University of Virginia Library

13. CHAPTER XIII.

The importance of motives to a legislator—Moral consecutiveness,
comets, kites, and a convoy; with some every-day
legislation; together with cause and effect.

Legislation, during the occultation of the great
moral postulate Principle by the passage of Pecuniary
Interest, is, at the best, but a melancholy
affair. It proved to be peculiarly so with us just
at that moment, for the radiance of the divine
property had been a good deal obscured, in the
houses, for a long time previously, by the interference
of various minor satellites. In nothing,
therefore, did the deplorable state of things which
existed make itself more apparent, than in our
proceedings.

As Captain Poke and myself, notwithstanding
our having taken different stands in politics, still
continued to live together, I had better opportunities
to note the workings of the obscuration on the
ingenuous mind of my colleague than on that of
most other persons. He early began to keep a diary
of his expenses, regularly deducting the amount at
night from the sum of eight dollars, and regarding
the balance as so much clear gain. His conversation,
too, soon betrayed a leaning to his personal interests,
instead of being of that pure and elevated
cast which should characterize the language of a

statesman. He laid down the position, pretty dogmatically,
that legislation, after all, was work; that
“the laborer was worthy of his hire;” and that, for
his part, he felt no great disposition to go through
the vexation and trouble of helping to make laws,
unless he could see, with a reasonable certainty,
that something was to be got by it. He thought
Leaplow had quite laws enough as it was—more
than she respected or enforced—and if she wanted
any more, all she had to do was to pay for them.
He should take an early occasion to propose that
all our wages—or, at any rate, his own; others
might do as they pleased—should be raised, at the
very least, two dollars a day, and this while he
merely sat in the house; for he wished to engage
me to move, by way of amendment, that as much
more should be given to the committees. He did
not think it was fair to exact of a member to be a
committee-man for nothin', although most of them
were committee-men for nothin'; and if we were
called on to keep two watches, in this manner, the
least that could be done would be to give us two
pays. He said, considering it in the most favorable
point of view, that there was great wear and tear
of brain in legislation, and he should never be the
man he was before he engaged in the trade; he
assured me that his idees, sometimes, were so complicated
that he did not know where to find the one
he wanted, and that he had wished for a cauda, a
thousand times, since he had been in the house, for,
by keeping the end of it in his hand, like the bight
of a rope, he might always have suthin' tangible
to cling to. He told me, as a great secret, that he
was fairly tired of rummaging among his thoughts
for the knowledge necessary to understand what
was going on, and that he had finally concluded to
put himself, for the rest of the session, under the
convoy of a God-like. He had been looking out for
a fit fugleman of this sort, and he had pretty much
determined to follow the signals of the great God-like
of the Parpendic'lars, like the rest of them, for
it would occasion less confusion in the ranks, and
enable him to save himself a vast deal of trouble,
in making up his mind. He didn't know, on the
whole, but eight dollars a day might give a living
profit, provided he could throw all the thinking on
his God-like, and turn his attention to suthin' else; he
thought of writing his v'y'ges, for he understood
that anything from foreign parts took like wild-fire
in Leaplow; and if they didn't take, he could always
project charts for a living.

Perhaps it will be necessary to explain what
Noah meant by saying that he thought of engaging
a God-like. The reader has had some insight into
the nature of one set of political leaders in Leaplow,
who are known by the name of the Most
Patriotic Patriots. These persons, it is scarcely
necessary to say, are always with the majority, or
in a situation to avail themselves of the evolutions
of the little wheel. Their great rotatory principle
keeps them pretty constantly in motion, it Is true;
but while there is a centrifugal force to maintain
this action, great care has been had to provide a
centripetal counterpoise, in order to prevent them
from bolting out of the political orbit. It is supposed
to be owing to this peculiarity in their party organizations,
that your Leaplow patriot is so very
remarkable for going round and round a subject,
without ever touching it.

As an off-set to this party arrangement, the Perpendiculars
have taken refuge in the God-likes. A
God-like, in Leaplow politics, in some respects resembles
a saint in the Catholic calendar; that is to
say, he is canonized, after passing through a certain

amount of temptation and vice with a whole skin;
after having his cause pleaded for a certain number
of years before the high authorities of his party;
and, usually, after having had a pretty good taste
of purgatory. Canonization attained, however, all
gets to be plain sailing with him. He is spared,
singular as it may appear, even a large portion of
his former “wear and tear” of brains, as Noah had
termed it, for nothing puts one so much at liberty in
this respect, as to have full powers to do all the thinking.
Thinking in company, like travelling in company,
requires that we should have some respect to
the movements, wishes and opinions of others; but
he who gets a carte blanche for his sentiments,
resembles the uncaged bird, and may fly in whatever
direction most pleases himself, and feel confident,
as he goes, that his ears will be saluted with
the usual traveller's signal of “all's right.” I can
best compare the operation of your God-like and his
votaries, to the action of a locomotive with its rail-road
train. As that goes, this follows; faster or
slower, the movement is certain to be accompanied;
when the steam is up they fly, when the fire
is out they crawl, and that, too, with a very uneasy
sort of motion; and when a bolt is broken, they
who have just been riding without the smallest
trouble to themselves, are compelled to get out and
push the load ahead as well as they can, frequently
with very rueful faces, and in very dirty ways.
The cars whisk about, precisely as the locomotive
whisks about, all the turn-outs are necessarily imitated,
and, in short, one goes after the other very
much as it is reasonable to suppose will happen
when two bodies are chained together, and the
entire moving power is given to only one of them.
A God-like in Leaplow, moreover, is usually a Riddle.
It was the object of Noah to hitch on to one of
these moral steam-tugs, in order that he too might
be dragged through his duties without effort to
himself; an expedient, as the old sealer expressed
it, that would, in some degree, remedy his natural
want of a cauda, by rendering him nothing but tail.

“I expect, Sir John,” he said, for he had a practice
of expecting by way of conjecture, “I expect
this is the reason why the Leaplowers dock themselves.
They find it more convenient to give up
the management of their affairs to some one of
these God-likes, and fall into his wake like the tail of
a comet, which makes it quite unnecessary to have
any other cauda.”

“I understand you; they amputate to prevent
tautology.”

Noah rarely spoke of any project until his mind
was fairly made up; and the execution usually soon
followed the proposition. The next thing I heard
of him, therefore, he was fairly under the convoy,
as he called it, of one of the most prominent of the
Riddles. Curious to know how he liked the experiment,
after a week's practice, I called his attention
to the subject, by a pretty direct inquiry.

He told me it was altogether the pleasantest
mode of legislating that had ever been devised. He
was now perfectly master of his own time, and
in fact, he was making out a set of charts for the
Leaplow marine, a task that was likely to bring
him in a good round sum, as pumpkins were cheap,
and in the polar seas he merely copied the monikin
authorities, and out of it he had things pretty much
his own way. As for the Great Allegory, when he
wanted a hint about it, or, indeed, about any other
point at issue, all he had to do was to inquire what
his God-like thought about it, and to vote accordingly.
Then he saved himself a great deal of breath
in the way of argument out of doors, for he and

the rest of the clientelle of this Riddle, having officially
invested their patron with all their own parts,
the result had been such an accumulation of knowledge
in this one individual, as enabled them ordinarily
to floor any antagonist by the simple quotation
of his authority. Such or such is the opinion of
God-like this or of God-like that, was commonly
sufficient; and then there was no lack of material,
for he had taken care to provide himself with a
Riddle who, he really believed, had given an opinion,
at some time or other, on every side of every
subject that had ever been mooted in Leaplow. He
could nullify, or mollify, or qualify, with the best of
them; and these, which he termed the three fies, he
believed were the great requisites of a Leaplow
legislator. He admitted, however, that some show
of independence was necessary, in order to give
value to the opinions of even a God-like, for monikin
nature revolted at anything like total mental
dependence; and that he had pretty much made
up his mind to think for himself on a question that
was to be decided that very day.

The case to which the Captain alluded was this.
The city of Bivouac was divided into three pretty
nearly equal parts, which were separated from each
other by two branches of a marsh; one part of the
town being on a sort of island, and the other two
parts on the respective margins of the low land.
It was very desirable to connect these different portions
of the capital by causeways, and a law to that
effect had been introduced in the house. Everybody,
in or out of the house, was in favor of the
project, for the causeways had become, in some
measure, indispensable. The only disputed point
was the length of the works in question. One who
is but little acquainted with legislation, and who has
never witnessed the effects of an occultation of

the great moral postulate Principle, by the orb of
Pecuniary Interest, would very plausibly suppose
that the whole affair lay in a nut-shell, and that all
we had to do was to pass a law ordering the causeways
to extend just as far as the public convenience
rendered it necessary. But these are mere
tyros in the affairs of monikins. The fact was
that there were just as many different opinions and
interests at work to regulate the length of the causeways,
as there were owners of land along their line
of route. The great object was to start in what was
called the business quarter of the town, and then to
proceed with the work as far as circumstances
would allow. We had propositions before us in
favor of from one hundred feet as far as up to ten
thousand. Every inch was fought for with as much
obstinacy as if it were an important breach that
was defended; and combinations and conspiracies
were as rife as if we were in the midst of a revolution.
It was the general idea that by filling in with
dirt, a new town might be built wherever the causeway
terminated, and fortunes made by an act of
parliament. The inhabitants of the island rallied en
masse against the causeway leading one inch from
their quarter, after it had fairly reached it; and, so
throughout the entire line, monikins battled for what
they called their interests, with an obstinacy worthy
of heroes.

On this great question, for it had, in truth, become
of the last importance by dragging into its consideration
most of the leading measures of the day, as
well as six or seven of the principal ordinances of
the Great National Allegory, the respective partisans
logically contending that, for the time being,
nothing should advance a foot in Leaplow that did
not travel along that causeway, Noah determined
to take an independent stand. This resolution was

not lightly formed, for he remained rather undecided,
until, by waiting a sufficient time, he felt
quite persuaded that nothing was to be got by following
any other course. His God-like luckily was
in the same predicament, and everything promised
a speedy occasion to show the world what it was to
act on principle; and this, too, in the middle of a
moral eclipse.

When the question came to be discussed, the
landholders along the first line of the causeway
were soon reasoned down by the superior interests
of those who lived on the island. The rub was the
point of permitting the work to go any further.
The islanders manifested great liberality, according
to their account of themselves; for they even consented
that the causeway should be constructed on
the other marsh to precisely such a distance as would
enable any one to go as near as possible to the hostile
quarter, without absolutely entering it. To
admit the latter, they proved to demonstration,
would be changing the character of their own
island from that of an entrepôt to that of a mere
thoroughfare. No reasonable monikin could expect
it of them.

As the Horizontals, by some calculation that I
never understood, had satisfied themselves it might
better answer their purposes to construct the entire
work, than to stop anywhere between the two
extremes, my duty was luckily, on this occasion, in
exact accordance with my opinions; and, as a
matter of course, I voted, this time, in a way of
which I could approve. Noah, finding himself a free
agent, now made his push for character, and took
sides with us. Very fortunately we prevailed, all
the beaten interests joining themselves, at the last
moment, to the weakest side, or, in other words, to
that which was right; and Leaplow presented the

singular spectacle of having a just enactment passed
during the occultation of the great moral postulate,
so often named. I ought to mention that I have
termed principle a postulate, throughout this narrative,
simply because it is usually in the dilemma of
a disputed proposition.

No sooner was the result known, than my worthy
colleague came round to the Horizontal side
of the house, to express his satisfaction with himself
for the course he had just taken. He said it
was certainly very convenient and very labor-saving
to obey a God-like, and that he got on much
better with his charts now he was at liberty to give
his whole mind to the subject; but there was suthin'
—he didn't know what—but “a sort of Stunin'tun
feeling” in doing what one thought right, after all,
that caused him to be glad that he had voted for
the whole causeway. He did not own any land in
Leaplow, and, therefore, he concluded that what he
had done, he had done for the best; at any rate, if
he had got nothin' by it, he had lost nothin' by it,
and he hoped all would come right in the end. The
people of the island, it is true, had talked pretty fair
about what they would do for those who should
sustain their interests, but he had got sick of a currency
in promises; and fair words, at his time of
life, didn't go for much; and so, on the whole, he
had pretty much concluded to do as he had done.
He thought no one could call in question his vote,
for he was just as poor and as badly off now he had
voted, as he was while he was making up his mind.
For his part, he shouldn't be ashamed, hereafter,
to look both Deacon Snort and the Parson in the
face, when he got home, or even Miss Poke. He
knew what it was to have a clean conscience, as
well as any man; for none so well knew what it
was to be without anything, as they who had felt

by experience its want. His God-like was a very
labor-saving God-like; but he had found, on inquiry,
that he came from another part of the island, and
that he didn't care a straw which way his kite-tail
(Noah's manner of pronouncing clientelle) voted.
In short, he defied any one say aught ag'in him
this time, and he was not sorry the occasion had
offered to show his independence, for his enemies
had not been backward in remarking that, for some
days, he had been little better than a speaking-trumpet
to roar out anything his God-like might
wish to have proclaimed. He concluded by stating
that he could not hold out much longer without
meat of some sort or other, and by begging that I
would second a resolution he thought of offering, by
which regular substantial rations were to be dealt
out to all the human part of the house. The inhumans
might live upon nuts still, if they liked them.

I remonstrated against the project of the rations
made a strong appeal to his pride, by demonstrating
that we should be deemed little better than brutes
if we were seen eating flesh, and advised him to
cause some of his nuts to be roasted, by way of
variety. After a good deal of persuasion, he promised
further abstinence, although he went away
with a singularly carnivorous look about the mouth,
and an eye that spoke pork in every glance.

I was at home the next day, busy with my friend
the Brigadier, in looking over the Great National
Allegory, with a view to prevent falling, unwittingly,
into any more offences of quoting its opinions,
when Noah burst into the room, as rabid as a
wolf that had been bitten by a whole pack of
hounds. Such, indeed, was, in some measure, his
situation; for, according to his statement, he had
been baited that morning, in the public streets even,
by every monikin, monikina, monikino, brat and beggar,

that he had seen. Astonished to hear that my
colleague had fallen into this disfavor with his constituents,
I was not slow in asking an explanation.

The Captain affirmed that the matter was beyond
the reach of any explanation it was in his power to
give. He had voted in the affair of the causeway,
in strict conformity with the dictates of his conscience,
and yet here was the whole population
accusing him of bribery—nay, even the journals
had openly flouted at him for what they called his
barefaced and flagrant corruption. Here the Captain
laid before us six or seven of the leading journals
of Bivouac, in all of which his late vote was
treated with quite as little ceremony as if it had
been an unequivocal act of sheep-stealing.

I looked at my friend the Brigadier for an explanation.
After running his eye over the articles in
the journals, the latter smiled, and cast a look of
commiseration at our colleague.

“You have certainly committed a grave fault
here, my friend,” he said, “and one that is seldom
forgiven in Leaplow—perhaps I might say never,
during the occultation of the great moral postulate,
as happens to be the case at present.”

“Tell me my sins at once, Brigadier,” cried
Noah, with the look of a martyr, “and put me out
of pain.”

“You have forgotten to display a motive for your
stand during the late hot discussion; and, as a matter
of course, the community ascribes the worst
that monikin ingenuity can devise. Such an oversight
would ruin even a God-like!”

“But, my dear Mr. Downright,” I kindly interposed,
“our colleague, in this instance, is supposed
to have acted on principle.”

The Brigadier looked up, turning his nose into

the air, like a pup that has not yet opened its
eyes, and then intimated that he could not see the
quality I had named, it being obscured by the passage
of the orb of Pecuniary Interest before its
disk. I now began to comprehend the case, which
really was much more grave than, at first, I could
have believed possible. Noah himself seemed staggered;
for, I believe, he had fallen on the simple
and natural expedient of inquiring what he himself
would have thought of the conduct of a colleague
who had given a vote on a subject so weighty, without
exposing a motive.

“Had the Captain owned but a foot square of
earth, at the end of the causeway,” observed the
Brigadier, mournfully, “the matter might be cleared
up; but as things are, it is, beyond dispute, a most
unfortunate occurrence.”

“But Sir John voted with me, and he is no more
a freeholder in Leaplow, than I am myself.”

“True; but Sir John voted with the bulk of his
political friends.”

“All the Horizontals were not in the majority;
for at least twenty went, on this occasion, with the
minority.”

“Undeniable—yet every monikin of them had a
visible motive. This owned a lot by the way-side;
that had houses on the island, and another was the
heir of a great proprietor at the same point of the
road. Each and all had their distinct and positive
interests at stake, and not one of them was guilty
of so great a weakness as to leave his cause to be
defended by the extravagant pretension of mere
Principle!”

“My God-like, the greatest of all the Riddles,
absented himself, and did not vote at all.”

“Simply because he had no good ground to
justify any course he might take. No public monikin

can expect to escape censure, if he fail to put
his friends in the way of citing some plausible and
intelligible motive for his conduct.”

“How, sir! cannot a man, once in his life, do
an act without being bought like a horse or a dog,
and escape with an inch of character?”

“I shall not take upon myself to say what men
can do,” returned the Brigadier; “no doubt they
manage this affair better than it is managed here;
but, so far as monikins are concerned, there is no
course more certain to involve a total loss of character—I
may say so destructive to reputation even
for intellect—as to act without a good, apparent
and substantial motive.”

“In the name of God, what is to be done, Brigadier?”

“I see no other course than to resign. Your constituents
must very naturally have lost all confidence
in you; for one who so very obviously neglects
his own interests, it cannot be supposed will
be very tenacious about protecting the interests of
others. If you would escape with the little character
that is left, you will forthwith resign. I do not
perceive the smallest chance for you by going
through Gyration No. 4, both public opinions uniformly
condemning the monikin who acts without
a pretty obvious, as well as a pretty weighty, motive.”

Noah made a merit of necessity; and, after some
further deliberation between us, he signed his name
to the following letter to the Speaker, which was
drawn up on the spot, by the Brigadier.

Mr. Speaker:—The state of my health obliges me to
return the high political trust which has been confided to me
by the citizens of Bivouac, into the hands from which it was
received. In tendering my resignation, I wish to express the

great regret with which I part from colleagues so every way
worthy of profound respect and esteem, and I beg you to
assure them, that wherever fate may hereafter lead me,
I shall ever retain the deepest regard for every honorable
member with whom it has been my good fortune to serve.
The emigrant interest, in particular, will ever be the nearest
and dearest to my heart.