LETTER XXXVIII.
Dear Charles,—You are determined, then, that I shall
“not touch off a cannon with a loco-foco, or lucifer-nose,
and retire from the contest quasi victor—shouting Io triumphe!”
Very well, then,—a national man, or the society man, is
very like the uncombined, separate person in almost any
point it may please your reverence to contemplate him. For
instance, the multiplied or aggregated man is as soulless
often as the other, and tries to shift his responsibilities upon
something else;—hence the maxim by which he acts—corporations
have no souls. Again, he is very humble, obsequious
and submissive when poor; very affable, communicative,
and generous, when he is in comfortable mediocrity;
and almost invariably very insolent, haughty, overbearing,
and inclined to injustice and oppression when he is rich and increased
in goods. His greatness has now a dignity to keep,
and in grandiloquent phrases he spouts out his consequence,
and in majestic strides steps off his importance; all which
plainly declare that said dignity is estimated as worth a little
more than it comes to. Very quickly the combined man,
in addition to the swagger and strut and self-admiration, becomes
like the individual great man, jealous of his honor;
and he can snuff up into his enlarged nostrils insult at a distance,
and is as brimful of spitefulness as a Fourth of July
cracker. In other words, domine, the fellow “has waxed fat,
and kicks.”
On the other hand, when small in our estimation, we say
to a gentleman that carelessly treads on our corns and then
raises his cane to chastise us for being in his way, “Don't be
angry, master, I didn't mean to be in your road;” but when
sufficiently enlarged we say, “Take that, you rascal!”
A grand nation is exceedingly like many a grand man,
in another respect: he is, in spite of all his self-consequence,
artfully managed by his parasites. Multitudes of cringing
demagogues and hangers-on offer incense to vanity and foment
self-importance, for the gain of the service and the opportunity
this affords of showing off themselves in being instruments
of rewarding friends and punishing enemies.
Now, Charles, sorry am I to say that Uncle Sam sometimes
exposes his weak side to the flatterer. In his saloons
are every now and then some very selfish and scrubby fellows,
who, for their own base purposes, play upon the old gentleman's
vanity; and do unhappily sometimes succeed in
persuading him that his honor and dignity are so delicate in
texture as to be endangered by the slightest puncture, and
that if “they were Uncle Sam, they would call 'em out and
have the satisfaction of a gentleman.” These parasites teach
that because he is now become so big and grand, the ordinary
maxims and rules that answered in his earlier days, and
which are well enough for small folks and Christian pilgrims,
are “small potatoes” in his case; and that Uncle
Sam, like John Bull, should have a code of laws for his own
use. “Religion,” say they, “is well enough for the rabble;
but philosophy and honor and dignity for him.” These knowing
ones, like a papal priest, are often willing to take the responsibility,
if he will only supply means and opportunities:
till at last the old gentleman, though a professed Christian,
is influenced by
carnal reasonings, and goes to war, goaded
on and misled by skeptics, atheists, debauchees, broken-down
politicians, land-speculators, desperate gamblers and
honorable
gentlemen, that for the mere glory of the thing wish
epaulettes, and other military and naval trappings.
I know, indeed, that in public life are also some persons,
otherwise worthy and amiable, who are not sufficiently aware
that their notion of honor and dignity is not quite in accordance
with the scriptural view of these matters; and hence
these men hesitate not to proclaim that nations, like individuals,
should try the duel, simply to maintain our honor.
And innumerable thoughtless people abound, that love and
praise war from its pomp and “pride and circumstance;”
and others, who are tired of peace, and wish war for a change
as they wish any show or amusement; and all such persons
are clamorous for a just war, if possible—but an honorable
war rather than no war. Indeed, most of these secretly desire
to provoke a war; just as a half-horse, half-alligator, rowdy
bully, who leaps into a crowd of people on an election or muster-day,
and exclaims, “What! ten o'clock, and no fight yet!”
Charles, believe me, public sentiment and public opinion
are, in a vast majority of cases, the private sentiment and
opinion of a few, who have most adroitly set these forth as
if the one thought of the nation; and then the nation, finding
that a character has been read out for it in the high places
of the earth, like any individual fool or grandee, is silly enough,
forsooth, to think it must act up to that character! When I was
quite a lad I was so pre-eminently a fool, on a certain occasion,
as to mount a furious and most vicious young colt which
some negro men were trying to break—not because I could
ride, or had any skill in horse-taming, but simply because
black Pete said in my hearing, “Ay! here comes master
Carlton; he'll git on, I know!” Well, master Carlton did
get on, to be sure; but, of course, he got off again in an incredibly
short space of time, and lay awhile on the earth,
half senseless and groaning.
It is really, Charles, uncommonly provoking that a few
men—and these in no sense the best men, and some of them
inferior in talents and acquirements—that a few men should
so rule the many, and that the many should appoint the few a
kind of thinking committee for the whole, and for that sole reason
allow themselves to be led like bullocks to a slaughter-house—or
jackasses to a mill! That the few, for a mere
point of honor, should ever involve us in war, is absolutely
intolerable!
Appeals are often made by sages who go for the whole
Oregon, whether our national honor is not worth any price
to maintain it? I answer, for one of the million, no! I have
felt the influence of a martial parade—yea! momentarily, I
have thought I could charge at the sound of the clarion;
but, in my sober senses, (and I say it, Charles, without blushing,)
I say, if all Oregon could be mine, that rather than to
get or retain it at the price of my children's blood, poured
out on the battle-field, I would sell the whole for a farthing,
or give it for the asking. In defence of our homestead or
hearth, we would all die; but to keep or get a possession for
glory, I would not spill, if I could help myself, a drop of
blood!
Moral cowardice may prevent the avowal, but are there
not millions of fathers and mothers whose hearts beat here
in unison with mine? What, therefore, we would all do
separately and individually, and what we feel to be natural
and praiseworthy in parents, why may not that be done by
us all in our combined capacity? What strange infatuation
is this—that all must be otherwise in a nation, for a mere
abstraction—a figment—a conventional idea? It is the law
of nations, and therefore must be obeyed! But I tell you it
is not the law of God, and therefore should be disobeyed!
But, say the demagogues whose hearts are burdened with
philanthropy for the “dear people,” we must war to defend
our fellow-citizens away out there! Pray, what took these
worthy citizens away out there? Is all Indiana, and Illinois,
and Michigan, and Iowa, and Wisconsin full? Did these
worthy citizens go out there for the honor of the nation, or
its special advantage? Are they a new edition of Pilgrim
Fathers, fleeing from persecution to find “a lodge in some
vast wilderness,” where to erect the altar and temple of God?
or have these persons absconded from prosecution? and do
they seek a refuge from the sheriff and his posse comatatus?
Have they gone to cheat the poor houseless Indian of his furs,
and to introduce among them drunkenness and small-pox?
In a word, have they not, out of restlessness, and idleness,
and a distaste of arts and sciences and religion, and an impatience
of all legal and moral restraints, thrown themselves
out of the pale of a civilized life? Better, by far, that Uncle
Sam order these scapegraces home, and set them at some good,
honest, profitable employment, and not force the best of men
to pour out their blood for these fellows! I might be willing
to die for my country, in a just war; but such men are not
my country!—some are a disgrace to any land!
We happen to know something of the very estimable
folks who, when we were in the Purchase, ran away from
the progressive civilization of the Far West, to the wild barbarism
of the Farthest West; and without meaning any
thing disparaging to these worthies, or any thing personally
disrespectful to a lady, it would be well for the United States,
and would in no way tend to our detriment, to allow these
people to pass quietly under the sway of the Queen's most
gracious majesty. The land, perhaps, might be worth litigation;
but it would certainly be worth more without the incumbrance.
Why should we buy a Botany Bay—save for
a prison-house?
Yes, yes! all that may be true enough about endangering
popularity, and I am aware of what you will say on
reading this letter. But, Charles, I am safe enough in here,
and, like some red-hot abolitionists, I choose to show off my
valorous sentiments at a safe distance. No, no; your rabble-rousing
Congressman, who vapors with such virtuous indignation
against these Tory-like opinions, will not “catch me on
a stump in his neighborhood.” And in case he should say,
“Come out here, sir, and I'll give you a cow-hide,” my reply
is, in the words of Judge Brackenridge, “Thank you,
sir; I would not come for two of them!”
