"Mme. Julienne, from Paris, reveals the past, the present, and the future. Can be consulted on all affairs of love, business, or law, and overcomes trouble of any kind. She brings together the separated, causes speedy marriages, and sells infallible love powders. Go and see for yourself. No humbug here."Rooms, etc."
"Mme. Julienne, from Paris, reveals the past, the present, and the future. Can be consulted on all affairs of love, business, or law, and overcomes trouble of any kind. She brings together the separated, causes speedy marriages, and sells infallible love powders. Go and see for yourself. No humbug here.
"Rooms, etc."
"And what are you going to do?"
"Do? I don't know."
"I do."
"You wise woman, what is it?"
"Write the whole story for your favorite magazine. It is as interesting as half the fiction one reads, and contains a good moral."
THE BATTALION.
Athousandstrong we marched to battle;The city roared around the host;The tambours crashed their vaunting rattle;The bugles screamed their joyous boast.No thought had we to die asunder,Companions sworn, a brother throng;We looked to sweep through battle's thunderIn noble lines, a thousand strong.But ah, the fever's poisoned arrow!The jungle's breath, the summer's glow!Our broad array grew swiftly narrow,And scanty hundreds met the foe.O splendid longings, thoughts and fanciesWhich tread the city of the soul,How few of all your spirit-lancesArrive where duty's trumpets roll!
Athousandstrong we marched to battle;The city roared around the host;The tambours crashed their vaunting rattle;The bugles screamed their joyous boast.
Athousandstrong we marched to battle;
The city roared around the host;
The tambours crashed their vaunting rattle;
The bugles screamed their joyous boast.
No thought had we to die asunder,Companions sworn, a brother throng;We looked to sweep through battle's thunderIn noble lines, a thousand strong.
No thought had we to die asunder,
Companions sworn, a brother throng;
We looked to sweep through battle's thunder
In noble lines, a thousand strong.
But ah, the fever's poisoned arrow!The jungle's breath, the summer's glow!Our broad array grew swiftly narrow,And scanty hundreds met the foe.
But ah, the fever's poisoned arrow!
The jungle's breath, the summer's glow!
Our broad array grew swiftly narrow,
And scanty hundreds met the foe.
O splendid longings, thoughts and fanciesWhich tread the city of the soul,How few of all your spirit-lancesArrive where duty's trumpets roll!
O splendid longings, thoughts and fancies
Which tread the city of the soul,
How few of all your spirit-lances
Arrive where duty's trumpets roll!
J. W. De Forest.
THE FASCINATIONS OF ANGLING.
I.
Itis the cheerful verdict of all anglers that they find no other pastime so fascinating. This conclusion is not based upon the mere mechanism of the art, but upon the fact that it is eminently healthful, rational, and elevating, blending the picturesque and exhilarating in such equal proportions as to exactly meet the demands of the quiet student, the contemplative philosopher, and the care-worn man of business, whose wearied or exhausted nature covets just the solitude and repose which no other recreation so abundantly furnishes.
This of course could not be said of angling if it had no other attraction than the excitement it affords. But I am sure no one ever became an enthusiastic angler who had no other or higher conceptions of its possibilities. The mere act of taking fish is but a minor note in the full volume of harmony which comes to its appreciative disciples amid the vast solitudes where they find their best sport and highest pleasure. Ask any true angler what pictures come up most vividly before him as "the time of the singing of birds" draweth nigh, when it is right to "go a-fishing." His answer will not be, "The rise and strike of trout or salmon," although both will pass upon the canvas like rays of sunshine upon the quiet repose of a forest landscape. He will rather discourse to you of flowing river, of murmuring brook, of cloud-capped mountain, of waving forest, of sunshine and shadow, of rapid and cascade, of tent and camp fire, of silence and solitude, of cozy nook, of undisturbed repose, of refreshing slumber, of invigorated health, and theabandonof delight which neither word nor pencil can adequately portray. I have heard such "simple wise men" talk of their favorite pastime until they glowed with ecstasy, without once naming fish or fishing. That is but the body of the art. Its spirit consists in what is seen and felt. An angler, "born so," as Walton hath it, retains a more vivid recollection of the foam-encircled pool where salmon love to congregate than of the "rise" and "strike" which gave him his early morning's exhilaration. While he soon forgets the "play" and weight of the fish captured, he never forgets the picturesque surroundings of the struggle. He may forget the last homily he read, or the last sermon to which he listened, but never the thrill of devout ecstasy which came to him while wandering along some forest pathway, or while gently floating with the current of his favorite river, bathed in sunshine and fanned by summer zephyrs. After many days, these blissful moments come back to him like divine benedictions. Be sure, O carping critic, the gentle art has its spiritual and æsthetic as well as its physical and intellectual attributes.
As a mere physical pastime, angling stands foremost among all the known sources of pleasurable recreation. It blends active exercise with fascinating excitement in such healthful proportions as to ensure the fortunate participant equally against wearisome monotony and excessive fatigue. The pure mountain air in which he is constantly enveloped is a perpetual tonic, while the exercise it compels gives steadiness to the nerves and solidity to the muscles.
As a mental renovator it is equally effective. There can be no protracted lassitude while the brain is constantly quickened into refreshing vitality by the novel and exhilarating surroundings of mountain and forest and river, and the rise and strike and struggle of trout or salmon.
And to those who have neither physical nor mental ailment, but who are conscious of a spiritual need—of some more vivid appreciation of the goodness and beneficence of the Heavenly Father than most men attain unto while writhing under the harrow of business or bewildered by the shallow superficialities or noisy clatter of artificial life—the quiet places where the pursuit of the gentle art takes them, the silence and shadow of the sombre forest, the twitter and song of the solitary woodbird, the clear shining stars, which hang like silver lamps above his tent or cabin, and the reposeful hush which comes to his soul like whispered benedictions—these all tend to intensify his gratitude, to quicken his spiritual pulse, and to give to him a higher and a keener appreciation of his spiritual obligations.
There may be those who engage in angling only as they engage in the coarser amusements which, for a time, divert the mind and banishennui. But all such soon weary of it, and never reach the higher plane of the pleasant pastime. To do so requires a placid temper, a thoughtful if not a poetic appreciation of the picturesque, a moderate love of solitude, a patient habit, and a quiet disposition. To find delectation in his walks, the angler need not be an ascetic or a stickler for creeds; but I do not think the heart of Gallio, who "cared for none of these things," would have been made glad when "the voice of the turtle was heard in the land," and it was right to "go a-fishing," because I cannot imagine him a man of a teachable disposition or of a lovable nature, who took pleasure in the society or teachings of the gentle Master of the Galilean fishermen. Izaak Walton might have had equal skill with rod and reel without his saintly faith; but his "Complete Angler" never would have attained the high place it has held and will ever hold in the affections of the contemplative men of all time had he not been imbued with the spirit of reverent humility and such a loving sense of the Infinite Beneficence as to find in all the beauty and sublimity of Nature evidence of His great goodness and loving kindness to the children of men. He may not, like Enoch, have "walked with God," but in all his walks he saw God's handiwork; and this consciousness multiplied many fold the pleasure he sought and always found in the pursuit of his favorite recreation.
II.
There are times and seasons for salmon fishing as for all things. But all times and all seasons are not alike. Nor are all places. The best time to fish for salmon, where salmon are to be fished for, is the first hour the water is in condition; that is, as soon as the spring freshets have subsided, and the water, by falling back into its natural channel, has become freed from the surface rubbish washed into it, and sufficiently settled to render your line visible to the eye of the fish. This time varies on different rivers, according to their length, their volume, and the character of the soil through which they flow. On some rivers the drainage is so limited that a fly may be cast successfully so soon as the ice disappears. There are, however, but few rivers on either side the Gulf, or in either of the Provinces, where the best fishing is attainable before the first of June. The "season" continues from that time on to the middle of August, although there is often good sport into September, when the last "run" begin their journey. But no "posted" angler would care to be compelled to take the chances of sport after the close of August, as only very few fish come up from the sea later, and those remaining in the river are wearied from their long journeyings, or are torpid from their protracted absence from the sea.
Within the period named—June to the middle of August—salmon are gamy and muscular, wherever found, whether one or fifty miles from the ocean. But the pools most coveted are those in closest proximity to salt water. Salmon are at their best when they begin their upward journey. The fresh element in which they find themselves seems to give them new life and friskiness, and when hooked they fight with a strength and fierceness not exhibited in the same measure afterward. A twenty-pound salmon fresh from the sea gives you the play of a thirty-pound fish taken weeks after he has made his way far up toward the headwaters of a fifty or a hundred-mile river.
This fact, however, is not only not perceptible to the novice, but the sport furnished by the capture of a salmon at any point in a river, or at any stage of his sojourn in fresh water, is so grandly exhilarating and so full of the intensest excitement, that it is a matter of but trifling moment where a fish is struck so long as the angler strikes him.
But the seasonisimportant. The earlier weeks on any river are to be preferred, not alone because the fish have more vitality, but because, as a rule, they are more abundant. With an unerring instinct which is as mysterious as it is wonderful, they seek the rivers where they were born upon the return of every spring. If the rivers are in condition for their ascent, they begin their journey at once. But the rivers are not always in this condition when salmon first come to them; and if they are not, they wait their opportunity, and then move forward with the regularity and steadiness of an army under marching orders. Hence they are ordinarily found in greatest numbers at the first rush; and they are most fortunate who are duly placed, at favorite pools, to bid them welcome.
What I know of this phase of salmon angling I have learned from experience and observation, under circumstances which enable me to speak with more confidence than would be otherwise becoming. I have fished for three years on what I believe to be one of the very best rivers on the continent; best not merely because of the abundance and weight of its fish, but because also of its size and length, the magnificence of its scenery, and the great number of its splendid pools. My first two seasons extended from July 10 to August 10; and they are seasons which will be for ever remembered with delight. I did not deem it possible that I should ever experience any higher pleasure this side that "pure river of water, clear as crystal," which fills so large a place in the entrancing picture of the bright hereafter. My catch exceeded my highest expectations, the sport from first to last was magnificent and kingly, and the river, and the scenery, and the surroundings embodied so much of beauty and grandeur, that my cup of joy was filled to overflowing. If I had left the river with no other knowledge than I then possessed of what had been and of what might be, I would have lived on content with the happy impression that I had experienced the highest possibilities of the gentle art. Every hour was an hour of sunshine—whether casting, or striking, or killing—whether slowly ascending or swiftly schuting the rapids—whether shouting in very ecstasy of delight or quietly discoursing of the pleasures of angling, around the camp fire, grateful to a kind Providence which had "cast my lines in such pleasant places," and filled with devout thanksgiving that time and opportunity had been given me to understand why the good men, and the thoughtful men, and the simple wise men of all ages had written so enthusiastically and sung so glowingly of the gentle art.
But, while thus pluming myself upon what I had achieved and experienced, fancying that I had reached the highest pleasure attainable from the art of angling, I learned that while I had done well I could do much better earlier in the season. And so I found; for by a combination of circumstances as fortunate as they were gratifying, my third season gave me the first "run" and such experience and sport as will for ever remain a golden memory.
III.
With a companion as venerable in years and as full of enthusiasm as myself, we set our faces toward the bay of Chaleur on as bright and beautiful a June morning as ever gladdened the world. Hitherto the journey had been tedious and circuitous—by rail and steamer. But, like the world in general, the Provinces are progressive, and on this occasion an "all-rail" route enabled us to do in two days what it formerly took six to accomplish, and the 10th of June found us encamped in a beautiful valley encircled by magnificent mountains, with a majestic river at our feet grandly marching to the sea, but in unwelcome volume and raging with frightful turbulence. The melted snow was pouring down from the hills in such torrents as to overflow banks and lowlands, and to preclude all hope of angling until an abatement of the flood. It only remained for us to imitate the patriotic Germans on the Rhine, and "watch and wait." And for ten days we watched and waited with such patience as we could muster, and with such diversion as could be found in casting for trout in a neighboring brook which found its way to the river in our immediate neighborhood.
IV.
It was the tenth day of our waiting, and while the river was rushing with such fury as to render holding a canoe in the current with any appliances at our command impracticable, that I succeeded in reaching an eddy caused by a huge bowlder still buried beneath the waters. I could not anchor, and my frail bark was kept in constant motion by the swirling eddy, when, after repeated casts, I had a rise. The fish leaped to such an unusual height, and with such seeming determination that the lure should not escape him, that I was startled and barely escaped a backward plunge in my anxiety to make a sure "strike." From the "feel," which ran like electricity from my submerged fly to the tips of my fingers, I knew that the hook had effectively performed its work, and was "fastened in a sure place." With this conviction I felt bold to begin the work resolutely, although I knew that if I succeeded in making a capture, I must do so under circumstances more difficult than any I had ever before encountered in any waters or with any fish. I was literally hemmed in. I dared not allow the monster to get outside the restricted circle of the eddy, for if he should reach the current, which was sweeping downward at the rate of ten miles an hour, I would be utterly powerless to check him, because it would be impossible to prevent him from rushing over the boiling rapids, which were thundering within fifty feet of the lower edge of the eddy. My only hope of fish or canoe was to hold both under the shelter of the rock which caused the eddy. To do this required a shorter line than it is ever wise to retain at the opening of a fight with a thirty-pound salmon. But everything—fish, rod, and line—had to be risked. It was hold all or lose everything; and with a shout which made the whole camp lookers-on, I began the fight; now hopeful, now in despair; now with the fish leaping within fifty feet of the canoe, and now lashing the water with the fierceness of a tiger; now dashing toward the current as if determined to break off or drag the canoe with him, and anon sullenly permitting himself to be reeled up to within ten feet of the gaff; now sinking and sulking, and now rushing and leaping as if he would twist off his own neck in his attempts to shake the cruel barb from his lacerated jaw; now at handsome holding distance, peaceful as a lamb, and seemingly ready for thecoup de grace, and anon dashing hither and thither, as if looking for some open door to freedom; but all in vain. If his mettle was up, so was mine, and at that moment I would sooner have lost a fortune than that fish. I had kept him within bounds and well in hand; had got him within a foot of the gaff, sure of victory, and was shouting to my gaffer, "Now then, let him have it!" when, like a flash, he shot under the canoe, and would have smashed everything in a moment had not my watchful guide, seeing the situation and the danger in the twinkling of an eye, swung round our boat so that I could place the tip of my rod beyond the stern of the canoe, and thus escaped the greatest misfortune that can befall a salmon angler. It was quickly and skilfully done, and in five minutes more the first salmon of the season was gaffed, and the first victory achieved. The shout from my own canoe was caught up by the excited lookers-on, and we paddled to camp thrilled with the excitement of the contest, and happy as it is possible for an angler to be—and there are possibilities of happiness to anglers inconceivable to any who have never killed a salmon.
We accepted this first fish as the forerunner of the good time hoped for. And the good time came of which, for the delectation of those who have been or would like to be "there" themselves, I subjoin a few samples.
V.
I had as my immediate companion an enthusiastic angler in all waters, but who had not as yet had the good fortune to take a salmon. The flood had somewhat receded; but it was still necessary to place our canoes in the eddies, and cast crosswise into the edges of the current. I had landed a fish of moderate size, and was watching my friend trying his 'prentice hand, at salmon casting, occasionally directing him by my fancied superior knowledge of the art, when a very large fish rose to his fly, and he struck him with a suddenness and force which was certainly complimentary to his muscle if not so illustrative of his skill. For it is always dangerous to strike too hard. It does not require a great pressure to force the barb home, while a heavy strike or a too sudden twitch is apt either to break something or tear the hook from the fish's jaw. In this case the hook held. For a moment fish and fisher seemed alike astonished, and neither stirred; but it was only for a moment. Directly away flew the fish—the line spinning from the reel as if harnessed to a locomotive. Fortunately the eddy, which made out from the point of an island, extended some quarter of a mile, and before it was passed over, the Judge began to appreciate the situation, the magnitude of the work in hand, and the difficulties he was likely to encounter before he could call the fish his own. He held him with a steady hand. He answered every call for line with a promptness and caution which indicated great tact, and he lost no opportunity to reel in when practicable. For a time it seemed probable that he would kill his fish without being carried into the central current. But no such luck awaited him; for after two hours of patient waiting and working—of rushing, and leaping, and sulking—the frenzied fish made for the centre of the river with such impetuosity that it would have been as easy to stop the flow of the river itself as to check him in his mad career. Where he led the canoe was obliged to follow; and follow it did for more than two miles, with occasional respites at available eddies, and occasional dashes up stream, putting the canoe men to their best trumps to prevent the reel from becoming exhausted by these upward flights.
Thus the battle progressed for more than three hours, when the fish approached the canoe of one of the party, which was anchored near a bank covered with overhanging brush. He rushed with such speed that the Indians in the anchored canoe had barely time to get out of the way, when the fish dashed between them and the bank, but so closely that when he halted for an instant near the surface, one of the Indians, whose movements were as quick as those of the fish himself, gaffed him and so saved him "as by fire," for in an instant more he would have been caught in the overhanging brush toward which he was moving, and where, had he reached it, he would have been inevitably lost. He weighed thirty-six pounds—the largest fish taken during our month's sojourn on the river. But the most marvelous part of the story is that the brute was hooked foul in the side, rendering the fight and the capture of so large a fish a double victory.
Many events in the Judge's life will be forgotten, but this first fight with his first salmon will remain a pleasant memory for ever.
VI.
Here is another experience which all anglers will appreciate. I was anchored in an eddy at the head of a favorite pool while the current in the channel of the river was so strong that it was deemed impossible to make headway against it. The pool in which I was casting was full of hidden rocks; but for that very reason it was one of the very best on the river. After an unusually long cast, a fish rose to my fly and was hooked. On the instant he dashed for the head of the pool, but by the time the anchor was shipped he reversed his movement with a rush, carrying with him more than two hundred feet of line. The canoe, having been forced into the channel, was sweeping downward with great rapidity, when I became conscious that my line was hitched. The only hope of rescue was to force the canoe back against the heavy current—and the order to do so was answered by such a display of skill and muscle as I had never before and have never since witnessed. The paddles bent like withs, and for a moment not an inch of headway was obtained. "We can't move her," was the mournful wail of my faithful Indians. "You can and must. Away with her!" was all I could say to them; and "away" it was. After a desperate struggle the canoe reached a point on a line with the rock on which I was caught, when off the line flew with a spring which indicated the great tension to which it had been subjected. "Now let her go!" and down we went, swept by the current, past rocks, into eddies and over rapids for a mile before I succeeded in getting the fish in a position where I could check him or place him where I desired. This I did, however, in time, by getting below him and holding the canoe broadside to the current. This enabled me to handle him at will, and the gaffer soon brought him to book. He weighed twenty-nine pounds.
VII.
One other incident. To have it appreciated, however, I must premise that the manner in which an angler plays a fish depends largely upon the condition of the river. Where, after a strike, you can pass into still water or into a moderate current, the position of your canoe is of no great moment. But if you are forced into very swift water, to allow a fish to have his way, and to make no attempt to gaff him until he is exhausted or until you can force him up to within gaffing distance against the current, is to find yourself at the end of the battle so far from your pool as to render a return unpleasantly tedious. Under such circumstances the order of battle with experts is as follows: The moment the fish starts down stream push below him with all possible despatch, reeling up the attained slack as the distance decreases. When the desired position is reached the canoe is thrown across the current and allowed to float with it. As the fish is above you, it is comparatively easy, with the aid of the current, to guide him downward with a very moderate pressure. In this position, with the exercise of proper caution and skill, the fish can generally be brought near enough to be gaffed long before he is the least exhausted.
This mode of killing is not only exciting, but very hazardous. The fish, when brought close up to the canoe, sometimes dashes beneath it, to the great peril of rod, reel, and leader, if not to the perpendicularity of the canoe itself. To illustrate: I had struck a large fish, and was playing him in the manner detailed, to my entire satisfaction. I had never been better pleased with the behavior of any fish, and I had him under such perfect control that I foolishly began to deem myself perfect master of the situation. In his strugglings the fish had crossed and recrossed the channel a hundred times—had rushed up stream and dashed down stream with the speed and eccentricity of a boomerang, but had failed to get beyond the restraint of a steady tension. I had reached a point in the struggle where I would not have given a farthing to be insured against accidents, when, while holding him within twenty feet of my tip, he turned his head down stream and dashed directly under the centre of the canoe, bearing my rod with him, and bending it double before I knew whether I stood on my head or my heels. And then came a crack, and a tear, and a snap, splintering the second joint of my rod, and breaking my tip like a pipe stem. I supposed, of course, that the wrench had released the fish, and I began to reel in as disconsolate as a defeated candidate for office. But, hollo! the fish is not off! When the crash came the line had rendered so freely that there was no unusual strain upon the hook, and he was still fast. But what of that? How could I save him with such a wreck? The idea that it was possible, with skilful handling, added a hundredfold to the excitement, and put me on my mettle. So, finding that the line was free, and that by keeping the dangling pieces in proper position I could still manipulate the reel, I renewed the contest, and after floating a mile or two with the current, brought him to gaff. I mourned, of course, the destruction of my favorite rod—the best I ever handled, which had served me, without a crack, for two years, and which I would not have exchanged for any rod I ever saw. There was nothing gorgeous about it; but it had life in every fibre, and responded with every cast, from tip to butt, with such spring and elasticity as rendered casting with it a real pleasure.
VIII.
And apropos of the old adage that wise men learn from experience. After this fish had thus made shipwreck of my favorite rod, the Judge, with a generosity which is characteristic of the true angler—and no man has the spirit of the true angler who is not generous—proffered me the use of his untried bamboo. It was, and still is, the handsomest piece of salmon rod workmanship I ever saw, and felt in the handling as if it were as good to go as it was handsome to look at. He had hesitated, with the excusable timidity of the novice, to use it himself, and wished it tried, that he might report the result to its maker. I, of course, felt complimented by this proof of confidence in my skill, and consented, with the promise that I would do my best to preserve it intact, but that I must save my fish if I had to risk every inch of my harness.
The pool in which the test was to be made was directly in front of our camp, and the water was still in excessive volume, and the flow unpleasantly impetuous. I soon caught the hang of the rod, and was making experimental casts of a hundred feet or more, quite delighted with its spring and play, when I had a rise from the most dangerous spot in the pool. Afraid to strike with my usual force, I simply raised my tip an inch or two, and felt that he was as securely hooked as if I had a "double hitch" around him. And it is curious this instinctive consciousness of a secure or of a frail hold of your fish the instant you strike him. Every observant angler has this consciousness; and nothing is more common at such a moment than the remark, "I am afraid he is not well hooked"; or, "Ah! that struck home"; and all the after play—whether timidly or fearlessly—depends largely upon the "feel" of the strike.
At the outset I knew that if my fish escaped, it would not be because he was not well hooked; and, with this assurance, the play began. He took to the swiftest water at the first dash; he fairly leaped over the rapids at the foot of the pool, the canoe following with the speed of a race-horse, for half a mile, when he cried a halt, much to my satisfaction, for was I not entrusted with the finest rod that had ever wet its tip in the Cascapedia? Unlike my old companion, with which I had fought an hundred such battles, I was ignorant of the strain this elegant bamboo would bear, and so fought this battle as timidly as if I had never before broken a lance or captured a salmon. But a necessity was upon me. Its power of resistance must be tested, and the monster I was fighting must be kept in hand, if every joint in the rod should be reduced to splinters. So, ounce by ounce, the pressure was increased. Every new rush of the fish was met by augmented resistance on my part, until I found the rod capable of as hard work and as heavy a pressure as I had ever placed upon any rod I had ever handled. With what mathematical precision it curved from tip to reel! How grandly it took the butt, and with what grace it resumed its original form when relieved of an unusual pressure! To handle it soon became a delight, and I found myself procrastinating the contest from the mere pleasure I experienced in watching its perfect movement.
When at length I concluded to make a finish of the struggle, had placed my canoe below the fish, and was gathering him in, by slow approaches, not dreaming of disaster or defeat, the ferocious brute dashed for the canoe, passing under it near the stern like a flash, and threatening to make as complete shipwreck of the Judge's bamboo as the fish of the day previously had made of my own lance-wood. But, like others before me, I had learned from the enemy how to fight. The moment I saw what was coming I threw my rod down parallel with the side of the canoe, allowing the tip to extend beyond it, with the reel outward, so as to give the line free play. The experiment was a success. The line followed the fish without a hitch, and the beautiful rod remained intact! The furious brute was outflanked, and, as if in despair, he gave up the battle, and in ten minutes was gaffed.
The rod was a success. It had passed every ordeal grandly, and it was handed back to its owner with the comforting assurance, "It will do."
These are but specimen illustrations of the pleasure and exhilaration which come to those who "go-a-fishing" for salmon. But the pastime holds its votaries for other reasons than the mere excitement it affords them. A diversion which reaches only to the material of our natures can never acquire a permanent place in the affections of men of thoughtful habit. It is proof, therefore, of the satisfying and elevating character of the gentle art, that its disciples never weary of the pleasure it affords them. Indeed, the most enthusiastic anglers, and those who best illustrate its refining and invigorating influence, are those who have passed into "the sere and yellow leaf" with rod and reel as their inseparable companions. Like the virtues, it grows by what it feeds upon; and as the sun becomes more and more attractive in its mellow beauty, as it silently and gently sinks from view, so do the pleasures of angling become increasingly fascinating to its happy votaries as they near the gateway of their final rest. Ah! unhappy they who, in making haste to be rich, fail to avail themselves of the opportunity which angling affords to garner up such pleasant memories as would cast perennial rays of refreshing sunshine upon the too often sombre pathway of old age!
George Dawson.
EXECUTIVE PATRONAGE AND CIVIL SERVICE REFORM.
Latewriters on the English Constitution draw a contrast rather unfavorable to us between their Parliamentary and our Presidential Government. Our Executive is a fixture for four years and reëligible. He is responsible, and not shielded by any such legal fiction as "The king can do no wrong." In Great Britain, the cabinet, selected from the legislature, is the real executive body. "In its origin it belongs to the legislative part of the State; in its functions it belongs to the executive part." By a conventional code, the ministry or "the Government" can be changed by a vote of want of confidence, or by a defeat of the ministry in the House of Commons on a governmental measure. Our Cabinet holds a subordinate position. The Constitution contemplates, but does not define, "executive departments." Seven have been established by law, some of which have been divided into inferior departments called bureaus. The Cabinet is the political family of the President. The "heads of departments" are his constitutional advisers, and aid in the execution of his high functions. They are not held responsible for good government, are not liable to votes of censure for their policy, although for convenience sake, a kind of semi-official connection subsists betwixt them and the Federal Legislature.
The "principal officer in each of the executive departments" has a staff of subordinates. The various officers of the United States constitute the machinery of government, and the appointment of a large proportion of them is vested in the President. These various civil officers, so appointed, are for the execution of public business. The conduct of public business and the care of the public interests are, under the President's supervision and control, largely committed to these functionaries. With the growth of the country in territorial area, population, and wealth, the enormous increase of taxation and expenditures and the assumption by the Federal Government of State duties and prerogatives, the number of officials has increased to 100,000. The civil list in 1859 numbered 44,527; in 1875, 94,119. The rolls show a larger list of paid dependents since the war than there was during the war. All these officers hold their places by the tenure of the President's will. They are to be found in every neighborhood in the Union, and constitute a large army, dangerous to the welfare and perpetuity of the republic.
The theory is that all public offices are for administrative efficiency and the public weal. Up to the beginning of General Jackson's term of office, there had been, during the forty years of his six predecessors, 112 removals of such officers as required for their appointment "the advice and consent of the Senate." These few removals were not made from caprice, or to punish enemies, or to reward partisans, but for cause and by strict rule. The power of removal was exerted so exceptionally, only for just and salutary purposes, and was never used as an instrument of party success. Public policy dictated its exercise. Offices were not regarded as the private property of the President, or as the perquisites of a party, but as trusts for the general good.
General Jackson's accession to the Presidency began a revolution. Differences of opinion were punished by removal from office, and partisanship was rewarded with places of profit. His successors have adhered too closely to a precedent which has almost solidified into a party law, or a principle of American politics. No party can claim exemption from the sin of using the civil list for party ends. The Whig, Democratic, and Republican parties, in the distribution of "patronage," in Federal, State, and municipal governments, are alike obnoxious to censure. The poison has infiltrated every vein and artery of the body politic. Every branch of federal and of State service has suffered from the vicious maxim that offices are spoils to be divided among the victors in a party contest. Too often the condition precedent to appointment is unquestioning submission to party decrees, indiscriminate support of party candidates and party measures. The right to remove incumbents is now a conceded Presidential prerogative, acquiesced in by all parties.
The power of removal, under the influence of a false political philosophy, has been perverted into the duty of removal so as to give the offices to the winning party. A new President of different politics from his predecessor is expected to make sweeping changes, amounting even to a "total administrative cataclysm." The appointment of a political antagonist excites surprise, and requires an explanation or apology. Experience of the working of an office, ability, honesty, fitness, are not conclusive. "Off with his head," is the remorseless decree when a place is needed for a partisan. Each incoming administration is bedeviled by hordes of applicants, as greedy as the daughters of the horseleech. The plagues of Egypt scarcely symbolize the number and clamorousness of the mendicants. General Harrison, honest old man, in one month fell a victim to the tormentors, and General Taylor's death was probably hastened by a similar infliction.
Executive patronage is dependent on the revenue and expenditures of the Government and on the number of persons employed by the Government, or who receive money from the public treasury. To appoint and remove at will is a dangerous prerogative, royal in its proportions. Some of the ablest statesmen and constitutional lawyers have denied the right of the President to remove without cause, especially in such appointments as required the concurrence of the Senate.3The practice of the Government seems to have settled the question differently. Concedingpro hœ vicethe constitutionality, the evils, as illustrated in our history, are none the less great.
I. There has been a reversal of the theory of our institutions in respect to officers. In 1835 Mr. Webster said in the United States Senate:
Government is an agency created for the good of the people, and every person in office is an agent and servant of the people. Offices are created not for the benefit of those who are to fill them, but for the public convenience; and they ought to be no more in number, nor should higher salaries be attached to them, than the public service requires. The difficulty in practice is to prevent a direct reversal of all this; to prevent public offices from being considered as intended for the use and emolument of those who can obtain them. There is a headlong tendency to this.... There is another, and perhaps a greatly more mischievous result, from extensive patronage in the hands of a single magistrate, and that is, that men in office have begun to think themselves mere agents and servants of the appointing power, and not agents of the Government or the country.
Government is an agency created for the good of the people, and every person in office is an agent and servant of the people. Offices are created not for the benefit of those who are to fill them, but for the public convenience; and they ought to be no more in number, nor should higher salaries be attached to them, than the public service requires. The difficulty in practice is to prevent a direct reversal of all this; to prevent public offices from being considered as intended for the use and emolument of those who can obtain them. There is a headlong tendency to this.... There is another, and perhaps a greatly more mischievous result, from extensive patronage in the hands of a single magistrate, and that is, that men in office have begun to think themselves mere agents and servants of the appointing power, and not agents of the Government or the country.
Offices are looked upon as the prey of political parties, as spoils to be distributed. The well-being of the country, with appointer and appointees, becomes a secondary consideration. Office-holders, holding by the "tenure of partisan zeal and service" are regarded as receiving pap from the party, and therefore under special obligations to make sacrifices for its success. Hence federal officers, holding their places for the benefit of the party, are assessed for contributions for electioneering purposes and the recalcitrants are dismissed or tabooed. This system is unfavorable to manly independence. Fearing removal, incumbents become parasites, with chameleon facility adapting the complexion of their politics to the color of the appointing power. Government becomes also an almoner to bestow charities. Pensioning, never justifiable except in special exigencies, becomes the rule. Some apprehension of the evils of governmental allowances without an equivalent possibly induced Dr. Johnson, in the first edition of his dictionary, to define "Pensioner, a slave of the State, hired by a stipend to obey his master."
II. Government becomes a kind of close corporation for the benefit of the party in power. Party adherents, pets, favorites, get the dividends; civil service thus affording, as Mr. Bright phrased it for England, "a system of out-door relief to the poorer saplings of aristocracy." As a necessary consequence, patriotism and attachment to principles among those corporators become feebler, and servility to party stronger.
III. The Government suffers in its administration. In appointments other tests than the Jeffersonian, "Is he honest, is he faithful, is he capable?" are applied. The right to employment should grow solely out of superior capacity and attainments. Official patronage is a trust for promoting the general welfare. The present system, forgetful of general interests, instead of securing the best men, often gets instead the incapable. A good official system is hardly possible with constant changes in thepersonnel. If continuance in office be dependent on other considerations than discharge of duties, a stimulus to diligence and fidelity is taken away. The best motive for learning a task thoroughly should be furnished. Not unfrequently one defeated in his aspirations for Congress receives a Federal appointment. A popular condemnation becomes a stepping stone to a higher position. What should be regarded as a rebuke is made a plea for promotion.
IV. The tendency of the abuse of Executive patronage is to make those in the civil service mere placemen and mere tools or willing servitors of the President. To quote again from Mr. Webster:
A competition ensues, not of patriotic labors, not of rough and severe toils for the public good, not of manliness, independence, and public spirit, but of complaisance, of indiscriminate support of executive measures, of pliant subserviency and gross adulation.
A competition ensues, not of patriotic labors, not of rough and severe toils for the public good, not of manliness, independence, and public spirit, but of complaisance, of indiscriminate support of executive measures, of pliant subserviency and gross adulation.
By personal effort, by money contributions, through the press, in nominating assemblies, at the polls, office-holders work for him in whom they have their official being. An incumbent of the Presidency, a candidate for reëlection, has a large number of men and their families interested in his success, and swayed by the temptation of interest to secure his renomination and reëlection; add to these the hungry expectants, whose eyes and hopes are fixed on Washington, and it can be seen that the power and the practice of giving offices to partisans operate on the fears of all who are in and the hopes of those who wish to get in. The Executive himself is armed with undue influence and power and subjected to a temptation to dishonesty if he covets a reëlection. The "spoils" in the hands of a President, granted or withdrawn at pleasure, give fearful odds in a popular or party contest. Our Presidential elections are pervaded by an element not favorable to fairness or purity. A dangerous mass of private and personal interest is thrown into the scale, and selfishness usurps the place of patriotism and a sense of public duty.
V. Distribution of so many and such valuable offices as party rewards degrades parties from organizations upon principle, for patriotic political ends, to mere combinations for expediency and for personal ends. Because of the power and patronage of the President; and the centralizing effects of federal legislation, all State and local elections are subordinate to the quadrennial agitation for the highest federal officer. So ramifying is this federal influence, the election of a constable in Montana is decided by his relation to a "national" party. State and county officers are nominated upon "national" platforms, and support of Hayes or Tilden determines governors, Congressmen, judges, superintendents of education, mayors, sheriffs, policemen. Local interests are subordinated to the Presidential struggle. The attention and ability of the people of a State are diverted from State development to national concerns, or rather to the question, who is to be empowered to bestow Executive patronage? In the mind of the masses the President is the government. A Presidential election has ceased to be a contest of ideas, or to decide a political policy. It is a gigantic party struggle. Overwhelming importance attaches to it, because the victor has a cornucopia of "patronage bribery" to give to whom he likes. In other days, the canvass which preceded elections was educatory. Able men, on opposite sides, face to face, discussed grave questions of constitutional law or federal policy. In the nullification controversy of South Carolina there was a war of giants. The speeches of O'Neal, Harper, Johnston, Hamilton, Hayne, Preston, McCuffie, and Calhoun were such masterly expositions of the relations of the States to the general Government as would have done credit to Edmund Burke. In other contests, North and South, were discussions by our ablest statesmen of fundamental principles of higher abstractions. In the last contest much of the "stump" speaking was the veriest twaddle, an appeal to prejudice, and hate, and sectionalism, full of scurrility, personality, and vulgar anecdote. The press, so essential to free institutions, partakes of the degeneracy, and thus politics is degraded from a noble science to a disgusting scramble for spoils.
VI. Treating the civil service as legitimate rewards for partisan zeal diminishes official responsibility, lowers the standard of official integrity, and stimulates corruption by augmenting the means of corruption. The rapid growth of patronage, far beyond what is required for efficiency of administration, is readily suggestive of evil. A spirit of subserviency is not favorable to the growth of the highest qualities. Ceasing to regard office as a trust for the public good, the holder loses a strong motive for integrity. Favoring servility, or sycophancy, to conciliate superiors, very easily loosens the restraints of conscience. Vigorous attachment to principles yields to devotion to party. Public morals are corrupted by false maxims, by increase of temptation, by loss of patriotism. Places are multiplied for partisans. Contracts are let to partisans. Frauds, the logical consequence of lowering office to be mere pay for party services, are covered up, or palliated, to prevent damage to "the party."
If these evils be not greatly exaggerated, reform seems an imperative necessity. It is hard to correct governmental abuses. Society is prone to run in ruts. To suggest the supernumerariness of an office, or a reduction of salaries, raises a howl among theinsas if the liberties of the country were imperilled. Those useful legislators, like George W. Jones of Tennessee, and Holman of Indiana, who watch for abuses and scent afar a "ring," are always unpopular. It is needful to get back to first principles and to indoctrinate the public anew with correct notions as to the object of an office and the duties of a public officer. The Koran says: "A ruler who appoints any man to an office when there is in his dominions another man better qualified for it sins against God and against the State." To dismiss a faithful and capable incumbent to gratify party resentment, or to gratify a friend, is utterly in disharmony with the purpose of administrative machinery. Our Government is an agency for the public weal. It is not in an antagonistic position to "the people of the United States," but their servant to accomplish their legal will and to promote their prosperity. People were not created for offices, but offices for the people. As soon as the public service ceases to be subserved the offices should at once cease. While the office is necessary, and the incumbent discharges its duties satisfactorily, there should be no needless change. A citizen accepting a public trust, and doing his duty faithfully, should be allowed to enjoy his manhood and be protected from the exactions of a superior power. If, as has been asserted, "no vacancies" greet the eyes of applicants for places in Washington, it is a hopeful sign and most praiseworthy.
When vacancies do occur, or new offices are created, some competition among the candidates for employment would ensure more efficient service. Superiority of parts or attainments is a better qualification for bureau or clerical duties than activity in a ward meeting. Men of the best energy and capacity are not likely to be obtained by an arbitrary partition of places among the districts whose representatives sustain the Administration. England has reached the competitive test by slow steps. Employees in the several departments were, for a long time, clerks to the minister, and were paid out of the fees received from those who had business with the department. The sale of offices and exaction of fees occasioned serious abuses. By several acts of Parliament in this century, a civil service has been established, a public status assigned to clerks, and their salaries are now paid out of the public exchequer. By the test of competitive examinations, and by placing on a better basis the relation betwixt public servants and the nation, the service has been much improved.
The application of some competitive test for certain grades of office might be supplemented by requiring the President, in all cases of nominations to the Senate to fill vacancies, to state the reasons for removal, if any had been made. Laws might be passed modifying the absoluteness of the right of removal. In 1789, in a discussion in the House of Representatives, Mr. Madison said: