p239-114 CHAPTER IX.

GREAT MEETING AT THE SYCAMORE SPRING.—SOME DESCRIPTION OF THE
ARRANGEMENTS.—NICODEMUS HANDY CHOSEN TO PRESIDE ON THIS
OCCASION.—MOTION TO THAT EFFECT BY MR. SNUFFERS.—THIS
WORTHY GENTLEMAN'S MISFORTUNE.—HIS ESCAPE.—SUCCESSFUL ORGANIZATION
OF THE MEETING.

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The morning of the 8th of September, Anno Domini
1837, was cloudless and cool. The dust had been laid by
a shower of rain a little before daylight, and the day therefore
was auspicious to the wishes of all who proposed to
assemble at the Sycamore Spring. By eight o'clock Ante
Meridiem, Nicodemus Handy's barouche, with two beautiful
bays, stood upon the gravel before Handy House on Copperplate
Ridge. Agamemnon Flag, attired in a new blue
coat with figured gilt buttons, white waistcoat, India rubber
watch guard, snowy pantaloons of very fine drilling and boots
of drab prunelle, tipped at the toes with polished French
leather, a watered silk cravat, and gold spectacles, sat at
the breakfast table with Mrs. Handy and Henrietta, her
daughter—the smallest, the neatest, and the best shaped
female, it is said by those who pretend to be judges, in
Quodlibet.

Nicodemus was in a flurry. He had swallowed his
breakfast with great despatch, and four servants were busily
in attendance upon him. Sam, the waiter, was beating time
in the hall with a corn whisk, alternately upon the person of

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his master and his left hand, after a very favorite and ingenious
fashion of dusting a gentleman's coat, only known to
and practised by that musical race of colored dandies, of
which Sam was a first rate specimen. Sarah, a lady of
Sam's complexion, Mrs. Handy's maid, was running up
stairs to sprinkle some verbena perfume on Mr. Handy's
cambric handkerchief; William was smoothing the nap of
his glossy black Brewster, with a brush as soft as silk; and
Mrs. Trotter, the house-keeper, was arranging a basket of
sandwiches and a bottle of Rudesheimer to be stowed away
in the box of the back seat of the barouche. The coachman,
in a sky blue frock, and hat with gold bands secured
by a huge buckle, was in his seat holding the reins, every
moment speaking to the horses to make them restive, and
then whipping them for not standing still. The whole
scene was one eminently calculated to disprove that stale
Whig slander which purports to affirm that “all the decency”
was in their ranks:—nothing could be more striking
than this refutation of it. And as I was myself present—
having called in at that moment to deliver a message from
the New Light Club to Mr. Handy, apprising him of their
intention to move that he should act as chairman of the
meeting to be held at the Sycamore Spring—I witnessed
with lively satisfaction, the very decided impression of
pleasure made upon an assemblage of New Lights, who
stood looking on outside of the front gate, by this triumphant
vindication of our party from the malevolent insinuations
of the Whig press.

Agamemnon Flag seemed to be very much at his ease,
and to be thinking but little about the meeting, whilst he
sat uttering some pleasant things to Miss Handy;—at least I
suppose they must have been pleasant to her, as she and her
mother both laughed a good deal at what he said. By the
by, there is a report in the Borough, that Ag is making up

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to this young lady—which will be a grand thing for him if
she favors him, since she is an only child, and Nicodemus
is amazingly rich.

“God bless me, my dear,” said Mr. Handy, breaking
away from Sam's whisk, and speaking after the manner of a
table of contents, (a habit which he has acquired since he has
grown rich,) “it is past eight o'clock—I'm to be the chairman
of that meeting—ought to be early on the ground—
five miles off—no time for nonsense now—you and Henrietta
and Ag—have to drive like the devil—barbacue, my dear—
want to see the arrangements before the voters arrive—
the schoolmaster will take a seat along side of Nace —”

“Thank you kindly,” said I; “I accept your offer with
great pleasure —”

“Shant want William,” he added, referring to the servant
who generally rode with the coachman—“upon second
thoughts—will put our Second Thoughts inside—ha! ha!
Must take William—shall want him—you can sit (speaking
to me) on the front seat—Ag and I behind—offer the other
seat to Barndollar—want to be civil to him, my dear—come,
hurry, hurry, hurry!—William, get on your livery and be
prepared to mount beside Nace.”

As it was very manifest that Mr. Handy was really in a
hurry—as very opulent men are exceedingly apt to be—
there was of course a great bustle to accommodate him, by
getting off. Agamemnon immediately rose from the breakfast
table, and taking up his superfine leghorn hat, which
was very chastely adorned with a light yellow ribbon band,
the ends whereof hung a little over the rim, he put it gently
on his head, and then standing before the ladies, asked them
with very apparent complacency, whether they thought he
was in good trim to appear before the democracy—and
having received answer that “he was exactly the thing,”
he signified his readiness to depart; whereupon we all

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bustled out to the barouche and took our seats. William
clambered into his place, and away we went at full trot,
down to The Hero to take up Jacob Barndollar.

When we arrived at the tavern door, we found there Nim
Porter's trotting buggy with his stub-tailed grey. Nim
himself appeared on the steps in a big broad-brimmed low-crowned
Russia blue hat, set very knowingly over his right
eye, with a long taper whip in his hand; and before we
could take up Mr. Barndollar, this most good natured of
bar-keepers, with an agility not to be expected in so fat a
person, sprang up into his tub-shaped seat, which held him
about as compactly as the shell of an acorn holds the nut,
and spreading the skirts of his green coatee with steel buttons
over the periphery of the same, darted off at a speed
of about fifteen miles to the hour, down the Rumblebottom
road. During this time, Mrs. Ferret filled the front door,
and Mrs. Barndollar was looking over her shoulder, whilst
they both opened their batteries upon poor Jesse Ferret, in
a contemporaneous objurgation of his mean-spiritedness,
addressed to Mr. Handy in the barouche, but intended for
the master of the hotel who looked rather sheepishly
through the window of the bar-room; but before he could
say any thing in his own defence, and even before the amiable
ladies of his family were done talking, Jacob Barndollar
came out, and got into the barouche; and as Mr.
Handy was growing more and more impatient, he ordered
Nace to lose no time, and so off we started; and as well as
I could judge, from looking back, until we turned down by
Christy M'Curdy's mill, Mrs. Ferret was still arguing her
case in the front door of The Hero.

All the roads leading to the Sycamore Spring were filled
with persons on horseback, on foot, in gigs, buggies, barouches,
and rattle-traps of every sort. It was obvious we
were going to have a great meeting. Before nine o'clock,

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Mr. Handy was on the ground. About a hundred persons
were already there. Booths were scattered along under
the huge elms and sycamores which shaded a low flat upon
the margin of the Rumblebottom. The fine, copious, old
spring—where there has been many a barbacue in my time—
was pouring out its crystal treasures, as some poet says,
with prodigal bounty, and transferring them as Mr. Woodbury
does the deposites, by large draughts, from the living
rock to the running Rumblebottom—in fact taking them out
of one bank, and distributing them between others. Not
far from this spring, adumbrated by overarching boughs—
the reader will excuse this poetical orgasm—for fifteen years
and upwards have I been visiting this fountain, sacred to
Pan, (we used to have fish frys here,) and have ever grown
poetical at the sight thereof—it is my infirmity. Not far
from the Spring stood the tables—boards on trussels, and
on the boards trenchers filled with cubic sections of beef,
lamb, mutton and ham, interspersed with pyramids of bread—
a goodly sight! Upon skids, remote from the tables,
stood a barrel of old Monongahela, and hard by in a cart,
tumblers, pitchers, noggins and bottles. Far off, at the opposite
confine of this field of action, was a stage erected,
with a chair for the President of the day, and benches of
unplaned board for persons of inferior dignity. Every thing
was in order; and now that Mr. Handy had arrived he had
nothing to do but wait for the gathering in of the people.

Presently Mr. Grant, mounted on a large bow-necked
bay, with his four sons, all men grown, of a rustic, farmer-like
complexion, arrived; they were attended by Augustus
Postlethwaite Tompkinson, of The Whole Team, and some
dozen Whigs from Thoroughblue, who had travelled as far
as Mr. Grant's the night before, and now made a very solid
and formidable troop. Andrew Grant the candidate, a
youth of good presence, and reputable, (bating his politics)

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was of this party. Andy had been to college, and his father
first intended to make a doctor of him, but the lad some
how took a dislike to physic, and turned in to this new
business of Engineering on canals, and railroads, and was
considered, I believe, a tolerable smart hand in that calling.
But as he happened to catch a bilious fever in the Dismal
Swamp, the old lady his mother, who always had made a
pet of him, would not hear of his going back to that line of
livelihood; and so he staid at home helping to manage at
the Hog Back farm, and doing pretty much as he pleased;
until, about a year before he was brought out, he married
Stephen P. Crabstock's daughter; and ever since that event
does as his wife pleases—spending his time one part of the
year at the Iron Works, and the other at the old man's.

By eleven o'clock the company had pretty nearly got to
its maximum. A large party came down in a wagon from
Quodlibet with Abel Brawn—amongst them Neal Hopper,
Sandy Buttercrop, Davy Post, the wheelwright, and I cant
tell how many more. Quipes, the painter, borrowed a horse
out of Geoffry Wheeler's team, and was there studying human
nature and the picturesque. Flan Sucker, one-eyed Ben
Inky and Jeff Drinker, with a squad of regular loafers,
came on foot. The Tumbledownians were there in great
force under Cale Goodfellow, to help Theodore Fog—and
the Bickerbrayians with Virgil Philpot, the editor of The
Scrutinizer, mustered a heavy phalanx in favor of Ag. Flag.
And to swell the assemblage to its largest compass, there
were about fifty laborers from the newly-begun Bickerbray
and Meltpenny Railroad, a worthy accession to the New
Light Democracy, who had about a month before this meeting
come into the state.

This is a hasty glance over the field of action, and will
serve to show that the country was all alive to the importance
of the occasion and duly estimated the nature of the

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crisis. Looking over this congregation I, as one having
knowledge therein, may safely affirm, that the genuine
Quods present fully outnumbered the Whigs three to one.
Eliphalet Fox, who has been more accustomed to measure
crowds, however, after a minute inspection of the
various groups, judging by that tact which he says never
failed him in discriminating between what he calls a Loco
Foco and a Whig, (he does not pretend to say that he is
so expert in pointing out a New Light, but as to a Loco
he asserts he is perfect,) set down the number at nearer
ten to one; and accordingly so reported it in the account
of the meeting which afterwards appeared in The Whole
Hog. Without, however, dwelling upon this topic, let us
proceed to the business of the day.

At twelve o'clock dinner was announced; and this army
of hungry politicians, with an unanimity of sentiment, an
accord of principle, and a concert of action, which we
might in vain seek for in other occupations of a political
nature, combined, like a band of brothers, to devour the
largest possible amount of the stores which lay before
them. With somewhat less agreement they made their
advances to the Monongahela; the more shy of the assemblage
being rather kept at bay by the remarkable perseverance
and adhesiveness of Flan Sucker, one-eyed Ben
Inky, and a chosen body of troops under their command,
who had constituted themselves the forlorn hope in this
assault. Still, as the newspapers say when they are disposed
to puff a popular play, the barrel went off very much
to the satisfaction and, indeed, the delight of the company.

These matters being despatched, Nicodemus Handy
who, during the repast, had acted inimitably the part of a
perfectly ravenous man, but who having an eye to the sandwiches
and Rudesheimer, made his appetite rather a matter
of “seems,” rapped upon the table, and called upon every

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man to fill up his glass; which order was faithfully obeyed
by Flan Sucker and Company, a firm that was in possession
of all the tumblers—the remainder of the guests allowing
the filling to be, as we say in grammar, “understood,”—and
then offered the following toast, which, as he said, would
speak for itself:—“The several candidates who are about
to address the people—success to him who shall best deserve
it!” Sucker and Company drained to the bottom, and
then set up a shrill yell, very much in the style of the
Winnebagoes, except that there was a running note of
“Yip! No? You don't!” that was strictly and exclusively
Suckerian.

“Now, gentlemen, to the stand!” cried out Mr. Handy.
But before the crowd obeyed this order, Mr. Snuffers
had a motion to make. It was a matter of some importance,
as the subject was considered in the New Light club, that
our party should have the President of the day—and it was
therefore determined that the moment dinner was over, and
before the Whigs might be aware of it, Mr. Snuffers, the
head of our club, should rise in some conspicuous place,
and move that Nicodemus Handy be requested to preside
over the meeting. Mr. Snuffers is a slow and nervous man,
and was admonished to be on his guard, so as to make sure
of getting ahead of the Whigs who we knew wanted Mr.
Grant in the chair. He was in consequence very fidgetty
all the time of dinner; and now, when the moment for action
arrived, the good old gentleman elbowed his way towards
the centre of the table, and without difficulty succeeded in
clambering upon an inverted and empty flour barrel, which
had been filled with bread. “I move, gentlemen,” said he,
with a tremulous and agitated voice—“I move, gentlemen,
that Mr. Nicodemus Handy—”

Before the next word escaped from his lips, this worthy
and respectable old gentleman broke in, and in an instant

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(I am shocked to tell it) was jammed up tight in the barrel—
disappearing as a dip of twenty to the pound is very apt
to do when stuck into a black bottle—“be President of this
meeting,” said Mr. Doubleday, with a hurried utterance,
taking up the word which was lost with Mr. Snuffers, and
which, but for the admirable presence of mind of our Vice,
might have been lost forever.

“Break the barrel to pieces,” cried out forty voices.

“Mr. Snuffers is blue in the face, he will die of apoplexy,”
cried out others.

“An axe!—knock the d—d barrel to pieces,” shouted
more, in great alarm at his precarious situation.

In a few moments our distressed and worthy President of
the New Light was extricated from his unpleasant durance,
and finding no harm done, we proceeded to take the question
on the motion. Mr. Handy was thus called to the
chair. Nine Vice-presidents were appointed and six secretaries
to record the proceedings. These matters being arranged,
the whole assemblage moved towards the rostrum
at the opposite end of the wood.

What followed we shall read in the next chapter.

p239-123 CHAPTER X.

SCENES AT THE SYCAMORE SPRING.—NICODEMUS HANDY'S SPEECH AS
PRESIDENT.—SKETCH OF ANDREW GRANT'S SPEECH.—AGAMEMNON
FLAG'S.—ATTEMPTS AT INTERRUPTION.—THEODORE FOG'S CELEBRATED
SPEECH ON THIS OCCASION.—ELOQUENT EXPOSITION OF PRINCIPLES.—
HIS TRIUMPH.—HIS MISFORTUNE.—QUIPES'S DISAPPOINTMENT
OF HIS FRIENDS.

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When the crowd had gathered around the stand appropriated
to the President, the nine Vice presidents and the six
secretaries, besides the speakers who were to address the
meeting; and when every officer was in his place, Nicodemus
Handy came forward with his pocket handkerchief in
his hand, wiping from his brow the perspiration, which
naturally breaks out on a man of sensibility and wealth
when called to discharge the honorable and responsible
function of presiding over a vast concourse of freemen. By
way of digression, I would take this occasion to remark
upon the extreme appropriateness of the phrase which is
now universally used in describing meetings of the people,
and which always refers to them as freemen. Ever since
the people have been drilled to walk in the way appointed
for them by the leaders of their respective parties, and are
so liberally told how they must think, speak and vote; and
when no man is allowed to walk out of that path, without
being threatened with condign punishment, it is extremely
proper, in order to avoid odious imputations which

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malevolent observers might cast upon them, on all occasions to
employ the phrase I have alluded to; since, if this were
neglected, these malvolent observers might take it into their
heads to call the people of our free republic Tools, Instruments,
Rank-and-File, and other names significant of a state
of subserviency, which in the eyes of strangers might cast
discredit on our free institutions: even the officers of our
government, might be branded with the name of hirelings
and servants, and an opinion might thus be fostered that,
instead of being the freest nation upon earth, we were a set
of slaves governed by a set of hired servants—a most unwarrantable,
unjust and derogatory conclusion. For this
reason, I am particular in the language above employed,
and I think that every genuine Quod will see the value
and the force of my vindication and use of this phrase.

Mr. Handy rose to his feet, wiped his brow, and made a
graceful obedience to the assembled body of freemen.

“Gentlemen,” said he, with a most laudable diffidence,
in a voice which not more than fifteen persons, exclusive of
the nine Vices and six secretaries, could hear; “Sensible of
the great honor—endeavor to discharge with fidelity—
obvious incapacity—but exceedingly flattered by the testimony
of your confidence;” then wiping his brow, still more
vehemently, with his cambric handkerchief rolled up like a
snow-ball, he continued; “It falls to my lot to introduce to
you our distinguished friends, Agamemnon Flag, Andrew
Grant and Theodore Fog, Esquires, men of whom any land
may be proud—they will speak for themselves. With such
men to choose from, our country cannot fail to rise up to the
very midnight of prosperity, honor and renown. Thanks
for your attention—rely upon your indulgence—Mr. Grant
will lead off.”

“Three cheers for Nicodemus Handy!” cried out several
Quods, as soon as our distinguished townsman took his

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seat; and, thereupon, about twenty heads were uncovered,
and the twenty throats appurtenant to the same, gave the
three rounds called for.

Andrew Grant now came forward, and made a discourse
of about an hour's length. It was in the usual style of the
Whigs, and began with an attempt to raise an impression
that the country, notwithstanding General Jackson's express
declaration to the contrary, given to the nation under the
solemn sanction of a presidental message, and notwithstanding
his successor's certificate to the same effect, was in a
state of difficulty and distress. This young man, not more
than twenty-five years of age, living in comparative obscurity,
had the hardihood, in the face of a large and respectable
body of freemen, to contradict the word of two Presidents
of the United States! Then, after coloring this picture of
adversity with all imaginable hues of shade, he did not
scruple to affirm that the whole of these fancied embarrassments
were brought on by the folly, as he termed it, of our
rulers—charged the great Democratic majority of the nation
with having carried bad measures through congress—said
the Whigs had warned us of the results of these measures—
and even went to the point of asserting that the suspension
of the banks, was the consequence of the acts of the party
in power. To make out this absurd proposition, he read
extracts from the speeches of Whig members, against the
Removal of the Deposites, to show what he called their prophecies
of disaster to the people; then actually affirmed, that
the experiment of General Jackson upon the Currency had
failed, and that all the Whig predictions had come true; and
after sundry excursions into the Hard Money and State Bank
systems of the administration, finally wound up his remarks
by a very fatiguing enumeration of the General's pledges to
the people before his election, and his changes of opinion
upon these subjects afterwards;—in regard to which he

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produced and read certain long-winded documents from the President
and secretaries, to the great annoyance of our Quods,
who, in fact, became so tired of this impertinent matter, that
not more than half a dozen of them remained within hearing
of the speaker, the great bulk of them having gone over to
the spring to refresh themselves in a more agreeable manner.
Eliphalet Fox very aptly remarked, immediately after this
long prosing was brought to an end, that the speech was a
perfect failure: he had heard Andy Grant spoken of as a
young man of talents, but he turns out to be a miserable
take-in. “Nothing in him, sir,” said Eliphalet, in his terse
way, “Nothing in him, sir.”

The Whigs, as is usual with them, affected to be hugely
delighted. Augustus Postlethwaite Tompkinson took pencil
notes and announced his purpose, to publish the speech
entire. “A great speech that,” said he to Mr. Snuffers—
“extraordinary young man!—great speech.”

Mr. Handy now lost no time in presenting Agamemnon
Flag, who came forward with a confident, self-possessed air
smiling through his gold spectacles and apparently very
much delighted at the opportunity of presenting himself before
his fellow citizens.

“I see before me”—said he in a clear, fine-toned voice,
and with an affable manner, “a vast concourse”—

“Put on your hat,” cried out three or four from the
crowd, upon observing that a sun-beam had straggled through
the foliage and lit up Agamemnon's yellow, curly locks
likening them to golden wire.

“Thank you my friends,” said the orator, stepping one pace
to the right and thus bringing himself into the shade, “in the
presence of the sovereign people, I always stand uncovered,
regardless of the exposure of my person.”

This happy sally brought forth a long and loud clapping
of hands from the great multitude of Quods, who, the

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moment Andy Grant had finished speaking, had crowded
back to the stand.

“Take off your goold specs, Ag; let's see your dimmycratic
phiz out and out!”—said Flan Sucker at the top of his
voice, from the outskirts of the assemblage.

A loud laugh that shook full one hundred diaphragms,
followed this demand, and Agamemnon good naturedly took
off his glasses.

“Any thing to oblige you, gentlemen”—said he—“but as
I am very short-sighted, I deprive myself of the pleasure
of a better view of my worthy fellow citizens.”—

“Put on your specs, Ag,” said Nim Porter—“never mind
Flan Sucker!”

“Put on your specs!” cried out the whole of the convention
who had nominated the ticket, backed by a number
of their friends.”

“D—n his eyes,” said Cale Goodfellow turning to his
Tumbledownians who were all friends of Fog, and of
course opposed to the nomination. “Let's have a representative
who can see what he is about—none of your goold
daylights!”

“Specs or no specs, go it!—Yip!—No?—You don't!”
shouted Flan Sucker, with a voice that rang like a trumpet.

“Or—der,—Or—der,” said Mr. Handy, rising from his
seat and coming forward beside the speaker, and waving his
hand to the crowd, greatly concerned to see these manifestations
of dissension in the ranks of the party. “Gentlemen,
it is but fair that every man should be heard, and the
chair takes occasion to say, that it is mortified at these interruptions.
If the gentlemen opposed to the nomination—
the chair alludes to those who have unfortunately allowed
themselves to be influenced by the iron railing, a subject
which has nothing upon earth to do with the pending election—
if these gentlemen are not disposed to give Mr.

[figure description] Page 123.[end figure description]

Agamemnon Flag an opportunity of delivering himself, the chair
would invite such persons to reflect upon the obvious impropriety
of such a course. The chair is persuaded that
this disturbance results from mere want of reflection, and
hopes it shall not be required again to remind gentlemen of
the courtesy due to Mr. Flag.”

As Virgil describes in that notable passage, the subduing
of the rage of popular commotion by æneas, and likens it
to the mandate of Neptune quelling the waves of old ocean,
so fell Mr. Handy's timely reproof upon the anti-iron-railings,
and, in a moment, all was still. Agamemnon then
began again in his original track.

“I see before me a vast concourse of free citizens—the
solid, substantial, durable, permanent, everlasting pillars of
free government. The honest, upright, pure, hard-handed,
horny-fisted, Democratic yeomanry of the country are here—
not the flesh and blood of the country, for that is the
pampered aristocracy—but the bone and sinew surround me.
It rejoices my eyes to behold these honest, sturdy, independent,
intelligent, invincible tillers of the soil—these brawny,
unconquerable, liberty-loving working-men—I say, sir, I
delight to look upon them; my feeble vision, sir —”

“Put on your specs, Ag!” shouted Ben Inky and Flan
Sucker again, at the same instant;—and the cry was echoed
from various quarters.

Some moments of disorder again prevailed. which required
the second interposition of Mr. Handy, who, in the
most spirited manner, proclaimed his positive determination
to resign, unless the order of the meeting could be preserved.
“I will never consent,” said he with a most landable
energy, “to hold any post, executive or representative,
for one moment after I shall have discovered that I do not
possess the confidence of the people; the chair must feel

[figure description] Page 124.[end figure description]

itself compelled, by every sentiment which, as a friend of
the New Light Democracy, it holds dear, to resign the moment
it finds that it has fallen into a minority.” Then folowed
these remarkable words:—“Sustain me, Quodlibetarians,
or let me go!”

For full five minutes after this, the uproar was tremendous.
The Iron Railings and Anti-Iron Railings almost
came to blows. The Tumbledownians and Bickerbrayians
took their appropriate sides in the contest, and, for a space,
nothing was heard but shouts of Fog!—Flag!—Fog!—Flag!
over the whole field. When both parties had bawled themselves
perfectly hoarse, and for mere want of wind ceased
the clamor, Theodore Fog mounted the hustings, and made
a special request of his friends to keep the peace and hear
Mr. Flag to an end. He put this request upon the ground
of a personal favor to himself, and promised them that, at
the proper time, they should hear his sentiments very fully
upon all the agitating questions of the day.

This appeal was conclusive, and Mr. Flag once more
presented himself. But the interruptions he had suffered
seemed most unhappily to have thrown him entirely out of
gear; and becoming very much embarrassed, he struggled
for some moments to regain his self-possession, as I
thought, without success—although Fox thought otherwise,—
and, after less than half an hour's speaking, sat down, rather
crest-fallen and mortified.

I may unwittingly do Mr. Flag injustice in this remark;
for, in truth, my mind was greatly occupied with the tumult,
and I confess I was, therefore, not a very attentive listener.
Fox, on the contrary, was minutely observant of the speech,
and did not scruple to pronounce it a masterly effort of eloquence,
calculated to place Mr. Flag beside the first statesmen
of our country. This was his opinion at the time, and

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was even more warmly and eulogistically expressed subsequently,
in The Whole Hog, where the speech appeared in
nine closely printed columns on the following Saturday.

Theodore Fog was always a great favorite at our public
meetings, and the moment now approached when the field
was to be surrendered to him. The New Lights, including
the members of the nominating convention and the friends
of the Iron Railing Compromise, backed by Virgil Philpot
of the Scrutiniser, and a large force of Bickerbrayians, were
determined that Agamemnon Flag should not want a very
decisive token of applause; and they accordingly called out
for “nine cheers for the regular candidate!” Responsive
to this call, their whole party lustily set about the work;
and, for some minutes after the conclusion of Agamemnon's
speech, the air resounded with huzzas for “Flag and the
Constitution,” “New Light and Regular Nomination.”
This was answered by a round for “Fog and Reform!”
“Retrenchment and no Iron Railing!” and Fog, in the
midst of this acclamation, appearing on the speaker's stand,
all cries were lost in the most violent clapping of hands.

Theodore Fog's figure is above six feet, lean and bony,
and with a stoop which inclines a little to the right, so as
to bring his left shoulder nearer to the ear than its opposite.
His arms are unusually long, his head small, his face
strongly furrowed with deep lines, his eyes of a greenish
lustre, his nose decidedly of the pug species, his mouth
large, his complexion of that sallow, drum-head parchment
hue that equally defies the war of the elements, and the
ravages of alcohol. Although short of fifty years of age
his hair is iron grey and spreads in a thick mat over his
whole cranium. At no time of life has he been careful of
dress, but now has declined into an extreme of negligence
in this particular. On the present occasion, he wore a
striped gingham coat, rather short in the sleeves, and

[figure description] Page 126.[end figure description]

crossbarred pantaloons; his shirt collar was turned down over a
narrow, horsehair stock; and a broad black ribbon guard
crossed his breast and terminated in the right pocket of a
black bombazet waistcoat, where it was plainly to be seen
from the external impression, lodged a large watch. He
presented himself to the multitude, holding in his hand a
rather shabby straw hat, which he, nevertheless, flourished
with the air and grace of one who had known better days
than his habiliments seemed to denote.

He stood for some time bowing and waving his hat in
return for the clamorous approbation with which he was
greeted; and when, at length, silence was restored, he began
his speech.

“Countrymen and Friends: you of Quodlibet, Bickerbray,
Tumbledown and the adjacent parts, hear me! I am an old,
tried and trusty, unflinching and unterrified Quodlibetarian,
New Light Democrat—Flan Sucker, bring us a tumbler of
water—tangle it, Flan—no hypocrisy in me, gentlemen, I
go for the ardent. You all know I am, and was from the
first, opposed to the iron railing—(here arose a cheer from
the Anties)—but I don't come to talk to you about that.
You know, moreover, that I am an anti-nomination man—
I'm out on independent grounds—every man for himself, as
the jackass said to the chickens—(a loud laugh). I want
to say a word about Agamemnon Flag—commonly called
Ag. Flag. Who's he? Look at them gold spectacles and
you will see what he is at once. When the plastic hand of
Dame Nature set about the fabrication of that masterpiece
of human mechanism, a genuine, out-and-out thoroughstitched
New Light Democrat, she never thought of sticking
upon him a nose to be ridden by two gold rings hung over
it like a pair of saddlebags—(loud laughter.) We have
other uses for our gold—we want it for mint drops—old
Tom Benton's mint drops—to be run up into them, to give

[figure description] Page 127.[end figure description]

the honest, poor man something better, when his week's
work is done, than Copperplate Bank rags, signed Nicodemus
Handy—(loud shouts and cheers from Flan Sucker's
squad and the Tumbledowns; and groans and hisses from
the Convention men and Bickerbrays.) Friends, I tell you,
our party is split; emphatically split. I have seen this
coming for some time. We have three sets of New Lights
amongst us, and it is time we should know it. There are
THE Mandarins, our big bugs, and I could name them to
you. You will find them on Copperplate Ridge—(`Bah,
Bah!' from the New Light Club—`Go it The! go it, old
fellow!' from the Anties.) You will find them at Popular
Flats—(`That won't do!' cried fifty voices—`three cheers
for the Hon. Middleton Flam!'—loud cheering for Flam—
`Walk into them, Fog!' from the Anties—great laughter
and rubbing of hands amongst the Whigs.) You will find
them in the Forwarding and Commission Line—(great uproar
on all sides.) After the Mandarins, come THE Middlings,
and after the Middlings, THE True Grits—the
hearty, whole-souled, no mistake Quods. I'm a True
Grit!—(great applause.) We are nature's noblemen—give
me that water, Flan.—I call myself one of the Royal Family
of the Sovereign People—(renewed laughter and applause.)
I am no kid-glove-Mandarin-Democrat—I am no milk-and-water,
flesh-and-fowl, half-hawk-half-buzzard-Middling-
Democrat—I am, to all intents and purposes, toties quoties
in puris naturalibus, a True Grit, a whole True Grit,
and nothing but a True Grit.—(Here Theodore was
obliged to pause a full minute on account of the cheering.)

“Now this brings me,” he continued after drinking off
the potation which Flan Sucker had assiduously placed upon
the stand for his use, “to Andy Grant. Andy Grant has
told you a great deal about General Jackson's pledges, and
his changes and what not. Well, sirs, he did change—

[figure description] Page 128.[end figure description]

what of it? Is Democracy like the laws of the Medes and
Persians? Is that great sublime truth which vivifies the
patriot's heart, resuscitates his ambition and sparkles in the
human breast, like a stone in the bottom of a well for toads
to sit on? or is it the divine rainbow spanning the earth
with its arch, and changing with the sun, now in the East,
now in the West? Is it a post set up in a stream for the
liquid element of human policy forever to roll by and leave
behind? or is it the mighty mass of steam power that not
only floats upon that element, but flies onward across the
great ocean of mortal things forever changing in its career?
Is not democracy itself the march of intellect? and does not
marching consist in change of place?—I hear you all answer,
with one accord, Aye, aye, aye!—(Taking the word
from the orator, there was a loud affirmative response to
these questions.)

“Well then, Jackson did change. He was for the single
term—he was against it: I confess the fact. He was for
the Protective system—he was against it: I agree to it.
He was for a National Bank—he was against it: what of
that? He was for the distribution of the surplus, and again
he was against it: I know it. He was for Internal Improvements;—
he changed his mind—he was against them.
Then again, sirs, he was against the interference of officers
in the elections;—he was sorry for it, and took the other
tack. He was against the appointment of members of
congress—in theory;—in practice he was for it. He was
against this Sub Treasury—and perhaps he is now for it.
It is all true, as Andy Grant has told you:—it is in the documents,
I don't deny it. Sirs, it is the glory of his character
that he has been for and against every thing;—and as Mr.
Van Buren promises to follow in his footsteps, he, of course,
will be for and against every thing—I know him. He
would not be a genuine New Light, if he were not. We

[figure description] Page 129.[end figure description]

are all, (and here Fog raised his voice to the highest key,
and struck the board sharply with his hand) FOR and AGAINST
every thing! How else can we be with the majority?
What is the New Light, Quodlibetarian Democracy, but a
strict conformity to the will of the majority? Against that
and that only we never go!—(tremendous applause.) As
Levi Beardsly said, Perish Commerce, Perish Credit!—and
I say, Perish Currency, Banks, Sub Treasury, Constitution,
Law, Benton, Amos, Van—I had almost said perish Old
Hickory—but always go with the MAJORITY!”

After this burst, which may be said to be truly eloquent,
Theodore made a very happy hit in touching upon the natural
hostility between the rich and the poor, showing, with
great point of remark, how impossible it was for these two
classes to have any Christian feelings towards each other;
and arguing from that the great New Light Democratic principle,
that in every department of the government any man
who holds property ought to be deprived of all influence,
and that it was the poor man's right to legislate away the
rich man's possessions. “Do we not know,” said he,
“that in every community the majority are poor? that there
are two men without property for every one man with it?
Of course then, it follows logically, that, as two heads are
better than one, the sole right, as well as the sole power of
legislation is in the poor; and that they may make laws for
the government of the rich, but the rich cannot make laws
for the government of the poor. Besides, who would be
the most impartial in such a matter, the man legislating for
his own property, or the man legislating for his neighbor's?
This requires no reply.”

Upon the subject of the sub treasury, Fog avowed boldly
his non-commitalism. “I am not sure, at this moment,”
said he, “how the land lies. I wait to ascertain the sentiment
of the majority, which, without taking sides, I rather

[figure description] Page 130.[end figure description]

incline to think is against the measure. I judge from the
vote of the New Lights two years ago—although, I confess,
that two years are a long period for a New Light to look
back, and that it is rather over the usual time in which custom
requires we should change. I shall wait for events.”

There were other subjects embraced in this speech, upon
which my memoranda are imperfect; but there was one
part of it, towards the conclusion, which was very pathetic.

The orator turned to those strangers amongst us who had
come over from the Bickerbray and Meltpenny Rail Road.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “you stand in a peculiarly interesting
relation to the New Lights. You are strangers, and,
as the poet says,


`Stranger is a sacred name.'
Therefore, it is our wish to take you in. You have not
been over sixty days in our state: you are separated many
of you, from your sweethearts—some of you from your
wives—all of you from your homes:—wife—sweetheart—
home! Affecting words!

Here Theodore took up his red pocket handkerchief
which was already well saturated with the sweat of his
brow, and feelingly wiped his eyes for some moments,
manifestly overcome by his emotions. At length he proceeded:

“Do not despond, gentlemen—do not despair. The
New Lights are your friends, and not only shall you find
wife, sweetheart, home—aye and children, in Quodlibet,
but if you are here next month, we will see if some of you
are not entitled to a vote—that's all.—I have no doubt a

[figure description] Page 131.[end figure description]

large portion of your respectable body are better voters
than you think you are. And at all events, if you are not,
it becomes us as a Christian people to extend to you that
privilege. I go for the repeal of all laws which tyrannically
require a year's residence in the state, before a stranger
is allowed to vote.”

“Hurrah for Fog—hurrah for Fog!” burst forth in loud
chorus from the new comers.

“But,” said Theodore in continuation, “as I scorn concealment,
I must be frank with you. The stranger should
be grateful to his friends; and I, therefore, for one, never
can consent to extend the invaluable privilege of suffrage to
an unworthy man. He must be a New Light, an ardent,
unblenching Quodlibetarian Democrat, ready to go in whatever
way we who take the trouble to do his thinking for
him, require;—it is but reasonable. We think, study, burn
the midnight lamp, and toil, when he sleeps, and all for the
good of the man who has no time to do these things for
himself—what is his duty in return? Why, to stand by us
who make these sacrifices for his welfare—clearly—undoubtedly—
incontestably.”

“Hurra for Fog!” again rose in hoarse reduplications on
the air.

“And now, fellow countrymen, one and all—men of
Quodlibet, men of Bickerbray—and especially men of Old
Tumbledown, long my home, and never absent from my
heart—I have exposed to you frankly, freely, unhesitatingly
my principles and professions.—You see me as I am—naked,
guileless and robed in the simplicity of my nature.—
Flan, another glass of that stuff, my boy. I do not imitate
my friend Andy Grant—for he is my friend—d—n it, we
can differ in politics and break no scores!—I do not, like
him and the Whigs, entertain you with frothy declamation,
appealing to your passions or your prejudices—I scorn such

[figure description] Page 132.[end figure description]

stratagems.—No, I address myself solely and severely,
sternly without a flower, prosaically, without a figure,
soberly, without a flight, to your cool, temperate and unseduced
capacity of logical deduction. Yes, gentlemen, I,
a poor man, do battle against the hosts of the rich. I, the
friend of honest labor, struggle against the huge monopoly
of hoarded wealth, hoarded by grinding the faces of our
sterling but destitute laboring men—alone, I strive against
these banded powers—will you desert me in the strife?”

“Never!” cried Flan Sucker, Ben Inky, and six more
of Fog's principal men—“Never, never!”

“Then I am content. Come weal, come woe, here is a
heart that will never—or rather, gentlemen, let me say in
the words of the Poet—(it now became quite obvious that
Theodore was beginning to be very seriously affected by
the frequent refreshment which Flan Sucker had administerd
during his speech).

“In conclusion, all I have to say is this—We are about to
part.—When you go to your homes, and with hearts enraptured
by all a father's and a husband's failings—feelings—
you take your seats beside the old family fire sides, and
with the partners of your bosoms getting supper, and your
interesting progeny clustering on your knees,—in the midst
of all these blessings pause to ask yourselves, what are
they? Your hearts will answer, they are our Country!
How then, you will inquire, is that country to be preserved,
as a rich inheritance to these cherubs?—who by this time
have climbed as high as your waistcoat pockets, into which
they have, with the natural instinct of young New Lights,
thrust their little fingers—the response will be ready—Go
to the polls in October—go, determined to sustain the

[figure description] Page 133.[end figure description]

everlasting principles of the New Light, Quodlibetarian, democracy—
go, with a firm resolve to support no Mandarin, no
Middling, but to sustain an unudulterated True Grit:—go,
to vote for Theodore Fog, and your country shall be forever,
great, prosperous and happy.”

A wave of the hand and a bow showed that Theodore had
uttered his last words—upon which several rounds of applause,
resembling the simultaneous clapping of wings and
crowing of an acre of cocks, more than any thing else I can
imagine, shook the firmament, and, as the old song has it,
“made the welkin roar.” A party of Tumbledownians instigated
by Cale Goodfellow—(a wag who follows sporting,
and keeps a Bank—I mean a Faro Bank—at Tumbledown,
a most special friend of Theodore's)—rushed up to the
platform and seizing the orator in their arms, bore him off
in triumph to the Spring, where they fell to celebrating
their victory, in advance of the election, over a fresh supply
of spirits produced by Cale Goodfellow for the occasion.
The result was that Theodore was obliged to be taken home
to Quodlibet in a condition, which Mr. Handy, who is
President of the Temperance Society, pronounced to be
perfectly shocking.

Some speaking took place after this by several volunteers;
but from the agitated condition of the assemblage, and
the prevalence of uproar, nothing worthy of notice transpired,
and by sundown nearly all who could get away had
retired.

Quipes had been an attentive observer of the earlier scenes
of the day, and as he had his drawing book with him, we
had reason to expect some spirited sketches of the crowd;
but the poor fellow, being fatigued and thirsty and of a singularly
weak head, was overtaken by his drought and was
laid away in the afternoon in Abel Brawn's wagon, in which

[figure description] Page 134.[end figure description]

he was brought to Quodlibet, Neal Hopper undertaking to
ride his horse back to the Borough.

The result of this day's proceedings was unfavorable to
the regular nomination, and highly auspicious to Theodore
Fog. It was very evident that The Split was going to
do us a great deal of harm, and this gave much uneasinesss to
the Club. The Whigs seemed to consider it a good omen
and old Mr. Grant and his party left the field in high spirits.

p239-140 CHAPTER XI.

THE DIVISION OF THE PARTY BECOMES MORE DISTINCT.—ADMIRABLE ADDRESS
OF ELIPHALET FOX AT THIS JUNCTURE.—RESULT OF THE ELECTION.—
REJOICINGS OF THE TRUE GRITS.—JESSE FERRET'S DIFFICULTIES.—
IS TAKEN TO TASK BY HIS DAME.—CANDID AVOWAL OF HIS
EMBARRASSMENTS.—THEODORE FOG'S EXPOSITION OF TRUE GRIT
PRINCIPLES.—HIS GOOD NATURED ENCOURAGEMENT OF JESSE FERRET.—
DABBS'S TREAT.

[figure description] Page 135.[end figure description]

The proceedings at the Sycamore Spring furnished melancholy
evidence of the serious character of the split which
had taken place in our ranks. This was a source of anxious
and painful reflection to the New Lights. But the assiduity
with which we endeavored to heal this dissension, only
made matters worse. The Whole Team, which, although
not within the county, claimed to take a deep interest in this
election, on the score of being within our congressional district,
noticed our divisions with much self gratulation, and
made the best of them, by attacking Agamemnon Flag as
“the creature,” (to use its own unscrupulous language) of
the Hon. Middleton Flam; whilst, at the same time, it opened
the flood-gates of its abuse upon Theodore Fog, as a man
of “bad habits, loose manners, and objectionable morals.”
The Bickerbray Scrutinizer was devoted to Flag and the
regular ticket, and therefore defended Agamemnon against
The Whole Team, and let fly several arrows against Theodore
Fog; thus unhappily fomenting the differences amongst
our friends.

[figure description] Page 136.[end figure description]

The course pursued by Eliphalet Fox, at this difficult
juncture, was one calculated to raise him in the esteem of
every true Quod, and to place him on a pinnacle amongst
editors. He took none of those middle grounds, which
scarcely ever fail to bring a politician into contempt with
both parties—but, with a boldness entirely peculiar to himself,
and in the highest degree illustrative of the New Light
theory, stoutly advocated each of our candidates, as the
course of the canvass seemed to encourage their respective
chances of success. Thus, when Theodore Fog first announced
himself as the independent candidate, and when
every one appeared to regard this step as an act of presumption
which could not but result in defeat, Eliphalet put forth
the following paragraph:

“Mister Theodore Fog, of this Borough, an old practitioner
at more 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 consideration of 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;

[figure description] Page 137.[end figure description]

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 realised. 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, trained amongst the people,
and whose soul is with the 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,

party-rebelling New Light Democrat on the ground. We
are happy to add our decided conviction that the election of
this staunch champion of the real New 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, unagainst-the-wishes-or-commands-of-the-luminaries-of-the-
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.

[figure description] Page 138.[end figure description]

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
effect 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. Every lantern and every banner had written
upon it Flam, 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, amongst 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

[figure description] Page 139.[end figure description]

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 eye
and spurned by every honest tongue which are to be found
amongst 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:—

”Quods.		Whig.
Theodore Fog	1191	Andrew Grant	1039''
Abram Schoolcraft	1084
Curtius Short	1063
Agamemnon Flag	758

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

[figure description] Page 140.[end figure description]

“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 our good 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

[figure description] Page 141.[end figure description]

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 towards whatever
haven it shall please the higher powers to direct him;
sagaciously counting in such haven to find the richest return
on his little stock of ventures. I see his meagre, 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 scissorclipped
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 answer pro or con,
Fog or Flag, he turns to his half-scribbled sheet to remould
his paragraph, with the dexterity of an old and practised
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 were
undoubtedly at the head of the Mandarins, and their

[figure description] Page 142.[end figure description]

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
authorise 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
centre of the column. Flan Sucker was installed Grand
Marshal of this procession, and was called King of the
True Grits, whilst Ben Inky, Sim Travers, Jeff Drinker and
More McNulty, 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.

[figure description] Page 143.[end figure description]

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. Whilst 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 leant
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
enclosure of the bar, that Jesse was altogether ignorant of
her presence, and therefore continued 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

[figure description] Page 144.[end figure description]

air and frightens children in the dead of night. What did
you want with me, lovey?”

“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 aint no longer to
be endured, this shilly shally, visy versy politicks of yourn.
Here you are a 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's in—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 would n't have done, one man of
'em, ef it had n'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, cant 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. Cant you see into it, lovey?”

“No, I cannot see into it,” replied the landlady. “In the

[figure description] Page 145.[end figure description]

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. Did n'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 thimble-full of
your liquors, with all his preachings and parleyings in this
house? No you did not: and its 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 dont think you
haint no right to do, I dont. 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, my wife,” 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 sentiments to take up:—
there's the mystery. If I knowed that, 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, every thing has whisked away in the contrairy direction.
One year we are `all tariff,' and the next, `down

[figure description] Page 146.[end figure description]

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 dont 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 amongst 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, this here Sub-Treasury
was monarchy and revolution to boot, and treason
outright; and now, what it is, 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 cant get right if he
tries—aud
if he does blunder upon it, he cant stay right
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 of 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

[figure description] Page 147.[end figure description]

Theodore Fog tell us the Democracy's a trying of experiments—
and, Lord bless us! ef they haint carried you on
sides enough, then you are an unreasonable man. Principle
is n't principle—it's following of your party:—you change
when it changes, 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 as much
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 should n'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 do n't know me,
Polly Ferret.”

“Well, and ef things does take a turn,?” replied the wife,
“is there any think 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 your'n. Does n't the schoolmaster tell you to
stick to the upper side? Does n'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, is n'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

[figure description] Page 148.[end figure description]

acourting, 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 do n'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 do n'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 barrooms—
that's my opinion, Mrs. Ferret.”

“Women, indeed!—for you to 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 do n'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 your children 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

[figure description] Page 149.[end figure description]

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 travelled by all imaginable 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

[figure description] Page 150.[end figure description]

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 towards the door
which looked upon the street; and Theodore Fog, who, as
the truth must be spoken, was at this hour very considerably
advanced towards 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.'
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, is n't that metaphysics? Flan,
do n't you call that the true theory of the balance of power?
Gentlemen. I submit it to you all.”

“Real True Grit doctrine,” said Flam; “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

[figure description] Page 151.[end figure description]

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;
“hav'n'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, you touched them fellows
that work on the Bickerbray and Meltpenny road, 'twixt
wind and water.”

“Did n't I?” exclaimed Fog; “I opine I did; unequivocally,
I fancy I did. I venture to add, with all possible
energy of asservation, 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 did n't lose no votes that I could bring you,” said
Mrs. Ferret, “although you did n't get Jesse's. But that
wa'n't much loss—for Jesse's of little account any how,
and has n't the influence of a chicken in this Borough—as
no man has n't, whose afeared of his shadow.”

“Well, we don't want to hear no more about that,” interrupted
the landlord. “Mr. Fog knows it was n'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,
I were in your place.”

[figure description] Page 152.[end figure description]

“Well, if you aint the forgivingest creature, Mr. Fog!”
said the landlady —

“Mrs. Ferret, your health!—gentlemen, take your respective
glasses—Dabbs, your health—Jesse—Flam—all of you—
success to the True Grits! Top off, boys.”

They all drank.

For applied the tumbler to his lips; looked straightforward
with what might be called a fixed stare upon vacancy,
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 earth
It is this—it is this.
Not the words exactly—but something in that run. Jesse,

[figure description] Page 153.[end figure description]

the Flower of Quodlibet—Mrs. Ferret, Queen of the Spear
Mint—good bye. 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.

p239-159 CHAPTER XII.

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 SKILFUL MANAGEMENT.—THE TIGERTAIL AFFAIR.—
MYSTERIOUS TERMINATION OF IT.—NIM PORTER'S INDISCRETION.

[figure description] Page 154.[end figure description]

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

[figure description] Page 155.[end figure description]

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 marshalled, the
New Light women manifested a very high degree of political
coruscation 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

[figure description] Page 156.[end figure description]

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 towards 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

[figure description] Page 157.[end figure description]

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 amongst 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

[figure description] Page 158.[end figure description]

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 amongst
the New Light democrats every where. 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 stump speech: they are a
monstrous little knot of fellows, any how—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 either can make 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 for an opposition, they take a
lathering so quiet. Then, sir, for every one merchant you
lay upon his back, you gain five True 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

[figure description] Page 159.[end figure description]

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 before them. Every which
way, sir, he's a prime scape-goat. Then, sir, when we
want to make an EXPERIMENT,—why, of course, we go to
the merchants. Here's all this currency business, 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:
we get the popularity, they get 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 ascendant, 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 little family 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 in 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

[figure description] Page 160.[end figure description]

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 a HUMBUG! 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 super-sede
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

[figure description] Page 161.[end figure description]

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.

[figure description] Page 162.[end figure description]

Thomas G. Winkleman, Nim Porter and Dabbs the compositor,
were entrusted 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 characterised 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, “signalised 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 traveller
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 for
his 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 amongst 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 Throughblue Whole Team put
forth a paragraph inquiring after the Tigertail Embassy;
the Whole Hog came out with a petulant and snappish

[figure description] Page 163.[end figure description]

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 Marshall 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 be d—d if I don't bet you one hundred dollars to
ten upon that.”

“Well, I s'pose 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 most d—mnably mistaken:—I know Martin
Van Buren,” 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 would'nt 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

[figure description] Page 164.[end figure description]

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 did'nt give
much encouragement to the committee who went to him
with instructions to turn out the marshal: and this is nearly
every thing 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.

p239-170 CHAPTER XIII.

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 COPPER-PLATE
BANK.—SNUFFERS ASPIRES TO THE SUCCESSION.

[figure description] Page 165.[end figure description]

Towards 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 every body 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 the company suited him, he was in the habit of confiding
the temporary government of the mill to a

[figure description] Page 166.[end figure description]

mealyheaded 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; whilst 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, until there 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 towards 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.

[figure description] Page 167.[end figure description]

“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 amongst
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 Massissippi. 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 the New York election, he
rather buttered the banks, seeing that the democracy in that
quarter had'nt 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 axe;—and I rather expect,
from what I see in the President's message, that it is'nt yet
fairly understood whether the Sub Treasury is to kill or
cure the banking system.”

“It's a pig in a poke, make the best of it,” said Abel
Brawn, “and is flung before the people now because Van

[figure description] Page 168.[end figure description]

has'nt 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 may'nt 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 and will prevail, as the old
Gineral says.”

“I have never been able,” said Neal Hopper, “rightly
to make out what this Sub-Treasury is, any how. 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 for making 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 could n'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 horse shoes; 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

[figure description] Page 169.[end figure description]

teetotally ruinated every thing 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 have the money, they have got the 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 telling
all sorts of lies, they get the country so confounded at last
that it does n'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,

[figure description] Page 170.[end figure description]

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 told against a 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 does n't
idle away his time and squander his substance, and let his
family go to wrack, whilst he strolls about the country
bawling democracy. Thank God! 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 is n'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

[figure description] Page 171.[end figure description]

support the President. It is nothing more nor less than enlisting
men in the service, and marching and countermarching
them which ever way the officers choose; 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 d—d 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: d—n my blood! 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 cross roads, 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 and purtest
it? 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 gained an over-whelming
preponderance of numbers over their adversaries.
Indeed Abel Brown and Davy Post, the wheelwright, were

[figure description] Page 172.[end figure description]

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 neckeloth 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. Nebuchadnezzer 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—every body
knows—that we have been in a state of suspense on the

[figure description] Page 173.[end figure description]

great question of the Sub-Treasury. The Independent
Treasury, 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 will never give it up—the people must take it:
he has got nothing else for them. Hasn't he tried every
thing else? And isn't this the last thing he could think of?
Why, then, of course, the people must gulp 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 the servant of the people—we call
him the Ruler, the Great Chieftain,—and when a man
deserts him he is a TURNCOAT—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 of yourself.
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 the Independent Treasury again. Every New Light is
expected to toe the mark.”

“Three cheers for that!” cried Pivot.

“We have heretofore partially denounced the banks,”
continued Fog; “we are now to open upon them like
hounds—worry them like rats. From this day forth, the

[figure description] Page 174.[end figure description]

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!”

“Aint that first rate?” said Sim Travers. “The. who
sot that agoin?”

“Amos Kendall, Francis P. Blair, Tom Benton and John
C. Calhoun,” replied Fog; “the great Quartette and greatest
men of our times. 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
to you, 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

[figure description] Page 175.[end figure description]

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 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 every body else thought about these
matters, there was an immediate adjournment to the Borough.
The consequence was, that Abel 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.

p239-181 CHAPTER XIV.

LETTER FROM AMOS KENDALL TO MR. FLAM.—DIRECTIONS TO THE DEMOCRACY.—
MR. KENDALL'S MODE OF PRODUCING AN IMPRESSION.—
THE PRESIDENT'S DETERMINATION IN REGARD TO THE INDEPENDENT
TREASURY.—WARNING TO DESERTERS.—CANDIDATES FOR MR. FLAM'S
PLACE IN THE BANK.—HARDBOTTLE ELECTED.—THEODOBE FOG'S
OUTBREAK.—HE COOLS DOWN AND STANDS UPON PRINCIPLE.—HARDBOTTLE
UNPOPULAR.

[figure description] Page 176.[end figure description]

The fact was as Theodore Fog had stated it. Mr. Flam
had received a letter from Amos Kendall, apprising him that
it was deemed absolutely necessary to the preservation of
the New Light Democratic Party to become extremely
pointed in their assault against the State Banks, and that
the misdeeds of those institutions should be exaggerated as
much as possible, and then charged upon the Whigs.

“This attack,” said Amos, “must be made with more
than usual clamor, and followed up with unremitting industry,
that, by force of the first word and incessant repetition,
we may get the people to believe that we have had nothing
to do with the creation of these corporations; but have, in
fact, been inveterately hostile to them from the first, and
that our opponents have been their sole patrons and friends.
Our recent outcry on this subject has succeeded so well
with the people, that we are determined now to make the
denunciation of the banks our chief topic, by way of preparation
for the Independent Treasury which we are resolved

[figure description] Page 177.[end figure description]

the people shall swallow. We cannot too strongly impress
upon our friends, the propriety of charging upon the Whigs
that we have repeatedly warned them against increasing the
number of banks in the States. By this device we shall
put upon their shoulders all those mischiefs of over-banking
and over-trading, which they used to talk about. We
must impute to them all the evils of the shinplaster system—
except the Treasury notes, which it would be well for us
to praise, as an admirable democratic scheme to give the
country a METALLIC currency. It has also been deemed
important,” continued the writer, “that we should prove
that the government has lost more money by the State
Banks than by any other agents it has ever employed.
This idea was hinted to Mr. Woodbury, who has, in consequence,
very recently been at work upon the subject, and
has produced a report altogether conclusive against the
banks. He will continue these labors with a view to the
instruction of Congress and all our other inquiring friends;
being, in no respect, daunted by that unlucky report made
by him in 1834, which, singularly enough, proves the opposite
side of the case; for, as he remarks, the specific
gravity of his state papers is so great as to sink them too
deep for the perception of the present generation,—and that
consequently his report of 1834 must be pretty well forgotten
by this time, which, indeed, I think quite likely;—
it was so long-winded, dozy and prosy, as every thing of
Woodbury's is, (a note in the margin marked this as `confidential,
') that I should not wonder if more than ten men
in Congress never read it, and of those, perhaps not a single
one retains any distinct impression of its meaning.” The
letter exhorted Mr. Flam to make these views known to
the drill sergeants and corporals of the party in Quodlibet,
and to stimulate them to active exertions in the part assigned
to them. “Pound it into the public mind,” said the writer,

[figure description] Page 178.[end figure description]

“that the Whigs are the authors of the present evils; continual
pounding will inevitably, at last, do the business. Many a
time have I riveted, by diligent hammering, a politic and
necessary fabrication upon the credulity of the people—so
fast that no art of my adversary could tear it away to make
room for the truth: therefore, I say to you and our democratic
friends—hammer without ceasing.”

A letter from Mr. Woodbury, at the same time, informed
Mr. Flam, that as the people had so contumaciously rejected
the Independent Treasury bill, by their representatives in
congress, the President was now determined to carry it at
all hazards; and consequently it was expected that no New
Light democrat would be so false to the glorious principles
of the Quodlibetarian theory as to interpose any opinion of
his own, between the will of the President and the appropriate
duty of the people. “If such should be the case,”
said the secretary, “Mr. Van Buren can have no alternative—
the individual so recreant to the eternal principles of the
New Light Democracy, must be denounced by the Globe
as an enemy to freedom, and what is worse, a traitor to his
party”

Mr. Flam reflected upon these communications with
grave attention; and having shown them to some of his
intimate friends, amongst whom I count it my highest honor
to be ranked, he announced his purpose to resign his
post in the bank. For this step he had two good reasons:
the first was the necessity of disencumbering himself of a
connection which might have impeded his usefulness—to
use his own words—in his public relations: the second
reason was, that he had borrowed so large an amount from
the bank, as to circumscribe its bounty greatly to the prejudice
of sundry of the directors who were, in consequence,
beginning to complain of his management of the institution,
and were even threatening to run an opposition against him

[figure description] Page 179.[end figure description]

in the election which was but a few months off. It was
whispered also that Nicodemus Handy had given him a
mysterious but friendly hint to resign, without explaining
his reasons. Upon these considerations his mind was made
up; and accordingly the resignation was laid before the
Board at the time indicated by Theodore Fog.

This event produced great sensation in Quodlibet; not
less from the curiosity to know why our distinguished representative
should relinquish so lucrative a post, than from
the interest felt in the measure of selecting his successor.
Fifteen of our most strenuous New Light Democrats were
candidates; and notwithstanding the speech made at the
blacksmith's shop, Theodore Fog was the first who wrote
a letter to the Board to apprise them that, in consequence
of the eager importunity of his democratic friends to confide
the Bank to his management, he found himself compelled
to forego his objections to having any concern with the
Banking system, and therefore would not feel himself at
liberty to decline the Presidency in case it should be offered
to him. He said he wished it to be distinctly understood,
that emolument was not his object: but that he was actuated
solely by his attachment to that New Light Democratic
principle which taught him on all occasions to seek preferment,
as the means of widening the sphere of his usefulness,
and to increase his worldly fortune only for the sake of the
good it enabled him to dispense to the people. On no
other terms was he willing to accept the government of the
Bank.

Some two or three days were spent in canvassing this
matter; when the choice ultimately, upon the twenty-fifth
balloting, fell upon Anthony Hardbottle, who had not been
previously thought of for the place, and was only brought
forward when all attempts to elect others had failed. The
fifteen original candidates became greatly incensed at this

[figure description] Page 180.[end figure description]

choice. Theodore Fog was furious: he said Hardbottle
could scarcely be called a democrat:—if any thing, he was
half whig—nay, he believed, whole whig:—and to elect a
whig to a great responsible post like that—a post connected
with the national fisc, allied to the money power, so intimately
related to the important concerns of the currency!—
it was not to be tolerated. The Genius of New Light Democracy
should array herself in steel, indue herself in panoply,
buckle on her armor, shake her lance against it—or
in other words, he deemed it incompatible with free institutions
to allow a whig—or, at least, a man who never
attended political meetings, and who held the whigs in
respect—to preside over such a democratic institution as
the Copperplate Bank of Quodlibet.—Theodore continued
raving in this strain until he drank nine juleps interspersed
with numberless other potations, and became so incapable
of motion as to render it necessary for Mrs. Ferret to have
him carried to bed. As he cooled, so cooled his competitors.
Indeed, in the course of a few days, Theodore Fog,
in commenting upon the pretensions of the several defeated
candidates, found so many objections to them individually
and collectively, as to bring himself into an excellent temper
upon the subject, whereby he was able to make merry with
the whole election; and thus, by degrees, he fell back into
the state of mind which he had manifested at the smith's
shop, and declared that no consideration could possibly induce
him, professing the principles he did, to accept any
post connected with a Bank. He expressed himself in
sharp and censorious terms against what, he said, he had
constantly observed—namely, that he never knew a post in a
bank to be vacant, from the President down to the porter,
including Directors and all, in regard to which he didn't find
half a dozen Loco Focos, to say nothing of New Light
Democrats, applicants to fill the vacancy: he thought it

[figure description] Page 181.[end figure description]

inconsistent with principle, now that orders had come for the
Democracy to abuse the banks, to seek or accept such
places; and he did not care who knew his sentiments upon
the subject.

Mr. Hardbottle was a strict man of business, and did not,
it is true, greatly interest himself in politics. Yet, nevertheless,
he was a decided supporter of the New Light cause,
and was always esteemed a useful member of the Borough.
One thing that made against him in the Board was, that he
had never been a very active customer to the Bank, except
so far only as keeping his commercial account there. He
was often urged to accept accommodations with a view to the
improvement of the Borough, but almost invariably refused,
from an aversion to indulging in these useful speculations.
His brother Directors, in consequence, rather regarded him
as a man who was deficient in public spirit; and they imagined
that he might be inclined to depreciate the value of
the services they had rendered the Bank by the liberal employment
they had given to its funds. Mr. Hardbottle,
therefore, might be said to have entered into the government
of the Bank under inauspicious circumstances, and
was likely not to be a very popular President. He was,
however, determined upon one thing, and that was to make
a thorough examination of the Bank for the purpose of
bringing about a resumption of specie payments at the
earliest possible moment; for some complaints had gone
abroad against the Bank of Quodlibet for not resuming
when the other banks of the country affected to be anxious
for that measure.

In consequence of this determination of the New President,
the Bank was kept in a perpetual bustle for the whole
fortnight succeeding the election. What then occurred will
be told in the next chapter.

p239-187 CHAPTER XV.

UNHAPPY EVENT IN THE LIFE OF NICODEMUS HANDY.—CONSTERNATION
OF QUODLIBET.—DISASTERS AMONGST THE DIRECTORS.—EXPLOSION OF
THE BANK.—CONVERSATION BETWEEN THEODORE FOG AND MR. GRANT.—
FOG'S VIEWS OF THE QUESTION OF DISTRESS.—COMPLIMENT TO JESSE
FERRET.

[figure description] Page 182.[end figure description]

I KNOW not which way to turn. Auribus teneo lupum.
I can scarcely compose myself to write. Such an event!
Many things have happened in this world to excite wonder—
many grief—many indignation—many wailing, lamentation
and moans;—but we have had an incident in the Borough
which overmasters all these emotions by the height and the
depth, the length and the breadth, the stupendous magnitude
of the amazement which it has spread through all minds.

The investigation of the affairs of the Bank, under the
direction of Mr. Hardbottle, lasted more than a fortnight.
They were not yet brought to a close, when — Let the
following paragraph from an extra Whole Hog, issued on
the spur of the moment, tell the rest. I have no nerve for
such a disclosure.

“Our Borough has just been thrown into a state of stupefaction
by an event which completely eclipses every other
act of crime and villany with which the annals of Whiggery
abound. Nicodemus Handy, the Whig cashier of that

[figure description] Page 183.[end figure description]

extortionate, swindling, Whig rag-factory, The Patriotic Copperplate
Bank of Quodlibet, left this Borough yesterday
morning in the People's Line, which runs through Thorough
Blue. As this journey was undertaken with the pretence
of business, it attracted no attention until this morning,
when the indefatigable democratic President of that institution,
Mr. Anthony Hardbottle, who was recently elected for
the purpose of a thorough investigation into its concerns,
(suspicions having been long indulged of its rottenness—and,
in fact, our worthy representative, the Hon. Middleton Flam,
an unterrified and incorruptible New Light, having retired
from the head of the institution on account of the disgusting
irregularities which fell within his view,) laid a statement
before the board which showed that the cashier had secreted
upwards of $160,000, the greater part of which funds there
is reason to believe he has made away with in the course of
the last three months. Measures were taken to pursue the
offender, and as far as possible to secure the Bank by attachments
upon his property, which is supposed to be considerable.
For the present, we forbear all comment, except so
far as to remark, that we look upon this atrocious fraud but
as the natural fruit of that system of Whig measures which
has cumbered the land with mushroom banks, filthy rags,
and swarms of scrub aristocrats in the shape of presidents,
cashiers, directors, and clerks. We may speedily expect
to hear of many more Whigs following the example of our
absquatulating cashier.”

The sensation produced in the Borough by this intelligence,
is not to be described. The flight of Mr. Handy
was the only topic of conversation for a week. An officer
followed him to Thorough Blue, whence, it was rumored,
the fugitive had shaped his course for Texas: other reports
assigned Canada as his place of refuge—all was uncertainty.
Legal measures were taken to secure his property. This

[figure description] Page 184.[end figure description]

consisted of his elegant mansion on Copperplate Ridge,
sundry rows of warehouses, and other buildings in Quodlibet,
a large number of which had been left for two years
past in an unfinished state. Upon investigation it was
ascertained that the whole of this estate had been converted
into money; our worthy representative, the Hon. Middleton
Flam, having an absolute conveyance for Handy House,
its furniture and appurtenances, and certain political friends,
connected with the custom house in New York, rank Whigs,
having mortgages on all the rest of the property. The consequence
was, the Bank was able to secure nothing.

One of our first proceedings, after the flight of the cashier,
was to call together the New Light Club, where resolutions
were passed denouncing his fraud as the necessary consequence
of his Whig principles, censuring the Bank, in the
strongest terms, as a swindling Whig concern, and avowing
an unalterable devotion to the Independent Treasury, as the
only sound, genuine, New Light Democratic experiment
which it was proper for the government to make, in the present
condition of affairs—unless the President should change
his mind and find out something still more democratic; in
which event the New Light Club pledged itself to give that
other measure their cordial and patriotic support.

In the course of a fortnight, the inhabitants of the Borough
were surprised to read from a New York paper, in
the list of passengers who sailed for Liverpool by the packet
of the first of October, amongst the names of sundry fashionables,
those also of Mrs. and Miss Handy; and we were
not long afterwards relieved from all doubt as to the
Cashier's destination, by seeing it publicly announced that
he had gone to Havre, from which point, as soon as he
could be joined by his interesting and distressed family, he
designed making the tour of Europe.

From the period of the elopement of Mr. Handy, we had

[figure description] Page 185.[end figure description]

a series of convulsions. The first incident of importance
that followed it, was the failure of the whole Board of Directors;
each of whom, according to his own showing, had
lost so much money by the absconding cashier as to be totally
unable to pay up his liabilities to the bank. The next
disaster was the explosion of the bank itself. The abduction
of so large an amount of its funds, as well as its unfortunate
list of bad debts from the directors, rendered this inevitable.
Then came riots amongst the holders of its paper,
who besieged the door for several days, and even threatened
to pull down the building. Never was a community in a
more unhappy commotion than ours at this eventful epoch.

Mr. Grant visited the borough frequently during the prevalence
of these disorders. One day he met Theodore Fog,
who seemed to be rather pleasurably excited by the events
which occupied and engrossed the public attention—for
Theodore, as he was in the habit of remarking, had
nothing to lose by these domestic convulsions, and every
thing to gain. The election was at hand, and he was
again the True Grit candidate; but on this occasion, there
was no opposition from his own party, and the chance of
electing a whig was deemed hopeless. That side made no
nomination; and Fog, therefore, with his two colleagues of
the last year, was in a fair way to walk over the course
without a contest. The interests of the election, consequently,
were altogether absorbed in the other incidents of
the day. Still, Theodore was not inattentive to the voters,
and was, as usual, loquacious and voluble.

“A pretty considerable upheaving of the elements of
social life, Mr. Grant,”—said he, upon encountering the old
gentleman on Ferret's steps at the front door of The Hero.

“I think so,” replied Mr. Grant—“You have brought
your pigs at last to a fine market.”

“Our pigs!” exclaimed Fog, with an excellent

[figure description] Page 186.[end figure description]

representation of surprise:—“well, that beats M'Gonegal, and he
beat the devil. The whole litter comes from a whig mother:
it is the spawn of that aristocracy, against which the
intelligence, the honor and the virtue of the nation have been
waging war ever since the Reign of Terror;—but, sir, it is
down; the intelligence and firmness of the people have triumphed
at last.”

“You allude, I suppose, to your democratic bank here,”
said Mr. Grant,

“No doubt,” replied Fog, “the whigs will attempt to
shuffle the bank off their shoulders and buckle it on the
democrats. But that won't do, sir; that's too stale a trick
to deceive the people. The whigs, sir, are men of property;
the democrats are poor, sir. Banks are not made by
poor men, Mr. Grant; there's the logic of the case.”

“And this Patriotic Copperplate Bank of Quodlibet was
not set on foot by Nicodemus Handy and Theodore Fog?”
returned Mr. Grant.

“By Nicodemus Handy,” replied Fog, “not by me.
Sir, Nicodemus was always a whig; and what's more, attempted
to beguile me into his scheme. He took advantage
of my unsuspecting temper—endeavored to lull into security
my artless, confiding nature; essayed, sir, but in vain,
to seduce me from my allegiance to the democratic faith, by
tempting offers of the presidency of the bank—but, sir, my
virtue was too stern for his treacherous arts. I saw the
gilded bait and spurned it. It was—I say it myself—a rare
example of successful resistance to the fascinations of the
tempter. Many a democrat has fallen into the snare of the
whigs under less allurement. I pride myself on this evidence
of self-command. I have reason to be proud of it.”

“You have a short memory,” said Mr. Grant.

“Why as to that, old friend,” replied Fog with a good-natured
laugh, at the same time laying his hand on Mr.

[figure description] Page 187.[end figure description]

Grant's shoulder, “you can't call that a fault. Every politician
has a short memory—he'd be no politician without it.
Mine's no shorter than the rest. Sir, let me tell you, the
great secret of the success of the immutable, New Light,
Quodlibetarian Democracy, is in the shortness of the memory.
Still, I would like to know what you mean by the
remark.”

“I mean to say,” replied Mr. Grant, “that when you
and Nicodemus Handy were endeavoring to persuade me to
take an interest in your bank, you did'nt think it so undemocratic
as you seem to do to day.”

“It is impossible for me to remember what I said on the
occasion to which you allude, sir,” returned Fog; “but my
principles have always been the same. I could not have
gone against them, sir; morally impossible.”

“And I told you what would happen,” continued Mr.
Grant.

“Aye, aye,” rejoined Fog; “that's the old song. You
whigs are monstrous good at prophesying after the result is
known.”

“You admit, I suppose,” said Mr. Grant, “that this
Bank of Quodlibet has exploded?”

“Burst, sir, into a thousand tatters,” replied Fog.

“You admit that there is a large amount of paper money
afloat?”

“A genuine Whig crop,” answered Fog: “enough to
make a stack as large as the largest in your barn yard.”

“You admit the derangement of values all over the country?”

“Yes, and of the people too, if you make it a point.”

“The failures of traders and of banks?”

“Yes.”

“This is reasonable, Mr. Fog. Now, you shall judge
whether the Whigs prophesy before or after the result,”

[figure description] Page 188.[end figure description]

said Mr. Grant, as he thrust his hand into his skirt pocket
and drew forth a pamphlet. “I expected to meet you to
day, and I have brought you a document for your especial
perusal. It is the speech of a Whig member of congress,
made in 1834, upon the Removal of the Deposites;—you will
find the leaf turned down at page 32; and, as you are a good
reader, I wish you would favor this company by reading it
aloud, where you see it scored in the margin.”

“Not I,” replied Theodore; “that's four years ago. The
Statute of Limitation bars that.”

“He's afeard to read it,” said Abel Brawn to some five
or six persons, who had collected round the steps during this
conversation. “Mr. Grant's mighty particular with his
documents, and aint to be shook off in an argument.”

“The, you aint afeard, old fellow?” said Flan Sucker,
“Walk into him, The. Read it.”

“Give me the book,” said Fog, “and let's see what it is.
Speech by Horace Binney—eh? Who's he? I think I have
heard the name. Well, for the sake of obliging a friend,
I'll read.—Conticuere omnes—which means listen.”—Fog
then read as follows:—

“It is here that we find a pregnant source of the present
agony—it is in the clearly avowed design to bring a second time
upon this land the curse of an unregulated, uncontrolled State-Bank
paper currency. We are again to see the drama which
already, in the course of the present century, has passed before
us, and closed in ruin. If the project shall be successful—”

“What project?” inquired Fog.

“The destruction of the Bank of the United States, and
the refusal to create another in its place,” answered Mr.
Grant.