlibet, Bickerbray, Tumbledown, and the adjacent parts."
The election soon after this took place, when, greatly to the astonishment of our club, and in fact of the whole party, the result was announced to be as set forth in this table:—
Thus it appeared that Theodore Fog far outran the rest of the ticket, and that Agamemnon Flag fell considerably below the Whig vote.
Eliphalet Fox, greatly delighted at the triumph of this election, lost no time in publishing a handbill announcing the issue. It was headed
"Glorious Victory! Quodlibet Erect!"
"Glorious Victory! Quodlibet Erect!"
and proceeded to descant on the event in this wise:—
"We have never for a moment permitted ourselves to doubt that our estimable fellow-townsman Theodore Fog, one of the purest, most disinterested and ablest Democrats of the glorious New-Light Quodlibetarian School, would lead the polls; and, indeed, we took occasion to insinuate as much after his celebrated speech at the Sycamore Spring, which it was ourgood fortune to hear, and which, as an exposition of sound New-Light principles, gave us such unmixed delight. We cannot but feel regret that Mr. Flag's friends should have so inconsiderately consented to place his name on the ticket, before they had ascertained Mr. Fog's views in regard to the election. An understanding upon this subject would have saved them the mortification of presenting a name which, from the first, we felt a presentiment was destined to incur defeat; and it would have spared Mr. Flag the pain he must suffer in the present event. The youth of this gentleman, his want of acquaintance with the people, arising, doubtless, from the imperfection of his vision, and his unfortunate espousal of the Iron Railing Compromise, very obviously stood in the way of his success. A day will, however, come around when, in our judgment, the people will do justice to his pretension, which we undertake to say is considerable."
"We have never for a moment permitted ourselves to doubt that our estimable fellow-townsman Theodore Fog, one of the purest, most disinterested and ablest Democrats of the glorious New-Light Quodlibetarian School, would lead the polls; and, indeed, we took occasion to insinuate as much after his celebrated speech at the Sycamore Spring, which it was ourgood fortune to hear, and which, as an exposition of sound New-Light principles, gave us such unmixed delight. We cannot but feel regret that Mr. Flag's friends should have so inconsiderately consented to place his name on the ticket, before they had ascertained Mr. Fog's views in regard to the election. An understanding upon this subject would have saved them the mortification of presenting a name which, from the first, we felt a presentiment was destined to incur defeat; and it would have spared Mr. Flag the pain he must suffer in the present event. The youth of this gentleman, his want of acquaintance with the people, arising, doubtless, from the imperfection of his vision, and his unfortunate espousal of the Iron Railing Compromise, very obviously stood in the way of his success. A day will, however, come around when, in our judgment, the people will do justice to his pretension, which we undertake to say is considerable."
From these extracts, the reader is already prepared to exclaim with me, Oh, excellent Eliphalet Fox—mirror of editors—pillar of the New-Light faith! What exquisite address, what consummate skill hast thou not evinced in these editorial effusions! Methinks I see Eliphalet, a tide-waiter on events, watching the ebb and flow of popular opinion; ever ready, at a moment's warning, to launch his little boat of editorship on the biggest wave, and upon that wave to ride secure beyond the breakers, out upon the glassy ocean of politics and then, after taking an observation of the wind, to trim his sail with such nautical forecast as shall make him sure to be borne along with the breeze toward whatever haven it shall please the higherpowers to direct him; sagaciously counting in such haven to find the richest return on his little stock of ventures. I see his meager, attenuated, diminutive person, elevated on a footstool six inches above the floor, behind a high but somewhat rickety desk, in the northwest corner of his lumber-filled office, where scissor-clipped gazettes are strewed, elbow deep, over an old walnut table, and where three dingy caricatures of Harry Clay, Nic Biddle, and John C. Calhoun, are tacked against his smoky walls; there I see him quiet, but at work, with pen in hand, ever and anon darting his cat-like eye at the door, upon each new-comer who comes to tell the news of the canvass. I hear his husky, dry, and querulous voice, tisicky and quick, asking, how goes it in Bickerbray? What from Tumbledown? and as he receives his answerproorcon., Fog or Flag, he turns to his half-scribbled sheet to remould his paragraph, with the dexterity of an old and practiced Quod, in such phrase as shall assuredly earn him the good-will of the winner. Rare Eliphalet! Admirable Fox! Incomparable servant of an incomparable master!
It is with a sad and melancholy sincerity I record the fact, that this election left behind it much heart-burning in Quodlibet. The New-Light Democracy were now broken into three parts, the Mandarins, the Middlings, and the True Grits; and Theodore Fog, in command of the True Grits, had evidently got the upper hand. The defeat of Agamemnon Flag was a severe blow to our distinguished representative, the Hon. Middleton Flam, and no less galling to Nicodemus Handy; for these three worthy gentlemen wereundoubtedly at the head of the Mandarins, and their overthrow on the present occasion led to unpleasant consequences which I shall be called upon to notice hereafter.
The first unhappy fruit of this election was of a domestic nature, and wrought very seriously against the peace of our friend Jesse Ferret.
For three days and nights after the publication of the polls, all Quodlibet was alive with the rejoicings of the True Grits at the success of Theodore Fog. The bar-room of The Hero was full all day with these energetic friends of the prosperous candidate; and it is worthy of remark that their number was vastly greater than was shown by the ballot box, many more individuals claiming the honor of having voted for him than the return of the polls would authorize us to believe; all night long bonfires blazed, drums and fifes disturbed the repose of the Borough, and processions, not remarkable for their decorum, marched from house to house with Theodore mounted in a chair, borne on the shoulders of sturdy True Grits. A hundred torches in the hands of thirty men and seventy boys, flared on the signs and flickered on the walls of Quodlibet, and fifty negroes, great and small, ragged and patched, hatless and hatted, slip-shod and barefoot, leaped, danced, limped, and hobbled in wide-spread concourse around black Isaac the Kent bugle player, and yellow Josh the clarionet man, who struck in with the drum and fife to the tune of Jim Crow, about the center of the column. Flan Sucker was installed grand marshal of this procession, and was calledKing of the True Grits; while Ben Inky, Sim Travers, JeffDrinker, and More M'Nulty, served along the flanks as his lieutenants; the whole array huzzaing at every corner, and stopping to refresh every time they came into the neighborhood of Peter Ounce's, Jesse Ferret's, or the smaller ordinaries which the rapid growth of Quodlibet had supplied in various quarters to relieve the drought of its inhabitants.
This state of things, as I have said, continued for three days after the election. At the end of that period, Jesse Ferret, somewhere about noon, was in his bar casting up his accounts. He wore a serious, disturbed countenance—not because his accounts showed a bad face; for so far from that, the late jubilee had very considerably increased his capital in trade, but because his rest had been broken—and Jesse never could bear to lose his sleep. While he was engaged in summing up these recent gains, his worthy spouse entered the bar and quietly seated herself in a chair behind him. The expression of her face showed that her thoughts were occupied with matter of interesting import: a slight frown sat upon her brow, her lips were partially compressed, and her fat arms made an attempt to cross each other on her bosom. The chair was too small for her; and, from her peculiar configuration, one looking at her in a full front view would not be likely to conjecture she was seated, but rather that she was a short and dumpy woman, and leaned against some prop for rest—the line from her chin to her toe being that of the face of a pyramid. Her posture denoted an assumed patience. So quietly had she entered the inclosure of the bar, that Jesse was altogether ignorant of her presence, and thereforecontinued at his occupation. It was not long, however, before his attention was awakened to the interesting fact that his wife was behind him, by the salutation, conveyed in a rather deep-toned voice, "Jesse Ferret, how long are you agoing to be poking over them accounts?"
Jesse turned short round, in some surprise at the sound of these well-known accents so near him, and, surveying the dame for an instant, replied—
"Bless me, Polly! how came you here? You go about like one of them church-yard vaporations that melts in thin air and frightens children in the dead of night. What did you want with me, my love?"
"I want to know," said Mrs. Ferret, "who's master of this house—you or me? Ef I'm the master, say so—but ef you're the master, then act as sich. It ain't no longer to be endured, this shilly-shally, visy-versy politicks of yourn. Here you are casting up of the accounts this blessed day, and please Heaven, if there's one cent got into the till in the three days that have gone by, the last person in the world to thank for it is yourself, Jesse Ferret. Theodore Fog'sin—got in by a vote that one might say's almost magnanimous, and he's got all the thirstiest men in this Borough under his thumb—and he's been pouring 'em in here in shoals, which he wouldn't have done, one man of 'em, ef it hadn't a been for my principles, which goes the whole hog—and you so contrairy, constantly a giving out your no sides—it's raly abominable! and time you should change, Jesse Ferret, it is."
"Why, my dear, don't you see the good of it?" said Mr. Ferret, in a mild, good-natured tone of expostulation. "The very best thing we can do is for you to go on as you are doing, and me to go on as I am. Here's come up a great split in the party; and presently, as sure as you are born, they'll be having their separate houses and making party questions out of it: then, my dear, you know Theodore Fog and his people counts you as a sort of sun-dial to their side, and goes almost by your pinting. And then the others, you know, can't have nothing to find fault against me upon account of my sentiments: so, in this way we shall get the custom of the thorough-stitchers, the half-and-halfs, the promiscuous, and of every kind of stripe that's going. Can't you see into it, Mrs. Ferret?"
"No, I cannot see into it," replied the landlady. "In the first place, them Mandarins, as The. Fog says, is not worth the looking after in our line—they drink nothing but Champagne and Madeery, and ef they do sometimes send down to our bar for ourn, they are sure to turn up their noses at it, and say it's sour. Didn't Nicodemus Handy tell me to my face that my Anchor Brand, which you've got on the top shelf, and which cost you six dollars a basket at auction, was nothing but turnip-juice?—and did you ever know Middleton Flam to call for as much as a thimbleful of your liquors, with all his preachings and parleyings in this house? No, you did not: and it's your duty to cast off your bucket o' both sides, and go in for The. with the True Grits, as he calls them; and true enough they are in the drinking line!—that, nobody who knows them, will deny. I'm tired, Jesse Ferret, and fretted down to the very bone, at being put upon in this here way, having to keep up the politicks of this house,which I don't think you haint no right to do, I don't. I'm been a talking to you about this tell I'm tired, and I wonder you can be so obstinate, considering I take it so much to heart."
"Now, Polly," interposed our landlord with an affectionate remonstrance, intended to soothe Mrs. Ferret's feelings, "many's the struggle I've had on this here very topic with my own conscience; I may say I have wrestled for it at the very bottom of my nature. But the case is this, and I'll explain it to you once for all. I've got a sentiment at the core of my heart, which is a secret in regard of these here politicks. I wish to go right—you know I do—but if I only knowed what sentimentstotake up:—there's the mystery. If I knowedthat, I should feel easy; but I never could keep any principles, upon account of the changes. Before a plain, simple man can cleverly tell where he is, everything has whisked away in the contrairy direction. One year we are 'all tariff,' and the next, 'down with it as an abomination.' Here we go 'for canals and railroads!'—a crack of the whip, and there we are all t'other side. 'No electioneering of officers!' cries out the captain of the squad. 'Turn that fellow out, he don't work for the party!' cries the very same captain in the very next breath. 'Retrenchment and reform!' says every big fellow there at Washington; and the same words are bawled all the way down among us, even to Theodore Fog;—'Damn the expense!' (the Lord forgive me for using such words,) says the very same fellows in the same breath, 'stick on a million here and a million there—the more the merrier!' And so we go. Here, t'other day, thishere Sub-Treasury was monarchy and revolution to boot, and treason outright; and now, what itis, every man's afeard to say—some's for, some's against—some's both, and all's in a state of amalgamation, perplexity, and caterwauling unaccountable. What between specy circlars, anti-masons, pocketing of bills, (Lord knows what that means!) vetoes, distribution, fortifications, abolition, running down Indians, and running up accounts, politics has got into a jumble that a Philadelphy lawyer couldn't steer through them. A poor publican has a straining time of it, Polly. He can't get right if he tries—and if he does blunder upon it, he can'tstayright six months, let him do his best—morally impossible! That's where it's a matter o' conscience with me; and my conclusion is, in such a mucilaginous state of affairs, a man who wants to accommodate the public must be either all sides or no sides; and, therefore I say, my motto is, a publican should—leastways I speak in regard to these times—have no sides. And there's the whole matter laid out to you, Polly, my wife."
"All sides, any day, before No sides!" replied Mrs. Ferret. "As Susan Barndollar says, stick to your colors and they'll carry you to sides a plenty, I'll warrant you. Don't Theodore Fog tell us the Democracy's a trying of experiments—and, Lord bless us! ef they haint carried you on sides enough, then youarean unreasonable man. Principle isn't principle—it's following of your party:—you change whenitchanges, whereby you are always right. Now, these here True Grits is two to one to the Mandarins and Middlings both, and they devour, yes, ten times asmuch liquor. Ef you had an eye in your head, you'd come out a True Grit—it's a naiteral tavern-keeper's politics."
"'Spose, my dear," said Jesse, waxing warm, "things takes a turn off hand. 'Spose these True Grits are upset—as I shouldn't wonder they would be, as soon as Middleton Flam comes home from Congress, and winds up the people right again—as he has often done before—am I going to run my head against a post by offending the whole New-Light Club, which meets at our house, and make enemies by having sentiments of my own? You don't know me, Polly Ferret."
"Well, and ef things does take a turn?" replied the wife, "is there anythink new in that, in this Borough? Haint we had turns before? Theodore Fog will turn with 'em—that's his principle—that's my principle, and it ought, by rights, to be yourn. Doesn't the schoolmaster tell you to stick to the upper side? Doesn't our member, Middleton Flam, tell you the same thing, and Nicodemus Handy, and Liphlet Fox? There's your own barkeeper, Nim Porter, that's asleep in yander winder, who's got more sense than you have; he knows what side his bread's buttered—and even your own child, Susan Barndollar, though she stuck out for the nomination, isn't such a ninny as to have no principles. We're Dimmycrats, and always counts with the majority; and that's safe whichever way it goes; and, as I said before, no mortal man can find out a better side than that for a tavern-keeper. But it's the Whigs your're a courting, Jesse Ferret—the Whigs, neither more nor less—and it's pitiful in you to be so sneaking."
"Polly, if you aint got no better language than that to use to me," exclaimed Ferret, under considerable excitement, "I'd advise you to hold your tongue."
"My tongue's my own, Mr. Ferret," replied the landlady, "and I don't want none of your advice what I'm to do with it. I have used it long enough to know how to keep it a running, and how to stop it, without being taught by you."
"I've got no right to listen to you, if I don't choose," retorted the landlord. "Women has their milking and churning to look after, and, to my thinking, they'd best attend to that, instead of skreiking out politics in public bar-rooms—that's my opinion, Mrs. Ferret."
"Women, indeed!—foryouto talk about women!—You're the laughing-stock of all the petticoats of our Borough," said the wife, in a high key of exacerbation. "Mrs. Younghusband, and Mrs. Snuffers, and Mrs. Doubleday makes you a continual banter, and it hurts my feelings as the mother of your children, it does."
"Seize Mrs. Younghusband, and Mrs. Snuffers, and Mrs. Doubleday, all three!" exclaimed Ferret in a sort of demi-oath.
"What's that you said, Mr. Ferret?"
"I said seize 'em! and I don't care the rinsings of that glass if you tell 'em so,—a set of mandrakes."
"Oh, Jesse Ferret, Jesse Ferret,—as a man who sets up to be an example, what are you coming to!" exclaimed the landlady, with uplifted hands. "Ef yourchildren could hear such profanity. I declare to patience, you'd try the quarters of the meekest mother in the universe."
How far this conjugal outflash might have gone in its natural course, it is impossible for me to say; although Nim Porter, who pretended to be asleep all the time, and who heard every word of it, and related it with much pleasantry to me, says he has often witnessed these breezes between this worthy couple, and always found that they made up as soon as Mrs. Ferret got out of breath—which, by-the-by, she being short-winded, generally occurred in about half an hour from the first rising of her anger; but, on the present occasion, it was happily interrupted by the entrance of Theodore Fog, Dabbs, the foreman in Eliphalet Fox's printing-office, Flan Sucker, More M'Nulty, and Sim Travers, who all marched directly up to the bar. I had entered upon the heels of this party, and having taken up "The Whole Hog" for my perusal, in one corner of the room, was myself a witness to the scene that followed.
Nim Porter, who was seated in an elbow-chair, resting the back of his head against a window-sill at the opposite end of the bar-room and counterfeiting sleep, was now roused up to attend to the customers.
"My dear Mrs. Ferret—paragon of landladies," said Fog, "Pillar—yes, bolster of our cause—some drink! Dabbs owes a treat, and we have resolved that the libation shall be made under the eye of our own queen. Dabbs, say what the mixture shall be; I'm not particular—my throat is a turnpike traveled by allimaginable potations. A mint julep, Dabbs? gentlemen! Flan, a julep? Yes? A julep, a julep all round. Agreed to, nem. con. Mrs. Ferret, five juleps; charge Dabbs—Dabbs's treat."
Mrs. Ferret's anger against her spouse gradually faded under this accost; a slight glimpse of sunshine began to break over her visage as she addressed herself to the task of preparing the required compounds, and Nim Porter busied himself in picking sprigs of mint from a large bouquet of that invaluable plant, which flourished in native verdure over the rim of a two quart tumbler, in which it seemed to grow as in a flower-pot.
Ferret had retreated from the bar toward the door which looked upon the street; and Theodore Fog, who, as the truth must be spoken, was at this hour very considerably advanced toward his customary zenith of excitement, thrust his hands under the skirts of his striped gingham coatee, and strutted with the air of a prime minister in a farce, around the room.
"Nim," said he,
"'Bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,She strike upon the bell.'
"'Bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,She strike upon the bell.'
"'Bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,
She strike upon the bell.'
Ferret—glorious turn out, Ferret. True Grits all alive. Pound that ice fine, Nim—no water, recollect. First-rate fellows, Ferret—go the whole—real Quods—diamonds."
"Hope you'll mend matters now, Mr. Fog, since you've got in," said Ferret. "I'm for giving every one a chance; wish you success."
"Of course you do, Ferret," replied Fog; "and so you would have wished Ag Flag success if he'd got in."
"Or Andy Grant, either," said Mrs. Ferret; "my husband's not partikler."
"You're right, Ferret—you're right!" interrupted Fog, "always go with the current—that's sound philosophy—that's my rule. Dabbs, isn't that metaphysics? Flan, don't you call that the true theory of the balance of power? Gentlemen, I submit it to you all."
"Real True-Grit doctrine," said Flan; "find out how the cat jumps—then go ahead."
"Fundamental, that," said Dabbs; "principles change, measures vary, names rise and fall, but majority is always majority."
"Bravo, Dabbs!" ejaculated Theodore Fog; "Tempora mutantur et nos mutamur cum illis—that's our True-Grit motto. The nominative case always agrees with the verb; the people are the verb, we're the nominative case. That's logic, Mrs. Ferret. Nim, how have you made out in these illustrious 'three days?'"
"Cursed sleepy," answered Nim Porter, who was now brewing the drink by pouring it from one tumbler to another; "haven't had three hours rest in the whole three nights. No right to complain though—won four bets—had two to one against Andy Grant with Tompkinson—and even against Ag with three of the New-Light Club. I knew d—d well how it was going, ever since the meeting at the Sycamore Spring. Fog, youtouched them fellows that work on the Bickerbray and Meltpenny Road 'twixt wind and water."
"Didn't I?" exclaimed Fog; "I opine I did; unequivocally, I fancy I did. I venture to add, with all possible energy of asseveration, that I did that thing, Nim. That's what I call walking into the understanding of the independent, electoral constituent body; and the best of it is, we got them their votes, you dog!"
"You didn't lose no votes that I could bring you," said Mrs. Ferret, "although you didn't get Jesse's. But that wa'n't much loss—for Jesse's of little account anyhow, and hasn't the influence of a chicken in this Borough—as no man hasn't, whose afeard of his shadow."
"Well, we don't want to hear no more about that," interrupted the landlord. "Mr. Fog knows it wasn't ill will to him—but only my principle, that publicans had best not take sides."
"And who has a right to object to that?" exclaimed Fog. "Give us your hand, Jesse—I'd do the same thing myself, if I were in your place."
"Well, ef you aint the forgivingest creature, Mr. Fog!" said the landlady.
"Mrs. Ferret, your health!—gentlemen, take your respective glasses—Dabbs, your health—Jesse—Flan—all of you—Success to the True Grits! Top off, boys."
They all drank.
Fog applied the tumbler to his lips; looked straight forward, with what might be called a fixed stare uponvacancy, his eyes expressing the deep emotion of sensual pleasure which the icy compound inspired as it slowly flowed over his palate, and for a full minute employed himself without pause in draining the contents of his glass—gradually and slowly arching back his head until the last drop trickled from the bottom.
"Amazing seductive beverage, Mrs. Ferret!" he said as he smacked his lips, and set the tumbler down upon the board. "Fascinating potation! If I were not an example of consummate prudence, and the most circumspect being not yet gathered within the pale of the Temperance Society, my virtue would have fallen a victim before this to that enticing cordial, Mrs. Ferret. But I'm proof—I have been sorely tried, and have come out of the furnace, as you see me, superior to the temptations of this wicked world. Dabbs, poney up—we must go to the raffle, which begins in five minutes at Rhody M'Caw's stable—that pacing roan, Nim—you'll be there, of course:—in your line. Come, gentlemen—don't wipe your mouths with your sleeves—let the odor exhale. As some poet somewhere says, speaking of a mint julep,
'Sweet vale of Ovoca, how calm could I rest,—If there's a drink upon earthIt is this—it is this.'
'Sweet vale of Ovoca, how calm could I rest,—If there's a drink upon earthIt is this—it is this.'
'Sweet vale of Ovoca, how calm could I rest,—
If there's a drink upon earth
It is this—it is this.'
Not the words exactly—but something in that run. Jesse, the Flower of Quodlibet—Mrs. Ferret, Queen of the Spear Mint—good-by. Nim, you rascal—after the raffle is over, expect to see me as dry as an oven."
When Fog had delivered himself of this rhapsody—which, no doubt, has impressed the reader with the conviction that this noontide glass had done its work upon the brain of our new representative in the Legislature—the whole party made their exit; and Jesse Ferret, anxious to avoid another conference with his dame, professing a wish to witness the raffle, followed in their footsteps.
THIRD ERA—DIVISIONS IN QUODLIBET CONTINUE—FOMENTED BY THE WOMEN—FOG RATHER DISAPPOINTS HIS FRIENDS BY HIS COURSE IN THE LEGISLATURE—PROSTRATION OF BUSINESS IN THE BOROUGH—TRACED TO THE MERCHANTS—MR. FLAM'S OPINION OF THEM, AND THE CONSEQUENCE THEREOF—INDIGNATION OF THE NEW LIGHTS AGAINST THEM—FOG'S EULOGIUM UPON THEM—MOVEMENTS OF THE TRUE GRITS—FOX'S SKILLFUL MANAGEMENT—THE TIGERTAIL AFFAIR—MYSTERIOUS TERMINATION OF IT—NIM PORTER'S INDISCRETION.
The design of this little book forbids that I should do more than cursorily touch upon many incidents in the history of Quodlibet, which, although abundant of interest to the curious reader, are not so immediately connected with the main purpose of this work—that purpose being to unfold the operation of the great principle of the New-Light Quodlibetarian theory.
Whenever the time shall arrive, as I would fain persuade myself it must, in which the public shall feel such concern in the affairs of Quodlibet as to demand of me a full disclosure of the treasures of my MSS., I shall greatly delight in spreading before it many particulars which I have collected, having reference to the private concernments and domestic transactions of our people and their sundry ways in regard to many matters which do not fall within the scope of my present undertaking. For, truly, the history of Quodlibet will be found, when impartially narrated, to yield a plentiful fruitage of ethical, moral and social instruction, as well as political—to which latter aspect are my labors at this time confined.
In conformity with my plan, and being desirous to hasten forward to a more modern epoch in these annals, I pass over the intervening space, and bring my reader almost a year in advance of the events narrated in the last chapter.
It was now approaching the fifth year of the Removal:—the long session of Congress had closed in July, 1838. The Hon. Middleton Flam had once more returned to his constituents, and temporarily mingled in the walks of private life. Greatly was his return desiderated at this epoch. We had got all wrong—we lacked information—we wanted this great man's advice.
The split at this time—if I may use a metaphor—was green and wide; or, in plainer language, our dissensions ran high. If the men might be said to be at sixes and sevens, the women were twice as bad—they were at twelves and fourteens. Mrs. Ferret had become inveterate, and headed a party of Feminine True Grits; Susan Barndollar, who had a temper of her own, of course became inveterate too, and, as Barndollar & Hardbottle were accounted a rich firm, she headed, or strove to do so, a party of Feminine Mandarins. Hester Hardbottle, under a similar impulse, took command of the Female Middlings. Thus marshaled, the New-Light women manifested a very high degree of political corruscation, and kept the Borough in perpetual hot water. Every tea-party was a scalding concern, and it was lamentable to see what a foothold the serpent of discord had gained in our little Eden of Quodlibet.
The men were not so ferocious; in part because they had their business to look after; but chiefly, because the stronger, when they failed in argument, could drub the weaker—and that drubbing system is a great moderator of political opinions. The women, having neither of these motives to keep quiet, took the bits in their mouths and ran off as fast as, and whenever, they chose.
Theodore Fog's conduct in the Legislature, during the past winter, had in some degree rather weakened the cause of his friends. He had disappointed them—although they were unwilling publicly to allow as much—on two points: First, because he had not got them all provided with offices, as he had, it appeared, secretly promised; but, on the contrary, came home without having accomplished that desirable object for a single individual of the party; and, secondly, because he had been exceedingly irregular in his habits during the whole session, and had consequently made but four speeches, of three hours each, during the winter, when it was confidently expected that he would have made at least thirty-four, and have completely silenced the opposition. The irregularity of his habits they could forgive; but the matter of the offices sunk deep in their hearts—they began to suspect his Democracy.
A change had also taken place in the business affairs of Quodlibet. All improvements had ceased:—many persons were out of employment; industry was declining; trade was at a low ebb; the mechanics were grumbling, and four mercantile houses had failed. Immediately after the suspension Nicodemus Handy had issued a great amount of small notes. Dr. Thomas G. Winkelman, actuated by patriotic emotions, also issued a batch payable in soda-water, soap, or physic. Zachary Younghusband, the tinplate-worker and postmaster, reflecting on the crisis, and being determined to contribute his mite toward the regulation of the currency, followed the example of Dr. Winkelman, and put out a ream, redeemable in Copperplate Bank notes when presented to the amount of five dollars at his tinplate shop. Sim Travers, who had a drinking shed at the lower end of the canal basin, with equal public spirit, uttered his paper in fips, "Good for a Drink." Many others imitated these precedents, whereby it fell out that no part of the Union was better supplied with a currency than Quodlibet.
Still the Borough languished and pined under a gradual decay of its prosperity; and it was long before our wise men could ascertain the real source of this decline. The cause was at last discovered. We are indebted for its development to the astuteness of our distinguished representative. There were eight of the principal mercantile houses of the Borough which had been established by Whigs: in fact, throwing out Barndollar & Hardbottle, all the merchants of Quodlibet might be said to be opposed to the administration. It was very apparent, after the Hon. Middleton Flam drew the attention of the club to this fact, that these houses had combined to produce an utter prostration of business, solely for political effect, and that the malevolence of four of the most thriving among them had gone so far as even to render themselves bankrupt,and to break up, for no earthly purpose but that of making the administration unpopular. "This is a specimen of the gratitude," said Mr. Flam, speaking with great emotion upon the subject, "this is the gratitude of these commercial vultures—(he always called them commercial vultures after the Suspension, and when speaking to the people)—for all the manifold favors and bounties which, for five years past, the government has been so assiduously heaping upon their heads. This is their acknowledgment of the extraordinary kindness shown them by the Secretary of the Treasury when he directed our bank to lend these vipers the public money! Biddle and the Barings are at the bottom of this conspiracy; and the merchants of the United States, yes, and the manufacturers and all the moneyed men, would gladly beggar themselves and their families rather than allow us to regulate their currency and make them the happiest people on earth. What unparalleled perfidy!"
After this, the New Lights of course became indignant against the merchants, and held them up, as they deserved, to public execration, as the authors of all our misfortunes. From Quodlibet, this sentiment became general among the New-Light Democrats everywhere. Mr. Van Buren caught the idea; the Globe expatiated upon it; the Stump rang with it; and it soon took its place as one of the cardinal maxims in the New-Light creed. Such is the supremacy of one commanding intellect!
Never was there a topic equal to this in the elections. "The merchants," Theodore Fog very pertinently remarked, "are a first-rate subject for a stumpspeech: they are a monstrouslittleknot of fellows, anyhow—and, comparatively speaking, of no sort of account, in the way of voting. Having the handling of a good deal of cash, and plenty to do in the way of giving and taking of promissory notes, you can slap upon them the argument of The Money Power with tremendous effect: you can tickle them with the whip of Aristocracy in perfection; and you can run 'em down with the text of the money-changers in the Temple, and all that sort of thing, to a nicety. Besides, there are so few of them that eithercanmake a speech before the people, or, if they can, will take the trouble to follow a man about for that purpose, that you are not likely to be pestered with their replies. Capital animals foran opposition, they take a lathering so quiet! Then, sir, for everyonemerchant you lay upon his back, you gainfiveTrue Grits to your side. I've studied that out. Our people, I mean the New Lights, can be made to hate a merchant like snakes—because if he does get on well with his business, and makes a little fortune, we can call him a Rag Baron, a Ruffle Shirt, a Scrub Aristocrat,—and that's equal to sending him to the deserts of Arabia: and if he fails, as the greater part of the poor devils do, we can get up a still worse cry against him for turning the humble and honest laborer out of employment, grinding the faces of the poor, depriving the widow and the orphan of their bread, and coining the sweat of the Bone and Sinew's brow to feed Usurers, Brokers, and Shavers. And, by-the-by, these arguments are quite good against manufacturers and Whig master-mechanics. But a merchant, sir, can't hold up his head one moment beforethem. Every which way, sir, he's a prime scape-goat. Then, sir, when we want to make anEXPERIMENT,—why, of course, we go to the merchants. Here's all thiscurrencybusiness, especially the tail of it, the Sub-Treasury—fine thing to stir up the people with—sounds well in theory, though a little mischievous in practice. Well, sir, we test it on the merchants:weget the popularity,theyget the damage. The approved philosophical mode to try a dangerous experiment, is to attempt it on a cat:—sir,The Merchants are our cats."
Mr. Flam, seeing the state of our divisions, took a great deal of trouble to restore harmony into our ranks, and certainly did much to overawe the True Grits, who, now fancying themselves in the ascendent, became very dictatorial. Eliphalet Fox, although he took every occasion to speak in his paper greatly in commendation of Mr. Flam, was, nevertheless, an active upholder of the True-Grit division. "Our worthy representative," he said, "was happily stationed above the influence of these littlefamily quarrels; and it was undoubtedly a subject of congratulation with that distinguished gentleman, that every section of the great Democratic household of Quodlibet could cordially unite the testimonials of their confidence in his talents, his patriotism, and his fidelity to the interests of his constituents."
This paragraph was considered a master-stroke of New-Light Democracy in Eliphalet, because its tendency was to keep him and his paper on good terms with all parties supporting the administration, while it left him free to pursue the paramount objects which the True Grits steadily kept in view.
These objects were the attainment of all the lucrative offices in our district,—a striking exemplification of which now occurred in the celebrated Tigertail affair. That affair my duty as a chronicler requires me to notice.
A secret meeting of the True Grits had been lately held in the Borough. The subject in discussion was a weighty one. It was reported to this conclave that Ferox Tigertail, the marshal of this district, who resided and kept his office in Bickerbray, had in his employment two individuals of suspicious principles. The first was Washington Cutbush, a clerk, who had been overheard to say, at the Sycamore Spring, in a confidential conversation with his brother-in-law, Lemuel Garret, that he began to think Tom Benton's gold currency aHUMBUG! The second was Corney Dust, the porter and firemaker of the office, who, there was reason to believe, had voted at the last election for Agamemnon Flag. Upon these facts being vouched to the meeting by Magnus Morehead, the True Grit shoemaker in the Borough, and Sandy Buttercrop, the express-rider, message-carrier, baggage-porter, and follower of sundry other visible means of livelihood, it was resolved that a committee of three, to consist of Eliphalet Fox, Dr. Winkelman, and Nim Porter, should wait upon Mr. Tigertail, communicate to him the full extent of the charge, and require him, in the name of The Exclusive, New-Light, True-Grit Democrats of Quodlibet, forthwith to dismiss Washington Cutbush from his office, and substitute Magnus Morehead in his place; and also to supersede Corney Dust by the appointment of Sandy Buttercrop.
The committee, in pursuance of these instructions, visited the marshal, and explained the object of their mission in respectful but firm language. Tigertail, being a choleric man, and an old Federalist to boot,—who had been converted to the New-Light faith about eight years ago, at the date of the renewal of his commission,—heard the committee with exemplary composure; and then setting his eyes, with a fixed glare, upon Eliphalet Fox, he waited about ten seconds—at the end of which brief period of deliberation, he kicked the said Eliphalet clean out of his office:—and this being done to his entire satisfaction, he rather testily invited Dr. Winkelman and Nim Porter to follow their chairman. It is due to these two gentlemen to say, that like good committee men, they did so,—even anticipating the marshal's invitation to the adoption of that course of conduct.
This incident being faithfully reported by the committee to the meeting of True Grits, convened for the express purpose of learning the result, it was unanimously resolved,—First, that Tigertail's demeanor was mysterious, equivocal, and unexpected; secondly, that it was unpolite to Eliphalet Fox; and, thirdly, that it was against the principles and usages known to the New-Light Democracy. Another resolution was adopted to lay the whole matter before the President of the United States, and to instruct him, as the Representative of the People, to dismiss Marshal Tigertail, without delay, from his post; and confer it upon the injured Eliphalet Fox, whose kicking entitled him to the deepest sympathy of the party, and gave him, according to a well-established maxim of the New Lights, a right to immediate preferment.
These resolutions imparted great satisfaction to the meeting, and no doubt was entertained that the President would act upon the subject with that promptitude which distinguishes his character. Marshal Tigertail was looked upon as a doomed man, and no better than a Whig; and indeed he was already considered as having joined that party. Dr. Thomas G. Winkelman, Nim Porter, and Dabbs, the compositor, were intrusted with this embassy of instruction to the President;—Eliphalet Fox being left out of the deputation from obvious considerations of delicacy—a sentiment which it must be allowed has ever characterized the proceedings of the True Grits on all occasions, and which many of the most observant and sagacious of that sect have asserted has been the principal cause of the failure of their schemes.
The new deputation lost no time in setting forth upon the execution of their duty. They were attended to the stage coach by a large number of True Grits, who, to use the language of Theodore Fog, "signalized their departure with indignant pomp." Great expectations were indulged on this appeal, or rather this mandate to the President. Day after day passed by without bringing news from the mission:—the Globe was taken from each mail with increased avidity, in the hope of seeing some official announcement of the removal of Tigertail. A provoking silence on that point reigned throughout its columns. Ten days rolled on without a letter from the committee:—a fortnight wore away, and yet none had returned. A traveler at last reported that he had seen Nim Porter at the White Sulphur Springs. It was ascertained that Dr. Winkelman was in the City of New York purchasing drugs forhis shop; and upon investigation it was discovered that Dabbs had been at his work in the printing-office, unknown to the Borough, for more than a week. By a singular coincidence of feeling among the True Grits, all curiosity as to the fate of the mission suddenly subsided. The subject was treated with indifference; and in the course of a few days, after both Dr. Winkelman and Nim Porter had returned home, when the Thorough Blue Whole Team put forth a paragraph inquiring after the Tigertail Embassy, the Whole Hog came out with a petulant and snappish reply, affirming that the report of such a mission was a mere Whig lie, coined with a view to political effect, and uttered in the Whole Team simply because "that mendacious and filthy sheet delighted to revel in falsehood, and had never been known to stumble upon the truth, even by accident." Dr. Winkelman studiously avoided all reference to his absence from the Borough, and Nim Porter was equally cautious for about a month; at the expiration of which period Neal Hopper happened to say, in his presence, he had good reason to know that Marshal Tigertail was no favorite with the President, and would be removed from office before the end of the next Congress;—whereupon Nim, very unguardedly and under a sudden, uncontrollable impulse, planted himself before the miller and said,—
"I'll bet you one hundred dollars to ten upon that."
"Well, I 'spose you know?" said Neal, struck by Nim's peremptory manner.
"Conclusively and distinctly," replied Nim with some heat. "If you think Liphalet Fox is going to be the marshal you're mistaken: I know Martin VanBuren," he added with some display of self-importance, "considerably—and I can tell you that he goes the whole figure against rotation in this individual and identical case. He's a Mandarin from snout to tail—trained up from the gum, and wouldn't touch a True Grit with a forty-foot pole. Martin has defined his position emphatically. There can't be a possibility of mistake upon the subject."
"Do you mean to say that you heard him say so?" inquired William Goodlack, the tailor, a strenuous member of the True Grits, looking angrily at Nim.
"That's neither here nor there," replied Nim. "But I'll stand to the bet of one hundred dollars to ten, that Tigertail's not turned out of office this year: you are welcome to take it yourself, Billy Goodlack, if you're a mind for a bet."
"Whoever said Tigertail ought to be turned out?" asked Goodlack, peevishly, "'cepting Neal Hopper, who picked up such a story out of the nine thousand lies of the Whole Team?"
From this little brush with Nim Porter, and from the looks that passed between the parties engaged in it, there was room for the inference that the President didn't give much encouragement to the committee who went to him with instructions to turn out the marshal: and this is nearly everything that has ever transpired in Quodlibet upon that subject. It is very certain that, for some time after this date, the True Grits were not so bold as a party as they had been before. Eliphalet Fox was undoubtedly much chop-fallen during all the following winter.
A POLITICAL DISCUSSION AT ABEL BRAWN'S SHOP—ABEL'S VIEWS OF THE SUB-TREASURY—IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION MADE BY THEODORE FOG—THE NEW LIGHTS TAKE GROUND AGAINST THE BANKS—THE HON. MIDDLETON FLAM RESIGNS THE PRESIDENCY OF THE COPPERPLATE BANK—SNUFFERS ASPIRES TO THE SUCCESSION.
Toward the latter end of August, in the year referred to in the last chapter, about five o'clock in the afternoon, a much larger collection than usual of work horses were seen around Abel Brawn's shop, waiting to be shod. The shop stands a few rods below Christy M'Curdy's mill, and immediately upon the bank of the Rumblebottom. The mill is just outside of the compactly-built portion of the Borough; and from the door, Neal Hopper, the miller, could see along the road, on his left hand, into the principal cross street of Quodlibet, and on his right, directly into Abel Brawn's smith-shop. This advantage of position was much prized by Neal, because it enabled him to observe everybody going either from the town-side or the country-side to the blacksmith's. And as the shop was a famous ground for political discussion and newsmongering; and as Neal had an insaturable stomach (insaturabile abdomen) for that sort of gossip, a glance from the mill door gave him the means of knowing who was either at or on the way to the shop. Then, if thecompany suited him, he was in the habit of confiding the temporary government of the mill to a mealy-headed negro called Cicero, who could turn out a grist as well as himself, and so allow himself the chance of a brush at argument with Abel Brawn's customers.
On this evening in August, as I said, there were more horses than usual at the smithy. Six or seven men were lounging about the door or in the shop, talking very loud, with every now and then a word from Abel, who was busily employed alternately hammering out shoes on the anvil, and fitting them to the horses' feet; while squinting Billy Spike, a rather ungainly lad, an apprentice to the smith, was keeping off the flies with a horsetail fastened to the end of a stick. I had been taking a walk that evening with some of my boys to look at the ruins of the old school-house, and, seeing this little gathering about Abel Brawn's, I stopped to hear what was going on. Being somewhat fatigued by my exercitation, I sat down on the bench under the shed, having sent my boys home by themselves, and remained here a quiet though not an inattentive spectator of the scene before me. It is by cultivating such opportunities that I have been enabled to impart that interest to these pages which, without vanity, I may say my reader cannot fail to discover in them. Such have ever been my choicest and most profitable moments of observation—subseciva quædam tempora, quæ ego perire non patiar.
Neal Hopper was engaged in repairing a bolting-cloth up stairs in the mill, and, for some time after this assemblage had gathered about the smith's shop, did not hear or seem to know what was going forward, untilthere came a loud, sharp laugh and a whoop which aroused his attention. As soon as he heard this, he pricked up his ears, listened a moment, and upon a repetition of the laugh, stepped to the window, looked down toward the shop and saw who were there, then called Cicero to finish the repair of the bolting-cloth—and went straight to the blacksmith's.
"Well, what's the fraction," said Neal, "that you're all a busting out in such a spell of a laugh about?"
Hearing Neal's voice, Abel Brawn put down the horse's foot which he was then shoeing, from his lap, and standing upright, replied,—
"There seems to be a sort of a snarl here among these brother Democrats of yours, concerning of this here Sub-Treasury. Some of them say it's against the banks, and some of them say it's for the banks. They have got it that Cambreling should have give out in Congress that it was going to help the banks and keep them up; and others, on the contrary, say that Old Tom Benton swears that it won't leave so much as the skin of a corporated company 'twixt Down East and the Mississippi. And they say, moreover, that little Martin lays dark about it."
"What does the Globe give out concerning of it?" inquired Neal.
"Well, the Globe," replied Sam Pivot, the assessor of our county, who was out for sheriff, and who was very cautious in all his opinions, "is, as I take it, a little dubious. Sometimes he makes this Sub-Treasury a smasher to all banks; and then again he fetches it up as a sort of staff to prop the good ones and to knock down the cripples. Last fall, just before theNew York election, he rather buttered the banks, seeing that the Democracy in that quarter hadn't made up their minds to run as strong against the laboring people as they are willing to do over here in the South. But in April, when the Virginny elections was up, he was as savage as a meat-ax;—and I rather expect, from what I see in the President's message, that it isn't yet fairly understood whether the Sub-Treasury is to kill or cure the banking system."
"It's a pig in a poke, to make the best of it," said Abel Brawn; "and is flung before the people now because Van hasn't got nothing better to offer us, and not because he values it above an old shoe. To my thinking, when the people have decided against a law, as they have done now against this Sub-Treasury, as you call it, twice in Congress, a President of the United States ought to have that respect for the will of the people to let it drop. That's what I call Whig Democracy—though it mayn't be yourn."
"Never!" exclaimed Tom Crop, the constable of our Borough. "If the people go agin the Dimocracy, the Dimocracy ought to put them down. We go for principle; and it's our business to try it over and over again, until we carry it. Truth is mighty andwillprevail, as the old Gineral says."
"I have never been able," said Neal Hopper, "rightly to make out what this Sub-Treasury is, anyhow. If any man knows, let him tell me."
"What does that signify?" answered Crop. "Some calls it a divorce—but betwixt who I don't know, and what's more, I don't care. It's for the poor man we are a fighting, against the rich. The Whigs are formaking the poor poorer, and the rich richer—and I say any man who goes against the Sub-Treasury, can't have no respect for Dimmicratic principles."
"I'll tell you what it is," said Abel Brawn; "ever since the old Federals took hold of General Jackson's skirts, and joined him in breaking down the banks, they have been plotting to keep their heads above water—and so they set about making experiments right and left, to see if they couldn't hit upon something new to please the people. But, bless you—they don't know no more about the people than they do about making horseshoes; and that's the reason why they have been such bunglers in all their works: and the end has been to bring us into such a pickle as no country ever was in before. They have teetotally ruinated everything they have laid their hands on—and now they come out and say 'the people expect too much from the Government,' and by way of making that saying good, they have got up this Sub-Treasury, which is nothing more nor less than a contrivance to get all the money of the country into their own strong box, knowing that when they havethe money, they have gotthe power, for as long as they please. That's an old Federal trick, which they understand as well as any men in the world. Now the people, who see into this scheme, don't like it, and so they vote it down in Congress. Well, what does these Federals do then? Submit? No—to be sure not—that's not their principle. They go at it again; set to drilling of Congress, and by promising this man, and buying off that one with an office, and setting their papers to tellingall sorts of lies, they get the country so confounded at last that it doesn't know whether it is on its head or its heels. But the worst of it is, these very Federals—some of them real old Blue Lights—go about preaching about rich and poor, and sowing enmity between them; and they work so diligent upon this heat, that many a simple man at last believes them. It's all a trick—a mean, sneaking deceit, which I am ashamed to think any honest poor man in this happy country of ours could be taken in by for one minute. But we never had this talk until we got Federal measures and Federal men at the head of the Government. Who are the rich that they talk about? Why, it is every man who has sense enough to know that they are imposing on him, whether he be worth a million or worth only five hundred dollars—unless indeed it be one of their own rich men, and then they can't praise him too much. Is industry a sin in this land, that when it has earned a little something for a wet day, the man who has thriven by it must be held up as an enemy to his country? Does it hurt a man's patriotism, when he sends his children to school, and works until he can buy a tract of land to start them well in life—or when he rents a pew in church, and carries his family there to teach them to fear God and keep his commandments? Is it to be toldagainsta man, that his neighbors count him to be frugal and thrifty, and that he is considered respectable in the world? Yet that is your new fashioned Democracy, which wants to put every one in the dust who doesn't idle away his time and squander his substance, and let his family go to rack, whilst he strolls about the country bawling Democracy. ThankGod! the Democracy I've larnt in my time has taught me to do to others as I would have others do to me; and which has imbibed into my mind the principle that I am a freeman, and have a right to think for myself, to speak for myself, and to act for myself, without having a string put through my nose to lead me wherever it suits a set of scheming, lying, cunning politicians to have me for their benefit. Democracy's not what it used to be, or you would never find the people putting up with this eternal dictation from the President and his friends to Congress and to the nation, what he will have, and what he won't have:—that's what I call rank monarchy, and I will fight against it to my latest breath.
"You will have a chance to judge for yourselves whether the President dictates to the people or not, in this very matter of the Sub-Treasury:—wait till the next session of Congress:—the bill has just been rejected a second time. You will see that Martin isn't a going to give it up, but will bring it forward again and again—until at last, I make no doubt, he will get a Congress shabby enough to do his bidding, and pass it;—and many of the very men who are against it to-day, will abandon their own opinions and go for it, for no other reason in the world but that they will be afraid of their nose-leaders, who will tell them they are no Democrats unless they support the President. It is nothing more nor less thanenlistingmen in the service, and marching and countermarching them whichever way theofficerschoose; besides bringing every man to a drum-head who dares to disobey orders."
"What's Tom Benton's notion?" inquired Neal Hopper.
"He goes for the Sub-Treasury out and out," said Pivot.
"In course, he does, all hollow," interrupted Tom Crop, with rather a fierce frown and an angry tone, designed to express his indignant feeling at the sentiments uttered by Abel Brawn, and which sternness of countenance had been gradually gathering during the whole time occupied by the Blacksmith's discourse. "There's none of this slang in him. He's agin all Monypolies, and for the rale Constitutional Currency—and them's the genuine Dimmicratic principles:—leastways, they've come about so now, whatever they might 'a been in times past. Old Tom's the first man what ever found out what the Constitutional Currency raly was, and sot the Dimmicrats a goin' on the Hard-Money track! And, besides, don't I know these banks?—they're nuisances in grain, and naturally as good as strikes a poor man in his vitals. I've seed it myself. Here was Joe Plumb, the cider-press maker, got a note from Jerry Lantern down here at the crossroads, for settin' up his cider-press, and he heaved it in the bank for them to collect it—and what does the bank do, but go andpurtestit! That's the way they treat a poor man like Joe Plumb, what's obliged to work for his livin':—would they 'a sarved a Big Bug so? No—don't tell me about the banks! I'm sick a hearin' on 'em."
This discussion was now interrupted by the approach of Theodore Fog, Flan Sucker, and Sim Travers. By this addition to the company, the New Lights gainedan overwhelming preponderance of numbers over their adversaries. Indeed, Abel Brawn, and Davy Post, the wheelwright, were the only Whigs in the assemblage; and the consequence was that Abel, who fought them all pretty manfully at first, was obliged to give in so far as to remain silent—with the exception of a random shot, which now and then he let off by way of repartee—Abel not being bad at that. Davy Post was naturally a silent man, and, therefore, did not pretend to be a speaker on this occasion.
As soon as Theodore Fog was informed what was the topic in debate, and especially of the doubts which seemed to be prevalent regarding the Sub-Treasury, he took a station against the door-post, where the whole company gathered around him; and, being now in an oratorical mood, he began to address the auditory in something like a speech:—
"Gentlemen," said he, at the same time drawing, with a jerk, his neckcloth away and flaunting it in his hand, "in a free government we have no secrets. Freedom of Opinion and its twin-sister Freedom of Discussion are chartered libertines that float upon the ambient air consecrated to the Genius of Universal Emancipation——"
"Hurra for old The!" shouted Sim Travers.
"Ya—hoop—halloo—go it!" yelled Flan Sucker, with a wild and deafening scream, which sufficiently manifested the fact that he was most noisily drunk.
Several of the company interfered by remonstrating with Flan against this unnecessary demonstration of fervor, which Flan, on the other hand, insisted upon as his right.
"Whenever old The. Fog comes out high flown," said he, "I yells as a matter of principle. It's encouragin' to youth. Nebuchadnezzar, the King of the Jews, couldn't beat him at a speech: he's the butt cut of Democracy."
"Flan, hold your tongue," said Theodore. "Gentlemen, we have no secrets. Abel Brawn and Davy Post are welcome to hear all I have to impart. I know—everybody knows—that we have been in a state of suspense on the great question of the Sub-Treasury. TheIndependentTreasury, as we are going to call it since Congress rejected it—we'll try what a new name will do. I say we have been in suspense. Like honest New Lights we have waited to see how the cat would jump. Some men imagined that Martin would bow to the judgment of the people and give it up. They did not know the stern, uncompromising, footstep-following principles that dwell at the bottom of his heart. He willnevergive it up—the peoplemusttake it: he has got nothing else for them. Hasn't he tried everything else? And isn't this thelastthing he could think of? Why, then, of course, the peoplemustgulp it down, or the party is broke. Where is the slave that would desert his party? Who's here so base would be a turncoat? The Whigs call the President theservantof the people—we call him the Ruler, the Great Chieftain,—and when a man deserts him he is aTURNCOAT—that is sound New-Light doctrine.
"Sirs, it has been developed in the recent demonstrations of contemporary history——"
"Yip!"
"Silence, Flan Sucker, and don't make a fool ofyourself. It has been discovered that bank influence has defeated the Sub-Treasury bill. Every member who voted against it has received a large bribe from the banks. The Globe man has lately discovered this astounding corruption: the President is aware of it; and for this reason, in addition to that which I have already mentioned, he is determined to run it as theIndependentTreasury again. Every New Light is expected to toe the mark."
"Three cheers for that!" cried Pivot.
"We have heretoforepartiallydenounced the banks," continued Fog; "we are now to open upon them like hounds—worry them like rats. From this day forth, the Quods will take a new turn;—they will dismiss all pity from their bosoms, and cry aloud for strangling the banks—not even excepting our own. Patriotism demands the sacrifice. Down with paper money! will be the word. Turn the tables on the Whigs, and call the whole bank system the spawn of aristocracy—remember that. At the same time, gentlemen, be not afraid. No harm will be done to any bank you have a liking for—the essence of the thing is in the noise. We shall have perhaps to kill the banks in the District of Columbia—but that's nothing;—it will be an offering to consistency. All experiments require an exhausted receiver—and the District is ours;—a snug little piece of machinery to play upon. So keep it in mind—Treasury Notes and no Paper Money!—down with Credit, and up with the Independent Treasury!"
"Ain't that first-rate?" said Sim Travers. "The., who sot that agoin'?"
"Who?" replied Fog. "Why, some of the highest men in this nation—the Lights of the age. Middleton Flam has just received letters from Washington, laying open the whole plan of operations. He has accordingly determined to put himself in position for ultimate action, by resigning the presidency of the bank. Middleton Flam, gentlemen, I am free to say it, although we have differed on some questions, is a great man and an honor to the New Lights. He has already sent his resignation to Nicodemus Handy. The Board meet to-morrow to act upon it. You may imagine, gentlemen, who is looked to as his successor. But I here announce toyou, the conglomerate essence of my constituency at large, that on no consideration can I be persuaded to accept the vacant place. No, gentlemen, the whole tenor of my life renders that impossible. I have defined my position years ago; and every man must see, that president of that, or any other bank, I can never be. Simon Snuffers is the man. If he can make it agreeable to the Democratic principle upon which he holds the Hay Scales—and that it is for you to say—I have no doubt he will accept. Simon has no ulterior objects;—and men without ulterior objects may do as they please. But I trust that this responsible post will never be pressed upon me. Upon that point I cannot indulge the wishes of my friends."
The importance of this speech was duly appreciated by those to whom it was addressed; and as every man was anxious to know what everybody else thought about these matters, there was an immediate adjournment to the Borough. The consequence was, thatAbel Brawn's shop was left in a few moments without a customer; and in the course of the next half hour the news communicated by Theodore Fog was in every man's mouth. The movement at Washington was held to be decisive. The Independent Treasury, from that moment, became a leading test of the allegiance of the Democrats of Quodlibet.