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Eliphalet Fox's paper, “The Whole Hog,” made its
first appearance on the day of the inauguration of President
Van Buren. Bright were the omens that heralded its birth.
The lustrous orb of Jackson had just set in an ocean of
splendor. Happy old man! Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere
causas! In the glowing language of his own immortal
valedictory, he left “this great people prosperous
and happy.” That star of the second magnitude, Martin
Van Buren, first amongst the sidera minora, had just risen.
In the nearly equally immortal salutatory of this Sidus
Minor, he spake the words, “we present an aggregate of
human prosperity surely not elsewhere to be found.” Fortunate
omens, incomparable auspices! Under these cheering
signs “The Whole Hog” appeared upon the stage.

Never was paper more faithful to the Quodlibetarian
theory. Never was editor more richly endowed to sustain
that theory than Eliphalet Fox. My reader will doubtless
expect that I should impart such gleanings of the editor's
life, as my diligent researches have enabled me to collect.
This reasonable expectation shall be indulged.

Eliphalet Fox, was one of those men, whose career furnishes
so remarkable a commentary upon the beneficent
character of our great democratic Quodlibetarian principle.

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His ancestors two generations back, were Federal and rich:
in the last generation they were Federal and poor—a transition
strikingly natural and eminently illustrative of our free
institutions. Eliphalet was born in the town of Gabwrangle
in the adjoining state. His education was circumscribed to
the circle of reading, writing and arithmetic, which Eliphalet
himself sometimes jocosely describes as algebraically
denoted by the signs of the three R's; to wit, Reading,
Righting and Rithmetic—a joke (mehercule) both ingenious
and new!

His parents being, as I may say, inops pecuniæ, bound
Eliphalet to a trade; but handicraft was abhorrent to his
genius. His temper was sour and peevish; and though
seemingly meek, even to a degree of asininity, in his demeanor,
yet it was early discovered that, upon occasion, he
could very deftly and nimbly, as the poet says, “unpack
his heart with words and fall to swearing like a very drab.”
This art was too valuable in Eliphalet's time to go long
without a patron; and accordingly, after he had worked four
most reluctant years in a printing office, to which his respectable
parents, thwarting the current of his genius, had devoted
him, he was discovered and taken by the hand by
Mr. Theophilus Flam, brother of the late Judge, and leader
of the Federal party of Gabwrangle. It was just before
the war; and the party being hard set upon by its enemies,
had, like a cat surrounded by curs, thrown itself upon its
back, and essayed to defend itself, most cattishly, with claw
and tooth. And sharply, as we well know, did they fight.
Eliphalet, in this strife, played the part of a claw, showing
most admirable spring nails, though ordinarily hid, and
therefore but little suspected in his velvet paw. His position
in this battle was that of conductor of “The Gabwrangle
Grimalkin,” a cross-grained, querulous, tart and vinegarish
little folio, which hoisted the banner of Theophilus Flam,

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and swore in his words. Eliphalet Fox, in consequence of
the trusty position which was thus confided to him, and still
more by reason of a certain rabid, but laudable, hatred of all
who bore the name of Democrat, in those days (and here I
would have my reader mark that a Democrat of 1812 was
a very different thing from a Democrat of this our day,
especially from a true Quodlibetarian Democrat) rose to be
a person of great consideration in Gabwrangle. The party
of Theophilus Flam, like our illustrious chief of the new
Democracy, Mr. Van Buren, made sturdy opposition to
Madison and his unrighteous war, and finally enjoyed the
satisfaction of a complete triumph over all their political
adversaries in Gabwrangle, by an utter route of the spurious
Democrats who opposed them: a point of good fortune which
did not fall to the lot of our illustrious chief at Kinderhook;
since history records the disastrous fact that he, so far from
conquering, was obliged to give in, and was even unhappily
compelled, by the force of adverse winds, to go over to the
majority, (an event very distressing to his feelings,) when he
found that that majority was so obstinate as to refuse to
come on his side: he was, if I may so say, as it were, a
prisoner of war, and acted under a vis major. But at Gabwrangle,
thanks to the persevering tongue and pen of
Eliphalet Fox! it was all the other way; and “The Grimalkin,”
to the last, enjoyed a most enviable renown as the
bitterest reviler of Mr. Madison and his doings.

Habit grows into an instinct, and as times change our
habits are the last to follow the fashion. It is only by referring
to this deep-seated principle of human nature, that I
am able to account for the extraordinary vituperation which
Eliphalet Fox, at a later day, poured upon the head of the
Old Hero when he was brought out for President. The
Grimalkin, like all poison-concocting animals, grew more
venomous as it grew older; and were it not that Eliphalet

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has repented of this folly, and amply atoned for its commission,
I should blush to record the almost savage ferocity,
the altogether unpardonable acerbity, and above all, the thoroughly
Unquodlibetarian freedom with which he assailed
the purest man that in the tide of time—as another pure
man has remarked—ever appeared upon this terraqueous
globe. But the truth is, Eliphalet had fallen into a habit of
detraction, and did it without thinking:—that is the best excuse
that can be made for him. The old Federalists of
Gabwrangle and, foremost amongst them, his master,
Theophilus Flam, soon corrected this unhappy proclivity,
and gave him to understand that he was on a wrong scent.
They peremptorily, to their great honor, insisted, that from
that day forth the Grimalkin must be decent. The consequence
of this was fatal to Eliphalet Fox—fatal at least to
his prosperity in Gabwrangle. Thenceforth the Grimalkin
sunk into insignificance. As the poet says, Othello's
occupation was gone. The subscribers grew testy and
dropped off, under the influence of this uncongenial decency
exacted from the editor. Eliphalet borrowed money, his
habiliments grew shabby, he took up mean callings for the
sake of pelf, he became a spunge; he grew bilious, atrabilious,
patriotic and indignant. He went for Reform—
reform of the General Government, reform of the State Constitution,
reform of private manners, reform of public observances.
He took up an aversion to all kinds of respectability,
became a deadly enemy to every man who laid up
any money—made this sentiment a political question, talked
of a division of property, called Nature a stepmother, said
sundry hard things about the persecution of genius, and
finally, one Sunday night, eloped from Gabwrangle, leaving
his fiscal responsibilities in a state of as much perplexity
as that into which these vile Whigs have brought Mr. Woodbury's.
Alas for Eliphalet! little did he dream that out o

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this desolation and dismay he was to pluck so bright a
flower of prosperity as he now wears in his bosom. All
the hounds of the law—as he so eloquently painted it to
the New Light at our celebrated meeting—were set upon
his track; but grace to his better destiny! he eluded them.
To twenty writs placed on Monday morning in the sheriff's
hands, that functionary made his return on Tuesday
evening, “Eloped under whip and spur out of the Bailiwick”—
Oh lucky Eliphalet!

In these straits the badgered patriot went to Washington;
was recognised by our distinguished representative who,
knowing that we were in want of an editor fit to cope with
The Whole Team, gave him a warm letter of recommendation
to Nicodemus Handy, and forthwith was projected that
famous movement, whereof I have already given the history,
and which has so auspiciously resulted in the establishment
of The Quodlibet Whole Hog.

p239-092

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