 | CHAPTER I. Home as found |  |
1. CHAPTER I.
“There shall be, in England, seven half-penny loaves sold for a penny;
the three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops; and I will make it felony to
drink small beer: all the realm shall be in common, and, in Cheapside shall
my palfrey go to grass.”
—Jack Cade.
Though the affair of the Point continued to agitate
the village of Templeton next day, and for many days,
it was little remembered in the Wigwam. Confident
of his right, Mr. Effingham, though naturally indignant
at the abuse of his long liberality, through which
alone the public had been permitted to frequent the
place, and this too, quite often, to his own discomfort
and disappointment, had dismissed the subject temporarily
from his mind, and was already engaged in his
ordinary pursuits. Not so, however, with Mr. Bragg.
Agreeably to promise, he had attended the meeting;
and now he seemed to regulate all his movements by
a sort of mysterious self-importance, as if the repository
of some secret of unusual consequence. No one
regarded his manner, however; for Aristabulus, and
his secrets, and opinions, were all of too little value,
in the eyes of most of the party, to attract peculiar
attention. He found a sympathetic listener in Mr.
Dodge, happily; that person having been invited,
through the courtesy of Mr. Effingham, to pass the
day with those in whose company, though very unwillingly
through so many dangerous trials. These two, then,
soon became intimate, and to have seen their shrugs,
significant whisperings, and frequent conferences in
corners, one who did not know them, might have fancied
their shoulders burthened with the weight of the
state.
But all this pantomime, which was intended to
awaken curiosity, was lost on the company in general.
The ladies, attended by Paul and the Baronet, proceeded
into the forest on foot, for a morning's walk, while
the two Messrs. Effinghams continued to read the daily
journals, that were received from town each morning,
with a most provoking indifference. Neither Aristabulus,
nor Mr. Dodge, could resist any longer; and,
after exhausting their ingenuity, in the vain effort to
induce one of the two gentlemen to question them in
relation to the meeting of the previous night, the desire
to be doing fairly overcame their affected mysteriousness,
and a formal request was made to Mr. Effingham
to give them an audience in the library. As the
latter, who suspected the nature of the interview, requested
his kinsman to make one in it, the four were
soon alone, in the apartment so often named.
Even now, that his own request for the interview
was granted, Aristabulus hesitated about proceeding,
until a mild intimation from Mr. Effingham that he was
ready to hear his communication, told the agent that
it was too late to change his determination.
“I attended the meeting last night, Mr. Effingham,”
Aristabulus commenced, “agreeably to our arrangement,
and I feel the utmost regret at being compelled
to lay the result before a gentleman for whom I entertain
so profound a respect.”
“There was then a meeting?” said Mr. Effingham,
inclining his body slightly, by way of acknowledgment
for the other's compliment.
“There was, sir; and I think, Mr. Dodge, we may
say an overflowing one.”
“The public was fairly represented,” returned the
editor, “as many as fifty or sixty having been present.”
“The public has a perfect right to meet, and to consult
on its claims to anything it may conceive itself entitled
to enjoy,” observed Mr. Effingham; “I can have
no possible objection to such a course, though I think
it would have consulted its own dignity more, had it
insisted on being convoked by more respectable persons
than those who, I understand, were foremost in
this affair, and in terms better suited to its own sense
of propriety.”
Aristabulus glanced at Mr. Dodge, and Mr. Dodge
glanced back at Mr. Bragg, for neither of these political
mushrooms could conceive of the dignity and fairmindedness
with which a gentleman could view an
affair of this nature.
“They passed a set of resolutions, Mr. Effingham;”
Aristabulus resumed, with the gravity with which he
ever spoke of things of this nature. “A set of resolutions,
sir!”
“That was to be expected,” returned his employer,
smiling; “the Americans are a set-of-resolutions-passing
people. Three cannot get together, without naming
a chairman and secretary, and a resolution is as much
a consequence of such an `organization,'—I believe
that is the approved word,—as an egg is the accompaniment
of the cackling of a hen.”
“But, sir, you do not yet know the nature of those
resolutions!”
“Very true, Mr. Bragg; that is a piece of knowledge
I am to have the pleasure of obtaining from
you.”
Again Aristabulus glanced at Steadfast, and Steadfast
threw back the look of surprise, for, to both it was
matter of real astonishment that any man should be so
indifferent to the resolutions of a meeting that had been
regularly organized, with a chairman and secretary
be the public.
“I am reluctant to discharge this duty, Mr. Effingham,
but as you insist on its performance it must be
done. In the first place, they resolved that your father
meant to give them the Point.”
“A decision that must clearly settle the matter, and
which will destroy all my father's own resolutions on the
same subject. Did they stop at the Point, Mr. Bragg,
or did they resolve that my father also gave them his
wife and children?”
“No, sir, nothing was said concerning the latter.”
“I cannot properly express my gratitude for the forbearance,
as they had just as good a right to pass this
resolution, as to pass the other.”
“The public's is an awful power, Mr. Effingham!”
“Indeed it is, sir, but fortunately, that of the re-public
is still more awful, and I shall look to the latter for
support, in this `crisis'—that is the word, too, is it not,
Mr. John Effingham?”
“If you mean a change of administration, the upsetting
of a stage, or the death of a cart-horse; they are
all equally crisises, in the American vocabulary.”
“Well, Mr. Bragg, having resolved that it knew my
late father's intentions better than he knew them himself,
as is apparent from the mistake he made in his
will, what next did the public dispose of, in the plenitude
of its power?”
“It resolved, sir, that it was your duty to carry out
the intentions of your father.”
“In that, then, we are perfectly of a mind; as the
public will most probably discover, before we get
through with this matter. This is one of the most
pious resolutions I ever knew the public to pass. Did
it proceed any farther?”
Mr. Bragg, notwithstanding the long-encouraged
truckling to the sets of men, whom he was accustomed
to dignify with the name of the public, had a profound
Mr. Effingham, that no sophistry, or self-encouragement
in the practices of social confusion, could overcome;
and he paused before he communicated the next
resolution to his employers. But perceiving that both
the latter and his cousin were quietly waiting to hear
it, he was fain to overcome his scruples.
“They have openly libelled you, by passing resolutions
declaring you to be odious.”
“That, indeed, is a strong measure, and, in the interest
of good manners and of good morals, it may
call for a rebuke. No one can care less than myself,
Mr. Bragg, for the opinions of those who have sufficiently
demonstrated that their opinions are of no value,
by the heedless manner in which they have permitted
themselves to fall into this error; but it is proceeding
too far, when a few members of the community presume
to take these liberties with a private individual,
and that, moreover, in a case affecting a pretended
claim of their own; and I desire you to tell those concerned,
that if they dare to publish their resolution declaring
me to be odious, I will teach them what they
now do not appear to know, that we live in a country
of laws. I shall not prosecute them, but I shall indict
them for the offence, and I hope this is plainly expressed.”
Aristabulus stood aghast! To indict the public was
a step he had never heard of before, and he began to
perceive that the question actually had two sides. Still,
his awe of public meetings, and his habitual regard for
popularity, induced him not to give up the matter, without
another struggle.
“They have already ordered their proceedings to be
published, Mr. Effingham!” he said, as if such an order
were not to be countermanded.
“I fancy, sir, that when it comes to the issue, and
the penalties of a prosecution present themselves, their
leaders will begin to recollect their individuality, and
hunt in droves, like wolves, are seldom very valiant
when singled out from their pack. The end will show.”
“I heartily wish this unpleasant affair might be amicably
settled,” added Aristabulus.
“One might, indeed, fancy so,” observed John Effingham,
“since no one likes to be persecuted.”
“But, Mr. John, the public thinks itself persecuted,
in this affair.”
“The term, as applied to a body that not only makes,
but which executes, the law, is so palpably absurd,
that I am surprised any man can presume to use it. But,
Mr. Bragg, you have seen documents that cannot err,
and know that the public has not the smallest right to
this bit of land.”
“All very true, sir; but you will please to remember,
that the people do not know what I now know.”
“And you will please to remember, sir, that when
people choose to act affirmatively, in so high-handed a
manner as this, they are bound to know what they are
about. Ignorance in such a matter, is like the drunkard's
plea of intoxication; it merely makes the offence
worse.”
“Do you not think, Mr. John, that Mr. Effingham
might have acquainted these citizens with the real state
of the case? Are the people so very wrong that they
have fallen into a mistake?”
“Since you ask this question plainly, Mr. Bragg, it
shall be answered with equal sincerity. Mr. Effingham
is a man of mature years; the known child, executor,
and heir of one who, it is admitted all round,
was the master of the controverted property. Knowing
his own business, this Mr. Effingham, in sight of the
grave of his fathers, beneath the paternal roof, has the
intolerable impudence—”
“Arrogance is the word, Jack,” said Mr. Effingham,
smiling.
“Ay, the intolerable arrogance to suppose that his
having had the politeness to send his title-deeds, and
private papers, round to those who have been so short
a time in the place, that they might well know every
thing that has occurred in it for the last half century
Oh thou naughty, arrogant fellow, Ned!”
“Mr. John, you appear to forget that the public has
more claims to be treated with attention, than a single
individual. If it has fallen into error, it ought to be
undeceived.”
“No doubt, sir; and I advise Mr. Effingham to send
you, his agent, to every man, woman and child in the
county, with the Patent of the King, all the mesne conveyances
and wills, in your pocket, in order that you
may read them at length to each individual, with a
view that every man, woman and child, may be satisfied
that he or she is not the owner of Edward Effingham's
lands!”
“Nay, sir, a shorter process might be adopted.”
“It might, indeed, sir, and such a process has been
adopted by my cousin, in giving the usual notice, in
the news-paper, against trespassing. But, Mr. Bragg,
you must know that I took great pains, three years
since, when repairing this house, to correct the mistake
on this very point, into which I found that your
immaculate public had fallen, through its disposition to
know more of other people's affairs, than those concerned
knew of themselves.”
Aristabulus said no more, but gave the matter up
in despair. On quitting the house, he proceeded forthwith,
to inform those most interested of the determination
of Mr. Effingham, not to be trampled on by any
pretended meeting of the public. Common sense, not
to say common honesty, began to resume its sway, and
prudence put in its plea, by way of applying the corrective.
Both he and Mr. Dodge, however, agreed
that there was an unheard-of temerity in thus resisting
the people, and this too without a commensurate
was of no material consequence to either party.
The reader is not, by any means, to suppose that
Aristabulus Bragg and Steadfast Dodge belonged to
the same variety of the human species, in consequence
of their unity of sentiment in this affair, and certain
other general points of resemblance in their manner
and modes of thinking. As a matter of necessity,
each partook of those features of caste, condition, origin,
and association that characterize their particular
set; but when it came to the nicer distinctions that
mark true individuality, it would not have been easy
to find two men more essentially different in character.
The first was bold, morally and physically, aspiring,
self-possessed, shrewd, singularly adapted to succeed
in his schemes where he knew the parties, intelligent,
after his tastes, and apt. Had it been his fortune to
be thrown earlier into a better sphere, the same natural
qualities that rendered him so expert in his present
situation, would have conduced to his improvement,
and most probably would have formed a gentleman, a
scholar, and one who could have contributed largely
to the welfare and tastes of his fellow-creatures. That
such was not his fate, was more his misfortune than
his fault, for his plastic character had readily taken
the impression of those things that from propinquity
alone, pressed hardest on it. On the other hand Steadfast
was a hypocrite by nature, cowardly, envious, and
malignant; and circumstances had only lent their aid
to the natural tendencies of his disposition. That two
men so differently constituted at their births, should
meet, as it might be in a common centre, in so many
of their habits and opinions, was merely the result of
accident and education.
Among the other points of resemblance between
these two persons, was that fault of confounding the
cause with the effects of the peculiar institutions under
which they had been educated and lived. Because
other systems, is entrusted either to one, or to the few,
they believed the public was invested with far more
power than a right understanding of their own principles
would have shown. In a word, both these persons
made a mistake which is getting to be too common
in America, that of supposing the institutions of
the country were all means and no end. Under this
erroneous impression they saw only the machinery of
the government, becoming entirely forgetful that the
power which was given to the people collectively, was
only so given to secure to them as perfect a liberty as
possible, in their characters of individuals. Neither
had risen sufficiently above vulgar notions, to understand
that public opinion, in order to be omnipotent, or
even formidable beyond the inflictions of the moment,
must be right; and that, if a solitary man renders himself
contemptible by taking up false notions inconsiderately
and unjustly, bodies of men, falling into the
same error, incur the same penalties, with the additional
stigma of having acted as cowards.
There was also another common mistake into which
Messrs. Bragg and Dodge had permitted themselves
to fall, through the want of a proper distinction between
principles. Resisting the popular will, on the
part of an individual, they considered arrogance and
aristocracy, per se, without at all entering into the
question of the right, or the wrong. The people, rightly
enough in the general signification of the term, they
deemed to be sovereign; and they belonged to a numerous
class, who view disobedience to the sovereign in
a democracy, although it be in his illegal caprices, very
much as the subject of a despot views disobedience to
his prince.
It is scarcely necessary to say, that Mr. Effingham
and his cousin viewed these matters differently. Clearheaded,
just-minded, and liberal in all his practices, the
former, in particular, was greatly pained by the recent
minutes after Mr. Bragg and his companion had
withdrawn, really too much grieved to speak.
“This is, altogether, a most extraordinary procedure,
John,” he at length observed, “and, it strikes me,
that it is but an indifferent reward for the liberality
with which I have permitted others to use my property,
these thirty years; often, very often, as you well
know, to my own discomfort, and to that of my
friends.”
“I have told you, Ned, that you were not to expect
the America on your return, that you left behind you
on your departure for Europe. I insist that no country
has so much altered for the worse, in so short a
time.”
“That unequalled pecuniary prosperity should sensibly
impair the manners of what is termed the world,
by introducing suddenly large bodies of uninstructed
and untrained men and women into society, is a natural
consequence of obvious causes; that it should corrupt
morals, even, we have a right to expect, for we
are taught to believe it the most corrupting influence
under which men can live; but, I confess, I did not
expect to see the day, when a body of strangers, birds
of passage, creatures of an hour, should assume a right
to call on the old and long-established inhabitants of a
country, to prove their claims to their possessions, and
this, too, in an unusual and unheard-of manner, under
the penalty of being violently deprived of them!”
“Long established!” repeated John Effingham,
laughing; “what do you term long established? Have
you not been absent a dozen years, and do not these
people reduce everything to the level of their own habits.
I suppose, now, you fancy you can go to Rome,
or Jerusalem, or Constantinople, and remain four or
five lustres, and then come coolly back to Templeton,
and, on taking possession of this house again, call your
self an old resident.”
“I certainly do suppose I have that right. How
many English, Russians, and Germans, did we meet
in Italy, the residents of years, who still retained all
their natural and local right and feelings!”
“Ay, that is in countries where society is permanent,
and men get accustomed to look on the same
objects, hear the same names, and see the same faces,
for their entire lives. I have had the curiosity to inquire,
and have ascertained that none of the old, permanent
families have been active in this affair of the
Point, but that all the clamour has been made by those
you call the birds of passage. But what of that?
These people fancy everything reduced to the legal
six months required to vote; and that rotation in persons
is as necessary to republicanism as rotation in
office.”
“Is it not extraordinary that persons who can know
so little on the subject, should be thus indiscreet and
positive?”
“It is not extraordinary in America. Look about you,
Ned, and you will see adventurers uppermost everywhere;
in the government, in your towns, in your villages,
in the country, even. We are a nation of changes.
Much of this, I admit, is the fair consequence of legitimate
causes, as an immense region, in forest, cannot
be peopled on any other conditions. But this
necessity has infected the entire national character,
and men get to be impatient of any sameness, even
though it be useful. Everything goes to confirm this
feeling, instead of opposing it. The constant recurrences
of the elections accustom men to changes in
their public functionaries; the great increase in the
population brings new faces; and the sudden accumulations
of property place new men in conspicuous stations.
The architecture of the country is barely becoming
sufficiently respectable to render it desirable
to preserve the buildings, without which we shall have
no monuments to revere. In short, everything contributes
may be to all of any feeling, and little to oppose it.”
“You colour highly, Jack; and no picture loses in
tints, in being retouched by you.”
“Look into the first paper that offers, and you will
see the young men of the country hardily invited to
meet by themselves, to consult concerning public affairs,
as if they were impatient of the counsels and experience
of their fathers. No country can prosper,
where the ordinary mode of transacting the business
connected with the root of the government, commences
with this impiety.”
“This is a disagreeable feature in the national character,
certainly; but we must remember the arts employed
by the designing to practise on the inexperienced.”
“Had I a son, who presumed to denounce the wisdom
and experience of his father, in this disrespectful
manner, I would disinherit the rascal!”
“Ah, Jack, bachelor's children are notoriously well
educated, and well mannered. We will hope, however,
that time will bring its changes also, and that
one of them will be a greater constancy in persons,
things, and the affections.”
“Time will bring its changes, Ned; but all of them
that are connected with individual rights, as opposed
to popular caprice, or popular interests, are likely to
be in the wrong direction.”
“The tendency is certainly to substitute popularity
for the right, but we must take the good with the bad.
Even you, Jack, would not exchange this popular oppression
for any other system under which you have
lived.”
“I don't know that—I don't know that. Of all tyranny,
a vulgar tyranny is to me the most odious.”
“You used to admire the English system, but I think
observation has lessened your particular admiration in
that quarter;” said Mr. Effingham, smiling in a way
that his cousin perfectly understood.
“Harkee, Ned; we all take up false notions in
youth, and this was one of mine; but, of the two, I
should prefer the cold, dogged domination of English
law, with its fruits, the heartlessness of a sophistication
without parallel, to being trampled on by every arrant
blackguard that may happen to traverse this valley, in
his wanderings after dollars. There is one thing you
yourself must admit; the public is a little too apt to
neglect the duties it ought to discharge, and to assume
duties it has no right to fulfil.”
This remark ended the discourse.
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