University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.

I did not get into my bed that night until two, nor was I
out of it until half-past nine. It was near eleven when
Jacob came to tell me his master was in the salle à manger, and ready to eat his breakfast. I hastened up stairs, sleeping
in the entresol, and was at table with my uncle in three
minutes. I observed, on entering, that he was very grave,
and I now perceived that a couple of letters, and several
American newspapers, lay near him. His “Good morrow,
Hugh,” was kind and affectionate as usual, but I fancied it
sad.

“No bad news from home, I hope, sir!” I exclaimed,
under the first impulse of feeling. “Martha's last letter is
of quite recent date, and she writes very cheerfully. I know
that my grandmother was perfectly well, six weeks since.”

“I know the same, Hugh, for I have a letter from herself,
written with her own blessed hand. My mother is in
excellent health for a woman of fourscore; but she naturally
wishes to see us, and you in particular. Grandchildren
are ever the pets with grandmothers.”

“I am glad to hear all this, sir; for I was really afraid,
on entering the room, that you had received some unpleasant
news.”

“And is all your news pleasant, after so long a silence?”

“Nothing that is disagreeable, I do assure you. Patt
writes in charming spirits, and I dare say is in blooming
beauty by this time, though she tells me that she is generally
thought rather plain. That is impossible; for you
know when we left her, at fifteen, she had every promise of
great beauty.”

“As you say, it is impossible that Martha Littlepage
should be anything but handsome; for fifteen is an age
when, in America, one may safely predict the woman's appearance.

Your sister is preparing for you an agreeable
surprise. I have heard old persons say that she was very
like my mother at the same time of life; and Dus Malbone
was a sort of toast once in the forest.”

“I dare say it is all as you think; more especially as
there are several allusions to a certain Harry Beekman in
ner letters, at which I should feel flattered, were I in Mr.
Harry's place. Do you happen to know anything of such
a family as the Beekmans, sir?”

My uncle looked up in a little surprise at this question.
A thorough New Yorker by birth, associations, alliances
and feelings, he held all the old names of the colony and
State in profound respect; and I had often heard him sneer
at the manner in which the new-comers of my day, who
had appeared among us to blossom like the rose, scattered
their odours through the land. It was but a natural thing
that a community which had grown in population, in half a
century, from half a million to two millions and a half, and
that as much by immigration from adjoining communities
as by natural increase, should undergo some change of feeling
in this respect; but, on the other hand, it was just as
natural that the true New Yorker should not.

“Of course you know, Hugh, that it is an ancient and
respected name among us,” answered my uncle, after he
had given me the look of surprise I have already mentioned.
“There is a branch of the Beekmans, or Bakemans, as we
used to call them, settled near Satanstoe; and I dare say
that your sister, in her frequent visits to my mother, has
met with them. The association would be but natural; and
the other feeling to which you allude is, I dare say, but
natural to the association, though I cannot say I ever experienced
it.”

“You will still adhere to your asseverations of never
having been the victim of Cupid, I find, sir.”

“Hugh, Hugh! let us trifle no more. There is news
from home that has almost broken my heart.”

I sat gazing at my uncle in wonder and alarm, while he
placed both his hands on his face, as if to exclude this
wicked world, and all it contained, from his sight. I did
not speak, for I saw that the old gentleman was really
affected, but waited his pleasure to communicate more. My

impatience was soon relieved, however, as the hands were
removed, and I once more caught a view of my uncle's
handsome, but clouded countenance.

“May I ask the nature of this news?” I then ventured to
inquire.

“You may, and I shall now tell you. It is proper, indeed,
that you should hear all, and understand it all; for
you have a direct interest in the matter, and a large portion
of your property is dependent on the result. Had not the
manor troubles, as they were called, been spoken of before
we left home?”

“Certainly, though not to any great extent. We saw
something of it in the papers, I remember, just before we
went to Russia; and I recollect you mentioned it as a discreditable
affair to the State, though likely to lead to no very
important result.”

“So I then thought; but that hope has been delusive.
There were some reasons why a population like ours should
chafe under the situation of the estate of the late Patroon,
that I thought natural, though unjustifiable; for it is unhappily
too much a law of humanity to do that which is wrong,
more especially in matters connected with the pocket.”

“I do not exactly understand your allusion, sir.”

“It is easily explained. The Van Rensselaer property
is, in the first place, of great extent—the manor, as it is
still called and once was, spreading east and west eight-and-forty
miles, and north and south twenty-four. With a few
immaterial exceptions, including the sites of three or four
towns, three of which are cities containing respectively six,
twenty and forty thousand souls, this large surface was the
property of a single individual. Since his death, it has
become the property of two, subject to the conditions of the
leases, of which by far the greater portion are what are
called durable.”

“I have heard all this, of course, sir, and know something
of it myself. But what is a durable lease? for I believe
we have none of that nature at Ravensnest.”

“No; your leases are all for three lives, and most of
them renewals at that. There are two sorts of `durable
leases,' as we term them, in use among the landlords of
New York. Both give the tenant a permanent interest

being leases for ever, reserving an annual rent, with the
right to distrain, and covenants of re-entry. But one class
of these leases gives the tenant a right at any time to demand
a deed in fee-simple, on the payment of a stipulated
sum; while the other gives him no such privilege. Thus
one class of these leases is called `a durable lease with a
clause of redemption;' while the other is a simple `durable
lease.”'

“And are there any new difficulties in relation to the
manor rents?”

“Far worse than that; the contagion has spread, until
the greatest ills that have been predicted from democratic
institutions, by their worst enemies, seriously menace the
country. I am afraid, Hugh, I shall not be able to call
New York, any longer, an exception to the evil example of
a neighbourhood, or the country itself a glorious country.”

“This is so serious, sir, that, were it not that your looks
denote the contrary, I might be disposed to doubt your
words.”

“I fear my words are only too true. Dunning has written
me a long account of his own, made out with the precision
of a lawyer; and, in addition, he has sent me divers
papers, some of which openly contend for what is substantially
a new division of property, and what in effect would
be agrarian laws.”

“Surely, my dear uncle, you cannot seriously apprehend
anything of that nature from our order-loving, law-loving,
property-loving Americans!”

“Your last description may contain the secret of the
whole movement. The love of property may be so strong
as to induce them to do a great many things they ought not
to do. I certainly do not apprehend that any direct attempt
is about to be made, in New York, to divide its property;
nor do I fear any open, declared agrarian statute; for what
I apprehend is to come through indirect and gradual innovations
on the right, that will be made to assume the delusive
aspect of justice and equal rights, and thus undermine
the principles of the people, before they are aware of the
danger themselves. In order that you may not only understand
me, but may understand facts that are of the last
importance to your own pocket, I will first tell you what

has been done, and then tell you what I fear is to follow.
The first difficulty—or, rather, the first difficulty of recent
occurrence—arose at the death of the late Patroon. I say
of recent occurrence, since Dunning writes me that, during
the administration of John Jay, an attempt to resist the
payment of rent was made on the manor of the Livingstons;
but he put it down instanter.”

“Yes, I should rather think that roguery would not be
apt to prosper, while the execution of the laws was entrusted
to such a man. The age of such politicians, however,
seems to have ended among us.”

“It did not prosper. Governor Jay met the pretension
as we all know such a man would meet it; and the matter
died away, and has been nearly forgotten. It is worthy of
remark, that he PUT THE EVIL DOWN. But this is not the
age of John Jays. To proceed to my narrative: When the
late Patroon died, there was due to him a sum of something
like two hundred thousand dollars of back-rents, and of
which he had made a special disposition in his will, vesting
the money in trustees for a certain purpose. It was the
attempt to collect this money which first gave rise to dissatisfaction.
Those who had been debtors so long, were
reluctant to pay. In casting round for the means to escape
from the payment of their just debts, these men, feeling the
power that numbers ever give over right in America, combined
to resist with others who again had in view a project
to get rid of the rents altogether. Out of this combination
grew what have been called the `manor troubles.' Men
appeared in a sort of mock-Indian dress, calico shirts
thrown over their other clothes, and with a species of calico
masks on their faces, who resisted the bailiffs' processes,
and completely prevented the collection of rents. These
men were armed, mostly with rifles; and it was finally
found necessary to call out a strong body of the militia, in
order to protect the civil officers in the execution of their
duties.”

“All this occurred before we went to the East. I had
supposed those anti-renters, as they were called, had been
effectually put down.”

“In appearance they were. But the very governor who
called the militia into the field, referred the subject of the

`griefs' of the tenants to the legislature, as if they were
actually aggrieved citizens, when in truth it was the landlords,
or the Rensselaers, for at that time the `troubles' were
confined to their property, who were the aggrieved parties.
This false step has done an incalculable amount of mischief,
if it do not prove the entering wedge to rive asunder the
institutions of the State.”

“It is extraordinary, when such things occur, that any
man can mistake his duty. Why were the tenants thus
spoken of, while nothing was said beyond what the law
compelled in favour of the landlords?”

“I can see no reason but the fact that the Rensselaers
were only two, and that the disaffected tenants were probably
two thousand. With all the cry of aristocracy, and
feudality, and nobility, neither of the Rensselaers, by the
letter of the law, has one particle more of political power,
or political right, than his own coachman or footman, if the
last be a white man; while, in practice, he is in many things
getting to be less protected.”

“Then you think, sir, that this matter has gained force
from the circumstance that so many votes depend on it?”

“Out of all question. Its success depends on the violations
of principles that we have been so long taught to hold
sacred, that nothing short of the over-ruling and corrupting
influence of politics would dare to assail them. If there
were a landlord to each farm, as well as a tenant, universal
indifference would prevail as to the griefs of the tenants;
and if two to one tenant, universal indignation at their
impudence.”

“Of what particular griefs do the tenants complain?”

“You mean the Rensselaer tenants, I suppose? Why,
they complain of such covenants as they can, though their
deepest affliction is to be found in the fact that they do not
own other men's lands. The Patroon had quarter sales on
many of his farms—those that were let in the last century.”

“Well, what of that? A bargain to allow of quarter
sales is just as fair as any other bargain.”

“It is fairer, in fact, than most bargains, when you come
to analyze it, since there is a very good reason why it should
accompany a perpetual lease. Is it to be supposed that a
landlord has no interest in the character and habits of his

tenants? He has the closest interest in it possible, and no
prudent man should let his lands without holding some sort
of control over the assignment of leases. Now, there are
but two modes of doing this; either by holding over the
tenant a power through his interests, or a direct veto dependent
solely on the landlord's will.”

“The last would be apt to raise a pretty cry of tyranny
and feudality in America!”

“Pretty cries on such subjects are very easily raised in
America. More people join in them than understand what
they mean. Nevertheless, it is quite as just, when two men
bargain, that he who owns every right in the land before
the bargain is made, should retain this right over his property,
which he consents to part with only with limitations,
as that he should grant it to another. These men, in their
clamour, forget that, until their leases were obtained, they
had no right in their lands at all, and that what they have
got is through those very leases of which they complain;
take away the leases, and they would have no rights remaining.
Now, on what principle can honest men pretend
that they have rights beyond the leases? On the supposition,
even, that the bargains are hard, what have governors
and legislators to do with thrusting themselves in between
parties so situated, as special umpires? I should object to
such umpires, moreover, on the general and controlling
principle that must govern all righteous arbitration—your
governors and legislators are not impartial; they are political
or party men, one may say, without exception; and
such umpires, when votes are in the question, are to be
sorely distrusted. I would as soon trust my interests to the
decision of feed counsel, as trust them to such judges.”

“I wonder the really impartial and upright portion of the
community do not rise in their might, and put this thing
down—rip it up, root and branch, and cast it away, at
once.”

“That is the weak point of our system, which has a hundred
strong points, while it has this besetting vice. Our
laws are not only made, but they are administered, on the
supposition that there are both honesty and intelligence
enough in the body of the community to see them well
made, and well administered. But the sad reality shows

that good men are commonly passive, until abuses become
intolerable; it being the designing rogue and manager who
is usually the most active. Vigilant philanthropists do exist,
I will allow; but it is in such small numbers as to effect
little on the whole, and nothing at all when opposed by the
zeal of a mercenary opposition. No, no—little is ever to
be expected, in a political sense, from the activity of virtue;
while a great deal may be looked for from the activity of
vice.”

“You do not take a very favourable view of humanity,
sir.”

“I speak of the world as I have found it in both hemispheres,
or, as your neighbour the magistrate 'Squire New-come
has it, the `four hemispheres.' Our representation is,
at the best, but an average of the qualities of the whole
community, somewhat lessened by the fact that men of real
merit have taken a disgust at a state of things that is not
very tempting to their habits or tastes. As for a quarter
sale, I can see no more hardship in it than there is in paying
the rent itself; and, by giving the landlord this check
on the transfer of his lands, he compels a compromise that
maintains what is just. The tenant is not obliged to sell,
and he makes his conditions accordingly, when he has a
good tenant to offer in his stead. When he offers a bad
tenant, he ought to pay for it.”

“Many persons with us would think it very aristocratic,”
I cried, laughingly, “that a landlord should have it in his
power to say, I will not accept this or that substitute for
yourself.”

“It is just as aristocratic, and no more so, than it would
be to put it in the power of the tenant to say to the landlord,
you shall accept this or that tenant at my hands. The
covenant of the quarter sale gives each party a control in
the matter; and the result has ever been a compromise that
is perfectly fair, as it is hardly possible that the circumstance
should have been overlooked in making the bargain;
and he who knows anything of such matters, knows that
every exaction of this sort is always considered in the
rent. As for feudality, so long as the power to alienate
exists at all in the tenant, he does not hold by a feudal
tenure. He has bought himself from all such tenures by

his covenant of quarter sale; and it only remains to say
whether, having agreed to such a bargain in order to obtain
this advantage, he should pay the stipulated price or not.”

“I understand you, sir. It is easy to come at the equity
of this matter, if one will only go back to the original facts
which colour it. The tenant had no rights at all until he
got his lease, and can have no rights which that lease does
not confer.”

“Then the cry is raised of feudal privileges, because
some of the Rensselaer tenants are obliged to find so many
days' work with their teams, or substitutes, to the landlord,
and even because they have to pay annually a pair of fat
fowls! We have seen enough of America, Hugh, to know
that most husbandmen would be delighted to have the privilege
of paying their debts in chickens and work, instead of
in money, which renders the cry only so much the more
wicked. But what is there more feudal in a tenant's thus
paying his landlord, than in a butcher's contracting to furnish
so much meat for a series of years, or a mail contractor's
agreeing to carry the mail in a four-horse coach
for a term of years, eh? No one objects to the rent in
wheat, and why should they object to the rent in chickens?
Is it because our republican farmers have got to be so aristocratic
themselves, that they do not like to be thought
poulterers? This is being aristocratic on the other side.
These dignitaries should remember that if it be plebeian to
furnish fowls, it is plebeian to receive them; and if the
tenant has to find an individual who has to submit to the
degradation of tendering a pair of fat fowls, the landlord
has to find an individual who has to submit to the degradation
of taking them, and of putting them away in the larder.
It seems to me that one is an offset to the other.”

“But, if I remember rightly, uncle Ro, these little matters
were always commuted for in money.”

“They always must lie at the option of the tenant, unless
the covenants went to forfeiture, which I never heard
that they did; for the failure to pay in kind at the time
stipulated, would only involve a payment in money afterwards.
The most surprising part of this whole transaction
is, that men among us hold the doctrine that these leasehold
estates are opposed to our institutions, when, being guarantied

by the institutions, they in truth form a part of them.
Were it not for these very institutions, to which they are
said to be opposed, and of which they virtually form a part,
we should soon have a pretty kettle of fish between landlord
and tenant.”

“How do you make it out that they form a part of the
institutions, sir?”

“Simply because the institutions have a solemn profession
of protecting property. There is such a parade of this,
that all our constitutions declare that property shall never
be taken without due form of law; and to read one of them,
you would think the property of the citizen is held quite as
sacred as his person. Now, some of these very tenures
existed when the State institutions were framed; and, not
satisfied with this, we of New York, in common with our
sister States, solemnly prohibited ourselves, in the constitution
of the United States, from ever meddling with them!
Nevertheless, men are found hardy enough to assert that a
thing which in fact belongs to the institutions, is opposed to
them.”

“Perhaps they mean, sir, to their spirit, or to their tendency.”

“Ah! there may be some sense in that, though much
less than the declaimers fancy. The spirit of institutions
is their legitimate object; and it would be hard to prove
that a leasehold tenure, with any conditions of mere pecuniary
indebtedness whatever, is opposed to any institutions
that recognise the full rights of property. The obligation
to pay rent no more creates political dependency, than to
give credit from an ordinary shop; not so much, indeed,
more especially under such leases as those of the Rensselaers;
for the debtor on a book-debt can be sued at any
moment, whereas the tenant knows precisely when he has
to pay. There is the great absurdity of those who decry
the system as feudal and aristocratic; for they do not see
that those very leases are more favourable to the tenant than
any other.”

“I shall have to ask you to explain this to me, sir, being
too ignorant to comprehend it.”

“Why, these leases are perpetual, and the tenant cannot
be dispossessed. The longer a lease is, other things being

equal, the better it is for the tenant, all the world over. Let
us suppose two farms, the one leased for five years, and the
other for ever: Which tenant is most independent of the
political influence of his landlord, to say nothing of the impossibility
of controlling votes in this way in America, from
a variety of causes? Certainly he who has a lease for ever.
He is just as independent of his landlord, as his landlord
can be of him, with the exception that he has rent to pay.
In the latter case, he is precisely like any other debtor—
like the poor man who contracts debts with the same storekeeper
for a series of years. As for the possession of the
farm, which we are to suppose is a desirable thing for the
tenant, he of the long lease is clearly most independent,
since the other may be ejected at the end of each five years.
Nor is there the least difference as to acquiring the property
in fee, since the landlord may sell equally in either case, if
so disposed; and if NOT DISPOSED, NO HONEST MAN, UNDER
ANY SYSTEM, OUGHT TO DO ANYTHING TO COMPEL HIM SO
TO DO, either directly or indirectly; AND NO TRULY HONEST
MAN WOULD.”

I put some of the words of my uncle Ro in small capitals,
as the spirit of the times, not of the institutions, renders
such hints necessary. But, to continue our dialogue:

“I understand you now, sir, though the distinction you
make between the spirit of the institutions and their tendencies
is what I do not exactly comprehend.”

“It is very easily explained. The spirit of the institutions
is their intention; their tendencies is the natural direction
they take under the impulses of human motives, which
are always corrupt and corrupting. The `spirit' refers to
what things ought to be; the `tendencies,' to what they are,
or are becoming. The `spirit' of all political institutions is
to place a check on the natural propensities of men, to restrain
them, and keep them within due bounds; while the
tendencies follow those propensities, and are quite often in
direct opposition to the spirit. That this outcry against
leasehold tenures in America is following the tendencies of
our institutions, I am afraid is only too true; but that it is
in any manner in compliance with their spirit, I utterly
deny.”

“You will allow that institutions have their spirit, which

ought always to be respected, in order to preserve harmony?”

“Out of all question. The first great requisite of a political
system is the means of protecting itself; the second, to
check its tendencies at the point required by justice, wisdom
and good faith. In a despotism, for instance, the spirit of
the system is to maintain that one man, who is elevated
above the necessities and temptations of a nation—who is
solemnly set apart for the sole purpose of government, fortified
by dignity, and rendered impartial by position—will
rule in the manner most conducive to the true interests of
his subjects. It is just as much the theory of Russia and
Prussia that their monarchs reign not for their own good,
but for the good of those over whom they are placed, as it
is the theory in regard to the President of the United States.
We all know that the tendencies of a despotism are to abuses
of a particular character; and it is just as certain that the
tendencies of a republic, or rather of a democratic republic
—for republic of itself means but little, many republics having
had kings—but it is just as certain that the tendencies
of a democracy are to abuses of another character. Whatever
man touches, he infallibly abuses; and this more in
connection with the exercise of political power, perhaps, than
in the management of any one interest of life, though he
abuses all, even to religion. Less depends on the nominal
character of institutions, perhaps, than on their ability to
arrest their own tendencies at the point required by everything
that is just and right. Hitherto, surprisingly few
grave abuses have followed from our institutions; but this
matter looks frightfully serious; for I have not told you
half, Hugh.”

“Indeed, sir! I beg you will believe me quite equal to
hearing the worst.”

“It is true, anti-rentism did commence on the estate of
the Rensselaers, and with complaints of feudal tenures, and
of days' works, and fat fowls, backed by the extravagantly
aristocratic pretension that a `manor' tenant was so much
a privileged being, that it was beneath his dignity, as a free
man, to do that which is daily done by mail-contractors,
stage-coach owners, victuallers, and even by themselves in
their passing bargains to deliver potatoes, onions, turkeys

and pork, although they had solemnly covenanted with their
landlords to pay the fat fowls, and to give the days' works.
The feudal system has been found to extend much further,
and `troubles,' as they are called, have broken out in other
parts of the State. Resistance to process, and a cessation
of the payment of rents, has occurred on the Livingston
property, in Hardenberg—in short, in eight or ten counties
of the State. Even among the bonâ fide purchasers, on the
Holland Purchase, this resistance has been organized, and
a species of troops raised, who appear disguised and armed
wherever a levy is to be made. Several men have already
been murdered, and there is the strong probability of a civil
war.”

“In the name of what is sacred and right, what has the
government of the State been doing all this time?”

“In my poor judgment, a great deal that it ought not to
have done, and very little that it ought. You know the
state of politics at home, Hugh; how important New York
is in all national questions, and how nearly tied is her vote
— less than ten thousand majority in a canvass of near half
a million of votes. When this is the case, the least-principled
part of the voters attain an undue importance—a truth
that has been abundantly illustrated in this question. The
natural course would have been to raise an armed constabulary
force, and to have kept it in motion, as the anti-renters
have kept their `Injins' in motion, which would have
soon tired out the rebels, for rebels they are, who would thus
have had to support one army in part, and the other altogether.
Such a movement on the part of the State, well and
energetically managed, would have drawn half the `Injins'
at once from the ranks of disaffection to those of authority;
for all that most of these men want is to live easy, and to
have a parade of military movements. Instead of that, the
legislature substantially did nothing, until blood was spilt,
and the grievance had got to be not only profoundly disgraceful
for such a State and such a country, but utterly
intolerable to the well-affected of the revolted counties, as
well as to those who were kept out of the enjoyment of their
property. Then, indeed, it passed the law which ought to
have been passed the first year of the `Injin' system—a law
which renders it felony to appear armed and disguised; but

Dunning writes me this law is openly disregarded in Delaware
and Schoharie, in particular, and that bodies of `Injins,'
in full costume and armed, of a thousand men, have
appeared to prevent levies or sales. Where it will end,
Heaven knows!”

“Do you apprehend any serious civil war?”

“It is impossible to say where false principles may lead,
when they are permitted to make head and to become widely
disseminated, in a country like ours. Still, the disturbances,
as such, are utterly contemptible, and could and would be put
down by an energetic executive in ten days after he had time
to collect a force to do it with. In some particulars, the present
incumbent has behaved perfectly well; while in others,
in my judgment, he has inflicted injuries on the right that
it will require years to repair, if, indeed, they are ever repaired.”

“You surprise me, sir; and this the more especially, as
I know you are generally of the same way of thinking, on
political subjects, with the party that is now in power.”

“Did you ever know me to support what I conceived to
be wrong, Hugh, on account of my political affinities?”
asked my uncle, a little reproachfully as to manner. “But,
let me tell you the harm that I conceive has been done by
all the governors who have had anything to do with the
subject; and that includes one of a party to which I am
opposed, and two that are not. In the first place, they have
all treated the matter as if the tenants had really some cause
of complaint; when in truth all their griefs arise from the
fact that other men will not let them have their property
just as they may want it, and in some respects on their own
terms.”

“That is certainly a grief not to be maintained by reason
in a civilized country, and in a christian community.”

“Umph! Christianity, like liberty, suffers fearfully in
human hands; one is sometimes at a loss to recognise either.
I have seen ministers of the gospel just as dogged, just as
regardless of general morality, and just as indifferent to the
right, in upholding their parties, as I ever saw laymen;
and I have seen laymen manifesting tempers, in this respect,
that properly belong to devils. But our governors have
certainly treated this matter as if the tenants actually had

griefs; when in truth their sole oppression is in being
obliged to pay rents that are merely nominal, and in not
being able to buy other men's property contrary to their
wishes, and very much at their own prices. One governor
has even been so generous as to volunteer a mode of settling
disputes with which, by the way, he has no concern,
there being courts to discharge that office, that is singularly
presuming on his part, to say the least, and which looks a
confounded sight more like aristocracy, or monarchy, than
anything connected with leasehold tenure.”

“Why, what can the man have done?”

“He has kindly taken on himself the office of doing that
for which I fancy he can find no authority in the institutions,
or in their spirit—no less than advising citizens how they
may conveniently manage their own affairs so as to get
over difficulties that he himself substantially admits, while
giving this very advice, are difficulties that the law sanctions!”

“This is a very extraordinary interference in a public
functionary; because one of the parties to a contract that is
solemnly guarantied by the law, chooses to complain of its
nature, rather than of its conditions, to pretend to throw the
weight of his even assumed authority into the scales on
either side of the question!”

“And that in a popular government, Hugh, in which it
tells so strongly against a man to render him unpopular,
that not one man in a million has the moral courage to resist
public opinion, even when he is right. You have hit the
nail on the head, boy; it is in the last degree presuming,
and what would be denounced as tyrannical in any monarch
in Europe. But he has lived in vain who has not learned
that they who make the loudest professions of a love of
liberty, have little knowledge of the quality, beyond submission
to the demands of numbers. Our executive has carried
his fatherly care even beyond this; he has actually suggested
the terms of a bargain by which he thinks the difficulty
can be settled, which, in addition to the gross assumption
of having a voice in a matter that in no manner belongs
to him, has the palpable demerit of recommending a pecuniary
compromise that is flagrantly wrong as a mere pecuniary
compromise.”

“You astonish me, sir! What is the precise nature of
his recommendation?”

“That the Rensselaers should receive such a sum from
each tenant as would produce an interest equal to the value
of the present rent. Now, in the first place, here is a citizen
who has got as much property as he wants, and who
wishes to live for other purposes than to accumulate. This
property is not only invested to his entire satisfaction, as
regards convenience, security and returns, but also in a way
that is connected with some of the best sentiments of his
nature. It is property that has descended to him through
ancestors for two centuries; property that is historically
connected with his name—on which he was born, on which
he has lived, and on which he has hoped to die; property,
in a word, that is associated with all the higher feelings of
humanity. Because some interloper, perhaps, who has purchased
an interest in one of his farms six months before,
feels an aristocratic desire not to have a landlord, and
wishes to own a farm in fee, that in fact he has no other
right to than he gets through his lease, the governor of the
great State of New York throws the weight of his official
position against the old hereditary owner of the soil, by
solemnly suggesting, in an official document that is intended
to produce an effect on public opinion, that he should sell
that which he does not wish to sell, but wishes to keep, and
that at a price which I conceive is much below its true pecuniary
value. We have liberty with a vengeance, if these
are some of its antics!”

“What makes the matter worse, is the fact that each of
the Rensselaers has a house on his estate, so placed as to be
convenient to look after his interests; which interests he is
to be at the trouble of changing, leaving him his house on
his hands, because, forsooth, one of the parties to a plain
and equitable bargain wishes to make better conditions than
he covenanted for. I wonder what his Excellency proposes
that the landlords shall do with their money when they get
it? Buy new estates, and build new houses, of which to be
dispossessed when a new set of tenants may choose to cry
out against aristocracy, and demonstrate their own love for
democracy by wishing to pull others down in order to shove
themselves into their places?”

“You are right again, Hugh; but it is a besetting vice
of America to regard life as all means, and as having no
end, in a worldly point of view. I dare say men may be
found among us who regard it as highly presuming in any
man to build himself an ample residence, and to announce
by his mode of living that he is content with his present
means, and does not wish to increase them, at the very moment
they view the suggestions of the governor as the pink
of modesty, and excessively favourable to equal rights! I
like that thought of yours about the house, too; in order to
suit the `spirit' of the New York institutions, it would seem
that a New York landlord should build on wheels, that he
may move his abode to some new estate, when it suits the
pleasure of his tenants to buy him out.”

“Do you suppose the Rensselaers would take their money,
the principal of the rent at seven per cent., and buy land
with it, after their experience of the uncertainty of such
possessions among us?”

“Not they,” said my uncle Ro, laughing. “No, no!
they would sell the Manor-House, and Beverwyck, for taverns;
and then any one might live in them who would pay
the principal sum of the cost of a dinner; bag their dollars,
and proceed forthwith to Wall street, and commence the
shaving of notes—that occupation having been decided, as
I see by the late arrivals, to be highly honourable and
praiseworthy. Hitherto they have been nothing but drones;
but, by the time they can go to the quick with their dollars,
they will become useful members of society, and be honoured
and esteemed accordingly.”

What next might have been said I do not know, for just
then we were interrupted by a visit from our common
banker, and the discourse was necessarily changed.